The last time I ventured out of our Park Avenue apartment to see more of this vast country, I wound up a few borders away, and on a bus to Nowheresville, Philippines. With a new adventure ahead, and a semi-understanding of the unpredictability of the inner-workings of my brain, this made it very hard to pack my suitcase. (Or should I bring a duffel bag? Perhaps a backpack?)
I ended up with a bag of 10% papers and pens, 20% clothes, 30% movies, and 50% Ayn Rand styled novels, and my new blue guitar - for I heard rumour that Yabuli was a town with a hole in it’s bucket, and there would be nothing to do but drink wodka wis Wrrussians all the sing-song day.

After a stroll through the enormously giganticly huge brand spankin new terminal 3 at the Beijing International Airport, and some breakfast ice cream with the crew, we were flying high north for the next hour and a half to Harbin, Heilongjiang Province.
Crew? Shall I explain? MCR has developed a month long training course for 40 hand-selected Zhonguo ren staff to take place at Yabuli Sun Mountain. The course contains a section on career management, communications style, conflict and customer relations, food service, sales and marketing, and English grammar. Therefore, without any formal training, I have become an Oral English teacher! (This assures my personal belief that sooner or later, every whitey in China becomes an English teacher at some point.)
Rule #2: Anything can happen in China, and it usually does.

Qu Nar?

If all you’ve ever heard of China before, is complaints of spit on sidewalks in Beijing, controversial Starbucks outlets in the forbidden city, something about metro Shanghai, and a Great Wall… prepare to think again. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this country is somewhat large. From the terminal in Harbin, we hopped in a van for a hot 3-hour drive along the only highway to a town called Yabuli. The country stretches out forever as miles of earth and soil and grass roll into small shanty-town communities and back out again. The gas stations are large and industrial and stick out like a bright beacon of hope among the otherwise absent sense of civilization. The weather was hot and we were all shriveling into prunes from dehydration so a stop was mandatory. A few long semi trucks joined us in refueling and filling up on beans and baskets of nuts bought from eager little ladies wrapped in coloured shawls and Malboro ball caps. For some reason there is a cage of chickens here too, and it makes me wonder if these people live just out behind the gas pumps. Trees sprouted up as we got further north, and hills began to appear alongside signage for Yabuli - Home of the Asian Winter Games and the best ski slopes this side of the Yangzi River. With the pines and the mountains and the climate - it could be Canada.

We arrived at The Windmill Village shortly after - my wonderful home for the next month! Tucked into the mountain’s foothills, next to some Russian log cabins, hours away from anything… would make a great setting for a Chinese version of “The Shining.” Although it’s only 8 years old, the peeling, faded paint, crumbling concrete corners, lack of care and maintenance of this place insists that Chinese winters are harsh and cold.

Hen Piao Liang

The summer here could be beautiful.
Out back amongst the windmills, is a quaint fish-filled lake. But it’s brown. And it has some cute bridges, but they could use a few more planks, not only to make it safer to walk, but to conceal the piles of shoes and garbage that lay lifelessly beneath. The surrounding hills are lush and green and full of flowering native plants and great hiking... if you don’t mind ticks. When its not shrouded in a windy dust bowl, the air is clean and the sky is bluey blue with white popcorn clouds. Next to the lake, a young worker squats down on the cement looking earnest. I wonder why before realizing that amongst the garbage piled beneath her dorm room window, she is effectively formulating an outdoor toilet. (That’s a first for me to see!) I’m told that most of these workers have never been out of Yabuli, not even as far as the three hour bus ride to Harbin.

On the other hand, there’s me. And I am well taken care of here. A king sized bed, bathroom, fireplace, TV, tables, hot water and housekeeping staff that come in 2wice a day with plates of fresh fruit and sometimes beer and peanuts too. My students are attentive and eager to learn. And it’s no wonder why… for many of the resort’s local staff the opportunity to be trained at 5 Star international resort and hospitality standards would have been unimaginable prior to MCR’s presence in the area. It’s exciting… and surreal to watch the development of this country taking place before my eyes. As a colleague said to me last night, this place is exactly as Whistler was 15 years ago before it boomed. It’s no secret that China wants what the West has, but the honest truth is they’re getting it. And fast.

Outside my window, a less fortunate Yabulian worker is air-drying her clothes on a tree branch while her husband “showers” from a bucket of water sitting on the muddy ground. How long will it be before these two, and their billion and one impoverished Chinese counterparts, are on their way to “the good life”?

Jump in the car Jimmy Zhang, we’re going skiing!

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