My trip started off great. As I’m clearing security, the girl with the metal detector wand hit me in the funny bone and laughed.
As I’m sitting by the gate waiting to board, I saw this old Korean Buddhist monk sitting across from me with his eyes closed in meditation. He looked so peaceful and happy compared to the other people sitting around dreading the process of travelling. I wondered how old he was, with his long white beard and long greyed hair. He was wearing a two-piece bright orange jumpsuit that could have been mistaken for a prisoner’s outfit.
I fell asleep and when I woke up, I noticed that everyone else was in line at the gate except for me and this monk. He came up to me as if he knew that I was analyzing his serenity 20 minutes prior. He said, “This world is filled with distractions, do you want to learn about meditation and better understand the world?”
Then I realized that he was the happiest and most peaceful person in the room, and maybe the most peaceful person I have ever met. We chatted about Korea and China, spirituality, alchemy and vegetarianism. He frequently travels to China and India to meet his Buddhist homeboys.
He lives at an ashram deep in the Korean mountains and invited me to join him. I told him that I would on another trip and we exchanged contact information.
This trip was to be my first experience with couch-surfing. It’s a website that promotes travelling and meeting people around the world by staying at a complete stranger’s couch. The first two nights, I stayed with a young English teacher from Wisconsin. I was to meet him at 6:30, so I wandered the city until then. I saw a couple of temples, some really interesting art galleries and museums until it was time to meet him.
I went into the Seoul Museum of Art, which was hosting an international exhibition on New Media Art, something similar to what my company does in Beijing. One exhibit was a two-video sequence, a logo and a poster. The Logo was all red. The top was the top half of a Magen David and the bottom half was clearly from the Polish Crest, the White Eagle in red. I went in to see a poster with versions in English and Korean. It was called ‘A Manifesto of the Jewish Renaissance Movement in Poland’, which outlined reasons why Jews should return to Poland. Then the two video clips. The first was a young polish man standing in an empty stadium that was old and shoddy, preaching to a bunch of young polish students, in adorable little uniforms, about why Jews and Poles should reunite in Poland. The second video was the same Polish guy, this time speaking to a bunch of Israelis and then the construction of a facility in the middle of Warsaw to signify the return of the Jews. It was built like a concentration camp, but built with pride and as a testament to history. I sat there tearing as flocks of Koreasn walked by, only partially understanding its value. As I sat there, I wrote this letter to the creator of this exhibit.
To Yael Bartana,
Wandering the streets of Seoul, not even for four hours after landing, I came across your exhibit on Jews returning to their Homeland of Poland. My family were Polish Jews. My grandfather was from Łódź and was lucky enough to suffer through the Great Depression in Canada, rather than to have remained in Poland. My other grandfather was from Kraków and my grandmother from Radom. These two had the pleasure of taking the tour of ghettos and concentration camps across Poland and Germany; Warsaw, Auschwitz, Matthausen and Bergen-Belsen to name a few.
I live in Beijing now after having lived in Toronto, Montreal and Tel Aviv. Maybe I’m adventurous or maybe I’m lost. I don’t know, but by sitting through your films, surrounded by Koreans, I cried for my family, for the Jews of Poland and for all of those, who have disappeared as a result of such atrocities. I am very conscience of my family’s history in Poland, but have never considered an affiliation with Poland itself. Well, until I saw your work.
My family is planning a trip to Poland in May with my grandmother, who after having been physically removed from her home and taken to a strange country, that has never returned to the country that turned its back on her. Only recently, she agreed to return and show us where she came from and what she went through for us and for her legacy.
When I go, I will look for my place in that world, or at least try to imagine the difference in my life had our family remained there. You provide an interesting perspective on this issue.
Thank you for hitting me so close to home in such a foreign country.
Josh.
At 6:30, I met up with a group of 15 couch-surfing hosts living in Seoul and we went out for dinner and drinks. I carried copies of the poster with me, but they never made it home.
Korea is strange. The people here rarely look up from their feet, but clearly know what’s going on around them. They do little to see what others are doing and I feel that people watching is offensive here. People do not even notice others walk by them. They see a sea of people, but no faces. Yet, the women here spend more time on makeup and outfits than anywhere else I’ve been. Seoul has the highest concentration of plastic surgeons in the world and getting eye-surgery, or otherwise, is a common gift from a parent for a daughter’s sweet sixteen. It seems that everyone is so focused on themselves, that they don’t notice everyone else’s need for attention.
In China, locals take notice of Westerners as they pass by, and in Korea, we go totally unnoticed, yet so much of the West is embodied in their style and cuisine.
In the first 3 days in Seoul, I found the only friendly people to be Chinese/Taiwanese tourists.
On the weekend, Zac and I stay with a really nice Korean couple that spoke bits of Chinese, Spanish and English. They taught us how to say 3 phrases in Korean: Hello, Thank you and ‘We have old lady perms’.
The food in Seoul was delicious, but much more expensive than Beijing. There is a Korean dish called Tsanakji, which is when the chef takes a live octopus, cuts it up and serves it as is. When it gets to the table, the whole plate is squirming. When you put the pieces in your mouth, the tentacles crawl around and grab onto your teeth, tongue and lips. It was really cool, not to mention delicious.
Other great Korean food to try:
Bulgogi – grilled slices of beef and onions
Paejon – seafood/kimchi pancake
Kalbi – sorta like Miami ribs
I don’t know what it’s called – a big plate of baked beans, spam, weird hot dogs and veggies are thrown together into a big pan with Korean spices and noodles. It comes from the US army influence and has become a staple in cheap food culture. Spam is everywhere.
The military museum was really cool. Outside it has a lineup of tanks, planes missiles from the last 50 years and the museum itself has a lot of information about Korean history. Worth checking out.
I waited until the last day to hike up Bukhansan, the big mountain north of Seoul. Zac and I arrived there at 5 pm. The hike we took said 3.3 km to the top. We decide to go for it. People kept telling us that we better have flashlights or camping equipment, because it was getting dark. We kept going. After a while, we lost the sign of the trail we were on and realized that we were on a different trail that was bout 2 km longer than our initial route. We kept going. We scale the mountain in a little over an hour. The view was of a dark sky, other than a bright, full moon guiding our way, and a city of lights below that stretched forever. The air was clean and everything was silent. What a change from regular life in Asia.
On the way down, we found a route that was less than 2 km and it took us as much time to get down, because it was so dark, we couldn’t see 2 feet in front of us. It was a nice way to end the trip.
It was nice going to Korea, but I was really happy when I got home.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
I can see for miles.....
2 days before I turned 22, I got to drive in China. I drove about 3 blocks blasting loud music, weaving through pedestrians, bikes and cars all around. It was great. I’m going to get my licence here soon.
Zac came in from Shanghai for my birthday and 10 of us went to a nice GuiZhou restaurant. On Saturday we went to the Fragrant Hills, which is due west of civilization, but still technically in Beijing. I took us about 2 hours to get there. These hills are famous for having a great scent and having red leaves covering the mountain at this time of year. When we got there, it was all green and brown. All of the red leaves had fallen and had since been picked up by peasants to sell to the visitors. So on the entire mountain, there were no red leaves. It was bitterly cold and we stayed at the top for less than 10 minutes. The view was nice. A sprawled out city with a population nearing 17 million and tucked away on the other side of the hills were nuclear power plants sprawling the countryside.
When I got home the night of my birthday, there was a giant bouquet of flowers in the living room, from my landlord (who is also the ‘Chinese parent’ of my roommate), for my birthday. There was a little red box on it, which had a set of pearl cufflinks. Not really my style, but it was a really nice gesture. When I told my roommate what she gave me, he mentioned that his ‘Chinese-American brother’ has a pearl company. For her birthday, I should send her a pearl necklace.
If anyone is interested in what I’m doing here:
For about a month now, I have been working on a deal between the hi-tech incubator that I work for and a Venture Capital firm listed in London. We are trying to form a partnership to develop a web platform. I have been my companies rep to create the budget, revenue models and initial business documents. I have worked mostly out of the VC office which is pretty cool and if the deal goes through, I will be working there full-time on this project. The first Friday in November, I found out that the VC director that has been focusing on this platform was to ‘pitch’ the CEO to get funding for our project. He gave us two hours notice to refine the powerpoint and budget. 5 minutes prior to the meeting, the other person I have been working with told me that he had another meeting and that I was going in for the pitch. I thought that I was there to change powerpoint slides and be unnoticed, but the CEO sat right across from me, and the asked me to begin the pitch. Although we got hacked to pieces, I came out of that meeting smiling. I pitched a VC CEO at 21 and we’re getting a second shot. That was a really cool day for me.
Yesterday, I booked a flight to Seoul and I will be in Korea for about 6 days. Hopefully I will have more interesting things to report on afterward.
Zac came in from Shanghai for my birthday and 10 of us went to a nice GuiZhou restaurant. On Saturday we went to the Fragrant Hills, which is due west of civilization, but still technically in Beijing. I took us about 2 hours to get there. These hills are famous for having a great scent and having red leaves covering the mountain at this time of year. When we got there, it was all green and brown. All of the red leaves had fallen and had since been picked up by peasants to sell to the visitors. So on the entire mountain, there were no red leaves. It was bitterly cold and we stayed at the top for less than 10 minutes. The view was nice. A sprawled out city with a population nearing 17 million and tucked away on the other side of the hills were nuclear power plants sprawling the countryside.
When I got home the night of my birthday, there was a giant bouquet of flowers in the living room, from my landlord (who is also the ‘Chinese parent’ of my roommate), for my birthday. There was a little red box on it, which had a set of pearl cufflinks. Not really my style, but it was a really nice gesture. When I told my roommate what she gave me, he mentioned that his ‘Chinese-American brother’ has a pearl company. For her birthday, I should send her a pearl necklace.
If anyone is interested in what I’m doing here:
For about a month now, I have been working on a deal between the hi-tech incubator that I work for and a Venture Capital firm listed in London. We are trying to form a partnership to develop a web platform. I have been my companies rep to create the budget, revenue models and initial business documents. I have worked mostly out of the VC office which is pretty cool and if the deal goes through, I will be working there full-time on this project. The first Friday in November, I found out that the VC director that has been focusing on this platform was to ‘pitch’ the CEO to get funding for our project. He gave us two hours notice to refine the powerpoint and budget. 5 minutes prior to the meeting, the other person I have been working with told me that he had another meeting and that I was going in for the pitch. I thought that I was there to change powerpoint slides and be unnoticed, but the CEO sat right across from me, and the asked me to begin the pitch. Although we got hacked to pieces, I came out of that meeting smiling. I pitched a VC CEO at 21 and we’re getting a second shot. That was a really cool day for me.
Yesterday, I booked a flight to Seoul and I will be in Korea for about 6 days. Hopefully I will have more interesting things to report on afterward.
Treasures
I don’t seem to get enough time to regularly update this blog, but I have been making lists of 2-3 word phrases that are intended to jog my memory on the event. I hope it works.
These stories round out until the end of October and I’ll see what I can muster up for the last couple weeks asap.
The first 3 are: ‘Davis Microphone’, ‘Chinese Guy, Russian Penis, and of course, ‘Girl on Bus’. At first glance, these are quite funny events, but I’m going to give you the chance to imagine, before I get to it.
…
‘Davis Microphone’
Typically, when Adam and I skype, there is usually some kind of problem. Sometimes the connection isn’t strong, sometimes microphones are faulty, but its usually not my computer that has the problem. I could here Adam, but he couldn’t here me. I tried adjusting my microphone settings 10 times, I turned on/off my VPN, I turned on and off skype and just couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t hear me. He checked the volume on his speakers and they were on. What could be the problem? Adam (as I could hear him) wanted to play a song for me from his iPod. Once he finished saying that, he started laughing, because he has obviously discovered the problem with my sound. Adam had unplugged the speakers of his computer and connected it to his iPod, so obviously, he couldn’t hear me.
‘Chinese Guy, Russian Penis’
Looking back at the name of this epic, I know that it was labelled a little wrong, but enough to remind me of what actually happened. I was sitting with my roommate at a small restaurant near our place.
This restaurant could NEVER pass a health inspection in Toronto. In the mornings, when we walk by on the way to work, there is usually someone sitting on the ground outside, peeling vegetables that are laid out in piles on the walkway up to the door. I happen to have about 4 meals a week at this little hole-in-the-wall.
So one night it was particularly busy (given the 7 tables and 20 stools available in this crammed little space) and the guy sitting behind me bumped me and apologized. We started talking and drinking together along with my roommate and his friend. After a few ‘ganbei’s (empty-glass ie cheers), he started telling us about when he lived in Russia. He told us that one time he ‘had’ a Russian woman. He told us that he wasn’t able to perform, because Russians are ‘bigger’ and Chinese are ‘smaller’. Then, he told me that I should probably go to Russia.
‘Girl on Bus’
I got off the subway to buy a metro-card and asked the security guard where to find them. Before he could answer, this girl, who was in the subway car with me, piped in and instructed me to follow her, because she was going the same way. She took me to the kiosk that I could understand clearly in both English and Chinese was the place to buy tickets for the airport expressway and that the card I wanted was now on the other side of the station. She asked for the card and they said she was in the wrong place. She took me to the other kiosk and then I bought the metro-card. I left and headed to the taxi stand. I was running late to meet some friends for dinner, but the black taxis didn’t want to take me. The girl reappears and tells me that she’ll show me to the bus I need. Then she told me that she was going the same way. Then she asked where I was going. Then I told her. Hmm. As we’re on the bus, I get a call to meet at the restaurant, not my friends place, so I then needed to get off one stop earlier. I try to get off the bus at my updated destination, but she kept telling me that it was the wrong stop and then the bus driver wouldn’t let me off because it was the wrong stop. Obviously, it was the right stop. I got off at the next one and so did the girl. I gave her my card and sprinted in the opposite direction back and it took me another 30 minutes to get to dinner. She is henceforth known as ‘Bus Girl’
‘Taiwan Lady’
I’m biking back to work from the bank and this guy tries to make a u-turn, which consequently cut me off. If he, unlike any other Chinese person, decided to be patient, I would have missed this. I slam on my brakes to see this black Audi get the bottom of his front bumper stuck on the curb in front of me. He tried reversing and going forward. Both movements created this wretched noise that indicated he’d need a new paint job. I continued on my way. Not even a block later, I see grandmothers and mothers pushing little children in strollers across the street towards me as I cross the other way. A taxi, who had a red light, decided to rush through and try to make the left hand turn between the little children and myself. I stop my bike right in front of his car and begin shouting and cursing at him to be careful of children crossing the road. A bystander complimented me on my courage and continued to talk with me. After she had long criticized the incivility of Beijing, she noted that she was actually from Taiwan, and had lived in Edinburgh, which she pronounced Edin-Berg, I didn’t correct her, but thought about whether I had known any Edin-Bergs, closely related to the Feldbergs, from either Jewish School or summer camp. I didn’t. Then after she had put herself on this worthy pedestal of being Taiwanese AND having lived in Edin-Berg, she mentioned that she was a Christian in these words., “ Well you see, I am a Christian” I really don’t know who coined that term, but I find it to have a strange effect on conversations thereafter. Clearly, in the manner and tone , she is quite proud that she is neither Buddhist nor Communist (is that a religion?), but rather of the enlightened tribe of the West: Christianity. Since I am from the West and not Christian, I wondered what she would have said, but frankly, I lost interest and biked back to work.
‘HSBC card Canada’
Back in Toronto, I did everything in my power to get all of my banking setup before I came. Considering I already had an accounts at HSBC in China and Canada, this should have been easy as pie. Turns out, there is no pie here, making it quite difficult. After sending emails between my Canadian and Chinese branches, it seemed as though, I had one simple step to complete upon landing and then all would be well. After having remembered my brilliant initial experience with HSBC China in 2008, I knew it would be an adventure. After 3 complimentary espressos and 5 orange candies, I sat down with my new bank rep. I filled out my new address and updated my info. She told me that my new bank card and code thingy would be mailed to me there. In the meantime, I could only withdraw money from my Canadian account. I came back a couple days later to make sure that I hadn’t missed anything. This time I had a new rep, who double checked that all would be sent to my address in China and reminded me that it would take about a month to receive it all, because of the Chinese holidays. I get an email 3 weeks later from my dad. ‘Josh: I have your Chinese bank card. Why?’ I go back to the bank and some how they reversed my info and mailed the card all the way to Canada. I went into the bank to see if it had arrived, and still nothing, but they told me that my code thingy had come and that if I have my passport, they could release it to me. There are at least 3 people in that branch who can verify that they have seen my passport, photocopied it and could identify me in a court of law, but for some reason, they require me to return with my passport. So still no card, or number thingy.
Continuation of the story (written today):
I went back and finally got my card and code token. I set up my ‘Global View’ setting which is designed to transfer money between accounts internationally. I ask them to show me how to use it. She says that it’s only to view balances, not to transfer money. We try anyway and it says that ‘one of the countries does not support this service.’ IMMEDIATELY, she told me that it’s because I haven’t yet activated it in Canada. I told her it was something China related. We call the Canadian customer service and they immediately tell me that China doesn’t support these money transfers. Now, it costs me $30/transfer from my own bank accounts all at HSBC.
‘and every morning I wake up to the brightness. ironically that comes from the white cloud matter by my window rather than sunlight’
that’s a long title, especially for something this insignificant. Mostly, the sky here is grey. If you see a shadow, it means that the sun isn’t eclipsed by grey shit in the sky (that, in other places, is called clouds), but actually it has been sunny the last week or so. It was about 2 degrees all week and then last weekend was 20. I would say that my temperature gauge is broken, but its more likely that Beijing’s weather patterns are affected by pollution and cloud-seeding.
‘Chumus or Humus?’
I suggest watching HBO’s Hung season 2, episode 7 for more insight on the matter.
I found this great Israeli restaurant that makes amazing chumus and pita, which is simply heaven. I go once a week now.
‘Treasure Trail’
I was at a market and was trying on a belt. My shirt came up a bit and the salesgirl touch my hairy belly button. She giggled. I was disgusted and walked away.
‘Halloween, selling fans’
On Halloween, I dressed up as a Silk Street vendor. Silk Street is a 6-floor indoor market that sells fake shit to tourists at negotiable prices. I bought their little red vest and a matching red pouch. From when I was at Expo, I had a box of pink fans that said Angola on them. It was my goal for the evening to sell a fan, to anyone for any price. These fans are junky, totally worthless and the perfect proof that Chinese people just like owning things. I tried to sell them on the bus, but people complained that it was too cold.
This was my schtick: [while fanning myself ] ‘excuse me, would like to buy this fan? I’ll give you a good deal; a special price just for you. Very, very cheap. It came all the way from Angola, how could you say no? how much you say? Well, since I like you, you get the special price, 200 kuai. Very good, just for you.’
They mostly said no. then one guy who was walking by, was rudely interrupt by myself and my schtick. He after the afformentioned line, he said that he would give me 5 kuai, I told him 100. He pulled out 20 kuai from his pocket and I gave him the fan. He paid me the equivalent of $3 US and I was ecstatic.
Later on that night, we went to a party where a Chinese guy was fully dressed in an SS officer’s uniform. He didn’t last long until he was asked to leave by enough people. 真不好意思。
These stories round out until the end of October and I’ll see what I can muster up for the last couple weeks asap.
The first 3 are: ‘Davis Microphone’, ‘Chinese Guy, Russian Penis, and of course, ‘Girl on Bus’. At first glance, these are quite funny events, but I’m going to give you the chance to imagine, before I get to it.
…
‘Davis Microphone’
Typically, when Adam and I skype, there is usually some kind of problem. Sometimes the connection isn’t strong, sometimes microphones are faulty, but its usually not my computer that has the problem. I could here Adam, but he couldn’t here me. I tried adjusting my microphone settings 10 times, I turned on/off my VPN, I turned on and off skype and just couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t hear me. He checked the volume on his speakers and they were on. What could be the problem? Adam (as I could hear him) wanted to play a song for me from his iPod. Once he finished saying that, he started laughing, because he has obviously discovered the problem with my sound. Adam had unplugged the speakers of his computer and connected it to his iPod, so obviously, he couldn’t hear me.
‘Chinese Guy, Russian Penis’
Looking back at the name of this epic, I know that it was labelled a little wrong, but enough to remind me of what actually happened. I was sitting with my roommate at a small restaurant near our place.
This restaurant could NEVER pass a health inspection in Toronto. In the mornings, when we walk by on the way to work, there is usually someone sitting on the ground outside, peeling vegetables that are laid out in piles on the walkway up to the door. I happen to have about 4 meals a week at this little hole-in-the-wall.
So one night it was particularly busy (given the 7 tables and 20 stools available in this crammed little space) and the guy sitting behind me bumped me and apologized. We started talking and drinking together along with my roommate and his friend. After a few ‘ganbei’s (empty-glass ie cheers), he started telling us about when he lived in Russia. He told us that one time he ‘had’ a Russian woman. He told us that he wasn’t able to perform, because Russians are ‘bigger’ and Chinese are ‘smaller’. Then, he told me that I should probably go to Russia.
‘Girl on Bus’
I got off the subway to buy a metro-card and asked the security guard where to find them. Before he could answer, this girl, who was in the subway car with me, piped in and instructed me to follow her, because she was going the same way. She took me to the kiosk that I could understand clearly in both English and Chinese was the place to buy tickets for the airport expressway and that the card I wanted was now on the other side of the station. She asked for the card and they said she was in the wrong place. She took me to the other kiosk and then I bought the metro-card. I left and headed to the taxi stand. I was running late to meet some friends for dinner, but the black taxis didn’t want to take me. The girl reappears and tells me that she’ll show me to the bus I need. Then she told me that she was going the same way. Then she asked where I was going. Then I told her. Hmm. As we’re on the bus, I get a call to meet at the restaurant, not my friends place, so I then needed to get off one stop earlier. I try to get off the bus at my updated destination, but she kept telling me that it was the wrong stop and then the bus driver wouldn’t let me off because it was the wrong stop. Obviously, it was the right stop. I got off at the next one and so did the girl. I gave her my card and sprinted in the opposite direction back and it took me another 30 minutes to get to dinner. She is henceforth known as ‘Bus Girl’
‘Taiwan Lady’
I’m biking back to work from the bank and this guy tries to make a u-turn, which consequently cut me off. If he, unlike any other Chinese person, decided to be patient, I would have missed this. I slam on my brakes to see this black Audi get the bottom of his front bumper stuck on the curb in front of me. He tried reversing and going forward. Both movements created this wretched noise that indicated he’d need a new paint job. I continued on my way. Not even a block later, I see grandmothers and mothers pushing little children in strollers across the street towards me as I cross the other way. A taxi, who had a red light, decided to rush through and try to make the left hand turn between the little children and myself. I stop my bike right in front of his car and begin shouting and cursing at him to be careful of children crossing the road. A bystander complimented me on my courage and continued to talk with me. After she had long criticized the incivility of Beijing, she noted that she was actually from Taiwan, and had lived in Edinburgh, which she pronounced Edin-Berg, I didn’t correct her, but thought about whether I had known any Edin-Bergs, closely related to the Feldbergs, from either Jewish School or summer camp. I didn’t. Then after she had put herself on this worthy pedestal of being Taiwanese AND having lived in Edin-Berg, she mentioned that she was a Christian in these words., “ Well you see, I am a Christian” I really don’t know who coined that term, but I find it to have a strange effect on conversations thereafter. Clearly, in the manner and tone , she is quite proud that she is neither Buddhist nor Communist (is that a religion?), but rather of the enlightened tribe of the West: Christianity. Since I am from the West and not Christian, I wondered what she would have said, but frankly, I lost interest and biked back to work.
‘HSBC card Canada’
Back in Toronto, I did everything in my power to get all of my banking setup before I came. Considering I already had an accounts at HSBC in China and Canada, this should have been easy as pie. Turns out, there is no pie here, making it quite difficult. After sending emails between my Canadian and Chinese branches, it seemed as though, I had one simple step to complete upon landing and then all would be well. After having remembered my brilliant initial experience with HSBC China in 2008, I knew it would be an adventure. After 3 complimentary espressos and 5 orange candies, I sat down with my new bank rep. I filled out my new address and updated my info. She told me that my new bank card and code thingy would be mailed to me there. In the meantime, I could only withdraw money from my Canadian account. I came back a couple days later to make sure that I hadn’t missed anything. This time I had a new rep, who double checked that all would be sent to my address in China and reminded me that it would take about a month to receive it all, because of the Chinese holidays. I get an email 3 weeks later from my dad. ‘Josh: I have your Chinese bank card. Why?’ I go back to the bank and some how they reversed my info and mailed the card all the way to Canada. I went into the bank to see if it had arrived, and still nothing, but they told me that my code thingy had come and that if I have my passport, they could release it to me. There are at least 3 people in that branch who can verify that they have seen my passport, photocopied it and could identify me in a court of law, but for some reason, they require me to return with my passport. So still no card, or number thingy.
Continuation of the story (written today):
I went back and finally got my card and code token. I set up my ‘Global View’ setting which is designed to transfer money between accounts internationally. I ask them to show me how to use it. She says that it’s only to view balances, not to transfer money. We try anyway and it says that ‘one of the countries does not support this service.’ IMMEDIATELY, she told me that it’s because I haven’t yet activated it in Canada. I told her it was something China related. We call the Canadian customer service and they immediately tell me that China doesn’t support these money transfers. Now, it costs me $30/transfer from my own bank accounts all at HSBC.
‘and every morning I wake up to the brightness. ironically that comes from the white cloud matter by my window rather than sunlight’
that’s a long title, especially for something this insignificant. Mostly, the sky here is grey. If you see a shadow, it means that the sun isn’t eclipsed by grey shit in the sky (that, in other places, is called clouds), but actually it has been sunny the last week or so. It was about 2 degrees all week and then last weekend was 20. I would say that my temperature gauge is broken, but its more likely that Beijing’s weather patterns are affected by pollution and cloud-seeding.
‘Chumus or Humus?’
I suggest watching HBO’s Hung season 2, episode 7 for more insight on the matter.
I found this great Israeli restaurant that makes amazing chumus and pita, which is simply heaven. I go once a week now.
‘Treasure Trail’
I was at a market and was trying on a belt. My shirt came up a bit and the salesgirl touch my hairy belly button. She giggled. I was disgusted and walked away.
‘Halloween, selling fans’
On Halloween, I dressed up as a Silk Street vendor. Silk Street is a 6-floor indoor market that sells fake shit to tourists at negotiable prices. I bought their little red vest and a matching red pouch. From when I was at Expo, I had a box of pink fans that said Angola on them. It was my goal for the evening to sell a fan, to anyone for any price. These fans are junky, totally worthless and the perfect proof that Chinese people just like owning things. I tried to sell them on the bus, but people complained that it was too cold.
This was my schtick: [while fanning myself ] ‘excuse me, would like to buy this fan? I’ll give you a good deal; a special price just for you. Very, very cheap. It came all the way from Angola, how could you say no? how much you say? Well, since I like you, you get the special price, 200 kuai. Very good, just for you.’
They mostly said no. then one guy who was walking by, was rudely interrupt by myself and my schtick. He after the afformentioned line, he said that he would give me 5 kuai, I told him 100. He pulled out 20 kuai from his pocket and I gave him the fan. He paid me the equivalent of $3 US and I was ecstatic.
Later on that night, we went to a party where a Chinese guy was fully dressed in an SS officer’s uniform. He didn’t last long until he was asked to leave by enough people. 真不好意思。
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
BEES!
It’s really amazing how time flies by here.
October 1st was the beginning of the 8-day holiday. Day 1, and days 6-8 (plus the following weekend) were weekdays. As usual, I still had my share of wacky events.
Day 2: After getting up at 630 and holding in vomit through a long cab ride and a 2-hour flight I was in Shanghai. I love that city. The streets are narrow and canopied with pretty green trees, the traffic is not outrageous and the food is great.
After a prolonged all-you-can-eat and drink teppanyaki restaurant, where we individually toasted each others’ 16 parents with Japanese beer and sake, we ended up going to an underground gay club. At first we were having a great time dancing, but after two interesting episodes, that was it. As a group of foreigners, we drew the attention of the locals. At one point, I leaned over to talk to a friend and felt someone touching me. I look down and there is a short Chinese guy trying to massage me [in uncomfortable places]. That was strike one. Later on in the night, my friend Zac knocked over someone’s drink and out of guilt, replaced it. In exchange, the guy wouldn’t leave Zac alone. This is what I imagine went through Zac’s head before what came next: ‘MAN, this guy just doesn’t get it. I’ve tried walking away, picking my nose, spitting when I talk AND HE’S STILL TALKING TO ME! Oh, Josh is just over there, maybe he’ll be a good sport and help me out of this predicament.’ Zac then comes up to me, with this guy at his side, and says to his new friend, ‘This is my friend, Josh. He’s from Tunisia.’ Zac then walks away. This guy takes my hand and whispers into my ear, ‘I love Muslims guys.’ I immediately walked out of the club.
The next day we went to the park where they were selling balloon animals that were shaped like penises, and live squirrels and ducklings as pets (and maybe as food). There were a about million people in that park (I’m sure my guess wasn’t too far off).
For dinner we went to a Yunnan restaurant that you needed to walk down 5 zig-zagging hallways passing washrooms, kitchens and mysterious puddles. After a couple rounds of German/Belgium beers (that aren’t available in Beijing) and a delicious meal, we decided that one more dish would be a great close to the meal. Instantly, what jumped up as a suggestion was: ‘Honey Bees, Beef Jerky and Malt Fries’ , but the obvious next question was to whether there will be enough bees to go around for the 8 people at the table. When I asked the waiter how many come in an order, he responded, ‘too many bees.’ We all laughed at his translation and assumed he meant to say, there are a lot of bees, or that there are enough bees to go around. When the plate came, we reinterpreted his words to mean, like he had said, ‘too many bees’. There was a heap of maybe 70 fried honey bees that reminded me of rice krispies in both taste and texture. There were also some larger ones, in the size category of: Holy shit that’s a big bee and I really can’t sit here while it’s buzzing around because it might kill me. AAAHH’ The taste and texture of those reminded me of eating a large, crunchy bug. Yum.
On my last day in Shanghai, I went to the Expo. An event that has 90 million people passing through the gates over the course of 6 months. Averaging about half a million a day. Pretty outrageous. In order to maximize your time there, foreign passports are crucial. Passport holders can go into their native countries pavilion without waiting in 3 hour line-ups. After going through the Canadian pavilion, which exemplified the mild-manner of Canadians and our love for nature (or something really cheesy along those lines), and the American pavilion, which demonstrated sponsorship and corporation as mainstream American culture (surprised?), we wandered into the Angolan pavilion, where I knew someone working. They took a more traditional approach to exhibiting their country. Main industries of Angola (from what I got out of the tour) included [Blood] Diamonds, inhumane methods of trapping and killing gazelles and delicious-looking food (that closely resembled mud and goop). We were invited to skip the 4D movie line and sat in a private theatre with an African ambassador (to somewhere) and his entourage. I know what you’re thinking: ‘Josh, What the hell is 4D? ….and less importantly, Africa isn’t a country’ Well, a 4D movie includes, the normal 2D images of a regular movie, plus the 3D glasses that make mountains look deformed and a gazelle have three horns. Most excitingly, what is the 4th dimension? Is it a) water getting sprayed in your face every time they show water in the film, b) you’re chair shaking uncontrollably every time the camera moves, or c) Both! Yay! After getting a really nice loot bag of dongxi dongxi (goodies) from the Angola pavilion, we tried to check out the UK site. Unfortunately, showing a Canadian passport and arguing that we are a part of the commonwealth, former colony or still having the Queen on our money wasn’t enough. Then we tried Germany. A friend I was with speaks perfect German, lived in Germany for 2 years and even works for Siemens in Beijing and they didn’t even consider letting us in. I pulled the “My dad was born in Hanover, but our family isn’t german, catch my drift? (as this blonde-haired blue-eyed guy stairs at 3 brown-haired ‘American Jews’). After walking passed the massive China Pavilion, and understanding that China’s main source of pride comes from poo smell (thousands of backed-up Port-a-potties surrounded their pavilion), we went to the Israeli site. The Chinese guard at the VIP entrance asked for my passport, and I ignored him and waved to a bohemian-looking Israeli to come over. All I said was: What’s up dude (in Hebrew), before he let us in. Like all good Israelis, after telling us that he knows Jews in Toronto and New York, he invited us to ‘party, party’.
Saturday afternoon I get a call from my best Chinese friend, Ryan, who, in my 2007 emails, was referred to as Flash. He and his girlfriend picked me up around 8:30 and we went to the top bath house in Beijing. The parking lot outside was filled with brand new, black Audi A6’s with tinted windows. Those are government cars. I mean, if you were a Chinese official and had a nice family at home, why wouldn’t you spend your Saturday night at a bath house (especially when prices for massages are given by how pretty the girls are rather than their skill level). We first went to the change room, were a 15 year old kid watched me undress, so that he can subserviently place my clothes a locker for me. From there, we head to the baths. The first was this massive saltwater pool with fountains and waterbeds with jets. Then we go into the bath beside it, which was much smaller, yellow and cold. That’s not what makes this bath interesting, but rather the tiny fish swimming around in this bath. We get in and ‘protect ourselves’ as the fish swim up and nibble the dead skin off of our legs. I was giggling uncontrollably for about 15 minutes. The next bath was this amber coloured hot tub, that is called a Chinese medicine bath. It smelled kinda funny, but it was nice. After the sauna, we hit the showers. When I came out of the shower, I realized there were no towels available. Instead, a smiley guy comes up, hands me a face towel and continues to dry me off with a second, larger towel. It gets better. From there, we went to the dressing room, where you, as the name of the room implies, are then dressed. A guy, kneeling in front of you, put on a pair of underwear about ¾ the way up, and then wraps a gown on me, as I standing there laughing (no, his job was not to nibble me, he left that for the fish.) We went for a foot massage. In China, they say the whole body is represented in your foot and because this certain spot on my foot hurt when she massaged it, she told me I have a bad stomach and eat too much meat. But come on, what non-vegetarian white male in a country where food is dirt cheap, doesn’t eat a lot of meat? After the massage, we went for the midnight buffet, which was great. (I even ate a big plate of veggies, just in case)
Yesterday, in the car with my boss, we were coming out of the parking lot and the attendant says that its 2 kuai (yuan) for every hour of parking and that we owe him 2 kuai. My boss responds, “你说， 每一个小时两块， 是吧？好，每问题， 你给我两块， 好巴？”. Translation: “You said, every hour is 2 kuai, right? OK, no problem, you give me 2 kuai, sounds good?” The guy gives him 1.5 kuai and asks, ‘is that ok?’ Presumably, he was kidding, but we drove away anyway.
Oh, and I have forgotten to mention this before, but my blog is actually blocked in China. I have to log on to a US proxy server to update it.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Holidays
Figure this out: Last Wednesday to Friday was the Mid-Autumn Festival in China, which means that everything is closed, people watch the full moon and eat these little cakes that taste like hockey pucks. I wasn’t explained until late Friday that, in fact, Saturday and Sunday were work days in China. Let me explain. The 3 day holiday happened to fall during the week, so in effect, the government gives 3 days off as civic holiday, but as a result, the following weekend becomes a work weekend. October 1 starts another holiday. It is the celebration of the People’s Liberation Army over the hated Guo Min Tang nationalists, who stole Taiwan after the defeat. This is an 8 day holiday and guess what? At least one weekend in October (and maybe two, depending on who I ask) become regular work days. Pretty Standard China for you.
I’ve worked 4 days already. I’m working at a ‘new media’ art gallery that doubles as an incubator for creativity and business collaborations. Many interesting people work here and other really cool people pass through everyday.
This morning, as I was in the elevator leaving my apartment, the guy a couple floors down from me was finishing a cigarette as the elevator opens on his floor. He flicks the cigarette down in the hallway on the 17th floor and steps on without looking back. I haven’t been back yet today. I wonder if my building is still there.
Wish me luck!
Friday, September 24, 2010
Direct flights.
My flight was great. I slept the majority of the flight with small breaks to eat and drink whiskey. I didn’t even check what movies were available on my personal TV. I had a bulkhead seat, which basically means I had more legroom than God. At the beginning of the flight the stewardess told the two Chinese guys beside me something that they didn’t understand. I translated and had a quick conversation with them in Chinese. 13 hours later, as we were getting off the plane, I said ‘zaijian’ (goodbye). They looked at each other and then myself and said: ‘you speak Chinese!?’
I was picked up from the Airport by my boss and his kids. We dropped my stuff off and went straight to Chabad for Sukkot dinner. (Tell my grandparents for me). Yesterday, I woke up and we all went to the nanny’s cousin’s husband’s parents’ farm outside of Beijing to pick fruits and veggies from their organic crops. I swore I would never go to a corn field again after my journey through the Midwest, but it was a great time. The family took us to the nice restaurant in town and of course insisted that I drink two bottles of Baijiu (Chinese rubbing alcohol liquor) while the host goes shot for shot with me (even though he’s drinking beer)
By the time I got back, I was exhausted. I have since slept about 10 hours and have been up since 4 am.
Nothing really eventful or outrageous happened to me yet, but its early in the game.
Jet lag sucks and I’m hungry.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Here we go again
In 3 weeks, I'm heading back to China.
I have decided to up my game from my last couple stints and decided to learn how to blog rather than provide anecdotes of my journeys via email.
In the past, my objective was to tell about humourous and interesting events that happened in China for those who will never make it there themselves, but now my goal is to entice you to come and see how interesting and different the world can really be.
Before I leave, I will put up some of my old stories to warm you up for what's next in store.
COME VISIT ME!
-josh
I have decided to up my game from my last couple stints and decided to learn how to blog rather than provide anecdotes of my journeys via email.
In the past, my objective was to tell about humourous and interesting events that happened in China for those who will never make it there themselves, but now my goal is to entice you to come and see how interesting and different the world can really be.
Before I leave, I will put up some of my old stories to warm you up for what's next in store.
COME VISIT ME!
-josh
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