Death by Chinese Food...

Today's words of wisdom: don't steal from China.

This story appeared in today's NY Times. Liu Zhihua, Beijing's former vice mayor and director of the city's agency that supervised the Olympic-related construction projects, faces execution for skimming about $1 million. Through an assortment of bribes and down-right, hand-in-the-cookie-jar theft, Liu took enough money to pay for a whole lot of nice vacations that he and his mistress enjoyed.

Corruption was fairly widespread while I was in Beijing. This was most apparent when it came to the food at Olympic venues. The organizing committee had alloted about $5 per person, per meal for venue organizers to spend on its volunteers. That amount, in China, is a fortune - some of the best meals I had there (in nice restaurants) didn't even cost that much.

So, did we eat like kings while working?

Nope.

The food was, for the most part, inedible and indistinguishable. We were served plastic trays of food, which has been microwaved in order for the flavors of the plastic to mix with the the flavors of the gray, unidentifiable chunks of meat and veggies to create the perfect blend of gag-inducing crap. The only thing that was consistently digestible on a daily basis was the block of white rice they served up - and even that tasted like I'd rolled up a newspaper and started chewing on the end of it.

Someone, somewhere along the chain of command, was skimming a ton of money off the top from the food budget. I'm guessing he (or she) was funding several mistresses at several chateaus and I can only hope that he'll be caught. Then again, I think the death penalty is too strong a punishment for embezzlement. Maybe they should just make him eat the food.

He'd probably die anyway.

Starting to See China...

(Note: I'd written this and pitched it to local papers, but no one picked it up. So, um, you get to read it! Yay!)

Until eight weeks ago, the word “China” evoked images in my mind of something huge, shrouded in mystery and looming eerily on the horizon. Before I flew into Beijing to report for the Olympic News Service, I knew only the barest of facts about the country and its people. They are the world’s most populous country. They have the world’s largest army. They export more goods than anyone else. They are Communist. Their pollution clouds our skies. They are our main competition as the top superpower. They are a threat to our economy, our environment and our standing.

“They, they, they”—that’s how I thought. It was all about how we do things in the United States (say, free market society) versus how they do it in China (now, a strange meld of socialist capitalism). I had an “us versus them” mentality with a clearly defined list running down opposites sides of the page.

I easily maintained that sort of black-and-white thinking when I was 7,000 miles away from China. Back home, the Chinese were an intimidating mass of over a billion blurred faces. They weren’t real.

But here on the streets of Beijing, as I’ve lived, worked and struggled through this urban sprawl of 17 million residents, I’ve started to get a clearer picture of the Chinese and their country—one that’s much different than I expected.

There’s Yang Guanjun, an artist from Xi’an, who moved to Beijing with his wife and daughter in hope of a better life. His shop is little bigger than a walk-in closet and tucked away in one of the thousands of hutong (alleyways) that spider anonymously through the city. The deep lines in his tanned skin betray the hardships that his wide, toothy smile tries to hide as I buy his watercolors.

Cindy (many Chinese use Western names when conversing with foreigners) is a graduate student who looks far too youthful to be 25 years old. She loves playing ping-pong with her friends and even teaches me how to hold a paddle correctly, giggling lightly every time I swing and miss at another return from her nasty backhand. Cindy hasn’t seen her boyfriend in more than a year. He lives and works in another city and they don’t often speak because he doesn’t like cell phones or SMS; her messages often go unanswered.

“Men and women are different, I think,” she says, “For him, the job is very important. More important than me.”

Still, she loves him and she will wait with the hope that one day they might be together.

I met Zheng Wei at a cafeteria. He helped me, unasked, to recharge a pre-paid meal card. We ate breakfast together afterward and he asked many questions about the United States, what kind of place I was from and what the universities were like. Then he asked me about faith.

“I believe in Jesus. I believe in God,” I said, trying to condense an entire worldview into two sentences.

“Many Chinese believe only in science,” he said, trying to do the same.

“You know, they can work together.”

“Yes,” he smiled and clasped his fingers together. “Work together.”

To me, China is still big and scary—I speak only the most basic Mandarin and have just seen a small slice of the country here in Beijing. But my experience over these two months has begun to chip away at the preconceptions I carried with me like too much checked luggage.

China, by successfully hosting the Olympic Games, announced its presence among the world’s powers in dramatic fashion. Yang Guanjun, Cindy, Zheng Wei and many more Chinese citizens showed me, personally and powerfully, what it meant to be welcomed here. They reminded me that the people of China are just like the people of the United States. We are all individuals who hold feelings, emotions and dreams. None of us are mere blurred faces in a crowd.

So as the world leaves Beijing, ponders what to do next about China and tries to make sense of it all, I will leave with hope. For I’ve learned here that it’s possible to co-exist if you strip away all of the politics, all of the misconceptions, all of the good and all of the bad and just look into the eyes of friend you never knew you had.

The Closing...

Every four years, history repeats itself. A city that spent seven years preparing for two weeks in the world's spotlight comes down from its Olympic high.

Beijing is like that now. The Birds Nest, the Water Cube and the dozens of other sparkling, new venues are empty. The flame has been put out (and passed on to London) and all of the nations' flags are folded and put away. The vendors' tents have been collapsed, carts hauled away and leftover merchandise boxed up. Around town, the streets seem emptier. The Silk Market salespeople sit idle on stools instead of grabbing at hordes of tourists. The bars at Sanlitun close at 2 instead of 6 a.m. The two huge warehouse-cum-nightclubs (the Heineken House and the Bud Club) where gold-medal winners, journalists, coaches and hangers-on partied nightly have vacated their property for good. All the train stations, highways and airports were packed as tens of thousands of visitors tried to get back home or get to their next destination as quickly as possible.

It's too early to tell if the $43 billion the Chinese government spent to host the Beijing 2008 Olympic Games paid off. Certainly, they're going to take a monetary loss (not surprising, considering they spent more than the five previous Games combined), but that's not necessarily what marks a host city's success. Time will tell if these past 16 days will remembered as a huge triumph (Sydney) or a monumental failure (Montreal).

Watching the torch go out from the bar at the St. Regis - yes, I roll like that - made me a little sad to see the Olympics end. I've had a fabulous experience here at the Games. I've gotten to sit ringside and watch the best amateur boxers pound the crap out of each other. I saw ping-pong in the country that calls it its national sport. I watched gold-medal judo matches, beach volleyball and USA basketball live. My commute to work involved walking through the Olympic Green twice daily, hearing the hum of the the masses and seeing the smiles all around. And I got to work in the Birds Nest, standing at the finish line and interviewing athletes. The top experience for me had to be watching all three of Usain Bolt's world records (the men's 100m, 200m and 4x100m relay) live, in person, and then talking to the guy after. Yes, I'm bragging, but how cool is that? I still can't get over it.

Neither can China. I think the country is in post-Olympic denial right now. They've been re-airing the highlights from all 51 of their gold medal winners and also just showed the entire Opening Ceremony, including the March of nations, unedited, this morning. The Chinese waited too long to host for it to be over in 16 days. We'll have to wait and see what happens when they come down off the collective high; will there be a national depression or a recession? The stock markets look like it - Shanghai's is the worst-peformer world wide and the recent inflation is starting to cause problems locally.

There is one success I'm proud to report, however small: I now love the Olympics. This is coming from a guy that hadn't watched any Opening Ceremony in 12 years and didn't watch a single minute of either Athens' or Torino's respective Games. But having been here and watched athletes go all-out for the mere love of the game, to break down crying as their nation's banner soared to the heavens and to chant "Jai Yo" (Let's go!) with thousands of happy Chinese has given me a new appreciation for what the Olympics mean. For two weeks, nations set aside their differences, pushed away language barriers and joined, universally, in sport. It wasn't just to see who could come away with the most medals, it was a chance to work together for something - to do something higher, faster or stronger than ever before. It was beautiful.

My favorite quote of the Games came from a Canadian 800m runner who finished fourth in the final round, just missing out on the podium.

"I'm not upset," he gasped in the mixed zone, 20 yards from the finish line. "I gave everything I had. Everything. It's all on the track."

That's what the Games are all about and I got to see that, firsthand, on a daily basis. You can't ask for more than that.

See you in Vancouver.

On the First Olympic Week of My Life...

We're not going to win the medal count.
It's a fact, USA - our domination of the Summer Games has come to a close. China already has twice the number of golds we do and are halfway to its goal of 119 medals. We're gonna lose. And it sucks.

But at least we have someone to cheer against.
If you look on the bright side, now we have competition and someone that I can boo internally while watching from the sidelines (I won't externally because, well, I like living too much).

Athletes are machines.
Television does not do these super-human competitors justice. They have ceased to be everyday people, have become machines honed for one thing and do that one thing faster, higher, harder and better than everyone else.

The first time I stepped on the practice track in Chaoyang, I was floored. There isn't an ounce of fat anywhere to be seen. I thought spandex would tear from the strain of containing the bulging muscles. The sheer fluidity of how they move around the track is like poetry in motion. Incidentally, I was watching the Nigerian, Cuban, Honduran and Malawian teams, too - and they're probably not going to win three track & field medals combined. So you can imagine what it's like standing next to the American athletes.

Long-distance runners are skeletons.
I've run one marathon and two halfs in the past 18 months or so, so I've seen some skinny competitors (Mostly at the start, before they start jogging twice as fast as I can sprint). But I have never seen three dozen, 5-foot 3-inch, walking, talking skeletons until I covered the women's marathon. Those girls had waists the size of my thigh and the tallest of them maybe equaled my height.

On the 100m sprint:
It will take me longer than 9.69 seconds to write this paragraph. And I didn't even slow up to celebrate at the end.

I heart my press pass.
Not only do I get free entrance to most of the attractions around town, as well as complimentary use of the city's subway and bus system, but it gets me other places, too. Like if I want to get into the press area while a spectator at an event, carrying a beer and dressed in a t-shirt. Or if I decide to skip lines and use the VIP entrance at the Olympic Green's sponors' exhibit halls. Perhaps if I wanted free beer at Club Bud or a gift every time I visited the Yashow Clothing Market, I could just whip it out. It gets me access beyond security points that require special passes, all because the Chinese are afraid of offending western press. People stare at it at the subway and kids tug on it. Oh, I'm keeping that thing.

If you're going to be a language translator, you'd better know how to speak the language.
So, the Chinese powers that be, in all their infinite wisdom, decided not to bring in official translators to work for the media at the event centers. Instead, they took on local student volunteers to do the work, most of whom have around two years of education in a language. They're all quite good speakers - for people that have studied for two years, that is.

Example: We're at a test press conference, where fake athletes will be answering questions from English-speaking journalists in Spanish and Korean. Our intrepid language staff will then translate the answers. The Spanish "athlete" delivers a three-minute answer to a question. We all wait, with baited breath, for the translation to come through our earpieces after he's finished speaking. There are 30 seconds of silence, some shuffling of papers and then a slight cough.

"Don't know."

Then more silence. We turn around and look into the translator's booth. There, looking completely befuddled, is a smiling Chinese student. Let's just say that language services here hasn't gotten better since.

When you're dressed the same as everyone else, you do what you can to stand out.
Even if that includes wearing a 1990s, Limp Bizkit-style bucket hat, with the brim flipped up and dark sunglasses. Yup, that was me yesterday. It'll be me tomorrow. And it'll be me through the rest of the competition... Oh yes, pictures will follow.

After a week of watching preliminary rounds, I want to box.
And if that fails, I can always race walk.

Censorship in China...

Despite all the horror stories you hear about China about a lack of free speech and a non-existent free press, I've encountered very little censorship during my time here.

Much of that has to do, I'm sure, with the fact that the Olympics are in town. The government has cleaned up its act for a month or two, Internet barriers have temporarily come down (all except, for me, Facebook, Wordpress and, weirdly, one of my credit cards) and the local media has continued its tradition of self-policing and China promotion. While my troubles on the 'net are an annoyance - particularly the Facebook thing, since I can sometimes get on and sometimes not - the most censorship I've experienced has been from a mulit-billion dollar American company. One I happend to work for not so long ago.

I was lucky enough to get a ticket into the Bird's Nest to see the Mens 100m Finals - arguably the marquee event of any Summer Games and, really, the only one I definitely wanted to make sure I saw. It lived up to the legends of Olympics past: Tyson Gay's injury keeping him from the finals, the current and former world record holders lining up for the finals, a pair of unsung Americans running alongside and the culmination of Usain Bolt (who, by the way, started running the 100m less than a year ago) breaking his own world record to win gold.

As the eight sprinters lined up to start, the capacity crowd of 91,000 fell to a hush and rose, as one, to its feet. We stood there, poised and ready, as if we were tensed to run the race alongside the Olympians. The entire crowd could hear the call of, "On your mark... set!" and then let out a defining roar milliseconds after the starting gun. We screamed for 9.69 seconds, took a breath, and then screamed some more - in disbelief, in joy, in celebration, in the Olympic spirit.

I had my Flashcam with me and I captured that moment live, in the stadium, just soaking it all in. But NBC, apparently, thinks it owns the rights to the very Olympics itself and keeps kicking my video of YouTube. And there's nothing I can do about it. Apparently, one of the world's ten largest companies that generates billions in revenue each year thinks that someone shooting at an event their television network covered (not even using their footage) could bring down their entire profit stream.

So, thank you GE and NBC Universal. You've just shown me what censorship is all about in China.

Dear SeeMikeWrite,

NBC Universal (Sports) has claimed some or all visual content in your video Usain Bolt World Record - live from the Birds Nest. This claim was made as part of the YouTube Content Identification program.

Your video is no longer available because NBC Universal (Sports) has chosen to block it.

Claim Details:

Copyright owner:	NBC Universal (Sports)
Content claimed:	Some or all of the visual content
Policy:	Block this content. Applies to these locations: Everywhere

NBC Universal (Sports) claimed this content as a part of the YouTube Content Identification program. YouTube allows partners to review YouTube videos for content to which they own the rights. Partners may use our automated video / audio matching system to identify their content, or they may manually review videos.

For more information about this claim, visit the Video ID Matches section of your YouTube account.

Please Note: Repeat incidents of copyright infringement will result in the suspension of your account and all videos uploaded to that account. In order to avoid future strikes against your account, please delete any videos to which you do not own the rights, and refrain from uploading additional videos that infringe on the copyrights of others. For more information about YouTube's copyright policy, please read the Copyright Tips guide. If you believe that this claim was made in error, or that you are otherwise authorized to use the content at issue, you may file a counter notice. For more information on this process, please see: How do I file a counter notice?

Please note that under Section 512(f) of the Copyright Act, any person who knowingly materially misrepresents that material or activity was removed or disabled by mistake or misidentification may be subject to liability.

Sincerely,
The YouTube Content Identification Team

Video success and the shameful sequel...

So, I've gotten 18,000 hits on YouTube from my last crappy video and am now in the top-100 travel guru type folks for the past week. Weird, eh? Well, I didn't want to rest on my laurels, so I've just put up a video that's just as crappy, but also just as timely and hopefully people will be searching me out.

Here's some footage from the Birds Nest of Usain Bolt's world record-breaking 9.69 second finish in the Men's 100m finals tonight...



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Note: NBC blocked the video about 12 minutes after I put it up, so I re-did it this morning in the hopes that they won't do it again. We'll see...

Video B-Roll from the Opening Ceremony celebration...

Nothing too special on this one, just a collection of shots from around Beijing on 8/8/08. Hope you like it!

Musings on the Opening Ceremony...

Hello, world. Beijing is ready.

Seven years, $40 billion dollars and one fantastic show later, the Beijing Games have officially opened. I hope the Opening Ceremony made you all sit up a little straighter on the sofa and take note: the Olympics have arrived.

It was impossible not to notice. Some highlights: the 2008 drummers counting down the final few seconds; the little girl soaring above the ground, flying a kite and landing into a human recreation of the Bird's Nest; dancers painting a beautiful tapestry; hundreds of paddle-weilding rowers recreating the Yellow River; Lopez Lomong - a former Lost Boy of Sudan - carrying the U.S. flag into the arena; and the everlasting image of Li Neng running through the air to light the Olympic flame.

I'd been given the honor of seeing a dress rehearsal the week before, so I knew what to expect from the spectacle, having see everything except for the final torch lighting (which had been kept secret... Reportedly, only three people in the world knew who would be the final carrier). So, last night, what I was looking for was the reaction of the Chinese people - even more so than re-watching the brilliant ceremony.

I've been some places, I've seen some things in 25 short years on this here rock. But not many come close to the sheer exuberance and enthusiasm that 17 million people can exude all at once. The whole city seemed to be united in one, giant motion. It stood smiling with its arms spread, at once welcoming the Games and the world to its door.

My friend Anna and I started out in Tian'anmen, where, although the actual square had been cordoned off, thousands of people milled about. There wasn't anything to see (few fireworks and no TV screens) and yet people were just there because they had to be somewhere. Everywhere we looked, there were Chinese flags waving, stickers of the banner cut into heart-shapes and cameras flashing as people tried to document the historic occasion.

We wound up walking around the square for a bit, soaking in the sights, and then headed north to meet some friends. The government had shut down the 2nd Ring Road and many of the main drags, so it took some fancy driving to get us to the Houhai/Drum and Bell Tower area and he dropped us off about a 15 minute walk from where we wanted to go. It wound up being less of an aggravation and more of an adventure. Thanks to the cabbie, we spent the first few minutes of the Opening Ceremony on the streets of the city, surrounded by awestruck Beijingers.

They packed up against each other, eyes towards the skies, looking for the first explosion of fireworks that would signify the party had begun. They blocked off streets, standing in the way of buses and cars, in order to keep a clear view on the big screens and TVs that lined the sidewalk. They cheered and took pictures and smiled and hugged and we were a part of it all.

Eventually, we made it to the bar and met up with our friends. There were plenty of ex-pats there, but at least half of the crowd was Chinese. They atmosphere there was one part party (bar, duh) and one part movie screening, as the crowd watched the show in silence broken only by excited buzzing and spurts of applause. Watching for the second time, I was just as enraptured as the first.

As the night wore on, the March of Nations started and we began cheering for each other's nations. There was a lone Israeli there, but the entire deck cheered for the Israeli team. Hong Kong and Taiwan received vigorous applause, as did Romania, Sweden, Canada, the United States, Great Britain and Australia.

But that was nothing to the deafening, citywide roar that arose as Yao Ming's 7-foot, 6-inch frame stepped onto the floor of the Birds Nest holding the Chinese flag aloft. The place went nuts and the floorboards shook under my feet. I yelled along with everyone, caught up in the moment and just happy to see the joy across the faces of people who had waited for seven years for that moment.

That's what the Olympics are all about. It was time to forget borders, forget money, forget politics. Instead, we remembered that despite our differences, we are all the same. Now wasn't a time to fight, now was a time to cheer each other on. So cheer on, we did.

Go China, your time to shine has arrived.

The city, and the world, celebrated long into the night.

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Note: I grabbed the photo from The Big Picture, which is a blog on Boston.com's website. You should definitely be subscribing to their feed. They post about 3 times a week and have some of the most amazing, newsworthy photography out there.

Oh, the humanity! (of the Beijing subways)

I've been on crowded trains before, don't get me wrong.

When I lived in London, my daily commute involved taking an overland train from Clapham Junction (Britain's busiest rail station) to Waterloo and then switching to the subway during rush hour. If I had enough room to hold a paperback in front of my face AND still have it far enough away to pick out individual letters without my eyes cramping, it was a light travel day. That hardly ever happened.

Coming to Beijing, a delightful city of 17 million in a country of 1.3 billion people (one-sixth of the world's population), I knew I was in for some close encounters of the Chinese kind in public transport. Every day since I've gotten here, I've been pushed, poked, prodded, piled on, pried past and probably propositioned politely on the subway. The Line 1 trains are particularly packed. Frankly, the time of day doesn't really matter... Sure, it's more backed up during the moring/evening rush hours, but I've gotten into squished cars at 2:30 in the afternoon. Whatever, it's part of life here.

The fun thing I didn't expect to find here was what I affectionately call "The Running of the Chinese Bulls." You see, I'm staying beyond the end of Line 1. That line ends at a stop (Sihui East). From there, I have to switch to the Batong Line if I want to continue eastwards from downtown. It makes no sense whatsoever - the Beijing MTA could easily just make the Line 1 trains keep going instead of pulling U-turns and heading back west, but whatever. I'll post more on that sort of commonplace Chinese efficiency later.

The Running of the Chinese Bulls is what commuters do every time they have to switch trains at Sihui East. The line up at the doors of a Line 1 train, sprint out in a mad dash from the car, up the closest flight of stairs, through corrals set up for the express purpose of preventing the weak and young from being trampled, back down a flight of stairs to a different platform and then huddle around the areas where the next train's doors will open. Once that train pulls into the station, the people cluster around the doors - literally pressing themselves against the side of the car - before sprinting for a seat as soon as they whoosh open.

It's hysterical.

I've seen full-on dives for seats, mothers tossing toddlers into an open plastic chair, bags thrown down to mark territory and more sucker punches thrown in the scrum than I could count. Within three seconds, every seat is taken and the chaos subsides into the usual sort of spacy silence you'd expect from the commuting crowd. It's rather uncanny and something you just need to see for yourself. So, I've taken it upon myself to videotape the scramble for my next YouTube project.

Here goes nothing...

Down in the Hutong...

I love her / she loves me
But I don't fit in her society
Lord, have mercy on a boy from down in the hutong.

Hutongs are the narrow, winding alleys that spiderweb across Beijing. They are the traditional neighborhoods of often-ancient stone houses, clay-tile roofs and shared bathrooms. If Beijing's six circular highways (ring roads) are the arteries of the New City, then the hutongs are the network of capillaries that have given life to the capital for centuries.

They're everywhere, crisscrossing main streets, leading to landmarks' rear entrances and dead ends alike and twisting—often at 90-degree angles, without warning. But at the same time, they're easy to overlook, for this is where the city's underclass lives. A few hutongs here and there have been gentrified, with new walls and tea shops sprouting up. Mostly, though, stepping into one is stepping into the way of life for millions of Chinese.

It is a step, I think, that many tourists don't take. Just like it's easy to stay away from the run-down neighborhoods at home, wandering through hutongs isn't a necessity. There are main roads, taxi cabs and sparkling new subway lines to whisk foreigners from photo op to photo op, shopping centers built below high rise office buildings to peruse (mostly Western) name brands and plenty of KFCs, McDonalds and Starbucks to visit instead of getting your feet dirty trudging through back alleys. This isn't a condemnation; it's just an observation. I've had my share of iced coffees from the baristas over the past month, too.

But I've also found the hutongs to be an indispensable part of my experience here. Perhaps when this is all over, my times wandering through these neighborhoods will be my fondest memories of the city.

Stepping off the sidewalks into a hutong means you're leaving behind all of the comforts you're used to. There aren't any English menus in the restaurants and very few will have pictures. You may have to put up with the smell of open toilets as you pass by the common bathrooms the residents share. You'll be dodging delivery people and garbage collectors on bicycles and have to endure the occasional interested stare as one of the locals watches you, perhaps wondering if you're lost.

Walking through a hutong also provides you with potential for some of the best travel experiences you can have. For one, I've found the food to be incredible. Most of the restaurants will either have open-air kitchens or will only have one dish for sale, which will be on display. I can spot something I like (egg and tomato stir fry or pistachio pastries, for example), pay a couple yuan for it and either eat it there at a small stool and table or take it for later munching. While these places look ramshackle and run-down on the outside, I'd trust their food over pretty much any Westernized fast-food joint in Beijing. These restaurateurs are basing their entire livelihood on their dumplings or their steamed buns—make a couple people sick and no one's going to come to you ever again.

There are almost always children playing in the streets, whether it's kicking a ball or running around playing tag or some other chase game. Many will skid to a halt after spotting me, sidle up and whisper a nervous, "Nihao." I'll respond with the same and a smile and their faces never fail to light up as the foreigner tries to speak their language. They'll giggle and then run off to keep on playing—the joy of children is universal.

The other day, I stumbled into Yang Guanjun's art shop, attracted by the watercolors and the English "ART" sign on the front door. I found the owner to be a delightful dude, with enough knowledge of English for us to stumble through a conversation. Guanjun is from X'ian in central China and he studied art at university there. There wasn't enough work for him in his hometown, so he brought his wife and young daughter to Beijing ten years ago to open an art studio and tea house. Business has been okay, but it's hard for the tourists with money to find him, as his home/studio is a few blocks from the main road, down a narrow hutong with no signs and no other shops. He gladly showed me his wares—everything from calligraphy on antiqued scrolls to photographic prints—before inviting me upstairs to see the living space he's trying to rent out for the Olympics (a pair of twin rooms, a brand new shower he was infinitely proud of and Internet access on provided, ancient PCs). I spent 30 minutes chatting, sampling the tea he had on sale and talking about the coming Summer Games before I departed, two original paintings under my arm. Those souvenirs are nice, but their meaning will go beyond that of the trinkets I've picked up in the Silk Market or around town because I shook the same hand that painted them.

None of that would have happened, had I not gotten lost, wandering alone through a hutong. If you're ever in Beijing, I suggest you do the same. You never know what you might find.

Yang Guanjun with his work


Champion Art Gallery (owned by Yang Guanjun)


Hutong Rooftops


Bicycles Along the Wall

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Editor's Note: Yang Guanjun does not have a website, but he can be emailed at yangguanjun [at] sohu[dot]com. His shop is at 26 Men Kuang Hutong, in the Xuan Wu district (about a 20 minute walk south of Tien'anmen Square).

Highlights of Beijing (to-date)

So, rather than bore you with long-winded descriptions of each place, I'm going to keep y'all updated by giving out a list of the sites I've visited and include a note on each. And lots of pictures. Because a picture is worth a thousand words and no one actually wants to read 10,000 of those, right?

I was able to visit about half of these places courtesy of BOCOG (the Beijing Organizing Committee for the Olympic Games), who took us News Service worker on a three-day tour of the best Beijing had to offer. So, I have to be eternally thankful to them, even if our first stop was kinda poopy.

On to the sites! As always, I've linked to more shots on Flickr from the entry.

Qinghe Water Reclamation Plant - this is, you guessed it, a waste water treatment plant. Or, more specifically, they clean sewage so the water can be used in car washes, to provide irrigation and the like (thankfully, not drink). The city is definitely proud of this plant and the 12 others just like them it built for the Olympics. There were a plethora of jokes about this visit, but I can't share any of them in mixed company.


Xiang Tang New Culture Village - We visited "the most beautiful village in China," which is a government sanctioned/subsidized/supported/built "village" in Beijing. I'd liken it to something akin to visiting Disneyworld or the City of the Future at the World's Fair. It was eeiry, actually... there a ton of new buildings, but very few are inhabited. It's a mish-mash of old style courtyard homes and Western condos. At the center is an arts center that caters to a resident retirement community. They sang us a song about how happy they were to live in a place with clear skies and fresh mountain air (the smog was so thick that day that we couldn't see the actual mountains that were a 1/2 mile away, but they assured us that they were there). Honestly, I'm not really sure even now what to think about this place. It's either a project to try and reclaim some of China's lost history or one giant PR scam... neither would surprise me.

Peking Duck - let me say, if you had to have a last meal and picked this, you couldn't be too wrong. My goodness, is it ever delicous. Perfect with a Tsingtao.









Great Wall, Badaling - Lonely Planet say thus about Badaling: "The surrounding scenery is raw and impressive and this is the place to come see the wall snaking off into the distance over the undulating hills. Also come here for guard rails, souvenier stalls, a fairground feel and the companionship of sqauds of tourists surging over the ramparts. If you time your visit to coincide with a summer weekend, you won't be able to move against the wall of humanity on the battlements." I have to say, the book couldn't have summed it up better. It took us a full hour of waiting, jammed against Chinese tourists, to get from the ticket booth to the top of the actual wall. Part of it had to do with Felipe Calderon (Mexico's president), who decided to visit the wall on the same day and they closed off sections for him, but part of it was Badaling's natural "tourist charms." I will definitely be re-visting the Great Wall, but not at Badaling. Having said that, it might be the coolest thing I've done in Beijing. Climbing over one of the 7 wonders of the world (that's 2,000 years old) cannot be underestimated.

The Ming Tombs - built during the 1500's during the Ming dynasty, these tombs rival those of Egypt's Pharoahs in splendor and oppulence. There are 13 of them, but only three are open to the public. In essence, they are underground tombs surrounded by lush gardens of cypress and impressive temples. The best part of the visit, however, wasn't the tomb itself. Rather, it was the perfectly clear sky that gave us tremendous views of the rocky mountains just north of Beijing. A landscape fit for an emperor's resting place.

The New Summer Palace - Originally named "Qingyi Yuan" or Garden of Clear Ripples, the Summer Place was built in 1750 by Emperor Qianlong (Qin dynasty) to celebrate his mother's birthday. Um, wow. Let's just say the dude A) really liked his mom and B) had lots of time on his hands. Since then, it's been destroyed twice (by invading Anglo forces, as the signs around the park constantly remind you), but has been open for nearly 100 years as a public park. It's now a UNESCO World Heritage site and full of China's signature brillantly painted temples. The park's two most distinguishing features - a lake and a steep hill - are both manmade. The emperor wanted a lake, there wasn't one there, so slaves dug one. He then also had a hill to build imposing Tower of Buddhist Incense. It's good to be king.

The Old Summer Palace - Anglo-French forces destroyed this one (by fire) in 1860 and it hasn't been rebuilt. That's really all I know about it. It's really sad to see, actually, because it would have been quite impressive... it was inspired by French architecture and would have resembled Versailles, to a certain degree. There was a cool maze, though.



The Forbidden City - This wasn't part of the BOCOG tour, so I went there on my own with a few friends. It's pretty neat to wander around the grounds where the seat of China's power had been for five centuries. During that time, just your Average Joe-types like me wouldn't have been allowed in. It was a place of mystery, excess and politics (kind of like our Congress, ha). Actually, if I had been allowed inside, I'd have to pay with my, um, family jewels, as the only average males let in were the eunuchs who watched over the 3,000+ concubines and supervised their quarters. Pretty crazy...

Tien'anmen Square - did you know it's the largest public square in the world? I didn't. It's massive - took an hour to walk around it. I'd have to say that it was certainly Communist-inspired. The buildings surrounding it all have squared, blocky edifices and, of course, there's Mao's every present pus peering over it all. Definitely a must-see, although it's tough to get pictures to come out with all of the cars and people getting in the way.

"Hey, everybody... come see how good I look."

Yup, you guessed it. I've got more photos up on Flickr. There are about 150 shots (Too many? Probably.) up which you can look through at your leisure by visiting my China Collection.

Hmm... "China Collection." That either makes me sound like Kenneth Cole or Hannibal Lechter. I can't decide. Judging from what I've been eating lately (mule, scorpion, sea snake, silk worm, McDonalds soft serve), it just may be the latter.

If you're too lazy to click through to another webpage or if you're suffering from horrible finger cramps, I'll put up a few fun ones here for your perusal.

But all the naked ones are on Flickr.

I'm kidding.

Or am I?

Here's that link again, you curious perv.

Lamb skewers at Wangfujing Snack Street

Buddha in the Temple of Heavenly Incense, New Summer Palace

Peeps at the Summer Palace

Me, standing on history at the Great Wall (Badaling)

Settling down in China...

So, I feel like I've been really down on Beijing in my first two city-related posts. A lot of that had to do with just sort of getting a wave of culture-shock upon arrival... so I wanted to write and say that I'm doing fine now.

The one thing you can say about the Beijing Organizing Committee for the Olympic Games (BOCOG - the overseeing group for all-things Beijing Olympics) is that it has been nothing but welcoming from Day 1. The longer I stay here, the more I realize the extent of what it's done to make us feel at home.

For example, we have air conditioning in our residences and private bathrooms. That's nearly unheard of... even on the campus we're staying, most of the students have to walk to camping-style, communal bathrooms.

They decorated the hallways of our building with pastoral pictures of forests, mountains and log cabins. Just like the good, ol' USofA (or so they were thinking). It's endearing.

We were given a 3-day, all-expenses paid tour to Beijing's top sights - the Great Wall, the Ming Tombs, the Summer Palace. And we were also shown a couple areas the local government is especially proud of: a state-of-the-art waste water treatment plant and a planned village, which is where the "future of China" lies. While the latter two aren't necessarily what I'd take visitors to New Hampshire to, the fact that the people were so proud to show off their achievements to a horde of Western volunteers was definitely touching.

All the while, we've been inundated with food... over 100 specially prepared Peking ducks one night for the 350+ volunteers, watermelon (a delicacy here) for dessert each night, dish after dish after dish stacked onto lazy susans... the spread has been immense and I'm hoping my waistband won't be the same in the end. I've come to find out that the number one way to show visitors welcome in Asia is the feed them into a coma.

But the most welcome has been shown by the people of Beijing. The entire city is behind the Olympics. It's not just the people we've been introduced to by BOCOG, either. Rather, everywhere you look, people are wearing Games swag, taking pictures of the beautiful stadiums and smiling happily when you tell them you're here to work for the ONS.

There are a handful of Chinese volunteers that have been assigned the task of being ambassadors to our group, as well. One, in particular, has gone above and beyond to make sure the loud, crazy, non-Mandarin speaking Americans feel welcomed in Beijing.

Cindy rocks. She's a grad student at the Communications University of China (the CUC), where we're staying. While she's been learning English for only two years, she's already fluent. On every bus ride, Cindy has been sitting up front, ready to answer questions or chat about life in China in a friendly, outgoing manner. She's already organized impromtu Ping-Pong-Cho sessions, invited a half-dozen of her friends and schooled each one of us at the ping-pong tables.

I just try to think that if a group of 35 foreigners came to my school for two months, would I have done the same? Honestly, it's not likely...

So while Beijing may not have the natural beauty of some other world-class cities, its citizens have already demonstrated (on the individual level) that some of the country's most beautiful people live there.

Thanks BOCOG and thanks Beijing.

Cindy (left) and fellow-volunteer, Li

Photos are up...

So I'm doing really well in Beijing. After a bit of culture shock, I feel like I'm fitting in nicely. BOCOG (the Beijing Organizing Committee for the Olympic Games) has done nothing but make all of us volunteers feel welcomed.

I've been AWOL because there hasn't been much down time with the tourist schedule they set up for us... for three days, they sent us around to: a waste treatment plant, a "future of China" type planned village, the Great Wall (at Badaling), the Ming Tombs, a crafts center, Peking Opera, Peking Duck, the "new" Summer Palace and the "old" Summer palace as well as spread after spread of delicious food. I swear, I will gain 40 pounds by the time I come home.

I've been trying to digest everything I've taken in (both literally and in the tourist sense), but I don't feel like I'm quite ready to break down everything for you. It's all a little new and overwhelming... and I don't want to trivialize anything by a little premature posting. So, I'm going to hold back for now, but I will tell you that I FINALLY have Japan photos posted.

They're here on my Flickr site. I really wanted to get them onto Facebook, but I believe the Great Firewall is preventing me from accessing it. Either that or the application I use has a glitch (also a possibility). Anyways, if I figure out a way, I'll get them there, but for now they're on Flickr.

I will have more blogs - whether writing, videos or pictures - for you tomorrow, I promise.

In the meantime, here's that link again.

Enjoy, friends!

Ceremonial, pre-temple cleansing


Downtown Peeps


Owabi on the grill

Culture - it's a shocker.

I have to say, there’s been a little bit of culture shock. It’s weird because that sort of thing never really bothered me before. And it’s not like I haven’t been in situations of extreme cultural differences before – it’s just not gotten to me the way life in Beijing has. I’ve always been able to brush it aside and use my excitement for exploration to get over it.

Maybe it’s because I’ll be here for a full two months. Maybe it’s because the language is so difficult to navigate and I feel completely lost, linguistically. Whatever it is, it had be down for the first couple of days.

The funk settled in like a thick layer of the city’s infamous smog, which, by the way, exists in full force. What little of Beijing I’ve seen is, quite frankly, very ugly and full of concrete buildings and massive, Communist-era structures. These intimidating skyscrapers are everywhere.

The skyline’s uninviting demeanor isn’t exactly improved by the thickly settled pollution, either. This stuff is just as bad as advertised. It’s like the weather is continually foggy, yet strangely bright, all around here. You can’t help but feel sluggish as you struggle through the pollution’s pea soup.

I’ve seen the sun twice since I’ve gotten here. The other day, at 1pm, it towered high above Tiananmen Square, burning bright and yellow. But it was just a glimpse and then it disappeared, blocked out by the thick clouds that jostled each other for position over the city. Then, later that night, I saw it again before it set… a burning, red orb angered at being pushed aside and forgotten.

I’ve heard that people my age, who have never left Beijing, have seen fewer blue skies than they can count on their hands.

The most noticeable feature of the city’s skyline are the towering, skeletal outlines of massive cranes. There is a huge amount of construction underway in Beijing and these tools are literally everywhere. They are specters overlooking the birth street-and-concrete offspring - new buildings, bringing new life to a Beijing that’s evolving on a daily basis.
They should be the image of rejuvenation. And yet, I haven’t been able to shake off the ominous prickling up the back of my spine when I see them rising from the mists, looking ready to devour the young they helped create.

Yeah, you could say that I’ve been in a funk.

A little bit of culture shock is a standard part of travel. Strange faces, strange faces and strange foods can overwhelm, but for me, that was always the most exciting part. It was the reason I traveled in the first place. I wanted to be surprised, I wanted to see new things, I wanted my comfort zone to melt away.

But during my first two days here, I didn’t want any of that. As I looked around at what I perceived to be a despairing city, lost in in a sea of 17 million fast-paced, hard-charging citizens, I felt lost.

(An aside: very few people wait in lines here – there’s a whole lot of cutting and jostling while at cafeterias or waiting for the subway)

I felt lost and insignificant. What was I doing here? I still had two months to go… could I cut it? For fleeting moments, when thinking about home and Sonja, I wanted to leave Beijing. And I’d barely even gotten here.

It’s funny, sometimes, how life works. One minute, you can be completely lost (in my case, in China, struggling to be understood and to understand) and then a seemingly inconsequential act can give you a ray of hope that pierces the clouds like a bright beacon.

For me, it came at a subway station ticket machine. Rush hour in downtown Beijing and literally thousands of commuters were pouring past me through turnstiles and herding themselves towards the trains. I stood there with the whirlwind whipping around me, trying to work the touchscreen and buy a ticket back to home campus.

Even though there were English directions, I couldn’t figure out exactly how to work it to purchase a ticket. Every time I searched for my destination on the map and tried to put in my money, the machine either timed out or spit out my bill. Over and over and over, I got rejected. Looking around, there wasn’t a station attendant in sight or a counter where I could bypass the dysfunctional computer station.

Right when I was about to give up, there came a small tap-tap-tap on my left shoulder. I turned around to see three teenagers, smiling w/ gapped, yellow teeth. The tallest one, his unruly hair sticking out at every angle and dressed in a t-shirt two sizes too large, motioned to me and then to the machine.

I thought he wanted to use it and had gotten impatient with the befuddled American (wei guy ren) in front of him. He just wanted me to get out the way right? Wrong. Quietly, he punched three keys on the screen. His friends stood there smiling as he motioned for me to put money into the feeder. I slid a 10 yuan note in, the machine took it this time and then it spit out a ticket.

The three kids, all of whom were about 10 years younger than me, and I never exchanged a word of English. But they came to my rescue no matter what the language barrier. I quickly grabbed my ticket and change, thanked them repeatedly (in Mandarin – one of the few things I know how to say) and then hurried off to catch the next train.

It was an inconsequential moment, really – the whole thing took less than 15 seconds – but to me, it mean quite a lot. A ragtag group of teens had seen me struggling to get through a simple transaction, saw I couldn’t do it on my own and stepped in to help a complete stranger.

I boarded the train, pressed in on all sides by a crush of humanity, and thought, “Maybe I can make it after all.”

Two days later, not coincidentally, I woke up to blue skies and bright sunlight with mere wisps of clouds in the sky. It was a beautiful summer day in Beijing.

I’m still here.

Touching down in Beijing...

Well, I've been in Beijing for under 12 hours (and spent seven of those asleep) and there's already some culture shock going around in my head.

I think it first happened when I hit the seat of my taxi. Now, in Japan, I took quite a few taxis. With three or four of us traveling at a time, it was often cheaper and/or more convenient to hail a cab versus taking the subway. There, the cars glide up alongside the curb and the drivers pop open a side door for you (they open and close automatically). The seats are covered with soft, white, lace-like cloth that's invariably spotless and might even have been ironed that morning. Most cabbies there will wear a military style uniform or, at the very least, wear a jacket and tie. It's almost like taking a car service back in the States. Quite nice; I definitely got used to a superior level of service.

Let's just say that my first experience with a taxi in Beijing was the complete, utter opposite. If I had to describe it in one sentence, I'd say I was back in NYC all over again.

The cab itself was dinged up and old. There was a whitish cloth on the seats, but it was torn and spotted in places and I doubted it had ever been washed - nevermind ironed. My driver had no uniform, didn't help with the bags and I had to (gasp) open my own door. I tried to communicate the directions and handed him my address (written in Mandarin). In response, he just grunted and we sped off - hopefully in the right direction.

Almost as soon as we were in motion, the driver clicked on his radio and began barking Chinese into it. The only time he stopped doing that during the entire ride was when he switched to barking Chinese into his cell phone. Also, for our entire trip, he chain smoked. From my vantage point in the backseat, I could barely make out his silloutte in the smokey haze... I guess they were right about Beijing's pollution.

We sped through the streets, cutting people off - him yelling and me digging through the cushions for non-existent seatbelts. Finally, after him stopping to ask directions a couple times, we arrived at the right building - me shaken slightly, but in one piece overall. There, he uncermoniously handed me my backpack (upside down) and sped off, puffs of cigarette smoke coming from his windows.

I stood there on the sidewalk with my bags and watched him go.

I had arrived in Beijing.

That's right, I'm packing...

Editors' note: I'm writing as a featured blogger for STATravlers.com - which is a social networking site dedicated exclusively to travelers. The site recently celebrated its first year anniversary and has been quite successful, so it's an honor for me to be a part of it.

During the course of my time at the Olympics, I'll be posting blogs on their site. I'll include links here, too, though so you can click through to the travel posts.

*****

I’m getting ready to leave on my next adventure. In ten days, I’ll be boarding a plane for trip halfway around the globe. Behind me, I’m leaving an apartment, bills, job obligations and (most importantly) a fiancee, friends and family and setting out for a 2 1/2 month long journey through Japan and China.

There are a ton of preparations for the trip. I need to make sure my banks know I’m going, bills have to be paid in advance, my car has to find another home for a while and someone has to water my plants (not that I do that enough, anyway, but it’d be good to have them not be entirely brown when I get back). This part of the trip sucks - it’s no fun thinking about logistics and budgets. The fun part is flipping through travel guides and reading trip blogs and finding the cool, out-of-the way places to visit or a funky hostel to sleep in.

The one tedious part of trip prep I actually enjoy is packing. I love pulling out my stuff, laying it all out and fitting it inside of my luggage. There’s a routine to it that starts to get my blood flowing as anticipation of travel ramps up. Plus, I always play The Beatles’ Come Together album. I don’t remember where that tradition started, but every time I hear it, it makes me think about heading out on the open road or through the nearest check-in gate.

While with each trip, my packing list changes, there are always a few standbys you’ll find in my bags... (follow the link HERE for the rest of the article)

Chinese fashion tips...

Beijing, 24 April - The Beijing Organizing Committee for the Olympic Games (BOCOG) debuted the volunteer uniforms to tumultuous approval of Chinese authorities and Hello Kitty fans alike a short time ago.

Volunteers for the 2008 Summer Games, which kick off in less than 100 days, will be required to sport the snazzy threads while at the event venues. This will include members (the low-level ones without any sort of pull or influence) of the Olympic News Service.

The uniforms, which scream both "professionalism" and "Liberace," are comprised of a polyester collared shirt, windbreaker, zip-cargo pants, bucket hat, baseball cap, shoes, water bottle and, yes, the fanny pack members of Eastern European bloc countries mandated should appear at all Olympics. The Germans, however, were defeated in their proposal to include a three pairs of colored crew socks and Birkenstock sandals in the uniform.

All articles of clothing will sport the five-ring Olympic symbol along with the Beijing 2008 logo. Additionally, the tops and hats will also be decorated in a power-blue, paisley wave motif which will help distinguish the volunteers from athletes, spectators and anyone with fashion sense.

BOCOG plans to limit the honeybee population in Beijing by moving thousands of hives south to Shanghai. In doing so, they hope to eliminate random bee stings by insects confused by the vibrant, florescent, floral prints of the uniforms.

For pictures of smiling Chinese runway models sporting the gear, click here.

Going to China with a banjo on my knee...

Okay, so with less than four months to go before the Olympic flame is lit in Beijing (assuming protesters aren't able to steal/extinguish/smother/light bowls from it) it's time to start talking China.

Notice I say China and not Chinese. My Mandarin is woeful at this point, but I have learned how to ask for food, the toilet and tell a taxi driver he's an idiot, so I've got that going for me.

The big news is... well, I'm going.

I know I posted about this before, but there actually was no final confirmation from BOCOG until a couple weeks ago. However, we've received the go-ahead and their processing our visas now.

(Excuse me while I do a huge fist-pump and rip off my shirt, FIFA-style.)

This blog's going to China! Fo' realsies.

Along with receiving my "yes-you're-coming-and-we-realize-we've-told-you-that-before" final invitation, I also now know where I'm going to be stationed...

*drum roll*

The National Stadium - more commonly known as The Birds' Nest (See above: It looks like a nest).

In addition hosting all of the track & field events, the Nest also will be the home of the Opening and Closing ceremonies. I've received some communication that seems to indicate that possibly I could be invited to potentially watch one or both of those events (ie: believe it when it happens). While, I'm not getting excited about being able to streak across the field wearing naught but an American flag when the U.S. team marches in, it could happen. And that rocks.

My role as a member of the Olympic News Service will be at the bottom rung of the ladder - Flash Quotes Reporter. It'll be my job to interview the athletes after their events, grab a few sound bites, write them down and send them to the central office. Not a glamorous job by any means, but I really could care less about that. I'll get to be practically on the sidelines at the Games, that's what counts.

It's a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Now that I know it's happening for real, I don't know what to think really. Guess it's time for another fist pump...

*FIST PUMP*

All aboard the panda express...

I've hesitated to talk about this, in case I would jinx anything or would be accused of counting my chickens before they hatched (I'd much rather be considered a "counter of cells before they've split"), but it looks like thing are in place to take your favorite blog to Beijing.

Yes, I am slated to go to the 2008 Olympic Summer Games in Beijing, China as part of the Olympic News Service. All together now...

"Bahm dahm da-dum dum dum dum.
Bum ba-da dum ba-da dum da-dum dum dum dummmm"

If you don't think I wasted 10 minutes making sure I had the right number of "dums" in that , then you don't know Mike.

It took a while for all this to come together, for a number of reasons that I won't bore you with here. In the end, though, my college was one of five schools selected to send grad students/upperclassmen to the Olympics to help with the news coverage. And that's the extent of what I know about the program. Everything else has been given to us in the vaguest of terms, because, basically, the ONS has never done this before. So, here's what I know...

- I'll be in China
- probably for two months
- they think I have a place to stay (at the Communications University of China) and maybe someone will even feed me
- we'll be covering the Games, but there is no information on what venues/sports or even in what capacity we'll be working in

And that's about it. But, screw it, who cares? My next travel adventure has begun and I'm pretty pumped about it.

I know next to nothing about China. For example, if you had asked me yesterday which city housed Tiananmen Square, I couldn't have told you. The only words I know in Mandarin are "been-fau-tong," which means "marshmallow" and "meso-hoh-nee," which directly translated is "I have sex you long time for money." So, yeah, that's wicked helpful. The only info I have on China in my apartment is my bread machine and coffee maker (both have "Made in.." status). Discounting my weekly visit to my main guilty pleasure, Panda Express, I have almost no interaction with anything China-related. Oh, except for those wonderfully vague fortune cookies I always add "in bed" to (since I'm still mentally in junior high).

Turns out, I'm your typical, politically incorrect, American traveler after all.

I'm going into this thing completely blind. BUT I think this does provide a great blogging opportunity... when I learn something, I'll share it with you. So, as I learn Mandarin, you'll learn Mandarin. As I find out the rules of ping-pong, you'll find out the rules of ping-pong. And, if I find out they do have Panda Express in China, I'll post a picture of me eating some of that delectable orange chicken.

Yum, yum.


------
HOLY CRAP

After I wrote this, I looked up the nutrition information for the Panda. Orange chicken has 500 calories and 27 whopping grams of fat per serving. Both are 200% more than the next-worst menu item (discounting the pork dishes, which are so disgusting that even the homeless turn them down).

No wonder that stuff tastes so good. Just call me Mikey McFatFat.