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Syndicate DisOrientated
OED adj. confused (someone) so that that they have lost their bearings.
n. Inept escapades of a dropout English journo trapped in the Far East. An eighteen-month evasion from reality.
31 October 2003
Halloween. Being a Brit I'm not dead keen on the Americanisation of this poorly-Christianised ancient European pagan festival. But being in Shanghai I'm surrounded by Americans so best make the best of it.
With visitors Jenny and Lavinia in tow, I hit Maoming Lu expecting the worst. Hard to judge whether I had a good night or not, but certainly felt my age when Pet Shop Boys and Rick Astley came on. And enjoyed that far more than all this new stuff that I don't understand. It's the Top of the Pops syndrome running wild now. I always told myself that one day I'd turn it on and I wouldn't enjoy it. That day came a while ago now.
Country Bar and Windows were certainly kicking, though notwithstanding the locals packed to the rafters the venues were somehow dominated by the American college boys and girls, some of whom were seen dancing on the bar. Oh how Coyote Ugly.
Despite the reputation of Halloween as a festival of the supernatural it was these frat boys that really sent the chills down my spine. It's that combination of brash self-assurance and lack of respect for others that does it. These kids have a quality of what in his 1987 novel Bonfire of the Vanities Tom Wolfe calls a conviction of being 'masters of the universe.' The most terrifying thing is that are.
Fortunately for me (and her) Lavinia turned down the slippery Justin Timberlake-alike on account of his squeaky voice. Well done her.
I hasten to add that neither am I anti-America nor am I anti-American. If one were to try to define my thoughts on the subject it would that I am anti-Americanisation. It also worries me that for many Chinese who come into contact with Americans it will be with this frat boy faction, either in their youth or as their elder incarnations as businessmen and women. That's not a fair impression.
Earlier in the day at the ladies' insistence, I had been dragged kicking and screaming to the Museum of Ancient Chinese Sex Culture. Locating it was ordeal enough but once inside I felt touched by that raw embarrassment entwined with insatiable curiosity that Brits feel when confronted with erotica in all its forms.
I need not describe the contents of the display here. I'll leave that to your imagination. Suffice it to say that it worked wonders for mine and triggered a spate of undesirable libidinous longings that I'll spend weeks shaking off. Moreover, to my mortification Lavinia stopped off at a shop to purchase novelty pants, only adding to my embarrassment at the human body.
With visitors Jenny and Lavinia in tow, I hit Maoming Lu expecting the worst. Hard to judge whether I had a good night or not, but certainly felt my age when Pet Shop Boys and Rick Astley came on. And enjoyed that far more than all this new stuff that I don't understand. It's the Top of the Pops syndrome running wild now. I always told myself that one day I'd turn it on and I wouldn't enjoy it. That day came a while ago now.
Country Bar and Windows were certainly kicking, though notwithstanding the locals packed to the rafters the venues were somehow dominated by the American college boys and girls, some of whom were seen dancing on the bar. Oh how Coyote Ugly.
Despite the reputation of Halloween as a festival of the supernatural it was these frat boys that really sent the chills down my spine. It's that combination of brash self-assurance and lack of respect for others that does it. These kids have a quality of what in his 1987 novel Bonfire of the Vanities Tom Wolfe calls a conviction of being 'masters of the universe.' The most terrifying thing is that are.
Fortunately for me (and her) Lavinia turned down the slippery Justin Timberlake-alike on account of his squeaky voice. Well done her.
I hasten to add that neither am I anti-America nor am I anti-American. If one were to try to define my thoughts on the subject it would that I am anti-Americanisation. It also worries me that for many Chinese who come into contact with Americans it will be with this frat boy faction, either in their youth or as their elder incarnations as businessmen and women. That's not a fair impression.
Earlier in the day at the ladies' insistence, I had been dragged kicking and screaming to the Museum of Ancient Chinese Sex Culture. Locating it was ordeal enough but once inside I felt touched by that raw embarrassment entwined with insatiable curiosity that Brits feel when confronted with erotica in all its forms.
I need not describe the contents of the display here. I'll leave that to your imagination. Suffice it to say that it worked wonders for mine and triggered a spate of undesirable libidinous longings that I'll spend weeks shaking off. Moreover, to my mortification Lavinia stopped off at a shop to purchase novelty pants, only adding to my embarrassment at the human body.
30 October 2003
Well, that's the end of IDS (here depicted standing out like a former Guards officer in a crowd of Rastas), and the world is hardly the poorer. Check out the irony on the Tory website. Entry one - IDS challenges his critics. Entry two - Iain Duncan Smith pledges to win vote of confidence. Entry three - Iain Duncan Smith to depart as party leader. Say no more.But hark? What is this I hear? The sound of footfalls padding in the darkness... My God, could it be...?
Yes, the Right Evil Michael Howard. A man that even professional boot impersonator Ann Widdecombe described as having "something of the night about him" and who once refused to answer a straight question a breathtaking 14 times. This will hardly leave the British voter with a tough choice come the next general election. God help us.
An extension on my theory of the Iraq situation's evolution into a Vietnam-style guerrilla conflict. Again, this is neither a condemnation nor a vindication of the war, simply an observation from a historical perspective.
Though the word 'guerrilla' may have come into common parlance during the Spanish civil war the strategy was of course pioneered by the Chinese. Hence my interest as a Westerner living in in China.
In the words of Mao Zedong, an avid reader of Sun Tsu: "the enemy advances, we retreat; the enemy camps, we harass; the enemy tires, we attack; the enemy retreats, we pursue..."
Thus, 20 March to 30 April 2003 was the stage when US and UK forces made their high-intensity armoured advance and the Iraqis retreated. The next phase began on 1 May when major combat operations were declared to be over. With the successful elimination of Saddam's conventional forces, the US and UK encamped. Since then there has been continual low-intensity harassment. Stage two.
Straight from the DoD's own statistics as of 29 October 2003 - US combat casualties during stage one : 114; combat casualties during stage two: 117.
Though the word 'guerrilla' may have come into common parlance during the Spanish civil war the strategy was of course pioneered by the Chinese. Hence my interest as a Westerner living in in China.
In the words of Mao Zedong, an avid reader of Sun Tsu: "the enemy advances, we retreat; the enemy camps, we harass; the enemy tires, we attack; the enemy retreats, we pursue..."
Thus, 20 March to 30 April 2003 was the stage when US and UK forces made their high-intensity armoured advance and the Iraqis retreated. The next phase began on 1 May when major combat operations were declared to be over. With the successful elimination of Saddam's conventional forces, the US and UK encamped. Since then there has been continual low-intensity harassment. Stage two.
Straight from the DoD's own statistics as of 29 October 2003 - US combat casualties during stage one : 114; combat casualties during stage two: 117.
29 October 2003
Just six legs, two wings and one annoying buzzing sound, but infinite disruption. It's bad enough getting a bee in your bonnet: worse still is a wasp in your class.
Had almost succeeded in calming the typically lary and unmanageable business management students when the rogue insect made its appearance. A few tentative flyovers like a miniature dive bomber sent them frantic. The girls instantly fled their chairs and take ineffective hiding places; the boys were no better.
Critical mass. Perhaps they just wanted a distraction. Tried a few times to continue despite it but conceded that action had to be taken.
Brandishing a rolled up copy of That's Shanghai, I mounted a desk and took aim at the unwelcome creature which had nonchanantly settled on a light fitting.
TWAT!
A few last desperate passes and the wasp tumbled unconscious to the floor, to be met with Tony's helpful size eight Nikes. And that was the end of it.
Well, that's Shanghai for you.
Had almost succeeded in calming the typically lary and unmanageable business management students when the rogue insect made its appearance. A few tentative flyovers like a miniature dive bomber sent them frantic. The girls instantly fled their chairs and take ineffective hiding places; the boys were no better.
Critical mass. Perhaps they just wanted a distraction. Tried a few times to continue despite it but conceded that action had to be taken.
Brandishing a rolled up copy of That's Shanghai, I mounted a desk and took aim at the unwelcome creature which had nonchanantly settled on a light fitting.
TWAT!
A few last desperate passes and the wasp tumbled unconscious to the floor, to be met with Tony's helpful size eight Nikes. And that was the end of it.
Well, that's Shanghai for you.
Nope, got that the wrong way round. Doublechecking the Department of Defense's own website, as of 10.00am EST 28 October 114 US soldiers were KIA during the campaign, and 115 more since the conflict ended. It's all on the official DoD press website, tucked away at the bottom under the heading Current Information: OIF Casualty Update.
Also depressing is the number (not included above) that have died from accidents such as NDs and RTAs. Only 24 during the war, 102 since. Carelessness is a killer.
Also depressing is the number (not included above) that have died from accidents such as NDs and RTAs. Only 24 during the war, 102 since. Carelessness is a killer.
According to my calculations, 114 US soldiers have been killed by enemy action since George W. Bush declared the end of hostilities on 1 May. A total of 115 were killed in combat during the ground campaign itself.
The next soldier to die in Iraq will bring these grim tallies to an equal level. In my mind, this confirms that the Iraq war is still ongoing, but it is now a guerilla campaign akin to the Viet Cong's actions from 1963 onwards.
I am not anti-war per se, but think about it.
The next soldier to die in Iraq will bring these grim tallies to an equal level. In my mind, this confirms that the Iraq war is still ongoing, but it is now a guerilla campaign akin to the Viet Cong's actions from 1963 onwards.
I am not anti-war per se, but think about it.
28 October 2003
The Future is Now. Or, given the inability of many Chinese to make effective use of the definite article, Future is Now. Same difference.
To be fair, it would appear that even CCTV (China Central Television isn't sure how to use the definite article. Their star 'journo', Yang Rui isn't the greatest of interviewers either, but more on him some other day.
Future is Now (sic) is, as I believe, the set topic for CCTV's English speaking contest and today I was called upon to judge the top 18 candidates from my university.
Sitting through two hours of speeches on the same topic wasn't the best way to spend my afternoon, but aside from the predictably metaphysical exercises in pyscho-waffle, some were admittedly pretty damned impressive. Fluent, confident, idiomatic English displaying a wide vocabulary and a command of idioms. It was tempting to assume that some students had plagiarised but they stood up well under questioning. The victor was a deserving winner and best of luck to her in the Shanghai round during the next stages of the competition.
My real question is, then, if some of you are capable of being this good, why not do it in my lessons?
Furthermore, no day in China would be complete without its share of the surreal. A mysterious 19th candidate emerged, did a blinding talk, and yet was unclassified by the judges. After the event, the understandably distraught boy approached me to ask what I thought. I told I thought he was just as good as the winner, which was true, but had no answers for him on why he was not assessed. This is becoming a pattern.
Iain Duncan-Smith. Another ex-Jane's man looks to bite the dust, and not soon enough I say. I will be shedding no tears, that's for sure.
To be fair, it would appear that even CCTV (China Central Television isn't sure how to use the definite article. Their star 'journo', Yang Rui isn't the greatest of interviewers either, but more on him some other day.
Future is Now (sic) is, as I believe, the set topic for CCTV's English speaking contest and today I was called upon to judge the top 18 candidates from my university.
Sitting through two hours of speeches on the same topic wasn't the best way to spend my afternoon, but aside from the predictably metaphysical exercises in pyscho-waffle, some were admittedly pretty damned impressive. Fluent, confident, idiomatic English displaying a wide vocabulary and a command of idioms. It was tempting to assume that some students had plagiarised but they stood up well under questioning. The victor was a deserving winner and best of luck to her in the Shanghai round during the next stages of the competition.
My real question is, then, if some of you are capable of being this good, why not do it in my lessons?
Furthermore, no day in China would be complete without its share of the surreal. A mysterious 19th candidate emerged, did a blinding talk, and yet was unclassified by the judges. After the event, the understandably distraught boy approached me to ask what I thought. I told I thought he was just as good as the winner, which was true, but had no answers for him on why he was not assessed. This is becoming a pattern.
Iain Duncan-Smith. Another ex-Jane's man looks to bite the dust, and not soon enough I say. I will be shedding no tears, that's for sure.
27 October 2003
How do you teach students what political satire is when it doesn't exist in their own frame of reference?
This is one of the many knotty problems that come up in my newspaper reading classes each week. Take 50 students (granted, many of whom don't show up) and try to improve their English skills and knowledge of the West by asking them to download newspaper articles from the Internet every week. Always a challenging class but prone to the occasional firebomb like that. I think I got around it by giving them some examples (Private Eye and The Onion) - Muscleman Put in Charge of World's Fifth-Largest Economy raised a laugh at least.
More cryptic was Livia's question after class today. I didn't really get what she wanted to know, but she asked what to do if they were 'playing' with a foreigner and they didn't understand and got annoyed. How do you handle a question like that when you don't understand? I tried not to get annoyed, but hey, plenty room for irony and paradox there.
The plumbing story predictably continues with a leak registering itself in my kitchen. Soggy socks again. This is not a problem with China, though, but a problem with plumbers in general. They, like taxi drivers, seem to be the same all over the world, bless 'em.
This is one of the many knotty problems that come up in my newspaper reading classes each week. Take 50 students (granted, many of whom don't show up) and try to improve their English skills and knowledge of the West by asking them to download newspaper articles from the Internet every week. Always a challenging class but prone to the occasional firebomb like that. I think I got around it by giving them some examples (Private Eye and The Onion) - Muscleman Put in Charge of World's Fifth-Largest Economy raised a laugh at least.
More cryptic was Livia's question after class today. I didn't really get what she wanted to know, but she asked what to do if they were 'playing' with a foreigner and they didn't understand and got annoyed. How do you handle a question like that when you don't understand? I tried not to get annoyed, but hey, plenty room for irony and paradox there.
The plumbing story predictably continues with a leak registering itself in my kitchen. Soggy socks again. This is not a problem with China, though, but a problem with plumbers in general. They, like taxi drivers, seem to be the same all over the world, bless 'em.
26 October 2003
Another indolent weekend. It's just too easy to do nothing. Only a haphazard English lesson with Jevons/Jerome was enough to get me out of bed. And of course when he asked about my plumbing on my behalf, we discovered it had been sorted on Friday. The plumber had left a note with reception. Not much good to me. I held off taking a shower for at least an hour just to accentuate the ectasy, though I suspect that some acid or sharp flecks of rust had got into it.
More violence in the Middle East. Just like Northern Ireland in the 1980s it's becoming what John Pilger might call 'slow news'. I've almost given up despairing over them and feel that they should now just be left to get on with it. There is no such thing as a peace process for people who just don't want peace.
Did my altruistic thing with the graduate English corner again. Not quite so riveting this week. Debates about job hunting and Forrest Gump. Ho hum. The nice girl was there again this week but didn't get to speak to her. I'm getting bored of being asked the same questions by different people, but at the end of the day it's one of the highlights of their week so mustn't grudge it.
More violence in the Middle East. Just like Northern Ireland in the 1980s it's becoming what John Pilger might call 'slow news'. I've almost given up despairing over them and feel that they should now just be left to get on with it. There is no such thing as a peace process for people who just don't want peace.
Did my altruistic thing with the graduate English corner again. Not quite so riveting this week. Debates about job hunting and Forrest Gump. Ho hum. The nice girl was there again this week but didn't get to speak to her. I'm getting bored of being asked the same questions by different people, but at the end of the day it's one of the highlights of their week so mustn't grudge it.
Forgive me for still tapping away at my Dell at Oh-Oh-Thirty in the morning but this just had to go up. Borrowed from Pakistan's Daily Times and Aghania.com.So God bless America for making such a fundamental difference to the fundamentalist world. From the bhurka to the bikini in two years flat. Let's keep our eyes peeled for Miss Iraq 2005. Or have I missed something. Anyway, check out the madness at the official Miss Earth website, 'cos they are the future of the world, oh yeah. Presumably this bint loves children and aspires to be a doctor, which is just as well since the country's going to need a few medics when it spirals back into apocalypse.
Those of you worried about my social health, I have been out, honest, went to see France thrash the nervous-ticcing Scots but took a decision to make it an early night. For 'early', read 'not fuelled by alcohol'.
25 October 2003
If only they had just stopped right there. Whiling away the hours yesterday afternoon plugging away on the Khao San Road feature, another knock on my door. It's the plumbers again, in force. But surely, you've done enough already. No. We must tinker some more. So now the kitchen floor remains littered with nuggets of metal and trodden-down fag butts and I still have no idea whether I may or may not continue using my shower. A phone call from Jeff to deny me its use. But no phone call to reinstate it. Should I just take a shower and risk flooding the kitchen? Well, might as well since the washing machine's been doing that for two months.
Bret Easton Ellis. American Psycho. Finding the modern American novel written in the present tense anathemic to my reading pursuits, I relented and agreed to watch the DVD. What exactly is being satirised here? Despite best efforts, couldn't bring myself to hate the protagonist as much as I should. Particularly ironic the long list of designer brands in the credits. Why did they want to be associated with this film? Did the makers even understand what it is all about? Unanswered questions.
Quick e-mail from Brian - haven't quite hit the nail on the head so on for a rewrite. Well, it makes me feel better for staying in on a Friday night.
Saturday morning - borrowed a shower from Steve, if such a thing can be borrowed. Haven't yet eaten. No response from Ayesha or Ros on the rugby front but face it, time to get into town anyway.
Bret Easton Ellis. American Psycho. Finding the modern American novel written in the present tense anathemic to my reading pursuits, I relented and agreed to watch the DVD. What exactly is being satirised here? Despite best efforts, couldn't bring myself to hate the protagonist as much as I should. Particularly ironic the long list of designer brands in the credits. Why did they want to be associated with this film? Did the makers even understand what it is all about? Unanswered questions.
Quick e-mail from Brian - haven't quite hit the nail on the head so on for a rewrite. Well, it makes me feel better for staying in on a Friday night.
Saturday morning - borrowed a shower from Steve, if such a thing can be borrowed. Haven't yet eaten. No response from Ayesha or Ros on the rugby front but face it, time to get into town anyway.
24 October 2003
Showering is an addiction. Those of you who've shared a house with me will know exactly what I mean. I'm such a girl at times. I might disappear at 8.00, only to re-emerge at 9.00, scrubbed, invigorated and reeking of Gillette Wild Rain. Meanwhile the bathroom's ankle deep in soapy water and you've had to take a leak in the garden. Well, finally I can now revive my craving. If only I had actually asked for the shower to be fixed a couple of weeks ago. In fact just now the plumbers came round to check and even refused a pack of Camel Lights proffered in gratitude. Bring 'em back to London and in no time they'd be charging 70 quid to drink four cups of tea and unblock your sink.
Up at 6.00am today for my 9.00am classes. In the bus conversed on the subject of Britpop with giggly Korean Mandy. She has a bad cough and I really hope she's not spreading something acute...
It's certainly true that group discipline is inversely proportional to group size. With my first class of 20, I can hear myself shout. Bump the numbers up 50% and the trouble starts simmering like a Mongolian hotpot. Today I made the additional mistake of asking flirty Beryl the Peril to mind my stuff for me while I popped to the shop for a snack. Felt obliged to buy her a chocolate bar in return; hope she doesn't take this as a come on. During the break, Beryl shocked me again by nipping to the loos and returning Supergirl-style in a skimpy nylon cheerleader's outfit. Apparently she's doing some marketing for Maybelline. Maybe.
Back home, seems to be graduation day. Plenty proud mortarboard-topped former students and doting mums and dads (but not, of course, sisters or brothers) strutting around the campus. Back to my room, and to my great pleasure find that Brian's finally come up with the goods. Nine hundred words on the Khao San Road by next week. Include the note from the Ismay Publications guy and the request to judge the English competition and that's three offers of extra work in one week. And I didn't even have to do anything by myself. Sorted.
Up at 6.00am today for my 9.00am classes. In the bus conversed on the subject of Britpop with giggly Korean Mandy. She has a bad cough and I really hope she's not spreading something acute...
It's certainly true that group discipline is inversely proportional to group size. With my first class of 20, I can hear myself shout. Bump the numbers up 50% and the trouble starts simmering like a Mongolian hotpot. Today I made the additional mistake of asking flirty Beryl the Peril to mind my stuff for me while I popped to the shop for a snack. Felt obliged to buy her a chocolate bar in return; hope she doesn't take this as a come on. During the break, Beryl shocked me again by nipping to the loos and returning Supergirl-style in a skimpy nylon cheerleader's outfit. Apparently she's doing some marketing for Maybelline. Maybe.
Back home, seems to be graduation day. Plenty proud mortarboard-topped former students and doting mums and dads (but not, of course, sisters or brothers) strutting around the campus. Back to my room, and to my great pleasure find that Brian's finally come up with the goods. Nine hundred words on the Khao San Road by next week. Include the note from the Ismay Publications guy and the request to judge the English competition and that's three offers of extra work in one week. And I didn't even have to do anything by myself. Sorted.
23 October 2003
If you don't ask, you don't get. This is probably why nothing has happened to my weak and insipid shower until today. To my surprise, Jeff popped his head round my door and asked if there was anything I needed. Well, yes, now you come to mention it. This time, however, took the trouble to do a full presentation with demonstrations of the bathroom equipments flaws and inadequacies. Must have learned something from Tuesday.
Quick excursion with Jevons/Jerome, my erstwhile Mandarin tutor, to pick up parcel from the post office. Excited birthday-like unwrapping of things I already owned. A coat. Some trousers. Pocket dictionary (cidian - I'm getting there with the Chinese) of quotations. Some 400 ASA slide film which I have earnestly been waiting for. Now as I write these words my bathroom is packed with Chinese plumbers smoking, chatting and no doubt figuring out how to inflate their fees (which the university will cover, I'm sure). It yet remains to be seen what shall happen when I turn the tap. The cataracts of Niagra await. I just hope it'll be hot aswell.
Quick excursion with Jevons/Jerome, my erstwhile Mandarin tutor, to pick up parcel from the post office. Excited birthday-like unwrapping of things I already owned. A coat. Some trousers. Pocket dictionary (cidian - I'm getting there with the Chinese) of quotations. Some 400 ASA slide film which I have earnestly been waiting for. Now as I write these words my bathroom is packed with Chinese plumbers smoking, chatting and no doubt figuring out how to inflate their fees (which the university will cover, I'm sure). It yet remains to be seen what shall happen when I turn the tap. The cataracts of Niagra await. I just hope it'll be hot aswell.
21 October 2003
If it works, don't fix it. If it don't work, hit it. This was perhaps the magic ingredient that transformed my hastily prepared lecture on Oxford University from a limp and dampening potato crisp to a hot and saucy packet of freedom fries. Thought for a moment the whole laboriously conceived multimedia presentation with videos et al would collapse in its entirity but one swift strike on the computer dashboard and Bob's yer uncle. Even got a few laughs from the 200 odd students who came to watch, plus some questions from the back. Voluntary questions - didn't even have to make them.
Example -
Student: So what would you change if you were the president of Oxford?
Me: (Snort of laughter)
Student: No, maybe one day, you still have time. Perhaps they will come to hear of this lecture you gave us.
Me: Yeah right. Well I would do this...
Capping it all, 200 kwai in an envelope plus a quick photo session with Jean and a projection displaying the Windows 2000 startup screen. The adulation.
Example -
Student: So what would you change if you were the president of Oxford?
Me: (Snort of laughter)
Student: No, maybe one day, you still have time. Perhaps they will come to hear of this lecture you gave us.
Me: Yeah right. Well I would do this...
Capping it all, 200 kwai in an envelope plus a quick photo session with Jean and a projection displaying the Windows 2000 startup screen. The adulation.
20 October 2003
Today's been a good day. The sun is shining, the students are laughing and having fun and the university tuckshop has just presented me with not one but TWO free notebooks and a packet of Jolly Pong crisps. Life doesn't get better than this.
19 October 2003
Or maybe not.
Post England-South Africa on Saturday further sherbets were consumed and I concluded the evening by yakking out of a taxi travelling at 80mph up the motorway. Oh yeah. Life is good.
Post England-South Africa on Saturday further sherbets were consumed and I concluded the evening by yakking out of a taxi travelling at 80mph up the motorway. Oh yeah. Life is good.
16 October 2003
Lovelorn students continue to make eyes at me, though did have to deal with a minor crisis when butch Betty failed some exams and wrote a desperate e-mail to me about how depressed she was; think I dealt with the situation with sensitivity and tact unusual for me and she seems OK now.
I even went to a ballet today. A ballet. It was a free show at our campus, so thought I should go along. 'The Girl With White Hair' it was called, some politicized claptrap about the Long March and some girl who escapes her feudal drudgery and gets lost in the wilderness for so long she goes white etc. Plenty strutting around in PLA uniforms worn with very tight tights. Yet I enjoyed it all the same.
So I've dealt with a pastoral care issue and attended a cultural event. Christ, maybe I'm turning into a responsible adult.
I even went to a ballet today. A ballet. It was a free show at our campus, so thought I should go along. 'The Girl With White Hair' it was called, some politicized claptrap about the Long March and some girl who escapes her feudal drudgery and gets lost in the wilderness for so long she goes white etc. Plenty strutting around in PLA uniforms worn with very tight tights. Yet I enjoyed it all the same.
So I've dealt with a pastoral care issue and attended a cultural event. Christ, maybe I'm turning into a responsible adult.
11 October 2003
To get to see the Rugby here you have to get yourself to an expat bar, where the beer is damned expensive (two pints of past-their-peak Guinness and a soulless Kilkenny bitter cost me nearly 15 quid). However, can buy jugs of Steinlager at more reasonable prices and thus it was that I found myself in a downtown bar with an Australian girl from a contemporary dance theatre sitting on my lap. Yep, for real, and I've got her mate's phone number.
05 October 2003
Getting back to Shanghai was considerably uncomfortable, having only managed to secure a hard seat (4th class) ticket. However, despite the odd chappie spitting chicken feet into a plastic bag, this was not as bad as it could have been for 20 hours on a vinyl-covered chair.
04 October 2003
While the Nanjing people returned home, I remained an extra night due to transport difficulties (the Chinese not only disregard international rules of embarkation etiquette, they also refuse to sell you return train tickets). A pleasant evening was spent with Simon and Holly who work in Qingdao and took me on an unintentionally surreal tour of the city where you can buy beer in a plastic bag. The evening began at the New York Club, where I was treated to a Columbian band playing English Phil Collins numbers. How they ended up there I don't know. Stranger still was the black American couple running a traditional Mexican restaurant nearby. Most authentic tortillas but what they were doing in an obscure Asian seaside town? Moved on to another bar, where a holidaying rich-geek-with-inappropriately-fit-wife pairing had been imbibing copiously. We were immediately induced into their dice game, which involved making grating Chinese "Waaahaaaa" noises, pulling faces and drinking as much as possible. Sharp exit when opportunity presented. Later that evening met an American who claimed to work at the Nike factory that had made my trainers right there in Qingdao. Small world.
03 October 2003
Also climbed Lao Shan, a mountain/hill type thing nearby. Lots of clambering over and even under rocks and boulders, leaving the poor puffing Northern lass to faint in the queue for the cable car at the bottom. In retrospect perhaps rather ungentlemanly. Many of the Chinese tourists were also doing their Edmund Hillary bit in the practical attire of business suits and high heels. More terrifying than this was the bus ride back to the town. China is the land that manners forgot. There is no politeness nor are there codes of conduct. When you know it's the last bus of the day and the other options are an expensive taxi ride or walking, when you want a ride you don't queue. You fight. The sight of 50 locals scrabbling at the door of a still-moving bus was sobering enough, but better still was sitting on the floor with those same 50 people crammed on the seats (including a kid with a bucket full of reeking sea slugs perched dangerously close to my head) and another 50 in the aisles. I saw a grown Englishwoman almost cry such was the pressure of Oriental a***s shuddering against her with every jerk of the suspension.
02 October 2003
Qingdao is a bizarre town, once occupied by the Germans who have left their mark in the form of varied examples of Teutonic architecture nestling among the concrete edifices of one of China's burgeoning boomtowns. It's like walking around the set of Heidi, with a Gothic-style pastel-yellow cathedral and even a mock castle, except populated by extras from a Jackie Chan flick. Apparently I missed the main wedding drive at the fortress-style house. Being a national holiday it's a good time to get married so the whole place was decked out with red carpets, bowers and various other tawdry kitsch, while an industrial production line of maybe 50 self-conscious bride-and-groom units had their pictures taken.
Also visited the naval museum, replete with some recently decommissioned People's Liberation Army Navy (sic - the army runs the navy here) warships and aircraft and even a submarine you could walk around. (Photos on their way, spotter types). The museum even had a special hands-on section for the kids to play at sailors on old cannons, but this didn't stop the world and his wife leaping over the 'Do not stride' barriers by the outdoor displays to clamber all over and pose with the rather forlorn old MiG-15s and SSMs.
Also visited the naval museum, replete with some recently decommissioned People's Liberation Army Navy (sic - the army runs the navy here) warships and aircraft and even a submarine you could walk around. (Photos on their way, spotter types). The museum even had a special hands-on section for the kids to play at sailors on old cannons, but this didn't stop the world and his wife leaping over the 'Do not stride' barriers by the outdoor displays to clamber all over and pose with the rather forlorn old MiG-15s and SSMs.
01 October 2003
Well, 1 October was the anniversary of the foundation of the People's Republic in 1949 so everyone gets a week off. I and a band of fellow Brits based in Nanjing decided to take the opportunity to get out and about and elected to travel to Qingdao up in the North East, China's answer to Blackpool and the home of Tsingtao beer.
Being a Bank Holiday at a seaside resort, the weather was necessarily as drab and rainy as it would have been in Blighty. Was still able to make the most of this and spent the first day wandering along the beachfront regarding the Chinese scrabbling about in rockpools trying to catch crabs, presumably for later consumption at their hotels. That evening, to the concern of the occupants, one such fugitive crustacean was discovered loitering in the girls' room and I was called upon to remove it. It was about the size of a 50p piece. No major dramas.
Being a Bank Holiday at a seaside resort, the weather was necessarily as drab and rainy as it would have been in Blighty. Was still able to make the most of this and spent the first day wandering along the beachfront regarding the Chinese scrabbling about in rockpools trying to catch crabs, presumably for later consumption at their hotels. That evening, to the concern of the occupants, one such fugitive crustacean was discovered loitering in the girls' room and I was called upon to remove it. It was about the size of a 50p piece. No major dramas.
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