A Canadian in Beijing: A Must Do = A Shidu Picnic

by Ember Swift on

The second last day of the holidays and I was invited to go on a picnic in the outlying areas of Beijing with one of my new friends, Rui, and several of his friends. I was the only foreigner (non-Native Chinese speaker) and so I was a bit nervous. Still, Rui’s English is excellent and I only hesitated for an instant before accepting the opportunity to see some of the outskirts of this city and to meet a new group of people.

We went to an area called “Shi Du” which means the ten ferry district. It’s about an hour’s drive south of Beijing and it leads into ten separate valleys around small, jagged mountains which each include water access and stunning scenery. Because it’s become a popular travel site, there are also shops and various other leisure activities locate in each.

This is a time in Chinese history when people from the city have enough money to actually visit the country as a leisure activity – to enjoy the fresh air, the open skies and the natural wonders that lie outside of the concrete and glass. As a result, we were not the only ones with this idea!

We arrived at the fifth “du” and walked along the rocky ridge of a beautiful lake and scoped out our picnic site. We were about twenty feet from another group and the lake was full of people on leisure rafts with large sticks to propel them forward. When everyone was satisfied with our choice of location, all the men then went back to the cars to get the food and coolers and other items while the women stayed with the dogs. I stayed too, of course, considering my gender and the complete surprise that I garnered when I offered to help too!

When they returned, there was the typical arguing about where to put the cook stoves and then the men all mutually failed several times at starting the fires. I had to laugh. Everyone had a better idea than everyone else and it was just comical. It could have been happening in any country, in any language. Eventually, the coals took and the cooking began, as did the laughter and the good times.

Here in China, it seems as though picnic blankets aren’t the norm. Instead, plastic is used. Large strips of cheap plastic was pulled from a roll and was laid out flat and held down with rocks. The food went on top of it – a veritable feast of kabobs and salads and beverages. My friend had stocked up on vegetables from the market that morning and so I ate vegetable versions of what they were eating. I tried my best to overlook where they had been cooked considering my status as a guest and my desire not to stand out any more than I already did.

Besides, I had a hard time with the language. I couldn’t have explained myself properly even if I had tried. Everything happened so quickly that I often found myself the only one not laughing at a joke I hadn’t understood. It was hard, but they were all really nice and Rui translated as often as he could. Eventually the group was offering to teach me Chinese. In fact, they said “you don’t need a school! You just need to hang out with us!” That felt good.

Across from the feasting, we could see children playing in large, thick, plastic balls that were floating on the surface of the water. It looked like an enormous amount of fun – like those huge indoor walking wheels for pet mice but big enough for humans. They were tethered to the edge of the waterway so that they couldn’t float away and I could hear the laughter bouncing off the liquid sunshine.

After the food, my friend and I walked down to the edge talking about music and lyrics. He sang a few songs to me in Chinese and then started to share all the songs he knows in English, most of which were incredibly cheesy and huge hits from the past. He sang them word for word (sometimes the wrong words in misunderstood English) and I joined in when he sang that Jack Wagner song “Nothing’s Gonna Change my Love for You” (made famous again by Glenn Mederios in the 80’s), Richard Marx “Right Here Waiting for You” and George Michael’s “Careless Whisper.” (I’m pretty sure he was still with Wham at that time!)

Imagine us: me, the only foreigner for miles around and him, a young Chinese man without any kind of self-consciousness, singing his heart out on the edge of a lake. When I sang along, our voices reverberated against the cliffs and echoed over the water. No one stared any more than they already had been staring. In fact, we were even interrupted by someone trying to get us to buy time riding on a horse. So, I guess we weren’t being so “xiguai” (or strange) after all. Either way, there’s an absurdity that I felt in that moment that still makes me laugh at the thought of it.

One real downside to the day was the waste everywhere. I saw so much litter — so many wrappers and plastic everywhere. It was sad to see such a beautiful landscape with such dirty evidence of previous picnics.

The toilets, too, were just cement blocks surrounding pits that were absolutely FULL of human waste. I could barely walk by them without gagging, let alone use them. Eventually, though, I had no choice and I’ve discovered that I’ve become particularly good at holding my breath. Even thinking of it now makes me queasy, though. I’m not immune to disgusting toilets yet and perhaps I never will be.

We climbed back to the picnic site and had more food before helping clean up.

One of the women had laid out plastic “blankets” for the dogs and was desperately trying to convince her dog to lie down on this “blanket” to stay clean rather than laying in the dusty dirt. The dog was not interested and eventually settled right beside the blanket much to her disgust.

(At the end of the day, I watched her clean him with a wet napkin — a “moist toilette” and they’re very popular here. She washed his underside from paws to buttocks while her husband held him in the air. Then he was deposited in the vehicle without much ceremony.)

The group just piled the waste in a large central area after everything of value was gathered, and then left it there for hovering “recyclers” to sort through. Just like in the city where elderly people collect bottles and recyclables, I had noticed several older people eying our picnic and awaiting our departure.

I have such a hard time with this coming from such a beautifully maintained country, especially our forests and provincial or national parks. We have so much education about “no trace camping” and having a “light footprint” on the earth. I am conscious that these recycling people will extract the valuable recyclables but then leave the plastic bags and food waste there to rot (or collect dust because they aren’t biodegradable) like all the other small piles I saw.

I left with my friends feeling a sense of guilt towards the earth and a helplessness to relieve it. I also felt incredibly grateful to have been given such a great opportunity to see a part of China that I wouldn’t normally have seen. Everything is a mixed blessing and I try to feel the balance at the best of times. I’m not sure how to reconcile it all.

We drove onwards and stopped to photograph the “shidu” or “tenth ferry.” There were cable cars here and a bungee jumping platform. There was also a small island and a lake filled with pedal boats and happy vacationers.

One the way home, I noticed that this section of one of the “shidu” lakes is a popular car-washing spot. People drive their vehicles right into the water and then wash the cars right there. You wouldn’t see this in Canada!

The long ride back to Beijing was quiet. Everyone was exhausted by the sunshine and the large amount of food intake. I smiled out the rear window of the vehicle and felt a sense of pride at being invited and included in such an outing. I felt like I had been adopted by this group and given a true modern Chinese picnic.

Next time, I’m going in those water balls!

A Canadian in Beijing: Veggie Restaurant Redemption

by Ember Swift on

I thought it appropriate that I redeem the vegetarian restaurant that was the site of my “bad day” a few weeks ago.

First off, my friend Traci (an American and thirteen-year resident of Beijing) read my blog and had the following to say to me: “everyone has bad China days, Ember, so rest-assured you’re not alone.” That was good to hear. She said that even she has days when she struggles with the cultural differences and when she feels excluded or misunderstood because she’s a foreigner.

Last night, my friend Wei asked me if I was interested in going out for vegetarian food with him and since I feel like my cold is lifting and I’m feeling better, I accepted. He was the one who had originally told me about the “Lotus in Moonlight Vegetarian Restaurant” and I hadn’t realized that he meant we should go to that same one in particular. Of course that makes sense, though, since it was his recommendation in the first place. He picked me up in a taxi and I didn’t notice our destination until I got out of the taxi and saw the same line of bicycles that had been my parking spot just a couple weeks ago.
I didn’t indicate to him that I had been here before, but I did think to myself that it was a good opportunity to redeem the experience and I coached my open mind to remain that way. I’m so glad it complied.

The food was excellent and the service was impeccable. I saw no sign of the previous waitress and I would definitely return to eat there again, even though it was rather pricey.

Wei is Chinese and his English is pretty terrible. His pronunciation is painful and I find him more comprehensible in Chinese than I do in English. When he tried to use his English, I often have to hear what he’s trying to say in Mandarin before I can understand him (or correct him) in English. He and I met at a live music venue the second week I had arrived and he was really helpful in explaining some words to me and writing them down. We became friends and have since spent a bit of time together. When we hang out, it forces me to speak only in Chinese, which is something that is really important for my language development.

He taught me this very valuable expression “dabao” which means “I want it to go.” It’s apparently more colloquial than “na zou” (literally: take to go) and is a request for your food to be packaged up and sent home with you. I used it with the waitress who gave me a huge smile before nodding and returning with the container and a small bag with handles.

I have to admit that I can only spend about two hours in Wei’s company before I feel like my brain is going to stage a mutiny, carve an exit from my skull and then roll off my head and out the door. It’s not his company, of course, but the forced constancy of speaking Chinese that draws that feeling. The mental exhaustion feels physical and it’s a kind of tired that I’ve only experienced when I’ve been in immersion settings in my second or third language. Thankfully, it doesn’t happen to me anymore in French and I will eagerly await the day when it stops happening in Mandarin!

He treated me dinner (which was very sweet) and then I had to take my leave because I could no longer function in a conversation. He was understanding and waved me into a taxi. We’ll likely hang out again in the next couple of weeks. He remarked on my improvement with the language, so he’s a good gauge of my development. We’ll see if he says the same thing to me next time!

A Canadian In Beijing: How Do You Train a Head Cold?

by Ember Swift on

You put yourself on an overnight train in China to catch one and then you take another overnight train in China five days later and it learns to never leave your side!

I have been nursing a box of Kleenex and sipping ginger tea for just under a week now and still my head cold doesn’t seem to be lifting. I think I caught it on my way to Shanghai, and now it’s taken hold and is convinced that I am happy with its residence. I have been trying to evict it with potions of lemon, garlic, ginger and “hong tang” (or brown sugar – literally “red” sugar in China) and trying to increase my “warm” intake, as per Chinese medicine, but I’m still sick. I’ve been hacking up a lung in a pitch that is many decibels below my talking voice and making mountains of used tissues you’d need a sherpa to scale.

Sigh.

I am not one to get sick, normally, but I must admit that this pace has been crazy and I’ve been living a little like a delinquent teenager with lots of late night and parties with my dorm friends and my body is currently very angry with me.

I was surely an annoying fellow passenger on the return trip from Shanghai.

I took the overnight train again, but this time by myself and I have been patting myself on my own back about how seasoned a traveller I am and how amazing it was that I made it from Shanghai to Beijing without any serious mishaps. (I photographed the ticket above as official proof!)

The “soft sleeper” cars are a little nicer than the hard sleepers. They’re softer, for one (!), and they’re more private with doors that close at the end of each cubicle. There are also only four people to a cubicle as opposed to six, which makes for more headroom on each bunk and slightly less cramped conditions.

Besides the ability to close a door and the extra room, some other great features of the soft sleeper cars include the fancy restrooms that come with regularly stocked soap and toilet paper (wonder of wonders in China!), the constant hot water dispenser near the restrooms (one of my favourite drinks and lovely to just be able to fill up on “re shui” whenever I wanted to), the ability to turn on a reading light in my bunk, control of the overall cubicle lights (in the hard sleepers, when the lights are out there’s nothing else to do but sleep), the complimentary slippers and, of course, the extra pillow. I do love two pillows!

But my favourite feature was the volume control.

In China, I have noticed that piped music is very common. My friends have told me that they hear music at various times of the day coming from garden speakers, public offices, etc. I have been intrigued (in a slightly creeped out way) with the speakers on campus that pump out terrible music at 6:30 am everyday and then again in the early evening. It reminds me a bit of images of prison grounds and I suppose that’s where the creepiness comes in. That, and perhaps the insinuation that there’s some “Brave New World” style propaganda going on!?

Anyway, the train also has piped in music and it’s usually crackling through unequalized speakers. My musician’s ears have a hard time filtering out the ringing frequencies when I hear this happening and I recall that the trip to Shanghai last week included a lot of concentration on my part to ignore the music.

I mercifully located the volume knob at about 9:00pm when my cabin mates had already gone to sleep and the music suddenly started to whine through wincing speakers. That volume knob alone was worth the extra $175 kuai (about $25 Canadian).

So, I was trying to be kind to my fellow travellers by turning off the music, but I still kept them up all night coughing and blowing my nose. They were sympathetic and the next morning we struggled along in Chinese and English about my terrible cold and their concern for the lonely foreign girl seemingly without any immunity. I appreciate their concern, especially in light of their tired eyes.

I also became quite the fascination for a little girl who was about three years old. She regularly made appearances at our open door during the evening the train left and the morning before arriving in Beijing. Her grandmother was caring for her (as is often the set-up in China where the elderly provide childcare) and through her grandmother and my bunk mates, I learned the phrase “ta hen hao(4) qi(3),” which means that “she is very curious.” Also, the phrase, “wode biao(3) yu(3) ta butong,” which means that “I look different than she does.” That is exactly why she was curious too – I am the blonde “waiguoren” (foreigner) and this little three-year-old may never have seen someone who looks like me before. We had smiles and giggles and a few words and I appreciated her innocent and open curiosity as only a child can offer.

I arrived back in Beijing relieved to be home and eager to cocoon in my room to nurse this cold away. Tomorrow, I’ve given it its final notice. If it’s not out by then, I’m bringing in the exterminators.

GADLING’S TAKE FIVE: Week of April 29

by Adrienne Wilson on

Not sure about all of you out there, but I’ve got summer on my mind – BAD. Every read here seems to translate to summer for me and that is only speaking for me, myself and I. If you are as ready as I am you will easy find how to work these recent blog topics, suggestions and tales into a summer adventure of your own.

5. 10 Worst Cities to Visit/10 Best Cities to Visit:
Save time this summer by skipping some of the duds found on the worst list and heading to the best. Or if you’re like me you’ll let all the others cramp and crowd what’s considered the best to make the most out of what’s considered the worst by checking it out on your own. You dig?

4. Finding the Right Place to Workout While on the Road:
Don’t leave the body you’ve been chiseling up for the summer at home. Take it out on the road and keep it fit while you go. If you’re finding it hard to workout on the road perhaps this one will help ignite whatever it is you need to get you started.

3. New York: Bowl at the Bus Station:
Here’s a fun one if you’re out in NY looking for activities aside from the club and bar scene on a late weekend night or any night at that. Bowling at the bus station can be done during the day as well while waiting for your bus to carry you back home. It is recommended you order a $50 Tower of Beer to cool you off between strikes.

2. A Canadian In Beijing: Steamy Bathhouse in Shanghai:
There is never a dull moment in Ember’s Beijing world. In one of her latest she tells all from her hot and steamy Shanghai bathhouse visit. Okay, it isn’t that steamy… Maybe.

1. How to Insult Someone Using British Sign Language:
As the temperature begins to rise don’t let your attitude, but if it does and you feel as though you should and you must insult someone using British sign language start learning how by visiting the tutorial as discovered by Justin. Just be sure you learn the good stuff too and by that I mean ‘nice’ gestures.

Two Men Spend 48 Days in Indian Airport

by Dave Luna on

Two men from Bangladesh were forced to live in New Delhi’s Indira Gandhi airport for 48 days. The duo left their homeland to seek employment in Saudi Arabia. Unfortunately, they did not have the appropriate papers to enter the country. So, officials confiscated their passports and placed the men on a return flight to Bangladesh with an intermediate stop in India.

The weary travelers landed in the layover country, but upon arriving, they found themselves stranded since their passports were still in Saudi Arabia. The lost souls waited in the transit lounge of New Delhi’s airport for the 6+ weeks until Bangladesh could issue them new passports. During their stay, the gentlemen often asked the airport cafeteria to give them work — without payment — as a way to pass time. How’s that for boredom?

Forty-eight days may sound like an eternity, but Iranian refugee Mehran Karimi Nasseri spent an amazing 18 years living in France’s Charles de Gaulle Airport. His story was adapted into the film The Terminal. It’s interesting to note that Nasseri continued to live in Charles de Gaulle even after he was offered papers that would allow him to leave.

I can’t imagine spending that much time in an airport. I can’t even stand being in one for a three hour layover. I think I’d find myself coming up with games to play like “Switch Around the Luggage Tags at the Baggage Claim.”