The TechNomad Journals - The China Chronicles

Sunday, January 8, 2006

Ahhh, Las Vegas. The dame who makes men glow with hedonistic promise and then leaves them as barren as the surrounding desert, weeping for their children’s lost college funds. She is also the stage for both the largest tech AND the largest porn conventions in the world and they both just happen to fall on the same week. Suitably you can argue that porn drives technology – from the solid growth of home video to the stiff rise of the Internet. Of course I am innocently here to observe CES, the Consumer Electronics Show, when over 150,000 people descend on Sin City to spread their digital goodness over 28 football fields of floor space. However I did see some ladies who, although probably containing more silicon than your average computer’s microchips, were most likely attending the slightly-more-sexy conference next door.

It’s been a hell of a mission to get here and I apologize for my lack of communiqués from the battlefield. The good news is I am back in the good old terror-fearing US of A and while you know I can’t sit still for long I do plan to stay on the same continent at least for a few months. As usual this email contains the BRIEF and EXTENDED updates and comes laced with sweet New Year Lovin’ for 2006. Now I just need to decide whether I’m going to spend the $500 I won in the MGM on a lavish but long-lasting video iPod or on a lavish but fleeting night of strippers and champagne. Ahhh, Las Vegas you seductive succubus…

I spent November in Hong Kong where as you remember I set up shop above “Thai Jade’s Thai Restaurant”. Coincidentally they revamped the place while I was there and although it did get a fancy new wood façade it did not drop the superfluous second “Thai” in its name. I’m not complaining though – it was rather fun to come down the stairs and consistently be ignored by the 90-year-old woman slicing cabbage in the stairwell.

December brought me to the mainland of China with my first stop in Beijing. The people were exceptionally warm although the Siberian winds coming down through Northern China were brutal but luckily the food was spicy and cheap and the flow of rice liquor warmed the blood. I hiked on an unrestored part of the Great Wall led by a small and equally unrestored mountain man who spoke no English.

After Beijing I ventured to Shanghai, which used to be affectionately known as the “Whore of the Orient”. I saw Communist propaganda art, learnt how to buy a fake Rolex and aimed to get a massage everyday. Neither the old Red Guard or the Rolex hawker’s seedy apartment were nearly as threatening as one massage-parlor ‘mamasan’…

Finally I made it back to LA in December to visit my equally vagabond mother and just in time for the oven to break on Christmas day as our first guests arrived. This led to a slapstick dash around Hollywood with a half cooked turkey looking to find a working oven – bless the many stress free joys of the holidays!

New Years could obviously only mean one thing – Mission to Mexico! Ten of us, including the Engelman twins and crew, headed forty miles south of the border to a vacation house in Puerto Nuevo. The house was on a cliff that overlooked a valley leading to the ocean and seemed like it was either a Hip Hop ‘Crib’ or occasional porn set. We ate lobster specials, learnt about the intricacies of the Mexican wine country through mouth-on experience and I even nearly got crushed while riding ATV’s on the sand dunes. On the last night I woke up and my fine amigos had wheeled my bed onto the balcony. Good times.

So I am now sitting in Las Vegas overlooking the Flamingo and feeling hugely out of shape after seeing the acrobats perform “O” at the Cirque du Soleil. It’s been four days of seeing crazy technology; from keyboards that are projected onto any surface in front of you to electronic paper that actually resembles printed text and consumes no power. It also seems that by installing TV screens everywhere we’ll continue to turn into zombies and no matter how sexy you are virtual reality goggles still look stupid.

It’s back to LA tomorrow and I’m moving into the sweetest building in “The Brewery”. More than 1500 artsy types form this creative community near Chinatown and I’m sharing a top floor apartment with four others. This will be my den for the next few months where I will continue web freelancing and begin to delve into some new business directions. Click here to map me!

Everyone loves racist jokes and it’s often noted that Western people have a hard time telling the difference between two similar looking people of another culture. It was funny to see the reverse when Chinese Customs looked intently at my passport picture and then at me repeatedly. One asked me if I lost weight but luckily he didn’t continue the flirting with any cavity searching.

After 1997, Britain’s 99-year lease on Hong Kong expired and the area became a SAR of China, an unfortunate acronym meaning Special Administrative Region. Although this looks rather similar to it’s old friend SARS, or Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome, the new kid on the block is the Avian Flu and he has an infection personality. Aside from being a global pandemic trendsetter another interesting fact is that although China’s size spans 4 time zones the whole country actually follows Beijing time.

The first impression I got of HK as I flew overhead was of the many islands and skyscrapers rising out of seemingly dense jungle. What’s more, on closer inspection you could see that many older buildings have mold on the walls due to the extreme humidity. This place is in a constant battle of human development versus nature and nature is damply fighting back. Topographical maps from last century bear little resemblance to the landscape today because so much land has been reclaimed from the sea for development. This tropical environment holds much beauty, oh and also cockroaches evolved with wings in Asia. Sweet.

Maybe it was the bamboo scaffolding, the crazy driving or the strange pots of mystery meats but for the first time on my trip I felt like something was going to fall on me, hit me or poison me. I duly respected my instincts and neatly tucked a list of emergency contact numbers into my disintegrating Mexican wallet.

After enjoying a week of luxury at Dr. Brian Apthorp’s residence on top of Shousan Hill, I descended into the bustle of Causeway Bay and rented a small serviced apartment for a month. While having a toilet in the room was convenient it was awkward when guests had to use it for number twos, although one French friend I acquired seemed to particularly enjoy coming over and using it for precisely that. Let’s just say I missed the ‘white-noise’ flushing sound of Tokyo’s fancy porcelain thrones.

Like the architecture and the urban layout, the residents are a large mix of both Western and Chinese origin. While many expats left after the “hand over”, others remained and I was able to experience an untouched pool of distinguished Brits at the Doctor’s ‘Hong Kong Club’; like many other places it used to be strictly “No Chinese” but slowly it’s become more accepting. It reminded me very much of the good old times at English boarding school, complete with rowdy drinking, sarcastic humor and all the accompanying ballyhoo.

On the flip side there has been an influx of Mainland Chinese since 1997 and on many streets you might be the only Westerner. In comparison to Tokyo and even Seoul the people here are loud and seem rude by many western standards, blindly pushing in lines and spitting just about everywhere. After SARS they tried to ban spitting with fines but it’s back and people are making up for lost time. There are amazingly busy streets, teeming with pedestrians and lined with mysterious shops like strange Chinese medicine stores filled with jars containing among other things fertility enhancing deer fetus and dog penis. There are different standards here and that’s what makes it so intriguing, after all you know something’s crazy when there’s a superhero called Excreman, a comic turd.

In Hong Kong Cantonese is the spoken language and its tonal structure, where a very similar word can mean completely different things, is so intimidating that my retention was effectively zero. Some day traveler’s will be equipped with an automatic translator, until then my strange gesticulations and guttural-sounds will have to suffice.

One of the highlights of Hong Kong is the incredible efficiency of the public transport. In fact I found all of Asia to be far better than most US cities. Not only are the trains on time here but also many stations are designed so well that as you get off to make a transfer to another line the train you want is often on the other side of the platform and just rolling in.

Another bonus is that you can pay for all public transport, including taxis, with an “octopus” card. While I have no idea where they came up with that strange marketing identity it is similar to the Korean subway cards in that you can pay the fare without removing from your wallet. But the octopus one-ups its Korean friend by also being able to be used at other locations including convenience stores, such as one of the millions of 7-11’s all over town, and some restaurants. In fact one incredibly hung over day when the smell of Asian cuisine, in particular ‘Nato’ which smells like old socks and garbage juice, was threatening to induce projectile vomiting I grabbed a Big Mac but to my horror realized I had no cash. Luckily Octopus saved the day, and even went into negative balance to get me on the road to recovery - I still didn’t get the ‘Octopus’ branding.

My ‘shoebox palace’ was equipped a small kitchenette and I became rather creative at using the minimal appliances. My culinary arts produced such delights as ‘Dumplings a la Kettle’ and even ‘Steamed Buns with a Microwave Demiglaze Reduction’. When I tired of these treats I would go out to eat which was usually good and quite cheap if you were up for some risky exploring.

First of all you cannot get Avian Flu from cooked meat. Armed with that little fact I boldly ingested large amount of fowl including duck, chicken and most interestingly pigeon. And who knew the filthy little winged vermin could be so tasty when minced up, cooked and served on lettuce leaves! There are bakeries on many corners and just writing this makes me miss them. They all had different types of freshly baked breads and the majority contained fillings like curry, cheeses and even a stick of satay chicken baked right in. Those crazy Chinese bakers, what will they think of next - bread stuffed with tuna and corn? Nope - they’ve already got it!

Most of the cuisine was delicious but there definitely were some very strange things on offer; large cauldrons of animal parts, all types of foods on sticks lurking in liquids and the green-yolked pickled delicacy called the “Thousand Year Egg”. I made weekly trips to the surrounding islands to sample various cuisines and to see the different environments. Lamma Island is where the old hippies go and everybody is more laid back, away from the HK island chaos. Cheung Chau Island has a very quaint seaside with little alleys and rooms in case you want to stay and party. Both of these islands don’t have cars, only small electric buggies and of course many bikes. Lantau Island is bigger and home to the largest seated Buddha in the world, 80ft tall and perched on top of a mountain. The stilted fishing village of Tai O is also found here although I didn’t make it because I took a guess and got on a bus that ended up somewhere totally different. The best eating experience in Asia hands down was in another small fishing town of Sai Kung in the New Territories. The New Territories is the mass of land north of HK Island and where I went on my last day in HK. When we got off the bus, some Thai friends and I noticed people crowded around the pier. On investigation we saw that in the waters 15ft below were many fishermen standing in their small boats. It was amazing to see because the boats were filled with tanks that were constantly recycling new water and contained all types of creatures from squids, to tuna, to crabs and some of the strangest shrimp I’ve ever seen. After haggling with the fisherman he hoisted a plastic bag of writhing fish up to us, we paid him and then came the best part; we brought the bag to a restaurant just down the pier and told them how we wanted the different fishes to be cooked. Within 20 minutes our little friends were no longer moving, instead they were steamed, fried, sautéed in spicy sauces and tasting unbelievable. As a bonus we were serenaded by groups of women who were holding hands and singing Christian songs. Most lyrics seemed to be “I worship you” which might have seemed strange but as I sat back and sucked on mantis shrimps it was easy to image that I was an emperor, this was my feast and they were my submissive harem. Strangely easy.

One thing really bugged me and that was the complete lack of napkins, except at the most fancy restaurants, which is a stark contrast to the prevalent warm towels of Japan. This became particularly bad when the meal was a sinus clearing spicy soup but if you were lucky they would put out a roll of toilet paper. Also dishes were often brought out a little dirty but you can use the hot tea at the table to clean them.

I often wear pajamas all day when I work and then at nighttime I put on a suit and like to pretend I came from a real job. After a tough day on the computer there is nothing more beneficial yet paradoxically challenging than going out and succeeding in a social environment. Like playing Tetris too much and seeing the blocks falling everywhere you start categorizing people into logic trees and talking about some really dull stuff. You have to fight it!

Luckily HK is truly a city that just gets crazier when the lights go down. Things get started late and the closing time for bars is when there’s no one left partying. This meant some nights that started out innocently could quickly turn into sunrise-greeting mornings. Lan Kwai Fong is one of the busiest spots, although it’s a bit pricey and full of westerners it’s also full of westerner loving Asian girls. Always lurking were the multitudes of ‘undercover ladies of the night’ and the game that my new friend Heath and I played was ‘Spot the Prostitute’. With some girls it’s easier to tell than others but when you’re drunk and thinking you’re having the luckiest night of you life your perception is skewed. Suddenly the drinks bill comes and added to the inflated charges is your deflated ego when you realize you’ve been flirting with and buying drinks for a couple of harlots. If you go back sober another night you’ll see the errors of your ways – beautiful women seducing old and ugly western men while others stand around in groups often shouldering little ‘overnight’ bags. As my cynical but learned French friend Philippe said “In Hong Kong, after midnight, it’s all business my friend.”

After a couple of weeks Heath saved the day by befriending a group of girls form the local Thai karaoke bar so that is where we spent a lot of our time after that. Within a week we were quasi celebrities, we’d take English song requests and stay until after the bar closed. One night I took all the girls out for drinks in Lan Kwai Fong and after that they really pulled the stops out, bringing me cognac and cooking full Thai BBQ’s on the patio after the bar closed. One night I even got to sample pickled chicken feet served on a piece of lettuce; thankfully I was quite tipsy and thus managed to chew and swallow the dangly, white and wrinkled meat. I ended up dating one of the waitresses for a few weeks. She took care of me well and spoke zero English, I’m not sure if she understood that I wasn’t coming back.

There’s no need to go to any strip clubs in HK. Wan Chai used to be the hub for the 1000’s of sailors that would call into port but with new ‘clean up’ restrictions the new girls not only don’t take anything off but are some of the laziest and most miserable looking dancers I’ve ever seen. While on naughty topics one other tip for male travelers and conclusion to a common preconception; condoms in Asia are a full 4cm less in diameter than their 56cm western counterparts. So if you’re packing the pants, pack ‘em in advance. Damn I could sell that slogan to Trojan.

Some of the other nights out include scaling the longest series of escalators in the world that ascend almost a mile up a hill full of bars and set you up for the perfect downhill pub-crawl. Also from across the river at Tsim Sha Tsui you can sit and look at the intense Hong Kong skyline, backed by “The Peak” part of the “Dragon’s Back” mountains which you can also reach by cable car to look across to the new territories. At night dozens of massive buildings come alive with the most amazing synchronized light show I have ever seen. This is “The Symphony of Lights” and shoots lasers, flashes strobes and pulses to the beat of a radio station you can tune into. Hong Kong is definitely a beautiful balance of organized chaos.

I’m not sure which was a clearer sign of the impending cold, the frozen lakes I saw from the air or the legions of Chinese people pulling winter jackets out of their hand luggage upon landing. One thing was for sure, the large arrival burp from the man in front of me signaled poor weather planning; it was going to be a frigid week.

I found a hostel in the middle of the old Hutong, a series of small streets connected by alleyways as tiny as 44cm wide in places. As quaint as this old section is I was amazed by many partially destroyed buildings and mounds of rubble nearby. I found out that they are destroying parts of the Hutong by building a road right through it to carry to Olympic torch in 2008. There’s also a Starbucks in the Forbidden City. I couldn’t believe this but when I talked to many locals I was shocked to hear how excited they were that Beijing was becoming an internationally recognized city. For a communist country this is one sad signal of the infectious capitalist tide; have a caramel latte while we bulldoze your culture!

Olympics or not Beijing was one of my favorite stops in China. Even though many of the sites were under construction for repairs the charm was still everywhere. I tell you one thing though, when places have names like “Temple of Heaven” and “Cloud Dwelling” it’s a little hard for them to live up to your expectations.

In Beijing it was hard to feel lonely. Just walking down the street made me feel good because everybody was so friendly. If you smile at someone it is usually reciprocated – and not in the same way as I felt in Hong Kong where they are out to make a sale. Even if they are selling something and you’re not interested they’re still just happy to talk to you. Not only did i stand out but here I was a ‘lao wai’ (wise foreigner) whereas in HK I had been a ‘gwai lo’ (foreign devil).

Mandarin is the dominant language here and yet again intensely difficult for westerners to master. Apparently some differences in tone are indistinguishable to our untrained ears and when subtle variations can be the difference between saying something nice or something derogatory about a person’s mother, it’s a dangerous game to play.

There were some people to look out for however. Around many of the sights, especially Tiananmen Square, lurked young guys posing as artist students. Typically their intentions were not too malicious, they just wanted to get you to come to their ‘art exhibition’ but actually they were just employed to bring you in and then you had to pay or they would guilt-pressure you. While guilt-pressure is hardly as threatening as a pistol to the head I did hear stories about tourists going out to eat with they’re new ‘friends’ and being stuck with the bill. As always though, if you’re aware and go with your instincts then your chances of being a target decrease. Also if you walk with an exaggerated limp and talk to yourself in a high pitched tone people are less likely to mess with you but I usually save that trick for downtown LA.

Friendliness does not mean hygienic. Spitting is even more prevalent in Beijing than in HK and people smoke just about everywhere. I was at an internet café using a computer who’s keyboard had apparently been doubling as an ashtray for some time and the guy next to me kept spitting on the floor between his legs. One day I was talking with a shopkeepers daughter, as i do, when an old man on a passing bike leant over his should and vomited a large pile of steaming noodles onto her store front. He carried on unabashedly and she was only mildly appalled; she simply shook her head, walked over to it and laid a napkin over it.

One of my favorite parts about Beijing is that taxis are so cheap that you didn’t even care if they got lost getting you to where you were going. You could even rent one for a whole day for about $25. It’s pretty important to bring a map as that enables you to just point to destinations instead of repeatedly pronouncing destinations incorrectly.

Many people ride bikes even in the frigid weather – even the guy who delivers the small compressed-coal heat bricks hauls them around on a cart. I wish I’d had a coal heater in my hostel room; it got so cold that I slept under two blankets and in all my clothes.

When I was out during the day I often got so cold that I wondered just what the hell I was trying to prove but clothes were so cheap you could just buy more while you were out walking. One day after some intense haggling I scored an entire long underwear set for $3, the smiling salesman even let me change into them in his backroom. If you do make it to Beijing in these cold months – and I suggest you come in spring or fall – make sure you warm yourself regularly by going into the tea-rooms that are scattered everywhere. I usually got rose tea, literally rose petals in hot water, that a smiling local told me in broken English would help me be 'skinny man'!

You have to love the Internet; I found a site called couchserfing.com where people offer their couches to backpackers and transient designers. While I didn’t need a place to crash I did meet an awesome guy called Phil Groman and had dinner with him on my first night in town. He took me to a Chinese Islamic restaurant in the Hutong that served food from the western provinces. China is so big that people in the west can look far different from their countrymen in the east; the former looking much closer in color and features to people from the Middle-East. Over the course of 2 hours we consumed 5 large bottles of beer, 4 large glasses of rice liquor (baijo), 6 chicken skewers, 2 pots of noodles and some spicy tofu for the gargantuan amount of $5. In fact even in stores bottles of water were typically more expensive than bottles of beer, which is great because although they give you small glasses they drink a lot and toast with ‘ganbei’, meaning ‘bottoms up’, and they mean it.

One day I met some herbal medicine specialists from Shanghai in front of the Forbidden City and we decided to go eat traditional Beijing duck. While I was informed about all the remedies you can make with various roots we were served the crispy skin of the duck, which we put in small pancakes along with apples slices and sugar. Then while they lamented the dangers of antibiotics the next course was brought out, which consisted of the duck meat, freshly sliced vegetables and plum sauce which again went into the pancakes. Finally during a conversation about male virility we were brought a milky soup which was actually made from the duck bones. While my new friends continued about the holistic approach to medicine and their respect for nature I couldn’t help but see a parallel in the preparation of the duck – we had consumed the entire bird with almost no waste. Who’s really the lao wai here?

If there’s one thing I really miss it’s the steamed buns. These warm doughy pockets of joy provide you with both a temporary hand warmer and gooey sustenance and came with a variety of fillings. Since I didn’t know what the hell I was getting it was always a fun surprise!

China has no respect for trademarks, copyrights or patents. While this will change in the future as it becomes a larger economic power, for now it’s the wild west of knockoffs. If your haggling skills are good, and it is an art form, you can buy a $400 North Face jackets for $20 and of course all types of silks for great prices. Sometimes there is an obvious flaw in the branding, for example ‘Mariboro’ cigarettes or ‘Calvin Kline’ underwear, and the quality is slightly sub par. So you might save a some money but also get a sweet rash from the cheap synthetic material as a bonus. Other times it's the exact product from the same factory that got manufactured during factory 'off hours'

The majority of people in Asia smoke and there are tiny cigarette shops everywhere. Cigarettes are so cheap that you’d be a fool not to smoke and with holographic boxes and names like ‘Double Happiness’ or ‘Lesser Panda’ they’re too intriguing not to try.

As you walk down through the Hutong you get approached by dozens of people trying to sell you Rolexes and DVDs. I decided to go check out some pirated DVDs and was led into a narrow alley and up a flight of steps into a small apartment lined with shelves of DVDs and crammed with other wide eyed westerners. I bought 10 for $10 and went back to the hostel to check them out. For the most part they worked fine but you could tell they just didn’t take pride in their work when the subtitles of ‘Lord of the Rings’ were from a different movie altogether! You get what you pay I guess.

Although many of the touristy sights were slightly disappointing because they were being prepared for the Olympics I knew a trip to the Great Wall was imperitive. There was no way that a 70km long, almost 2000-year-old cultural monument that’s visible from space can’t be fresh. Since it’s so long there are many places where you can visit it. Some are more popular because of the views, some are more ‘attractive’ because they’ve been restored but my experience was completely different.

When I checked into the hostel I had seen a small notice on the board saying ‘Secret Great Wall Tours’. The description sounded intriguing and promised access to unrestored and very isolated section but sadly you needed to have at least four people to make it happen. One night during some baijo shots and pirated DVDs in the hostel common area I recruited some Swedish boys, English couple and a few other stragglers to come along. At the crack of dawn with steamed buns in hand we left the hostel and were driven through the mountains to a small farming village. When we arrived a small old man wearing cloth shoes greeted us with a smile full of broken teeth and not a single intelligible word of English. After that clear introduction was established our driver left and our leader clapped his hands and started off into the fields.

After about an hour of walking through frozen orchards and across edges of terraced fields we saw the snaking structure in the distance. As we approached it was quite a shock at just how unrestored it was; through the centuries small trees had sprouted up through the cracks and broken much of the wall apart. Our sprightly leader hopped up onto it and began to to walk at a quick pace so we duly followed. He nimbly negotiated the path while we scrambled up steep inclines and used the small trees as support when stumbling back down; our feet further adding to the wall’s destruction by dismantling look rock. I gazed from the top of old lookouts where guards had stood centuries before to protect the Chinese farmland from malevolent northern tribes. We walked the Wall for two hours and did not see another person the entire time.

Eventually we began the journey back through an epic valley, over tree bridges, around huge boulders and across frozen rivers. As we walked over the frozen water our leader tapped it with a stick to try to show us where not to step. The English chap was not so lucky and his leg went fully into the freezing water.

We were all quite thankful when we returned to his small village and were even more thankful when his wife brought out a huge meal for us. Compressed-coal bricks heated the house and to my surprise there was a TV on which a Chinese soap opera was playing. When we left I asked our driver how old this man was and he told us that he was more than seventy years old; maybe there is some truth to those herbal remedies.

I decided to wing it and arrived in Shanghai with no reservations, plans or contacts. I decided to give the hostels a break and booked myself for a couple of nights at the Donghu Hotel. It wasn’t super special but I was won over by its history; in the 1930’s it was home to a notorious gangster called ‘Big Eared Du’ and his mistresses.

Immediately Shanghai had the feel of an immature but more well groomed sibling of Hong Kong. There is massive growth going on with something like a new building project starting daily; areas that were undeveloped a few years ago are now frenetic business centers. There isn’t too much antiquity on show but Shanghai still has an interesting history from opium wars and power struggles to the economic growth and business success of today.

The areas that make up Shanghai vary greatly in appearance due to the lingering effects of their former occupants. Because of its closeness to the Yangtze River many foreigners flocked to Shanghai and lay claim to sections of the young city. There is the French Concession, a peaceful area to the west with many tree-lined streets and French styled urban planning. The Bund is an old English settlement on the Yagtze that used to be a marsh but is now home to the fancier hotels. It is also where I found an amazing hostel that had a bar on the top with a great view so I stayed for a few days. Across the river is Pudong, which until recently was largely undeveloped but now represents the meat of Shanghai’s skyline including the space age Oriental Pearl Tower. For a little flavor of old Shanghai you can visit the Old City, which still has kept many of the small alleys and aesthetic that most visitors expect to see.

Many of the first white skinned people in Shanghai were affluent, rich and intelligent westerners so the Chinese assumed that pale skin was an indication of such. Sadly for us this myth was largely dispelled by the influx of white Russians in the19th Century; they showed the Chinese that you could still be a poor worker even with white skin.

I was still on my Beijing happy high and was a little sad to not be greeted with the same enthusiasm in Shanghai. People were not unfriendly but it had more of an anonymous metropolis buzz to it. To say I got to know the people would obviously be presumptuous but I definitely observed some intriguing aspects of the culture. Like most of Asia the people here hold many superstitions that appear in many forms ranging from obvious to beautifully strange: the color red and those waving cats are pretty obviously for good luck; the many sharp twists of the Yu Garden Bridge are there to prevent the crossing of spirits as they cannot turn corners; those two super long hairs protruding from the old man’s mole actually mean financial prosperity; a grossly thick and curved nail can harbor great power and garner respect; female pubic hair is rarely trimmed, if a lady does then she is giving her man the ‘white tiger’ and wishing him misfortune.

While the Chinese differ from the Japanese in many ways, like the ability to conduct a loud cell phone argument on a crowded train, there are some similarities in social behavior. Waiting in lines is usually a chaotic affair with little eye contact but a lot of pushing, however if you ever call someone out then they will usually submit and back off; this is known as ‘losing face‘ and our Asian friends hate every form of it. It’s for this reason that I am less worried about China stealing design related jobs in the near future; as a designer you often have to think differently, take risks and look stupid before you get it right. If you’re in a creative and right-brained field you have a few more years until your job gets outsourced.

The fastest way is the maglev, i.e. magnetically levitating, train which travels even faster than the Japanese bullet train but only makes a couple of stops in between the city center and the airport. Luckily the taxis in Shanghai are still pretty cheap and easy to get. I’ve never been anywhere where they honk so much as they drive; at first I found it very distracting but by the end it started to sound like a communicative but still quite annoying language.

The subway is efficient and while not as slick as HK or concrete feeling as Beijing provided me with one of my fondest memories of public transport in Asia. One day I descended into the station at peak rush hour which my Time Out guide specifically said not to do. After flowing with the crowd through the turnstiles and down the packed escalators I arrived at the platform just as the doors of my train were about to close. People were crammed in and in a move that I surely would never have tried a couple of months before I ran for the open doors and took a few solid steps directly into the crowded car. No one looked at me or even showed signs of annoyance, the thick crowd just moved, compacted and dealt with it like every day.

The ubiquitous bikes of years past still remain as a popular form of transport but many people have turned to scooters and motorcycles but which they still ride like bicycles; riders go down streets the wrong way, take shortcuts via sidewalks, ignore traffic signals and play slalom with pedestrians. I must have seen four accidents while I was there where their control was not as accurate as they thought.

I saw a lot of the place on foot and actually walked so much that I wore through my shoes and got a pretty sweet blister on the sole of my foot; I subsequently learnt that toilet paper and packaging tape is not a good substitute for a proper bandage. However I still needed to be nimble because the beggars in Shanghai had a funny habit of playfully chasing you down the street. One night on the way home I noticed an old man crossing the street towards me holding his hat. I wasn’t far from my hotel but he was starting to speed walk so I began to jog which then turned into a full on run. As I reached the hotel door I could still hear him laughing and jingling just behind me. Another day while I was walking a shoe shiner insisted that he gave my boots a shine and went for my feet with a polish-dipped rag. I had to pull my feet away erratically while still walking resulting in a strange dance but I successfully evaded him. This happened for a few days and one day on arriving at my hotel I looked at my feet and a big glob of polish had met it’s mark. The next time I left the hotel I finally succumbed to his pestering.

Luckily it was possible to escape the craziness and the parks provided good refuge. Many people come to the parks to do their Tai Chi and also to read the newspapers that are mounted in glass cases for the public to read. On one walk I saw a man writing poetry on the ground with a brush and water; as he moved down the path his words evaporated behind him.

Big Du invited all his enemies to dinner in an effort to establish peace between them and two weeks later they all died of a mysterious illness. I did not eat at the Donghu Hotel but I did have some fine food in Shanghai. The Shanghainese are known for their spicy foods and yet again I was not disappointed. There seemed to be more chance for fancy dining here than in Beijing but I still found my paupers paradise a few blocks from the Captain’s Hostel; twenty-five cents a dish makes any date a cheap one.

The convenience store food in China was not nearly as good as in Japan and the hot food that they offer looks even more suspicious than 7/11 Go-Go Taquitos. I just never really have a hankering for strange things on sticks submerged in dark juices but apparently they love ‘em.

Chinese health and medicine are linked very closely with the cuisine and they believe in changing your diet as a cure rather than taking artificial remedies. I did love almost all Asian cuisine but there are certain things that even Hungry D won’t go for; among other things I am not down with the crab sperm, snake blood or turtle shell, I don’t care what they’re healing properties are.

It’d been a long and tiring Asian adventure so I decided to end the trip with as many massages as possible. The nice thing about Asia and particularly Shanghai is that it seemed like there was a massage parlor on every corner. Some look a little more professional than others but since I’ve only ever had one I’m not too picky. This might have been my mistake.

On my first evening in town I decided to have an early night as I was worn out from the Great Wall adventure in Beijing. After dinner I was walking home when I man walked up to me an asked me if I wanted to have a massage from a sexy girl. Did Mao have a huge chin wart? Of course i did! He promised me it would only cost $20 and led me down the street. I should have known better when he led me into a store that said “Foot Doctor” on the sign that something wasn’t right but there wasn’t time to think straight. Eight women suddenly surrounded me and then swiftly ushered me into an adjacent room. The old mamasan told me to pick a massage girl, so I did and the others left the room, followed by the mamasan who locked the door behind her. I asked where the massage room was but ‘Candy’ said this was the room I was renting. Renting?! Before I could ask further questions the door opened and a large platter of fruit and drinks was brought in – I suddenly realized that I was being railed. I demanded that the mamasan come back and when she did, this time accompanied by a large bald man, she informed me that I’d already spent $150 on the room and the girl. I didn’t have that amount and managed to haggle her down to a half an hour massage and two drinks for $47 – all the cash I had. The girl was definitely not a masseuse and as soon as she found out I didn’t have any more money she turned rather mean and began berating me. So I left and too the long walk of shame home.

Luckily my other massage experience was far more pleasurable. On my final night after some bar hopping I sauntered into a clearly labeled and professional looking massage parlor and paid $20 for an hour and a half of a full body hot lavender oil massage – something I would definitely do regularly if they were as cheap in the US. There are many types of massage that I wish I’d tried. In fact there are actually numerous places to get massages from blind women, which is apparently a very traditional practice but sadly I never got the chance. There are also many hair salon’s in Shanghai but strangely they’re full of men and the employees are all sexy women. These joyful little places are the very unsubtle fronts to pseudo whore houses; apparently you can in fact get a haircut and a hand job for a very reasonable rate of $22 – just the perfect way to revive yourself on a lunch break!

One of the craziest spectacles that I witnessed in Shanghai was the Xiangyang Market. This very large network of stalls is known as the ‘Fake Market' is the largest collection of knock off goods I have ever seen in one centralized location. People are selling everything from clothing to software and a multitude of the cliché guys opening their jackets that are lined with fake Rolex’s. No one really knows where all the goods come from because there are so many factories that could make them and hence why it’s so hard to crack down on the market, if one stall closes another pops up.

The important thing to know about these markets, and traveling in general, is how not to get ripped off. This means you either really understand the value and know how to haggle or you see the deals other people are getting and copy them. For example if you’re buying steamed buns from a street stall, rather than go straight up and buy them you wait until a local goes up and makes an order. Then you see what they get and what they pay and say you’ll have the same – this way it’s harder for the vendor to overcharge you. If haggling is the game then I learnt from a master. I met a very interesting English man who was a CEO and would often need to come through Shanghai on business. He knew just the right way to haggle, when to walk away and when to humorously feign disgust. He told me that he’d often pick up Rolexes to give to friends back at home and at one point had spent a full month on a drawn out haggle. He’d eventually won and now he often bought Rolexes from the same guy. One day we went to Xiangyang together and met his man. The guy brought us back to his apartment and it was a crazy sight to behold; sprawled on two beds, one of which was a kids with cartoon character bedding, was two mountains of fake Rolex’s. Before we arrived the CEO assured me these were the best he’d seen and taught me how to check the quality. After a lot of sifting through duds and semi duds I found a few very excellent copies and managed to get them for under $10 each.

As I said, there isn’t much antiquity to see in Shaghai but it does have a few good museums. It also has the largest model city in the world with a complete model of Shanghai on display in the Shanghai Museum in People's Square; there were walkways all around it and binoculars to view the details. That was good but what I found in a small basement in the French concession was amazing. The Propaganda Poster Art Museum is totally off the beaten track and hardly advertised but I tracked it down to the basement of a residential block in the French Concession. When I got there I was the only visitor and as promised by my Time Out I found Mr. Peiming, an old Red Guard and rather curious character, who was more that happy to give me an animated tour.

From 1949-1979 under Mao’s rule all artists were only allowed to express their skills in the form of Communist propaganda; he rationalized that art’s only purpose was to serve politics. It was rather odd to see the work of artists who would obviously rather be water coloring landscapes or painting cubist fruit bowls be tweaked with this political agenda. As Mr. Peiming led me through the couple of small rooms he had to pause in between his few English sentences, for example “You are USA – you are paper tiger!” to laugh heartily at the posters; small Uncle Sam’s being oppressed by the strong and ruddy cheeked communist peasants; smiling soldiers giving guns to chubby children; the famous Communist leaders. But of course by the end of the tour we were laughing together and he even took me into a special room where he had some sexy underground posters from the same era; oh Mr. Peiming – you so crazy.

The trip was at it’s close. I flew back to Hong Kong for one night where I picked up my extra luggage and finished the great Asia tour with a civilized Gin and Tonic at the good Doctor’s house, where I had begun my China trip 6 weeks before.

In three months I traveled from the clean, controlled cities of Tokyo and Seoul to the chaos and bustle of Hong Kong and from the historic charm of Beijing to the slicker metropolis of Shanghai. As different as they all were there were also characteristics that they shared. I witnessed no crime and felt quite safe to walk wherever and whenever I wanted. Also all the people I saw were very hard workers often keeping outrageously long hours; but as one cynic told me “why rush home when your whole family is all cramped in the same room and your sick grandmother is dying on the floor?” While that might be the case for that bitter fellow one thing is for sure, the family union is still quite sacred in Asia. Many family obligations or rules that we might consider a hassle are not even questioned there; the younger generation has an innate respect of their elders just as the citizens obediently follow their leaders. Chairman Mao was a leader who led China towards unified political rule but also definitely made some poor decisions in the process. Few people however would have said a bad word about him due to a fear of being labeled as a traitor. In reflection I find a new appreciation for my freedom of expression and the lenience I am given by my family, friends and culture.

CES is still the best tech show I’ve seen and while I need run a tighter ship the Mobile Productivity (Mo-Pro obviously), is a sweet way to travel and pay for it. I am clearing clients off my plate and plan to legalize my business this year. I am also getting out of the production side of the work and beginning to outsource; even lazy Pakistani Team is finally delivering the goods under my stern western whip. God bless you globalization.

To answer some questions - So is my wanderlust satified? Indeed not my fine friends, I am LA to calm down a bit, file my taxes and make just enough money to fund the 2006 adventures. Do I sometimes sob with lonliness? Sometimes but loneliness is a mental state and you don’t have to take it’s shit. Am I running from meaningful relationships? Chill babydoll, cause as long as I’m moving I’m either coming your way or I’ll be back soon.

January will see continued web work building a showcase for Intralink Film, an West Hollywood graphics and video studio. The end of January will bring me to Vancouver, Canada to visit Lawrence Apthorp and do some snowboarding. Larry is one of my oldest friends and got me into computers by showing me his brother’s porno on an old laptop in the middle of a rugby field outside of London when I was 10 years old.

February could mean Big D in the Big D. That means Dallas – and would be to both visit my eccentric and lovably right wing father and to brainstorm a project for an emerging tech company that is forging the way in ‘location based social networks’. My job is to make that sound a little less scary…

A plan is bubbling for a Florida visit in mid-March – it seems that a certain lovable crazy-woman has taken roost there to write and to wait out the winter months. It’s my duty as a good son to visit her and stay for at least a week at mom’s beach house in St. Augustine. This could also provide a good opportunity for some saucy Miami action – and South Beach always gives me a reason to pull out those Speedos.

Early May I will come to NYC to work at the GEL Conference and then I’ll be up at RISD in Providence for some networking at the Alumni Sale. After that I’m planning a long neglected Euro-trip and perhaps will also check out some Czech chicks in the Spring-lovin’ Eastern block. I have never been to Amsterdam so I might have to spend some time there – to visit the Van Gogh Museum of course.

September means one thing: BURNING MAN near Reno, NV! Check out last year’s pictures and read more about it. If you’re interested in coming this year get in touch with me about plans, as both Hector-the-Inspector and myself will be coordinating an expedition. Also it will also be Big Red’s ascension to a greater mechano-spiritual plane of existence.

Asia Mission 2.0 is beginning to take shape for the end of 2006. Not only are there still many undiscovered delights but also Senor “Maz” Marriott is Thai-ing the knot with his Bangkok honey over Christmas – and what kind of friend would I be if I did not attend the ceremony?

So that’s some massive travel overload – but if I can do it all and not go broke in the process then something must be working. I look forward to seeing many of you on these travels and send super-fresh-love for 2006 to all! (Except for my few slacking clients – you know who you are – pay your bills or I break your legs.)