China 2011-2012

[cranefly]

Speaking of decomposing, I just had to erase a sentence in my latest story.
I had used "the" as a verb.
I keep making that damned mistake.

[Dr. Ivor Yeti]

is it really a "mistake"? Just think about how it would revolutionize language if you could pull it off! Keep at it, man!

[Drunk Monk]

The bacteria still need oxygen for the whole decomposing thing to work. Not to quibble . . .

But you don't need to breath to have oxygen...

Was trying to work a 'the' verb comeback but didn't get any farther than 'jane the dick'. :oops:

[Greg_phpbb3_import1]

Let’s face it, when I finished my hike to Damo’s cave, I was pretty much done with my trip to China. I had my fill of the sites of Dengfeng and Shaolin. Too bad, I still had 48 hours left in the country. There is nothing more fun than still being away from home when you are ready to be home.

I started Wednesday wandering around the hotel. I took pictures from the window despite the fact the cloud layer was starting to build up over the town. The crystal clear skies that prevailed for the Damo hike were now filling with clouds.

I lingered over my breakfast in the freezing banquet room. They still hadn’t cleaned the stains off the table cloth I had been looking at all week. As usual, there were others at the giant round table with lazy susan who still gave me a curious look before eating. I regret not getting a chance to eat in the Irish room, but it was too far away from the chafing dishes and the hot plates.

Today’s plan was to meet up at the Bus station (yes, DM, I hear you laughing) for our trip to Zhengzhou at eleven. Call me a slow learner, but I had discovered a few things on this trip about my traveling compadres. I was not going to be surprised when they didn’t show up. Especially since they were planning to go back to their school and meet with their Sifu. I was gearing myself mentally to buying my own ticket when they walked in at 11:10. Turns out, they had shown up on time at the Bus Station and had opted to wait outside for me. I had done the crafty thing and entered the terminal and sat in the waiting area.



We paid our five bucks for the trip and were rewarded with a less than full bus for our trip to Zhengzhou. On the bus with us was a monk who recognized me from my picture taking adventures at the Temple. He was on his way to fame and fortune in the United States dressed in civilian clothes. Although my fame had preceded me, I think he was more interested in making sure Natasha was going to look him up on Facebook.

The ride itself was uneventful. I handed over to Sal the video we shot of his demos he did at the Shaolin Temple adjunct area. I took some bad pictures of the Martial Arts statues on the posts in the roundabout. Again, the cameras took pictures of the bus as we went through the toll plaza.




Despite freeways that are mostly devoid of cars, the drivers never speed. I think the posted speed limit for our bus was 90 kph. We never went faster than that the whole way.

It seems we drove through the outskirts of Zhengzhou for hours. It was scary driving for that long and not recognizing anything. Eventually, we pulled into the familiar confines of the bus station. Now all we had to do was find my hotel and part ways.

I had carefully copied the name of the hotel in pinyin down on a piece of paper. But I expected to find the hotel right outside the bus station. I booked the one with the large rotating restaurant on top of it that was kitty-corner to my good friend the Tianquan.
When I got out of the bus station and looked at the hotel which was the one I thought I had booked, I realized it didn’t match the picture of the one on Ctrip. More importantly, the name didn’t match either. Crap.

Good thing there was a taxi stand right in front of the bus station. The group and I maneuvered our way through the gates and the lines to get to the taxi rank. It wasn’t going to be bad because I had the name written down this time, ready in my pocket. Look at me, sophisticated world traveler.

After we go to the front of the taxi queue, I brandished my paper to blank stares. Sal tried the name out in Chinese only to get negative responses. He told my my information was worthless. How could having the name of the hotel be worthless? Sal explained to me very slowly so I could understand, how different regions had different dialects and most of the people were illiterate anyway One female taxi driver recognized the name but said there was no way to get to the hotel.

It’s fun holding up a big group of chinese people waiting for cabs while you try and get taxi drivers to understand you. Disgusted looks are the same in every country.

We stepped away from the line to regroup and figure out what to do. Sal thought he knew where my mythical hotel was located a short distance away. He talked to Natasha and Patty about waiting while he took me off to find my hotel.

By this time we had attracted a fine group of porters who were looking to make a buck out of our predicament. The porters seemed to know where Sal’s hotel was and were ready to take the girls to it. Patty did not like the idea of being left behind in the square while we went to find my hotel.

But that’s what we did. Turns out if we had left the bus station through the back door rather than the front, we would have been at the Zhengzhou Guangdong hotel.

I figured this hotel would be big enough to take my credit card. I had purposefully booked an expensive room for my last night of the trip to have a good going away stay for myself and to feed Sal’s envy, I hoped. My room was going to go for the princely sum of $80. Which is about $15 more than the average Motel Six. I whipped out my credit card and it was promptly declined. I have learned. I just haven’t learned enough.




I made vague plans to Skype with Sal later. We had tentative plans to meet and to go shopping. There was supposed to be a nightly antique market held in ErQi square.

The bell boy, who spoke more English than the girls at the front desk, helped me take my bags to my room. It was a gorgeous room on the 21st floor. It had a sitting room. There was a tub and a walk-in shower in a massive bathroom. My room in the Tianquan could have fit in this room four times. I immediately stole the free tooth brushes and razors and shampoo. I still didn’t know if I was allowed to take the slippers that have been in every room. The other feature of this room was the two gas masks and fire protection gear in the closet. I didn’t take those either.

I had the Bell boy take me to the massage room so I could see what that was like. I still find it very hard to tell people I just want to look at things. Basically, it was very expensive and I quickly scurried away.

Still faced with the fact I had plenty of time to kill, I ventured out in the streets of Zhengzhou. I though I would go find Erqi square and see if there was anything happening there.

Although I was only two blocks from the Tianquan, the area around the Guangdong was much more upscale. They had nice shops. The food kiosks seemed a lot more solid and had menus to look at. I found Erqi square only a hundred yards from the hotel. It was empty, but surrounded by lots of regular department stores.

At this point, I was not on the vacation. I didn’t have to try new things or experience diversity. I decided I would find the Kentucky Fried Chicken and get a bunch of food in my growling belly.

The beauty of the area around the bus station is that there are three KFC’s right next to each other. There are two McDonald’s but when we were in the Louyang KFC, they had a picture menu. The McDonald’s didn’t have the picture menu for the silly tourists.

I got my courage up and went to the counter to start the task of ordering. They promptly brought out the picture menu to my delight. This was going to be easy. I pointed to the two piece meal with fries and a drink. I also tried to say I wanted two of those so I could have four pieces of chicken.

The people behind the counter sadly shook their heads. What? How could this go wrong? They pointed to the heating racks behind them where one sad piece of chicken sat. This had happened in Louyang as well. Only that time there were three pieces and I got two.

I tried to find out how long before more chicken would be ready. They motioned it would be another twenty minutes. No problem. There was another KFC right next store.

I went up to the counter and looked at the racks. They were empty of chicken as well. How could the KFC’s be out of chicken at 4 in the afternoon? I left defeated. I bought water at a local shop and headed back to the hotel.

I stopped at one of the food Kiosks on the way that sold chicken on a skewers. I did my motion and gesture dance and got them to make me some. I think one of the guys tried to rip me off, but the guy running the booth made him give me back change for my six skewers of chicken. It was really good and tasted much better than the KFC. I still wanted KFC.

I hung out on the computer until six to see if Sal would call and he didn’t. I went out to the streets and get a gift for the Queen. There were miles of vendors now set up in the pedestrian walkway near the hotel. If I wanted to chance buying the Queen some clothes to wear, I was in like flynn. That wasn’t happening. But it was sadly devoid of tourists tchotckes. Erqi square never did have any vendors set up with chinese artifacts so back I went to the hotel.

I blew the big bucks eating dinner in the rotating restaurant on the top of the hotel. What do they say about eating at restaurants that have gimmicks? Don’t? It seems to be true in asia as well. But it wasn’t that bad.




It was buffet style and the waiter was very proud to point out it was salute to Italy night or month. They had a whole section of dishes that were supposed to be Italian. And maybe they were, if you happened to be Chinese.

But I got enough food. They had Peking Duck which was tasty. They had fresh made noodles that I could turn into a spicy soup, which I did. The waitress brought me some black tea and then spilled half the pot when she tried to pour.

As the room rotated, the lights changed above me. You could partially judge movement they way the spotlights in the ceiling slowly passed over you. I looked out at Erqi square, still empty of sellers. I did get a nice view though of the Double Pagodas that were a feature of the square. One tourist site described them as hideous. But they looked nice all lit up. Oddly, I had left the room sans camera so I don’t have picture proof.

I finished the day watching TV in the room. I caught the tail end of Child’s Play 2. The film credits were rolling to about the point when you could spot my name when they decided it would be better to go to commercial. Sadly, there was no Dengfeng TV

The plane to Beijing and then home left at 9:30 which means, I would have to be there at 7:30. Since everyone said it was an hour ride to the airport, I would have to leave the hotel at 6:30. They start serving breakfast in the hotel at 6:30.

So, I fudged. I figured I could give myself fifteen minutes for breakfast, especially since they offered a western style breakfast. The restaurant didn’t rotate for breakfast. I decided to go early since my bags were packed and I had nothing else to do.

Even thought I arrived fifteen minutes early, they already had the food out. I dug into some very western fried rice and butter-less toast to start. I tried some sausage that looked like english sausage but it tasted anything but English. Still learning. I poured my own tea to avoid the prior evenings mishap.

I checked out and received my deposit back. I now had too much Chinese money in my wallet and not enough time to spend it in. While I was getting money, I caught, out of the corner of my eye, the bus boy getting some cigarettes from an unlicensed Taxi driver. Gee, I wonder what they were making that exchange.

Sure enough, the bell boy and the driver grabbed my bags and headed out to the curb. I hemmed and hawed about getting in an unlicensed cab but eventually gave in. I needed to find the female taxi driver from last night and show her it was possible to drive to the hotel because the unlicensed driver was parked right by the door. Originally, I was going to try and get the free shuttle to the airport from one of the nearby hotels, but I decided I had enough of public transport.

The trip home was to be broken up by a lovely ten hour layover in Beijing. Nothing says fun like ten hours in an airport. People had warned me that it was probably a mistake to try and leave the airport to go into town. But travel websites showed plenty of tours that started at the airport. They were called layover tours. They were also expensive. I was on line with one women arranging a tour but we never completed the correspondence by the time I had to leave my Zhengzhou hotel.

I was also trying to contact a man by the name of Luc Bendza who I had done an article about for KFM. I wrote him a couple of times but never got a response.

The one thing that did get my attention was the fact that there was a subway line running from the airport into Beijing. I checked the map and found I could then get a train to Tianamen Square.

Yes, my trip was over, but much like the trip to Damo’s cave, I couldn’t let myself be that close to Beijing and then not visit it. I decided to throw caution to the wind and take the subway into town and visit Tianamen Square and the Forbidden city. And by looking at the online map, I plotted a course through some older sections of Beijing that included some nice shopping areas. I know what I said about public transportation.

At the Zhengzhou airport, I learned Chinese custom officials don’t want me to carry Lithium Ion batteries in luggage. They want me to carry them in my carry-on bags. Good thing I only had a bunch of those. They did however check my bags all the way through to Los Angeles. I only asked them about a thousand times if they were really going to check them all the way through, but they kept nodding. I even asked again when security pulled me aside to pull out my batteries from luggage. I had misgivings but I was going to believe them.

It was another packed flight to Beijing. I had an aisle seat. The guy in the middle was big so we got to fight for the armrest for the two hour flight. But that was about the only problem.

At the Beijing airport, rightly or wrongly, I decided to give my big camera case to the storage people. Yes, I was going to lock up my very expensive video camera while I went into the city with my regular camera. The butterflies in my stomach were huge about that decision.
I walked the short ramp from the airport to the train platform. I put my 25 Kwai in the machine and got my ticket. It looked like my ticket was going to be another scrap of plastic I was going to store as a memento from my journey.

The train into town took about fifteen minutes. It passed through unremarkable countryside. The only thing that comes to mind that I saw was a massive Ikea store. Don’t ask me what station I disembarked at because, I couldn’t tell you the name. I do remember I caught the 2 line to Tianamen Square. I couldn’t even tell you the name when I was standing in the station looking right at it. It had a lot of letters grouped together that made little sense.

To get off the train, I had to give up my new memento. I was hoping it was going to be free transfers once I got my ticket, but the Airport Train was a different ticket. I was forced to buy a ticket for the main subway for a whopping thirty five cents. Damn you, Chicoms.

Since the subway trains were based on loops, it was my task to decipher the signs to make sure I was on the train that would take me to Tianamen square in the least amount of stops. I am happy to say I succeeded in this endeavor. But it was a touch and go for a bit.

I didn’t know what to expect from Tianamen square. I just knew it from the coverage of the revolt all those years ago. But I figured it to be enclosed with a giant picture of Mao on one side and the world’s largest KFC somewhere in the neighborhood. I got the bit about the picture of Mao right. I never did spot a KFC. Yes, I was fixated.

I got out of the station on the opposite side of the busy street from the square. At least I think it was the square. I had my doubts because it wasn’t enclosed and I thought it was supposed to be. And from where I stood there didn’t seem to be a way to get from where I was to the square. Railings blocked me from crossing the street. Not that I wanted to because there was a lot of traffic and it would be bad form to get hit by a car on my last day in China.




So, I wandered. I realized they weren’t kidding when they said it was going to be 20F in Beijing. Good thing I decided to only wear a sweatshirt. The skies were overcast so colors were flat and dull and didn’t inspire me to take pictures, but I shot some desultory shots.

There was a nice building atop a stone base. The tunnel underneath led to a Christmas tree setting. I kept wandering in hopes of finding a crosswalk or a tunnel to the other side of the street. I wanted to find some indication that I was actually near the square. A map would have been handy. The one in my mind wasn’t as precise as I desired.

Eventually, I went back into the subway to find my way across the street. It worked. I had to pass through security again just to walk into the large open area. In the center was a large building I couldn’t identify. It had a neon sign saying no cameras were allowed inside. Guards stood outside amidst some worker based sculptures. They did not want their pictures taken. I eventually worked out I was looking at the mausoleum that housed Mao. It wasn’t open and I didn’t have the enthusiasm to go in even it was open.

I wandered the square slowly realizing I was in the square but it was nothing like I envisioned. Streets bordered the north and south approaches. A huge obelisk stood in the center of the square as well as two massive neon signs which broadcasted messages in Chinese. The portrait of Mao did hang on one side but it was across another busy street. It hung from the side of the Forbidden city across several bridges. From all the photos I had seen, I don’t recall the busy street.




It was equally hard to get out of the square as it was to get in. I eventually found the underground crossing to get to the gates of the Forbidden City. I was told to keep moving by the guards as I stopped on one of the bridges to take pictures. The Beijingites were much crankier than their country cousins in Dengfeng.

I rented an electronic guide to lead me through the city. Many people offered to lead me but I went with the headphones. It was GPS tethered so depending on where I stood, it would tell me what I was looking at. I guess I should have gotten the one for dawdling photographers because what it was saying usually didn’t conform to what I was seeing. Plus, it kept telling me to hurry up and go into the next room or gate or building. Most of the time I wasn’t listening to the thing anyway because I was trying to take pictures.

It probably wasn’t the best day for me to be in the Forbidden City. It was crowded. Too many people stood between me and what I was trying to shoot. And if I did have a clear shot, the overcast skies didn’t really make for colorful pictures. I was cold. I wanted to be home. Oh woe is me.




But I soldiered on, dammit. I saw building and nooks that I should have explored more. I saw trees where the last Emperor, Pu Yi stood with his bride. The coolest thing I saw was a man-made mountain with a building on top. I ducked into the gift shops to get warm. I didn’t buy anything because I figured I would get better prices outside the gates in the Hutongs.

I handed in my headset friend and headed out the back gate. According to the map in my head, I just had to go a few blocks west and then I could head North into the Hutong Area to find some shopping. From there it was several blocks back to the stop where I could pick up the train to the airport. Boy that sounds really simple, doesn’t it? Too bad the map I kept sourcing was in my head, remembered from the Wiki Travel site.

As soon as I left the grounds of the Forbidden City I was accosted by people wanting me take their rickshaws into the Hutong Area. One nice girl complimented me on my Chinese language skills when I said Bu Yao and wanted to know if I wanted to go with her for coffee.

One driver was immune to my Bu Yao power and yelled something back at me. I yelled Bu Yao at him. he grabbed my shoulders and dragged me closer. Every time I yelled Bu Yao, he yelled his response. He got so close I thought he was going to kiss me. I managed to leave his clutches and headed up the street.

Feeling the need for a map to aid me in my quest for Hutongs and gifts, I bought a map for 1 Yuan from a street vendor. When I opened it, I realized it was a freeway map that would have guided me on the major roads of Beijing but was useless in helping me find my way through the narrow streets ahead.

Plus, by opening the map, I set off a beacon to more rickshaw drivers who descended upon me. I pointed to my feet to show that I would be walking. I Bu Yaoed them and continued on.

I crossed the street at a nearby crosswalk, following some other tourists. I was on my way to some of the oldest residential areas of Beijing, also known as the Hutongs Area. A hutong was supposed to be a street reflecting how Beijing used to be. I don’t know if I ever saw that.

I saw one street sign that had Hutong on it and I made for that street. I was supposed to find one major street that would have led me into the center of them, but I didn’t quite know how far to travel from the exit of the Forbidden City to that street. I also wasn’t coming up with the name for that street.

I wandered. I made turns. I saw cramped tiny streets. I kept trying to head in a westerly direction figuring eventually I would cross one of the subway lines. But I kept coming into dead ends. At one point, I was in the women’s dorm area of the Beijing University. I feared I would have to go all the way back to the Forbidden City to pick up the subway. I never found the shopping area.




I found a main street and followed it westward. I kept thinking I should make a turn to the north to see if I could find the mythical Hutong and it’s wikitravel recommended shopping area. But I also thought that I might cross the subway line and never recognize it. I would be stuck in Beijing and would miss my flight. I was getting ready to start looking for cabs.

Eventually, I spotted one of the buildings that means subway. I gratefully descended. I was off by a few stations from the Airport subway line and would have to make one transfer to get to the right station. I decided to cut my losses and head to the airport even though I still had five hours until my flight.

At the stop for the line for the Airport subway, I got off my train and walked to the Airport Subway line. I passed a door that led to a mall. I still had a lot of money in my wallet and still hadn’t obtained a gift for the Queen. I had plenty of time. I went into the mall.

Still nothing after an hour long search. Although they did have a UCLA store. There was no actual UCLA apparel, but they did have pictures of the campus. They had clothes, I guess, that they thought reflected the spirit of UCLA. This meshed well with the ticket taker who had on an USC cap that I saw in the Forbidden City.

I headed for the train. I stopped at a sidewalk vendor and bought the Queen some earmuffs. I forgot to haggle and just gave the man the three dollars.

I made it to the airport without further angst or adventure. I was able to retrieve my camera from the lockers to my great relief. I was going to get something to eat before I went through security but nothing caught my fancy. I didn’t feel like eating at Kenny Rogers Roasters or the Burger King. I did notice a the familiar red and white of the KFC logo on the other side of the security check point so I opted to go through and eat there.


Haha, jokes on Greg. There were two paths to get to security, one for domestic and one for international. I took the escalator down to the international check point. The escalator took me past the KFC to the train that would take me over to the international terminal. I could have shed a tear as my KFC quest was aborted yet again.

I bought gifts to show I had been to China at the gates, which is probably the worst place to buy gifts. I could have also bought a bag of M&M’s in the duty free for eighteen dollars. I didn’t. I had dinner at some Japanese restaurant looking out over the darkened runways. The waitress expected me to order more from the menu but there wasn’t much I wanted in that place.

I had four hours to kill so I wandered through all the shops. I noticed on one of the maps there was supposed to be a pizza hut at this end of the world. I found it and had my second dinner of the day there. Yes, I had pizza and french fries. I was very happy to do so.

To get on the plane they did another search of my carryon. They took my bottle of water away that I had bought in the terminal. I was too tired to get into much discussion about why that was necessary.

This flight was full to capacity. I sat next to a Korean guy and girl who had to keep explaining to the stewardess they couldn’t read the chinese literature they kept handing them. By this time it was late, so I promptly fell asleep. I got eight hours rest. Which meant when I woke up, I still had fours of flight in front of me.

By now, the Mao’s revenge which kind of raised it’s head in Zhengzhou, decided it would officially present itself. I made multiple trips to bathroom. In case you don’t know, it’s very hard for a man of my size to kneel in those airplane bathrooms to drive the porcelain bus.

The plane landed right on time, maybe a few minutes early. It’s not a good combination to have a grumpy Greg talk to an overly officious immigration official. One guy said I wasn’t in his line and couldn’t help me. Another guy asked if I had just cut in front of a woman in my own line and I had to tell him the other guy had sent me back to this line. He then asked me why the airline people couldn’t get my name right on the ticket. I tried to explain to them that having Jr. at the end of my name confuses them. He said why couldn’t they just copy it from the passport. I almost responded by saying I wasn’t going to go back to China to find out.

My bags were the last off the carousel which meant everybody on the plane was already in line in front of me. I decided on patience as the line moved glacially. It didn’t help that none of these damn foreigners spoke English and were having problems communicating. See? Irony.

Basically the Queen had to wait an hour for me to get through immigration. Maybe more.




For the next week my internal clock was all screwed up. I’d fall asleep during the day and wake up in the middle of the night. I came down with a chest cold to mix with the stomach bug I carried. All told, I wasn’t right for a week.

I posted my pictures and cut a video for DM. I had a bunch of emails from people I tried to contact in China but for some reason they hadn’t gone through I saw the video I shot for Sal appear on youTube under his name with his copyright on it. I’m going to let it go as thanks for his help in China. No. I am.

And here I am with only one question: Why did I go to China?

[Drunk Monk]

...wondering that very question.

[Greg_phpbb3_import1]

So I could take pictures in my Got Qi shirt.

[Drunk Monk]

...this was the best damn blog we've had 'round these parts in many moons. It was right up there alongside the one when I pulled that odd muscle in my ass and it made me feel like I had to constantly take a dump. :butthead:

Seriously, bro, sounds like you had an amazing adventure. I salute your daring. China is not for the feint of heart, nor the non-Mandarin speaker.

[Greg_phpbb3_import1]

I figured I had told my tales to the point of exhaustion and it was time to generate some new ones. My China stories will keep me going for a spell

[Drunk Monk]

heck, i've made a career out of retelling china stories. i'm trying to get more like cf now. when tales reach the point of exhaustion, just make something up. ;-)

[Greg_phpbb3_import1]

Spoken by the man who says he doesn't like fiction.

[cranefly]

DM is right. Your travelog rocks like a shadow kick delivered during a total solar eclipse.

Wish I could think of a market for it. About the only advice I have for the moment is to always consider the merits of using "the" as a verb.

Maybe I'll do some google searches. writer markets for travelogs or somesuch.

[Greg_phpbb3_import1]

putting that into my notes "use the as a verb"

Thanks, CF for your the.

[Drunk Monk]

i tried my hand at it. i put together a few pieces; they all got rejected. the thing about travel writing is that you start by selling to travel mags. they pay well but they are so ad driven that you can't say anything negative. you have to sell the destination. you can only write about the dark side of travel after you've built up a significant reputation as a travel writer that you can stand alone, publish on your own merits.

that being said, the shaolin trip FAIL tale has been done to death, especially on our ezine. nevertheless, greg - you should take your shot at it. there's one thing you have that's unique about your take on the trip. you're not a martial artist. that's fresh, at least for us. all the rest of us talk about our training at some point.

[cranefly]

Following up on DM's comments, and from searching on the web, yeah, the travel markets are mostly in bed with tourism and travel markets and want you to "sell" the destination to your readers. Fictionizing parts of your travelog might be an angle, but I have struggled doing fiction based on my own trips (I seem to need to make almost everything up to get anywhere).

Whether you were to go with the facts or fictionalize parts of it, I suspect either way you'd have to mute the Sal angle -- unless you don't give a damn what he thinks. This is unfortunate, because those are some of the best parts.

[Greg_phpbb3_import1]

I did a lot of cool things. I saw some fascinating places. And I lived to do it again some time. Don't think of it as a fail. Think of it as an adventure.

Sal would have to go.