One very easy and fun way to gauge the cost of living in a given place is to look at the cost of a bottle of beer. My roommate of four years Paul agrees with me, and he's an accountant so I must be right. I considered this as I took a quick cab ride back to my apartment from downtown Liuyang. Aimee and I were finished writing our first day's lesson plans and we went into town for some supplies and some beer to take the edge off the nervousness we were feeling.
As we drove past the Ming Tian Inn, complete with 'Western' style restaurant, we both seemed to come to the same realization. In Aimee's bag were four beers... 18 yuan total. Two days earlier we had circumambulated the city on foot and, being that the Inn is the last place before you reach the country roads of Xin Wen school, we stopped in at the Ming Tian Inn for some food and two beers... costing 20 yuan apiece.
It should be no surprise to anyone who has even remotely heard of China in the last 10 years that this is a land of paradox. However to see the gap between rich and poor so blatantly explained by the 'cost of beer' economic system was shocking. What is more shocking is how two, supposedly well travelled, individuals could be so stupidly ripped off. Right then and there in our taxi Aimee and I agreed that we were done buying 20 yuan beers. The atmosphere of the Ming Tian Inn just isn't worth it... trust me.
C. Johnson
Monday, August 31, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
First Trip to Changsha (also the hospital)
So there were several reasons that my FAO Monica, and her two friends brought Aimee and I to Changsha two days ago. First of all, Aimee needed to exchange her travellers checks and apparently the head branch of the Bank of China in the Provincial Capital was the only place that could handle such a serious task. Second, there is fantastic shopping, which we'll get to soon enough. But must importantly to me, there was the Changsha Hospital where I would be getting my health check, pushing me one step closer to being a legal resident of China.
Changsha is a city the size of London... shocking because you have probably never heard of it have you? I figured that such a large city would certainly have top of the line modern health facilities. I figured wrong. Cramped in the back of the same small Chevrolet that had taken me around Liuyang I did not have any good views of the city and so I dozed off. I awoke to hear Aimee asking incredulously "Is this the hospital?" Not what I wanted to hear. The clinic was in a 'not so nice' part of town but that was not what worried me. It was the open air meat market next door that made me think "Well if the worst that happens to me is Swine Flu I'll be just fine."
Monica led me up a flight of stairs and into the office of the hospital. Here I had to fill out my information in triplicate, which I supposed was just in case they lost one copy. Such a thing would not have been rare judging by the office's 'filing' system, which was basically just a pile of papers. Actually it was just a pile of papers. After smiling for a picture I was given a small plastic cup and told to pee. "I'm sorry but I don't have to pee." As far as I could tell this was not an acceptable excuse. I drank three bottles of water and found my way to the bathroom. They were feral at best. It took a while, perhaps I was worried about the man next to me getting frisky, but the deed was eventually done.
Next up was getting my blood drawn. When I was a child I had to be held down for the doctors to stick a needle into me. I don't know why but my entire body would just fill with fear and I couldn't hold still. That same feeling of dread filled me again. I begged Monica to ensure that the needles were clean. She assured me that this clinic was modern and everything was sterilized. It took everything inside of me not to ask her why the entire place smelled like shit if it was so clean. But then again, would YOU want to be the one to clean up a Chinese Hospital? I then endured another hour or so of tests, oddly including an ultrasound (It's a boy by the way) and an extremely rude ECG nurse. The entire proceedings cost a total of 364 Yuan, remember this.
Aimee had trouble exchanging her checks at the bank and so I took this opportunity to get some lunch (I was forced to skip breakfast... I assume for the ultrasound). I found a noodle place with a couple of pictures at the register. I pointed at something that looked like it wasn't dog and took a seat. All of the Chinese seemed flabbergasted that a Westerner would walk into such a small shop and order something without asking any questions. I considered this and realized that even though I have spent almost two months (in total) in China this was the first meal that I had ever eaten alone. I felt proud of myself as I walked back to the bank. The owner had only charged me 3 Yuan, perhaps he was so shocked he forgot to charge me the foreigner price.
We had a couple of hours to kill before my medical results would be available so to the girls' (the Chinese girls, not necessarily Aimee's) delight we went to the mall. I would assume that the feeling I had as I went from the squalor of the hospital into the shine of the modern mall is analogous to the way that Angelina Jolie's kids felt after being airlifted out of Africa. Could this be the same planet? It was. The mall was clean and efficient and filled with workers. Each store had tons of them (workers)... too many, you would think, but really they were all very busy. This was the Chinese market that American producers so desperately wanted to tap. I sat in the M*A*C makeup store and listened to 36 mafia and Eminem. How could this be? Remembering that I needed some basketball shoes I went to the 7Th, THE 7Th, floor of the mall and found the NIKE store. They didn't have my size but I checked out a few models anyway. The price of the cheapest shoes in the store was 680 Yuan, almost double what I paid for my health check...
This is the paradox of today's China and I must say that it is quite wonderful to experience. Earlier that day I was (justifiably) worried that a qualified medical professional might infect me with hepatitis and now I was standing in a NIKE store with 100 Dollar shoes, and people were buying them. I think that this is really the best time to be in China... well OK the best time will be when the mall style of life hits the hospitals, but still... this country is incredible!
I do not mean to be demeaning at all in my account of the hospital visit. It was difficult, it was scary. But poverty is no longer endemic to the Chinese people. Sure there was a man lying on the pavement naked just outside the mall, but the point is that there is a mall. Progress is being made. Many westerners would want to ask what the cost of this progress is, but before you do ask what the cost of our own affluence is. In the US there are no naked men laying outside of our malls, our naked men are in Latin America, Africa, and parts of Asia. There is no doubt in my mind that the Chinese have room to improve, and a lot of room to improve, but perhaps we do as well.
C. Johnson
Changsha is a city the size of London... shocking because you have probably never heard of it have you? I figured that such a large city would certainly have top of the line modern health facilities. I figured wrong. Cramped in the back of the same small Chevrolet that had taken me around Liuyang I did not have any good views of the city and so I dozed off. I awoke to hear Aimee asking incredulously "Is this the hospital?" Not what I wanted to hear. The clinic was in a 'not so nice' part of town but that was not what worried me. It was the open air meat market next door that made me think "Well if the worst that happens to me is Swine Flu I'll be just fine."
Monica led me up a flight of stairs and into the office of the hospital. Here I had to fill out my information in triplicate, which I supposed was just in case they lost one copy. Such a thing would not have been rare judging by the office's 'filing' system, which was basically just a pile of papers. Actually it was just a pile of papers. After smiling for a picture I was given a small plastic cup and told to pee. "I'm sorry but I don't have to pee." As far as I could tell this was not an acceptable excuse. I drank three bottles of water and found my way to the bathroom. They were feral at best. It took a while, perhaps I was worried about the man next to me getting frisky, but the deed was eventually done.
Next up was getting my blood drawn. When I was a child I had to be held down for the doctors to stick a needle into me. I don't know why but my entire body would just fill with fear and I couldn't hold still. That same feeling of dread filled me again. I begged Monica to ensure that the needles were clean. She assured me that this clinic was modern and everything was sterilized. It took everything inside of me not to ask her why the entire place smelled like shit if it was so clean. But then again, would YOU want to be the one to clean up a Chinese Hospital? I then endured another hour or so of tests, oddly including an ultrasound (It's a boy by the way) and an extremely rude ECG nurse. The entire proceedings cost a total of 364 Yuan, remember this.
Aimee had trouble exchanging her checks at the bank and so I took this opportunity to get some lunch (I was forced to skip breakfast... I assume for the ultrasound). I found a noodle place with a couple of pictures at the register. I pointed at something that looked like it wasn't dog and took a seat. All of the Chinese seemed flabbergasted that a Westerner would walk into such a small shop and order something without asking any questions. I considered this and realized that even though I have spent almost two months (in total) in China this was the first meal that I had ever eaten alone. I felt proud of myself as I walked back to the bank. The owner had only charged me 3 Yuan, perhaps he was so shocked he forgot to charge me the foreigner price.
We had a couple of hours to kill before my medical results would be available so to the girls' (the Chinese girls, not necessarily Aimee's) delight we went to the mall. I would assume that the feeling I had as I went from the squalor of the hospital into the shine of the modern mall is analogous to the way that Angelina Jolie's kids felt after being airlifted out of Africa. Could this be the same planet? It was. The mall was clean and efficient and filled with workers. Each store had tons of them (workers)... too many, you would think, but really they were all very busy. This was the Chinese market that American producers so desperately wanted to tap. I sat in the M*A*C makeup store and listened to 36 mafia and Eminem. How could this be? Remembering that I needed some basketball shoes I went to the 7Th, THE 7Th, floor of the mall and found the NIKE store. They didn't have my size but I checked out a few models anyway. The price of the cheapest shoes in the store was 680 Yuan, almost double what I paid for my health check...
This is the paradox of today's China and I must say that it is quite wonderful to experience. Earlier that day I was (justifiably) worried that a qualified medical professional might infect me with hepatitis and now I was standing in a NIKE store with 100 Dollar shoes, and people were buying them. I think that this is really the best time to be in China... well OK the best time will be when the mall style of life hits the hospitals, but still... this country is incredible!
I do not mean to be demeaning at all in my account of the hospital visit. It was difficult, it was scary. But poverty is no longer endemic to the Chinese people. Sure there was a man lying on the pavement naked just outside the mall, but the point is that there is a mall. Progress is being made. Many westerners would want to ask what the cost of this progress is, but before you do ask what the cost of our own affluence is. In the US there are no naked men laying outside of our malls, our naked men are in Latin America, Africa, and parts of Asia. There is no doubt in my mind that the Chinese have room to improve, and a lot of room to improve, but perhaps we do as well.
C. Johnson
Monday, August 24, 2009
On to Liuyang
WARNING: THE FOLLOWING POST HAS A BIT OF 'COLOR'. SOME MAY WISH TO PROCEED TO THE NEXT BIT OF BOLD FACED WORDS
The man who drove Aimee and I to the train station in Guilin told us to wait for about an hour near the outdoor public restrooms for a travel company to come and give us our tickets for the overnight to Changsha. As I waited I thought about what an adventure I was on, about how funny life could be, how amazing it could be... OK I am bullshitting here but please, let me. I need some way to label what was about to happen as adventurous or exciting; even calling it oddly foreign would do. During our wait I decided to quickly visit the little boys room where there was a single trough up against a wall. I have peed in plenty of bar bathrooms and the trough style of things does not really bother me much. Now it is true that after I had finished relieving myself I stood for a few, but just a few, seconds more taking deep breaths and preparing myself for the train ride ahead before I put it all back inside my shorts. However I would not ever classify this short amount of time as the amount of time a man would have to wait before he would think that the man with his bits out (me) was inviting him to have a go. Apparently in China I had waited precisely that amount of time. It turns out that public restrooms outside of train and bus stations are happening spots for young Chinese homosexuals to meet. Oh how obvious these things become to a person after his penis has been touched by a stranger. And in reality it was quite obvious... the restroom was full of men just kind of hanging out. The odd thing was that the man didn't even say anything to me, not that my reaction would have been much better had he, but really, to just reach over like that... the barbarian. My reaction was also nonverbal. I didn't want to chastise him in English, lest he mistake my anger for role play; and remarkably the Rosetta Stone never covered the Mandarin words I was searching for. I quickly zipped up and dashed out of the restroom. I was lucky to have Aimee there making light of the situation otherwise I would have fumed over it all night.
Next up was an enterprising young boy who wanted to wash my sandals... my sandals. I was having none of this. Now you must remember that I have travelled through India, where you see some truly depressing shit in the train stations. I mention this only because I don't want my readers to think that I am callous when I say that my heart was not even hiccuping for this fat and fully clothed 12 year old in front of me. I must admit however that these Chinese kids were far more persistent than their Indian counterparts. He simply would not take no for an answer. What a pain in the ass. In half an hour's time we would literally watch our 'travel guide' walk up to the ticket depot we were sitting right next to, which had English signage by the way, and buy our tickets. He was half an hour late and we had to pay him 70 Yuan apiece for his 'services'. Chinese capitalism at its finest I suppose. You would think that I couldn't stand this country, that I would be constantly questioning why I came here and that I would hate living here... and sometimes I do have all of these emotions. However China often offers its own salvation when you need it the most. Today it came in the form of two men from Xian, who I assume were not gay, who rescued us from the touts and the little kid. They made fast friends with us and tried to speak to us in broken English. Aimee filled in the gaps for me with her Mandarin. When they saw that we were not a couple of bleeding heart tourists they explained to the kid that his time was probably more effectively spent elsewhere. They offered me a cigarette and, feeling obliged but also feeling like I really needed one, I accepted it and then another. We left them in a flurry of thank yous in many languages and rushed onto our train... which is a fifteen minute story in itself.
OK GRANDMA, YOU CAN START READING AGAIN
I started this post with some sarcastic existentialism, but I must admit that there is something really fun and adventurous about taking a train in China when there is only one other English speaker aboard the transport. We were in hard sleeper, which meant that privacy would be non existent on the trip. The family who shared our little cubby was polite and quiet. The two teenage children seemed thrilled that they were sharing their berth with some westerners though I got the feeling that the boy tried hard not to show it. Aimee was not feeling well so I stayed up with her as long as I could. All around us the Chinese were making themselves at home, setting up snacks or brushing their teeth. One boy, maybe eight years old, ran up and down the aisle wearing only a long orange T-shirt. Without getting too sappy I would really like to say what a wondrous occasion this train ride really was. It was fun. It was new. It was adventurous. We awoke the next morning to be dumped quickly onto the platform of the Changsha train station. The sky was grey and polluted and I thought back to my decision to smoke those cigarettes the night before. We easily found our Foreign Affairs Officer (FAO) in the crowd outside the station and from that moment on the day was a flurry of action. We had three meals, were shown our new apartments (quite nice I must say), taken to the supermarket, shown around the school, and given a quick and uncomfortable tour of Liuyang in a small Chevrolet. That evening fireworks went off late into the night. Liuyang is the world's largest producer of the explosives and it appears that this will be a nightly occurrence. Today Aimee and I went for a walk around the school, but even given the grey skys it is deadly hot. There is a small shop that doubles as a pool hall and bar about a mile from the school's entrance. Other than that, there is not much between us and downtown Liuyang, which is not by any means a small village. Don't let the Chinese fool you... Liuyang is a city, a city with hundreds of thousands of people.
Right now the newness of everything is hard. However I realize that in one SHORT year I will undoubtedly be sad when I leave this place. The teaching staff seem nice, though many of them do not speak English. We are planning to make a trip to Changsha in a few days so that Amy can change her money there. I will update on that as well as the beginning of the school year as it happens. Thank you for reading. I am trying to report my life here in China as honestly as I can bear it. Often what you read may make you think I hate this place... I do not. It is new, it is foreign, but for at least one year it is also my home.
C. Johnson
The man who drove Aimee and I to the train station in Guilin told us to wait for about an hour near the outdoor public restrooms for a travel company to come and give us our tickets for the overnight to Changsha. As I waited I thought about what an adventure I was on, about how funny life could be, how amazing it could be... OK I am bullshitting here but please, let me. I need some way to label what was about to happen as adventurous or exciting; even calling it oddly foreign would do. During our wait I decided to quickly visit the little boys room where there was a single trough up against a wall. I have peed in plenty of bar bathrooms and the trough style of things does not really bother me much. Now it is true that after I had finished relieving myself I stood for a few, but just a few, seconds more taking deep breaths and preparing myself for the train ride ahead before I put it all back inside my shorts. However I would not ever classify this short amount of time as the amount of time a man would have to wait before he would think that the man with his bits out (me) was inviting him to have a go. Apparently in China I had waited precisely that amount of time. It turns out that public restrooms outside of train and bus stations are happening spots for young Chinese homosexuals to meet. Oh how obvious these things become to a person after his penis has been touched by a stranger. And in reality it was quite obvious... the restroom was full of men just kind of hanging out. The odd thing was that the man didn't even say anything to me, not that my reaction would have been much better had he, but really, to just reach over like that... the barbarian. My reaction was also nonverbal. I didn't want to chastise him in English, lest he mistake my anger for role play; and remarkably the Rosetta Stone never covered the Mandarin words I was searching for. I quickly zipped up and dashed out of the restroom. I was lucky to have Aimee there making light of the situation otherwise I would have fumed over it all night.
Next up was an enterprising young boy who wanted to wash my sandals... my sandals. I was having none of this. Now you must remember that I have travelled through India, where you see some truly depressing shit in the train stations. I mention this only because I don't want my readers to think that I am callous when I say that my heart was not even hiccuping for this fat and fully clothed 12 year old in front of me. I must admit however that these Chinese kids were far more persistent than their Indian counterparts. He simply would not take no for an answer. What a pain in the ass. In half an hour's time we would literally watch our 'travel guide' walk up to the ticket depot we were sitting right next to, which had English signage by the way, and buy our tickets. He was half an hour late and we had to pay him 70 Yuan apiece for his 'services'. Chinese capitalism at its finest I suppose. You would think that I couldn't stand this country, that I would be constantly questioning why I came here and that I would hate living here... and sometimes I do have all of these emotions. However China often offers its own salvation when you need it the most. Today it came in the form of two men from Xian, who I assume were not gay, who rescued us from the touts and the little kid. They made fast friends with us and tried to speak to us in broken English. Aimee filled in the gaps for me with her Mandarin. When they saw that we were not a couple of bleeding heart tourists they explained to the kid that his time was probably more effectively spent elsewhere. They offered me a cigarette and, feeling obliged but also feeling like I really needed one, I accepted it and then another. We left them in a flurry of thank yous in many languages and rushed onto our train... which is a fifteen minute story in itself.
OK GRANDMA, YOU CAN START READING AGAIN
I started this post with some sarcastic existentialism, but I must admit that there is something really fun and adventurous about taking a train in China when there is only one other English speaker aboard the transport. We were in hard sleeper, which meant that privacy would be non existent on the trip. The family who shared our little cubby was polite and quiet. The two teenage children seemed thrilled that they were sharing their berth with some westerners though I got the feeling that the boy tried hard not to show it. Aimee was not feeling well so I stayed up with her as long as I could. All around us the Chinese were making themselves at home, setting up snacks or brushing their teeth. One boy, maybe eight years old, ran up and down the aisle wearing only a long orange T-shirt. Without getting too sappy I would really like to say what a wondrous occasion this train ride really was. It was fun. It was new. It was adventurous. We awoke the next morning to be dumped quickly onto the platform of the Changsha train station. The sky was grey and polluted and I thought back to my decision to smoke those cigarettes the night before. We easily found our Foreign Affairs Officer (FAO) in the crowd outside the station and from that moment on the day was a flurry of action. We had three meals, were shown our new apartments (quite nice I must say), taken to the supermarket, shown around the school, and given a quick and uncomfortable tour of Liuyang in a small Chevrolet. That evening fireworks went off late into the night. Liuyang is the world's largest producer of the explosives and it appears that this will be a nightly occurrence. Today Aimee and I went for a walk around the school, but even given the grey skys it is deadly hot. There is a small shop that doubles as a pool hall and bar about a mile from the school's entrance. Other than that, there is not much between us and downtown Liuyang, which is not by any means a small village. Don't let the Chinese fool you... Liuyang is a city, a city with hundreds of thousands of people.
Right now the newness of everything is hard. However I realize that in one SHORT year I will undoubtedly be sad when I leave this place. The teaching staff seem nice, though many of them do not speak English. We are planning to make a trip to Changsha in a few days so that Amy can change her money there. I will update on that as well as the beginning of the school year as it happens. Thank you for reading. I am trying to report my life here in China as honestly as I can bear it. Often what you read may make you think I hate this place... I do not. It is new, it is foreign, but for at least one year it is also my home.
C. Johnson
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Lasagna?
Lasagna? Sometimes the Chinese versions of our foods are kind of just approximations rather than replications.
This is my teaching partner Aimee eating some yummy 'lasagna'. Wonton wrappers as a substitute for pasta? Only in China
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Orientation
So it has been a while since my last blogpost because I have been so busy with orientation. I am now packing to get ready to move to the city where I will be teaching which is called Liuyang. I have been trying to provide you with pictures so you can see some of what I have seen.
I guess I will start at the beginning of Yangshuo. Eun (see photo below) was the first person that I met here. I was soooo scared when I first got here that I couldn't even eat. Eun is the driver here at Buckland. It's also his job to make sure all the new recruits are comfortable and settled here. Without him and others on the Buckland staff I probably would have left China because of homesickness.
The actual orientation has been packed full of TESOL classes. Everyone here is awesome and my fellow new teachers and I are having a blast. The only bad part is that we are now going to be shipped off to other parts of China but hopefully we will keep in touch. At the end of orientation we each have to teach one lesson plan to a group of local students. I did my lesson on hobbies and had a great time.
Tomorrow I take a train to Changsha and then a car to Liuyang. My teaching partner's name is Aimee and I think that we will get along pretty well. My city is 45 minutes from Changsha (which means it is about 1 mile because of Chinese traffic) which is the provincial capital. Changsha = McDonalds! I will be teaching at a primary and middle school which is a bit younger than I had hoped but the McDonalds will no doubt help that.
Last night we had a huge party with Owen, the owner of my company. I got wasted off of baijo (see dopey smile in the photo below) but Owen did too so it was all right. Then it was time for some KTV (karaoke).
Today I went to the river one last time. It was incredible. The water is so warm and the Chinese tourists so excited to see some Lao Wei jumping off the bridge. This little girl was shooting us with water so when her bamboo raft came up to the bridge we all cannonballed into the water near her. She was soaked and started screaming, "you are evil". We may have started another world war.
I am sad to say goodbye to Yanshuo but I am ready to start the next chapter of this adventure.
Oh ya, I bargained with a lady at the market but did so entirely in Mandarin. Schwing!
I guess I will start at the beginning of Yangshuo. Eun (see photo below) was the first person that I met here. I was soooo scared when I first got here that I couldn't even eat. Eun is the driver here at Buckland. It's also his job to make sure all the new recruits are comfortable and settled here. Without him and others on the Buckland staff I probably would have left China because of homesickness.
The actual orientation has been packed full of TESOL classes. Everyone here is awesome and my fellow new teachers and I are having a blast. The only bad part is that we are now going to be shipped off to other parts of China but hopefully we will keep in touch. At the end of orientation we each have to teach one lesson plan to a group of local students. I did my lesson on hobbies and had a great time.
Tomorrow I take a train to Changsha and then a car to Liuyang. My teaching partner's name is Aimee and I think that we will get along pretty well. My city is 45 minutes from Changsha (which means it is about 1 mile because of Chinese traffic) which is the provincial capital. Changsha = McDonalds! I will be teaching at a primary and middle school which is a bit younger than I had hoped but the McDonalds will no doubt help that.
Last night we had a huge party with Owen, the owner of my company. I got wasted off of baijo (see dopey smile in the photo below) but Owen did too so it was all right. Then it was time for some KTV (karaoke).
Today I went to the river one last time. It was incredible. The water is so warm and the Chinese tourists so excited to see some Lao Wei jumping off the bridge. This little girl was shooting us with water so when her bamboo raft came up to the bridge we all cannonballed into the water near her. She was soaked and started screaming, "you are evil". We may have started another world war.
I am sad to say goodbye to Yanshuo but I am ready to start the next chapter of this adventure.
Oh ya, I bargained with a lady at the market but did so entirely in Mandarin. Schwing!
Friday, August 21, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Along the Yulong River
About 5 miles outside of Yangshou the slow moving Yulong River meanders its way through the massive karst topography of southern China. The trail from Yangshou to the river is paved, and it is often clogged with tourists, but it is beautiful, serene and lonely all the same. Trekking away from my low budget hostel the road climbs its only significant rise between the town and the river. As the buildings of Yangshou disappear behind the peaks, I am quickly deposited in a narrow valley.
In the early morning the road was a flutter with local activity. Loud tractors full of farm supplies rumble by. The morning's harvest makes its way in the other direction. The bamboo raft drivers fly down the road on their motorcycles each one blaring their horn as they pass to my very near left. Although the valley is narrow the locals have managed to carve small rice farms out of the land. In the fields the women pick and tie bunches of the plants while the men load their tractors near the road. Somewhere after the first bend the valley begins to open up. To the right farming persists for 200, 300, 400 meters as the massive mountains veer away from the road. To my left, peak after peak rise thousands of feet into the air. Sheer cliffs with plant life seeming to be clinging desperately to the face with their roots. Nature has weathered out small niches in the base of many of the peaks.
Here old ladies sit, selling hats and tiaras made of flowers. Another hundred metres and the trail seems to give birth to what is, I promise you, the most beautiful scene anyone has ever seen. Within the tall confines of the valley walls a massive and proud peak stands solitary, and at its base is a village. The mud road to the left bumps through a small village with no storefronts, just homes. To the right the paved trail cuts quickly through town and on to the Yulong river. Touts scream at me, "Bamboo... Bamboo." I respond with a stern "Bo yo shia shia."
I decided to see where the path to the left led... it led to nowhere but that was the point. The locals on this side of the village were not used to seeing westerners stray from the manicured trail and were eager to have me notice them. "You walk from Yangshuo?" a man asked in surprisingly good English with a look of awe on his face. I simply nod. After exploring the small paths of the town and giving the children a few enthusiastic "Ni haos" I found myself back on the paved trail again heading towards the Yulong. As the road leaves the more modernized part of the village the valley opens up on both sides of the road. It seems that here the entire world is open to me. It is nothing but blue and white sky and peak after cloudy peak.
This is the China we have seen painted a million times and probably written on just as much. I can imagine the ancient Chinese here thinking of the dragon and the phoenix wrapping their way between the massive peaks. The fertile valley floor is flat and ensures that my view of the topography is unencumbered. Something as simple as a stone bridge leading into the soggy fields becomes magical in a setting such as this. When you walk this trail you feel full, entire. Now the trail is beginning to get crowded though, and I must constantly look over my shoulder to ensure that I am not tagged by a motorcycle or tractor, or even worse one of the gigantic buses that are now shipping thousands of tourists to the berth of the bamboo floats. I am soon near the river where more raft drivers offer me their service. In order to escape their requests I find a small dirt path that leads down to the river. And there it was, silent but mighty, slowly weathering this land even further. Upstream there is a flotilla of umbrella clad bamboo rafts. Down stream local children are gathering water guns to sell to the tourists. The colors of these man made items create a paradox that is garish but unmistakeably beautiful. What was once only green and blue is now a flurry of red and orange and green and purple and blue and blue and blue.
I find myself on a map within my travel guide and as some children shyly approach me I show them where we are. The bravest of these quickly grabs the book from my hands and begins searching the map. I am not sure how much of it she comprehended and she quickly handed it back to me closed. I did not spend long at the river, it was hot and I was getting hungry. The walk back home was full of the same scenery and wonder. I have walked or ridden a bike down this trail many times now, sat completely alone and homesick at the edge of a small farm; played and swam in the river with the tourists; jumped off the famous Yulong Bridge into the river and then rode the current back to my clothes; and even climbed the mountains walling the valley until they simply dumped me into another scar in the Earth. The thing that is shocking about all my trips is how it never gets old, never gets ugly, never gets boring. This is why I came to China, for this.
In the early morning the road was a flutter with local activity. Loud tractors full of farm supplies rumble by. The morning's harvest makes its way in the other direction. The bamboo raft drivers fly down the road on their motorcycles each one blaring their horn as they pass to my very near left. Although the valley is narrow the locals have managed to carve small rice farms out of the land. In the fields the women pick and tie bunches of the plants while the men load their tractors near the road. Somewhere after the first bend the valley begins to open up. To the right farming persists for 200, 300, 400 meters as the massive mountains veer away from the road. To my left, peak after peak rise thousands of feet into the air. Sheer cliffs with plant life seeming to be clinging desperately to the face with their roots. Nature has weathered out small niches in the base of many of the peaks.
Here old ladies sit, selling hats and tiaras made of flowers. Another hundred metres and the trail seems to give birth to what is, I promise you, the most beautiful scene anyone has ever seen. Within the tall confines of the valley walls a massive and proud peak stands solitary, and at its base is a village. The mud road to the left bumps through a small village with no storefronts, just homes. To the right the paved trail cuts quickly through town and on to the Yulong river. Touts scream at me, "Bamboo... Bamboo." I respond with a stern "Bo yo shia shia."
I decided to see where the path to the left led... it led to nowhere but that was the point. The locals on this side of the village were not used to seeing westerners stray from the manicured trail and were eager to have me notice them. "You walk from Yangshuo?" a man asked in surprisingly good English with a look of awe on his face. I simply nod. After exploring the small paths of the town and giving the children a few enthusiastic "Ni haos" I found myself back on the paved trail again heading towards the Yulong. As the road leaves the more modernized part of the village the valley opens up on both sides of the road. It seems that here the entire world is open to me. It is nothing but blue and white sky and peak after cloudy peak.
This is the China we have seen painted a million times and probably written on just as much. I can imagine the ancient Chinese here thinking of the dragon and the phoenix wrapping their way between the massive peaks. The fertile valley floor is flat and ensures that my view of the topography is unencumbered. Something as simple as a stone bridge leading into the soggy fields becomes magical in a setting such as this. When you walk this trail you feel full, entire. Now the trail is beginning to get crowded though, and I must constantly look over my shoulder to ensure that I am not tagged by a motorcycle or tractor, or even worse one of the gigantic buses that are now shipping thousands of tourists to the berth of the bamboo floats. I am soon near the river where more raft drivers offer me their service. In order to escape their requests I find a small dirt path that leads down to the river. And there it was, silent but mighty, slowly weathering this land even further. Upstream there is a flotilla of umbrella clad bamboo rafts. Down stream local children are gathering water guns to sell to the tourists. The colors of these man made items create a paradox that is garish but unmistakeably beautiful. What was once only green and blue is now a flurry of red and orange and green and purple and blue and blue and blue.
I find myself on a map within my travel guide and as some children shyly approach me I show them where we are. The bravest of these quickly grabs the book from my hands and begins searching the map. I am not sure how much of it she comprehended and she quickly handed it back to me closed. I did not spend long at the river, it was hot and I was getting hungry. The walk back home was full of the same scenery and wonder. I have walked or ridden a bike down this trail many times now, sat completely alone and homesick at the edge of a small farm; played and swam in the river with the tourists; jumped off the famous Yulong Bridge into the river and then rode the current back to my clothes; and even climbed the mountains walling the valley until they simply dumped me into another scar in the Earth. The thing that is shocking about all my trips is how it never gets old, never gets ugly, never gets boring. This is why I came to China, for this.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Adapting
Hey everybody this is the second post that I am making through my parents. If you do have any comments please send them to cjohnson627@gmail.com Also identify yourself in the email so that I can respond. I am now in my second city in China (Yangshuo) and I am beginning to really get into the frame of mind that I will be living here for a whole year. While that is a scary prospect I think that everyday I am getting more and more excited to start my life here. One of the strangest things is that I will not be returning to Elon this fall. I miss every aspect of my life there at Elon and I have to say that I feel a bit like I am jumping into the unknown. However my orientation starts Monday and I am thinking that as I learn more about what it will be like to actually teach I will become exponentially more comfortable in this country. I am slow to set up skype and whatnot but hopefully I will be able to manage that pretty soon after I reach the city I will be working in. One plus of being here early is that I am able to meet all sorts of interesting people who have already lived in China for months and years. It is comforting that they tell me I will undoubtedly feel better soon. I miss all of you but I think that to truly adapt in China I will have to manage to spread my roots here just as I had to at Elon four years ago.
C. Johnson
C. Johnson
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Guilin
Well my first few days in China have been exciting. As far as I can tell the blogspot website is unavailable here so my parents will be posting via email. The karst topography here in Guilin is incredible. For those who don't know, karst topography is mountains of very hard rock with sheer faces. As the soft rock around weathered away the karsts remained standing tall. These geological formations surround Guilin. It is very hot here and I have had to make sure that I do not overexert myself during my hiking. My hotel sits on the main promenade along the Li River. Here people do tai chi all day and they also swim in the river. I have been Google Mapping this region for weeks and I must say that the satellite photographs do not do it justice. I really do think that this is one of the prettiest places that I have ever visited. The first site I visited was Elephant Hill . This formation sits right on the river and the way that it has weathered makes it look like an elephant drinking from the river. I woke up early and had the place mostly to myself, although I did do some obligatory posing for the Chinese tourists. I then started a 2 km walk north to the next site. This walk ended up being over 8 km as I got myself lost. So much for not overexerting myself. I did finally make it to Solitary Beauty Peak, which was at this time of day crawling with tourists. It is a steep climb to the top but once up there the cooling breeze and the view of Guilin is splendid. The afternoon was spent worrying and being homesick. That night I did force myself to go to the Ronghu Lake and Zhongshan market. It would not be worth it to sit in my room pouting. The next morning was another early one full of walking. I crossed the Li River on the Liberation Bridge and got some more great shots of the city. Then I went to one of the world's first tourist destinations... ever. 7 stars park was founded during the Sui Dynasty and it is simply gorgeous. It is essentially a area of karst topography inside of the city that has been partitioned off and for 35 RMB one can have full access to the peaks there. I climbed many more mountains and walked and walked and walked. Eventually the midday heat and throngs of tourists forced me to retreat to the hotel where I took a quick nap. For dinner I went to a place called the Little Italian which was near my hotel for some pizza... it was delicious. The second I walked in the manager changed the music from something from China to Bloodhound Gang's "Do it like they do on the Discovery Channel". It was followed by Michael Jackson. I wondered whether or not these men knew he had died. I didn't have the heart to tell them. I ended that day by climbing the world's tallest copper pagoda. The building is in the center of Ronghu Lake and offers great view on downtown Guilin. A full night's sleep is still hard to come by because of my jetlag but I am hoping that this will get better soon. I will soon be on my way to the next city where I will meet my employers and coworkers. I think hat meeting these people will help me to not feel so lonely here in China.
C. Johnson
C. Johnson
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