Metaphorically speaking. It was my first train ride, and nearly my first missed train. A half hour is apparently enough lead time. I couldn't find my "gate," so I showed my ticket to one of the ticket checkers and she said "yi lou" (1st floor), so down I went. The ride was only an hour, not the three quoted, so I think the guy at the ticket office I bought from may not have spoke English as well as I thought. Well, I'm in Hangzhou now, grab a taxi...and that's when it hit.
Shanghai, I now realized, is very western by Chinese standards. Yes, you're in China, but they're used to a lot of foreigners. So is Hangzhou I imagine, if you stay at the higher-end hotels. I needed to get cash for the hotel (doesn't accept Visa), and Bank of China is one of the few that cashes traveler checks. I tell the taxi driver "wo3 yao4 qu4 zhong1guo2 de yin2hang2." The "de" was incorrect, but...he takes me to a bank but not "of China." From experience in Shanghai, most banks do not cash them. I kept saying "Zhong guo yinhang" and he kept saying "na li" pointing at the bank. We came to a complete communication block. That was actually the exact moment. I'm in a taxi, in a strange city *inside* China, I need to get cash to get a bed, and here we are on the side of the road, the taxi driver saying something about the laowai on his cell, cars behind honking. I say "deng3 yi1 xia4" as I dig for the guidebook. It had the address of the bank.
I get to the hotel, and I'm still shaken by how sunk I would have been without the guidebook (not really, but in a panic you stop thinking - I had my emergency numbers to Hua's friends, I could get cash from an ATM, etc.). But the feeling of being alone in a strange place, not being able to communicate, tired... I took a nap. I was in a state where I just wanted to stay in my hotel room. The option of bailing did cross my mind - what is it, a hundred to change a flight? Just go hang in Hawai'i. But no.
So after my nap I go to the "ticket office" which turns out to be the receptionist who really speaks zero English. And the language battle ensues again. I state my destination and the day and time I'd like to go. She understands me. Whew. Then says it's 200 yuan. The guidebook says ~60 yuan. After trying many conversational gambits and at a complete loss, I think well, I can survive wasting $25. My ticket will be here tomorrow - I have the feeling I got a super first class or something or I'm on bus instead of a train or vice-versa. The train ticket had the price on it, so I imagine whatever ticket I get tomorrow will let me know how much the comission was. But this isn't helping my mood. (I'm half empty here, though I didn't realize it: I was able to communicate my destination and departure time).
So off I head into Hangzhou. Just strolling, exploring the world as Amy put it. Okay, no street signs (I eventually find them on about 75% of the streets, but of course my corner is absent them). Well there are signs, but all in characters and none matching my guidebook/hotel map. So now I'm really in it. I memorize a few landmarks and I have the hotel card (with the address in characters) for a taxi as a fall back plan. I try to get to the Tourist Bureau (guidebook says they speak English, but my phonecall was awkward to say the least), a mile or so away. But the continual stopping to get my bearings takes too long, and I realize I won't make it by 5 pm. So I head to the West Lake.
The smog again is apocryphal. Here is the sunset into the haze, like in Shanghai. I watch the sun disappear (angle you're head and you make out the faint red circle in the picture) and stroll down the boardwalk where a secret battle is being waged for bench seats. Lovers sit in the center, making a four or five person bench for two. For some reason, no one tries to cram onto benches (cf. cramming on roads, subways, zig-zag bridges...), so I don't. Oh, I realized the traffic reflects the same cultural solution as exiting the subway. Kinda cool.
Okay, dinner. I bypass the western restaurants on the lakefront (Pizza Hut, Barrossa, which I think is Spanish, Starbucks, ...) because I'm going to do it the hard way. Per the guidebook, I'm headed for a 100-year old restaurant and I've been relieved to read the restaurants have English on the menus. I can't find the restaurant. OK, I'll eat at the nice one next to my hotel. They're booked. OK, I'll eat at Grandma's Kitchen, which had a kind of Denny's feel and is on the hotel-provided neighborhood map. My "wo chi su" and "nimen you meiyou su cai" is only kind of understood. I throw in a "wo bu chi rho" for good measure (I don't eat meat). The waiter points at a picture and says "su cai" so I say "hao de."
It's a family-style restaurant. They bring me a two gallon bowl of soup.I start to tuck in and realize there is a lot fish in my su cai. Talking to the waiter again, I point at the fish. She says "something something yu" (fish). Ahhh, "rou4" does not include "yu2." There is a flurry of conversation and now they're pointing at the menu again to the real su cai.
I find the optimum number of times to make the same mistake is twice. I order two vegetable dishes. I am brought several pounds of vegetables to complement my two gallons of soup (which, I was eating the tomatoes and greens out of, along with broth, eh, I wasn't going to starve, and I didn't want to waste the food entirely). So now I'm sitting at the table by the door with food for a family of five in front of me as the dinner rush comes in.
I eventually give up on the Popeye-ean pile of spinach in front of me and pay the bill. I apologize to the waiter, saying I'm sorry, I didn't know, so big! She seems to understand and laughs. But I'm still hungry for something filling and so I stop at a bun store. The menu is again entirely in Chinese. I say my "wo bu chi rou, bu chi yu" bit having learned to cover my bases. The guy behind the counter replies "no meat, no fish here." Cool. So I just point at an item on the menu, safe in the knowlege it will be veggie.
...
...
(see if you can guess)
...
...
I had ordered a drink.So now I just point at a bun. There's a little place to sit upstairs, so I do, as I enjoy the drink with a taste I can't identify and the somewhat stale bun while listening to strangely comforting, angst-filled Chinese love songs (no matter the language, these songs always sound the same "women meiyou someting something something...zai jian" (we don't have [whatever] good bye.)
And then it hits me. This isn't a trip to Hawai'i. I chose to travel through China by myself for three weeks with just a bare smattering of Chinese. The guidebook and Shanghai cosmopolitan attitude had me thinking I could find nice, high-end vegetarian restaurants everywhere that conviently had pictures and/or English, that hotel staff and ticket office agents would speak enough English for me to ask more complex questions than when and how much and be utterly at the mercy of the price they quote me. And I had obtained cash, a bed, food, and a ticket for the next leg of my journey. These were major accomplishments. I realized that feeling awkward, lost, hungry, overwhelmed and tired were just fine. I had forgotten this in my comfy, constrained life. And I realized my insistence on a particular experience had led me to the evening's events. I could have had pizza on the lakefront. I could have stopped at the street vendor who had an array of apparently veggie fried delights. No, I had to sit down in a medium nice restaurant and get exactly what I want. So easy to see how forcing something creates the opposite.
Well, tomorrow I rent a bike and head off to the hills south of town to ride through the tea plantations and foothill villages. Or so I hope. I decided to stay two days in Hangzhou to relax and sleep some more. It is a nice hotel room, with water pressure and one of those rain-making showerheads. Yeah, I shower at night now, the Chinese way.
Dan
Shanghai, I now realized, is very western by Chinese standards. Yes, you're in China, but they're used to a lot of foreigners. So is Hangzhou I imagine, if you stay at the higher-end hotels. I needed to get cash for the hotel (doesn't accept Visa), and Bank of China is one of the few that cashes traveler checks. I tell the taxi driver "wo3 yao4 qu4 zhong1guo2 de yin2hang2." The "de" was incorrect, but...he takes me to a bank but not "of China." From experience in Shanghai, most banks do not cash them. I kept saying "Zhong guo yinhang" and he kept saying "na li" pointing at the bank. We came to a complete communication block. That was actually the exact moment. I'm in a taxi, in a strange city *inside* China, I need to get cash to get a bed, and here we are on the side of the road, the taxi driver saying something about the laowai on his cell, cars behind honking. I say "deng3 yi1 xia4" as I dig for the guidebook. It had the address of the bank.
I get to the hotel, and I'm still shaken by how sunk I would have been without the guidebook (not really, but in a panic you stop thinking - I had my emergency numbers to Hua's friends, I could get cash from an ATM, etc.). But the feeling of being alone in a strange place, not being able to communicate, tired... I took a nap. I was in a state where I just wanted to stay in my hotel room. The option of bailing did cross my mind - what is it, a hundred to change a flight? Just go hang in Hawai'i. But no.
So after my nap I go to the "ticket office" which turns out to be the receptionist who really speaks zero English. And the language battle ensues again. I state my destination and the day and time I'd like to go. She understands me. Whew. Then says it's 200 yuan. The guidebook says ~60 yuan. After trying many conversational gambits and at a complete loss, I think well, I can survive wasting $25. My ticket will be here tomorrow - I have the feeling I got a super first class or something or I'm on bus instead of a train or vice-versa. The train ticket had the price on it, so I imagine whatever ticket I get tomorrow will let me know how much the comission was. But this isn't helping my mood. (I'm half empty here, though I didn't realize it: I was able to communicate my destination and departure time).
So off I head into Hangzhou. Just strolling, exploring the world as Amy put it. Okay, no street signs (I eventually find them on about 75% of the streets, but of course my corner is absent them). Well there are signs, but all in characters and none matching my guidebook/hotel map. So now I'm really in it. I memorize a few landmarks and I have the hotel card (with the address in characters) for a taxi as a fall back plan. I try to get to the Tourist Bureau (guidebook says they speak English, but my phonecall was awkward to say the least), a mile or so away. But the continual stopping to get my bearings takes too long, and I realize I won't make it by 5 pm. So I head to the West Lake.
The smog again is apocryphal. Here is the sunset into the haze, like in Shanghai. I watch the sun disappear (angle you're head and you make out the faint red circle in the picture) and stroll down the boardwalk where a secret battle is being waged for bench seats. Lovers sit in the center, making a four or five person bench for two. For some reason, no one tries to cram onto benches (cf. cramming on roads, subways, zig-zag bridges...), so I don't. Oh, I realized the traffic reflects the same cultural solution as exiting the subway. Kinda cool.Okay, dinner. I bypass the western restaurants on the lakefront (Pizza Hut, Barrossa, which I think is Spanish, Starbucks, ...) because I'm going to do it the hard way. Per the guidebook, I'm headed for a 100-year old restaurant and I've been relieved to read the restaurants have English on the menus. I can't find the restaurant. OK, I'll eat at the nice one next to my hotel. They're booked. OK, I'll eat at Grandma's Kitchen, which had a kind of Denny's feel and is on the hotel-provided neighborhood map. My "wo chi su" and "nimen you meiyou su cai" is only kind of understood. I throw in a "wo bu chi rho" for good measure (I don't eat meat). The waiter points at a picture and says "su cai" so I say "hao de."
It's a family-style restaurant. They bring me a two gallon bowl of soup.
I find the optimum number of times to make the same mistake is twice. I order two vegetable dishes. I am brought several pounds of vegetables to complement my two gallons of soup (which, I was eating the tomatoes and greens out of, along with broth, eh, I wasn't going to starve, and I didn't want to waste the food entirely). So now I'm sitting at the table by the door with food for a family of five in front of me as the dinner rush comes in.
I eventually give up on the Popeye-ean pile of spinach in front of me and pay the bill. I apologize to the waiter, saying I'm sorry, I didn't know, so big! She seems to understand and laughs. But I'm still hungry for something filling and so I stop at a bun store. The menu is again entirely in Chinese. I say my "wo bu chi rou, bu chi yu" bit having learned to cover my bases. The guy behind the counter replies "no meat, no fish here." Cool. So I just point at an item on the menu, safe in the knowlege it will be veggie.
...
...
(see if you can guess)
...
...
I had ordered a drink.
And then it hits me. This isn't a trip to Hawai'i. I chose to travel through China by myself for three weeks with just a bare smattering of Chinese. The guidebook and Shanghai cosmopolitan attitude had me thinking I could find nice, high-end vegetarian restaurants everywhere that conviently had pictures and/or English, that hotel staff and ticket office agents would speak enough English for me to ask more complex questions than when and how much and be utterly at the mercy of the price they quote me. And I had obtained cash, a bed, food, and a ticket for the next leg of my journey. These were major accomplishments. I realized that feeling awkward, lost, hungry, overwhelmed and tired were just fine. I had forgotten this in my comfy, constrained life. And I realized my insistence on a particular experience had led me to the evening's events. I could have had pizza on the lakefront. I could have stopped at the street vendor who had an array of apparently veggie fried delights. No, I had to sit down in a medium nice restaurant and get exactly what I want. So easy to see how forcing something creates the opposite.
Well, tomorrow I rent a bike and head off to the hills south of town to ride through the tea plantations and foothill villages. Or so I hope. I decided to stay two days in Hangzhou to relax and sleep some more. It is a nice hotel room, with water pressure and one of those rain-making showerheads. Yeah, I shower at night now, the Chinese way.
Dan
Biking in China- now I'm INFINITY jealous! Have fun!
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