Pigsy
Not wanting to come down with a case of runnybumitis before hiking up the Celestial Mountains, I have attempted to keep a fairly safe diet. I've generally avoided suspect shops (such as those that keep the heads on the ducks when hanging them in the window) but my concentration wavered the other day. At Beijing airport I took what looked like a perfectly innocent serving of carved ham slices and began gnoring away. Despite the somewhat rubbery consistency it wasn't until half way through the meal that I realised I was in fact eating slices of pig snout. Luckily the bowels weren't paying attention, and I kept it all down. The taste buds however, having been caught slacking off, worked double time to tell me just how awful what I'd been eating really was.
Two tubes of toothpaste and a plane flight later I arrived in Urumqi (pronounced wrrummchee, in case you couldn't tell from the 'proper' spelling). This town is rural China, the Chinese outback, according to the travel guides. Urumqi however, is no little country town. It's a huge cement city, with grey, looming buildings, and crowded six lane roads.
I headed for the Lonely Planet recommended backpacker accommodation, only to find the place was a massive hotel and business center. The 'dorm' room was in fact a single hotel room, with six beds crammed into it. The beds were so close that you could almost snuggle with the person in the bed next to you (although I think both myself and the Danish guy in the bed next to me decided against this fairly early on). Still the beds were comfy and clean, and at AU$4 a night, that is as much as anyone can ask for.
I spent the day wondering around town, but not quite aimlessly. I had a quest. I had left Australia without deodorant. Figuring it would be easy enough to pick some up on the way I was unconcerned - I would live natural, free like the animals of the forest. It occurred to me, after two days of backpacking in heavy heat, that animals of the forest, who generally liked to sniff each others' arses and used urine as a form of communication, were probably not the best guides when it came to hygiene. After a day of hard searching, I came to the conclusion that either deodorant is packaged in such a foreign and unfamiliar way as to be totally unrecognisable to the western eye, or that the Chinese do not use deodorant. I am not yet sure which is true.
After my day of fruitless searching, I was hungry. I decided I was ready to go the distance, that I was now man enough to tackle a restaurant. Up until now I had kept my comfort zone with fast food joints, and street cafes. I picked a likely target and headed in. I greeted the staff with a confident 'nie hao' (hello) and then realising that I had exhausted my lexicon, proceeded to make eating motions. I can only assume that somehow I indicated that I was part of a large group, as they sat me in the middle of the room, at a table set for ten.
Alone, a stranded man on a napkin covered island, I sat reading the Chinese only menu. I say reading, as this was the impression I hoped to convey to the staff. How and why I thought I could convince them that I could read Chinese, having already demonstrated my inability to speak two words of it, still eludes me now. I picked my meal totally on price and menu position. Let's see, menus always start with entrees, then salads maybe, mains should be about here. Right, average price is about there, we have a target. I pointed it out to the waiter, who stared at me strangely for a while, realised I was a simpleton, turned the menu back a few pages and pointed half way down. Realising my charade was over, my cover blown, I nodded vigorously, adding to the whole imbecile image. He half smiled, half shook his head and disappeared.
Excited now, like a kid on Christmas eve, I waited for my meal to arrive, wondering what it could be. With nothing else to distract me, I knocked back glass after glass of free tea. My cup was refilled barely before it hit the table. At last the waiter reappeared, carrying what, in any other situation, I would have referred to as a bloody big casserole dish. In this situation however, I was forced to call it a bloody big soup bowl, by virtue of it containing a bloody lot of soup. Good thing I'd drunk all that tea.
I did my best to make a dent, but like the magic pudding, the more I drank the more there seemed to be. I called a truce in the end, admitting defeat to this mighty soup bowl. I paid the bill - this being a classy restaurant, and the waiter having been quite tolerant and charitable, I thought a tip was in order. Apparently tipping is not the done thing however, as the little waiter, suddenly exhibiting ninja like skills, practically floored me in his frantic efforts to return the money I had left behind (all of about 50 cents).
I awoke at 5 am the next morning. The Dutch guy was sitting up in bed, smoking a cigarette. This scared me a little. There's nothing worse than waking up to the sight of a semi-dressed European lighting up a cigarette in bed next to you. The fear subsided when I realised the football was on TV. I had not been violated after all. I watched as Beckham, tripping over his own feet, floated a ball 20m over the goal posts (how very British). I was a little annoyed with this damn Dane - I had to be up in a hour to get a flight to Bishkek, but I soon realised that I had more 'pressing' matters to attend to. I had up until this point avoided the squatters, needless to say a full load of chicken soup and green tea did nothing to enhance my appreciation of the event.
Sometime later, tired, hungry and, it would be fair to say, not the most pleasant smelling lad I hopped the flight to Bishkek. A guy from the hotel was on the same flight. He was a Swedish missionary who had been living and working on community aid projects in Bishkek. An interesting chap, but more importantly very handy. The departure and arrival forms for the flight were both in Russian, and it's possible that without him I may now be locked up in a Chinese prison after unknowingly ticking the box that says 'are you a terrorist'. Given the smell, they'd be well within their rights too.
The flight was interesting as we flew over the Tian Shian (Celestial Moutains), where I will be hiking in a few days time. Most interesting was the huge amount of snow up there. I'm not sure how high we go, but if it's past half way we better take skis. The flight was also interesting as I witnessed, for the first time in my life, someone eating a banana the wrong way round! The crazy Russian bit off the 'bottom' of the banana and then ate it from the bottom to the top. There are some serious weirdos in this world!
And now I am in Bishkek. It is a nice little city, again with the wide, plain designs that must be taught in 'Communist Architecture 101'. It is a nice mix of green and grey - trees and parks line the wide streets. It's a very friendly, easy town that in many ways reminds me of the nicer parts of Bulgaria. The Russian influence is obvious and strong.
I was met at the airport by the promised 'young girl' that was arranged through the eco-trek. A pretty girl, somewhat shy, by the name of Ainura who works as the office manager. The only down side is that she doesn't speak English. She speaks German so we are making do, though I last seriously used my German some ten years ago. She has helped me find a decent hotel (although no hot water!) and shown me around town. The best news however is that I have located deodorant - to hell with this living natural thing.
Two tubes of toothpaste and a plane flight later I arrived in Urumqi (pronounced wrrummchee, in case you couldn't tell from the 'proper' spelling). This town is rural China, the Chinese outback, according to the travel guides. Urumqi however, is no little country town. It's a huge cement city, with grey, looming buildings, and crowded six lane roads.
I headed for the Lonely Planet recommended backpacker accommodation, only to find the place was a massive hotel and business center. The 'dorm' room was in fact a single hotel room, with six beds crammed into it. The beds were so close that you could almost snuggle with the person in the bed next to you (although I think both myself and the Danish guy in the bed next to me decided against this fairly early on). Still the beds were comfy and clean, and at AU$4 a night, that is as much as anyone can ask for.
I spent the day wondering around town, but not quite aimlessly. I had a quest. I had left Australia without deodorant. Figuring it would be easy enough to pick some up on the way I was unconcerned - I would live natural, free like the animals of the forest. It occurred to me, after two days of backpacking in heavy heat, that animals of the forest, who generally liked to sniff each others' arses and used urine as a form of communication, were probably not the best guides when it came to hygiene. After a day of hard searching, I came to the conclusion that either deodorant is packaged in such a foreign and unfamiliar way as to be totally unrecognisable to the western eye, or that the Chinese do not use deodorant. I am not yet sure which is true.
After my day of fruitless searching, I was hungry. I decided I was ready to go the distance, that I was now man enough to tackle a restaurant. Up until now I had kept my comfort zone with fast food joints, and street cafes. I picked a likely target and headed in. I greeted the staff with a confident 'nie hao' (hello) and then realising that I had exhausted my lexicon, proceeded to make eating motions. I can only assume that somehow I indicated that I was part of a large group, as they sat me in the middle of the room, at a table set for ten.
Alone, a stranded man on a napkin covered island, I sat reading the Chinese only menu. I say reading, as this was the impression I hoped to convey to the staff. How and why I thought I could convince them that I could read Chinese, having already demonstrated my inability to speak two words of it, still eludes me now. I picked my meal totally on price and menu position. Let's see, menus always start with entrees, then salads maybe, mains should be about here. Right, average price is about there, we have a target. I pointed it out to the waiter, who stared at me strangely for a while, realised I was a simpleton, turned the menu back a few pages and pointed half way down. Realising my charade was over, my cover blown, I nodded vigorously, adding to the whole imbecile image. He half smiled, half shook his head and disappeared.
Excited now, like a kid on Christmas eve, I waited for my meal to arrive, wondering what it could be. With nothing else to distract me, I knocked back glass after glass of free tea. My cup was refilled barely before it hit the table. At last the waiter reappeared, carrying what, in any other situation, I would have referred to as a bloody big casserole dish. In this situation however, I was forced to call it a bloody big soup bowl, by virtue of it containing a bloody lot of soup. Good thing I'd drunk all that tea.
I did my best to make a dent, but like the magic pudding, the more I drank the more there seemed to be. I called a truce in the end, admitting defeat to this mighty soup bowl. I paid the bill - this being a classy restaurant, and the waiter having been quite tolerant and charitable, I thought a tip was in order. Apparently tipping is not the done thing however, as the little waiter, suddenly exhibiting ninja like skills, practically floored me in his frantic efforts to return the money I had left behind (all of about 50 cents).
I awoke at 5 am the next morning. The Dutch guy was sitting up in bed, smoking a cigarette. This scared me a little. There's nothing worse than waking up to the sight of a semi-dressed European lighting up a cigarette in bed next to you. The fear subsided when I realised the football was on TV. I had not been violated after all. I watched as Beckham, tripping over his own feet, floated a ball 20m over the goal posts (how very British). I was a little annoyed with this damn Dane - I had to be up in a hour to get a flight to Bishkek, but I soon realised that I had more 'pressing' matters to attend to. I had up until this point avoided the squatters, needless to say a full load of chicken soup and green tea did nothing to enhance my appreciation of the event.
Sometime later, tired, hungry and, it would be fair to say, not the most pleasant smelling lad I hopped the flight to Bishkek. A guy from the hotel was on the same flight. He was a Swedish missionary who had been living and working on community aid projects in Bishkek. An interesting chap, but more importantly very handy. The departure and arrival forms for the flight were both in Russian, and it's possible that without him I may now be locked up in a Chinese prison after unknowingly ticking the box that says 'are you a terrorist'. Given the smell, they'd be well within their rights too.
The flight was interesting as we flew over the Tian Shian (Celestial Moutains), where I will be hiking in a few days time. Most interesting was the huge amount of snow up there. I'm not sure how high we go, but if it's past half way we better take skis. The flight was also interesting as I witnessed, for the first time in my life, someone eating a banana the wrong way round! The crazy Russian bit off the 'bottom' of the banana and then ate it from the bottom to the top. There are some serious weirdos in this world!
And now I am in Bishkek. It is a nice little city, again with the wide, plain designs that must be taught in 'Communist Architecture 101'. It is a nice mix of green and grey - trees and parks line the wide streets. It's a very friendly, easy town that in many ways reminds me of the nicer parts of Bulgaria. The Russian influence is obvious and strong.
I was met at the airport by the promised 'young girl' that was arranged through the eco-trek. A pretty girl, somewhat shy, by the name of Ainura who works as the office manager. The only down side is that she doesn't speak English. She speaks German so we are making do, though I last seriously used my German some ten years ago. She has helped me find a decent hotel (although no hot water!) and shown me around town. The best news however is that I have located deodorant - to hell with this living natural thing.
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