Archives 2008

Castle

The next morning we awoke early (late for my brother, who is in the military) and caught the early bus south to the Okinawa tram. The tram was much nicer than subways in China, with padded clean seats, polite rows for boarding and exiting and a very detailed map for navigation. I was impressed. We took the tram east to Shurii Castle, where Okinawan kings had once ruled. The place was large, stone and breathtakingly preserved (read: rebuilt after three massive fires). Signs surrounding the castle read “Beware of Snake!” so we trod softly and snapped pictures with one eye on the ground, the other in the viewfinder.

Inside, we were instructed to take off our shoes and march through a tour of the history of the castle in Japanese- a very impossible task, but the images were telling and we came away with a pictorial story of Okinawan history that was vivid, compelling and all together not Japanese, but an island of it own culture, people, rulers and traditions.

It began to rain so brother bought an umbrella in the gift shop and we began the trek back to the tram. On the way we realized how hungry we were and stopped in an Okinawan shop to eat noodles, sushi and drink tea. After a savory meal, we resumed the adventure and caught the tram to Kokousai Street.

Kokousai Street is littered with statues of famous items like Santa, dinosaurs, power rangers, pineapples and flaming skulls. We wandered around taking pictures with giant anime statues and pepper shaped benches before going down a back alley that blossomed into a giant hidden shoppers paradise. My brother bought me a suit vest (always wanted one!) and we ate sesame seed rolls and strolled about looking at dried snake, dried frog-skin purses and other oddities on sale for gaping tourists.

After several hours of wandering about we returned to the cabin exhausted and with memory cards out of space. We ate chicken noodle soup and went to bed content and quite early, the following morning my sister and I were set to leave Okinawa and return together to Shanghai.  It was sure to be a very sad farewell. I wont write about it, but will say that we managed to find a Taco Bell before the flight took off, and I was as happy as a clam, but sad to be leaving my brother on the tropical paradise all alone.

-posted by Lauren.

After the pineapple park we were worried nothing would be able to keep the trip as elevated as that insane bird-biting adventure had. However, the next morning we woke up, sauntered down to the base grub hall and ate a healthy breakfast of American fried grease and then headed back to the cabin to change into our summer wear. After climbing into our swimsuits we headed down to the beach loaded with Bud’s, books, cameras and Ipods. Instead of finding a nice sandy spot we spotted some cliffs that cut shallow into the waves, and headed over for a look-see.

The water was turbulent, despite the nice weather, and we climbed around on the side of the cliffs looking for caves. We went quite a distance before being forced to turn back by a sheer wall of cement. Rock climbing on a beach shielded from the general public was liberating, and I wondered if anyone had stood on those rocks in years. Probably we were the first in over thirty years.

After we finished spelunking, we headed back to the sand where my sister discovered a live hermit crab, complete with beautiful purple shell, and we set up a little circular rice course of various diameters and took bets on how long it would take the poor crab to get to various areas of the circle. We named him Herbert and I won all bets as I’m more optimistic than most. Meanwhile, sister found another hermit crab (which we named Phil) and we set about digging a massive hole to watch them climb out of– a Colosseum for crabs.

Hours later we grew bored with the crabs and watched them scurry off into the sunset with wild stories to someday tell no one– being hermit crabs I doubt they gather around camp fires to tell war stories of humans abusing them on the beach.

All this time sister and I had been poking around with the silly hermits, brother had been reading and listening to tunes. We joined him until the sun finally set and then headed home for more Hannah Montana UNO and a few more Buds and chips. I had missed American food, and helped devour an entire bag of chips while watching bad American TV. Being around family was amazing, and we joked, played cards and watched silly shows well into the night.

-posted by Lauren.

Herbert

Winter

I have been living in China for almost a year now and, although my previous journeys here have enlightened, or embittered, I have a few things I would like to say before I go home for the holidays. I remember the words that left my mouth repeatedly when I left for Shanghai last February, “I’ll be home for Christmas.” This is true; I leave next Monday and will be home for three weeks. As I sit here in my cold Shanghai cubicle looking out the window, I see all the cars buzzing on the streets below honking their horns at yellow plumes of smog in the beams of their Lexus’ headlights, and I realize how much I now find ordinary. I used to walk down the street in the morning looking with my mouth agape at some of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever seen in my entirely short life.

China is the place to go to see people carrying the most random objects imaginable. I once saw a man waiting in the customs line to get into China from Hong Kong with nothing in his hands but a toilet seat. I couldn’t begin to imagine what exactly he needed that for, or why he went to Hong Kong to get it, but all I could think of was, “he is really going to be pissed when he finds out there’s no toilet paper.” When I’m not dodging street cars driving on the sidewalk or eating skewered fried tentacles from street venders, I’m watching a woman sweep up dirt on a dirt road or a man selling bananas next to a row of eight other banana vendors.

Just so we understand each other, I am not looking out over the city from my luxurious executive Shanghai office suite. I am working in China looking down from a cheap converted apartment building, which we use as an office. There are several rooms with ugly yellow Chinese cubicles strewn about. There are a few office plants, a water jug, and one air conditioner / heater installed in each room. One would be hard pressed to find central air in most Chinese buildings and it is hard to heat the ones that don’t have it installed. The tips of my kneecaps are as numb and there is a draft like you wouldn’t believe coming from the unsealed windows. Ah…Shanghai. The jewel of China, the most advanced and modernized city in all of the PRC.

It will be great to be back in America for a few weeks. I am almost worried I will not be able to function properly in such alien surroundings. Fresh air, wide open spaces without people trying to sell you stuff, English speakers, cars that drive on streets and not the sidewalks, toilet seats, toilet paper, and yes…the single banana stand located next to the other fruit in the one grocery store near my home. All I want for Christmas is some time with my family and friends, and to experience all the things I remember I used to enjoy like open air, Mom’s food, and true silence that I can only find at around 2 AM on the porch of my parents home in the country.

-posted by Mike.

On the third day- we rested.

Evil parrot

The next morning we were itching to get out of the cabin after having watched an entire season of The Office. We found that the most bizarre thing on the island was something called the Naha Pineapple Park. We arrived and new instantly that we would not be disappointed. A whole high school of young girls in plaid mini skirts, skull tattoos and backpacks shaped like teddy bears was just forming a line. We somehow got past them and boarded a golf cart shaped like a giant pineapple. What a thrill.

After the pineapple park we were ushered into the world’s largest sea shell museum. I’ll never scuba dive without a harpoon again.

After yet another overpriced gift shop we walked into the blinding sunlight and then, across the rays of light we saw an amazing sight- a Tropical Jungle Adventure park. After happily paying our entrance fee we skipped around the park petting goats, plucking fruit, catching butterflies and holding parrots. Our sister, at one point, managed to cover herself in evil, angry parrots squawking for sugar water. We fled the scene.

It was an amazing day, and that evening as I picked up my pajamas to get ready for bed, a gecko jumped out of the sleeve and ran through a crack in the wall. Lying wide awake, my sister and I listened to the sounds of the cabin mice as we drifted off to sleep.

-Posted by Lauren.

Oura Wan beach

The first evening my brother and I walked around the beach well into the evening talking and taking pictures. We watched the sunset, then sat under the stars. He humored my amusement with the clean air (something we have very little of in China) and the cleanliness of the streets and beaches. We talked long into the night and finally crashed. The next day we were set to pick up our parents and sister from the airport on the southern tip of the island.

The next morning I awoke to bad news- my parents had missed their flight, but my sister had made hers and would be arriving a few hours later than planned. My brother and I prepped for the change in plans by canceling the rental car and the other cabin rental and then searching the web for Okinawan transportation systems. We found them lacking, cabs were the primary mode of transportation without owning a car (and neither of us had an international license). Meanwhile, cab rides were on par with cab fares in the USA– and on our salaries they were hardly an option. We grabbed a government bus as far south as possible then hopped a cab to pick up the sister. Her flight was delayed, so we stopped at a small restaurant where I had my first taste of local cuisine. A very fishy and rubbery noodle soup that tasted, to my uncultured palate, like a balloon soaked in fish guts. Very healthy.

After waiting until the balloon digested, we set off again to search for the missing sister. Finally we found her- pushing three giant suitcases and bundled in several layers of clothing (presumably what would not fit in the massive cases). After hugs and high fives we began the journey back to the cabins- a full two hours by bus with multiple transfers, and then a twenty minute walk uphill to the cabins– with enough luggage to warrant a minivan. When we finally arrived back at the cabin we collapsed on the couches and did not move for some time.

Because our parents could not make it, they had hastily repacked our sister’s suitcase with gifts, and these we poured around a small Christmas tree I had brought from China. We opened a few gifts that evening– my other sister had sent us UNO, the card game, so we drank Cpt Morgan and Coke and played UNO well into the night.

-Posted by Lauren.

The cab pulled up to the airport at 6:00am. I managed to get the door open and throw a handful of crumpled bills to the driver before puking. He removed my bag from the trunk, tossed me a handful of change and sped off amid a swirl of dust, pollution and freshly splattered vomit.

I left China on a solo flight to Okinawa on the 4th of December, and arrived (thanks to time differences) fifty minutes after I’d left the Middle Kingdom. My stomach had settled on the flight– Shanghai cab drivers are notorious for their shifty driving, and my cab to the airport had been a test to the durability of my stomach lining.

It was freezing when I boarded my plane to the beautiful Japanese island of Okinawa, and when I stepped on to the tarmac at the smallest airport I had ever seen (yes! Smaller then Ghengas Khan Airport in Mongolia!) to a warm bath of sunlight that was over 70 degrees.

I was held in customs for over an hour as they carefully searched every wrapped present, and then re-wrapped them. Having landed safely I was now on vacation, and in no hurry to go anywhere. I sat and chatted with the guards while my bags were searched and they plesently let me leave once they grew bored with my strange array of gifts all wrapped in Chinese newspaper.

Outside I saw a handsome young Marine stepping from a cab and rushed towards my brother. I had not seen him in a year, and in that time he had gone from boy to man as a member of the US military. We jumped back in the cab and were calmly and professionally delivered back to the military base where my brother showed me around his barracks, his base, and then the pool hall and bar.

We chatted, goofed around and easily fell back into the sister-brother relationship. After a while we boarded a bus to another military base where we had reserved a few cabins for our family for the week– directly on Oura Wan beach.  This was my first tropical adventure, the furthest south I’d ever been, the first sandy warm beach I’d ever seen and the first time I’d visited my brother as an adult. It was going to be an amazing trip, and I could tell as we sat on the bus joking around and watching the sun set over the clearest blue/green water I’d ever seen. I’m a long way from the dusty streets of Shanghai now.

-Posted by Lauren.

Canon

Lauren got a new camera a few months ago and has been relentlessly learning the ins and outs of using a Canon 1000D, or in the States, a Canon Rebel XS.  Our friend Tim, who could be a professional photographer, showed her some new tricks and she has taken to the streets, and Japan, to collect some prized photography.  We will be updating our website, as well as our flickr photo album as frequently as possible.  For the latest photos, please visit our album or subscribe to our RSS feed for blog updates.  Moreover, please see Tim Stelzer’s gallery for some amazing shots from a recent bike trip from Lhasa, Tibet to Nepal.

The China job market is still booming. People all over the U.S. are losing their jobs as corporate cutbacks, layoffs, and budget cuts threaten their bottom lines. The job loss trickle down of the economic slump, although having pierced the Asian markets triggering stock drops, has not yet reached the China job market. Although the Chinese economy is in the red big-time for the year, jobs are available in many different companies throughout China’s major cities, both foreign and domestic. I myself have just transferred from a Chinese company to a rapidly growing (Hong Kong registered) Australian company.

A very reliable source, my Mother and her avid reading of Readers Digest, argues that my Generation – Generation Y – is the first generation to consider the possibility that there are other countries better than the United States. Now, I am by no means saying that China is the answer nor am I saying that that statement is true. But I do agree that I have pondered the possibility for reasons and tangents I will save for another post. Either way, if you are interested in experiencing a culture, environment, and job market that is unlike anything you have ever seen and are looking for an experience that will benefit you in years to come…China may be the right place for you. The top 5 best ways to make this happen are:

1) The ultimate and absolutely best, and safest way, to work in China is to be sent here by your current company. Although this may not be true if you are interested in learning about the culture, language, and gaining personal growth through ridiculous endeavors. However, if you want to live in a developing country in which pretty much everything is dirt cheap with the exception of your luxury apartment, personal driver, maid, and chef – which your company pays for anyway, this is the wet dream of almost everyone who is here under completely different circumstances. Also, you usually will be paid a ridiculous sum of money plus hazard pay to move here.

Shanghai

2) Teach English. If only a job is what you want, about 1 billion await for you my friend. Open any search engine right now and type in, “teach English in China.” If you don’t find anything you probably should never reproduce, or teach, because you must have spelled something wrong. You can get paid anywhere from 4000 RMB a month in rural areas, 6000-8000 in large cities of China, and 10,000+ if you have a degree and ESL certification. This is pure, and should be, untaxed profit. Usually you would receive travel, living, and apartment money as well. It is a great way to learn Chinese and decide whether or not you could stand living here long enough to have a career before you gouging your eyes out and your head explodes.

3) Next, you will have to turn to the website job posts. www.asiaexpat.Com has one of the better online listings for different job offerings in specific cities and their local websites are frequently trafficked. They have a large array of many different fields from the entry level to the executive. For the most part, do not expect to be paid the equivalent of foreign salaries through these jobs, but they offer great starting points and experience for those who are new to the international career world.

4) Then you have other career and expat living magazines and websites like That’s Shanghai, The Beijinger and so on and so forth. These provide tips on living in the cities, services available, dating, and pretty much anything you can think of. However, these sites have not been used for headhunting as much as they have been in the past.

5) Last, and by far not least, another great way to get jobs in China is relationships (关系). This is a huge aspect of Chinese culture. Almost every Chinese business deal hinges on being friends first and trusting one another. This aspect of Chinese culture has affected many expats living here as well. This invaluable means of advancing ones career happens very frequently to expats who reside in a city for a semi-extended period of time. Most people don’t stay here forever, which means that there are constantly openings in companies all over China.

If you are interested in moving to China or have questions about living, working, or finding work here. Please feel free to contact us and we will be more than happy to help you out. You can also read more about our lives in Shanghai.

The Shanghai music scene mirrors China’s rapid growth and development over the last few decades. As one of the largest financial and commercial hubs in the world, Shanghai is also a culturally diverse metropolis. From Mexican mariachis to glow-stick waving raves, the city hosts a variety of international music for the entertainment of expatriates and locals alike. The Shelter, a converted World War II bunker, provides a rave atmosphere for unhinging your joints and flailing to Chinese techno. Meanwhile, Zapata’s cervasas and tiki huts offer a relaxing place to unwind after a long day of work.

Famous in SH

Although the city’s entertainment venues primarily focus on the clubbing and dance scenes, several live music bars have gained devoted patrons. One of the best places to find these hot spots is through That’s Shanghai, a monthly magazine that provides a listing of restaurants, bars, and music events throughout the area. This comprehensive guide provides everything you need to please your literal, and creative palate. Music events in Shanghai range from subway singers to local Chinese and expat bands, to international celebrities such as Kanye West and George Benson (performing this September).

Tucked away down a back street near 华山路 (Hua Shan Lu) Time Passage has become one of my personal favorites. Besides having ridiculously cheap beer, there are live music performances almost every night from local Chinese cover bands playing anything from classic rock to modern pop. It is difficult not to be impressed by the local talent. Bands will take the stage speaking little or no English, earning looks of skepticism from most of the first-timers and non-Chinese. The set begins with a strange adaptation of a song everyone faintly recognizes. ‘Something in the Way’ by Nirvana, is sung in perfect English by a Chinese man completely unaware he is singing, “But it’s ok to eat fish, because they don’t have any feelings.” Doubtful that he cares about the fish, or its feelings, the band finishes with an equally impressive Neil Young or John Denver song; they bow and walk off the stage to the sounds of wild applause from former skeptics.

Without a doubt, modern Chinese pop has been tremendously influenced by American culture. Simply turn on the T.V. and you will see Hong Kong rock stars, Chinese pop stars surrounded by an entourage of backup dancers, and Chinese rappers break dancing in front of brightly colored sports cars. Although the music culture resembles that of the U.S., it is also undoubtedly unique to China. These distinctions are partially due to China’s wide variety of cultures illuminated through a blend of ethnic minority music, traditional Chinese instruments and Western influence. Shanghai provides one of the most diverse and interesting stages for continually expanding original music genres. Behind the flashing neon lights of the Shanghai financial district, and down back alleys in neighborhood bars stirs talent just waiting for discovery.

-posted by Mike.

In Shanghai, at 7:30am on the 5th of November (8pm on Tuesday on the east coast of the USA), over a hundred tired but eager Americans sauntered into Malone’s Bar, an American establishment, to watch the CNN election results. We had taken the day off work to gather together as strangers to witness what many of us knew would be a historic occasion. As the bar slowly began to fill with diverse faces in an array of colors and ages, I began to shake with anticipation (perhaps from the coffee, but also from the idea that this day could change American history forever). By 8am CNN was gearing up for the close of the first east coast polls, and the first projections came in amid cheers.

A young black lady in an Obama T-shirt handed out posters of the candidate while circling the bar, patting recipients on the back with a friendly, ‘good for you’ whenever someone raised their hand for a poster. In China, where racism is strong, her very existence in the city was encouraging.

A full breakfast platter was 88Rmb, an auspicious and lucky number in China, and a sign for the candidate’s performance later that day. We ate heartedly, drank tea and American coffee and watched as the results rolled in amid holograms and virtual capital pop-ups.

In my life there have been two political experiences that have made me shake with emotion and a precise fear of the unknown. The first was in 2001, when I stood outside an empty classroom wondering where the other students were before a tired and red-eyed boy filled me in on the morning’s details. The second was sitting in an over-crowded American bar on the 5th of November, 2008 when Obama was announced the victor and a stranger nearly knocked me to the floor while hugging me, his whole body shaking, tears running down his face. Men and women cried, screamed and then—there was a silence like I had never known as two years of emotion and waiting after 8 years of being embarrassed to be called an overseas American, flooded into the room and silenced us all.

After the silence returned to cheers, and then silence again, we filtered into the sunshine (by then it was nearly 1pm) and wandered around the city, bold and unafraid to be called Americans.

Obama takes Ohio!

That night at a celebration party on the Bund we were served Obamatinis and The Change has Come Cocktails with CNN in the background and a mood that was somewhat more serious than the morning, but still a tinge of excitement and unity. Even those who voted for McCain were out chatting happily about change. The change did not imply from a republican to a democrat, but from a failing sense of what it means to be American, to a reminder of what we as a country stand for.

The thing most impressed on me was the willingness, vocalized loudly and clearly, of Americans back home and abroad to work together to rebuild America. It is not, as some suspect, the worship or idolization of one man, but instead a return to the ideas that America was founded upon. I am happy that America now has an African-American president, but for me the real triumph is not that aspect, but the fact that he is a symbol for the reinvigoration of a faith most of us had lost in our country. I felt pride not in Obama, but in Americans. The person who hugged me at Malone’s that morning was a gay man whose faith is indeed in change as an American concept, not in Obama himself. That is what is unique and beautiful, and why I feel like last Wednesday is a day I will never forget, much in the same way I am unlikely to forget 9/11.

Since that emotion-charged day, I have watched as headlines across China have praised the choice of our next leader. What the Chinese admired about Americans is now returning: an unwavering faith in humanity based on principles of freedom, equality and the pursuit of happiness. Across the world we are seeing headlines of the same nature, the world is ready to be wowed once again by American idealism and American dreaming. The world wants us to exist, to live and enjoy freedoms and happiness to prove that a sort of utopia can exist on earth. Though a bit hyped up, I do believe that this I what people are looking for in our country across the pond, and what I hope we can prove by banning together and imagining ourselves responsible enough to create the future we design.

…and he wins!

Today I’m proud to say I’m an American. Something I have not said in a long, long time.

-posted by Lauren.

Traveling to Hong Kong when working for a Chinese company can prove to be a rather tiresome task. However, I have heard of several western businesses traveling in this manner. The manner in which I am asked to travel is sometimes completely beyond my understanding but it always is becomes a very interesting experience full of excitement, complications, and stressful situations. My company is constantly trying to “cut corners,” so to speak, and in the end spend much more money through these attempts.

Hong Kong

Usually I am asked not to fly directly to Hong Kong because it is extremely expensive. The reasons as to why flights from Shanghai to Hong Kong are considered international flights are money, the SAR (Special Authority Region) status that Hong Kong has maintained even after the 1997 turnover to China, and that China has signed a non-interference agreement with Britain / Hong Kong.

Hong Kong is politically part of China, but like other SAR and AR (Autonomous Regions) in China such as Xinjiang, Xizang (Tibet), and Inner Mongolia – which have existed independently for thousands of years, or in this case, 99 years under a treaty with Great Britain, the dissimilarities that exists between the mainland and these areas are immense. Even 11 years after the turnover, the Chinese authorities have surprisingly not intervened in Hong Kong. Besides the wide circulation and acceptance of only Hong Kong Dollars (HKD) and not Chinese RMB in most establishments, the fact that one crosses a “border” when entering and exiting Hong Kong, and that mobile phone networks from the mainland do not work or are charged international roaming fees, are solid examples of their semi-solidarity. I also believe that many Hong Kong citizens have a disenchanted or skeptical view towards the mainland. When asked about my employment with a Chinese company, many Hong Kong locals have responded, usually in perfect English, “you must be very angry and annoyed frequently while working for a Chinese company.” I will leave my response up to the interpretation of the reader.

Flying into Shenzhen is considerably less expensive than direct flights into Hong Kong. However, the land border crossing and shuttle bus back and forth can be extremely time-consuming. A shuttle bus from the Shenzhen airport arrives at the customs center near the international border crossing. All passengers have to carry all other luggage into the exit compound. After receiving some particularly annoying “foreign treatment,” you are ushered through the gate and board another bus outside the gate. This bus drives less than 10 minutes and arrives at the Hong Kong clearance compound. Once again, you have to take all of your bags off the bus and get clearance into Hong Kong. Then, you board a completely different bus and drive into Hong Kong. After almost two hours, you arrive at the destination you could have flown directly. Then, even though you have to go to a trade show near the Hong Kong airport, you have to stay in a hotel in Kowloon because it is also cheaper. After dealing with phone calls from your boss for not checking your email because the crappy hotel you stayed in doesn’t’ have internet services, you have a take the subway and walk to a bus center to take you back to the trade expo center one hour away every day.

In a poor attempt to save money, the company spent more on paying a salary while I was traveling and placing me in a hotel with no internet connection from which I could not perform my duties. This lack of foresight and logic is widespread throughout Chinese companies in my experiences. Although anecdotal, I have witnessed these events repeatedly and feel safe in generalizing, however many of these things are simply cultural. If you would like to save money by taking this route, I urge you to consider the time you are wasting while attempting to save money.

-Posted by Mike.

West Lake

We arrived in Hangzhou at 6:00am. The city is well known for its beauty, and along with Guilin is one of the most beautiful tourists spots in China. I had traveled here in 2005, my first time in China, and this city alone is what had eventually led me to return to China. The city is shrouded in everything one comes to love about China, and its history is startlingly ever present. We grabbed a cab to West Lake, the centerpiece of the city, and tightened the straps of our backpacks as we set of to circumnavigate the lake. Slightly remembering the features of the area, I set of pointing out aspects of my previous journey. We sat on the lake shore with a group of over twenty elderly Chinese and drank coffee and tea as we watched women in their nineties do tai chi while men did their morning exercises of military drills from years long passed. The elderly were surprisingly limber, and possibly in better shape than ourselves. They laughed and chatted amongst themselves while they exercised and drank their tea, and we aware that we were on the outside, looking in. I admired these old people, who were light years ahead of the American elderly who sat decaying in old folk’s homes, antisocial and full of self pity. Chinese elderly are the life of the country, they meet at night to dance in the parks with each other, and congregate every morning around the lakes to exercise and socialize. I hoped then and there that when I aged, I would age with dignity and grace like the Chinese in Hangzhou. We watched them for quite some time before the sun fully emerged, and then we set off along dragon bridges in the early morning light.

We continued our tour around the lake, sometimes losing sight of the shore as we strolled through deep woods, always keeping the lake in the distance. Emerging back on the shores, we encountered hundreds of boaters and fishers, eager to offer us a ride (for a fee, of course). The mood around the lake had shifted as the sun climbed in the sky. Younger people emerged, and with them some of the charm of the lake disappeared. Loud tourists came out of nowhere by the bus load, and we were happy that we had been there early to sense the quiet energy of the elderly. Eventually we were overrun by tours with megaphones and camera shutters snapping in our faces and decided we had had enough of tourism! We were tired of calculated trips where a lady with a bullhorn would screech into the crowd, “look how beautiful and serene the lake is. hurry. hurry. look. okay, moving on….” There is hardly anything to appreciate when one is in a crowd as massive and noisy as a Chinese tour group. We waited for the groups to pass so we could make our escape, but they did not cease. Finally we fought our way through the crowd to the nearest exit and hailed a passing cab. Exhausted and tired, we directed him to the train station where twenty minutes later we found ourselves sitting on a fast train home to Shanghai.

Hangzhou

Though it had been an amazing week on the river, we were tired and eager to be back home. It was odd thinking of our tiny apartment in Shanghai as our home, but when we walked through the door to familiar smells and fabrics, we smiled and truly realized how fortunate we were to have such a nice place, with so much security and comfort. A week sailing through poverty had made it so nothing would be taken for granted for a very long time.

-posted by Lauren.

Yellow Crane Tower

Again we were awoken at 5:00am as we passed through the final of three gorges. This last gorge was vastly different than the previous two, and we were happy that we had decided to go topside. The cliff sides were covered in lush greenery like a scene from Jurassic Park, and we took out our binoculars to watch for monkeys. After an hour the sun began to rise, and we joined the Swiss in the dining hall for boiled eggs and waterlogged rice. We continued our previous discussion of religion in Switzerland, noting that the Swiss pay taxes to the Church via the government. I pondered how un neutral this was, but decided not to point this out. We talked about neutrality for a long time, and though I had always admired the Swiss for being internally focused, I found neutrality to be a double edged sword. It protected the people, but it also meant they turned their backs on the world when it sometimes needed it. A truly confusion conundrum. After a leisurely meal the Swiss got off the boat to see a monument, we stayed on board and played cribbage overlooking the hillsides. The stop was the final day trip before the end of the cruise, but we had heard roomers that the stop was largely bullshit, another tourist trap selling plastic Olympic goods. The Swiss returned and sat with us in the windy sunshine and laughed at what a joke the last sight had been. It was a fake dragon boat race that lasted less than two minutes, but they had been forced to march at top speeds up a large hillside to see the race from afar. After a few warm beers and more discussion with the Swiss, we packed up our room and got off the boat. It had been an interesting four days, but I don’t think I would ever recommend the ‘cruise’ to anyone. At least not anyone I liked.

We boarded a bus for Yicheng, a nearby city where we would be able to buy train or bus tickets to Wuhan, and then back to Shanghai. We found Yicheng a beautifully modern and clean city that resembled, in many ways, the US mid-west. Our bus passed through a housing district of large brick mansions facing the river, and we watched, mouths agape, as the luxury passed behind us. Apparently black gold had made this village prosperous, that coupled with a constant stream of disembarking tourists had elevated the city. We rumbled towards the bus stop where we bid farewell to the Germans and the Swiss, and boarded another, more crowded bus that smelled of vomit and was full of flies. This bus would take us 5 hours to Wuhan.

Arriving in Wuhan near 21:00 we began walking aimlessly down a large street near where our bus had abandoned us. Curiously, we spotted the German couple down the road and hurried to catch up with them. They had arrived an hour earlier and had checked into a hostel down the street. We followed them to the hostel, checked in and then set about devouring a round of beers with the Germans. We took a cab to look for western food, but ended up in a Chinese buffet hall when we realized it was too late for most restaurants to be open. Returning to the hostel after a tasty meal- our first in five days- we slept soundly and awoke refreshed at 10:00, the latest we had slept since leaving Shanghai.

Yellow Crane Hill

After a nice breakfast at the hostel we went to the Yellow Crane Pagoda where, for 50Rmb one can stroll along the gardens and climb the pagoda where Li Bai had been humbled by former masters and an amazing view of the river. We spent the afternoon talking about American politics and slowly walking through the shade of the bamboo. Resting often, we felt close to the Chinese of old who had had a lifestyle of learning and growing. After the pagoda, which is a beautiful spot in Wuhan I’d highly recommend, we returned to the hostel to spend the afternoon resting in the sunshine. Mike found an abandoned guitar and he strummed songs and sang all afternoon in a cove in the hostel. I read Empire of the Sun, a gift from a Shanghai friend I had recently received for my birthday, and we whiled away the hours sipping beers and relaxing. We ate a nice hostel meal that was the largest array of foods we had seen in ages, and dined until our bellies hurt. At 17:00 the Germans appeared and we decided to share a cab to the train station. Once we arrived the Germans bought another round of beers and we chugged them on the platform and shook hands and exchanged phone numbers and emails. Traveling in china always produced friends of necessity, but this trip had been very good to us, and we adored the Swiss and German couples we had met on the trip. We boarded the night train to Hangzhou, and were amazed at the modernity we were faced with. This was the cleanest and nicest train we had ever been on, and we stayed up playing cards and drinking cheap beer until the lights were turned off and we crawled up into our top bunks and slept.

-posted by Lauren.

River boat capitan

At 5:00am I was wide awake listening to an overweight and undereducated Chinese man yell at his wife in the hallway. They screamed as loudly as possible, yet no one asked them to be quiet. I wondered if this happened in America, if someone would ask them to take their fight somewhere more isolated, and decided that they would. Moments after their doors slammed shut, the sirens went off for our wake up call and everyone was moving and yelling in the halls at once. We ate cold rice porridge, boiled eggs with fecal matter caked to the shells and pickled beans with the Swiss couple before getting off the boat and into an overcrowded bus. The bus drove ten minutes up a hill, unloaded its cargo and the driver fell asleep against the wheel. We blinked back sleep and surveyed the area. We were outside the White Emperor City, a small island the Emperor had given to his younger brother to appease him. In a massive group, we walked along listening to the tour guide point out special attractions. Falling to the back, we strayed off course and looked around at the very modern, very new ‘ancient’ city. In a far corner we found a sign saying the city was built in 2005 after archeologists found a brick foundation they thought matched the description in a fictional work of literature about the king’s brother, the White King Emperor (so named because he saw white, dragon-like smoke pouring from a hole in the ground on an island, which he called the dragon’s cave). This may or may not have been that island, and that may or may not have been a factual story about a factual emperor. Dismayed at having been lugged out here for fake ‘history’ we spent the morning checking out the view of the gorges the island’s vantage points provided. We largely ignored the ‘ancient’ buildings and avoided the crowds all together. At the top of the hill stood a lone shack under construction, we went inside and saw a few Chinese gentlemen and their girlfriends from our boat. They were looking into glass display cases and laughing. One youth had his girlfriend take a picture of him making daemon faces in front of the case. We walked over to see that the case contained human remains. A sign nearby said that in ancient times a strange people had buried their dead in hanging coffins, high in the nearby gorges. These few coffins had been removed from their lofty resting places so tourists could pose in front of them. A hold in the glass case was drilled so tourists could fill the coffins with money for luck. We were aghast that the poor dead were being treated in such a way. The worst possible death I could imagine would comprise of being a part of a disrespectful, Chinese tourist trap in a fake city. I spent the day contemplating the way Chinese think of death and dying, a near theme for the trip so far considering the previous day’s outing and now the desecrated remains of an unfortunate man.

Back on the boat we sat on the deck counting the floating shoes we passed in the water. For some reason there was an excess of shoes (possibly because the rubber soles made them float). We wondered if for every floating shoe there was a pair of sunken pants and missing, sunken shirt as well. Mike wondered if we’d pass a body. Before the words were out of his mouth we saw something floating in the water 100 yard away from the boat. As we neared we saw four pale legs sticking out of the mucky river and saw that it was a bloated and green dead pig. Naturally, we stopped counting shoes, worried we would spot something equally or more disturbing than the dead pig. We mentally made a note not to eat anymore river fish.

At eleven we ate a hearty lunch on board with the Swiss couple and talked a great deal about politics, religion and the differences between Switzerland and the US (which are vast). Both of them had been in the US before, and had opinions on things that were very intense and new, and we enjoyed our chat immensely. By noon we had to get off the boat for a long day of touring. This was the highlight of the trip, and was especially touted as one of the last cruises humans would see of these cliff sides before the dam flooded the area. We boarded a smaller boat that held roughly 100 people, and the engine splashed up water as it took off down a mini gorge. We passed through several beautiful gorges before coming to the site of the hanging coffins. Up nearly 100 yards a small wooden coffin sat nestled in a square, man made cave along a steep and sheer cliff side. We wondered how the ancient peoples had put them up there in the first place, let alone how the Chinese tourism industry had gotten several coffins down for the White Emperor City. Further down we saw a monkey playing with a twig over the water, his long furry arms surprised us as we had never seen a monkey in the wild before. He vanished before we knew we had really seen him. After several hours of intense viewing, we halted and boarded even smaller boats of 20 which we took into an even smaller gorge. This tiny gorge was full of thin waterfalls spewing white spit. The water was clearer and our boat guide sang old fishing songs as he paddled us through the gorge. After a time we returned to the larger boat and again took off through larger gorges.

The boat stopped at a complete joke of a town that had at one point been an ‘ancient relic of China town,’ meaning, an old village. Because the water level would rise for the dam they had destroyed the old village and built a new one ‘exactly like the old one’ further up the hill for tourists to see how thoughtful the government could be. We looked around at the cinder blocks and 2x4s and left in disgust. Back in the original ancient village a poor old man was probably sifting through bricks for his possessions. Back on board we sped under several bridges under construction, as older, lower bridges would soon be wiped out, and finally arrived back in town where our ship was docked.

Protesting

Instead of boarding the boat we were directed to a bus. Apparently a local troupe had a show prepared for us. We ate a quick meal with the Swiss couple before grabbing a row of seats in a tiny stadium. Twenty scantly clad Chinese dancers frolicked on stage while the men, dressed in loin clothes, bounced around in the background holding twigs. Meanwhile, a smoke machine filled the room and flashing neon lights bounced off the walls in what can only be described as the corniest thing I’ve ever seen. In a rare show of defiance, however, one song and dance routine among the pack of otherwise pointless and flashy dances, showed an old man, wife and child with her baby being forced from their tiny home by government officials. The officials pranced around the stage singing as the poor villagers gathered their belongings and cried. It was a silent, smokeless theater when the last note was sung and we all looked at each other in shock. This was the only scent of protest we had ever seen from the Chinese about the dam, and it was not in the least bit subtle. We swelled with pride for the troupe and clapped loudly at their courage for doing a show with so much criticism in it. In the final act the policeman lifted the elderly woman onto his back and forced her off stage while the man was dragged by another young man in uniform. It was chilling. We were very happy to see that there was, at least, someone else who felt the whole project was hurting more than it was helping.

Boarding the boat we fell asleep the instant our heads hit the dirty pillows. We stayed on the dock all night, listening to the water lap at the shore.

-posted by Lauren.

At 4:30 a siren sounded and I was sure the boat was sinking. I mentally ran through all the logical escape routes, noting in my mind where the life vests were stored. There had been no emergency drills, and we noticed that as dirty as the water was, if we fell in we’d probably be poisoned to death in minutes. I had not slept hardly a wink all night as we lulled back and forth in the Yangzi’s current. Not a hearty swimmer, I was worried about the possibility of making it to the closest shore before being snatched by the cold or exhaustion or fear of what I could get tangled in in the dirty water. We did not sink, and another siren went off at 5:00am indicating we should, perhaps, prepare to disembark. We were arriving at the ancient Ghost Town, the only Daoist ghost village in China. For 80Rmb a person you could freely roam the two hillsides full of abandoned buildings full of relics of an abandoned religion. The town was a tribute to death and hell. The idea was that if would could pass through the scary underworld and survive, he had been a good person in this life and thus would survive the torment of hell. We marched past neon pools of drainage and waste into a serene valley of abandoned buildings. At the top of one hill there was an empty doorway shaped like a giant dragon’s open mouth. We walked inside alone and down dark stairs where a motion sensor triggered an insane and surreal giant puppet show of flashing lights and life-sized displays of torture and hell. We quickly walked through the haunted house of Daoist hell, but after twenty minutes of giant puppets sawing each other in half, we had not found an exit. Another ten minutes of crazy lights and giant horrors and we finally passed into another hall of Chinese history stories acted out in moving statues. We were too shocked at what we had just walked through to really express any thoughts other then blank stares. Walking out into the bright sunlight we wondered if we had really just marched through hell. After walking around the town a bit more, we headed back to the boat early and beat the crowd. I took a cold shower (no hot water on the boat) and by the time I came out of the disgusting bathroom I felt dirtier than when I went in. Our room mates sat on their bunk, nearly nude, chain smoking and avoiding eye contact. I went topside where I read in the fumes of exhaust and wrote in my journal, all the while snapping pictures of the gorges and hillsides as we passed slowly by. We spent the rest of the day on board playing cards, drinking warm beer, chatting with the Swiss couple, and watching the scenery.

walking through hell

At 21:00 we stopped at a Buddhist temple for a quick trip, but decided to walk around the outside of the temple rather than go inside. This was a depressing revelation. All along the temple there were knocked down homes and piles of rubble with people sifting through debris looking for belongings or scavenging. Little children pestered us to buy rocks and oranges from them while the elderly simply sat and looked at the piles of bricks. The whole town was in piles around the temple, and the people stayed only to try to sell what little they could produce to the tourists who would overpay and then board their boat. The three gorges dam has aroused controversy across China and the world for its massive displacement of people. Reading about the project one could see the large numbers of people who would be moved, but watching them poke at piles of bricks that used to be their homes was heart wrenching. We bought oranges, and then left them on the shore for the children to find and resell, and then we boarded the boat in a sober and depressed mood. Back on board, however, we met a German couple, we thought there was only us and the Swiss on board for foreigners, but the Germans had been hiding in their room until this evening. We chatted lightly and he bought us a round of beers while he talked about his pipe factory in Canton. We ate boiled cabbage and rice with the Germans in the canteen before bed. Returning to the room we found the nearly nudes mid argument. They abruptly silenced themselves and huffed into their beds. We all slept heavily that night as we rolled further away from the depressing shores of devastation.

-posted by Lauren.

skinned frogs

We arrived in Chongqing at 19:49, twenty minutes off schedule. I was handsomely impressed with their time management skills. On a 31 hour journey the train managed to cross the majority of the nation and arrive nearly on schedule. On train trips in the US I planned to arrive over four hours late, per leg. When we stepped of the train we were greeted by a throng of locals screaming “hotel” in Chinese. We bypassed them, knowing they are regular scam artists, and stepped into a small shopping booth where a young woman charged us an unheard of 7RMB for a two minute phone call (normal price: 50 mao (12 cents). We stood in line for a cab for nearly ten minutes before noticing the line stretched around the block, and cabs were arriving only rarely for the line of over 100 tired passengers. We went around the train station and found exactly what we were looking for. Illegal cab drivers who charge double the fare to take you half the distance. After negotiating for over half an hour we agreed on a 40Rmb fare. 25 for the driver, and 15 for the bridge toll. Needless to say there was no bridge toll and the greedy driver pocketed the money with a smile as he said “all foreigners have money. no problem.”

A bit irate, we walked around the river where the crook had dropped us of. Our hostel was nowhere in sight. After another overpriced phone call we spotted our contact, John, a Chongqing local who runs a friendly home hostel. He took us up to his three bedroom apartment (converted into a hostel) and showed us our tiny room. The spartan and deserted, it was a decent place to stay. We left after dropping off our bags and washing our faces, and found a local stall to eat dinner. The outdoor dinning consisted of plastic pink chairs and a piece of plywood over a bucket for a table. A worker in the ‘cafe’ plucked a large fish out of a tank in the front of the store, and lifted it high above her head. Smiling shyly at me, she slammed the poor fish against the cement, splattering foul water, blood and scales across our table. I shrieked in horror as she laughed and picked it up and again smashed the squirming beast into the cement. She did this several times as I staggered away from the stall and Mike paid our waiter (a drunk man with one leg of his pants missing). The fish-torturer began scaling the fish, which began to flop hideously about in the sink. She lifted it and smashed it against the ground one last time, now covered in petrol, dirt and dog shit. She smiled, finished scaling the poor swimmer, and then began to heat a pan. A cop and his ugly girlfriend watched the whole scene, applauding how fresh the fish at this stall was.

In the morning John promised to help us book tickets on a cruise ship up the Yangzi for 580Rmb. We were thrilled, having investigated and found the average booking agent was charging over 1000Rmb. We fell asleep optimistic, but awoke to the thunderous sounds of horn honking at 5:00am, to which mike mumbled through tired eyes, “did you know honking is illegal in Chongqing” (and indeed, it was outlawed in 1997. Obviously no longer enforced). We stumbled out of the room, dizzy from the overkill John had done on month balls in our tiny room, and hungover from breathing poor air for the whole night listening to illegal honking. Sitting on the living room couch, John made a proposition to Mike. He proposed they go into business together ripping of western tourists. The key was that foreigners had money and did not mind spending it. John and Mike could split the profit they earned by overcharging unknowing tourists. Sick at the thought of ripping of friends and fellow travelers, we politely declines. John then began talking about how much money he was making in Tibet on foreigners who would agree to pay any ridiculous price he demanded to see China’s Tibet. At this point we were sure ready to flee the hostel, and Chongqing for that matter for all the unpleasant people we had so far encountered. On the excuse of hunger we left John sitting on the couch talking about his pyramid scheme. Walking around a local street market, we gnawed on lamb skewers and dined in a local street stall with a cold beer before strolling arm in arm down the stepped alleys.

The bathroom

We were set to meet John at 17:00. He was massively late and the cruise, we were told, would leave at 18:00. Finally he burst nonchalantly through the door, took our money and told us to follow a random woman to the cruise. We followed her after several rounds of negotiations and swears, and she led us to a dock several hundred yards away from the primary port. The main port held beautiful white ships with lavish decks and gold dining halls. We were led to an underground passage to a hidden terminal. Trying to cheer ourselves, we opened a few beers and snacks and watched a movie on Mike’s laptop in the waiting room (after being informed our boat left at 21:00). A friendly man riding his bike across China joined us. He spoke little English, so we talked in Chinese about his trip, and got to know him as best we could with limited language skills. He shared a few beers and before we knew it we were smiling and boarding the gangplank to the boat.

The ‘cruise ship’ was probably condemned, it leered to one side and stunk of diesel and fish. Fake plastic grass covered parts of the deck, and the exhaust pipe for the engine (itself a relic from earlier times) sprouted black smoke and coughed up flakes of engine onto the passengers on top deck. Our shoulders slumped as we were ushered to our room by a rude and almost unbearable man. Angered and nearly in tears, I collapsed against the door of our room, waiting for the floor attendant to unlock our door (no passengers were allowed to keep keys and had to track her down each time to enter the room). When the door was finally opened, we saw two bunk beds, a soiled chair and a tiny yellow stained bathroom. The bathroom deserves more description: It was a plastic square with a drain, a toilet and a sink. A large shower head was fixed to the ceiling. If one showered, the water would fill the room (nearly a quarter of a foot)before slowly draining. The water was a strange brownish gold color. We put our bags down and slowly sank to the beds as we talked about our options. We could chase John down and demand our money back, or we could make the best of it. We decided on the later.

After deciding not to jump overboard we went on to the top deck where a young attendant demanded 60Rmb to sit on the deck. Another fee, and no surprise. We felt we existed in China only to provide money to everyone we met. We sat under the billowing diesel exhaust coughing and silently watching other passengers look around in dismay. We were the only ‘foreigners’ on board. Once the whistle blew we snuggled into the corner breathing through our clothes. After some time, and I do not remember how or why, we both started laughing. Out of the black cloud of smoke emerged to pale faces that belonged to a Swiss couple on a whirl wind tour of the world. We talked well into the night. When we returned to our rooms, full of laughter and smiles, we had black streaks coming out of our noses. Our ‘roommates’ were in the room when we got back (four bunk beds). The wife was a pretty and thin woman, she was wearing nothing but neon red lingerie with matching nail polish. She had her purse on her arm (neon pink) when we walked in for some reason. Her husband was in a black button down dress shirt and nothing else. He sat on the bottom bunk eating oranges and staring at Mike. We fell asleep in silence, me on the top bunk reaching down, and Mike on the bottom bunk reaching up holding my hand.

-posted by Lauren.

Mountains rose up from the land like rude interferences to local farming as hills were chipped away into terraces in a massive attempt to convert the fertile soils of the hillsides into useful space. We gazed out the windows of the slow train, watching the landscape change from the water-logged and soggy Shanghai flatness to the mountains of South-Western China. The train ambled slowly and comfortably along under 50mph, a speedy pace for the relaxed passengers on board.

Mike resting on the train

We watched small, gray and brown towns of under 20 houses pass by surrounded by fields of growing food and flooded rice fields. Suddenly, bright yellow and blue buildings with steeples on each rooftop rose out of the shrubbery to confuse us. The lavish colorful villages were mini Disney lands for the peasants on board used to stucco and mud buildings. We saw no people in these Disney-like towns, and no farmland surrounded the towered buildings. I wondered how they paid for their odd architecture, and where all the residents were, and how they had come to chose small church-like structures for their homes. Without a source for answers, we shrugged and resumed watching. The landscape quickly returned to the traditional gray and brown houses and fields, leaving us wondering if it had been an aberration.

Before leaving Shanghai, Mike and I both bought matching ridiculous pajamas. In the city, many people wander around at all times of day in full pajamas, we thought we would join this culture of relaxation, and donned the PJs before stepping onto the train. On board we purchased pomegranate, oranges, pistachios, grapes and noodles and, of course, a few bottles of beer. We sat playing cribbage on a small wooden peg board as we watched the scenery swoosh past. By 20:00 I had won three games to Mike’s zero, so he left the table to chat with a young Chinese man also traveling towards Chongqing. They dined on rabbit leg together as they chatted about women, jobs and China while I read in my bunk. Our six bed cabin was shared with a silent young woman in neon pink who said not a word for 31 hours, and a family of four (a couple, their 8 year old son, and a very limber 90 year old woman who bounded around the cabin grinning with her few remaining teeth). The small family shared three beds, and they spent their time entertaining the spoiled young boy, who spent his time irritating every breathing soul on board with screams, jeers and cries for candy.Throughout the train car, other children ran around quaintly playing with small paper toys while adults chatted with each other and socialized. It was a moving sewing circle, playground and men’s smoking card house all in one.

In the evening the lights were turned over at ten and we all climbed into our bunks for the night. Below Mike’s bunk a man snored louder than a chainsaw, and I worried for his health with such a strange and noisy condition. If he was asleep, then no one else in the cabin was. I lay awake all night, relaxed but tired, and listened to the helicopter-like noises of the fat man below Mike’s bunk. In the morning, noise and motion resumed at 6am when the lights promptly snapped on. The smell of instant noodles filled the cabin, as did the sounds of slurping and spitting. After trying to sleep for several more hours, we finally gave up and snacked on nuts and berries as we played a few more hand of cards. I won all but one game, leaving Mike quite dejected. Having tried train food the previous day, we were determined not to ever order it again, and listened to our stomachs growl as we traveled.

It was national day, Oct 1st, 2008. In 1949 on the same day the communists had officially come to power and announced the People’s Republic of China under Mao Zedong. To commemorate this occasion, all of China is given a week holiday each year in early October. For one week, all of China’s railways and highways are crowded with loud travelers eager to reach their families. It is known as the worst time to travel in China; an equivalent to Thanksgiving in the USA. We went anyways, eager to be a part of the hustle and noise. On the train, a more relaxed form of travel, we were surprised at how smoothly everything fell into place. We napped, gamed, read and blinked back the sun as we watched the scenery change. In all, it was a pleasant trip to Chongqing, and we arrived 31 hours later, a little tired and smelling of noodles, but quite relaxed and eager to start our tour of the city.

-posted by Lauren.

The financial world is a bit of a mystery to me. I view it as a completely made up profession. Perhaps there were not enough other jobs in the world, so a group of enterprising folks banded together and said, “lets make a whole occupation wherein all we do is talk about money.” And these innovators do not just talk about money, they actually made up a whole new list of things to do with money. Hence, the stock markets were born. Stock markets, in my mind, are necessary for only two things. To help companies who cant make a profit the old fashioned way (hard work) and to give thousands of people across the world a reason to buy a newspaper.

Its a fact that the largest newspapers in the world are the ones that cover financial new. Look at the Wall Street Journal, for example, or Reuters. Note that Michael Bloomberg (creator of the bloomberg analysis machine for finance) is now mayor of America’s most powerful city, New York. To me this is evidence that this made of profession is like a union, they vote for each other, read each others news, share in each others trials and tribulations and, most importantly, pretend to be friendly with each other when secretly each wishes the other’s portfolio would collapse so he could snatch up cheap shares. Yes, the financial world is an interesting thing. And a very easy study on human nature. If you ever get the opportunity, go spend a day around Wall Street. Notice how everyone in the made up profession is seriously over serious, self absorbed and usually walking around with a newspaper in one hand, a Starbucks in the other and a bluetooh in one ear (if not both, the ultimate status symbol!)

Shanghai Financial Tower

The company I currently work for will remain nameless, partially because I fear our compliance department scours the internet for company mentions and would not look favorably on my unfavorable view of the industry, but also because it is a British firm, and I worry that perhaps my perceptions of the financial world are really just perceptions on the British, who as a nation exhibit similar characteristics with everyone I’ve ever met from the US involved in stocks and trading. However, my nameless company employs a multinational crew, perhaps to balance out their views and give a more accurate perception of global market trends? Perhaps, also, because they can sell the image of a “multilingual, multinational staff” to clients as a marketing tool. I suspect the later, having learned that there are not truly good deeds (at least when it concerns money.) The company’s goal is to sucker investors form the UK into buying stock in Chinese companies. Its a wonderful idea, except that the global economy is crap at the moment, and there is really nothing worth putting money into. As the editor, every report our analyst write comes across my desk, and to date I have not read one report I would put even a dollar of my money on. For this reason, I have come to see investing as gambling. I have a better chance of striking it rich in Las Vegas, in my mind, then by investing. Every morning I watch the analysts scurry about with worried looks on their faces as they open the bloomberg to see a ton of charts that all show what looks like a hill, the downside being the day’s share price. They gather like flies outside the building on the marble entry way and look across their cigarettes at each other and shrug, “cant control the markets!” But, the most fascinating and horrifying aspect of all of this is, in the last several months of reading reports I have rarely seen a SELL recommendation. No, these scared and worried analysts are advising clients to BUY! “Hey, prices are cheap, why not buy now?” they suggest, and yet the hill on the bloomberg continues to go down. Do they feel guilty for asking someone to put money on their way of thinking? Perhaps, but more than likely they are thinking about their end-of-the-year bonus, and wondering if they wrote enough reports to get a great bonus, despite market performance.

In this made up industry there are loads of made up people. People who feel like they are the most important beings on the planet, and radiant information as well as hold the key to information that could (if they were so kind as to reveal it) make you a millionaire. When the phone rings in the office the analysts will snatch at the receivers and drone on as if bored, when really they are beaming at being noticed, at being inquired upon. They have knowledge to impart, and finally a student has called for a lesson. Such is the mentality of an analyst.

Perhaps it is unfair, you think, that I chide these poor, hard-working analysts so. Let me give you some industry-specific info. These people are the kings of faking it until they make it. Many of them do not have degrees, or any basis from which to be so knowledge imparting. No, they entered the firm as an editor (why, that’s me!) or as an assistant, and then, over time, they worked their way up by coming in at 7am and leaving at 9pm and generally learning the art of google hunting and Reuters coding. These people deserve credit, don’t get me wrong, but on the inverse I really do not trust them with financial information. Take, for instance, Steven Hawking. If he said tomorrow the world was flat I just might believe him. Having never been to space, the roundness of the earth it just as likely a myth as its flatness, as far as I personally know. In the financial world there is no one I really trust, especially given the recent collapses in the US markets and the overall decline in global stocks (with massive small-cap de-listings) in the past year. Case and point– experts always point to a bubble after it has burst. Not very helpful. Why then are these people called experts when all they can do it point out the obvious and then debate what will happen (not even suggesting ways to mend things, but just how to benefit and when to sell before the other guy does). Again, not very helpful, in the grand scheme.

Forgive the cynicism, reader, but unless you have spent months on end listing to pointless financial banter, then this diatribe (nay! this monologue) will seem as pointless as the occupation in berates.

-Posted by Lauren.

Pudong district, in Shanghai, is viewed as the financial hub of mainland China. Fully suited businessmen scurry beneath steel high rises from coffee shop to news stand to marble offices with crystal views of the Huangpu River.

Amid this jumble of activity a startlingly Freudian phenomenon is occurring. Eleven years ago the Jinmao Tower was erected. It was hailed as the tallest building in China, unique in that its 88 floor design was seen as distinctly Chinese. The building held prestige in the mainland for over ten years with over 5000 visitors a day. This year, however, a bigger building has emerged.

A hard job

The Shanghai World Financial Center was erected directly across the street from the Jinmao Tower, and surpasses Jinmao’s 88 floors by extending the panoramic viewing center to the 100th floor. Instead of charging 100, which Jinmao charges, the SWFC charges 150. At a height of 1,555 feet, the viewing hall is the highest in the world, and offers a nearly unbroken view of all of Pudong which includes a view of the tip of Jinmao Tower.

I wonder, however, at the childishness of erecting ever-taller buildings in the middle of a global market recession. Roomers in the financial hub suggest that the SWFC is having trouble stocking their office space. Small wonder when they demanded only full-floor tenants at outrageous prices. At least four new office buildings have opened in Pudong this year, and companies are growing wiser and buying space while property prices are low in other towers. Now, this 100 floor monstrosity sits nearly empty. At least they have a great view!

Despite the apparent ill logic, some companies have taken up residence in the SWFC. This is the Freudian phenomenon I mentioned earlier. Companies are showing their power and might by lodging themselves in the tallest phallus in China. Despite being overpriced and a massive tourist trap (meaning, the food court will be impossible over lunch breaks) a select few companies have decided that prestige can be gained by being on the 30th floor of a 100 floor building. I’ll never understand it. On which note, my company operates from one of these two towers (not telling!) and I look out my office window every day at a stream of tour buses and wonder if sitting in a giant Chinese phallus is really helping the company’s image.

-Posted by Lauren.

At 6am we heard a knock at the door of the Mansion and Mike went in his boxers to see what the ruckus was. Ana and Dale, with bottles in hand, were just coming back from the bars. The sun was peeping over the trees behind them and they covered their eyes from the light. We all went to sleep and at noon, we were all on the couch again laughing, hydrating and looking for tickets on craigslist. Luckily the mansion had a cleaning lady who showed up shortly after we all awoke and began collecting bottles and sweeping up chips.

Train travel

Personally, I think having a cleaning lady is morally and ethically awkward. Another human being comes to clean up after you—I find it hard to digest. In China a cleaning lady is called an Ai’yi. Ai is the same sound as the word for ‘love’ in Chinese, and many expats living in China do indeed love their ai’yis, and would hardly survive without them. The mansion was just such a place, and the ai’yi looked at home amid the boy’s jokes and half nude greetings of hello.

Dale had to prepare for a party he was throwing that evening, so Ana, Mike and I set off to see what had changed in the past two years in Beijing. This turned out to be a far bigger project than we could manage in one day. First we went to eat lunch at a small side-street café. It could just as well have been Pairs for all its charm. Afterward we went to see the now famous CCTV building, which is shaped like a moibus strip.

Construction was not yet finished, but we took pictures and walked around marveling at the rate of development in the area. We headed off towards Tienanmen Square after the CCTV tower, eager to revisit all of our very first hostel in China—the Far Eastern Hostel near the square. A great place, which I highly recommend. However, the area around the hostel (though not the street itself) had been completely leveled and rebuilt in the past two years! People were everywhere, the street looked like a movie set where the buildings are only real on one side. Mike was visably distraught while Ana got extremely quiet and contemplative, musing at the intricate yet plastic light posts meant to resemble the Qing dynasty.

At a small tourist-trap stall Ana spotted children’s T-shirts for RMB10, or about a dollar. She tried it on and it barely fit. We both purchased them and went to a nearby bar and requested three beers and a pair of scissors. We cut the necks lower, the waists higher and the sleeves off, and then we put the shirts in our purses and headed for the subway—the athletics final would begin in less than an hour.

The Beijing subway has been greatly improved in the past two years, however, it still leaves a bit to be desired in that an exit from one line may be a good half mile underground from the connecting line. Meaning, we were extremely late getting to the Bird’s Nest. We popped out of the Olympic metro rail into the Olympic park, a massive cement field with flashing colored lights, statues and a massive walkway that truly was, dare I say—Olympian. We rushed towards the stadium, completely in awe of its glowing red design. Finding our sector we climbed a massive set of steps to the third tier and found our seats. I remember very vividly the very first glimpse I had in the Nest, we were walking up the steps to the entry way and I heard a roar so loud my feet trembled. I looked up and saw thousands of people, it looked like a vermin-infested bird’s nest alright, only humans were the vermin. I was shocked to see so many people in one place. Ana and I pulled on our modified kids T shirts, which read across the chest, “I Love China.” We pulled out American flags and sat them on our lap, and pulled out our cameras and poised them for the first spectacle.

Looking down on the field, it felt too close, like we could spit and hit a world class athlete. We all sat silently in our seats for a few moments before bursting into screams the moment our first relay began. Ana and Mike were jumping and screaming, I was half crouched under their waving arms, urging our runner to pick up the pace. This continued for a half an hour before the first beer run. Beer, as I may have mentioned, was less than a dollar a glass at the Olympics, and truly a gift from the government. When Ana got back we all sipped our beers and watched a new Olympic record in javelin. Afterward we saw several men sprint 12 laps, an Ethiopian runner took first and looked excited but not the least bit tired as he sprinted across the finish.

The night wore on amid pictures, races, throws and more pictures. Anthems were sung, medals were given, and beer was accidentally kicked all over the back of my I Love China T-shirt.

-posted by Lauren.

Canadians

I’ll never forget the women’s relay race where the US was in second place in the final 100 yards and then, with some unknown superhuman strength the US runner pulled past her opponent and barely made it across the finish, but did indeed come in first. The whole of the Bird’s Nest was in a frenzy and people were hugging and jumping around like madmen. A whole row of Jamaicans in front of us were on their feet as well. It was a truly universal moment, a single tear kind of moment.

Ana has long blonde hair and is a very attractive young lady. Several people in the stadium came up to her with their children or their husbands and took pictures with her. Though a shy girl, she could shine in front of the lens. After the games ended, we sang our anthem loudly, cheered all the drinkers in our area, and had our arms around each other as we marched out of the stadium and into the night. It was near 11pm. We saw a concession stand near the Water Cube and wanted to take a closer look at both. Mike bought beers while Ana and I danced around the cube singing our anthem. With beers in hand we decided to have our own mini photo shoot and see if we could get a shot of Ana and I in mid air, jumping in front of the Cube.  Nearly a full 50 pictures later we had yet to get one with both of us in aviation. A group of Canadians watching the spectacle introduced themselves as a wandering trio. We had more beers, talked about Canada, had more beers, took more pictures and then all left together for Dale’s party.

The Canadians were travelling around the world together and had just come from the Trans-Siberian Railway, which they said was amazing and well worth putting up with Russia over. We boarded the subway, and then split into taxis and finally found Dale’s mansion in full party mode. Poker was being played, people were dancing, food was everywhere and beer flowed like water. I played a game of poker (all in on an A,7 to an A,2,4,5,2 flop) which I lost in a late round before heading off to find a nearby McDonald’d at 3am. When we returned with our tasty burgers the mansion was silent. The poker games were over and the music was off. We ate, chatted with the winner of the game and finally fell asleep around 5am.

The following morning we needed to find a way back to Shanghai. We visited the train station to discover the entire train was sold out—and all subsequent trains for three days. We stood in shock, who was fleeing Beijing before the closing ceremony that evening? Why was the train booked? Dismayed we took a quick subway up to the airport and watched the basketball gold medal match from the subway’s TV. What an amazing game! We finally found tickets on a plane back to Shanghai two hours later, though they may have been the last two seats out of the city for all the trouble we went through to get them. We grabbed a quick bite, talked about the amazing weekend, and boarded our plane home. After two hours of terrible turbulence we landed back in Shanghai, exhausted and all smiles. We’d never been happier for acting on a whim.

-posted by Lauren.

Vince Vaughn

We finally arrived at the baseball stadium, though an hour and a half early. There were over forty volunteers checking tickets and working security machines. I took out my camera, aimed it at the volunteers and was instantly tackled by a young man saying in broken English, ‘no pictures!’ I laughed and said back in English, ‘no pictures at the Olympics. Are you serious?” He was not laughing.  I put my camera back in my purse, shrugged and walked towards a metal detector.  Another volunteer yelled towards the back of the procession in Chinese, “hey, can we let the foreigners in yet?” Mike and I looked at each other in awe. Chinese visitors were already streaming into the area, why wouldn’t we be allowed in. Someone in the back yelled an affirmative and we went through security. Mike’s cargo shorts beeped each time the volunteer swept the wand over his legs. It would beep and Mike would say, “keys” and the volunteer would not and sweep another beeping area, “belt,” “camera,” “sunglasses,” “change.” This went on for quite a while, the volunteer never asking to actually see inside the cargo pockets to see if Mike was telling the truth. He was. But naturally it was funny because it just as well had been “knife” “gun” “mace” and the guard would have nodded and moved on. Meanwhile, an aspirin container in my purse was being emptied onto a metal table. I explained that they were vitamins. He asked why some were red and some were white. I explained, without batting an eye, that they were A and B vitamins, and possibly C in there somewhere as well—have to keep the body healthy! Aspirin is prescription only in China and one cannot carry pills without prescription.

The baseball stadium was a small assemblage of temporary scrap steel twisted into the façade of an arena. We walked along the outside for a long while until we finally found out sector. Outside the heavily guarded entrance was a concession stand. Beer was less than a dollar! We loaded up on beer and sugar popcorn and headed for out seats. The whole area was empty so we sat together. After a few minutes two Americans showed up and sat next to us, one was from Boston and looked like Tony Sapprano. The other was from New York and looked like he might have been a club bouncer. Mike offered to  buy them a beer and boom, we were on the good graces of the American mob, which was comforting. We wished we were sitting somewhere else.

Tony Soprano yelled at the Cuban team as it took the field. Naturally, we yelled along with him after he nudged me with his elbow and gave me an urging look. We drank our beer, cheered for the good ol’ boys and generally had a great time.

Olympic baseball

After a few disappointing innings we found ourselves in the unfortunate situation of being out of beer. Mike made the trek to the nearby concession. While he was away a familiar looking gentlemen sauntered by us and sat towards the back of the stadium. I recognized him from somewhere but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Then Tony Soprano stood up on the bench and screamed, “we fucking love you Vince Vaughn!” I was astonished! Not only did Vince turn, but seeing the giant and the mobster, he smiled and cheered on the American team in unison with the mobsters. I sat petrified, meanwhile, at being in the middle of such an awkward and embarrassing scenario, and I wished Mike would hurry back with the beers. Liquid courage. After another round Mike and I went up a few steps and talked to Mr. Vaughn. I had my picture taken and Mike shook his hand and he instructed us to enjoy the rest of the game. I felt bad for the man, who was sitting alone and would have liked to ask him to come sit with us if it didn’t mean including the mafia. We were all smiles as we sat back down. Neither one of us had ever met a celebrity—he was amazingly normal. Totally drunk, though, as one should be at a baseball game.

-posted by Lauren.

After a while it was obvious we were not going to win the game, and in fact it was 10- 2 Cuba when we walked out of the stadium with our heads down. We caught a cab and met some friends in SanLiTun, the infamous bar street in Eastern Beijing. The street is notorious for heavy parties, drugs, illicit film stores and hundreds of foreigners and very few local Chinese. It was, basically, what Chinese locals thought of America—dirty, drugged and laughing about it. We met up with our already trashed friends in a bar called the Q Bar. A young Chinese lady in the tiniest shorts and smallest shirt came up to Mike and took off his baseball cap and put it on her head.

Pollution

Naturally I was furious, more because it was actually my hat, not his, and I didn’t want it getting an STD. She giggled and fell down on a padded sofa lounge, pulling another of our friends down on top of her. This went on for quite a while, until after some time it seemed normal and we forgot all about her presence.

At the Q Bar a friend of ours from Shanghai showed up with tickets to the athletics finals which he had scalped earlier that day from a Finnish soccer player. He sold us the tickets for only RMB200 more than face value—an unheard of deal. We happily paid our friend, who was unaccustomed to the lady rolling on the sofa and therefore uncomfortable, and he left. He was Australian.

The finals were the next evening at 7. We had four tickets and it did not take long to convince our friends Ana and Dale to go with us. They were more than happy to oblige. After a bit we left the Q bar and sat around outside on a park bench marveling at the clear sky.

Pollution in China is a massive problem, and one without an obvious answer. Development and industrialization is their right and aim, yet to achieve this is it really necessary to go through such a period. Already China’s progress has mimicked Americas in that we had out industrial revolution and then, when wages were high in the US and manufacturing was not really economically feasible—we outsourced our factories and became a service society. China was already following this trend in outsourcing to India. Soon, would it be a reality that all the factories in China would move outside the nation and it would too become a service industry. Meanwhile, pollution in China was rampant as most factories remained in the mainland. The next phase in a free market economy is not yet fully underway and the pollution from factories, and 1000 new cars a day added to the streets of Beijing, has left the city permanently under a heavy grey cloud. We lay on the park bench in SanLiTun and marveled at the clear sky because it was not more than two years ago we lived in Beijing and had chronic coughs, blew our nose into white towels to reveal black goo, and generally could not run more than 100 yards without collapsing. Now, looking up at the full moon we were astonished at what had transpired. Would Beijing go back to its shitty air and poor traffic and collapsing citizens after the Olympics? Probably. We got in a cab and headed back to Dale’s mansion.

-posted by Lauren.

Scalpers in Beijing

I woke up at 6am, still on the train in my mini-bunk. I rubbed my eyes and, out of the corner of my sleepy vision, saw a Chinese local with a business suit on standing in front of Mike’s bed—watching him sleep. Somewhat startled and unsure of how to react, I simply watched the man silently. Eventually he bored of his voyeurism and wondered down the hall. I rolled over onto my stomach and washed my face with a napkin dampened in bottled water, then finished my book. When I was done I looked over and woke up Mike and told him about his on-board fan club.

We arrived in Beijing two hours behind schedule, and happily so. We were on our way to drop off our backpacks at Dale’s house. Dale recently took a ‘real’ job where he previously played a certain card game for income. His roommates all made money in a similar fashion. Needless to say, they lived in the penthouse of a downtown Beijing apartment, literally a two story (with two balconies and four bathrooms) suite. The fish tank in their entry way was larger than the walking area of our entire apartment.  At 11am, when we arrived, no one was awake—having suffered a serious night of drinking and playing the previous evening. We knocked to the sound of our own echo.

Eventually a very friendly hangover answered the door. We were later to learn his name was Ben. His girlfriend, Kristy, was sleeping soundly—unamused perhaps at our ‘early’ arrival. We set down our bags and hooked up Mike’s laptop to their Wi-Fi to search for tickets. The games, sadly, were sold out. We wondered if coming to the city on a whim with no plan was a bad idea….. and then we found online scalpers.

Online scalpers are a strange lot. They openly advertise aspirations for an illegal transfer of money for tickets—something the Chinese government fought earnestly against. Craigslist.com and other social selling spots were brimming with tickets to every possible event—though at a markup, of course.  We quickly found tickets online for a reasonable fare to the Cuba vs USA baseball quarterfinal game. They were RMB 300 each, not bad.

After calling the ticket holder on the craigslist posting we were advised to trek to a specific street corner near the subway, once at that street corner we were to call the ticket holder again and he would deliver further instructions. Now, we had been watching the hit TV show The Wire, and were amazed at the similarities between dealing drugs and dealing tickets. The phone rang as we stood at the street corner, dripping sweat and wonderment. We were to head into a nearby building and await further instructions. We did do, giddy at such a silly secretive illegal dance for something that was blatantly posted all over the web (with IP tags).

A kind, overweight Armenian man came out of a nearby elevator and spotted us on the phone. He marched over and made small talk—making sure we were in fact the saps who were overpaying for baseball. We assured him we were. He produced the tickets in a sealed envelope with Mike’s name written on it. Very subversive! I put the tickets, labeled with Mike’s name, into my purse. Meanwhile Mike reached for his wallet. The Armenian screamed and then looked around the lobby. “Not here!” and then he marched off down an unlit hallway. Confused, and somewhat too honest for our own good—we followed. In another lobby, with CCTV coverage of the whole area staring back at us as the Armenian put his palm out under Mike’s nose and looked around suspiciously. A real pro.

Tickets

With the transaction complete we sat in the cab silently blinking away amusement at what had transpired. I pulled out the envelope with the tickets. Despite having watched The Wire, we had not checked the ‘purity’ of the goods. I starred at our seat assignments- the tickets were not for the same row or aisle, though they would be in the same general area. At least, we sighed, no stadiums had appeared full on TV—maybe we would be able to swap with someone?

-posted by Lauren.

We went up to the Beijing 2008 Olympics on a sudden impulse. It wasn’t because we were so much swept up in the fervor as just tired of feeling left out. On a Wednesday evening we were watching the Olympic men’s gymnastic team competing and looking at the crowd of screaming, crying fans wondering if we’d ever be so gullible as to scream for nationalism.

Apparently we are. Thursday morning I told my boss I was thinking of vacating the office early that day. I called Mike and propositioned. Naturally with a little sweet talk and some womanly maneuvers I had him agreeing to an overnight train ride to Beijing in no time.

I left work that same evening at 4pm on an excuse of packing and passing out business cards. I jogged to the Shanghai subway and boarded the metro—itchy and anxious for another adventure. It felt like I had been stable for far too long (though it had only been two weeks!).

When I got back to the apartment I was ecstatic with energy and adrenaline. I walked in the door, and embraced my baby.

Beijing Bird

After a shower we realized we had no time to properly pack, and each threw a few shirts into separate backpacks, grabbing toothpaste and random accessories as we reached for the door. We were nearly late getting to the Shanghai rail station because our cab driver (an over-weight smoker from south China with a thick local accent from years of fitting in) pretended not to know the fastest route north.  Eventually, and several mini- panic attacks later, we arrived just in time to race down the tarmac to our train car.

Boarding our car, we were encountered with a stench that can only be described as ‘travel smell,’ it’s a disgusting mix of body sweat, excitement and laziness. I love it. Imagine sawdust and a urinal, mixed with egg whites and a bit of bark.

Our bunk (it was a sleeper car) was in the middle row, car 6, bunks 3 and 4 to be exact. Bunks come in rooms of 6, with one and two on the ground level with two above that and two more hugging the ceiling. The middle row has a nice view of the scenery.  I lounged in my mini-bunk, reading ‘Men without Women’ a Hemingway book my father had recently sent me from Afghanistan where he was working. I nearly finished the book when exhaustion and excitement mixed inside me and made me fall asleep, the book resting on my chest.

-posted by Lauren.