I moved!

And it's the best. I now have two roommates, an American guy named Michael and his Chinese girlfriend Lydia. They both speak excellent Chinese and English, so I'm in a very bilingual environment. I love coming home to a warm house and I have my own room and a bathroom across the apartment all to myself. Hurray! Plus, it's cheap and much closer to my places of work.

 

The annoyingly small kitchen.

 

Pretty well-furnished room.

 

Nice and warm!

 

Living room. Way huge. A bit silly.

 

See in the corner? Huge heater!!!!

I didn't realize how cold I was at my old place until moving here. Even without the heater on, this place seems to be insulated and my neighbors also use heat. This efficiently keeps the indoor temperature above freezing, which I cannot say about my old place. One morning down there I woke up and my cell phone had condensation on it! What the eff? And I was sleeping (or trying to) in that environment?!

That was stupid. So I'm very positive about moving and meeting some new people. Lydia and I cook a lot together, sharing recipes and ingredients, though I am not a huge fan of her use of cornstarch...it weirds me out. But we both love making granola!

Also, in China they call all devices of changing the temperature kongtiao, or air-conditioning. So now I ask if places have air-conditioning in the dead of winter. Meaning heat. It's fine.

Love,
ellen

Enough already!

Lately I've found myself in a conundrum about my self-esteem.

Normally, I'm a pretty well-balanced person. I respect myself, don't think I'm too ugly and I rarely worry about what others think of me. I worry enough to be respectable, but those opinions don't control my life.

Now let me give you some examples of recent occurrences in my life:

A) My kindergartens literally shouting over one another to tell me how beautiful I am. Yesterday, one yelled "Ellen laoshi, ni shi zui piaoliang de!" or "Ellen, you are the most beautiful ever!" They tell me my clothes are beautiful, my eyes, my hair and my face, etc. They pretty much have never seen someone so beautiful, which takes me to...

B) The mother of one of the kids I tutor asking me point-blank after the break, "So, are you still single?" like that should have changed in the three weeks I was away. This is a normal Chinese question, but it's the quiet expectancy of my love life being fulfilling that tends to seep into my normally positive single self. As if that weren't enough...

C) The 3rd graders at the international school where I teach were incredibly curious to know "if I loved somebody." We were discussing love--in the general sense--but they couldn't really get past romantic love. So they asked, "Do you have a boyfriend?" and when I replied in the negative, they queried "So you're married?!" At which point, I asked "How old do you think I am?" One yelled "27!" and they all giggled.

I am 22. I am supposed to be single and lovin' it. Good looks and no responsibilities, what could be a better combination?

Nope, not in China. In China I should be using my girlish wiles to entrap an unsuspecting male into a long-term, eventually married, relationship. Even my tiny kindergarteners think so! I'm just getting all these mixed messages about myself, that I'm pretty (to toddlers anyway), that I'm eligible, and that I really should have a boyfriend.

Fine guys! I'm working on it. But not terribly hard, I must admit. I've got things to worry about like teaching kids, learning Chinese and planning my future. But until these people start setting me up on blind dates (which I honestly wouldn't put past them: they seem to get pleasure out of observing the romantic habits of foreigners), I will take these comments and compliments in stride. And rant on my blog, obviously.

I'm confused.

ellen

I LOVE TRAINS!

So after I was the coldest I have ever been in my life, I warmed up nice and toasty on the overnight train to Kunming, where I was flying out to meet my parents in Ho Chi Minh. I was the only foreigner on the train and there were only two people in my hard sleeper, which sleeps six. She was already asleep above me, so I quietly nestled into my bottom bunk, while various conductors came by to check me out and take my ticket. They liked that I spoke Chinese.

The rocking of the train and general quiet empty atmosphere was quite conducive to sleeping, so I was comfortable until I was shaken awake by the conductor, exchanging my card for my ticket. That was at seven am, though we weren't due to arrive until ten or so. My compartment companion had already alighted somewhere in the night.

I brushed my teeth and packed my things, taking out all my food to survey the options. As you can see below, it was an odd assortment of candy and snacks, plus some powdered coffee.

 
Yum! Train breakfast!

I gazed out the window as the sun rose, seeing the beautiful hills that are Yunnan Province. I cannot wait to travel here. It looks amazing!

 

Out the window to Yunnan, my next adventure!

My flight was not until five pm, so I had half a day to kill in Kunming. Before I ditched my friends, I borrowed their Lonely Planet to do a little research on where I should go. The market sounded fun, as well as an art district. Even at ten am, the market was just opening, so their were few people. I ended up buying a lot of things. Earlier in the trip, the gender ratio of my companions prevented me from going and buying all the cool things I saw, mainly by being totally disinterested in buying things. I tried to get some shopping in by encouraging them to "buy something for someone special!" but that didn't work too well. Anyway, once unsupervised, I went a bit crazy. It's fine. The market was pretty cheap and had some nice minority crafts and other useful items...

 

Marshmallow peeps?

...including baby chicks dyed in bright colors. Very useful.

After the market, I wandered through a park and found a cab, explaining that I wanted to visit the art district. That was closed, so I wandered into another park, where a crazy old man sang to me and waved endearingly. What a creep. So then I left and decided to make my way to the airport, though the weather was beautiful and being outside was ideal. I ate some dumplings in a shop and tried to get public transport directions to the airport, but as usual, nobody knew how to get anywhere. That seems to be the norm in China. I tried! But ended up taking a cab.

Kunming was a pretty nice city, though I wonder if I had an atypical experience because I was there the Sunday before Chinese New Year. I think it was emptier and quieter than usual, making it quite pleasant. In general though, it had many parks, wide avenues and Starbucks. A better Chinese city than most, I'd say.

My 36 hours alone gave me a lot of time to think and be...alone. I've effectively decided that I was not meant to be a solo traveler. I get bored and am constantly turning to empty air saying "Do you...? Hey, look at...!" You have to lug all your crap everywhere because you don't just want to ditch it randomly. Dunno, just not my thing, though I think we idealize the solo traveler who is so free and independent. Guess that's just not me. So I'm currently in the market for an excellent travel buddy.

Also, my friend Eric was doing some solo traveling in China and explained that he'd had so many conversations with himself that he had probably exhausted the deepest parts of his subconscious. I barely spent over a day alone. I cannot imagine several weeks of quality time with Ellen's brain.

So finally, after some serious introspection and learning, I boarded my plane to Vietnam to see my parents for the first time in five months!

ellen

The Bumpy Road and Countryside

So let's finish up this Guizhou adventure by taking a bumpy bus ride to Zhaoxing, after a phenomenally irritating and wasted day looking for a hotel in Kaili. I have never, ever looked so hard for a place to stay. Every hotel claimed to not house foreigners, even big ones (hotels, not foreigners). We were consistently referred to the 'da bingguan' down the street, only to be turned down at the suggested location. We received muted apologies, but more often than not, received the cold and uncaring stare so characteristic of Chinese service people. I was this close to sitting on the sidewalk and pouting until someone solved our situation, but I smoked a cigarette instead to calm down (even better!...not).

Luke and I took a last ditch chance on a taller building with supposed hotels on floors three, six and seven. The lady at the first place on the third floor barely took a second glance at us before offering us the cheapest room. She gave us water bottles and a key and our money, no real questions asked. It was bizarre. This was probably the eighteenth hotel we'd walked to that day and it was so easy! So we got a place to stay for the night and woke up at 5:30am to catch the earliest bus out.

We walked a few kilometers to the station in the dark, arriving early enough to locate some snacks and find our bus. Once on the bus, which had a cargo hold the size of a bathtub, we sat on and around our luggage while we were curiously peered at by the bus driver and his assistant. They muttered about our bags and our large foreign party even though the bus had at least three extra seats. We didn't take off for forty minutes and I assumed it had something to do with us, I just couldn't put my finger on the causal relationship between us buying bus tickets and inadvertently delaying their schedule.

It soon became clear that our purchase of seven tickets together left too few seats available for the various random people hitching rides on the side of the road. The bus driver and his assistant had a good thing going: leave several seats open on the bus and pick up people for short distances, then take their cash in hand. They still were able to cycle about fifteen extra riders on our five-hour journey, so I'm not sure what the mumbo-jumbo at seven am was all about. But we did finally get to our destination city, where we had to catch another bus.

That one didn't come forever and the seven of us were enough to get a mianbao che, or small van, to take us up the hills. We asked only to go part of the way so that we could walk into Zhaoxing, though our taxi driver clearly thought that this was a dumb idea. We didn't mind and promptly set off down a dirt road that ended in a flooded river. We turned around and followed a different road that actually led to Zhaoxing.

 

The crew hikes onward.

Zhaoxing is described as a cool tourist town that is quickly getting "too popular" and less "authentic." We were there in the off-season, so there were neither may tourists or foreigners to be seen. We looked around the various guesthouses and ended up staying in a very cute place with electric blankets, heaters and a whole family of friendly Dong people, the resident "colorful" minorities. The rest of the day we spent walking around the terraced hills and farmland. It was a bit cold and damp, but lovely and quiet.

 

House on a hill.

Beautiful.

 

Onto the terraces.

My overall impression of Eastern Guizhou is that I would need to return to fully appreciate it. I now know that there needs to be nicer weather for full enjoyment. I also know where I would like to spend more time, where I can stay and the starting points for little day trips. Because so little is documented in this area, that information was not available for us this trip. Next time though...

I spent some quality alone time in Kaili waiting to catch my train to Kunming, while the boys left for Guiyang on their way south. Kaili is a terrible Chinese city with absolutely nothing interesting to offer the visitor, though I did enjoy riding the bus the wrong way for about forty minutes. I found a crowded market selling Spring Festival items, then retired into a fast food restaurant to get warm and eat. When I'd killed enough time, I returned to the train station several hours early.

 

Crazy Kaili market.

It was cold. So cold. I'm not sure I've been that cold before. The frigid air turned icy as darkness fell and I could not get warm again. Then my train was delayed an hour. So I waited...and waited...and shivered. When the train finally arrived I was practically in tears. It had been a miserable wait but I had a luxurious sleeper train to board, so I sucked it up and ran down the platform to my car.

Next: I LOVE TRAINS!

ellen

The Trail East...

We began in Guiyang, the capital of Guizhou Province. It is a small city: only about four and a half million people. It felt small. No Starbucks, no McDonald's that I saw and--as I mentioned before--no information in English on the internet. Our hostel also housed some students from south of Guiyang, some of whom had never seen foreigners in real life. The girls were very curious to talk to me, but seemed mainly interested in talking to my male companions.

After my late night arrival, we all awoke tired and slow from our respective journeys. We ate street noodles for breakfast and I had a deep-fried banana. We made moves towards a nature park at the edge of town. It turned out to be a beautiful park that saw few foreign visitors. There were many different trails to take leading to temples, mountain tops and a small lake.

Our first stop was a quiet Buddhist temple where pilgrims circled and chanted in one of the many rooms. The eerie but enchanting background music followed me as I wandered the various gardens and arches. I took a photo of the swastikas adorning the eaves and wondered if we can ever disassociate the horrific Nazi symbolism from a positive and peaceful Southeast Asian symbol.

 

Very auspicious.

The park was filled with poorly translated maps and signs, my favorite displayed below.

I love this sign for several reasons, one of which is the hilarious bluntness and sarcasm rarely found in China. It also has relatively little correlation with the Chinese announcement above it. So I assume they either got a foreigner (a sassy one) to translate or somehow stumbled upon this statement and decided it would be a good fit for their sign. However it happened, I approve. It really gets the point across, doesn't it?

As with all Chinese parks, when you go off the main paved road, or in many cases, staircase, you find yourself alone in nature. We hiked up a steep hill after reading a sign chiding us not to  "frighten the monkeys," though I stay the hell away from monkeys because they frighten me. I sincerely hoped not to meet any monkeys and my wish was granted for the first twenty minutes.

On our way down from the top of the hill, upon which we were probably radiated medium-rare by several enormous cell towers, we ran into a troop of monkeys. They were minding their own business, but because I was with six young men, of course one of them was going to act like a five-year-old and go monkey chasing. Sorry, did I say "one"? I meant "three or four" or "practically all". I stayed back and took a photo instead.

The monkeys generally stayed away, though we were pursued by a few young males (hmm...) on our hasty retreat down the steps. As we approached the main path, we saw many more monkeys down on the stairs before us and scattered across the road. Chinese tourists were milling around taking photos and feeding them. The Chinese looked up, curious to see a pack of foreigners (aka hairless monkeys) descending the hill. They took some photos but sadly didn't feed us.

After that we went down to the lake and took a rowboat out onto the water. We saw a man painting on the water's edge and paddled over to him. It turns out he was cooking tofu on a little grill for tourists on the lake. We weren't hungry, but he hopped onto one boat and began feeding us tofu squares dipped in mala spices. They were pretty good, especially with the tongue-numbing mala. We paddled off after attempting to pay the man money but giving him a lighter instead. We observed some people diving into the icy lake and swimming laps. I'd had a beer at this point and was feeling a little silly, but beer or no, swimming seemed like a dumb idea in the winter weather. I laughed and attempted to paddle to the dock but on account of the beer, this was difficult. Our race into the marina led to a great knocking of boats and rolling of eyes from the boat owners. I had fun though, and all with just one beer!

From here, we hopped on a train to Zhenyuan, an "ancient town" east of Guiyang. According to Lonely Planet, it was only a couple of hours away by train. So when there were only standing room tickets (on account of the holiday) we thought we could hack it for two hours. Unfortunately, it was more than four hours on the train. With no seats. And hundreds of people who also had no seats. And their luggage. It was a nightmare.

I wedged myself into a corner next to a large Chinese family, half-sitting and half-leaning on my backpack against the doorjamb. There were at least four women, three men, and four babies in the group, constantly changing seats and eating snacks. Eventually, the grandpa took some pity on me and offered me one of the rotating free seats in their row. I tried to be out-of-the-way and moved when necessary but I had a seat for over half of the trip. I got offered a chicken foot and hung out with the babies, who were constantly being force-fed bits of food. There was no moment that their aunties were not pushing fruit, noodles or cookies into their tiny mouths. Even when the kid pushed it away, saying "bu yao," the mommies just kept stuffing it in. It was hilarious but I also pitied them. We didn't really talk much; unusually, they had no interest in asking me questions even though they realized I spoke Chinese. It was nice. A quiet and seated journey.

Meanwhile, my travel companions hung out in the smoking space between cars or in other awkward spaces for standing room passengers. I think they envied my strategic maneuvering which you really must employ without a ticketed seat. I saw one Chinese man camped out in the sink by the bathroom. No hand-washing during this journey!

The trip was worth it though. Zhenyuan was beautiful and uncrowded. We struggled to find hotels for such a large group of foreigners because most of the hotels were not authorized for foreigners. Normally, they just under-the-table give you rooms, but not here. Either the government has been cracking down on foreigner permits or these hotels didn't want to risk it for a few kuai. We decided to split into groups of three and four for better luck. It worked like a charm and I ended up in a beautiful room overlooking the river. It was about $8 per person for a room with a view, heat and hot water.

 

I don't have any of my own photos from Zhenyuan, but I'll try to get some from friends.

The red lanterns lit up all over town created a charming and picturesque atmosphere. There were few other tourists and in general it was very quiet, other than when we located cheap fireworks to set off. We ate excellent Guizhou food every night, consisting of fish over fried noodles seasoned with mala. I haven't had such consistently good Chinese food ever!

The next day we went hiking up the ridge and over the hills around town. Once we found the trail up it was just thousands of stairs. We thought it was going to be a free trip to the pagodas on the hill until we reached a checkpoint halfway up where a man and wife were selling tickets (student discount!) to the "park" we were entering. Whatever. It was kind of expensive but we were already on our way--clever, clever--so we paid and went up some more stairs.

The weather was kind of nasty and cold but the scenery was pretty and tranquil. I would love to return in the summer or fall for some better weather. Again, I don't have photos of this but I'll try to get some up later...I'm lame, didn't have any batteries. I swear it was lovely.

At the top we found an old wall and a pagoda overlooking the town. We saw maybe three other people hiking around. Perfect.

We came down, a bit damp and tired, so we had a power nap back at our respective hotels. Then we set out to climb up to a conical tower we espied on a different hill. There was obviously a staircase up to it that I'd seen from across town, but I couldn't guess where the bottom was. We ended up walking up a mysterious logging road that ended in a construction site at the railway tracks. As soon as we walked up, the workers started yelling in Chinese and rushing around. It was all very crazy but I think they were just surprised. We asked if we could get up the mountain and they indicated towards the track and said we could either go straight up the hill or THROUGH THE TUNNEL. The all-caps emphasizes that it was possibly the stupidest thing I'd ever heard. A train tunnel? They informed us that we should hurry because the train was coming soon. Luckily someone spotted the staircase around the side so we went up that way. The construction guys laughed and pointed, then began rushing around again as the vibration on the tracks grew louder. We climbed higher and higher while the train rumbled below us. Thank God we didn't take the stupid tunnel.

Oh, and the reason they were laughing at us? Because the staircase seemed to be the toilet for the construction site. Lovely.

We finally hit the path leading up to a beautiful cemetery and terraced farmland. After some photo ops we made for the weird chimney thing atop one of the hills. It was an interesting scramble but I'm still not sure exactly what this thing was. There was no view or visible purpose for it, thought there were spotlights directed on it that lit up around dusk. Everything in Zhenyuan was lit up by spotlights and colored lanterns. You'd think it would be cheesy, but it actually was quite pretty. Romantic, even.

From panaramio.com. Aren't it purty?

The next morning we hopped on a train back to Kaili, a starting point for trips to minority villages in eastern Guizhou. Luckily, this was was a slow, country train with few passengers, so we all got seats. Two hours for a dollar, good deal.

The last part of my Guizhou adventure to be posted soon!

ellen

Guizhou

Dear readers, I am sorry I was gone for so long. I hope that these next posts will satisfy your appetite for my blogging...if not, tough luck.

On January 14th, I started my Chinese New Year vacation by flying to Guiyang in Guizhou province. This is the poorest province in China and most people were genuinely curious as to why I was going there. I was set to meet my friends from Chengdu, plus some of their Seattle buddies who came to China to travel (cough cough, what good friends).

This entire thing started off somewhat horribly because my plan was to train down south. I love trains and it's much cheaper. Unfortunately, buying train tickets in China is actually the single largest cause of aneurysms in the world. I had four in the weeks prior to my departure. One, because I could not figure out the earliest date I could purchase them, though I had asked around constantly. Two, because some friends went to the station and were told ten days before departure and when I went on January 4th to buy tickets the sign said "nine days before." Three, because I went the next day and tickets weren't on sale until 3:20pm (wtf?) and THEN the lady informed me I could purchase them online. Four, because at this point, every clever, well-connected or desperate Chinese person had purchased their tickets and they were all sold out. So despite my pretty dedicated commitment to finding out ticket info, I failed. That's the thing with China, you can try really, really, really hard and it's just not going to happen. So I got a plane ticket.

My flight was later at night because it was added as a holiday special. This also guaranteed that it wouldn't be on time, apparently. I was the only foreigner in the waiting area, so they did not make any announcements in English. I got that the plane was late, but no later takeoff time was delivered, as it was a secret. Suddenly, everyone in the waiting area went up to the desk at the gate, shuffling, yelling and waving their tickets around. Oh god, I thought, it's canceled, what do I do? So I went up there, asked if anyone spoke English (no one did) and asked if the plane was still going. They looked at me as though I was a complete moron (I am) and pointed outside, saying the plane had already arrived. This was a good hour after the original departure time, so it wasn't entirely obvious what was occurring, especially because it was dark outside. I thought their condescension was a bit unwarranted but c'est la vie in China.

My end conclusion was that they had oversold the flight and were offering cash to those that gave up their seats. But I had a plane to catch.

Nothing in Guizhou is on the internet, so booking a hostel was next to impossible. I have the newest Lonely Planet book, so I called all of the hotels they recommended in Guiyang. None of the numbers were correct. I then employed my Chinese skills on a few websites to try and find a better number. I spent the next few days in broken Chinglish conversations with a proprietor at the supposed Mayflower Hostel. I booked rooms for seven of us and received the address in a text message. Then, the day I left for Guiyang, I received a call from Luke asking if the hostel was supposed to be in an apartment building. I confidently answered yes, as Lonely Planet had informed me that it was on the 34th story. He sighed and said it was sort of a mess, but they'd sort it out. I felt a bit guilty as the booker, but what else can you do? They bargained the rooms down and texted me to say that they'd be up to let me in later that night.

When my plane got in at the obscene hour of one am (two hours late), I nervously went outside to find a taxi. When you are woman, foreign and alone, in the middle of the night, it is not fun to deal with taxis. Luckily, I speak Chinese well enough to avoid huge scams, but otherwise it is a total crap shoot. A man found me and we argued for a while but I caved when faced with the odds of getting anywhere at one am. He put my bag in the trunk and bid me sit. He then promptly took off back to the arrival area. When I got out of the cab and waved at him, he said to wait a minute. Five minutes later, he returned with a woman who got in the cab too. They were yelling about the fare, with me a dumb bystander to their conversation. When the driver started off, they continued shouting amicably at one another. I realized I was sharing a cab and paying a lot more for my share. That was irritating but nothing could be done anymore. Then the girl behind me noticed me and began asking me questions, initially mistaking me for someone from Xinjiang Province and gradually working her way to the really important question of whether or not I was married. When I exclaimed that I was only 22, she and the cab driver agreed that it was certainly a good time to get married. This continued until I was dropped off in front of a hotel on a main street, with no idea where I was going.

I called the hostel and the cell of the proprietor, but on the third try, I was told that I needed to call my friends to get me. Groggy from sleep, Luke answered that he'd be there in ten minutes. I felt guilty and confused, not to mention awkward, as I was standing randomly on the street at two in the morning. One Chinese man offered to get me a taxi and then, seeing that I was waiting, said he'd look after me. Then he walked off into the night. So I twiddled my thumbs for a bit and tried to look confident.

Luke appeared soon on the sidewalk and relieved me of my nervous energy. We walked down a mysterious alley and all the way around an enormous apartment building which housed our "hostel."

"It's not really a hostel," Luke explained, "It's just some rooms that this family rents out. The bathroom is okay though." Duly noted.

 

The horses marked our entry. Classy.

In the lobby, the security guard stopped us and questioned our intentions, though he'd literally seen Luke leave fifteen minutes earlier. Luke explained that there was a hotel upstairs, which absolutely baffled the guard but he let us in. I assume he thought I was a Russian prostitute, as my red hair can lead to mistaken identity.

On the 34th floor, we found our unmarked room, which actually contained four rooms inside a flat. I thanked Luke for waking up and retrieving me and he went to pass out. I located the restroom and noted that it was definitely not okay, but I could make it work. Then I crawled into the warmest bed I'd slept in for months (my apartment is freezing) and slept.

So that's how I got south, but I have much more to go on about...stay tuned!

ellen

p.s. The hostel was not the Mayflower Hostel, but just some random people from the internet.

Elation

There is nothing like fireworks to make you feel alive.