Indiaman

When Chinese girls first meet me they are often curious about my origins.

Chinese girl: Where you from?
Me: Canada.

There are then three possible reactions to my mind boggling answer.

Chinese girl: Where you really from?
or
Chinese girl: You don't look Canada.
or
Chinese girl: Umm....

I must elaborate further as to not leave them utterly dazed and confused.

Me: My parents came from India.
Chinese girl: That make sense.

Journey to the Eastern Tombs

A group of friends and friends of friends assembled at the Sihui subway station in Beijing on a Sunday morning. They were eager to begin an arduous journey to the Eastern Qing Tombs. The final resting place of members of China's last imperial dynasty was located near the town of Zunhua. The bus heading there was supposed to leave from a depot across the street from the Sihui station. As is often the case in fast growing China, the bus station was now the former site of the bus station, as heavy construction work was already underway on something new. We walked in the eastern direction until stumbling upon a station which had a bus leaving for Zunhua from it. Our fellow passengers were auditioning for the Beijing Philharmonic Orchestra, regaling us with sounds of singing, eating, burping, loud speaking and nail cutting throughout our bus ride.

We were dropped off at a fork in the road, the bus continuing towards Zunhua while we rented a van that took us to the tombs. Spread apart over several kilometers, vehicular transport from one tomb to another proved handy. The van had one less seat than the number of passengers, so the men alternated sitting on the floor. At one point, the driver found some cardboard boxes on the street, flattened them, and provided that as a cleaner option to sit on rather than directly on the floor.

The sky was blue and the sacred burial grounds were devoid of tourists, making it a perfect day to explore the tombs of emperors, empresses, princesses, and concubines of times past. As we walked along the main courtyard leading to the entrance, a sudden gust of wind churned the dust on the grounds into a miniature hurricane that whirled past us. "That's actually Bruce Lee!" punned one of my fellow travelers.

Xiaoling, the tomb of the first emperor of the Zing dynasty, and Dingdongling, the tomb of notiorous empress dowager Cixi, were the most fascinating complexes. The exteriors were much more colourful and ornate than the interiors of the tombs. A diorama explained how an adult Cixi had drunk breast milk from her attendants to maintain her youthful skin complexion. The coffins could be reached by climbing the stairs to the main entrance of a tomb, and then descending down a pathway until we were underground. One particularly productive emperor had 35 hut style tombs belonging to his concubines adorning the grounds around his magnificent resting place.

*****

“Our deeds still travel with us from afar, and what we have been makes us what we are.”
- George Eliot -

Pubic Hair on Moles

Whether by choice or circumstance most Chinese men sport the clean shaven look. What is more surprising is that a select few have a single hair growing on their face. This solitary strand of hair springs out from the center of a mole, its floss-like texture shimmering under both natural and artifical light sources. I find such a sight hard to ignore.

Fortunately, the Cindy Crawford style beauty mark on my face is hairless. Upon further examination, I found a mole on my shoulder that had sprouted a singular follicle as well. It was lengthy, curly, and glossy. The foliage on the skin around it did not have the same thickness or sheen. The pubic nature of the hair may be explained by the fact that it has to be thicker and stronger than regular body hairs to be able to pop out through the dense surface of the mole.  

*****

"There's many a man has more hair than wit." - William Shakespeare

The World's Most Dangerous Road

While navigating through the information superhighway, I chanced upon on a listing of the world's most dangerous roads. My eyes scanned the list and widened as it reached the top. First position belonged to a road carved into the cliff side to reach the ancient village of Guoliangcun. The tiny outpost in Henan was only a combined overnight train ride, short bus ride, medium distance taxi ride, and shorter golf cart ride away from Beijing.

My travel partner and I arrived at dawn in the city of Xinxiang via train. We walked to the location of the bus stop, only to discover it was under excavation. The erstwhile grounds of the bus depot were to be transformed into a world class shopping facility. Several early rising locals watched us with bemused expressions as we tried to hail down whatever buses passed our way on the street in front. We wanted to get to the nearest town at the base of the world's most dangerous road. After several failed attempts to find a bus heading for Huixian, we entered a sinister looking taxi. I said the name of where I wanted to go to the taxi driver repeatedly until he started driving.

After several stalled attempts at conversion, the driver realized that I could not speak Chinese. Logically, he handed me a pen and piece of paper so I could write in Chinese where I wanted to go. I snarled with frustration, the paper combusting into flames under my fiery breathe. On the way to Huixian we picked up three separate individuals, diverting our route to drop each at their desired destinations. One of these fellow passengers muttered the same bus stop name that I had orated to the taxi driver. This elicited understanding, and the taxi driver repeated the same syllables that I had. Once we reached the deserted bus stop, we realized it would be a couple of hours before any minibuses that pass by the road to Guoliangcun would depart from the station.

We engaged in silent talks with our driver. He fashioned another piece of paper out of sheer willpower, upon which I drew one line and three dots. Dot 1 was where we started. Dot 2 was where we were. Dot 3 was where we wanted to go. We had already agreed to pay a certain amount for being ferried from Dot 1 (Xinxiang) to Dot 2 (Huixian). We then negotiated different pricing bundles based on extending the journey to Dot 3 (Guoliangcun), as well as returning to Dot 1 from Dot 3. After coming to an agreement we continued our journey towards the road of death.

*****

“The greater the fear, the nearer the danger.” ~ Danish proverb

Old Town of Lijiang

Lijiang is picture postcard perfect city in Yunnan. Magnificent estates are hidden among narrow knots of streets and a beautiful lake reflects the mountains behind it. Although Lijiang has 800 years of history, many of the ancient style dwellings in the town were actually built after a devastating earthquake in 1996 flattened many high rises in the area. Now a Chinese version of a Lord of the Rings movie set, the old town is dissected by narrow waterways and connected by quaint bridges. Sporting a maze of cobblestone paths, I was able to find my hostel with great difficulty.

The rulers of the Naxi tribe that inhabited Lijiang lived in the intricately designed and ornately decorated estate known as Mu's Mansion. With a sprawling courtyard and relaxing trails leading up to temples on a hill side behind the complex, the mansion provides some room to breathe compared to the claustrophobic alleys and tight living quarters outside the estate walls.

A brisk walk away from the center of the old town leads to the Black Dragon Pool. Boasting one of China's signature views, the pool mirrors a bridge, a pagoda, and snow capped mountain peaks borrowed from the scenery behind. It is a popular picnic spot for locals and visitors alike. Water from the springs come together to form this pool, which in turn pours into a waterfall that streams into the old town. I would head to Tiger Leaping Gorge from Lijiang, leaving behind man made beauty for nature's splendour.

Little Sheep and Big Bad Wolf

To commemorate my two year anniversary in China, I went to the Little Sheep hotpot restaurant in Guomao with my colleagues. Our cute server had caught the eye of my coworkers, and they peer pressured me into talking to her.

Coworker #1: You should talk to the waitress!
Me: No, I don't think she can speak English.
Coworker #2: Find out.
Me: But you know what will happen if I speak to her in English. First the left cheek will turn red, and then the right cheek will turn red.
Coworker #3: I know.
Me: I meant my cheeks.
Coworker #3: I know.
Me: Maybe I can ask her for napkins? I need some.
Coworker #2: Too complicated.
Me: Square paper for wipe face.
Coworker #2: Ask her for toilet paper.
Coworker #3: No, ask her where the toilet is!
Coworker #2: That is good idea.
Coworker #1: Go! Go!

I approached the waitress and asked her for the toilet, bathroom, washroom, and WC without success. I pointed to the sign for the toilet. She finally understood and guided me to the bathroom. I returned to the table where my coworkers were sitting and told them what had transpired.

Coworker #2: If the sign already point to toilet, why you ask her then? You are idiot!

Wedding Fail

I asked a colleague if he had been to a particular Chinese restaurant that I wished to visit.

Coworker: Yes, I have been there for a failed wedding meal.
Me: Why was it a failure? Not enough food? Not enough beer?
Coworker: The meal was excellent, the marriage failed.

Backup Boyfriend

Coworker: You are always the backup boyfriend.
Me: Yes, unfortunately I am every girl's second favourite man.
Coworker: I mean even if she leaves the first boyfriend and gets a new one, you will still be the backup.
Me: How cruel.
Coworker: Chinese saying - 'Good medicine is bitter, good advice cruel'.

The World is Flatulent

Research suggests the average person passes gas around 10-20 times a day, with some overachievers emit as many as 50 farts a day. A guy blows his horn about 10 times for every 8 times that a girl fluffs. Although the volume of flatus released by the man is greater, the stench is more concentrated in female farts as they do not disperse the odor as frequently. Despite these facts, gender and racial stereotypes have made me the victim of vicious fart attacks by women across the world.

During my school days when I was standing beside a group of girls and one let out a silent but deadly fart, all sets of eyes would immediately and accusingly turn towards me. I was always found guilty in the court of public opinion without being given a chance to defend myself. One of the girls had temporarily suspended traffic from passing through her southern route, waiting to synchronize her release with my arrival. This seemingly innocuous behaviour is actually a cunning stratagem to pass the blame of the foul stench on to the most likely candidate as perceived by the masses - me.

Even in China, girls will let out a fart when I am standing nearby or as I walk past them. I frequently smell farts in crowded buses and trains wafting around me. When I look around trying to identify the perpetrator, I see disapproving gazes being directed at me from the petite ladies in the blast radius. Only two of us know that it was not I who had cut the cheese. When I complained about this atrocious behaviour to a Chinese girl, she said I was being paranoid as she farted discretely.

*****

"Whoever smelt it, dealt it."

A Confusion of Tongues

I arrived in Lijiang at night. My journey through China's beautiful Yunnan province would begin here. In the dark, the maze of alleys of the old town is quite difficult to navigate. My travel buddy Matt and I had a hard time locating our hostel. After several rounds through the cobblestone paths, we kept returning to the same central square. Matt is so fluent in the Chinese language that poems have been written about his mastery of the Middle Kingdom's mother tongue. He meandered into the darkness to ask for directions or go look for a toilet. I did not know whether he had continued onwards or would retrieve me first. After he had been gone for several minutes, I decided to look for the hostel myself. Miscommunication had separated us and our phone batteries were running low.

With the assistance of my sharp mind and befuddled expression, I was passed on from local to local until I ended up in an unmarked domicile. The madam in charge ushered me in and confirmed I was at the correct location. I called Matt to tell him that I had either found our hostel or a whorehouse. He was in a foul mood, back near the town square. The madam went to retrieve him while I stayed behind and enjoyed the company of her silent assistant. Once my friend arrived at the hostel and verified that it was not a brothel, he expressed great frustration about the fact that I had found the place first without speaking a single word of Chinese.

*****

"Language is the dress of thought." ~ Samuel Johnson

Free As A Bird

While Chinese men were busy sneaking a peek at my magnificent instrument in the bathroom, I did some observation work myself. I noticed that my Chinese colleagues would drop their pants before they started to pee into and around the urinal. After they finished they would spend some time fumbling around, pulling up their pants, and tucking in their shirts.

"Why don't you just use your zipper? It's much faster that way." I asked, demonstrating how the zip in the front of my pant works.

"Not comfortable" one replied.
"I need to relax" said another.
"How do you poo? Do you have a zip on your backside as well!?" one mocked.

The best answer during the course of my private investigation was yet to come: "Because bird needs breath. Bird is small, but it plays the whole sky."

I had found the answer to my question, and it was profound. Thus concluded my private investigation.

*****

"Let freedom never perish in your hands." - Joseph Addison

The Ningbo Scene

For a city with 7 million people, Ningbo or "Serene Waves" in Chinese is almost as quiet a place as one will find. The thriving coastal city does not have the frenetic pace of nearby Shanghai, even though it boasts the world's longest bridge over sea and the fifth busiest port. One of the five ports opened to the British for unrestricted trading after the First Opium War, Ningbo is now largely devoid of foreign devils. I drew enough interest to keep the crowds occupied during my weekend there.

Graceful canals, estates, and parks are contrasted with the modern day wonders of glistening towers and shopping districts. The foremost attraction is China's oldest library at Tianyi Pavilion. For centuries only a privileged few were allowed access to the private collection, but it is now open for public perusal. Built in 1561 during the Ming Dynasty, the collection peaked at 70,000 volumes with 13,000 in existence now. I visited the sparkling new Ningbo Museum of Art before heading to Laowaitan. This old waterfront district has been restored with rows and rows of buildings follow the Shikumen architectural style popular in the early 20th century, making it an ideal location to spend an evening in Ningbo.

*****

"To my mind, the greatest reward and luxury of travel is to be able to experience everyday things as if for the first time, to be in a position in which almost nothing is so familiar it is taken for granted." - Bill Bryson

The Three Gorges

The greatest letdown about China is that the womenfolk no longer wear the traditional body-hugging qipao in their daily lives. The second biggest letdown was the Three Gorges. The 200 km stretch of waterway comprised of the Qutang, Wu, and Xiling Gorges is the stuff of legend, but what I saw was far from magnificent. From the Chongqing wharf, I took a bus to the city of Wanzhou. The bus arrived woefully late, so I had to dash to my hydrofoil with not a moment to spare. The small enclosed vessel swiftly jetted off as I hopped aboard. During the six hour journey it stopped at riverside towns to pick up and drop off passengers along the way.

After the construction of the Three Gorges Dam, water levels rose and many villages and historical sites were submerged. The world's largest hydro power project was completed in 2009 at a cost of 23 billion US dollars. The government provided the 1.3 million residents who had lost their homes with new accommodation, so the gorges are dotted with high rise apartment complexes that rise bizarrely from steep cliffs. The Yangtze is the longest river in China and the third longest in the world. The river is so polluted that even a private detective will have a hard time identifying some of the objects floating past.

The monumental Three Gorges Dam project serves multiple purposes, from providing massive amounts of energy to a wider passage for cargo ships to control over a river that has claimed over a million lives due to sudden flooding. The boat I was on did not cross the Three Gorges Dam using the ship lock system that raises and lowers vessels from one level to another. The transit time for going down the five tier ship lock is four hours. Instead it docked and all the passengers rushed to a shuttle bus that took us to the nearby city of Yichang. This portion of the trip was actually the best part, providing a faraway glimpse of the world's longest dam and some spectacular scenery of the canyons from up close.

*****

“All travel has its advantages. If the passenger visits better countries, he may learn to improve his own. And if fortune carries him to worse, he may learn to enjoy it.” - Samuel Johnson

Better City, Better Life

The corporate pavilions at the 2010 Shanghai Expo were more interesting than the country ones, showcasing some advanced technology. Most of it was centered around new forms of multimedia that will immerse the user completely in a digital world. With more in depth exhibits than the national ones, the city pavilions featured detailed case studies on sustainable development. As the Chinese move in droves to cities from the countryside, the overarching theme of "Better City, Better Life" further encouraged this migration.

The grounds were excellently designed, the transportation system adequate, and the crowds spectacularily large. Both my visits were in the middle of the work week on rainy days, but I had to wait for around an hour at the airport-like security check area before entering the World's Fair. Running from May 1 to Oct 31, 2010, daily visits reached over 1 million as China's showcase to the world neared its later stages.

Other figures behind the grand gathering of the world's cultures are equally astounding:

• 73 million visitors
• 80,000 volunteers
• 1 ridiculous mascot
• 5.28 square kilometers
• 246 participants

Shanghai Expo 2010

Beginning with the largest fireworks display in the history of mankind, it was easy to see why the Shanghai Expo cost even more than the Beijing Olympics. The largest and most expensive world exposition ever staged was spread across both sides of Shanghai's Huangpu river. One side had the country pavilions, anchored by the host nation's gigantic red inverse pyramid. On the others side of the river banks were the corporate pavilions and the city pavilions. I explored each side for one day.

Far and away, the the country pavilions was were the action was. Lineups lasted for hours, with digital signboards updating visitors on the latest waiting times. The queues were horrendously long, but part of the fun. The vast majority of visitors were Chinese. Many had purchased an Expo Passport as a souvenir. They would wait hours in lineups, hurriedly rush into a pavilion as soon as they were granted entrance, and crowd around the booth where they could get their passport stamped. Once the initial stamping stampede was over, many would spare only a momentary glance at the exhibits within the pavilion they had just lined up hours to visit before continuing on to the next country on their checklist.

I was given VIP entrance to the Canadian and Indian pavilions, saving hours of waiting. I tried the poutine at the Canadian pavilion for dinner. I did not visit any of the other pavilions of the popular nations, preferring to go off the beaten track and breeze through the smaller nations that had little to no one queueing up to visit them. Most of the workers at the pavilions were unenthusiastic, with the exception being the friendly folks manning the booths of the nations in the Pacific Islands.

Conversations with Chinese Girls - Rule Number One

On boyfriends:

Chinese Girl #1: My number one rule is no cheating.

Chinese Girl #2: That's not my number one rule.

Me: Really? Then what is?

Chinese Girl #3: No Arnab! 

Chinese Girls: [all chuckle]

Arnab's Year in Cities, 2010

I journeyed to new corners of the world in 2008, going to Central America and Africa for the first time. In 2009, I began the year exploring the two Alpha++ cities of the world in New York and London, then returned to India, before making my way to the People's Republic of China.

This year I stayed overnight in 32 different cities in 3 countries. 2010 saw me crisscross the nation during an epic 40 day trip. I attended two of the premier international events of the year in the Vancouver Winter Olympics and the Shanghai World Expo, before ending the year in style in Seoul, Korea.

In alphabetical order:

• Beijing, China
• Chongqing, China
• Guangzhou, China
• Harbin, China
• Hotan, China
• Jian'ou, China
• Jilin, China
• Jinan, China
• Kashgar, China
• Langfang, China
• Longyan, China
• Luotiancun, China
• Luoyang, China
• Nanchang, China
• Ordos, China
• Qufu, China
• Seoul, Korea
• Shanghai, China
• Shenyang, China
• Shijiazhuang, China
• Suzhou, China
• Taishan, China
• Tashkurgan, China
• Turpan, China
• Urumqi, China
• Vancouver, Canada
• Weihai, China
• Wuhan, China
• Xiamen, China
• Xian, China
• Yangzhou, China
• Yarkand, China

Previous years:

• Arnab's Year in Cities, 2009
• Arnab's Year in Cities, 2008

"What we love to do we find time to do." ~ John L. Spalding

Deformity Man

In modern parlance, the Western world refers to a person who has a physical or mental limitation as disabled. In less politically correct times when secretaries were called secretaries, disabled people were called handicapped. In China, this is taken one step further. Bathroom stalls reserved for disabled persons have the words "Deformity Man" prominently emblazoned on them. These are of particular use to me as they are often the only Western style toilet option available amidst a sea of fetid trenches, holes, or other open pits in which to deposit waste. I enjoy squatting during emergencies, but when I have enough time I prefer to take a seat.

Many Chinese men are uncomfortable with their buttocks making contact with the potentially hazardous seating surface of a Western toilet, so their allegiance lies squarely with the squat toilet. In a five star Shangri La hotel in Inner Mongolia, footprints were clearly visible on the toilet seat. On another occasion, there were several men waiting around all but one stall in a public bathroom. I went to investigate why this singular outlet was being ignored. I opened the door to find out it was a Western toilet. To my surprise everybody was content to wait for one of the squat toilets to become free, even though an alternative was available to them.

*****

"As easy as lifting one's finger. Be civilized." ~ A message displayed on top of a urinal recommending the user to flush it after use.

The Manchurian Incident

The largest city in northeastern China is Shenyang. On September 18, 1931 a small segment of a rail line operated by the Japanese was blown up nearby. The damage was so limited that a train successfully crossed the tracks afterwards on the same day. The site was of little importance to either Japan or China. Nevertheless, the Japanese used the "Manchurian Incident" as a pretext for invasion. They had named the place Liutiao Bridge, even though it was flat land, so that it seemed to be of more strategic significance then it actually was. The 9.18 Museum in Shenyang explains the details of the plot and displays reminders of the atrocities committed by Japanese troops. 

The generally accepted version of the event is that the Japanese placed explosives near to both the train tracks and to a Chinese regiment. When the dynamite exploded it would do little damage to the rail line, but alarm the Chinese soldiers stationed nearby. The Chinese troops would then run out to the tracks. At this moment Japanese soldiers would appear and spot the Chinese, surmise that they must have bombed the tracks, and retaliate in full force. Using heavy artillery that they had smuggled in beforehand, the Japanese made quick work of the Chinese regiment. After meeting little military resistance from the locals in the region, the Japanese consolidated control of the northeastern states within five months of the incident.

*****

"And therefore those skilled in war bring the enemy to the field of battle and are not brought there by him." ~ Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Sichuan Earthquake

A devasting earthquake hit the province of Sichuan on May 12, 2008. The initial 7.9 magnitude quake lasted two minutes, followed by hundreds of major aftershocks. It claimed 70,000 lives, with a further 20,000 victims missing. The disaster rocked not only the region but the whole nation. Apart from the northernmost provinces, all other parts of China physically felt the tremors. The country quickly mobilized to rescue any survivors and then rebuild the affected areas. The most severely hit area was Beichuan.

An off duty Spanish journalist and I made the journey to the epicenter of the quake. The actual town of Beichuan is fenced off and deserted. We transferred from bus to smaller bus until we finally reached the closest settlement to it. The roads in the region had been remade at an astonishingly rapid pace thanks to large infusions of capital by the government. Many of the neighbouring towns had also been reconstructed, but there was little greenery in the neighbourhoods. With gardens full of rubble rather than grass, the vegetation had not caught up with the concrete foundations of the new homes.

We entered one of the few restaurants in the settlement. As neither of us could speak Chinese, we drew the animals we would like to eat for lunch. My artistic skills evaporated under the spotlight of several chuckling townsfolk, but they got the gist of it. After lunch, the restaurant staff corralled a local who dropped us off at Beichuan. Despite the hardship and loss, the people were friendlier and more helpful than most others I encounter on my travels.

Beichuan was still buried under debris, landslides having swept away many buildings and leaving others partially submerged in dirt. Temporary accommodation had been set up several kilometers away in the settlement that we had first arrived at, while a new city was being constructed in another location. Located at the base of a valley, the former site was deemed too dangerous for future inhabitation. There are plans to convert it into a memorial park. A stone marker with the date of the earthquake etched on it has been erected on a nearby ridge overlooking the valley, and that is as close as we ventured.

*****

"We shall draw from the heart of suffering itself the means of inspiration and survival." ~ Sir Winston Churchill