April 17th: Hangzhou and back
[ posted by mcdeviltoast ]
Day 213
I woke in the morning, took a shower in our room's brand new shower booth which looked like an execution gas chamber. The water droplets fell from a circle in the ceiling (like gas pellets?) as you staredout of concave glass doors.
Heather and I went in search of coffee. I remembered seeing a "Blenz" by the lake the day before, so we headed there, but they opened at 10am. We swallowed our pride and headed towards Starbuck's. That wasn't opening until 9am. What kind of crazy country doesn't provide people with coffee in the morning? Traffic was nuts already, so it's not like the customer demographic wasn't about.
I took a deep breath, asked for universal forgiveness and went to (shudder) McDonald's. Beggars can't be choosers. I woke early, walked a couple miles; Mr. Willis was damn sure gonna have some goddamned coffee or he was gonna cut someone. We walked back and I decided for whatever reason I needed to try the ice cream bar called "the Black" which despite it nutty chocolate coating and purple ice cream tasted exactly like corn.
We walked back past tai chi groups, some with swords and fans, some with nothing at all. Groups of senior citizens were stretching (those little hobbit-sized grannies are limber!), and ballroom dancing to horrible Chinese pop songs.
Once back at the hotel had some tea, bread and honey. We tried to take a cab to the Lingyin Buddhist temple, but our cabbie dropped us off near some park saying he could go no further, that cabs weren't permitted. We hopped a very crowded bus and rode it five stops to the end of the line. I made it my mission to make this one old guy smile and it worked. I gave him a plastic rooster and told him Xienien Kuai le! We thumbs-upped each other when I got off the bus.
The temple entrance was overrun with people and touristy merch booths hawking bottled water and camera goods. A taste of what's to come when I go to Beijing I'm sure. After securing tickets we hiked our best away from the madding crowds, reached a peak to discover the view of the temple below was obscured by trees. Hordes of Chinese were crowding for a photo op with painted red characters on a rock. It seems to be a Chinese trait to "prove" where you've been with pictures rather than snapping something interesting. (Even at the lake, people were going apeshit to pose in front of a sign that read "West Lake.")
Once at the temple grounds, we had to cough up more kuai to get into the main part. Each building housed statues, ceiling tiles and intricate wooden-tiered chandeliers more impressive than the next (including a 24 meter tall statue made of camphor wood), but the anthill persistence of the crowds detracted from the beauty. Many nationalities perused the wonders, but the Chinese tourists were the ones taking flash pictures where they weren't supposed to, touching things that said "Don't touch", shouting inside the temples, decorating everything with ignorance and irreverence.
It took many deep breaths sometimes to keep centered and mellow, but I did it. Afterwards, we took a cab to a restaurant called Mohammed and gorged on authentic Middle Eastern cuisine while the TV behind us blared the last fourth of "Deep Rising." The "braising lamb" was the best, the sauce tasting similar to Cincinnati chili.
We all sat back and shook our heads, the meal was a little TOO good. How could we possibly be in China and have Middle Eastern fare of this caliber? We obtained bus tickets back that would only take us to Nantong, but would only be four hours instead of seven. The quality of the coach was remarkable, a complete 180 from the day before. We passed through Suzhou, went over the night ferry, arrived in Nantong and had nachos.
All of us were feeling exhausted but still found energy to have a couple drinks in the City Hunter Pub. Queen's Greatest Hits 2 was on the hifi, and a fat American was trying to hit on Sunny at the bar, leering and slobbering his way through what he believed to be his best and most eloquent woo, sounding more like a quiltwork of Hollywood's worst shit dialogue, but without structure or semblence of panache. He was being a bad ambassador and needed a knife in the ribs.
I lulled a bit on the cab ride back, barely remember scaling the Dongzhou gate and crashing in Heather's room.
I woke in the morning, took a shower in our room's brand new shower booth which looked like an execution gas chamber. The water droplets fell from a circle in the ceiling (like gas pellets?) as you staredout of concave glass doors.
Heather and I went in search of coffee. I remembered seeing a "Blenz" by the lake the day before, so we headed there, but they opened at 10am. We swallowed our pride and headed towards Starbuck's. That wasn't opening until 9am. What kind of crazy country doesn't provide people with coffee in the morning? Traffic was nuts already, so it's not like the customer demographic wasn't about.
I took a deep breath, asked for universal forgiveness and went to (shudder) McDonald's. Beggars can't be choosers. I woke early, walked a couple miles; Mr. Willis was damn sure gonna have some goddamned coffee or he was gonna cut someone. We walked back and I decided for whatever reason I needed to try the ice cream bar called "the Black" which despite it nutty chocolate coating and purple ice cream tasted exactly like corn.
We walked back past tai chi groups, some with swords and fans, some with nothing at all. Groups of senior citizens were stretching (those little hobbit-sized grannies are limber!), and ballroom dancing to horrible Chinese pop songs.
Once back at the hotel had some tea, bread and honey. We tried to take a cab to the Lingyin Buddhist temple, but our cabbie dropped us off near some park saying he could go no further, that cabs weren't permitted. We hopped a very crowded bus and rode it five stops to the end of the line. I made it my mission to make this one old guy smile and it worked. I gave him a plastic rooster and told him Xienien Kuai le! We thumbs-upped each other when I got off the bus.
The temple entrance was overrun with people and touristy merch booths hawking bottled water and camera goods. A taste of what's to come when I go to Beijing I'm sure. After securing tickets we hiked our best away from the madding crowds, reached a peak to discover the view of the temple below was obscured by trees. Hordes of Chinese were crowding for a photo op with painted red characters on a rock. It seems to be a Chinese trait to "prove" where you've been with pictures rather than snapping something interesting. (Even at the lake, people were going apeshit to pose in front of a sign that read "West Lake.")
Once at the temple grounds, we had to cough up more kuai to get into the main part. Each building housed statues, ceiling tiles and intricate wooden-tiered chandeliers more impressive than the next (including a 24 meter tall statue made of camphor wood), but the anthill persistence of the crowds detracted from the beauty. Many nationalities perused the wonders, but the Chinese tourists were the ones taking flash pictures where they weren't supposed to, touching things that said "Don't touch", shouting inside the temples, decorating everything with ignorance and irreverence.
It took many deep breaths sometimes to keep centered and mellow, but I did it. Afterwards, we took a cab to a restaurant called Mohammed and gorged on authentic Middle Eastern cuisine while the TV behind us blared the last fourth of "Deep Rising." The "braising lamb" was the best, the sauce tasting similar to Cincinnati chili.
We all sat back and shook our heads, the meal was a little TOO good. How could we possibly be in China and have Middle Eastern fare of this caliber? We obtained bus tickets back that would only take us to Nantong, but would only be four hours instead of seven. The quality of the coach was remarkable, a complete 180 from the day before. We passed through Suzhou, went over the night ferry, arrived in Nantong and had nachos.
All of us were feeling exhausted but still found energy to have a couple drinks in the City Hunter Pub. Queen's Greatest Hits 2 was on the hifi, and a fat American was trying to hit on Sunny at the bar, leering and slobbering his way through what he believed to be his best and most eloquent woo, sounding more like a quiltwork of Hollywood's worst shit dialogue, but without structure or semblence of panache. He was being a bad ambassador and needed a knife in the ribs.
I lulled a bit on the cab ride back, barely remember scaling the Dongzhou gate and crashing in Heather's room.
---
[ posted by mcdeviltoast @ 4/17/2005 03:12:00 AM ]
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The dumbtronica act Montana & McDeviltoast, along with their friends, keep each other updated on their activities. Much fun having by all, and Pockys fear for their lives!