Thursday, September 30, 2004
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CHINA TRAVELOG - PART 6
MONDAY 7/19/04
MONDAY 7/19/04 to WEDNESDAY 7/21/04
Nothing too exciting – work progressed, we Americans avoided native food, the beds at our new hotel sucked. Go figure, we’re staying in a 5-star hotel and the bed sucks. I never thought I’d say it, but I wanted to stay at the Days Inn.
One bright side to the 5-star hotel was the rooftop, open-air restaurant. It wasn’t that high up at five floors, but, sitting there, it didn’t feel like I was in China. That was good for my soul. Ok, maybe not my soul, but it sure helped minimize my culture shock.
THURSDAY 7/22/04
There had been some unpleasantness during the audit, which stemmed from the Chinese business culture. One of the plant’s western persons of important was indiscreet. He gave us some very juicy details on the “corrupt” nature of doing business in China. He failed to mention that what he was saying was off the record. That put Chief Wiggums in the uncomfortable position of having to alert our boss. These stories were just stories. There was no way to corroborate them. However, given in the CYA nature of the very litigious American corporate environment, these stories were passed up the chain of command. This sent the plant personnel ballistic and contributed to a very icy work environment as the western staff at the plant were afraid they’d be fired. That fear was just plain silly. To assume that upper management had no idea of realities of doing business in China was preposterous. This bru-ha-ha started on Monday the 19th. By Thursday, things had calmed down. This calm set the stage for a very painful, very drunk night for your author.
As a peace offering, Chief Wiggum arranged to have dinner with a couple of the westerners at the plant. Of course, these were the westerners that had been most agitated about loosing their jobs. As I said, this was a peace offering. After work, Chief Wiggum, Krusty, Abu, and I met the three westerners at a restaurant near our hotel. On the walk to the restaurant, I decided that I would be the sacrificial lamb. Neither Chief Wiggum, Krusty, or Abu wanted anything to do with our dinner companions – this week had lead to some hard feelings.
Some explaining is in order. Our dinner companions were all British (remember the three gents I introduced in earlier China posts?). These Brits, like most Brits, loved a good pint. One of the few things they loved more than a good pint was to get a visitor fall-down, stinking drunk. So when I volunteered to take one for the team, that’s what I was getting myself into. They did not disappoint.
During dinner I was fed two Tsing-tao 40 ouncers. Incidentally, Tsing-tao is a westernization; the beer (and the city) should be pronounced Ching-dao. It took me quite a few days to figure that one out. After dinner, my companions said, “Farewell”, and I sauntered off with two of the three Brits.
Our first stop was at a western-style lounge called Maxwell’s. I would have called it “very British”. My British companions didn’t think it looked British at all. I know when to admit I’m wrong. That’s true until I’ve had too much to drink. I wasn’t yet drunk by the time we made it to Maxwell’s, but that changed quickly. The Brits insisted Maxwell’s had the best B-52’s in Changchun. I had never had a drink called a B-52, but after it arrived I recognized it. It’s Bailey’s, Kaluha, & Triple-sec set aflame. Essentially it’s a flaming 3-shot drink. Before we left, I’d had three of them.
I don’t remember the name of the last bar we went to. I remember the bar very, very well – just not its name.
I was introduced to a Chinese version of bar dice called Gam-bei. I don’t remember all details, but like any good drinking game, it gets you to run through beer really, really fast. This game had an interesting twist compared to American bar dice. Two bar girls joined the three of us. One of the bargirls, who were sisters, knew Gareth - intimately as it turned out. Thus the five of us played. If you got doubles you, “Gam-bie’d!” Which meant you had to drink a full glass of beer. These glasses were probably 6 ounces, so one is no big deal. When you “Gam-bie’d!” four times in a row, they start to add up. There were other rules which required drinking for a period of time. The period of time varied with the die roll. There was one combination which required the roller to kiss a member of the opposite sex. Fortunately for me, I didn’t roll that during the 30 minutes we played. Gareth, however, got that die roll a few times. He clearly relished it. As more and more beer was consumed, he and his bargirl got more and more intimate and his groping got more and more forward. I don’t believe I’ve stressed how much beer was consumed. It was mind-boggling. The five of us drank 52 twelve-ounce bottles of beer in 30 minutes. Clearly this was a game designed by the bar owner. I needed help getting to the cab.
Most people in Changchun do not speak English. This includes cabbies. Fortunately for me, my hotel name was the one English word all Changchun cab drivers know – even when slurred by a very drunk American. Friday was not so fun. I didn’t get nearly enough sleep and didn’t drink remotely enough water.
There should be “truth in advertising” laws in China. We drank 52 bottles of “Hapi” beer. I was anything but happy the next day - Wickedly hung over is more like it! On the upside, I’ve now been drunk on my third continent – it’s a very low hanging goal of mine to increase that number. Speaking of personal records, I flew to Beijing on Friday afternoon. Yup, I flew hungover. I’ve now managed to do that in five countries. I shouldn’t be proud of that.
MONDAY 7/19/04
MONDAY 7/19/04 to WEDNESDAY 7/21/04
Nothing too exciting – work progressed, we Americans avoided native food, the beds at our new hotel sucked. Go figure, we’re staying in a 5-star hotel and the bed sucks. I never thought I’d say it, but I wanted to stay at the Days Inn.
One bright side to the 5-star hotel was the rooftop, open-air restaurant. It wasn’t that high up at five floors, but, sitting there, it didn’t feel like I was in China. That was good for my soul. Ok, maybe not my soul, but it sure helped minimize my culture shock.
THURSDAY 7/22/04
There had been some unpleasantness during the audit, which stemmed from the Chinese business culture. One of the plant’s western persons of important was indiscreet. He gave us some very juicy details on the “corrupt” nature of doing business in China. He failed to mention that what he was saying was off the record. That put Chief Wiggums in the uncomfortable position of having to alert our boss. These stories were just stories. There was no way to corroborate them. However, given in the CYA nature of the very litigious American corporate environment, these stories were passed up the chain of command. This sent the plant personnel ballistic and contributed to a very icy work environment as the western staff at the plant were afraid they’d be fired. That fear was just plain silly. To assume that upper management had no idea of realities of doing business in China was preposterous. This bru-ha-ha started on Monday the 19th. By Thursday, things had calmed down. This calm set the stage for a very painful, very drunk night for your author.
As a peace offering, Chief Wiggum arranged to have dinner with a couple of the westerners at the plant. Of course, these were the westerners that had been most agitated about loosing their jobs. As I said, this was a peace offering. After work, Chief Wiggum, Krusty, Abu, and I met the three westerners at a restaurant near our hotel. On the walk to the restaurant, I decided that I would be the sacrificial lamb. Neither Chief Wiggum, Krusty, or Abu wanted anything to do with our dinner companions – this week had lead to some hard feelings.
Some explaining is in order. Our dinner companions were all British (remember the three gents I introduced in earlier China posts?). These Brits, like most Brits, loved a good pint. One of the few things they loved more than a good pint was to get a visitor fall-down, stinking drunk. So when I volunteered to take one for the team, that’s what I was getting myself into. They did not disappoint.
During dinner I was fed two Tsing-tao 40 ouncers. Incidentally, Tsing-tao is a westernization; the beer (and the city) should be pronounced Ching-dao. It took me quite a few days to figure that one out. After dinner, my companions said, “Farewell”, and I sauntered off with two of the three Brits.
Our first stop was at a western-style lounge called Maxwell’s. I would have called it “very British”. My British companions didn’t think it looked British at all. I know when to admit I’m wrong. That’s true until I’ve had too much to drink. I wasn’t yet drunk by the time we made it to Maxwell’s, but that changed quickly. The Brits insisted Maxwell’s had the best B-52’s in Changchun. I had never had a drink called a B-52, but after it arrived I recognized it. It’s Bailey’s, Kaluha, & Triple-sec set aflame. Essentially it’s a flaming 3-shot drink. Before we left, I’d had three of them.
I don’t remember the name of the last bar we went to. I remember the bar very, very well – just not its name.
I was introduced to a Chinese version of bar dice called Gam-bei. I don’t remember all details, but like any good drinking game, it gets you to run through beer really, really fast. This game had an interesting twist compared to American bar dice. Two bar girls joined the three of us. One of the bargirls, who were sisters, knew Gareth - intimately as it turned out. Thus the five of us played. If you got doubles you, “Gam-bie’d!” Which meant you had to drink a full glass of beer. These glasses were probably 6 ounces, so one is no big deal. When you “Gam-bie’d!” four times in a row, they start to add up. There were other rules which required drinking for a period of time. The period of time varied with the die roll. There was one combination which required the roller to kiss a member of the opposite sex. Fortunately for me, I didn’t roll that during the 30 minutes we played. Gareth, however, got that die roll a few times. He clearly relished it. As more and more beer was consumed, he and his bargirl got more and more intimate and his groping got more and more forward. I don’t believe I’ve stressed how much beer was consumed. It was mind-boggling. The five of us drank 52 twelve-ounce bottles of beer in 30 minutes. Clearly this was a game designed by the bar owner. I needed help getting to the cab.
Most people in Changchun do not speak English. This includes cabbies. Fortunately for me, my hotel name was the one English word all Changchun cab drivers know – even when slurred by a very drunk American. Friday was not so fun. I didn’t get nearly enough sleep and didn’t drink remotely enough water.
There should be “truth in advertising” laws in China. We drank 52 bottles of “Hapi” beer. I was anything but happy the next day - Wickedly hung over is more like it! On the upside, I’ve now been drunk on my third continent – it’s a very low hanging goal of mine to increase that number. Speaking of personal records, I flew to Beijing on Friday afternoon. Yup, I flew hungover. I’ve now managed to do that in five countries. I shouldn’t be proud of that.
Thursday, September 23, 2004
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I was reading a very disturbing article at Tomdispatch.com when another observation about the American psyche hit me. We are so enamored with fighting the good fight, that we delude ourselves. The very generation who did the fighting in Vietnam is now in command. What do we do? We invade Iraq in such a way that makes our efforts look much like Vietnam.
The comparisons are striking. As we had tortured the Vietnamese, so too have we tortured Iraqis. We killed Vietnamese civilians indiscriminately, calling those we targeted “Vietcong”. Now we are killing Iraqis indiscriminately and calling them “insurgents”. The list goes on, read Tom’s article for a more complete analysis.
Here is my point; it is one thing to not learn from history when one must learn from other people’s experience. But the Iraq war is different. The current American civilian commanders lived through the Vietnam era. They witnessed a senseless war first hand. Now, 30 years later, they are prosecuting their very own senseless war. Have they learned nothing?
PS – is it significant that those in the Administration who most rabidly defend the Iraq war never actually fought in Vietnam? Think:
1) President Bush
2) Vice President Cheney
3) Under Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz
4) Under Secretary of Defense Douglas Feith.
The comparisons are striking. As we had tortured the Vietnamese, so too have we tortured Iraqis. We killed Vietnamese civilians indiscriminately, calling those we targeted “Vietcong”. Now we are killing Iraqis indiscriminately and calling them “insurgents”. The list goes on, read Tom’s article for a more complete analysis.
Here is my point; it is one thing to not learn from history when one must learn from other people’s experience. But the Iraq war is different. The current American civilian commanders lived through the Vietnam era. They witnessed a senseless war first hand. Now, 30 years later, they are prosecuting their very own senseless war. Have they learned nothing?
PS – is it significant that those in the Administration who most rabidly defend the Iraq war never actually fought in Vietnam? Think:
1) President Bush
2) Vice President Cheney
3) Under Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz
4) Under Secretary of Defense Douglas Feith.
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
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I made the mistake of reading a National Review Online editorial. I shouldn’t do that – it’s against my Doctor’s orders. After all, my blood pressure is high enough without additional provocation.
I deplore the conservative hubris on foreign policy issues. They claim to be right because, well, …they’re…Right. I don’t get it. How does one’s conservative political views make one’s judgement about American foreign policy correct? Mr. Goldberg, the NRO editor, thinks he’s right because his ideas are better than any “liberals” ideas.
What ideas are those Mr. Goldberg?
Was invading Iraq a good idea? If yes, why? There’s no WMD. Democracy ain’t happening. Saddam was cruel, but at least Iraqi’s had clean, running water and weren’t in danger of being killed at random. Please, tell me – what is good about America’s invasion of Iraq?
Was invading Afghanistan a good idea? You should say, “Yes”. I’d agree with you. The Taliban were odious. Al Queada camps needed to be closed. Geopolitical security could not abide Afghanistan as a terrorist factory.
What about Afghan reconstruction, what ideas do you have there? Was it a good idea to allow Afghanistan farmers to cultivate opium poppies? Did you know Afghanistan is now the leading producers of heroin? They weren’t when the Taliban were in power.
What about North Korea? Bush claimed that he’d handle Kim Jong Il differently than the Dems. He hasn’t. Where are conservative’s good ideas?
Ok, I’ll stop now. Each topic I’ve brought up deserves more time than I’ve given it.
In short, Bush’s foreign policy record is an unmitigated disaster. Claiming to “have better ideas” is very smelly horse shit.
I deplore the conservative hubris on foreign policy issues. They claim to be right because, well, …they’re…Right. I don’t get it. How does one’s conservative political views make one’s judgement about American foreign policy correct? Mr. Goldberg, the NRO editor, thinks he’s right because his ideas are better than any “liberals” ideas.
What ideas are those Mr. Goldberg?
Was invading Iraq a good idea? If yes, why? There’s no WMD. Democracy ain’t happening. Saddam was cruel, but at least Iraqi’s had clean, running water and weren’t in danger of being killed at random. Please, tell me – what is good about America’s invasion of Iraq?
Was invading Afghanistan a good idea? You should say, “Yes”. I’d agree with you. The Taliban were odious. Al Queada camps needed to be closed. Geopolitical security could not abide Afghanistan as a terrorist factory.
What about Afghan reconstruction, what ideas do you have there? Was it a good idea to allow Afghanistan farmers to cultivate opium poppies? Did you know Afghanistan is now the leading producers of heroin? They weren’t when the Taliban were in power.
What about North Korea? Bush claimed that he’d handle Kim Jong Il differently than the Dems. He hasn’t. Where are conservative’s good ideas?
Ok, I’ll stop now. Each topic I’ve brought up deserves more time than I’ve given it.
In short, Bush’s foreign policy record is an unmitigated disaster. Claiming to “have better ideas” is very smelly horse shit.
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
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CHINA TRAVELOG - PART 5
SUNDAY 7/18/04
I woke up and felt nearly back to normal. I passed the morning by going to the Yong He Gong Buddhist temple. Bathed in incense and prayed …I really didn’t know what I was doing. I am sooooo not a Buddhist, especially not a Chinese style Buddhist. Hell, I’m not even religious, so I didn’t know what to pray for or to. It was hot, really hot (35 Celsius 95 Fahrenheit), and humid. I was stupid, I wore pants. Ouch, the draining heat and subsequent de-hydration reminded me that I was not yet well.
I passed on going to Tienamen Square. I wasn’t feeling up to it. Abu and I went back to the hotel as he was feeling less than well as well. We waited in his room since I had already checked out. Krusty and Chief Wiggams came back about 2 hours later, at 12:30. We gathered our bags and went down to the lobby. The four of us met up with Patty, Selma, and Artie and hailed cabs for the airport at 1:00. I rode with Selma and Artie. The others piled into the second cab. Between the 7 of us and our luggage, we barely fit in two cabs.
Artie is Selma’s ex. At least that is what Selma says. They are both from Hong Kong and dated while going to school together. Artie was currently living in Shanghai. He made the trip to Beijing to visit Selma and Patty. Patty, Selma, and Artie all went to school together in Hong Kong. Now, I know Selma said she and Artie are “just friends”, but I am dubious. She stayed with him and they were incredibly physically affetionate. Perhapse that what Hong Kongers do. But since Artie was not as touchy with Patty, I suspect not. But then, I’m a cynic.
The ride to the airport was interesting. Apparently the night before, on Saturday, Selma and Artie joined the rest of the team and met the Europeans out for dinner. As the group jumped in the van, Selma got her hand hit by an adjusting seat. This was very, very painful ….or so she said. Her agony was describe in a very whiney manner. It was quite annoying. Artie was stroking her soothingly. Apparently he had no opinion.
The airport was fine, Bejing’s airport is not appreciably different for any other western airport I’ve been in. I enjoyed an ice cold apple juice while waiting to board. Par for the course, this is China afterall, I had to hop a bus to get out to the plane – No jetways for the passengers going to bumble fuck China. The flight was uneventful.
Upon returning to Changchun, we got picked up by Poo Sifu, our driver. It was a tight squeeze with the six of us and all of our luggage. We made it tho. One aside, Poo Sifu was our driver for the three weeks in Changchun. He piloted a dark blue Buick mini-van. Without our luggage, there was pleanty of room for the seven of us (the six of us plus him). He always had music on. It was mainland Chinese pop mostly. Big surprise there, he was a driver, not a translator. It was a damn good thing Patty & Selma spoke Mandarin. Talking to Poo Sifu would have been impossible. I don’t remember who came up with this, but Poo Sifu became “Pussyfoot”. Thus the Buick mini-van became the "Pussy Wagon" (my appologies to Quentin Tarantino). It’s mean, but it’s funny. We all had a blast with that for most of the trip.
We checked into the Shangri-la, an opulant five star hotel in downtown Changchun after collecting our bags from the baggage check. I met Krusty and Abu in the elegant, high ceiling lobby after depositing my bags in my room.
Off to McDonalds – Krusty, Abu, and I had gotten sick between last Thursday and Sunday. We no longer trusted the native eating establishments. We three walked to a McDonalds about a dozen blocks from the hotel. Our trip there took us through back alleys – which is to say we were no longer on the western style streets with all the car traffic. This exposed me to the China of Hollywood – tight streets, packed sidewalks, densely packed shops, open air, bar-b-q kabob stands, and sewage in the gutters, plus stenches in the air. Given that my stomach was still queasy, this was not such a fun walk. Oh yeah, most people looked at us like benign, exotic, escaped zoo animals.
So we ate at a ubiquitous slice of Americana. I have to hand it to the McDonald’s folks, the Big Mac in Changchun was just as gut-ache-inducing as a Stateside one. But, I was feeling over stimulated, even a Big Mac meal felt comforting.
On the walk back to the hotel, we followed the main streets back to the hotel. As we were passing the Admani store (yes, you read that right, “Admani”. It was an “Armani” knockoff store. There was also a “Ntketown” near bye), we passed a row of beggars. In my limited experience, most beggars in China are passive, until you make eye contact. Then they will grab you and follow you – I didn’t like that one bit. This row of beggars was different. They mostly just sat there, on tattered blankets with cups in front of them – with one exception. One young man, his age was unclear (not old, not young), was horribly disfigured. He looked like a contortionist gone wrong. His legs were malformed so that they wrapped behind him and up his back. Both legs were very thin. There was very little muscle mass, as he didn’t use them for walking. His left leg as very short, and only reached the midpoint of his back. His right leg slanted across his back so that his foot poked up over his left shoulder. He was shirtless, wearing a tin can around his neck as he sauntered down the sidewalk using his arms like crutches. His disfigurement caught my attention, but that is not why he I remember him. He was memorable because, despite his disfigurement, he had the most disarming smile.
Krusty and Abu went to the hotel. I (and I alone) went to Wal-Mart, there was one across the street from the hotel. It was packed, and looked just like a Wal-Mart back home – except that it was multifloored plus everything and everyone was Chinese. I was hoping to find familiar packaged goods that would allow me to eat somewhat healthy while avoiding the native food and a diet of McDonalds/KFC – no luck. I couldn’t find raisins, dates, crackers, granola bars…none of it. In the end I settled on Pringles, Snickers, 7-up, and water. Not the quasi-healthy meals I was envisioning.
I returned to the hotel and relaxed for the remainder of the evening. I opened the 7-up, recline into a comfortable sprawl on the couch and finished “The Solace of Leaving Early”. I recommend this book to those who don’t mind a bit of pseudo-intellectual pretension. It is set in small town Indiana. I’ve been to a few small towns in Indiana and I find it hard to believe there would be no less than three experts in the writings of Niechze, Kierkegaard, and St. Thomas Acquinas. The book starts a bit slow, but finishes fantastically. Definitely recommended. Plus, being a Mid-Westerner, reading this book helped keep my culture shock at bay. By the beginning of the second week in China, I was definitely feeling a bit Lost in Translation.
SUNDAY 7/18/04
I woke up and felt nearly back to normal. I passed the morning by going to the Yong He Gong Buddhist temple. Bathed in incense and prayed …I really didn’t know what I was doing. I am sooooo not a Buddhist, especially not a Chinese style Buddhist. Hell, I’m not even religious, so I didn’t know what to pray for or to. It was hot, really hot (35 Celsius 95 Fahrenheit), and humid. I was stupid, I wore pants. Ouch, the draining heat and subsequent de-hydration reminded me that I was not yet well.
I passed on going to Tienamen Square. I wasn’t feeling up to it. Abu and I went back to the hotel as he was feeling less than well as well. We waited in his room since I had already checked out. Krusty and Chief Wiggams came back about 2 hours later, at 12:30. We gathered our bags and went down to the lobby. The four of us met up with Patty, Selma, and Artie and hailed cabs for the airport at 1:00. I rode with Selma and Artie. The others piled into the second cab. Between the 7 of us and our luggage, we barely fit in two cabs.
Artie is Selma’s ex. At least that is what Selma says. They are both from Hong Kong and dated while going to school together. Artie was currently living in Shanghai. He made the trip to Beijing to visit Selma and Patty. Patty, Selma, and Artie all went to school together in Hong Kong. Now, I know Selma said she and Artie are “just friends”, but I am dubious. She stayed with him and they were incredibly physically affetionate. Perhapse that what Hong Kongers do. But since Artie was not as touchy with Patty, I suspect not. But then, I’m a cynic.
The ride to the airport was interesting. Apparently the night before, on Saturday, Selma and Artie joined the rest of the team and met the Europeans out for dinner. As the group jumped in the van, Selma got her hand hit by an adjusting seat. This was very, very painful ….or so she said. Her agony was describe in a very whiney manner. It was quite annoying. Artie was stroking her soothingly. Apparently he had no opinion.
The airport was fine, Bejing’s airport is not appreciably different for any other western airport I’ve been in. I enjoyed an ice cold apple juice while waiting to board. Par for the course, this is China afterall, I had to hop a bus to get out to the plane – No jetways for the passengers going to bumble fuck China. The flight was uneventful.
Upon returning to Changchun, we got picked up by Poo Sifu, our driver. It was a tight squeeze with the six of us and all of our luggage. We made it tho. One aside, Poo Sifu was our driver for the three weeks in Changchun. He piloted a dark blue Buick mini-van. Without our luggage, there was pleanty of room for the seven of us (the six of us plus him). He always had music on. It was mainland Chinese pop mostly. Big surprise there, he was a driver, not a translator. It was a damn good thing Patty & Selma spoke Mandarin. Talking to Poo Sifu would have been impossible. I don’t remember who came up with this, but Poo Sifu became “Pussyfoot”. Thus the Buick mini-van became the "Pussy Wagon" (my appologies to Quentin Tarantino). It’s mean, but it’s funny. We all had a blast with that for most of the trip.
We checked into the Shangri-la, an opulant five star hotel in downtown Changchun after collecting our bags from the baggage check. I met Krusty and Abu in the elegant, high ceiling lobby after depositing my bags in my room.
Off to McDonalds – Krusty, Abu, and I had gotten sick between last Thursday and Sunday. We no longer trusted the native eating establishments. We three walked to a McDonalds about a dozen blocks from the hotel. Our trip there took us through back alleys – which is to say we were no longer on the western style streets with all the car traffic. This exposed me to the China of Hollywood – tight streets, packed sidewalks, densely packed shops, open air, bar-b-q kabob stands, and sewage in the gutters, plus stenches in the air. Given that my stomach was still queasy, this was not such a fun walk. Oh yeah, most people looked at us like benign, exotic, escaped zoo animals.
So we ate at a ubiquitous slice of Americana. I have to hand it to the McDonald’s folks, the Big Mac in Changchun was just as gut-ache-inducing as a Stateside one. But, I was feeling over stimulated, even a Big Mac meal felt comforting.
On the walk back to the hotel, we followed the main streets back to the hotel. As we were passing the Admani store (yes, you read that right, “Admani”. It was an “Armani” knockoff store. There was also a “Ntketown” near bye), we passed a row of beggars. In my limited experience, most beggars in China are passive, until you make eye contact. Then they will grab you and follow you – I didn’t like that one bit. This row of beggars was different. They mostly just sat there, on tattered blankets with cups in front of them – with one exception. One young man, his age was unclear (not old, not young), was horribly disfigured. He looked like a contortionist gone wrong. His legs were malformed so that they wrapped behind him and up his back. Both legs were very thin. There was very little muscle mass, as he didn’t use them for walking. His left leg as very short, and only reached the midpoint of his back. His right leg slanted across his back so that his foot poked up over his left shoulder. He was shirtless, wearing a tin can around his neck as he sauntered down the sidewalk using his arms like crutches. His disfigurement caught my attention, but that is not why he I remember him. He was memorable because, despite his disfigurement, he had the most disarming smile.
Krusty and Abu went to the hotel. I (and I alone) went to Wal-Mart, there was one across the street from the hotel. It was packed, and looked just like a Wal-Mart back home – except that it was multifloored plus everything and everyone was Chinese. I was hoping to find familiar packaged goods that would allow me to eat somewhat healthy while avoiding the native food and a diet of McDonalds/KFC – no luck. I couldn’t find raisins, dates, crackers, granola bars…none of it. In the end I settled on Pringles, Snickers, 7-up, and water. Not the quasi-healthy meals I was envisioning.
I returned to the hotel and relaxed for the remainder of the evening. I opened the 7-up, recline into a comfortable sprawl on the couch and finished “The Solace of Leaving Early”. I recommend this book to those who don’t mind a bit of pseudo-intellectual pretension. It is set in small town Indiana. I’ve been to a few small towns in Indiana and I find it hard to believe there would be no less than three experts in the writings of Niechze, Kierkegaard, and St. Thomas Acquinas. The book starts a bit slow, but finishes fantastically. Definitely recommended. Plus, being a Mid-Westerner, reading this book helped keep my culture shock at bay. By the beginning of the second week in China, I was definitely feeling a bit Lost in Translation.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
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I am very saddened by the current tone of the Presidential debate. It seems that a significant portion of the American electorate agrees with the notion that “we can’t change commanders during a war”. This is a perversion of one of America’s greatest strengths.
Understanding this strength requires understanding the American psyche. We Americans are a divisive lot. We squabble. We pout. We yell. We slander. We do all manner of negative things to ourselves. To a foreigner it may appear we are confused, disparate and unable to cooperate. I suspect that people like Osama bin Laden (ObL) look at the cacophonous nature of American public discourse and think we are incapable of working together. Our propensity for conflict and arguments can be misconstrued as weakness. ObL believed attacking us would drive us further apart. I don’t blame him, it is a reasonable conclusion. But it is wrong.
It is very, terribly wrong.
Americans are like one monstrously huge, daddy-liked-fucking-mama-without-a-condom family. The only way to get most siblings to stop fighting is to attack them. Once some third person attacks one sibling, that person must deal with the wrath of both siblings. This is the linchpin to this blog entry. Americans may squabble, but once attacked, we unit. If we are fighting a virtuous fight, this is a good thing. Facing an unquestionably evil thing like Nazi-ism, our unity is a powerful force for good.
Sadly, Islamic fundamentalism is not like Nazi-ism. President Bus and friends would like us to believe they are similar. It is why the nation rallies behind the “War on Terror”. This is a cynical and evil manipulation of the American public. The war on terror is no war at all. Iraq is an occupation. There was a war in Iraq. We started it. But that war only lasted three weeks. There is currently a war in Afghanistan. It has lasted three years. We didn’t start that one and we haven’t done what it takes to finish it, thanks to Iraq.
But the “War on Terror” is not a war. It is an ideological struggle between fundamental and moderate Islam, which we have bumbled into through incompetence. Most Americans are willing to trust our political institutions – trust our President simply because he is the President. We have been manipulated and we refuse to see it. Bush was right when he said this war cannot be won. He was wrong when he said we will win.
In the name of unity, we have unjustly invaded Iraq. We have condemned thousands of Iraqis to death. We have sent more than 1,000 Americans home in body bags. We have more than 6,000 American military personnel injured/maimed/incapacitated. And this doesn’t count the dead and wounded from Afghanistan. We are loosing.
President Bush promised the world that the War on Terror would make us safe. It hasn’t. The post-Iraq world is less safe. There is more terrorism now than there was before September 11, 2001.
Don’t be seduced by a desire to stand together. In standing together, we have be lead down a path of carnage. Bush is responsible for the death of thousand of people and has nothing to show for it. He has proven he cannot be trusted with the most powerful military every assembled.
Look at the facts. Don’t fall victim to your emotions – standing behind out leader because we are at war. I want to believe Bush can be trusted. I really do. His actions dictate otherwise.
Understanding this strength requires understanding the American psyche. We Americans are a divisive lot. We squabble. We pout. We yell. We slander. We do all manner of negative things to ourselves. To a foreigner it may appear we are confused, disparate and unable to cooperate. I suspect that people like Osama bin Laden (ObL) look at the cacophonous nature of American public discourse and think we are incapable of working together. Our propensity for conflict and arguments can be misconstrued as weakness. ObL believed attacking us would drive us further apart. I don’t blame him, it is a reasonable conclusion. But it is wrong.
It is very, terribly wrong.
Americans are like one monstrously huge, daddy-liked-fucking-mama-without-a-condom family. The only way to get most siblings to stop fighting is to attack them. Once some third person attacks one sibling, that person must deal with the wrath of both siblings. This is the linchpin to this blog entry. Americans may squabble, but once attacked, we unit. If we are fighting a virtuous fight, this is a good thing. Facing an unquestionably evil thing like Nazi-ism, our unity is a powerful force for good.
Sadly, Islamic fundamentalism is not like Nazi-ism. President Bus and friends would like us to believe they are similar. It is why the nation rallies behind the “War on Terror”. This is a cynical and evil manipulation of the American public. The war on terror is no war at all. Iraq is an occupation. There was a war in Iraq. We started it. But that war only lasted three weeks. There is currently a war in Afghanistan. It has lasted three years. We didn’t start that one and we haven’t done what it takes to finish it, thanks to Iraq.
But the “War on Terror” is not a war. It is an ideological struggle between fundamental and moderate Islam, which we have bumbled into through incompetence. Most Americans are willing to trust our political institutions – trust our President simply because he is the President. We have been manipulated and we refuse to see it. Bush was right when he said this war cannot be won. He was wrong when he said we will win.
In the name of unity, we have unjustly invaded Iraq. We have condemned thousands of Iraqis to death. We have sent more than 1,000 Americans home in body bags. We have more than 6,000 American military personnel injured/maimed/incapacitated. And this doesn’t count the dead and wounded from Afghanistan. We are loosing.
President Bush promised the world that the War on Terror would make us safe. It hasn’t. The post-Iraq world is less safe. There is more terrorism now than there was before September 11, 2001.
Don’t be seduced by a desire to stand together. In standing together, we have be lead down a path of carnage. Bush is responsible for the death of thousand of people and has nothing to show for it. He has proven he cannot be trusted with the most powerful military every assembled.
Look at the facts. Don’t fall victim to your emotions – standing behind out leader because we are at war. I want to believe Bush can be trusted. I really do. His actions dictate otherwise.
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
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BUSH 'TOOK COCAINE AT CAMP DAVID'
If I told you to trust a recovered alcoholic who had a penchance for coke with your wallet, would you? Would it help if I said he'd been clean from coke for more than 25 years and clean from booze more than a decade?
I suspect most of you would say, "NO!" - resoundingly.
So why do we trust one with nuclear weapons?
If I told you to trust a recovered alcoholic who had a penchance for coke with your wallet, would you? Would it help if I said he'd been clean from coke for more than 25 years and clean from booze more than a decade?
I suspect most of you would say, "NO!" - resoundingly.
So why do we trust one with nuclear weapons?
Read this. Do it. Do it now. War is not a good thing. Soldiers are not dumb, evil, or war mongers.
There's a sad, twisted truth: Those who ordered our military to invade Iraq had not been one's to risk their life for this country. Had they done so, would they still be so gun-ho? I don't think so. But that is only my conjecture - and who the hell am I? No one, really.
There's a sad, twisted truth: Those who ordered our military to invade Iraq had not been one's to risk their life for this country. Had they done so, would they still be so gun-ho? I don't think so. But that is only my conjecture - and who the hell am I? No one, really.
Friday, September 03, 2004
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CHINA TRAVELOG - PART 4
SATURDY 7/17/04
I woke up at 5:30 am to get ready to leave by 6:00 am. I met Krusty in the lobby and we boarded the chartered bus to go pick up the European team. I was still feeling like shit. I brought along my camera, MP3 player, and 2 liters of 7Up. I was not looking forward to a long day of battling liquefied intestines, but I was not about to pass up an opportunity of a lifetime. I could not fool myself into believing I’d ever be back in Beijing again – much less with a group of people willing to travel to the countryside to climb a mountain and to see a vintage (AKA dilapidated) section of the Great Wall of China.
We drove about 10 minutes to the European team’s hotel .
Our trip took us west of Beijing towards the mountainous tour spot of Si Ma Tai (or Dead Horse Platform) to see the Great Wall. Saw very sad things along the way – we started out in the 1st world of downtown Beijing and traveled to the 3rd world of rural China. There were an amazing amount of people on the side of road, walking or riding from somewhere to elsewhere. Row after row of fruit vendors gradually replaced the roadside strip mall-ish buildings as we traveled into the 3rd world. These vendors were not more than 20 feet from each other, I couldn’t help but wonder how any of them earned enough to support themselves.
I listened to Beck’s Sea Change & Aaron Sprinkle’s Lackluster album on the 2 + hour trip to Si Ma Tai. It was a bit surreal to drive through the Chinese countryside with the bus seats, bad suspension, cranked air conditioning, poverty outside, and music in my ears.
When we arrived at Si Ma Tai and we were one of the first groups there. The sky was very hazy and there was a cadre of approximately a dozen vendors near the entrance gate. The bus parked on the opposite end of the parking lot from the entrance/ticket booth. As we soon as we emerged from the bus and began walking across the parking lot, the closest vendor (who really wasn’t all that close) began yelling to us “Here! Come! Get water! You know you’re thirsty! I have good water!”. Of course, he said this in Chinese. So it was a bit funny to see him saying the same thing over and over while my colleague translated.
We took a cable car to within 2/3 of the top. It was so amazingly surreal, the loudspeakers on the cable car poles were blaring the watered down, white bread jazz of Kenny G. Imagine that, I travel to the opposite side of the world, catch a bus to a remote countryside, go up a mountain, and hear Kenny G. Fucked up!
We began the walk up. Within 10 short minutes it became clear that I was too sick to make this trip. I’d let pride get in the way. A brief stint in the high heat and humidity coupled with the steep Chinese mountainside, and I was a goner. My intestines had been water for nearly 48 hours. I’d barley eaten in that time and had a hard time keeping hydrated while in an air conditioned hotel room. On a humid Chinese mountainside I had no chance. I told my compatriots to go on without me and sat down on rock. Fortunately my MP3 player was in my camera case. I pulled out the MP3 player, queued up Ben Kweller’s latest album, removed my camera, and made peace with the fact that I had gotten within a stones throw of the Great Wall of China and couldn’t make it. Putting my disappointment aside, I let it sink in, I was sick – Exhausted, even! - on a Chinese mountainside. Hot damn, I never thought I’d say that or be here. Smell the roses, you sick bastard! Enjoy the view!
With a new appreciation for my current situation, I turned around and took a picture of the mountain and the Great Wall. This was my Great white whale, if you will. The picture serves as a reminder that even when things don’t go as expected, there is usually a silver lining. I spent the rest of Ben Kweller’s CD on that rock soaking up the peaks, valley, and verdant greenery of my view. Oh yeah, I was still sweating.
I walked around, looking for a toilet. The one I found was an outhouse with a hole in the ground for a toilet and no toilet paper. Fucking lovely…this was the 2nd bathroom I’d looked in.
I saw a donkey tied to an electricity pole by the cable car station. I couldn’t resist, I took a picture of it - Further surrealness. I paid for a return ride down the mountain.
Upon reaching the bottom of the mountain I continued my search for a usable bathroom. Again, nothing more than a hole in the floor and no toilet paper – at least this one was bright and well ventilated, the last one was neither.
Walking toward a café to camp out and wait for my colleagues, I noticed that people who were going up the mountain had already made it down. This posed a difficult conundrum for me. If these people walked the whole tour, then my colleagues may have already made it down the mountain. After all, the ticket agent said that the walking tour may only take and hour to an hour and a half. So, did my colleagues make it down, not see me and go to the bus? Or are they still up on the mountain? I didn’t know and was faced with a hard choice. Do I assume they are still on the mountain and take a seat the café and wait? But if I do that, are they tapping their feet waiting for me at the bus?
I went to the bus. They weren’t there. So I waited on a rock near the exit since I didn’t want to pay to get back in. That was stupid, it was only 30RMB to get in, or about $4. I could have been sitting under an umbrella drinking a cold beverage, but to save about $4 I sat on a rock in the hot sun. But, hey, in my defense, I was sick - Not stupid, sick.
They made it down a couple of hours later. That rock wasn’t so friendly, I was sore from sitting on it for so long. Even so, the rock and I got to know each other very well.
I met up with my colleagues at a restaurant near the exit and heard some great stories. The wall sounded great. But to top it off, three of them got to slide down a wire that took them down the mountain and over a reservoir. That sounded so damn fun, even whilst I was mired in sickness.
Ever the vigilant boy scout, I checked out the restaurant’s bathroom. Just as I’d come to expect, a hole in the floor and no toilet paper. I eventually stole some napkins off a vacated table and scurried, quickly back to the bathroom. Let me tell you, squatting down in such a way that requires removing you lower body garments to lower yourself over a hole in the floor is not the most relaxing way to relieve one’s dysentery. That was not a highlight. It was memorable, but for all the wrong reasons. On the bright side, at least I felt better.
The bus ride back was even longer than the ride there. Being exhausted, sick, and miserable, made it a really lousy ride - Especially when the bus driver stuck to very slow surface streets in Beijing because he didn’t want to pay the tollway fee, the cheap bastard.
By the time we got back to the hotel, we had been gone for more then 13 hours. I was sick and exhausted. I ordered room service, which I barely touched. By 8 PM I was asleep, blissfully until 9:30 the next morning. I can’t describe how much better I felt.
SATURDY 7/17/04
I woke up at 5:30 am to get ready to leave by 6:00 am. I met Krusty in the lobby and we boarded the chartered bus to go pick up the European team. I was still feeling like shit. I brought along my camera, MP3 player, and 2 liters of 7Up. I was not looking forward to a long day of battling liquefied intestines, but I was not about to pass up an opportunity of a lifetime. I could not fool myself into believing I’d ever be back in Beijing again – much less with a group of people willing to travel to the countryside to climb a mountain and to see a vintage (AKA dilapidated) section of the Great Wall of China.
We drove about 10 minutes to the European team’s hotel .
Our trip took us west of Beijing towards the mountainous tour spot of Si Ma Tai (or Dead Horse Platform) to see the Great Wall. Saw very sad things along the way – we started out in the 1st world of downtown Beijing and traveled to the 3rd world of rural China. There were an amazing amount of people on the side of road, walking or riding from somewhere to elsewhere. Row after row of fruit vendors gradually replaced the roadside strip mall-ish buildings as we traveled into the 3rd world. These vendors were not more than 20 feet from each other, I couldn’t help but wonder how any of them earned enough to support themselves.
I listened to Beck’s Sea Change & Aaron Sprinkle’s Lackluster album on the 2 + hour trip to Si Ma Tai. It was a bit surreal to drive through the Chinese countryside with the bus seats, bad suspension, cranked air conditioning, poverty outside, and music in my ears.
When we arrived at Si Ma Tai and we were one of the first groups there. The sky was very hazy and there was a cadre of approximately a dozen vendors near the entrance gate. The bus parked on the opposite end of the parking lot from the entrance/ticket booth. As we soon as we emerged from the bus and began walking across the parking lot, the closest vendor (who really wasn’t all that close) began yelling to us “Here! Come! Get water! You know you’re thirsty! I have good water!”. Of course, he said this in Chinese. So it was a bit funny to see him saying the same thing over and over while my colleague translated.
We took a cable car to within 2/3 of the top. It was so amazingly surreal, the loudspeakers on the cable car poles were blaring the watered down, white bread jazz of Kenny G. Imagine that, I travel to the opposite side of the world, catch a bus to a remote countryside, go up a mountain, and hear Kenny G. Fucked up!
We began the walk up. Within 10 short minutes it became clear that I was too sick to make this trip. I’d let pride get in the way. A brief stint in the high heat and humidity coupled with the steep Chinese mountainside, and I was a goner. My intestines had been water for nearly 48 hours. I’d barley eaten in that time and had a hard time keeping hydrated while in an air conditioned hotel room. On a humid Chinese mountainside I had no chance. I told my compatriots to go on without me and sat down on rock. Fortunately my MP3 player was in my camera case. I pulled out the MP3 player, queued up Ben Kweller’s latest album, removed my camera, and made peace with the fact that I had gotten within a stones throw of the Great Wall of China and couldn’t make it. Putting my disappointment aside, I let it sink in, I was sick – Exhausted, even! - on a Chinese mountainside. Hot damn, I never thought I’d say that or be here. Smell the roses, you sick bastard! Enjoy the view!
With a new appreciation for my current situation, I turned around and took a picture of the mountain and the Great Wall. This was my Great white whale, if you will. The picture serves as a reminder that even when things don’t go as expected, there is usually a silver lining. I spent the rest of Ben Kweller’s CD on that rock soaking up the peaks, valley, and verdant greenery of my view. Oh yeah, I was still sweating.
I walked around, looking for a toilet. The one I found was an outhouse with a hole in the ground for a toilet and no toilet paper. Fucking lovely…this was the 2nd bathroom I’d looked in.
I saw a donkey tied to an electricity pole by the cable car station. I couldn’t resist, I took a picture of it - Further surrealness. I paid for a return ride down the mountain.
Upon reaching the bottom of the mountain I continued my search for a usable bathroom. Again, nothing more than a hole in the floor and no toilet paper – at least this one was bright and well ventilated, the last one was neither.
Walking toward a café to camp out and wait for my colleagues, I noticed that people who were going up the mountain had already made it down. This posed a difficult conundrum for me. If these people walked the whole tour, then my colleagues may have already made it down the mountain. After all, the ticket agent said that the walking tour may only take and hour to an hour and a half. So, did my colleagues make it down, not see me and go to the bus? Or are they still up on the mountain? I didn’t know and was faced with a hard choice. Do I assume they are still on the mountain and take a seat the café and wait? But if I do that, are they tapping their feet waiting for me at the bus?
I went to the bus. They weren’t there. So I waited on a rock near the exit since I didn’t want to pay to get back in. That was stupid, it was only 30RMB to get in, or about $4. I could have been sitting under an umbrella drinking a cold beverage, but to save about $4 I sat on a rock in the hot sun. But, hey, in my defense, I was sick - Not stupid, sick.
They made it down a couple of hours later. That rock wasn’t so friendly, I was sore from sitting on it for so long. Even so, the rock and I got to know each other very well.
I met up with my colleagues at a restaurant near the exit and heard some great stories. The wall sounded great. But to top it off, three of them got to slide down a wire that took them down the mountain and over a reservoir. That sounded so damn fun, even whilst I was mired in sickness.
Ever the vigilant boy scout, I checked out the restaurant’s bathroom. Just as I’d come to expect, a hole in the floor and no toilet paper. I eventually stole some napkins off a vacated table and scurried, quickly back to the bathroom. Let me tell you, squatting down in such a way that requires removing you lower body garments to lower yourself over a hole in the floor is not the most relaxing way to relieve one’s dysentery. That was not a highlight. It was memorable, but for all the wrong reasons. On the bright side, at least I felt better.
The bus ride back was even longer than the ride there. Being exhausted, sick, and miserable, made it a really lousy ride - Especially when the bus driver stuck to very slow surface streets in Beijing because he didn’t want to pay the tollway fee, the cheap bastard.
By the time we got back to the hotel, we had been gone for more then 13 hours. I was sick and exhausted. I ordered room service, which I barely touched. By 8 PM I was asleep, blissfully until 9:30 the next morning. I can’t describe how much better I felt.
CHINA TRAVELOG - PART 3
MONDAY 7/12/09
Our two introductory meetings, one with the finance group and one with executive management took the whole morning. We had lunch with Colin at the company cafeteria. Oh sweet baby Jesus the food was terrible! We were lucky enough eat in the management cafeteria situated upstairs from the hourly workers cafeteria on the first floor. Climbing up to the second floor you’re greeted with a gag-inducing smell. This smell is a concentrated smell that I catch in much of china – I call it the “China Smell” or alternatively, “The China Syndrome”.
There were five rooms to the left on the second floor. You must walk down to the last room to get your food. There you hand in your meal tix, get a warm metal tray that looks like an oversized TV dinner tray, and serve yourself buffet-style. I could identify most of it. I settled on some red-pepper spiced tofu dish. While it was terrible, believe me, it was the least offensive. Christ, even the rice was bad – how do you fuck up rice!?!!?
The afternoon was uneventful.
We had a group dinner at a Japanese restaurant in the same mall as the hotel. The food was OK, but it was expensive. I ate the sukiyaki. This was the first time I had it with raw egg, according to Abu, that is the traditional Japanese way to eat it. Ordered way too much food. The sushi came last. Everyone but me ate some, but so much was ordered that more than ½ was left went they finished. Expensive (~$100 for all of us…no tip).
TUESDAY 7/13/04
Seen on the drive to work, a sign saying “A Harmonious life / is civilized traffic” (sign had a bright blue ski, rich, green, KY bluegrass, style grass and smiling children sitting in a semi circle). The sign was posted on the corner of a busy intersection on the Communist Party headquarters grounds. HIGHLY ironic as traffic in china is chaotic.
WENESDAY 7/14/04
The six of us went to a Korean Bar-b-que Restaurant near hotel. Ordered dog, I didn’t try it, I’m too sentimental, plus I’m a dog person – they’re pets, not food. We ordered way, way too much food. It wasn’t very good, it was overly china-ized and not authentic Korean. The bill was super, super cheap less than $20 for 6 people and more food than we could eat. We, as a group, expressed surprise as how cheap it was. We were loud, and we spoke English. The proprietor, who spoke only Chinese, took our outburst as us being displeased with how “expensive” it was. He quickly offered each of us a free 500ml bottle of a Coke product of our choice.
THURSAY 7/15/04
Uneventful – except that I got sick from dinner on Thursday night. It hit me about 3:30am. After spending too much time in the restroom, I tore my luggage apart looking for the Keopeptate I THOUGHT I’d packed. Oops, I didn’t. It was a miserable night.
FRIDAY 7/16/04
Worked till 12:30. Went to the airport – flew to Beijing. Still felt terrible…the plane ride wasn’t fun. After spending an hour in my hotel room recuperating. I took a walk by myself around downtown Beijing. I was in search of a supermarket to get some things like liquids and KO. I was approached by two highschool/college aged girls who merely wanted to practice their English. Just as I gave up on finding a supermarket and was 100 yards from the hotel door, yet another person approached me. Her name was Lisa, she was middle aged, clearly Chinese, and spoke very good English. We chatted for ~15 minutes – she was a teacher of English and Art at a nearby school. She and 20 students were heading for the US next week – to visit Chicago and Boston. She invited me to her school to write my name in Chinese calligraphy and see the artwork they were taking to the states. The school was kitty corner across the street from my hotel. It was situated on the 3rd and 4th floors of a building and above a “Chinese” restaurant. Oh, hot damn, it was humid up there. She made a very stereotypical writing of my name…very flowing, very nice. I purused many pieces of art. In the end I purchased a couple pieces: Nothing major, just something as a momento of the trip.
Ordered room service and watched a very bad Steven Siegal movie (the direct to video The Foreigner …and went to bed early. Afterall I needed to rest up and get better for the trip to the Great Wall the next morning.
MONDAY 7/12/09
Our two introductory meetings, one with the finance group and one with executive management took the whole morning. We had lunch with Colin at the company cafeteria. Oh sweet baby Jesus the food was terrible! We were lucky enough eat in the management cafeteria situated upstairs from the hourly workers cafeteria on the first floor. Climbing up to the second floor you’re greeted with a gag-inducing smell. This smell is a concentrated smell that I catch in much of china – I call it the “China Smell” or alternatively, “The China Syndrome”.
There were five rooms to the left on the second floor. You must walk down to the last room to get your food. There you hand in your meal tix, get a warm metal tray that looks like an oversized TV dinner tray, and serve yourself buffet-style. I could identify most of it. I settled on some red-pepper spiced tofu dish. While it was terrible, believe me, it was the least offensive. Christ, even the rice was bad – how do you fuck up rice!?!!?
The afternoon was uneventful.
We had a group dinner at a Japanese restaurant in the same mall as the hotel. The food was OK, but it was expensive. I ate the sukiyaki. This was the first time I had it with raw egg, according to Abu, that is the traditional Japanese way to eat it. Ordered way too much food. The sushi came last. Everyone but me ate some, but so much was ordered that more than ½ was left went they finished. Expensive (~$100 for all of us…no tip).
TUESDAY 7/13/04
Seen on the drive to work, a sign saying “A Harmonious life / is civilized traffic” (sign had a bright blue ski, rich, green, KY bluegrass, style grass and smiling children sitting in a semi circle). The sign was posted on the corner of a busy intersection on the Communist Party headquarters grounds. HIGHLY ironic as traffic in china is chaotic.
WENESDAY 7/14/04
The six of us went to a Korean Bar-b-que Restaurant near hotel. Ordered dog, I didn’t try it, I’m too sentimental, plus I’m a dog person – they’re pets, not food. We ordered way, way too much food. It wasn’t very good, it was overly china-ized and not authentic Korean. The bill was super, super cheap less than $20 for 6 people and more food than we could eat. We, as a group, expressed surprise as how cheap it was. We were loud, and we spoke English. The proprietor, who spoke only Chinese, took our outburst as us being displeased with how “expensive” it was. He quickly offered each of us a free 500ml bottle of a Coke product of our choice.
THURSAY 7/15/04
Uneventful – except that I got sick from dinner on Thursday night. It hit me about 3:30am. After spending too much time in the restroom, I tore my luggage apart looking for the Keopeptate I THOUGHT I’d packed. Oops, I didn’t. It was a miserable night.
FRIDAY 7/16/04
Worked till 12:30. Went to the airport – flew to Beijing. Still felt terrible…the plane ride wasn’t fun. After spending an hour in my hotel room recuperating. I took a walk by myself around downtown Beijing. I was in search of a supermarket to get some things like liquids and KO. I was approached by two highschool/college aged girls who merely wanted to practice their English. Just as I gave up on finding a supermarket and was 100 yards from the hotel door, yet another person approached me. Her name was Lisa, she was middle aged, clearly Chinese, and spoke very good English. We chatted for ~15 minutes – she was a teacher of English and Art at a nearby school. She and 20 students were heading for the US next week – to visit Chicago and Boston. She invited me to her school to write my name in Chinese calligraphy and see the artwork they were taking to the states. The school was kitty corner across the street from my hotel. It was situated on the 3rd and 4th floors of a building and above a “Chinese” restaurant. Oh, hot damn, it was humid up there. She made a very stereotypical writing of my name…very flowing, very nice. I purused many pieces of art. In the end I purchased a couple pieces: Nothing major, just something as a momento of the trip.
Ordered room service and watched a very bad Steven Siegal movie (the direct to video The Foreigner …and went to bed early. Afterall I needed to rest up and get better for the trip to the Great Wall the next morning.
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
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"He is -- as I mentioned in my speech, I do mention the fact that this is a fellow who is willing to commit youngsters to their death and he, himself, tries to hide -- if, in fact, he's hiding at all."
President George W Bush
March 13, 2002
Here is our illustrious leader condemning Osama bin Laden for being willing to "commit youngster to their death" while "he, himself, tries to hide". Inspiring - in so far as hypocrisy can lift the human spirit.
How many "youngsters" have died in Iraq? If we focus on American "youngsters", nearly 1,000 combat deaths. If we consider Iraqis, uncounted thousands. How many "youngsters" have died in Afghanistan, Pakistan, Israel, Palestine, Indonesia, Philippines, Yemen, Qatar, Saudi Arabia - as a result of US policies?
How's that for the pot calling the kettle black?
President George W Bush
March 13, 2002
Here is our illustrious leader condemning Osama bin Laden for being willing to "commit youngster to their death" while "he, himself, tries to hide". Inspiring - in so far as hypocrisy can lift the human spirit.
How many "youngsters" have died in Iraq? If we focus on American "youngsters", nearly 1,000 combat deaths. If we consider Iraqis, uncounted thousands. How many "youngsters" have died in Afghanistan, Pakistan, Israel, Palestine, Indonesia, Philippines, Yemen, Qatar, Saudi Arabia - as a result of US policies?
How's that for the pot calling the kettle black?
