Funny Moments and Photos from China

Random funnies:

I'm watching the news and a politician (not President Hu I don't think) comes on with a red, white and blue-colored photo/drawing of himself on the wall behind him with the word HOPE underneath. Like a political knockoff. Say, that doesn’t LOOK like an Obama poster, but it’s close… nah, give me the Guci Purse and the Nikey Air Gordons. They’re real, right?

I found I have an “Emergency Kit” in the hotel bathroom for which I would be charged 50 RMB if I broke the seal. Contents of said Emergency Kit according to the label?

Two International Standard Condoms
Special Bath Gel (for Men)
Special Bath Gel (for Women)
The Passions Lasting (huh? Viagra maybe? Ginseng? Baby cobra in a bottle of whiskey? Powdered rhinoceros horn?)

Shoot, a fella could have a pretty good time in Vegas with all this stuff (and that, folks, is my second Slim Pickens reference in 24 hours. Post a comment if you get it.)

Maybe you can’t quite read this, but the sign under this tree with the bench around it reads: For Safety Reasons Please Don’t Sit Here. Kinda bizarre, but I gave the tree a wide berth.


These fire escape instructions would delay my escape as I tried to figure out just what it is they are saying. Better to use this Filtering Respiratory Protective Devises for Self-Rescue from Fire.


A lot of menus are pictured point-and-eat for me obviously, and I would panic in an all-text restaurant. But sometimes the pictures will get you into trouble. For example, nothing visually seems to set beef and, say, donkey apart. Also, this yummy dessert?

Nope. That's mashed potatoes with strawberry and chocolate syrup.

Do polluted vegetable eaters seem to have a chip on their shoulder with non-polluted vegetable eaters the way meat eaters get defensive around vegetarians?

And with all the convoluted English in China, this warning at the airport finally simplifies some of the official technical legalese-style crap we native English speakers often write on things and gets right to the point:

“It is strictly forbidden to carry other people’s stuff.”

Wuhan, China

A variation on an old axiom: There are no atheists in foxholes or on China Eastern Airlines flights. I think I converted through 7 different religions in the first 10 minutes alone. I have never had such a wicked take-off of sudden steep climbs, turbulence worse than ever, and pretty big accelerations and decelerations. Nice cold sweat bath for my retreat from Beijing after a delay of about an hour on the tarmac.

Change of scene is Wuhan! Which sounds vaguely like Homer Simpson meets Charlie Chan or Slim Pickens goes to Shanghai. I was sick to death of Beijing, mostly the frustration of never being able to find a taxi and even if I did, being refused because most drivers don’t know where anything is. How does THAT work? (Answer: it doesn’t)

An agent explained to me that in China, the north has centralized heat in the winter (Beijing actually pipes boiler water between buildings) while the south doesn’t typically have heated homes. The line is the Yangtze River and, he told me, the rule of heat or no heat is almost down to northern bank yes and southern bank no. No better place to test that theory then than in Wuhan which is split by China’s longest river (which actually runs south to north at this point before making a turn east) with the “towns” of Hankou and Hanyang on the west bank, and Wuchang on the east. I’ll tell you this, the Holiday Inn Riverside has heat and I don’t know how to cool it off.

My view is from the 17th floor overlooking the muddy waters of the Yangtze and Qingchuan Pavilion (a Ming-Dynasty style building but renovated just a couple decades ago – but still, it looks cool). I decided to go on a food trek and asked at the front desk about the subway line I see on the map. “Not built yet.” Beijing and Shanghai are definitely where all the money goes. I how to get to Ji Qing Jie night street for cheap eats and they told me I should take a taxi. Stubborn, I asked about the bus, but was told they don’t go there. Well, how do locals get there? Surely not taxi? English level here does not support discussions and so I bought the 5 yuan tourist map from the front desk and set off walking though I was told that is impossible.

Just one big steel bridge between me and Hankou where all the goodies are across the Hanjiang River (which joins Yangtze just north of the hotel). I see why they advised against walking. I walked on the highway facing traffic once I saw that the locals walked right out there on the shoulderless road. Gets the pulse going. When I got all the way to the top I found stairs coming up from the riverside and a protected pedestrian lane across. Whew.

On the other side I suddenly felt I was in China. Not Beijing and its half brilliance, hastily Westernized, ho-hum, Where you from mister streets. Like honking horns, men pulling what you might call oversize dollies loaded with textiles from little warehouses and shops down to the ports. Food vendors on and off the curb, people scattering everywhere, shouting, working, smoking, crisscrossing, places to be, things to do… the total chaos of real life, real work, no suits and “business” lunches. The hard scrabble honest workaday China.

I bought a piece of flatbread, spicy seasonings and warm from the roadside makeshift oven, black sesame sprinkled on it (which looked disturbingly like the mouse turds from two summers ago when I found the little hole behind the stove in my kitchen, thank you very much.)

I walked many blocks through all of this and then the street opened up to the neon and flashing lights of a commercial zone. Shopping, style, coffee shops, some Western chains (McDonalds, KFC, Starbucks, egad, Wal-Mart…) lined the avenue but the air of old China remained with street grills, the energy of a massive moving crowd. And what really left me feeling very very far from Beijing was the fact that not ONE other Westerner appeared ANYWHERE for the next three hours. I drew a few curious glances, but no one shouted Hey, where you from? Come on, I just wanna talk to you! Want to get some tea/socks/look at my art? No one says that crap here because if a local is trying to get by on scamming foreigners he or she is going to have to wait a very long time to actually see one.

I had a couple of recommendations and found one: Si Ji Mei, a restaurant serving the quintessential dumpling of Wuhan. I observed others, ordered one bamboo steam tray of them, and waited in line for a very long time for them to come up. Inside is a bit of pork and broth. Get the broth out with your teeth and a spoon to catch it, then dip the rest of the dumpling into soy with thin strips of ginger in it. Worth the walk and wait.

On the long walk back I came across a little girl, perhaps 5? Soiled from head to toe as if she worked as an auto mechanic all day. Her brother (?) sat nearby clanging a small brass bell/cymbal on the walk as she performed little acrobatic and contortionist feats for change. I stopped when she stepped up to a strange device resting on a strip of soggy cardboard. It was like a one-foot high metal stand with a spinning mouthpiece at the top of it. She bent down and slipped her mouth around this awful dirty cloth-covered thing like the toe part of a shoe stretcher, small enough to fill her tiny mouth. Then, she essentially rested her back on the top of her skull. I don’t know how else to say it. And she started spinning. A head, upright and biting on this tripod, her neck somehow bent back enough, hell, FOLDED back enough so that the center of her spine rested on top of her HEAD, and her legs and feet dangled out in front of her face. I don’t see that it was painful, but the sight of it made my stomach lurch like I was seeing someone cut in half. The bills came out of the pocket for that one. Gees.

Bottoms Up in Beijing: Competitive Drinking

Nothing like being wined and dined China style. I met with an education consultancy agency and the Chairman took me and the staff out for lunch. As is common in local restaurants we got our own private room with the large rotating glass table top. Is this a lazy Susan in China? So just whirl your dish around from the other side of the table and pluck out whatever you want with chopsticks. I worried about etiquette – aren’t we all using our own silverware to go digging around in everyone’s food? Yep.

The Beijing Duck (that still sounds weird to me after most of my life it being Peking Duck) required some assembly and a woman came in the room and donned plastic gloves. She started rolling duck, vegetables and sauce into tortilla-like sheets of tofu and the staff kept loading them onto my plate. The trouble with several days in a row of agent visits is the whole week everyone wants to take me out for duck for lunch and dinner. The hospitality is appreciated, however. Very gracious. Then there is the drinking part of all this. The Chairman brought in a bottle of liquor which I was told is sort of a Chinese form of rice wine/vodka. I wouldn’t exactly call something that was 104 proof wine. Drinking were me, a retired Canadian school rep, and two staffers. The rest were allegedly driving though there were four of them and only two cars. Whatever. Time to drink the American under the table. We toasted, Bottoms up! (kahm-bay!) and started knocking back the stuff. I knocked back a scoop of mashed potatoes (unexpected dish) and another of rice after every drink in hopes of intercepting a bit of the firewater. We finished off the bottle, remarkably, and I was relieved they didn’t order another. I was already a bit snoozy for the afternoon. I guess I passed the test though.

Four buttons to press for: 1) order, 2) water, 3) the check, 4) cancel accidental-drunken or curious-tourist button pressing.

H1N1 to Queen’s Bishop 4

So the flu panic season is upon us and the airport security is on guard. I wonder if it will affect Threat Level Orange back in the States? Actually, I wonder if ANYTHING affects Threat Level Orange. It’s been orange since as long as we went Star Trek at the airport. So China is full on flu alert threat level red. With 1.3 BILLION people living in an area not much bigger than the US (and we have 300 million) and density being what it is (both population and personal – note the guy next to me coughing endlessly and just turning his head to do it into the aisle. Maybe it’s not a tickle in his throat but practice for a trip to the doctor. Guys, you know what I’m talking about.) and considering the general national pastime of spitting (laugh if you want but in three days the gunk running out of my sinuses from the pollution will tempt me to join them), it’s probably a really good idea. We had to complete health forms before arrival, questions about where I have been in the last 7 days, the health of the people I’ve been with or passed in the street, where I could be found in China this week if the guy three seats behind me turned up viral, etc. Several weeks ago some school reps attending an education fair got pulled aside and quarantined for 7 days in a not so nice hotel. This isn’t just for those who are showing a fever, but for those who sat next to a feverish person on the plane! They record your seat number on the health form. Well, my fingers are crossed, but the guy next to me keeps coughing. He was wiping his mouth earlier with a napkin and examining it closely, then spitting at the napkin like he had a bit of tobacco on the tip of his tongue or a poppy seed and looking closely again, wiping it with a thumbnail. (wtf??) Once into the terminal I make fast for customs wondering if working up a speedwalker’s sweat might not raise my heat profile on the infrared scanner. I passed with flying choleras and stopped to admire the video system which looks straight out of Predator as red/orange people blobs moved past the camera. So I now I am in country and free to be as ill as I want to be.

Blogging from China : Day 1 Beijing

What a surprise I had when I arrived in my hotel room and went to sign into my blog to send what I wrote on the plane and nothing came up. Hm. Weird. Internet problem? Nope. Yahoo worked. So then I tried Facebook. Nothing. Then Twitter. Blank. So I googled "China blocks blogger" and sure enough, I am behind the Chinese governmental block of the series of tubes known as the internets. Crazy, huh? Well, that's pretty clever and all, but I just emailed all this to Peung and had her sign in and post the stuff anyway...

I was unimpressed by United Airlines on my recent flight to Asia . Perhaps I have been lucky these past few years but I have never flown a trans-Pacific flight without the personal video screen on the seatback in front of me. Of course, Japanese airlines JAL and ANA have fabulous planes with the latest in personal entertainment. Plus fresh sushi is never a bad thing. And even American Airlines with its aging planes has managed to keep me well distracted with films I’ve missed. So I was more than a little annoyed to find that the 13-14 hour United Airlines flight to Tokyo was going to be with just the main cabin screen and god help me, Ice Age 3. (Star Trek was on the Tokyo to Bangkok segment at least) United already has a pretty bad reputation (note the instant YouTube hit about United Smashes Guitars) so I will definitely think twice about saving 50 bucks and flying United internationally again. And don’t pretend it’s a favor to offer me five more inches of leg room for $150… each way and each flight segment! $600 for five inches? Why not $400 for five inches, like buy four get an inch free or something? Can I rent one of those little spiky nail things churches keep on windowsills to keep pigeons from perching? That would be really useful on the armrest for the all-too-common greedy elbows I’ve been flying with lately which don’t stop at the armrest but venture into my airspace. What the hell is THAT all about? Mind if I put my head on your shoulder, mister?? I have some personal space issues here.

Today I boarded Thai Airways to Beijing and was dismayed to find another somewhat worn plane (and freaking Ice Age 3 on the main cabin screen). And we were an hour late for take-off. (Hey, if the pilots aren’t comfortable flying in the rain, then neither am I!) Food was so-so and when I asked for Coke I got Pepsi. (Yes, I’m picky about that, but it’s one thing to not have one or the other, but just silly to have both right there at hand. I didn’t notice until she had poured and wasn’t about to be THAT passenger for the day.) But isn’t it amazing how one little thing can change the mood? Like when the pretty Thai flight attendant came down the aisle and said, “ Cognac , sir?” Cognac ??? In Economy? Ice Age 3 might just become a little funnier.

Sweet Sticky Rice and Not So Yummy Noodles

I love it when Peung’s mother travels outside the city because when she comes back she always stops for some sort of food or recipe along the highway that you don't normally get in Bangkok. Thankfully it is always something delicious and not grilled rat on a stick (seriously). This week it was khao lam, sweet sticky rice baked over a fire inside a two-foot long, three-inch thick tube of bamboo. The funny thing is I had just seen a travel show episode on my flight to Bangkok about Malaysia, where they were making the exact same thing. (Well, not exactly, as Peung pointed out: “Not the same. This is Thai!”) We dug out the gooey glutinous rice mixed with coconut milk and some mixed with black beans as well. Catnip for humans.

Yesterday Peung and I met her mother for lunch at the cafeteria of Peung’s niece’s school. Cheap and good eats and a wide variety of food stations. I had a Vietnamese spring roll with its accompanying branch of fresh basil, and some fried chicken over rice. And for a sort of comfort-of-home appetizer and yet popular Thai street item, I chose the four cocktail wieners wrapped in bacon and deep-fried on a skewer. Bet you never saw that in an American Thai restaurant.

Peung’s mother offered me something to try. “What’s that?”

“It’s a kind of fried rice.” It looked like the Italian arancini di riso, the stuffed, deep-fried rice balls which I love. She had broken it apart on her plate and I scooped up some of it mixed with some seasoning and the rice noodles that were inside.

“And noodle pieces, too?” I was thinking how perfectly al dente they were as I chewed.

She looked at the plate, at the scattering of little semi-transparent rubbery strips. “Oh, sorry. No, that is pork skin.”

Only one person not laughing at the lunch table today.

How to Make Khao Lam:

Soak rice overnight and then drain. Add a pinch of salt and pack the rice into short lengths of bamboo. Pour in coconut cream and plug the tube with wadded up banana leaves. You can also add black beans. Cook the bamboo tubes over an open fire. When they cool, peel them open (or in the case of the big tubes we had, crack them open).

Return to Bangkok

After another eternal three-flight, 27-hour trip, I am back in the City of Angels. Looks like a little Thai stimulus money has hit the streets. I am impressed with the progress on the SkyTrain and the sidewalks beneath the stations which are now walkable, even, and elevated a couple feet against potential street flooding and I think to prevent the not always death-defying jay walker. The new station east from end-of-the-line On Nut station (which is still not open until perhaps early next year?) is one block from my studio apartment. Last year at least two people died skipping the pedestrian overpass and trying to dart through traffic. The empty lot at that corner which looked like a garbage dump 6 months ago, is now cleared out and filled with flowers. Loads of condos are being built in all directions and one wonders how much the market will bear. Roughly $60,000 to $100,000 for some pretty small studios.

This trip will last 6 months during which time I will travel to China perhaps twice, Japan, probably Vietnam and a couple other countries yet to be determined (Burma? Malaysia? Laos? Maybe even Australia if Air Asia throws out an offer to Perth I can't refuse.)

My first stop, after sleeping off the lag at Peung's family's house, was Sukhumvit Soi 22 to my favorite restaurant without a name for a plate of khao krapow mu sap kai dao. (Pardon the spelling there, as if most of us would know one way or the other) That is, rice with fried basil, ground pork and a fried egg on top. My standby. With a bottle of proof that Coca Cola changes its recipe abroad and that it tastes so much better in a glass bottle.