All Your Base Are Belong To Us

When one works, as I do, through the hustle and bustle of a ten hour hour working week it’s only fair that my employers reward this high pressure position with six weeks paid vacation. A vacation embarked upon by myself, Nick and Rich (two fellow English teachers at the nearby middle school) to attempt to cover a little of the country in which we currently reside.

While many teachers have decided to head south toward foreign shores in search of a warmer climate we decided to remain in China with the view of discovering more about the land in which we may never again find ourselves upon departure.

Harbin

The ice city of Harbin was to be our first destination. A Chinese city northeast of Beijing and further north than the famed winter town of Russia’s Vladivostok. To fly there from our local airport would have taken around five hours but one of us spotted a cheaper flight from Hong Kong convincing the others it would be a much worthier option regardless of the lengthier travel time. To save your weary eyes I will just say that it took us over 24 hours and some quality airport sleeping to complete a 5 hour journey in order to save fifty quid.

Despite this, the inevitable drunken accosting by an Englishman at HK airport and the fact that due to my miniature luggage I had to wear half the clothes I needed for Harbin (the city that regularly experiences temperature lows of up to -35) we eventually arrived at our destination.

Our late arrival saw our first evening spent exploring the main streets of Harbin, witnessing my first Chinese marriage proposal whilst experiencing a temperature my body has never even come close to before, including frozen bogies and icicle pikey tash.

After heading to and crossing the completely frozen river into Stalin’s park, getting lost brought the need for an emergency taxi situation. Just before we got ‘really’ cold we managed to flag down a cab complete with 50% working doors and nutcase of a driver to boot. And so we set off towards the Siberian Tiger Park picking up a similarly cold Harbin local en-route. Of course the mission was going too successfully for Richards liking, prompting him to forget how to exit a vehicle resulting in him falling out of a taxi with his trousers down. Neither driver nor passenger had ever seen a moon so pale, on this, the east side of the world.

The Siberian Tiger Park, home to more of the 200 tigers that exist than the wild. This bizarre experience saw us travelling around the park, where the tigers roam free, in a tin can on wheels. A tin can that would get stuck and fail to scare away any marauding tigers with its horn. While that was all well and good, escaping unscathed, now comes the moral dilemma to divulge what I played a part in afterwards. Being a Chinese safari park there was of course going to be a twist. And this particular twist came in the form of the option to purchase live animals to feed to the tigers. As we didn’t have enough money to opt for the sheep or the cow we went for the budget choice of a chicken. I should point out that the debate on whether to do this at all was of course a long one. With the winning argument coming down to several points, those being, that the chicken was done for anyway, the tigers should be eating live prey as opposed to rotting meat and the fact that it would be awesome to watch. However we did not bank on what would happen to the chicken before its final moments on planet earth. As none of us were prepared to actually do the deed of throwing the chicken ourselves we asked the vendor to do it for us. A request in which she read the desire to see the tigers riled up first. Grabbing the chicken by its wings she proceeded to drag the poor fated fowl across the cage, summoning the tigers towards us, before dangling at the leaping beasts and finally hurling it towards the big roost in the sky. A grim tale indeed and one which I’d rather not be judged on if possible readers.

To continue the tale the main purpose for our visiting Harbin was to view the annual ice festival in which an entire city is created from ice and lit from within. A rather spectacular feat that I am very glad to have experienced in person. For this event I will rely on a few photographs to do the describing for me.

To cap off, before you feast your eyes on my camera candy, it might be worth mentioning that our Harbin adventure ended with a night in a Russian discotech where my companions were a bearded Bristolian, a Ugandan, a Chinese Avril Lavigne, a group of (what could only have been lost) Kenyans and a Russian stripper. Perhaps I’ll explain more about that night on my secret unadulterated blog…..

See you in Beijing!

Chingle Bells

What’s that you cry? It’s been too long? Your lives have become a meaningless stumble through existence in an attempt to fill the Zak shaped void in your souls? Jesus, Mary and Joseph (pun intended) calm down, I have returned!

I ask for your forgiveness during this festive period for my absence over the last month. Again as I have explained before I have been far too busy experiencing to be documenting. I now feel that I can no longer fill you in on any singular adventure of mine, these becoming too vast in number, many of which can only serve to be saved for awe-inspiring alcohol fuelled anecdotes upon my extradition, until the inevitable, ‘we get it it Zak, you went to China,’ is uttered. However I can tell you a little about my life here and how I have come to feel about the Chinese people, culture and all round way of life.

Magic Chinese Moments

I’ll begin with what is often a daily occurrence in my new life, that which I now refer to as a China Moment. Possibly one of the greatest aspects of being here is that there is still yet a day to go by where I don’t see something I have never seen before in my life. Be it a vegetable, a shop or a man putting a dog bowl over a firework in the street to ‘see what happens.’ But almost as often as these new experiences are the Moments. Said moments can only be described as a sudden shock leaving you trying to retrace the thread that delivered you to this bizarre point in your life.

The Nail that Sticks Out Must be Smashed Down

A very important aspect in the Chinese culture which I’ve started to come to grips with is the sheer confidence and lack of embarrassment that many people are attributed with. This was not something I was expecting after learning about China’s favoured collectivist culture as opposed the individualism of the west. Though now, as I write this, I feel it might just be ol’ Blighty that stands apart from the rest of the world with cynical approach from sarcastic citizens.

Examples of the Chinese attitude can be found in many forms from people just grabbing a little exercise by dancing at the bus stop to the endless photographing one witnesses on a daily basis from men, women and children, alone or in a group, an audience or potential for embarrassment never stands in the way of a pout, pose or what is practically a playboy centrefold routine.

However, the best examples can be found at the schools. Recently, a short while before Christmas, the school held its annual arts festival, a celebration of song, dance and performance. Where if you can sing or dance, you will sing or dance. And if you can’t? You will anyway. A rule that stretches to the teachers, myself included. The children possess no fear of performing in front of the 1000 strong audience, happily cavorting in bizarre outfits and plastered in make up. As this is supposed to be my get back on the wagon blog I’m afraid it would take far too long to describe the strange scenes I witnessed let alone took part in. So if a picture tells a thousand words the following will definitely render this blog redundant as you begin to get the faintest insight into my current working life.

An Eastern Ear Lowering

Once again the longer it’s left the harder it becomes to get back on the blog wagon. This time however I feel I must get something down as I’m already losing track of the stories and moments I keep planning to share. I write this aboard a twilight train to Hong Kong, where I hope I will once again fall tragically behind in keeping my .com congregation up to date on my adventures.

So in the mean time perhaps a short account of an ordinary errand from several weeks ago will keep you warm till things really get heated up.

The day was a Friday, the hour was mid afternoon. I found myself once again rich in time having had a class cancelled (a common occurrence I gratefully find in my ‘hectic’ 15 hour working week) and so decided to brave my first Chinese chop. As a quick side note I do realise that posting an entire blog about my hair is a red rag to the Steve McDonald bull. But I shall continue none the less. After searching for a temple of trim to match my high class stylish demands I settled on the only place open. This is not through a lack of options in the barber department but rather because getting ones hair cut seems to be an activity that the locals prefer to undertake at around 11pm.

I entered the empty establishment to find several staff sporting rather outrageous colourful mohawks in a variety of colours. Tempted as I was, I opted for the universal sign language of scissors and pointed to a passport picture of myself that would have been more at home on a post office wall.

About to sit down I found myself instead being taken by the hand by a rather attractive young lady and being led up upstairs. Yes I was thinking exactly what you are…. ding dong, ‘ere we go.

Alas it was legitimate, with me taking up residence on a bed and having my hair washed and treated followed by a head massage then shoulder massage, arm massage finger massage, back massage and here is where it unfortunately stopped. The privilege of attacking my failing western hair fell to a gent sporting the guts of a tuxedo and an Elvis style barnet to boot. After the initial cut I was once again led away for more hair treatment. I should point out that it was probably now an hour into my visit as opposed to usual 15 minute assault with an electric shaver and the discussion about my imaginary holiday destinations I have grown accustomed to back home.

During a little more trim and cut I noticed the proprietor recording the event on her camera. I let this slide because I, like many others, suffer from the disease which disables me from ever saying anything, complaining or getting what I want once I cross the salon threshold. This of course led to what I believe was five individual photographs with two stylists, two shampoo girls and the manager herself.

It was towards the end that I actually began getting a little worried as after living in China for two months I have gotten into the habit of not carrying around much cold hard cash. It dawned on me that the treatment I had just received was probably everything available that was just thrown at the foreigner knowing he would just have to pay full price. So when I tentatively enquired about the price in my poorest Chinese I breathed a sigh off relief when I was told that my shampoo, massage, cut and photo shoot would only set me back the kingly sum of three English pounds.

So I left looking sharp and feeling good with a business card in one hand and the phone number of Li Hui the girl who massaged me in the other. The Doyle brand is about to go international.

In next weeks issue look forward to hearing about one of my adventures in Guangzhou, Hong Kong, a hot spring spa or on Chinese national day!

Those Who Can’t Do…

It’s probably about time to mention where I’m living and working for the foreseeable future, that being, Shimen Experimental Primary School. The experimental aspect of it I assume is hiring me to assist in the shaping of young minds.

The school is a long way from the 200 pupil-strong curtained off classrooms of the primary school I remember. We witnessed the school in all its glory in our first day at the office which coincidently fell on national teachers day. After our welcome meeting we were then kindly ushered, with no prior warning, on stage in front of over 3000 pupils and teachers alike and presented with a microphone to ‘say a few words.’ All in a days work. With the gift of a rose we departed to a rousing rendition of a Chinese teachers love song.

Our first lessons were treated in very much the same manner. Delivered to the classroom and told to ‘teach.’ The tales are endless of all our day to day classroom experiences, from a student saying something in Chinese when I entered which issued him a smack round the head and the pleasure of standing all lesson (yes, I too would love to know what was said that was so bad) to the class, literally, copying your words and movement with precision (a personal favourite was hearing 50 Chinese pupils repeat ‘Christmas puddin’ in a brummy accent worthy of a royal variety slot.) Stretching to the disturbing Chinese-made English learning activity of choosing a flash card at random from thin, big, tall, short, pretty and ugly. If the student is short and chooses the tall card no points are gained but if a student is ugly and chooses the ugly card…hooray, a whopping two points.

For the majority the students are friendly and helpful, as are the teachers even if they do insist on recording the whole lesson on their phones and taking pictures throughout. The constant hellos and high fives from the kids are easy to deal with however it did get a little much when my glasses were knocked askew by a mob of autograph hunters!

I have finally included a few photos of the school and a few camera shy students. I should probably add that these were taken on a normal Wednesday morning. Hopefully it will whet the visual appetite until I venture further with the camera in tow.

The front entrance to the school and where we waxed lyrical on our first day.

Just descended from morning tea on the 8th floor? Take a load off.

Anyone for mixed doubles?

A few wise words from the country that gave us Sun Tzu.

Where I would like to eat my lunch if my lunch wasn’t always chicken feet or squid head.

And they say the Chinese suppress creative imagination? Tell that to the artist behind this stellar representation of a photocopier.

You put your left fan in, your left fan out….

The Chinese have invented a lot of things but I believe Velcro belongs to the Swiss.

Three of my students whose English names are YoYo (left) Venus (right) and apparently Fred.

A Friend with Weed is Better

Another quick post is in order to pay respect to those formerly known as Welshy and Welshy. Already I have the dips in mood when the teaching goes wrong or the weather, food, communication difficulty gets pretty heavy on the ol’ soul.

To be placed with a couple was always going to be pretty daunting but something I was well equipped and prepared for. However I wasn’t expecting the complete openness and welcome I have been greeted with. Whether it’s booze, teaching, taxis or food that have united us via love or hate I realise now that it really would be impossible to make it on your own out here. Unless of course you have no choice like big Mike the American peadophile.

I write this after our first complete week of teaching and our return from the Friday night refuge of ‘Ticks bar’ where the evening was spent surrounded by his family and friends, who of course were escorted from premises long before we made our own exit.

So fear not semi-bothered readers, the posts will continue to get more disturbing and disgusting as my adventure continues, but for now accept my romantic frame of mind as I name my supporting cast of Nathan Roberts and Jennifer Burt.

You Don’t Have to Take Your Clothes Off…

A quick post to whittle down the treasure chest of mini stories I have still yet to share.

In this weeks episode we’ll discuss Chinese taxis. They are cheap, dangerous and unfortunately, a must, if you actually plan to get anywhere in a reasonable amount of time. From 50p on the back of a motorbike (or 80p for a brace of passengers, the record we have seen is a kingly five pillions so far) to a point and poke journey across motorways where lane markings are the unknown relics of a system long since forgotten, a cab ride in China always has the potential to be an adventure or a nightmare, or both. As we discovered to our detriment on our first Saturday night out in the big city.

Until then our only short journeys had gone relatively smoothly but on that night there must have been a full moon perhaps (though I couldn’t confirm that as I’m still yet to see a truly clear sky.) Having been previously advised to get two taxis, from Guangzhou to Foshan and then onwards to our school, we found ourselves extremely fortunate to find a taxi driver who claimed (in Chinese) to know exactly where we were going, eliminating the taxi transfer.

Needless to say, this turned out to be a corker of a false claim. Since the journey should have taken an hour (which still only costs about 20 quid) it was past the two hour mark that we began to get a little worried. Especially as there seem to be no street lights in China and many of the main roads appear to be nothing more than dirt tracks. Journeying down such a road in the heavy darkness was disconcerting enough without the driver halting suddenly outside a small hut which appeared to have no logical purpose for being there. Our pilot for the evening jumped out to rouse the single inhabitant of said hut who stumbled out onto the highway wearing only a t-shirt to offer his sleep addled directions.

When accepting help from a man with no trousers at three in the morning you know you’re in trouble and it really did become a laugh or cry moment. We opted for the former.

Of course we lived to tell the tale and now considered ourselves hardy veterans of Chinese taxi travel. Or so we thought….

Cue Sunday and a late wake for our trip to the Chinese Walmart. Outgoing taxi: relatively painless. Though we did have to get the driver to speak to a Chinese teacher from our school on the phone. Return taxi: unanticipated disaster.

The biggest problem was just hailing a cab at all. Though they were in abundance outside the shopping mall, they either chose to ignore us completely or were stolen by more spritely potential passengers who weren’t laden down with pillows, a duvet and a fold up bicycle. Then the sky darkened, the bats littered the air above us and the whole city seemed to smell a storm coming. Bad news for acquiring a ride. Nonetheless we finally bagged one! 50 yards down the road however saw us delivered as the prey to flashing blue lights in the rear view mirror. Frantic thoughts dancing through our minds of corrupt policemen demanding passports were put at ease when the driver returned to the car and we were permitted to mosey on out of town.

Simple? Not quite.

One corner later and the car came to a halt with a bang. With smoke pouring out of the bonnet it was run for your lives time. Or at least for the one us who wasn’t wedged in the back seat because of the previously mentioned bicycle. Escape ultimately came and we were left trudging the carriageway once again while our driver tackled his vehicle with a fire extinguisher.

A Journey of a Thousand Miles Starts with Just One Blog

Finally after almost two weeks of being here in China I am getting round to putting digital pen to virtual paper. I would gladly put off writing this indefinitely as I seem to be getting busier and busier, but every day I choose not to blog another amazing, absurd, terrific or terrifying experience comes my way that must be shared.

These posts were originally intended to be short and sweet but I think an exception will have to be made here so prepare for a long and sour read.

Captain’s log – Day 1.

Upon my late arrival to this strange planet I find myself ushered into a vehicle by three of the local life forms. After driving for a hour I am left alone in a unhygienic though habitable cell to rest and prepare for tomorrows surface expedition.

I awake to discover the overwhelming climate and escape to discover my two new crew mates, Welshy and Welshy. I am no longer alone…

It was on the first day that we were taken around by a chinese teacher who called herself Vivian, she helped us settle in, took us shopping and to lunch. All of which was very strange. Upon on leaving us back at the apartments she asked if we would like to attend her grandfathers birthday celebrations. An offer we couldn’t refuse despite the inevitable jet lag.

Vivian took us to her grandparents house out in the sticks in a very old worn down stone house with at least 20 people, adults and children alike, running around and also making of a fuss of us. The only English speakers being Vivian and ourselves.

We were then rushed through the regular occurrence of a short intense lightening storm to a restaurant the family had taken over, occupying eight tables. My initial worries about my unsmart attire now appeared unnecessary when the birthday boy rolled in topless for what could only be his 200th birthday bash.

We were treated like royalty with everyone taking an interest in us, giving us the traditional money in little red packets and trying to ply us with beer and lethal rice wine.

The food! Oh the food! 12 enormous dishes that wouldn’t stop coming being piled on top of one another in the centre of the table. With every dish being served a lottery, causing the crossing of fingers and muttered prayers to the Gods of food fate that the next one won’t be fish soup or chicken heads again! Thank goodness for rice.

I’ll end it here as this was just the first day in as few words as possible! Photos will come at some point but for now it’s hard enough just experiencing it, never mind capturing it!

Until next time…

The Grateful of China

I write this sitting in Birmingham airport waiting for my delayed flight to Dubai. I thought it would be a perfect opportunity to thank everyone who has helped me in this ridiculous adventure. From lifts to beers, loans to sofas, fantastic advice and perilous warnings of murderous blood clots, I thank you all for everything. Hopefully it won’t be long before I can get in touch once life has returned to normal and I sit on Facebook in my pants eating noodles all day.

The last couple of days have been very strange as every time I have been asked ‘how are you feeling?’ it has been the same nonchalant reaction with the discussion of when the terror will truly kick in. It turns outs it’s as soon as you see an overpriced Burger King. Finally it has all become real that I travel to the other side of the world alone.

One man and his 30kg pink suitcase.

10 Days and Canton!

So it appears I’m going to China, honest, no lie!

I say this more for my own self assurance than anything else as my visa has finally arrived. Which means only one thing, the Chinese government failed to discover my secret pilfering of that pack of bourbons from Londis in 2002.

In ten days I will embark upon a solo journey of 7000 miles to the other side of the world to Guangzhou, China via Dubai. Putting it like this is in no way terrifying at all, not one bit, I said I’m not scared, ok?

These last ten days will now consist of panic, last minute purchases, panic, farewells, panic and the complete erasing of my existence in England as I attempt to to whittle down my life into a suitcase and a handbag on wheels. Did I mention panic?

I should probably take this opportunity to remind people that my Skype details and email address are in the contact page above. I should be able to bypass the great firewall of China and reconnect with people on Facebook but this is a test that can only be carried out on the battlefield. Feel free to add me or drop me your email address to make a note of!

Olympic Limbo

Its been a while since the last post for the simple reason that movement between myself and the Chinese contacts had come to a stand still. This was solely because we were both waiting for the work permits to arrive. Communication can be difficult at times but don’t take my word for it, have a read of the following…

hi Zak,i am susan.good news!Your invitation has been approved,Tomorrow I will be sent to you by express mail international.Please tell me your detailed address.Please make sure the address to receive mail.if you can’t receive it,it will be cost one month to get a new one.Tomorrow I will inform you when can I receive the letter.thank you.please tell me your address soon.
>;;;;>;;;;
>;;;;>;;;; susan.

Of course, needless to say, Susan did not arrive via any mail, express or otherwise. What did arrive however, were the much anticipated documents!

This means that my visa is being processed as I write this and that I finally have a set leaving date of the 30th of August. Of course this does mean that by the time I leave I will have been out of work for a month so the travelling funds are evaporating in this beautiful belated summer. The plus side to this is that I have been glued to the Olympics from morning to night which has nothing to do with the lack of blog updates…

So until the 30th! When this blog can finally, hopefully, start getting interesting.