Beijing

After a week in which I somehow succeeded in having a luxurious bubblebath in someone's flat at 11 PM followed by a triumphant opening of Costa Coffee at 1 in the morning for a much-coveted muffin (it closes at 12 but I was on a mission), it was time for a trip to Beijing. Before this experience, however, I would like to point out the rather stressful experience of walking around at night in Shanghai, where there are many beggars who are very, very aggressive. They regularly come in groups from different sides, then waggle their cups in your face or knock them against you. They shout "Hallo, nihao!" in a very urgent and threatening manner and are superbly persistant. I once witnessed a man actually opening the door of a stationary taxi and getting in as the other man was paying to try and get money off him.
BEIJING
I fear that my string of unfortunate experiences in Beijing may leave me biased and blind to what I am sure are some wonderful aspects of it. However, I did not enjoy it. It was vast, cold and grey. Dad actually referred to it as "the cesspit of humanity", which although a little harsh is not altogether unbelievable in certain parts of it. The metro is a thing of beauty, as it is but 2 RMB to go wherever you want, an infinite amount of transfers included. That's just under 25 cents.
As I have been for much of this gap year so far, I was your perfect cliche tourist. On the first day I visited the Temple of Heaven and ate Pekin Duck (yum), then proceeded to go on a tour of the Great Wall the next day. This was a day of massive awkwardness, as it was just me and a very obese Texan named Scott, who was nice but very awkward and clearly very uncomfortable. This was made worse by the several occasions in which the tour guide left us on our own, facing each other, eating a meal. The tour guide himself was a man of stupendous campness, who skipped instead of walking and always had his hand bent. He would say "and" every few seconds even when completely irrelevant. After being taken to the Ming Tombs and a jade factory, we went to Badaling, a section of the wall that he had promised not to take us to. Here he left us on our own again and I was left to feel very loved for the next hour or so, as many of the Chinese tourists on the Wall had never seen someone with my hair colour or height before. I therefore was constantly taking pictures with people and felt a little bit like Jackie Chan (Rory McChan / M.C. Jack?).
We then went to a place named Dr Tea, where the 2 of us were, again, dumped and left, face to face, to taste tea. After a half hour presentation and tasting of fantastic teas, the shop expected us to buy tea. After refusing, we got to the van and ran into a hissyfit from the tour guide. He clearly had a deal with all these places which was that we would buy things from them, and us not buying anything had embarrassed him, so he cancelled the final step, the silk market, and left us in the street to find our own way home.
I also visited the Forbidden City, which was vast. It was also pretty un-forbidden as it's a massive tourist spot (just saying). I then had the intention of visiting Tian'anmen Square, but the Square being so huge and me being a bit dim, I couldn't find it on the public map (it was actually right across the street). Upon looking at this map, I was greeted by a 20-year old student from Xi'an University who was visiting and whose parents were not with her because it was raining(it WAS raining!). My immediate alertness to some sort of scam eventually faded after walking around with her for a good hour and a half or so. She explained that she was studying music in Xi'an. Except she wasn't. In the following half hour, I fell victim to the Beijing Tea House Scam, a popular trap in that treacherous town. She wanted to have a "drink" so we went to a tea house. The menu did offer fairly expensive tea, so I chose to have a bowl of rice, which, it should be said, is always fabulously cheap in China. The lady at the tea house brought in a small bowl of orange slices and a bowl of disgusting, crackly and salty cereal things. She insisted several times, due to my suspicions, that they were free snacks. When she brought the bill I was charged: 100 for the girl's teas, 12 for my rice(1.5euro which is actually more than usual), 100 for the room we were sitting in, 100 for the pathetic bowl of oranges and 100 for the bowl of disgusting crackly things! I refused to pay for the crackly things but still had to pay 312 RMB, with my credit card as I didn't have enough cash. I therefore was cheated out of just under 40 euros and they had my card number. I went back to the hotel as quickly as possible (1 hour on the subway) and blocked all further operations in China with my card thanks to the brilliance and speed of Mum. I would have simply texted her but, in a nightmare situation, my phone's battery died just as I was writing her a message.

The Hangzhou Hassle

We had already lost a whole day of rekkying due to Dad's cancelled flight so arrived meaning business. Things went instantly wrong, as we were introduced to a whole new world of bad taxi driving. Our driver did not know where the hotel was and did not want to end his current phone conversation so started driving with both phones engaged. He was a charming man who did not understand the idea of distance, and consequently was bellowing replies very loudly as I calmly tried to talk to him. We reached our hotel at 7 PM, a reasonable time, only to find that our room had been given away because they thought we were coming at 1. No email, no call, nothing whatsoever to find out what was going on, they just handed it on to someone else. We were not happy and a heated argument ensued for the next half an hour until they booked us another hotel for the night. After a lot of anger and shouting/threatening/red-facedness we were sent to the Milan Hotel.
The Milan Hotel was a perfect example of a honeymoon gone wrong. Don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed my stay in it and grew rather fond of it, but it is without question one of the most ridiculous hotels in existence. Everything was soft, red-black-purple, velvety and generally lovey-dovey. The furniture was like that of a sadistic king's wife's and the walls were... Furry. Yes, furry. We felt it was only appropriate to name it, so in the future we referred to it with a variety of names: the Love Shack, the Porn House and Hangzhou Hugh's Happy House. The next day we spent 5 hours walking straight up trailless hills in order to create a hash trail. Getting to the place was surprisingly difficult considering that the city is built around a river and that the taxi could not find the river. We knew something was wrong when he drove around aimlessly for a while, then finally stopped by a completely random building, not by the river, and said "Dao le". We have arrived.
Upon return to Hongqiao Train Station that night, Dad and I tapped into our Chinese side a little when getting into the metro. It is custom in Shanghai to throw yourself, with great urgency and violence, into an empty carriage in the hope of getting a seat. We therefore barged through a few people while waiting, all the while elbowing the odd person, and launched ourselves in, arms flying, feet stomping and teeth bared. A man was trying to reserve seats on either side of himself but after knocking his friend to the side I sat on his hand and Dad sat on the either side, effectively sandwiching him between two big individuals with backpacks. 'Twas a glorious victory.
That same afternoon, I was highly amused by a phone call that Dad received from a very pushy salesman who hadn't been leaving him alone for the past few weeks. When Dad started getting annoyed, the man's response was "Take it easy, dude!"

Various experiences

One of the many ripoffs I was on the receiving end of was at a Chinese restaurant that I went to regularly to have 3-4 dishes, including their heavenly beef dumplings. A man came and refused to bring my food until I paid an extra 20 RMB. I didn't understand why and refused, actually speaking Chinese to him (very basic but Chinese nonetheless) and he was speaking ridiculously fast in Shanghainese, a truly horrible-sounding dialect. Every time I asked him to speak slower he just got angrier and spoke faster (this is a regular thing in China I think, my slowness seemed to frustrate many people). Eventually I repented, and he proceeded to laugh at me for the entirety of my (huge) meal because of my uselessness with chopsticks.
When I casually pointed out to my Chinese teacher that I thought the locals were a little rude, she immediately decided that I had a low opinion of all Chinese and that I was a racist (this is not so, I just got very frustrated with locals and Shanghai is a particularly rude place). My Chinese at the time was starting to really improve because my conversations with taxi drivers were getting longer and deeper. One of them even decided that we were good enough friends for him to stop the taxi to go and have a pee, which to be honest I took as a compliment.
We got ourselves committed to haring a hash run in a city called Hangzhou, so had to go there for reconnaissance. Things started off great when Dad's flight back to Shanghai from a place called Chengdu was cancelled, causing us to wait until the next evening to go down. This next episode is known as the Hangzhou Hassle.

THE OLD WITCHES OF SHANGHAI

The old ladies of Shanghai are without a doubt the most vile, aggressive, corrupt, heartless, beady-eyed, crafty, greedy, selfish malefactors that I have ever imagined could exist. OK that's a little bit harsh, but they are pretty nasty. Surprisingly tough and vicious, they are the ones who elbow you in the subway, who will sneak in front of you in the line and who will push the entire throng of people inside back to allow space for one more. They are the ones who literally won't allow you to stand up if you're sitting, because they sit on you as they realise that you're getting up, so as to create an airtight transition and reserve the spot. I once got really angry when this happened and just sat back down and waited (I didn't win though because she still got the seat after I left). They are cold. A few years ago, an old lady got hit by a bicycle or something and fell over, suffering minor damage. A man made the effort to take her all the way to the hospital when he saw her on the ground, and when they got there she accused the man of knocking her over! She won, too. Anything for compensation, and you actually have to be careful because they will take advantage of any situation where they can do such a thing (such as falling over in front of you in the street).

Oh the times, they are a raining

There was one period where it rained surprisingly often, and being a tit I was unprepared for such inclement weather, so I had to make do with a very small, broken pink umbrella (very much like Hagrid's in Harry Potter) which contributed to my already considerable ability to stick out like a sore thumb. In this period I did my first ever spinning class, which was one of the greatest things I have ever done. I couldn't find my shorts so had to go in tracksuit bottoms and soon discovered that I would have been better off if I'd gone in underwear, as I was sweating profusely within minutes. It was 45 minutes of serious intensity, and to my amazement the scarily fit-looking woman in charge didn't appear to even break a sweat until about 20-25 minutes. Meanwhile, I was dripping sweat onto the bike and floor whilst trying to roll up my steaming trousers. I actually got a kick out of a Lady Gaga song in the middle of it... That's how great it was.
In this period I also went to a Halloween party (as it was Halloween) where the dress code was "scary" and where everyone, surprisingly enough, went as "scary". I, however, had other plans. Due to the fact that I firstly don't like restricting the enormous and wonderful range of possible costumes to scary things and also because I didn't have any costume (I am on a gap year after all), I chose to work with what I had. I ended up going wearing my Sri Lankan shirt and serong, with an odd yellow snow-hat and two entire packets of tea which I had turned into necklaces. I was a (not so) scary Sri Lankan tea vendor. I was also wearing flip flops because it was raining, and when I walked into the wrong building (a really nice hotel) wearing a skirt, an odd hat, flip flops, teabags and carrying beer, I hate to think what was going through the staff's mind. I also had a few salsa-dancing sessions with some lovely East European ladies during this time.
A particularly amusing event that I witnessed was a fight between a French man and a taxi driver. Like all vehicles, taxi drivers in Shanghai have the irritating tendency of driving straight across even when there's a green pedestrian light. One did so on a day when said Frenchman was undoubtedly in a terrible mood, so the Frenchman banged on the car, opened the driver's door and started shouting at him in French. In the middle of one the busiest roads in Shanghai, South Shaanxi Road. The taxi driver went berserk, grabbed him, started making noises of exclamation (such as "eh!oh!") and while also trying to trip the Frenchman, now in the other lane of South Shaanxi Road, started calling the police. At this point, as it was now my green light, in true Chinese fashion I left the Frenchman to fight an unwinnable battle. Foreigners never win in arguments, and usually Chinese manage to squeeze a healthy compensation fine out of them. Old ladies are the worst, but they deserve their own paragraph so we will get to that next.

Fraternising with the locals

The gym I went to was loaded with A) old men B) women on treadmills who look like they could kill me C) enormously muscular yet very short Chinese men who walk around looking very silly with their chests puffed out, and who make the most incredible groans/shouts/wails as they complete their exercises. I never failed to be alarmed when, upon walking into the changing rooms, there were always 3 or 4 naked Chinese men having a chat, stretching or looking in the mirror, and by doing so were burdening me with multiple angles from which I could have the misfortune of seeing. My 7-week membership cost an outrageous amount and seemed overly high to me. Therefore, before starting my Chinese classes I spent a good 30 minutes trying to negotiate with the English-less staff, using pen, paper, a calculator and emotive gestures. Despite my best efforts, this plan failed. I got some satisfaction, however, from putting my thumbs up and doing a silly grin when they tried to photograph me for my gym ID card.
 I would get the occasional "Hello!" or wave in the street from bemused passers-by, but what entertained me more was a certain occurence that happened very often in our little, very Chinese block. I would be walking somewhere and come face to face with an elderly person, and their eyes would always suddenly go very wide with surprise. I was paranoid for my first few days there because I hadn't registered on time and had fears of expulsion, forced labour or worse, but they didn't really care in the end.
The metro is home to a flabbergasting mass of humanity, the likes of which my South of France-accustomed eyes had never seen. When changing stations, it really is an exodus and, as I will later describe, it ended up turning me into a monster.

(beware) The Chinese

Until I got used to it, I was appalled by the belligerence and self-centredness I came across every day. Obviously it's a cultural thing, I probably appear obsequious to Shanghainese. But it truly is a test of self-control to spend 10 minutes in a public place without hitting anyone. There is a complete absence of solidarity. Near a city called Foshan, on October 18th a 2-year old girl was hit by a car. The car stopped for a second, then ran over her legs; a few minutes later, another came and also ran her over. After CCTV cameras counted 18 people walking past, finally a sanitation man picked the little girl up and placed her by the side of the street.
In the subway, the people throw themselves into the carriage when it's clearly already too full, and just shove frantically in general. It's amusing because there is an animal-like frenzy followed by complete calm once on either the train or the electric steps. I was once waiting, about the 15th or so back in a queue(a rarity) when the doors of the already completely full subway began signalling their closing. A tiny woman with two huge bags at the front of the queue thus stopped in front of the doors and was going to wait for the next one, when a burly man sprinted past, knocked the tiny woman over and launched himself inside the train, which did not appear to be capable of fitting anyone else in just before the doors closed.
Eating in Shanghai was something that became easier and easier as my Chinese came along. I began to build up a small but potent network of Chinese restaurants in which I had continuously stood defiantly until given food or a table, and who eventually began to accept me (and even grow fond of me). I consequently progressed from having to eat at Costa Coffee (a divine place in fairness) or Subway for 60-70 RMB to eating for 9-40 RMB (depending on my usually ravenous appetite).

The Arrival to China

As I reached Hong Kong airport, I immediately bought a bowl of leek dumplings, ordering in the expert manner of someone who has been to China before and wants to let everyone see that he knows what he's doing. They were absolutely disgusting and tasted of what I would expect petrol to taste like. Having being to PRC before, I was wholly unsurprised when people started barging and frothing at the mouth to get into the departure gate. Naturally, when seats 55-70 were called, all the old ladies who did not have seats in this part of the plane all ran forward frantically, attempting to get through. This annoyed me as I was seat number 66.
Upon arrival, I was met by a Chinese man, "Mr Button" (the most dodgy man in history), who also happened to be picking someone else up. This someone else was clearly in a hurry and not amused by the fact that I had made her wait half an hour. I dealt with this by choosing to talk about my own life when she gave monosyllabic answers to my enthusiastic questions. Mr Button was on fire and making many jokes, each one accompanied by a screech of laughter and a "Funny!!" to emphasize his hilarity. It was like something out of The Hangover... In fairness he was pretty funny.
My re-initiation into Shanghai began with getting completely lost the first 5 or so times I tried to find the subway station... It's because the buildings are so tall that you get completely disorientated. It also led to me registering at the police station 3 days late.

The final verdict

After a second consecutive night of seeking anti pirates in local bars with Geoffrey (I was wearing a serong, which was a grave mistake), it was time for me to depart. I managed to get into the back corner of the bus, which was bigger this time, and stored my huge bag behind me. All was perfect, I was well settled in and would avoid the usual chaos. What a great trip this was going to be. Predictably, I was completely and utterly wrong. The cramps kicked in after about an hour and I really could not move my legs, creating an agonising situation for 2 hours. The bus driver was wasting no time and was overtaking other trucks and buses on a road that only had one lane on each side. This made it a rather stressful experience as we could have rammed into an oncoming vehicle at any moment. The reason for this insane driving is that the buses are privately owned, so are rushing to get to the next stop first and take as many people as possible.
The transition seemed amazingly fast, and I managed to find a spacious bus to the airport that was leaving in 5 minutes. But it wasn't actually leaving in 5 minutes. For the next 45 minutes, the bus wandered around town trying to find more passengers. There was some odd noise that made this pick-up period particularly unbearable. It sounded like a recording on a phone of someone saying "Aleapreapreapreapo" in an extremely irritating voice. After 15 minutes of this, I couldn't understand why whoever's recording it was found it that funny that they had to play it so much. Then it started mixing up as if a DJ was controlling it: "aleaprea a leaprepreaprea aleapreapo" amd so on with many variations. I therefore assumed it was a broken record player because it was in the exact same voice every time. At last I realised it was the conductor, trying to entice people onto the bus. This malicious reprobate continued to do so all the way until the airport, occasionally stopping by the side of the road again to practice his DJ announcement skills.
I arrived at the airport at 9:00 for a 2:10 flight, so as anyone would do in this situation I decided to eat alarmingly bad airport food and play a basketball game on my computer (Because I'm that cool). I boarded the plane with the intention of sleeping as I had transfers in Bangkok and Hong Kong, yet failed to do so because I deemed it more important to watch a cartoon parody of Star Wars on the TV.
All in all, I had a wonderful time in Sri Lanka. I met some fantastic people and had some fairly unique experiences, all whilst eating irresponsible portions of fairly dodgy (yet delicious) food from the local shops. The people at the hotel were exceptionally nice, notably Henri, Roshan and Nishanta, and the country itself (or at least what I saw of it) was beautiful. I have never seen such an incredible-looking ocean. Big thank you to Geoffrey for making it possible.