Chinese New Year by the Numbers
I just got back from Chinese New Year trip last week. I have compiled some statistical data from the trip for the historical record:
2 – Countries visited (Vietnam and Cambodia)
23 – January, the first day of Chinese New Year and Tet (Vietnamese New Year)
45 - Dollars, the cost of a taxi in Hanoi during Tet festivities. It’s usually 15
30, Number of hours spend walking (roughly)
2 - Visits to Ho Chi Min related sites
1 – Number of cruised booked (To Halong Bay)
6 – Number of dog meat restaurants passed on the way to and from Halong Bay
2 – Number of hair dryers not working in the hotel
3- Number of dishes ordered that could not be delivered on the same day (banana bread, carrot cake, chocolate brownie. It was not a good day for dessert).
8 – People seen urinating on the streets of Hanoi and Siem Reap (yes, they were all men).
19 – Number of silk lanterns purchased
2 – Bowls of Pho eaten (I know, I should have had more, there was just so much great food).
20 – Hotel room cost per night in Hanoi
35 – Hotel room cost per night in Siem Reap
0 – Number of quilts I bought from Mekong Quilt, a project designed to help impoverished women by teaching them how to make quilts. Next time…
40 – Dollars Spent for a 3 day pass at Angkor Wat
4 – Hours spent taking a cooking class at Le Tigre Papier (delicious Cambodian food)
30 – Minutes spent with fish nibbling on my feet at a fish foot spa
2 – Foot massages received
5 – Average number of temples visited per day in Cambodia
4:45 – When I had to wake up to see the sunrise at Angkor Wat
2 – of February, the day I came back to Guangzhou
It was a great trip! I highly recommend visiting Hanoi and Siem Reap. Much to see, much to do, much to eat. I wouldn’t be surprised if I return to both locations soon. But, I have to go to Malaysia on Wednesday, so it won’t be this week. So many places to visit, so little time…
As I was walking to the store this morning, these are the thing I saw in the space of about 30 seconds:
Never a dull moment…
I wouldn’t say that I’m afraid of many things. I’ve jumped off the side of the mountain tethered to a Venezuelan and a parachute, I work with teenagers; it takes a lot to rattle me. So, I didn’t really think there was much that could scare me on a simple bus ride. Until I saw a rat under run under my seat.
I’ve been riding the faculty bus to work for the last six months, and nothing even remotely eventful has happened. I’ve listened to music, read magazines, studied Mandarin, tried to nap; it’s all been pretty routine. But yesterday was different. We were about 20 minutes into the 30 minute ride when I saw it. A big, fuzzy brown blur scurrying under my feet. And I did something I never thought I would do in the presence of a rodent. I screamed like a little girl. The rat continued its journey under my seat to the back of the bus, one seat behind me. It had nowhere else to go, and after a minute or two, it ran back under my seat and up to the front of the bus.
I can think of little worse than having a rat run up the leg of my pants. So I sat with both of my feet pulled up onto my seat on rat patrol. He didn’t come back, but I don’t quite trust the bus anymore. Who knows where he is lurking. I’m going to have to sleep with one eye open from now on. And I’m going to have to accept the fact that mice really do make me scream and jump up on chairs. Who knew?
Technically, Guangzhou is below the Tropic of Cancer. And while it doesn’t really ever freeze here, I can tell you that 50 degrees with no heater in your house is far from pleasant. I have spent a lot of time since I returned from Christmas break huddling under blankets, layering sweatshirts and socks and generally feeling cold. There is very little heating in this part of the world, generally speaking. I was reminded of this on the faculty bus to work the other day. I sat down, and noticed that I could see my breath. Busses…no heat. Could I buy a heater? Sure, but I keep thinking about news stories about people that snuggled to close to their space heaters and burned to death. I don’t want to burn to death. Ever. So, I guess, until I learn how to read the characters on my air conditioner remote control to discover if they provide heat, or until it warms up again, my green fuzzy blanket is my new best friend. So much for the tropics.
My Christmas vacation would not have been complete without a trip to Florida to visit my brother and his family. I hadn’t seen them in two years, and as nephews tend to grow more quickly than I would like, I was a little worried that if I didn’t show up, they may only have a vague recollection of their crazy aunt that lives in China. Not wanting that to happen, I hopped on a plane to the great state of Florida.
I grew up in Ocala, Florida, which is really nowhere near a convenient airport. I chose to fly into Jacksonville as it was 1) less expensive than flying into Orlando or Tampa and 2) convenient to a side trip to Gainesville. I arrived at the airport having rented some sort of intermediate sized sedan. When the rental agent suggested that I would look really great in a sporty car, I hopped on it. For only an extra $10 per day, I found myself behind the wheel of a Mustang GT. Sweet! And did I look great in that car? No doubt.
I hopped on the road very conscious that state highway 301 between Jacksonville and Ocala is a collection of speed traps. It was a challenge to keep the needle below the posted limit, but I succeeded in overcoming my inclination to see how fast I could get that car to go. I managed to make it Gainesville without a moving violation and made my was to the best burrito joint on the planet, Burrito Brothers. There are nights that I dream about burritos from Burrito Brothers. I think I probably ate there three times a week when I was a student at the University of Florida. I was a little shocked that the prices had increased in a dramatic way (not taking into account that it has been twenty years since I was a freshman in college and prices do tend to creep up over a couple of decades…) but, the black bean burrito with sour cream and guacamole was just as I remembered -- delicious. And the tattooed guy behind the counter was impressed that I came all the way from China for a burrito.
Well fed and satisfied, I arrived at my brother’s house in Ocala. Let me just say, there is little more impressive to 13 and 8 year old nephews than the power of the Mustang GT 5.0. They both came out to the driveway and drooled on the car’s shiny paint job. When my brother arrived a few minutes later, he added his own drool to the collection. We lifted the hood and gazed in awe at the engine. Even though I am a girl, I have to admit it was quite pretty. We then proceeded to engage in a 48-hour fun marathon which included two dinners and one breakfast, two movies (Sherlock Holmes, which was great and Alvin and the Chipmunks, which shows my dedication as an aunt as I think I would have rather jammed spikes into my eyes than to ever see that movie. I purposely feel asleep, which my nephews found hilarious. Don’t see it. My IQ is ten points lower due to that film…) a couple of trips to Wal-Mart and a few excursions in the Mustang, and a jewelry shopping trip with my sister-in-law for a really cool birthday gift – a watch with alligators. Awesome!
For my nephews and my brother, the highlight of my visit was the trip to the shooting range. I’m not sure exactly when my brother became a gun enthusiast. The gun safe and the collection of taxidermied dear heads on the living room wall were an indication, but I had no idea exactly how much my brother loves to shoot things. Some might think it borders on obsession. So, to the shooting range we went. And then the guns came out. Literally. My nephews were excited for me to take my turn at target practice. After I put on my protective ear coverings, I had my turn with the AK-47. I managed not to kill anyone and I hit the hill I was aiming at most of the time. I then got to shoot the .44 caliber pistol made famous by the Dirty Harry films. That thing had a kick-back that left a bruise on my hand. I only fired it once, and my brother took great glee in laughing at me as I refused to fire it again. Once was enough. I was much more comfortable with the .22. It’s a dainty weapon compared to everything else in the arsenal, and I enjoyed using the scope to aim at a spot on the hill at the back of the shooting range. When the .50 caliber Winchester came out, I have to admit I was hesitant to fire it, and made excuses while everyone else in the family took a turn. I can’t say that I am going to become a member of the NRA anytime soon, but it was nice to bond with my family in a very southern way. Although if pressed, I will admit that I liked my IHOP pancakes better than shooting guns. To each his own. And it was great to share the Spirit of Christmas with my brother and his family…even if my brother probably would bag Rudolph with his Winchester if he caught him on the roof. Rudolph be warned.
How long does it take to get from Guangzhou to Nashville? Let me tell you. About 30 hours. Considering that it used to take months to travel a thousand miles, one should hardly grumble about getting from one side of the world to the other in less than one and a half days. However, while 30 hours doesn’t sound too bad when you buy your plane ticket, getting from Point A to Point B is a lot more work than you realize it is going to be.
My day of travel started with a taxi ride. I was picked up from The Penthouse at 7:00 a.m. I spent 45 minutes in the car with my driver. We spoke little as my Mandarin currently allows me to ask where the bathroom is located or to order a double cheeseburger without mustard at McDonald’s. I did manage to tell him I was flying to Beijing and arrived at the correct terminal. I checked in for my flight to discover that I could only check in for my flight to Beijing. I would have to check in for my flight to DC in Beijing. Not exactly cool.
Not daunted, I caught up with a friend who was on my flight to Beijing. We hit the ladies room (this one had potties you sit on and toilet paper as opposed to the kind you squat over that usually don’t have toilet paper) and headed for security. Once through security, we headed into the expansive domestic terminal of the Baiyun International Airport. It has about 14 gates and 4 shops once you get past security. Oh, and a Starbucks, but those are everywhere in China. I’m sure they will be building one on the Great Wall before too long. We shopped for trinkets and got on our flight. My friend upgraded to first class, so I slunk back to the cheap seats. At least I had a window. And a pillow. Three hours, one nap and a beef with rice entrée later, I emerged from the plane in Beijing.
As I was not checked in for my next flight, I had to collect my bags. I waited, waited some more and then got in a bit more waiting. When there were 6 of us left, my bags finally decided to appear. I was better off than my friend. She checked her bags, but was not giving boarding passes. We sent a frenzy of texts back and forth trying to discover the secrets of checking in at the Beijing airport. I checked with a travel agent and found that I needed to go to the 4th floor to check in. So I did. And found out that the baggage allowance to the US had changed. However, as I didn’t really believe the nice lady behind the counter, I stood there and tried to look it up on my phone to prove her wrong. After about 5 minutes she gave in and checked my second bag for free. Score. I realize I won’t be as lucky going back, as now that I have looked up the rule I’m not quite so indignant.
I headed upstairs to find my travel buddy and to have a snack. On a scale of one to ten, Thai food at the Beijing airport is probably a five. It fills a hole, but it’s nothing you would get really excited about flying back for. But, it killed a couple of hours before part deux of the flying odyssey. Once clearing customs to get out of China, there were still more hours to kill. I visited almost every shop in the Beijing International Airport. That took about an hour. By this time, my friend was ready to get on her flight, so I hugged her goodbye and went in search of liquid refreshment. Able to find water and Diet Coke, I headed for my gate. I found a lot of my countrymen, something which is not all that common in Guangzhou. I had forgotten how loud American college students are. And for a moment, I missed the language barrier as the conversation was a bit banal. But, the flight was called for boarding and I headed down the ramp. To have my bag searched. And my beverages confiscated. Since when did people start taking drinks away once you have gone through security? Was I going to make a diet coke bomb? Grrrr…whatever.
I found my seat and settled in for my flight. This one was 12 ½ hours or so. I sat next to a lovely woman living in Shanghai. We both took alternating naps for the first 10 hours of the flight, but had a great chat as we approached DC. By the time the plane landed, I had been travelling for close to 24 hours. Mary and I parted ways at flight transfer and I headed to immigration. When the agent asked me where I had been, I told him “Guangzhou.” “Where?” he said. It amazes me that no one has heard of one of the largest cities in the world double the size of New York City (and much cooler, I may add). Once I educated him on Chinese geography, I grabbed my bags, rechecked them and headed out into the terminal. The only redeeming feature of Dulles International Airport is the California Burrito Company. Burrito? Queso and chips? Yes please. I practically drooled on the guy that handed me my food. He didn’t think I was quite so psycho when I explained that I had been in China for five months.
As I headed for my gate and waited for my next flight, I was glad to know that I would soon be home. I boarded and realized that I booked the refrigerated seat, which was next to the galley door. It was a 40 seat commuter, and a little squashy, but only a 90 minute flight. Unless you have to de-ice the plan. And wait in line to get the plane de-iced. Sigh. After about an hour on the ground, we were in the air. The guy behind me grumbled a bit. I decided not to tell him that he had nothing on me as I had been traveling for 30 hours. I kept it to myself. And kissed the ground when the plane finally landed in Nashville. OK, I didn’t kiss the ground, but I did drink out of the water fountain, which is kind of like kissing the ground. It was good to be back in the USA.
