Tai Shan is one of the holy mountains in China that has been thoroughly commercially exploited by the Chinese government for its holiness. It's outside of the city, so I figured it would be a good place to go relax for a bit. Of course I didn't figure that I would do so much walking in Qingdao (8 hours straight, then 2 more after that on the first day, similar figures the second day) that I would injure the arch of my foot the day before climbing the thing. This resulted in me limping up to the entrance to the mountain trail while Chinese people looked on skeptically. Imagine Verbal Kint showing up in Chinatown with a big backpack and beanie, except before he turned back into Keyser Soze, and that was pretty much me.
Anyway, to make a long story short, I managed to make it up to the top of the mountain, where I stayed the night in the hopes of seeing the sunrise the next morning. Here's a rundown of what happened the second day when I woke up at the top of the mountain, in running diary format as usual:
5:45 I wake up and get my things to head outside. The hotel keeper has told me that sunrise is at 6:30.
6:20 I arrive at the spot from which I'm going to view the sunrise. There is some light on the horizon, so I think it might be soon.
6:35 More light, but no sunrise.
6:50 Seriously, this is the longest sunrise ever. Also, I'm at the top of a mountain in winter, so my fingers are numb.
7:20 An hour after I got to the spot, the sun rises. Halfway though, I walk out in protest. Has anyone every officially protested the rising of the sun? I don't know, but I did.
8:45 On my way down, a Chinese guy tries to tell me to hop down the stairs of the mountain to go faster. Thanks, buddy. If I could move at more than a slow shuffle, I probably would.
9:15 I get to the place where there is supposedly another trail that splits off to the west. I can see it. It's on the map. However, there seems to be no way to actually get there. What am I supposed to do? Will myself over there? Hop on my hoverboard? Are they selling magic carpets somewhere?
10:00 My magic carpet stalls mid-flight, so I give up and go back down the way I came up.
10:20 I'm almost down when a couple of Chinese teenagers ask me to take a picture with them. I agree, not knowing that there are about 25 more waiting in photo-op ambush somewhere. I don't know why they ask, since I'm wearing a massive backpack, limping, and clearly look like I spent the night at the top of the mountain. I soon find myself surrounded by a horde of Chinese teenagers wanting to take a picture with Quasimodo. Such is the price of a white face.
11:25 I arrive at a cafe, announcing that I'm the only one eating. I always hate doing this because there's some kind of stigma against eating alone here. There's no stigma against spitting on the floor indoors or taking a leak in public, but there's a stigma against eating alone. I always get this look from the waitress that says: “Eating alone are we? Well, come right this way, I have a table just for you. We usually feed the cockroaches back here, but it should do just fine for you.” Geez.
11:30 I end up at a cafe back in town where I inadvertently order pork fat or cartilage or something else in the not-really-meat-but-eaten-like-meat-in-China category.
1:30 After I catch the waitresses trading one of those, “Is he going to leave or are we going to have to ask him” looks, I leave the cafe and catch the train. I leave smelling like raging sweat and stale anger.
8:30ish I arrive back at the train station and retrieve my deodorant. Then, smelling only like stale anger, I shuffle home.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
A Trip to Qingdao: The Amble
The actual time I spent in Qingdao wasn't too memorable. For those not in the know, Qingdao is the city where Tsingtao beer was originally brewed. There's a different spelling because the phonetic systems used to express the Chinese language in English have been changed about 543.6 times. It was occupied by the Germans at some point, who gave it streets, electricity, a sewer system, and a safe drinking water supply (according to Wikipedia anyway), not to mention the brewery. This was all before the Germans realized that they had absoutely no business running a colony in China and coughed it up. If you ask me, they left it better than they found it, but say that to a Chinese person and the threat level measuring the odds of your being hit upside the head with a wok changes from a rosy orange to more of a menacing magenta.
Anyway, history aside, the city is a pleasant enough place to walk around. I would say that I spent the majority of my time there walking, actually. The best place I went was the Naval Musuem, which had an old Chinese sub and several ships. The highlights:
One of the boats bore marks from an engagement with the KMT (phonetics strike again!), in which it broke through a line somewhere, “leaving the GMD boats at a loss what to do,” according to the inscription. Judging by the number of rounds the boat took (more than 100), the GMD boats didn't seem to have had too much trouble figuring out what to do after all.
The other highlight of the Naval Museum involved a plane that was manufactured, “in the Soviet Union” that still very clearly had “US Air Force” on its side. It was thinly repainted by workers who were apparently not familiar with the purpose of repainting the plane in the first place.
I also got to walk by a bunch of old ordnance including mines and torpedoes. I hoped that they had all been defused, but I began to have my doubts when one of the workers walked by me kicking a “used” pressurized gas tank along the cobblestones. I think I tripped over my dignity on my way to the back side of the nearest solid object.
Possibly the best part was the unusually large number of Chinglish signs dotting the museum. My favorites by far were the “No Striding” signs. Guess I'll have to restrict myself to an “amble,” a “shuffle,” or perhaps a “mosey” as I peruse the various curiosities of the Naval Museum.
My other experiences in Qingdao mostly involved me looking for places that I couldn't find. I looked for the Qingdao Museum for a while and couldn't find the place, so I had to settle for the Qingdao Art Museum. Most of the paintings looked like they had been started with great detail, but that the painter had gotten lazy at the end and sort of splashed a bunch of vaguely appropriate-looking colors in the corners to finish them. I was not amused. On the other hand, I don't exactly have a discerning eye when it comes to art. I'm one of those classless slobs that walks into the museum, looks at one of the pieces of abstract art and scoffs, “That's just a streak on a white canvas! The artist probably spilled his coffee on the thing, missed his deadline, and handed it in like that. I could have done that!” This is why I don't really go to art museums any more... or ever really went in the first place.
Oh, and two different taxi drivers cheated me out of money. “Irate” doesn't really do justice to my mood at the time. It was one step above, “screaming at the taxi driver in Chinese” and about two steps from “violent.” The third taxi driver looked genuinely alarmed when I got in his taxi, probably due to the topographical map standing out on my forehead. However, I decided that it would be a good idea to say where I needed to go instead of, “Hulk smash!” which was much closer to what was really going through my head at the time. I'm officially changing China's subtitle to: Land of Rice, Girls Who Look 5-10 Years Younger Than They Really Are, and Frustration that Leads to Becoming the Incredible Hulk. Unfortunately, while it would be fun to take on thieving taxi drivers, sluggish supermarket shoppers, and the Chinese military as a big green monster, I'd rather not end up on the side of a Chinese road with my thumb out while sad music plays in the background.
I'd be run over by a bus in about three seconds.
Anyway, history aside, the city is a pleasant enough place to walk around. I would say that I spent the majority of my time there walking, actually. The best place I went was the Naval Musuem, which had an old Chinese sub and several ships. The highlights:
One of the boats bore marks from an engagement with the KMT (phonetics strike again!), in which it broke through a line somewhere, “leaving the GMD boats at a loss what to do,” according to the inscription. Judging by the number of rounds the boat took (more than 100), the GMD boats didn't seem to have had too much trouble figuring out what to do after all.
The other highlight of the Naval Museum involved a plane that was manufactured, “in the Soviet Union” that still very clearly had “US Air Force” on its side. It was thinly repainted by workers who were apparently not familiar with the purpose of repainting the plane in the first place.
I also got to walk by a bunch of old ordnance including mines and torpedoes. I hoped that they had all been defused, but I began to have my doubts when one of the workers walked by me kicking a “used” pressurized gas tank along the cobblestones. I think I tripped over my dignity on my way to the back side of the nearest solid object.
Possibly the best part was the unusually large number of Chinglish signs dotting the museum. My favorites by far were the “No Striding” signs. Guess I'll have to restrict myself to an “amble,” a “shuffle,” or perhaps a “mosey” as I peruse the various curiosities of the Naval Museum.
My other experiences in Qingdao mostly involved me looking for places that I couldn't find. I looked for the Qingdao Museum for a while and couldn't find the place, so I had to settle for the Qingdao Art Museum. Most of the paintings looked like they had been started with great detail, but that the painter had gotten lazy at the end and sort of splashed a bunch of vaguely appropriate-looking colors in the corners to finish them. I was not amused. On the other hand, I don't exactly have a discerning eye when it comes to art. I'm one of those classless slobs that walks into the museum, looks at one of the pieces of abstract art and scoffs, “That's just a streak on a white canvas! The artist probably spilled his coffee on the thing, missed his deadline, and handed it in like that. I could have done that!” This is why I don't really go to art museums any more... or ever really went in the first place.
Oh, and two different taxi drivers cheated me out of money. “Irate” doesn't really do justice to my mood at the time. It was one step above, “screaming at the taxi driver in Chinese” and about two steps from “violent.” The third taxi driver looked genuinely alarmed when I got in his taxi, probably due to the topographical map standing out on my forehead. However, I decided that it would be a good idea to say where I needed to go instead of, “Hulk smash!” which was much closer to what was really going through my head at the time. I'm officially changing China's subtitle to: Land of Rice, Girls Who Look 5-10 Years Younger Than They Really Are, and Frustration that Leads to Becoming the Incredible Hulk. Unfortunately, while it would be fun to take on thieving taxi drivers, sluggish supermarket shoppers, and the Chinese military as a big green monster, I'd rather not end up on the side of a Chinese road with my thumb out while sad music plays in the background.
I'd be run over by a bus in about three seconds.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
A Trip to Qingdao: Preamble
8:20 Sunday evening: After having all day to get to the bus station, I arrive with a few minutes to spare. I am informed that I am not allowed to bring my bottle of deodorant on the bus because it's flammable. After arguing with the guard for a while, I start to feel a little flammable myself, but I let it go. Bad news for anyone who has to travel in the same vicinity as me for the next four days, though.
8:30 I board the bus. A movie starts.
9:00 The lights go out.
9:30 The movie goes out.
9:35 The inevitable snoring starts. However, this isn't just regular loud snoring. This dude seems to have every nasal deviation possible. He's snoring through his nose, mouth, throat, and possibly ears.
10:30 I have almost grown accustomed to the snoring.
10:31 The snoring changes rhythm and, sickeningly, form. Now it involves a puddle (blob? stream?) of phlegm that vibrates with a wet sound at every breath. It was, I assure you, every bit as disgusting as it sounds.
11:00 Someone Everyone has finally gotten tired of listening to this guy and after plenty of “humphing,” loud coughing, and possibly a flying ashtray, the snoring has mercifully stopped.
11:15 I begin to get drowsy, so I take out my contacts and go to the bathroom.
11:20 Now I can't sleep.
2:00 Finally, having exhausted every line of thought possible, my brain gets tired of mentally flogging me and I drift off.
4:50 We arrive in Qingdao.
4:50:30 Every Chinese person is off the bus. How they woke up from a sound sleep, got all their belongings together and got off the bus so fast, I will never know.
4:52 Still groggy, I finally get off the bus. The driver looks like he wants to punch me.
5:40 I arrive at my hostel after passing it twice. Apparently I didn't notice the “youth hostel” in small print on a huge sign for a cafe/lounge. On the other hand, I spent 30 minutes looking for 61 Jining Lu when I was supposed to be looking for 31 Jining Lu. Stupidity always seems to rear its ugly head in the worst situations.
6:00 I collapse in bed and try to think of beautiful Bavarian barmaids serving me cold beer. Instead, my last thought before going to sleep is, “Crap, I forgot my cell phone charger.”
8:30 I board the bus. A movie starts.
9:00 The lights go out.
9:30 The movie goes out.
9:35 The inevitable snoring starts. However, this isn't just regular loud snoring. This dude seems to have every nasal deviation possible. He's snoring through his nose, mouth, throat, and possibly ears.
10:30 I have almost grown accustomed to the snoring.
10:31 The snoring changes rhythm and, sickeningly, form. Now it involves a puddle (blob? stream?) of phlegm that vibrates with a wet sound at every breath. It was, I assure you, every bit as disgusting as it sounds.
11:00 Someone Everyone has finally gotten tired of listening to this guy and after plenty of “humphing,” loud coughing, and possibly a flying ashtray, the snoring has mercifully stopped.
11:15 I begin to get drowsy, so I take out my contacts and go to the bathroom.
11:20 Now I can't sleep.
2:00 Finally, having exhausted every line of thought possible, my brain gets tired of mentally flogging me and I drift off.
4:50 We arrive in Qingdao.
4:50:30 Every Chinese person is off the bus. How they woke up from a sound sleep, got all their belongings together and got off the bus so fast, I will never know.
4:52 Still groggy, I finally get off the bus. The driver looks like he wants to punch me.
5:40 I arrive at my hostel after passing it twice. Apparently I didn't notice the “youth hostel” in small print on a huge sign for a cafe/lounge. On the other hand, I spent 30 minutes looking for 61 Jining Lu when I was supposed to be looking for 31 Jining Lu. Stupidity always seems to rear its ugly head in the worst situations.
6:00 I collapse in bed and try to think of beautiful Bavarian barmaids serving me cold beer. Instead, my last thought before going to sleep is, “Crap, I forgot my cell phone charger.”
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