PTSD: Post Traumatic Stairs Disorder

So, in China, sometimes your students will invite you to go "climb a mountain" with them on the weekend.  Now to most outdoorsy Americans, this means clunky sneakers/boots, comfortable clothing, several bottles of water and granola bars tucked away in backpack, and hours walking up various inclines on dirt tracks through the trees with the chance for a great view and a lovely rest at the top.  In China, you still (usually) get that great view and rest, and you are walking through trees (or tree-like bamboo), but you are not on dirt paths.  You are walking up hundreds of thousands of stone steps.

STAIRS!

At first, this seems sort of nice--you don't need to don your unattractive hiking gear (and many Chinese women will tackle these trails in heels and high fashion), you don't have to worry about coming across a mud-pit because it rained the night before, and you don't have to worry about getting lost--you just follow the damn stairs.

Yeah, you know, because when I'm about to climb a damn mountain, imma wear my heels and my short skirt.  

But I am not exaggerating when I say hundreds of thousands of stairs.  On one incomparable summer epic, Liv and I found ourselves visiting the absolutely stunning Zhangjiajie National Forest Park.  The park is known for it's unique pillar-like mountains.  The park is situated within a large mountain range and features many natural wonders and truly stunning views.  Many of these mountain peaks can be reached by cable car, and we certainly took advantage of these cable cars whenever we could.  However, for the more athletic, you can also walk up the mountains via stairs.

Oh, and then there are these, for those that don't care about gravity and have complete faith in their fellow man.  For about 70 USD you could purchase the services of these guys, who would haul your ass up the mountain.  I'd like to think pride stopped me from purchasing this, but it was probably the lack of $70 and the fear of being thrown off a mountain. 

Our first part of the trip--after getting to the park from the city via bus-- involved a short cable ride up to Red Mountain.  We spent a leisurely morning walking about this mountain, looking out over really awesome views of misty mountain peaks.  We spent a couple of hours here before making our way back down the mountain (again via cable car) and (now that the mist had cleared up and the sun was out in full force) strolled along the bottom of these mountains.  A stream (the Golden Whip Stream according to our map) winds through this section of the park, and guests wade through the stream and enjoy a sedate, stair-less walk through the bottom of this mountain range.

Some slightly misty morning pics from Red Mountain

Look at all of this frolicking...surely nothing untoward could follow such joyous and incline-less fun?!

However, our gentle, meandering, cable-car filled trip was about to take a sudden and arduous turn.

After strolling along this stream and frolicking in the water a while, I was put in charge of the map, to figure out the best route for the next part of our journey.  Mistake.  Our map was an "English" Map, but the key was still in Chinese.  So I took a look at the map and noticed that there were two possible routes that eventually ended in our mountain hostel.  I noticed one was much longer and the other much shorter.  The shorter one also featured all the sights we wanted to see while in this park.  So, I directed us towards the beginning of this shorter, more interesting route.  Well, had I been able to read the key, or had I really stopped for two seconds and thought about the nature of maps, I might have realized that the short (and purple) route indicated an incline.  We climbed four kilometers of stairs.  It took us several hours to reach the top of Yuanjiajie from the Golden Whip Stream, where we started.   Most of this part of the climb was not interspersed with scenic areas, so it was mostly three straight hours of climbing--with bitching breaks (and doubled over panting breaks) about every 20 minutes.  I am not sure how Liv managed not to push me off the mountain; I was definitely not pleasant company.

I am sure you can see the differences between Liv on the stairs (left) and me on the stairs (center).  But that watermelon sure tasted like victory (right). 

However, when we reached the top of these mountains, it was absolutely stunning.  It was 1,000 percent worth the horrifying three hour StairMaster of Death that it took to reach this view.  Once we were at the top, there were more stairs, but there was also (finally) so much more to see.  We would climb for a few minutes, and then reach a plateau where you could look out over these really weird shaped mountains.  We reached this area in the middle of the afternoon and wandered about for a couple of hours, and took some seriously awesome late afternoon/sunset photos of these mountains.

Those Mountains, Though!!  Am I right?!

Finding our hostel that evening was somewhat of an adventure, mostly because we were both just so tired, we weren't really thinking straight.  We managed to finally locate a bus that would take us there, and it was not one of the most pleasant hostels we'd stayed at in China (although far from the worst).  It was in the mountains, so it was very damp.  The food was relatively bland.  Our bedrooms were very crowded and we had to pay extra for them to turn the air conditioning on--it wasn't that hot, but the humidity was awful.  But we were only there for a night, so it was altogether not too bad.  We passed out almost as soon as we go to our beds (I say almost because another guest wanted to practice his English by conversing for 40 minutes before we finally had to shut him down so we could sleep).  On the positive side, this hostel is where I met a gentleman by the name of Josh who told me all about Search Associates and is directly responsible for the direction in which my life is now headed. 

We met up with some fellow travelers, from Quebec, at this hostel and decided to take a scenic route down the mountain together.   While down the stairs is significantly easier than up the stairs, it does require a certain amount of balance and work.  Oh yeah, and my legs were twin stalks of muscle burning agony from the day before.  But again, the views were simply stunning.  And I have this thing about taking pictures of stairs--I just think they are cool, so at least photo opportunities abounded everywhere you looked.

Some scenes from Tianzi, the mountain we climbed down the next day.  In the center is Veronica, me, Valerie, and Liv. 

Once we reached the bottom of the mountain, Valerie and Veronica (our Canadian mountain climbers) suggested we get lunch and invited us to join them on seeing another scenic part of the park, Baofeng Lake, and we agreed.  We had lovely lunch and made our way over to the other side of the park.

Now, probably the worst part about the stairs from the day before (beyond being unending and upward) is that they are through mountains, and the path twists and turns constantly.  This means that you cannot see the end of your destination, so you have no idea how much longer you are going to be climbing those freaking stairs.  They just keep going.  When we reached Baofeng lake, after a brief walk up a slight incline, you reached a staircase.  A staircase that curved up around and disappeared.  A staircase that ended who-only-knows-when? Ten minutes? Ten miles? Ten days?!  I am not proud of my behavior upon seeing this staircase; I have never been so close to having a temper tantrum in my adult life.  My eyes welled, my face flushed, my lips quivered.  I told Liv I would climb it for a while, but if it just kept going, I would meet them at the entrance of the park.

So to the left would be the stairs of doom that just kept going up for god knows how long, but then we shortly went down a gain (center, left) a winding stair to the lake at the bottom. 

Luckily for me, and probably everyone that would have had to deal with me that day, the stairs were brief-- about 3 minutes--before we began going down again (and we went down a really cool staircase) and found this lovely little lake.  We boarded onto boats that took as on a much welcome, very relaxing circuit of this very pretty lake.  The entrance fee to this part of the park was an additional 70 yuan (on top of the 250 yuan it was to enter the national forest park) but it was totally worth it.  The cruise around the lake was a really great way to end our two day visit to this park.  And you know what?  A part of me almost wishes we stayed in the park one more day, because it was just so cool.  Although, at the time, I was glad to be turning my back on those stairs, and catching a bus back to Zhangjiajie City.

So pretty!

And we got to sit!  We got to sit!!!

For the rest of my stay in China, I treated stairs with a certain amount of wariness; I did not want to risk accidentally being on a staircase for several hours ever again.   When a friend of mine wanted to see a pagoda that was perched on the top of a hill in Hangzhou, I told her we would climb that hill for 40 minutes--no pagoda by the, no deal, and we would turn around head back down.  Never trust stairs. However, that being said, Zhangjiajie National Forest Park remains one of my favorite places, and favorite experiences, in China.

This is literally the best french fry I have ever eaten. 

And here's a quick video of a pan of some of these mountains.  I just can't get enough of them. 

The Job Fair

It is almost midnight as I am writing this and I have to teach tomorrow.  I have had almost no sleep this weekend due to attending a very large job fair for international teachers, and recruiters of international teachers, in Canada this weekend.  And it was exhausting, but don't worry, this story has a happy ending.

Let me first say that if you have never attended a three day job fair event, you should be grateful (and hope everyday that you can avoid it).  This was singularly exhausting; emotionally and physically, but I will get into that a bit later.

So here is how this whole fair business works.  You first have to be invited to the fair by the company that I am working with (it is a service that matches well-vetted schools with North American teachers who wish to teach abroad).  The fair in which you are invited to depends largely on the amount and quality of experience and certification/education.

For example, there was a fair happening in the states on the following weekend, but it was going to feature candidates who had 10 years of overseas teaching experience, and schools looking for teachers with that experience.  I have my bachelors and my masters in teaching, as well as certification from New York State, but only 2 years of full time teaching experience (I can, and have, stretched this to include graduate school assistantships, but if I am totally honest, its about 2 years).

So after some debate with the coordinator working with me, she sent me to a slightly smaller fair.  The only issue with this fair is that there were only 4-5 schools I was interested in, and a heck of a lot of the schools attending were in Kuwait.  As you can imagine, I (and every other American who have their news spoon-fed to them in CNN) had some reservations about Kuwait--and the rest of the Middle East (schools from Saudi Arabia, the UAE, and Bahrain were also present).

After receiving the invite, you've got some work to do on researching these schools.  You gotta look at salary and benefits, savings, allowances, student population, student teacher ratio, info about the schools...and not to mention the particulars of the country you are considering entering.  It's a lot to start researching!

Once you arrive at the fair--beginning at noon--you register, are given hard copies of the itinerary, school information, and FAQs about the fair (digital copies were emailed weeks prior).  You then enter the Room of Nervous and Hopeful Congregation.  This is where all the candidates looking for a job are corralled when they are not watching presentations or being interviewed.  People gather and start to feel each other out: had you taught overseas before?  Where?  What was it like (and how does it compare to my own experience)? What are you looking for next?  You begin to share war stories, give advice about regions, gush over what you loved, etc.  It was both nice to be around people who had taught and lived abroad, but also a reminder that sometimes we tend to get a bit carried away in large groups.   As you are networking and making connections with people who could help you later in your career (exchanging business cards and emails) you also begin to scope out the competition.  Who is also looking for the same positions at the same school as you are?  At this particular fair, it was pretty easy to get to know who was after what and where.

During this first day, several of the schools were presenting information about their school and their campus.  You could choose to attend these about schools you were interested in, although I found them to be basically opportunities to ask questions in a less formal setting, so you could arm yourself with some information before getting into that interview room.  Starting at 2:00, the most recent and up to date postings for available positions at each school could be found in a medium sized banquet hall, and candidates were encouraged to go and look at what was available.   At 6:00 was the candidate orientation, immediately followed by interview sign up.

This is by far the worst part of the fair.  You have about 90 seconds to get the recruiter to find value in you and your experience, and about another minute or so to impress them with your CV if you were not immediately turned away.  One school I struck out on without even being able to hand him my CV, another two schools talked with me briefly, took my CV, but no interview.  Another school had a very in depth conversation with me, took my CV, but again, no interview.  One school recognized me from my photo on the my CV and explained that the school would be interested in me, but due to the restrictions placed on international schools by the national governments, I would not likely be able to get a visa; I needed to have two years teaching experience in the subject and age range that I would be being hired to teach for.  So, for example, I have two years teaching experience, but it is for university students and for EFL.  I only have 6 months teaching experience in the exact subject matter they would be hiring me for, making me likely to be ineligible for that visa (although some countries are less strict about this than others, and national schools--schools belonging to that country--are not subject to these rules). 

So at this point I had been talking to schools for about 30 minutes, and have so far struck out in terms of securing an interview, when I pass a table for a school in Bahrain.  Now, I had no driving desire to live and work in the Middle East, but other than the usual security anxieties, no real reason against living and working there (although I knew I would not live in Kuwait, so I did not even bother with the schools from there).  And I had heard fairly positive things about Bahrain from both the candidates at the fair who'd been there, traveled there, were born there, etc, as well as positive information from other sources.  And hey, there are no travel warnings for Bahrain.

So I stopped by the table, sat down; we went over my CV and just as I was resigning myself from considering the fair to be valuable only as an opportunity to network, I got that interview.  I then returned to the candidate holding cell, which after the interview sign up feels more like the Room of Doubt and Extremes of Emotion to talk a bit about Bahrain with the other candidates.  I went back to my hotel shortly thereafter to go to sleep (I left home that morning at 5:30, and it was now after 10:00pm) and prep for this interview!   The next day I arrived early, both to attend a few more presentations and to check to see if any of those other schools who took my CV had fulfilled their promise to schedule an interview; they didn't.  I went to my interview and with exception of stumbling over the question asking me how much I knew about Bahrain (because I don't know that much!), I killed that interview--or at least I think I did.  But I told myself I was not expecting anything out of it, and since I hadn't really considered Bahrain before, I couldn't be really sad if I didn't get the job, right?  You can't regret something you didn't anticipate, am I right?

I went to lunch with my dad (who came along for the journey) and then attended a reception at 8:00 that evening, where I looked for my interviewer, but did not find him.  I wined and cheesed with the other candidates and networked some more and then went back to my hotel--another really long day!
Well, I went back to my hotel room that night, telling my dad that we could have a leisurely day on Sunday.  I would swing by the fair location, check my mailbox just to be sure, and tell the fair coordinators that I was leaving.  Well, I opened my email at 7:00 the next morning to find an offer for a job at the school I'd interviewed with, and as per the fair coordinators rules, I had 24 hours to make a decision.

Well, I went back to the fair, spoke with the man who interviewed me, went over the job offer, asked him tons of questions and received tons of information, told him I was interested but need to "consider other offers" (ha).  I talked with the people from the company to ask them bunches of questions about Bahrain as well, in the room that is now more like the Room of Disguising Emotions (some where happy but trying not to rub it in and others were disappointed but trying not to show it).

So then I had a 5 hour drive back home to hash it out--Dad loved that back and forth monologue--and a few hours to discuss it with people. On the rare occasion I let him talk, he had good advice: "It's the experience you need to get closer to what you want.  And teaching abroad is what you're about, right?"  Mom's advice was "not to talk to too many people, Rach, because they will just confuse you; just go." Solid advice from Mom and Dad despite their considerable reservations about the country and the region I would be headed to for two years.  I did talk to a few people, my trusted sounding board for life decisions, made some lists of pros and cons, and at about midnight I emailed the school back officially accepting a two year post in Bahrain.  I am nervous, but also pretty stoked; kinda like I was pre-China.

Go. Me.




Oh, and a disclaimer: I will still be posting about China.  First, because I still have a lot I want to write about China; it was almost two years of my life! Secondly, because I will not be leaving for Bahrain for another 8 months (but I'll keep updating on that process).

Sometimes You Pee on Your Foot: C'est La Vie

So probably one of the things that most people find the most intriguing (and horrifying) about my trip to China is the whole toilet situation. Now some of you might be thinking: "ew, is she really going to do a post about toilets?"  But trust me, there is a very good reason for this post on potties, beyond answering questions from the excretingly curious.

But first, the Squat Toilet.  The Squattie Pottie.  The Porcelain Spelunker.  Okay, I made that last one up, but squat toilets are the toilet du'jour in China when you are using a public restroom (in people's private residences, or really expensive/touristy establishments, you will find western style toilets.  There is a mall in Shanghai with the most gorgeous bathrooms I have ever seen).  So what is a squat toilet?   I want you to imagine your normal porcelain throne, except someone took it and sank it all the way into the ground so that the seat part is level with the ground.  Instead of sitting on this contraption, you hover, or squat, over it.  I know what you are thinking:  "What if you miss?  Where do your pants go and how do you wind up not peeing on them?  That can't possibly be clean?!"  I know this is what you are thinking because my discussion of squat toilets always seems to lead to these alarming questions and ensuing confusion.

My Cousin Alec, during a Skype call, trying to follow my voice instructions on how to squat over a toilet...he's doing it right. 

So let me answer those questions.  You will miss sometimes.  You will pee on your foot.  If you are having a digestive bad day, you might splatter your last meal all around the edges of that toilet.  However, after the first few tries, you get the hang of it, and on normal digestive days, you would have to try pretty hard to miss that toilet. You are not going to pee on your pants, just trust me on this; the physics of it works out.  And no, these toilets are most frequently not clean.

The pictures to the right and left are from my shots of the restrooms in Wumart, the grocery store.  The one in the center is taken from the internet and the site can be found here, but it is identical to some public toilets I've used. 

Here is why they are not clean.  Again, these are the toilets found in public restrooms, because the Chinese believe it is really gross to stick your butt onto a surface that another unknown butt has been in contact with; a valid point, when you think about it.  So they use these squat toilets in public.  The Chinese public is currently at 1.7 billion people--the city I lived in had 10 million people in it.  That is 10 million people in and out of these public restrooms everyday.  This means that it is pretty hard for a custodian to do more than run a wet (not necessary soapy) mop through there every couple of hours.  Also, toilet paper is not provided for you in China, you must bring your own little packet of tissues--NEVER LEAVE HOME WITHOUT THEM!.  During certain months of the year, it is not good to flush  your toilet paper down the toilet due to poor septic conditions.  Therefore, peoples shit-stained tissues are in garbage cans in each stall, and these cans occasionally overflow with use, giving the place a really unpleasant smell (in addition to the smell coming from the sewers during these poor septic conditions).  Soap is also not typically provided in public restrooms in China unless you are in a very nice location or a tourist spot.  So, as you can imagine, what might sometimes be an uncomfortable unsanitary experience in America (you know, if you pull into a gas station in the middle of nowhere) becomes a part of your everyday bathroom experience in China.

The left would be an example of a digestive emergency that didn't make it to the bathroom (it's actually behind a building on the great wall).  The right would be a typical squat toilet. 

Another reason that these toilets are off-putting for westerners is that the restrooms they are in do not always resemble a 'normal' restroom appearance.  Oh sure, most of them do; you go in, sinks line one wall, and stalls line the other wall.  Each stall has one toilet inside, a door that latches, and a door that goes all the way to the bottom, so people do not see you squatting there.  But this is not a 100% guarantee.  No, some of the public restrooms, especially at rest stops when you are traveling in the country, look like this:  Half walls, no doors, in a big open room.  You are literally trying not to make eye contact with the person across from you, or trying not to mind that the person next to you just stood up, and since there are only half walls, has a nice aerial view of you in all your squatting glory.  I have only used bathrooms such as these twice in my stay in China, and it was near the end, when I would (and still can) go to the bathroom anywhere.  I don't know what I would have done had I encountered these early in my time in China.

This was taken from the internet.  The one I used was not in this bad of shape, and was cleaner, but its the same basic idea; half walls and no doors. 

Speaking of my arrival in China, you can imagine how much of a shock these bathrooms were to me.  I wish I could also find someway to put the smell coming out of many of the public restrooms in this post.  When I arrived, I hated everything about these bathrooms; I hated squatting, I hated that I had to bring my own toilet tissue, I hated that there was no soap (my mother eventually sent me the largest bottle of germ-x you can buy), I hated the smell.  I just hated them.  You might not need to know this, but I have a very small bladder; liquids literally run right through me, so I pee all the time.  Well, I came up with a pretty good plan to limit, if not erase, my need of public restrooms.  I decided that I would pee right before I left in the morning, in my apartment, around 6:45 am.  I would then not drink anything all day at school (where the public toilets were squat toilets) and then wait until I got back home at about 6:30 pm to pee again.  That is 12 hours of not drinking and not peeing, five days a week, in 80 degree weather with lots of nice humidity.  I think you know where this is going.

You know, because you don't want to do it wrong.  Image taken from this site.

I was at lunch one Sunday afternoon with Dave, when I got the weirdest pain in my right side of my back.  It started out kind of dull, and I thought maybe it was a cramp of some kind.  After contorting and shifting around in my chair, trying to stretch, we decided to walk it off on the way back to our apartments.  I barely made it to my bathroom in my apartment before I started revisiting that lunch I just ate all over the place.  Dave insisted we go to the hospital.  By the time we got me (and Dave, Justine, Eva, and Liv) to the hospital--maybe 30 minutes?--I was in the worst pain of my life.  I could not get that pain in my back to go away no matter what I did, how I sat, laid down, curled into a ball, etc.  And I was throwing up at regular 20 minute intervals.  I was throwing up into squat toilets--karma; I didn't want to pee in them, so instead I get to stick my face in them.  There was no soap in the hospital bathrooms either.

Once we were at the hospital emergency room, Dave, Justine, and Eva were trying to explain what was wrong with me in a mix of Chinese and English.  They sent us to a bone doctor, they sent us to neurology, and when we finally got back to the emergency room where we started, I was pretty much in agony.  We finally saw one of the emergency room doctors, and by this time, someone from the school I worked for had arrived to help with the translations.  They asked me about six times if I was menstruating because there was blood in my urine.  I assured them I was not, and they decided I was massively dehydrated and rocking a kidney infection, with possible stones.  They gave me a shot in the butt (after I paid for the shot--you have to pay for each procedure before they do it) for the pain, wrote me a script for IV fluids and antibiotics and sent me up to the IV Bar.

To the left is my super nice splint that they made me after the I blew my IV site, seen in the picture on the right.  In the center is the sign for the IV Bar: The Bar of Venous Infusion 1. 

Yes, the IV Bar is exactly how it sounds.  It is a counter with a bunch of nurses on one side.  You hand them your script, they change gloves, swab your hand, insert a needle and hook you up to your meds.  They give the IV bag to a friend of yours and the friend drags you over to a chair.  Above all the chairs are hooks for all the IV bags; you are in a giant room with people receiving various medications via IV.  We eventually paid a whole 2 dollars for a bed in a smaller room, which is where I remained while they continued with the IV stuff and waited until my bladder was sufficiently full to do an ultrasound of my kidneys.  We hung out for several hours, eating, drinking, and waiting.  By this time the shot had worked, and I felt no pain.  They did an ultrasound and found kidney crystals.  They sent me home that night and told me to come back tomorrow when the pharmacy was open for antibiotics and pain killers.

To the left and center are shots of the IV Corral and to the right is me in my bed.  There was about 15 other people in there in various states of life and health. 

You never want to have kidney problems, because the pain is excruciating.  You definitely do not want to have ANY kind of health problem while in a country where you can't really communicate your needs on the first or sixth try.  And this is all because I refused to pee in a public restroom.  Which in retrospect--and having become a champ at peeing anywhere (restroom, hole in the ground, cup, behind a tree)--seems so incredibly stupid.  If you are going to live abroad, you know things are not going to be the same as they are back home, and some of it is going to be the bad kind of different.  But embrace it nonetheless, because you do not want to find yourself in a hospital because you're a stupid, unbending idiot.  So my message here: Pee- always.  In the words of Olivia: "Accept the fact that sometimes you pee on  your foot. Life goes on."

Below is a video, captured by Justin, of the IV bar process.  Did I mention this all happened on Halloween weekend of 2011?  Most authentically terrifying Halloween of my life.  Let's hope it stays that way.

I also would like to give a huge shout out to Dave, Justin, and Eva for being my translators and expediters--by the time we got back to the emergency room, both of them were yelling in Chinese for the right medical attention.  And to Liv for keeping track of everything and keeping me calm.  All four of you have my sincere gratitude and appreciation that you were there for me that day; I literally do not know what I would have done without you. <3

Public Transportation

I know that I have mentioned in other blog entries about the long distance transportation in the form of cheap trains, and I will hit on that subject again in this blog.  However, I wanted to talk about what 'getting around' in China was like in our daily lives.  Because getting from point a to point b was not something I thought about when I was anxiously and haphazardly throwing together my life to go to China.

Before I get into the details, first let me say that there is a lot to love and hate about public transportation in China.  Let's talk about what goes in the love column.  I love how cheap public transportation is in China.  I love how convenient public transportation is in China--buses, subways, trains are coming and going regularly from about 6am to about midnight; and when they don't,there are taxis.  Now let's talk about things I hate about public transportation in China.  It's dirty, it's crowded, it is often times really slow, and it is not something easily understood when you first arrive.

So how do you get around in China?  For short distance trips around the city, the three main forms of transportation are buses, subways, and taxis.

Buses
Buses are probably the most confusing, but also the most convenient form of transportation in Hangzhou.  They are convenient because the bus systems in this city run pretty much non-stop from dawn until midnight, and they run all over the city.   Several buses routes overlap, so if one bus is too crowded, or you miss it by a few minutes, you can grab another bus and then transfer at a later stop.  I will warn  you, however; if you decide to take the bus, you are going to need to add an hour, minimum, to your trip; they are a readily available, but slow form of transportation.

The buses are also very cheap.  They range from 1-2 yuan per trip to up to 4 yuan (this is during the height of summer or winter, as you are paying for either the air conditioning or the heat, respectively).  If you do not want to be constantly fumbling in your pockets or purse for the very bus-convenient coin yuan, you can go down to a local transportation center and purchase a bus card.  You can put a couple hundred yuan on said bus card and then just scan it across the sensor as you get on the bus--very convenient.

The bad thing about buses, beyond being dirty and crowded and sort of slow, is how difficult it is to figure out the routes and the schedule.  The bus routes and street names are all in Chinese characters.  This means that, unless you are familiar with the written language when you arrive, you will not be navigating your city via bus until you learn some basics.  Or if you are like me, you won't be navigating the city until you find someone who can show you which routes you need, and then you memorize the symbols needed for the routes you use the most frequently.  I can honestly say that I never became a real expert at the buses.  Thankfully those I lived near and traveled with--mainly Olivia--were more than able to learn these bus routes and then explain them to me.  Repeatedly.  However, I do recommend you learn them (or make patient and knowledgeable friends) because it is a really convenient, comprehensive, and cheap way to get around town.

The Subway
Subways are fantastic.  I love them.  Yes they are loud and crowded, but after the slowness of the buses, they are a welcome and speedy form of transportation. Unfortunately, Hangzhou had only just opened part of their brand new subways system about a month before I left China, so my knowledge of Chinese subways extends only to when I visited other cities--namely Beijing and Shanghai.

Since subways tended to be located only in big, international cities, the subway maps and stops were in both English and Chinese, and they were written not only in Chinese characters, but also the much more comprehensible (for foreigners) pinyin. This meant they were a lot easier for the newly arrived foreigner to use than the bus routes.

Subways tend to be a bit pricier than bus routes, ranging from 2-3 yuan per ride to 11-12 yuan per ride, depending on distance.  The only exception to this is in Beijing, where every subway ride you take, regardless of distance, is 2 yuan; the capital is trying to encourage people to use the subways by making it affordable and thus helping to relieve the traffic congestion of cars and bicycles on the surface.  Another interesting aspect of the subway trains are the presence of beggars.  The subways, particularly in Shanghai, seem to be the place where the disenfranchised choose to set up camp.  They typically walk up and down the subway cars, playing and instrument or singing, trailed by a sick or disfigured colleague collecting money from people.  They are not really bothersome, but you will encounter them if you take the subway, so either have some change out for them or studiously avoid eye contact.

A slightly annoying part of the subway system is the security checks.  Each time you board the subway, you need to run your bags through a security scanner. If you are carrying a lot of stuff--you just went shopping, you are on your way to the airport, etc--this can sometimes be a pain in the butt. The other downside to the subway is how crowded it is.  It is a very popular form of transportation in the large cities, and during rush hour, it gets hectic.  You will find yourself push and shoving to get on the cars, and especially to claim a seat. If you are going a short distance, I recommend just standing.   However, if you are in a city with a subway, take advantage of it; its fast, easy to understand, and relatively clean.

The Taxi
Like many things in China, taxis are cheap--when you compare them to the price of taxis in cities in America.  However, when you compare the price of a taxi, say, to bus fare, you realize the taxi is much more expensive.  And if you are getting paid in Chinese currency, sometimes these cab fares can add up to be a large part of your monthly budget.  I do not recommend taking a taxi unless time constraints demand it, or you are sharing it with one or two other people.

That being said, taxis are a great way to get around the cities.  They are everywhere, so you never really have to wait, as you do with the buses.  A taxi ride in Hangzhou usually begins anywhere between 8-11 yuan, and goes up one yuan at a time as you travel.  Usually a fifteen to twenty minute drive will cost you about 30 yuan.  Which in USD is about 5 dollars; again, when you compare it to home, pretty cheap.

However, like the buses, taxis are not usually something you can jump right into upon your arrival without a little bit of help.  Your taxi drivers are not typically fluent in English beyond the "hello, how are you?"--sort of like most American's knowledge of Spanish.  So until you learn some basic street names or happen to have the address written down for you, you are going to need some help.  We relied very heavily on the foreign teachers who had been there for a couple of years.  We would call them when we got into the taxi, and have them tell the taxi driver, via phone, where we wanted to go.  Sometimes we would call Chinese teachers or some of our students to assist us in giving our taxi drivers directions. We would also buy copies of something called More Hangzhou, a periodical dedicated to expats, and had the addresses to many popular shopping districts, tourist attractions, and restaurants in English, Pinyin, and Chinese.  We would just open to the right page and point.  Eventually we learned the vocabulary for telling someone where we were going, along with several high frequency destinations or street names.

I will warn you to be careful of illegal taxis, which will charge you a lot more than 30 yuan per ride.  These will be either regular sedans with no meters, or taxi drivers who do not turn their meters on when you enter into the car.  If this happens, immediately tell them to stop and get out of the taxi (or, if you do not even see a meter, do not get into the taxi at all).  You will see taxis such as these around tourist areas, especially during rush hour--between 3:30 and 6:00pm--when it is almost impossible to find a taxi (seriously, do not be out looking for a taxi during this time).  However, if you are in a rush, and you cannot find a taxi willing to take you to your destination (this happens a lot during rush hour--the taxis do not want to go to certain parts of the city) you can try offering the taxi 50-100 yuan to take you there. You are out about 70 yuan more than the ride will cost you, but you don't have to keep walking up and down the street searching for another taxi, or bus, or something that will take you home.  In this case, the driver will not turn on the meter; you just fork over the 100 yuan when you reach your destination.

Bicycles and Rickshaws
Before I move on to the long distance forms of transportation, I want to talk about two final categories of city transportation found everywhere in China.  The first is the bicycle or moped.  I highly recommend buying the former, and equally as highly recommend you avoid the latter. China is a very cyclist friendly country and most roads have lanes dedicated to bicycles and mopeds.  A bicycle is a really great way to make yourself more mobile in the city without having to rely on public transportation.  Hangzhou was a huge city, and most of the places we went to regularly were only a few miles from our home--sometimes the bus would actually take longer to get there, what with all the stops, then it would to ride a bike.  You could walk it, but maybe it was cold, or you just didn't want to waste the time it would take to walk the distance.  A bike is a great solution to this, and we eventually did obtain bikes and used them all the time during warmer weather.  However, mopeds are dangerous; they go really fast, people zip between the cyclist lanes and the car lanes and the sidewalks.  Most car accidents in China revolve around mopeds, and so I would exercise extreme caution when riding one, or even when walking down the street while others are riding them.

The last form of short distance transportation I want to talk about is the rickshaw.  This is by far one of the coolest, and unique, kinds of transport available in China.  Now, I am not talking about a man pulling you in a contraption that is a cross between a carriage and a wagon (although in some touristy places, those do exists).  These are like the evolution of those hand pulled rickshaws.  These are typically little covered carts, with a cushioned bench(s) inside, attached to bicycles, some motorized, some not.  Some of them have even lost the cart-and-horse style entirely and drive what look like tiny, enclosed golf carts with the driver in a tiny compartment up front,and the passengers on benches in the back. In non-touristy areas, for distances between 1-2 miles, they typically charge you about 5 yuan, maybe 10.  I usually give in on the guys with the non-motorized bicycles--they are using nothing but their own muscles to haul my lazy self and my groceries the whole 3/4 mile to my apartment. For longer distances, you can barter with them for a fair price.

Okay so to our right is a nice summer rickshaw outside of the Forbidden city, center a veiw from the back while in transit, and to the left is what it looks like to be enclosed in one of the winter ones: 1 bench + 3 people = cramped accommodations and awkward photos.  

The terrifying thing about rickshaws is that they (not being a car, technically) weave between traffic on the road, in the cyclist lane, on the sidewalks like they are playing a game of real-life Mario Cart.  It is an exhilarating and often terrifying way to get from one place to another, but something you should do at least once while you are in China (or other countries that use this transportation).  I made my mom take one while she visited and she screamed the entire way to our destination, much to the delight of our driver.  It is one of my greatest regrets that I did not capture that ride on film.  However, below is a different rickshaw ride video, to give you some idea of what riding in one is like.

The ones featured on the left and right are the most common, but when it is raining or cold, we get ones like what's in middle or sides made from tarps are added to the ones pictured on the right and left to make them weather proof.

Of course, I found myself doing a lot of walking; many restaurants and shops were well within walking distances from my apartment.  And if you are wondering why I haven't mentioned driving, you have never seen Chinese traffic.  Driving a car in that country is not something I ever entertained doing, except perhaps in my nightmares.

Long Distance Transpo: Trains
The main form of long distance transportation that I want to discuss are the trains.  The train system in China is fantastic; you can literally get almost anywhere in China via train.  Additionally, there are levels to the quality, and corresponding price, of these trains. If you are traveling on a budget, you can choose to take a train that is really cheap.  However, the quality of said train and the duration of the trip is affected by the price.  The more expensive, the nicer the train, the shorter the trip.  The cheaper trains, the more people are crammed into the cars, the worse the seating is, and the trip is longer.  For example, when traveling to Beijing from Hangzhou (an 800  mile distance), you have the opportunity to take a 6 hour train ride, for about 100 USD; there are only two people to a row, the seats are exceedingly comfortable, and the train is climate controlled.  You can make the same trip for about 30 USD, it takes 15 hours, you are sitting in about a 5ft by 5ft space with five other people around a tiny table, and you might have air conditioning or heating.

While that might seem like a horrific experience, it is also a really cheap way to see a really huge country.  Olivia and I spent 2 weeks one summer taking trains all across China--from Hangzhou to Hunan Province, all the way up to Xi'an, and then back down to Hangzhou.  Some of our train rides were over 24 hours long.   But we had plenty of time, because it was summer vacation--and we did not have plenty of money.  This form of transportation allowed us to spend our money on the sights and places we were traveling to see, rather than how we got there.  It also lent the whole trip a greater sense of adventure. You can take trains from one end of China to another last upwards of 55 hours--it all depends on what you want/are able to spend and the experience you are willing to have.

The positive of these are obviously that they are cheap.  The negative is that they are long, but also very uncomfortable.  Sometimes they have standing room only, meaning that you do not have seats.  Even if you do have seats, you are going to be sitting while other people are jammed onto the train, milling about during the trip, or huddled into what little unused floor space is available.   While smoking is not allowed on the trains, the smokers will jump off the trains at the stops and stand very close to the doors (so as not to be left behind) while they smoke.  Meaning if you are anywhere near the doors, you will be experiencing intermittent clouds of smoke.  Also, unless you are a world class narcoleptic, it is nearly impossible to sleep for any length of time on one of these trains, and the quality of your sleep is not great.

However, like I said, the quality of the trip that you take depends entirely on the experience you want to have. You can take very nice trains; trains that go very fast, are very clean, and are very quiet.  Or, if you need to take one of the cheaper, longer trains, you can get beds.  The sleeper cars are kept dark, no matter what the time, and you don't need to be a sleep-study lab rat in order to pass out.  Although the sleeper cars do tend to sell out pretty fast.

These are the nice trains. They are one of the fastest ways to get around China.  The high speed train from Hangzhou to Shanghai takes about 40 minutes (compared to driving 3 hours) and costs about 12 USD. 

For those few places that don't connect directly to a train station, you can take the train to the nearest stop and then catch a long-distance bus; like a greyhound, but safer, to your final destination.  We did this once during a rather epic summer adventure; we took a 22 hour train to the nearest possible station, then a four hour bus to our final location.  The long distance buses also have a sleeper option--imagine a bus, but instead of seats are a bunch of cots.  I know, nothing about that seems safe.  I never had a cause to take one of these sleeper buses, and I find myself regretting it a bit.

Despite being loud and crowded, public transportation in China is so much more convenient than it is in America.  And while I desperately missed my car and missed driving while I was there, I miss equally how easy it was (once I learned a thing or two) to get around.

Beijing Epilogue: Stuff Not as Famous, But Still Worth Seeing

This blog post was originally going to be my Beijing Part III post, before I decided to talk about other subjects.  It has been kicking around my blog, and I have almost deleted the post on several occasions, but I decided that I wanted to share some of the other sights that was in Beijing.  And not publishing it just feels like a waste of time on my part.

The Great Wall and Forbidden City (and Tiananmen) are probably the most well known things to see in Beijing, but the city has a lot of other sites worth seeing (and this is just the historic stuff--if you live in China, please check out modern Beijing; its a very international city and you are going to be able to find things here that you will not be able to find in the countryside--food, products, shopping, etc).

The first sight-worthy place is the Summer Palace, which is a lovely place to stroll around.  It was apparently built by empress Cixi as a retreat, and if memory serves, she built it using funds she, well, stole, from the royal navy.  For more, go here http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/880. It's architecture is pretty darn cool, although much of the palace itself seems to be off limits to tourists, therefore unfortunately, you seem to only be able to gaze at most of it from afar.

The best part of the Summer Palace, in my opinion, is the lake.  It is modeled after the West Lake in Hangzhou (the most beautiful lake in the world, see here for more) and in the spring, it is surrounded by plum trees in full blossom.  The path around the lake will take you over stone bridges and under painted pavilions. Unlike many of the other sites in Beijing, this one seems less remodeled and renovated; the paint on the pavilions looks old, the stone is crumbling, etc.  There are also islands in the middle of the lake that can be reached either be these magnificent brides or via boat.  Few people are willing to walk the entire perimeter of the lake, so its a little less crowded than other areas of Beijing, and depending on the time of the year, its a really lovely walk.  I also recommend getting a paddle boat and cruising about the lake; there are some island that are really only reachable by boat.

Next up is the Lama Temple, a Buddhist temple--one of the few remaining in China, as many of them have been destroyed or neglected over the years.  It is a very quiet place, comparatively, because it is a place of worship, and the signs asking people to keep it down seem to be heeded here (where it is elsewhere ignored).  The temple consists of a series of buildings, each containing various statues (some small, some that take up the entire building).  Honest to goodness monks walk about the area, organizing the offerings being left at the various alters.  Around the complex, incense is available, and there are giant metal fire grates where you can light the incense and spaces to kneel and pray.  After your prayers are complete there are stands for you to place your incense; these are located outside of most of the structures, giving the whole place a nice incensey smell.  Right outside of the temple is sort of a Tibetan district, where if you are in need of any Tibetan or Buddhist stuff, you can find it all around this temple.   It has its own stop on the Subway line, so it is really easy to get to.

Sorry about all the links to UNESCO, but honestly, for the most part I was distracted with the visuals and less worried about reading all the signs.  I figured I would just look it up on the internet before or after, and that is what I did, although in all these sites, you can rent audio tours in your language to explain what is happening at each of these places.

The last thing I would like to mention in this post (this post that is not really doing justice to ANY of these really interesting places) is the Olympic Stadium.  I thought I would end on an example of modern Beijing, as I have largely left it out of the posts on Beijing.  Before I continue with the stadium, I do want to mention that there is a lot going on in Beijing beyond the historic; it is thoroughly modern city with all the wonderful conveniences and amenities.

So back to the Olympic Stadium; since 2008 and the world's greatest opening ceremony, the stadium (like many of its counterparts around the world) has turned into tourist attraction for foreigners.  They do still occasionally use the stadium; after all, its got Olympic sized courts, arenas, pools, etc.  I believe parts of it (especially the pools) are open to the community--sort of like a rec center.  The Birds Nest is used for concerts, and a few national and international athletic events have been held at the Olympic Park since the Olympic Games.

You can get into the Birds Nest itself for about 50 Yuan, but from the inside, it pretty much looks like any other stadium, so I would recommend taking pictures of the exterior.  The outside is typically lined with people selling Olympic themed gifts--hats, key chains, t shirts, little toys of the cute Olympic creatures featured that year.   It is a neat thing to see, and only takes about 30 minutes of your time.  Be warned, however: there is a weird photo thing in the basement of the Bird's Nest that is a total rip off, so avoid that.

I think Beijing, even split into a now five part blog entry is too big to tackle.  There is so much to see and do in this city.  I haven't even mentioned all the wonderful things you get to see and do and eat if you are living in a remote part of China and suddenly find yourself in Beijing.  It's like being in an oasis of western food, shopping and culture (I know, irony).  There are just too many things to talk about when talking about Beijing, but I hope these entries have inspired you to pay it a visit if you are ever going to be in China.

A Tale of Two Christmases*

The holiday season has passed, and as with almost everything, I cannot help but compare it to my experience abroad.

Let me first preface this post with the how wonderful it was to be with my family for Christmas this year.  My first year in China was particularly difficult, especially around the holidays.  Before China, I had never lived further than 40 short, easily drivable, minutes away from home.  I remember getting depressed as I saw pictures of my family on Facebook enjoying Thanksgiving together, and sad as saw pictures of my family choosing the Christmas tree they were going to get and subsequently decorating it.  That first year in China, we did our best as a group of friendly expats to recreate a traditional holiday experience.  We did a potluck dinner for Thanksgiving, a big breakfast for Christmas, and got each other gifts.   By the time of our first Christmas in China, I had only been abroad for about four months, and the homesickness was hitting me pretty hard.

Awkward shots of the family from my webcam from my first Christmas in China...nothing like celebrating the holidays via the internet thousands of miles away.  I think Gramma's face says it all. 

Our ragtag group of expats Year One in China. 

So let me just reiterate how awesome it was to be home this year.  I met my almost three year old cousin for the first time; she's awesome; I saw family I literally hadn't seen in years; I picked out the Christmas tree with my parents and my sister and her husband; we decorated that tree with ornaments that we have carefully, and with a great deal of sentiment, collected for the past 30 years; I was characteristically wheedled into giving my cousin a back massage; I ate cookies and leftovers for breakfast on Christmas morning while actively avoiding the Jimmy Dean Breakfast Souffle being eaten by everyone else; I played drunken ping pong with my cousins in the basement; my sister and I wore matching outfits. It was a holiday steeped in Jewell (and Extended Family) Tradition. There is no love like the love of your family.

Some traditional family activities. Left: Playing a near impossible game to explain called Pitt, Center: Thanksgiving dinner, and some Christmas Eve Beer Pong to the right. 

But while it was fantastic to be back in hearth and home this year, let me also tell you about Christmas 2012, my second Christmas in China. It was far away from home, family available only via Skype, and far far away from traditional.  It was also one of the best Christmases I have ever had in my life.

Christmas fell in the middle of the week, on a Tuesday, and since it is not recognized as a national holiday in China, we taught on Christmas and Christmas Eve.  Maybe it was this reason that we really didn't go into a great deal of forethought or traditional fuss when we were planning our holiday festivities.  Another game changer was that we had a visitor that Christmas, Miss Amanda Woomer, one of my besties, was visiting China for the holidays.  Maybe her presence (and trying to give her a unique Chinese experience) led to a less traditional Christmas.  Maybe we had just grown past the need to recreate the holidays exactly as we had celebrated them in the past.  Maybe we just wanted to do something different.  I am not entirely sure where the inspiration came from, I am only grateful that we were thus inspired.

Some Christmas Selfies from Miss Amanda Woomer. 

Anyway, we decided that Christmas Eve would be spent by participating in one of our favorite China activities: KTV.  (If you want to learn more about KTV, check out this post.)  We decided that we would attend KTV while wearing matching Chinese Pajama outfits, an early Christmas present from Liv (slippers included) and dine at a local Korean BBQ.  So we left our apartments with 3 giant bottles of wine in a bag, and hoofed it (to the amusement of the locals) over to Korean BBQ.

I don't know about you, but when I go out on the town, I always wear my fleece pajamas and ridiculously poofy slippers. 

Korean BBQ

After getting nice and stuffed on thinly sliced Roast beef, potatoes, veggies, and whatnot, we trekked over to KTV. We were stopped along the way by the thinnest Santa ever, and enjoyed taking several photo ops along the way.   Once we arrived at KTV, we consumed about 2 1/2 of those bottles of wine while singing for several hours.  We sang, we drank, we danced, we were merry. It was amazing.

KTV.  Enough said. 

Striking some Christmas poses. 

The next day, we exchanged presents, ranging from the silly to the sentimental.   We opened said gifts under a second hand Christmas tree that we decorated with popcorn garland and hand made ornaments.  The tree was made complete with the gingerbread house, held together with equal parts frosting and super glue (thanks to international shipping, the gingerbread kit Liv's mom sent underwent some slight damage).  We made breakfast and then we went to school and taught.  Later we Skyped with our respective families, who were only now just waking up on Christmas morning.  It was a fairly simple Christmas, but nonetheless, probably my favorite.

Yeah, alright, so our gifts were largely silly.  Who wouldn't want a giant leg of pork, am I right? 

Award for the Gingerbread House with the Most Heart goes to the picture on the left, and artsy shots of our charlie brown tree to the center and right. 

I guess what I have learned from celebrating the holidays so far away from home, and having come back to celebrate them at home again, is that despite being very different, both were equally awesome.  Neither of these Christmases were better or worse, just different. Because different isn't always bad, sad, or otherwise negative.  Sometimes different is awesome.  And hey, how do things become family traditions anyway?  Someone a decade ago started doing a new and different thing, it was awesome, and so was repeated subsequent years; insta-tradition.  I guess what I am taking away from this is this: don't not do new things because you are afraid you will miss out on doing old things.  So try new stuff, maybe they will become traditions.  At the very least, they will become a great memory: "Hey, remember that year we tromped around Hangzhou in PJ's and sang and drank and stuff?!" I really cannot adequately put into words how awesome that Christmas was...totes worth the year or two or three away from the traditional.

I'll leave you with my favorite video of the night.  An interpretive dance rendition of Cascada's classic "Everytime we Touch".

*Because "A Christmas Carol" would have been too obvious a title. Sigh.