Blog 9: Rockets, refugees, birthdays, eclipses and lakes...

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Blog 9: Rockets, refugees, birthdays, eclipses and lakes.

Wow. What a lot of things to cover. I best start off in my final days in Qingdao.

After the robbery, I laid low for a day licking my wounds. It was ok. The weather was too hot and I had a bit of an upset tummy (on account of some unidentifed sea creature that came out of a shell but was neither mussel nor clam). Mind you, I have been here 6 months and this was my first instance of anything approaching "I really shouldn't have eaten that". Thank goodness that on the inside, I am a horse.

So then on my final day, I bit the bullet and played with the Americans. One had been here 4 years and spoke Chinese so I was lured out with the promise of tasty food I wouldn't have otherwise been able to ask for. Which was a fair point, and lunch (there were 3 of us in the end) was a tasty affair of some kind of meat, some kind of vegetable, some kind of rice and some kind of sea creature. (Confident in the powers of Immodium I tucked in undaunted). It was all very good, but Chinese speaking American was, well, a bit special. After an afternoon of reading, American number 2 and I scarpered into the side streets in search of the infamous Qingdao beer in a bag. And we found it. There was a very nice old lady sat on the pavement with a big keg of beer. I asked for a bag, (your average, run of the mill plastic bag, not unlike what you would put yout carrots in at Sainsburys) and she filled it with beer, weighed it, and charged me 4yuan. Thats 40p folks. Not quite sure how the dispensing would turn out, China showed its hand again, in revealing how neccesity is not only the mother of all invention, but how the Chinese are a clever wee bunch of folk... she shoved a straw through the bag. Mouth agape at the ingenious simplicity of this, and vowing to take beer in the bag to the motherland, we found a convenient pole on the terrace of the hostel to tie and hang the bags on, and sat there supping.

It was then the first rocket went overhead. Well, we weren't sure if it was a rocket or not, but it was very fast, not very high, went in an arc over our heads and into the distance, and had no lights, only what looked like fire coming out the back of it. I suggested cloud seeding. The American scoffed. "Cloud seeding? Never heard of it. No one can make it rain!". I informed the American it did indeed happen, not just in China but also in America's mid West. The American googled it the next day and

ate

his

words.

So The next evening I was on my way back to ShangHai on the bus. It was all going smoothly enough. Got to the bus station, managed to get on the right bus this time, and off we went. For about ten minutes. And then the bus stopped. And then more people got on. And then more people got on. And then MORE people got on. With the bus driver pocketing 150Y per ticket (I paid 200 at the station) he had people crammed into every available bit of floor space (for them to sleep on). Extra pillows were chucked around and people doubled up under duvets. I've never seen anything like it. There must have been an additional 40 people on the bus. And it was a good job I didn't need to get up to go for a wee, as there was nowhere to stand in order to get to the toilet. After that, the lights went out, and the bus rumbled on.

I arrived in ShangHai at around 6 in the morning, and got onto the tube and found the hostel where I was staying for the next 3 nights. It was a totally different end of town to where I had stayed with Marian, but with the same cacophany of nonsense in the streets; bikes and motorbikes trundling everywhere, hardly any cars, people sitting out in the streets in their chairs, food places opening revealing dumplings, hotpot restaurants and acres of steamed bread. I woke Claire up and we went for hotpot for breakfast.

That first day back in ShangHai was a rude awakening again to the heat I had escaped the week before. ShangHai was if it was possible, even more stiflingly hot that when I had left it. We walked to the famous teahouse in the city centre and nearly died. Took obligatory photos and went back to the hostel to recover, too hot to attempt anything else.

The next day (Monday) was my birthday. Not just any birthday, but my 30th birthday. This is it. I am officially OLD and while I find myself without job, mortgage, pension or any hope for a grown up life of any description really, it was a beautiful sunny day and I was in ShangHai, so who cares for 9 - 5 and being sensible?

I didn't wake up feeling any different at 30 than I had waking up at 29. Eyes a bit gritty as usual (due to the pollution), needing a wee (as I seem to now also be incapable of sleeping through the night without having to get up at LEAST once), and a little bit too hot. But I DID have Claire singing me happy birthday and producing a hand made card and a little blue bag to put my mobile in so that was nice. We decided to breakfast on the creatures I had seen on both my trips to Shangers - these red little lobster type crayfish type things that go into the wok alive but come out tasty and delicious. We feasted on these creatures until we could feast no more. I felt that lobster (I've decided to call them lobster to make them sound a lot grander than what the £3 I paid for them would have you think), was a fitting breakfast to have on ones first day of being 30.

After a little bit of mincing, we went into town and met up with Marian to go back to the bar where I had eaten steak with her before. It was again delicious, washed down with many beers and a whole bottle of tequilla kindly bought by the lovely boy who decided after 5 months of prison like living, I had to get pissed with my favourite tipple. This was apparently all arranged via the internet between himself and Claire. Sneaky. But ace. So we drank a bottle of tequilla and Claire was sick in a bin. (And agan the next day I hear just before she boarded a plane to Aukland). I passed out and found the dent in the pillow the next day was where my head must have hit the pillow and I died a little bit for 8 hours. I clearly hadn't moved. I love tequilla. We are friends.

So Claire left in the morning - she was off via a very convoluted series of planes taking her via New Zealand and LA to finally end up in Bermuda where she will while away the rest of her travelling time at her friends house until she comes back to the UK early October. It was strange saying goodbye. It had been so long since I last saw her, but we had a top time in Beijing together and that seemed like a lifetime ago. It was a sad and rather surreal, hazy, I-drank-a-lot-of-tequilla-last-night kind of goodbye and off she went.

I minced into town with the American (who had travelled to Shanghai as well) and we went to the Shanghai Propaganda Poster art centre. It was a bit of a mission to get to, but well worth it. It was full of posters that Mao had produced between 1949 - 1979 (the year of my birth), that were intended to "stir the heart and imagaination" of the people at the time. I can't explain it better, and it is interesting to note, so the following is what the introduction to the museum says;

"In comparison to Chinese civilisations 5,000 year history, the 30 years of history spanned by these posters represents little more than a small stretch along a very great river. Nevertheless, the events which unfolded during those 30 years are of truly great historical significance and should therefore never be forgotten. Behind the happy faces beaming out of these posters, one can only guess at the true-life anxieties and hardships of the people these posters purported to represent. Indeed, each poster is both an artwork and an insight into the events of those times. The artworks were intended to work as inspirational images which would stir both the heart and the imagination. Retrospectively of course, they also serve as a valuable historical journal, providing an idealised account of a key period of history. Mao Zedong emerged at a time when a great hero was badly needed in China - someone who could rescue the nation from a dire fate after a hundred years of external aggression, manipulation and oppression. Mao did indeed acheive this monumental task and became the only Chairman to head the Party for 30 years. During this so-called Mao era, one political party after another was established to consolidate his position. As a tool of the media, the propaganda poster was the most fundamental form of art during this period to carry Mao's voice to the masses. Mao was not friendly to intellectuals and sent students to work in the countryside. The terrible events of the Cultural Revolution delayed the development of China significantly and hindered the improvement of Chinese people's living standards. During the Cultural Revolution, artists had virtually no individual freedom of expression, or hope of any material reward for their work. They were instructed that art must serve politics. In order to meet the political demands made upon them, artists were obliged to produce iconic, inspirational works which effectively extolled the political messages promoted by the Party. In ther striving to acheive such works, many artists reached deep inside themselves, and in so doing were able to produce some remarkable and extraordinary poster designs which perfectly captured the indomitable nature of the human spirit, the transformational power of unbridled industriousness, and the soaring spirit of optimism by the people."

It is the first time I have seen it anywhere documented, in public, about the Cultural Revolution, about Mao, about how things were propagandered and how things hadn't (and still aren't) quite as rosy as they'd have you believe...it really was a fabulous exhibition. The posters were very anti-American, with the Americans portrayed sometimes almost Nazi-like, as wolves, as green slimy not quite-men scurrying away as a big burly Chinese volunteers stamped on them and drove them away. The only anti-British one I saw was an English man on a mule and a dashing Chinese man on a magnificent steed, saying that they had surpassed British steel making and insinuating that we were slow and old fashioned while China was this bright young whizz of a steel producer. (The fact that this was acheived by the back garden furnaces, that made steel that was about as good as a chocolate fireguard was by the by). Anyway, it was amazing. And there was a very exuberent old Chinese man translating the Chinese for us and cackling a lot, (paricularly at the American), which added to the entertainment value. At the end of the exhibition, you can buy all manner of paraphanalia from that era, and I got myself a Mao tin badge and a Red Guard ID card. The boy on my card is very young (I think he is 17) and it just makes you wonder what on earth he did in those times when the Red Guard youth were instructed by Mao to go into the cities and be violent. (Thousands and thousands of people died). Its all a bit stange and frigtening to think of. Still, I felt it a poignant piece of history to be purchasing, although I also have very mixed feelings about this kind of thing being banded about for sale...but there you go. And in case you were wondering, the posters ARE for sale (all originals of course) but only if the museum has more than 1 copy. You can buy anyhting in China if you can name your price!

The next morning (Wednesday) was the eclipse, and of course, while it had been clear skies, (or at least as clear as it gets here) for the past week, it was rainy and overcast. Still, at 9.30am I stood outside and watched it go dark and then light again. It really was quite peculiar. It went really quite fast - I filmed the whole thing and it goes black in just over a minute and then gets light again in about 40 seconds. The lights were on in a couple of the houses opposite, and the dog at the end of the road was barking, but the earth didnt come grinding to a halt or anything. It will be 500 years till it happens for such an extended length of time again. (Not sure if this amazing fact applies only to China or the whole world, but I like to think the whole world).

Everyone else in China was suitably un-awestruck by the whole affair. The hostel had filled with gallons of eclipse seeekers - apparently mainly French. One girl said she had tried 33 hostels in Shanghai to get a room for the night before and this was her 34th. Ha. And people scoff at my spreadsheet and planning....

So that afternoon, I (with American still in tow) caught the train for Hangzhou. Its only 2 hours away and the journey was uneventful. We arrived to find that no taxi would take us to the hostel. I have no idea why. Sometimes taxi drivers just dont want to drive you anywhere. In the end, we went into a nearby hotel and after a quick phone call, one of the bell hops arrived in his car, plugged in the sat-nav (which has the same voice as ours, only in Chinese) and off we sped.

The hostel, is lovely. I'm in a mixed dorm room but most people here are Chinese as Hangzhou is a bit tourist attraction for the Chinese as well as us westerners. So my room is nice and I'm on bottom bunk and the hostel has its own mellay of cats and dogs that all mince around quite happilly togehter - although the dog (called "el poo"), a very young retreiver, seems to spend a lot of his time in his cage but seems quite happy for it. Either that or can be found under a table chewing a plastic bottle he's pulled out of the re-cycling.

Hangzhou is basically an enourmous lake, smothered in pagodas and temples and hoardes and hoardes of people. The day we arrived, we went into town and found the eating street where I discovered my first spring roll, ate "meat" on a stick and had sticky Taiwanese rice. All of which were delicious.

The next day was the day of the epic bike trip. It was stinking hot, and we cycled all the way up the mountain through a couple of tea villages where chickens, dogs and children compete for pavement space. I also saw the dragon well, which although seemed fairly uneventful, is how the tea in this area gets its name. Apparently, the water makes shapes like a dragon. I am not really sure how this works, but the Chinese people there seemed fairly excited by this. I took my photo and duly moved on. Nearly at the top, an old lady invited us in and gave us a mug of tea. I was thinking how kind this was of her, but of course, all things come with a price (in this case, 15Y) and as we got higher and further toward the tea villages, people were offering their tea all the way, trying to get people into their houses to drink (and pay for) their tea. I'm no connoisseur, and even though I ate about half the leaves that were in my cup, it was certainly very good tea.

The tea plantations are all over this area, and I don't think I've ever seen it growing properly before. Its all there, in its little regulation strips lining every available space on the hill but not growing as high as the pictures of the tea on the side of a box of PG Tips. But it was beautiful, and although I lost half my bodyweight in sweating, it was definately worth it. And the downhill of course, made it all worthwhile!

The next day (Friday) I had planned to walk around the lake, but it had begun to rain and set in for a good half of the day so in the end I posted yet another box of clothes back to the UK in an attempt to make my bag light enough for me to actually be able to lift. I think I may have done it. I may not have many clothes to wear now, but I will be able to lift my case up and down stairs!

Tomorrow, I am up early and off on a 6 hour bus trip (involving 3 buses) to Huang Shan, or Yellow Mountain. It's meant to have inspired generations of artists and poets, but assuming I even make it there, it will most likely be raining. However, the challenge is there. Three buses to get there, a total of 6 hours travelling time, leaving me a couple of hours before it gets dark to get up the thing, and then HOPEFULLY the Chinese hotel, that speaks no English, will have a bed reserved for me, as pre-arranged by one of my lovely students back in Zhongshan. Fingers crossed. A night at the summit, followed by getting up at dawn (weather permitting) for the sunrise, then the epic trip back to Hangzhou.

Fingers crossed for a successful mission!

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Comments

[Claire / Leakie]

Paradise lost
Errrm, Edgar - I WISH I was in Bermuda until October but sadly I am not. Just 3 weeks. That's you mincer! x

[NateK]

Haha, thats what you call a room with a view!! Happy Birthday Lucy and best of luck!