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 had 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 riding conditions, 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, I had no qualms leaving it downstairs, front wheel locked to the frame. As I finished reattaching all my gear, allowing the proprietor extra time to feel sympathy for me, he had another gift for me--a Mao medallion on a red ribbon, something 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 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 riding 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 to 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 coming across some statistic, almost beyond conceiving, that emphasizes the huge population of China, 1.3 billion, one-fifth of the planet. Tonight's was that with one in five people in China presently learning English, China will soon have more English speakers than the U.S. 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 U.S. fell twenty per cent last year, while it rose twelve point seven per cent 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 scout the way out.
Later, George
Friday, November 13, 2009
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 forty, 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 a few acres. 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 anniversary 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, participated 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 conference. The countries are growing closer and closer and have just become each other's prime trading partner, supplanting the U.S.. 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 forty, 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 a few acres. 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 anniversary 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, participated 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 conference. The countries are growing closer and closer and have just become each other's prime trading partner, supplanting the U.S.. 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
Monday, November 9, 2009
Xianfan, China
Friends: Somehow I slipped off highway 103 yesterday afternoon, but the highway I found myself on was still headed south towards 316, the highway that led to Wuhan, so I felt no concern. As so often happens, my waylay led to a premium place to spend the night, an abandoned house, a rare sight in China.
Since I am in no rush right now, I began looking for a place to camp around four o'clock, two hours before dark. I knew it was a near impossibility to find a place to disappear to without the cover of darkness, but with the sudden cold temperatures there were fewer people out and about, slightly increasing my chances. I saw a couple of potential clusters of trees, but all were too recently planted. I gave a field of withered corn stalks a look, but the ground around it was too muddy for camping.
A little later, around 4:30, I spotted a row of three adjoining cell blocks a little off the highway, each with its door swung half open and no recent tire marks on the ground leading to them. There was no evidence of anyone presently abiding in them, so I had a place for the night, setting my free-standing tent up on the concrete floor of the middle unit. The windows in the front and back had been broken allowing the cold wind to blow through, but putting my tent in the corner I was adequately shielded from it. There was so little light I needed my headlamp to read even an hour before dark. The next morning was a rare occasion when I was in no rush to be under way and could somewhat sleep in.
The extra reading time allowed me to finish off the 1,006 pages of the Lonely Planet guide book, reading even those sections on regions that I wouldn't be able to visit. The final health section said about half the travelers to China come down with some digestive ailment in their first two weeks in the country. I was spared that, but Stephen reports he was laid up for a couple of days shortly after he crossed into the country, setting back his schedule enough that he's now going to need to take a bus to reach Wuhan for our rendezvous. Its no great tragedy, as he's had to do that several times already in his travels.
As some times happens, when I asked the whereabouts of a shangwong (Internet place) here in Xianfan, there was one right across the street. Like many, it was on the second floor and had no sign identifying it. But whenever I ask, people know where the local shangwong is, even though they seem to be mostly patronized by young men playing shoot 'em up games. Most have fifty or more computers and are packed. All have comfortable, high-backed padded chairs that make it easy to spend hours at. The government evidently isn't too happy about this use of people's time and would like to discourage their use. One city when it had a reported case of swine flu used that as an excuse to close down all its shangwongs.
Yesterday when I asked for a shangwong a well-dressed man pointed down the street and waved for me to follow him. He took me to his home and let me use his computer. I only did a quick fifteen minute catch-up on email before continuing into the heart of the city and finding a shangwong where I wouldn't be imposing on someone.
Later, George
Since I am in no rush right now, I began looking for a place to camp around four o'clock, two hours before dark. I knew it was a near impossibility to find a place to disappear to without the cover of darkness, but with the sudden cold temperatures there were fewer people out and about, slightly increasing my chances. I saw a couple of potential clusters of trees, but all were too recently planted. I gave a field of withered corn stalks a look, but the ground around it was too muddy for camping.
A little later, around 4:30, I spotted a row of three adjoining cell blocks a little off the highway, each with its door swung half open and no recent tire marks on the ground leading to them. There was no evidence of anyone presently abiding in them, so I had a place for the night, setting my free-standing tent up on the concrete floor of the middle unit. The windows in the front and back had been broken allowing the cold wind to blow through, but putting my tent in the corner I was adequately shielded from it. There was so little light I needed my headlamp to read even an hour before dark. The next morning was a rare occasion when I was in no rush to be under way and could somewhat sleep in.
The extra reading time allowed me to finish off the 1,006 pages of the Lonely Planet guide book, reading even those sections on regions that I wouldn't be able to visit. The final health section said about half the travelers to China come down with some digestive ailment in their first two weeks in the country. I was spared that, but Stephen reports he was laid up for a couple of days shortly after he crossed into the country, setting back his schedule enough that he's now going to need to take a bus to reach Wuhan for our rendezvous. Its no great tragedy, as he's had to do that several times already in his travels.
As some times happens, when I asked the whereabouts of a shangwong (Internet place) here in Xianfan, there was one right across the street. Like many, it was on the second floor and had no sign identifying it. But whenever I ask, people know where the local shangwong is, even though they seem to be mostly patronized by young men playing shoot 'em up games. Most have fifty or more computers and are packed. All have comfortable, high-backed padded chairs that make it easy to spend hours at. The government evidently isn't too happy about this use of people's time and would like to discourage their use. One city when it had a reported case of swine flu used that as an excuse to close down all its shangwongs.
Yesterday when I asked for a shangwong a well-dressed man pointed down the street and waved for me to follow him. He took me to his home and let me use his computer. I only did a quick fifteen minute catch-up on email before continuing into the heart of the city and finding a shangwong where I wouldn't be imposing on someone.
Later, George
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Xinye, China (cyclops)
Friends: Camping in a sparse tree farm of a forest last night, the slanting light of the setting sun illuminated the smoke of all the burning leaves I had been breathing the past few days. It was far thicker than I could have imagined, almost too dense to see through. No wonder my lungs have been smarting. I immediately dug out one of my spare neckerchiefs and have been wearing it bandito-style over my mouth and nose ever since.
Even a light rain last night did little to improve the air quality. The wind picked up from the north last night, giving me a strong tailwind, a tailwind I don't need, oddly enough, as I'm way ahead of schedule to meet up with Stephen in Wuhan a week from today, about 250 miles away. Yesterday I began limiting my mileage to fifty miles a day so I don't arrive too many days before him. The wind has also cooled the temperatures. I had to put on my tights after I started riding and an extra layer on my torso when I realized I wasn't generating any body heat with the tailwind, though it wasn't so cold that I needed more than my cycling gloves on my hands.
About an hour after dark last night I heard a rustling in the leaves near my tent, as if it might be the footsteps of some passerby. My heart gave a start, but then I remembered I had a similar fright a week ago when I was in the mountains before Xian, and it had just been a curious critter of some sort. Still, I snapped off my headlamp and let my eyes grow accustomed to the dark in case I needed to duck my head out and have a conversation. A few moments later the rustling noise grew closer, so I unzipped my tent and rose up to give a glance.
Just a few feet away was a harmless-looking young man. I greeted him with a “ni-how.” He stepped close enough for me to stick out my hand to give him a hand-shake as I turned on my headlamp. With that he instantaneously lept backwards and fled, as if he had seen a ghost. I had to be the most unlikely site imaginable to him--a white man with long hair and a beard and a light shining out of his forehead. I could well have been an extra-terrestrial and my bike a spacecraft.
There were no residences near by. I wasn't too far from the road, so he must have been taking a short cut through the forest, rather than down the side road I had bicycled to enter the forest. I had actually continued further down the road to get away from the noise of the highway, but only found swampy, open land, so had retreated to the forest. Wherever he might have been headed was a ways away, so I doubted he would return with reinforcements. But I was concerned enough to lock up my bike, something I rarely do when wild camping, and the first time I had done so on this trip.
It had been nearly six years since the last time I had been discovered in the early evening after I'd set up camp, though I had been stumbled upon earlier on this trip in the morning. The last time was in Ecuador, another well-populated country where the wild-camping was a supreme challenge. I had slipped into a house that was under construction at dusk. Someone saw me and soon the police and a couple dozen locals were on the scene. When they realized I was just an innocent cyclist they let me be. I assumed the same thing would happen this time if it came to that. At least I knew it would be hard for anyone to sneak up on me. But it was a quiet night and a quiet morning. I thought the young man might return to give me a look in the light of day, but he may have been too frightened.
Later, George
Even a light rain last night did little to improve the air quality. The wind picked up from the north last night, giving me a strong tailwind, a tailwind I don't need, oddly enough, as I'm way ahead of schedule to meet up with Stephen in Wuhan a week from today, about 250 miles away. Yesterday I began limiting my mileage to fifty miles a day so I don't arrive too many days before him. The wind has also cooled the temperatures. I had to put on my tights after I started riding and an extra layer on my torso when I realized I wasn't generating any body heat with the tailwind, though it wasn't so cold that I needed more than my cycling gloves on my hands.
About an hour after dark last night I heard a rustling in the leaves near my tent, as if it might be the footsteps of some passerby. My heart gave a start, but then I remembered I had a similar fright a week ago when I was in the mountains before Xian, and it had just been a curious critter of some sort. Still, I snapped off my headlamp and let my eyes grow accustomed to the dark in case I needed to duck my head out and have a conversation. A few moments later the rustling noise grew closer, so I unzipped my tent and rose up to give a glance.
Just a few feet away was a harmless-looking young man. I greeted him with a “ni-how.” He stepped close enough for me to stick out my hand to give him a hand-shake as I turned on my headlamp. With that he instantaneously lept backwards and fled, as if he had seen a ghost. I had to be the most unlikely site imaginable to him--a white man with long hair and a beard and a light shining out of his forehead. I could well have been an extra-terrestrial and my bike a spacecraft.
There were no residences near by. I wasn't too far from the road, so he must have been taking a short cut through the forest, rather than down the side road I had bicycled to enter the forest. I had actually continued further down the road to get away from the noise of the highway, but only found swampy, open land, so had retreated to the forest. Wherever he might have been headed was a ways away, so I doubted he would return with reinforcements. But I was concerned enough to lock up my bike, something I rarely do when wild camping, and the first time I had done so on this trip.
It had been nearly six years since the last time I had been discovered in the early evening after I'd set up camp, though I had been stumbled upon earlier on this trip in the morning. The last time was in Ecuador, another well-populated country where the wild-camping was a supreme challenge. I had slipped into a house that was under construction at dusk. Someone saw me and soon the police and a couple dozen locals were on the scene. When they realized I was just an innocent cyclist they let me be. I assumed the same thing would happen this time if it came to that. At least I knew it would be hard for anyone to sneak up on me. But it was a quiet night and a quiet morning. I thought the young man might return to give me a look in the light of day, but he may have been too frightened.
Later, George
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Nanyang, China
Friends: A fall bicycle tour is always highlighted by the added vibrancy in the air of harvest time with so many hands busily engaged in getting the crops in. With 700 million farmers throughout China, there is a lot of harvesting going on. I share the roads with overloaded trucks of produce and see tons of various crops being prepared for market. Some of the harvest is sold at road-side stands--apples and oranges and melons and kiwis.
Yesterday I passed through a mushroom-raising region. All along the road people sat with heaping baskets of the fungi waiting for some form of transport to take their harvest to market. In towns on nearly every block there was a huge pile of mushrooms out front of some establishment with five or six women, young and old, seated around them sorting and clipping.
It was sweet potato country as well, though I didn't see any of those being brought to market, just an occasional heaping pile, much higher than the mushrooms. I didn't at first recognize the first pile I came upon as sweet potatoes. I'm so accustomed to seeing piles of bricks, which they closely resembled, that I assumed it was just another.
Its been several decades, almost as far back as the Norman Rockwell era, since fall back home was associated with the pleasant aroma of burning leaves until ordinances were passed throughout the U.S. prohibiting such a practice. That is not the case in China. My nostrils have the pleasure of the scent of burning leaves here, though all that added smoke in the air is turning my throat to sand-paper. If it gets much worse, I will start wearing a neckerchief over my nose and mouth and join the occasional person I see wearing a white gauze mask. Leaves are not all that is burned. People burn rubbish in front of their stores and homes and in the fields.
Both are practices that will no doubt soon be curtailed as China becomes more cognizant of what it is doing to the environment. There are indications aplenty that the Chinese recognize they must be responsible citizens of the world. I regularly see solar panels atop buildings, and the newspapers I've been reading all quote Chinese officials and businessmen about trying to be more green.
Litter is one of those issues that China needs to address. There are random piles of it in towns and along the road. Though locals diligently sweep in front of their homes and businesses, trash receptacles and dumpsters are a rare site. Dirty toilets and spitting and litter and all the smoking, especially in elevators, are Julie-Ann's chief pet grievances of living in China, but she sees progress. She said that last month, just before the country's massive 60th anniversary celebration of the communists taking control of the country, trash receptacles suddenly appeared without any warning everywhere on the streets in Xian.
One never knows when the government will put its might behind some issue. She and many others were hoping the government would also use the celebration as an opportunity to relax some of its Internet censorship. Up until a year ago Julie-Ann was able to maintain a blog and access others. But someone decided blogs were a menace and placed them off limits.
A fall bicycle tour in the U.S. has the added luster of Halloween decorations. There are none of those here, though Julie-Ann said there were some in Hong Kong. As China becomes more affluent and Westernized, the Chinese will surely find a way to incorporate Halloween into their lives, especially when businesses realize there is money to be made from it.
The newspapers are full of success stories of entrepreneurs making gobs of money. Not so long ago there was a term for someone who managed to accumulate $1000, an unfathomable sum back in the Mao era. If that's all one is worth in today’s China, one doesn't amount to much. Yuan millionaires, someone with $150,000 to their name, are now so commonplace they are hardly worth mentioning. Multimillionaire and billionaire is now the status that the ambitious aspire to.
With all this wealth people are challenged with what to do with all their money. Large-scale charitable giving is a new concept to the Chinese. The government has had to establish guidelines on how to go about doing it. Horse-breeding has become a significant enough hobby for these new billionaires that the governor of Kentucky recently paid a visit to China to promote his state as a source for good breeding stock.
The global economic recession has marginally effected China with imports and exports down twenty per cent. China initiated a $586 billion stimulus package to keep people employed. But car sales are up by twenty-five per cent over a year ago. In the first half of 2009 four-and-a-half million cars were sold here, more than anywhere else in the world. China boasts the world's largest beer brewery, Snow. It sold seven million tons of beer last year. The Peak sporting goods company would like to become the biggest in the world. It recently signed two more NBA players to endorse its products, neither of whom are Chinese, the 10th and 11th players under its umbrella.
China is such a thriving market, Disney is set to put its fourth theme park outside the U.S. near Shanghai--the others are in Paris, Tokyo and Hong Kong. One urban area is developing as an outsourcing center with plans to do more work than all of India. Everyone thinks big here. China's leading hand-writing recognition company aims to be one of the Top 500 companies in the world. It goes on and on.
Hearing of such ambitions back in the U.S. might seem frightening, that the Chinese are taking over the world and crushing anyone who gets in their way. But being here in the midst of it seems exciting, especially being so well-treated by everyone I encounter. They don't seem intent on overwhelming the world, rather simply excelling. It was an important moment in China's development when they were admitted to the World Trade Organization, the WTO, in 2001. The world's interests are now the Chinese interests.
It knows though that it can't rely on exports and the world's purchasing power to sustain its economy. It needs to encourage consumer spending at home. Experts also comment that China needs to rely less on exporting toys and more on exporting its expertise in development. It has much of that and could contribute to making the world a more habitable place.
Later, George
Yesterday I passed through a mushroom-raising region. All along the road people sat with heaping baskets of the fungi waiting for some form of transport to take their harvest to market. In towns on nearly every block there was a huge pile of mushrooms out front of some establishment with five or six women, young and old, seated around them sorting and clipping.
It was sweet potato country as well, though I didn't see any of those being brought to market, just an occasional heaping pile, much higher than the mushrooms. I didn't at first recognize the first pile I came upon as sweet potatoes. I'm so accustomed to seeing piles of bricks, which they closely resembled, that I assumed it was just another.
Its been several decades, almost as far back as the Norman Rockwell era, since fall back home was associated with the pleasant aroma of burning leaves until ordinances were passed throughout the U.S. prohibiting such a practice. That is not the case in China. My nostrils have the pleasure of the scent of burning leaves here, though all that added smoke in the air is turning my throat to sand-paper. If it gets much worse, I will start wearing a neckerchief over my nose and mouth and join the occasional person I see wearing a white gauze mask. Leaves are not all that is burned. People burn rubbish in front of their stores and homes and in the fields.
Both are practices that will no doubt soon be curtailed as China becomes more cognizant of what it is doing to the environment. There are indications aplenty that the Chinese recognize they must be responsible citizens of the world. I regularly see solar panels atop buildings, and the newspapers I've been reading all quote Chinese officials and businessmen about trying to be more green.
Litter is one of those issues that China needs to address. There are random piles of it in towns and along the road. Though locals diligently sweep in front of their homes and businesses, trash receptacles and dumpsters are a rare site. Dirty toilets and spitting and litter and all the smoking, especially in elevators, are Julie-Ann's chief pet grievances of living in China, but she sees progress. She said that last month, just before the country's massive 60th anniversary celebration of the communists taking control of the country, trash receptacles suddenly appeared without any warning everywhere on the streets in Xian.
One never knows when the government will put its might behind some issue. She and many others were hoping the government would also use the celebration as an opportunity to relax some of its Internet censorship. Up until a year ago Julie-Ann was able to maintain a blog and access others. But someone decided blogs were a menace and placed them off limits.
A fall bicycle tour in the U.S. has the added luster of Halloween decorations. There are none of those here, though Julie-Ann said there were some in Hong Kong. As China becomes more affluent and Westernized, the Chinese will surely find a way to incorporate Halloween into their lives, especially when businesses realize there is money to be made from it.
The newspapers are full of success stories of entrepreneurs making gobs of money. Not so long ago there was a term for someone who managed to accumulate $1000, an unfathomable sum back in the Mao era. If that's all one is worth in today’s China, one doesn't amount to much. Yuan millionaires, someone with $150,000 to their name, are now so commonplace they are hardly worth mentioning. Multimillionaire and billionaire is now the status that the ambitious aspire to.
With all this wealth people are challenged with what to do with all their money. Large-scale charitable giving is a new concept to the Chinese. The government has had to establish guidelines on how to go about doing it. Horse-breeding has become a significant enough hobby for these new billionaires that the governor of Kentucky recently paid a visit to China to promote his state as a source for good breeding stock.
The global economic recession has marginally effected China with imports and exports down twenty per cent. China initiated a $586 billion stimulus package to keep people employed. But car sales are up by twenty-five per cent over a year ago. In the first half of 2009 four-and-a-half million cars were sold here, more than anywhere else in the world. China boasts the world's largest beer brewery, Snow. It sold seven million tons of beer last year. The Peak sporting goods company would like to become the biggest in the world. It recently signed two more NBA players to endorse its products, neither of whom are Chinese, the 10th and 11th players under its umbrella.
China is such a thriving market, Disney is set to put its fourth theme park outside the U.S. near Shanghai--the others are in Paris, Tokyo and Hong Kong. One urban area is developing as an outsourcing center with plans to do more work than all of India. Everyone thinks big here. China's leading hand-writing recognition company aims to be one of the Top 500 companies in the world. It goes on and on.
Hearing of such ambitions back in the U.S. might seem frightening, that the Chinese are taking over the world and crushing anyone who gets in their way. But being here in the midst of it seems exciting, especially being so well-treated by everyone I encounter. They don't seem intent on overwhelming the world, rather simply excelling. It was an important moment in China's development when they were admitted to the World Trade Organization, the WTO, in 2001. The world's interests are now the Chinese interests.
It knows though that it can't rely on exports and the world's purchasing power to sustain its economy. It needs to encourage consumer spending at home. Experts also comment that China needs to rely less on exporting toys and more on exporting its expertise in development. It has much of that and could contribute to making the world a more habitable place.
Later, George
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Danfeng, China
Friends: As I drifted through the narrow, jam-packed streets of the Muslim Quarter in the old city of Xian on my bicycle, I noticed a sidewalk vendor selling bean-curd soup, a food Julian-Ann had just introduced me to. I only recognized what he had in the large metal barrel on the back of his bicycle cart as a young woman sitting on one of the several stools he provided customers had a bowl of it on her lap.
When I joined her, she immediately said, "How do you like China?"
"I like it very much, much more than I ever expected to. Everyone has been so welcoming and the food is delicious."
"Is that your bicycle? I've never seen one like it?"
"It is. I brought it over from America and rode it up from Hong Kong."
"Wow. That's amazing. You are gorgeous."
"It's been a great ride. It's a wonderful way to get to know a country and meet its people."
As we talked, I learned she was a college graduate who was busily preparing for an entrance exam for graduate school. Besides English and Mandarin, she spoke Russian. At one point she said, "When I saw you on your bicycle, I willed you to stop here. I wanted to talk to you very much. I see it is our destiny."
She said she wished she had a bicycle so she could take me around the city. I asked if it was possible to rent a bike. She said probably, but anyway, she was soon meeting a friend. Several minutes later her friend arrived. She too spoke excellent English and joined in the conversation before they had to be on their way.
My farewell meal with Julie-Ann was another bowl of one-and-a-half yuan (twenty cents) bean-curd soup the next morning, just a couple blocks from her office, her usual breakfast. As we took our seats at the small sidewalk table Julie-Ann noticed a recently placed paper on a post behind us advertising for people to pass out fliers. The pay was forty yuan a day, about six dollars, a seeming pittance, but not bad pay here and a great windfall in many parts of the world--all of Africa and India and much of Latin America and Asia, where many people are lucky to earn one dollar a day. That such work is being advertised and such work has become a part of China's booming market economy is another indication of the state of affairs here.
The English teacher who came to my aid in the Forbidden Area asked me, "Do you think China is a poor country? You can be honest."
"Not at all," I said, "Especially in comparison with much of the world. You haven't caught up to the U.S. or Europe or Japan, but you will."
Julie-Ann and I were still talking about the movie we had seen the night before, Michael Jackson's "This Is It," an extraordinary documentary on his weeks of rehearsals for the concert tour he was preparing for just before his death. It was a virtual concert-film, interspersed with interviews with his huge cast of singers and dancers and musicians as well as the many people involved with the production of the concert. It was going to be an extravaganza unlike anything seen before, that would have set a new standard for all rock concerts.
Julie-Ann and I were lucky to see an undubbed version. Julie-Ann rarely goes to the movies in China, as only occasionally in the first week of release of a film is it not dubbed. We knew that most of this film would be music, so we could endure dubbing if we had to. But we learned when we bought our tickets that we were getting the original version.
As in Thailand, when we bought our tickets we were given our choice of seats. It was an hour-and-a-half before showtime, as we bought our tickets before having dinner, and only four other tickets had been purchased, though at show-time the theater was at least a quarter full. It was on the ninth floor of the mall with the Wal-Mart and one of ten theaters. There were two other Hollywood films playing--"The Taking of Pelham One-Two-Three," which I had seen on my flight over, and "Astro Boy."
The movie was preceded by a few ads and trailers, including one for "2012," which was neither dubbed nor sub-titled. After the movie Julie-Ann commented that "This Is It" had taken in $68 million world-wide in its first week of release. She still monitors such things in case she returns to the business. She keeps up with films via DVD. She recently purchased "Berlin Alexanderplatz," Fassbinder's fifteen-hour masterpiece. I would have been happy to see even a sampler of it with Julie-Ann, as I had fine memories of seeing it at Facets ten years or so ago, but time did not allow.
Though it was sad to say farewell to Julie-Ann, it was exhilarating to be back rolling down the road, even though I had some missteps getting out of Xian. It seems impossible not to go astray in China. But now that I'm safely on 312 it should be dead ahead for the next three or four days.
I got to play the troll last night, camping under a beautifully arched concrete bridge that had a secluded grassy nook in its corner. Nearby was a circle of stones used as a fireplace that people occasionally took advantage of. I didn't worry about anyone coming out on such a cold night. Though it got down into the 40s I actually overheated and had to unzip my sleeping bag after I'd fallen asleep. That was a good sign as its only going to get colder as I head north to Beijing and December closes in.
Later, George
When I joined her, she immediately said, "How do you like China?"
"I like it very much, much more than I ever expected to. Everyone has been so welcoming and the food is delicious."
"Is that your bicycle? I've never seen one like it?"
"It is. I brought it over from America and rode it up from Hong Kong."
"Wow. That's amazing. You are gorgeous."
"It's been a great ride. It's a wonderful way to get to know a country and meet its people."
As we talked, I learned she was a college graduate who was busily preparing for an entrance exam for graduate school. Besides English and Mandarin, she spoke Russian. At one point she said, "When I saw you on your bicycle, I willed you to stop here. I wanted to talk to you very much. I see it is our destiny."
She said she wished she had a bicycle so she could take me around the city. I asked if it was possible to rent a bike. She said probably, but anyway, she was soon meeting a friend. Several minutes later her friend arrived. She too spoke excellent English and joined in the conversation before they had to be on their way.
My farewell meal with Julie-Ann was another bowl of one-and-a-half yuan (twenty cents) bean-curd soup the next morning, just a couple blocks from her office, her usual breakfast. As we took our seats at the small sidewalk table Julie-Ann noticed a recently placed paper on a post behind us advertising for people to pass out fliers. The pay was forty yuan a day, about six dollars, a seeming pittance, but not bad pay here and a great windfall in many parts of the world--all of Africa and India and much of Latin America and Asia, where many people are lucky to earn one dollar a day. That such work is being advertised and such work has become a part of China's booming market economy is another indication of the state of affairs here.
The English teacher who came to my aid in the Forbidden Area asked me, "Do you think China is a poor country? You can be honest."
"Not at all," I said, "Especially in comparison with much of the world. You haven't caught up to the U.S. or Europe or Japan, but you will."
Julie-Ann and I were still talking about the movie we had seen the night before, Michael Jackson's "This Is It," an extraordinary documentary on his weeks of rehearsals for the concert tour he was preparing for just before his death. It was a virtual concert-film, interspersed with interviews with his huge cast of singers and dancers and musicians as well as the many people involved with the production of the concert. It was going to be an extravaganza unlike anything seen before, that would have set a new standard for all rock concerts.
Julie-Ann and I were lucky to see an undubbed version. Julie-Ann rarely goes to the movies in China, as only occasionally in the first week of release of a film is it not dubbed. We knew that most of this film would be music, so we could endure dubbing if we had to. But we learned when we bought our tickets that we were getting the original version.
As in Thailand, when we bought our tickets we were given our choice of seats. It was an hour-and-a-half before showtime, as we bought our tickets before having dinner, and only four other tickets had been purchased, though at show-time the theater was at least a quarter full. It was on the ninth floor of the mall with the Wal-Mart and one of ten theaters. There were two other Hollywood films playing--"The Taking of Pelham One-Two-Three," which I had seen on my flight over, and "Astro Boy."
The movie was preceded by a few ads and trailers, including one for "2012," which was neither dubbed nor sub-titled. After the movie Julie-Ann commented that "This Is It" had taken in $68 million world-wide in its first week of release. She still monitors such things in case she returns to the business. She keeps up with films via DVD. She recently purchased "Berlin Alexanderplatz," Fassbinder's fifteen-hour masterpiece. I would have been happy to see even a sampler of it with Julie-Ann, as I had fine memories of seeing it at Facets ten years or so ago, but time did not allow.
Though it was sad to say farewell to Julie-Ann, it was exhilarating to be back rolling down the road, even though I had some missteps getting out of Xian. It seems impossible not to go astray in China. But now that I'm safely on 312 it should be dead ahead for the next three or four days.
I got to play the troll last night, camping under a beautifully arched concrete bridge that had a secluded grassy nook in its corner. Nearby was a circle of stones used as a fireplace that people occasionally took advantage of. I didn't worry about anyone coming out on such a cold night. Though it got down into the 40s I actually overheated and had to unzip my sleeping bag after I'd fallen asleep. That was a good sign as its only going to get colder as I head north to Beijing and December closes in.
Later, George
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
China Photos
The largest of the three pits containing the Terracotta warriors outside Xian and the nearby museum explaining their history
My friend Julie-Ann under a billboard that reads "Only socialism can change China. Only reform and open door policy can develop China."
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