It happened this past Saturday. I went to the saddest place on earth. Hands down, THE saddest.
It wasn’t supposed to be like that mind you. It was supposed to be a happy occasion filled with dimples, sunshine, and rollercoaster’s. But noooooo.
This weekend my buddy George, his Chinese girlfriend, and I headed out of town 3 hours east to the city of Weifang. Had the song 'Everybody Wang Chung Tonight' drumming throughout my head for the entire ride...that’s how good it was supposed to be. And then the next day it happened...
With a solid mix of a hangover and spunk, we taxied our way to the biggest Chinese amusement park in the province...and amused we were. At first it was a lot of poo and giggles. We rode the main rollercoaster with not one, but two (rusty and squeaky) loopty loops. I must admit, it put the rides at Dollywood to shame. We hit up the bumper cars (which they called 'dodge cars' as if the point was to avoid collisions) and splashed our way down the log flume (ie: keep mouth closed on the way down to avoid an inadvertent drink of girardia). A few things were the same as a right of amusement park passage...overpriced/foul food, whiney kids, and statues of Greek men with the largest man-boobs I've ever seen.
Then we found the worst ride...ever. It was a spaceship that sat 12 people inside, sat on a maze of hydraulics, and at the front was a screen to simulate an authentic flight to the moon. About as authentic as a Chinese Mexican burrito. When the doors shut and the audio kicked on, your senses were supposed to be tricked into believing that you really were taking off, flying, and then crashing into the moon. Right. This normally has somewhat of an effect when there aren't holes allowing sunbeams in, the hydraulics don't make farting noises, and the video showing your flight adventure wasn't made in 1967. If you squinted your eyes you could almost NOT see the strings holding the planets up. Then we realized that the audio we were listening to (along with the "spaceship" full of Chinese people) wasn't even in Chinese...it was in English. Good job Astronaut Bill. Worst ride ever.
This is when we made our way towards the exit...and the saddest/funniest experience I've had in China yet (both involving tears).
From a distance it looked like a normal amusement park scene. A handful of colorfully dressed, oversized, animation characters bouncing around inspiring smiles and camera ops.
Getting closer we realized that it was more a gang of mangy, dirty, mopey, low-level, b-grade, animal costumed hobos inspiring depression, handsoap, and a handful of Prozac.
The bright colors of their costumes were marred with dirt streaks (god help me if it wasn’t dirt) while they shuffled around, dragging their feet, smacking kids on the head who got within arm/wing/tail/horn reach. ‘Yea kids, come get a picture and a thumping.’
The beaver seemed to have the most pep (they always do), jumping around, waving his arms, and pretending to bore holes in children’s heads that came just a tad to close. The gorillas face was mangled to the point that the 'actor' within was looking out of one of the eye holes and one of the nostrils. The cow’s suspenders were sagging so much that the waist was somewhere around the person's knees. However they were accurate in their roll casting...you knew the cow was a girl. Her hair was streaming down the backside of her costume.
Tuck it in, you're confusing the poor kids!
Then there was this big yellow thing running around that wasn’t quite identifiable. Its head was an egg, had some pretty big feet and sported a tail. Our guess was a dragon…with its head still in its shell. Who knows?
The “Biggest Mope” award went to the tiger. She was so low on the totem pole that they didn’t even supply the poor girl with a mask. She just slunk around, noticeably ostracized from all the other figures of funk.。Following the tiger came the birds…a hawk and a chicken worthy of the slaughter house. They only had upper bodies that were supported by a nice pair of khaki pants and dress shoes. Yes kids, birds wear pants just like you and I. This explained the confused look on many of the chitlins faces.
Then to make the situation even more abnormal, the wave of attention shifted from these creatures of slop to the two whitest Americans this park had seen in the better part of two generations….George and I. Gawking strangers coming up to us, asking if they could take their pictures with us, and poking us to see just how real we were. Mothers were coming up throwing their babies into our arms for photo ops with the Americans. Upon this occurrence, I learned a new cultural difference. All Chinese baby pants have a large slit in the bottom to make for easy squatting when tinkle time comes. Haven’t had cold, chapped, baby butt stuck against my arm for some time. Hell. Even the big brown hawk got into the action, removing his head, busting out his camera and snapped photos of us.
“He removed his head!” George shouted. “He broke the fourth wall! He removed his head! The magic is gone!”
The cherry on top of all of this were the 6 members of the bad Chinese mariachi band trying to play an American song…then fading off midway through. A sour tease of bad western music.
Needless to say the experience was like most of the black market goods here….I didn’t think it was possible to bootleg Disney World, but they pulled it off nicely.
I’ve seen what will happen if Donald Duck and Goofy go on welfare. Please don’t let this happen.
--D. T Willy
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
One Month Anniversary Weekend
Yep. Been here for one month now and what did I do to celebrate? Dropped trou, ate unidentifiable crunchiness, sang the Canadian anthem, and watered my plants with chinese hot sauce. Yes I feel stable...why do ask?
This past weekend was a non-travel weekend for me. Had to work on Friday preparing some of my students for their job interviews next week with the only 7-Star hotel in all the land...Dubai. Who doesnt want to find a nice little sunny spot in UAE to settle down in and sweat? Saturday was spent hunting down 400 RMB ($50) motorbikes to purchase...no luck (not yet at least). A pack of foreigners trying to get a deal in this town is like a senior citizen ordering off the Burger King Kids menu...it just ain't gonnna happen.
Later that day I found myself at the Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital. I had some acupuncture done on my ol bum left wheel of a knee. The doc stuck 6 needles (yes, shiney and unused) at various spots around my knee. They then attached electrodes to the ends of the needles and cranked up the electricity; getting the needles, a few muscles, and my pants twitching. "Lay back, relax, and restore your ying and yang energy" the nurse said. Okily dokily.
After fun-with-needles-time was over, I told the nurse that the past week I've been battling a cold. I figured, when in Rome, why not use gerbil hair, peanut shells, and octopus nuts for a cure. Well, it wasnt exactly that. Instead what they did was take 4 rounded glass jars, stick pieces of alcohol-soaked tissue, light them ablaze, and jab the entire thing directly onto my back. Its called fire cupping...or 4th century flaming bullshit (however you want to look at it).
The nurse would light one jar on fire, stick it onto my back, and do the same with the next 3. However once she placed the lid of the torched glass to my skin, a suction would form stronger than a plunger on a mirror. This would raise the skin, muscle, blood, and any nearby organ up and into the jar. Leave on for 10 seconds, squeal, and repeat for the next 10 minutes.
Its been 3 days and my back still looks like I met a girl who knows how to give perfectly rounded hickies...about 38 of them across the ol back.
Of course the day after this 'cure' I had a soccer game at which I took my shirt off to put on our team jersey...right in front of the entire team. A chorus of chinese chitter chatter commenced followed by a universally understood "What the hell's wrong with you boy?" To try and assure them they didnt sign a leper onto the squad, I proceeded to act out 'fire cupping' as it happened at the hospital (don't have the vocab for that one yet). Judging from their rate of laughter, they loved the show I put on even more. Forget it, I thought. You signed on a foreigner with a girlfriend who smiles like a perfect doughnut.
So we played our soccer match that day...or should I say we played half of it. Why? Because here in China, when corrupt Chinese Communist Mafia members aren't getting hookers, getting fat at expensive eateries, or getting another hooker, they are buying their way into taking over the one soccer field 300 kids have to play on. And thats just what they did. They paid off the field manager, he cut our game short, and it was game on for these no-talent mafia porkers.
With 4 foreigners on our team, we don't quite possess the roll-over-and-take-it mentality that the rest of our passive chinese team members have. Hence we didn't leave the field. Good luck playing around us. Tiananmen Square standoff on the soccer pitch...minus the tanks. Eventually, after some empty, unrecognizable curses and threats thrown from both sides, we walked away to continue our game 20 minutes later.
I should have just shown them my back.
Sunday also found me at the cultural market looking for a few things to buy for my apartment and such. Note to self. Make sure you know your numbers before heading out to the market to bargain. After scoring a few solid purchases, I made my way to a street vendor with a nice array of Chairman Mao little red books used during the Cultural Revolution. 'What a nice stocking stuffer' I thought. 'How much for a book' I asked the seller. He replied- 20. In my mind I counter offered with 5. In reality, my mouth counter offered with 50. He quickly and emphatically accepted. Stroking my ego on how good I was getting at this bargaining dance, I was abruptly humbled realizing my mouth betrayed my mind. This I didn't realize until i whipped out a 5, witnessed his big smile go sour, and deny the offer. No wonder they try and rip off foreigners. With a move like that, I'd try and rip me off too.
Another nice weekend in Jinan.
Let's just hope the memories from it last longer than the circles on my back.
--T. Willy
This past weekend was a non-travel weekend for me. Had to work on Friday preparing some of my students for their job interviews next week with the only 7-Star hotel in all the land...Dubai. Who doesnt want to find a nice little sunny spot in UAE to settle down in and sweat? Saturday was spent hunting down 400 RMB ($50) motorbikes to purchase...no luck (not yet at least). A pack of foreigners trying to get a deal in this town is like a senior citizen ordering off the Burger King Kids menu...it just ain't gonnna happen.
Later that day I found myself at the Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital. I had some acupuncture done on my ol bum left wheel of a knee. The doc stuck 6 needles (yes, shiney and unused) at various spots around my knee. They then attached electrodes to the ends of the needles and cranked up the electricity; getting the needles, a few muscles, and my pants twitching. "Lay back, relax, and restore your ying and yang energy" the nurse said. Okily dokily.
After fun-with-needles-time was over, I told the nurse that the past week I've been battling a cold. I figured, when in Rome, why not use gerbil hair, peanut shells, and octopus nuts for a cure. Well, it wasnt exactly that. Instead what they did was take 4 rounded glass jars, stick pieces of alcohol-soaked tissue, light them ablaze, and jab the entire thing directly onto my back. Its called fire cupping...or 4th century flaming bullshit (however you want to look at it).
The nurse would light one jar on fire, stick it onto my back, and do the same with the next 3. However once she placed the lid of the torched glass to my skin, a suction would form stronger than a plunger on a mirror. This would raise the skin, muscle, blood, and any nearby organ up and into the jar. Leave on for 10 seconds, squeal, and repeat for the next 10 minutes.
Its been 3 days and my back still looks like I met a girl who knows how to give perfectly rounded hickies...about 38 of them across the ol back.
Of course the day after this 'cure' I had a soccer game at which I took my shirt off to put on our team jersey...right in front of the entire team. A chorus of chinese chitter chatter commenced followed by a universally understood "What the hell's wrong with you boy?" To try and assure them they didnt sign a leper onto the squad, I proceeded to act out 'fire cupping' as it happened at the hospital (don't have the vocab for that one yet). Judging from their rate of laughter, they loved the show I put on even more. Forget it, I thought. You signed on a foreigner with a girlfriend who smiles like a perfect doughnut.
So we played our soccer match that day...or should I say we played half of it. Why? Because here in China, when corrupt Chinese Communist Mafia members aren't getting hookers, getting fat at expensive eateries, or getting another hooker, they are buying their way into taking over the one soccer field 300 kids have to play on. And thats just what they did. They paid off the field manager, he cut our game short, and it was game on for these no-talent mafia porkers.
With 4 foreigners on our team, we don't quite possess the roll-over-and-take-it mentality that the rest of our passive chinese team members have. Hence we didn't leave the field. Good luck playing around us. Tiananmen Square standoff on the soccer pitch...minus the tanks. Eventually, after some empty, unrecognizable curses and threats thrown from both sides, we walked away to continue our game 20 minutes later.
I should have just shown them my back.
Sunday also found me at the cultural market looking for a few things to buy for my apartment and such. Note to self. Make sure you know your numbers before heading out to the market to bargain. After scoring a few solid purchases, I made my way to a street vendor with a nice array of Chairman Mao little red books used during the Cultural Revolution. 'What a nice stocking stuffer' I thought. 'How much for a book' I asked the seller. He replied- 20. In my mind I counter offered with 5. In reality, my mouth counter offered with 50. He quickly and emphatically accepted. Stroking my ego on how good I was getting at this bargaining dance, I was abruptly humbled realizing my mouth betrayed my mind. This I didn't realize until i whipped out a 5, witnessed his big smile go sour, and deny the offer. No wonder they try and rip off foreigners. With a move like that, I'd try and rip me off too.
Another nice weekend in Jinan.
Let's just hope the memories from it last longer than the circles on my back.
--T. Willy
Monday, March 20, 2006
Crappy Crapper
My bathroom is like a bad game show...when you open the door you're never quite sure what you'll find.
The stank in itself is a big ol question mark. Will it mostly smell of poo or air freshner? The plumbing here isn't designed with the necessary bends in the piping, so the smells from all of the units below drift right up into my honker of a nose.
Will the bathroom be wet? With inconsistant leaky pipes, sometimes you walk in and your feet go splish splash, other times dry as a bone.
Will the bugs be crawling out of the toilet? Little F'ers. This makes for a nice, relaxing #2 session. No reading at toilet time here...its get your job done and get out of dodge.
Please excuse the second grade topic of discussion on this entry...just trying to share...and kill some insects.
--T. Willy
The stank in itself is a big ol question mark. Will it mostly smell of poo or air freshner? The plumbing here isn't designed with the necessary bends in the piping, so the smells from all of the units below drift right up into my honker of a nose.
Will the bathroom be wet? With inconsistant leaky pipes, sometimes you walk in and your feet go splish splash, other times dry as a bone.
Will the bugs be crawling out of the toilet? Little F'ers. This makes for a nice, relaxing #2 session. No reading at toilet time here...its get your job done and get out of dodge.
Please excuse the second grade topic of discussion on this entry...just trying to share...and kill some insects.
--T. Willy
Monday, March 13, 2006
Booty Jammin on Mt. Stairmaster
After the prior weekends feeling of filth and unholyness from the tainted hands of my massage-ositute, I decided to flee like a baby bird to an area of peace and clarity. I journeyed to the holiest of mountains in all of China...Mount Tai Shan. Only a 2 hour bus ride away, at 1545 meters tall, its not quite a towering beast. However it is the only mountain I've ever climbed that has stairs from top to bottom. Not just a few stairs. Thousands. To be more exact- 6660 stone stairs. And no I didn't count.
Its also noteworthy because it's the most climbed mountain in all the world. And not just by whippersnappers, but by lil 'ol grandmas. These 70+ year old firecrackers dropped one foot in front of the other, hunched over their canes, and giggled at the small white boy that was passed out in the ditch.
Legend has it that if you climb Mt Tai Shan you will live to be 100. Legend also has it that the earth's core is made of vanilla pudding. I'm not quite sold on these 'legends' yet.
All along the hike are Taoist temples. So if breathing wasnt a problem in the first place, they light incense all along the way to inhale. Damn burning scented sticks adds to the ambiance but makes breathing that much more of a task. There were also many historical markers and signs posted along the way to explain the deep cultural and historical importance of the places we were walking by....aaaaand they were all in Chinese. I bet they were very intersting though.
Guiding me through all of this were two of my students. I was curious to why they were so excited when I showed up with a big backpack. That is until they dumped all the food, water, and their boxes of sugar milk into it for me to haul up. No problem kids. What are teachers for? Carry your luggage and drop your grade...thats what.
It took us just shy of 5 hours to summit. At the bottom it was lets-fly-a-kite in a sweater weather. At the top it was frozen boogies and thermal undie love. Cold as hell with a windchill I've never felt in my bones before...and thats with me wearing 6 layers and a stained, rented Chinese army overcoat.
We stayed at the top in a humble hotel (humble = ghetto poo palace). The place needed some minor touchups on the ceiling from where the mold was chewing through and they skimped on the heat at night so visitors could have the authentic antarctic experience of watching your breath freeze around the edge of your blanket while you sleep.
The next morning we were aroused at 6am by one of the worker bees at the hotel. Sunrise time, yea! At this point I could have really used a Waffle House.
So we saw the sunrise from the starting point of where ancient chinese thought the sun made its westward journey. Sweet. Its a good bet that they weren't as cranky as I was at 6 in the morning. Friggin cold mr bigglesworth.
That early in the morning the views were fantastic...that is for about 3 hours until the pollution settled again and put the haze to it all. Brown skies are soooo much cooler than blue anyways. Hell. What do I have to worry about healthy air now? I'm supposed to live to 100...or at least legend has it.
T. Willy
Its also noteworthy because it's the most climbed mountain in all the world. And not just by whippersnappers, but by lil 'ol grandmas. These 70+ year old firecrackers dropped one foot in front of the other, hunched over their canes, and giggled at the small white boy that was passed out in the ditch.
Legend has it that if you climb Mt Tai Shan you will live to be 100. Legend also has it that the earth's core is made of vanilla pudding. I'm not quite sold on these 'legends' yet.
All along the hike are Taoist temples. So if breathing wasnt a problem in the first place, they light incense all along the way to inhale. Damn burning scented sticks adds to the ambiance but makes breathing that much more of a task. There were also many historical markers and signs posted along the way to explain the deep cultural and historical importance of the places we were walking by....aaaaand they were all in Chinese. I bet they were very intersting though.
Guiding me through all of this were two of my students. I was curious to why they were so excited when I showed up with a big backpack. That is until they dumped all the food, water, and their boxes of sugar milk into it for me to haul up. No problem kids. What are teachers for? Carry your luggage and drop your grade...thats what.
It took us just shy of 5 hours to summit. At the bottom it was lets-fly-a-kite in a sweater weather. At the top it was frozen boogies and thermal undie love. Cold as hell with a windchill I've never felt in my bones before...and thats with me wearing 6 layers and a stained, rented Chinese army overcoat.
We stayed at the top in a humble hotel (humble = ghetto poo palace). The place needed some minor touchups on the ceiling from where the mold was chewing through and they skimped on the heat at night so visitors could have the authentic antarctic experience of watching your breath freeze around the edge of your blanket while you sleep.
The next morning we were aroused at 6am by one of the worker bees at the hotel. Sunrise time, yea! At this point I could have really used a Waffle House.
So we saw the sunrise from the starting point of where ancient chinese thought the sun made its westward journey. Sweet. Its a good bet that they weren't as cranky as I was at 6 in the morning. Friggin cold mr bigglesworth.
That early in the morning the views were fantastic...that is for about 3 hours until the pollution settled again and put the haze to it all. Brown skies are soooo much cooler than blue anyways. Hell. What do I have to worry about healthy air now? I'm supposed to live to 100...or at least legend has it.
T. Willy
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
"Massage" Clarity
OK. I've recieved a bit of concern about my one-time frequenting of the massage parlor here in the greater China area. Some of you are doubting my intentions...or at least the business establishments that are running these 'oasis's of release.'
So I must admit that some of you did plant a wee seed of doubt as to the innocence of such a business.
So just to make sure it was a respectable establishment, I went back this past weekend. You know, just to make sure there was no "funny stuff" going on.
So my friend George and I went back on saturday. We started off with the normal 50 RMB (7 bucks) for almost 2 hours of hand to foot loving. Still the same dog and pony show as the last week. The only difference this time was the use of flaming miniature glass fish bowls that were put on my foot like a plunger. F'n thing was hot but supposidly sucked all the toxins out or my feet.
Yet this time at the end, the massage girls wanted to know if we wanted "more". For another 50 RMB they would rub our backs, shoulders, and face for one hour more...playing with your ears cost an extra 20 RMB. I tried to show them that I have little ears and to only charge me half, but in the end they thought I was just some freak with an ear fetish.
So we took the bait and bought an additional hour.
We were then lead out of our previous room, past a locked door and into a musty hotel hallway.
"George?" I asked. "Why are all the lights in this hallway pink and red?"
--"Maybe they're better for sleeping" he replyed.
We were lead to the end of the hallway into a room with 2 legit massage tables. About halfway throught the 2nd act of the massage adventure, this young massuses hands drift down to my lower back and on into the crack of my ass.
"George?" I asked. "Why are her hands in the crack of my ass?"
--"Oh. Shes just trying to get you amped up to buy the 800 RMB (80 dollar) special late night service."
As appetizing as it sounds to blow almost a third of my monthly paycheck on a bring-her-home-to-momma hoochie...I'll pass.
Thats when I heard it. It was almost on cue. The silence in our room was broken with the sound of a headboard repeatedly getting hammered against the wall in a nearby room.
"George, do you hear that?" I asked.
--"Yep, and I don't want to. Go to your happy place." he said.
So i closed my eyes, bit my lip, clenched my butt cheeks together to get her damn hand out of my arse, and finished the massage like any normal school boy would...with pleanty of dignity and money left in the wallet.
The worst part about the experience was walking past everyone on the way out. Because I had just been legitimately massaged for over 2 hours, I was walking all crooked, my eyes were all funky and relaxed, and I was still sweating from the high heat at which they kept the rooms...the impression could definitely be drawn that I now had a dirty story to tell my grandkids when an elder I became.
So mom, I promise you that my massage was innocent.
However I cannot say the same for the business establishment. Seems there is quite a bit of funny business/hanky panky...with the majority of the clientel being ranking members of the communist party. So it seems that hookers and Commies go together like peanut butter and jelly.
And what am I doing this weekend? I've heard rumors of yet another massage parlor...a cheaper massage parlor in town. 15 RMB an hour! 2 bucks an hour! I'm betting that this one is a whole lot more respectable. Let ya know soon ma.
T. Willy
So I must admit that some of you did plant a wee seed of doubt as to the innocence of such a business.
So just to make sure it was a respectable establishment, I went back this past weekend. You know, just to make sure there was no "funny stuff" going on.
So my friend George and I went back on saturday. We started off with the normal 50 RMB (7 bucks) for almost 2 hours of hand to foot loving. Still the same dog and pony show as the last week. The only difference this time was the use of flaming miniature glass fish bowls that were put on my foot like a plunger. F'n thing was hot but supposidly sucked all the toxins out or my feet.
Yet this time at the end, the massage girls wanted to know if we wanted "more". For another 50 RMB they would rub our backs, shoulders, and face for one hour more...playing with your ears cost an extra 20 RMB. I tried to show them that I have little ears and to only charge me half, but in the end they thought I was just some freak with an ear fetish.
So we took the bait and bought an additional hour.
We were then lead out of our previous room, past a locked door and into a musty hotel hallway.
"George?" I asked. "Why are all the lights in this hallway pink and red?"
--"Maybe they're better for sleeping" he replyed.
We were lead to the end of the hallway into a room with 2 legit massage tables. About halfway throught the 2nd act of the massage adventure, this young massuses hands drift down to my lower back and on into the crack of my ass.
"George?" I asked. "Why are her hands in the crack of my ass?"
--"Oh. Shes just trying to get you amped up to buy the 800 RMB (80 dollar) special late night service."
As appetizing as it sounds to blow almost a third of my monthly paycheck on a bring-her-home-to-momma hoochie...I'll pass.
Thats when I heard it. It was almost on cue. The silence in our room was broken with the sound of a headboard repeatedly getting hammered against the wall in a nearby room.
"George, do you hear that?" I asked.
--"Yep, and I don't want to. Go to your happy place." he said.
So i closed my eyes, bit my lip, clenched my butt cheeks together to get her damn hand out of my arse, and finished the massage like any normal school boy would...with pleanty of dignity and money left in the wallet.
The worst part about the experience was walking past everyone on the way out. Because I had just been legitimately massaged for over 2 hours, I was walking all crooked, my eyes were all funky and relaxed, and I was still sweating from the high heat at which they kept the rooms...the impression could definitely be drawn that I now had a dirty story to tell my grandkids when an elder I became.
So mom, I promise you that my massage was innocent.
However I cannot say the same for the business establishment. Seems there is quite a bit of funny business/hanky panky...with the majority of the clientel being ranking members of the communist party. So it seems that hookers and Commies go together like peanut butter and jelly.
And what am I doing this weekend? I've heard rumors of yet another massage parlor...a cheaper massage parlor in town. 15 RMB an hour! 2 bucks an hour! I'm betting that this one is a whole lot more respectable. Let ya know soon ma.
T. Willy
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Week 2's in the Books
So what better place to start week 2 then my mouth.
Some serious funk has gone down the hatch in these past 17 days. But whats really great is that they don't tell you what you are eating until you are at least 6-12 chews into the bite. For example,
- pumpkin soup with white lil floaties is actually frog egg soup
- some meat on a stick is not just meat...its crispy chicken heart
- cooked liver, which is nasty enough, isn't such. Upon further inquiry with the cook on what I was eating, and lacking a common language to explain it in...the chef bahhed like a sheep and pointed to his crotch.
What? Great. Didnt wake up thinking I had a craving for sheep penis, but low and behold....damn thing was one of the chewiest things Ive ever munched.
So I know its hard to believe, but this past monday was the first day since I've been in country that my toilet time has been extended from a normal 'few minutes' to 'gotta get off this thing cause my legs are falling asleep.'
Yep. Not sure what it was, but I got a severe case of ass faucet for a solid (excuse the wishful pun) 24 hours.
Wish I could blame it on the rough weekend I had, but it really wasnt that rough. It started off with a trip to the Wild Animal Park with my friend George just outside of town. Who'd a thunk that the first tigers, lions, bears, giraffes, leapords, panthers, and house dogs I'd see in China were all in wee little pens. The living conditions were not for the weak of heart. Most of their animal jail cells smelled like the bathroom in my apartment, was about the same size, yet was shared with one or 2 of the same or similar species. PETA would have a virtual cow if they saw this place.
No joke about the house dogs. They have an entire area of the zoo with dogs. Huskies, Collies, Pitbulls, Labs, and of course Mutts. Benji wouldnt stand a chance. They are either saving them for a banquet or celebrating the year of the dog by lumping them all together in cages. Its kinds like going to the pound in America....except you can't get them out.
Then we saw the monkeys! How fun! Monkeys! They swing, they jump, they play, they look like me with a smaller nose!
But wait. Not these monkeys. They sat. They starred. They slept. Hell, I'd have almost been happy to have one of them show some life and hurl some poo at me. That is until we busted out the monkey snacks we bought...then they were all over the fence like lice on, well, monkeys.
So there I was standing there with monkey food in one hand, feeding them through the fence, and I was also eating a snack with my other hand. And it wasnt just any snack, it was the very last american granola bar I had brought from the states. My last piece of home. Soooo tasty!
I thought I had the situation under control, grubbing away, until from across the pen, ol crazy eyes swung over. Now ol crazy eyes was the oldest monkey in the bunch and hence held the most power. All the other monkeys respected ol crazy eyes. Why? Maybe because he was old or maybe because his eyes were off. Like a pinball machine that won't play right because it's been tilted...thats ol crazy eyes. That animal had seen some shit back in the war--- you could tell by looking into his eyes.
Anyways,That bastard monkey swung over, stuck his arm fully through the bars and snagged my precious half eat'n granola bar right out of my hand. He flew over to a corner of the cage, finished eating it, turned around looked at me, and i kid you not, laughed at me.
And thats when the other chinese tourists joined in. I stood there, granola crumbs on my shirt, empty wrapper in hand, and getting laughed at by a handful of camera wielding-chinese tourists...and that blasted monkey chump.
The highlight of this animal cruelty farm was staring down and being chased by 2 lions. Were they in their pen? Yep. Was I? Nope. But being just a few inches from its jaws was reminder enough of how much tastier I'd be than, say....sheep cock.
After this we wondered over to the Tiger pen which provided some X-rated entertainment. Yep, you guessed it. Tiger porn.
Within 5 minutes of standing there, the male danced over to a female, sniffed her posterior, and well...mounted up. Of course being the civlized individual I am, I turned away in shock...and to get my camera. Boy did I get some fun pictures. That is until the 3 pump tiger chump flopped off her and fell asleep in the sun. Cheering the guy tiger on did no good. He just layed there. Nature can be such a let down sometimes.
So the whole Wild Animal Park experience was interesting, yes. But when you come visit will we go? Probably not. Unless of course you bring a copy of George Orwell's Animal Farm to leave them. My bet is the monkeys have the best chance of reading it. Smart little granola-hippie buggers.
T. Willy
Some serious funk has gone down the hatch in these past 17 days. But whats really great is that they don't tell you what you are eating until you are at least 6-12 chews into the bite. For example,
- pumpkin soup with white lil floaties is actually frog egg soup
- some meat on a stick is not just meat...its crispy chicken heart
- cooked liver, which is nasty enough, isn't such. Upon further inquiry with the cook on what I was eating, and lacking a common language to explain it in...the chef bahhed like a sheep and pointed to his crotch.
What? Great. Didnt wake up thinking I had a craving for sheep penis, but low and behold....damn thing was one of the chewiest things Ive ever munched.
So I know its hard to believe, but this past monday was the first day since I've been in country that my toilet time has been extended from a normal 'few minutes' to 'gotta get off this thing cause my legs are falling asleep.'
Yep. Not sure what it was, but I got a severe case of ass faucet for a solid (excuse the wishful pun) 24 hours.
Wish I could blame it on the rough weekend I had, but it really wasnt that rough. It started off with a trip to the Wild Animal Park with my friend George just outside of town. Who'd a thunk that the first tigers, lions, bears, giraffes, leapords, panthers, and house dogs I'd see in China were all in wee little pens. The living conditions were not for the weak of heart. Most of their animal jail cells smelled like the bathroom in my apartment, was about the same size, yet was shared with one or 2 of the same or similar species. PETA would have a virtual cow if they saw this place.
No joke about the house dogs. They have an entire area of the zoo with dogs. Huskies, Collies, Pitbulls, Labs, and of course Mutts. Benji wouldnt stand a chance. They are either saving them for a banquet or celebrating the year of the dog by lumping them all together in cages. Its kinds like going to the pound in America....except you can't get them out.
Then we saw the monkeys! How fun! Monkeys! They swing, they jump, they play, they look like me with a smaller nose!
But wait. Not these monkeys. They sat. They starred. They slept. Hell, I'd have almost been happy to have one of them show some life and hurl some poo at me. That is until we busted out the monkey snacks we bought...then they were all over the fence like lice on, well, monkeys.
So there I was standing there with monkey food in one hand, feeding them through the fence, and I was also eating a snack with my other hand. And it wasnt just any snack, it was the very last american granola bar I had brought from the states. My last piece of home. Soooo tasty!
I thought I had the situation under control, grubbing away, until from across the pen, ol crazy eyes swung over. Now ol crazy eyes was the oldest monkey in the bunch and hence held the most power. All the other monkeys respected ol crazy eyes. Why? Maybe because he was old or maybe because his eyes were off. Like a pinball machine that won't play right because it's been tilted...thats ol crazy eyes. That animal had seen some shit back in the war--- you could tell by looking into his eyes.
Anyways,That bastard monkey swung over, stuck his arm fully through the bars and snagged my precious half eat'n granola bar right out of my hand. He flew over to a corner of the cage, finished eating it, turned around looked at me, and i kid you not, laughed at me.
And thats when the other chinese tourists joined in. I stood there, granola crumbs on my shirt, empty wrapper in hand, and getting laughed at by a handful of camera wielding-chinese tourists...and that blasted monkey chump.
The highlight of this animal cruelty farm was staring down and being chased by 2 lions. Were they in their pen? Yep. Was I? Nope. But being just a few inches from its jaws was reminder enough of how much tastier I'd be than, say....sheep cock.
After this we wondered over to the Tiger pen which provided some X-rated entertainment. Yep, you guessed it. Tiger porn.
Within 5 minutes of standing there, the male danced over to a female, sniffed her posterior, and well...mounted up. Of course being the civlized individual I am, I turned away in shock...and to get my camera. Boy did I get some fun pictures. That is until the 3 pump tiger chump flopped off her and fell asleep in the sun. Cheering the guy tiger on did no good. He just layed there. Nature can be such a let down sometimes.
So the whole Wild Animal Park experience was interesting, yes. But when you come visit will we go? Probably not. Unless of course you bring a copy of George Orwell's Animal Farm to leave them. My bet is the monkeys have the best chance of reading it. Smart little granola-hippie buggers.
T. Willy
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)