You know the saying, “The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry?” Well, I learned in my last two weeks in China just how true that statement can be. Out of a sense of urgency inspired by the realization upon returning from Beijing that I had just two weeks left in China, I attempted to cram as much sightseeing into my last two weeks as possible. Combine this with the two busiest weeks of meetings I had during my entire stay in China (a four-day conference the first week followed by 7 meetings in 5 days the second with a day at Expo) and I had quite the tight schedule. But still, I managed to gallivant through the West once more and get around Shanghai a bit. And of course, when you need things to go right the most, that’s when they go the most wrong. Well, if this whole fellowship has thus far taught me anything, it is to roll with the punches, just relax and do your best to deal with what you’re dealt—after all ,there is no use in getting upset over things you can’t change. Instead, find a way to adapt and turn a negative to a positive. It’s hard at times, and sometimes the best you can do is laugh it off, but hey, at least you got a story to share and smile at, right? Well, using that philosophy as a guide, here are the tales of my last hurrah in China.
The Beijing Bus
I’ve already alluded to this story a bit in my “Ridin’ the Rails” post, but I thought as a way to start this narrative about plans and how they never work properly, I thought I’d start with the talk of my trip from Beijing back to Shanghai. The story begins when I decided to visit the Huangbaiyu Model Sustainable Village north of Beijing. I had planned out my train route and cab service from the closest city, Benxi, to Huangbaiyu. Unfortunately, visiting this remote village meant that either I could only wander and take photos, or I would need a translator. After some e-mails with Shannon May, an anthropology student from Harvard who lived in the village during the time of the opening and downfall of the model project (more on that in a later post), I decided to try and find a translator for my trip. Searching high and low, I employed my contacts (namely Jamie and her friends) at Tsinghua University to try and help me find a translator. Though I had originally wanted to make my journey during the holidays when I would have no other meetings scheduled, trying to find a translator took longer than I expected until finally I was faced with having to make my trip toward the end of my stay in Beijing. This meant I would no longer return to Shanghai by way of Xi’an and Chengdu as planned to visit the Terra Cotta Warriors and pandas but instead return from Huangbaiyu and then turn right around and head south for Shanghai. The reason for the quick turnaround was that I had also learned in Tianjin of a sustainable cities conference happening in Shanghai the day I was due to get back. Seeing this as a fortuitous opportunity given the nature of my research, I heartily signed up, paid the whopping price of “free” and just had to make sure I got back to the city by 8 am Monday morning, October 18, so as to make it to the start of the conference (across the city from my hostel) by 10.
After extensively researching train prices, classes, and times, I headed down to the train station armed with a paper on which was written multiple train options for getting from Beijing to Shanghai in time for my conference. I understood I was cutting things close—after all, I was only booking 5 days ahead, not the 10 that were allowed—but I figured that perhaps that would be enough time. Well, I was wrong. All of the trains back to Shanghai which I had selected were sold out. Dismayed, my companion Dian, a fellow traveler who was serving as my translator in Huangbaiyu helped me find the long-distance bus station where I was told I could catch a bus from Beijing to Shanghai at 4:30 pm that would arrive around 6 am, maybe 7. “Perfect,” I thought. So on the appointed day, I arrived at the bus station and hopped aboard, taking my place in my bunk next to the window. Soon we were whizzing down the highway at a comfortable pace to arrive in Shanghai right on schedule. After a bit of work, I was lulled into a nice sleep by the swaying of the bus on the road.
I awoke to the light of the morning creeping in the window to find that we were stopped. No city around, no signs, nothing but forests on the sides of the four lane highway. And on our side of the highway were lots of other cars and trucks, all stopped. Craning my neck for a better view, I tried to see what was going on. Here it was, 6 am, and we weren’t even moving. I had no idea how long we’d been there and couldn’t ask because not a soul on the bus spoke English. If anyone knew what was going on (the drivers kept getting out and looking ahead at or for something), it was never related to me because of the language barrier. All I knew was that we were sitting. Powerless to do anything and without even a number to call to let the conference organizers I’d be late, I did what I could—shrugged and turned to reading, working, and relaxing on the bus. Finally, around 8 am, the bus got moving again. Thinking if we got into the city in an hour I could go straight to the conference (yes, without showering) and still make it on time, I began searching for any indication of where we were. Finally we passed a road sign and I found we were still a good two to three hours away from Shanghai. Well, three hours later we got to Shanghai and still had to take an hour to get from the outskirts to the bus station and by the time 12:30 rolled around, I was arriving at my hostel, showering quickly, and turning right around to catch the afternoon session of the conference. Luckily, it was a four day event so I had only missed one-eighth of it. However, to this day I have no idea why we stopped. There was no evidence of a wreck, road work, or anything. I guess all I can do is be thankful it wasn’t a week or more that we were stuck in traffic like the poor people north of Beijing a couple of months back. I had been prepared for traffic or for roads to be unpredictable, but I didn’t expect that much unpredictability. But oh well, c’est la vie. I made it, albeit late, and that is what matters.
Nachhaltigkeit Means Sustainability?
After I made it to my conference after the experience on the Beijing Bus, I was treated to another fun few days at which I just have to laugh and learn a lesson or two. After racing from the metro station to the conference center, I arrived panting a few minutes after the session had restarted after lunch. Now to tell you a bit about this conference, it was being hosted by the German Chamber of Commerce in Shanghai and DENA, the Deutsch Energy Network in China, a group of companies working in the energy field here in China. I had been invited by a member of DENA and the German Chamber in perfect English while in Tianjin, and had been provided an online invitation and conference pamphlet in English after expressing interest. Well, when I arrived panting in shirt and tie, I signed in and was told that simultaneous translation was available, but only in German or Chinese. There would be no English at the conference. Well, I didn’t race across town just to turn around and sulk at the hostel, so I nodded politely, said that would be fine, and grabbed my headset. Halting on my way into the conference hall only to sample the spread of free coffee, delicious fudge, and tasty finger sandwiches, I entered into a world of languages in which I was not comfortable.
Now at this point I had a choice. I could either sit and twiddle my thumbs or doodle for the next couple of hours until I could easily escape back to my hostel and the comfort of friends who spoke my tongue, or I could march right back out now and give the Chamber an earful for advertising in English and then failing to provide the language as an option. As I was catching my breath and weighing my options though, a third opened up to me. Why not stay and try to enjoy and learn something. After all, some of the slides were in English, some had numbers and figures I could understand, and as I began to listen in more detail to the German speakers, some of the words began to sound familiar. So, armed with my laptop and Google Translate for those words and phrases I couldn’t quite make out, I figured this was as good a time as any to try and learn German. Well, with the help of a kind gentleman by the name of Benedickt whom I met that first day who helped translate some things for me, I actually did learn a fair amount at the four day conference. Furthermore, I had some nice chances to network and even got a free VIP dinner at the German Pavilion at Expo. While I definitely missed a lot of nuance in the dialogues and some of the details, I got the overall points about what the speakers were discussing and really found that if I apply myself to learning on the fly—trial by fire, if you will—it could work. I suppose I can claim that since English and German were derived way back from a similar base I could understand some that way, but I think it’s also a matter of applying yourself. That’s made easier with lots of free coffee and chocolate to be sure, but even so, what I learned and can pass on is not to be afraid to put yourself in an uncomfortable position and try to learn. I was surrounded by Chinese and German only and yet still had a very worthwhile four days. Given the chance, even knowing now that there would be no English, I would do it again.
The Wild, Wild West
After my adventure in German, I decided I needed a weekend out of the busy Shanghai conference life and decided to follow that age old adage “Go west young man” for a whirlwind tour of Xi’an’s Terra Cotta Warriors and the engineering marvel that is the Three Gorges Dam. As I’m sure you can discern, the former was for my personal curiosity and the latter was to satisfy the urging of both the environmentalist and engineer in me not to leave China without seeing this monumental and controversial behemoth. Well, once again cutting things close and underestimating the number of Chinese citizens who would want to be moving around the country on the same day as me, I went to the train station a mere three days before my intended departure date to book my tickets. Again, I found out that the trains I wanted had no sleepers available. On two of the three, there wasn’t even a seat available. Well, figuring that I was not taking a bus but didn’t know when the next time I’d get to see China was, I booked the two standing tickets and the one seat I could get. The following Friday at the appointed time, I arrived at the station and boarded my train.
Well, that night was a bit rough as I had no seat, luckily very little luggage, but a very crowded car to Xi’an. An older gentleman who saw me standing and trying to sleep while leaning kindly offered me a small stool he was carrying which allowed me to sit in the aisle and get a few hours of shut-eye, though I was awakened every time another passenger needed to fight the crowds on the floor to get to the bathroom. At least though I could sit and sleep for a little while. When morning came, I found that we were an hour behind schedule arriving in Xi’an and so to pass the time struck up a conversation with a passenger who happened to speak English. I learned that he was continuing on past Xi’an to see his family, and he said that if you are a Chinese citizen, standing on the train like that for long periods was not unusual—in fact, he called it the “true Chinese way of traveling.” I seemed to be an anomaly in this car—everyone seemed surprised that a white person would ride standing for such a long way!
I disembarked at Xi’an and found myself in a hazy city, bustling with action and construction just steps from the train station. Surrounded by people busily going from place to place and facing an amalgamation of ancient walls, McDonald’s signs, and Jumbotron TV screens blasting ads, I felt a bit disoriented, but soon found a sign pointing to the bus to the Terra Cotta army museum. Already running behind schedule, I hurried for the bus and was soon on my way out of town to the nearby burial site.
After a brief nap, we arrived, and I wandered up a long road, past rows of hawkers selling souvenirs and snacks to the gates of the Terra Cotta army museum. As soon as I passed through the fence, I was in an ancient and unexplained world. Entering the museum, I was confronted with the larger-than-life marionette that danced its way through the Beijing Olympics opening ceremony, but now danced no more and instead greeted visitors to the site.
My first stop, the on-site gallery, tried to explain the existence of these warriors but seemed at a loss itself for the truth behind their creation. While it highlighted the archaeological studies of the site, no compelling reason was presented for why the general and ruler of the area had so many horses and soldiers commissioned. Some have claimed it is a large example of funeral art, others have said it was so they could follow him to the afterlife. The galleries though did give me an interesting glimpse at the site itself and of some of the pieces uncovered from within, ranging from soldiers and their armor to vases and animals made of porcelain, bronze, and clay.
The jewel of the museum, however, was the bronze cart and horses uncovered from the ruler’s tombs. These exquisite pieces depict in half-scale but full detail a four-horsed chariot with the driver in motion. A matching chariot and horses were absent from the gallery and on display instead at the China National Pavilion in the Shanghai Expo.
After making my way through the gallery and past the marionette yet again, I turned to enter the main attraction—the excavated tombs of terra cotta warriors. Passing through the foyer and into the enormous warehouse that houses the collection, I was astounded by the sheer scale of the excavation. The warehouse extends nearly as far as you can see, encompassing a huge area (at least one or two football fields) with rows and walls running the length of the building. In these rows, facing you squarely, is an array of soldiers, archers, generals, and other figures unmoving, focused, and at the ready. Though they no longer bear their weapons, they are still formidable.
As my eyes scanned over the intricate faces and armor of these figures eternally awaiting the call to battle, I was struck by a feeling that I was glimpsing a window to the past. These soldiers were buried for centuries, only uncovered in the 1970s, and were meant never to be seen by the living again once buried. Yet since their uncovering, they have become synonymous with ancient China, informing our perceptions of Chinese warfare 2000 years ago in facets ranging from dress to tactics, armor, and weaponry. They have become a symbol of the nation’s history and a universal symbol of this country and its former kingdoms.
What is most impressive though about this army is the level of detail of each soldier. Each face, piece of armor, and horse is carefully hand cast with no mistakes, omissions, or errors. Each chink of armor is detailed, each wrinkle on the faces brushed into the terra cotta. It must have been painstaking work requiring, well, a full army and is certainly a sign of devotion to the ruler who commissioned the pieces for this tomb.
I moved slowly down the long side of the warehouse until I reached the end of the hall where sits a platform on which is the “Terra Cotta Hospital.” Unfortunately, earthen ceilings and reed mats give way over 2000 years time, and many soldiers suffered from cave-ins since their burial. So here is where the remains are pieced together, breathing new life into the soldiers.
From there, I moved to pits two and three which are also open for public viewing. These are less impressive than the main pit, Pit One, and smaller too. If the main pit has the hospital, pit two can be likened to the terra cotta graveyard. Here, scattered fragments of pottery and warriors littered the excavated portions of the pit with no completed figures to look at. This could more accurately be described as a working archaeological site on display for the public. A few artifacts appeared intact, but for the most part remnants were all that remained in this pit.
Pit three was a bit more interesting. This is the smallest of the three available for public viewing and featured four horses guarding the sunken entrance with a detail of 24 soldiers waiting inside. These were likely dignitaries or higher officers rather than typical foot soldiers or archers given that they were separated from the main contingent.
After taking a last look at the main pit and the ranks upon ranks of terra cotta soldiers standing at attention, I turned back and hopped a bus to Xi’an. The bus took a bit longer than I expected to make it back to town and so when I arrived I had to rush into the train station, pushing through the hordes filing into the narrow passageway to security, throwing my bag on the scanner, and then racing to my gate. I made it with about 10 minutes to spare and so slowed a bit as I moved through the train to find my seat. Sliding in, I prepared to enjoy my night of rest in an actual chair rather than a stool or floor. Though it was a hard seat, it felt heavenly after the rough night before.
I rose early to depart my train in the town of Jingmen—never heard of it? Neither had I until I planned out this trip. It is of no significance internationally, and from what I can tell is of very little importance nationally either save that for me it was the easiest bridge to the Three Gorges Dam. From here I could catch an hour long bus ride to Yichang, the gateway to Three Gorges. Or at least that’s what the internet told me. Having written detailed directions from Google maps on how to get from the train station to the bus station, I set out in the early morning, even before the sun, to find my bus. Okay, first step—exit the station and turn left. Check. One problem—I’m supposed to be heading into town by doing this, not away from it. Finding myself facing the end of town, I scratched my head, pictured the Google maps screen and assured myself that it was indeed a left turn. But knowing this was all wrong, I pulled an about face and headed in the direction that seemed to make more sense. Well, I thought, at least I know where the train station is relative to where the bus station is spatially—I can just wander in the right direction. Turns out I didn’t know that either. Google maps put the train station in the wrong place and the exit on the wrong side, so it gave me completely wrong directions. After two hours of wandering, I finally found someone I could ask for help, got pointed in the right direction, and soon was booked on a bus for Yichang.
Now if you’ll recall, the internet said it was a comfortable 50 minute ride to Yichang from Jingmen. Well, like all buses in this country, 50 minutes really meant 2 hours, and so by 10:45 I finally had made it to Yichang. I headed into the bus station, bought my onward ticket to Wuhan for that afternoon from where I would catch a train back to Shanghai, and asked for directions to Three Gorges. I was flatly told that I didn’t have time to go out to Three Gorges, come back, and make my bus. I wanted to be the judge of that and so pressed for directions but was refused. Frustrated, I left and headed across to the city bus stop to try and figure it out for myself. Using my handy little Mandarin phrase book, I began asking for help on getting to Three Gorges. Well, no one seemed to understand until 45 minutes later, a bus driver finally nodded, saying he could get me there. After a half hour ride across town, he dropped me off and pointed to another bus station. There I waited half an hour to catch the bus which departs hourly for Three Gorges. Finally, I thought, I am on my way.
45 minutes later (now 1:45) I arrived at the dam site. I grabbed my ticket and boarded the dam shuttle up to the dam observation platform. Here I took in the concrete colossus that is this massive engineering marvel. Frankly, the dam is not as impressive visually as the Hoover Dam which seems to grow out of the canyon to contain the river behind. But the Three Gorges is impressive in its span—this river may not be torrential, but it is wide and so with the haze that I hear seems permanently to hang over the dam it seems to stretch forever as it reaches off into the mists. One person I met in Shanghai described it as the biggest factory in the country. It churns out electricity for much of the southern part of the country. In fact, when you look at the energy statistics that say China is 70% coal and 30% other, you have to wonder how much of that 30% is the Three Gorges Dam. Power lines radiate from it in all directions, stretching to far off cities bearing life-enriching electricity.
At the platform is a monument to the dam, though frankly I think it needs no monument. It in itself is a monument to engineering achievements. To contain the force of that much water for so long to pour and cure the concrete must have been a mammoth task, and just to think about it impresses me. Yet if you explore the monument, you’ll find a pond with this little gem of a sign:
I really wanted to jump in and save it. After all, we need care—we can’t let it drown!
Looking at the time and knowing I had to get back to town for my bus, I boarded the dam shuttle once more only to find that there was no direct path back to the parking lot from here. You could only move levels every 15 minutes and from where I was atop the observation deck, there were two more levels to explore. At a loss for what else to do, I figured it was best to sit back and enjoy the dam. So at each stop I disembarked and wandered out to explore and view the dam more.
I want to relate now an occurrence from the third platform which really annoyed me. As I was standing by the railing overlooking the river and the project, I spied a group of older women not far off to my left. They were taking turns posing in front of the dam and snapping photos. Well, before I knew it, the photographer had reversed sides so as to shoot away from the dam. The subject hadn’t moved though, which meant that now I was in the frame. Well, that doesn’t bother me, and no one in China who asked me ever got denied a photo. This group however never asked but instead started calling “hello,” clapping, snapping, and making other noises as if I was a dog. After an annoying minute of this, I turned my head with a scowl and immediately had a photo snapped. The women then went to twittering, clapping, and acting as though they’d just seen an animal at the zoo. That is actually exactly how I felt. I wanted to express my displeasure, but knew they wouldn’t understand a word of it if I did, so instead I just quickly moved to a different viewing area, hastening so they wouldn’t follow. In all my time in China, that was the most objectified I felt, and I did not like it at all. I felt sub-human, as if I were only a sideshow attraction without feelings. It was as though I was back at the zoo, but this time behind the bars or glass.
Anyway, realizing how short the time was, I hopped onto the bus back to town and rode past the natural beauty and traditional towns of Three Gorges. I think this scene is worth stopping to ponder and comment. As you travel through this part of the country, you are confronted with towering rock cliffs draped in greenery flanking a powerful, yet silent river. The haze, be they mists or smog, shroud the scene in an air of mystery, as if each bend of the river is hiding something from the spectator. This natural beauty is breathtaking, and perhaps defined the upstream portion of the river as well before the dam. Unfortunately it is all gone now. You can’t help but wonder either how much deeper the canyons got in this section of the river after the construction of the dam. From looking, it does not appear that water flow has been restricted, but it is hard to say. Little houses still flank the river, the inhabitants dependent on the local environment for survival. I imagine that trees, plants, and fish provide subsistence for these families. Similar communities lived upstream of the dam but were forced to evacuate to make way for the inevitable flooding post-construction. You look at the houses and it seems a classic case of environmental injustice. The families forced to move were underrepresented, poor, rural folks who have zero political clout in China, especially when pitted against a city like Shanghai. The calculation is clear from the political standpoint: satisfy a major city demanding electrical power for a Western lifestyle or allow subsistence farmers and families to live in their tiny “backwards” houses (the government’s term, not mine).
Now before I paint this as a black and white issue (because it is not—not even close), you have to look at the other factors. Certainly the dam does provide a large amount of electricity (though its overall share is diminishing with each new coal power plant that opens—about 2 per week) and helps to bring reliable power to cities in the middle southwest that may otherwise not have enough power. Yet it seems from looking at Yichang and Wuhan that much of the power is going to factories on the river side. It appears that the Three Gorges Dam provided the impetus many companies needed to locate along the Yangtze River where they had ample cooling water a great big basin for mixing fresh water and toxic chemicals, and reliable, cheap power just waiting to throw out a line and drop in an outlet. So in addition to the typical environmental problems of dams (blocking silt from flowing downstream, flooding large swaths of habitat, CO2 emissions from decomposition of trees and grasses flooded—yes, dams are not entirely carbon neutral!) here additional pollution is being added by the factories that arose because of the dam. Now certainly this is negative almost entirely, and again, I don’t mean to paint it as such a clearly bad thing. The difficulty is that it is hard to weigh the value of these factories socially and economically or to calculate how much impact the reliable power has had to other cities in the region. Instead I can only present what I saw, thought, and heard from a few more familiar than I with the project.
But there is another side to the electricity generation, and that is the benefit to rural electrification and economic growth in the mid-Western region of China. An article from today in the Wall Street Journal discussed that China is considering a moratorium on expansion of coal mining—an industry that can barely keep up with the demand for coal to produce electricity at current extraction rates. With a nation where hundreds of millions still live without access to reliable power, clean water, or financial stability, large-scale electricity development is a must for improving living conditions. Therefore, though some were displaced, it is impossible to gauge the importance of providing power throughout the rural regions surrounding the Yangtze. I read an article a couple of months back about computer use in remote China. For farmers, having this lifeline allowed them to learn about government actions and national issues that otherwise they would never hear. For some it was a way of seeing how they could improve their lives and escape the subsistence lifestyle. In many ways, this reflects my own experiences in Africa where power was used when brought for television and computers for education and to connect to the surrounding world. Whereas we assumed lighting was the most important factor, access to the outside world was in the eyes of the teachers and students a key factor in moving beyond the village and achieving more. Maybe Three Gorges has provided the power and ability for many in the Yangtze region to do the same. I can’t say as I didn’t spend enough time there, but I thought I would discuss (or ramble about) it a bit as an alternative to the negative environmental side of the dam project.
Well, to finish my travel tales, I arrived in Yichang having missed my bus as predicted, but not as the woman said because there was no time. I would have been able to make it to Three Gorges and back had she just given me directions up front instead of leaving me to figure it out on my own. Because I had to figure it out, I lost 45 minutes then had to catch a bus at 1 to the dam instead of 12. I hailed a taxi and showed the driver my bus ticket. Nodding, he drove me to a bus station, but the wrong one. Incapable of arguing in Chinese, I got out and tried to catch the next bus to Wuhan from here. After they would not refund my ticket, they told me the next bus wouldn’t leave until 6. Frustrated, I left the station and on the way out was stopped by three gentleman asking if I wanted to go to Wuhan. A bit suspicious but in need of a way to the city, I said yes. They held out a flier, told me they ran another bus company in town and would leave at 5 pm for only 100 yuan—less than my previous ticket. Part of my mind said I shouldn’t trust them, but I figured I would at least check out the bus and the driver. Well, things looked about as good as the legitimate bus company, so I agreed and soon was on my way to Wuhan hoping it wouldn’t be too late so I could still make my 10 pm train (it’s about a four hour ride). Well, the ride for once was smooth and I disembarked in Wuhan with 30 minutes until my train left.
I again hailed a cab and presented my train ticket to the driver which, in both English and Chinese, was clearly marked with what it was and the departure and arrival points. The driver just sat there and looked at me dumbfounded. I pointed to the ticket and to the “Wuhan” side of the ticket and he gestured and spoke as if to indicate that we were in Wuhan. After a minute of this, I dug for my phrase book and butchered the pronunciation of “train station” in Chinese. Somehow through my horrible accent he understood, nodded, and we were off, he muttering probably that I should have said that sooner. Now I ask you, if I got into a cab and couldn’t speak your language but showed you a train ticket for that day only a half hour from that moment, where would you take me? The supermarket or the train station?
Well, I arrived at the station with 20 minutes until my departure, found and boarded my train, and was soon on my way back to Shanghai. Though tired, I had only a standing ticket here and so passed the night crouched and seated on the floor until the morning when enough people disembarked before Shanghai so as to afford me my own chair. And so ended my grand adventure in the western part of China, my last hurrah before trading the Middle Kingdom for the Middle East.
Expo, Day Four: Playing Tour Guide
The weekend after my excursion into Western China was my last in the country, and as a nice sendoff, Jamie and her friends took the overnight train (soft sleeper, for those who read my Ridin’ the Rails post) down to Shanghai to catch the last days of the World Expo and see the town on their autumn break from classes. With three days of Expo experience under my belt , I decided to join them as friend and tour guide. Rather than separate this out as its own post as I have done with my three other Expo days, I decided to include it here simply because many of the pavilions we visited were ones I had already seen. This day was about them and having fun, not me and my research. However, I will highlight just a few more pavilions for your entertainment.
Unfortunately the day was rather crowded, drawing in about 500,000 people even despite higher prices. So after waiting in long lines for a couple of pavilions, we headed into the section housing the “Axis of Evil,” characterized by no lines. We first entered the Pavilion of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, known colloquially as North Korea. Here we were greeted by bright colors, fountains, rainbows, and a slogan proclaiming proudly that the country is “Paradise for People.” TVs showed off the culture of the country through its opera and singing, while photos showed the parks, amusement centers, and civic spaces that make North Korea such a utopia. At the little gift shop in the back you could buy for just over a dollar the words of Kim Jong Il or his father if you so desired.
After nearly vomiting from this propaganda, we left and turned our attentions to the next door neighbor: Iran. Here I must say I was a bit surprised and impressed at the focus of the pavilion. Modeled like a traditional Islamic mosque, most of the pavilion focused on the scholarship and arts of ancient Islam and Iran—formerly one of the greatest centers of the world for literary and scientific achievement. After all, many of the technologies and stories we know and use today were born in the Middle East. There were, of course, the typical shows of Iran’s rising power, including models of Iran’s hydropower and nuclear plants, but nothing about foreign policy or aggression. The only mention was a plaque bearing the words of President Ahmadinejead which congratulated Expo and proclaimed it and Iran’s pavilion as a testament to the cooperation between cities and the need for diversity and tolerance between cultures.
In my mind, I juxtaposed this quote with the actions of the Iranian government and with that we moved on.
The last pavilion I will mention here was Malta. Now for such a small country, you might be surprised to learn that Jamie and company had it in their plans all day for a visit. So as evening rolled around, we steered our feet for the European Joint Pavilion wherein we found our miniscule mecca. The pavilion itself was not large—just a film about Maltese history—but it was fascinating to learn about how long civilization had been in the region and all of the inventions, developments, and political eras that had come in and out of what is present-day Malta. We were all surprised by the amount of information in the film and what we all learned, especially because this was not why we had headed this direction. Actually, it was for the beer. Rumors had spread all the way to Beijing that Malta served some of the best beer at Expo, and after having been starved for a good beer in China (all they have is really light beer), I was ready to spend my second to last night in the country sipping a strong European delight. And frankly, it didn’t disappoint.
Full of flavor and filling, we sat, chatted, and enjoyed our last night at Expo and for me, my second to last night in China over a delicious beer. It was the perfect way to end my adventures around the world in this historic exhibition.
The Most Expensive Load of Laundry
Well, getting back just a bit to the title of this post, I thought I’d regale you with one last tale which though very frustrating on the day of its occurrence now is one of those things at which you just have to look back and laugh. After my day at Expo, I realized I needed to do laundry badly. Knowing my hostel in Dubai did not have laundry services, I figured I should take advantage of the washer and electric dryer (a rarity in China) available at my hostel to have some clean clothes in Dubai. After all, I wasn’t sure how long it would take to find an apartment in my new city. For 15 yuan (about $2) I bought two laundry tokens and threw my clothes in. Well, two hours and a wash and dry cycle later I pulled them from the electric dryer only to find that they were still completely soaking wet. Frustrated, I didn’t have time to deal with it then and so laid them all out on my bed with the windows in the room open hoping they might dry a bit while I was out tying up all loose ends and seeing Jamie one last time before leaving.
I returned that night to find, much to my dismay, that the clothes were just as wet as when I had left. The cold, damp Shanghai air had failed to dry them even a bit it seemed, though my blanket and mattress were now nice and wet. Curling in a ball on the dry spot of the bed, I passed the night hoping I might find drier clothes in the morning. Again, no luck. Rising early, I paid another 15 yuan for two drying tokens, telling the hostel attendant in the process why I needed the tokens. She assured me that if I just turned the dryers on for 90 minutes everything would be fine. So that’s what I did. I split the clothes in two loads, put one in each dryer, and threw the switches. 90 minutes later my clothes were still completely wet. I found out I was not the only frustrated hostel patron at this occurrence and so together, another guy and I complained but to no avail. The best they could offer was to have the dryers looked at later that day. For me, that was no good—I was hopping on a plane at 12:30.
So with clothes and a towel still waterlogged, I packed my things and heaved my backpack on. When I flew here, my bag sat comfortably at 22 kilograms of weight (just under the 23 allowed). By reshuffling, I had moved some things into a duffel bag to take as a carry-on, reducing the load in my backpack with the knowledge that my China Southern flight to Dubai only allowed 20 kilos. The problem was that now all of my clothes were bearing the additional weight of who knows how many liters of water (the upper limit was 35, the number used by the washing machine, but clearly not all of that was still in the clothes). Without a scale, I could only hope that my pack was not too heavy.
I arrived at the airport a little bit late and proceeded to check in. There I learned the unfortunate news—29 kilos. Then the wonderful Chinese efficiency struck again. I was unable to pay the extra baggage fee at the check-in desk. I had to leave my pack, go across the ticketing area to the other China Southern desk, pay the fee which for 9 kilos amounted to $250 US, and then head back to the check-in counter to claim my ticket. Now for reference, I flew China Southern over Emirates, my preferred airline, because the ticket price was $450 instead of $750. This baggage overage pretty much wiped out that savings and almost means I should have flown Emirates and gotten some miles (and pampering) for the flight! After all, they allow two bags checked, each of 23 kilos, so I would have been fine with a little rearranging at the airport lobby.
Steaming from the whole experience, I tried to cool off before the flight so as to enjoy my trip to Guangzhou and then on to Dubai. It took a while, but I managed. Now, I call the story “My Most Expensive Load of Laundry” ever simply because the broken dryer caused me such an overweight fee. Let’s put all of this in context:
Load of laundry at HMC (wash and dry): $0.75
If you do three dry cycles: $1.25
Load of laundry at the hostel: $4.50
With the overweight baggage fee: $268.83
The way I see it, that load of laundry cost me $268.83. And the best part? My clothes weren’t even clean when I reached Dubai—at least they didn’t smell like it anyway. Packing tightly all of that wet luggage for 18 hours produces a nice mildew smell that lingers on clothing until adequately aired out for a few days! But like I said up front, there is no use in staying angry about the whole episode. It’s a fun story now to tell, laugh at, and teach the importance of knowing beforehand what overweight baggage fees will be on airlines!
Summing Up Shanghai
Well, that’s it for Shanghai, or in the words of a famous cartoon pig, “Th-th-th-th-that’s all folks!” I’ve taken you from my arrival to departure in Shanghai and shared some fun stories along the way as well as some insights about green buildings in China. Now this isn’t my last post about China—you’ll find I’ve got a long wrap-up still in the works, but it won’t focus on Shanghai or my travels. Instead it will look more at the question of eco-cities and the lessons we can learn for China and the world. That’ll start tomorrow and go for a couple of days (like I said, it’s long even for me!).
But to wrap up Shanghai, if anyone is planning to travel there, here are a few resources I found useful in my stay:
1. Lonely Planet—I know I’ve already endorsed this for helping me find restaurants, but the detailed information on tourist sites, shopping, restaurants, and everything in the city proved invaluable during my stay. I recommend grabbing a guide if you’re making a trip.
2. Time Out, That’s Shanghai, NextStep, and SmartShanghai—These guides can be found at any upscale hotels in the city and feature weekly deals, hotspots, and specials for enjoyment during your stay. They are a great way to find out what’s happening in town.
3. ExploreShanghai—This website has a great interactive metro map that displays fares and transit times between any two stations. Great for figuring out how to get around.
4. Shanghai Bus Routes—Another great transit help, this website offers bus timetables and route information in English. Again, good for planning but be forewarned that there is no English once you get on the bus—you have to know where to get off.
A last note about Shanghai, and unfortunately a little bit of a turn from the light side of this post to a bit more serious topic. My stay in China has made me much more attuned to the current events and news in that part of the world, and this morning as I looked through the Wall Street Journal’s China page, I came across this news story. I know I have mentioned before that building codes and safety are lacking in China, and one aspect of that is during the construction process. Unskilled laborers are brought from poorer areas of the country, forced to work long hours with limited supervision, and have their pay withheld until the job is done to prevent them leaving. I am a firm believer that these conditions were part of the perfect storm that led to the high-rise fire this article discusses. The article credits an unlicensed, unskilled welder (to which I ask how many welders are licensed or skilled?) with starting a fire in a high-rise under renovation. The fire quickly spread to the bamboo scaffolding (nice to use a renewable material, but here is the downside when not fireproofed) engulfing the building in flames, killing 53 and sending at least 70 more to the hospital. Stories like this are too common in China—there was a building collapse a couple months back in Xi'an and there was another in Shanghai 13 months before my arrival. They speak to the broader issue I have raised several times in my blog about a lack of codes and oversight in construction, planning, and design. The rapid pace of development has been achieved with a lack of quality both in materials (which may have contributed to yesterday’s inferno) and in construction practices. Though the government has vowed to investigate the blaze and punish those at fault, and residents are eagerly awaiting the government’s report, I am dubious that full disclosure will occur or that it will reveal anything wrong with the system. Likely the welder and his supervisor will be punished, but no reform of codes or practices will be implemented. After all, China does have a practice of both punishing those who commit the wrongs and those who bring them to light through social protest, online media, and community support groups (recent articles in the Journal have highlighted these practices especially in relation to Liu Xiaobo, the Nobel Peace Prize winner, and one man jailed for calling for information, community support, and reform following the tainted milk scandal two years ago).
I didn’t mean to dampen the mood too much, but really to point out that for those who travel to China it is easy to see the country as a great, affordable tourist destination. It is easy to be enamored with the history and flashy lights and ignore the real social and developmental issues lurking beneath the surface. China will be key to world peace and prosperity in the coming decades, and as it gains power, it will gain a greater role in the spotlight and more of these social and civic issues will come to light. I encourage everyone to keep an eye on how the government and people of this large nation respond to the challenges of growth, development, industrialization, and rise to prominence in the next 20 years. The ability of the government to manage these various pressures from within and without could well shape much of the political and economic landscape on a world scale. As one architect told me, “If China sneezes, the world will get a bad cold.”
