GADLING’S TAKE FIVE: Week of June 17

The week is out of here, but before you hit the town or one of Kelly’s many book recommendations for the first official weekend of summer make sure you give these plugs one more spin.

5. A Peek into the Future of Dubai:
From the sound of things Dubai will be a circus of exotic hotels and filled with many more amusements to tickle your fancy before you can say ab-ra-ca-dab-ra. If you’re like me and you hope one day to see it without all the crazy tourism development you better make plans to go now. Otherwise cloud hotels could be fun.

4. A Quest for a Cheap Car Rental:
Summer is here and it is time to hit the road. If you are in need of tips to help you save a buck or more try this one.

3. World Nomad/LP Filmmaker Scholarship:

Here’s an incredible opportunity for budding filmmakers with a desire to travel around the world. The scholarship application deadline closes somewhere around August 15th so hurry young travelers.

2. Travel Stories That Are Rated “R”:
Okay, so these travelers tales AREN’T for everyone. Some of them like Willy mentioned are very off and bizarre even for us here at Gadling. Should your curiosity get you going and you wonder what happened in Vegas or Paris or even Cape Town that didn’t stay where it needed to be, check a few of these stories out.

1. Alaska without the Cruise Ship Part 17: Some Final Thoughts:

Neil’s fantastic Alaska dispatch has come to a close, but never fear! You can still revisit each part by clicking on the fancy icon to the right or the link right above which will allow you to explore them all over again and again and again until one day you finally decide to go on your own. The pictures of Alaska are great, but you got to admit it looks a whole lot better in person.

A Canadian in Beijing: Big Toothy Grin at the Dental Hospital

There’s so much to write about and so little time left. I’m here for only one more week and then I can hardly believe that I’m leaving. Canada again? It’s going to be so strange not to be here, a place where I feel so at home. I have a rhythm here that feels musical in my step. I will so miss this place. And yet, my Canadian senses are also drawing me home the way fresh baked bread on the breeze will draw someone into a warm kitchen on a summer’s day. If only I could duplicate myself to be in both places at once!

In the midst of this delicious rhythm, I’ve really stopped being a tourist in so many ways. I have found friends and a vibrant community and my adventures are centred around their lives and their worlds. Not to say they haven’t been given insight into mine, but they have invited me in to theirs and shown me so many different aspects of Beijing. In many cases, I have seen parts of this city that I would never have seen had I just been looking through a guide book for possible adventures.

Take yesterday, for example, when I toured Beijing’s preeminent dental hospital: “Peking University Stomatological Hospital.”

One of my friends is a dentist studying to be a dental surgeon. He invited me to his hospital and I must say that it was an experience that left an impression. Not only did I constantly want to brush my teeth while I was there, but I felt shy about smiling for fear that everyone was looking at my teeth!

Now, on a practical level, what struck me most was the fact that the hospital looked like a hospital from the 1970’s. Much of the equipment was up-to-date and modern, but the décor and the layout reminded me of the hospitals of my youth. Not to mention the fact that the walls were often in disrepair with peeling paint or cracked plaster and the pipes were exposed and rusting.

Not unlike the buildings at the school or my dorm, though. Perhaps I should just chalk it up to different interior design standards here in China versus Canada? And, after all, it’s not really about look and much more about function, right? In North America, we are taught that if a place looks shabby then the quality of the service must also be shabby. I think that assumption is far from true here. Standards could very well be high (if not higher than home), even if the walls need painting.

My friend took me up floor after floor of identical floor plan: the central area was a waiting room with hard-backed chairs all attached to one another like students chairs in a university lecture hall. Each floor had a reception desk and then dental rooms branching off on all sides. Each dental room held several dental chairs that weren’t separated from one another with walls or dividers. I’m not sure what dental hospitals look like in North America, but I wondered if perhaps privacy is not as important here or if this is standard for a dental hospital versus a private clinic. (Anyone know?)

In the stairwell, when we rounded the stairs to the fifth floor, he pointed to the entrance and said that we couldn’t go in there. He continued to climb the stairs to the sixth floor and I paused at the fifth and asked “why?” He stopped and turned around and in a very matter-of-fact tone explained that this was the floor where the government officials are treated. “So?” I asked, naively, and he said that no one was allowed to go onto this floor except a select group of doctors and surgeons. He further explained that there is actually a full hospital that is just for government officials elsewhere in the city. It, too, is off limits to the regular Beijing denizen or visitor.

Well then.

These are the moments when I recall that I’m in a Communist country.

Another interesting point is that the orthodontic floor was the most modern and clean. Of course, my friend explained, this is because it’s the most expensive of all the services. (So, money will buy paint and take rust off pipes, I suppose!?) I also liked the kid’s floor. The little chairs were cute and they tried to decorate it with a bit more colour for the little ones. And, most amusing to me of all was the educational rooms with the fake heads with removable jaws for learning how to work on teeth. Of course these are needed, but I’ve never seen such a thing before and the image of all these slack-jawed dummies made me laugh.

After the tour, we came back to the main floor and into the central lobby. Here were glassed-in kiosks that looked much like ticket wickets at a train station. The patients line up in front of these windows to be registered at the hospital, though it is not an emergency reception room. My friend also pointed out the pharmacy window, which was also a kiosk. The patient takes their prescription slip to this window and presents it to the attendant and the attendant fetches your prescription. Almost like a drive-thru window, I thought, and it was strange to hear my friend define it as a pharmacy. In Canada, pharmacies look a lot different!

Suddenly there was a grand commotion. They were blocking off a section of the outer sidewalk and people were being directed to move their bicycles immediately as the doors were to be locked to one of the exits and any bicycles would be trapped outside. At least, this is what I gathered. There was also something about not being able to access a neighbouring building through those entrances/exits, which seem to inspire a lot of running back and forth before the locks were engaged.

Apparently they are working on the building next door and there was a risk of falling debris. They were blocking it off so that no one would get hurt, but to block off the area they only used flimsy tarps that flapped in the wind, one at either end of the section of sidewalk – easy to walk under and/or around. In North America, I could already imagine people completely disregarding these tarps and taking the risk. Here in China, rules are rules.

The urgency of this closure was palpable. In fact, it seemed as through there was some sort of panic to gather items from one building to the next as though there would be no way to get between the buildings afterwards, which I soon discovered was untrue. The blocked walkway just forced a person to go around. Still, it seemed like the end of the world was coming for those few moments and I just watched with amusement and curiosity.

In my curiosity, I walked outside and photographed the area, much to the horror of one of the hospital workers who warned me that I could still get hurt even while on the “safe” sides of the barricade. (By the way, I didn’t see a single particle of dust fall from the adjacent building while I was out there!) I am grateful I went outside, though, because I discovered this building behind the hospital (I have no idea if it’s part of the hospital or not) that is covered in vines. It looked like a living and breathing creature and I had to photograph it.

When I went back inside, the drama had subsided and I accompanied my friend to a large auditorium where I watched groups of students gather on the stage and perform various songs and poems or sketches for each other. There were perhaps five hundred students and each group was of approximately ten students. They filed on and off the stage with embarrassed giggles and cajoling from their friends in the audience. The most popular performance was karaoke in style with backing music being provided by a laptop hooked up to an overhead projector and piped through auditorium speakers. In fact, many of the songs sung were English songs and any poems that were recited were also in English. That did not make them very clear, however, and it was funny for me to say that I “ting bu dong” (don’t understand) something when it’s supposed to be in my own language!

Two hours later, the performances were winding up and I had had enough of “people watching.” It really felt like a high school variety night (which was the only thing I could relate it to), only this group of students weren’t my fellow students and this wasn’t my school! I felt good to have supported my friend, but I was ready to go. Such an event was definitely culturally specific to China. I can’t imagine a bunch of university and masters students in Canada engaging in this kind of activity, but I have to add, to their credit, that it was great to see these students having so much fun.

I left via the back entrance (due to the blocked doorways) and I thanked my friend for such a unique experience. How often does a person get to tour a dental hospital in Beijing and then watch fifty amateur performances in two hours? I’d say it would go in the once-in-a-lifetime category!

I went home and brushed my teeth right away.

Weird Pink Soap

When I went to The Gambia for my two year stint in the Peace Corps I took a gallon of Mill Creek shampoo and a gallon of its conditioner. I figured that if my hair smelled familiar I could certainly live in a village for two years. The hair products did not last that long, and what I discovered was that there were perfectly fine beauty products to buy when I arrived–not in my village, but where expatriates frequent. I have to admit, having my own brand did offer some comfort in the early days of getting used to living without electricity or running water.

Generally, I’m not much of a personal hygiene snob and will use what’s available most of the time. But, honestly, there are those bars of bright pink soap that I’ve come across in certain hostels and cheap hotels that made me wonder what exactly I was putting on my body. Often the label says something like “Beauty bar” or some such thing. I seem to recall seeing Lux soap this color, but according the Lux website, Lux is a soap fit for movie stars. Perhaps, what I saw was a Lux knock-off similar to the Colgate toothpaste knock-off I wrote about in another post.

I did do some research on soap to see if there’s anything dangerous in some brands. How does mercury sound to you? According to this article, mercury is used in some soap in sub-Saharan Africa to make skin and hair lighter. So, what to do? It’s probably a good idea to be a little choosy when traveling where brands aren’t so familiar. The soap in the picture isn’t exactly the kind I’m talking about. This one was posted by Andy Atkinson on Flickr and is from Vietnam.

A Canadian in Beijing: Going Postal at Exam Time

I have been studying constantly since the weekend. Who knew that studying could take up so much time?! Well, I suppose the really good students in this program know, but I have been enjoying my life here and riding the smooth ride of a course that doesn’t quiz or test regularly. This week, however, we have our three big “kaoshi” (tests) and I am suddenly looking down the long road at about eighteen chapters and over 1500 new vocabulary words to memorize (which includes five levels of memorization: the translated meaning, the Chinese pronunciation, the tones, the character recognition, and how to draw it.)

I’m sunk.

And so, I’ve been distracted. I finally put together a care package for my friend yesterday after gathering several cool “Chinese” items together during an extended study break and quick walk to the campus store. (It’s amazing the things we can find time to do when we don’t want to be doing something else!)

Now, don’t get me wrong: I love this language and I love the learning… but I’m finding that using it in life is much more effective for my memory than staring at a page is. That’s why I haven’t been studying regularly throughout the term and that’s why this process of actually “studying” is such an insurmountable task now.

So, while I was at the store for some beverages and some study “energy,” I found lots of things to send my friend and I packaged it all up in a small box with notes on all the items for their use (and/or translation) along with a nice letter.

Later on, for another “study break,” I walked the five minutes to the campus post office to send this package and found myself in the little space alongside of perhaps six to ten people all trying to get their packages sorted out as well. This campus post office is small; we were all cramped in there together in the muggy air of mid-June Beijing.

One group was a father and son team from Iceland who were trying to send about ten large boxes overseas of what appeared to be the son’s belongings. Each box was being rigidly searched and then sealed by the postal attendant. In the end, they spent over 5,000 RMB to send these boxes, which is about $700 Canadian. It was quite a process.

My turn eventually came and I placed my box on the scale only to be barked at about its contents. I explained that it was all “chide dongxi” or “food stuffs” and she immediately broke the seal on my expertly packed box and started taking out the items, one by one. The crunched up newspapers and other stuffing that I’d placed around some of the glass items was spilling over the counter and onto the floor. My letter also fell out but I caught it before it hit the dirty ground.

It didn’t take long for her to get to a drink that is good for when you feel a cold coming on and she said “bu keyi!” in a loud voice, explaining with exasperation that I could not send anything that was liquid. At about that same moment, she also found the Chinese wine and the soup and I became a combination of a foreign idiot (in her eyes and tone of voice) and a potential terrorist preparing to send explosives overseas or something. She nearly threw me out of there, balled up newspapers trailing behind me, having been pitched at my backside.

Of course, that’s not what happened, but she did throw up her hands and forcibly thrust the box back into my chest with flat-out, official rejection. I knew, at least, that it was time for me to go.

I said “okay, okay, I heard you” in my attempt at exasperated Chinese and left the crowded space both defensive and humiliated. I came back to my study zone no closer to comprehensive learning and no closer to having sent my friend a care package. I dropped the package on the floor and decided to deal with it the next day (today) and resumed my boring studying.

So, today came. I looked at the sad box that had been completely rearranged and I removed all the items and lined up all of those that had any liquid in them, quickly realizing that this made up more than half of my care package. So, I resigned to taking another study break (!) and headed to the Lotus Center, a multi-purpose store here in Wudaokou, to buy some other care package items.

When I got back with my bag full of great stuff, I re-labelled and revised the letter (slightly) and put it all back in the box remembering not to seal it this time since I knew that she would once again want to search through everything.

I arrived to an equally crowded room and two equally grouchy attendants. When I saw space on the scale, I placed my box there and waited to be served. She looked at the box and then at me and I said “no liquids!” before she could bark at me again. She said “Oh, you came back!” in a bored and irritated voice and I nodded. She then lifted a few items from my box and seemed satisfied that I wasn’t going to harm humankind with my friendly package of care.

Then she wordlessly disappeared into a side room and emerged with a box that was she was simultaneously assembling as she walked. She pointed at my box and said “Ni bu keyi yong zheige hezi” (You can’t use this box). I said “why?” and I didn’t understand her mumbled answer. All I knew was that I had no choice but to transfer my items over to this official post box, which was just about an inch smaller and forced to me to leave some items behind (the larger one was too large). Oh well, I think my friend will get the best things, anyhow. I had to move to one side to get this re-packing job done and then I returned and jumped the queue to get it sent – finally.

They seemed satisfied with my box, at long last, and then my address form was attached, they sealed the box with their official tape and then noisily dropped it to the floor and kicked it so that it slid into the corner with all the other boxes. Earlier, I had watched one of these attendants placing these boxes in large cloth bags and dragging them to the front stoop.

My money was taken and my change was given without a word. My automatic “xie xie” (thank you) at receiving my change was not responded to.

Well, of course it wasn’t.

This is a language that doesn’t use “thank you” in this kind of situation. My Canadian-ism (i.e. hyper politeness and over-use of the word “thank you”) catches me on it every time. After all, that change is rightfully mine and I don’t need to thank them for giving it to me. At least, that’s the Chinese perspective. When I say it in these situations, the polite response is often “bu yong xie” (or, no need for thank you). Not today, of course.

I was clearly dealing with two people who had failed their “customer service” exam at post office school.

I guess they didn’t study very hard.

Ach-hem.

Back to the books.

Tunnel of Nine Turns: Taroko Gorge

Reading Justin’s post about the world’s longest tunnels made me think of Taroko Gorge near Hualien, Taiwan. Taroko Gorge’s Tunnel of Nine Turns isn’t the longest in the world, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s one of the curviest. The tunnel cuts through the rugged mountains of the middle of Taiwan that separates the eastern part of the island from the western part where most of the people live.

The tunnel is exactly what its name says. The ruggedness creates the curves and makes for an interesting walk. Because this section is only open to pedestrians, you don’t need to worry about getting mowed over by a truck careening around a corner. In a few spots you can look through natural windows to the marble and granite rock face and lush trees that cover the gorge. Just walk a few steps; you’ll figure out where the lushness comes from. It is HUMID!! Bring water and a bandana to wipe off sweat.

Besides walking through the tunnels, there are hiking trails to explore and some temples that offer a view when you get to them. Of all the places I went in Taiwan, Taroko Gorge is perhaps my favorite because I didn’t expect its beauty. The first time I went here I was on a bus that crossed the country from west to east. I remember I had to drink a Coke to settle my stomach. The second time we took a tour from Hualien. We got to Hualien from Hsinchu, the city where we lived, on the train. [photo: Morgan Calliope, Flickr]