Friends: Four days of cycling with Stephen and there is still hardly a lull in our conversation, on the bike and off. We both have slight sore throats from exercising our vocal chords more than we have in weeks.
But as deep in conversation as we may be as we're cycling along, Stephen has not lost his radar for slower moving vehicles about to overtake us that are draftable, a skill he developed to precision while in India, where he did considerable drafting as well as grabbing hold of vehicles for a totally free pull.
All that drafting he did in India has made it a conditioned reflex for him. He gives no warning whatsoever that he's about to speed ahead and dart over to latch onto a vehicle coming up from behind us, other than a quick look over his shoulder to confirm the sound of the chugging vehicle is draftable. And then he is off.
That sound, that doesn't register with me, instantaneously transforms him into a bicycling fiend, even if he is lagging along. It effects him so spontaneously and deeply, he doesn't even give out a shout of excitement or warning that we've got a vehicle to chase. He just becomes focused on catching that vehicle. Part of it is, he was so determined to get across India as fast as he could, it become an obsession, almost of desperation, seizing the opportunity the moderately moving vehicles provided of speeding up the process. He was ever on the alert for them.
I have to be very quick to react to Stephen's sudden acceleration, otherwise I'll be left behind. Sometimes the vehicle is one of those smaller three-wheeled vehicles piled high with cargo that are so common that makes excellent drafting for one but not two, so I have to ride on Stephen's wheel, which doesn't provide as much wind-break as he's receiving.
Yesterday we were both behind a large truck, Stephen on the right side and I on the left, a perfect situation. The driver stuck his head out his window to verify what he was seeing in his mirror, and gave me a smile. After a few minutes Stephen edged off to the side of the truck in search of a hand hold. He found one and grabbed it. I swung a little left and saw one I could grab too. Almost instantly the driver began blasting his horn, letting us know that he did not approve of us putting our hands on his truck. We both let go just as he sped up and left us behind.
China is the 22nd country Stephen has passed through on his round-the-world tour. He has one to go, Japan. After a couple weeks there he will fly to Seattle and finish off his circuit to his starting point in Telluride. Other than his couple thousand mile stretch across the US from Colorado to Charleston, South Carolina, his longest stretch across a country is the 1,200 miles of India from Bombay to Calcutta.
Our conversation has included anecdotes from every country, but none more than India, partially because I too biked the same National Highway Six across the country that was Stephen's route. It hadn't changed much in the 13 years between our travels. It was a nightmare for both of us--horrid road conditions, way too much traffic with each and every truck, bus and automobile blasting their horn as they passed, and swarms of people descending upon us whenever we stopped who would stare and stare as long as we remained. But we both had many people treat us with great kindness and cordiality, and we could not help but have a fondness for the country, as everywhere we have traveled.
India was one of three places Stephen was most looking forward to when he set out on this trip along with the pyramids of Egypt and China. The pyramids did not disappoint, nor has China. We both reguarly comment that we will be sure to return to China. If Stephen hadn't a flight to catch to Tokyo on the 27th, and hadn't been waylaid for a week in Nanning with an intestinal ailment, his mileage across China would have exceeded that of India.
The highlight of his trip though has been the week he spent with his mother in Chang Mi, Thailand, almost a year into his travels. He acknowledges at this point he is eager to get home and get this over with and isn't quite as motivated as he was early on to spend the day on his bike.
Today was a good day, a rare day with a tail wind. He still remembers a day across New Mexico early on when he had a sensational tailwind allowing him to do 115 miles, one of three centuries he's had, as his favorite day of the trip. One of his other centuries was his last day across India into Calcutta when he had his best day of grabbing hold of trucks, giving him a free ride much of the way.
India was one of two places where someone invited Stephen to marry his daughter. The other was in Turkey. He's had easy and difficult border crossings. The worst was from Turkey into Syria. He was left dangling at the border for several hours before a border official finally stamped his passport after playing a bit of a cat-and-mouse game with him, another incident he can now laugh about.
After two nights of wild camping we are back in a hotel here in Xiping. Tomorrow promises more tailwinds with the temperature possibly in the 50s, the warmest I've had since arriving in Wuhan over a week ago. Today was the first day we saw no snow since leaving Wuhan. We're under 600 miles now to Beijing, though Stephen will have to take a train the last four hundred or so. I'm still hoping to complete my journey via bicycle.
Later, George
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Friday, November 20, 2009
Xinfan, China
Friends: Thanks to eating out a couple times with Juile-Ann at some genuine restaurants in Xian with menus and someone serving the meal other than the person who cooked it, unlike the eating establishments I ordinarily dine at, I knew that the four scratch cards Stephen and I were given along with the receipt for our meal at the luxurious restaurant at the delux hotel/resort/spa/convention center we were forced to stay at a couple nights ago were lottery tickets of a sort, and we had the chance of winning enough to pay for our extravagance, though not much of a chance, as Julie-Ann said not once in her three years of living in China had she scratched off a winner.
Julie-Ann explained that the lottery tickets had something to do with making sure the restaurants paid their taxes, as the lottery tickets they were obligated to give out indicated a sale they had to report to the goverment. I'm not sure if that's exactly right, but it was tax-related gimmick.
Knowing that we didn't have much of a chance of winning anything, and not having much of a gambler's demeanor anyway, I had no urge to do any scratching. But I thought the four tickets would make a decent little gesture of a gift for the semi-English speaking attendant who had befriended us when we arrived at the hotel and agreed to let us stay for 218 yuan when the lowest posted price was 568. And he had escorted us around the vast complex of the Tianzi Lake Resort, 50 miles north of Wuhan, taking us from the gated entrance to the palace main building to check in, then to our accommodations half a mile away past a couple of lakes and a golden statue of Mao, and then to the restaurant, another half mile hike, making sure everything was okay with our room and assisting us in ordering our dinner, even finding a packet of instant coffee for Stephen, a rare treasure.
He had already turned down a monetary tip, as has everyone Stephen and I have encountered during our weeks in China, but I thought this might be different, appealing to the Chinese love of gambling. When I mentioned to Julie-Ann I was surprised to see so many people playing cards and mah-jong at small tables along the road in front of their homes and shops, she immediatedly said, "Why of course. They're all gambling." Even she can't play a friendly game of mahjong with friends without there being money at stake.
We fully expected to see our benefactor waiting for us the morning of our departure when we came down from our third floor heated room in another huge building where we were the only guests, what this being the cold off-season, but he wasn't there and we were free to at last ride our bikes on the grounds back to the main bulding to turn in our key card and retrieve our 100 yuan deposit. At the recepton desk were four young women, all bundled up in coats, and along with them the woman who had accompanied us on our rounds the evening before. I was happy to give the lottery tickets to her, as she had been equally helpful and cordial, never losing her smile, though not quite as brave with her English as the young man. She pulled out a coin and promptly rubbed all four of the tickets, shaking her head sideways four times. No surprise.
It took a little while for our receipt to be printed up and our deposit returned. While we waited a young woman brought us two cups of hot water on a tray and gestured for us to take a seat on a nearby couch. When at last our deposit and receipt was brought to us, it included two more of those scratch-to-see-if-you-won slips. The woman knew we didn't care to check them ourselves, being as observant and as quick to assist as just about everyone we have encountered, so did it for us. After the second one she let out a yelp of delight, and thrust the slip towards us to show us we were a winner.
Looking at it, all we saw was a string of Chinese characters that meant nothing to us. I had no idea that I wouldn't have known whether we had won or not, never looking at Julie-Ann's cards. Looking at it I couldnt even tell how much we had won. Could it possibly be enough to pay for this super-splurge? Even our dinner was a splurge, eating in our own private room at a table with eight golden high-packed chairs, attended to by a handful of waitresses, as we seemed to be their only customers for the night, eating off monogrammed plates and bowls with an array of utensils meticulously arranged and mounted on various holders. Someone with a crown should have been at this table, not us lowly cyclists in our tights and multiple layers of bedraggled clothes in this unheated room.
I followed the woman who had scratched off the lottery ticket to the reception desk for our winnings. As a woman rummaged through her cash drawers I saw her withdraw a shiney bill unlike any I had seen. Could it possibly be a 500 or a 1,000? The highest I had seen was a 100. But the bill was just a ten. It only looked different as all the tens I was accustomed to seeing were so well circulated they had lost their initial luster. It was enough to pay for our lunch later that day, no big deal, but at least I can report to Julie-Ann that is is possible to win and that she should keep scratching away.
An even bigger thrill for the day was happening upon a bike mechanic-seamstress who could sew-up the hole in the toe of my cycling shoe. The front of the shoe is mesh, so the hole wasn't allowing that much more much heat to escape, but it made me appear even more bedraggled than I am, and was something that people occasionally pointed out to me, and no doubt was noticed by the many who continually scour me and my gear from head to foot.
Stephen noticed a guy sewing a child's shoe on the sidewalk in front of a woman we had just bought a couple of freshly baked flour patties from, and suggested I give him a try. We had just had lunch, so the few minutes to let the food digest was most welcome. The man took 30 minutes to do the repair, even doing some extra sewing along the side of my three year old shoe that had over 25,000 miles on it. His charge, three yuans. "No wonder Nike has their shoes made here," Stephen commented.
We were able to camp last night in a small forest with patches of snow around us. We're hoping to be in our tents again tonight. The temperature remains not much more than 40, but we have had some sunny days and are making progress and happy to be on our bikes.
Later, George
Julie-Ann explained that the lottery tickets had something to do with making sure the restaurants paid their taxes, as the lottery tickets they were obligated to give out indicated a sale they had to report to the goverment. I'm not sure if that's exactly right, but it was tax-related gimmick.
Knowing that we didn't have much of a chance of winning anything, and not having much of a gambler's demeanor anyway, I had no urge to do any scratching. But I thought the four tickets would make a decent little gesture of a gift for the semi-English speaking attendant who had befriended us when we arrived at the hotel and agreed to let us stay for 218 yuan when the lowest posted price was 568. And he had escorted us around the vast complex of the Tianzi Lake Resort, 50 miles north of Wuhan, taking us from the gated entrance to the palace main building to check in, then to our accommodations half a mile away past a couple of lakes and a golden statue of Mao, and then to the restaurant, another half mile hike, making sure everything was okay with our room and assisting us in ordering our dinner, even finding a packet of instant coffee for Stephen, a rare treasure.
He had already turned down a monetary tip, as has everyone Stephen and I have encountered during our weeks in China, but I thought this might be different, appealing to the Chinese love of gambling. When I mentioned to Julie-Ann I was surprised to see so many people playing cards and mah-jong at small tables along the road in front of their homes and shops, she immediatedly said, "Why of course. They're all gambling." Even she can't play a friendly game of mahjong with friends without there being money at stake.
We fully expected to see our benefactor waiting for us the morning of our departure when we came down from our third floor heated room in another huge building where we were the only guests, what this being the cold off-season, but he wasn't there and we were free to at last ride our bikes on the grounds back to the main bulding to turn in our key card and retrieve our 100 yuan deposit. At the recepton desk were four young women, all bundled up in coats, and along with them the woman who had accompanied us on our rounds the evening before. I was happy to give the lottery tickets to her, as she had been equally helpful and cordial, never losing her smile, though not quite as brave with her English as the young man. She pulled out a coin and promptly rubbed all four of the tickets, shaking her head sideways four times. No surprise.
It took a little while for our receipt to be printed up and our deposit returned. While we waited a young woman brought us two cups of hot water on a tray and gestured for us to take a seat on a nearby couch. When at last our deposit and receipt was brought to us, it included two more of those scratch-to-see-if-you-won slips. The woman knew we didn't care to check them ourselves, being as observant and as quick to assist as just about everyone we have encountered, so did it for us. After the second one she let out a yelp of delight, and thrust the slip towards us to show us we were a winner.
Looking at it, all we saw was a string of Chinese characters that meant nothing to us. I had no idea that I wouldn't have known whether we had won or not, never looking at Julie-Ann's cards. Looking at it I couldnt even tell how much we had won. Could it possibly be enough to pay for this super-splurge? Even our dinner was a splurge, eating in our own private room at a table with eight golden high-packed chairs, attended to by a handful of waitresses, as we seemed to be their only customers for the night, eating off monogrammed plates and bowls with an array of utensils meticulously arranged and mounted on various holders. Someone with a crown should have been at this table, not us lowly cyclists in our tights and multiple layers of bedraggled clothes in this unheated room.
I followed the woman who had scratched off the lottery ticket to the reception desk for our winnings. As a woman rummaged through her cash drawers I saw her withdraw a shiney bill unlike any I had seen. Could it possibly be a 500 or a 1,000? The highest I had seen was a 100. But the bill was just a ten. It only looked different as all the tens I was accustomed to seeing were so well circulated they had lost their initial luster. It was enough to pay for our lunch later that day, no big deal, but at least I can report to Julie-Ann that is is possible to win and that she should keep scratching away.
An even bigger thrill for the day was happening upon a bike mechanic-seamstress who could sew-up the hole in the toe of my cycling shoe. The front of the shoe is mesh, so the hole wasn't allowing that much more much heat to escape, but it made me appear even more bedraggled than I am, and was something that people occasionally pointed out to me, and no doubt was noticed by the many who continually scour me and my gear from head to foot.
Stephen noticed a guy sewing a child's shoe on the sidewalk in front of a woman we had just bought a couple of freshly baked flour patties from, and suggested I give him a try. We had just had lunch, so the few minutes to let the food digest was most welcome. The man took 30 minutes to do the repair, even doing some extra sewing along the side of my three year old shoe that had over 25,000 miles on it. His charge, three yuans. "No wonder Nike has their shoes made here," Stephen commented.
We were able to camp last night in a small forest with patches of snow around us. We're hoping to be in our tents again tonight. The temperature remains not much more than 40, but we have had some sunny days and are making progress and happy to be on our bikes.
Later, George
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Wuhan Days 4 and 5
Friends: Stephen miscalculated the time of his train trip from Guilin to Wuhan thinking it was 3 hours, when it was in fact 15, so he arrived at 11 a.m., not 11 p.m., making our appointed rendezvous of noon impossible. He didn't realize the length of the train trip until midnight when the train hadn't arrived in Wuhan yet, so he had no way of letting me know of his delay.
I waited for him at the appointed McDonald's until 1:30. I wasn't the only one there lingering. It was an unofficial warming center for lots of people, many of whom bought nothing. I finally went to the internet to see if there was any message from him and also to send out one of my own.
I didn't envy him at all trying to get to our meeting point in pelting snow flurries on icy roads. If he had arrived at noon, we would have had the dilemma of setting out in these conditions. I didn't mind at all having the decision of "no go" forced on me. Little did I know what travails he was suffering. The train station was on the other side of the Yangzi, so he had to cross the long, high two-mile bridge in such conditions. He was lucky though to be doing it in daylight hours, and after some sleep, having paid for a bed on the train.
When I went on line there was no word from him. He was trying to find an internet outlet at that point himself. He had arrived at what he thought was our meeting point right around 1:30. Unfortunately, it was the third of three McDonald's all within a few blocks of one another, one that I wasn't aware of. It was near an Adidas store that was one of our landmarks, but not the same Adidas store as the one I described. The way to the hotel I was staying at was near the second Adidas. When Stephen tried to find the hotel using the other Adidas as a guide, he couldn't.
We knew it wouldn't be easy to connect in China, but it was turning out to be harder than we thought, after we thought we had it all figured out. We finally both found ourselves on line a little after five. We were just a few blocks apart. We made arrangements to meet at the McDonald's on the pedestrian mall that I first suggested between six and seven. But we failed again as we both alternated between two of the three McDonald's we both knew of, though unaware that there was a third out there. Each other's mystery third was what we both thought was where we were supposed to meet.
So it was back to the internet at my hotel. No further word from Stephen. But when I signed off and came out the door there was Stephen lugging his bike up the stairs. He'd gone back to one of my earlier emails and found more street names to the hotel. At last, seven-and-a-half hours after we had hoped to connect, we finally had. It was too good to be true.
Stephen in his wanderings had discovered a Wal-Mart Superstore nearby. We both needed long underwear, which we knew we could find there. Wal-Mart also offers a surprisingly good deli and also a warm place to eat, something that is not easy to find. If I had known about this Wal-Mart I would have spent a considerable amount of time there the past two days. We were thrilled to find a set of fleece-lined tops and bottoms for less than $15. As we sat and ate it was the first time either of us had been warm all day. As we gabbed away raving about how much we both enjoyed China and much more, just barely making a dent in all we have to talk about, we were told the store was closing. We were shocked to see it was ten p.m.
Stephen had had his credit cards stolen in Vietnam and had to arrange a Wells Fargo money transfer with his mother. He was down to his last seven yuans after paying for the hotel. He was on line until one a.m. arranging it. There was a Wells Fargo outlet just a few blocks from our hotel. We had to go to several different places though to find it and then to another to get the cash. We couldn't find it, so returned to Wells Fargo to ask again where it was. Stephen commented, "If I make it through today without a seizure, I'll be happy"
It was nice to hear that he had a sense of humor about his epilepsy. He kept apologizing for putting me through this. I said I didn't mind at all, as I had frequently wondered how I would deal with the loss of my credit cards. I was getting a first hand lesson without the personal agony. By then their money had arrived, so we had to search no further. Stephen was given the money he was wired in several US one hundred dollar bills. Then we had to go to a Bank of China to have some of it changed into yuans.
Outside the bank a couple guys offered to change money. Their rate was agreeable, especially since it didn't include a commission. When one guy seemed to say he had to go and get money and was going to take the one hundred dollar bill Stephen had given him, I saw Stephen start to protest and then slowly collapse into my arms. At first I thought he was just faking incredulity that the guy would suggest such a thing, but no, that feared for seizure had struck.
It wasn't a tremendous surprise after the stress of the past day, but it still wasn't something I expected to happen. I hadn't even bothered to ask Stephen what I should do if one should strike. Fortunately, I had read about his two previous seizures on this trip, and knew that he just needed to slowly regain consciousness. Still it was a most unsettling sight to watch him writhe on the sidewalk for a minute or so and gurgle out some blood, having bit his tongue, and vomit, as his eyes rolled about.
A crowd quickly gathered, with several people offering tissues to wipe his face and to keep his arms folded on his chest after helping to put his gloves back on. He was unconscious for ten minutes or so. I was about to dig out my sleeping bag to drape over him when police and an ambulance showed up. I knew he didn't need to go to a hospital, though it took considerable effort to prevent it. A crew with a stretcher was very eager to whisk him away.
Someone from the bank came out who spoke English. I explained the situation. The paramedics agreed to let him lay in the back of the ambulance until he recovered. I at first kept a door open and tried to block the ambulance, until they assured me that they would stay there. The woman from the bank offered to look after our bikes. I said our hotel was just four blocks away and that Stepehn would be okay soon.
By now he had regained consciousness and was talking a bit. He was concerend when the ambulance started moving, as I asked it to back up alongside our bikes. He assured me he didn't want to go to a hospital and he was slowly recovering, just a few minutes more. A woman paramedic spoke some English. The police and a couple of the other attendants really wanted to take him to the hospital. I assured them it would be pointless.
Stephen was becoming more and more coherent and knew he was just a couple minutes away from being okay. When he was ready to arise, he came out of it with great aplomb and even had the strength to carry his bike with gear up the two fights of stairs to our hotel, where we had checked out of less than an hour before.
Stephen said he just needed to sleep and he was sure he would be fine and ready to roll tommorrow. We have plans to watch "2012" tonight at the multiplex on the seventh floor of the department store building down the street. A day's delay will also give the snow and ice along the road a chance to melt. All is well. What might have seemed like a traumatic crisis is just something that is part of Stephen's life and that he knows how to handle. Still I was happy to be on hand to keep some calm among all the pedestrians and officials.
Later, George
I waited for him at the appointed McDonald's until 1:30. I wasn't the only one there lingering. It was an unofficial warming center for lots of people, many of whom bought nothing. I finally went to the internet to see if there was any message from him and also to send out one of my own.
I didn't envy him at all trying to get to our meeting point in pelting snow flurries on icy roads. If he had arrived at noon, we would have had the dilemma of setting out in these conditions. I didn't mind at all having the decision of "no go" forced on me. Little did I know what travails he was suffering. The train station was on the other side of the Yangzi, so he had to cross the long, high two-mile bridge in such conditions. He was lucky though to be doing it in daylight hours, and after some sleep, having paid for a bed on the train.
When I went on line there was no word from him. He was trying to find an internet outlet at that point himself. He had arrived at what he thought was our meeting point right around 1:30. Unfortunately, it was the third of three McDonald's all within a few blocks of one another, one that I wasn't aware of. It was near an Adidas store that was one of our landmarks, but not the same Adidas store as the one I described. The way to the hotel I was staying at was near the second Adidas. When Stephen tried to find the hotel using the other Adidas as a guide, he couldn't.
We knew it wouldn't be easy to connect in China, but it was turning out to be harder than we thought, after we thought we had it all figured out. We finally both found ourselves on line a little after five. We were just a few blocks apart. We made arrangements to meet at the McDonald's on the pedestrian mall that I first suggested between six and seven. But we failed again as we both alternated between two of the three McDonald's we both knew of, though unaware that there was a third out there. Each other's mystery third was what we both thought was where we were supposed to meet.
So it was back to the internet at my hotel. No further word from Stephen. But when I signed off and came out the door there was Stephen lugging his bike up the stairs. He'd gone back to one of my earlier emails and found more street names to the hotel. At last, seven-and-a-half hours after we had hoped to connect, we finally had. It was too good to be true.
Stephen in his wanderings had discovered a Wal-Mart Superstore nearby. We both needed long underwear, which we knew we could find there. Wal-Mart also offers a surprisingly good deli and also a warm place to eat, something that is not easy to find. If I had known about this Wal-Mart I would have spent a considerable amount of time there the past two days. We were thrilled to find a set of fleece-lined tops and bottoms for less than $15. As we sat and ate it was the first time either of us had been warm all day. As we gabbed away raving about how much we both enjoyed China and much more, just barely making a dent in all we have to talk about, we were told the store was closing. We were shocked to see it was ten p.m.
Stephen had had his credit cards stolen in Vietnam and had to arrange a Wells Fargo money transfer with his mother. He was down to his last seven yuans after paying for the hotel. He was on line until one a.m. arranging it. There was a Wells Fargo outlet just a few blocks from our hotel. We had to go to several different places though to find it and then to another to get the cash. We couldn't find it, so returned to Wells Fargo to ask again where it was. Stephen commented, "If I make it through today without a seizure, I'll be happy"
It was nice to hear that he had a sense of humor about his epilepsy. He kept apologizing for putting me through this. I said I didn't mind at all, as I had frequently wondered how I would deal with the loss of my credit cards. I was getting a first hand lesson without the personal agony. By then their money had arrived, so we had to search no further. Stephen was given the money he was wired in several US one hundred dollar bills. Then we had to go to a Bank of China to have some of it changed into yuans.
Outside the bank a couple guys offered to change money. Their rate was agreeable, especially since it didn't include a commission. When one guy seemed to say he had to go and get money and was going to take the one hundred dollar bill Stephen had given him, I saw Stephen start to protest and then slowly collapse into my arms. At first I thought he was just faking incredulity that the guy would suggest such a thing, but no, that feared for seizure had struck.
It wasn't a tremendous surprise after the stress of the past day, but it still wasn't something I expected to happen. I hadn't even bothered to ask Stephen what I should do if one should strike. Fortunately, I had read about his two previous seizures on this trip, and knew that he just needed to slowly regain consciousness. Still it was a most unsettling sight to watch him writhe on the sidewalk for a minute or so and gurgle out some blood, having bit his tongue, and vomit, as his eyes rolled about.
A crowd quickly gathered, with several people offering tissues to wipe his face and to keep his arms folded on his chest after helping to put his gloves back on. He was unconscious for ten minutes or so. I was about to dig out my sleeping bag to drape over him when police and an ambulance showed up. I knew he didn't need to go to a hospital, though it took considerable effort to prevent it. A crew with a stretcher was very eager to whisk him away.
Someone from the bank came out who spoke English. I explained the situation. The paramedics agreed to let him lay in the back of the ambulance until he recovered. I at first kept a door open and tried to block the ambulance, until they assured me that they would stay there. The woman from the bank offered to look after our bikes. I said our hotel was just four blocks away and that Stepehn would be okay soon.
By now he had regained consciousness and was talking a bit. He was concerend when the ambulance started moving, as I asked it to back up alongside our bikes. He assured me he didn't want to go to a hospital and he was slowly recovering, just a few minutes more. A woman paramedic spoke some English. The police and a couple of the other attendants really wanted to take him to the hospital. I assured them it would be pointless.
Stephen was becoming more and more coherent and knew he was just a couple minutes away from being okay. When he was ready to arise, he came out of it with great aplomb and even had the strength to carry his bike with gear up the two fights of stairs to our hotel, where we had checked out of less than an hour before.
Stephen said he just needed to sleep and he was sure he would be fine and ready to roll tommorrow. We have plans to watch "2012" tonight at the multiplex on the seventh floor of the department store building down the street. A day's delay will also give the snow and ice along the road a chance to melt. All is well. What might have seemed like a traumatic crisis is just something that is part of Stephen's life and that he knows how to handle. Still I was happy to be on hand to keep some calm among all the pedestrians and officials.
Later, George
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Wuhan Day 3
Friends: During two days of periodically scrolling through the 13 stations available to me on the tv in my hotel room, only twice did I come upon an American production. Both were movies, one dubbed and one not.
The dubbed was something with Nicolas Cage and Gary Sinese that I did not recognize, nor did I care to stick with long enough to try to figure out what it might be. The movie with English actually coming out of the mouths of the actors was "Behind Enemy Lines," a Bosnia war movie from 2001 starring Gene Hackman and Owen Wilson. My ears weren't so desperate for English to keep me tuned to that for very long either.
Instead I preferred to periodically channel surf as I read hoping for a glimpse of Obama arriving in China. Oddly enough, programs didn't necessarily end and start on the hour, so I couldn't be on heightened alert for a news program when the minute hand on my watch pointed north.
Still I kept perusing, curious to what I might see. At least two, and at times more, stations were devoted to animated fare. I wasn't surprised, as I'd just read a story about its popularity, though not necessarily of that originating in China. A survey of teens revealed that of their 20 favorite cartoon characters, only one was Chinese. The rest were Japanese. A Chinese producer commented, "This is a very thought provoking phenomenom." No further analysis was offered. The Chinese though are putting resources into developing a huge studio devoted to animation to capture their share of the market.
One of the tv stations was nothing but demonstrations of various products. Song contests were a popular program. The only other foreign show I saw, beside the two American movies, and perhaps some Japanese animation, was an Australian adventure show searching out and taunting snakes. The dubbing made it impossible to watch. There was a Chinese version of "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?" and a wide assortment of melodramas and an occasional documentary and news show. I kept hoping to come upon some basketball, but the only sporting event that came up was a soccer match.
I caught a glimpse of a weather forecast with single digit celsius temperatures for highs around the northern two-thirds of the country. When I sign on to yahoo it gives me the local temperature. Right now late in the afternoon it is 40 degrees. I only lasted for an hour this morning in my further exploration of the city. I couldn't ride hard enough to generate enough body heat to stay warm. Among my discoveries was a market devoted to animals, some as pets and some as food--there were pigeons and parakeets and dogs and cats and fish.
I still kept hoping to find an English newspaper. But not even a four-floor book store carried them. They had an assortment of books in English, including a full table devoted to Obama. One was a collection of presidential inaugural addresses. The Chinese censored several paragraphs from the broadcast of Obama's speech, but I don't know if the book was similarly censored. Besides the usual classics, there were also quite a few books relating to business. One was authored by Warren Buffet.
The weather for tomorrow promises to be no better than today's. The predicted high is 36 degrees with rain and snow. Its actually warmer in Beijing, 650 miles due north. It won't be the best of conditions to start my riding with Stephen. He arrives at 11 tonight by train. I'll be hoping the sky will be less moisture-filled as we head north away from the Yangzi River. Each of my days here has been misty, no doubt effected by the huge body of water passing by.
The cold could be a shock to Stephen's system, as he didn't make it too far out of the southern part of the country. He got bogged down in the karst region in the first province he came to after crossing from Vietnam. But Stephen has ridden in such cold temperatures at the start of this trip in the U.S. last October and November and then in Spain and France last winter. We'll have so much to talk about, we may not be aware of the cold at all.
The queston now is where we will end up meeting. Will Stephen track me down at my hotel tonight or tomorrow morning, or will our rendezvous take place at the nearby MacDonalds? And will be head straight out or will be go shopping for an extra layer or two? Or might we rethink the advisability of heading north to Beijing. My original plan was to fly back from Hong Kong and flee the cold. But when I learned I could switch my return flight from Beijing for less than $150 and have ten days of biking with Stephen, that was an opportunity I could not resist.
I nearly bought another wool sweater this morning from a sidewalk vendor when I thought the price was seven dollars. It was actually three times that. Maybe tomorrow that will not seem such a bad deal.
Later, George
The dubbed was something with Nicolas Cage and Gary Sinese that I did not recognize, nor did I care to stick with long enough to try to figure out what it might be. The movie with English actually coming out of the mouths of the actors was "Behind Enemy Lines," a Bosnia war movie from 2001 starring Gene Hackman and Owen Wilson. My ears weren't so desperate for English to keep me tuned to that for very long either.
Instead I preferred to periodically channel surf as I read hoping for a glimpse of Obama arriving in China. Oddly enough, programs didn't necessarily end and start on the hour, so I couldn't be on heightened alert for a news program when the minute hand on my watch pointed north.
Still I kept perusing, curious to what I might see. At least two, and at times more, stations were devoted to animated fare. I wasn't surprised, as I'd just read a story about its popularity, though not necessarily of that originating in China. A survey of teens revealed that of their 20 favorite cartoon characters, only one was Chinese. The rest were Japanese. A Chinese producer commented, "This is a very thought provoking phenomenom." No further analysis was offered. The Chinese though are putting resources into developing a huge studio devoted to animation to capture their share of the market.
One of the tv stations was nothing but demonstrations of various products. Song contests were a popular program. The only other foreign show I saw, beside the two American movies, and perhaps some Japanese animation, was an Australian adventure show searching out and taunting snakes. The dubbing made it impossible to watch. There was a Chinese version of "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?" and a wide assortment of melodramas and an occasional documentary and news show. I kept hoping to come upon some basketball, but the only sporting event that came up was a soccer match.
I caught a glimpse of a weather forecast with single digit celsius temperatures for highs around the northern two-thirds of the country. When I sign on to yahoo it gives me the local temperature. Right now late in the afternoon it is 40 degrees. I only lasted for an hour this morning in my further exploration of the city. I couldn't ride hard enough to generate enough body heat to stay warm. Among my discoveries was a market devoted to animals, some as pets and some as food--there were pigeons and parakeets and dogs and cats and fish.
I still kept hoping to find an English newspaper. But not even a four-floor book store carried them. They had an assortment of books in English, including a full table devoted to Obama. One was a collection of presidential inaugural addresses. The Chinese censored several paragraphs from the broadcast of Obama's speech, but I don't know if the book was similarly censored. Besides the usual classics, there were also quite a few books relating to business. One was authored by Warren Buffet.
The weather for tomorrow promises to be no better than today's. The predicted high is 36 degrees with rain and snow. Its actually warmer in Beijing, 650 miles due north. It won't be the best of conditions to start my riding with Stephen. He arrives at 11 tonight by train. I'll be hoping the sky will be less moisture-filled as we head north away from the Yangzi River. Each of my days here has been misty, no doubt effected by the huge body of water passing by.
The cold could be a shock to Stephen's system, as he didn't make it too far out of the southern part of the country. He got bogged down in the karst region in the first province he came to after crossing from Vietnam. But Stephen has ridden in such cold temperatures at the start of this trip in the U.S. last October and November and then in Spain and France last winter. We'll have so much to talk about, we may not be aware of the cold at all.
The queston now is where we will end up meeting. Will Stephen track me down at my hotel tonight or tomorrow morning, or will our rendezvous take place at the nearby MacDonalds? And will be head straight out or will be go shopping for an extra layer or two? Or might we rethink the advisability of heading north to Beijing. My original plan was to fly back from Hong Kong and flee the cold. But when I learned I could switch my return flight from Beijing for less than $150 and have ten days of biking with Stephen, that was an opportunity I could not resist.
I nearly bought another wool sweater this morning from a sidewalk vendor when I thought the price was seven dollars. It was actually three times that. Maybe tomorrow that will not seem such a bad deal.
Later, George
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Wuhan Day 2
Friends: Government officials and business leaders here in China frequently make mention of "meeting international standards" and make references to "developed countries" in making comparisons to China's present growth and their aspirations.
There is evidence everywhere of an idea someone saw in the West and implemented here. The city of Wuhan has adopted the wildly successful bike rental program launched by the French a little more than two years ago that has spread to cities all over the world. Not so long ago everyone in China had a bicycle. That is far from the case now, so much so that there is a healthy demand even here for easily and cheaply accessible rental bikes.
I couldn't ride more than a few blocks in the sprawling business district of this city of over five million without coming upon a row of the lime-green one-speeds with a front basket available for hire. And quite a few were in use, ridden by young and old, male and female. Some were joy-riding in the wide, magnificent park that hugs the Yangzi River for miles. It was superbly landscaped, beautified by sculptures, lined with benches and had multiple trails and walkways. It was world-class in every respect. Down the middle was a wide promenade perfect for kids just getting comfortable on the bike.
There were many bikes, too, in use negotiating the city's grid-locked streets, that had everyone reduced to pedestrian speed. All those crawling cars ought to have had every one of their prisoners wishing they were on their bikes, remembering the recent good ol' days when there were few cars and bicycles flowed freely and easily, and they would be wherever they wanted to be long ago. A mono-rail is under construction to help alleviate some of the congestion, but it's going to take a lot more than that.
Among my objectives for the day was not to get lost and to stay warm. In the summer months its so blistering hot and humid in Wuhan it is known as one of the "Three Furnaces of China." The others are Nanjing and Chongqing. But not now. It was barely 50 degress and a low, damp ceiling added an extra chill to the air while also hiding the tops of the skyscrapers, including a 100-story building that is among the 20 tallest in the world, that I wanted to use as a reference point.
I was especially wary about getting lost last night when I ventured out from my hotel, off on a side street, that I had been led to by a kindly soul from the internet cafe. I had asked the person at the desk at the cafe if she knew of a cheap hotel in the vicinity. She turned the question over to an assistant, who then summoned someone at a computer. No one spoke any English. I wrote 40 on a piece of paper. He took my pen and wrote "50-60." I nodded my head yes. He led me out on the street as he talked on his cell phone. He told me to wait there. A minute later I saw him go past on his motorcycle. A couple minutes later he returned and gestured for me to follow.
When we got to the hotel he helped carry my gear up to the third floor entry. I pulled out my passport, but he waved it away, instead giving his ID for them to use to fill out the registry. I noticed on the wall the cheapest room was 58 yuan. But when I was handed the receipt, after saying I'd stay for two nights, the rate was 40 yuan. My benefactor had bargained well. When I offered him 20 yuan he refused it.
It was the nicest of the three hotels I have stayed at with towels and toilet paper and even toothpaste and toothbrush provided. The WC was down the hall and it came with piping hot water. But like the other two, there was no heat. The people running the hotel were all bundled up in jackets, as was everyone in the internet cafe and on the steets.
The hotel was in the middle of the night market. The sidewalks were clogged with food stands and stands selling all manner of merchandise. They were packed with people, all happily out on a Friday night. Though the receipt for the hotel only had its name in Chinese, the streets nearby were spelled out in Roman letters as well as Chinese characters, so I had some hope of finding my way back if I got disoriented. I had a bowl of rice at one stand and a bowl of noodles at another.
Besides staying warm and not getting lost today, I wanted to find one of the two daily English Chinese newspapers what with Obama arriving in China today. But not a single newstand had one, nor did any of the bookstores I tried. The Renaissance Hotel had "USA Today," but that didn't interest me. Another hotel had a single copy of the "China Times" but it was on a rack with a wooden rod through it such as libraries sometimes use, for hotel patrons only. Though Wuhan is one of the larger cities in China and a lively commercial center, it attracts few Westerners, unlike Xian, where the English newspapers were readily available. I even went in search of universities, as I'd been told earlier in the trip that was a good place to find the newspapers, but not here, only lots of cheap food vendors.
I did have success though in finding the McDonalds where I am to meet Stephen the day after tomorrow. It's on the other side of the Yangzi. I feared I'd have to take a ferry, but I noticed an occasional bicycle and pedestrian on one of the two bridges that cross the river. But bicyclists weren't allowed on the entry ramp, they had to climb several sets of stairs to get to the two-mile long bridge.
The McDonalds was just a mile from the bridge, down a set of stairs by the entry to a mobbed Wal-Mart Superstore. It's not the best of meeting places. There's actually a McDonalds just five blocks from my hotel in a pedestrain mall that would be much easier to sit inside and keep an eye on a loaded bicycle. I'm hoping Stephen will check his email before we meet and will agree to that for our docking.
Later, George
There is evidence everywhere of an idea someone saw in the West and implemented here. The city of Wuhan has adopted the wildly successful bike rental program launched by the French a little more than two years ago that has spread to cities all over the world. Not so long ago everyone in China had a bicycle. That is far from the case now, so much so that there is a healthy demand even here for easily and cheaply accessible rental bikes.
I couldn't ride more than a few blocks in the sprawling business district of this city of over five million without coming upon a row of the lime-green one-speeds with a front basket available for hire. And quite a few were in use, ridden by young and old, male and female. Some were joy-riding in the wide, magnificent park that hugs the Yangzi River for miles. It was superbly landscaped, beautified by sculptures, lined with benches and had multiple trails and walkways. It was world-class in every respect. Down the middle was a wide promenade perfect for kids just getting comfortable on the bike.
There were many bikes, too, in use negotiating the city's grid-locked streets, that had everyone reduced to pedestrian speed. All those crawling cars ought to have had every one of their prisoners wishing they were on their bikes, remembering the recent good ol' days when there were few cars and bicycles flowed freely and easily, and they would be wherever they wanted to be long ago. A mono-rail is under construction to help alleviate some of the congestion, but it's going to take a lot more than that.
Among my objectives for the day was not to get lost and to stay warm. In the summer months its so blistering hot and humid in Wuhan it is known as one of the "Three Furnaces of China." The others are Nanjing and Chongqing. But not now. It was barely 50 degress and a low, damp ceiling added an extra chill to the air while also hiding the tops of the skyscrapers, including a 100-story building that is among the 20 tallest in the world, that I wanted to use as a reference point.
I was especially wary about getting lost last night when I ventured out from my hotel, off on a side street, that I had been led to by a kindly soul from the internet cafe. I had asked the person at the desk at the cafe if she knew of a cheap hotel in the vicinity. She turned the question over to an assistant, who then summoned someone at a computer. No one spoke any English. I wrote 40 on a piece of paper. He took my pen and wrote "50-60." I nodded my head yes. He led me out on the street as he talked on his cell phone. He told me to wait there. A minute later I saw him go past on his motorcycle. A couple minutes later he returned and gestured for me to follow.
When we got to the hotel he helped carry my gear up to the third floor entry. I pulled out my passport, but he waved it away, instead giving his ID for them to use to fill out the registry. I noticed on the wall the cheapest room was 58 yuan. But when I was handed the receipt, after saying I'd stay for two nights, the rate was 40 yuan. My benefactor had bargained well. When I offered him 20 yuan he refused it.
It was the nicest of the three hotels I have stayed at with towels and toilet paper and even toothpaste and toothbrush provided. The WC was down the hall and it came with piping hot water. But like the other two, there was no heat. The people running the hotel were all bundled up in jackets, as was everyone in the internet cafe and on the steets.
The hotel was in the middle of the night market. The sidewalks were clogged with food stands and stands selling all manner of merchandise. They were packed with people, all happily out on a Friday night. Though the receipt for the hotel only had its name in Chinese, the streets nearby were spelled out in Roman letters as well as Chinese characters, so I had some hope of finding my way back if I got disoriented. I had a bowl of rice at one stand and a bowl of noodles at another.
Besides staying warm and not getting lost today, I wanted to find one of the two daily English Chinese newspapers what with Obama arriving in China today. But not a single newstand had one, nor did any of the bookstores I tried. The Renaissance Hotel had "USA Today," but that didn't interest me. Another hotel had a single copy of the "China Times" but it was on a rack with a wooden rod through it such as libraries sometimes use, for hotel patrons only. Though Wuhan is one of the larger cities in China and a lively commercial center, it attracts few Westerners, unlike Xian, where the English newspapers were readily available. I even went in search of universities, as I'd been told earlier in the trip that was a good place to find the newspapers, but not here, only lots of cheap food vendors.
I did have success though in finding the McDonalds where I am to meet Stephen the day after tomorrow. It's on the other side of the Yangzi. I feared I'd have to take a ferry, but I noticed an occasional bicycle and pedestrian on one of the two bridges that cross the river. But bicyclists weren't allowed on the entry ramp, they had to climb several sets of stairs to get to the two-mile long bridge.
The McDonalds was just a mile from the bridge, down a set of stairs by the entry to a mobbed Wal-Mart Superstore. It's not the best of meeting places. There's actually a McDonalds just five blocks from my hotel in a pedestrain mall that would be much easier to sit inside and keep an eye on a loaded bicycle. I'm hoping Stephen will check his email before we meet and will agree to that for our docking.
Later, George
Friday, November 13, 2009
Wuhan, China
Friends: As I loaded my bike yesterday morning in the lobby, better described as an entryway of the hotel I ended up at, the young proprietor presented me with a cardboard bowl of noodles, still in its cellophane wrapper, my frequent dinner meal, a very modest gift, but not an unwelcome one.
He must have been feeling sympathy for me as I prepared to go back out into the cold misty rain that forced me to take refuge at the hotel. He seemed to be suggesting that I stay another night or at least take a bus. The predicted high for the day was 41. It was going to be a less than enjoyable day on the bike, but lingering at the unheated hotel wouldn't have been much more enjoyable. Maybe if there'd been a heated restaurant in the vicinity or if the internet cafe across the street had heat, I would have considered waiting out the weather. But I've endured worse, though not by much.
Before sleep the night before I sat in bed reading, legs tucked in my sleeping bag and blanket wrapped around my shoulders, with my thermometer reading 50.4 degrees. Every cough and every nasal drip had me fearing the approach of pneumonia. I had the usual thermos of boiling water for some warmth, but not a hot shower. I was desperate enough though to wash my hair that I at least did that with the hand held nozzle.
As at the previous hotel I stayed at, I wasn't allowed to bring my bike to my room. It was such a small, quiet hotel, with I the only guest this evening, I had no qualms leaving it downstairs front wheel locked to the frame. As I finished reattaching all my gear, allowing the propietor extra time to feel sympathy for me, he had another gift for me--a Mao medallion on a red ribbon, somethig that will go straight to the I Due Art 4 You Museum back in Chicago when I return.
As this was going to be the coldest day of these travels, I dug deep into my panniers for all the layers I could find. For the first time I put on the winter, long-sleeve official Garmin team jersey that Christian Vande Velde had given me along with a pair of tights and a box of Clif bars in exchange for three Tour de France course markers that I'd scavenged from last year's race route for him. I had delivered them to him at his Chicago suburban house just before I left for China, as he was home, his season cut short by a crash at the Tour of Missouri, a race he had won the year before, the year he vaulted into national prominence with a fourth place finish in the Tour de France.
I was somewhat hesitant about bringing the sponsor-splattered blue and orange jersey to China, not wishing to startle the locals with something so gaudy and so official-looking, but I knew it was an optimum piece of gear that could come in handy. I didn't need to worry about calling attention to myself today with the jersey, as it was buried under a sweater and a vest and a wind-breaker and a gore-tex jacket. I also added an extra layer over my feet, putting on my booties for the first time.
I wasn't exactly brimming with warmth, but I was less close to shivering than I had been the day before, when any descent brought on a chill. The road was messy enough that I couldn't exert myself enough to come close to a sweat. And since I had to keep moving to stay warm, I had to ration my effort so I could keep writing and not have to pause for a break. I had the road pretty much to myself, thanks to a bridge that was out that only foot and two-wheeled traffic could get around. There were buses at either end of the bridge, but no trucks for miles.
Unlike the day before I found an enclosed restaurant for lunch, though it was only heated by a boiling pot of water for noodles. Shortly after lunch the low-lying cloud cover began to lift and there was a slight brightening of the sky. The rain stopped and patches of dry pavement began to appear. I could accelerate my speed a bit, and with the blood flowing a little faster, I could begin to feel a surge of warmth return to my extremities.
I stopped at a gas station to wash all the grit off my bike and gear and to wash my socks. Suddenly being on the bike had my heart light and I could even contemplate a night in my tent if I could find some higher ground that wasn't muddy or saturated. That happened around 4:30 in a thick banana grove behind a mini-tree farm forest. I pulled off a dozen or more dead brown bananas leaves too soften and level the ground. It was going to be a cold night, but not much colder than my hotel room. It was cold enough for the first frost. The wash cloth I had left draped over my bike was encrusted with ice in the morning, but it had been a fine night.
My reading alternated between Thurston Clarke's travel book "Equator" and one of the newspapers I still had from Xian. Its impossible to read an issue without some statistic almost beyond conceiving regarding the size of China. Tonight's was that with one in five people in China presently learning English, China will soon have more English speakers than the US. There is also sure to be a story or statistic about China's increasing wealth and economic might. Demand for jewelry is on the rise in China. It is now the third largest diamond consuming nation in the world. Diamond sales in the US fell 20% last year, while it rose 12.7% in China.
So I've made it to the huge city of Wuhan, where it will be a couple nights in a hotel while I await Stephen. It was no joy entering this sprawling city of over five million, but I knew once I found the Yangzi River, I'd get my bearings. Now I'll have two days to explore what it has to offer and loathe the way out.
Later, George
He must have been feeling sympathy for me as I prepared to go back out into the cold misty rain that forced me to take refuge at the hotel. He seemed to be suggesting that I stay another night or at least take a bus. The predicted high for the day was 41. It was going to be a less than enjoyable day on the bike, but lingering at the unheated hotel wouldn't have been much more enjoyable. Maybe if there'd been a heated restaurant in the vicinity or if the internet cafe across the street had heat, I would have considered waiting out the weather. But I've endured worse, though not by much.
Before sleep the night before I sat in bed reading, legs tucked in my sleeping bag and blanket wrapped around my shoulders, with my thermometer reading 50.4 degrees. Every cough and every nasal drip had me fearing the approach of pneumonia. I had the usual thermos of boiling water for some warmth, but not a hot shower. I was desperate enough though to wash my hair that I at least did that with the hand held nozzle.
As at the previous hotel I stayed at, I wasn't allowed to bring my bike to my room. It was such a small, quiet hotel, with I the only guest this evening, I had no qualms leaving it downstairs front wheel locked to the frame. As I finished reattaching all my gear, allowing the propietor extra time to feel sympathy for me, he had another gift for me--a Mao medallion on a red ribbon, somethig that will go straight to the I Due Art 4 You Museum back in Chicago when I return.
As this was going to be the coldest day of these travels, I dug deep into my panniers for all the layers I could find. For the first time I put on the winter, long-sleeve official Garmin team jersey that Christian Vande Velde had given me along with a pair of tights and a box of Clif bars in exchange for three Tour de France course markers that I'd scavenged from last year's race route for him. I had delivered them to him at his Chicago suburban house just before I left for China, as he was home, his season cut short by a crash at the Tour of Missouri, a race he had won the year before, the year he vaulted into national prominence with a fourth place finish in the Tour de France.
I was somewhat hesitant about bringing the sponsor-splattered blue and orange jersey to China, not wishing to startle the locals with something so gaudy and so official-looking, but I knew it was an optimum piece of gear that could come in handy. I didn't need to worry about calling attention to myself today with the jersey, as it was buried under a sweater and a vest and a wind-breaker and a gore-tex jacket. I also added an extra layer over my feet, putting on my booties for the first time.
I wasn't exactly brimming with warmth, but I was less close to shivering than I had been the day before, when any descent brought on a chill. The road was messy enough that I couldn't exert myself enough to come close to a sweat. And since I had to keep moving to stay warm, I had to ration my effort so I could keep writing and not have to pause for a break. I had the road pretty much to myself, thanks to a bridge that was out that only foot and two-wheeled traffic could get around. There were buses at either end of the bridge, but no trucks for miles.
Unlike the day before I found an enclosed restaurant for lunch, though it was only heated by a boiling pot of water for noodles. Shortly after lunch the low-lying cloud cover began to lift and there was a slight brightening of the sky. The rain stopped and patches of dry pavement began to appear. I could accelerate my speed a bit, and with the blood flowing a little faster, I could begin to feel a surge of warmth return to my extremities.
I stopped at a gas station to wash all the grit off my bike and gear and to wash my socks. Suddenly being on the bike had my heart light and I could even contemplate a night in my tent if I could find some higher ground that wasn't muddy or saturated. That happened around 4:30 in a thick banana grove behind a mini-tree farm forest. I pulled off a dozen or more dead brown bananas leaves too soften and level the ground. It was going to be a cold night, but not much colder than my hotel room. It was cold enough for the first frost. The wash cloth I had left draped over my bike was encrusted with ice in the morning, but it had been a fine night.
My reading alternated between Thurston Clarke's travel book "Equator" and one of the newspapers I still had from Xian. Its impossible to read an issue without some statistic almost beyond conceiving regarding the size of China. Tonight's was that with one in five people in China presently learning English, China will soon have more English speakers than the US. There is also sure to be a story or statistic about China's increasing wealth and economic might. Demand for jewelry is on the rise in China. It is now the third largest diamond consuming nation in the world. Diamond sales in the US fell 20% last year, while it rose 12.7% in China.
So I've made it to the huge city of Wuhan, where it will be a couple nights in a hotel while I await Stephen. It was no joy entering this sprawling city of over five million, but I knew once I found the Yangzi River, I'd get my bearings. Now I'll have two days to explore what it has to offer and loathe the way out.
Later, George
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Suzhou, China
Friends: Since I'm checking email every day to keep tabs on Stephen I figure I might as well send out some sort of report at the same time.
Tonight I may end up in a hotel for the second time on this trip, as its been raining all day and I'm wet and cold and not warming up in this internet place, as there's no heat. Nor was there heat in the restaurant where I just had a bowl of soup. I've had to keep moving to stay warm the last two days, forcing me to gain more mileage than I wished to Wuhan. But at least it led to a premium campsite last night where I could linger this morning until 9:30, hoping the misty drizzle might be burned off by the sun. No luck. It was a cold night with the temperature dipping below 40, but I was toasty warm in my down sleeping bag.
For the second time since leaving Xian I camped in a small cemetery with overgrown vegetation obscuring all but the tips of the tombstones. Last night's was in a cluster of pine trees, whose needles made for a soft mattress. As the previous cemetery, it was unwalled, and I didn't realize it was a cemetery until I was upon it. It was off on a dirt path, but still right alongside the highway. Both cemeteries were rare spots of unkempt, somewhat wild foliage, as all other land is under cultivation. China does have a fairly aggressive program of reforestation, but it is so recent none of the forests are very mature, nor more than a patch of much more than an acre. It makes me long for France, where nearly a third of the country is still forested and finding a place to camp is no concern.
China just celebrated the 30th annniversay of Isaac Stern's seminal visit to China shortly after the end of the Cultural Revolution and the launch of the opening up policy. Stern's son David, also a prominent musician, particiapted in the celebration along with some of the young musicians who played with Stern and have gone on to be acclaimed musicians in their own rite. Some were part of the 1980 Oscar-winning documentary "From Mao to Mozart" about Stern's visit.
One of the newspapers I picked up in Xian that I just got around to reading last night had a special section on an upcoming China-Japan conferenece. The countries are growing closer and closer and have just become each other's prime trading partner, supplanting the US. There is still a wariness between the countries though, and lingering resentment over Japan's invasion of China in WWII, committing various atrocities, including a massacre of 300,000 Chinese. Japan seems to feel threatened by China's increasing power and for the past three years has been restricting the number of Chinese students it allows to go to university in Japan. The conference hopes to improve understanding.
As I linger at the computer, the rain continues. I just hope I can find a hotel with hot water.
Later, George
Tonight I may end up in a hotel for the second time on this trip, as its been raining all day and I'm wet and cold and not warming up in this internet place, as there's no heat. Nor was there heat in the restaurant where I just had a bowl of soup. I've had to keep moving to stay warm the last two days, forcing me to gain more mileage than I wished to Wuhan. But at least it led to a premium campsite last night where I could linger this morning until 9:30, hoping the misty drizzle might be burned off by the sun. No luck. It was a cold night with the temperature dipping below 40, but I was toasty warm in my down sleeping bag.
For the second time since leaving Xian I camped in a small cemetery with overgrown vegetation obscuring all but the tips of the tombstones. Last night's was in a cluster of pine trees, whose needles made for a soft mattress. As the previous cemetery, it was unwalled, and I didn't realize it was a cemetery until I was upon it. It was off on a dirt path, but still right alongside the highway. Both cemeteries were rare spots of unkempt, somewhat wild foliage, as all other land is under cultivation. China does have a fairly aggressive program of reforestation, but it is so recent none of the forests are very mature, nor more than a patch of much more than an acre. It makes me long for France, where nearly a third of the country is still forested and finding a place to camp is no concern.
China just celebrated the 30th annniversay of Isaac Stern's seminal visit to China shortly after the end of the Cultural Revolution and the launch of the opening up policy. Stern's son David, also a prominent musician, particiapted in the celebration along with some of the young musicians who played with Stern and have gone on to be acclaimed musicians in their own rite. Some were part of the 1980 Oscar-winning documentary "From Mao to Mozart" about Stern's visit.
One of the newspapers I picked up in Xian that I just got around to reading last night had a special section on an upcoming China-Japan conferenece. The countries are growing closer and closer and have just become each other's prime trading partner, supplanting the US. There is still a wariness between the countries though, and lingering resentment over Japan's invasion of China in WWII, committing various atrocities, including a massacre of 300,000 Chinese. Japan seems to feel threatened by China's increasing power and for the past three years has been restricting the number of Chinese students it allows to go to university in Japan. The conference hopes to improve understanding.
As I linger at the computer, the rain continues. I just hope I can find a hotel with hot water.
Later, George
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