| We ate a massive smorgasboard of eggplant; eggs and onions; Muer (ear-shaped mushrooms); corn on the cob; and pork in the center of his apartment on a fold out table. Dr. Fu was the first Chinese person we've met who displayed a fairly deep knowledge of American pop culture. For instance, he told us he's watched Season 1 of the Wire, and knows (and sort of understands) the Colbert Show.
As I mentioned before, this is fairly rare in China, as this country is still fairly closed to Western - and specifically, American - pop culture. That's both because of the culture's inherent Chinese nationalism/centrism, and because of flat-out government censorship of television, newspapers, magazines and the Internet.
After lunch, it was back on the hour-and-a-half bus to Guiyang - a ride marked only by A) a man tossing his infant's bagged shit out the window in front of Mike, as if the window was a garbage can and B) incredibly smooth and consistent driving that made me nervous that we would die.
This latter feature may sound strange - but when a rickety bus traveling 80 mile per hour doesn't even slightly slow down or think about changing lanes at all during a flash blinding rain storm, it's a bit nerve-wracking.
Back in Guiyang, we started our night with a downtown stroll. Here's a movie to give you a sense of what it's like to walk on the street of a small-sized Chinese city:
Having our fill of experiences staying in places with no water and/or chock full of misquitoes, we opted to check back into the Trade Point Hotel in Guiyang. Mid-level American motel quality - hard beds, sand paper sheets, air conditioning and a flush toilet - never felt so good.
 Dinner that night was the long-waited-for Chinese "hot pot" - the restaurant serves you raw ingredients (cabbage, mushrooms, potatoes, etc.) and a kettle of boiling oil, pork and beans. You throw the ingredients you want to eat into the hot pot, wait for it to cook, and then fish it back out and eat it. We gulped this down with formaldehyde-laced beer and shots of Erguotou - a brand of bai jiu, or Chinese hard liquor. Not surprisingly, 6 hours later I was awoken on the stone pillar known as a mattress in mild (but manageable) abdominal agony. It wouldn't be a night in China's poorest province without some stomach pain.
DAY 9 & 10: Pizza Hut and Towel Burn
I spent most of Saturday day between the hotel bed and the hotel bathroom, fairly sick with Old Jewish Man's Syndrome (or, OJMS, for short).
OJMS, whose major features are nerosis, hypochondria, whining and a terrible stomach, is particularly acute when that last feature - the stomach - is under constant assault by ultra-spicy and super-oiled authentic Chinese food.
While lying in my bed, Mike, Emily and Todd (the Peace Corps volunteer we stayed with in Guiyang) headed out to Kaili, a small Hmong and Bouyi enclave three hours east of the city (photo at right).
 They were looking forward to a big market for shopping, but, to their disappointment, found a relatively tiny one. Nontheless, there Emily did get to see her first "Little Emperor."
Because of China's one-child policy, many families (not surprisingly) have only children - and like many only children, these Chinese "onlies" are spoiled and behave like "Little Emperors." That is, they actually order their fawning parents around. The Little Emperor Emily saw first screamed at his mother, then kicked her, then threw a broom and a stool at her.
The Kaili team returned to Guiyang late in the afternoon. That night, Mike attended the farewell party for Todd and Jessica thrown by their Chinese students, and Emily and I first took a stroll through downtown. Here's a video clip giving you a sense of the bustle:
Then we hit the hottest spot in town (not kidding) for date night: Pizza Hut.
In Guiyang, as mentioned, there are almost no Western visitors and very little Western culture - save for a KFC and a Pizza Hut. The latter is considered a very big deal, because of its Americanness and its regionally rare cuisine like cheese.  It is a spot people go to for special occasions, like big dates and being a Saturday night, we waited 25 minutes for a table (photo at right of Emily waiting patiently in the crowded restaurant). The thin-crust pizza tasted like Matzah pizza, but we both savored it after countless Chinese meals.
Sunday (day 10), our last day in Guiyang, we woke up late, ate Ghizou food with Todd and Jessica in what looked like an abandoned subway station, and then went for anmo (massages). I don't say the following lightly: This was the most invasive massage - in fact, the most invasive non-medical event - I've ever experienced.
Following a naked dip in a burning hot pool, I took Mike's recommendation and opted for the Chinese rub-down. This entailed lying on a table completely naked while a huge man used excruciating force (he was actually sweating) to rub my entire body (and I mean, my ENTIRE body, excepting only for my actual frank and beans) first with a steaming towel, then with grainy salt, then with lemon juice. At various points, I almost jumped off the table - as just a two examples, when my back began burning and when he actually scrubbed my undercarriage (I'll let your imagination figure that one out).
After the rub down, the massage staff hustled me into a steam room for 20 minutes, then put me in a robe and sent me upstairs, where Emily, Mike and Jessica were already having their traditional massages. In this sprawling communal massage room, all the customers are lying on reclining chairs basically getting the shit kicked out of them by young masseuses - young women for men, young men for the women. The massages involve arms being pulled back, butts being massaged and pounded, knees being twisted over to stretch one's ass, etc. Mike was twice asked if he wanted to go up to the third floor for a "rest" - apparently, code for a happy ending in the facility's brothel. He declined.
Fresh from being basted and battered, we said goodbye to Jessica and took a cab to the airport. The flight was 3 hours up to Guiyang with no problems, and the cab from the Beijing airport to our hotel south of Tiananmen Square was quick. We took a short walk of the hutong and then went to bed.
Our hotel here is as nice as the Trade Point in Guiyang - as I said, American motel quality. Exhausted and ready to tackle Beijing in the morning, my last memory from the night was Emily pointing out that my spine now has an oblong purple mark on it - a towel burn from the rub down. As I've learned, nothing in China comes without some discomfort - food, accomodations, and massages.
No pain, no gain, I guess. |
STATE BLOGS
DAY 8: Guiyang Never Looked So Good
