Nov 2006

That's right kids.

IPOD number 2 has fallen.

And not to theft or water or mayhem, the usual causes. It woke up one day and decided it was no longer meant for this world.

We've been gone a month and a half and we're down two IPODS. The soundtrack of our trip has officially become Chinese pop and whatever Justin Timberlake song the radio forces upon us. Oh...and the constant humming we subject the world to in order to fill the void.

Misery and woe. Woe and misery.

I think we're handling it quite maturely, don't you?

Optimistic travellers that we are, we set out early that fine morning with water bottles full, bodies rested, and (shock) legs bared in shorts for the first time this trip, to bicycle our way through the countryside surrounding Yangshou. We rode out of town, ambitiously declining the help of a local guide -- we are afterall, women of adventure. Less than a mile out of town, two things became very clear -- first, the charming rattling sound on my single gear bicycle was not going to go away and b) we were, already, really quite lost. In our possession however was a map and a dream and so onward we peddled further and further from town. Seemingly hours later, saved by a local school boy who turned us in the right direction, we happened upon the Yulong Bridge where bamboo boats abounded, their owners urging us to let them paddle us and our bikes to our destination.

We determinedly declined their assistance (as well as that of the many eager 8 year old guides who offered to assist us in our journey to the Great Banyan Tree). About an hour later, we find that we are, once agian, a bit lost. The scenery however is breathtaking enough to make up for the fact that we are unable to find the river path and we forge onward. Flash forward 15 minutes. We are trapped in the most miserable pricker patch Briar Rabbit ever imagined. What we thought was the river path had quickly narrowed into a thin dirt line that trailed between briars and rice paddies and did not allow space for our poor scraped and bleeding legs, much less our bikes. Urged on by two lady farmers assessing their crops we persisted only to become more and more trapped.

Much to our helpers' dismay, we turned back. On our way the gods shined on us, and put in our path another farmer who, amidst trying to keep a local steer from assaulting his muddy cattle, pointed us in the direction of the real river path (which, to our credit, did NOT run along the river). We were on the right track at last as we set off gleefully humming Willie Nelson's "On the Road Again" as we peddled our way in the direction of our destination.

Or not. Foiled again, we found ourself in a small village of endless twists and turns and monochrome conrete buildings. The village residents did not seem at all a stranger to lost travellers and had no inclination to assist us. Tired, bleeding, hungry, and terribly dejected, we turned back toward the highway that would return us to Yangshou. It was a long day, it was a trying day, it was a day that makes a woman of adventure doubt her sense of direction and explorative abilities. It was worth it.

Well...perhaps neither definitive nor social.

But commentary all the same.

It is with no small amount of fanfare that we offer you Pay the Bribe's very first top 5 list...(drum roll please...)

Things That Make You Go Hmmm...
aka The Drifter's Guide to the People's Republic of China...

5. Why is hitting yourself repeatedly in various parts of the body considered exercise?

4. Fashion in China...how are lacy ankle stockings, purple velvet pumps, sequined sweaters and white wind pants sweeping the nation?

3. What attracts socially akward western men to the near east? And how, dear god how, are they getting these hot asian women?

2. Asia is 4 lovers...did you realize that the most romantic spot in the world was not London or gay Paris, but in fact the entire continent of Asia? Love is in the air here my friends. Never have I seen people make out or flaunt their attachements with such reckless abandon. Why? No one knows. But today, I saw a woman clean out her sweetheart's earwax with her finger. If that isn't love...

1. Why why why do all of your baby clothes have a giant slit up the butt, leaving it enitrely exposed? Every single baby we see waddling around is wearing a jumper of sorts that exposes the bum. Why? Is it pre-training? A pre-curser to the toilet is understanding that it shouldn't happen in the clothes? Are parents recuired to pick up after their todlers when they shit on the street? Why is this superior to the diper?

Your thoughts, as always, are welcome my dear readers. (Mom, is it's just you, reply by email...)

Baffled in Yunnan...

Your Friendly Neighborhood Canadians

Just a little friendly reminder (okay, perhaps it's an obnoxiously self-righteous lecture) but read on anyway, it's short.

To vote is more than a right, it is a privilage. To vote without fear of reprisal or violence is a luxury many do not enjoy. Please exercise your rights this Tuesday. To ignore it is an insult to those who are not able.

And who knows, with enough progress maybe the American travellers that follow in our footsteps 10 years from now will have to practice their Canadia "ehs" and claim to hail from remote regions of Alberta no more.

We arrived in Shanghai ready to be disappointed. It seemed every traveller that came before had had such an experience and reported it to be "a city like any other, only the people are ruder." As we set out into the starry night for a stroll along the water front "Bund" district on our first night in town, we found ourselves immediately charmed by the glitz and glamour of a city from another world. Nowhere to be found was the cold concrete of New York or the rude pushy urbanites we had hear about. Stunning European style architecture glowed with soft yellow lights amidst elegant cafes and upscale boutiques. Not a tree was left untwinkled, not a strolling couple unenchanted. It was a bit like walking through a Disney land version of the Champs Elysee at night.

And then we did what no traveller should ever do -- we attempted to follow a lonely planet guidebook suggestion for dinner. The oft unreliable LP lead us to a "food street" claiming to have heaps of offerings at reasonable prices. We bravely ventured off the beaten path through back allies and side streets, hungry and hopeful for a perfect cap to our evening. We found the street at last - it's neon somehow dimmer, it's air somehow thicker. Within steps, all of the glitz of three blocks back seemed to melt into grime.

Wading through trash and numerous offenses to the nose, we passed child beggars and a myriad of unseemly characters mixed in with elegantly dressed hostesses unenthusiastically vying for our business. We settled on a small, simple looking restaurant because it appeared to have several Chinese patrons inside and the waitress insisted they had plenty of English menu items. Once our food arrived, the entertainment began. The Chinese patrons we had seen were actually just the staff who sat at a large table blocking the exit route enjoying their evening meal and the sight of a man getting a public beating a few feet behind my chair. It was our guess that the gentleman who was receiving the incredibly loud, make your heart jump into your throat, blows one after another without resistance had somehow wronged the establishment earning him this public display. As the mafia like man (complete with leather jacket) punched, slapped, and kneed the thief to the oohs and aahs and occasionally gasps of the staff, our appetites quickly declined and our heartrates quickened as we searched for a safe time to exit. Finally kicking him out the door after what seemed like hours of abuse, our waitress issued a quick apology and giggle as we asked to pay and leave. So this was Shanghai. Take it or leave it.

We had two more days in the city however, and not ladies to be deterred by a little dirt and squabble, we set out early the next day to enjoy some fabulous gardens and walks through the old city. The following morning we took in the city's satisfying Shanghai museum filled with truly stunning exhibits of ancient Chinese sculpture and ceramics and topped off our last evening with a night on the town at one of Shanghai's most renowned jazz clubs. The resident band, hailing from Mauritius and Paris, was unfortunately stationed there on a 4 month, 6 night a week contract (so we were told later by the band's lovely albeit not quite there bassist). The blond Parisian singer took her position as lounge singer to embarrassingly cliched extremes that raised many an eyebrow (well maybe it was just us who found her so amusing). We smiled in corner seats nostalgically as the band (sometimes triumphantly and sometimes miserably) worked their way through jazzy show tunes, unexpected rock hits, and took many interesting liberties with the American standards. It was nothing if not entertaining.

In the end, Shanghai did not deliver the resounding disappointment we had expected. Instead it gave us a glimpse into an unexpectedly Moulin Rouge-y side of China that strongly contrasted both the slow routine of the countryside and the traditionally dignity of Beijing. Shanghai was once considered a center of sin and debauchery and, as we learned, remains a thriving center of many of the country's opium dens, gambling joints, music clubs and prostitution hubs -- these days they are simply hidden in the shadows of glimmering hotels and department stores, tucked behind twinkly light soaked tree lined streets and romance inspiring candle lit cafes. Paris of the East, Whore of the Orient, Shanghai manages to be both with ease.