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| Prologue I wasn't really planning to go to China. I just ended up there on the way to North Korea. And yes, that's how it actually happened. August 5th was a fairly ordinary day, until I was invited to visit North Korea. I logged in to check my mail, like any other day, and there it was, an invitation from the Koryo Group:
The invitation went on to include particulars about the complex application process for the tour, the need to arrange travel through Beijing, and the cost. They also assured me that even though the North Koreans generally hate Americans, it was sort of safe to visit. Let me back up for a minute and tell you why North Korea is an interesting place for adventurous US citizens to visit. It's not only beautiful, they don't let us in. Unlike Cuba, it's completely legal to visit North Korea, probably because the US government is confident in the fact that they won't let us go there anyway. Think about it... an overseas travel destination that isn't full of fat, sweaty Americans talking loudly, wearing Hawaiian shirts, and complaining that there isn't a McDonald's nearby (if you've been abroad, you can doubtless relate). North Korea is also crazy, has nukes, and is brutally repressive, but these were details that I was willing to overlook in exchange for the opportunity to visit. I applied for my Chinese visa, and waited for the Koryo Group to confirm that the trip was a "go." They received word from Pyongyang that visas would be issued, so I purchased airfare to Beijing (planning an extra week in China for sightseeing there upon my return from North Korea). No sooner had I done that than the North Koreans called off the trip. Something had come up, they explained, although they weren't interested in explaining what had come up or whether the trip could be rescheduled. A week or so later, there was a 1 megaton explosion in the southern part of the country accompanied by a mushroom cloud, so draw your own conclusions. Since Koryo Tours had included the e-mail addresses of the other potential tour participants on the invitation, I contacted everyone to see whether anyone else was going to be in Beijing, and if so, whether they wanted to do any sightseeing. After all, when visiting a totalitarian country where you don't speak the language, there is at least some safety in numbers. GreyArea wrote back and said that he'd be interested in hanging out, as long as I didn't try to get in his pants. I agreed, as long as he didn't try to get in mine (as it turned out, I wouldn't have minded this at all; he's cute)! We agreed to meet at the Red House, where Koryo Tours has its office. The place was reasonably priced and they assured us it was somewhat clean. I met with co-workers from China to seek travel advice, which they gladly provided, and anxiously awaited the arrival of my Chinese visa. Eventually, it showed up (although for some reason, the post office delivered it to the return address on the envelope rather than the delivery address). I also arranged the time off work, which I had only done in general terms with my manager--fortunately, this wasn't a problem. Eventually, September 11th came, and it was time for my flight (hey, the tickets were cheap). 9/11/04 - 9/12/04 Flight day I expected there to be a combination of horrible security hassles and very few people flying on 9/11/04. Instead, I was surprised to see that when I checked in for my flight on the Northwest Airlines Web site, my flight was oversold. Naturally, I was eager to volunteer my seat in exchange for a free ticket, so I got to the airport extra early and was the first in line at the gate. They ultimately didn't need my seat, but gave me 1,000 extra frequent flier miles for volunteering. The 747-200 was old and decrepit. It broke down twice before we even got to the runway, then once we were airborne, another problem emerged (although it didn't affect flight safety). The reading lights were totally out of whack. The guy in front of me controlled my reading light, and he wanted it to be on, thank you very much! He didn't speak English, either, so it made sleep difficult at best. To get anywhere in Asia on Northwest Airlines, you fly through Tokyo's efficient Narita airport. When changing planes, they park the plane out on the tarmac. You are bused to a building where you go through security on the ground level, and then you can go upstairs to catch your flight. By the time I got done, I didn't have much time to make my flight to Beijing; they were issuing the final boarding call when I arrived at the gate. Customs in China is similar to entering Europe, except that you don't need a visa to go there. You go through quarantine, immigration, and then just walk out into the airport. They only stop you if you're suspicious, apparently. Once in the Beijing airport, I was immediately assaulted by touts (people who approach you trying to sell you something). They were all offering taxis. They were very aggressive, but fortunately the guidebook had warned me about them. I walked to the ticket counter for the buses, fending them off the entire way, including an exceptionally obnoxious one who actually tried to pull me out of the ticket line for the bus. I bought a bus ticket for 16 yuan (about $2) to Dongzhimen, the neighborhood in which the Red House was located. Unfortunately, the Lonely Planet guidebook was less effective at providing readable maps. I got horribly lost. Eventually, I called the hotel for help, and they weren't of much assistance either (I had picked up a local SIM card for my phone at the airport). I handed the phone to a nearby policeman, who talked to the hotel in animated Mandarin. He and his partner flagged down a taxi for me, and told the driver where to take me. It cost only about $1.25 to go the 3km to the hotel. As it turned out, I'd walked completely in the opposite direction from where I should have gone. The Red House Hotel is North Korea central in Beijing. It hosts Koryo Tours, which specializes in travel to North Korea. It is also home to the Pyongyang Art Studio, where North Korean art and merchandise is sold. To call the place shady is an exceptional understatement. Fortunately, I was in Communist Red China, and the authorities were likely, if anything, to view me favorably for patronizing such an establishment! GreyArea had left a message for me at the front desk with his room number. He wasn't in when I stopped by, though. For my part, I was exhausted, so I crashed. 9/13/04 - Forbidden City The following morning, I met GreyArea in the hotel restaurant. Fortunately, he turned out to be sane and apparently thought the same of me. We went together to Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City. The whole area around Tiananmen Square is disappointingly under construction, probably because of the upcoming 2008 Olympics. China is very proud to be hosting the Olympics and the Chinese government is sparing no expense to spruce up Beijing, or at least cover it in scaffolding. This isn't necessarily a bad thing as some parts of Beijing can definitely use a face lift. The Forbidden City is interesting, but the tourist kitsch really detracts from its authenticity. I was overall fairly disappointed with the current state of affairs, but wouldn't have missed the attraction--there is too much to see, even if it isn't in great shape. After seeing the Forbidden City, my feet were pretty tired (and so were GreyArea's, surprisingly--he likes to walk for miles). We went to Beihai Park, on Lake Beijing. It cost about $1.25 to enter. This gave us some time to unwind and I talked to GreyArea about his childhood as a Mormon in Idaho. Like me, the more he thought about religion, the less appealing it became to him over the years. Still, he doesn't drink alcohol or caffeine and lives similarly to how he did before; he doesn't want to rebel against Mormon teachings for the sake of rebellion. Unsurprisingly, I failed to convince him to drink any alcohol during the entire trip. After we rested by the lake, we were both hungry. Fortunately, there were plenty of restaurants a short walk away from the park's north entrance. I bought two fried meat rolls for about 35 cents, and a local apple beverage for about 25 cents. This was plenty for dinner. GreyArea was more adventurous and tried something resembling a chicken burrito, which he said was excellent. We took a cab back to the hotel, since by this point we weren't sure where we were, and my knee was bothering me from all the walking. I bought an expensive beer in the bar next door. The listed price was 10 yuan but the bartender insisted on charging me 15 yuan. I finished my beer and angrily left, then went to bed. 9/14/04 I woke up and my knee was bothering me much less than the prior afternoon. This was good, although I resolved to stay off of it. I looked for my cell, but couldn't find it; GreyArea brought it down to breakfast because I'd left it in his room the previous evening. I was glad it hadn't been stolen. I managed to get online over the noisy Beijing phone lines, and got e-mail back from a couple of my co-workers. They both offered assistance if I needed any help in Beijing, and provided their phone numbers. It was comforting to know that I had someone to call if I got in a jam. We opted to visit the Summer Palace. This turned out, despite the weather, to be the most magnificent location I visited in Beijing. Constructed in the 1860s by Empress Dowager, and paid for with embezzled funds that should have been used to fund the army, the Summer Palace surrounds a lake. The palace is crowned by an immaculately maintained temple that sits atop a mountain, offering commanding views of the surrounding cityscape. It was well worth the climb up hundreds of stairs, although my knees definitely didn't agree. Outside the Summer Palace, we were accosted by street vendors selling fake Rolex watches. Both GreyArea and I received 50 ruble notes from Belarus in our change, which we accepted without looking carefully at them. Additionally, GreyArea was given a counterfeit 50 yuan note in his change (which we discovered later). We chalked both misfortunes up to a cheap learning experience. It could definitely have been worse. After our harrowing experience with the street vendors, we hopped aboard a bus we hoped would take us to the Beijing People's University. It turned out to be the right bus. We got out, and after I visited a nearby ATM, we wandered around the campus. It turned out we'd actually arrived at the campus of the Central University for Nationalities. This is a university that caters to Chinese minority groups. While the premiere university of its type in China, the facilities would be unacceptable by comparison to most American universities. Many buildings (such as the one in which the foreign languages department is located) are in serious disrepair and a foul stench permeates them. However, the campus--like the rest of Beijing--is undergoing a face lift and sports both a brand new library and museum. I expect that in time, the older buildings will be torn down and replaced; this is probably why they are in such poor repair. Incidentally (and this is a tip you won't find in the guidebooks), CUN offers rooms, on a space-available basis, in the international student dorms for 120 yuan per night (about $15). This building is in good repair and the staff is friendly and helpful. After wandering around for awhile, we found an English-speaking faculty member who was kind enough to introduce us to Kevin, a foreign language department faculty member. We explained that we hoped to hire a student as our guide, and he promised to help, and took my number to call back later. He also took us out to dinner in Beijing, along with an exchange student from Oregon named Hannah. The cuisine represented northwestern China, and while first-rate, cost only 56 yuan (about $7) for the four of us. Fortunately, Kevin was along, or else we'd never have been able to decipher the menu! Approaching the subway on the way home, we met another exchange student from California named Bula. She was originally from Minsk so I gave her my 50 Belarus rubles. Bula had obvious chemistry with GreyArea, but he was blissfully oblivious to this and parted company without even obtaining her e-mail address. I made it my mission from that point to get him laid (although unfortunately, I failed miserably in corrupting him). 9/15/04 I woke up late. My right knee was bothering me this time, instead of my left knee as was the case the previous day. I wished my knees would make up their mind. It was too late for breakfast, so I went next door to the grocery store for breakfast food. I found some pastry rolls resembling Twinkies, but much less sweet. I also found an orange drink that tasted like flat orange soda. They didn't appear to sell orange juice. After breakfast and some strategizing about what to see, GreyArea and I left determined to find something to do. We figured we'd see Mao's tomb and maybe a shopping district in Beijing. However, GreyArea wanted to check the bus situation to the Great Wall first. As fate would have it, the bus we needed was standing right there at the stop. I saw this as a sign from the heavens, and urged GreyArea to get on the bus. It took us, after trundling through the outskirts of Beijing for over an hour, to the town of Huairow. The cottage industry in this town seems to be scamming tourists. We were assaulted, as usual aggressively, by street hustlers offering taxis. Eventually, we got one of them to agree to take us to the Huang-Hua section of the Great Wall for only 50 yuan roundtrip (about $6). Well, I hadn't counted on wait time when making the negotiations. When we arrived, the driver demanded extra money. We didn't give him any extra money, and figured that we'd deal with the situation later. The Great Wall, like seemingly everything else in China, is under construction. We had to try 3 different entrances before finally locating one that worked (after paying 6 yuan each to use the dung-covered donkey track leading up the mountainside). Once there, though, the view was spectacular. It's a rarely traversed section of the Great Wall and was certainly worth venturing off the beaten path. Eventually, though, it was time to return to civilization (such as it was). I was only too glad as by this point both of my knees were screaming at me. Our driver dutifully returned us to Huairow, whereupon he demanded 55 yuan. GreyArea paid him--without argument--using the counterfeit 50 yuan note he'd received the previous day. Score one point to him for out-scamming the scam artist! We'd missed the last bus of the day, so were forced to contend with the taxi crew outside McDonald's. They all demanded 100 yuan to take us back to our hotel. By this point, I was too tired to argue. Our taxi driver, for his part, returned us safely and courteously to the hotel--a definite surprise where Beijing cabbies are concerned! GreyArea and I were both hungry after the long journey, so we went down the street to a restaurant he'd wanted to try--the "9 Headed Bird Chain Restaurant." He ordered braised bullfrog, which was OK but very bony. I tried a little and it tasted like rubbery chicken thigh. I ordered a succession of peanut dishes (which I couldn't eat); Hunan noodles with peanut sauce, and an excellent (though inedible) beef dish with peanuts. Eventually I traded these for GreyArea's chicken soup, which he didn't want. I also ordered a rice dish with sweet black bean curd, which was actually pretty good. 9/16/04 GreyArea suffered no ill effects from the bullfrog, surprisingly enough. He slept in while I went to get breakfast. The breakfast at the Red House is exactly the same every day (scrambled eggs, 4 slices of toast with butter and strawberry jam, and a glass of pear juice), so GreyArea was less enthusiastic about breakfast each day. While I was on the phone to Sprint PCS complaining that their international roaming service still didn't work on my phone, Kevin called on my local Chinese number. He wanted to gauge our availability, and offered to meet up with us later. I asked him to call back in the afternoon, since we were still planning our morning. The weather was unfortunately poor, so we spent the day wandering around with no particular aim. GreyArea bought some gifts for his family, and I bought a new pair of shoes at a really shady clothing market a few blocks from the hotel. It is about 6 floors of little stands, almost designed like a flea market. The shoes I bought are a suspiciously counterfeit pair of Timberlands, but cost less than $30. They came in a box that said "Timbaolan." We met a frequent visitor to the clothing market. He was from San Francisco, and urged me to push for better prices. He said I probably paid 3 times more than I could have. We both bought some CDs from a shop inside the market for only 15 yuan each (about $2), and these appeared to be legitimate (not pirated). Later, we went to the Golden Elephant, a Thai-Indian restaurant in the embassy district. It was very expensive by Beijing standards, and while the food tasted good, it made GreyArea sick to his stomach later. Food is definitely hit or miss in Beijing; appearances and prices sometimes bear little relationship to kitchen cleanliness! GreyArea had heard from Simon, the Koryo Tours guide, that a shady operation dealing in pirated DVDs did business near the Thai restaurant. Sure enough, when we asked about DVDs, we were shown to a shack by the side of the road. An old woman and her husband handed us pile after pile of pirated movies, which we greedily snapped up at 6 yuan apiece (about 75 cents). They also sold us a DVD wallet for 10 yuan ($1.25), so our purchases wouldn't be seized at the airport. Kevin called to confirm we still wanted to meet with a student the following day. We agreed to arrive at the university at about 10:00AM. I watched Anchorman, which was very funny, and went to sleep. 9/17/04 I'm not sure what it is with Chinese people and early mornings, but I groaned as I rolled out of bed to prepare for our day with the Beijing university student. Her name was Kathleen. She was a member of the Man minority group, and studied at Central University for Nationalities. She was, as a bonus, familiar with the Pacific Northwest; CUN has an exchange program with the University of Oregon (in Eugene). Kathleen was a blast. She teased Peter about his hair, taught us swear words in Mandarin, and helped us navigate the complexities of Mongolian hot pot. She heatedly debated politics with me, and taught me all about Chinese liquor (to fuel further heated debates, undoubtedly). GreyArea wanted to purchase gifts for friends at home, so Kathleen made suggestions that turned out to be both appetizing and budget-pleasing. As we ate, Kathleen expressed anxiety about her upcoming exam and mentioned offhand that it was expensive, so failure was not an option. I was curious how much it cost, and was surprised to learn that it was about $45 (in a country where the per-capita monthly income is $200, this is not an insubstantial sum). GreyArea and I were both happy that we could help Kathleen with this expense as compensation for her time; as she parted, we slipped her the exam fee. She shrieked in protest, and said it was too much, but we made our escape in a taxi before she could refuse. 9/18/04 Kevin called in the morning to make sure that we'd be meeting him at noon. We confirmed that we'd be there, and caught a cab to the university after checking our e-mail. First, we had Beijing Duck at a local restaurant. Kathleen joined us. I had never eaten duck and don't think that I'll do so again; the meat is tough and has a gamey flavor. Don't get me wrong, the restaurant was good and the food was well-prepared; I just didn't care for duck. After lunch, Kevin gave us a quick tour of some parts of the CUN campus that Kathleen hadn't showed us the previous day. Both GreyArea and I needed to exchange some dollars for yuan, so we visited the Bank of China branch near campus. It was the slowest and most inefficient bank I've ever had the displeasure of dealing with. I was glad to finish my business (after a 30 minute delay), and eventually GreyArea finished with his transaction. While the cash exchange rate is better than using the ATM, the hassle definitely isn't worth it. After we finished at the bank, Kevin took us to a very shady market. It was literally underground. I bought a notebook and some T-shirts with very bad English slogans (one of them reads "The Gompany Who Looks Always During The Night Traffic Safety Campaign Like Lost Child's Kitten" - if you have any idea what it means, let me know). Kevin also bought a cowboy hat, which looked fairly ridiculous with the rest of his clothing (it would be more comfortable accompanied by a big Texas-shaped belt buckle and cowboy boots). However, he liked it, which was all that was important. Unfortunately, while Kevin was buying his hat, a pickpocket nabbed my digital camera. This was more of an annoyance than any great loss, since I had travel insurance. I was most upset about losing the pictures I'd taken and not yet copied to my laptop. Kevin took us to a shopping district where I spotted an exact replacement for my camera. Unfortunately, it cost over $600, due to the extremely high Chinese taxes on imported electronics items. Furthermore, the merchant demanded cash payment only. I decided not to replace my camera immediately, and bought a cheap 35mm film camera instead for about $20. I figured it could last me until I got back home. GreyArea and I returned to the hotel. Kevin accompanied us as far as the Dongzhimen subway station. Simon from Koryo Tours had kindly lent us a copy of the BBC documentary they had helped to produce (A State Of Mind). It's an incredible look into the mass gymnastics games in North Korea and I was glad we had the opportunity to see it. I made my own copy of the DVD, which was freshly back from the Pyongyang Film Festival. I had originally planned to visit Guilin, which is reputed to be one of the most beautiful places in China. However, I wanted to replace my digital camera, and also wanted to see the Chinese countryside. Taking a train to the tax-free shopping in Hong Kong seemed to be an attractive option, since I already had a double-entry Chinese visa. I resolved to discuss this with Kevin at my earliest opportunity, to see whether he could help me book train tickets. 9/19/04 Early in the morning, GreyArea got up and left for Japan. It had been fun hanging out with him for the week, and I was sorry to see him leave. Kevin and I met at the university around noon. I needed to obtain a police report to file an insurance claim for the loss of my camera, and Kevin had agreed to help me. This involved visiting the much-feared Chinese PSB, aka Public Security Bureau. We proceeded on a grand tour of police stations, after having lunch at an excellent place (with no English menu) that Kevin suggested. He ordered an unusual spicy lamb dish that was really good. We went to three police stations in all. The first one couldn't help us with the particular criminal matter we were reporting; they dealt only with work permits and visas for foreigners. The second police station created part of the police report, in Chinese, after interrogating Kevin about the incident. He was visibly shaken and I think the detective may have implied that he had stolen it (which was impossible; he was nowhere near me when it happened). Apparently, two police stations aren't enough to report a petty theft in Beijing, so we were sent across town to a third police station. This was located in a huge, imposing building with a heavy security presence. After we were made to wait for a half hour, a bored policeman came and took a statement from me in English. He then issued--at long last--a "report of loss." According to the Lonely Planet guidebook, this can often be difficult to arrange and may take several days, so I was glad that Kevin had checked on the correct procedure in advance. After we were finished with the police, Kevin helped me to buy a train ticket. There weren't any trains to Hong Kong, but there was one to Shenzhen (which was literally next door to Hong Kong). It was a night train and cost about $60 for a "hard sleeper" ticket. This entitled me to a bunk in a dormitory car. The only difference between this and "soft sleeper" class (costing almost double) is that the "soft sleeper" cars have a closing door for privacy, and only 4 bunks per bay. You can book them together with other people, but you don't get a private bunk in any case. I took Kevin to the Red House to show him some of the North Korean art at the Pyongyang Art Gallery. I'm becoming a fan of the Socialist Realism art form and was pleased that Kevin found the culture intriguing. I then checked out of the hotel and bid the Red House farewell for the time being. After a quick dinner at McDonald's, Kevin accompanied me to the train station to see me off. I tried to compensate him for his time, but he would accept only return cab fare to the university. I figured that he was serious about not taking the money when he shoved it back in my pocket. 9/20/04 I woke up on the train to the stench of stale Chinese cigarette smoke. While smoking is not allowed in the train cars, people walk between the cars to smoke. Unfortunately the area isn't well-ventilated, and the smoke ends up floating back into the train cars. This is somewhat better than Greece and Japan, though, where non-smoking areas are blatantly ignored. Incidentally, the Chinese government seems to discourage smoking; it isn't nearly as popular a habit as in Japan. I sent Simon an SMS to thank him for lending us the DVD, and he invited me to stop by anytime I was back in Beijing. I also talked to my friend cstone on the phone. It is hard to maintain a conversation on the train, because China Mobile service is poor outside of major cities. We discussed the upcoming US election, speculating on the ways that both parties would attempt to rig it. I walked around the train. The rest of the train was much more crowded than my car, so I felt fortunate to be in a place that had a relatively decent amount of elbow room. I discovered there are two major advantages to "soft sleeper" class that the travel agent didn't indicate. The first is that there is a Western-style toilet in the train car. You can see the train tracks when you flush; whatever you leave in the toilet just gets dumped onto the ground (an obviously shocking environmental hazard). The second advantage is that there are electrical outlets in this car. Not surprisingly, it is popular as a result; every outlet is occupied with a charging mobile phone! The standard of living in Beijing is obviously not representative of China as a whole. The poverty is apparent in central-east China, particularly Henan province. Mountains have been completely deforested, although replanting efforts appear to be actively underway. It's good that China apparently realizes the dangers of clear-cut mountain slopes where soil erosion, drainage, and water pollution are concerned. Although the red soil is poor, and the terrain looks much like eastern Oklahoma, the industrious Chinese are making the best of farming opportunities--even though it's occasionally with oxen and wooden plows. Approaching Shenzhen, the factories began. There were a smattering at first, and then both sides of the train tracks were surrounded with densely constructed manufacturing facilities. They were full of workers producing a wide range of goods, but mostly textiles--it was 8:00PM and everyone was still at work. Shenzhen is grim, a gritty landscape of factories and concrete apartment blocks. There is a glitzy downtown shopping area catering to Hong Kong residents. Still, three-fourths of the city's residents are there illegally, according to the Lonely Planet guidebook. After navigating a virtual obstacle course of street vendors touting rooms, prostitutes, and who knows what else, I finally arrived at the Hong Kong border. It's right next to the train station on the Chinese side. The Chinese immigration officer took a long look at my passport before finally letting me pass into Hong Kong. I resolved to wear my glasses (which appear in my passport photo) next time, in order to smooth the process in the future. Hong Kong immigration, by contrast, was both friendly and easy. "Is this your first visit to Hong Kong?" asked the immigration officer. I nodded. Bam! Stamp! "Have a nice visit!" he said, handing back my passport. Although I'd said on my entry form that I would be in Hong Kong for only a few days, they gave me a visa for 90 days. You have to pay for the train on the Hong Kong side with Hong Kong dollars. I'm not sure why the Chinese bother with two currencies, since the Hong Kong dollar is worth almost exactly the same as the yuan. I hit the ATM, and took out HK$1000 (about $125). I figured it ought to last at least a day. With ticket in hand, I jumped aboard the train and made my way to Tsim Sha Tsui, the Kowloon backpacker's district. While the train is spotless, the neighborhood definitely isn't. All the places listed in the guidebook were (not surprisingly) full, but a woman running an obviously illegal guesthouse rented me a room for an extortionate HK$400 (about $50). I kicked myself for crossing the border earlier than I needed to from the less expensive mainland--this was closer to Tokyo prices than China! The room had no window and was smaller than a prison cell. One note on the border between China and Hong Kong: it's heavily guarded. There are armed guards, dogs, and a 30 foot high electrified chain link fence topped with razor wire. This isn't maintained to keep Chinese out of Hong Kong--it's on the Chinese mainland side, and is designed to keep their residents inside. It reminded me of the Iron Curtain maintained by the former Soviet Union. Hong Kong has a feel sort of like San Diego--an excess of wealth (you can literally buy your way into Hong Kong for HK$6.5MM) a stone's throw away from abject poverty. 9/21/04 In the morning, I asked the woman who rented me the room if I could store my bags there for the day. She agreed, unexpectedly, and didn't even charge me. I agreed to return at 6:00PM to pick them up. My first stop was to find another hotel. Fortunately, this wasn't a problem as the Mirador Arcade abounded with guest houses. I picked one called the Man Hing Lung, primarily because they offered free wireless Internet service. The room was better than the place I'd stayed the previous night, but this wasn't saying much. The mattress was worn completely flat. Still, for HK$200 per night (about $25), I wasn't complaining. My first priority was to have dim sum in Hong Kong. Cyben had adamantly insisted that I try it, and so did the Lonely Planet guide. So I headed off to the Royal Garden, reputed to be one of the best places for dim sum in Kowloon. The reputation is well-deserved. Sitting beside an exquisitely constructed man-made pond with a pleasantly bubbling fountain, I gorged on spring rolls, steamed pork buns, vegetable dumplings, and a heavenly mango pudding. The bill came to HK$112 (about $14), which was expensive but definitely worth it! My next order of business was to replace the digital camera that had been stolen from me in Beijing. I visited the dealers recommended by the Lonely Planet guide, but none had the same camera (they had the new version, which cost about $100 more than I wanted to spend). One shop offered to sell me the camera for HK$2000 (about $256), but it turned out to only have Chinese menus. They offered to sell me a version with English menus for several hundred Hong Kong dollars more; instead, I walked out of the store in disgust. Finally, I found a dealer with an exact replacement camera. They agreed to sell it to me for HK$2200, but charged HK$2300 (about $294) to my credit card. When I got back to the hotel, I found out that all the serial numbers had been removed from the camera. The dealer wouldn't refund my money, or provide me a camera with a legitimate serial number, so I filed a claim with American Express upon my return (they promise to run interference with the merchant and either get me my money back or a replacement camera). My last order of business for the day was to get back to Beijing in time for my return flight to Seattle. I went to the busy China Travel Service after visiting a couple of other travel agents. They initially found me a flight for HK$850 (about $109), but were unable to actually book a seat at that price. After some further digging, they found me a different flight directly from Hong Kong for HK$1284 (about $165). The airline was China Southern Airlines, and I'd never heard of them, but the price was right. I was curious what the Hong Kong take on Italian food was, so ate dinner at a local chain restaurant called the Spaghetti House. In addition to traditional spaghetti dishes, they sell fusion Chinese-Italian dishes with a uniquely Hong Kong flair--unsurprising, really, for a restaurant in the country that invented noodles (as the menu proudly notes). After dinner, I went for a drink at Tony's Bar, which was around the corner from my guest house. It turned out to be a really bad gay Chinese karaoke bar. I finished my drink and left after picking up some brochures aimed at gay tourists (mostly so I could determine which areas to avoid--gay tourists are perceived to be wealthy, so most gay travel destinations consist of expensive shops and little else). 9/22/04 I wasn't happy with the threadbare mattress in my room, so I spent about an hour calling other hotels in Hong Kong trying to find a better place to stay. Unfortunately, this was impossible if I wanted to spend less than $250 per night (and I'm not talking about Hong Kong dollars). The Forbes CEO Conference and a jewelry convention were both in town, so nearly every hotel room was booked. Since I didn't want to waste a lot of time, and the place was otherwise acceptable (if not particularly nice), I went downstairs and paid for another night. I also dropped off my laundry. It cost HK$40 (about $5) for the laundry service. This seemed expensive, but it was a better alternative than doing it myself at a coin laundry (after all, I wasn't in Hong Kong to do laundry). A Hong Kong local I'd met, who seemed friendly enough, suggested that I see the Stanley Market, Ocean Park, and Victoria Peak - that was, he said, enough for one day. I figured out how to get to Stanley Market. It involved taking a subway to Central, and a bus from there. Stanley Market is, as it turned out, a total tourist trap. I don't recommend spending any time there, but I definitely recommend the bus trip there. The #6 bus from central Hong Kong traverses a spectacular route up and over the mountains, and is really fun--especially if you're not used to double-decker buses. I bought lunch at a little Chinese joint with a picture (but no English) menu. A nice Cantonese beef, noodle, and vegetable dish--about 3 times what I could eat--plus a beer cost me only HK$38 (under $5). I also got some nice pictures from the waterfront, although they don't reveal that it abuts a pungent sewage pumping station (another reason why Stanley Market is best avoided). The weather was getting cloudy, and I worried that I might not be able to see anything from Victoria Peak if I delayed the visit. I took the bus back to the Central station, and hopped on bus #15, which goes all the way up the Peak. The trip was pretty quick, and dropped me off at a shopping mall with its own observation deck. This is less "touristy" than the observation deck where the Peak Tram takes you, and has a better view to the south. Of course, I had to check out the view from the tourist spot too; it was no better, but I tried out my digital camera's self-timer and took a picture of myself there. I considered staying on Victoria Peak until nightfall, but the tourist crap (Ripley's Believe It Or Not museum, a wax museum, etc.) began to get on my nerves, and the clouds were rolling in fast. I bought a one-way ticket for HK$20 (about $3.75) on the Peak Tram, and rode it downtown. The tram is pretty neat. It traverses a steep incline down from (or up to, depending on which direction you're going) the peak. The line ends downtown a few blocks from the subway station. I opted to walk back to the subway because it wasn't far. A Vietnamese guy I'd met on the bus who worked for Cathay Pacific and was pretty familiar with Hong Kong suggested that I visit Mong Kok for a more authentic Hong Kong experience. He was right, and I think I'll start taking advice from airline employees rather than locals in the future! Mong Kok, as I later read, is controlled by the notorious Triad gang. Everything shady, off-color, and illegal can be found in Mong Kok. It's also a lot of fun. I walked around the "Ladies' Market," which is a typical Chinese open-air market where you can bargain the exorbitant prices down to inflated ones. I bought a few T-shirts (with Chinese lettering--unusual for China), and a spiffy new wallet. After my feet got tired, but before my knees started to complain, I stumbled upon an amazing place. It was a mall filled with mobile phone shops. Three floors, and dozens of shops per floor, it was an orgy of wireless consumerism. Since I'm a wireless nut, I spent over an hour perusing the items on display. I also tried (without success) to find a data cable for my GSM handset. Whoever dreamed up this place was a genius. Every store that didn't sell mobile phones sold something else that geeks in their teens and twenties were likely to buy. Although the bulk of the shops sold mobile phones, there were also shops selling T-shirts with questionable slogans, other stores selling porn, and still others selling sex toys (with a heavy emphasis on blow-up dolls and female masturbation devices). One lonely shop sold computer games, and another sold role playing card games. After traipsing up and down the steps, my left knee started to hurt. I hopped in the subway to Mei Foo, where I'd read there were good restaurants. Unfortunately, I saw little evidence of this when exiting the subway station. It was a suburban area, or what passes for suburbs in Hong Kong. There were lots of high-rises and a shopping arcade where nearly all of the stores were closed. I'd resigned myself, disappointedly, to eating at McDonald's when I spotted it--a good old-fashioned Hong Kong greasy spoon. It was sitting there, in all its unkempt glory, beneath a noisy chunk of well-used freeway. The place was packed and I didn't see a single white person in there. These were both good signs. There was no English menu or picture menu. These were better signs, although ordering would be a problem. The owner quickly dispensed with me. "You have fried rice! And Coca-Cola!" she said authoritatively. She then gave me a look that was a mixture of half exasperation and amusement. I readily agreed, and paid her HK$33 (a little over $4). Predictably, the meal was excellent. After dinner, sightseeing was mostly out of the question--there was little to see in Mei Foo, and my knees were through for the day. I walked back to the subway and rode it back to Tsim Sha Tsui. I think all of the guys peddling suits, boots, and prostitutes along Nathan Road finally figured out that I wasn't interested. Either that, or I was looking sufficiently disheveled that they didn't consider me worth approaching. To my surprise (and relief), nobody bothered me all the way back to my room. I went back to the hotel and packed my bags for the return trip to Beijing. 9/23/04 I always forget something in a hotel room. This time, it was the faithful pair of Court Classic shoes I bought at the Anchorage Costco, hiked in to the Great Wall, and sent to the laundry service. The previous evening, they had been returned soaking wet. I hung them up to dry, and forgot about them in my hasty departure. I left in a rush thinking my flight was an hour earlier than it actually was. I took a taxi to the train station rather than the free bus (which leaves from the Holiday Inn across the street), and ended up paying HK$60. This was even though the meter said $54, and even though more than half the fare resulted from the driver taking me to the wrong station. I asked for Kowloon AirTrain Station, and he took me to Mei Foo--I guess the two sound alike. Taxis, I concluded, are not a good option in Hong Kong. Once in the station, I traded my voucher for an AirTrain ticket and rushed aboard in the nick of time. The AirTrain is very nice; there are video displays in the seat backs. It's also quick, making the long journey to the airport in about 15 minutes. The new airport in Hong Kong is huge, efficient, and spacious. There are high ceilings and lots of natural sunlight. China Southern Airlines, it turns out, is mainland China's largest airline. The plane was a fairly new Boeing 757. China Southern does not issue headphones--everyone sees the movie (with audio) whether they want to or not. The movie was a touching love story involving a whorehouse, a madam, a prostitute, and a violent suicide by drowning at the end. Definitely not the sort of movie you'd see on a US airline! They fed us a nice chicken, rice, and bread roll lunch. It was edible, and the beer was free. Overall, the experience was better than most US airlines, and I would not hesitate to fly China Southern Airlines again. Arriving back in Beijing, I waited about 30 minutes at the immigration counter before finally receiving my stamp. There were no problems either at immigration or customs. As before, as soon as I stepped out into the airport, I was descended upon by touts offering taxis. I fended them off all the way to the bus ticket counter; a policeman was standing near the counter and they scattered when I walked toward him. Again, I took the bus to Dongzhimen, although I knew where the Red House was this time. They had a room waiting for me, and charged me 300 yuan for the night (about $37). While I was in Hong Kong, Kathleen had e-mailed me and asked whether I wanted to see her when I got back to Beijing. I contacted her once I was settled at the hotel and offered to take her out to dinner. She had never had Italian food, and there is an excellent Italian restaurant in Beijing called the Metro Cafe. I arranged to pick her up in the evening, but first I wanted to see the 2008 Olympics clock in Tiananmen Square, since it had just been installed. I took a taxi to Tiananmen, thinking it would be faster than the subway. That was a mistake! Rush hour in Beijing begins at 3:00PM and ends around 7:30PM. The cab got stuck in traffic for 45 minutes, and I watched a smog-choked sunset through the car window, listening to the blaring of horns all around me. Eventually, though, the cab arrived at Tiananmen. Unfortunately, I wasn't sure where the sign was, but I drew a picture for a policeman and a local high school student guided me there. He was very friendly and clearly proud of his city, judging from his big smile at the Olympics sign. I tried to give him a tip, but he refused it and vanished into the crowd with a goodbye wave. I took some other pictures of the square at night, but unfortunately, they didn't turn out very well. A talkative couple claiming to be art students offered to take my picture for me, and tried to convince me to attend an exhibition at the museum. They were probably harmless, but I clutched my camera tightly and politely excused myself to the subway station. I caught the subway to a station near CUN, and caught a cab the rest of the way. Kathleen met me outside, and we caught a cab to the restaurant. The Metro Cafe was every bit as good as the recommendation. It is definitely expensive for Beijing, but was cheap by Western standards. Kathleen ordered lasagna--her first Italian experience--and I had spinach ravioli with Bolognese sauce. I was surprised to find a good Robert Mondavi chardonnay on the menu, and ordered a carafe of it, too. I thought it went well with the dishes we'd ordered, but Kathleen found it to be a little too dry. We topped off the meal with some ice cream, which was the only familiar dish to Kathleen; ice cream is very popular in China. After dinner, I took her back to the hotel, closed the door, and had my way with her (or so the hotel desk clerk thought). We giggled like kids and took some totally clean pictures with my digital camera. I also showed her my photos from Hong Kong. The desk clerk gave me a smug look after I put her in the taxi. I'm sure he would have been profoundly disappointed if he knew what had really happened behind closed doors. 9/24/04 Time to return to reality. I packed my bags and dropped the key off at the front desk. The desk clerk didn't say anything, but he chased me out of the hotel carrying a clipboard. It was clear that he wanted me to pay him. I'd already paid in advance, so I wasn't interested in paying him again. Unfortunately, he didn't speak English, so I wrote that I'd already paid (Chinese people can often read English if they cannot speak it), but that didn't work either. After missing the first cab I'd flagged down, and having a second cab drive by without stopping, I finally managed to dig the receipt out of my suitcase that I'd been issued the previous evening. The desk clerk finally understood, and flagged down a cab for me. The taxi to the airport was less than 50 yuan (about $6), and I arrived in plenty of time to make my flight. Leaving China is a lot harder than getting into the country. You need a ticket to get to the ticket counter, even though there isn't anywhere at the airport other than the ticket counter to get a copy of your electronic ticket. Fortunately, I still had a printout from the originating portion of my flight. Then, you need to go through customs, immigration, and airport security after checking in, collecting stamps on your boarding pass and in your passport. After you've jumped through all the hoops, you board the plane under the watchful eye of the Public Security Bureau, who posts agents at the gate (they check your passport immediately before boarding). Transiting Narita worked the same way as it had when I left before--and again, I barely had time to make my connecting flight. Fortunately, it was a different 747-200 this time, and the lights worked. I didn't care--I tried to sleep for most of the flight, but couldn't get comfortable. When I arrived back at Sea-Tac, I was searched by Customs. Again. I think I've made it onto the Official List Of Bad People, because they even wanted to look at the vacation pictures on my laptop. Once the agent was through searching me, I asked him whether I was on a list. The agent handed me a brochure about customs searches. I reiterated--"Am I flagged in the computer? If I'm on some list, I'd like to get off of it. I always get searched when I come home." After consultation with his supervisor, he handed me a printout from the Customs Web site about their computer system. It turns out that practically anyone connected to the federal government can flag you as an undesirable, resulting in guaranteed searches every time you return home. However, there is no way to find out whether you're on a list, and there is no procedure for getting off of it even if there is one.
As I picked up my baggage and left Sea-Tac Airport, I pondered whether our
society would become as totalitarian as the Chinese state. Based on my
experience with Customs, I'm not optimistic. Pictures To see my pictures, please click below: |