I have moved.

Not into the freshly renovated Chateau Stevo – that’s not ready yet. (I’m beginning to think it will never be ready). Our stuff is temporarily in storage – by stuff I mean Mrs. Stevo’s shoes and assorted non-essential photography equipment. I am camping on a friend’s sofa (he’s in Europe) and Mrs. Stevo, luckily, given her condition, is living with a friend who is a doctor.

This is only temporary (fingers crossed). The new flat needs to be painted and the ash floor refinished. On the plus side, the bathrooms are finished and lovely orange kitchen cupboards have been installed. I won’t speak of the dreadful tile job that was done by incompetent contractors. I should be documenting this on the DIY blog I set up, but there’s only so much blogging one man can do.

Moving is never easy. It’s not natural to pack your entire life into boxes. This was my third move in under 12 months – that’s about four moves too many. It’s easy for newbies teaching English in China to pick up stakes – the same cannot be said for veterans now working as corporate types. After five years you accumulate stuff. I tossed much of it, but there’s still boxes and boxes.

We couldn’t move the boxes ourselves – Mrs. Stevo can’t lift anything and I am vying for laziest man in Shenzhen title: Enter the movers. Mrs. Stevo said she had found some guys with a truck – they would arrive Saturday morning. Boxes packed, the first mover arrived 15 minutes late – which in China is early. He looked around, said he couldn’t contact his partner, and left. Fifteen minutes later his partner arrived, looked around, and left.

By 10 am we called someone else. They had two trucks and would come immediately.

The “trucks” it turns out, were motorized trikes (much like the one above). The new movers loaded our boxes onto two trikes with speedy gusto. The two piles I had made – boxes for storage and boxes for my temporary apartment – were efficiently mixed together into one homogeneous pile of plastic and cardboard. I should know better than to try to be organized.

Then the first mover returned and tried to take over. They had been looking for bigger trucks, he explained. His cell phone was broken. They now had a bigger vehicle, they would take over. If the current movers could load the boxes onto his trike…

Nay, I say. Thanks for coming out.

A security guard wandered over as we prepared for the monumental 150 meter trek to our stuff’s new home. I’ve said before you can’t swing a dead cat in China without hitting a security guard. They are everywhere, like Amway distributors.

We couldn’t move, we were told. We didn’t have a moving permit. A permit wasn’t needed to move in, but to move my possessions 150 meters, from one apartment to another, an officially stamped permit was required.

“This is my stuff,” I protested.

“Get a permit,” I was told.

At the same moment the incompetent tilers called. Mrs. Stevo waddled to the new flat and I jogged to the estate administration office, passport in hand. The clerk looked at my passport, couldn’t read it, and took the ID card of a friend and put his personal data on the all-important moving authorization permit. It didn’t matter that the rental contract was in my name – any Chinese name would apparently deal with the red tape.

The security guard added the official permit to his clipboard and we were allowed to depart. Fifteen minutes later it was over. The movers were given my almost broken desk and a somewhat broken sofa bed, a bonus above the $13 US they had been paid.

As dusk settled I sat in my old apartment and drank a six pack. Beer is a peaceful balm to the mental abrasions China can cause.

In three weeks I get to do it all again. Actually, the way things are going that could be 5 months. Ain’t that grand?

Asians around the world are preparing to celebrate Mid-Autumn Festival aka the Moon Festival. September 14 will be the date for the 2008 festivities. The festival is popular in China, Vietnam, Korea, and other east-Asia nations.

I’ve talked about other Chinese holidays (Seven-Seven and the Dragon Boat Festival). The Mid-Autumn Festival originates from a folktale about a rabbit, an archer and his beautiful wife, immortality, and celestial bodies.

This is no simple holiday, like Christmas. There’s no man in a red suit giving you presents. It’s complicated stuff; you need Cliff’s Notes to keep the characters straight. Luckily, dear reader, you have an intrepid journalist deep in the heart of (south) China, willing to go to any length to get the skinny on this fête.

…there was an immortal named Houyi, part of the court of the Jade Emperor, the King of Heaven. Before they wed, Houyi’s lovely wife Chang’e, had been an attendant to the Queen Mother of the West (the Emperor’s wife).

Houyi the archer and Chang'e the lady on the moon.

The immortals, probably because they had little else to do (and bowling had yet to be invented) liked to squabble. Houyi somehow aroused the other immortals’ jealousy. Being petty, they slandered Houyi before the Jade Emperor. He and Chang’e were banished from heaven. The couple lived upon the earth and hunted to survive. Houyi became a famous archer.

In the days of yor, 10 suns circled the earth, a different one each day. Then: Catastrophe. All 10 suns appeared in the sky the same day. The earth was a mess. Crops were scorched, people received nasty burns (SPF ratings, like bowling, had not been invented yet) and without the invention of electricity there wasn’t a cold Coke in sight.

China’s Emperor Yao commanded Houyi to shoot down nine of the 10 suns, lest The Middle Kingdom be destroyed. Houyi, skilled bow-and-arrow dude that he was, complied and shot the fiery balls of gas from the heavens. The Emperor was pleased and gave Houyi a pill that granted eternal life, but warned the archer to fast and reflect for one year before taking it.

At home, Houyi hid the pill in the rafters and started to prepare himself as instructed. Enter Chang’e. She noticed a beam of light from the rafters and discovered the pill. Houyi returned and she swallowed the pill to mask her discovery. He wasn’t pleased, and berated her for her transgression. The pill had given her the power to fly, and that she did, into the sky. Her husband chased her until a strong wind forced him to return to earth.

Chang’e ended up on the moon. her flying powers spent. She coughed and half the pill fell from her mouth. She lived with the Jade Rabbit, that according to Chinese mythology, resides on the moon.  The rabbit, an apothecary to the immortals, was put to work trying to replicate the second half of the pill so she could return to earth.

The Jade Rabbit, resident of the moon.

Aside: There are many explanations for the rabbit on the moon. Some versions say Chang’e took the rabbit with her, another says the rabbit was already in residence, having been given a place in the moon palace after sacrificing himself for three hungry sages.

Somehow, Houyi built himself a palace on the sun. Once a year, on the 15th day of the 8th lunar month – Mid-Autumn Festival – he visits his wife, thus explaining the moon’s brightness on this day. Houyi was the yang (male symbol) and Chang’e, the ying (female symbol).

Trying to decipher this tale is difficult. In one version Houyi is a tyrant that saves the world from the suns and then takes the throne. He has his court wizards prepare a elixir of immortality so he can be king forever. Chang’e doesn’t like her husband’s despotic rule and steals the elixir so he can’t lord over his subjects for eternity. Another tale is similar to the story of Pandora’s Box.

Mid-Autumn festival is the second most important Chinese Holiday (Spring Festival, or Chinese New Year being the first). It’s a time for family reunions and a celebration of the harvest.

The food of the festival is the Moon Cake: Lotus seed paste wrapped in a thin pastry. Egg yolks or salted eggs are often the center of the cakes. It is a heavy delicacy, often eaten in small portions with tea.

From Wikipedia:
Traditional mooncakes have an imprint on top consisting of the Chinese characters for “longevity” or “harmony” as well as the name of the bakery and filling in the moon cake. Imprints of a moon, a woman on the moon, flowers, vines, or a rabbit may surround the characters for additional decoration.

Mooncakes are expensive and considered a delicacy, and production is labor-intensive and few people make them at home. Most mooncakes are bought at Asian markets and bakeries. The price of mooncakes range from $10 to $50 (in US money).

The holiday can be traced back to 1060 BCE, to the Chinese Xia and Shang Dynasties. It was during the Tang Dynasty (5th to 8th centuries) that it became very popular. With the recent change in national holidays, Mid-Autumn festival is now a day off. Previously it was celebrated but not granted “day off” status.

What do people for Mid-Autumn festival? Simple: Go to a restaurant or someone’s home. Eat a big meal, drink, and consume moon cakes. A less-than-reliable website has a different idea, it lists the following as the activities engaged in:

A mooncake - the food of Mid-Autumn Festival.

• Eating moon cakes outside under the moon
• Putting pomelo rinds on one’s head
• Carrying brightly lit lanterns
• Burning incense in reverence to deities including Chang’e
• Planting Mid-Autumn trees
• Lighting lanterns on towers
• Fire Dragon Dances

I should be Wiki’s man on the ground. That list is not entirely correct.

Happy Mid-Autumn Festival. I’ll be thinking of you while eating moon cakes.

I had the chance to stay in a 5-Star Hotel last week. There’s nothing like being in the lap of luxury. As I was watching CNN (a rarity in China) I jotted down the following list of difference between staying in 5-Star hotels and hostels.

1. Taxi drivers often know how to get to 5-Star Hotels.
2. Your luggage and belongings are more secure in five star hotels than they are in the battered locker of a hostel.
3. You don’t have to pay a deposit for towels in a 5-Star Hotel.
4. At 5-Star Hotels you don’t have to share your room with 3, 5, 7 or 11 strangers.
5. In a 5-Star Hotel you, more often than not, are the only person having sex in your room.
6. You don’t have to worry about being awakened between 3 am and 8 am by drunken roommates at a 5-Star Hotel.
7. A night in a 5-Star Hotel doesn’t include wearing earplugs.
8. The free breakfast at a 5-Star Hotel is more than cold cereal and instant coffee.
9. The bathrooms at a 5-Star Hotel are often larger than hostel rooms in Hong Kong.
10. The staff at a 5-Star Hotel are professional, deferential, and helpful; not travelers working odd shifts to pay for their own rooms.
11. The attire of other guests at a 5-Star hotel doesn’t usually include Che Guevara T-Shirts. Also, dreadlocks are rarely seen in the hotel’s rooms or halls.
12. Most 5-Star Hotels do not offer easy ways to prepare Ramen Noodles.
13. The showers in a 5-Star Hotel can be used without fear or flip-flops.
14. A bell boy will help carry your bags at a 5-Star Hotel, not vaguely point down a hallway.
15. The guests at a 5-Star Hotel are often cold and care little about you or your journeys. They usually won’t offer advice or information on the city you are visiting.
16. The atmosphere in the bars of 5-Star Hotels are akin to a slow elevator ride with Celine Dion and alcohol. The same cannot be said for hostels.
17. Outside the gift shop, there are rarely books and magazines at a 5-Star Hotel to help you spend a quiet (and free) afternoon.
18. The guests at a 5-Star Hotel will know little about a city’s bus system or how to effectively use it.
19. There is neither a comfy common area or DVD room in a 5-Star Hotel.
20. You’re hard pressed to find a washing machine in a 5-Star Hotel.
21. There isn’t a bulletin board full of useful information at a 5-Star Hotel.
22. Total strangers you meet at a 5-Star Hotel won’t become life-long friends.
23. Five star hotels feel like your grandmother’s parlor, Hostel’s feel like your best friends house.

Veteran travelers: Feel free to chime in with your own observations.

Creative Common photo credit: thisisbossi

On the many corridors under the Hong Kong Museum of Coastal Defense, formerly the Lei Yue Fort. The British built the fort in the late 19th century to protect the eastern approach, the Lei Yue Mun Pass to Victoria Harbour, from the French and Russian navies. (Ironically, the fortification look incredibly similar the Chinese Shajiao Fort in Humen China – that the British stormed during the first Opium War.)

The centerpiece of the fort is the redoubt that was dug deep into a hillside. The corridors and storerooms, containing ammunition and gunpowder, were covered with earth, making the fort hard to spot. A trench around the area, with stone caponiers, protected the fort if invaders found their way to land.

The fort was never used in the way it was intended. A shot was never fired at Russian or French ships. During the Battle of Hong Kong, Lei Yue Fort was used by British forces in an attempt to unsuccessfully repel the Japanese assault of Hong Kong Island. Evidence of the fighting is still visible.

After the Battle of Hong Kong and the Second World War the British used the fort as a training ground until it was vacated in 1987. Hong Kong government agencies decided to give Lei Yue Fort a second lease on life and created the Hong Kong Museum of Coastal Defence in 1993.

A permanent exhibit covering 600 years of military defence in the Pearl River Delta is on display in the underground rooms that once held thousand of artillery shells and tonnes of gunpowder. A historic trail leads visitors through the batteries, a ruined settlement (destroyed during the Battle of Hong Kong), and the Brennan Torpedo station carved into the rock at the base of the fort.

The Hong Kong Museum of Coastal Defense is a short walk from the Island Line’s Shau Kei Wan MTR station.

The statue at the Nanjing Massacre Memorial

By: Graham Woodring

Come the day of departure, my alarm didn’t so much wake me up at 5 AM as let me know that it was time to stop lying around.  As I stumbled out into the kitchen to put the kettle on, I noticed an odd sound.  Not paying it much heed, I nearly fell in to the shower and washed myself awake.  After pulling on my clothes and being slightly more awake, I couldn’t help but wonder what the heck was that incessant noise?

When I returned to the kitchen to retrieve my tea, I got my answer: there was a near-torrential downpour.  Well, that’s certainly annoying, especially since I don’t own nor want to use an umbrella.  Needless to say, in the 10 minutes it took us to walk to a taxi I got completely drenched.  That’s the price I pay for refusing to carry an umbrella.  We hopped in the cab and it sped us off to the airport.  We had no further weather-related issues and arrived just a short plane ride later in beautiful, sunny, warm Nanjing.

Have you ever tried navigating a bus route when there is no map and the stop announcements are all in a foreign language?  It’s hard.  Really hard.  On the bus ride from the airport we ended up completely missing our stop and were deposited on the exact opposite end of the city from where we wanted to be.  Andrew left us at this point to catch a cab to meet with his friend, whom he was staying with for the weekend, and we found our own cab to take us to our hostel.

Well wouldn’t you know it?  It seems that petty crime can happen to anyone anywhere.  We dropped our stuff off at the hostel and took a quick 30-minute stroll around the area to get our bearings, after which we retired to have some lunch.  By the time we were done eating I realized that my camera had been stolen.  In the first friggin’ 30 minutes of being in this new city and I already had my camera lifted.  What a pain in the ass.  Fortunately it will be covered; thank you renter’s insurance.

The first day we didn’t do much exploring.  I had to get a police report for my stolen camera and then we stuck around the Fuzi Miao area.  The place seems to be the main tourist place in Nanjing.  There are many, many restaurants and shops and hawkers.  Also, you can find a Confucius temple and a massive golden tree, which I thought was pretty cool.  On the flip side, you can also find what I think is possibly the most annoying and/or inane thing in China.  The clappers.  Lord, the clappers.  I have nightmares about these people.  Sorry, but I couldn’t bring myself to take a picture of them.  It’s just too stupid.  These people are shop employees and their only job is to stand on the street and clap.  That’s it.  They don’t yell or try to rope people into the store or anything.  They just clap.  That’s all they ever do.  Just clap, clap, clap!  My hatred for this job could only be matched by how I imagine these people feel about their dead-end job and dead-end lives.  It gets my blood pumping just thinking about them.  The hate, it’s overwhelming sometimes.

Purple Mountain, near Nanjing China

We spent one day hiking to the top of Purple Mountain.  Now, this mountain is home to both Ming dynasty tombs and Sun Yat-Sen’s mausoleum.  There is some serious sightseeing potential there.  But much to my chagrin, we did neither.  My asthma was seriously acting up that day, so by the time we finally climbed to the top, I thought my head was going to explode or I would pass out.  Fortunately, neither happened.  On the way down we took the chair lift, which I think provided better views than the top of the mountain did.  By the time we were at the bottom I was so exhausted and worn down from my respiratory issues that I didn’t have the energy to protest not going to see the tombs or the mausoleum.  I really regret that, as I am told it is one of the big things to see in Nanjing.  Who knows when I’ll come back?  The dusty trail won’t get any shorter if I am revisiting places.

Zhonghua Gate, Nanjing China

I snuck off on my own at one point to check out the Zhonghua gate.  It was actually a lot more impressive than I imagined.  There are three courtyards; each said to be able to hold 1000 men and walls are all quite high.  You don’t always have high expectations when going to see a wall or a gate (unless it’s the Great Wall, of course) so I was pleasantly surprised.  And best of all, I filled my quota for having my picture taken with some Chinese.  I think Chengdu is the only city I’ve been to that I haven’t had my picture taken.  I guess I’ll have to go back there someday and correct that.

The Nanjing Massacre Memorial was the major thing I had come to the former capital to see.  Having read The Rape of Nanking by Iris Chang, I knew much of the story already but I was not prepared for what I was presented with.  The amount of information is staggering and the level of professionalism and respect is unparalleled in China.  Given some of the other places I have been to in China, I was not expecting it to be so well done.  But in fact it was incredible.  The entire timeline of the event is given in encyclopedic detail, starting from the turn of the 20th century all the way up to present times.  The mountain of information reinforces the magnitude of the Japanese occupation of Nanjing and the atrocities they enacted on the population.  It is a moving experience, to say the least.

The Massacre Memorial is the must see site of Nanjing.  Like many similar events that have occurred in the bloody history of our world, we must try to learn from our mistakes through reflection and examination.  Unfortunately, even today there are still places in the world that harbor the hatred and frustration that breeds these evil acts.  Hopefully someday, with memorials like this one, we can come closer to comprehending the horrible toll these acts take on the victims.  History and culture destroyed, lives lost, families scattered to the wind, women subjugated and raped.  I fear that the cycle of death and destruction will never truly end, but I believe that this memorial is a huge step towards brining awareness to such issues and helping us understand the motivations that lead entire armies to truly demonic acts.

A perfect example of the post-industrial Chinese school of architecture can be found at the Martyr’s Memorial.  Everything is huge and made of concrete.  To me it really epitomizes the Chinese desire for everything to be ostentatious and grandiose exemplified in the past 30 years or so.  The sprawling campus is home to many different things, from huge monuments and statues, to a small amusement park, to an area devoted into to stone culture, to–my personal favorite–the kiosk of loyal souls.  I mean c’mon, a kiosk?  Sure it’s probably just a poor translation into English, but that’s still a hilarious name.  Also, you can find the blueprint for pretty much any boy band album cover carved in stone.  How it made its way to China, I have no idea.

Overall, my weekend visiting Nanjing was well spent.  Yes, I did get my camera stolen.  And yes, I did encounter the profession I hate the most in this world.  But I did get to see a lot of great things.  I got the see the Massacre Memorial, which should be seen by anyone traveling in Nanjing, and I got my picture taken with some more random Chinese.  From the people, to the history, to the architecture, to the hustle and bustle of Fuzi Miao, so far on my travels Nanjing is one of my favorite cities in China.

______________________________

After graduating from the University of Pennsylvania with a master’s degree in Electrical Engineering, Graham Woodring decided to see a part of the world he’d always dreamed of: Asia. In February 2009, He moved to Xi’an, China to live and work as an English language teacher at one of the top five foreign language universities in the country. Visit Graham’s Blog:  An American in the Far East.

Teaching English in China is difficult in more ways than one. My popularity with the preteen girl crowd waxed and waned this past term, much to my chagrin. In December I wrote about feeling uncomfortable with the touchy-feely Grade 5 girls. I thought I wouldn’t teach them this term. I was wrong.

Coming early to class, crowding me in the hall, hanging on my arm: Extremely uncomfortable. If I was in Grade 5 I’d be in heaven. Alas, I’m a long, long way from the fifth grade. I’m probably closer to fifth grade in my next life than I am in this one.

The touchy-feely crowd was strangely absent for most of June. After I cracked the whip and changed their seats, six of them from the same homeroom, remarkably, became ill. The air conditioner was blamed. With the H1N1 hysteria running through the school, they were sent home.

A few came back the next week. When they discovered they had to write the test they missed their fevers suddenly returned. Adios, muchachas. Six girls from the same class – all sick with the same illness? An illness that prevents them from attending only my class? Strange, indeed. Some might say it was a conspiracy… I didn’t shed a tear, it was one less thing to worry about.

Tuesday was the last day of classes, and four of the six returned for the party. It was business as usual teaching English in China. It was only one day. I used big arm movements to create a buffer zone when they weren’t busy scarfing down chips and chocolates.

The biggest offender, let’s call her PMHKG (Prematurely Mature Hong Kong Girl), wasn’t at the party.  She saw me the next afternoon as I left the campus. PMHKG charged and I hunched over in an attempt to ward off the incoming onslaught.

“Steve!” She called.

It was like a scene from a bad Korean Soap Opera (even the good ones are pretty bad). She hung on my arm as I eased towards the school gate. She looks about three years older than she is, standing a head taller than the other girls. She tried to explain her absence as we walked. A female teacher walked past and smiled. I cringed. It must have been a sight: Me with a preteen on my arm, her head on my shoulder. Ah, the live of a man teaching abroad.

I didn’t have time, the air conditioner repairman was due at my apartment. Trying to pull my arm free I discovered her grip was stronger than a bear trap. Gnawing off my arm would have taken too long and left an unsightly mess on the white tiles of the campus. With another pull I discovered the amazing lubricating qualities of perspiration. My addled mind formed a rudimentary plan. She tightened her grip, pouting.

Rice-fed Prematurely Mature Hong Kong Girls are strong. Because I sweat like a pig (and who doesn’t when it’s 110 degrees), with a mighty tug I was able to extricate myself from the crushing crush. A disappointed groan was uttered as I laughed and dashed for the gate.

My days as a big rock star are over. In his heyday David Cassidy had nothing on me. Now he’s on Broadway and I’ll be shooting photos professionally. Life is change.

I’ll miss PMHKG and her crew of touchy-feelys. As agonizing as our time together was I will remember them fondly.

Image: musicstack.com