November 07, 2008
October 21, 2008
Back in the ussa
So-
I'm not in china any more. I've actually been in the states about a month and a half. Sorry about not mentioning that. I ended up leaving rather quickly, for a variety of reasons, mostly involving the failure of my boss to get me a work visa. So, what have I been doing since then? Not tons. I'm working at bowdoin, for the IT and Communications departments. I'm applying to jobs. I've built a yurt. No pictures yet, but I'll post a bunch in about a week. That's pretty much what's going on these days. Life is good. I'm eating well. No complaints.
I probably won't be updating too often in the near future, but check back periodically, or just send me emails. Oh. If you want, you can read a new essay I wrote go to urbanechina.com and download the upfront section. I'm the last page.
I'm not in china any more. I've actually been in the states about a month and a half. Sorry about not mentioning that. I ended up leaving rather quickly, for a variety of reasons, mostly involving the failure of my boss to get me a work visa. So, what have I been doing since then? Not tons. I'm working at bowdoin, for the IT and Communications departments. I'm applying to jobs. I've built a yurt. No pictures yet, but I'll post a bunch in about a week. That's pretty much what's going on these days. Life is good. I'm eating well. No complaints.
I probably won't be updating too often in the near future, but check back periodically, or just send me emails. Oh. If you want, you can read a new essay I wrote go to urbanechina.com and download the upfront section. I'm the last page.
September 07, 2008
An Account of Sorts
So Kyle and I spent two weeks out west. We flew to Urumqi, and then to Kashgar. From there we took buses and trains, back east, hitting Kuche (known for it's Buddhist cave paintings), Bai Yang Gao (a series of valleys south of Urumqi), Jiayuguan (the last fort on the Great Wall), and Ta'er Si (the biggest lamasery outside of Tibet, and official home of the Dali and Panchen Lamas). We had two run-ins with Lanzhou, the worst city in the world, and I ended the trip by spending 30 hours on a train getting home from there.
Urumqi was nice, if a little boring. We saw the sites, hung out and slept in parks, and started getting used to our diet of noodles and mutton. We spent a couple days there, maybe one more than necessary, and moved on to Kashgar. Kashgar has been in the news recently as the site of the deadliest "terrorist" attack in Xinjiang. Given that these attacks have all targeted government employee's, specifically paramilitary police and militia men, I'm not sure the term really applies, but then again I'm sure it's more complicated than that. Kashgar is also known for it's Sunday Market, where anything can be bought, and where 10,000 vendors from all over central Asia meet up. It lived up to the reputation, and we spent a solid morning wandering around.
Kashgar is a funny place. As far into western China as you can get, very few people spoke Chinese. They didn't speak too much english either, so that left us with sign language and a smattering of the two, to get by. It was frustrating not being able to talk to anyone. That's one the best things about traveling domestically for me, but we dealt, and enjoyed the city. There was virtually nothing Chinese about Kashgar. The architecture favored the arabesque, and the downtown area was dominated by the enormous Id Kah Mosque. On the streets, men sat on carpets and drank tea and ate skewers. Women wore a collection of clothing, from full on Burkas to more modest headscarves. The Uighers that made up the population alternately looked Sicilian, Iranian, or just plain different. But it was a pleasant city, and spending two days there, we began to feel at home.
Leaving Kashgar, we began our journey back east, taking a night bus to Kuche. From there we rented a taxi and went out to see some of the oldest Buddhist cave paintings in China. Some of them were 1700 years old, which placed the pretty close to the birth of Buddhism as a regional religion. We couldn't take pictures, but were fascinated by the color scheme, red-brown, light blue, and light green, and the very unchinese nature of the frescos. We spent the day in the company of a Singaporean girl, fairly badass in her solo itinerary, yet also incredibly annoying. I was glad to be traveling with Kyle instead.
Outside of Urumqi are two tourist areas, Tianchi and Baiyanggao. Tianchi is by far the more established one, a beautiful lake with friendly Kazaks to stay with, which Baiyanggao is slightly less developed. We chose the later, but still found it full of Chinese tourists clip clopping around on rented horses. Trying to get away, we talked to a man who made his living taking pictures of people dressed up in silly costumes, standing in front of what was admittedly a spectacular waterfall. I asked if there was anyone living in the next valley over. He said no, but when I pressed him he said that if we followed the stream for two hours we should find some friendly wood cutters who spoke Chinese. It was only early afternoon, so we decided to give it a try. If necessary, we'd hike back out and find somewhere to sleep in a yurt by the road.
The valley was one of the most beautiful places I've ever hiked. It was steep on both sides, and a deep green in the center. The water that had carved it was less than a hand deep in most places, and sparkled in the sun. It was absolutely breathtaking. More than once, we thought we'd come to the end of the line, only to find that the valley continued around the bend, or over the waterfall. Each time this happened, I was almost knocked down with the landscape. There was a path of sorts, and we kept to that, figuring that paths lead to people. And indeed, we did find people. They explained that friends had just ridden up, and they had no room to house us for the night, but suggested we go 20 minutes up a side canyon, where we met another family, of three siblings. The youngest is about to start majoring in Chinese at the University of Urumqi. Her older sister wasn’t that friendly, but not distinctly unfriendly either, and their older brother was cautiously friendly, but very welcoming once we’d established that we were going to spend the night.
There was lots of sitting inside wondered what was going to happen, but we worked out that we’d sleep in their spare shed-tent. The gave us blankets though, which probably saved out lived. The family had living in the tent before, but decided it was too cold, so they built a log cabin, all axe hewn and chinked with moss. I want one when I grow up. The older brother, “Baligk” was enormous, meaty hands, huge arms covered in scars, but no facial hair and a very young face. Kyle and I couldn’t tell if he was the sisters’ dad or older brother at first. When done with work and inside the cabin, he sprawled on the platform and took off his shoes and said in one breath, “im sleepy, when’s dinner?” Very much the host, he was always urging us to eat or drink. We brought out cards before dinner and played Go Fish, and that loosened everybody up and made us all friends. Dinner was lamb and noodles, delicious except for the large chunks of gristle, and bizarre lumpy yogurt, which wasn’t so bad when you got used to it. They live in the valley 2 months out of the year and in town the rest. They have 5 horses, 20 cows (3 dairy) and more than 100 sheep, so they’re not hurting, or at least, it doesn’t seem like it. In the morning we took a group picture, and I’m going to mail it to them in a day or two.
We didn’t pay, and didn’t really have any gifts (because we thought we’d be paying) but shared out dates and left a bottle of vodka by our bed in the shed, and we were invited back. Maybe the mail thing will work out and we’ll keep in touch, I think I’d like that a lot.
The rest of the trip was just sort of normal after the night with the Kazak family. We stopped in Jiayuguan to see the last fort on the great wall. We were hassled by cops at a truck stop, we went to the Kumbum monestary at Ta’er Si.
Before the monastery, we arrived in lanzhou, and found it to be the worst city in the world. Nothing worked. Our plans collapsed, the trains ran late, and I burned my finger on some beef noodle soup so badly that It just healed fully yesterday. We got out of lanzhou as quickly as possible, and headed for the monastery in Qinghai province. It was interesting, and I had a good talk with a young monk there, but I think we were both pretty tired at this point. Back to Lanzhou, were I still couldn’t get a visa, and then on the longest trainride of my life, 30 hours to Beijing when it could have been done in 20 if we’d taken another line.
We couldn’t even get tickets for seats on that train, and so I stayed up all night talking to drunk migrant workers and a tank driver from shanxi province. We’d been able to upgrade to one bed, so kyle took that, and we switched in the morning, and I slept until after two.
Throughout the trip I changed my boxers and one sock, so by the time I got back to Beijing, I smelled fairly distinct, a mixture of dirt, sweat, and manure. I’m sorry the second half of the trip was a bit glossed over, but it felt like that a bit at the time too. Maybe my conversation with the monk will show up in another post sometime. Until then-
Martin.
Urumqi was nice, if a little boring. We saw the sites, hung out and slept in parks, and started getting used to our diet of noodles and mutton. We spent a couple days there, maybe one more than necessary, and moved on to Kashgar. Kashgar has been in the news recently as the site of the deadliest "terrorist" attack in Xinjiang. Given that these attacks have all targeted government employee's, specifically paramilitary police and militia men, I'm not sure the term really applies, but then again I'm sure it's more complicated than that. Kashgar is also known for it's Sunday Market, where anything can be bought, and where 10,000 vendors from all over central Asia meet up. It lived up to the reputation, and we spent a solid morning wandering around.
Kashgar is a funny place. As far into western China as you can get, very few people spoke Chinese. They didn't speak too much english either, so that left us with sign language and a smattering of the two, to get by. It was frustrating not being able to talk to anyone. That's one the best things about traveling domestically for me, but we dealt, and enjoyed the city. There was virtually nothing Chinese about Kashgar. The architecture favored the arabesque, and the downtown area was dominated by the enormous Id Kah Mosque. On the streets, men sat on carpets and drank tea and ate skewers. Women wore a collection of clothing, from full on Burkas to more modest headscarves. The Uighers that made up the population alternately looked Sicilian, Iranian, or just plain different. But it was a pleasant city, and spending two days there, we began to feel at home.
Leaving Kashgar, we began our journey back east, taking a night bus to Kuche. From there we rented a taxi and went out to see some of the oldest Buddhist cave paintings in China. Some of them were 1700 years old, which placed the pretty close to the birth of Buddhism as a regional religion. We couldn't take pictures, but were fascinated by the color scheme, red-brown, light blue, and light green, and the very unchinese nature of the frescos. We spent the day in the company of a Singaporean girl, fairly badass in her solo itinerary, yet also incredibly annoying. I was glad to be traveling with Kyle instead.
Outside of Urumqi are two tourist areas, Tianchi and Baiyanggao. Tianchi is by far the more established one, a beautiful lake with friendly Kazaks to stay with, which Baiyanggao is slightly less developed. We chose the later, but still found it full of Chinese tourists clip clopping around on rented horses. Trying to get away, we talked to a man who made his living taking pictures of people dressed up in silly costumes, standing in front of what was admittedly a spectacular waterfall. I asked if there was anyone living in the next valley over. He said no, but when I pressed him he said that if we followed the stream for two hours we should find some friendly wood cutters who spoke Chinese. It was only early afternoon, so we decided to give it a try. If necessary, we'd hike back out and find somewhere to sleep in a yurt by the road.
The valley was one of the most beautiful places I've ever hiked. It was steep on both sides, and a deep green in the center. The water that had carved it was less than a hand deep in most places, and sparkled in the sun. It was absolutely breathtaking. More than once, we thought we'd come to the end of the line, only to find that the valley continued around the bend, or over the waterfall. Each time this happened, I was almost knocked down with the landscape. There was a path of sorts, and we kept to that, figuring that paths lead to people. And indeed, we did find people. They explained that friends had just ridden up, and they had no room to house us for the night, but suggested we go 20 minutes up a side canyon, where we met another family, of three siblings. The youngest is about to start majoring in Chinese at the University of Urumqi. Her older sister wasn’t that friendly, but not distinctly unfriendly either, and their older brother was cautiously friendly, but very welcoming once we’d established that we were going to spend the night.
There was lots of sitting inside wondered what was going to happen, but we worked out that we’d sleep in their spare shed-tent. The gave us blankets though, which probably saved out lived. The family had living in the tent before, but decided it was too cold, so they built a log cabin, all axe hewn and chinked with moss. I want one when I grow up. The older brother, “Baligk” was enormous, meaty hands, huge arms covered in scars, but no facial hair and a very young face. Kyle and I couldn’t tell if he was the sisters’ dad or older brother at first. When done with work and inside the cabin, he sprawled on the platform and took off his shoes and said in one breath, “im sleepy, when’s dinner?” Very much the host, he was always urging us to eat or drink. We brought out cards before dinner and played Go Fish, and that loosened everybody up and made us all friends. Dinner was lamb and noodles, delicious except for the large chunks of gristle, and bizarre lumpy yogurt, which wasn’t so bad when you got used to it. They live in the valley 2 months out of the year and in town the rest. They have 5 horses, 20 cows (3 dairy) and more than 100 sheep, so they’re not hurting, or at least, it doesn’t seem like it. In the morning we took a group picture, and I’m going to mail it to them in a day or two.
We didn’t pay, and didn’t really have any gifts (because we thought we’d be paying) but shared out dates and left a bottle of vodka by our bed in the shed, and we were invited back. Maybe the mail thing will work out and we’ll keep in touch, I think I’d like that a lot.
The rest of the trip was just sort of normal after the night with the Kazak family. We stopped in Jiayuguan to see the last fort on the great wall. We were hassled by cops at a truck stop, we went to the Kumbum monestary at Ta’er Si.
Before the monastery, we arrived in lanzhou, and found it to be the worst city in the world. Nothing worked. Our plans collapsed, the trains ran late, and I burned my finger on some beef noodle soup so badly that It just healed fully yesterday. We got out of lanzhou as quickly as possible, and headed for the monastery in Qinghai province. It was interesting, and I had a good talk with a young monk there, but I think we were both pretty tired at this point. Back to Lanzhou, were I still couldn’t get a visa, and then on the longest trainride of my life, 30 hours to Beijing when it could have been done in 20 if we’d taken another line.
We couldn’t even get tickets for seats on that train, and so I stayed up all night talking to drunk migrant workers and a tank driver from shanxi province. We’d been able to upgrade to one bed, so kyle took that, and we switched in the morning, and I slept until after two.
Throughout the trip I changed my boxers and one sock, so by the time I got back to Beijing, I smelled fairly distinct, a mixture of dirt, sweat, and manure. I’m sorry the second half of the trip was a bit glossed over, but it felt like that a bit at the time too. Maybe my conversation with the monk will show up in another post sometime. Until then-
Martin.
September 04, 2008
Published
I know I still need to write about my trip out west, but while you're waiting for the harrowing account of our journey, please check out pictures from said trip available HERE and read an article of mine that was just published in Urbane Magazine. To do that, click HERE, and then download the features section as a pdf. Look for something about the trip in the next couple days, and a full report of my new job sometime next week. In closing I'd just like to share that somehow, possibly as a result of the antics described in my last post, my year long multi-entry visa has been canceled. It is truly the gift that keeps on giving.
That's all for now-
Martin
That's all for now-
Martin
August 27, 2008
Today I stand before you as a man
I know I already had my Bar Mitzvah, but today has been another kind of turning point. Today, I really am a grownup. Ok, well, not quite -- I'm closer though. I've been away (more on that later) but recently found myself in the position of needing to deal with my visa. I mean really needing to deal with it, in that today was my last legal day in the country. I have a 30-day visa, I came back from Hong Kong on the 28th, July has 31 days -- thus, today was the day I needed to figure this stuff out. Could I have been a more adult adult and done it before my last day? Only kind of -- I was traveling, and the city I planned to fix things in, turned out to be the worst city in the world. Literally. More, as they say, later. Anyway -- I woke up at 8:00 and got to the visa office by 9:00. Not a bad start. I've been there before, and it's always been referred to as the Ministry of Doom (MOD) but it was never that bad, not back then. Almost no lines and right up to the counter I went. Things were going to work out just fine. I didn't have the right paperwork. Not only did I not have the right paper work, I'd done what I did have in a nice blue pen. This was not allowed. It had to be dark blue, or black. I explained that I was but a simple tourist (albeit one with a Beijing accent) and that I didn't have a household registration card, or a Chinese bank account. Well you'd better get some, was the rejoinder.
I called my friend Alex, and begged the loan of his registration. I figured staying with a friend (as I'd told them I was) was pretty reasonable. I started to see about banks. The first bank I went to knew exactly what I needed to do (they were the closest to the ministry of doom after all) but they said they were too small to take money off my bank card. Ok, I said, where can I do that? Our larger branch just two streets away was the swift reply, and off I went in search of the bigger branch. There I filled out paperwork (thrice, the first two tries failing somewhere near the second line of boxes) and sat down in the comfy VIP chair to open my brand new Chinese bank account. This wasn't so hard. The man swiped my card. He swiped it again. Nothing happened. I begged him to type the number in. He did. Still nothing. I was out of luck.
Meanwhile, Knightly Alex had arisen and gone to register with the police (his registration was overdue too). We met, photocopied his registration and parted ways with promises to meet soon to sup and quaff. After the morning's failure with swiping, I found a pay phone and called my bank. They explained why I couldn't see my balance (I'd tried) on ATM machines (makes you wonder about the whole check balance thing, but anyway) and said that I should have no trouble using my card at a bank, as long as I had my passport.
I tired the Bank of China. On the second try we got the paperwork filled out correctly. The moment of truth. I gave them my card, they took it to the back and twittered over it, pulled out a manual card crunching machine, and went for the telephone. I'd asked for 25,000 RMB, a bit over 3,000 dollars now, because, and this was the whole point of the exercise, as a tourist, I need $100 dollars a day in my bank account. Because China is REALLY expensive these days. Inflation is high, but even traveling I was only spending $20. No matter, the dollar sucks anyway, and it would be good to stop using my American Check Card. The call went though, but they came back sad. It didn't work. What didn't work, I said. The card, they replied. Well, right, but what specifically? If I'm going to go call my bank I need something to tell them. He didn't say, they said. Who? The man we called. Well call him back, and ask what the matter is. Please. They called back, and ascertained that the account number was unreachable through the call center. Aha, I thought, something concrete. I went across the street, found a pay phone, and called the Bank. I'm in China, said I, I need to open an account because they'll kick me out of the country if I don't. It's not working, why not? They asked me lots of personal questions and then said that my daily bank withdrawal limit was $2,499 -- that's why it wasn't going through. Aha, again. Back across the street. I'm back I said to the cheery greeters, and they tittered. Back to the window. Please take out $2,400 I said. There was much calculation, tapping and bashing and such. A number in RMB was given that sounded about right. Go for it I said. It didn't work. Back across the street. More personal questions. What's the deal, I asked. The last try was for $2,600 came the answer. The bank teller is terrible at math.
Back to the bank, for the last time this time. Your math has issues, I told the teller. Let's try 2,200 this time. He tried, and it worked! Hallelujah. Now the paperwork came out. Slips were printed. They were torn. I signed their stubs. Pin-codes entered, reentered, and entered once more for good measure. They love their pin codes, banks. I got a passbook (where they print things for real) a card, and a little dongle type thing that I don't know how to use. One thing at a time I suppose. This took, forever. You'd think it would be quick, a signature, a stamp, and wham--a new bank account. Not so much. I waited. I tapped my fingers. I looked at my watch. Two and a half hours to go before the MOD closed. I need a piece of paper that says how much money I have, I said. First try he found the sheet I'd been showed at the MOD. Aha. We were all set, but what's this? Why is my money still in dollars? What would I need a Chinese bank account full of US dollars for? Much muttering behind the glass. A conference ensued. They could change it. Somehow that cost a lot of money, but that's not what I'm thinking about right now. At 2:43 I hop a cab back to the MOD. Less that two hours to go.
The lines of the morning have lengthened and I pick a number. I wait, restlessly. I finish my book. My stomach starts to hurt. I am, as they say stressed out. I try to think about the last time I was stressed out enough that my stomach hurt. Maybe it was last January, I don't really remember. I think about my stomach some more and realize that maybe the problem is that it is approaching 4:00, and my food for the day has consisted of one egg sandwich at 8:00. Next time I try to get a visa, I'll bring a sandwich. The clock ticks digitally on top of the TV screen showing and re-showing Olympic highlights. 3:30 comes -- one hour to go, more than 20 people ahead of me in line. But, at long last, I make it, I stand before the desk and present the woman (the same one I'd talked to at 9:00) with my passport, my form filled out in black, my Chinese account statement, and Alex's household registration. She shuffles her papers and I think every little thing's going to be all right, just like in the song. I point out that the registration form doesn't have my name on it, because I'm staying with a friend. This is a PROBLEM. It's 4:08 by my watch, and she tells me it needs to have my name on it. Run she says, and I'll be here as long as you get back before 4:30.
I run. I ask a group of old ladies if I'm going the right way, they motion me onwards, and yell that I have to turn left. I turn and start running to the end of a dead end. Not that one, one yells, she's on her bike and has started following me. I'll take you she says. Ok, I pant (I haven't run since I've been here, and even with the recent games the air is a little chewy) you bike, I'll run. So I run. I clutch my messenger bag under my arm and pound down the street. My guardian angel rides behind. I steal a look back, keep going, she calls out, why are you looking at me. A big intersection is coming up. Keep going she yells, across the street. Wang qian zou. She points forward with a free hand. I keep running, as close to flat out as I can after months of inactivity and under-eating. My Crocs slosh around my feet. Kaui pao, she yells gleefully, go faster. Finally the left comes, I pant a heartfelt thank you and pound into the empty public security bureau. I need...a...household....registration, I pant, giving them Alex's. For this address. What's the rush, they ask? The office closes at 4:30 I say. I'm sweating and my hair keeps falling in my eyes. Well don't rush me, says the woman behind the desk, if I rush I'll mess up and then nothing will work. Ok, Ok, I'm not rushing you, but hurry it up alright? She finishes the paperwork. So did you just move in? She asks. I'm staying with my friend, I say. Wait, you don't live there? Danger, flashes in neon across my clouded vision. No, no, I just moved in, I live there with my friend, I lie. Ok then, there you go, she says, and I'm out the door shouting thank you at the same time. A mad dash back to the MOD. I get back and stand panting outside the barrier, looking at the woman who's been "helping" me. She looks up from the person she's dealing with. That was quick, she says, wow you really made good time. I nod. That's about all I can do. The old lady's cries of forward, forward, faster, are still ringing in my ears. She looks through the (now a bit rumpled) paperwork. You can stay an extra....she calculates on her cell phone...22 days. Then you need to leave and get a new visa. My multi-entry visa is supposed to be good for a year? They changed the rules as of September. Ok, well thank you, thank you. See you in five business days.
I stumble out of the ministry still short of breath, and see that my new, 22 day visa is going to cost a whopping $130. Not a cheap day, by any means, but I have a new Visa and I have a new bank account, and I did it myself. Check back soon for stories of Tibetan monks, Kazaks, and Lanzhou, the worst city in the world.
I called my friend Alex, and begged the loan of his registration. I figured staying with a friend (as I'd told them I was) was pretty reasonable. I started to see about banks. The first bank I went to knew exactly what I needed to do (they were the closest to the ministry of doom after all) but they said they were too small to take money off my bank card. Ok, I said, where can I do that? Our larger branch just two streets away was the swift reply, and off I went in search of the bigger branch. There I filled out paperwork (thrice, the first two tries failing somewhere near the second line of boxes) and sat down in the comfy VIP chair to open my brand new Chinese bank account. This wasn't so hard. The man swiped my card. He swiped it again. Nothing happened. I begged him to type the number in. He did. Still nothing. I was out of luck.
Meanwhile, Knightly Alex had arisen and gone to register with the police (his registration was overdue too). We met, photocopied his registration and parted ways with promises to meet soon to sup and quaff. After the morning's failure with swiping, I found a pay phone and called my bank. They explained why I couldn't see my balance (I'd tried) on ATM machines (makes you wonder about the whole check balance thing, but anyway) and said that I should have no trouble using my card at a bank, as long as I had my passport.
I tired the Bank of China. On the second try we got the paperwork filled out correctly. The moment of truth. I gave them my card, they took it to the back and twittered over it, pulled out a manual card crunching machine, and went for the telephone. I'd asked for 25,000 RMB, a bit over 3,000 dollars now, because, and this was the whole point of the exercise, as a tourist, I need $100 dollars a day in my bank account. Because China is REALLY expensive these days. Inflation is high, but even traveling I was only spending $20. No matter, the dollar sucks anyway, and it would be good to stop using my American Check Card. The call went though, but they came back sad. It didn't work. What didn't work, I said. The card, they replied. Well, right, but what specifically? If I'm going to go call my bank I need something to tell them. He didn't say, they said. Who? The man we called. Well call him back, and ask what the matter is. Please. They called back, and ascertained that the account number was unreachable through the call center. Aha, I thought, something concrete. I went across the street, found a pay phone, and called the Bank. I'm in China, said I, I need to open an account because they'll kick me out of the country if I don't. It's not working, why not? They asked me lots of personal questions and then said that my daily bank withdrawal limit was $2,499 -- that's why it wasn't going through. Aha, again. Back across the street. I'm back I said to the cheery greeters, and they tittered. Back to the window. Please take out $2,400 I said. There was much calculation, tapping and bashing and such. A number in RMB was given that sounded about right. Go for it I said. It didn't work. Back across the street. More personal questions. What's the deal, I asked. The last try was for $2,600 came the answer. The bank teller is terrible at math.
Back to the bank, for the last time this time. Your math has issues, I told the teller. Let's try 2,200 this time. He tried, and it worked! Hallelujah. Now the paperwork came out. Slips were printed. They were torn. I signed their stubs. Pin-codes entered, reentered, and entered once more for good measure. They love their pin codes, banks. I got a passbook (where they print things for real) a card, and a little dongle type thing that I don't know how to use. One thing at a time I suppose. This took, forever. You'd think it would be quick, a signature, a stamp, and wham--a new bank account. Not so much. I waited. I tapped my fingers. I looked at my watch. Two and a half hours to go before the MOD closed. I need a piece of paper that says how much money I have, I said. First try he found the sheet I'd been showed at the MOD. Aha. We were all set, but what's this? Why is my money still in dollars? What would I need a Chinese bank account full of US dollars for? Much muttering behind the glass. A conference ensued. They could change it. Somehow that cost a lot of money, but that's not what I'm thinking about right now. At 2:43 I hop a cab back to the MOD. Less that two hours to go.
The lines of the morning have lengthened and I pick a number. I wait, restlessly. I finish my book. My stomach starts to hurt. I am, as they say stressed out. I try to think about the last time I was stressed out enough that my stomach hurt. Maybe it was last January, I don't really remember. I think about my stomach some more and realize that maybe the problem is that it is approaching 4:00, and my food for the day has consisted of one egg sandwich at 8:00. Next time I try to get a visa, I'll bring a sandwich. The clock ticks digitally on top of the TV screen showing and re-showing Olympic highlights. 3:30 comes -- one hour to go, more than 20 people ahead of me in line. But, at long last, I make it, I stand before the desk and present the woman (the same one I'd talked to at 9:00) with my passport, my form filled out in black, my Chinese account statement, and Alex's household registration. She shuffles her papers and I think every little thing's going to be all right, just like in the song. I point out that the registration form doesn't have my name on it, because I'm staying with a friend. This is a PROBLEM. It's 4:08 by my watch, and she tells me it needs to have my name on it. Run she says, and I'll be here as long as you get back before 4:30.
I run. I ask a group of old ladies if I'm going the right way, they motion me onwards, and yell that I have to turn left. I turn and start running to the end of a dead end. Not that one, one yells, she's on her bike and has started following me. I'll take you she says. Ok, I pant (I haven't run since I've been here, and even with the recent games the air is a little chewy) you bike, I'll run. So I run. I clutch my messenger bag under my arm and pound down the street. My guardian angel rides behind. I steal a look back, keep going, she calls out, why are you looking at me. A big intersection is coming up. Keep going she yells, across the street. Wang qian zou. She points forward with a free hand. I keep running, as close to flat out as I can after months of inactivity and under-eating. My Crocs slosh around my feet. Kaui pao, she yells gleefully, go faster. Finally the left comes, I pant a heartfelt thank you and pound into the empty public security bureau. I need...a...household....registration, I pant, giving them Alex's. For this address. What's the rush, they ask? The office closes at 4:30 I say. I'm sweating and my hair keeps falling in my eyes. Well don't rush me, says the woman behind the desk, if I rush I'll mess up and then nothing will work. Ok, Ok, I'm not rushing you, but hurry it up alright? She finishes the paperwork. So did you just move in? She asks. I'm staying with my friend, I say. Wait, you don't live there? Danger, flashes in neon across my clouded vision. No, no, I just moved in, I live there with my friend, I lie. Ok then, there you go, she says, and I'm out the door shouting thank you at the same time. A mad dash back to the MOD. I get back and stand panting outside the barrier, looking at the woman who's been "helping" me. She looks up from the person she's dealing with. That was quick, she says, wow you really made good time. I nod. That's about all I can do. The old lady's cries of forward, forward, faster, are still ringing in my ears. She looks through the (now a bit rumpled) paperwork. You can stay an extra....she calculates on her cell phone...22 days. Then you need to leave and get a new visa. My multi-entry visa is supposed to be good for a year? They changed the rules as of September. Ok, well thank you, thank you. See you in five business days.
I stumble out of the ministry still short of breath, and see that my new, 22 day visa is going to cost a whopping $130. Not a cheap day, by any means, but I have a new Visa and I have a new bank account, and I did it myself. Check back soon for stories of Tibetan monks, Kazaks, and Lanzhou, the worst city in the world.
August 11, 2008
Racking up points for cultural experiences
I’ve written a bit about the cultural experience of McDonalds abroad before, but these past couple days have all been about seeing different sides of Beijing. I’ve been to a DJ dance party, a hardcore punk show, and a sports bar. This is not the kind of stuff I do in the States. At home, I listen to bluegrass mostly. Maybe a little bit of ska. The hardest stuff I listen to is Catch 22 or maybe Flogging Molly. I don’t go to dance parties, and I don’t thing I’ve ever been in a sports bar, but when in Rome, right?
I won’t bore you with details of the DJ thing. It was loud, there were lots of lights, smoke machines, drunk people. We stayed out late. We danced a lot. I talked to the bathroom attendant a good amount, mostly because it seemed like a pretty thankless job. I ran into Colby kids, go figure.
Prior to this exercise in excess, Kyle and I watched the opening ceremonies on an enormous plasma screen set up for that very purpose in a park. Everybody was smiling. The show was great (I mean, did you see it??) but the crowd was pretty fantastic too. They were just so psyched. It was a good place to be. We got a little bit of dinner in a Cantonese restaurant near the park while the country procession was still going on. In the center of the room, under a tv screen, a group of young Chinese environmental activists were drinking, saluting, and spontaneously breaking into song. They sang the national anthem, and old communist songs from their grammar school days. The fact that their work involves criticizing the government for environmental inadequacies meant nothing at all. The Olympics were opening in China, like never before.
The punk show was a totally different story. The club is one I’ve been to before, quite a few times, but I’d never seen groups like this. The second band (the first isn’t really worth mentioning) was lead by a guy wearing pajamas, bright socks, and big white glasses. He had an incredible amount of energy (not to mention style) and seemed to be pretty talented. We found out later he’s just graduated from high school, and Mike, the club owner swears up and down he’s the next big thing.
Then there was the main attraction, a hardcore street punk band called demerit. The lead singer had a roaring-threeheaded-tigerbeast tattooed on his stomach. He stood up, and all the drunk guys moshing in front of the state would run up and hold their hands out to him, begging for more. That’s what I call stage presence. The music itself, was pretty good. It’s easy to think of Punk and just so much noise, but once you start listening there’s actually a lot of melody, and a lot of the music (connected to how political it is as a musical movement) borders on anthemnic. Add simple lyrics and a willingness to let the biggest fan sing into the mic, and it was a pretty dynamic show. Not something I’m going to listen to in my room, but incredibly fun to watch.
The sports bar, an enormous two floor compound on the edge of town, was a different story. There the dynamic performance was the US roundly trouncing China in the first basketball game of the Games. It was pretty easy to follow what was going on. When the huge American contingent let out a guttural roar, that meant we’d just put one past Yao Ming. When the smaller Chinese group started cheering “Zhong Guo Jia You” (literally, step on the gas, china) that meant we’d dropped the ball. It’s worth mentioning that I ran into a friend named Charles at this pub (The Goose n’ Duck). Charles goes to Bowdoin. He’s been in Harbin for the last seven months, and got to Beijing yesterday morning. I had no idea he was around, but that’s the kind of place Beijing is.
I run into people I know, people I used to work with, and people I just recognize for some reason on an almost daily basis. Don’t ask me why.
Looking towards the future, the cultural experiences look like they’re going to continue. Kyle and I are watching beach volleyball on Wednesday, and on Thursday we head out west to Xinjiang, where you might have heard there’s a bit of an insurrection going on. It should be pretty interesting.
I won’t bore you with details of the DJ thing. It was loud, there were lots of lights, smoke machines, drunk people. We stayed out late. We danced a lot. I talked to the bathroom attendant a good amount, mostly because it seemed like a pretty thankless job. I ran into Colby kids, go figure.
Prior to this exercise in excess, Kyle and I watched the opening ceremonies on an enormous plasma screen set up for that very purpose in a park. Everybody was smiling. The show was great (I mean, did you see it??) but the crowd was pretty fantastic too. They were just so psyched. It was a good place to be. We got a little bit of dinner in a Cantonese restaurant near the park while the country procession was still going on. In the center of the room, under a tv screen, a group of young Chinese environmental activists were drinking, saluting, and spontaneously breaking into song. They sang the national anthem, and old communist songs from their grammar school days. The fact that their work involves criticizing the government for environmental inadequacies meant nothing at all. The Olympics were opening in China, like never before.
The punk show was a totally different story. The club is one I’ve been to before, quite a few times, but I’d never seen groups like this. The second band (the first isn’t really worth mentioning) was lead by a guy wearing pajamas, bright socks, and big white glasses. He had an incredible amount of energy (not to mention style) and seemed to be pretty talented. We found out later he’s just graduated from high school, and Mike, the club owner swears up and down he’s the next big thing.
Then there was the main attraction, a hardcore street punk band called demerit. The lead singer had a roaring-threeheaded-tigerbeast tattooed on his stomach. He stood up, and all the drunk guys moshing in front of the state would run up and hold their hands out to him, begging for more. That’s what I call stage presence. The music itself, was pretty good. It’s easy to think of Punk and just so much noise, but once you start listening there’s actually a lot of melody, and a lot of the music (connected to how political it is as a musical movement) borders on anthemnic. Add simple lyrics and a willingness to let the biggest fan sing into the mic, and it was a pretty dynamic show. Not something I’m going to listen to in my room, but incredibly fun to watch.
The sports bar, an enormous two floor compound on the edge of town, was a different story. There the dynamic performance was the US roundly trouncing China in the first basketball game of the Games. It was pretty easy to follow what was going on. When the huge American contingent let out a guttural roar, that meant we’d just put one past Yao Ming. When the smaller Chinese group started cheering “Zhong Guo Jia You” (literally, step on the gas, china) that meant we’d dropped the ball. It’s worth mentioning that I ran into a friend named Charles at this pub (The Goose n’ Duck). Charles goes to Bowdoin. He’s been in Harbin for the last seven months, and got to Beijing yesterday morning. I had no idea he was around, but that’s the kind of place Beijing is.
I run into people I know, people I used to work with, and people I just recognize for some reason on an almost daily basis. Don’t ask me why.
Looking towards the future, the cultural experiences look like they’re going to continue. Kyle and I are watching beach volleyball on Wednesday, and on Thursday we head out west to Xinjiang, where you might have heard there’s a bit of an insurrection going on. It should be pretty interesting.
July 30, 2008
New Video and a Proper Post
So here’s my newest video for current. Look for an essay about the band somewhere shortly hopefully.
Now, for a proper post.
This past weekend we did the first really post worthy thing since I’ve been here. We went to Hong Kong. I would say it was like going to a completely different country, but that’s mostly true (it’s a special administrative region, if you care). What was most remarkable, to me at least, was how diverse it was.
Especially where we were staying. Chunking Mansions is a run-down tenement block in the middle of all the ritz, popularized by Won Kar Wai’s early film Chunking Express. The bottom two floors were full of shops, internet cafes, restaurants, and peopled by a mix of Indians, Africans, HK Cantonese, and tourists. It was like being in a western city. One of the things about Beijing is that if you’re not a foreigner, you’re Han Chinese, and that’s pretty much it. So diversity was exciting, as was Indian food.
We spent our time in HK seeing sites, staying out late, visiting with Kyle’s cousin Nick, and seeing Batman. Another cool aspect of the city was the level to which it wasn’t built in enclaves. Expensive boutiques were next to oldish apartment complexes, and outside of the central business district, everything seemed pretty mixed in.
One of the things I enjoyed most was riding the Tram on HK island. We weren’t really going anywhere, but it was a great way to get a look around, and the breeze from the second floor was simply fantastic. DimSum was good too. And did I mention Indian food? Otherwise, everything was pretty great, and the harbor was a great place to relax at night and have a beer. I would go back.
Now we’re back in Beijing, I’m busy working on a couple projects, and I have a JOB INTERVIEW tomorrow. We’ll see how that goes. I know I promised pictures soon, and I’ll say it again. Soon, there will be new pictures.
Love from the Big Dumpling,
Martin
Now, for a proper post.
This past weekend we did the first really post worthy thing since I’ve been here. We went to Hong Kong. I would say it was like going to a completely different country, but that’s mostly true (it’s a special administrative region, if you care). What was most remarkable, to me at least, was how diverse it was.
Especially where we were staying. Chunking Mansions is a run-down tenement block in the middle of all the ritz, popularized by Won Kar Wai’s early film Chunking Express. The bottom two floors were full of shops, internet cafes, restaurants, and peopled by a mix of Indians, Africans, HK Cantonese, and tourists. It was like being in a western city. One of the things about Beijing is that if you’re not a foreigner, you’re Han Chinese, and that’s pretty much it. So diversity was exciting, as was Indian food.
We spent our time in HK seeing sites, staying out late, visiting with Kyle’s cousin Nick, and seeing Batman. Another cool aspect of the city was the level to which it wasn’t built in enclaves. Expensive boutiques were next to oldish apartment complexes, and outside of the central business district, everything seemed pretty mixed in.
One of the things I enjoyed most was riding the Tram on HK island. We weren’t really going anywhere, but it was a great way to get a look around, and the breeze from the second floor was simply fantastic. DimSum was good too. And did I mention Indian food? Otherwise, everything was pretty great, and the harbor was a great place to relax at night and have a beer. I would go back.
Now we’re back in Beijing, I’m busy working on a couple projects, and I have a JOB INTERVIEW tomorrow. We’ll see how that goes. I know I promised pictures soon, and I’ll say it again. Soon, there will be new pictures.
Love from the Big Dumpling,
Martin
July 21, 2008
July 17, 2008
just an update
So it’s been about a week I guess, and I can’t complain. China continues to be China, and the summer continues being hot. Lots of touring with Louis and his gang, a rainy trip to the great wall, and a couple of kickass concerts, and now I’m heading south to the city on the sea, Shanghai, for the weekend.
I’ve started working as a freelance consultant, polishing interviews. It’s fairly mindless work and the pay isn’t too bad. I’m still trying to be a journalist, and doing a little better than before. A new podcast is up by the way. Last night I went to my first expat dinner party of this trip. I never cease to be impressed with how smart and cool a lot of the people living here are. Others are less so, but there are enough people in Beijing that you don’t have to be friends with someone purely based on shared heritage.
Because louis was here, we’ve been treated to some truly fantastic meals by friends of the family. Heaping dishes, groaning tables. It’s a big change from the street food I’ve been eating on a pretty regular basis. We even went to an old Beijing style restaurant, which serves my favorite dish, a kind of fermented doufu resembling brains. The dish is grey, spreadable, and undeniably delicious. Kind of like cottage cheese mixed with….something else. Other highlights included a foot and a half tall leaning tower of fried potato sticks, a delicious (and fancy) round of peking duck, and a plate (ordered by accident) of bitter melon which we finished in spite of its rather terrible taste.
For day to day account’s look to Kyle’s blog. I’ll be putting a new batch of pictures up soon.
Heart. Martin.
I’ve started working as a freelance consultant, polishing interviews. It’s fairly mindless work and the pay isn’t too bad. I’m still trying to be a journalist, and doing a little better than before. A new podcast is up by the way. Last night I went to my first expat dinner party of this trip. I never cease to be impressed with how smart and cool a lot of the people living here are. Others are less so, but there are enough people in Beijing that you don’t have to be friends with someone purely based on shared heritage.
Because louis was here, we’ve been treated to some truly fantastic meals by friends of the family. Heaping dishes, groaning tables. It’s a big change from the street food I’ve been eating on a pretty regular basis. We even went to an old Beijing style restaurant, which serves my favorite dish, a kind of fermented doufu resembling brains. The dish is grey, spreadable, and undeniably delicious. Kind of like cottage cheese mixed with….something else. Other highlights included a foot and a half tall leaning tower of fried potato sticks, a delicious (and fancy) round of peking duck, and a plate (ordered by accident) of bitter melon which we finished in spite of its rather terrible taste.
For day to day account’s look to Kyle’s blog. I’ll be putting a new batch of pictures up soon.
Heart. Martin.
July 10, 2008
July 09, 2008
I've been podcasting!
Check it out. My bit starts in at 7:30 or so. (click bypass this message, to get to the page. I swear I'm not a known spammer)
July 08, 2008
Just sort of living...
Since my last post, gosh, almost a week ago, I haven't been doing too much. I landed a podcasting job (pro bono for the time being), and have been doing a little other work, mostly making big plans that may or may not come to fruition. But I'm trying. And Kyle is here.
We went out to bars for the weekend. A student bar for the 4th, where everyone was chanting, U-S-A, and drinking bud heavy. It was a good time. Saturday night we went to a new bar in search of free food and drink, and then to an older one for free rock. Not a bad night all things considered. I hope I never chant USA. I mean, the brazilians chant ole, the Chinese yell Jia You (yo) which might mean "add gas" but really means, "come'on guys, lets win this thing." All the US has is stupid initials.
We also went to the Summer Palace, which was pretty, as usual, and full of tourists (both national and international). Tonight we saw Hancock, which was a bit silly but pretty fun, in a huge theater, and then I went and sat in the park and pretended to be a reporter.
Some people shied away, but one man, a drunk construction worker was very keen to talk to me, to complain about how he'd been working for a month and hadn't gotten paid. If they don't pay in the next couple days I might get invited to come down to the worksite and take a look. We'll see if it actually happens. I spent an enjoyable twenty minutes listening to revolutionary songs sung by a group of 30 or so aging communists. It's refreshing to hear, and even a little anachronistic. I think I'll go back and keep hanging out with them. But that's it. It hasn't been crazy, but it's been good. If you write me emails, I'll write back.
We went out to bars for the weekend. A student bar for the 4th, where everyone was chanting, U-S-A, and drinking bud heavy. It was a good time. Saturday night we went to a new bar in search of free food and drink, and then to an older one for free rock. Not a bad night all things considered. I hope I never chant USA. I mean, the brazilians chant ole, the Chinese yell Jia You (yo) which might mean "add gas" but really means, "come'on guys, lets win this thing." All the US has is stupid initials.
We also went to the Summer Palace, which was pretty, as usual, and full of tourists (both national and international). Tonight we saw Hancock, which was a bit silly but pretty fun, in a huge theater, and then I went and sat in the park and pretended to be a reporter.
Some people shied away, but one man, a drunk construction worker was very keen to talk to me, to complain about how he'd been working for a month and hadn't gotten paid. If they don't pay in the next couple days I might get invited to come down to the worksite and take a look. We'll see if it actually happens. I spent an enjoyable twenty minutes listening to revolutionary songs sung by a group of 30 or so aging communists. It's refreshing to hear, and even a little anachronistic. I think I'll go back and keep hanging out with them. But that's it. It hasn't been crazy, but it's been good. If you write me emails, I'll write back.
July 03, 2008
July 02, 2008
Ch-Ch-Changes.
It’s common knowledge that Beijing (and China more broadly) has been changing as quickly as I used to change my clothes (up to 4 times I day I’m told). But lately, the changes have been slowing down. I’ve returned after a year and a half, and found everything as I remember it for the most part. Sure that building didn’t used to be there, and things are suddenly more expensive, but the City really looks…the same. What’s changed more than anything is how I see it.
Today, in honor of my birthday, and the fact that I’ve yet to land a real job, and the fact that the weather had turned (only in Beijing does 90 degrees and 100 percent humidity count as nice) I went for a long walk in a part of town I’d never been to. I knew I was walking south east, and that’s pretty much all I needed. I brought a camera, and a book, and I was all set.
I walked along busy streets for a while before turning down a side street into an older neighborhood. This is the kind of street (it could be called, albeit improperly, a hutong) that once struck me as cool in a quaint kind of way. By the last time I was here I’d graduated to seeing it as a valuable example of realness. The street was full of people who didn’t necessarily want to be my friend, filth, dogs, people selling vegetable, and children with crotchless pants (the subject of another post maybe…). Some other time I might have stopped to take pictures, but today, I just felt kind of sorry for the people living there. They didn’t want to be carrying on a semblance of tradition. Give any one of them an apartment in a nice new building and they would have taken it in a second. There was nothing romantic about their situation, there was little value in their squalor.
There are still romantic back alleys in Beijing, where grandparents live in direct opposition to modernizing influences, where toddlers play on the same streets their parents played, but this part of town, the middle nothing between the third ring road and the zoo, was not that. But that’s ok. City’s have shitty neighborhoods, and Beijing is like any city in that regard. Physical changes may have slowed (never stopped) but the city is still in flux. All of the sudden there are poor people in the socialist republic, and hopefully they’ll succeed in the new way of life.
June 27, 2008
Back in Beijing
After nearly a year and a half of life not quite worth blogging about, I'm back in Beijing, and ready to start up again. I'll be updating the site weekly(ish) and I hope to keep things light, lively, and maybe even interesting.
So I just got back, two days ago or something like that, and I've been spending all my time getting situated, which basically means going to various offices and getting various receipts. The internet had to be paid for, the phone bill, and the notorious foreigner temporary household registration. I'm not swimming in stamped bits of paper. I needed a phone to. Not just wanted, needed. So I went to the second hand phone market (of course there's one) and got myself a phone. It didn't work. So I schlepped all the way back and yelled at him until he gave me a much nicer phone for an additional 10 dollars or so -- suggesting that I'd overpaid for my first piece of crap phone from the get-go. I guess you live and learn. Thats about it -- but look forward to such interesting subjects as: "living and working, working for a living" and "they might not pay me but I'll freelance anyway" coming up in the near future.
Until then--
Martin
So I just got back, two days ago or something like that, and I've been spending all my time getting situated, which basically means going to various offices and getting various receipts. The internet had to be paid for, the phone bill, and the notorious foreigner temporary household registration. I'm not swimming in stamped bits of paper. I needed a phone to. Not just wanted, needed. So I went to the second hand phone market (of course there's one) and got myself a phone. It didn't work. So I schlepped all the way back and yelled at him until he gave me a much nicer phone for an additional 10 dollars or so -- suggesting that I'd overpaid for my first piece of crap phone from the get-go. I guess you live and learn. Thats about it -- but look forward to such interesting subjects as: "living and working, working for a living" and "they might not pay me but I'll freelance anyway" coming up in the near future.
Until then--
Martin
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