Posted in essay

Requiem for a Kitten

Two days I was just leaving the gym with my girlfriend when we heard a small noise. We looked over to a cluster of bins and saw a small cat sitting among them. White with black markings, the little kitten looked at us and meowed again.

I walked slowly over, trying to seem non-threatening. I know cats well, and know almost all the street cats in China would run a mile when approached by a human, so I was very surprised when she stayed put. She seemed scared, but held her ground.

When I put out my hand and petted her on the head, she purred and came closer to me. She rubbed up against my leg and rolled on the ground as I tickled her. I noticed that she was very skinny. In fact, when I put my hand around her, I saw she was the skinniest cat I’d ever seen. She was dangerously thin; just a spine wrapped in fur.

I didn’t know what to do. I contemplated running off to get some food from a nearby shop, but she looked like a single meal wouldn’t help her. She needed much more than that. After a short discussion, Vera and I decided to take her home. We said we wouldn’t keep her, but we’d help her get back to full health.

*

The little cat had no qualms with me picking her up and wrapping her in my sweatshirt, although she was quite scared as I held her to my chest and drove back home through traffic. She was remarkably well-behaved, though, and we were soon back at the house. I plonked her down in the living room and gave her some chunks of cooked beef, and then shot out to find a petshop where I could pick up supplies – several varieties of kitten food, kitty litter, shampoo, etc.

She had dived straight into the beef chunks but it didn’t occur to me until much later – after I’d gotten home from work – that she may not actually have eaten much, if anything. She didn’t touch her kibble or her tuna, and she seemed to sit next to the water bowl for a long time without drinking. In the evening I began to grow worried. Maybe something was wrong with her mouth or stomach?

She was very affectionate and well-behaved, meowing a little but never getting into trouble. When I left the house she would wait by the door until I came back, then flop at my feet and purr when I got in again. At night she sat quietly in her little bed, not howling like some felines do. She was the perfect cat.

*

The next morning I went to work but decided that at lunchtime we would go find the nearest vet and get Pearl – as she was now called – checked out. However, when I got home at lunchtime she ran over to me to say hello, but moments later started vomiting. Then she collapsed and just lay in her bed unable to move. I scooped her up and carried her in my arms to the vet, who said she was the skinniest cat he’d ever seen, too. He checked her out, giving her a few shots and some medicine we had to feed her later. He said she’d probably eaten something bad on the street and gotten so sick she was never able to eat again from the damage she’d done herself. He recommended us to use a syringe to get water down her throat. If she survived the night, he said he could put her on an IV drip the next day.

We took her home and did as the vet suggested but within ten minutes she’d thrown it all up again. We tried again and again, with the same results. She deteriorated quickly, unable to keep anything down. By ten o’clock at night it was clear she wouldn’t see the morning. The cat who was so cheerful just twelve hours earlier was now barely able to breathe. Whenever she tried to stand or even move herself about on her bed, she fell back down. She couldn’t even lift the weight of her own head.

Before going upstairs to bed, I sat down next to Pearl to say goodbye. I knew she wouldn’t be there to greet me in the morning this time. I put my hand on her tiny body as her ribs rose and fell ever so slightly. She had long since stopped purring when her petted her. I felt horrible for having not been able to save her. I killed me to watch her suffer and die. I wondered what would have happened if there had been a decent vet anywhere in the city, instead of the tiny backstreet one I’d had to visit that lunchtime. Could a real, qualified vet have saved her life?

Just as I was about to get up, she dragged herself off the little red bed and across the floor to my feet, somehow raised her head, and rested it on my lap. She lay there, unmoving, for ten minutes. Reluctantly, I picked her up and returned her to her bed, then went upstairs to my own, knowing she would be dead in the morning.

*

When I woke up and went downstairs, I found her lying with her eyes and mouth open. She was cold and stiff, and her face was filled with fear and suffering. She had not just slipped peacefully away in the night. She had died alone from starvation and dehydration – a horrible fate that nothing in this world deserves, not least a baby cat. I tried telling myself that nothing could have saved her, and that I had given her a day of happiness she otherwise would never have experienced. For that first day, she had seemed so delighted to receive attention and to be warm. She purred constantly and was in her element sitting on either of our laps. Yet her short life had been filled with a suffering I thankfully have never known, and I had tried and failed to save her from the awful fate that awaited her.

It should seem inevitable that this was her fate. The life of a cat in a place like China is almost invariably one of prolonged suffering. The cruelty of nature is doubled in such an unfriendly environment. But something tricked me into putting aside my cynicism and having hope for Pearl. A week earlier, I had begun reading a book called The Travelling Cat Chronicles. In it, the protagonist, who is a cat, is badly hurt and seeks out a human to help him. Neither man nor cat expects their relationship to go beyond a trip to the vet and a few weeks of recuperation, but they became the closest of friends.

When Pearl appeared in my life, I immediately felt she had sought out help. As silly as that seems, it is just so abnormal for a cat her in China to allow a person to approach her and pet her. They learn very early that people equal death or worse. But Pearl came to us and came into our life, and immediately she made herself the perfect pet. Both Vera and I, within an hour of Pearl staying in our house, felt that she would be with us for years – even though neither of us had wanted a pet. It just seemed so perfect, like it was all meant to be.

It is odd how much an animal can affect a human’s life. Or perhaps it is not odd at all… Many animals have affected my life, but normally it takes much more than a day to do so. Pearl was a tiny but powerful force that turned my life upside down very quickly and then left, leaving it a whole lot emptier. Her death has caused me more sadness than I could have imagined, and yet I would do it again in a heartbeat. I’m still glad she had at least some happiness and comfort in her life before she passed away. The majority of cats, or any other animal, for that matter, endure their pain without respite.

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Posted in travel

The Sacred Tibetan Mountain: Meili Xueshan

After spending a little time in Lijiang and Shangri-La, my girlfriend and I took off for a more remote part of China. We were keen to see something different and to get away from the crowds. To use an old cliché, we wanted to get off the beaten path.

From Shangri-La, we took a four hour bus ride up into the mountains. Shangri-La is already at a high altitude. Walking up a flight of stairs there is enough to leave you severely winded unless you’re used to breathing such thin air. But the road north-west leads quickly up into the mountains. It’s slow going on the narrow mountain roads that wind up through the jagged hills. But it’s scenic and the time slips by easily enough. For much of the journey you are following the Jinsha River, which is an early incarnation of the Chiangjiang River (better known in the West as the Yangtze). However, soon this is replaced by the Mekong. I’ve seen the Mekong many, many times in the tropical climate of Southeast Asia, so seeing it here in the high Tibetan Plateau is just bizarre.

Our destination is uncertain at this point. My girlfriend has found a mountain online that seems to hold a peculiar allure, and so we’re going close to it and hoping that there’s something to do in the area. We certainly can’t climb the mountain. Aside from being about 7,000 meters high, it’s actually never been climbed before. Well, not successfully. In 1991, a team of 11 Japanese climbers attempted to summit Meili Xueshan but were all killed by an avalanche. Some Chinese climbers attempted to climb it five years later but failed, too, although they at least escaped with their lives. The mountain has been closed to climbing ever since as it is considered sacred to the local Tibetan Buddhists. This makes it the first and only mountain in China that’s entirely closed to the public for cultural or religious preservation.

Our bus took us to the tiny city of Deqin, embedded in the side of a mountain. It is a remote city and one that looks precariously balanced – in threat of falling thousands of meters down to the river below. The people there look as tough as mountain goats and the buildings suggest that they may indeed have been replaced every few years after falling into the valley. When our bus arrives, we expect to take a car to the nearby town of Feilaisi, but the bus driver tells us he’s going that way and we can just give him 5rmb to stay on.

Soon we arrive in Feilaisi, a tiny tourist town comprised almost entirely of hotels. It’s also built into the side of a mountain, and exists almost entirely because it offers a perfect view of Meili Xueshan. Or rather, it would were it not for the massive cloud bank that engulfs everything around us. Instead, we are stuck in a tiny town with nothing to do, in a grossly overpriced hotel, looking at the inside of clouds.

We take a walk around the nearby hills but the stunning views are entirely hidden. A lonely path takes us on a long walk through a forest. As we get to the farthest points, the winds pick up and the temperature drops suddenly. Then the rain begins to fall hard around us. It is a tough environment here in the mountains. You can’t breathe, can’t see anything, and it’s freezing cold. Yet, as we found out later, despite the cold it’s incredibly easy to get sunburned.

We debated what to do next. Meili Xueshan seemed to have been a waste of time. The stunning mountain views were nowhere to be found. Even the locals told us that it’s very rare to see the mountain. A man in Shangri-La told us he’d taken five spiritual pilgrimages here and never once seen its peak. I decided what we needed was to get closer. Feilaisi was famous as the best place from which to view Meili Xueshan, but if even one of the mountains was enveloped in clouds, there was no view to be had. It made sense that we ought to be closer, even if we ended up viewing the damn things from the bottom.

*

The next morning we stood with a small gathering of tourists (most of whom had large cameras mounted optimistically on tripods) at 5am, looking out at where the mountain should be. Meili Xueshan’s sunrise is supposedly one of the most beautiful sights in all of China. Alas, we could see almost nothing. We stood around in the freezing morning air until it was apparent that there would be no sunrise of any kind, and then headed for our bus.

The next destination was Yubeng, a tiny village near to Meili Xueshan. I didn’t know where exactly it was, and there wasn’t an abundance of information available, but we had found a man driving a minibus that way for just 20rmb, so we hopped on. They say that Yubeng was closed off to the outside world until a man one day appeared and no one could figure out where he came from. They followed him back through the mountains and found his home under a rock. That story pretty much tells you how easy it is to get to Yubeng.

Our little minibus wound its way down almost 2,000 meters in an hour and a half, along some sickeningly steep mountain roads. At more than a dozen places, the mountain had collapsed and consumed the road, and some of these seemed to have occurred in the last few hours. We came to a bridge that had also been hastily constructed to replace the other, just fifty meters away, that had collapsed into the Mekong. When we finally reached a place called Xidang, and were told it was our final destination, we were glad to be off that death trap bus.

Unfortunately, given the lack of information available, we had failed to realize that Xidang was the final stop on the road to Yubeng, and that the rest of the route was done on foot. This was a 12km hike over a mountain – another few thousand meters up and down. The trek would take some six hours and I did it with two people’s luggage on my back. It would have been a beautiful walk, but in fact it was excruciating.

*

At about 3,800 meters up we summited our own mountain and began the walk down into the valley where Yubeng was located. At this point, the agonizing journey became entirely worthwhile. The clouds that had covered Meili Xueshan broke and we were in a perfect place to soak up the view. What appeared in front of us was a perfect snow-capped mountain and a lush green valley. It was straight out of a picture book.

We stumbled down the hillside to Upper Yubeng (the village is divided in town, on either side of a river) and tried to check in at our hotel, Lobsang Trekkers. It went something like this:

Me: Hi, I have a reservation…

Owner: Oh, is that from Booking.com?

Me: Yes.

Owner: Oh, well we don’t accept those bookings.

Me: Yes, you actually did accept it. See, it says here you confirmed the booking.

Owner: We meant to stop using Booking.com a few months ago but we never actually got around to doing it.

Me: I made this reservation yesterday. You confirmed it. You agreed to it. You have to let us stay here. We just walked six fucking hours over a mountain to get here!

Owner: I’m sorry, we’re full.

It went on like that for a while but there was no reasoning with these bastards. They had sold out all their rooms and refused to let us stay. We ended up at a shitty guesthouse a mile down into the valley. Granted, this new place had a stunning view, but it lacked just about every other feature you’d expect from a hotel.

We wandered about the village but by now it was late afternoon and the sun was already going down over the mountains. There wasn’t much to see, but it certainly was quaint. Little mud or wood shacks were tiled with wooden slats for roofs, and people lived together with their horses and pigs. Everything was on a slope going down to a raging river, and walking what would have been 200 meters as the crow flies could take half an hour or more of climbing. We sat and watched the sun go down over the mountain from Lower Yubeng and then called our bus driving friend about how to get out of Yubeng after another day.

There was some bad news: We simply wouldn’t be able to get back to Lijiang in time for our return flight several days later. We had to leave first thing the next morning.

Now this was extremely difficult news to take. We had spent days travelling to get here, not to mention a six hour hike over a mountain with heavy luggage. My legs were dead weight and the thought of climbing back over to Xidang was too much to bear. We weren’t even going to get to explore the valley. There were waterfalls and glaciers to see… but all of that required at least 4-5 hours solid hiking. Yet we had to get out at first light and make a break for the morning buses in Xidang.

*

The next morning we woke in bad moods anticipating a difficult journey back to Xidang. However, we were greeted by a beautiful sunrise:

sunrise
View from hotel window, shot with GoPro.

After that, we started up the side of the mountain. We got only a short distance before I said, “Fuck it, let’s hire horses.”

That wasn’t as easy as you’d think in a village filled with horses. For some reason it took a good two or more hours to get horses, and they weren’t much faster at going over the mountain than we were. I suppose, in fairness, they were actually more like donkeys than horses. Worse, my horse/donkey was incredibly aggressive and kept making sharp runs towards the edge of the path, threatening to throw me over a thousand meter drop. It took four hours to get back, and it was far more exhausting than walking. And besides, we’d missed our damn bus.

DCIM100GOPROGOPR4569.

The horses cost me 900rmb and our only option for getting back was a mini-van full of idiots that cost me another 300rmb. Thankfully, though, it drove us all the way back to Shangri-La. After a quiet night there, we got another bus to Lijiang and the following morning headed to the airport for the flight back to Hefei.

*

The trip was quite exhausting but absolutely worthwhile. It killed me that we didn’t actually get to spend any time exploring the Yubeng valley, especially considering it took us so many hours flying, driving, and walking just to get there… but the views were stunning and most people simply never get to see that when they visit. I’ve done a lot of travelling during my time in China and the lesson I normally come away with is that it’s just not worthwhile… it can be too stressful and crowded and you just come to some disgusting, expensive, polluted shithole in the end. But this time it was different. Meili Xueshan was a real challenge to see, but it was by far the most beautiful place in China I’ve visited.

Posted in travel

From Lijiang to Shangri-La

High on the Tibetan plateau, surrounded by soaring mountains, is the dusty little frontier town known as Shangri-La (or xiang-ge-li-la, as the Chinese call it). You may think that the name rings a bell, but you’re probably thinking of James Hilton’s Shangri-La, from the novel, Lost Horizon. In his famous novel, Shangri-La was the name of a utopian society somewhere in Asia. Since then, it has become a stand in for perfection. “My own Shangri-La,” you might say of a place that is impossibly beautiful.

The Chinese, always short on innovation and never ones to pass up an opportunity for intellectual property theft, came upon the staggeringly cynical idea of renaming a town called Zhongdian back in 2001. They called it “Shangri-La” and expected the tourist masses to come knocking on the door. Amazingly, they did. Or rather, as many as you could expect to trek way out into the middle of nowhere – because that’s precisely where you’ll find Shangri-La.

An Interrupted Bus Ride to Shangri-La

Getting to Shangri-La essentially requires travel from Lijiang, which itself is quite a remote place. It’s more than a day’s journey from Kunming, capital of Yunnan province, and Shangri-La is another four hours by bus from there. Along the way, expect to be accosted by police at road blocks. They come onto the bus, take your ID and process it. China is no Land of the Free, that’s for sure. On our little bus, one poor man’s ID was flagged and the police made him go for a urine test – which they announced to the whole bus. As I cursed the police state that caused these unnecessary delays and impinged upon human rights, the people of the bus began denouncing the poor guy. It didn’t matter that his test came back clean – to the people he was now labelled a drug addict and promptly shunned.

Just behind us, a little boy asked his dad what the hold up was. “The police are protecting us from bad people, son,” his dad explained. I seethed with anger. China has become the perfect police state as no one even cares that their freedoms are eroded. No one here knows about Tianamen Square… and if they did they’d probably tell you those stupid students got what was coming to them for questioning the wonderful government.

In any case, that was strike two against the bastards the seat behind… they’d already let their son piss on the floor and the puddle had very nearly doused my bag. Needless to say, I was keen to get as far from the tourists as possible.

Exploring Shangri-La

When we arrived in Shangri-La it was a relief to get off the bus and find myself in what felt like a different country. The area is also known as the Diqin Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture. It is geographically, culturally, ethnically, and even politically Tibetan, yet it is not part of the Chinese province (as it sadly is now known) of Tibet. Everything was different here and the awful Han Chinese acted very much as they were in a foreign land. There were fewer of them and more dark-skinned people in colourful clothes. There were probably almost as many visitors from Europe as eastern China. Animals far outnumbered people, too, with yaks, goats, and boars roaming wild all over the land.

We hopped in a taxi to the Old Town (a well-preserved area of ancient and not-so-ancient buildings) and found our hostel for the night. We then proceeded to explore the Old Town on foot, taking in the Buddhist temple and the fascinating wooden architecture. Across the part of China, the various minority groups developed different but similar means of constructing buildings that are totally different from what you find elsewhere. In particular, we really liked the simple roofs with chunks of wood pinned down by large stones. They don’t look remotely watertight, but they certainly are different from anything I’ve ever seen.

We also took the chance to sample some local food, which was delicious. I wonder why I’ve never heard anything about Tibetan food before. It’s as good as anything else I’ve encountered in this part of the world.

IMG_5199
Tibetan food – butter tea and zanba.

In the evening, we sat at a bar window looking out on a square as a little old man in a cowboy hat began to dance. Soon he was joined by a few more people… then a few more… then more and more… At some point even I was in the middle of the square, dancing to Tibetan music with these oddly synchronized dance moves that all came from the cowboy. Everyone was looking to him. Old ladies in pink and blue Tibetan dresses appeared and joined in, yet even they looked to this ancient cowboy for inspiration. He whirled around with a cigarette in his mouth for two hours before the people began to disperse.

Hiking ShiKa Mountain

The next morning we set out towards ShiKaShan – the nearby mountain. We took a taxi there but when we arrived the guards told us that hiking wasn’t allowed and that we must take a cable car to the top. We angrily walked away, intending to sneak onto the mountain, but soon wandered through some nearby valleys and onto the NapaHai – a sea of grass and red flowers home to vast numbers of yaks. As we walked we experienced something that almost never happens in China – peace and quiet. There were no people anywhere. We had come to the edge of China, more or less. In the town there were tourists, but not many, and out here there was simply no one. Wild horses and great hairy yaks wandered about. At first they were frightening but then we realized that they are terrified of us. Big black wild pigs and goats also scuttled around. Streams poured down off the mountain snow and everything was peaceful.

On the walk home – across many miles of grassland – we saw something even rarer than peace in China. We saw a huge unbroken double rainbow stretched over the whole of Shangri-La. Truly, it was the rarest and most unimaginable thing we could have seen. In a light rain, we stood staring at it from the grass. An old man in a tractor chugged by with a massive smile on his face, pointing excitedly at the spectacle.

It was a perfect end to a perfect day, and indeed the end of our time in Shangri-La. The next morning we jumped on a smaller bus on a bumpier, steeper road heading for the very limits of this vast country – into and above the clouds and towards the borders with Tibet and Myanmar.

Posted in travel

National Week in Lijiang

Lijiang, in China’s Yunnan province, is one the best-known holiday destinations in the country. It’s a relatively new phenomenon for Chinese to travel here, though, because in the past it was mostly foreign tourists on the their way to Southeast Asia. Tucked away in the mountains at a very high altitude, it was once a peaceful little town. Nowadays it’s still a very pleasant place to visit, although during the holidays it can become rather crowded as the narrow streets are filled with visitors. Still, compared with towns in the more populated east of China it is still a pleasant getaway.

For my tastes it was too touristy but there’s no denying Lijiang is an attractive place, especially if you can see it outside of a major national holiday. Thankfully, my girlfriend and I arrived one day prior to the swarm of tourists that decided for National Week (a week-long celebration marking the anniversary of the country’s founding) and so we were able to enjoy the quiet streets for a short time. By the afternoon of the following day, the difference was obvious – peace and quiet were replaced by a frenzy of commercialism.

Thankfully, we spent only one day in Lijiang before making a well-timed trip north into the mountains. Our aim was to beat the crowds by going further into the wilds of Yunnan than most tourists are willing to do. More stories coming soon, but for now, here are some photos of Lijiang:

Posted in update

Travelling Europe for Cheap

My readers know that I spent part of this summer travelling around Europe, and people who’ve read this blog for a long time probably know that I like to stretch out my journeys by travelling on the cheap.

I teach in China and between my employers and the government, it’s hard to know when I’ll have my visa ready to leave the country, making it difficult for me to plan my travels in advance. This year, I didn’t know when I’d leave China or where I’d go until a day before I actually left! All that makes it pretty damn difficult to travel cheaply or even get excited about the journey ahead.

When I finally did leave China, I headed back home to Scotland for a few weeks with my family. I had a great time there getting reacquainted with the area where I grew up, taking walks around the coast and shooting some photos of the local wildlife.

As much as I’d have liked to stick around, I also felt the insatiable urge to get out and travel some more, but where to go…? I really wanted to get back to Africa but it just wasn’t feasible on my budget or timeframe, so I put that trip on hold for a while.

After a lot of searching for ideas, I settled on a trip around Europe. Ever since I graduated from university a decade ago, I’ve been travelling Asia and the United States, and so I don’t really know Europe as well as I should. I booked a flight from Edinburgh to Amsterdam and another from Budapest to Hefei (which is near where I live in China). It took me a while to pad out the details between those flights but it ended up looking like this:

europe map

 

After a short flight into Amsterdam, I spent a few days taking in the art galleries before heading to Belgium and the city of Antwerp. Next, I embarked upon an unpleasant journey across Belgium, Luxembourg, France, Germany, Austria, and into Slovakia, where I explored the capital of Bratislava. Finally, I took another bus ride to Budapest, where I spent some four days wandering around one of the world’s most interesting cities.

Thanks to hostels and Flixbus, the journey wasn’t as expensive as it could have been. After I left Budapest, I returned to China for a two-day stay and then hit the road (or rather, the air) again for a fortnight in Thailand. Stories and photos from that journey will be posted very soon.

Posted in travel

Back in Scotland

A few weeks ago I taught my last class of the semester and began the arduous task of marking nearly 200 exam papers, writing reports, and filing all the details in both English and Chinese-language computer systems. I usually do it all quickly and get the hell out of China as quickly as possible, but this year my school failed to procure my new visa in a timely fashion and I was stuck with my tedious paperwork in the sweltering heat of Eastern China.

On Monday afternoon, I got my passport back from the government and immediately booked the next available – and affordable – flight back to Scotland. So the next morning I took a train for Shanghai and then a flight to Beijing. Irritatingly, a thunderstorm over the capital caused my flight to be cancelled, but I was able to get another one and only just made my next flight, which was to Manchester. Eleven hours later I was back in Britain and waiting for a third flight – this one to Edinburgh.

For the past day, I’ve been enjoying some family time and also very much appreciating being back in an environment with fresh air. Yesterday the weather was surprisingly warm for a Scottish summer, and today it was overcast but still pleasantly warm. I took a stroll on Tentsmuir Beach with the family, where we saw some seals and sea birds.

I will be in Scotland another week or so before travelling down through England and then on to Nepal. I had intended to travel Africa this summer but as it transpires I don’t have as much time as I’d like to spend there. So instead I intend to explore Nepal until early August, and then somewhere in Southeast Asia – possibly Thailand – with my girlfriend until the end of the summer.

Do any of my readers have tips for Nepal? I’m currently thinking of seeing Chitwan National Park and a little of the Himalayas.

Posted in travel

Modern Art in an Ancient Setting

Today is Dragon Boat Festival here in China. It’s an old holiday in celebration of a poet called Quyuan, who allegedly killed himself after seeing his country fall apart. In fact, many people today believe that he was either gay or sleeping with the emperor’s daughter, so perhaps it’s not the patriotic tale that the government tries to present. Or maybe people just like gossip. In any case, it’s revered by most Chinese not as a day to celebrate the past or eat zongzi, but as a few days’ holiday from work.

Unfortunately, in China, the government enjoys the old bait-and-switch of giving you a holiday but then requiring you to work it off later. That means a Monday off work requires you to do a Saturday at work and so on. It’s a cruel ruse. Nevertheless, I finagled Saturday afternoon off work and headed from Huainan down to Hefei for the long weekend. It started, alas, at the dentist, but by Saturday night I was taking in live music and drinking nice whiskey.

On the Sunday I rode the new Hefei subway line out to Binhu, near Chaohu. It is amazing how fast this city has grown. I first came to Hefei in 2010 and it seems to have more than tripled in size. It is, in fact, virtually unrecognizable. The whole area of Binhu was fields when I first arrive, and now it is practically a city center to itself. There are vast shopping malls, theme parks, exorbitant hotels, and every self-respecting franchise has a couple of locations here now.

With a group of friends, I drove around the western end of Chaohu (the suffix -hu means “lake” in Chinese, so this is Chao Lake) to a small village where my friend was participating in an art show. The route was scenic enough, but it was here that I ran my first and only marathon back in 2015, and I felt exhausted just sitting in the back of a car.

At the small village, we soon found the old cluster of buildings that would house a small art show. Inside, modern art clashed strangely with the old walls and doors, and sat out unnaturally against the blue skies and green gardens. Yet somehow it was really very pretty. The art was all rather obvious, but nonetheless interesting. It all seemed to revolve around themes of environmentalism, which was pleasant to see. Someone had framed the door to a bathroom with a sign that said, essentially, “All life is art.” It reminded me of being a student and hearing that sort of thing come from my artsy friends. It sounded marginally less stupid back then.

I was approached by a team of reporters from Anhui TV, who asked to interview me, and then followed me around the grounds of the building as I perused the art work. In the end, I never did get their contact detail and I don’t watch TV so I probably won’t get to see myself wandering awkwardly, pretending not to notice all the people following me.

My favourite exhibit was a bizarre one comprised of two Irishmen playing traditional music with a Chinese piper, while another Chinese man tattooed the piper’s back. Everyone crammed into this tiny room and jostled for the best position to film the spectacle. However, if you looked carefully you would see some odd Chinese characters on the back wall which, when read backwards, make fun of the people in the room. It basically says “People are so stupid these days that they will crowd around and stare at anything.”

Ouch.

After the art show, we all spent the night in Binhu. It’s seemed like an entirely different city from the rest of Hefei. It’s all so new and, with the right light, it was actually quite pretty. Travelling in China on holidays is a nightmare, but it’s nice to know that without going too far, you can still get away from it all and see something new.

Posted in update

Where to visit in the Philippines?

Way back in 2008, not long after I first arrived in Asia, I took a trip to the Philippines. At that time I was working for a crooked hagwon in Daegu, South Korea, and I was physically and mentally exhausted. I needed a break and so when a group of very new friends I met in a bar suggested all travelling to the Philippines together, I jumped at the opportunity.

Soon we were in Moalboal, a beautiful little village which is popular for scuba diving. I was too exhausted from work to bother with the diving, and so instead I sat on my balcony and watched the fish and sharks in the water below, sometimes tearing myself away from a bottle of rum long enough to join them.

Here are some photos from that trip. (Keep in mind I was a terrible photographer back then and using a terrible little point-and-shoot camera).

This year, I have some time off in the summer and I would like to get back to the Philippines. One of the reasons is that it costs less than $200 for me to fly almost anywhere there from China.

As I’ve not seen much more than Cebu (and even then I mostly sat on my balcony with a bottle of rum for a week), I would like to explore further.

My ideas thus far are:

My main concern is time. I will be travelling with my girlfriend and she only has 10 days off work. We can get to almost any of these places pretty quickly, but travelling around would be very limited. Instead, we need to find a place that would be good for a little over a week’s stay, and which would require very minimal travelling from the nearest airport.

Please type your suggestions below. Any advice is very much appreciated.

Posted in Photography

Back in China

Last month, after spending most of my winter in Sri Lanka and Japan, I returned to China. When I had left, in early January, I was sick of the place, yet when I arrived back I was curiously happy to return. So it goes. China can be a frustrating place to live with its pollution and censorship and the constant stupidity and filth everywhere… But it’s of course not all bad. I wouldn’t have spent most of the last seven years here if it was.

This was to be the first extended period of time I’d spent in Huainan without working. I had more than two weeks at home. This was no accident. For two years I have been working on a book about Allen Ginsberg. Well, actually I have been intermittently researching it for two years. Now it was time to finally sit down and write. The words, thankfully, flowed. In two weeks I wrote some 20,000 words.

Aside from the Ginsberg book, I spent my time watching the local stray cats. My university campus is normally home to some 20,000 students, but during the holidays it is all but empty. This was my first time living on campus during the holiday, and I was delighted to see that there were cats everywhere. I spent time photographing them, feeding them, and sometimes even playing with them. In particular, there was one small ginger cat – probably just a few months old – who caught my interest. I was torn about attempting to catch him. It is unfair, though, to take a cat in if you cannot commit to looking after it indefinitely.

It was nice, also, to see the campus minus the hordes of students:

Eventually, the students returned to campus in dribs and drabs, and along with them came the other teachers and an assortment of old people who seem to live there. My peace and quiet dissipated, and the cats went into hiding. Leaving my house meant being stared at by every slack-jawed halfwit around, and there were now many thousands of them. Moreover, from morning to night came the noise of people outside my window. You might not think that’s a terrible thing, but the average Chinese person can make more noise than a doom metal concert just walking to his car.

I came to an important decision: it was time to move house. I’d been living in a tiny apartment on campus for almost three years and it had proven pretty comfortable, albeit basic. But now it was time to move someplace better – to gain more comfort, more space, and more peace.

My girlfriend and I began looking around for places listed online, and after a few days we began to book viewings. It was interesting to me that in China people would never dream of cleaning or fixing up an apartment before trying to rent it out. Every place we saw had potential, but its owners had obviously taken that Chinese philosophy of chabuduo (“close enough”) and not bothered to do anything. The real estate agents, too, made no effort really to sell the properties. It never fails to amaze me how literally everything in this country is done so half-assed.

Another weird quirk was that all the apartments have a windows between the toilet and other rooms, as well as clear glass doors. This is also true in every hotel room in the country. One element of Chinese culture that I will never – to my dying day – understand is their desire to watch each other poop. Public toilets usually have no doors and sometimes no walls, and most people prefer just to go outside anyway. Most apartments we saw had windows from the kitchen looking in on the toilet, which I found deeply unsettling.

We kept looking, hoping for an apartment that wasn’t a pervert’s palace, and eventually found a beautiful big place above a supermarket. However, as we stood talking to the owners, a train careened by the window some thirty floors below, shaking the building and just about deafening us as its horn blared. They do this at night time, too…

We ended up finding a nearly perfect apartment, whose only fault was that it was a little out of the way. It was more than three times my old apartment’s size, quiet at all times of day and night, and had a beautiful big study for me to finish my Ginsberg book – if I ever find the time to do so. It was, of course, filled with crap, but we convinced the owners to move out their stuff. With two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, dining room, kitchen, study, and big rooftop balcony, it somehow only cost $200 per month. Despite everything, sometimes China is fantastic.

We have been living here for two weeks now, and enjoying it very much. It feels like another part of the world entirely. Downstairs there is a market street, which is lined with little old ladies selling the most amazing collection of crap – but only between 16:00-18:30 for some reason. You can buy fresh fruit and vegetables (more than you could ever carry for $1), decidedly less fresh meat (especially heads, feet, and testicles), all kinds of weird eggs (including those chemically cooked in lime, which I’m told are very dangerous to eat), plants, plates, pants, pots, pans, and a plethora of pickled vegetables. You can get a massage, have your ears dewaxed, get your feet scraped, or have cobra venom used to cure your acne.

It is brilliant.