Saturday, June 9, 2012

An Old School Blog About China Part 1


 We're in China, just accept that fact so I can start in the middle without a whole bunch of airport talk and time change blah blah blah. We got into Shanghai from the airport by taking a bullet train called the Maglev. It's like, dumb fast. It goes 301 kilometers per hour (187 MPH) which turns a 45 minute ride into a 6 minute blur, no foolin'. 

We're staying with Cat, a friend from Germany who now lives in The French Concession area of Shanghai.
This is Cat

We did a bunch of cool stuff in Shanghai and I'll write about it someday but for right now, hold your horses, Boris. We've been here for a couple days and it's time to catch the train to Beijing.

You, are now caught up. Congratulations, take a sip of your drink.

Cheers!

 We said our goodbyes to Cat and leave her and some new friends at a beer festival where we've been watching grown men play a drinking game called “Boat Race”. It's the same game that makes Paul Rudd vomit all over Vince Vaugh in the movie "I Love You, Man." It makes me want to vomit just watching. It's the kind of game that doesn't have a winner, despite the cheers.

 We hail a cab back to Cat’s house to collect our things. The cab drops us off a couple blocks away from the apartment and we were told in broken English that the house was a few blocks behind us, he had misread the number. As the cab pulled away I realized that were not even on the correct street. We take off walking in the direction we had come from, figuring the enemy you know is better than the one you don’t. We find a store with signs written in English, I inquire inside and am given quick directions to Wu-Kang Lu. If our friend’s street name wasn’t so close to Wu-Tang Clan we might still be wandering around Shanghai’s hazy nights.

After packing our things we get into another cab and point out the train station on a map. The writing is too small for our cabbie to read and he begins to laugh. Although it is at our bad fortune to get in a cab with a man too poor to afford simple reading glasses, we must admit, it is sort of funny and we laugh too. Ha. Ha. Ha. I try to take a close up picture of the map, it has the words in Chinese and maybe I can blow it up on my phone and show the guy but the picture comes out blurry, I even make the “choo, choo” noise but he can’t understand and we’re sunk. As we un-load our bags from the cab I get the idea to show him our train tickets.
He raises 1 finger and says "ahhhhhh" I assume this means he understands, or thinks I am Number One Ok American Joe Doctor.
He flags down another cabby, and confirms that we need a train and we're back in business.
“Okay!” he says.
“Okay? Train?” says I, making the train noise again.
“Okay.” He says, putting our bags back in the car.
 “Okay?” I say, just making sure we agree.
 “Okay.” He says, just because it's the only English we both know.
 “Okay” I say, resigning our future into the hands of a man who shares exactly ONE word of communications with me which includes "ahhhhhhh" as it is not technically a word and more of an onomatopoeic sound, like bonk or wikes.

He laughs, closes the trunk and drives us 40 minutes to the train station. Tiffany, meanwhile is following every turn on the map with her finger just to make sure we're headed in the right direction. She puts the map down as we pull into the train station. After paying the equivalent of 3 euros we say goodbye and a nice man with a cart comes and takes our bags. He has on a snazzy blue one-size-fits-all hardware-store style smock, we assume he works for the train station and allow him. At the base of the stairs he tells us with simple hand gestures that we can leave all our belongings with him and pick them up in Beijing for 50Y we say no, we want our stuff with us. He drops the price to 35Y, we say no again and he’s disgusted and walks away. I try to give him 1Y for his trouble but he’s pissed that we took up his time.
Train Station

 --On a quick side note, I'm sure this man was reputable and I'm sure that people let him take their luggage all the time, but I don't know where I'm going, and I sure as hell won't know where to pick up my luggage when we arrive in Beijing.--

 On the train we are surprised to find that we are not staying together. Tiff is assigned to a room with two young Swedish girls and I have been given the top bunk in a room with three 50 year old Chinese men. The train has been open for only a few minutes but none of the men are wearing shoes and only one is wearing a shirt. This is a recipe for farts.

 Tiff has an open bunk in her room, I make it clear to the porter that I will be staying there. We pay a little cash and I’m able to buy the extra bunk with the Swedish girls and my girlfriend. I think we all agree this is a much better option.

 We talk for a bit and then watch a movie on my computer, it's dark by now and there is nothing to look at out the window, the dining car serves no drinks and only one “food” item which looks like a non-refrigerated Hungry Man Dinner. I consider trying it for the story but I don't want diarrhea that badly. We eat a sleeve of Chinese Pringles each and we settle in for the night. Tiff and I toss and turn most of the night, the train is hermetically sealed and there is no moving air. To make it worse whenever I feel the train change speed, which happens a LOT, I assume we’re about to have a head on collision with another train.

This is what I look like right now in this story

 As the sun rises we are pulling into Beijing and it looks like Tijuana on a bad day. Roofless houses, piles of used up tires waiting to be used 2 or 3 more times, poor, dirty people smoking cigarettes, kids in the streets dodging shitty 3 wheeled motorcycles. It’s not nice or exotic, it’s just messed up and sad.

We get to the train station, say our goodbyes to the Swedes and head outside to look for a subway station.
The Fartless Swedes

Our hotel is 20 cents and 2 train stops away, but after surveying the area and looking at our luggage we decide to wait in line with the rest of the good people of Beijing. The black market taxis try for our business but Tiff walks right on by. I feel the need to tell the man “no, thank you” but Tiff doesn’t, she walks past without a second glance, I wish I had her cold, black heart, but I don't, I need to treat people like they have a soul. We've been in line for a cab about 30 minutes, and as we're nearing the taxi stand, the police decide they need to move their van, it won’t start, which is sad and makes us consider robbing a bank. After several tries it comes to life with a “let me die” cough and begins to crop dust the entire taxi line with thick, carcinogenic exhaust, it's almost like being sprayed with a fine mist of gasoline and Communism.
Just to break it up a little, here's a pic of me and the Beijing Train Station

 We get our taxi, point out a spot on the map and he takes off into one of the most complicated U-turn situations I have ever seen. We must have gone a 2 miles and taken 9 lefts in the wrong direction trying to get headed north. Luckily, the cab is cheap and we have plenty of time. He drops us off only a few blocks from our hotel. “Close enough”, we're finding, is a common credo of China’s cab drivers. We walk up the street to where our hotel should be only to find that it’s a Peking duck restaurant. We decide, after consulting the map that it “must be around here somewhere” and begin walking the perimeter of a super mall. It is not there. Frustrated, I stop at the tourist travel help desk and shove my way through the plastic garbage jewelry store at the front to the help desk at the rear. The girl there is very nice and talks me through the fact that I don’t know right from left. She writes our address and hotel name in Chinese and we are on our way. After consulting a cop we make her left instead of the right I thought we should take. As we walk down the street past Cartier shops and the Hilton I start to feel better. If our hotel is in this neighborhood it's GOT to be nice, right?

Keep Reading!!

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