I’ve Just Seen a Face

(Song by John Lennon and Paul McCartney.  It’s on their “Help!” album.  My favorite versions are by Kenny Rankin, which is slow and somber, and Holly Cole, which has a touch of the country sound to it.)

I’m traveling through that ancient country again.  Much to tell.  But first I have to tell you about my transit through Hong Kong.  Direct flights between Washington and Beijing were stopped during the pandemic and have not started up again.  So, I routed myself through Hong Kong.

Going there wasn’t a problem, except for the timing.  From my house to the hotel in Shanghai took 38 hours.  On my way back I flew from Beijing to Hong Kong.  In Beijing there were two different immigration and security checks.  Upon arriving in Hong Kong, there were two more security checks.  After the second, I assumed I was free to leave the airport.  As I was headed toward the exit, I saw 4 police officers standing near the exit looking over the people.  Their eyes landed on me and when I approached, a female officer headed straight toward me, held up her hand, and asked to see my passport and boarding pass.

I had just finished a hard 2.5 weeks traveling through China and was exhausted – and in mood to be picked on.  So, as I was searching through my cargo pants for my passport, I said, in an annoying tone, “I guess you stopped me because I’m not Chinese, right?”  She should have admitted it, but no, she said this is just a random check.  I unbent my aching body, looked her straight in the eye, and with a more annoying tone, said, “I don’t think so.”  Fortunately, instead of taking me in for interrogation, she returned my passport and told me I’m free to go.  Sorry I have no photos of the incident.

Ah, yes, Hong Kong

保罗

Grandma’s Hands

(This wonderful song was written and sung by the incomparable Bill Withers.  Other great versions were done by Livingston Taylor and Josh White, Jr.)

Warning:  This post is rated R and is not suitable for children or anyone else with delicate sensitivities.

Many people have heard me say that the Chinese do three things better than anyone else:  tea, mushrooms, and tofu.  But that’s only in the realm of food (which is my favorite “land” in Disneyland).  There is another invention of the Chinese that I think ranks way up there:  foot massage (also called foot reflexology).  The Chinese believe that through serious foot massage, many healing benefits can be realized throughout the body.

My first foot massage was in a small mountain village called Wuyishan, in the mountains of Fujian province.  I was there with two TJ students, and we stumbled upon this place that gave good massages for $5.  It was wonderful!

Then in 2012 I went to Xi’An to see the Terra Cotta Warriors.  After lunch one day my Chinese colleagues asked what I’d like to do, and I said get a foot massage.  We quickly found a nice spa and they lined all four of us up adjacently, each with a different massager.  (I can’t really call them masseuses.)  My massager asked me, through translation, if I wanted it soft, medium, or hard.  I, being a supermacho, said hard.  For the next hour, I had to grip both sides of the couch, teeth clenched, and occasionally uttering an involuntary whimper.  If I were in Tombstone, Arizona, in the 1880s, she would have given me a bullet to bite down on.

Then, when I was living in Beijing, I found a great foot massage place close to my apartment, and I went there about once a week.  Sadly, the price had soared to $8.  Truly sadly, they closed.  Like the U.S., there is high turnover of small business in Chinese cities.  I was so desperate I bought what was supposed to be a foot massager…,

…but it really didn’t do anything.  Maybe I should have pushed the “On” button.

In Virginia I have a Brookstone (also out of business) version of a foot massager, and it’s not half bad.

Whenever I’m in Beijing, I try to find time to visit my old back massager, Jerry.  I had a serious back problem once, and I went to Jerry three times a week.  He’s really good, as is his wife Annie.  Blind massagers are common in Beijing (and maybe other parts of China, too) because the government subsidizes them, and therefore their prices are low.  In 2008 Jerry was part of an elite group of blind massagers serving participants in the Olympic Games.  Here I am with Jerry and Annie.

These are two of the nicest people on Earth.  They work 12-hour days with 30 minutes for lunch, 7 days a week.  And they are grateful for what they have, they are always smiling, and I wish I could see them more often.  They have a sighted daughter in college in southern China.

One time Jerry suggested I have cupping on my back.  Annie is the cupping master, so she did it.

I believe the theory goes something like this:  the “doctor” heats the air inside the glass cup, usually with a candle, then quickly puts it on the patient’s skin.  As the air cools inside the cup, a suction (not a true vacuum, of course) is created, pulling the skin into the cup a little bit.  This is supposed to increase blood flow in that area, thereby increasing healing through natural means.  The scientific basis for this assumption is weak at best, but I like the feel of it.  It’s like someone scratching your back really hard.

With me there occasionally is a problem in that the hair on my back sometimes prevents the cup from getting a good seal, and the glass cups fall off onto the floor.  Annie, who sees slightly better than Jerry, was able to find them.

I’m sure if I asked Jerry to give me an hour’s foot massage he would, but I suspect he may be insulted if I do, thinking that I’ve lost appreciation for his back and neck massages (which I haven’t).

OK, back to the foot massage issue.  Wherever I travel in China I try to find a reputable but affordable foot massage.  One of the cities I visit regularly is Hefei.  On my last trip there, someone recommended a place not too far from my hotel.  The concierge kindly arranged for a DiDi pickup – in 2016, DiDi bought Uber China – and I was taken to this small pedestrian-only shopping area.  (I’ll talk more about this in the next post.)

Anyway, after wandering around for a while, I finally found the massage place (purple curtains).

I walked in just as they were opening and they weren’t quite ready, so they asked me to sit down and they brought me some tea and goodies while they performed their customary opening ceremony.

In China it is very common for businesses to start their day with the employees all lined up, facing each other, while the manager gives them instructions and a pep talk for the day.

This particular ceremony was held inside the business, but it is often held on the sidewalk in front of businesses.  If you’re DiDi-ing through Beijing around 9 or 10 a.m. you’ll probably see people lined up like this on the sidewalks.  When I first saw this I thought it was a bit bizarre.  And guess what:  I still do.

Soon the ceremony was over, and the manager (blue shirt) came and asked me what I wanted.  I said I was looking for a foot massage.  She responded that they don’t do that here, but she recommended another place close by, so I left.  (Later the person who recommended the place thought there was some discrimination at play here, but we didn’t know whether it was based on age, race, or my American accent.)

I went to find the other place, which I did.  As soon as I walked in, I realized this was a high-class joint.

I knew this because Judy came up to me and handed me her business card with her personal cell phone number.

Judy led me down a nice-looking hallway…

…to a room where she asked me to take off my clothes and slip into “something more comfortable,” which looked to me like leopard pajamas with short pants.

Judy left, I changed, and in walked #37.  As she was filling the tub at the end of the bed for my feet, I experienced a sense of euphoria with the anticipation of a professional foot massage.  Instead, she started massaging my ears…,

…then cleaning them,…

…and finally treating me to a tuning fork vibrating against the cleaning stick.

And, believe it or not, there is in fact something called “tuning fork therapy.”

Both ears took a total of about 15 minutes.  Finally, she made her way down to my feet and I got a great massage.  I’ll be back and I’ll look for #37.

I was looking forward to getting to Shanghai because I discovered a great foot massage place near my hotel.  But the knuckleheads put me up in a different part of the city, so on a free evening, I had to wander around looking for a foot massage place.

I found one.  I walked in and there were several women waiting.  One of them came up to me and asked if I wanted a massage?  I said yes, a foot massage.  She showed me the price list and tried to get me to buy the fancy package, but I resisted, saying I wanted only a simple foot massage.

Her name was Amy.  She was about 35, but she looked like she had led (was leading?) a hard life.  We went into a little room.  I sat down, rolled up my pants to the knees, and waited for her to return with the bucket of warm water with a tea bag in it.

I put my feet in the water, and it felt very soothing after a long day’s work.  But instead of working on my feet, she began rubbing my thighs, asking me if I wanted something she called a “happy massage.”  She asked me this 6-8 times during the next 5 minutes, and I consistently told her all I wanted was a standard foot massage.  She said she had a sister who had a tea shop around the corner, and afterwards she would take me there.  I think I just grunted.

Eventually she located my feet.  Clearly, she did not have a Ph.D. in reflexology.  I was glad when my hour was up.  She led me back downstairs where a guy was standing, ready to take my money.  He looked at her and she shrugged, saying something in Chinese.  He did not look happy.  (Maybe HE needs a “happy massage.”)  Fortunately, I had the exact amount (158 RMB or about $23) because I may not have gotten any change from this guy.  Amy asked me how long I was going to be in town, and I said 3 more days.  She wanted me to come back, though I can’t imagine why.  Strangely, Amy forgot about our date at her sister’s tea shop, so I left.

If you are a male and walking by yourself in a touristy part of Shanghai, you WILL be accosted.  Beware!  Sexual harassment of males in China is not an offense recognized by the government.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

One of my brother’s favorite sayings is “You’re ugly when you whine.”  This time I must plead guilty.  (To whining, not to being ugly.)

It started on the plane, shortly after take-off.  I was settling in, had my Bose Q15 noise-reduction headphones on, and was ready to take a nap.  Then I heard what seemed like a Chinese TV program.  But my headphones were plugged into my MP3 player.  Turns out the guy (about 25) sitting across the aisle from me was watching a movie or something on his cell phone – with the volume turned up so he could hear it over the sound of the engines.  Was I the only one disturbed by this intrusion into my noise space?  It seemed so.

This is not a rare phenomenon in China.  The usual culprits are men, young and old, and for years I’ve encountered this in Beijing parks.  Still, I was just standing behind a girl on an escalator about 25 who was watching (and listening to) a music video.  Here are a couple of guys, strangers to each other, sitting in the lobby of a Nanjing hotel.

It was like dueling banjos:  they both had the volumes on high, listening to different programs.  Neither seemed to notice the other.  Yes, I’m willing to entertain the possibility that I’m oversensitive to noise interference.  For example, right now I’m on a high-speed train from Hefei to Beijing and sitting behind me is a guy talking very loudly on his cell phone.  Looking around, I see no one, including the 50-year-old woman next to me, showing any signs of noticing this.

OK, I’m finished entertaining the possibility that I’m overly sensitive, and I’ve rejected it.  Chinese people talk loudly, especially the men.  I’m wondering if it is partly due to the nature of their language, which has a large tonal element to it.  I have been with a group of Chinese people talking and sometimes they had trouble understanding each other, even though they were from the same part of China.  Perhaps Chinese have to raise the volume so the subtleties that enable them to identify certain words can be distinguished.  Perhaps the pitch range of female voices is such that they can be understood clearly at a lower volume.

When I stay in Hefei, I always stay at the a hotel called the Chinese Caligraphy Building.  (More on that later.)  The other night I was in the hotel’s Japanese restaurant, and at the table next to me were 4 guys, apparently in their 30s.  All 4 were watching videos or something on their cell phones, and the cacophony coming from the table was almost unbearable.

I would have changed tables except for the fact that all other tables were reserved for the large convention group that was staying at the hotel.  This was a convention of beaut

icians.  Could have been worse.  Still, as I was going up to my room, I was in an elevator with 12-13 young women who all knew each other.  Though they were not speaking individually in loud voices, the total decibel level was, well, YIKES!

There’s no doubt that the novelty and excitement of China has worn off, and I become more irritated with some of the rude things I encounter.  For example, in addition to talking loudly most of the time, many Chinese butt in line.  Other Chinese are used to this and neither say nor do anything about it.  Just now, as I was waiting to pass through the turnstile at Hefei’s train station, a guy about 35 and a little taller than I, tried to push in front of me.  I literally pushed him out of the way.  I’m sure he was surprised at this, and he had a few words for me.  Fortunately, I had no idea what he said.  And again, while waiting to get onto the Airport Express subway, a man about 40 did not get at the end of the line of 6 people but simply moved to the front.  No one seemed to object, but I tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the back of the line.  Instead of going there, he moved to another door where he butt in line there.

So, back to the guy on the plane.  As you know, airline people will distribute tiny earbuds to those who need them.  When they came by, I accepted a pair, and then offered them to the guy across the aisle.  He actually smiled and, simultaneously, his girlfriend sitting next to him (who WAS using earbuds) spoke to him.  He graciously declined my offer and took out his own earbuds and plugged them in.  Everybody happy.

Constant Craving

(from k.d. lang’s Grammy-winning CD “Ingénue”)

Sichuan Day 6, Part 2

Across from the New Mexico women there was a narrow wooden railing.

I understand the admonition against sitting on the railing, but lying?  Really.

After browsing through the goodies for sale, we crossed a bridge to the far side of the lake…

…to look at more rivers…

…and waterfalls,…

…along with everyone else.

[Postscript:  Sometime between when we were there and now there was a serious earthquake at Jiu Zhai Gou, and a friend told me that this beautiful waterfall was destroyed.]

Lunchtime!!!  Why is it that I’m ALWAYS hungry?  Halfway back to our village we stopped at a little outpost where they sold instant lunches, and we bought a couple of these alleged “ready-to-eat” things.

I said “I’m starving.  Let’s eat.”  But then I uncovered instructions…

…that not even Einstein would have been able to decipher.  (He could not read Chinese either.)  A picture may be worth a thousand words, but if all those words are in Chinese, well…

So, X23 dismantled this apparatus and spread the various parts in front of her.

She gave me tasks that she thought I could handle, such as stirring the cooked-but-cold rice.

X23 then put the heating pad (loaded with toxic chemicals, no doubt) in the bottom of the container and poured the little bag of water over it.

She then placed the rice in the container,…

…covered the whole thing, then put that in the accompanying plastic bag.

The instructions say (so I was told) to wait until it puffs up, which it did.

X23 then assigned me the task of adding the goop…

…and mixing it in with the rice.

The lunch box came with a toothpick, also.

The food was good and so was the view.

After lunch, we followed the crystal clear directions to the bus stop to take us home.

As is very common in China, to get to the exit, you have to pass through a labyrinth of sales booths.  In this place, we found butterflies in amber, …

…some stuff that looked like saffron, …

and the pièce de résistance, dried caterpillars.  Yum!

Man in the Mirror

Sichuan Day 5, Part 1

FINALLY!!  Today’s the day we go to Jiu Zhai Gou Park, our main reason for coming to Sichuan Province.  For years my friend MQ has been telling me this is the most beautiful place in China, and now I’m going to see it.

But first things first:  BREAKFAST.  X23 and I left our hotel (which didn’t serve any food) and sauntered a couple blocks to this little alley…

…where we found an eatery that didn’t even rise to the level of hole-in-the-wall.

I must digress ever so briefly in reminding you that the food throughout China is wonderful.  In 3 years of eating all over the country I never had a bad meal – until this morning.  I don’t know what it was about these noodles and buns, but they just didn’t taste good.

Maybe the problem was with me.  As you can see in the previous photo, X23 (in the background in her new gray and orange jacket) devoured this food, as she does all meals, as if there will be no tomorrow.

We walked down to the main road and grabbed a taxi to go the few miles to the entrance of the Park.  I don’t remember the exact cost of the entry tickets, but I believe it was about $15/day.  Just inside the entrance, we hopped on a bus,…

…and got off at the first main stop, a small village tucked at the base of the mountains.

In a rare moment of genius, X23 had arranged for us to stay at a small hotel in this village.  It was a great decision not only because of the ambiance but also because we got 2 days in the park for the price of 1.  (The way we did that was to wait until the second day’s buses started delivering tourists before we ventured from the hotel rooms.  That way Park officials wouldn’t be suspicious.)

We started up a walkway toward our hotel,…

…which, as it turned out, had plastic tarps covering the patio…

…because of all the construction going on nearby.

We were led into the common room (combination living room and dining room), decorated in the traditional lavish manner of Tibetans,…

…where we were served tea by our hosts.

After tea I sauntered out to the windowed porch (or sitting area) where I soon fell asleep.

There was another old man there, too, who was the father of the hotel’s owner.  He wasn’t really grumpy but he didn’t want his picture taken.

And while I was snoozing and the old man was pouting, X23 was goofing off, taking pictures into a mirror.

After I awoke, we decided it was time to take a look at the natural beauties of the park.  We headed toward the other side of the village, where we would catch one of the many buses that constantly shuttle throngs of people from one observation point to the next.  Our village is the first stop after boarding a bus at the entrance.

Near the bus stop is a colorful display of flags.

As we approached the bus stop area we saw that the crowds had increased,…

…so we joined them on the trek to the next observation point.  For most of this journey, all we saw were the backs and heads of other tourists.

Finally, the underbrush started to open up and we got occasional glimpses of beautiful river.

It was indeed crystal clear water.

We rejoined the hordes of people going up the wooden constructed trail, and soon came upon several cascading waterfalls,..

…above which was a crystal-clear lake…

…full of schools of little fish.  (I wonder if these are the ones they use to clean your feet.  J)

This is the view that reminds me of Glacier National Park, with the steep tree-crowded slopes next to the lake and the tree-less mountain in the distance.

We rejoined the horde…

…and finally made it, by bus, to the top of the valley.  Here, at Long Lake,…

…there were local people dressed in their native costumes.

We saw the other tourists eating lunch,…

…so we went to the single food truck and bought our own gourmet meal for about $1,…

…which we enjoyed immensely.

Throughout China, whenever there are large crowds (“basically” everywhere), you see many people ignoring the lines and trying to butt in and order something without waiting in line.  This was certainly the case at the food truck.  They are generally successful because they intimidate the sellers with their aggressiveness.  What impressed me about the guys running the truck was that they would not serve these “buttinskies” and continuously told them to go to the end of the line.  This kept me from having to tell them myself, which I have often done, much to the fear of my companions.

More soon.

保罗

 

Mr. Hulot’s Holiday

Lest anyone think I’ve succumbed to the worst air Beijing has ever seen, let me assure you that I’m fine and am finishing a 2-week vacation in Virginia. Tomorrow I return to Beijing with a friend (who’s been a friend since 4th grade, incidentally). We have a 20-hour layover in San Francisco, so we’ll stay overnight with my brother in Berkeley.

It’s going to be strange switching back to another culture after a fortnight of relative luxury (a car, heat, cooking utensils, etc.) I do more reading in China, though — inasmuch as there’s not much else to do except work. I picked up a book before I left last August called “The Passage.” The back cover sounded like it was science fiction, which I love, but it was about vampires (not the same thing). Still, it was a page-turner and I finished it. If you like that sort of stuff, then by all means…

I don’t want this to turn into some general Facebook-type site where I talk about everything I read, but as I’ve started, let me just finish it off by mentioning the latest 3 books I tackled:

(a) I read “Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand” by Helen Simonson and it’s one of those wonderful books that make you feel really good on every page. It’s so enjoyable I didn’t want it to end. I recommend it highly, as long as you’re not too averse to a little sappiness.

(b) Then I started “The Gathering” by Anne Enright. This won the 2007 Man Booker prize, and I’m sure it’s excellent, but it’s clearly a real downer and I didn’t feel like something so somber after “Major Pettigrew…” So I gave up on it (something I rarely do) and will approach it another day.

(c) Ah, but then I found “Nocturnes” by Katsuo Ishiguro. He is my favorite living novelist. His first book (“Remains of the Day”) won the Booker prize, also. This is fast, fluid, and delightful collection of 5 stories. The second won caused me to laugh out loud, and a books got to be pretty good for me to do that. I hope you all read it.

So when Phil and I arrive in Beijing, we’ll have one day to feel lousy in Beijing before we’re off to Yunnan Province, which some people in China think is the most beautiful part of that country (right up there with Tibet).

I hope you’re all doing well and looking forward to my Yunnan pictures and stories.

The RDFZ routine starts again February 25.

Ciao.