Category: On a Slow Boat to China

6 September – Qingdao, China

A few last reminiscences from Vela – we will always remember the special placemats we had on our table for the meals…. refreshing and colorful:

Yet often our food was brown/white:

One of the Filipino seamen cuts hair for the crew; we needed trims which were carried out in the ship’s gymnasium:

Some consumer items were available from the ship’s “slop chest”, including $4 Cabernet Sauvignon and “Sky Flakes” saltines made in the Philippines, “suitable for export”:

A few more needlework creations, which will likely be used as gifts to our Chinese hosts in the couple of weeks to come:

 

 

 

6 September – Qingdao, China

Qingdao – another huge city in China that few of us know much about.  We passed by downtown as we approached the harbor.

Disembarked the Vela in the morning with our considerable amount of luggage, which they lowered down the side with a winch:

Easy immigration passage into China.  In 2014 we had to provide details on our hotel arrangements, an invitation letter from a Chinese host, and could get a visa good for  one year.  Now our visas were obtained with only an application and are good for 10 years.  The immigration officer even smiled at us!

We spent our night in Qingdao in a western-style hotel a few miles from the train station.  The rainy weather cleared in the evening, and we went out to investigate the area.

Perhaps especially in urban environments, social and cultural activities seem to be key to the  neighborhoods here.  Groups of people from all walks were out enjoying the public squares and promenades….. ladies dancing together, children roller-skating, teenagers playing hacky-sack, and elders looking on.

As we wandered, our attention was drawn to a screeching sound further down the street; we clambered through some bushes and came upon….. parking-lot karaoke!  A couple of dozen people had set up a huge video screen on a large paved lot, and were giving it their all to some classic Chinese faves:

It was just awful in the most wonderful way.

And thus begins our 2- to 4-week sojourn in China.  (Our date of departure still is up in the air, depending on the schedule of the ship we will be taking home.).  We’re excited about seeing Zeng again and what we will do and see.

 

8 September – Shenyang, China

Qingdao’s new train station has a single waiting room…. that can accommodate 10,000 passengers.  It’s huuuuge.

The bullet train to Shenyang takes 8.5 hours.  Our seats were quite comfortable, and the scenery zoomed past.

Zeng met us at the station, transported us to our hotel, and shortly after took us on an extraordinary culinary tour of Shenyang.

First stop was a restaurant specializing in dumplings that has been thriving for about 150 years.  So very good under any circumstances, but especially after cargo ship food…

Next we went to a street food bazaar, with at least 100 stalls selling a mind-boggling array of seafood, quail eggs, pig brains, “irrigation sphere ball”, omelet, steamed buns, and creepy-crawlies such as scorpions, bugs, lizards, etc.  We were sorry we filled up on dumplings!

Finally we connected with a university friend of Zeng’s, Leo, at a popular spot for grilled meat.  Leo is an official with the government’s environmental agency – quite a challenging job.  (Henry enjoyed the grilled silkworms!)

Long day, full stomachs – but a great reunion with Zeng and introduction to the food of Liaoning Province.

 

 

 

9 September – Shenyang, China

This city was the original seat of power of the Qing Dynasty, founded by an upstart Manchu leader in the early 17th century, around the end of Queen Elizabeth I’s rule in England.  The Qing Dynasty gets credit for unifying a number of warring fiefdoms into ancient China.  We visited the Qing Imperial Palace yesterday, which is second in size and historical import only to the Forbidden City in Beijing.

Lots of Chinese folk were there learning about their heritage, but very few Westerners, if any, other than ourselves.

Zeng then introduced us to another friend from his university days – Tong, a professor at Shenyang University.  Tong will be taking us to visit Manchuria and Inner Mongolia, an undertaking for which he is uniquely qualified, as his father is Manchu and his mother Mongol.  He took us for a short walk to a Buddhist monastery right in the heart of the city.

The lama gave us some blessed prayer flags, which will ultimately festoon some part of Henry’s homestead in East Texas, hopefully bringing us good fortune and peace.

The monastery was a splendid, colorful oasis of tranquility and beauty.

Quite a treat both esthetically and spiritually!

Tong will be picking us up tomorrow, along with his wife Ooh, and perhaps one of his students – and we will be heading by car further into Manchuria and the countryside.

Unfortunately, we had to bid farewell here to Zeng, who must return to his responsibilities with Nanjing University’s agricultural extension service.  We hope to catch up with him and his wife Lisa again soon, either on this trip or when he can manage a trip to our country.

 

Tong’s former classmate Chris, an economic development aide, joined us in Dandong, his home town.

The “Broken Bridge” was built across the Yalu River from Dandong to North Korea by the Japanese in 1908 or so, at a time when they held this part of China; it was bombed by the American forces in 1950 to prevent China from providing aid to the Northern forces during the Korean War. It has somehow become a popular Chinese symbol of the communist fight against American aggression.

It’s also a prime spot that the Chinese tourists visit to look over at North Korea.

It’s a bleak picture. The Chinese side of the river is a modern city, with broad boulevards and skyscrapers, colorful lights after dark.

 

The North Korean side is dark and destitute; a few communist-era concrete buildings, some burned-out old ships, and an overgrown amusement park where we heard that Kim Jong Un sometimes rides the ferris wheel or roller coaster while his subjects starve. 

The contrast:

The Chinese on the street are full of stories about atrocities – round-ups of hundreds of refugees being pierced through the shoulder, strung together with wire and dragged back across the border before being shot in the head, and cannibalism as food supplies dwindle. Chris says that few of the stories are true; only a handful of refugees have actually been shot, and most of them are welcomed into China and then shuffled off into South Korea. The truth may be somewhere in between.

Although the Chinese government has been supportive of the North Korean regime in the past, its position has modified as Kim’s government has become more aggressive and erratic. The Chinese people seem scornful of the plight of their neighbors; there clearly is a sense of superiority and very little sympathy, if any. It’s a sad place. Needless to say, the dolphins are not regnant here.

Still a bright light or two – Henry met a 93-year-old World War II veteran on the Chinese side whose wheelchair is draped with platitudes about peace, love and the fellowship of humanity. His smile tells his story.

You can also get your shoes repaired cheaply and conveniently.

If you have a fender bender, the police review video cameras on the spot, make a ruling (in our case against the taxi that scraped us), and you immediately drive to the body shop for a cosmetic job.

Off then to Phoenix Mountain, a Chinese “touristic site” where you can take a cable car part-way up the mountain, and from there experience an absolutely terrifying climb through boulders, along very narrow passages and atop spiny ridges at dizzying heights to glass walkways with glorious vistas, but only if you can overcome your paralyzing fear to look around.

Deadened by the horrific ordeal, we drove through the dark back to Shenyang for the night. (Henry might have a different opinion on the Phoenix Mountain experience.  He can write his own blog.)

 

12 September – Dandong, China

Tong and his wife Ooh picked us up in Shenyang; their 15-month old baby would be staying with Tong’s parents for the next few days.  Here is a traditional photo of the family (with Ooh’s brother on the right):

We drove to Hetuala City, a tourist site that was the home of the Manchu emperor who established the Qing Dynasty.  It’s a bit cheesy, with an historic re-enactment of the ascendancy of the emperor.  Once again, we were the only Westerners there, and we got more attention than the performance.  People would jostle each other aside for a chance to stand near us, to surreptitiously touch a sleeve or to pose with us for a photo.  It’s unnerving…. really gives you an appreciation for people who are “different” in some way and what they have to put up with.  Our guide apologized, but said that for some, we were the first foreign people they had ever seen.

In China, only certain hotels will accept foreigners as patrons; apparently, the government imposes reporting requirements on innkeepers to keep track of the non-Chinese guests.  In any event, the on-site hotel was not equipped to accept foreign people; Tong and his wife had to drive to town to pick up the appropriate government official, bring him to the hotel – where he completed the necessary record keeping – and then return him to town.  In the interim, Henry helped one of the other guests “smoke out” a cricket from the hotel steps for her pet collection, while Robbie anticipated sampling some rose rice wine.

The next day, a Sunday, we went to the nearby town of Yongling to check out the local market, and ran into a congregation from the local church.  We visited with the minister and had a very brief performance from the choir:

We were invited to the home of one of the church ladies, and met a number of her fellow villagers, including a couple of shy but excited ‘tweens:

A neighbor of hers is a mushroom farmer – interesting to learn how they are grown, harvested and stored.

On down the road, we stopped to inquire about some trees that were under cultivation (they were a type of Japanese maple), and were taken in by still another enthusiastic and welcoming crowd of folks.  We joined them for some wine and sampled their Sunday dinner.  It was a little intense for our taste…. the first thing Henry found in his bowl was a chicken head!  But they were so kind and happy….

The hotel in Benxi where we were to stay rejected us as foreigners (wah!) – the only hotel in town that would accept us was a huge monster that appeared to have been constructed primarily for communist party officials (and was almost deserted).

Today we passed through a mountainous area – where Henry found some logging activity (!), and we saw a koi cultivation operation and some millet fields:

We stopped for the night here in Dandong, which is a stone’s throw across the river from North Korea (about which there will be more to say in the next posting).  Ooh has left us to return to her baby in Shenyang, so it was just the three of us enjoying Korean barbecue for dinner…. and it was delicious.

Until next time!

 

Tong grew up in a small Manchu village, a farming community of about 13 families near Xinmin, west of Shenyang.  On our way there, we stopped at a grocery store to pick up some fruit, where all the workers wanted photos taken with the foreign visitors.

Tong’s aunt and uncle and a variety of other relatives welcomed us to their home, where they keep geese and pigs, cultivate a diverse vegetable garden and help manage the local corn crops. 

Most people in rural areas have similar living arrangements – a house with a central hall containing the kitchen and dining room, and rooms on each side with “brick beds” for sleeping and living areas.  (Many have converted to standard beds as tastes have changed.) They have electricity, television, internet, but no running water or sewage systems.  Water comes from a shallow water well through a hand- or electric-powered pump.  Drinking water is bottled; cooking water comes from the well and is boiled; water for washing is pumped into a wash basin.  The toilet is outdoors, a concrete pit that is occasionally scraped out and combined with animal waste for fertilizer.

The brick bed on the left was heated by a small fire of corn stalks and twigs and was more comfortable than we expected.  The face washing from the basin was not quite up to the standards to which I’m accustomed, but everyone else was spotless and well-groomed.

The near-by village had the evening ladies’ dance party that is so popular through-out China; we dropped by and caused a bit of a sensation by our presence.   Lots of pushing, shoving, picture-taking and cell phone videos.

The next day, we went to what was once the largest pit coal mine in Asia, which has since been played out.  It had several communist and Soviet-era memorials.

The best thing was the rock and mineral museum next door, a legacy from a Chinese benefactor with a collection that was just extraordinary.  The museum was actually closed for the day, but they opened for the foreign visitors, and charged only half price.  Henry was in heaven on many levels.

The scientific descriptions in English in the museum were quite good.  They did have a little problem, however, getting the facts together on Western Christmas traditions:

Hmmmmm… Adam and Eve festival with Christmas trees covered with sacred bread……

Behind the museum was a garden with a great selection of Chinese sculptures.

And lastly a couple of wall murals, the first showing the history of the mine area back to the dinosaur age; the second depicting the horror of the Japanese operation of the mine as a slave camp, and its subsequent liberation by the Red Army.

Amazing things to see and do at every turn and in the most unexpected places!

Another of Tong’s classmates, a Mongol, lives with his family in a farming community near Fuxin.  Their living arrangements were much like those of the Manchu family, but with differences in the traditional dialects and music (and of course other cultural distinctions which we could not…… distinguish.).

They have donkeys in addition to pigs, chickens and pet dogs!  We stayed on another brick bed, with the chickens in an enclosure right next door, and a verdant garden outside:

Dinner was concluded by singing some traditional Mongolian songs.  Nobody was impressed with our attempts to reciprocate with pathetic versions of “Deep in the Heart…” and “The Eyes of Texas”.

By the way, we have been joined by one of Tong’s students, Yuan – above right in the photo.  He is a student of English and soil science and has been very helpful and nice.  We enjoyed our stay with the family and the “little prince”, the male child who is the focus of everyone’s attention. 

Our first official night in Inner Mongolia was in the city of Tongliao, where we had a traditional dinner, complete with Mongol music, pretty girls, and mare’s milk victuals.

And remember who came from Mongolia.  Genghis Khan – who not only conquered Asia and solidified the Silk Road – opening up trade to the Middle East and Europe – but whose DNA, due to his exuberant coupling with conquered peoples –  is also in more than half the citizenry of the world (according to a recent report).

We are off to the grasslands!  Hope you are all well.

 

 

 

 

Well, not every interlude is going to include exciting or trail-blazing adventures.  We headed toward Lubei in Inner Mongolia from Tongliao.  Had to stop at a palace because Tong was hung over from the night before – he recuperated in the parking lot while we trudged around.

We stopped for lunch with some of Tong’s Mongol friends from school:

These guys looked happy, so we got a photo:

Picked up Tong’s father-in-law and drove to a spot in the grasslands.  

Beautiful country, lovely weather.  It would have been really great to just continue from there, but our companions had to return to their lives, and unfortunately, China is simply not very hospitable to the casual foreign rambler.

So, we took Tong’s father-in-law home, and posed for the usual photo:

We returned to Shenyang for a farewell dinner at Tong’s home with Ooh and his own son, shown here photo-bombing our picture with Yuan:

You’ll notice the opening in the front of his pants that proudly displays his tiny manhood.  China had the “one family, one child” policy in place for a number of years, and with only one shot at a lasting legacy, Chinese families showed a marked preference for male children.  They are in loving evidence everywhere, doted upon by parents, grandparents, friends and other relatives.  Selective abortion of healthy female fetuses was officially outlawed about five years ago.  Seems like there will be a generation or two of Chinese fellers who will have a hard time finding Chinese gals with whom to perpetuate the population…..

Spent a day in Shenyang re-grouping, as we have decided to wait to board our homeward-bound ship until the second week of October in Tianjin.  The bullet train took us to Tianjin, where we spent the night in a hotel near the port in order to stow our large suitcases until our later departure.  Now we can move around more freely!

Travel by bullet train in China is pretty simple once you get the hang of it, although few Westerners seem to do it, and it’s not particularly glamorous:

The hotel in Tianjin is Chinese, but aspires to certain Western standards, including the presence of a “cocktail lounge” in the lobby.  We bellied up to the bar and ordered a Singapore Sling (for Henry) and a Salty Dog (for Robbie) from the proffered menu.  Clearly, the two young ladies there had never prepared an alcoholic beverage in their lives –  they pulled out a three-ring binder to consult, made several frantic cell phone calls, and collapsed in nervous laughter more than once.  Henry was informed they could not make a Singapore sling, so changed it to a Cosmopolitan, finally ending up with a B-52 (of sorts).  Robbie’s Salty Dog was a capful of off-brand vodka and 4 capfuls of grapefruit juice, shaken in a shaker and sprinkled with a paper packet of salt, no ice.  A pathetic endeavor, but they had enough moxie to ask us for written recommendations when all was said and done (and we were still pretty thirsty!)

From Tianjin, we venture southwest to Xi’an, our first venture into the China as known to many Western tourists.

Most visitors to China go to Beijing, Shanghai, Hong Kong… and/or Xi’an.  This was our first visit on this trip to a “tourist destination”.  It was strange hearing native English spoken by other people again.  We did the usual tourist things:  bicycling on the city wall:

and a visit to the terra cotta warriors site, undoubtedly the biggest Xi’an attraction.  On a slow day, “only” 100,000 people visit the site; the record has been almost half a million.   Half a million!  On one day!  A staggering number….  Hard to imagine until you’ve been there.

The vast majority of visitors are Chinese; it looks like the government develops and promotes tourist sites in order to churn the internal economy…. making it each Chinese citizen’s patriotic duty to get on a green bus to visit these locales which are surrounded with acres of restaurants, snack bars, souvenir shops and vendors of “genuine” artifacts.  The site is truly extraordinary… almost as much for its commercialism as for its historic and artistic significance, which is in no way trivial.

We also spent a day visiting the nearby blueberry fields owned and managed by Steven Ding, a school friend of Zeng’s.

Steven mined Henry for blueberry-growing wisdom, and in return treated us like royalty, including dinners with some of his friends that were sublime but left us without appetite for a couple of days.

A few other images from our time in Xi’an.

Next we will visit Xining, only because it is the furthest city to the west you can get to on the bullet train in less than a full day.