Mid-Autumn Festival Fun

So it’s been quite a while since I last updated y’all. Almost 3 weeks in fact. I promise. I can explain.

For all of you who are not so familiar with Chinese national holidays – you culturally insensitive people – on 15^th day of the eighth lunar month, the Chinese have a weeklong holiday to celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival. The festivities’ highlight is the eating of lotus bean paste-based snacks called mooncakes. Which, for the record, taste about half as good as they sound. I was desperate to take advantage of my first Chinese holiday and get out of the city, so I headed off to the train station to buy a ticket.

At the best of times, China’s transport system is unfriendly. During national holidays, it’s menacingly evil. Mindful of the fact that train tickets are sold 10-days in advance of the departure date, I felt that this time around I certainly wouldn’t be that foreigner who spends the best part of two days hopelessly wandering the streets of Shanghai in search of a train ticket to Beijing, to only end up buying a ticket for the slowest possible train, on a very, very hard seat. That was so 2010. I had learned my lesson. Or had I?

I rocked up at the train station. I had every reason to be confident; I had nailed the train station role-play in my 1^st year oral exam. However, unfortunately for me, the role-play was as close to reality as London Chinatown is to actual China. “Do you have any tickets to Chengdu?” “Meiyou” (Nope). “What none at all?” “Meiyou”. “Fine…what about Huangshan?” “Meiyou”. The woman selling the train tickets reminded me of that cocky kid in school who thinks they are being really funny by not ‘playing along’ with the role-play. Yes, me aged 14-17. “What about Nanjing?” “Meiyou”. “Pingyao? Xi’an? Wuhan? Suzhou?” “Meiyou”. This continued until my knowledge of Chinese geography had been exhausted (roughly 7 seconds). At which point, I pulled out my Lonely Planet and began pointing at random cities. In oral exam terms, this is only slightly better than actually speaking English. The people standing in the queue behind me found it hilarious. I had to laugh. It was ridiculous. “What tickets DO you have?!?” “None. Come back tomorrow.” And so I did (at stupid o’clock), only to be told the same thing. Great.

China had successfully set-up the world’s most impractical way of buying train tickets. Bemused by the whole thing, I gave up on trains and looked at flights. This proved much easier, but pricier. Eventually I booked a flight to a city called Luoyang in Henan Province (洛阳). Why Luoyang? Well partly because it rang a bell from my first-year Chinese history course (given that it is one of the ‘Four Great Ancient Capitals of China’, you would hope so), also it was far enough from Beijing to justify flying. But perhaps most importantly it was close enough to Beijing that in the event of another train ticket fiasco, worst-case scenario, I could take the bus back. I probably don’t need to tell you, but yes, I did end up taking the bus back. Anyway, more on that later. I was just happy to be getting out of Beijing. Now, I asked myself, what on earth is there to do in Luoyang?

As it transpired, quite a lot. We ended up spending 3 days there. The highlight was a trip to the Longmen Caves (龙门石窟), a Unesco World Heritage Site. The grottoes, dating back to 494 AD, are chiselled into a kilometre of limestone cliffs facing the murky Yi River. Altogether the site boasts more than 100,000 images and statues of Buddha (I think my camera may have OD’d on Buddha). Although the place was rammed with people, it was a very magical place. We also visited two Buddhist temples: the White Horse Temple (白马寺), built in 1^st century AD and thought to be the first Buddhist temple built on Chinese soil, and the Guanlin Temple (关林寺), a smaller temple containing the tomb of legendary general Guan Yu of the Three Kingdoms Period (No? Me neither…). As we walked around these impressive landmarks of ancient China, it became apparent that some Chinese tourists were actually more interested in getting a snap with us foreigners than the stunning 2000-year old Buddhas. I guess Buddhas are slightly lacking in the ‘blonde hair, blue eyes’ department. Confused, and humbled, we obliged. However, slightly disconcertingly, I think the Chinese have more photos of us on our trip than we have of our own.

Next stop was Gongyi City (巩义市). It was a very slow start to the day as the night before we had fulfilled the ancient Chinese tradition of a visit to a local karaoke bar in every city you visit. My run of bad form with transport in China had ended and we miraculously arrived in Gongyi City at lunchtime. This gave us enough time to visit the Song Tombs (宋陵), where seven of the nine Northern Song Dynasty emperors are buried, some more Buddhist Caves, and Kangbaiwan’s Manor (康百万庄园), a castle built in the Ming Dynasty. Having seen the sights in Gongyi, we headed to the bus station to go to a place called Dengfeng (登封). On the map, it looked very simple. One straight road going south. Well, after about one hour of being thrown and lifted out of my seat, and several bruises later, the bus stopped in the middle of the road (I use the term ‘road’ very loosely). Someone had helpfully left some large boulders in the road and the path was blocked. We bundled out of the bus and were instructed to start walking down the road. It was getting dark and Google Maps told me we were another 80km from Dengfeng. Surprisingly, I wasn’t in the mood for a night-time hike through the Chinese countryside. Thankfully, after we turned a corner, another bus appeared on the horizon. Phew. But the journey was far from over. After another hour of rattling along the bumpy roads, another bus, a walk, and a taxi, by hook or by crook, we somehow arrived at the hostel. Sam 1 – 2 China Transport.

Just outside Dengfeng, nestled in a beautiful cluster of mountains, lies the Shaolin Temple (少林寺). The monastery is most famous for being the birthplace of Kung Fu (功夫 Gongfu in Chinese), a martial art form you probably associate with Bruce Li (and/or Jackie Chan) and the film ‘Kung Fu Panda’. The temple itself was very touristy, however the Kung Fu performance was a brilliant display of artistry and acrobatics. I couldn’t work out if they realised just how cool they were. They were backflipping for fun. The fluorescent orange togas alone were enough to make me gawk. You can see my own attempts at Kung Fu on the photos page (Just so you know, I am fully aware of how uncool I look). After the performance, we climbed a mountain to see a cave in which an Indian monk called Bodhidharma meditated for 9 years. The story goes that in between meditating, he and his disciples liked to imitate the natural movements of birds and animal… as you do. These movements later became the physical combat routines of Kung Fu. After climbing back down the mountain, we left the temple, none the wiser on how to backflip from a standstill, nor able to jump 3 metres off the ground, but full of enthusiasm for Kung Fu. We karate-chopped each other all the way back to the hostel.

The next day we headed to the capital of Henan Province, Zhengzhou (郑州). A big industrial city and major transportation hub, Zhengzhou was another characterless Chinese city. Luckily, a family we had met in Gongyi City had said they would take us out for the day and met us at the bus station. We arrived at about lunchtime and, in true Chinese tradition, were taken off for a boozy lunch with more food than is possible to eat. It was incredible how this family treated us and we were very grateful; I could not imagine someone in England ever being so generous to a stranger. Next up was a trip to the Yellow River (黄河), the second-longest river in China and historically very important in the context of ancient Chinese civilisation. The beach was no South Beach, but we had a bit of laugh jumping on a speedboat and riding horses. The father, clearly a huge fan of home videos, insisted on recording every second of the day (in High Definition). I’m sure “Slightly tipsy Westerner rides horse alongside Yellow River” will make great viewing one rainy afternoon. With the day almost over, we headed to the bus station to get a bus back to Beijing. We knew the train tickets would have sold out so didn’t even bother this time. We’ll call that one a draw: Sam 1 – 2 China Transport. The bus journey home reaffirmed something I had been thinking all week: The Chinese are terrible travellers.

Everything is manic. From the fierce pushing and shoving that precedes the journey (the door isn’t open, pushing won’t help), the squabbling and shouting-matches over whose seat is whose (we all have seat numbers, what’s the problem?), the hour-long debates over where to put one’s luggage, the impatience and inability of people to wait until the person has sat down before trying to squeeze down the aisle (that really annoys me), the awful choice of food for a bus journey (the smell on a Chinese bus is extraordinary), and the general stress exerted on passengers by all the unnecessary commotion. I know that this is just the way things work in China, but a small part of me still wants to stand up on my chair and, in a very calm voice, say: “Everyone just take a deep breath and count to 10”. It’ll never happen.

At about 1:30am, the bus stopped at a service station. The driver said we wouldn’t be moving until 5am. My initial reaction was one of annoyance, however since we only had one driver and it was an 11-hour journey to Beijing, I applauded the driver’s very sensible decision. China could do with more people like him. It was a strange feeling arriving back in Beijing. The Beijing traffic and pollution was somewhat reassuring. As much as I had loved my weeklong city getaway, it was great to be back home.

For more photos click here

Autumn in Beijing

Life in Beijing is beginning to feel normal. Well…I should probably rephrase that. Life in Beijing is beginning to feel slightly more normal than it did 3 weeks ago when I first arrived. That is to say, I am no longer surprised to see a car speeding the wrong way down a cycle lane (which incidentally is leading my shortlist for Near-Death Experience of the Month). And whilst I haven’t landed the role of Adolf yet (see previous post), it has been another eventful week in the world capital of insane drivers.

Beijing has gone all autumnal. The humidity of the summer months has all but gone, and the crisp, clear blue skies of Beijing’s best season have arrived. With perfect conditions for exploring the beautiful countryside that lies beyond Beijing’s 6th ring-road, I jumped on my bike and headed to the west of Beijing University. After 2 hours cycling, I came across a ghost town. The area had been completely abandoned, except for a small primary school which was squeezed between the debris and rubble. I happened to arrive as class was ending for the day and got chatting to a parent. He said the government ran out of money during the construction of the neighbourhood, but they had decided to keep the school. I cycled on and saw some kids playing in the wreckage. They ran over to me, excitedly shouting the term of ‘endearment’ directed at all foreigners in China, laowai (老外), literally meaning ‘always foreigner’. One kid was not so happy to see me; he told me that my eyes were gui (鬼), ‘ghostly’. I asked him why. He said it was because I was a laowai. Touché.

On Thursday we went to the Huguang Theatre to watch some Peking Opera. Now I consider myself to be fairly open-minded when it comes to art in general. However, Peking Opera didn’t do it for me. Not in the slightest. Firstly, it’s not opera. I am no authority on opera, but what I heard and saw on Thursday night was certainly not opera. The only way I can describe it – if you haven’t seen it before – is to imagine a petulant 6-year old child who has been given a selection of pots and pans and then told to make as much noise as possible. One of stories we heard/saw was that of the Monkey King, which involved a man dressed up in red and black running around with a stick looking for a fan. If I sound like an uneducated moron who ‘missed the point’, go see it for yourself, and THEN tell me I’m wrong.

This week I have managed to get a job teaching English to a 10-year old boy, Peter. I met the family when I was house hunting and finally got in contact with them this week. I had never taught English before and one hour before the lesson I was frantically googling ‘good learning english games for 10-year olds’. I realised that despite having learned French, Spanish, Italian and Chinese, I had never actually had to think about learning things like tenses, grammar etc. in my own language. It felt very strange looking up how to teach the present tense in English. The lesson went very well until we got onto a fifteen minute discussion about how you distinguish between ‘you singular’ and ‘you plural’ in English. In Chinese, for ‘you’ you say ni (你), and for the plural you just add a plural marker men, nimen (你们). Peter asked me how you would know whether somebody meant you (singular) or you (plural) in English. A very good question. The sort of question Sam laoshi (Teacher Sam) really didn’t want in his first ever English class. I told him that most of the time you can guess from the context, but he was having none of it. After much debate, I told him: ‘Let’s pick this up again next week.’ A sentence that has served crashing and burning teachers since time began.

In other news, I have signed up for the Beijing Half-Marathon. The decision to sign-up was made in a bar…after a few drinks. My training began officially yesterday with a seven-hour hike organised by Beijing Hikers, a group that meets every weekend for hikes around Beijing (Funny that, a company called Beijing Hikers doing hikes around Beijing). We went to a place called Dahaituo Shan (大海坨山) which sits on the border of Yanqing and Hebei province, and the 2,198m peak we climbed is the second-highest in Beijing. The countryside was stunning and photos will be up soon on both facebook and the photos page. On the long walk to the summit, we bumped into a man chanting a Buddhist mantra from memory. I half expected to see an iPhone in his hand with the ‘lyrics’ as he kept going for about 30 minutes. About two hours later we saw him again and he was still chanting!!! We concluded that he must have been on a loop.

Finally, this week I decided to name my blog ‘狂人日记’, meaning ‘Diary of a Madman’. It is a reference to a short story by the most famous Chinese writer of 20th century, Lu Xun (鲁迅). The story is about a man who thinks people in his village want to eat him. (If you are interested, you can read about the story here). In truth, there has been very little thought behind the decision to call my blog this, except for the fact that every good blog needs a pretentious title…

And so it all begins…

I have only been in China for 2 weeks, but it feels like a lifetime. So much has happened over the past week or so. Therefore, in the interest of time – and because I know all of you, my 8 followers (a demographic entirely made up of blood relatives), have much better things to do than read my blog –  I’ll keep it short and sweet.

Arriving in Beijing on Saturday morning hit me slapbang in the face. I was in China. Not the China that you read about in every newspaper and magazine (dragons and fortune cookies), but China. The place where if you don’t knock over the sweet little granny getting off the train, she’ll beat you to it. The smoggy skyline and strange smell was just how I remembered it. Great, I thought to myself. Here we go China.

First on the agenda was finding a place to live. This was a process that proved tiresome and, at times/all the time, infuriating. The level of incompetence at estate agents in Beijing is, quite frankly, staggering. Once you have been welcomed into their overstaffed offices, cups of water are forced into your hands – under the assumption that if you are drinking their water, you won’t leave – whilst employees hopelessly rush around pretending to know what houses are available to rent. After a couple of days of house hunting, we decided on two things: 1) don’t take the water 2) they haven’t got a clue. My first piece of advice to anyone searching for an apartment in China is: Do not leave the estate agents’ office until somebody actually physically produces the key to the apartment. The number of times we sat outside locked apartments waiting for a key that supposedly was “mashang lai” (‘coming immediately’) makes me feel quite ill. Secondly, do not go anywhere until you see a floor plan of the apartment. We soon found out that the Chinese estate agents’ interpretation of a 4-bedroom apartment required some imagination. “Sorry, where is the 4th bedroom?”. “Ah, no problem, we build you wall in living room”. Great. The list of mishaps goes on and on. And on. I came closest to losing it when we were locked inside an apartment for half an hour. Not fun. One particularly entertaining encounter in one estate agents, Homelink, ended in us taking the house hunting process into our own hands. Quite literally. Having pushed the clueless employees aside, we took control of their own computer system. I can safely say that by the end of our week-long search, we were far more capable using the system than the half-witted employees who, believe it or not, use it everyday. After countless trips to houses that were either too far from the university, or simply uninhabitable, the joke became that whenever a estate agent called to say a house had become available, it was definitely going to be ‘The One’. On arrival at the house, the same old cliches were pointed out: “Oh, we’d be really happy here…”, or “This area has got cracking fengshui!“.

Six days passed. We had seen roughly 25-30 apartments. We were still homeless. Having decided that 4-bedroom apartments did not exist in Beijing (perhaps because of the one-child policy), we decided to change tack, and look for two 2-bedroom apartments in close proximity. Ironically, it was only when we had reached the lowest of low ebbs (Nick had been taken ill at the local hospital and Laurence, who had become somewhat the leader and apartment-vocab extraordinaire of the group, had abandoned us to pick-up his girlfriend from the airport), that Will and I stumbled upon the two lovely 2-bedroom apartments. It was too good to be true. Before anyone could tell us otherwise, we signed the contracts and, like that, we moved in the same day. The search had FINALLY come to an end.

When given an empty apartment to fill, there really is only ever one option. Take a trip to 宜家, or if you like, Ikea. We scurried around the store filling up our shopping kart like children at a sweet shop. I played the voice of reason, Nick, the sweet-toothed child. “Nick, do we really need a sexy pink clock?”. “Errr, YESSSSSS!”  The trip to Ikea was memorable, not least because I got myself into a slightly embarrassing situation trying to explain what a beanbag is in my distinctly ‘make-do’ Chinese. Attempting a literal translation, I confused the word ‘bean’ for ‘potato’, hence asking for a ‘potato bag’ (I only realised this once we had left the store). Unsurprisingly, the woman was very confused. Even less surprisingly, she told me ‘meiyou‘ (we have none). With pink clock in hand – yet nothing to store our potatoes in – Nick and I headed back to our empty apartment for a late night DIY sesh. Yes, I know exactly how that sounds…

Before we knew it, our first day of class at Peking University arrived. We were quite excited.

Perhaps slightly too excited.

Having gone back for our passports, we arrived at the Peking University campus. In the sunshine, we had to remind ourselves we were in ‘smoggy’ BJ. The campus itself is stunning, especially the lake which has a huge pagoda towering over it. The first day included an orientation session that gave zero ‘orientation’, yet provided us with some top tips on how to cross the road in China. Given that most of us had already been in China for a week or so, it seemed rather nonsensical. Since then, we have started class and as it stands I have zero demerits to my name. (Peking Uni uses the American system where everything counts…including attendance.) How long that will last remains to be seen…

The very latest is I have applied to play the role of Adolf Hitler in a film. The man said he would be ‘in contact ASAP’. It seems that in China, absolutely anything is possible…