It’s been over two weeks since I took a great vacation in
southern China and time, as always, slowly steals the essence of the
experience from me. I’m now bogged down in the “busy season” of
summer course and the World Cup, but I must try to write out some
impressions of the trip.
It had a rough start: arriving at the train station, I realized
they had knocked down the clocktower, as much of China is a perpetual
construction site. And my train to Beijing left over 2.5 hours late.
But the good news was, after buying a cheaper “general seating” seat,
I did actually have a place to sit on the train- not always the case.
About 5 hours later I was in Beijing, a city I continue to love. I
made my way to Sanlitun where I usually stay, got a room and rented a
bike. With each trip I do more exploration, and had guessed a bike
ride was doable to the hutong area east of Houhai I wanted to further
explore. I’d found a bunch of great toy stores here during my trip in
early March. The bike ride only took about 15 minutes and despite
Beijing sometimes insane traffic, it is a bike friendly town, like
most anywhere I have seen in China. I hit some toy stores but didn’t
go to crazy, as it was the beginning of the trip and I knew I’d be
coming back through at the end. I also might have actually played out
collecting these silly little figures, at least for now. Where does
that “collection” thing come from? Where ever, there is certainly
more than bit of neurosis involved…

I found a place called Gathering Bar and though the owner had no
English and my Chinese is limited, we sort of chatted for a while. He
turned me on to place I could get grapefruit juice to go with the
vodka I can know get cheaply in Liaocheng thanks to a complete liquor
store that recently opened, with a private bar upstairs (more on this
later). I headed back toward the hostel, picked up seasons 1 + 2 of
Breaking Bad and ate a free hotpot dinner in the hostel, chatting with
some folks including a couple with a small kid trying to cycle across
Europe and Asia. Iran had proven too difficult visa wise, so after
making it to Turkey from the UK, they had come to China and were
trying to figure some way to go East to West, at least log more miles
on the other side of the obstacle. I went to bed early as I had an
early flight.

There was a light drizzle as I headed out, but I was pleased to figure
out the airport shuttle train after a short walk. So I can now get
from plane to room for 25 RMB when in China, avoiding the costly cab
ride one often has to bear when landing. On the train I chatted with
cute Dutch girl who was at the end of her trip to China. I got off at
the wrong terminal in the airport and had to wait a bit for the next
train. “Alone” in this huge terminal, I was tempted to take some
pics, but thought better of it, noticing the cameras and whomever
might be watching me. Nothing would have come of it of course, but I
figured I’d avoid the hassle. My plane took off an hour late, but the
flight was only two hours, and I was in humid, mountainous Guilin!
My hotel there had arranged a driver to pick me up, and I found my
name among the name cards of the waiting drivers. Grateful the guy
had stuck around despite my late arrival, he got a rare tip. I
instantly loved Guilin just as I thought I would. Limestone, ‘karst’,
mountains litter the terrain like huge stalagmites. The elements
easily carve them (as well as hollow them from within) and the
humidity keeps vegetation all over them. It’s hard to tell from
pictures before you arrive how many mountains there are, but
thankfully they go on in all directions. The growing city is built
all around them. The driver took me to the Riverside Inn, a place I
found online and was perfect. Cheap, clean, and staffed by several
cute girls in their 20’s. Ah, China! So Shefen, Peggy, Yo yo and the
others became my go to advice board for events around town and what to
do down river.

Dropping my stuff in the room, I went out to explore and quickly
found Elephant Trunk Hill, which is a short, steep climb and a view.
Actually, at first I misunderstood the 40 RMB fee, thinking it was
just to get to a garden area by the river, but it actually entails the
entire park and hill, which was not laid out in an obvious fashion
from the outside. But once inside I was pleased. True it was muggy,
and I sweated almost continuous for my first week of the trip. But
the rooms had AC and I was comfortable when I wanted to be. I had a
nap and Shefen told me about a place for dinner. I told them I’d be
staying another evening before heading South. Most foreign tourist
paid 390 for a boatride all the way to Yangshuo with lunch, but the
girls convinced me to take a local bus for 15 to Yangdi, then ride a
private “bamboo” boat down only the prettiest parts of the river to
Xinping for 150.

The next day I went to Reed Flute Cave which was technicolor lit and
screamed out for the use of hallucinogens. It was also mostly paved
through out, so older Chinese tourists found it easy to get around.
The Chinese love to light things and otherwise “artifically enhance”
to a point where the surreal is often obtained. Not so great for true
spelunkers, but it suited me just fine. That evening I took Shefen to
dinner at the place she’d told me about but had never actually been
to. Later I went to stroll the large night market downtown with
Jennifer, an American who lived in Ko Samui, Thailand for the last
several years. Jennifer is a health consultant and works in some
semi- New Age fields that might have turned me off were she not in
essence a Philly, cynical girl. She had a way of talking about
crystal and such that might have taken some of the bullshit factor out
of it. I’m involved in lifestyle choices that turn her off as well,
but nevertheless we got along OK and I met up with her several more
times during my trip. There was a flier at the hostel for one in
Yangshuo where she decided she would stay and I said I’d look for her
in a few days.
In some ways, Guilin is just another Chinese city, but the rivers
and mountains generated enough romance for me that I’m considering
signing my next teaching contract down there. As I said, the
mountains are a region, and while it is touristy and growing (both
foreigners and a huge emerging Chinese middle class, taking vacations
for the first time) and I would happily go anywhere, it seems my best
shot might be there in the big city, though it’s not the capital of
the province.

The next afternoon, Shefen walked me to the bus station, and I
caught the local which would take me to the road that would turn off
to Yangdi. On the way out of town the police pulled the bus over and
the driver had to talk with them about something for about 15 minutes
and we rolled on. If he paid a fine or bribe I didn’t see. It was
all rather unclear what was going on. Finally we set off again.
Sooner than I expected the bus was stopping and telling me we were at
Yangdi road, just a T intersection with some fruit and water vendors,
people waiting for other buses and traffic wizzing by on the dusty two
lane. As soon as I got off, a woman approached me, but I assured her
I already had a contact I was waiting on. I sent a text to Peggy
saying I was at this point and ready to meet the “boatman” who I had
met earlier back in Guilin. As another bus came by and turned down
the road to Yangdi, the woman came again and chattered I should get
on. When I attempted to protest, she pulled out her cell and showed me
in her contact list the number for the boatman. So the boatman wasn’t
here, but she was telling me to get on this packed standing room only
bus. It was going in the right direction. So I did. The ride was
only about 20 minutes, and the setting was now decidedly rural: cattle
in the road, mudslides on the corners the huge bus would navigate
around. At the end of the road, there were a bunch more vendors
milling around, myself the only foreigner in sight. I bought some
water and was approached by a guy who wasn’t the boatman, but had the
number in his cell and was willing to take my receipt for the ride, so
I got on his boat, which wasn’t actually bamboo, but PVC pipes painted
brown, which was fine, considering I had my camera and pack full of
everything with me and didn’t plan on going into the river just then.
We shoved off and I relaxed completely for the first time that day as
the scenery unfolded. Everything I wanted it to be and more despite
the drizzle. I’d brought my kite along and though there wasn’t truly
enough wind to get it going, the boatman put on the small motor to
give me enough velocity to go aloft for a few photos. I also had a
total 21st century moment as I received 2 cell phone calls out there
in the middle of nowhere on the river. One from a guy back in
Liaocheng looking for this certain store and another from Shefen
calling from Guilin to check up on me. All was bliss.

So you remember the Rubik’s snake along with the cube, pyramid
and other 80’s crazes. Well I don’t know if American 4-10 year olds
are still on ‘em like hotcakes, but over here in China this is
definitely the case. You’d think the thing just came out yesterday…
And in their defense, the kids here don’t have as much access to home
gaming systems, prozac, I-pads and whatever else entertains their
American cousins. Anyway, I will often see the things in my classes
and often stop to make the “classic ball” which often draws gasps from
the owner.

I’m back on the rotation where I have to out to the kindergarden in a
rural town twice a week. One of the cutest little girls in my first
class where I run flash cards and try to get a few English words to
stick had one. So I asked for it and started in on the ball, and
broke the thing. There is only like a rubber band string holding it
all together inside, and this was a cheap knockoff anyway. As it came
apart in my hands, I headed for the regular teachers, unsure if it was
a classroom object or her personal toy. They assured me not to worry
about it, truly an accident, and I started back in on the flash cards.
I looked up and saw her silently starting to cry. I didn’t know I
could feel that bad that quickly. She was trying to put on a brave
face, but after all, the Foreign Teacher had specifically asked for,
broken, then tried to slink away with her toy. I could just see
inside her little brain “That fuckin’ “lowi” (ghost – as they call
us) broke my snake, man! This is evidence of an unjust universe!” I
kept trying to tell the teacher to tell her I’d bring another one, a
better one, when I come back next Tuesday. And explain it all to her
parents. Four days is an eternity to a four year old! I asked the
driver to take me to a toystore in town right away, but she was late
anyway, and everyone kept telling me not to worry about it. But I
think I just singled-handedly started a future chapter of Al Qaeda,
the first in Eastern China…

I have to ask myself, as I run around buying yet another pair of
shoes, silly vinyl toys I don’t need, eating in fancier places all the
time as my waistline expands. I mean of course “super-consumer”, my
skepticism about capitalism remains. At a certain point the resources
run out. And all along, someone is on the losing end of the stick:
has to do the shit work, doesn’t have “enough” and can’t afford more.
Since my teenage years I’ve ranted and raved against a culture of
excess. But now here I am, saving money but still with all of this
disposable income.

It’s not as bad as all of that. I haven’t bought an electric bicycle,
as the regular one I was given works fine. Liaocheng is gloriously
flat, a town made for biking and I need the exercise. I’ve also
re-discovered simple youthful cheap thrills like the flying of kites.
And there are no recreation drugs to buy here. Nor records, or books
in English, or movies in English to see in the theaters or things I
would regularly buy back in the States. Beer and liquor are absurdly
cheap, and I’m drinking less anyway. I guess what’s bugging me is the
sorority girlish glee I get when I go off on a weekly buying trip.
Who needs all of this stuff? And I’m just going to have to ship it
home.

I went to Beijing in early March and it was only worse. There is so
much more available there. But ties? Seriously? Why buy more ties -
even if one was a gift. The sales girl was cute and I’m a sucker. A
rich sucker, it’s disgusting. And the street of toy stores – I was
beside myself. But I will vouch for the city – Beijing has only gotten
cooler since I was there in ‘06. The 798 arts district is a must see.
And the hutong area east of Houhi as exploded. There is some
“tourist cheesey” factor with Tibetan yogurt shops and fish and chips
places, but some cool bars too and indie crafty type stores that could
only survive in China with the tourist dollar.

How much is it gonna suck to have to go back to being an American poor
person? Hopefully I will have gotten some of this consumption out of
my system by then.

Mark P. Casey, April 20, 1942 – Feb 23, 2010 My Dad died
yesterday at Crawford Long hospital in Atlanta. It was rather sudden,
at least the actual cause of illness, but in general not really, as he
didn’t take very good care of himself and had minor mental health
issues for most of my life. He had advanced pulminary fibrosis, which
was only recently found, with complication of pneumonia. Even if he
had last six more months for a lung transplant, that would have only
bought him a few years.

The situation is especially strange as I am overseas and wont come
back for a funeral. Our plan at the moment is to have him cremated
and take him to the (family) plot in Minnesota in mid-October, hopefully
beating the first freeze. I am glad I spent a lot of time with him
before I left on this trip. The last time I actually spoke/talked
with him was via Skype in December. There were no indications then
that this would be coming so soon. I really feel for my sister who is
having to deal with the details first hand and wish her strength and
support. She got to say good by, but also had to see the horror at
the end. I called this morning and spoke into his ear over the phone
but he was already unconscious an in intensive care.

For whatever faults he may have had, he always encouraged my curiosity
and interest in history…or one of his favorite cliches, taken from
what I assume is a long defunct teen literary magazine called Cricket
- a sense of history, mystery and adventure. I wished he’d gotten to
travel more, specifically, I wish I could have gone on a trip with him
to parts of the UK before he passed. He really would have dug that.

I’ve had a chance to do a bit more traveling. Just here in
Shandong province, but I’ll take it. There are big changes coming for
our school – new name, new books, new problems etc and there was a
banquet in the capital, a meeting of the three schools our owner owns.
They put us up in an adequate hotel, which strangely had nude woman
tiles in each of the shower rooms. We had a few hours until the
dinner, so we went out into the city to explore a bit and get things
we can’t in Liaocheng. Sadly, I must admit I’ve appreciated Walmat
and McDonald, as we don’t have them here. I hate both companies in
theory, but the Chinese seldom use deoderant and I’m running low. I
found one place with Nivea, very expensive roll, on in Liaocheng, but
I wanted more variety and sure enough they did, though not much. As
we headed out, not exactly sure how to tell a cab where to take us, I
was really pleased to recognize one high rise among the many, and was
able to direct us to the store on foot in about 10 minutes. We came
to Jinan once before to see Avatar in English (though not 3D) and
Walmat is in the same multi-story building, as well as a decent toy
sore (as in collectable toys, Qees, robots and other figures). Also,
Chinese Walmat has decent log sleeve shirts with chinesey looking
stuff on them, obviously cheap.
So we made it back to the hotel in time to see part of an utterly
depressing documentary about the Chengdu earthquake (English TV is
also a treat as we don’t pay for channels. I see historical dramas in
the massage parlor, occasional news shows or sports in restaurants).
We were given nifty Qing dynasty jackets to wear, though a bit more
red than I’d like, and we were off to the drinkfest/banquet. As the
evening wore on we met some of other foreign teachers, got the schpeal
on good tattoo shops and other Jinan goodies (*ahem*…did have a
taste later in the evening, but it was bullocks and hardly worth the
general risk). We went out drinking with them at this pub (another
treat. There is a bar or two here in Liaocheng, but they are very
expensive and don’t really have what you want. Also very difficult to
talk to the hot chicks, who are mostly college students and can’t
afford to drink in expensive bars. Not to mention the garbage pop
music. I’ve got dibbs on the assasination of Kenny G btw…) and then
a dance club. Not my scene of course, but it was this one Jinan
western teacher’s last night in town, so we tagged along. Actually
the room itself was pretty cool, steam punk decor they refused to let
me take proper pictures of, and all the female employees in these
matching 60’s airline stewardess outfits. Inside all sorts of lights
and coyote ugly nonsense, plus our hosts bought copious amounts of
watered down drinks. If I’m gonna be in a silly ass disco, it might
as well be a Chinese silly ass disco. The four Liaocheng foreign
teachers, Dean, Darren, Kissi and myself eventually wandered on to a
cab and were almost home when we made the driver drop us at the 24
hour McD’s. We were all blasted and it is munchie food, though they
use cucumbers instead of pickles and some spicy dust. There Kissi got
into a fight with some guy and we wandered on, easily could have
walked the rest of the way, but Dean got us into another cab that took
us way in the wrong direction, wasting much time and money.

We awoke the next morning to the kind of
gasoline-destroying-the-peeled-skull style hangover only baiju can
produce and caught the bus back to Liaocheng. I napped, drank much
water and went for a massage. I’d call it about a 6 hour recovery,
which is impressive if you could understand the previous level of
pain. Note to self: do not mix countless beers, whiskey, vodka and
baiju. Unless ready to PAY.

The winter course has begun which means lots of work for a few weeks,
six days per. But it actually wasn’t as bad as I thought it might
have been. We’ll see about the summer when we must do two months of
this regiment. To be fair I must say, other wise the load has been
rather light. I’m not on the shift that has to go to the rural school
for a few months, and my adult class all got so busy in their personal
lives it’s on hiatus for a while. So January I only worked three days
a week, can’t bitch. But now with the new books and routine, plus
having to judge a few rounds of the national English competition – I’m
nervous.
But now it was holiday time, and Dean and I headed for the coast at
Tsingtao (“Ching Dow”). It’s stressful because even though everyone
knows the date of the lunar new year (Year of the Tiger of course) the
govt. doesn’t announce the actual dates of the long holiday until a
week before. EVERYONE goes back to their hometown for New Year (also
called Spring Festival), ensuring the bus, train and air routes will
all be clusterfucked. The only thing smaller than Chinese foreskin is
Chinese forethought (*double snare-kick-cymbal crash*). But we got
seats on an overnight sleeper, caught it at a frozen 3:30 AM and awoke
more or less rested in Tsingtao.
There were a bunch of German settlers there about a century ago,
starters of the famous brewery, and they left some architectural
influence. It’s also very dense and hilly, so it felt sort of like
San Franciso to me (though not THAT hilly) or a bit of Europe in
China, but the red tile roofs had me feeling Italy more than
Deutschland. There was a snow a few days before, and they got more
than Liaocheng, so there was still plenty of snow in the corners and
ice on the hills. The hostel where we stayed was in a converted
observatory and really cool, though the tiny restaurant in the
telescope part was freezing cold. We split a private room with it’s
own bath, very reasonable, but there were also dorm style rooms in the
three story building.
Almost immediately we met Lou, who was up on the hill taking pictures
but not staying at the hostel. She was born in Tsingtao but has lived
most of her life in LA and NYC. I know I’m into Chinese girls, but
seeing her general Western style, nose ring and saying fuck every
sixth word, had me realizing it’s more about Chinese-American girls.
She didn’t have long before having to go to a huge family lunch, but
we went on this goosechase trying to find a market area by bus, none
of us really knowing the right way. Eventually, we got into a cab and
headed back to the right area, but Dean and I hopped out to check some
stores we saw on the way and paid the cabbie to take her on. She gave
me her number, but it turned out to be a digit short when I tried to
call later…

There was a big free dinner party that night at the hostel, and the
baiju flowed liberally. Other guests who had seemed standoffish
before now got lubed and loquacious. There were several Irish
teachers from Korea who’d come over the the holiday. And at dusk the
fireworks started…well I guess I mean the colorful ones, as noisey
bangs had become a constant in the previous days. From our vantage we
could see half the city, what wasn’t blocked on the other side of the
hill and explosions were everywhere. The beer ran out and more
arrived and the colorful explosions continued. When I’d left Dean
inside, he was pounding drinks hard with some Korean guys. It was
eventually reported to me that after falling over, they’d taken him
off somewhere. Which I presumed meant to some room to sleep, as I had
the only key and knew he wasn’t in ours. ‘Fucking rookie’, I thought
‘passed out by 9 and missing all of this’. Hands down the greatest
firework evening of my life. We had some of our own of course an lit
them in the snow, but not the heavy artillery colorful stuff. It went
on until midnight, then an hour of “finale”. Madness! We made
dumplings and ate for late night munchies and everyone pretty much
wandered off. I was still up with the owner and a woman from Texas
when a phone call came. Someone from the hostel had been arrested
breaking a glass door across town, and police were bringing them over
now. We laughed about the pathetitudue of it all, and pondered the
condition he’d be in after police Chinese cutody. The owner described
“the panda” which amounts to two black eyes.
“I’ll bet it’s one of those Canadians who left before dinner. That
big one looked mean”, I said.
“Yes, your right”, AJ agreed.
“No”, the counter girl said.”Room 306″
My blood went cold, as that was our room.
“No it can’t be. I’m in 306 and Dean is…passed out….somewhere…(I hope)”
“I think it is him, the boy from England…”
Oh sweet mother of fuck!
I went up to get his passport to give the cops, which I essentially
had to, and asked AJ to try and get me a minute alone to talk with
Dean to explain selling him out at this point, even though it was a
situation of his own making. But still, even though there were no
options, giving someone elses passport to Communist Cops doesn’t feel
good. I sweated and waited. This had to be some bad joke.
Car rolled up about 20 minutes later and I was expecting a bloody
panda to emerge from the backseat. But Dean actually seemed rather
jovial, with remarkable Chinese for his condition, an actually joking
around with the cops. They let me take him aside and I gave him the
passport to give them.
“What the fuck, Dean…”
” I know mate, I fucked up. Big time.”
“What happened?”
“Don’t really know. I’ve been blacked out most of the evening. But
apparently I’ve broken something…”
“A glass door the owner wants 10,000 RMB for (over $1,500), and you
fucked with a bank’s door. The cops picked you up sleeping in front
of an ATM…”
“Shit*”
“Why DEAN?”
“Can’t say. I remember nothing.”

He was released as they had his passport and he’d be an idiot to leave
town without it. The plan was to go to the station the next day with
AJ and try to negotiate the price down. Up in the room, I plugged him
for more information, but he had nothing I described the last time
I’d seem him hours before and he didn’t remember any of it, the Korean
guys, nothing. I’ve seen Dean drink plenty, and Jinan just the week
before had been a “blowout” but I had no inclining a beast such as
this dwelt within him.
“How are you gonna pay? Ask your folks for the money?”
“My parents don’t have any money. I’m gonna have to ask the school in
Liaocheng.”
He’d only remembered at some point thinking there was a zombie
apocalypse and begging the cops not to “go out there”.
I laughed bitterly and was soon asleep. I awoke to the sound of Dean
puking his guts out, the phone rang and it was time for him to go to
the Police station. Certainly that day’s hangover beat the Jinan one
for him. After a few hours the school called and I talked to Carol,
who was in a full panic. The cops had found her number in his wallet
and called the night before.
“What has happened? Why did you leave him? (because I am older, there
is a cultural assumption I should have been watching out for “younger
brother”) What was the phone number of the restaurant owner?”
And of course I had no info for her, but resented her presumptions, as
indeed HE’D left, I never went anywhere, and after months of cleaning
up after his 23 year old ass. Not to mention he fucked the chick I
was after for three months, and I’d wanted to come on this vacation on
my own anyway, and he’d tagged along like a fucking puppy. I’d didn’t
want to hear any shit about “responsible for Dean”. He’d made his bed
and he’d lie in it. I told Carol he planned to ask the school for the
money, and she laughed bitterly.

So I went on with my day, what else could be done? I went and toured
the Tsingtao brewery with the Irish which was mediocre. They only
give two small beers and the giftshop, the main reason I went, didn’t
have much. It was more of a museum tour, we saw no live brewing. I
wandered home, exploring the city. Got a cool robot, mech-warrior
model in a shop that seemed mostly a flower store but had a few toys.
I ran into some gay guys from Chicago who were staying at the hostel
and wandered with them a while trying to find this historic German
house, but was soon hungry and tried, in need of a shower, and headed
back to the hostel on my own after they pointed the way.
Eventually, Dean showed back up after spending most of the day with
the cops. Carol called again while he was in the shower and seemed
more calm but still claimed it was the “worst New Year” ever, and
asked me again not to drink any more.
“Fuck that! I didn’t break anything. I had a lovely evening, not
even a hangover as I just stuck to beer.” But I tried to calm her as
well. AJ had talked the price down to 5,000 and the school had indeed
wired him the money, about a months salary, which he now owed them,
but he had his passport back and supposedly there were no charges
being pressed. Apparently the guy who owned the restaurant was a
mobster, but as I never even saw him, this is the vaguest speculation.
AJ’s previous hostel had been “closed by gangsters” and I think he
sort of had gangster paranoia. But who knows… Bottom line, Dean
the black out drunk got lucky as fuck after getting really stupid. At
one point, the cops showed him the video from the bank of his butting
up against the doors, out of his mind wasted.
“If only it had just been the restaurant, the cops wouldn’t have had
any evidence”, he said.
“Zip it Dean”, I told him. “You have to own this! Now lets try to
get on with the vacation.”

We’d gotten tons of great DVD’s at a shop the day before, that night
found Book City which had lots of English titles (which means two
shelves worth, in China) finally got my own copy of the four volume
Outlaws of the Marsh so I don’t have to worry with borrowing volumes
elsewhere to get through the 1200 pages. We had dinner with a
Canadian living in Shanghi named Matt at a Korean Bar-b-que place.
Tsingtao has the Old City which is the hilly part, and the New City
which is more modern, full of jazz bars and conveniences, but much
less charming.
The next day was more wandering, exploring, had some sushi, back to
the new city for a two huge department stores, one French owned an one
Japanese. Dean was psyched to find Stella Artois. He had three
despite his new swearing off alcohol (but to be fair, he hasn’t had a
drop since) and I some Tsingtao dark, which is tasty and stronger than
the regular. And they even had Cheese, not processed bullshit but
real slice-able cheese. But it was stupid expensive, in small
packages that never would have made the trip home after a few drinks,
so we just stood there a while and looked at cheese – which was free.
I also saw one of my favorite wines Negro Gato, which is $7 for a
magnum in the States, but here slightly less than a bottle of Jameson.
I was so befuddled I almost grabbed a salesgirl to freakout on, but
what would have been the point?
That night met some more travelers, including a swell Hungarian chick
who lived in NYC for a while. Next morning we went to the train
station at dawn, glad we’d already gotten tickets home as soon as we
got to town, but not yet realizing it was for the local train that
would stop in most every station. So it was a freezing cold day, took
about 10 hours to get home, but at least we had seats the entire way,
which some didn’t.

So you’ve heard about Google pulling out of China for hacker attacks
against pro-democracy dissidents, possibly linked to the Chinese govt.
itself. While this makes me fear for loss of my gmail accounts and
gmaps either through the pullout itself or over reaction from The
Great Firewall, this week I began to experience other less expected
results.

Flickr is so huge, it is fed by “farms”, which I believe refer to
server farms. At first I thought it just might be me, but looking
around in the forums there I have confirmed that farms 3 and 5 are
blocked in Northern China at the moment; and this when I was just
given two more years membership as an Xmas gift. As a result, I can
not see most of my images, the more current ones, nor my contacts. I
can read image titles about others recent vacations etc, but only get
to see a red dot in the rectangular silhouette. Also IMBD is off
limits (really? you fuckers…) and Wikipedia comes and goes. And
obviously pornhub which was miraculously activated a few weeks back
doesn’t crank out the money shots any longer. Thus has begun my
search through various forums, which will remain nameless, for ways
around this bullshit.

Maybe I’ll spend my Spring Festival vacation in a Falun Gong training
camp in Taiwan or Tibet…

Went to Qufu (choo fu), Confucius’ hometown, which was nice to get out of Liaocheng for a day, but unlike the Forbidden city and various sites in Beijing, they allow vendors on site.  As there aren’t many tourists in winter, they are hungry, and ALL OVER YOU…  sort of a drag. And we had a big snow a few weeks back.  Did I mention our apt. has no heat?  The rooms do have electric units, but the main room has no gas heat, as they are repairing it for the entire building.  But what’s the point of bitching about this here?  Or the new roommate from the UK whose only 23 and used to his mommy cleaning up after him all the time?

Here are some articles I’ve compiled on Chinese weather manipulation (some sci fi shit…here’s another from Wired), censorship (I’ve heard from a woman who works with my Dad at the Fulton library, “party” members even harass anti-party press in the Chinese community in ATL),a robot Olympics,gang trials, and stupid laws no one is about to obey.  Happy clicking.

Living in China, I’ve had some encounters with other American’s over here to “teach English” who are in fact protestant Christians who feel they must convert, “save”, these lowly Chinese savages and inject bible-speak into every conversation they can. This despite the fact that Confucious, who is 500 years older than the “Christ child”, has had a more lasting effect upon the morality of China than the impact Holy J seems to have had upon the west. The wars, rape and murder keep on and on, but some just won’t shut about him. Unfortunately, many of these boring-ass myths are new to the Chinese students and they indulge the coersation, not to mention they’ll do most “anything to practice English”. I was hoping to vent some of this angst enjoying a film with this name, but the story has almost nothing to do with the title. A better title would have been Gynocide, which is seen written on a notebook at one point during the film. Note the feminist symbol for the T in the poster…

The prologue of this film is straight beautiful, even if a bit heavy handed. There are glimpses of the blunt carnality to come. But the film is more of a psychological thriller/ghost story than apocryphal. Charolette Gainsbourg steels the show from Defoe, but they both have rather solid performances. I wouldn’t have minded seeing her go off even more when it gets to that bit. I didn’t think the violence was as hardcore as some, or as realistic. A man would not carry on so after receiving such wounds. It’s got the fucking and genital mutilation you may have heard about, but not to such great effect. I’m not sure about Von Trier’s overall message in this film – is sort of wreaks of misogynistic paranoia. And you know it’s bad if I’m saying such a thing…. But it’s creepy like you want a scary movie to be creepy. I also give props for making a “small”, non-blockbuster film, and tasteful use of CG for a pleasant change.