So I’ve arrived in the United States. As if there was no turning back earlier, I’m pretty much back now. I forgot that winds work so that it takes much less time to go west to east over the Pacific than the other way around. To get to Hong Kong to San Francisco, it took thirteen-and-a-half hours. Going back, it took just under eleven hours, and here I am now, sitting in the domestic terminal of United Airlines.
It’s currently around 9:30 a.m. Pacific Standard Time, and I’ve just gone through immigration and customs and went back through security in about an hour and a half, having arrived here just before 8:00 a.m. Though it’s still early in the day, my all-nighter that I pulled yesterday may have just paid off. I’m not tired, though it is around 1:30 a.m. in Hong Kong (at which point I would be snoring).
The flight was on par with other standard long-haul flights. There were two meals serves and a few meals in between. Unlike many other airlines (probably most), United though doesn’t have individual entertainment screens for economy class. It was fine, because I slept about half the flight, and the other half I watched the movie Julie and Julia as well as the beginning of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, which I had already seen many times previously.
I arrived better than other long flights. With this being my sixth such flight (a number that pales in comparison to some of my friends), I guess practice makes perfect. I went through immigration first, where lines are divided between United States Residents (including non-residents) and Visitors. In line, this one duddy young adult behind me kept asking his father if they should move over to the citizens’ line, which, if he had taken a quick glance, would have realized that he was in it.
I went through without a hitch and asked the officer to stamp my passport. He did, but it was funny how he decided to skip my extra pages added mid-November by the United States Consulate-General in Hong Kong and went straight to the back, to the very last stampable page. He was nice though, so I thanked him.
He asked me if I had anything to declare, so I said that I have to pay customs tax but nothing outright to declare. He asked me what the purpose of my trip was, and I told him study abroad, and then said education, followed by some sightseeing. He’d already marked my Customs and Border Protection Sheet though with a circled numeral one. He waved me on without delay.
What was weird though happened to be what I did. Having gone through tons of Chinese immigration and airport security on this trip (Mainland, Hong Kong, Macau, Taiwan), I was so used to just blurting out something in Cantonese and or Mandarin, once a disastrous and erroneous combination of both (that led me to say “I want” in Cantonese followed by “computer” in Mandarin to mean that I have a computer). Arriving in San Francisco, I caught my tongue and had to remind myself for a split second to speak English. Feel free to suggest what this means, since in Hong Kong I used English 70% of the time and Cantonese at about 25% of the time, with the other 5% consisting of Mandarin between newly-arrived service workers and French between the off-chance need to communicate something secretive in nature.
After that, I waited for luggage at carousel six along with most of the rest of the 747’s passengers. The bags took forever to come, and as expected I had to wait for them to take through customs then recheck them into the system. Waiting, I saw this unkempt guy in the army-veteran style as opposed to the hippy style who kept whining to anyone who would listen about how slow the bags took to come through. He was particularly poking at the various security checks he was told they send the bags through, which although annoying, also increase national security. This guy seemed to be one to argue in the realist sense for high national security and preemptive attacks upon foreign sovereigns yet he couldn’t see that his waiting was making the country safer in a more micro sense.
I got my bags after waiting for a long time, and remembered just how heavy they were. I was allowed two bags each under fifty pounds or twenty-three kilograms depending on where you checked in. I had my two bags that I managed to fit everything into except my pillow, which I’d have liked to keep, and though I had a hunch that it would go over weight, it was too late to mail stuff back. I resolved to just bring them along and see how things went.
So after calling home, telling them that I was leaving for the airport and that I would see them the next day, I dragged my bags up to the airport bus stop and waited for that bus to come. When it came, I had to toss my bags onto the bus, pay with my Ziploc bag of change pulled (with permission) of my roommate’s desk, and then heave my bags onto the luggage racks. With $48 HKD in the form of mostly ten- and twenty-cent pieces, the driver seemed oddly accepting of my method of payment. To me, that either meant that he didn’t care, didn’t care to show that he cared, or his coin collector had a counting mechanism in it. Whatever the case, I got on the bus and went on my hour-long journey to the airport, during which I accidentally took a nap.
Back to San Francisco, I picked up my bags off the carousel and onto my cart and from there I proceeded onto customs. I wrote down that I bought $1300 USD-worth of merchandise, after the $800 exemption, $500 of which was liable to a 3% tax, or $15 USD. Instead of directing me to some sort of cashier to pay my customs taxes, the woman looking at my ticket said “Thousand Oaks” (reading my United States address), and pointed me past the various luggage inspectors (or luggage unpackers) to find all the Cuban cigars and the like they could find to discard.
I’m glad that I didn’t get unpacked, because my bag was stuffed to the brim. Opening it put you in danger of not being able to close it. I found this out at I dragged my two bulky bags (as well as my carry-on backpack and camera case) to the check-in counter. One weighed seventeen kilograms and the other weighed a whopping forty kilograms (something just under ninety pounds). I was informed that I could pay an extra $150 USD to check in a bag under thirty-two kilograms, and that I couldn’t check in anything heavier (for the carriers’ contracts I suppose).
To that effect, I had to rearrange my two bags to even out the weight. I was directed several meters away to do it, substituting heavy books from the heavier bag with lighter clothes from the lighter bag. For a minute, it looked like I was going to have to abandon my two full-sized umbrellas, but in the end, everything fit back in. The whole thing took around fifteen minutes, the whole time in paranoia that someone was going to take my other bags (each with contents worth a very pretty penny).
Going back up to the check-in counter, I still had a little bit of adjusting to do, but my bags after moving two books into my carry-on luggage came in at about thirty-four kilograms and twenty-four kilograms, which to the checker was over the weight limit but acceptably so (probably as per her guidelines). With those two suckers off my back, I had a lot less to worry about (a main factor in choosing to travel in groups or at least with one other person so as not to leave luggage unattended).
Before packing these bags full though, I removed all the price tags I could find because while I planned to properly declare what I bought, I didn’t want the customs officers to be counting pennies on me.
One of my last friends who hadn’t yet left told me that I shouldn’t declare in excess of what’s tax-exempt, because no one pays customs taxes, implying that I was overly law-abiding and silly in doing so. I told him that it’s not that much, so there’s no reason why I shouldn’t pay it. I had the money to and knew that it would come down to whether or not they believed me when I said that though I’m bringing the box back, I solemnly swear that I bought it in the United States.
I guess when it comes down to it, I follow Socratic philosophy regarding civics. When he was sentenced to death, Crito came to free him, seeing that no one was going to stop him. However, Socrates chose to take his punishment seeing that the society that he lived in decided against him. I suppose I feel that the overwhelming majority of laws are there for a reason, and if not for the sake of the law itself, for something secondary in the least. In my case, paying customs tax (which happens to be much lower than Los Angeles County sales tax) helps my country protect our national security interests.
On the other hand, my roommate, in addition to bring six People’s Liberation Army hats (with a red star square center) and quite a few Quotes of Chairman Mao pocket books for cheap thrills, along with a defiling depiction of President Obama for his right-wing father, bought a small pack of Cuban cigars to bring back. Now if Communist souvenirs provide cheap thrills for Americans, bringing Cuban cigars over to the United States provides just downright ridiculously cheap thrills for Americans.
It’s not like the cigars are particularly good that makes them so fun to bring over, nor is it being bad for your health to smoke the reason why they’re illegal to import. It’s because of our long-running trade embargo upon Cuba set during the Kennedy years that first Cuban cigars are illegal to bring it and second that people like my roommate find it deviantly fun to sneak in. * Snicker, snicker.
Well I’m back in the States now, definitively so, having come in without having been asked to pay customs tax, yet following the law to the T. It just goes to show that people get by perfectly well by doing things the proper ways as well—just saying.
Showing posts with label public transportation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label public transportation. Show all posts
Monday, December 21, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Nanjing: Planes, Trains, and the Paparazzi
So my last full-fledged trip of this term started out as all the others—with transportation of course. This one required more than the others though, because as my travel buddies were aiming to save money, we opted to take trains over planes.
Nanjing is 733 miles or 1,180 kilometers from Hong Kong and would have taken two hours to fly there. As trains go, the one going from Shenzhen (Hong Kong’s Mainland border city) to its terminal at Nanjing Station would have taken twenty-five hours. In contrast, the train to Shanghai South Station would take eighteen hours and then a high-speed train to Nanjing would add on two hours from Shanghai Station via a twelve-stop metro journey. We opted for the latter.
And we couldn’t take one of the MTR through trains, which go almost non-stop to either Shanghai or Beijing from Kowloon (Hung Hom Station), because they go every other day, which for our schedule happened to fit on the wrong days.
Chinese trains are annoying. They’re decently convenient time-wise and reasonably priced. The problem is that you can’t book tickets online. I went to a travel agent (China Travel Service) and found that you have to book tickets at the stations themselves. Hong Kong’s train stations are owned and operated by the MTR Corporation, the same company that owns and operates the subway system. This means that to buy tickets in advance, you would have to truck yourself the hour and a half north to Shenzhen to buy your tickets since the rail facilities here are neither owned nor operated by the same people in Mainland China.
This trek up to Shenzhen wasn’t too appealing, and we figured we’d be able to get tickets shortly before departure, since we did the same for one person for the train to Guilin. Also, there was only one train scheduled each way each day, so we figured that ridership did not afford more than one train a day. Ultimately, we had to find our way up to Nanjing, because we’d already paid for the hotel and I’d already booked my flight back.
We were wrong on both accounts. The train was to leave at 13:29 and arrive at Shanghai South at 6:58, so early in the morning on Friday we got to Shenzhen. We went up to the counter and we were kindly informed that there were no beds left. This meant that we had to buy a seat. Fine. We had to get up to Nanjing, and a seat would do just that, so we bought our tickets and started counting down the hours until hell.
Now I know how I do with long flights. I’ve got a yearly quota for the number of flights over five hours I can handle. This train was going to be eighteen hours sitting. In comparison, my flight from San Francisco was only fourteen hours long and my flight earlier this summer from Los Angeles to Zurich was but eleven.
Well, anyways, the time came and we all got squished while queuing to get onto the train. I always thought it was pointless to squeeze onto mass transit vehicles, because if you’ve got a ticket, you’re getting on, and the vehicle isn’t going to go any sooner if you get on it first. Oh well.
The train was set up in tables. On half of the train, there were six seats in two rows of three around a four-person table. On the other half of the train, there were four seats in two rows of two. In between was an aisle just slightly bigger than that on an airplane.
Like the train to Guilin, in between the sleepers and the seats there was the dining car. While looking for it, I realized I had no idea how to call in Mandarin, so I called it a restaurant, and the staff looked at me like I was stupid. Instead, we met a businessman named Sharp that had approached us half because he was just being friendly and half because he was taking advantage of the opportunity to practice his English with us (my white friends more than me).
Eventually we got our dinner and found wandered back to our table set up. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the seats were facing in the same direction, because the guys across from us wouldn’t stop staring at us, half because my friends are white, half because I was speaking English, and entirely because we were all associating ourselves with each other.
What made the trip worse was that it just seemed to get more and more crowded. People were crowding the areas between cars as well as making use of the bathroom sinks and floors as beds. With pooper stoopers, the floor just got dirtier and dirtier, and it was pretty apparent as seen by the color what this dirt was actually made of. These people who wandered onto the train without a seat I assumed paid to stand, but took the opportunity to claim a seat when one arose. After going to the wrong side of the train (because Car No. 1 was connected at the back to Car No. 16), we found some guys in our seats. I asked them to move in Mandarin, and an older man replied to me in English “switch seats.” Without gesturing which seats to switch to, had he meant switching at all, we just waited until they got out of our seats. In the process of moving themselves and their stuff, they had to move their circular saw from under one table to another, which I thought was peculiar. We had just gone through x-ray security not fifteen minutes ago.
Needless to say, I read an entire book in one sitting (though it was only 180 pages long) in two hours and proceeded to eat two trays of Mandarin oranges and one tray of bananas that we paid ¥10 CNY in total for. After exhausting things to do (because it was difficult to pull my binder out of my bag to study) it was about time to go to sleep. We had hoped that they’d turn off or at least dim the lights after 11:00 p.m. But when 11:00 p.m. came and went, we hoped for midnight. And by the time I fell asleep it became apparent that the lights were there to stay. I got all of about five hours of sleep on that eighteen-hour train ride. One of my friends got as little as half an hour. We all decided that airplanes are much better than hard seats on Chinese trains.
We arrived at Shanghai South Station at about 7:30 a.m. but had to stay there until the ticket office opened at 8:00 a.m. to help my friends buy tickets back for later in the week. I was to leave from Nanjing by air but they were going to come back to Shanghai to scout the place out. One of them studies Mandarin but neither of them felt they had the capacity to negotiate hard-sleepers back to Shenzhen. I actually found that I did the whole thing without any effort. They got their train tickets back, and what’s better is they got hard sleepers—so the hellish ride there wouldn’t be a hellish ride back.
We ate breakfast at a place called Mister Donut in the train station. My problem with eating doughnuts is that they make me feel like a doughnut in the short term as well as in the long term.
Next up, we had to get from one train station to the other, because trains to Nanjing left from Shanghai Station, and we were currently at Shanghai South Station. This was anticipated and hence smooth. For ¥4 CNY, we went the twelve stops along Line 1 of the Shanghai Metro to Shanghai Station.
Although it was going very well, at Shanghai Station, our luck had apparently run low. We waited to buy train tickets to Nanjing at the automated machines and waited for a long time. By the time we got up to the front, the every other machine went out of order, including ours, so we were ushered a block down to the ticket office. It was packed. Luckily we got our train tickets without much ado.
Waiting turned out to be a prelude for what was to come next. Already in the eighteen-hour train, our group of three had elicited many looks from the Chinese countrymen. What are two white people doing in a Chinese long-distance train? What is that Chinese guy doing with them? Is that English they’re speaking? 我听不懂! Needless to say, I explained to a lot of people who asked that they’re Scottish and Australian. If you care, I’m American. Yes, they’re my classmates and we study in Hong Kong.
In the waiting room in Shanghai Station though, we noticed though that people were taking pictures. My friend said, “Paparazzi, twelve o’clock.” I looked. There, on one knee a guy had his camera phone out with the lens noticeably popped out, snapping away at the white people. Another guy had a full-on camera out. One of their flashes went off. I wondered if these people saved these pictures for their friends and went like “I saw white people at Shanghai Station!” I don’t think my friends got their pictures taken in Beijing, and I thought Shanghai had more tourists and non-Chinese business people and non-Chinese people in general. Like I said though, this incident was a prelude.
The train journey from Shanghai to Nanjing was about two hours in length. The modern high-speed trains of China Railway High-Speed (CRH) were a lot cleaner and a lot more streamlined than the aging conventional rail ones. The staff were friendlier as were the passengers themselves, though granted this time we were all facing the same direction. The English displayed on the message board in the cabin was a little shotty and all, but at least it was understandable—bottom line was that we weren’t there for the English.
While napping, one of the staff members picked up my friend’s camera and woke her up. He said something to the effect of she should put that camera away because people can take it while she’s sleeping, especially because there’s nothing pretty to take pictures of inside this train. Between each statement, he would say, “” to which she would nod her head. I thought that she was actually answering his questions, that she did understand what he was saying like he asked. She was just nodding yes. So here’s a lesson: like my mom’s friend said, if you don’t understand something, it works more often than not to answer in the negative. No!
After arriving in Nanjing, we had our hotel address on a piece of paper (in pinyin only, unfortunately). We got in an unregulated taxi by accident and got ripped off. For the three of us, he charged ¥200 to take us to our hotel, which wasn’t that far away. However though, he helped us through our address dilemma, since it seems that most people in China don’t read pinyin (because they read the harder characters). He drove us to one hotel, where we asked concierge where our hotel was. They didn’t know the hotel’s name (it was a Holiday Inn, but no one calls it that because it has a Chinese name), so he said he would take me to the address. I said that was great. Later, looking at a map, the hotel was super close to one of the metro stops and we could have gotten there, had we planned better, for ¥2-4 each. Oh well. Lesson learned.
Nanjing is 733 miles or 1,180 kilometers from Hong Kong and would have taken two hours to fly there. As trains go, the one going from Shenzhen (Hong Kong’s Mainland border city) to its terminal at Nanjing Station would have taken twenty-five hours. In contrast, the train to Shanghai South Station would take eighteen hours and then a high-speed train to Nanjing would add on two hours from Shanghai Station via a twelve-stop metro journey. We opted for the latter.
And we couldn’t take one of the MTR through trains, which go almost non-stop to either Shanghai or Beijing from Kowloon (Hung Hom Station), because they go every other day, which for our schedule happened to fit on the wrong days.
Chinese trains are annoying. They’re decently convenient time-wise and reasonably priced. The problem is that you can’t book tickets online. I went to a travel agent (China Travel Service) and found that you have to book tickets at the stations themselves. Hong Kong’s train stations are owned and operated by the MTR Corporation, the same company that owns and operates the subway system. This means that to buy tickets in advance, you would have to truck yourself the hour and a half north to Shenzhen to buy your tickets since the rail facilities here are neither owned nor operated by the same people in Mainland China.
This trek up to Shenzhen wasn’t too appealing, and we figured we’d be able to get tickets shortly before departure, since we did the same for one person for the train to Guilin. Also, there was only one train scheduled each way each day, so we figured that ridership did not afford more than one train a day. Ultimately, we had to find our way up to Nanjing, because we’d already paid for the hotel and I’d already booked my flight back.
We were wrong on both accounts. The train was to leave at 13:29 and arrive at Shanghai South at 6:58, so early in the morning on Friday we got to Shenzhen. We went up to the counter and we were kindly informed that there were no beds left. This meant that we had to buy a seat. Fine. We had to get up to Nanjing, and a seat would do just that, so we bought our tickets and started counting down the hours until hell.
Now I know how I do with long flights. I’ve got a yearly quota for the number of flights over five hours I can handle. This train was going to be eighteen hours sitting. In comparison, my flight from San Francisco was only fourteen hours long and my flight earlier this summer from Los Angeles to Zurich was but eleven.
Well, anyways, the time came and we all got squished while queuing to get onto the train. I always thought it was pointless to squeeze onto mass transit vehicles, because if you’ve got a ticket, you’re getting on, and the vehicle isn’t going to go any sooner if you get on it first. Oh well.
The train was set up in tables. On half of the train, there were six seats in two rows of three around a four-person table. On the other half of the train, there were four seats in two rows of two. In between was an aisle just slightly bigger than that on an airplane.
Like the train to Guilin, in between the sleepers and the seats there was the dining car. While looking for it, I realized I had no idea how to call in Mandarin, so I called it a restaurant, and the staff looked at me like I was stupid. Instead, we met a businessman named Sharp that had approached us half because he was just being friendly and half because he was taking advantage of the opportunity to practice his English with us (my white friends more than me).
Eventually we got our dinner and found wandered back to our table set up. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the seats were facing in the same direction, because the guys across from us wouldn’t stop staring at us, half because my friends are white, half because I was speaking English, and entirely because we were all associating ourselves with each other.
What made the trip worse was that it just seemed to get more and more crowded. People were crowding the areas between cars as well as making use of the bathroom sinks and floors as beds. With pooper stoopers, the floor just got dirtier and dirtier, and it was pretty apparent as seen by the color what this dirt was actually made of. These people who wandered onto the train without a seat I assumed paid to stand, but took the opportunity to claim a seat when one arose. After going to the wrong side of the train (because Car No. 1 was connected at the back to Car No. 16), we found some guys in our seats. I asked them to move in Mandarin, and an older man replied to me in English “switch seats.” Without gesturing which seats to switch to, had he meant switching at all, we just waited until they got out of our seats. In the process of moving themselves and their stuff, they had to move their circular saw from under one table to another, which I thought was peculiar. We had just gone through x-ray security not fifteen minutes ago.
Needless to say, I read an entire book in one sitting (though it was only 180 pages long) in two hours and proceeded to eat two trays of Mandarin oranges and one tray of bananas that we paid ¥10 CNY in total for. After exhausting things to do (because it was difficult to pull my binder out of my bag to study) it was about time to go to sleep. We had hoped that they’d turn off or at least dim the lights after 11:00 p.m. But when 11:00 p.m. came and went, we hoped for midnight. And by the time I fell asleep it became apparent that the lights were there to stay. I got all of about five hours of sleep on that eighteen-hour train ride. One of my friends got as little as half an hour. We all decided that airplanes are much better than hard seats on Chinese trains.
We arrived at Shanghai South Station at about 7:30 a.m. but had to stay there until the ticket office opened at 8:00 a.m. to help my friends buy tickets back for later in the week. I was to leave from Nanjing by air but they were going to come back to Shanghai to scout the place out. One of them studies Mandarin but neither of them felt they had the capacity to negotiate hard-sleepers back to Shenzhen. I actually found that I did the whole thing without any effort. They got their train tickets back, and what’s better is they got hard sleepers—so the hellish ride there wouldn’t be a hellish ride back.
We ate breakfast at a place called Mister Donut in the train station. My problem with eating doughnuts is that they make me feel like a doughnut in the short term as well as in the long term.
Next up, we had to get from one train station to the other, because trains to Nanjing left from Shanghai Station, and we were currently at Shanghai South Station. This was anticipated and hence smooth. For ¥4 CNY, we went the twelve stops along Line 1 of the Shanghai Metro to Shanghai Station.
Although it was going very well, at Shanghai Station, our luck had apparently run low. We waited to buy train tickets to Nanjing at the automated machines and waited for a long time. By the time we got up to the front, the every other machine went out of order, including ours, so we were ushered a block down to the ticket office. It was packed. Luckily we got our train tickets without much ado.
Waiting turned out to be a prelude for what was to come next. Already in the eighteen-hour train, our group of three had elicited many looks from the Chinese countrymen. What are two white people doing in a Chinese long-distance train? What is that Chinese guy doing with them? Is that English they’re speaking? 我听不懂! Needless to say, I explained to a lot of people who asked that they’re Scottish and Australian. If you care, I’m American. Yes, they’re my classmates and we study in Hong Kong.
In the waiting room in Shanghai Station though, we noticed though that people were taking pictures. My friend said, “Paparazzi, twelve o’clock.” I looked. There, on one knee a guy had his camera phone out with the lens noticeably popped out, snapping away at the white people. Another guy had a full-on camera out. One of their flashes went off. I wondered if these people saved these pictures for their friends and went like “I saw white people at Shanghai Station!” I don’t think my friends got their pictures taken in Beijing, and I thought Shanghai had more tourists and non-Chinese business people and non-Chinese people in general. Like I said though, this incident was a prelude.
The train journey from Shanghai to Nanjing was about two hours in length. The modern high-speed trains of China Railway High-Speed (CRH) were a lot cleaner and a lot more streamlined than the aging conventional rail ones. The staff were friendlier as were the passengers themselves, though granted this time we were all facing the same direction. The English displayed on the message board in the cabin was a little shotty and all, but at least it was understandable—bottom line was that we weren’t there for the English.
While napping, one of the staff members picked up my friend’s camera and woke her up. He said something to the effect of she should put that camera away because people can take it while she’s sleeping, especially because there’s nothing pretty to take pictures of inside this train. Between each statement, he would say, “” to which she would nod her head. I thought that she was actually answering his questions, that she did understand what he was saying like he asked. She was just nodding yes. So here’s a lesson: like my mom’s friend said, if you don’t understand something, it works more often than not to answer in the negative. No!
After arriving in Nanjing, we had our hotel address on a piece of paper (in pinyin only, unfortunately). We got in an unregulated taxi by accident and got ripped off. For the three of us, he charged ¥200 to take us to our hotel, which wasn’t that far away. However though, he helped us through our address dilemma, since it seems that most people in China don’t read pinyin (because they read the harder characters). He drove us to one hotel, where we asked concierge where our hotel was. They didn’t know the hotel’s name (it was a Holiday Inn, but no one calls it that because it has a Chinese name), so he said he would take me to the address. I said that was great. Later, looking at a map, the hotel was super close to one of the metro stops and we could have gotten there, had we planned better, for ¥2-4 each. Oh well. Lesson learned.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Guangzhou (广州)
I honestly don’t know what I expected out of Guangzhou, but had I, no doubt I would have been disappointed. For those of you who may not have a grasp on Chinese geography, Guangzhou is the capital city of Guangdong province and sits a few hundred kilometers from Hong Kong.
To get there, we took a train from Hung Hom station in Kowloon to Guangzhou East Railway Station. The trip took about an hour and forty-five minutes, with a disproportionate amount of that time in Hong Kong SAR. The route shares tracks with the light blue East Rail Line of the MTR, and as such crawls along said tracks so as to disturb MTR traffic as little as possible. And when you cross into Mainland China though, heavy rail is separated from light rail and the train speeds up dramatically.
Crossing borders (since Hong Kong and Macau maintain their own immigration systems), we exited Hong Kong first in Hung Hom Station. Upon exiting the train in Guangzhou, we went through Chinese immigration.
Finding somewhere to eat, we went to Beijing Street (北京路), which was actually more for shopping. I suppose it’s similar in notability to Shanghai’s Nanjing Street. Instead of finding dim sum, which was what we were hoping for, we stumbled into an Argentine restaurant. Resisting the temptation to test their Spanish, I found the waitress asking why I can’t speak Cantonese, since the two friends I was with we doing all the ordering while I stayed silent in the corner. The food was okay. It wasn’t great but I suppose it wasn’t bad either. Though we were looking for dim sum, getting away from Chinese food for a bit was nice.
Beijing Street itself was a little piece of history from what I could surmise. Based on the name of the street, I would think that in some way or another, the northern direction of the road more or less led to Beijing (over a thousand kilometers away). Similarly, I would surmise that Nanjing Road in Shanghai leads to Nanjing in one way or another (a couple hundred kilometers east).
What brought this to mind, because a name is often just a name, was that the center section of this (pedestrian) road was covered in glass. Looking in, it looked like an old pathway, perhaps the old Beijing Road hundreds of years before it was surrounded by shops galore. There were signs describing what was beheld, but my Chinese proficiency pales when confronted with text.
From there we descended to the underground and looked to see what there was to do in conjunction with stops on the metro map. There seems to be nothing famous in Guangzhou (at least to the likes of the Great Wall or the Terra Cotta Warriors). As people upon people kept passing by, it became clear that this was just a big city with lots of people.
Finally, we settled on the Second Workers’ Cultural Palace. It looked like an interesting enough place to go. After waiting in line for the ticket machines and finding that our machine didn’t take bills, we found another machine, bought our tickets, and entered the metro.
In short, it was crowded. I felt a hand on my face the whole journey. I used to think that people were kind of impolite on the Hong Kong MTR system. As the main example, letting people out of the train car before entering makes sense in terms of politeness and just plain old logistically. No two things can take up the same space, so letting people uncram themselves from the subway before you cram yourself on is just good sense.
Getting off of the subway with much effort, we went back to street level, scrambling to find the Second Workers’ Cultural Palace. After much roaming, we finally asked a security guard where it was, and he replied, “It’s right here!” Looking around us, there was a halfway dilapidated shopping center with big characters along the top “市二宮.” It was disappointing but funny at the same time.
Back in the metro, we settled on the Sun Yat-sen Memorial Hall, because, actually I don’t know why. I guess we were kind of looking for something with substance, so we went. It was like every other Sun Yat-sen memorial I had been to. Inside was a museum that we didn’t enter and the whole time it was raining.
Back in the metro, we proceeded onto Chigang Pagoda. By the time we exited the station, the sun was already falling, so we didn’t go all the way to the site. We viewed it from a distance and then went back to the station. Along the way, you could see the new spiral tower they were building for the 2010 Asian Games hosted by Guangzhou.
The TV & Sightseeing Tower, as it has been dubbed, is not open yet, but the structure is finished. It was so tall that the top could not be seen because of cloud cover.
To get back to Guangzhou East Railway Station, we took another (extremely) crowed metro ride. People were crowding the entire station shoulder to shoulder, and to transfer trains, we had to circle around the platforms in that crowd. It was so packed that to get out of the train, I had about nine inches of room in which to squeeze out of. Luckily, I was able to push myself through and not get lost in Guangzhou.
The day ended as it started—with a train trip. I’m glad I didn’t spend an extra day or two in Guangzhou, because there was nothing to see. And according to another group of people who tried to go out at night, there was nothing to do.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
To get there, we took a train from Hung Hom station in Kowloon to Guangzhou East Railway Station. The trip took about an hour and forty-five minutes, with a disproportionate amount of that time in Hong Kong SAR. The route shares tracks with the light blue East Rail Line of the MTR, and as such crawls along said tracks so as to disturb MTR traffic as little as possible. And when you cross into Mainland China though, heavy rail is separated from light rail and the train speeds up dramatically.
Crossing borders (since Hong Kong and Macau maintain their own immigration systems), we exited Hong Kong first in Hung Hom Station. Upon exiting the train in Guangzhou, we went through Chinese immigration.
Finding somewhere to eat, we went to Beijing Street (北京路), which was actually more for shopping. I suppose it’s similar in notability to Shanghai’s Nanjing Street. Instead of finding dim sum, which was what we were hoping for, we stumbled into an Argentine restaurant. Resisting the temptation to test their Spanish, I found the waitress asking why I can’t speak Cantonese, since the two friends I was with we doing all the ordering while I stayed silent in the corner. The food was okay. It wasn’t great but I suppose it wasn’t bad either. Though we were looking for dim sum, getting away from Chinese food for a bit was nice.
Beijing Street itself was a little piece of history from what I could surmise. Based on the name of the street, I would think that in some way or another, the northern direction of the road more or less led to Beijing (over a thousand kilometers away). Similarly, I would surmise that Nanjing Road in Shanghai leads to Nanjing in one way or another (a couple hundred kilometers east).
What brought this to mind, because a name is often just a name, was that the center section of this (pedestrian) road was covered in glass. Looking in, it looked like an old pathway, perhaps the old Beijing Road hundreds of years before it was surrounded by shops galore. There were signs describing what was beheld, but my Chinese proficiency pales when confronted with text.
From there we descended to the underground and looked to see what there was to do in conjunction with stops on the metro map. There seems to be nothing famous in Guangzhou (at least to the likes of the Great Wall or the Terra Cotta Warriors). As people upon people kept passing by, it became clear that this was just a big city with lots of people.
Finally, we settled on the Second Workers’ Cultural Palace. It looked like an interesting enough place to go. After waiting in line for the ticket machines and finding that our machine didn’t take bills, we found another machine, bought our tickets, and entered the metro.
In short, it was crowded. I felt a hand on my face the whole journey. I used to think that people were kind of impolite on the Hong Kong MTR system. As the main example, letting people out of the train car before entering makes sense in terms of politeness and just plain old logistically. No two things can take up the same space, so letting people uncram themselves from the subway before you cram yourself on is just good sense.
Getting off of the subway with much effort, we went back to street level, scrambling to find the Second Workers’ Cultural Palace. After much roaming, we finally asked a security guard where it was, and he replied, “It’s right here!” Looking around us, there was a halfway dilapidated shopping center with big characters along the top “市二宮.” It was disappointing but funny at the same time.
Back in the metro, we settled on the Sun Yat-sen Memorial Hall, because, actually I don’t know why. I guess we were kind of looking for something with substance, so we went. It was like every other Sun Yat-sen memorial I had been to. Inside was a museum that we didn’t enter and the whole time it was raining.
Back in the metro, we proceeded onto Chigang Pagoda. By the time we exited the station, the sun was already falling, so we didn’t go all the way to the site. We viewed it from a distance and then went back to the station. Along the way, you could see the new spiral tower they were building for the 2010 Asian Games hosted by Guangzhou.
The TV & Sightseeing Tower, as it has been dubbed, is not open yet, but the structure is finished. It was so tall that the top could not be seen because of cloud cover.
To get back to Guangzhou East Railway Station, we took another (extremely) crowed metro ride. People were crowding the entire station shoulder to shoulder, and to transfer trains, we had to circle around the platforms in that crowd. It was so packed that to get out of the train, I had about nine inches of room in which to squeeze out of. Luckily, I was able to push myself through and not get lost in Guangzhou.
The day ended as it started—with a train trip. I’m glad I didn’t spend an extra day or two in Guangzhou, because there was nothing to see. And according to another group of people who tried to go out at night, there was nothing to do.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
King's College
Teaching English as a second language has always been something I've always tossed around in my head. Whereas in general I probably couldn't cope teaching English high-school style, teaching it as a foreign language always tickled my fancy, as it has to do more with the practical and conversational than the philosophical.
English is in high demand here in Hong Kong. As one of the region's official languages and one its business advantages in the international arena, people who can speak English have an automatic leg up on the competition. Statistics show that Hong Kong isn't nearly as cosmopolitan as it's purported to be. Ninety-five percent of the population is Han Chinese and ninety-five percent use Cantonese primarily as their daily language.
From what I gather, English is taught in many secondary schools, but trying to talk to many service workers here in English, reasonably presuming they attended secondary school, whatever they learn tends to fade away. Talking to secondary-school students (I have no idea what grades they are in because they use the English form system), it's apparent that they, at least the ones I've talked to, have a good grasp in speaking the language. Comprehension is another issue, because whereas they can understand each other's English and I can understand theirs, they cannot understand enough of mine. And seeing as most native English speakers speak more like me and less like them, it would behoove them to improve their comprehension skills.
With this thought in mind, many Hong Kong people, several starting from scratch, pay oodles and oodles of money to get tutored (or coached) to make their English better and closer to standard varieties. Many tutors make $100,000 USD per year, from what I've heard. Others who have invented themselves as celebrities have become multimillionaires by such means. If I had the proper documentation to be allowed to be employed in Hong Kong, I might have tried my hand. But since I didn't, I participated in something second best.
Back to the secondary-school students--the reason I got in contact with them is through a program(me) that was publicized through the Office of International Student Exchange (OISE) here at HKU. It was advertised mainly to exchange and international students as the King's College English Teaching Programme. Sounds really intensive, doesn't it?
There was no pay, but that was understandable. It was a volunteer program in which after their school, we were to walk across the road and down half a block to King's College, a local boys' secondary school. though the program name had "teaching" in it, it was more of a mentorship, for they already had English class in school.
We first learned about it in non-local-student orientation back in August and I was excited to apply. They were supposed to send us applications shortly thereafter, I thought, because the program was to last most of the semester. I was wrong. After enquiring by email, I was told that application would be made available, but much later.
Around came the middle of September, nearly a month into my four-month stay here. The application had come and I was ready to apply. Only then were we told that it was but a four-week program, where we would teach for one hour a week on a given day. So I applied for a few timeslots I had available.
Now this happened to be going on during that whole shopping-for-classes fiasco, so I didn't definitively know when I was going to have free time. About two weeks later, I had registered after much ado for my tutorials. They were sporadically (and thereby inconveniently placed), so I wondered if both my class schedule, being my first priority, and the King's College Programme would fit together.
A few weeks later, well after I'd finished shopping for classes, registering online for classes, and registered partially online for tutorials, the selection came out. It was clear that they had more applicants than they needed. I had a partner to "teach" six students, and it just so happened that I got the Wednesday 4:00-5:00 timeslot, which proved to be problematic.
During that timeslot, I had my tutorial for Hong Kong and the World, so quickly I emailed my tutor Sebastian to see if he would allow me to move when I attend to an empty slot on Thursdays so that, if necessary, I could withdraw from the program as early as possible. The next day he graciously granted my request, since we were already well into the semester. I was now in the program.
The program dates were set to begin shortly after reading week. Orientation was scheduled in the latter half of reading week, but when it was found out that most of the exchange students couldn't make that date, it was moved earlier. I couldn't make either day.
I told OISE (specifically Queenie) that I wouldn't be able to attend and she sent me the orientation materials after the fact. there was a conspicuous lack of lesson plan stuffs, though it was suggested that in the first session we have the students give us a tour of King's College and that in the fourth and last session (which was today), we give the students a tour around the University of Hong Kong. Oh and a big piece of advice that proved a little unsuccessful was to talk about sports with them--yeah, that topic lasted like ten minutes total.
Week One
I arrived straight from my Humanity in Globalization lecture. The professor was beginning to give us advice on how to write a good paper, and I had to leave since he was going over on time in order to get to the first day of the program.
We were to pick up our folders and then proceed to our classrooms (which were marked on maps for our convenience), and we were each given a small bottle of water. At the entrance to the school, I met my partner, who I learned if from Singapore but normally attends university in Australia, here on exchange for one semester.
This first session a mere four of the six students showed up.
Going to start the first session, I found that he was talking a lot more than me. Though I tried to increase my presence by inserting more into the conversation, the students all directed their questions at him rather than at me. I figured that they found it easier to understand him, because although he speaks good English, his accent and their accents are quite similar.
As expected, they gave us a tour around King's College, giving me some insight into the life of a secondary-school student in Hong Kong. We were shown their athletic facilities and canteen, as well as their library and a hallway that students were not allowed to go through.
Hong Kong is like Las Vegas in that it implodes its history and builds upon the rubble. So King's College and a few buildings at HKU are some of the few remaining examples of the colonial style.
Week Two
This week, all but one of the six students attended.
One student brought a newspaper clipping. It was about how a Hong Kong woman in finance decided to quit her job and start a frozen yoghurt business. They all thought she did it to make more money, assuming selling yoghurt can make more money than her high-paying corporate job. Though it is possible, she will, for a very long time, will be losing money on startup and then be making lots less money than her former career. I presented this argument to the students, that switching to selling frozen yoghurt was more a labor of love than a financial pursuit. They thought I was joking.
After that all, we completed unsuccessfully a crossword puzzle of sorts. I maintain that it was poorly designed with definitions too vague (and sometimes flat out wrong) for the specific words they were looking for. Needless to say, we moved on.
Hangman was the name of the game, and we went back and forth throwing random words at each other to see if we could get them. We kept the words easy, as did the students when it was their turn. Because we had some substance to this meeting, time went a lot quicker than in the last session.
Week Three
This week was actually two after Week Two because they had their finals the week in between. Two decided to show up (the most talkative two).
My teaching partner, at their request, told them how he served in the Singaporean Army (as there is conscription of young men there) in order to defend themselves against possible attack from Malaysia. Though Singapore officially operates in four languages, the one and only in the army was Malay. His position was the army police, to suss out all the contraband and maintain internal order.
We went over another newspaper article. This was was about tonsils and tonsil stones (which accumulate in your tonsils and pop out when they get too big after a bit of prodding). Big words such as tonsilitis were skipped understandably, and at the end of the article they admitted that big chunks of the article didn't make sense. We verbally summarized the article for them.
Though I told them in the first place that I'm American, they learned that little fact again. I answered questions about the United States, pointing out where I'm from on a big bad chalkboard drawing, drawing New York state onto the map, and explaining that the smallest state Rhode Island is not an island at all.
Week Four
The last session was earlier today today. The same two students as last week were the only ones to show up, and they were really excited to get shown HKU by us.
So we walked them there. As with any good tour of HKU, you start at Main Building. It's the oldest and most historic (and prettiest) building on campus. The main room in Main Building, Lok Yew Hall, is where the university hosts all its A-list events and ceremonies (except for graduation, which is being held this year at Asia-World Expo on Hong Kong Airport Island).
We continued around campus and showed them the library (but entering requires a HKU ID card, so we looked in from the outside), as well as a few canteens and some unique buildings. After we got through in just forty minutes, I was reminded how small campus is.
We walked them back to the bus stop and they went home.
Closing Ceremony
I won't be able to attend the ending ceremony for the program. It is to be held next Wednesday at Lok Yew Hall. I told them that I was probably going to go until I realized that I have class during then. All in all, though it was not exactly what I expected, I'm glad that I participated because it was a good experience.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
English is in high demand here in Hong Kong. As one of the region's official languages and one its business advantages in the international arena, people who can speak English have an automatic leg up on the competition. Statistics show that Hong Kong isn't nearly as cosmopolitan as it's purported to be. Ninety-five percent of the population is Han Chinese and ninety-five percent use Cantonese primarily as their daily language.
From what I gather, English is taught in many secondary schools, but trying to talk to many service workers here in English, reasonably presuming they attended secondary school, whatever they learn tends to fade away. Talking to secondary-school students (I have no idea what grades they are in because they use the English form system), it's apparent that they, at least the ones I've talked to, have a good grasp in speaking the language. Comprehension is another issue, because whereas they can understand each other's English and I can understand theirs, they cannot understand enough of mine. And seeing as most native English speakers speak more like me and less like them, it would behoove them to improve their comprehension skills.
With this thought in mind, many Hong Kong people, several starting from scratch, pay oodles and oodles of money to get tutored (or coached) to make their English better and closer to standard varieties. Many tutors make $100,000 USD per year, from what I've heard. Others who have invented themselves as celebrities have become multimillionaires by such means. If I had the proper documentation to be allowed to be employed in Hong Kong, I might have tried my hand. But since I didn't, I participated in something second best.
Back to the secondary-school students--the reason I got in contact with them is through a program(me) that was publicized through the Office of International Student Exchange (OISE) here at HKU. It was advertised mainly to exchange and international students as the King's College English Teaching Programme. Sounds really intensive, doesn't it?
There was no pay, but that was understandable. It was a volunteer program in which after their school, we were to walk across the road and down half a block to King's College, a local boys' secondary school. though the program name had "teaching" in it, it was more of a mentorship, for they already had English class in school.
We first learned about it in non-local-student orientation back in August and I was excited to apply. They were supposed to send us applications shortly thereafter, I thought, because the program was to last most of the semester. I was wrong. After enquiring by email, I was told that application would be made available, but much later.
Around came the middle of September, nearly a month into my four-month stay here. The application had come and I was ready to apply. Only then were we told that it was but a four-week program, where we would teach for one hour a week on a given day. So I applied for a few timeslots I had available.
Now this happened to be going on during that whole shopping-for-classes fiasco, so I didn't definitively know when I was going to have free time. About two weeks later, I had registered after much ado for my tutorials. They were sporadically (and thereby inconveniently placed), so I wondered if both my class schedule, being my first priority, and the King's College Programme would fit together.
A few weeks later, well after I'd finished shopping for classes, registering online for classes, and registered partially online for tutorials, the selection came out. It was clear that they had more applicants than they needed. I had a partner to "teach" six students, and it just so happened that I got the Wednesday 4:00-5:00 timeslot, which proved to be problematic.
During that timeslot, I had my tutorial for Hong Kong and the World, so quickly I emailed my tutor Sebastian to see if he would allow me to move when I attend to an empty slot on Thursdays so that, if necessary, I could withdraw from the program as early as possible. The next day he graciously granted my request, since we were already well into the semester. I was now in the program.
The program dates were set to begin shortly after reading week. Orientation was scheduled in the latter half of reading week, but when it was found out that most of the exchange students couldn't make that date, it was moved earlier. I couldn't make either day.
I told OISE (specifically Queenie) that I wouldn't be able to attend and she sent me the orientation materials after the fact. there was a conspicuous lack of lesson plan stuffs, though it was suggested that in the first session we have the students give us a tour of King's College and that in the fourth and last session (which was today), we give the students a tour around the University of Hong Kong. Oh and a big piece of advice that proved a little unsuccessful was to talk about sports with them--yeah, that topic lasted like ten minutes total.
Week One
I arrived straight from my Humanity in Globalization lecture. The professor was beginning to give us advice on how to write a good paper, and I had to leave since he was going over on time in order to get to the first day of the program.
We were to pick up our folders and then proceed to our classrooms (which were marked on maps for our convenience), and we were each given a small bottle of water. At the entrance to the school, I met my partner, who I learned if from Singapore but normally attends university in Australia, here on exchange for one semester.
This first session a mere four of the six students showed up.
Going to start the first session, I found that he was talking a lot more than me. Though I tried to increase my presence by inserting more into the conversation, the students all directed their questions at him rather than at me. I figured that they found it easier to understand him, because although he speaks good English, his accent and their accents are quite similar.
As expected, they gave us a tour around King's College, giving me some insight into the life of a secondary-school student in Hong Kong. We were shown their athletic facilities and canteen, as well as their library and a hallway that students were not allowed to go through.
Hong Kong is like Las Vegas in that it implodes its history and builds upon the rubble. So King's College and a few buildings at HKU are some of the few remaining examples of the colonial style.
Week Two
This week, all but one of the six students attended.
One student brought a newspaper clipping. It was about how a Hong Kong woman in finance decided to quit her job and start a frozen yoghurt business. They all thought she did it to make more money, assuming selling yoghurt can make more money than her high-paying corporate job. Though it is possible, she will, for a very long time, will be losing money on startup and then be making lots less money than her former career. I presented this argument to the students, that switching to selling frozen yoghurt was more a labor of love than a financial pursuit. They thought I was joking.
After that all, we completed unsuccessfully a crossword puzzle of sorts. I maintain that it was poorly designed with definitions too vague (and sometimes flat out wrong) for the specific words they were looking for. Needless to say, we moved on.
Hangman was the name of the game, and we went back and forth throwing random words at each other to see if we could get them. We kept the words easy, as did the students when it was their turn. Because we had some substance to this meeting, time went a lot quicker than in the last session.
Week Three
This week was actually two after Week Two because they had their finals the week in between. Two decided to show up (the most talkative two).
My teaching partner, at their request, told them how he served in the Singaporean Army (as there is conscription of young men there) in order to defend themselves against possible attack from Malaysia. Though Singapore officially operates in four languages, the one and only in the army was Malay. His position was the army police, to suss out all the contraband and maintain internal order.
We went over another newspaper article. This was was about tonsils and tonsil stones (which accumulate in your tonsils and pop out when they get too big after a bit of prodding). Big words such as tonsilitis were skipped understandably, and at the end of the article they admitted that big chunks of the article didn't make sense. We verbally summarized the article for them.
Though I told them in the first place that I'm American, they learned that little fact again. I answered questions about the United States, pointing out where I'm from on a big bad chalkboard drawing, drawing New York state onto the map, and explaining that the smallest state Rhode Island is not an island at all.
Week Four
The last session was earlier today today. The same two students as last week were the only ones to show up, and they were really excited to get shown HKU by us.
So we walked them there. As with any good tour of HKU, you start at Main Building. It's the oldest and most historic (and prettiest) building on campus. The main room in Main Building, Lok Yew Hall, is where the university hosts all its A-list events and ceremonies (except for graduation, which is being held this year at Asia-World Expo on Hong Kong Airport Island).
We continued around campus and showed them the library (but entering requires a HKU ID card, so we looked in from the outside), as well as a few canteens and some unique buildings. After we got through in just forty minutes, I was reminded how small campus is.
We walked them back to the bus stop and they went home.
Closing Ceremony
I won't be able to attend the ending ceremony for the program. It is to be held next Wednesday at Lok Yew Hall. I told them that I was probably going to go until I realized that I have class during then. All in all, though it was not exactly what I expected, I'm glad that I participated because it was a good experience.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Guilin: The Two Sisters
We arrived at about 7:00 a.m. at Guilin Railway Station. Off the train and out of the train station shortly thereafter, we walked wearily though we were not overly tired. The forced early morning start was good in that we were now up and had a nice long, full day to do stuff.
Out of our group of six, three of us were going to catch the 9:25 p.m. train back to Shenzhen that night of that same day. Three of us, including me, were to stay overnight and catch the train back the next day. To this effect, we all went to the hotel that three of us booked, where we all put our stuff for the day.
The reception at the small hotel (named Guilin Riverside Hostel) was extremely nice, especially by Chinese standards, and helped us book our Li River Cruise the next day. As I was to find out, Guilin is really a tourist town (more like city), and many people are very nice as I ended up spending a lot more money than anticipated.
After stopping at the hotel, we went out to the main street to find bus number 11 to Seven Star Park. While we were walking though, a taxi driver offered to take us around the city for ¥30 CNY for the whole day to as many tourist sights as we wanted. When we made it clear that we would need two cabs since there were six of us, the cab driver brought over an additional cab driver, and the price for both sat at ¥50 CNY, all people included. It sounded unreasonably cheap, and I was a little weary of taking them up on their deal.
After a bit of group deliberation, we decided that it would be fine. Though they would be going off the meter for us, they were official cab drivers, legitimate and legal, and we figured that even if they upped the price on us at the end of the day, it would still be really cheap.
So we hopped in the cabs. Since we now had longer-distance transportation, we figured we’d see the sights farther out first. First on the list was breakfast, now Reed Flute Cave (芦笛岩), which sat on the outside of the city and was a considerable walk from the closest bus stop.
The cabs went all of a block-and-a-half to get to where the drivers took us for breakfast. The place was in a backstreet and served really good Guilin noodles (桂林米粉), a big bowl for ¥3 CNY, which I later found out that you pour soup into
The city was quite dense, and though the air was not noticeably polluted, the traffic was often gridlocked, and it took us a while to get out to the mountains.
Guilin is famous for its mountains. They are unusually vertical and skinny for their height, and they noticeable pop up from relatively flat ground. Most are covered with vegetation, and some have temples built on top. The majority of them, though, sit grouped in formations that have led many a Chinese poet to muse over their beauty and uniqueness much in the same way they’ve marveled over Hangzhou and Suzhou. And with Mao Zedong on one side of the ¥20 bill, one particular scene from these mountains is printed on the other. They truly are one of the many prides of China.
We arrived at Reed Flute Cave and bought out tickets at what I thought was the entrance. Actually, we gave our money to the taxi drivers, who went up to the window and bought our tickets for us. After that, they drove us to the actual entrance, probably another half mile down the road.
The entrance, while not done up, was noticeably commercially centered, with an official gift shop selling goods and hawkers selling the same goods for less. Entering the cave was unlike any cave that I had been in before.
Yes, I’ve been in caves before—two to be exact, namely in the Jewel Cave in Black Hills, South Dakota (where Mount Rushmore is), and Mammoth Cave National Park in Kentucky. Each was about the same as the other. There were small caves to crawl though and generally a few larger caves. All of it was lit brightly to avoid accidents and considerably cooler than the aboveground weather.
Reed Flute Cave was pretty much the same actually. The main differences were in the way it was actually done up. The floors were all relatively wide and concreted flat with aggregate stone. The caves were lit with bright, alternating colors. Places were concreted to accumulate water to make the interior more picturesque, in which case tube LED lights would light the shoreline between the pond and the path.
I thought that while it was visually appealing (minus the visible LED tube lighting), it wasn’t what I felt nature should be. I’ve thought that nature is best left untouched—a concept, which I now know, I was taught.
Inside the caves, besides stalactite and stalagmite formations, were also some big turtles being attended to by staff members. Each was named by a sign saying “Thousand-year-old Turtle,” the validity, of which, I of course doubted. For each turtle (there were three total) you could pet, which of course, was as fun as petting any turtle, with the same fear that it could nip your hand off (though they were so lethargic that they probably didn’t care at that point in their lives). Two, you could buy pendants off their shells and one you could buy food to feed it.
Exiting, I used the bathroom, which reminded me of the infamous pooper stoopers that China is known for and the general lack of sanitary measures both on the ground and through the lack of soap next to the sink. For a country that’s so concerned about a swine flue pandemic, it would seem reasonable that more measures would take place to prevent the spread of germs, and by extension, disease.
Though the tour through the caves was guided, the path was clear, and most visitors, especially us for our lack of Mandarin comprehension, ended up wandering around by ourselves. By the end I forgot that there was even a guide to begin with. The taxi drivers met us at the exit of the caves.
Next on the journey was Yaoshan (瑶山), which is the highest peak in the range of mountains around Guilin. The park had a cable car going up, which we took. At the top, we got the classic frame of the beautiful mountains that Guilin is known for. Again, the cab drivers took our money and paid for the tickets. They said they needed to do so to get free parking for the taxis.
On the cable car ride and at the cable car stop, the view was not the best though, because though it was a sunny day, fog masked the clouds and all that was visible were faint outlines. From the cable car stop, walking further up towards the top of the hill, the view did not get any better, though the white members of our group kept getting asked by the locals to take pictures with them because I guess they don’t see white people that often. They didn’t mind, and I even ended up taking the picture.
Taking the chairlift half back down the mountain, you’re prompted to get off. As part of the round-trip ticket to the top of the mountain and back, there is a toboggan-style ride to get from midway down the mountain all the way to the bottom, believe it or not.
Unfortunately, I got few pictures of the ride itself, since I was told I couldn’t take pictures while speeding down the winding metal track. We were allowed to control our speed with a lever and warned that there’s a sharp curve at the very beginning that’s kind of nasty that we definitely need to slow down for. I was sure that many of my friends would just go for it at full speed, because, I guess, you only live once.
I, on the other hand, took my time. While in parts I did go fast for fun, I figured I was only going to go down the slope of this mountain once, so I would rather enjoy it. As I went down, there were a lot of safety personnel that I didn’t expect. Most stood on right before the curved sections to blow their whistle to prompt you to slow down if need be.
I could feel the fresh Guilin air through my hair I suppose. But while the ride was exhilarating, there was no real view involved with the track layout. It was fine, because, I guess, we’d already gotten the view on the top and on the chairlift.
At the foot of the hill, next to the visitor center, there were some small shops. We went to a small coffee shop hoping for a good cup, as some of us were starting to crash from the early start to the day, but it was exactly how it was in Beijing airport—noticeably “brewed” from instant and quite sub-par.
Meanwhile, the taxi drivers were booking tickets for us for the Four Rivers, Two Lakes cruise later that evening. The later came up to join us at the coffee shop, where we found I found out that they were sisters.
The time now was around 12:30 p.m., and the cruise was set for 4:15 p.m. So with hours to spare, we decided to check out the Ming Palace along the way. It’s officially called the Jingjian Princes City (靖江王城), and while it was never used as the main residence of the royals, it served as one point from where the ruler could do business.
Once again the sisters insisted on buying our tickets for us after we gave them our money. It became apparent that what seemed at first just a courtesy was actually a way for them to make money. For the price that we were to pay, it now made sense how cheap it was, and frankly, we were fine with it, because for the individual sites we still paid the listed entrance fee.
Entering, the complex looked small and unimpressive with the exception of the lone mountain the middle. To get to the mountain, we went through building upon building, ranging from dining halls to bedrooms and throne rooms, and the cave under the mountain.
After coming out of the cave on the other side of the mountain, we realized that we’d missed the path to the top. It ended up being on the west side of the hill, and when we got to the foot of the steps, the path that we were about to climb became visible and clearly steep.
All things considered—namely how long the day had already run—the climb wasn’t too bad. It was taller than it looked and the view of Guilin from the top was pretty good. There were a few buildings at the top, as well as a place to buy drinks, of course. From there you could clearly see the way that the city formed on the flat land around the mountains.
I guess you could say I’ve got a thing for getting the bird’s-eye view of a city. In Rome, it was as simple as the roof terrace of the hotel. In Paris, it was the Arc du Triomphe (because we didn’t go up the Eiffel Tower). In Hong Kong, the view I got was from the Peak. Chicago—Sears Tower (now renamed). Both the Ferris wheel and Taipei 101 did the trick in Taipei.
At this time, we still had a couple hours before the cruise, so we got lunch. The food was good, though we had to eat around of the odd-sized bits of bone with the lamb.
After walking around a local supermarket for a bit and checking out what was there to be offered, we went over the center of Guilin, where the famous pair of pagodas stands.
The cruise was supposed to go for an hour and a half, but ended up going for about an hour. The usual route was not taken for a couple reasons. First the normal course would have run straight past Elephant Trunk Hill, a symbol of Guilin that has been effectively monetized by strategically planting trees to block views from the street and charging ¥30 to get into the park. In addition, according to the taxi drivers, the water level when we went was too low, so many boats by design cannot wade through those waters.
Waiting for the cruise to board, another group of locals insisted on getting a picture with the white people in our group. I took a photo as well.
We got a good picture of Guilin, though. It was very obvious which edifices were historical and which ones were new development. Many of the hills that we saw were covered with climbers and hikers. At the end of its course, right before turning around, there was a well-kept historical-looking area whose name we never found out.
By the time we met up with the taxi drivers again, it was nearing 6:00 p.m., and with half of us getting on a train in just three hours, we decided it would be best to just grab dinner. Anyways, one of my friends wanted to go see the “Dream of Li River” show, which was to begin at 8:00. The cab drivers helped us book us tickets and later picked them up for us.
We asked the sisters to take us somewhere local to eat—and I would find out, it was a little too local for me. The menu had all sorts of exotic things listed. Absent were beef, pork, or chicken dishes, since I guess we weren’t taken to a touristy restaurant.
So we tried it. There was a plate of snails, a plate of Li River shrimp, some soup, some sort of fried rice, and white rice. I ended up with some fried rice and a whole lot of white rice. I tried the soup, and I while I could see why others like it, it just didn’t suit my taste.
Also, I tried the Guilin Li River snails. One actually was enough for me. The snails were small, as were the shrimp, and I found myself trying to get the meat of sorts out of the shell with a toothpick. Once that was successfully done, I put the object into my mouth, aiming to look as little as possible at it, which was easier said than done. I chewed a few times and it was notably mushy, with a little crunch at the end. I took a picture of the animal’s now empty shell and that was the end of that experience.
On the other hand, one of my friends took quite a liking to those snails and ended up eating most of them. With his plate of empty snail shells in front of him, I dubbed him the snail master. Another one of my friends were showing everyone how to peel the shell off cooked shrimp in his mouth and without hands, causing me to be impressed and others to look away. With his plate piled high with shrimp shells, I dubbed him the shrimp master.
The sisters ate with us as well, and they ate a bit of everything really. I guess it fits since they were probably from Guilin and were accustomed to the local food. The whole day, they had been really helpful to us—offering advice about where to go and helping us get tickets, so the group treated them to dinner.
From there, we went back to the hotel for them to get their bags. There we decided that we were each going to chip in ¥20 CNY each for the cab, which added up to ¥120, which was more than the ¥50 they asked for, because, well they deserved it, and ¥20 per person for the whole day is really not that much money (about $2.90 USD). From the hotel, our cabs split in different directions. One went to the train station.
Mine went to the “Dream of Li River” show. It wasn’t that it wasn’t impressive, but for someone who’s already seen most all of the acts of that show done in different places, with more skill, it was kind of a letdown. Similar in the ballet-based show we saw in Beijing, “History of Kung Fu,” as well as to the shows I saw in 2007 in Beijing and in Xian, in addition to the show I saw at the Thousand Oaks Civic Arts Plaza in 2006, I was kind of disappointed at their lack of originality.
Though that day ended on a low note, the overall activities that we got accomplished in that first day well overcame the mediocrity of the evening ballet-style show. The sheer volume of events that we did made me feel like the morning we arrived was a full day earlier.
Guilin was really more than I expected in the atmosphere that I got from the city, though the scenery was a bit of a let down through the choking fog. Little did I know of the beauty that was to come but the next day.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Out of our group of six, three of us were going to catch the 9:25 p.m. train back to Shenzhen that night of that same day. Three of us, including me, were to stay overnight and catch the train back the next day. To this effect, we all went to the hotel that three of us booked, where we all put our stuff for the day.
The reception at the small hotel (named Guilin Riverside Hostel) was extremely nice, especially by Chinese standards, and helped us book our Li River Cruise the next day. As I was to find out, Guilin is really a tourist town (more like city), and many people are very nice as I ended up spending a lot more money than anticipated.
After stopping at the hotel, we went out to the main street to find bus number 11 to Seven Star Park. While we were walking though, a taxi driver offered to take us around the city for ¥30 CNY for the whole day to as many tourist sights as we wanted. When we made it clear that we would need two cabs since there were six of us, the cab driver brought over an additional cab driver, and the price for both sat at ¥50 CNY, all people included. It sounded unreasonably cheap, and I was a little weary of taking them up on their deal.
After a bit of group deliberation, we decided that it would be fine. Though they would be going off the meter for us, they were official cab drivers, legitimate and legal, and we figured that even if they upped the price on us at the end of the day, it would still be really cheap.
So we hopped in the cabs. Since we now had longer-distance transportation, we figured we’d see the sights farther out first. First on the list was breakfast, now Reed Flute Cave (芦笛岩), which sat on the outside of the city and was a considerable walk from the closest bus stop.
The cabs went all of a block-and-a-half to get to where the drivers took us for breakfast. The place was in a backstreet and served really good Guilin noodles (桂林米粉), a big bowl for ¥3 CNY, which I later found out that you pour soup into
The city was quite dense, and though the air was not noticeably polluted, the traffic was often gridlocked, and it took us a while to get out to the mountains.
Guilin is famous for its mountains. They are unusually vertical and skinny for their height, and they noticeable pop up from relatively flat ground. Most are covered with vegetation, and some have temples built on top. The majority of them, though, sit grouped in formations that have led many a Chinese poet to muse over their beauty and uniqueness much in the same way they’ve marveled over Hangzhou and Suzhou. And with Mao Zedong on one side of the ¥20 bill, one particular scene from these mountains is printed on the other. They truly are one of the many prides of China.
We arrived at Reed Flute Cave and bought out tickets at what I thought was the entrance. Actually, we gave our money to the taxi drivers, who went up to the window and bought our tickets for us. After that, they drove us to the actual entrance, probably another half mile down the road.
The entrance, while not done up, was noticeably commercially centered, with an official gift shop selling goods and hawkers selling the same goods for less. Entering the cave was unlike any cave that I had been in before.
Yes, I’ve been in caves before—two to be exact, namely in the Jewel Cave in Black Hills, South Dakota (where Mount Rushmore is), and Mammoth Cave National Park in Kentucky. Each was about the same as the other. There were small caves to crawl though and generally a few larger caves. All of it was lit brightly to avoid accidents and considerably cooler than the aboveground weather.
Reed Flute Cave was pretty much the same actually. The main differences were in the way it was actually done up. The floors were all relatively wide and concreted flat with aggregate stone. The caves were lit with bright, alternating colors. Places were concreted to accumulate water to make the interior more picturesque, in which case tube LED lights would light the shoreline between the pond and the path.
I thought that while it was visually appealing (minus the visible LED tube lighting), it wasn’t what I felt nature should be. I’ve thought that nature is best left untouched—a concept, which I now know, I was taught.
Inside the caves, besides stalactite and stalagmite formations, were also some big turtles being attended to by staff members. Each was named by a sign saying “Thousand-year-old Turtle,” the validity, of which, I of course doubted. For each turtle (there were three total) you could pet, which of course, was as fun as petting any turtle, with the same fear that it could nip your hand off (though they were so lethargic that they probably didn’t care at that point in their lives). Two, you could buy pendants off their shells and one you could buy food to feed it.
Exiting, I used the bathroom, which reminded me of the infamous pooper stoopers that China is known for and the general lack of sanitary measures both on the ground and through the lack of soap next to the sink. For a country that’s so concerned about a swine flue pandemic, it would seem reasonable that more measures would take place to prevent the spread of germs, and by extension, disease.
Though the tour through the caves was guided, the path was clear, and most visitors, especially us for our lack of Mandarin comprehension, ended up wandering around by ourselves. By the end I forgot that there was even a guide to begin with. The taxi drivers met us at the exit of the caves.
Next on the journey was Yaoshan (瑶山), which is the highest peak in the range of mountains around Guilin. The park had a cable car going up, which we took. At the top, we got the classic frame of the beautiful mountains that Guilin is known for. Again, the cab drivers took our money and paid for the tickets. They said they needed to do so to get free parking for the taxis.
On the cable car ride and at the cable car stop, the view was not the best though, because though it was a sunny day, fog masked the clouds and all that was visible were faint outlines. From the cable car stop, walking further up towards the top of the hill, the view did not get any better, though the white members of our group kept getting asked by the locals to take pictures with them because I guess they don’t see white people that often. They didn’t mind, and I even ended up taking the picture.
Taking the chairlift half back down the mountain, you’re prompted to get off. As part of the round-trip ticket to the top of the mountain and back, there is a toboggan-style ride to get from midway down the mountain all the way to the bottom, believe it or not.
Unfortunately, I got few pictures of the ride itself, since I was told I couldn’t take pictures while speeding down the winding metal track. We were allowed to control our speed with a lever and warned that there’s a sharp curve at the very beginning that’s kind of nasty that we definitely need to slow down for. I was sure that many of my friends would just go for it at full speed, because, I guess, you only live once.
I, on the other hand, took my time. While in parts I did go fast for fun, I figured I was only going to go down the slope of this mountain once, so I would rather enjoy it. As I went down, there were a lot of safety personnel that I didn’t expect. Most stood on right before the curved sections to blow their whistle to prompt you to slow down if need be.
I could feel the fresh Guilin air through my hair I suppose. But while the ride was exhilarating, there was no real view involved with the track layout. It was fine, because, I guess, we’d already gotten the view on the top and on the chairlift.
At the foot of the hill, next to the visitor center, there were some small shops. We went to a small coffee shop hoping for a good cup, as some of us were starting to crash from the early start to the day, but it was exactly how it was in Beijing airport—noticeably “brewed” from instant and quite sub-par.
Meanwhile, the taxi drivers were booking tickets for us for the Four Rivers, Two Lakes cruise later that evening. The later came up to join us at the coffee shop, where we found I found out that they were sisters.
The time now was around 12:30 p.m., and the cruise was set for 4:15 p.m. So with hours to spare, we decided to check out the Ming Palace along the way. It’s officially called the Jingjian Princes City (靖江王城), and while it was never used as the main residence of the royals, it served as one point from where the ruler could do business.
Once again the sisters insisted on buying our tickets for us after we gave them our money. It became apparent that what seemed at first just a courtesy was actually a way for them to make money. For the price that we were to pay, it now made sense how cheap it was, and frankly, we were fine with it, because for the individual sites we still paid the listed entrance fee.
Entering, the complex looked small and unimpressive with the exception of the lone mountain the middle. To get to the mountain, we went through building upon building, ranging from dining halls to bedrooms and throne rooms, and the cave under the mountain.
After coming out of the cave on the other side of the mountain, we realized that we’d missed the path to the top. It ended up being on the west side of the hill, and when we got to the foot of the steps, the path that we were about to climb became visible and clearly steep.
All things considered—namely how long the day had already run—the climb wasn’t too bad. It was taller than it looked and the view of Guilin from the top was pretty good. There were a few buildings at the top, as well as a place to buy drinks, of course. From there you could clearly see the way that the city formed on the flat land around the mountains.
I guess you could say I’ve got a thing for getting the bird’s-eye view of a city. In Rome, it was as simple as the roof terrace of the hotel. In Paris, it was the Arc du Triomphe (because we didn’t go up the Eiffel Tower). In Hong Kong, the view I got was from the Peak. Chicago—Sears Tower (now renamed). Both the Ferris wheel and Taipei 101 did the trick in Taipei.
At this time, we still had a couple hours before the cruise, so we got lunch. The food was good, though we had to eat around of the odd-sized bits of bone with the lamb.
After walking around a local supermarket for a bit and checking out what was there to be offered, we went over the center of Guilin, where the famous pair of pagodas stands.
The cruise was supposed to go for an hour and a half, but ended up going for about an hour. The usual route was not taken for a couple reasons. First the normal course would have run straight past Elephant Trunk Hill, a symbol of Guilin that has been effectively monetized by strategically planting trees to block views from the street and charging ¥30 to get into the park. In addition, according to the taxi drivers, the water level when we went was too low, so many boats by design cannot wade through those waters.
Waiting for the cruise to board, another group of locals insisted on getting a picture with the white people in our group. I took a photo as well.
We got a good picture of Guilin, though. It was very obvious which edifices were historical and which ones were new development. Many of the hills that we saw were covered with climbers and hikers. At the end of its course, right before turning around, there was a well-kept historical-looking area whose name we never found out.
By the time we met up with the taxi drivers again, it was nearing 6:00 p.m., and with half of us getting on a train in just three hours, we decided it would be best to just grab dinner. Anyways, one of my friends wanted to go see the “Dream of Li River” show, which was to begin at 8:00. The cab drivers helped us book us tickets and later picked them up for us.
We asked the sisters to take us somewhere local to eat—and I would find out, it was a little too local for me. The menu had all sorts of exotic things listed. Absent were beef, pork, or chicken dishes, since I guess we weren’t taken to a touristy restaurant.
So we tried it. There was a plate of snails, a plate of Li River shrimp, some soup, some sort of fried rice, and white rice. I ended up with some fried rice and a whole lot of white rice. I tried the soup, and I while I could see why others like it, it just didn’t suit my taste.
Also, I tried the Guilin Li River snails. One actually was enough for me. The snails were small, as were the shrimp, and I found myself trying to get the meat of sorts out of the shell with a toothpick. Once that was successfully done, I put the object into my mouth, aiming to look as little as possible at it, which was easier said than done. I chewed a few times and it was notably mushy, with a little crunch at the end. I took a picture of the animal’s now empty shell and that was the end of that experience.
On the other hand, one of my friends took quite a liking to those snails and ended up eating most of them. With his plate of empty snail shells in front of him, I dubbed him the snail master. Another one of my friends were showing everyone how to peel the shell off cooked shrimp in his mouth and without hands, causing me to be impressed and others to look away. With his plate piled high with shrimp shells, I dubbed him the shrimp master.
The sisters ate with us as well, and they ate a bit of everything really. I guess it fits since they were probably from Guilin and were accustomed to the local food. The whole day, they had been really helpful to us—offering advice about where to go and helping us get tickets, so the group treated them to dinner.
From there, we went back to the hotel for them to get their bags. There we decided that we were each going to chip in ¥20 CNY each for the cab, which added up to ¥120, which was more than the ¥50 they asked for, because, well they deserved it, and ¥20 per person for the whole day is really not that much money (about $2.90 USD). From the hotel, our cabs split in different directions. One went to the train station.
Mine went to the “Dream of Li River” show. It wasn’t that it wasn’t impressive, but for someone who’s already seen most all of the acts of that show done in different places, with more skill, it was kind of a letdown. Similar in the ballet-based show we saw in Beijing, “History of Kung Fu,” as well as to the shows I saw in 2007 in Beijing and in Xian, in addition to the show I saw at the Thousand Oaks Civic Arts Plaza in 2006, I was kind of disappointed at their lack of originality.
Though that day ended on a low note, the overall activities that we got accomplished in that first day well overcame the mediocrity of the evening ballet-style show. The sheer volume of events that we did made me feel like the morning we arrived was a full day earlier.
Guilin was really more than I expected in the atmosphere that I got from the city, though the scenery was a bit of a let down through the choking fog. Little did I know of the beauty that was to come but the next day.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Speed and Agility
The first time I ever caught a fly was in Carpenteria, California. My hometown, Thousand Oaks, California, lies halfway between downtown Los Angeles to the southeast and Santa Barbara to the slight northwest without about forty miles to each destination. Carpenteria is just a bit before Santa Barbara and sits as one of those prototypical California beach cities.
My hometown is not a beach city. It’s about seven to twelve miles inland with the closest passage to the sea in the western end of Malibu. Carpenteria, as my description would imply, sits on the coast, and with a small population and great weather, it’s one of my favorite getaway destinations (though I haven’t been there in quite awhile).
Compared to the big cities of California (I count four or five), the pace of life is quite slower—in a good way. Instead of having to fight for a parking spot (or in better-planned areas drive through seas of parking lots), it’s not difficult to find somewhere to park close to where you’re meant to be.
Even walking on the streets, the speed of ambulating that I had grown up with in my suburb was noticeably faster than in Carpenteria. Before I realized this, I would nearly run into people before learning to just slow down. Later we would find a conspicuous magazine in a convenience store on how to grow marijuana most efficiently, but that’s beyond the point and a different story entirely that did not involve any illegal activities.
Though I enjoy slowing down, because, hey, who doesn't, I can most definitely live a fast-paced life. In high school I would go off of five-and-a-half to six hours of sleep a night and frequent fifteen-hour days to get everything done that I had to do.
Hong Kong itself is known for having such a lifestyle. It’s funny though that they may be busy in work, life and what have you, they are some of the weirdest walkers. I’ve always believed there was a correlation between how busy you were at any given period of time and how fast you walk, but I’ve been finding reasons since day two to revise that theory.
First off, I’ve been stuck behind many a slow businessman (as indicated by his or her suit) and many more pairs of people who do not allot any room on either side to pass.
In general, people walk funny here. People think that I dwell on what’s not important, but in reality, I’m spiting back what everyone already knows. Back in the United States, most all crowded places I’ve been to have followed the pattern of walking on the right. It works as well for cars at it does for people to just have one side of the road or path, respectively, and stick to it. It just makes traffic flow better, and in the case of cars especially, it makes everything safer.
So of course, I followed suite. Seeing everyone walking on the right and walking past each other on the right makes you do so yourself, so I thought something similar might apply for Hong Kong. Here, traffic moves on the left as established by the British, so I thought people might walk on the left, just as common courtesy.
I know something as small as common courtesy is highly variable among regions, so when people didn’t really prefer to walk on one side or the other, at first it was irksome, but then I just learned to accept it. I now walk past everyone on the right, just like back home—and it doesn’t cause any more chaos than there already is during busy passing period at HKU or crowded tubes in the MTR.
What is irksome though, is that there seems to be missing any sort of courtesy when on narrow stairways or narrow paths in general. Back home, if you walk side-by-side with someone on a path that fits only two people abreast and someone is approaching from the other direction, you go single file so that the other person can get by without an issue.
Here though, I’ve walked down many a stairway where the people going the opposite direction do not bother to make room for you to pass by on either side, in which case, since I can’t just disappear, I just stand. I don’t know what else I could do honestly. As I found out at the beginning of high school, I’m skinnier walking straight forward than turning to the side when I have my backpack on my shoulders.
One of two things would happen. The first is that the person about to walk into me attempts to file towards the other side. The other is that this merging is only partially successful, in which case I get knocked on the shoulder for not making room that I really could not make.
Just another item in the sub-surface iceberg.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
My hometown is not a beach city. It’s about seven to twelve miles inland with the closest passage to the sea in the western end of Malibu. Carpenteria, as my description would imply, sits on the coast, and with a small population and great weather, it’s one of my favorite getaway destinations (though I haven’t been there in quite awhile).
Compared to the big cities of California (I count four or five), the pace of life is quite slower—in a good way. Instead of having to fight for a parking spot (or in better-planned areas drive through seas of parking lots), it’s not difficult to find somewhere to park close to where you’re meant to be.
Even walking on the streets, the speed of ambulating that I had grown up with in my suburb was noticeably faster than in Carpenteria. Before I realized this, I would nearly run into people before learning to just slow down. Later we would find a conspicuous magazine in a convenience store on how to grow marijuana most efficiently, but that’s beyond the point and a different story entirely that did not involve any illegal activities.
Though I enjoy slowing down, because, hey, who doesn't, I can most definitely live a fast-paced life. In high school I would go off of five-and-a-half to six hours of sleep a night and frequent fifteen-hour days to get everything done that I had to do.
Hong Kong itself is known for having such a lifestyle. It’s funny though that they may be busy in work, life and what have you, they are some of the weirdest walkers. I’ve always believed there was a correlation between how busy you were at any given period of time and how fast you walk, but I’ve been finding reasons since day two to revise that theory.
First off, I’ve been stuck behind many a slow businessman (as indicated by his or her suit) and many more pairs of people who do not allot any room on either side to pass.
In general, people walk funny here. People think that I dwell on what’s not important, but in reality, I’m spiting back what everyone already knows. Back in the United States, most all crowded places I’ve been to have followed the pattern of walking on the right. It works as well for cars at it does for people to just have one side of the road or path, respectively, and stick to it. It just makes traffic flow better, and in the case of cars especially, it makes everything safer.
So of course, I followed suite. Seeing everyone walking on the right and walking past each other on the right makes you do so yourself, so I thought something similar might apply for Hong Kong. Here, traffic moves on the left as established by the British, so I thought people might walk on the left, just as common courtesy.
I know something as small as common courtesy is highly variable among regions, so when people didn’t really prefer to walk on one side or the other, at first it was irksome, but then I just learned to accept it. I now walk past everyone on the right, just like back home—and it doesn’t cause any more chaos than there already is during busy passing period at HKU or crowded tubes in the MTR.
What is irksome though, is that there seems to be missing any sort of courtesy when on narrow stairways or narrow paths in general. Back home, if you walk side-by-side with someone on a path that fits only two people abreast and someone is approaching from the other direction, you go single file so that the other person can get by without an issue.
Here though, I’ve walked down many a stairway where the people going the opposite direction do not bother to make room for you to pass by on either side, in which case, since I can’t just disappear, I just stand. I don’t know what else I could do honestly. As I found out at the beginning of high school, I’m skinnier walking straight forward than turning to the side when I have my backpack on my shoulders.
One of two things would happen. The first is that the person about to walk into me attempts to file towards the other side. The other is that this merging is only partially successful, in which case I get knocked on the shoulder for not making room that I really could not make.
Just another item in the sub-surface iceberg.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Guilin: Sleeper Trains and Airplanes
My latest journey started in Shenzhen, from where we were to catch the thirteen-hour sleeper train to Guilin. This was a Friday, as my plan was to arrive in Guilin on Saturday morning, spend the night, and then take the sleeper train back to Hong Kong via Shenzhen in time for Monday classes. Looking at Wikitravel, it looked like there was about enough in Guilin and vicinity to last for about two full days, though actually being there, it was obvious that this trip could have easily lasted for at least a week.
Like I said, it all started in Shenzhen, land of the Special Economic Zone. With this being my third time to China, I wasn't particularly thrilled about roaming about, but since the train was to leave at 5:25 p.m. and three of my friends had not yet seen Shenzhen, we decided to make Friday before the train a Shenzhen train trip.
Other factors made it desirable to see Shenzhen that day. I was lucky enough to be granted a multiple-entry Chinese visa (meaning I could enter China as many times as I want during my visa's validity for no more than 30 days per entry). I'm not sure whether it's because I've gotten a Chinese visa once before or they've got a soft spot for me because I'm ethnically Chinese, but many of my friends were only allowed to apply for double-entries. Since Shenzhen is Hong Kong's land gateway to Mainland China, it just made sense to see Shenzhen on the same entry as Guilin since they had limited entries.
That day was odd in a couple ways. First, I had never gone long-distance overnight on a train before in a foreign country. I've been on long-distance trains and I've been to foreign countries and I've been on long-distance trains in foreign countries, but never overnight. This teensy weensy fact that this journey was my first sleeper train ever in any part of the world created this sort of aura in my head.
What also made this journey special (and this first Shenzhen leg odd) was that there are certain unwritten stipulations in my study abroad experience set in place by my sponsors--my parents. I am to learn Cantonese to the extend that I can speak decently with my mother. I am to travel as much as especially to see places that I have not yet been too. I am to travel to Guilin, because it's beautiful and easier to get to from Hong Kong than from California. Besides, many a poet over China's several-thousand-year history has posed Guilin as China's national treasure (though not necessarily in those worlds).
So because of that, the day kind of floated by. To start, I forgot my Shenzhen map in my room so we had to get a new one (which wasn't nearly as good) when we got there. I'd only been to Shenzhen twice before this trip, but my natural sense of direction took over as my friends noticed I wasn't even looking at the signs when I went from one MTR line to another and another, and then through immigration, where I knew where the shortest immigration lines were and where to fill out the health forms to enter China, and to crook my neck to the side so they could take my temperature.
In Shenzhen, I took them to the same place that I had street food the time before. We found some good stuff, and I maintain that while I've had my fair share of complaints about not-so-good food at restaurants, I've never felt poorly about street food--plus it's way cheaper.
But before that, we went to two places. The better one (by far) was Lianhuashan (莲花山) Park, which was an easy walk from the current northern terminus of Shenzhen Metro Line 4. There we took a brief-but-enjoyable hike (which was worsened by the heat) to a lookout point. After breaking many points along the way, it probably took us half-an-hour to hike to the that lookout. It was (very recently) paved as an open space, with the late Chinese leader Deng Xiaoping (鄧小平) in the form of an impressive statue looking out at the same view as the people over Shenzhen.
The park was great, minus the speakers that kept counting in Mandarin. It sounded like commands in square-dancing songs, so we figured it must be to facilitate some sort of similar activity. It was nice to get a proper view over Shenzhen though, because down on the ground, it is not nearly as noticeable how developed Shenzhen is, especially if you live on Hong Kong Island, where grass gives way to a sea of skyscrapers.
But before that, we went to the Chinese Folk Cultural Village (中国民俗文化村), which was meant as a showcase for China's fifty-five minority ethnic groups. While interesting as a concept, the way the park was laid out and the fact that the concept is never fully explained to foreign tourists who know little about China's ethnic groups, combined with the price of entry, we probably could have done without it.
As we finished up with our Shenzhen day trip, we made a run from street food to the train station, arriving just fifteen minutes before departure, physically getting onto the train just five minutes before it left the station. The pictures in later posts don't really show the conditions of the sleeper trains. There was nothing wrong with them, but they are very old style and according to what I've read, the trains being put on China's new high-speed rail network are a lot more modern.
I got the hard-sleeper class, as did all but one of my friends, who got a soft sleeper (for nearly double the price) because he got his ticket later than the rest of us. In the hard-sleeper compartments, there were six beds total, with three stacked above each other on each side, illustriously named top, middle, and bottom (上,中,下) on our tickets. The beds appeared clean and we were given linens to stay warm. Though I didn't see it first-hand, I was told that the soft-sleeper compartments had four beds--two on each side--and were equipped with doors that closed. The floor was not so clean though, and when walking from one train car to another, you could see the grime originating from the bathrooms (with pooper stooper toilets). On the bright side, I didn't get sick off of this trip.
The duration was something I was afraid I wasn't going to deal with well, actually. My flight to Hong Kong from Los Angeles happened also to be thirteen to fourteen hours long, and by the time that plane was about to land, I was more than ready to just get off already. However, this trip was quite bearable. For a few hours, I wrote blog posts on my computer while on my bed. (I only brought my computer because I put myself under the impression that I was going to study in some fashion while in Guilin.)
The hours following, the group socialized in the diner car of the train as we winded down for the coming day. Getting to bed a bit before 11:00 p.m., we were due to wake up before the train was to arrive at Guilin at 6:42 a.m. the next day. So we tucked ourselves in and right as we went to sleep, I saw one of the train attendants with a flashlight crouching in our compartment neatly moving our shoes to one side.
After the constant clunking of the wheels on the tracks (especially since I was in the bottom bunk), we woke up at 6:15 a.m. to find the train going seemingly in the opposite direction. While one of my friends thought that we'd missed our stop and were heading back, I assured them all that trains work by turning around at terminal stations, giving the illusion that you're then going in the wrong direction. (Newbs!)
The train screeched to a halt at around 7:00 a.m. and we, in all our lethargic glory stumbled off the train and into Guangxi Zhang Autonomous Region (province equivalent).
To skip all the meat of the story, I'm going to continue by going back to Hong Kong, leaving you watering at the mouth for my favorite trip so far, Guilin.
Sunday night, I found myself in a different train car than the others because of a possible mistake when we bought our train tickets in Shenzhen. It wasn't a big deal though, as the main objective was just to get back to Hong Kong, hopefully in time for my 2:00 p.m. class (as my 9:30 a.m. class was canceled that week). As expected, the train was just like the last with pretty much the same exact ammenities.
That night, I read for a while before going to sleep, and waking up well before when the train was supposed to arrive at 10:30 a.m. (though it arrived closer to 11:30), I did my Cantonese homework. Starving and knowing I wasn't going to get the opportunity to eat before 5:00 p.m., I heard the train attendant selling Guilin noodles (桂林米粉) passing by. I bought it, and though it wasn't nearly as good as what I actually had twice in Guilin, it was fulfilling. I ate with ease as I convinced myself that it had been boiled at some point, because by the time I'd gotten it, it was a bit hotter than lukewarm.
Needless to say, I got to class on time and in one piece, though I actually got lost trying to find the immigration counters getting back into Hong Kong. I blame the signs.
Not yet have I have I ever been late, much less absent from a lecture or a tutorial here at the University of Hong Kong.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Like I said, it all started in Shenzhen, land of the Special Economic Zone. With this being my third time to China, I wasn't particularly thrilled about roaming about, but since the train was to leave at 5:25 p.m. and three of my friends had not yet seen Shenzhen, we decided to make Friday before the train a Shenzhen train trip.
Other factors made it desirable to see Shenzhen that day. I was lucky enough to be granted a multiple-entry Chinese visa (meaning I could enter China as many times as I want during my visa's validity for no more than 30 days per entry). I'm not sure whether it's because I've gotten a Chinese visa once before or they've got a soft spot for me because I'm ethnically Chinese, but many of my friends were only allowed to apply for double-entries. Since Shenzhen is Hong Kong's land gateway to Mainland China, it just made sense to see Shenzhen on the same entry as Guilin since they had limited entries.
That day was odd in a couple ways. First, I had never gone long-distance overnight on a train before in a foreign country. I've been on long-distance trains and I've been to foreign countries and I've been on long-distance trains in foreign countries, but never overnight. This teensy weensy fact that this journey was my first sleeper train ever in any part of the world created this sort of aura in my head.
What also made this journey special (and this first Shenzhen leg odd) was that there are certain unwritten stipulations in my study abroad experience set in place by my sponsors--my parents. I am to learn Cantonese to the extend that I can speak decently with my mother. I am to travel as much as especially to see places that I have not yet been too. I am to travel to Guilin, because it's beautiful and easier to get to from Hong Kong than from California. Besides, many a poet over China's several-thousand-year history has posed Guilin as China's national treasure (though not necessarily in those worlds).
So because of that, the day kind of floated by. To start, I forgot my Shenzhen map in my room so we had to get a new one (which wasn't nearly as good) when we got there. I'd only been to Shenzhen twice before this trip, but my natural sense of direction took over as my friends noticed I wasn't even looking at the signs when I went from one MTR line to another and another, and then through immigration, where I knew where the shortest immigration lines were and where to fill out the health forms to enter China, and to crook my neck to the side so they could take my temperature.
In Shenzhen, I took them to the same place that I had street food the time before. We found some good stuff, and I maintain that while I've had my fair share of complaints about not-so-good food at restaurants, I've never felt poorly about street food--plus it's way cheaper.
But before that, we went to two places. The better one (by far) was Lianhuashan (莲花山) Park, which was an easy walk from the current northern terminus of Shenzhen Metro Line 4. There we took a brief-but-enjoyable hike (which was worsened by the heat) to a lookout point. After breaking many points along the way, it probably took us half-an-hour to hike to the that lookout. It was (very recently) paved as an open space, with the late Chinese leader Deng Xiaoping (鄧小平) in the form of an impressive statue looking out at the same view as the people over Shenzhen.
The park was great, minus the speakers that kept counting in Mandarin. It sounded like commands in square-dancing songs, so we figured it must be to facilitate some sort of similar activity. It was nice to get a proper view over Shenzhen though, because down on the ground, it is not nearly as noticeable how developed Shenzhen is, especially if you live on Hong Kong Island, where grass gives way to a sea of skyscrapers.
But before that, we went to the Chinese Folk Cultural Village (中国民俗文化村), which was meant as a showcase for China's fifty-five minority ethnic groups. While interesting as a concept, the way the park was laid out and the fact that the concept is never fully explained to foreign tourists who know little about China's ethnic groups, combined with the price of entry, we probably could have done without it.
As we finished up with our Shenzhen day trip, we made a run from street food to the train station, arriving just fifteen minutes before departure, physically getting onto the train just five minutes before it left the station. The pictures in later posts don't really show the conditions of the sleeper trains. There was nothing wrong with them, but they are very old style and according to what I've read, the trains being put on China's new high-speed rail network are a lot more modern.
I got the hard-sleeper class, as did all but one of my friends, who got a soft sleeper (for nearly double the price) because he got his ticket later than the rest of us. In the hard-sleeper compartments, there were six beds total, with three stacked above each other on each side, illustriously named top, middle, and bottom (上,中,下) on our tickets. The beds appeared clean and we were given linens to stay warm. Though I didn't see it first-hand, I was told that the soft-sleeper compartments had four beds--two on each side--and were equipped with doors that closed. The floor was not so clean though, and when walking from one train car to another, you could see the grime originating from the bathrooms (with pooper stooper toilets). On the bright side, I didn't get sick off of this trip.
The duration was something I was afraid I wasn't going to deal with well, actually. My flight to Hong Kong from Los Angeles happened also to be thirteen to fourteen hours long, and by the time that plane was about to land, I was more than ready to just get off already. However, this trip was quite bearable. For a few hours, I wrote blog posts on my computer while on my bed. (I only brought my computer because I put myself under the impression that I was going to study in some fashion while in Guilin.)
The hours following, the group socialized in the diner car of the train as we winded down for the coming day. Getting to bed a bit before 11:00 p.m., we were due to wake up before the train was to arrive at Guilin at 6:42 a.m. the next day. So we tucked ourselves in and right as we went to sleep, I saw one of the train attendants with a flashlight crouching in our compartment neatly moving our shoes to one side.
After the constant clunking of the wheels on the tracks (especially since I was in the bottom bunk), we woke up at 6:15 a.m. to find the train going seemingly in the opposite direction. While one of my friends thought that we'd missed our stop and were heading back, I assured them all that trains work by turning around at terminal stations, giving the illusion that you're then going in the wrong direction. (Newbs!)
The train screeched to a halt at around 7:00 a.m. and we, in all our lethargic glory stumbled off the train and into Guangxi Zhang Autonomous Region (province equivalent).
To skip all the meat of the story, I'm going to continue by going back to Hong Kong, leaving you watering at the mouth for my favorite trip so far, Guilin.
Sunday night, I found myself in a different train car than the others because of a possible mistake when we bought our train tickets in Shenzhen. It wasn't a big deal though, as the main objective was just to get back to Hong Kong, hopefully in time for my 2:00 p.m. class (as my 9:30 a.m. class was canceled that week). As expected, the train was just like the last with pretty much the same exact ammenities.
That night, I read for a while before going to sleep, and waking up well before when the train was supposed to arrive at 10:30 a.m. (though it arrived closer to 11:30), I did my Cantonese homework. Starving and knowing I wasn't going to get the opportunity to eat before 5:00 p.m., I heard the train attendant selling Guilin noodles (桂林米粉) passing by. I bought it, and though it wasn't nearly as good as what I actually had twice in Guilin, it was fulfilling. I ate with ease as I convinced myself that it had been boiled at some point, because by the time I'd gotten it, it was a bit hotter than lukewarm.
Needless to say, I got to class on time and in one piece, though I actually got lost trying to find the immigration counters getting back into Hong Kong. I blame the signs.
Not yet have I have I ever been late, much less absent from a lecture or a tutorial here at the University of Hong Kong.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Friday, November 13, 2009
The Fame
The last time I traveled to Shenzhen, it was poorly orchestrated and we didn't end up seeing that much. I wanted to go back. So the Monday before last, I hoped on the MTR East Rail Line and did just that. With the tickets costing less than $10 USD each way, I figured it would definitely be worth it to go back and check out the place better since last time we ran out of daylight to fully see the place.
Just as a refresher, Shenzhen is the Special Economic Zone (city) in Mainland China that borders Hong Kong to the north. As I remembered through this trip there, Shenzhen is a very new city, set up to take advantage of Hong Kong's special status. My aunt and uncle recounted to me months ago how it used to be a nice, relatively quiet place until its designation as a SEZ in 1980. At that time the city boomed as the mountains were gutted to reclaim the sea. Today, Shenzhen serves as a reminder to how fast development can occur in China. Though it lacks the same level of recognition of Hong Kong, it has at least one million more residents (officially) than Hong Kong.
Admittedly, this trip to Shenzhen was not entirely about sightseeing. I needed a haircut. My uncle told me that it cost him more to cut his hair at the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology in Clearwater Bay, Kowloon than at the local barber in Fremont, California. From this, and in addition to asking my friends here how much they cut their hair for in Hong Kong, I figured it might be worth it to venture out into Mainland China, hereonout in the post referred to as China.
China is known for being cheaper than Hong Kong, as most people would presume. As I would find out later on, some parts are (way) cheaper than others--but that's for later. Shenzhen is famous for its massages--so I figured why not put the two together and and make an experience out of it. As I would later calculate, the haircut and massage (which were inseparable services) plus the round-trip journey on the MTR cost just a little more than a simple haircut in Hong Kong--so I justified this extra expense (less than $5 USD) in the experience to be beheld, or in my case relaxed. A friend of mine felt the same way, so I didn't go alone.
After a couple hours in Hong Kong (bus and subway), we got up to Shenzhen before 11:00 a.m. and proceeded into China. Border control was standard and expected, though this last passing gave me just four pages left in my passport for visas and entry/exit stamps (out of the original fourteen).
Right on the other side sits Shenzhen's main train station, so to prepare for Guilin the coming weekend, we bought tickets to lessen what had to be done later, as well as to save our seats (or in our case beds) in both directions. A friend of mine asked for them in Mandarin, which I later found out I had a lot of trouble doing, but more on that later.
After that we got food and headed off to get our hair cut. The particular place that we went to had to services available: haircut plus Thai massage, and haircut plus Chinese massage. The Thai-style one was longer in duration and more expensive at ¥50 CNY while the Chinese-style one was ¥40 CNY. Not being a huge fan of massages, viewing them more as painful than relaxing, I went for the Chinese-style one and my friend went for the Thai-style one.
I swear they washed my hair at least three times (because I lost count). When that was said and done they wrapped a towel around my head and proceeded to give me the massage. Parts were painful and others were soothing, though in the end I can't say I felt calmer or anything like that. While my masseuse was massaging my left arm, she received a phone call and ended up distracted, massaging that one arm for like ten minutes. Because of the lack of barbers (or for my elitist friends "hair-stylists"), I was told I was going to have to wait for a while before getting my hair cut, so they recommended I just upgrade to the Thai one, so I did--hey, it's all part of the experience, right?
When it was time, I sat in the chair and watched as my hair fell to the floor. As this was the first time cutting my hair since I left California, there was plenty being removed to go around. For the first time in months I could feel the air hovering around my now naked ears. The thing is though that the barber was cutting my hair kind of funny. I felt like it was becoming a mushroom.
In my primary- and secondary-school days, I would hate having my hair cut, and as a result it would grow out. While most wouldn't really care, because it would just get long, my hair happens to be really quite thick, and as such, it would grow more out than down. No matter what style haircut I would get, it would always become mushroom-shaped.
And now my hair was being cut mushroom-shaped.Though I write as if I was doing all the communication, I wasn't. My friend was helping me communicate all the way through alternation between Mandarin and Cantonese that was making my head turn round as I was being asked where I was from and proceeded by something to the effect of "you're Chinese descent." So in this process, My friend helped me ask the barber to make it smaller, and slowly it became so. When he thought it was done, I was sent back to the bed-sink complex for a rinse-off. He then cut it shorter, which required another rinse-off.
After that, to my surprise, he began spiking my hair. Sometimes I push up the front, but that was the only day that I've ever walked around in public with a head full of spiked hair, but whatever. I experienced first-hand what Shenzhen is famous for.
We finished off that day by doing some more sightseeing (which was highly uneventful) followed by street food (which was highly delicious and incredibly cheap). On the journey back to Hong Kong Island, I looked through my passport and realized just how extensively I've traveled. Before coming, I thought I might not even be allowed to exit the SAR without being able to come back to resume my studies as a student based on the wording of my immigration visa. Now all the entrances and exits (plus my Chinese visa) have filled up my pages, and now I have no choice but to say "yes" when people ask, "Are you well traveled?".
Back to my passport, it was advised that some states don't let you into the country without at least four empty passport pages. So this morning, I went to the United States Consulate-General here in Hong Kong and got additional pages added to my passport. They fit kind of funny, but they get the job done.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Just as a refresher, Shenzhen is the Special Economic Zone (city) in Mainland China that borders Hong Kong to the north. As I remembered through this trip there, Shenzhen is a very new city, set up to take advantage of Hong Kong's special status. My aunt and uncle recounted to me months ago how it used to be a nice, relatively quiet place until its designation as a SEZ in 1980. At that time the city boomed as the mountains were gutted to reclaim the sea. Today, Shenzhen serves as a reminder to how fast development can occur in China. Though it lacks the same level of recognition of Hong Kong, it has at least one million more residents (officially) than Hong Kong.
Admittedly, this trip to Shenzhen was not entirely about sightseeing. I needed a haircut. My uncle told me that it cost him more to cut his hair at the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology in Clearwater Bay, Kowloon than at the local barber in Fremont, California. From this, and in addition to asking my friends here how much they cut their hair for in Hong Kong, I figured it might be worth it to venture out into Mainland China, hereonout in the post referred to as China.
China is known for being cheaper than Hong Kong, as most people would presume. As I would find out later on, some parts are (way) cheaper than others--but that's for later. Shenzhen is famous for its massages--so I figured why not put the two together and and make an experience out of it. As I would later calculate, the haircut and massage (which were inseparable services) plus the round-trip journey on the MTR cost just a little more than a simple haircut in Hong Kong--so I justified this extra expense (less than $5 USD) in the experience to be beheld, or in my case relaxed. A friend of mine felt the same way, so I didn't go alone.
After a couple hours in Hong Kong (bus and subway), we got up to Shenzhen before 11:00 a.m. and proceeded into China. Border control was standard and expected, though this last passing gave me just four pages left in my passport for visas and entry/exit stamps (out of the original fourteen).
Right on the other side sits Shenzhen's main train station, so to prepare for Guilin the coming weekend, we bought tickets to lessen what had to be done later, as well as to save our seats (or in our case beds) in both directions. A friend of mine asked for them in Mandarin, which I later found out I had a lot of trouble doing, but more on that later.
After that we got food and headed off to get our hair cut. The particular place that we went to had to services available: haircut plus Thai massage, and haircut plus Chinese massage. The Thai-style one was longer in duration and more expensive at ¥50 CNY while the Chinese-style one was ¥40 CNY. Not being a huge fan of massages, viewing them more as painful than relaxing, I went for the Chinese-style one and my friend went for the Thai-style one.
I swear they washed my hair at least three times (because I lost count). When that was said and done they wrapped a towel around my head and proceeded to give me the massage. Parts were painful and others were soothing, though in the end I can't say I felt calmer or anything like that. While my masseuse was massaging my left arm, she received a phone call and ended up distracted, massaging that one arm for like ten minutes. Because of the lack of barbers (or for my elitist friends "hair-stylists"), I was told I was going to have to wait for a while before getting my hair cut, so they recommended I just upgrade to the Thai one, so I did--hey, it's all part of the experience, right?
When it was time, I sat in the chair and watched as my hair fell to the floor. As this was the first time cutting my hair since I left California, there was plenty being removed to go around. For the first time in months I could feel the air hovering around my now naked ears. The thing is though that the barber was cutting my hair kind of funny. I felt like it was becoming a mushroom.
In my primary- and secondary-school days, I would hate having my hair cut, and as a result it would grow out. While most wouldn't really care, because it would just get long, my hair happens to be really quite thick, and as such, it would grow more out than down. No matter what style haircut I would get, it would always become mushroom-shaped.
And now my hair was being cut mushroom-shaped.Though I write as if I was doing all the communication, I wasn't. My friend was helping me communicate all the way through alternation between Mandarin and Cantonese that was making my head turn round as I was being asked where I was from and proceeded by something to the effect of "you're Chinese descent." So in this process, My friend helped me ask the barber to make it smaller, and slowly it became so. When he thought it was done, I was sent back to the bed-sink complex for a rinse-off. He then cut it shorter, which required another rinse-off.
After that, to my surprise, he began spiking my hair. Sometimes I push up the front, but that was the only day that I've ever walked around in public with a head full of spiked hair, but whatever. I experienced first-hand what Shenzhen is famous for.
We finished off that day by doing some more sightseeing (which was highly uneventful) followed by street food (which was highly delicious and incredibly cheap). On the journey back to Hong Kong Island, I looked through my passport and realized just how extensively I've traveled. Before coming, I thought I might not even be allowed to exit the SAR without being able to come back to resume my studies as a student based on the wording of my immigration visa. Now all the entrances and exits (plus my Chinese visa) have filled up my pages, and now I have no choice but to say "yes" when people ask, "Are you well traveled?".
Back to my passport, it was advised that some states don't let you into the country without at least four empty passport pages. So this morning, I went to the United States Consulate-General here in Hong Kong and got additional pages added to my passport. They fit kind of funny, but they get the job done.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Taipei: Monuments and Memorials
Friday, we saw stuff on the north side of Taipei; Saturday was for the south side.
We started out walking to the MRT station again and worked our way over to the Presidential Palace. The nearest station was at Red House West Gate (which has a much different name in Chinese than in English). The building itself was not eventful. The shell housed a restaurant and a small exhibit on the building’s history accompanied by a bookstore.
From there we walked to the Presidential Office, which took a leisurely ten minutes by foot. We approached the backside of the building and noticed all the guards around the building were armed with automatics (they looked like AK-47s). On the front side, we took pictures. The layout was quite western I now realized because a large road goes right to the front of the building and Ts off in an intersection. In comparison, the Forbidden City in Beijing is surrounded by water and is flanked with lakes on its west side. At its front gate sits Tiananmen Square, and not a major road.
From there we went to the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial. Though by this time it was absolutely pouring, approaching the memorial from the front and seeing the iconic blue-roofed building at the back was breathtaking; it was one of the few monuments that amazed me by its sheer size and imposition. Dodging the rain, we went to the National Theater and Concert Hall, which was halfway to the memorial itself.
At the base of the memorial, we ascended the steps and saw Chiang Kai-shek’s statue. Before seeing it, I’d imagined it would be something like Abraham Lincoln’s memorial in Washington, D.C.—and for the most part, it really was. There was some writing on the walls (headed by “Ethics,” “Democracy,” and “Science”) and the white sun in the “rotunda” area.
On the ground floor of the memorial with its entrance on either side, was a museum including little about Chiang Kai-shek. Instead, there was a ceramics exhibit and a contemporary calligraphy exhibit (in which you signed the visitor log with a brush—though I had a bit of training on the matter, my (Chinese) name turned out pretty bad). Exiting, there was a post office from which I sent off a postcard back to the United States.
From there, we took the MRT to another cluster of sites. We got out looking at the Sun Yat-sen Memorial. It was a yellow-roofed building that impressed much less than Chang Kai-shek’s. That day, there was an exhibition, probably interactive, for children, and as such there were tons of families with young children crowding the halls.
After taking photos in front of it, we walked a few city blocks to Taipei 101. Along the way, there was a fair-type setup in front of Taipei City Hall that we got snacks at. The setup also contained plenty of advertisers as well as a stage being used by advertisers to showcase their products.
On a side note, I’d like to expose the partial lack of common sense of my traveling buddies for this trip. Taipei 101 stands at one hundred one stories tall. From our hotel, Taipei 101 stood at the southeast, whereas our window looked to the southwest. At night, they insisted they could see Taipei 101 out the window. The logic behind this was that the building was pink at night and that Taipei 101 was the only skyscraper in Taipei. My reasoning for it not being Taipei 101 was that it was noticeably shorter than one hundred one stories and bore little resemblance to Taipei 101 (namely they both are smaller at the very top than at the bottom and they are both skyscrapers). In addition, the direction was totally wrong. That building turned out to be Shin Kong Life Tower, and ever after we referred to it as “Fake Taipei 101.”
Walking towards skyscrapers I guess is like walking towards a mountain—it just gets more imposing. At 1,474 feet from ground to roof (and its namesake one hundred one floors), it stood until just recently as the tallest building in the world. The bottom several floors are mall space, with the rest being standard skyscraper office space. Trying to find the elevator to the observation deck, we got lost going through the mall (designed in a more western style with a modern and confusing layout).
Finally we found the express elevator to the top on the fifth floor. The twin elevators, costing $2.4 million USD each, propel passengers up to the observation deck in around thirty seconds and descend back down in a little bit more time. In the elevator, the lights dimmed to a futuristic LED light experience conducted to distract the crowd from the fact that they were squished into the tight space like sardines.
At the top, the view was amazing. The elevator ticket came with an audio guide (I asked in Chinese for mine in English) explaining was being seen, which was basically most of Taipei. Going through the path set up, we saw the damper, which is basically a big ball in the center of the building used to stabilize the building during storms and such. There was an upper viewing floor and a lower viewing floor.
Also on the lower viewing floor was a coral art exhibition followed by coral art vending shops, which we quickly slipped by. At ground level, there was a free shuttle bus (which happened to literally be one bus) to the neared MRT station. Light turned to dark waiting and we ended that day in the hotel, ready to go back home in the evening the next day.
Early the next morning, we went to the central station (appropriately named Taipei Station) to buy High-Speed Rail tickets as part of the journey to get to the airport. After doing that, we ventured over to the Miramar Entertainment Complex and decided to ride on the Ferris wheel, since the area turned out be no more than cheapish shopping. The views from it were okay, though definitely not as good as those from Taipei 101. After having our final lunch in Taipei, we headed back to the central station to catch our train to Taoyuan.
I’d been on trains and high-speed rail before, but my fellow travelers had not. One expected to be pushed against the back of his seat by the shear physics of traveling at high speeds (a fact, which, if true, would render airplanes illogical). The entire high-speed rail line cost a bundle to build for such a moderately populated island, but from what I’ve read the venture has been a success. It took 20 minutes to make the journey to Taoyuan (where Taipei’s international airport is) and two hours to get all the way to the last station three hundred thirty-five kilometers away at Kaohsiung.
From the train station we took a short bus ride to the airport in which we arrived. As airports go, it was as dingy as Los Angeles International Airport, and super empty, which made it creepy to walk around while waiting for our flight. The time to leave though came eventually. Before going through exit immigration, we removed the staples in our passports ourselves so that the immigration officers wouldn’t tear pages or what have you.
In case you weren’t clued in, this post ends my trip in Taipei. Two weeks later (from which I just got back from yesterday) was Guilin. Stay tuned and thanks for reading!
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
We started out walking to the MRT station again and worked our way over to the Presidential Palace. The nearest station was at Red House West Gate (which has a much different name in Chinese than in English). The building itself was not eventful. The shell housed a restaurant and a small exhibit on the building’s history accompanied by a bookstore.
From there we walked to the Presidential Office, which took a leisurely ten minutes by foot. We approached the backside of the building and noticed all the guards around the building were armed with automatics (they looked like AK-47s). On the front side, we took pictures. The layout was quite western I now realized because a large road goes right to the front of the building and Ts off in an intersection. In comparison, the Forbidden City in Beijing is surrounded by water and is flanked with lakes on its west side. At its front gate sits Tiananmen Square, and not a major road.
From there we went to the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial. Though by this time it was absolutely pouring, approaching the memorial from the front and seeing the iconic blue-roofed building at the back was breathtaking; it was one of the few monuments that amazed me by its sheer size and imposition. Dodging the rain, we went to the National Theater and Concert Hall, which was halfway to the memorial itself.
At the base of the memorial, we ascended the steps and saw Chiang Kai-shek’s statue. Before seeing it, I’d imagined it would be something like Abraham Lincoln’s memorial in Washington, D.C.—and for the most part, it really was. There was some writing on the walls (headed by “Ethics,” “Democracy,” and “Science”) and the white sun in the “rotunda” area.
On the ground floor of the memorial with its entrance on either side, was a museum including little about Chiang Kai-shek. Instead, there was a ceramics exhibit and a contemporary calligraphy exhibit (in which you signed the visitor log with a brush—though I had a bit of training on the matter, my (Chinese) name turned out pretty bad). Exiting, there was a post office from which I sent off a postcard back to the United States.
From there, we took the MRT to another cluster of sites. We got out looking at the Sun Yat-sen Memorial. It was a yellow-roofed building that impressed much less than Chang Kai-shek’s. That day, there was an exhibition, probably interactive, for children, and as such there were tons of families with young children crowding the halls.
After taking photos in front of it, we walked a few city blocks to Taipei 101. Along the way, there was a fair-type setup in front of Taipei City Hall that we got snacks at. The setup also contained plenty of advertisers as well as a stage being used by advertisers to showcase their products.
On a side note, I’d like to expose the partial lack of common sense of my traveling buddies for this trip. Taipei 101 stands at one hundred one stories tall. From our hotel, Taipei 101 stood at the southeast, whereas our window looked to the southwest. At night, they insisted they could see Taipei 101 out the window. The logic behind this was that the building was pink at night and that Taipei 101 was the only skyscraper in Taipei. My reasoning for it not being Taipei 101 was that it was noticeably shorter than one hundred one stories and bore little resemblance to Taipei 101 (namely they both are smaller at the very top than at the bottom and they are both skyscrapers). In addition, the direction was totally wrong. That building turned out to be Shin Kong Life Tower, and ever after we referred to it as “Fake Taipei 101.”
Walking towards skyscrapers I guess is like walking towards a mountain—it just gets more imposing. At 1,474 feet from ground to roof (and its namesake one hundred one floors), it stood until just recently as the tallest building in the world. The bottom several floors are mall space, with the rest being standard skyscraper office space. Trying to find the elevator to the observation deck, we got lost going through the mall (designed in a more western style with a modern and confusing layout).
Finally we found the express elevator to the top on the fifth floor. The twin elevators, costing $2.4 million USD each, propel passengers up to the observation deck in around thirty seconds and descend back down in a little bit more time. In the elevator, the lights dimmed to a futuristic LED light experience conducted to distract the crowd from the fact that they were squished into the tight space like sardines.
At the top, the view was amazing. The elevator ticket came with an audio guide (I asked in Chinese for mine in English) explaining was being seen, which was basically most of Taipei. Going through the path set up, we saw the damper, which is basically a big ball in the center of the building used to stabilize the building during storms and such. There was an upper viewing floor and a lower viewing floor.
Also on the lower viewing floor was a coral art exhibition followed by coral art vending shops, which we quickly slipped by. At ground level, there was a free shuttle bus (which happened to literally be one bus) to the neared MRT station. Light turned to dark waiting and we ended that day in the hotel, ready to go back home in the evening the next day.
Early the next morning, we went to the central station (appropriately named Taipei Station) to buy High-Speed Rail tickets as part of the journey to get to the airport. After doing that, we ventured over to the Miramar Entertainment Complex and decided to ride on the Ferris wheel, since the area turned out be no more than cheapish shopping. The views from it were okay, though definitely not as good as those from Taipei 101. After having our final lunch in Taipei, we headed back to the central station to catch our train to Taoyuan.
I’d been on trains and high-speed rail before, but my fellow travelers had not. One expected to be pushed against the back of his seat by the shear physics of traveling at high speeds (a fact, which, if true, would render airplanes illogical). The entire high-speed rail line cost a bundle to build for such a moderately populated island, but from what I’ve read the venture has been a success. It took 20 minutes to make the journey to Taoyuan (where Taipei’s international airport is) and two hours to get all the way to the last station three hundred thirty-five kilometers away at Kaohsiung.
From the train station we took a short bus ride to the airport in which we arrived. As airports go, it was as dingy as Los Angeles International Airport, and super empty, which made it creepy to walk around while waiting for our flight. The time to leave though came eventually. Before going through exit immigration, we removed the staples in our passports ourselves so that the immigration officers wouldn’t tear pages or what have you.
In case you weren’t clued in, this post ends my trip in Taipei. Two weeks later (from which I just got back from yesterday) was Guilin. Stay tuned and thanks for reading!
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Taipei: The Republic of China
A week and a half after I got back from Beijing, some of us jetted off to Taipei for a three-night weekend trip. It was honestly a spur-of-the-moment trip, as we planned and booked the trip all of about four days before we left. Leaving on Thursday night, we picked up our itinerary on Wednesday morning and checked in for the flight on Wednesday night via the very convenient Airport Express Station in Central.
The reason why we had to check in so early was that I needed to make it to my last class on Thursday (Cantonese) to make a presentation. It ended at 5:00 p.m., and with the flight leaving at 8:55 p.m., I felt pressed for time. Back home, the main international flights leave Los Angeles International Airport. You leave super early because there is no subway/light rail system to get you there efficiently from my suburb, so you have to drive—and since everyone drives, you get stuck in traffic. Depending on your route there, you either go along the Pacific Coast Highway and hit traffic lights or you go on the 101 and 405 (which happens to be “at capacity” a.k.a. congested for fifteen hours of the day). On top of that, with such high security at airports, it’s not uncommon to wait for an hour to get into the terminal.
It’s different at Hong Kong. First off, there are airport buses going everywhere in the territory. The one from my dorm takes about an hour and costs half of what the Airport Express does ($48 HKD vs. $100), and after you take a bus to get to Central, which is where you’d pick up the Airport Express from, you’ve already lost half an hour, which is followed by the much-advertised 24-minuted train ride to the airport that would take 24 minutes if you didn’t have to wait so long for it to depart. So thinking time was in a crunch, since I had four hours to get to the airport, go through immigration, customs, and security, I opted for the Airport Express. It took me about an hour total to get there, and forgetting how efficient Hong Kong International Airport is in comparison to Los Angeles International Airport, I got through security in five minutes and immigration in four, not to mention that I forgot that Hong Kong doesn’t have exit customs (because I remembered China does). Basically, I ended up rushing to the airport, and after everything was all said and done, I waited two and a half hours for the airplane to leave. But enough about that…
Honestly, when I came to Hong Kong I never thought I would visit Taiwan. I remember looking out the airplane window when we flew over a corner of the island, never thinking for a second that I’d get my way over there before the semester was out. Lo and behold I did.
Taiwan holds a funny place in my mind. Partially because of my upbringing, I’m of the One China mentality—that is that there is one China (which includes Taiwan), which is the standpoint for any state that hopes to have relations with the big China. Before I get in trouble with some of my separatist friends back home, just read this post out. So in off-the-record contexts, I would likely suggest that Taiwan is a part of China, though I realize that in practice it is not.
After landing in Taipei Taoyuan International Airport after a one-and-a-half hour flight, we stepped of the plane. Officially the Republic of China (with China being the People’s Republic of China), immigration put a nice ROC stamp on our passports. The entry card was carbon-copied to a departure card, the latter of which was stapled into our passports. One of my friends drew political swords when his passport was stapled right through his Chinese visa.
Walking through their capital’s international airport, it seemed dark and dingy, which, while not speaking to the vibrancy of their city, did not bode well for first impressions. It seemed like this airport, which was built in the 1960s, was thought of as a temporary venue until the Nationalist government could return to Beijing. This sense of temporary placement seemed to follow me through Taipei. Having been mostly developed in the 1960s, it seems like everything was a little too new and that things weren’t built to last. Chiang Kai-shek, leader of the Nationalist when they were exiled, is not even interred; his body is in an above-ground casket, ready to be transported back to his proper burial space in Mainland China “when” the Nationalists capture back all of China.
Another thing that I reminded myself of was that more than a handful of my friends back home are on the Taiwan side of the cross-strait relations, which, while having warmed up lately, are still unstable at the core and in principle, which either party claiming the entirety of the other’s controlled territory. Many of my friends spend their summers there in Taipei and say that they are not (ethnically) Chinese but Taiwanese because they aren’t communist. Fine, but when I told them about Taiwanese aboriginals, they said that they weren’t that either. It seems they’ve lost the fact that Taipei looks very similar to Mainland China and that they speak the same “national” language, not to mention Taiwanese is mutually intelligible with the Fujian dialect of Chinese on the mainland.
That’s fine and all. We weren’t there anyways to talk politics.
Like my serial about Beijing, I have two more text posts about Taipei and two photograph posts. As for now, I need to call the United States consulate and see about getting refill pages in my passport.
More to come.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
The reason why we had to check in so early was that I needed to make it to my last class on Thursday (Cantonese) to make a presentation. It ended at 5:00 p.m., and with the flight leaving at 8:55 p.m., I felt pressed for time. Back home, the main international flights leave Los Angeles International Airport. You leave super early because there is no subway/light rail system to get you there efficiently from my suburb, so you have to drive—and since everyone drives, you get stuck in traffic. Depending on your route there, you either go along the Pacific Coast Highway and hit traffic lights or you go on the 101 and 405 (which happens to be “at capacity” a.k.a. congested for fifteen hours of the day). On top of that, with such high security at airports, it’s not uncommon to wait for an hour to get into the terminal.
It’s different at Hong Kong. First off, there are airport buses going everywhere in the territory. The one from my dorm takes about an hour and costs half of what the Airport Express does ($48 HKD vs. $100), and after you take a bus to get to Central, which is where you’d pick up the Airport Express from, you’ve already lost half an hour, which is followed by the much-advertised 24-minuted train ride to the airport that would take 24 minutes if you didn’t have to wait so long for it to depart. So thinking time was in a crunch, since I had four hours to get to the airport, go through immigration, customs, and security, I opted for the Airport Express. It took me about an hour total to get there, and forgetting how efficient Hong Kong International Airport is in comparison to Los Angeles International Airport, I got through security in five minutes and immigration in four, not to mention that I forgot that Hong Kong doesn’t have exit customs (because I remembered China does). Basically, I ended up rushing to the airport, and after everything was all said and done, I waited two and a half hours for the airplane to leave. But enough about that…
Honestly, when I came to Hong Kong I never thought I would visit Taiwan. I remember looking out the airplane window when we flew over a corner of the island, never thinking for a second that I’d get my way over there before the semester was out. Lo and behold I did.
Taiwan holds a funny place in my mind. Partially because of my upbringing, I’m of the One China mentality—that is that there is one China (which includes Taiwan), which is the standpoint for any state that hopes to have relations with the big China. Before I get in trouble with some of my separatist friends back home, just read this post out. So in off-the-record contexts, I would likely suggest that Taiwan is a part of China, though I realize that in practice it is not.
After landing in Taipei Taoyuan International Airport after a one-and-a-half hour flight, we stepped of the plane. Officially the Republic of China (with China being the People’s Republic of China), immigration put a nice ROC stamp on our passports. The entry card was carbon-copied to a departure card, the latter of which was stapled into our passports. One of my friends drew political swords when his passport was stapled right through his Chinese visa.
Walking through their capital’s international airport, it seemed dark and dingy, which, while not speaking to the vibrancy of their city, did not bode well for first impressions. It seemed like this airport, which was built in the 1960s, was thought of as a temporary venue until the Nationalist government could return to Beijing. This sense of temporary placement seemed to follow me through Taipei. Having been mostly developed in the 1960s, it seems like everything was a little too new and that things weren’t built to last. Chiang Kai-shek, leader of the Nationalist when they were exiled, is not even interred; his body is in an above-ground casket, ready to be transported back to his proper burial space in Mainland China “when” the Nationalists capture back all of China.
Another thing that I reminded myself of was that more than a handful of my friends back home are on the Taiwan side of the cross-strait relations, which, while having warmed up lately, are still unstable at the core and in principle, which either party claiming the entirety of the other’s controlled territory. Many of my friends spend their summers there in Taipei and say that they are not (ethnically) Chinese but Taiwanese because they aren’t communist. Fine, but when I told them about Taiwanese aboriginals, they said that they weren’t that either. It seems they’ve lost the fact that Taipei looks very similar to Mainland China and that they speak the same “national” language, not to mention Taiwanese is mutually intelligible with the Fujian dialect of Chinese on the mainland.
That’s fine and all. We weren’t there anyways to talk politics.
Like my serial about Beijing, I have two more text posts about Taipei and two photograph posts. As for now, I need to call the United States consulate and see about getting refill pages in my passport.
More to come.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Beijing: A Question of Scale
Going back to Beijing and when we arrived, the gigantic airport was imposing but not impressive. As we scuttled through the terminal in an attempt to leave the airport it was noticeably empty. Don’t get me wrong; empty airports are good airports, and any day I’d take a flight in or out of the closer and smaller Burbank Airport over the larger and more crowded Los Angeles International Airport.
Designed and built by the same company that did my one of my favorite airports, Hong Kong International Airport, it shared much of the same features. The airport was noticeably efficient—we got our luggage quickly and lines at immigration were relatively short.
It’s architectural merits were there, with large and simple imposing columns with red being the main color of the place (with a slotted white ceiling). I personally didn’t like it looked, and from a glance it was evident that the terminal, built in preparation for the Olympics, was designed to impress. With a big country comes a polished capital airport. I could feel the might of China above my shoulders.
In contrast, flying into Washington Dulles Airport (which I’ve done once), I can’t say I felt the same. The airport was dingy and if I remember correctly we had to do an avoidance maneuver before landing which required us to ascend, loop around, and descend again. The terminals, while not shabby, were in no way impressive. It was designed for utility and though I have no idea how efficient it is, no one had in mind the wish to make an architectural statement or anything.
And therein lies one of the biggest changes I saw in Beijing in going back after two years. Starting at the way-too-big airport and ending at the way-to-big airport (where we spent hours bored because of a lack of decent coffee and a surplus of closed stores), Beijing was noticeably more secure than just a few years ago, and whereas some would cite Communism and extreme maintenance of the peace as the reasons behind this very apparent security, I, having been there before the Olympics, can say that this is not the way it’s always been.
After the Olympics and also due recently to National Day, security has been ever higher. Whereas I’ve met people who couldn’t point to China on the map (as they tried), now China’s has the world’s attention. I guess with great fame comes great responsibility. With China’s human rights record in question and the recent ethnic conflict in the west, China understands that it has enemies and understands that it has more real threats than before.
Two years ago, we went through airports in a snap. We walked through metal detectors without hesitation and even if one us beeped, rarely were we asked to stand for wand-waving or what have you. Mind you, that trip two years ago sent my family and I through four Chinese airports.
This time around, on leaving from Beijing, I beeped the metal detector because they didn’t require belts to be removed. Fine, whatever. A female officer did the whole wand-waving business and then proceeded to frisk me thoroughly. Through exit immigration, the officer alternated his focus between my passport picture and my face about five times. A friend of mine got whisked into a side room for potential questioning because her British passport looked suspicious somehow, though she was let go after six officers eyed it with a magnifying scope.
And that’s not the only place security is tight. China knows about domestic terrorism as well, don’t worry. The entire subway line, which expanded from two lines before the Olympics to God knows how many now and expanding still, has security personnel with x-rays to have you scan bags before entering the system. China’s vigilant and it shows.
But not everything was bigger this time. For one I would like to make a point now validated to me because of this trip. If you can do it, explore and sightsee yourself rather than with a tour group.
Two years ago, my family and I went to China in a tour group. It was super convenient. They loaded us onto a bus and shuttled us around and provided us with food for a real decent price. The thing is though, going to new places is not all about sightseeing, I’m convinced.
Yeah, I still see the sights and then some like the average tourist. The thing is though that when you get whisked away in a tour bus, you lose the opportunity to see real life—something that really doesn’t take more time to see.
This time around, we rode the subway to get to most places. We took a tour bus with Mainland Chinese people to see the Great Wall and Ming Tombs. In addition to the subway, we had to take a bus to see the Summer Palace.
Just being on the subway, you get to see the people. Mixing in with the locals and commuting with the businessmen, you really see some of the more innate aspects of culture—what is different and what is the same. I can’t even begin to describe how much I learned about Beijing this time around than the last time.
One thing that we did that was way off the tourist path though, I’m glad we did. The hotel was just a few subway stops away from the Temple of Heaven, so we decided to walk back to the hotel rather than take the subway. Along the way walking back alongside the main road, we peered into a side street. Feeling in the mood to explore, we ventured back into there. It was like a street full of vendors catering to locals. There were home supply storefronts as well as a guy selling lamb skewers to mention just a few. Walking even further we walked by the home fronts in one of the many hutong not mentioned or marked on maps. There was nothing the average tourist would want to see, but in my opinion it was all part of the experience.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Designed and built by the same company that did my one of my favorite airports, Hong Kong International Airport, it shared much of the same features. The airport was noticeably efficient—we got our luggage quickly and lines at immigration were relatively short.
It’s architectural merits were there, with large and simple imposing columns with red being the main color of the place (with a slotted white ceiling). I personally didn’t like it looked, and from a glance it was evident that the terminal, built in preparation for the Olympics, was designed to impress. With a big country comes a polished capital airport. I could feel the might of China above my shoulders.
In contrast, flying into Washington Dulles Airport (which I’ve done once), I can’t say I felt the same. The airport was dingy and if I remember correctly we had to do an avoidance maneuver before landing which required us to ascend, loop around, and descend again. The terminals, while not shabby, were in no way impressive. It was designed for utility and though I have no idea how efficient it is, no one had in mind the wish to make an architectural statement or anything.
And therein lies one of the biggest changes I saw in Beijing in going back after two years. Starting at the way-too-big airport and ending at the way-to-big airport (where we spent hours bored because of a lack of decent coffee and a surplus of closed stores), Beijing was noticeably more secure than just a few years ago, and whereas some would cite Communism and extreme maintenance of the peace as the reasons behind this very apparent security, I, having been there before the Olympics, can say that this is not the way it’s always been.
After the Olympics and also due recently to National Day, security has been ever higher. Whereas I’ve met people who couldn’t point to China on the map (as they tried), now China’s has the world’s attention. I guess with great fame comes great responsibility. With China’s human rights record in question and the recent ethnic conflict in the west, China understands that it has enemies and understands that it has more real threats than before.
Two years ago, we went through airports in a snap. We walked through metal detectors without hesitation and even if one us beeped, rarely were we asked to stand for wand-waving or what have you. Mind you, that trip two years ago sent my family and I through four Chinese airports.
This time around, on leaving from Beijing, I beeped the metal detector because they didn’t require belts to be removed. Fine, whatever. A female officer did the whole wand-waving business and then proceeded to frisk me thoroughly. Through exit immigration, the officer alternated his focus between my passport picture and my face about five times. A friend of mine got whisked into a side room for potential questioning because her British passport looked suspicious somehow, though she was let go after six officers eyed it with a magnifying scope.
And that’s not the only place security is tight. China knows about domestic terrorism as well, don’t worry. The entire subway line, which expanded from two lines before the Olympics to God knows how many now and expanding still, has security personnel with x-rays to have you scan bags before entering the system. China’s vigilant and it shows.
But not everything was bigger this time. For one I would like to make a point now validated to me because of this trip. If you can do it, explore and sightsee yourself rather than with a tour group.
Two years ago, my family and I went to China in a tour group. It was super convenient. They loaded us onto a bus and shuttled us around and provided us with food for a real decent price. The thing is though, going to new places is not all about sightseeing, I’m convinced.
Yeah, I still see the sights and then some like the average tourist. The thing is though that when you get whisked away in a tour bus, you lose the opportunity to see real life—something that really doesn’t take more time to see.
This time around, we rode the subway to get to most places. We took a tour bus with Mainland Chinese people to see the Great Wall and Ming Tombs. In addition to the subway, we had to take a bus to see the Summer Palace.
Just being on the subway, you get to see the people. Mixing in with the locals and commuting with the businessmen, you really see some of the more innate aspects of culture—what is different and what is the same. I can’t even begin to describe how much I learned about Beijing this time around than the last time.
One thing that we did that was way off the tourist path though, I’m glad we did. The hotel was just a few subway stops away from the Temple of Heaven, so we decided to walk back to the hotel rather than take the subway. Along the way walking back alongside the main road, we peered into a side street. Feeling in the mood to explore, we ventured back into there. It was like a street full of vendors catering to locals. There were home supply storefronts as well as a guy selling lamb skewers to mention just a few. Walking even further we walked by the home fronts in one of the many hutong not mentioned or marked on maps. There was nothing the average tourist would want to see, but in my opinion it was all part of the experience.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Shenzhen Shenanigans
The day after Mid-Autumn Festival, we went up to Shenzhen. Admittedly, it was a spur-of-the moment decision, but for $20 HKD to get there, it was worth the daytrip.
Shenzhen is the first of China’s Special Economic Zones, sharing its southern border with Hong Kong’s northern border. From what I can gather, it was set up right around when China began opening up to the world. Back then Hong Kong was still a British Crown Colony and these zones were meant to stimulate international trade and investment.
My aunt and uncle, who are familiar with Hong Kong as of recent, told me of Shenzhen’s amazing transition. I couldn’t gather whether they thought it positive or negative, but they talked about gutting the mountains to reclaim the sea, skyscrapers popping up from the small fishing village that it used to be. Today, Shenzhen has an official population larger than Hong Kong SAR (8.6 million over 7 million), with many more unlisted and commuting people contributing to its makeup.
In just one of the many examples of China’s massive and impressive economic growth, Shenzhen has two subway lines crossing each other with about thirty stations total. Before 2011, there will be three times that many stations open on five lines.
Heading from Central District on Hong Kong Island, the journey to the border at Lo Wu took about an hour, transferring lines thrice. Alternatives to Shenzhen (that we did not take) were ferries from Sheung Wan and Central Piers, some of which conveniently go directly to Shenzhen Airport. From Hong Kong Airport, there are ferries direct to Shenzhen Airport as well for transfers free of additional security checkpoints.
At the border, we went through Hong Kong exit immigration (which I now know I can use the “Residents” line at) and Chinese immigration, where the woman thoroughly checked my passport and shifted her eyes between my face on my passport and my face in person.
Through customs, Shenzhen Railway Station is immediately to the left. A shopping mall is to the right. We went into the shopping mall, where they persistently kept trying to sell us fake Rolexes and the like. They went so far as grabbing arms to try to drag you into their shop.
From there, we took a bus to this beach area that a local recommended to us. There was pretty much nothing there but some street shops and a theme park that we could see the other side of without entering. We took the bus back shortly thereafter.
On the bus ride both ways, it was apparent that we were no longer in Hong Kong. The streets were three lanes wide in each direction and ran straight as arrows. Each light post on either side of the road had two Chinese flags all the way down each avenue (possibly because of National Day).
The buses themselves were operated differently. There were no money-collecting machines that I am so used to. The buses cost about ¥6 CNY and instead of paying a machine (or metal box), you paid the ticket collector, who in turn kept an eye on who entered the bus, announcing stops as crowds came and went.
Back to where we started, we took the Shenzhen Metro to a park called Window of the World, which I feel turned out to be kind of a waste of time.
Exiting the subway station, you come out of a glass pyramid (hey, that’s the Louvre!) and proceed towards the entrance. While corny, some would say that’s part of the appeal. Entering the park the first thing you see is the Eiffel Tower, which dominates the curb appeal of the property. After buying tickets, you ascend to the park and enter to the main stage, surrounded by different style columns.
Going around the park, it’s divided into different continents. The biggest section of the park is Europe (big surprise). That’s in the center where the Eiffel Tower stands opposed to the Arc du Triomphe as well as Venice, with St. Mark’s Square and Holland with a bunch of windmills. Elsewhere in the park were sites in Thailand as well as the Taj Mahal and a garden representative of Japan. I posed in front of the Sydney Opera House, flanked by “traditional” Maori dwellings. For America, there was a model of the main sites of Washington, D.C., as well as Niagara Falls incorporated into the Grand Canyon and Mount Rushmore. For Africa there was an elephant and the Pyramids of Giza.
Leaving the park, we crossed the road to a mall in search of food. We found some average food and walked outside and saw the street vendors (who kept having to move their carts to avoid the police). With a friend’s assistance, I learned sort of how to eat sugar cane that cost me just ¥1 CNY.
After that it was back to the border and back to Hong Kong Island.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Shenzhen is the first of China’s Special Economic Zones, sharing its southern border with Hong Kong’s northern border. From what I can gather, it was set up right around when China began opening up to the world. Back then Hong Kong was still a British Crown Colony and these zones were meant to stimulate international trade and investment.
My aunt and uncle, who are familiar with Hong Kong as of recent, told me of Shenzhen’s amazing transition. I couldn’t gather whether they thought it positive or negative, but they talked about gutting the mountains to reclaim the sea, skyscrapers popping up from the small fishing village that it used to be. Today, Shenzhen has an official population larger than Hong Kong SAR (8.6 million over 7 million), with many more unlisted and commuting people contributing to its makeup.
In just one of the many examples of China’s massive and impressive economic growth, Shenzhen has two subway lines crossing each other with about thirty stations total. Before 2011, there will be three times that many stations open on five lines.
Heading from Central District on Hong Kong Island, the journey to the border at Lo Wu took about an hour, transferring lines thrice. Alternatives to Shenzhen (that we did not take) were ferries from Sheung Wan and Central Piers, some of which conveniently go directly to Shenzhen Airport. From Hong Kong Airport, there are ferries direct to Shenzhen Airport as well for transfers free of additional security checkpoints.
At the border, we went through Hong Kong exit immigration (which I now know I can use the “Residents” line at) and Chinese immigration, where the woman thoroughly checked my passport and shifted her eyes between my face on my passport and my face in person.
Through customs, Shenzhen Railway Station is immediately to the left. A shopping mall is to the right. We went into the shopping mall, where they persistently kept trying to sell us fake Rolexes and the like. They went so far as grabbing arms to try to drag you into their shop.
From there, we took a bus to this beach area that a local recommended to us. There was pretty much nothing there but some street shops and a theme park that we could see the other side of without entering. We took the bus back shortly thereafter.
On the bus ride both ways, it was apparent that we were no longer in Hong Kong. The streets were three lanes wide in each direction and ran straight as arrows. Each light post on either side of the road had two Chinese flags all the way down each avenue (possibly because of National Day).
The buses themselves were operated differently. There were no money-collecting machines that I am so used to. The buses cost about ¥6 CNY and instead of paying a machine (or metal box), you paid the ticket collector, who in turn kept an eye on who entered the bus, announcing stops as crowds came and went.
Back to where we started, we took the Shenzhen Metro to a park called Window of the World, which I feel turned out to be kind of a waste of time.
Exiting the subway station, you come out of a glass pyramid (hey, that’s the Louvre!) and proceed towards the entrance. While corny, some would say that’s part of the appeal. Entering the park the first thing you see is the Eiffel Tower, which dominates the curb appeal of the property. After buying tickets, you ascend to the park and enter to the main stage, surrounded by different style columns.
Going around the park, it’s divided into different continents. The biggest section of the park is Europe (big surprise). That’s in the center where the Eiffel Tower stands opposed to the Arc du Triomphe as well as Venice, with St. Mark’s Square and Holland with a bunch of windmills. Elsewhere in the park were sites in Thailand as well as the Taj Mahal and a garden representative of Japan. I posed in front of the Sydney Opera House, flanked by “traditional” Maori dwellings. For America, there was a model of the main sites of Washington, D.C., as well as Niagara Falls incorporated into the Grand Canyon and Mount Rushmore. For Africa there was an elephant and the Pyramids of Giza.
Leaving the park, we crossed the road to a mall in search of food. We found some average food and walked outside and saw the street vendors (who kept having to move their carts to avoid the police). With a friend’s assistance, I learned sort of how to eat sugar cane that cost me just ¥1 CNY.
After that it was back to the border and back to Hong Kong Island.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Couture and Lamma
Like most public transportation systems, the MTR subway system here in Hong Kong has its fair share of advertisements. One advertisement was for the Couture exhibition at the Hong Kong Heritage Museum up in New Territories. It interested one of my friends, so we went up there to check out the exhibition as well as the permanent exhibits of the museum.
With public transportation, it took half an hour by bus to get to the MTR station and about 45 minutes on four lines of the MTR to get to the museum. From the Che Kung Temple station though, it was an easy walk from there.
When we got there, I knew I was hungry, and that at many American museums, they put decent restaurants on the premises to squeeze more money out of their patrons, but there, there was just a 7-Eleven style convenience store with a sitting area, along with a ritzy tea shop which didn’t serve food.
Going into the museum itself, I didn’t know what to expect. In the advertisement in the subway, it explained that the Couture exhibition was a fashion display specifically of London and Paris in the 1940s and ‘50s. It featured several models—all Asian, dressed up in clothing like that on display.
At the museum itself, which cost HK$10 as a student to get into, the exhibition took up several “thematic rooms” spanning the first floor (which would be the second floor in the United States) included rows and rows of dresses, along with original sketches. There was nothing more than what was to be expected, though one question remained on my mind.
Why is this about fashion on the other side of the globe? Why not have some sort of exhibition about contemporary culture in Hong Kong? This brings me to something that exchange students learn about Hong Kong—there is a deficiency of culture here—and I mean that in the nicest possible way.
Elsewhere in the museum there were exhibits about operas and theater in Hong Kong, as well as a permanent exhibit about the history of land reclamation here.
Land reclamation—Hong Kong is famous for it. The most visible and architecturally beautiful landmarks here are arguably on reclaimed land. Because they are on reclaimed land, they are relatively new, as land reclamation didn’t start until after the British arrived. This means that much of Hong Kong’s pre-colonial history is not cherished, including the many Tin Hau temples (dedicated to the Daoist goddess Mazu who overlooks seafarers) dotting the territory.
The result? Locals think they are more British than they really are. Because of Hong Kong’s history as a colony separate of China and its continuing high level of autonomy, it has been a haven for businesses of all sorts to make their way into East Asia.
This competitive advantage, though still visible in such aspects as freedom of press and free flow of information, is gradually but surely diminishing. Soon, I feel it will become nothing more than other large Chinese city.
Many locals think that the use of English in Hong Kong, having been a British colony, is an advantage that they have a monopoly on. However, the Mainland Chinese students coming over speak better English than the local Hong Kong students. With such a large business and finance presence here, in combination with the wide array of human capital here, why wouldn’t we get more business? However, why wouldn’t business skip Hong Kong and go straight to somewhere like Shanghai, where there is more usable land, cheaper human capital, and a rapidly expanding infrastructure.
With many of the locals that I meet being business majors hoping to go into finance, I can’t help but realize how true this veil really is. If diversification of industries is the key, then Hong Kong is behind a double-bolted door, in a room furnished with attractive furniture that is, unfortunately, of poor material, ready to break.
And I don’t mean the furniture is the people—it’s the attitude here. Many locals feel that Hong Kong is ultimately a financial center, feeling it wouldn’t be plausible, much less desirable, to introduce other economic sectors, such as creative industries, into the mix.
For a while, Hong Kong used to be second only to Hollywood (meaning Southern California) in film production in the world. Regarding local music, I’ve heard of Cantopop but I’ve never heard Cantopop. Sports?—what are sports?
So where do I feel Hong Kong stands in the world? I think it’s a declining city. Though not having reached its economic peak yet, life here seems hallow, and the culture seems conceited. Maybe Hong Kong should accept that it’s part of China and go from there in terms of long-term planning.
I don’t hate Hong Kong. I just think it’s misguided.
On a brighter note, the next day we went on a daytrip to Lamma Island. Still located within the SAR, it sits just southwest of Hong Kong island itself and contains a few large power plants and a lot of pristine, undeveloped land.
I can actually see Lamma Island from my window, but from Central it takes about a half-hour ferry ride to get to. While both of the towns on Lamma Island are noticeably touristy, there is a sense of relaxation and enjoyment there not present in the more crowded areas of Hong Kong.
My friends and I took the two-hour hike from one town to the other. On one hand, the weather was thoroughly unenjoyable. It was hot and really humid. My shirt was so soaked with sweat that instead of being able to spot sweat stains, my whole bright green shirt turned a shade darker.
It was totally worth it though. I feel like that was the most fun I’ve had since coming here. Walking through the first little town named Yung Shue Wan, we felt relatively crowded. We visited a temple and lit incense there. After getting out of the town, the island was overwhelmingly wooded with plenty of tropical-looking trees and pleasant houses pushed into the hillsides.
It was great until we spotted a huge spider up in the tree in front of us. Legs included, it was likely six-inches long. Then a friend of mine pointed one out that was but a few feet away from my head. It had noticeable stripes of color on it, and, long story short, I don’t like spiders.
In total we saw about six of those big spiders by the time we were halfway through the hike. Along the way, we saw a large beach named Hung Shing Yeh, complete with shark nets and expats and tourists. Halfway through, we bought water from a guy who raised prices to make an extra buck. Instead of buying water himself, one of my friends refused to pay the slightly higher prices and instead drank out of another friends bottle.
At the other town named Sok Kwu Wan we ate good seafood family style. We definitely paid tourist prices, but as part of eating there at Rainbow Seafood Restaurant we were given a ride back to Central on a charter boat.
With public transportation, it took half an hour by bus to get to the MTR station and about 45 minutes on four lines of the MTR to get to the museum. From the Che Kung Temple station though, it was an easy walk from there.
When we got there, I knew I was hungry, and that at many American museums, they put decent restaurants on the premises to squeeze more money out of their patrons, but there, there was just a 7-Eleven style convenience store with a sitting area, along with a ritzy tea shop which didn’t serve food.
Going into the museum itself, I didn’t know what to expect. In the advertisement in the subway, it explained that the Couture exhibition was a fashion display specifically of London and Paris in the 1940s and ‘50s. It featured several models—all Asian, dressed up in clothing like that on display.
At the museum itself, which cost HK$10 as a student to get into, the exhibition took up several “thematic rooms” spanning the first floor (which would be the second floor in the United States) included rows and rows of dresses, along with original sketches. There was nothing more than what was to be expected, though one question remained on my mind.
Why is this about fashion on the other side of the globe? Why not have some sort of exhibition about contemporary culture in Hong Kong? This brings me to something that exchange students learn about Hong Kong—there is a deficiency of culture here—and I mean that in the nicest possible way.
Elsewhere in the museum there were exhibits about operas and theater in Hong Kong, as well as a permanent exhibit about the history of land reclamation here.
Land reclamation—Hong Kong is famous for it. The most visible and architecturally beautiful landmarks here are arguably on reclaimed land. Because they are on reclaimed land, they are relatively new, as land reclamation didn’t start until after the British arrived. This means that much of Hong Kong’s pre-colonial history is not cherished, including the many Tin Hau temples (dedicated to the Daoist goddess Mazu who overlooks seafarers) dotting the territory.
The result? Locals think they are more British than they really are. Because of Hong Kong’s history as a colony separate of China and its continuing high level of autonomy, it has been a haven for businesses of all sorts to make their way into East Asia.
This competitive advantage, though still visible in such aspects as freedom of press and free flow of information, is gradually but surely diminishing. Soon, I feel it will become nothing more than other large Chinese city.
Many locals think that the use of English in Hong Kong, having been a British colony, is an advantage that they have a monopoly on. However, the Mainland Chinese students coming over speak better English than the local Hong Kong students. With such a large business and finance presence here, in combination with the wide array of human capital here, why wouldn’t we get more business? However, why wouldn’t business skip Hong Kong and go straight to somewhere like Shanghai, where there is more usable land, cheaper human capital, and a rapidly expanding infrastructure.
With many of the locals that I meet being business majors hoping to go into finance, I can’t help but realize how true this veil really is. If diversification of industries is the key, then Hong Kong is behind a double-bolted door, in a room furnished with attractive furniture that is, unfortunately, of poor material, ready to break.
And I don’t mean the furniture is the people—it’s the attitude here. Many locals feel that Hong Kong is ultimately a financial center, feeling it wouldn’t be plausible, much less desirable, to introduce other economic sectors, such as creative industries, into the mix.
For a while, Hong Kong used to be second only to Hollywood (meaning Southern California) in film production in the world. Regarding local music, I’ve heard of Cantopop but I’ve never heard Cantopop. Sports?—what are sports?
So where do I feel Hong Kong stands in the world? I think it’s a declining city. Though not having reached its economic peak yet, life here seems hallow, and the culture seems conceited. Maybe Hong Kong should accept that it’s part of China and go from there in terms of long-term planning.
I don’t hate Hong Kong. I just think it’s misguided.
On a brighter note, the next day we went on a daytrip to Lamma Island. Still located within the SAR, it sits just southwest of Hong Kong island itself and contains a few large power plants and a lot of pristine, undeveloped land.
I can actually see Lamma Island from my window, but from Central it takes about a half-hour ferry ride to get to. While both of the towns on Lamma Island are noticeably touristy, there is a sense of relaxation and enjoyment there not present in the more crowded areas of Hong Kong.
My friends and I took the two-hour hike from one town to the other. On one hand, the weather was thoroughly unenjoyable. It was hot and really humid. My shirt was so soaked with sweat that instead of being able to spot sweat stains, my whole bright green shirt turned a shade darker.
It was totally worth it though. I feel like that was the most fun I’ve had since coming here. Walking through the first little town named Yung Shue Wan, we felt relatively crowded. We visited a temple and lit incense there. After getting out of the town, the island was overwhelmingly wooded with plenty of tropical-looking trees and pleasant houses pushed into the hillsides.
It was great until we spotted a huge spider up in the tree in front of us. Legs included, it was likely six-inches long. Then a friend of mine pointed one out that was but a few feet away from my head. It had noticeable stripes of color on it, and, long story short, I don’t like spiders.
In total we saw about six of those big spiders by the time we were halfway through the hike. Along the way, we saw a large beach named Hung Shing Yeh, complete with shark nets and expats and tourists. Halfway through, we bought water from a guy who raised prices to make an extra buck. Instead of buying water himself, one of my friends refused to pay the slightly higher prices and instead drank out of another friends bottle.
At the other town named Sok Kwu Wan we ate good seafood family style. We definitely paid tourist prices, but as part of eating there at Rainbow Seafood Restaurant we were given a ride back to Central on a charter boat.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
