Sin City

"Bless me, undress me
Pick your prey in a wicked way
God I must confess...
...I do envy the sinners"
-Tuomas Holopainen

I am chilling in Shanghai right now and hopefuly I will have the entire blog updated tonight (it is at least a week behind). Meanwhile, if you want to have a gimpse of the kind of things in I am seeing here in Shanghai, please watch this video. It will give you a good idea of what goes on in this town.

WARNING: Viewer's DISCRESION STROGLY ADVISED!

1984

" Censorship reflects society's lack of confidence in itself. It is a hallmark of an authoritarian regime. "
-Potter Stewart

The blog "Project Marco Polo" has now been officialy banned in China. I can access it via proxy servers (which bypasses the Chinese firewall), but nowhere in China can users normally access the site. Not sure what I wrote here that the Chinese authority could classify as a "threat" but I feel proud and sad at the same time about it. Proud because someone in the Chinese bureaucracy found something on my blog that puts the regime at risk. I never expected my blog to achieve this "level of importance". But at the same time I am sad to see that despite all the progress made over the last 20 years, China is still spending lots of time and resources on a foolish crusade to control how people think in this coutry. The good thing is that they are failing and will continue to fail. The bad is that they will spend billions of dollars in this folly.

I will continue to write the good, the bad and the ugly about my adventures here in this blog. I saw dictatorship in Brazil for many ears, so I know that the bets way to defeat it, is to simply ignore it. Please stay tuned and check the blog often.

Lost Horizon

"There are moments in every mans life, when he glimpses the eternal"

-James Hilton, Lost Horizon

I have just finished my 20 mile hike to the Tiger Leaping Gourge, parted from John and Ruth (the Irish couple), my knee is busted and now I am sitting on the side of the road, with a Chinese couple that speaks little English, waiting for the bus that will take me further north, to Zhongdian, near the Tibetan border. My original goal was to actually flight to Lhasa, capital of Tibet, however, speaking with several backpackers, I found out that I am more likely to experience true Tibetan culture by simply exploring the northern Yunnan and western Sichuan provinces than going to Tibet itself. That is due to the explosion of tourism in Tibet itself and also the intense Han migration towards that region, which is driving the original Tibetan natives away. It seems that the Tibetan populations located near BUT outside the borders of Tibet were able to better preserve their identity than their fellow nationals inside of Tibet. Well, if this is true or not, I am about to find out pretty soon.

After waiting for about 30 minutes, the bus that will take us to Tibet finally arrives. The vehicle stops about 100 feet way from the curb where we are waiting, so the Chinese couple and I have to scramble, carrying our heavy backpacks and bags to get to the bus (and this is not nice to my wounded knee). The bus driver will charge us 20 Yuan (less than US$3) for a 3 hour to Zhongdian. I am assigned to the seat furthest back, were I sit amongst a group of Chinese military grunts who chain smoke for the entire trip. I get to enjoy first class second hand smoking for 3 hours. Oh joy!

Within the first hour drive, we must have climbed at least 1000 feet. It is significantly colder now and I must put my jacket on. The vegetation and architecture of the houses we see on the road have changed quite dramatically too. But most evident charge are the people. Looking thru the window, I see less and less Han Chinese going about their business. Instead, I see a new kind of people, who dress and look differently. I guess these must be the Tibetan. They are darker and have higher cheek bones than the Han and they dress in a much more traditional and colorful way. The landscape also has become more barren, with fewer vegetation and more rocks. The air is certainly dryer and my lips are beginning to crack.

Typical Tibetan Woman

I get to Zhongdian (or Shangrila) at dusk, and I am must confess that as I get off the bus at the local bus station, I am not impressed. Zhongdian looks more like a small bleak frontier outpost than anything else. The town is littered with small and ugly Soviet style concrete buildings. The roads and avenues are infested with old cars and trucks emitting large amount of fumes, and the Tibetan population seem as filthy and impolite as the people I saw in Xi’an. It does not take me long to begin to wonder what in the hell am I doing in this God forsaken place. With the backpack on my back, I begin to walk out of the bus station. All the other passengers that rode with me were quick to scatter and it seems that I do not attract much attention here. Well, events once again prove how wrong I am about things. As I walk outside of the gates of the bus station, this passing van comes to a screeching stop right in front of me and a Tibetan male head, wearing a cowboy head pops out of the driver’s side window. There is a loud sound of Tibetan hip hop basting out of van (things keep getting more bizarre by the minute), which prevents me from fully understanding the guy’s badly broken English. After a few repeated tries, I am able to gather that he is offering me a ride to a nearby hotel, where I’ll be able to arrange some shelter. I check my Rough Guide To China and it does seem that the bus station is pretty far outside the center of town. It is also getting dark and cold very quickly, and I am not very excited about wandering alone here in the outskirts of Zhongdian, so I decide the bite the bullet and hop in. The music inside the van is really loud and it takes a while for my mind to even begin to grasp the concept of Tibetan hip-hop. The driver is all smiles as I settle myself on the back. He must not be older than 25, and he is a full old west cowboy costume. He tries to have a conversation with me while he drives like a maniac thru the streets of the city, but he simply does not have enough English skills to build the most basic sentences. We both seem very frustrated about the language barrier, since he appears to be as curious about me as I am about him.

He drops me off near the so called “old town”, where there are lots of shops, and more traditional Tibetan style architecture. There is a traveler’s hotel nearby, where I head to after saying goodbye to my “driver”. As I arrive at the hotel, I begin to realize that I do not think I want to stay in this place. The hotel itself is completely sterile, like a hospital. There is no color or life here anywhere. The staff is Chinese and speaks little English. They also seem completely unmotivated. To make matter worse, there are no backpackers in site at all anywhere. No, there is no way I am staying here. There has to be a backpacker’s place somewhere in Town. I check the Rough Guide once again and it does mention a “Dragon Cloud Inn” as a backpacker friendly place. The problem is that the maps on the guide are very vague, the locals do not speak English and due to the darkness, it is very hard to navigate to find the place. Also, Zhongdian has some very dark and narrow streets, so it seems more like a labyrinth than anything else. But I am tired, cold, my knee hurts, so I must find a backpacker friendly place soon to rest. My plan is to wonder the streets until I bump into some Westerner who fits the “backpacker” profile, so that I can request advice. It does not take me long to achieve success. After 15 minutes wondering thru the streets, I bump into a very fair skinned girl, with dreadlocked hair. She HAS to be a backpacker. I approach, say “hi” and begin to ask where she is staying. As luck has it, her name is Aya, an Italian girl who is staying at the Dragon Cloud Inn, the exactly same place I am trying to find. She is accompanied by Wan, an older Chinese woman that Aya had met on her trip to Lhasa. Wan is fluent both in English and Chinese and they have been traveling together ever since. They both guide me thru the narrow roads of Zhongdian, until I get to the place. Ah, this is a true backpackers Inn. Although the staff speaks no English, I am able (with wan’s help) to arrange for a dorm bed.

Next morning Aya and I hook up to explore the city of Zhongdian together, while Wan goes check out some other things she wants to see. During our conversations as we stroll to the narrow streets of the town, it is pretty obvious that Aya is an exceptionally smart and sensitive girl (even for backpacker's standards). She was truly moved by her experience in Tibet, where she saw pilgrims LITERALLY crawl for a year on the rock and dirt or their way to Lhasa, in order to purge their karma. It seems that it was a life changing experience for her to witness that and she spoke with true emotion about it.

Shangri-la

Together we climbed a local hill, to check out a monastery on the top and get a better view of the town. For lunch, we try to find some local restaurant where we can order food, but all the local places are either too gruesome to eat (fresh dead carcasses of animals hanging from the walls) or there are no menus in English that we can order from (neither one of us reads Chinese). So, humiliated, we at a local touristic trap western restaurant that charges 3 times that of what a local place would charge.

After the meal, we return to the Dragon Cloud In, where we meet Wan. Fascinated by the story Aya told me about her 5 day car ride from Lhasa to Zhondian, I ask them if they can hook me with the Tibetan driver who drove them thru the Tibetan wilderness.

Aya and Wan then take me to the Tibetan driver’s home, were we can hopefully negotiate for me a similar trip, but this time headed to Lhasa. Little did I know that this simple negotiation would quickly become one of the most interesting experiences I had in China so far. We arrive at the driver’s home late afternoon. It is a big house by Tibetan standards and there is a nice Mitsubishi Pajero parked in front of the house. I am told that this was the car they used to their trip. The driver greets us very warmly at the gate and invites us in. We are taken to a small “living room” inside the house that is heated by a metal oven that burn wood, to keep us warm. After some chit-chat (with Wan as the translator) we start talking about the prospects of him driving me to Lhasa. He is more than willing to do it, but he needs 4 more passengers to make this trip economically viable and that might take 5 days to put together. The problem is that I do not have 5 days to wait in Zhongdian. I am little disheartened, but he suggests that I put flyers on the hostels, so that we might find the other passengers more quickly. We are about to leave his house, but him and his wife insists that we stay for dinner. I can hardly believe my ears: I will have a true Tibetan dinner inside a genuine Tibetan home! Dude, you can’t PAY to have this. We are taken to the kitchen and sit on a low table, where dishes after dishes of food are served. There is the famous Tibetan chicken soup, vegetables, lots of Yak meat, rice and some other things I do not recognize. But everything is absolutely delicious. After being stuffed to our breaking point by our hosts, we are taken back to the living room, for more social conversation. This is where I take advantage of Wan’s Chinese skills and start asking some questions to the Tibetan driver. I want to know about him, his life, how he started this driving business. I also ask about how he feels about the future, if he feels that things are getting better in China, if he is optimistic, if he feels that his children’s lives will be easier than his, and so forth. He gladly answers all question, with Wan doing an excellent job of translation. This gentleman was born a peasant and endured much misery and hunger during the Cultural Revolution and The Great Leap Forward. It was only when he turned 30 that he knew for sure that he would never starve again. Imagine that: a man that at age of 30, still feared not having enough to eat. This certainly put things in a new perspective for me. What are the things I worry about on a daily basis? Have I ever worried about starving? He certainly made all my worries seem pathetic and meaningless compared to what this man has been thru. But he was very clear that since the economic opening in China during the late 70s, things have improved by leaps and bounds. He now had several cars (used to drive tourists back and forth from Lhasa) and a big house. He says that those things would seem impossible for him to attain just 20 years ago. He pointed to the table: The banquet we just had would put no strain in his finances right now, but according to him, 20 years before, that meal would be all the amount of food he would have available to sustain himself for 5 days. So the differences were indeed staggering. The China that he lived on today was unimaginable to him 20 years before!

Pedro, "Driver" and his wife.

After the meal, I wished the “Driver” goodbye and we left his home. I was a bit bummed that the car trip to Lhasa was probably not going to happen, but I was happy for the whole experience of seeing a Tibetan home from the inside and actually having a meal with them. I would certainly not forget this experience, as it was a true Marco Polo moment. I had accomplished one of the things I had set myself to do, which was to get a non touristic glimpse on who these people lived. I had just gotten what I wanted.

We then headed to the town hall, were we got a chance to witness a traditional Tibetan square dance. This is something spontaneous that happens every night in town. Hundreds of locals gather every night at the center of the town to do a traditional dance for hours. No one organizes it or controls it. It is completely spontaneous and includes people from all ages, social strata and so on. Even tourists are welcome to join if they so wish. It is a truly remarkable thing to watch. So, Aya and I are side by side watching the square dance when I am bumped by Jeff, Jessica, Hannah and Pete, the same people that I had met before during the Tiger Leaping Gorge hike! Now, what are the odds of that??? We hug, shout give high fives and laugh as we are reunited once more. Jeff then gives me a serious look and says “Dude, it was destiny that made us meet again, WE are headed to a place in the heart of China where no tourists ever go, and when I say WE I mean that YOU are coming with us. WE are going to Ya Ding”.

So I took a long breath. I had never heard of Ya Ding, but I had met this folks for a reason. I am not a superstitious man, but there was something that felt right about this. I stared at them for a moment and finally nodded my head. “Yes WE are”, I said, “WE will go to Ya Ding”. I did not know at the time, those words set in motion the greatest adventure in my life so far. I was headed to the heart of the Dragon.

Tiger Leaping Gorge

“An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered.”
- G. K. Chesterton

It has been a while since my last post, but I have a good excuse for it: Over the past few days I have been LITERALY in the middle of nowhere. There is a lot to cover, and I do not think I can do it on a single post. But I guess one must start somewhere, so here we go.

After spending the night on that five star hotel in Lijang (with view thru bathroom walls) I woke up pretty early next morning, since I was eager to get my “feet dirty” on the real Chinese outdoors. Little did I know that I was about to get my wishes granted big time!

I knew that just a couple of hours north of Lijang, there was the world famous Tiger Leaping Gorge. I knew I wanted to go there, but I had not decided how yet. There were basically two options:

1) Take a tour bus from Lijang, spend a couple of hours at the Gorge and move on.

2) Take the famous “High Road”, a small hiking path, 20 miles long across the mountains. It would take a 2 days walk to get to the gorge, but it was said that it was an amazing experience.

I pondered about it for a couple of minutes, weighting the pros and cons and finally decided that adventures were made of discomfort and risk. So I decided to take the high road.

I left the Hotel at 8 AM and I from then on I would be without Zhang’s direct help. He was kind enough however to provide me with a cell phone (in case I got into trouble) and a very nice jacket so that I could properly face the cold and unforgivenin Northern Yunnan weather.

So I headed out to the small bus station in Lijang, where I could take a minibus to the village of Qiaotou, from where the trek was supposed to begin. The minibus was the typical beat up public transportation vehicle, but I must confess that one thing that one cannot say about this country is that the (official) buses and trains are unreliable. They always leave as schedule and tend to arrive at their destination on time. This one was no different. It was going to be a 2 hour ride from Lijang to Qiaotou on a very tortuous road across some mountains. With me on the bus there were many locals, with their curious looks, but also 4 Chinese backpackers who spoke surprisingly good English and a couple from Ireland, who were also planning on doing the 2 days trail to the Tiger Leaping Gorge. We all quickly got acquainted and soon there was some lively conversation going on amongst all of us. The Chinese were all employees of the HSBC bank in Shanghai, which was the reason why they spoke such good English. They were not sure however, if they would be able to do the 2 day hike. The 2 girls on their group seemed a bit “iffy” about the whole idea of wandering the mountains for 2 days. The Irish couple was made up of Ruth, a young elementary education teacher in Ireland and her boyfriend, John, who until recently worked for Havok, a company that makes and licenses “physics engines” for the most sophisticated video games in the market. They were certain about making the hike, so we decided to hook up for this trip. The journey by bus continued for the next few hours without much incident. The Chinese had lots of questions about where we were from and what we were doing in China, so the trip was spent with regular chit-chat. We did make an unscheduled stop at a roadside, where the minibus was surrounded by dozens of Chinese peasants offering many different types of fruits for sale. The Chinese bankers from HSBC bought a few bananas and a very large pomelo fruit, which I had never seen before. All the trading was done via the bus windows. The peasants would raise the fruits up so that the bus riders could examine the goodies, money would be exchanged and the fruits would be brought into the bus, all done thru the bus windows. Also, the price of the fruits was also ridiculously low for US standards. The Chinese paid 5 yuan (about 50 cents) for 3 lbs, juicy and sweet pomelo fruit. They were also kind enough to share the fruits with us, which we did not refuse.

As soon as the shopping spree was over, we were back on our way to Qiaotou, passing thru ravines, precipices and all kind of dangerous landscapes, but at that point, I was used to the Chinese driving style, so I was not worried.

Qiaotou is a little village, with just a few shops, a school and an office were one can buy tickets to enter the Tiger Leaping Gorge park. Buses loaded with tourists pass thru Qiaotou every few minutes, but few care to stop. The ones that do stop (about one a day) do so to drop a handful of crazy backpackers willing to take the 2 day hike.

Traditional Naxi homes on Qiaotou Village

As our bus pulls over, we are greeted by Margo, an eccentric Aussie ladie who has been living in the region for over 15 years. She runs a local café and serves as a resource to the crazy few adventure types willing to do the hike. Margo quickly introduces herself and offers us supplies (candy bars, water, maps) and a place to store our large backpacks until we complete the trip and take a bus back from the Gorge to Qiaotou. I buy from her a large bottle of water, 4 sneaker bars and a map. She will also store my backpack until my return, all for about 20 yuan (less than US$3). Margo also points us to the beginning of the trail, which is used by Naxi shepherds on a daily basis. So we begin our journey. I could spend a lot of time talking about the magnificent view as we climbed up the trail, but I think the images bellow speak for themselves.

Qiaotou Village from above as we climb



The Mighty Yangzhe River


The Yanghze from even higher. Notice the Mountains.


As we climb further, the Mountains get more impressive.


The Mountains around the gorge are nothing short of majestic.


Pedro at the top of the world

We spend the whole day hiking, and during our way, we meet quite a few Naxi shepherding animals. Quite a few times, we were also followed by Naxi natives pulling horses. Their hope was that we would get tired of walking and pay them to use some of their horses. No cigar Jose, we simply ignore them and eventually they bug off.

By sundown we reached the so called “Halfway House”, a traditional Naxi home that now serves as an “informal” night stop for the travelers going to the gorge by foot. It is a very cozy place that serves local food and warm tea to tired hikers (and also hot showers). The Halfway house also offers an ESPETACULAR view of the mountains.

We spend the whole day hiking, and during our way, we meet quite a few Naxi shepherding animals. Quite a few times, we were also followed by Naxi natives pulling horses. Their hope was that we would get tired of walking and pay them to use some of their horses. No cigar Jose, we simply ignore them and eventually they bug off.

By sundown we reached the so called “Halfway House”, a traditional Naxi home that now serves as an “informal” night stop for the travelers going to the gorge by foot. It is a very cozy place that serves local food and warm tea to tired hikers (and also hot showers). The Halfway house also offers an ESPETACULAR view to the mountains. We are beaten tired and we all have blisters on our feet from the rough climb. But the Naxi staff on the Halfway house quickly point us to the solar heated showers. As soon as we leave the showers, there is a set of green tea cups waiting for us on the balcony. Talk about customer service!!!

The Balcony at the Halfway House. Eating with a view has a whole new meaning!

For dinner we are served honey and oats Naxi pancake and lots of Yak meat. We are also joined by an American couple (Jeff and Jessica) and 2 brits (Peter and Hannah). Jeff and Jessica are from North Carolina and work at Duke University. Peter used to be a banker in the UK and dropped everything to see the world. Hannah lives in Australia and is a radiologist. She works a year and takes a year off to see the world too. We all share dinner together at the balcony, staring at the mountains and sharing good laughs about our adventures so far.

As the sun goes down, the air gets really chilly, so we head to our dorms. The blankets look very thin and I was worried about freezing to death (there is no heating) but I am told that the blankets are made of Yak fur and should be more than enough to keep me warm thru the night. And guess what? Although it was bellow freezing during the night, I had one of my warmest evenings ever. I need to get myself some Yak blankets.

Next morning Ruth, John and I leave early to finish the final leg of our hike. We are all sore from our last day hike, but spirits are up with excitement as we all want to see the gorge. Also, it is mostly downhill from now on, so we should get to the gorge before the end of the day.

The hike on the 2^nd day is as gorgeous as the first day. We landscape is amazing and we see lots of sheep, waterfalls, HUGE spider webs and quite a few Naxi going about their business. Also, John and I spend a good chunk of the hike talking about the current state of the computer gaining industry (for Ruth’s despair).

Ruth and John near the waterfall.


Waterfal from bellow.

By the end of the hike, disaster strikes: I hurt my right knee badly and have to limp (grinding my teeth from the pain) all the way down to the gorge. It is an excruciating process, since it is a steep descent and my knee is supporting my whole weight. But I have no choice, since there are no rescue services and I did not come this far to give up at the end. Ruth and John patiently wait as I make my way down very slowly. After much pain and suffering I finally get to the Gorge and the view does not disappoint.

The Legendary Tiger Leaping Gorge


Ruth and I near the Gorge.

Down the gorge I also meet again Jeff, Jessica, Hannah and Peter, which followed a different path down. As they learn about my wounded knee, Jeff and Jessica offer me a set of 4 blue pills, saying that it should alleviate my pain. I am not sure what was on those pills, but after 15 minutes from taking those, my pain was gone.

After hanging around the gorge for a while, The Irish couple and I take a van back to Qiaotou. We pick out stuff up at Margo’s, give goodbyes and I head North, towards the Tibetan border.

"The deepest craving of human nature is the need to be appreciated."
-William James

OK, I confess I am falling behind on my blog updates. So much has happened over the past few days that I am having a hard time just trying to put everything in order, much less have it all written properly to be posted on this blog. So please bare with me.
I do feel that it is important however to thank everyone in New York, Colorado, San Francisco, Brazil and China who has been reading my blog and sending messages of encouragement, both in this blog and via direct email. It it great to know that you are taking the time to follow my adventures and mis-adventures here in the land of the Three Kingdoms. I read every message of praise, encouragement and questioning, and those messages keep me motivated to keep writting this blog. I hope you are being entertained, because I've been putting myself into some very embarrasing and even dangerous situations in order to make sure that I will have something fun to post here for you, so that you can laugh at my expense.
Also, I'd like to address some questions that have been raised here in the blog and alos via direct email:

Q) Do my postings imply that I hate or despise Chinese people?
A) Not at all. To mare I stay here, the more I am fascinated by China and it's many nations and peoples. There are some things in China that I do not like or enjoy, but that does not mean I think less of the people who live here or that I find them to be inferior or less worthy than anyone else. The Chinese are a very industrious, clever and creative people. I think Brazilians and Americans in special have much to learn from them. But that does not mean that I feel that the Chinese have no room for improvement. They certainly do! But so does everyone else. In this blog I put all the impressions that I gather during this trip, both the good and the bad. But please do not interpret this as "Chinese bashing" because it is not. Brazilians and Americans are as flawed as the Chinese and everyone who knows me longe enough know how much I criticize things that both Brazilians and Americans do.

Q) Why only "girls" show up in your blog. There is no male backpacker in China? (SIC)
A) Not true. See my posting about the day I spend in Xi'an. Also, you will see on later posting that I meet and hang out with many male backpackers (just did not have the time to post those yet). But the truth is that, yes, you will see more frequent post about female backpackers than male backpackers. Why? Well, it is just that I LOVE smart women. I like to hang out with smart women, I like to chat with smart women, I like to have smart women arou nd me. It is a weakness I have. Smart women are able to give me different perspectives and points of view on things that many times escapes the male mind. How many times in my life I had smart women point out holes on my points of view that I could never had noticed by myself but it was pretty obvious to them. I like smart women because they challenge my beliefs and points of view in ways that no man could. So I love them, because I learn a lot from them. And female backpackers tend (generalization warning) to be quite smart, well informed, articulate and clever. So whenver I can, I give them preference over male backpackers. That is why.

Well, this is all for now folks. I have many funny, tragic, erotic and interesting stories (with pictures) that I hope to post very soon, so please come back. Also, please keep the comments coming. Have a good one everyone!

"Always acknowledge a fault. This will throw those in authority off their guard and give you an opportunity to commit more."

--Mark Twain

The cab ride from Xi’an to the airport was insane. The driver would pass everyone via the right shoulder (at speeds exceeding 60 MPH). I think we almost killed several cyclist and pedestrians on the way. He would blow the horn and expect everyone to get out of his way. And there was o urgency at all! I had plenty of time to get to the airport. The absolute disregard towards human life is shocking.

At the airport, the boarding of the plane was chaotic as usual, as the Chinese have no concept for queuing. I think several Chinese were having their first time flying, because during the take-off procedures, they would get up from their seats (as the plane is speeding down the runway) and race to the windows, with exciting giggles. The panic stricken flight attendants would then frantically get up and try to get these Chinese back to their seats. I think this can be expected when millions of peasants suddenly see their incomes boosted due to the extraordinary economic boom currently being experienced in China.

I met Zhang and his friend at the Kunming airport. We took a cab to a 5 star hotel nearby (Zhang is obsessed with 5 start hotels) where we were to spend the night, waiting for our flight next morning to Lijiang. That evening we went out to dinner. We took a cab and after a 20 minute drive, we arrived at a typical Yunnan restaurant, were we ordered bone soup. The idea is to have large boiled ox bones, where your drink the bone marrow with a straw. It was quite tasty, but very different. We took a cab back, but this time the ride was only 3 minutes, and the cost was 1/3 of our first cab ride to the restaurant. I asked Zhang what was up with that. He responded that on the way to the restaurant, he spoke to the cab driver in Mandarin, so he must have figured we were outsiders. On the way back, it has Zhang’s friend who spoke to the cab driver, suing Yunnan dialect, so the cab driver took the shortest route, because he assumed we were locals. So I told Zhang that it seemed that the Chinese were not out just to screw outsiders, but they also had no quarrels on trying to screw other Chinese. To which Zhang replied with a grin: “You said you wanted to see the REAL China, well here it is”. And I went to bed with that on my mind.

The flight from Kunming to Lijiang next morning took less than 40 minutes. Lijiang is a very small and beautiful city located in the mountains of northern Yunnan province, the shadows of the huge and majestic Jade Dragon Snow Mountain. Or first stop was the five star hotel that Zhang had booked for us. The hotel was extremely luxurious, and as such, I feel as out of place as a Jewish and black gay couple attending a KKK rally. The room had a huge balcony that gave me a full view of the Jade Dragon Snow Mountain. But what was really interesting was the fact that inside my room, the bathroom walls were all made of see thru glass. So, from anywhere in the bedroom one could see everything that was happening inside the bathroom (and vice versa). I was glad to be alone on that room, but I can imagine how unromantic would be for couples to share that same room. Can you imagine getting a first hand view of your “honey” dropping a brick into the toilet and later watch him/her wipe her ass in full view? That, takes a LOT of love.

But since I was alone, I decided to take advantage of the situation. I opened my balcony windows, went to the toilet, sat down, and with chin in my hands and with the full beauty and majesty of the Jade Dragon Mountain in front of me, I took a celestial dump.

We first visited a turistic spot called "traditional town" were we paid 30 Yuan to see some fake Naxi village loaded with shops. It was really dissapointed and I felt ripped off in many ways. Since it was rainy and cold, we went to a sporting goods store in the village (I guess the Naxi had Columbia sporting gear for ages). Where I bought a high quality fake Columbia jacket (High quality fakes are reffered as A1 grade by the Chinese). I paid about $40 dollars for it and I was quite satisfied. However, 5 minutes after leaving the store, I rubbed my back against a wall that had a nail, which cause a small rip into the jacket. Frustrated, I took the jacket off to examine the rip. Right above the rip (which was small) I noticed what appeared to be a small manufacture fault in the jacket. Great, I thought. I will be able to exhcange the jacket, so the rip is a non-issue. So we went back to the store, where the sales person pointed out that the "flaw" was actually a feature of the jacket where the hood is stored when not in use. Howeverm the sales person noted the rip and immediately offered to replace the jacket. I did not say anything, and the jacket was replaced. Zhang later pointed out to me that, although I criticized the Chinese for their lack of honesty, I did not act any differently when it was convenient to me. Instead of telling the truth and saying that the rip was caused by my negligence, I stayed in silence and allowed a jacket to be replaced when the store had no fault at all. I have to be very careful so I will not become that which I despise. The fact that the Chinese try to rip everyone else off does not give me the right to act like they do. So, for the record, that was not my finest hour at all, and I do regret what I have done.

The town of Lijiang is know as the “Venice” of China, and rightfully so, due to its narrow streets and many canals.

So we took the day to explore it. The streets are very narrow but everything is Japanese clean and very organized (unlike the rest of China that I have seen so far). The town was crowded with Chinese tourists and a few westerners. So we spend the whole day checking out the city, its beautiful architecture and the Naxi natives (the minority group that lives in the area). For dinner, we decided to be a bit adventurous, so we ordered pigeon soup and fried bamboo worms. I confess that I did not like the pigeon soup very much, but the bamboo worms were delicious. We then continued to explore Lijiang by night, lit by thousands of lanterns and many singing naxi natives. Natives in one restaurant would start a singing competition with the natives of the other restaurant across the street. And this would happen all over town. It was a very lively experience that it is very difficult to describe. The whole town came alive at night and turned into a single huge party, with lots of singing, dancing and drinking. But yet everything was so orderly, clean and everyone was extremely polite. Maybe that was a brief view of the China of the future. At least those are my hopes.

"For me, politeness is a sine qua non of civilization."
-Robert A. Heinlein

On my second day in Xi’an I hooked up with an American backpacker (the first I have met in China so far) named Jason. We met at the lounge of the hostel. The TV was on and they were showing some Chinese woman signing “Garota de Ipanema” in a very heavily accented Portuguese. It was a pretty ridiculous scene. We looked at each other and started laughing, and the typical backpacker’s chat followed right after. Jason is from LA and he has been in China for a few weeks now. It is his second trip and he plans to stay for a total of 4 months. Unlike me, he has been able to learn some Chinese, so he can speak a few sentences, understand even a few more and recognize many characters.

So we decide to go together to Mt. Huashan in the morning. Mt. Huashan is about 2 hours drive from Xi’an, so we head to Xi’an train station, where (according to the Lonely Planet guide book) we can hop on Bus #1 and be on our merry way. I mean, it does not get easier than this: All he had to do was to find Bus #1 (how hard could that be, I mean, it is Bus #1 after all). But as with everything else, things in China are not always as easy as them seem at first. You see, once we got there, we realized that the train station lot is PACKED with buses of all sizes, makers, states of conservation and degrees of legitimacy. You can find everything ranging from very modern and comfortable Korean made road behemoths, to very shady (and I mean SHADY) vans that one could swear would fall apart when hitting the first road bump. So, the Xi’an train station bus lot is nothing less than a labyrinth of HUNDREDS of those buses, and there are no signs or indicators of where the buses for each line park. It is a completely random arrangement that keeps changing at the whim of the drivers. So, we have no other choice but to go straight into the maelstrom of buses in order to find the one that will take us to our desired destination. Very quickly the situation deranged into two jackasses (wearing large backpacks) literally dodging dozens of maneuvering buses (where the drivers really do not give a damn about pedestrians) in a desperate search for the fabled Bus #1 that would take us to Mt. Huashan. Countless times we had to jump and dodge away from buses reversing, dashing out of the parking lot, or simply maneuvering to drop their passengers. At the same time, we were being chased by a bunch of very persistent “bus pimps” shouting to us, in very bad English, the destinations in which their clandestine buses would take us for a “small fee”. After barely escaping being run over by maneuvering buses a couple of times, we decide to go to the main train station and ask for information on the so far elusive “Bus #1”. Jason, using his broken Chinese, managed to ask one of the station’s employees where we could find “Bus #1”. The employee made a baffled face and explained that there was no Bus #1. There was a Bus #2 and above, but there has never been a Bus #1. It is said that every man has its breaking point. I guess Jason had just reached his, after learning that almost getting killed at the bus parking lot, there was no line #1 to Mt. Huashan, the man simply lost it. In absolute amazement, I witnessed Jason, in a fit of anger and rage, tear his Lonely Planet book guide in front of everyone at the station, as he yelled “what a worthless piece of shit!!!!”. I believe that such display of pitiful frustration and despair was enough to soften the heart of the coldest, most ruthless and unsympathetic Chinese public employees. The train station worker was so moved by the scene, that he started to ask around to see if there were any buses that would pass through Mt. Huashan. It seemed that there was indeed a “reputable” clandestine bus that had Mt. Huashan as part of its route. So, once again we went back into the maelstrom of the parking lot looking for the “reputable” clandestine bus that was recommended to us. After dancing around maneuvering buses, smelling the diesel fumes and so on, we were able to find the bus we were looking for. The “bus” was actually a very large and very beaten up van, with lots of rust, bad tires and no license plate. It was managed by a “gentleman” (I am using the term very loosely here) that looked more like a white slave trader than anything else. The man had a long mustache, blood red shot eye and the few teeth he still had in his mouth were mostly brown or black. So, that was the “reliable” transportation that we offered. The “gentleman” offered us passage to Mt. Huashan for the outrageous sum of 26 Yuan (about $3) each, non-negotiable. After some debate between Jason and I, we agreed to hop into the bus. The interior of the vehicle was absolutely filthy. The head rests (which at one point used to be white) were now completely darkened. The seat cushions were covered with dust and the bus floor was sticky. Summoning all of our courage and manhood, we managed our way into the back of the bus and sat on the unsavory seats, waiting for the departure. And we waited…and we waited…and we waited…all the while, enjoying the pleasures of the second hand smoke from the other native passengers. After waiting for about 1 hour sitting in a germ and tar infested van, we realized that the “gentleman” would not depart until he had filled all the seats on the bus, and right now, after 1 hour wait, we were only half full. After a brief conversation with Jason, we concluded that we had taken enough punishment for a day, and unless Mt. Huashan was full of horny and beautiful bisexual playmates ready to satisfy all of our fantasies, the trip was really not worth the suffering we were going through. Since the prospect of the bisexual playmates seemed quite remote, we jumped off the bus (with the “gentleman cursing at us) and walked away from the train station as fast as we could. With Mt. Huashan now completely eliminated from out list of activities, we decided to explore the city of Xi’an in further detail. We went to the nearest bus stop and waited for a city bus that would take us to the South gate (Xi’an is surrounded by a huge and ancient city wall). Deciphering the signs at the bus stop, we figured out that we needed to take bus #40. We did not have to wait for long. In less than 2 minutes, bus #40 came speeding down the avenue. It blasted thru the bus stop, completely ignoring the waving passengers and it came to a halt at about 100 yards down the road. A whole crowd of waiting passengers (about 30) raced to the stopped bus on a mad stampeded (me and Jason included). When we got there, the bus was empty and the doors locked. Some of the natives got really pissed off and began kicking the bus. Others would just shout something (I take those were curses). After a couple of minutes, the bus driver emerged from a nearby store (he was buying cigarettes), opened the bus and began letting passengers in. And the anger from the Chinese passengers vanished as sudden as it had appeared. They started boarding the bus as if absolutely nothing had happened. We boarded the city bus, found a place to stay sit and began enjoying the trip. A few minutes into the ride, Jason pointed to one of the more bizarre scenes I have seen in China so far: Inside the bus (right in the middle, between the roll of seats) a kid that was about 5 years old was peeing in the floor, while his dad, sitting nearby, had a proud grin in his face that was somewhat like “That is my boy”. And no one else inside the bus seemed to think much of it, as the yellowish liquid began to spread across the floor of the bus. At that point, Jason stared at the magnificent wall of Xi’anChina will recover the level of social refinement that it was once know for. Bit right now, that social refinement is simply not there. I can only hope that this will be a priority for the government in the future. and said: “I think something really went wrong in this country at some point between the end of the Ming dynasty and now. I mean, it is hard to believe that the people who now piss on buses, are the direct descendents from the people who could build a wall like that”. I think it was a harsh statement from Jason, but there was some truth into it. The Chinese at one point were a very refined, advanced and cultured people. But now, many of the Chinese we met had very poor hygiene. Spitting on the floor in public was widespread, people here never washed their hands after using the toilet and seeing children as old as 7 shitting and peeing in public was not uncommon at all. I consider myself to be a pretty open minded person, ready to accept other cultures and ways of life. But I think that basic levels of hygiene and cleaningness are simply non-negotiable. Maybe, part of the root cause of the problem were the several cultural disruptions that china has suffered over the ages, from the opium wars, to the Japanese invasion, the cultural revolution an so on. If that is the case, maybe

So the rest of the day in Xi’an was pretty uneventful, with me and Jason strolling thru the streets, checking out stores and temples. Nothing very eventful happened until we strumbled upon a Chinese goverment official building. It was the building of the "Department of Tobacco and Alcohol", which is the Chinese equivalent of the ATF (Alcohol, Tobbaco and Firearms) agency in the USA. But there is a little twist. Not only does the Chinese "Department of Tobacco and Alcohol" regulates the sales and use of this products, but they also SELL IT too!!!! In the buidling, besides their offices where the burecrats work, the department also has its own shop where they sell the products they regulate. How clever! How Chinese! Here are the pictures as evidence.

At the end of the day we parted. Jason took a train to Beijing, while I hopped on a plane to Kunming, the capital of the Yunnan province, where I am to meet Zhang one more time.

"Ah, women. They make the highs higher and the lows more frequent"

--Friedrich Nietzsche

The train trip from Beijing to Xi'an was one of the top events so far. For this 11+ hour ride, I took the luxury of booking myself a hard sleeper. A hard sleeper is one of six beds that are shared within a single train cabin. The arrangement is quite simple actually: The train wagon is broken down into multiple compartments. Each compartment contains 6 bunk beds (3 on each wall).
The train itself is a lot newer and modern than I expected, with fully digital message displays for the passengers (that I can't read anyways) and other cool amenities. I also have a new friend, Sabrina, a backpacker from Germany. She is the compartment next to mine and although she is not a big woman by any means, she carries a backpack that is probably twice the size of the one I am carrying. Sabrina very much represents the reason why I like to backpack: She is a very interesting person and it is eager to share her experiences with other backpackers. Sabrina is a linguist who specializes in Natural languages for computers. She has been living in China for a year now and is taking one more trip to see new parts of China. I am not rude to the point of asking Sabrina her age, but she must not be more than 25 years old. It is truly fascinating to see this 20 something year old girl, from Germany, brave across China all by herself, staying on cheap hostels and riding Chinese trains packed with peasants. I know VERY FEW (if any) America girls who would be willing to do such a thing. Most Americans demand to have their nice 3 star hotels, car rentals, plane tickers and all the comforts that only the most shielded and self-centered tourists would endure. Fortunately for me, there are plenty of Europeans, Israelis, Australians and Japanese willing to put their hiking boots and backpacks on and head out traveling hard core across different places. And those tend to be the friends I make on my backpacking trips. That is my tribe, I guess.
Sabrina and I spend hours talking about traveling, the different places in China worth visiting, how to avoid scammers and so on. As she is a linguist, eventually I bring the subject of my favorite book: Snowcrash. It is a sci-fi book that involves linguistics and the use of the core human language as a tool for mind manipulation. The book is really out there and I truly recommend it to anyone who remotely enjoys sci-fi and computers. Anyways, Sabrina and her knowledge of natural languages and computers was able to give the book a whole new perspective.
As we talked, several of the Chinese passengers would offer us fruits, including pearls, apples, oranges and peaches. By the time it was time for the lights to be turned off, we had more fruits on our backpacks than what we know how to do with it. I guess we would not have problems with having food for breakfast.
At 10:00 PM the lights inside of the wagon were turned off. I put my earplugs on, laid down on my buck (which was actually quite comfortable) and passed out.
The night trip went on without much disturbance, except for the train staff, which would occasionally enter our compartment in the middle of the night and use a flashlight to search for something under my bunk bed. I am not sure what they were looking for, but it was quite annoying to be awaken twice at night by a train staff searching for some mysterious thing under my bed. I hope they did not think I was a bomb carrying terrorist or something. But other than that, there were no other major incidents. I slept quite well, the ride was quite and the train shook very little. I can see myself taking other train rides like this before I leave China.

Next morning, I get to know my cabin neighbors. It is a family that includes husband, wife, a pair of twin kids and grandma. They are peasants going back to Xia'an from Beijing. The twins are no more than 5 years old, but they already speak English amazingly well. They ask me tons of questions and eventually decide to teach me Chinese. We go over the basic 10 numbers, some random objects inside the cabin and then we move to a magazine, where they point at pictures and give me their meaning in Chinese. The kids are really smart and eager to practice their English. I learn later that it was their father who thought them English. Unfortunately the dad is not much kin of talking, because, following the Chinese tradition, he feels that his English is not good enough, so he is embarrassed to speak. It is a true pity, because that must be a remarkable man, with even more remarkable kids. As I look at them and watch the kids speak to me in flawless English, I cannot help but smile. Experiences like this are the reason why I started this trip to begin with.

Xi'an is a tourist trap like no other. I am staying at the Han Tang hostel downtown, near the Muslim quarter and the bell tower. The hostel is alright by my standards, but most of my American friends would freak out if they had to spend the night here. However, there are other backpackers from around the world, and I quickly make acquaintaces with a few of them.

Of special mention is Kathy, a very bright English woman that I meet during our excursion to see the Terracotta soldiers. It is really not that impressive experience, but at least I got to spend some time with Kathy, who has been teaching English in China for 11 months now and was able to provide me some very good insight on the Chinese life, problems, and issues. She told me of her impressions (developed over the last 11 months) of how inflexible and corrupt the Chinese society truly is and how big are the challenges that they face as they try to become a super power. She confirmed my of my suspicios about chinese society and reinforced my belief that in many ways, China lacks some key elements to reach the next level of development. She appears to agree with me. Tiem wil tell, but I am not betting on China becoming the new world superpower anytime soon.

It is real shame that I did not have mroe time to spend chatting with Kathy (she is heading to Beijing as I write this) but she did recommend me a book that I am most certainly going to check out assoon as I return to the states. It is called "The End of Faith" by Sam Harris. It is about how people attach themselves to dogmatic powers, be it God and Jesus or Mao and the communist party. It was good to be able to chat with Kathy about the most varied subjects as we were lead from one tourist trap after another during our stay in Xi'an. So, Kathy, if you ever read this, thank you so much for providing such good company while we were on that very boring excursion to the silk factory. Good luck to you as you return to the UK!

So, the best part of the trip so far were the amazingly intelligent women I have met so far in China. I look forward to meeting more interesting people as this trip continues. I am still trying to figure out what I am doing tomorrow here in Xi'an, before I depart to Yunnan provide, where I will meet Zhang once again. I will keep you all posted!

"It's not the end

Not the kingdom come

It is the journey that matters, the distant wanderer

Call of the wild

In me forever and ever and ever forever

Wanderlust"

--Tuomas Holopainen

God, I can't believe how much it is raining in Xi'an right now. I've arrived this morning and it was already pouring already and there is no sign of any improvement in the weather anytime soon. Yesterday was my last day in Beijing. The morning was spent paying bills online, making more travel reservations and so on. In the afternoon I got the chance to visit the Beijing University campus, located in North West Beijing. It is a nice looking campus, with thousands of students riding their bicycles from building to building. Got to see many westerners students there too. I guess Beijing University, after years of closure to the outside, has become a major magnet not only to the brightest in China, but to people across the world. After touring Beijing University, I headed to the Summer palace, located nearby. As everyone know, I am not the biggest fan of major touristic attractions by a long shot. I almost never find major touristic attractions worth the visit. Well, I will make one rare exception for the Summer Palace. It is absolutely breathtaking. If there is one touristic spot in Beijing Worth visiting, that would be the summer palace.

After the summer palace, I meet Zhang for alast dinner together before I hop on a train to Xi'an, the old capital of China. He takes me to a GREAT vegetarian restaurant, where we are served all types of fake meats and sausages. All made of soy. Great food indeed.

The West Beijing train station is HUGE and very crowded. Everyone needs to have their bags x-rayed before we are allowed in, so the queues are large. In China, it seems that queues do not grow in lengh, but in width, since the Chinese do not seem to understand the concept of falling in line. Everyone piles up on the front of the lines, trying to cut their way thru.

Once inside, I meet a few other western backpackers also waiting for the train to Xi'an. We stick together in oder to gain some confidence, since being stared at by thousands of chinese travelers can be very intimidating.

Hate to cut the report short, but my scheduled Internet time is alomost over. I will relate the train trip in detail on the next post.

"Who's going to believe a con artist? Everyone, if she's good."

-Ben Matlock

I know….It has been a while since I’ve updated you guys on the progress of "Project Marco Polo”. It is just that a lot has happened over the past 3 days and I really did not have the time to access the web sooner. Each day I’ve spent here in China has been quite remarkable, but day 3 has so far topped all expectations (for both the good and the bad), the last day being by far the most unique. If this is just the beginning, I crave and fear for what might yet be in store for me. Here is what happened over the past few days:

Arrival Night

A little over 24 hours after leaving my home in Queens, I finally touch down at Beijing International Airport. Despite hours of boredom, tiredness and frustration, I can now hardly contain my excitement. As the plane taxi off the runway and makes its way towards the main terminal, I look through the window and see the lights of the airport; I realize then that this leg of the journey is over. I am now at the belly of the dragon.
The airport itself, although quite large, it is not nearly as opulent as I had expected. It is large, modern looking, efficient and quite clean. However, it does not have the flashy “new money” feeling of Incheon airport in Seoul, which is a good thing. I pass through immigration and customs in a matter of minutes and without a hitch, which blows my mind. Not a single airport official asks me a single question. They simply glance over my papers and signal me to move along. No once checks my luggage, asks me how long I am going to stay, with whom and so forth. I expected China to be a police state and to have all the annoying bureaucratic obstacles and challenges that comes with it. I am dead wrong, it seems. Everything moves along with business like efficiency. It seems that the only job that airport officials are concerned with is to give thr appearance of following follow the proper protocols while getting everyone out of the airport as soon as humanly possible. I only wish that the airports that I had visited in Japan, Korea and even the United States moved with half of the speed and efficiency of Beijing’s International when dealing with foreign visitors.
As I walk out of the custom into the waiting area of the airport, I find Zhang waiting for me, as promised. It has been six years since I have last seeing him, but he is easy to recognize. Physically he does not look that different. I some grey hair on his head, but the same general face, glasses and so on. However, more than ever, Zhang dresses and acts like a top party bureaucrat. Wearing his black jacket and black shirt, he resembles one of those entrepreneurial, communist party hand picked join venture administrators that we normally see on documentaries about the “emerging China”.
After a warm handshake and exchange of pleasantries (Zhang is still as stiff and formal as ever), he introduces me to his friend, a Chinese girl that had arrived a few hours earlier at the airport and was in town for a couple of days to hang out with him. He first picked her up and had spent the next couple of hours hanging out with her at the airport waiting for my arrival. We are then lead to his shinning new Toyota luxury car that is sitting on the garage of the airport waiting for us and we drive off to Zhang’s new and spacious apartment near downtown Beijing. I later learn that this particular car model sells in China for around 40 thousands US dollars. In a country where a most college professors are paid only up to 500 US dollars a month, this is a clear sign that Zhang has made it big time in China.


Day 1

So, I get my first good night of sleep while in Chinese soil. I certainly needed it, as I was so tired to the point of not having any issues with the time zone difference. I had collapsed into bed the previous night and was up bright and early at my first dawn in China. Zhang has decided to we will spend the first day in China visiting some major touristic attractions (tourist traps) in Beijing. I am not going to bore you with the details of my visit to the Great Wall or the Ming Tombs, because I find those episodes unremarkable myself. The goal of “Project Marco Polo” is not really to record the visits to major touristic spots. This has already been done ad nausium by other people, including the Travel Channel and the Discovery Channel amongst many. I am sure they could give much better descriptions of those places than I could ever hope to match. No, the goal here is to record my impressions of the little remarkable things that travelers like me would find in China. So this will be the focus of my narrative.

So we hit the road early, and I get my first real view of Beijing. I do not think that there are enough adjectives in the English language to truly describe this monstrous metroplex. It is a hazy, crowded, dirty, jammed, packet, chaotic, smelly pile of concrete, asphalt, steel and people. But the most remarkable thing about Beijing is without a doubt, the transit. There no words, no concepts that can describe the state of absolute madness which is Beijing’s traffic. I know bad traffic, since I am from Brazil and have been in places like Paraguay, Korea and so on. But nothing compares to what I saw that morning in Beijing. It was chaos in it purest, most unadulterated form. Try to picture, if you can, millions of cars, pedestrians and bicycles literally disputing head on, tooth and nail, every inch of the pavement. In a maddening cacophony of car horns, diesel engines, shouts, ambulance sirens, cars, bikes, trucks, busses, scooters and anything else that you can picture with wheels on it (plus millions of pedestrians) move around the roads and highways as if completely oblivious of one another. There are no rules; there is no order, no organizing system in place. It is a most complete free for all where vehicles behave like pack animals fighting for pasture. I lost count of how many times I saw buses come down the road hauling ass and blowing their horns hysterically so that the hundreds of bicycles riding in front of them would give passage (which they did only at the very last moment, and yet the buses would NEVER slow down). I wonder how many gruesome traffic fatalities are recorded on the streets of Beijing every day. Based on just what I was able to witness on this lazy Sunday morning, the numbers must be staggering.

After enjoying a delicious Chinese breakfast at a local restaurant (where the service was awful) we head to another part of town where we can pick a girlfriend of Zhang’s female friend, as I am informed that they are both coming with us to the Great Wall at Badiling and the Ming Temples. Unfortunately neither one of them speaks any amount of workable English and Zhang is really not in the mood to translate, so there is little or no conversation at all during the 2 hour long drive north of Beijing. The highway is completely jammed with cars and for most of the trip, until we actually leave Beijing, the car hardly ever goes above 30 MPH. As mentioned before, nothing really remarkable happens at either touristic spot. We are harassed by souvenir vendors; we take pictures and do other things that dumb tourists do. In other words, we came, we paid, we saw, we left. And I can the check the box next to “Great Wall Of China” as one of the things I wanted to see. However, on the way to Bailing, we did drive off the main road at one point to visit a peach farm (where we would pay to pick the peaches from the trees ourselves). That was my first opportunity to get a real glance at the Chinese countryside. The houses were pretty modest and poor, with unpainted and unfinished red brick walls, garbage and refuse pilled up everywhere and animals roaming freely. The peasants also looked pretty modest and poor themselves, with battered clothes, crocked and missing teeth, tanned skin from working under the sun and reddish eyes. It was scenery remarkably similar to the countryside poverty one would see in Brazil. It really did not take long (or much effort) to break thru the thin façade of the Chinese prosperity and gain a quick glance at the fearsome class inequality within Chinese society. Was I staring at a small sample of the social time bomb underneath China, waiting to explode? Or would this be a constant element of Chinese future as the new prosperity brought so much for a relative few (the ones with party connections) while the vast majority would just scrape by for the foreseeable future? For Zhang’s sake, he should hope for the later, since much of the anger, if the masses ever rose up, would probably be directed to people like him.
The girls had a blast picking up the peaches. A peasant woman was guiding us thru the peach trees and pointed to the fruits that were ripe for picking. I did not care much for picking up peaches, but was fascinated by the environment. Who were these peasants? Have they been on this land for long? Were they aware that China was an emerging power? If so, what did they think about it? Did they care one way or another? How did they live? What did they eat? What was their family structure like? I expressed my curiosity to Zhang, and he promptly asked the peasant woman if she would mind showing me her home after we finished picking the fruits, to which she nodded affirmatively.
Her house was no different than most houses I had seen in the area. It was a small walled complex, unpainted, crocked red bricks like all the homes around it. Inside, we were greeted by the barks of a chained puppy standing next to a plate full of left over food. There were 3 main “buildings”. In the center, sat the main home, where the family would have the bedrooms and living room. Through the glass windows we could see the ragged occupants inside moving about their business completely oblivious to our presence. On the left was what I can best describe as a “brick hut” where very primitive and dirty looking kitchen and bathrooms where implemented. It was indeed a sight of something straight out of the most poor and underdeveloped country side in Brazil. Finally, on the right there was a warehouse of some sort, where I believe they would store their agricultural tools and so forth. Satisfied for the opportunity to get a first hand tour of Chinese, we thanked the peasant lady, paid for the peaches and headed off to see bigger and more majestic things, like the Great Wall. Later that night, Zhang would take me to a very nice seafood restaurant, where he ordered more dishes than we could even possibly hope to eat (many were left untouched by the time we were done) and the bill for that little feast was probably the equivalent of many months earnings for the family of that peasant woman that we had visited just a few hours earlier.

Day 2

It is Monday morning and this will be my first day on my own in China. Zhang has to work all day, so I have to fence for myself in Beijing. He drops me off at one of the business districts in Beijing so that I can withdraw some money at the ATM, buy a city map and hopefully visit the other tourist trap in the city: The Forbidden City and Tianmen Square.
As expected, I attract very little attention at the business district. It seems that most Chinese around here are used to foreigners, so no one gives a second glance. Little did I know of how much that would change later that day. The subway station in Beijing are easy to find, clean and very practical. There are no vending machines and everything from buying the ticket and going thru the access gate is human manned. One thing that I should have guessed was to NOT ride the subway during the morning rush hour. The whole experience makes riding the NYC MTA system during rush hour seems like absolute bliss. The trains are not air conditioned, the crowds of people dwarf anything I had ever seen before and the Chinese appear to have no concept of waiting for the passengers on the inside of the train to get out first, before getting in. So, it is a complete free for all, an stampede of a scale that is yet to be matched. People push each other out of the way while police officers try to control the flow of the crowd by LITERALY swinging their batons at people. But any sane description, I was witnessing a riot inside the subway station. I was later told that what I saw was just a typical Monday morning at any Beijing subway station. I certainly gained a new level of appreciation for the NYC MTA after this.
Crossing streets In Beijing is above all, an act of courage and faith. Neither the pedestrians nor the drivers seem to have any concept giving preference, red lights and so on. The crowd of pedestrians would simply use the power of numbers to cross the street. Large groups would form and then they would all move forward crossing the street together as a pack, hoping that their combined numbers would force the traffic to slow down. I must say that the desired effect would not always happen. Many drivers would, instead of trying to slow down, try to find a hole or a space thru the moving crowd in order to pass without having to slow down or stop. This would result in pedestrian having to make some very acrobatic maneuvers in order to get out of the way of the unstoppable cars and trucks. More than once, I saw some old ladies and pregnant/nursing women making dodging maneuvers that I would have never thought possible. Within the last decade, Beijing must have developed a pretty efficient way of natural selection in which those pedestrians who lack the skills and ability to dodge traffic are simply weeded out of the local gene pool, leaving out only those citizens that can handle the psychotic traffic on that city. Survival of the fittest at its very best I guess.
My first contact with the REAL Beijing happened after I left the Forbidden City and started walking across a more touristic shopping avenue in Beijing. As I walk in front of a mall, with map open in hand, looking for the subway stop, I am approached by two your Chinese woman (one of them which is remarkably attractive). In very good English (the best I’ve heard in China so far) they ask me if I need directions. They then say that they are last year English students at a local university and would like to practice their English with me. I do not think much of it, since in Korea, Japan and New Zealand; I was often approached by locals looking to have conversation with foreigners. The girls hit me with a barrage of questions about who I am, where I am from, what do I do, how long I’ve been in China and so on. And they appeared to be genuinely interested on my responses. After about 10 minutes talking on the streets, the girls invite me for a cup of tea nearby, where they continue to practice their English with me. No problem, I think to myself. What risk can I run on a tea house in a very upscale and touristic part of Beijing? The teahouse is indeed very nice, clean, comfortable and well lit. We are taken to a private room where a servant begins the so called “Chinese tea ritual”. While the servant prepares the tea, the two girls keep asking me all kinds of questions about myself, my tastes and so on. It is a very pleasant (although pretty unorthodox) conversation. 15 minutes within our conversation on the tea room, the very pretty girl than excuses herself to the restroom for a few minutes while I continue the conversation with the other girl. When she returns, her hands are completely wet, and she very skillfully dries them by sliding and rubbing her hands in a very sensual manner across my neck, face and chest. At that exact moment every “hooker alert” in my body goes off. I realized then that I felt in some short of tourist trap. I think to myself that these are probably hookers looking for some quick buck or trying to lure me somewhere so that I can be mugged. I am not going anywhere else with them, so no need to worry. Maybe if I can conduct this conversation in a way that will show them that I am not a potential prospect, maybe we can have a friendly non-embarrassing conclusion to this meeting. So I turn up the conversation a few notches. We start talking about ancient Chinese history. No problem, the girls know their history and start to talk about the mongol invasion, the Ming dynasty and so on. I change the subject: We start to talk about Chinese modern economics. No problem, they start to discuss about the fix exchange of the RMB vs. the dollar, its advantages and potential shortfalls. Damn, need to try something harder. So I bring the conversation into the Iraq war. The girls take their gloves off and begin discussing the difficulties of managing a country with 3 different ethnic groups that have so many ancient disputes amongst them. OK, this is war now, I think to myself. We will talk about dark matter and its meaning to the science of Astronomy. And they take it and run with it, as if they have been reading Cosmos from Carl Sagan since they were toddlers. At that point I am absolutely mesmerized. I work daily with some very (I mean VERY) capable and smart women. Some of my female co-workers are amongst some of the smartest people I have ever met. But compared with those two Chinese women, they all seem to be nothing more than airhead bimbos. As I sit there, drinking tea, I watch these two girls skillfully talking about nay obscure subject that I throw at them with absolute confidence. Worse, they are able to navigate thru the discussion in order to calibrate and pace the conversation to the exact tone and speed that I like. These girls were able to, by chatting with me for 30 minutes, figure out exactly how I like conversations to be conducted, at the right level of discord to make the debate lively and yet friendly. I am there watching conversation magic being made. This is true art and I can’t believe my eyes and ears. Who are these women? What do they want? Can this go on forever? Am I dead in heaven? At that point, the best looking one makes a very naughty remark about how she heard that Latin men are the greatest lover on earth and that from my hands, she can tell I ma a great lover. Once again, all alarms instantly go off. I am now of Defcon 2. These girls can’t be hookers, they are too well educated and articulated for that. They are trying to get me aroused, probably to take me somewhere. It must be a con, but of what kind? Will they try to rob and/or murder me? Take me to the Chinese mafia so I can be held hostage until payment is made? I do not know, but I am now pretty concerned, since I know FOR A FACT that there is something fishy in the air. The girls are now suggesting that we go to a Karaoke nearby, where we can get a private room and sign together. This is getting really hairy, and it is time to end this farce. I look at my watch and say that I have a friend to meet soon, and request the bill. The girls mean in unison and begin pledging for me to go to the karaoke with them. It will be such a great time, and I am so cool, the coolest foreigner they had met in ages, they really want to spend time with me they say. I want to hear nothing about it. This has ALL the writing of a major trap, and now I feel that even my life might be a risk if I stay with these girls.
The bill comes, and the tea festival that I had just participated costs well over 100 dollars (a HUGE fortune in China). The girls must be free loaders, I figure. They are smart college girls looking for foreigners to take them out to expensive places that they would otherwise not be able to go. All they need to do is offer the apparently easy (but probably unreachable) carrot of sex. I consider making a fuss about the bill for a moment, but think better of it. I have spend less than $10 in China yet, had a free flight here and just had the most fun conversation that I can remember. I can pay $100 for this, cut my losses and get out of here. So I pay the bill and we walk out to the main street. At that point the girls are pulling me by the hand to the expensive looking Karaoke place next door. I tell them that I am not going anywhere, but that they are really good and that I was very impressed. I mention that I have dealt with many con artists back in Brazil, but none were nearly as good as they are. They make faces as if they are offended, and I ask for a picture, which they reluctantly agree to. We then part our ways, and I realize that no names were ever exchanged between us.
Much later that day I was able to find out what the con is about. The girls are not free loaders, they are “undercover sales people”. They attract unaware tourists to stores with highly inflated prices , like an innocent invitation for tea of karaoke, and keep them there as long as possible, while food, drinks and other services are consumed (at astronomical prices). Some of them might even eventually offer sex (for a price) to the right customers.
So I realize that this is not Japan, not South Korea. People here in China can be as fake as the products that they manufacture. While I have always been open to mingle, interact and learn from the natives, it is clear to me now that here in China a new approach is required. Defenses need to be up all the time, since many natives (not all for sure) might see me more as prey than a novelty.
To finish the day, Zhang took me and his two female friends to a very upscale massage parlor. It charges $15 for one hour of traditional Chinese massage. Great stuff, but I unfortunately go thru one of the most embarrassing moments of the trip yet: I get an erection and I can get read of it when I am asked to turn around so that they can massage my front. I turn after much hesitation and the staff immediately sees the issue at hand. I look around and none of the girls appears to be staring at me. The FEMALE staff very quickly dims the lights and throws a towel on top of my crouch as I try to bring very unsexual thoughts into my mind (like the starving children in Somalia) and within a few minutes, the things are subdued. The way the staff handled the situation appears to be rehearsed, so I guess they have faced this problem before. I am truly impressed on how these Chinese handled professionally such a disgraceful event.
If my second day in China is already like this, I can only fear for what is in store for me for the upcoming days.

If something can go wrong, it will.

-Murphy

It is said that every great adventure begins in a very unexciting way. I sure hope this is the case, since I am spending the first day of Project Marco Polo sitting on the pre-boarding gate at the San Francisco International Airport. According to the friendly folks at United Airlines (God bless their souls), there is an engine malfunction on the 747-400 scheduled to take us to Beijing. We are told that the brave members of the United Airlines maintenance team and boldly fighting with tooth and nail the “sky gremlins” that are keeping our plane grounded and that we should have a new “decision” in regards of the time of our departing by 2 PM (see photo).

Well, we were scheduled to depart at 1:38 PM. It is now 3:30PM and yet no decision has been made, and no update has been done to the light panel. Maybe they mean to say that they will come to a decision on our time for departure at 2:00 PM TOMORROW. I mean, if things are really that fucked, who could blame United for omitting that little piece of critical information? If I worked as a customer service rep. for a company as lousy as United Airlines, I’d manipulate the facts as much as I could too.
The big irony is that 800 years ago, when Marco Polo began his trip, I am quite sure that he did not have to worry too much about “engine problems” delaying his departure. Of course, he had to worry about the weather, broken horse legs, broken wagon wheels, diseases he could catch during the trip and so on. But worse came to worse, he could choose to simply continue to walk East towards China. Not that I am saying that I envy Marco Polo on this aspect. Indeed, I much rather fly on a cramped but climate controlled cabin of a 747 than having to travel by foot or wagon from Italy to Beijing, dodging bandits and crazed Tartars on the way. As much as this might have added thrill to his adventure, I think I rather travel without having to worry about being raped, tortured or eaten (not necessarily in that order) on the way. But I must confess that there is certain beauty in beginning an adventure without having to worry about uniformed customer support reps giving you lousy excuses on why your “history on the making” is being help up by “gremlins chewing the wires of engine 2”.
So, since I am stuck at SFO for several hours more, I decided to try to make the best of it, since I am tired of looking at airport architecture. So, I start to walk around to see if there is anything interesting happening that I can add to my saga. Low and behold, after strolling back and forth across the terminal a few times without seeing anything remarkable, I do notice a very frustrated looking girl sitting somewhere near our boarding gate. I recall her from before. I think she is waiting for the same flight to Beijing. From her face, I can tell that she must be almost as bored as I am. Since she is not doing anything interesting (and neither am I) I decide to approach and start a conversation. Hopefully we will be able to keep ourselves occupied for the next few hours.
It turns out that her name is Justa (as in “just” or “fair”) and she is from Argentina. Just is headed to China, where she is supposed to meet some of her Argentinean friends and travel across the country for a couple of weeks. Like me, she is unable to let her friends that the flight is delayed, which adds further into the frustration. But at least we are able to engage into some decent conversation while we wait for news from United. She is very well traveled, having been to several countries in Europe and the Americas. But it is her first trip to Asia and she is a bit concerned about the possible challenges she will face in such an alien environment. I give her the typical “it will be OK, there is nothing to worry about”, but the truth is that I am also very apprehensive. China will represent a set of new challenges, since I have no command of the language at all and unlike other countries that I have visited so far, the support infrastructure for foreign tourists is quite lacking and under developed. But hey, Marco Polo went to China with no mandarin skills whatsoever, and go “Lonely Planet” guides either and yet he made it.

Justa waiting for the plane

It is almost 4 PM now and we are told that the maintenance crew has to replace some of the blades on engine two, which will delay our departure even further. However, United is gracious enough to allow us to suffer this endless waiting inside the plane, instead of having to sit at around the boarding gate. So, it i stime to say goodbye to Justa and begin boarding (several hours behind schedulealready).
Because of my “Premier” status, I am one of the first people on “economy class” allowed to board. Funny how the airlines segment their customers, they break them down into first class (the stinking rich), the business class (the wannabe rich, but not there yet) and the economy class (the plebe). However, the plebe is broken down even further into the “premiere” and the true bottom of the barrel regular travelers. Since I am premier, I get to parade myself and my “lack of financial success” first in front of the “upper” classes, as I board the plane.
I find my appropriate seat, near the window, and I get a first hand look at the maintenance crew replacing the blades. Of course I am going to take pictures of the whole process and while doing so, I explain to the nearby flight attendant that I am taking those to post on my travel blog.

Gremlin hunting

United cleaning up the pile of shit they've caused

To my surprise, her face lights up and she immediately offers to take me to the pilot’s cabin upstairs, so I can take more pictures. I am not sure why she offers it. Maybe she is a PR aware employee and wants to influence in a positive way the comments that I might post on my blog about United. It could also be the power of my “premiere” status and a way to make the higher plebe more satisfied. Or it could be simply the fact that she finds me very sexy and wants to build report with me so that later she can seduce me into the bathroom with her, so that she can molest me a few times through this long flight. I am tired hungry and frustrated, so I will I will set my mind of possibility number 3. After all, some optimism in life can never hurt. The flight attendant takes me to the upper deck, where I get a glimpse on how the “ubber rich” get to travel to China. Finally, the flight attended proudly introduces me to the cabin of the 747-400. “It is the queen of the skies” she mention, with some seriousness on her voice. I just hope she is not that serious once she takes me to the toilet room to molest me. I take a quick snapshot of the cabin and run back to my seat before the swarm of the lower plebe entering the plane makes moving inside of the aircraft impossible.
Back on my seat, I meet the two neighbors who will sit next to me for the duration of the flight: A Chinese lady and her 20 something year old daughter. T is my understanding that although they live in the USA, they are going back to China for pleasure. They are kind enough to offer me their cell phone (and international calling plan, no less) so that I can call Youfeng and let him know that my flight is severely delayed (Youfeng is supposed to pick me up at the airport). But it is around 7:30 AM Saturday morning in China when I call, do I wake Youfeng up, and he does not sound very happy about it. I very quickly explain my situation and he tells me that he will check the flight schedule over the web before heading out to the airport. With that out of the way, I thank the Chinese women, sit back and relax, waiting for our final take-off.
After another hour of waiting, we are told that everything is done, the fan blades on engine 2 have been fully replaced and that we are good to go. The plane begins to taxi at around 5 PM (we were originally scheduled to depart at 1:38 PM). As we sit on the runnay, ready to take off, me and several other passengers noticed, by look at the window, large gushes of fluid coming out of the tip of the plane’s wing. Either this plane has a big ass powerful AC system and the water drain is located at the tip of the wing, or there is something very fishy going on. As if the United pilot had mind reading skills, the captain comes over the PA system letting us know that the plane is leaking fuel, but this is normal after an engine repair. The plane would take off as planned and there was nothing to worry about. So, the plane just had major engine repair, it is now leaking large amounts of jet fuel right before take off, but we have nothing to worry about. Now, that is a pilot with balls, really large balls. So, I watch helplessly as the plane runs over the runway as huge streams of highly flammable jet flue spills out in large recurring gushes over the tip of the wing. It is as if the wing of the plane itself was “ejaculating”. So as I have my face glued to the Plexiglas of the window, watching the background scenery runs by at over 200 MPH as the plane slowly rises to the sky, I can’t help but think that this is probably the weirdest and most worrisome “ejaculation” I have ever witnessed.
So, we are airborne now and there is no flammable “cum” coming out of the wing tip. I feel almost as if I should ask the plane “was it good for you?”, since I can’t dispel the feeling that me and the other 300 passenger inside have been mercilessly “fucked” by this plane over the past several hours. And worse, we did not even get to feel an orgasm.
At least now I will have the peace and tranquility to enjoy the rest of what will turn out to be a pretty uneventful flight, right? Well, not quite. It seems that someone at the “in-flight movie selection dept.” at United really has a very strange and sick sense of humor. You see, we just had a dramatic delay due to severe engine troubles. We took off leaking large amounts of fuel and, check this out; the first in-flight movie that they show is big budget disaster flix “Poseidon Adventure”. Now, I am not a very touchy guy, I am certainly not afraid of flying, and it won’t be a lousy remake of a classic disaster movie that will ruin my mood. But it was funny as hell to watch the faces of horror of the passengers around me were making as the huge cruise ship cap sized killing hundreds of vacationing passengers. I could hardily contain my laugher. Someone at United was really having a lot of fun at our expense.