We're pushing Day 4 on our lovely adventure through my intestinal tract. This morning I attempted rejoining my fellow TBBers at the university, but nay. It wasn't meant to be. On the walk to school I could tell something was amiss, but it wasn't until partway through our morning lecture by Lina, a blind masseuse working in Kunming, that the tremors really began. The worst part about the experience, I reckon, is that it's so darn painful. And maybe if it was the other exit I could just get it out and spray some Febreeze and be done with it. But no. We must instead transfer onto the traffic-jammed highway of up-chucking and then promptly fainting just to irritate the other drivers. Naturally this process operates best when it is in the wee small hours of the morning, so when I regain conciousness, alone, 15 minutes later, I can happily crawl back to my double bed in a relatively lessened state of embarrassment.
And now, I have been in this temple of World of Warcraft for a solid 6 hours as I await my homestay family's return to the apartment so I can, hopefully, indulge in some well-deserved repose. And maybe some Lord of the Rings on tape.
Wish me luck.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Getting Shotgun, Dumplings, and Joselito's Revenge
What is it about taxi rides here? For some reason, I am perpetually in the front seat. Even when there is enough space for me in the back, it's as if I'm drawn to being shotgun. The unobstructed view of the charming Kunming cityscape, the cabbie's cheap cigarette smoke conveniently blowing out his window, the cold yet elegant curvature of the links in the metal barrier between me and the driver; I relish the entirety of the experience. Not to mention the power. For reasons unknown to me, my fellow passengers always seem to think that whoever's in the front seat magically obtains Mandarin fluency and is therefore the only one qualified to communicate with the cab driver. Ah yes, my throne of linguistic mastery!
Here are some things I thought many of my audience (I'm using that word optimistically considering my prolonged absence) would enjoy being updated on. I'm enjoying off time right now. That means I'm not pushing myself to the limit as much anymore as I concentrate on just enjoying China for what it is: an utterly different, mind-altering experience. If I let it be. Traditionally that would mean that you never see me at all, and my absence makes your hearts grow fonder, and then I appear again with my next arbitrary outburst and we all get grooving again. Things have changed a bit, and the decision, or should I say situation, to slide on and off your radar isn't necessarily my own anymore. Maybe it's China's? But I'm too young to stomp my feet about it. All I can do is concentrate on keeping my heart and soul correct and then redecorate around it.
So the life you see in pictures of me (posted by others of course) might not resemble the one you saw when you first picked up the story of my little-big adventure, but I'd be willing to bet your life looks different since then, too. All that matters is that the evolution of being a person stays correct, and I think when you read these next chapters you won't regret a thing.
I definitely won't begin to apologize for all these absences, but I understand. No, seriously, I do. I just think sometimes in the middle of all the parental gossip madness and worry and excitement you just need to hear my voice to let you know that I'm still here. So here I am. Well, sort of. By voice I mean the voice your mind has invented for me as you read this. And maybe from now on I'll give you some more updates so that you don't feel as if I've disappeared and been, as a great man once said, 'replaced with a robotic clone, like in that movie "The Last Starfighter". Though if I had been, I'd want you to know that I'm very happy where I am defending the great planet of Rylos, long may she prosper.'
Asia... It's easily one of the most humbling and beautiful places I have ever been. There's just so much history, even in Tong'hai, the little town a few hours outside of Kunming. And what with language, outward appearance, mannerisms... it's as if I can do nothing not to stand out. And also, I have never in my life felt more like a tourist everywhere I go. My only respite is in the temples. I'll sidetrack here for a moment, because I'd like to note that, although they can be somewhat cumbersome to access, the temples here have provided an extrinsic, alluring solace for me the likes of which I've also never experienced before. Especially when alone, I've found these places of multilateral veneration to be not only humbling in a historical sense, but also somewhat alleviating. There's something to be said for having a place like that, even if it's just to play Mahjong with your fellow elderly friends or just to be in is such a foreign concept to me. Or perhaps it is only foreign now because I am seeing it as if for the first time; with "new lenses" as Robin would say.
In any case. The weekend was marvelous. John, Alexandra, and I cashed-in our Independent Travel tokens to, initially, experience first-hand the mystery and controversy that is the Tibetan border town of Shangri-La. Unfortunately, the relentless rains this past week had led to serious landslides along the bus routes to the area, so our only alternate means of transport was a $69 plane ride, two-thirds of our party unwilling to foot the bill, we were inclined to invent a different 'adventura'.
And so it began. Sam, our Virginian-now-15-year-Chinese-citizen NGO rep, gave us a few ideas of locales in the form of a 30-minute long instructional lecture which consumed much of our lunch break to Alexandra's disdain, though we surely walked away significantly less hopeless about our situation than before. We decided, eventually, on an excursion to the Stone Forest, about 2 hours outside of Kunming, and a recently crowned World-Heritage site. After some debating about the quality of our potential lodging, we settled on a hotel my host mother had Googled for us and departed at around 4PM Friday afternoon.
Unfortunately, we were so unprepared for the mob of privately-owned car companies awaiting us at the bus station that 300 Yuan later we found ourselves in the saran-wrapped backseat of a lovely new sedan all because of the prompting of a stout woman in a pantsuit wearing a red sash. So much for trusting official-looking people. No, no, she didn't necessarily lead us astray, though the proprietors of said car company certainly did, I thought, as we criss-crossed street after street to reach different parking lots and deliberate over the relative crappiness of each potential mode of transport.
The journey didn't seem to take too long, I mostly played video games, Alexandra stared out the window thoughtfully as she iPodded, and John... stared- And also enjoyed the Asian pop-techno thumping from the polished side-door speakers. Before we knew it we were politely yet speedily exhumed onto the busy intersection of an unknown city-town and were told, in charades (the native language of the area) that it would be wise to hail a taxi if they were us. And we did. And it was good. about 40 Yuan and 15 minutes later (ridiculous in our eyes even though it was really only about 6 US dollars) we found ourselves at a wonderful hotel which may or may not have been the hotel my host mother had chosen for us where the Chinese tour guide of a group of Parisian tourists communicated to the desk clerk for us our needs and we finally witnessed a situation where John's French skills were useful. Our room was lovely and exceedingly cheap (once the conversion rate was taken into consideration)and the Stone Forest itself was even lovelier. We wandered about unchaperoned and paying no mind to the beaten trail, a risk we were often rewarded with hidden lagoons and caverns and little places of such stunning beauty and wonder that it was difficult to instigate ourselves to keep moving, but I suppose sheer curiosity urged us on more than anything else.
And, naturally, now that I am back in Kunming, our delightful lunch of fried eels and marinated mushrooms on the return trip, the most probable cause in my mind, has striked-back and I am paying for it dearly. Honestly, you Gods of Unfortunate Bowel Movements, will you never allow me a fortnight without vomiting!?
....
Thanks to ancient Chinese secrets, I am on the straight and incredibly narrow road to recovery. Oh, and also thanks to the Kunming Science and Technology University Hospital's head doctor's assistant who informed me that the most logical diagnosis of my ailment was the result of the mild yet occaisionally rainy climate here in Yunnan province has led to my stomach getting cold because, like all Americans, I don't dress nearly as warm as I should considering the weather is practically the same as it is in my beloved Avila Beach and didn't I know that the cold would make my stomach uncomfortable and, as a result, would cause it to revolt against me? But of course! Why didn't I think of that. Nothing an antihistamine injection in the upper ass region and about 40 tablets of Chinese traditional medicine won't take care of.
Oh China. I love thee so.
Here are some things I thought many of my audience (I'm using that word optimistically considering my prolonged absence) would enjoy being updated on. I'm enjoying off time right now. That means I'm not pushing myself to the limit as much anymore as I concentrate on just enjoying China for what it is: an utterly different, mind-altering experience. If I let it be. Traditionally that would mean that you never see me at all, and my absence makes your hearts grow fonder, and then I appear again with my next arbitrary outburst and we all get grooving again. Things have changed a bit, and the decision, or should I say situation, to slide on and off your radar isn't necessarily my own anymore. Maybe it's China's? But I'm too young to stomp my feet about it. All I can do is concentrate on keeping my heart and soul correct and then redecorate around it.
So the life you see in pictures of me (posted by others of course) might not resemble the one you saw when you first picked up the story of my little-big adventure, but I'd be willing to bet your life looks different since then, too. All that matters is that the evolution of being a person stays correct, and I think when you read these next chapters you won't regret a thing.
I definitely won't begin to apologize for all these absences, but I understand. No, seriously, I do. I just think sometimes in the middle of all the parental gossip madness and worry and excitement you just need to hear my voice to let you know that I'm still here. So here I am. Well, sort of. By voice I mean the voice your mind has invented for me as you read this. And maybe from now on I'll give you some more updates so that you don't feel as if I've disappeared and been, as a great man once said, 'replaced with a robotic clone, like in that movie "The Last Starfighter". Though if I had been, I'd want you to know that I'm very happy where I am defending the great planet of Rylos, long may she prosper.'
Asia... It's easily one of the most humbling and beautiful places I have ever been. There's just so much history, even in Tong'hai, the little town a few hours outside of Kunming. And what with language, outward appearance, mannerisms... it's as if I can do nothing not to stand out. And also, I have never in my life felt more like a tourist everywhere I go. My only respite is in the temples. I'll sidetrack here for a moment, because I'd like to note that, although they can be somewhat cumbersome to access, the temples here have provided an extrinsic, alluring solace for me the likes of which I've also never experienced before. Especially when alone, I've found these places of multilateral veneration to be not only humbling in a historical sense, but also somewhat alleviating. There's something to be said for having a place like that, even if it's just to play Mahjong with your fellow elderly friends or just to be in is such a foreign concept to me. Or perhaps it is only foreign now because I am seeing it as if for the first time; with "new lenses" as Robin would say.
In any case. The weekend was marvelous. John, Alexandra, and I cashed-in our Independent Travel tokens to, initially, experience first-hand the mystery and controversy that is the Tibetan border town of Shangri-La. Unfortunately, the relentless rains this past week had led to serious landslides along the bus routes to the area, so our only alternate means of transport was a $69 plane ride, two-thirds of our party unwilling to foot the bill, we were inclined to invent a different 'adventura'.
And so it began. Sam, our Virginian-now-15-year-Chinese-citizen NGO rep, gave us a few ideas of locales in the form of a 30-minute long instructional lecture which consumed much of our lunch break to Alexandra's disdain, though we surely walked away significantly less hopeless about our situation than before. We decided, eventually, on an excursion to the Stone Forest, about 2 hours outside of Kunming, and a recently crowned World-Heritage site. After some debating about the quality of our potential lodging, we settled on a hotel my host mother had Googled for us and departed at around 4PM Friday afternoon.
Unfortunately, we were so unprepared for the mob of privately-owned car companies awaiting us at the bus station that 300 Yuan later we found ourselves in the saran-wrapped backseat of a lovely new sedan all because of the prompting of a stout woman in a pantsuit wearing a red sash. So much for trusting official-looking people. No, no, she didn't necessarily lead us astray, though the proprietors of said car company certainly did, I thought, as we criss-crossed street after street to reach different parking lots and deliberate over the relative crappiness of each potential mode of transport.
The journey didn't seem to take too long, I mostly played video games, Alexandra stared out the window thoughtfully as she iPodded, and John... stared- And also enjoyed the Asian pop-techno thumping from the polished side-door speakers. Before we knew it we were politely yet speedily exhumed onto the busy intersection of an unknown city-town and were told, in charades (the native language of the area) that it would be wise to hail a taxi if they were us. And we did. And it was good. about 40 Yuan and 15 minutes later (ridiculous in our eyes even though it was really only about 6 US dollars) we found ourselves at a wonderful hotel which may or may not have been the hotel my host mother had chosen for us where the Chinese tour guide of a group of Parisian tourists communicated to the desk clerk for us our needs and we finally witnessed a situation where John's French skills were useful. Our room was lovely and exceedingly cheap (once the conversion rate was taken into consideration)and the Stone Forest itself was even lovelier. We wandered about unchaperoned and paying no mind to the beaten trail, a risk we were often rewarded with hidden lagoons and caverns and little places of such stunning beauty and wonder that it was difficult to instigate ourselves to keep moving, but I suppose sheer curiosity urged us on more than anything else.
And, naturally, now that I am back in Kunming, our delightful lunch of fried eels and marinated mushrooms on the return trip, the most probable cause in my mind, has striked-back and I am paying for it dearly. Honestly, you Gods of Unfortunate Bowel Movements, will you never allow me a fortnight without vomiting!?
....
Thanks to ancient Chinese secrets, I am on the straight and incredibly narrow road to recovery. Oh, and also thanks to the Kunming Science and Technology University Hospital's head doctor's assistant who informed me that the most logical diagnosis of my ailment was the result of the mild yet occaisionally rainy climate here in Yunnan province has led to my stomach getting cold because, like all Americans, I don't dress nearly as warm as I should considering the weather is practically the same as it is in my beloved Avila Beach and didn't I know that the cold would make my stomach uncomfortable and, as a result, would cause it to revolt against me? But of course! Why didn't I think of that. Nothing an antihistamine injection in the upper ass region and about 40 tablets of Chinese traditional medicine won't take care of.
Oh China. I love thee so.
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