Some Photos and Captions

Too much text lately, ey? Let's have some photos.

From top to bottom, left to right:

The view from my office. According to my boss, the red buildings on the left side were execution grounds about a century ago. The red keeps the bad spirits away. Behind that building is a massive park centered around Deng Xiaoping on top of a mountain.

We were walking back from Overseas Chinese Town [OCT] after a CouchSurfing meetup. We just got done telling our visitors that Shenzhen, essentially, is a safe city despite its stereotype of lawlessness and crime. Swinging her purse in circles at 2am, however, Cody had it snatched. I got kicked out of the interogation room after snapping this. She spent two hours answering questions like "what was your first pets name?"


A sea turtle. Being "protected" in a Haikou seafood restaurant. Yeah....

We've all heard of the One-Child Policy, right? Well, Pizza Hut in China has a One Trip To The Salad Bar Policy too. 1.3b people. One salad bar. Law and order, peoples, law and order! This is the result.

A group of Vietnamese/Chinese-American businessmen asked me if I wanted to go shopping with them. They took me furniture shopping. Something like $50,000 for this desk. "Wouldn't 1000 year old wood be better in a 1000 year old tree," I asked.

He was in the Chinese Army for years. He was also hit in the head with a pipe. The words "help me" are written on the dent in his bald and dented head. He jams, man. He runs loops through his keyboard by the crosswalk. Easily my favorite beggar.

Some Photos

Part of a three-tiered waterfall in Pai, northern Thailand.



Calapan, Mindoro Island, Philippines. Hera's hometown.



Chiang Mai, Thailand. Forgot the name of the wat, but it's
somewhere near 700 years old.



The Jeepney. This is who you get around short distances
in Manilla.



Shot through the window-tint of a car. This is one of the
squatter fishing villages outside Calapan



Small church in Calapan


Our resort in Bantayan Island, Cebu, Philippines.

Multi-Post

I've been a bit sick, hence my slowness of posting. I was warned about eating the fried street food, but did I listen? Noooo. When I saw a dude frying banana's I just had to have one. And fried chicken on a stick. And now I'm paying.

It wouldn't be so bad if they Chinese didn't have an entire system of make-believe medicine. Err, "traditional medicine." When I was battling a cold earlier in the week I went to 7-11 to buy Children's Tylenol. They girls almost refused to sell it to me. The side of the box for their preferred medicine had written in plain English, "pear seed extract, grape stem, apple root,...". I got my Children's Tylenol with an orange Fanta Slurpee. I won.

As I type this I hear my roommate shout across the apartment "hot water!" every time I sniffle. Cold water, of course, is bad for your health. Dontcha know?

What's wound up saving me is Google's English-Chinese translator. Just find the scientific name for the medicine you need.

_____________________


Shenzhen is the land of homesickness. I just realized it after Hou Li told me one of her friends here from her home province is going back. It was too much being so far away. For my own part, I've had two bouts of acute homesicksness. It's not at all what I thought I'd be. It's short, spiky, and acute. It makes its attack and runs. It comes when you least expect it.

_____________________

And alas, the pictures I promised. Hera and I went hiking on Lamma Island last weekend. Great hike. Both of us being from beach towns, we wanted to find the nicest beach Hong Kong had to offer. Along the way we perused abandoned villages, which I'll write more about later.

A Few Pictures

One of the things I wasn't expecting when I came to China was Wushui, the Chinese version of the siesta. People just kinda stop what they're doing and konk out after lunch if that's what they feel like doing. My school even gave me keys to conference room and told me pull together four chairs for a makeshift bed. Most people just doze out wherever their work station is.

These next pictures are of the morning calisthenics the kids do every morning at 9:45. The high school kids run out to the game field, universally known as a playground here, while middle and high school all stand in front of their classrooms. It's kind of a choreographed dance move with aerobic tendencies set to a delightfully creepy McDisney song holding it together. It was all in tight formation when I first started, then the kids got sloppy. There were two weeks of intensive re-education where the teachers would have the class practice during the 10-minute breaks until they got it right. It's starting to get a little sloppy again...








There really is no sense of "wait, that's mine" with kids. They love walking off with or hiding my bag, peering into my tea thermos, wearing my sweater, or looking through my schedule book. I habitually find some student grabbing at my arm hair because they've never seen it before. I even had a third grade class whose latest inside joke was to poke their fingers at each others butts in "no no" spots. I was the special guest for the encore of yesterdays show. A new shiny phone was just to awesome a thing to not pass around. Thus, they photographed your humble narrator. Four hours later almost all the hair got whacked off. Again.

Cell Phones and Hong Konglians

I had two days off from school today for "Sports Days," a super-serious Field Day from I gathered. Except not all the kids play. When I asked my classes who was doing what, about a third of the students were playing three or more sports while another third was going to "eat." I asked if it was an eating contest and was told that no, it is not. I was invited to participate myself in the form of a teachers parade at 8am. I declined. I used my two days to shop. Sounds girlish, sure, but I recently discovered a hidden wad of Chinese cash in a previously locked bank account and there were some goods that I needed that weren't nearby.

Tuesday I shopped for cell phones. I've become the master of the art of haggling. I went to the big electronics district of Shenzhen and spent two hours going to every cell phone both, pointing at the Sony Ericsson K750c [K chee-bai-wu], and punching numbers into my old cell's calculator and let the negotiations begin. Earlier I had found a very pleasant shop that offered me yellow tea as I examined the phone and bargained. Once I confirmed they had the best price, I went back and haggled a little bit more and got a 256 meg memory card extra.

It was still expensive, but I think it's worth it. I now have a 2-megapixel camera in my pocket all the time. I can take street pictures without getting all self-conscious. It's really, really hard walking around with my monster of a camera taking incognito shots of the street life. It's been bothering me a lot that I've all but stopped taking photos.

Still in the wealthy mindset after finding so much cash, I walked my roommate to a secret area that Lily showed me a few weeks ago. It's hard to describe. Bai Shi Zhou, our neighborhood, is a land of paradox. If you walk five minutes one way, you're in Real China. Horrible housing, people staring, dirty food. Cross Shennan Dao road and you're in a make-believe Dutch village cum hotel that supports Window of the World, an amusement park sporting replicas of all the wonders of the world. The "Golden Gate Bridge" crosses by our apartment and the "Eiffel Tower" is clearly visable from the bus stop. So are some oddly placed Roman [or Greek] column ruins jutting out of the tree line too.

So anyway there's this little plaza, I don't know what else to call it, hidden behind a 7-11 [chee shir-ee in Chinese, and yes, the have slushies (!!!!!)]. There's a couple little yuppie stores, imported wine and what not, and then it opens up to a beautiful lake flanked by French and Italian coffee houses on one side and an uber-nice and expensive [$12 a plate!] Italian restaurant on the other. I grabbed a Hawaiian pizza and a hot chocolate. $4. That's big money here. Of course, this plaza is largely empty.


Cody at the Plaza-Type Thing
Place



Girl running through the
streets of Bai Shi Zhou

Then today. I've been beating myself up about not exploring the surrounding areas more. Most weekends I just want to go out at night, veg all day. I'm tired. Goungzhou is a huge city just north of us with lots of old culture, Macao is the Portuguese take on Hong Kong bred with Las Vegas, and Zhuhai is supposedly the most romantic city in China. All are an hour away. It costs about $20 round trip to get to each place, which has been my excuse.

So I went back to Hong Kong. I had a mission. I needed jeans. I can find my waist size here, it's just the Chinese like their pants all emo tight. It's bad enough for the boys, but the girls waddle about with their giant stilleto heals and tight, tight pants that hinder lateral hip movement. I had read in Frommer's that there was a district in Honk Kong that hosted factory outlets of clothing being shipped stateside.

I took down the info and made a late exit. I had forgotten how much of a hassle it is getting there. Our subway is tediously slow, for one. Then you get to Lo Hou station and there are a million signs saying "Hong Kong" without a strong directional command. And then you go through customs. You always forget to grab and fill out the little form first. So you get out of line, fill it out, get back in. This time I got in the "Mainland Chinese Residence" line because I'm now a Chinese resident and the "FOREIGNER" line was long. I got through with only a little hassle. Now you go through faux-bird flu IR screening and go through Hong Kong customs. Now change your money and buy a ticket on the train. Now RUN into the train and grab a seat so you're not standing for the next 45 minutes. As Reagan says, "even if it's a little old lady... this is a fight for life, man... just push her on out of the way, son."

Then ride. Ride. Ride. It's now been an hour and a half. You get to Kowloon. I get off at Hung Hom, the supposed paradise for not-skinny foreigners who want jeans at decent prices. I get out of the train station expecting this cornucopia to unfold, but alas, no one's heard of the names I'm dropping that I picked out of the Frommer's guide.

I ask five cabbies if they've heard of it. One has. "The factory?"

He drops me off. Everyone is standing outside the building and a police officer is talking to them. "Fire drill," I'm informed. I love that everyone speaks English in Honk Kong. I grab a bite to eat as I wait for my helpers to go back to work. I find a small restaurant, no English menu but the owner tells me that "I think chow mien is suitable for you." She brings me my plate, it has shrimp all in it. To jack up the price, of course. I'm rich 'cause I'm white, ya know? I pull my standard seafood lie and tell her I'm allergic to get out of paying the extra 10 HK$, giving the Internationally Recognized Hand Gesture of sudden choking death. It doesn't work.

Things kind of go downhill from there when I make it back to the building, Kaiser Estates, and note that absolutely none of the four downstairs corners has a clothing shop. Three of four corners, and even the second floor, support jewelry wholesalers.... but alas, TEFL teachers can't afford to dress themselves in jade with todays wages.

So I wander. Frommer's all but described the district as overflowing with cheap American surplus clothes, so I was bound to spot at least one, right? I walk for thirty minutes through alleys and roads looking before I stumble into a small store with jeans. Lots of jeans. I asked the man inside if he knew where I could find men's jeans and he ushered me inside, took my waist measurements, and started piling up jeans. Alas, Babylon!


Spring Field Store


"We have elastic! It's the latest fashion!"

I politely told my new friend that no, I would not like elastic jeans even if they are very popular in China. That, in fact, it was contrary to the very spirit of me having come so far for pants.

I'll skip all the small talk and waiting prior to me going into the dressing room and get right to it.

"Do you have a girlfriend," he asked.

"Wah bu yuu nu pengyou," I responded in Mandarin. I kept forgetting that even though they're Chinese, Mandarin is a second or third language for them.

"Ohhh! I have very beautiful girl in Shanghai for you! Do you want Chinese girlfriend?"

"Well...."

"How big is your penis?"

Let's stop right there for a moment. There wasn't a hint of abnormality in his voice. None. He might as well have been asking me where my hometown was. In my short acquaintanceship with this man I had detected earnestness, even likability... but not humor. It wasn't a joke. It was, to him, a very legitimate question. I quickly guaged the situation and realized I couldn't rightfully chuckle this one off. So I told him my best guesstimate.

He was genuinely concerned for his friends health and well-being. It turns out his question was directly related to whether or not he thought we would be physically able to copulate. He had very exaggerated [hopefully] notions on the comparative size differences between Asians and Caucasians. Luckily he changed the subject to my age.

My lesson two weeks ago with my students was about self-descriptions. If there's one thing that I had learned recently it was that the Chinese are a lot more self-aware and a lot less self-conscious than we are. I had many awfully cute girls describe themselves as "chubby" and maybe only one or two who really thought they were beautiful. I had truly ugly boys shout out 'UGLYYY!" as if their assigned role in this universe was to occupy one end of the bell curve. It wasn't in some American teen self-hating way, it was just an honest self-assessment.

"Ohh no, she is 40. You are much too young. Do you like fat girls? I have fat girl....."

Before I left he made me promise I would call him so we would have dinner when I come back to Hong Kong. He desperately wanted to set me up with one of four women that ranged from beautiful but fat to ugly but thin, for he was their proxy to all the young boys searching the industrial wasteland of Hung Hom for factory outlets...




A message to the mainland
Chinese: No spitting on
our trains!

The End of the World Party

from right to left: Kelly, Adrian, Reagan, Greg, Lilly, me, Connie, Brendon, Tom, Leaf, Leaf's 14 year-old girlfriend[!].

Stories from my Hong Kong visit will be up in the next day or so. I leave you with a picture from Lamma Island.

Hong Kong

I'm going to Honk Kong tomorrow to get my work visa. Being that I have the week off for National Day, I'll likely be gone for a few days exploring. Take care.

I had to hide a bit to grab this photo of a man waiting for the evening rush of customers to his kabab stand

Old man selling fruit in my new neighborhood



Tags: Treyopia Shenzhen photos street life vendors photography

Last Photography from Tianjin

I spent too long here. I met too many people to leave so quickly. I know it reads like I'm vacation, and to an extent I am, but this lifestyle has its tough parts. You get tired of saying "goodbye." I can't recall how many "going away" parties I've been to, how many good people I've wished adieu. It's my turn now. Whenever someone leaves the apartment (two roommates have left so far), the office custodian comes and she cleans out the room. Tomorrow my room will be dusted and swept to make room some other fresh off the boat laowai. My time has come.

I began my day with a Sichuan lunch. Two of my students from the Jixian retreat - Chinese English teachers - wanted to say goodbye before I left. We met, they laughed at my new short hair and beardless complexion. And then we ate a standard atrociously large six plate meal. We spoke like old friends. Maybe it's because we were. We did spend two weeks in a mountain compound. I realized though that I was truly going to miss Tianjin in more than in a "it was fun" kind of way. I have Chinese friends here. People who care about me.

I left there and decided I needed to get some pictures of my neighborhood I'd been too embarrassed to grab earlier. I started in Carrefour. I deeply wanted a photo of one of the rollerskate security guys. That's the kind of Chinese thing you can't make up. I saw one in front of the registers when I walked in, but he was on the move and it was too crowded. I went upstairs. No luck. I walked around with my camera out for 10 minutes. I went downstairs. Another ten minutes, no sightings. All the time I held my giant FZ30 in hand waiting for my white whale. I walked out of the security checkpoint to find him amongst the registers again. No luck. I went back upstairs. Then downstairs. Then I left. I never got my photo.

I went from there to the kabab stands of the alley. I shot some men playing cards waiting for the bus. I shot a fruit vendor who was happy to play along after I bought some peaches. I walked a few feet further down to a kabab stand that's been my lunch stable since arriving. I'm unusually devoted to family-run businesses. Back in Jacksonville it was Flip's. If you knew, I mean really knew me, we've ate at Flip's. Jim sold Flip's right before I moved... just another sign telling me my time in Jacksonville was coming to a close. I was lucky enough to find out on the last day they were open under old management. These guys, a husband and wife team, were with me when all I knew how to say was "Ni hao" and still wondering if the meat was cat or dog. They were patient with me, so I stayed with them.

Thus, I present to you the photos from my last day in Tianjin:


Victoria and Jessica, two of the Chinese English teachers from the Jixian retreat.



Fruit vendor in my neighborhood street market.



Kababs cooking at my local street BBQ joint



The husband at the kabab stand I frequent.



Ditto.


Shirtless man inside Carrefour. It's hard to express how popular the shirt-over-nipple style is.

[more coming]


Tags: Treyopia Tianjin photos photography stories story Ali Baba Ali Baba's

Connections

I probably won't be able to increase my tempo of one post every few days. Our schedules are very busy and it's a bit of a walk to the village. It's also very difficult making phone calls because there are no land lines at the compound.

Dad, email me and let me know if the car sold or not. I sent a letter to one of your older addresses and I'm not sure if it's still in use.

I leave you with pictures I took walking through orchard trails around the school.



Bike on the trails



One of the trails




Apples growing



A small water canal that turns into a waterfall at our compound/school

Tags: Treyopia China Photography Jixian