Arrived in Wuhan on a Saturday morning a few weeks ago after a comfortable soft sleeper train from Beijing. On our nifty private TVs in the sleeper car they played the Karate Kid remake with Jacky Chan and Jaden Smith. The Beijing portrayed in this movie is ridiculous — the temperature is never remains mild through month after month of training; it rains all the time; the streets are narrow and the buildings rarely more than two or three stories tall; the city is lush with trees and greenery; repair guys speak fluent English; parents can call their kids, find out where they are, drive to pick them up, then take them to the music conservatory — all in 20 minutes; and, best of all, and groups of 12-year-old Chinese mini-hoodlums roam the streets and beat up smaller foreign kids in public parks with impunity.
We arrived at the “new” Wuchang train station, which, besides being a lot bigger and having a Dicos greeting me as I exited the platform, is still pretty crappy. Apparently 800 million RMB was not enough to provide more than a dim light in the main hall or unclod the drains that prevent the taxi stand from being submerged under a giant puddle of water.
There’s a bigger shopping area inside the station, though most of the shops were for Zhou Hei Ya and or one of the many copycat brands attempting to pass itself off as Zhou Hei Ya. Surely duck’s neck is number one gift for visitors on their way home.
In the taxi over to Hankou I noticed that the flagfall has jumped from 3 to 6 RMB. Still a lot cheaper than most other cities, though. First stop was the unnamed alley between Zhongshan Dadao and Tongyi Lu for my preferred reganmian and mianwo. Then walked through a misty Wuhan rain to our normal hotel on Jianghan Lu. The entire southwest corner of Zhongshan Dadao and Jianghan Lu has been wiped out to make way for a stop on the the Number 2 metro line, due to open sometime in 2012.
This spot is already jam packed with people on most days; a subway line right in the middle is going to make it easier for thousands more to come in. Should be fun.
The headlines in all the papers were about Hu Jintao, who had just passed through the day before to stare intently at dry dirt with groups of old men. This ritual, which I think is approximately 5000 years old and invented by China, was all it took to bring the months-long drought to an end. The heavy rains started the night before, and though we only felt light rain during our two days here, it was the beginning of several weeks of major floods in and around Wuhan. On the bright side, we were spared Wuhan’s normally oppressive June heat.
Most of the afternoon was spent walking around and enjoying some of our favorite snacks, such as the spicy chicken wings at BT Wings and the bubble teas at Di Kou Le. We also went to a more recent find, Chen’s Zhajiangmian.
I hesitated the first time we passed this place, thinking that zhajiangmian was a Beijing specialty that I never really liked. But this place was packed, and the signature dish was way better than anything I’d ever eaten in Beijing. Highly recommended.
Will save the evening’s adventures for my next post.
I’ve had numerous discussions with Nator, ODB and Uncle Ronald on the unique offerings in Asia by the jewels of the American fast food crown – McDonald’s and KFC. From time to time, I’ve been tempted to sample a green tea- or taro-tinged dessert or a Peking duck flavored burger. Recently, an offering from our dear Colonel (HK branch of the Kentucky Colonels) has both inspired my taste buds and a new report. Behold – The Extra Cheesy Pizza Pocket.
When I first encountered the Pocket, I was walking by a KFC in Kowloon, saw a banner advertisement and thought it was a brand new offering. But Youtube tells me different – here is a puzzling (and slightly disturbing commercial) from April 2010. So, the Pocket has clearly been popular enough to stick around for over a year on the KFC menu. In fact, when I went to KFC to try it, about a third of the other customers had one. This is clearly a popular item. Does it succeed? Let’s consider.
The Pocket is a pretty simple composition – fried chicken, tomato sauce, “mozzarella” cheese, some extra nacho cheese-esque sauce. And pineapple. Wrapped in a tortilla. On paper, this is an exciting concept. On paper. In real life, it’s about as successful as you would expect marrying fried chicken to pizza. Have a look at the picture below. Not exactly bursting with fried chicken goodness. Sadly, I won’t be recommending the Pocket to friends. The fried chicken in a tortilla concept works, that’s almost impossible to ruin. But the tomato sauce is about a hair removed from ketchup and combined with the terrible runny cheese and canned pineapple (I know the commercial says fresh), it is almost inedible. Sorry, KFC, as much as it breaks my heart to say it – this one’s not for me.
Not a failure pile in a sadness wrap, but not so great...
Chicago Dan’s American English Daycare put up an advertisement in my neighborhood. Sounds like a pretty nice service for Chinese kids. Especially the part about the foreign teachers being American and white.
The neighborhood I live in was pretty remote before the Line 5 subway was built. Since my building was finished in 2006 or 2007 and the subway line opened in September 2007, it’s safe to say that the building was built in response to the newly available subway. All of which makes it puzzling why the north gate is closed.
Here’s my building:
When I moved in, both the north and east gates were open and in use. At night the north gate was often kept almost closed, so that only pedestrians could fit through and cars had to go through the east gate. Fair enough. But after a couple of years, the north gate was locked shut without warning. I asked the wuye about it and was told that there wasn’t enough money to keep a guard posted there.
Let’s do some math.
I pay approximately 4000 RMB every year in management fees. There are six building entrances, each of which holds 20-24 apartments (two doors on each floor, and 10-12 floors per entrance, depending on the location). So let’s say 136 apartments. That’s 544000 RMB per year from basic fees. There are also at least 100 cars parked inside the gates, covering almost every single inch of available space. Let’s say 300 RMB per month for parking; that brings in another 360000 RMB. So with close to 1 million RMB at their disposal, the wuye have decided it’s out of their budget to assign a skinny 18-year-old kid with a crustache and an oversized shirt to sleep in the guard box at the north gate.
The joy in this story comes not from the stupid decision by the wuye but rather by the sad and predictable effect of that decision. Because unlike me, someone was not content just to complain to everyone who would listen. This guy wanted his north gate back, and he got it back — by bending and removing the metal bars of the gate until he could fit through them. Here’s the gate now:
Even with the makeshift bars tied on, it’s easy to get in and out. There’s no guard there, so whoever was being kept out “for my safety” now has easy access. You couldn’t even open the gate if you tried, and replacing it surely won’t be cheap. All in all, a brilliantly played hand by the building management.
Here are a few more pics. Note the cars parked directly in front of both sides of the gate, as well as the graffiti sprayed right next to the guard post.
News Alert: On May 1st, United States President Obama said that earlier in the day U.S. military forces had attacked a building in Pakistan, killing Al Qaeda leader bin Laden and confirming the identity of his corpse. Xinhua News Agency
The sender was 10658000, also known as China Daily Mobile News, a paid service that sends daily news headlines and links to mobile users. I don’t subscribe, but occasionally they’ll send me particularly important updates — usually matters of obvious nationwide concern, such as natural disasters or the latest epidemic sweeping through the capital. I never received any “regular” news like this, though. It was also odd that it arrived over three hours after I had watched Obama’s speech live (or, more likely, almost live) on Chinese TV.
So, why? Here are my top four theories:
China Mobile hoped to earn money by getting millions of people to forward the message to each other or call each other. But presumably that was already happening. And besides, if they sent the message to all their users, then they would be more likely to discourage a flood of text, since everyone would already know. Which brings me to my second theory:
China Mobile wanted to tell everyone once and for all because the network was being overloaded with texts and calls. This is also unlikely, though; I doubt traffic could compare to the Chinese New Year peak period, where everyone sends good wishes to their family and friends.
Rumors and disinformation were already spreading, and the government deemed it important enough to send out an official statement to quell those rumors.
The folks at China Mobile got caught up in the Twitter-fest like everyone else and just wanted pass along the news to their (several hundred million) customers.
Of course, the correct answer is “no why” (不为什么) .
I said no, and he immediately hung up. Now I wish I had kept him on the line a bit longer. If he wasn’t from NOSC (and I don’t think he was), then what was he trying to do? Promote some sports activity for kids? Conduct a survey? Or maybe just identify mobile numbers of parents with kids in that age range?
When Yao Ming entered the third grade, he was five-seven, and Shanghai’s Xuhui District Sports School selected him for its after-school basketball program. Recently, I visited Yao’s first coach, Li Zhangming, who, like a traditional Chinese educator, spoke of Yao in completely unsentimental terms (“He didn’t much like basketball. He was tall, but slow and uncoördinated”). After our conversation, I wandered around the basketball courts of Shanghai’s No. 54 Middle School, where the Xuhui Sports School holds some of its practices. I watched a group of young girls performing basketball drills, then introduced myself to the coach, a tall woman named Tao Yanping.
“I was a teammate of Yao’s mother,” Tao said. “I went to their wedding. I remember giving them towels and thermoses—things you gave newlyweds back then. See that girl there?” She pointed out a red-faced child, the tallest on the court. “Her mother was also my teammate. That girl is in the third grade. Her mother is 1.83 metres tall, and she made the national team.”
I asked Tao how she recruited. “We go to the schools and look at the children’s height, and then we check their parents’ height,” she said.
The two-hour practice consisted mostly of ballhandling drills. Tao was attentive, shouting commands at her charges (“Little Swallow, you’re travelling! Who taught you to do that?”). At the end of the practice, tall parents materialized at courtside. Zhang Jianrong, a woman who was nearly six feet tall, told me that basketball was just a healthy activity for her daughter; the girl’s studies were more important. Like the other parents, Zhang was a basketball mom in a country that selects its basketball moms by height.
The method of early recruitment is a product of China’s inability to provide every public school with coaches and sports facilities. The system has proved effective in low-participation, routine-based sports like gymnastics and diving, but when it comes to basketball it may be China’s greatest weakness. In America, where community leagues and school coaches are plentiful, athletes emerge from an enormous pyramid of participants. Some, like Allen Iverson, rise to the top with remarkable passion and creativity—but if a recruiter had shown up at the Iverson home when Allen was in the third grade, he would have found no father and a short mother who had given birth at the age of fifteen. It’s significant that China has yet to produce a great male guard—the position requires skill and intensity rather than height. All three Chinese players in the N.B.A. are centers, and two are second-generation centers. The Chinese national team is notorious for choking in key games, partly because the ballhandling is inconsistent. Players rarely appear to enjoy themselves, and their character has not been formed by true competition; even as free-market reforms have changed many Chinese industries, the sports world is a throwback to socialism, with its careful planning and career stability. Once, when I asked Yao Ming how many Chinese would be in the N.B.A. in a decade, he said only three or four.
This seems more like the Chinese way of doing things, and it matches the anecdotal evidence I’ve heard. So if the call was from NOSC, it would be the first time a telemarketer claimed to be from a government body. I guess that’s why it seems so strange. It’s out of character, and kind of desperate in a way.
And then when we finally got to the hotel…had a bit of an episode. We booked two rooms for one night at a Hanting – booked online on Hanting’s snazzy website and got a reservation number. The idea was to stay at a quick and easy place not far from GZ East so we could check in right after arriving, drop off our bags and grab a late dinner. We finally get to the hotel. Tired, very hungry. As we walk in, we see two guys trying to get a room get turned down as the hotel has no vacancies. Nothing at all available. I get a bad feeling. We show our reservation number to the front desk lady.
Sorry, we have cancelled your reservations because you didn’t show up by 9 and when we called you there was no answer and you didn’t re-confirm. And sorry, we are completely out of rooms.
Mind you, this is 11 pm and we are tired and haven’t yet had dinner. This is not going to be a good situation for anybody. When we protested and said they definitely didn’t call the number we gave when making the on-line reservation – a HK number – they kept insisting up and down they had tried us multiple times but we didn’t pick up.
Where’s the duty manager?
Not here.
You know, the lady who’s picture is on the wall right there? She’s supposed to be “on duty” right? The thing on the wall says she is working tonight and responsible. So where is she – we want to speak to her immediately.
Sorry. No more rooms.
Yes, right, we know. But this problem needs to be fixed and perhaps the manager can solve it.
(Nervous laughter) Sorry, what problem is that?
What problem? WHAT PROBLEM?!?!? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? You are joking. Ha ha. Very funny. Are you trying to be funny? Because you are making us very upset. We are tired. We booked rooms. You gave someone our rooms. Why? We have no idea. When you book rooms you expect them to be booked. Let’s start over and I will speak clearly – YOU KNOW WHAT OUR PROBLEM IS AND WE ARE NOT LEAVING UNTIL YOU FIGURE OUT HOW TO SOLVE IT.
Very sorry about this. But we called you and you didn’t answer.
That’s a lie. You’re a liar. We were on the train for the past few hours. Not a plane. A train. No missed calls. You didn’t call. You are clearly lying. Admit it and fix the problem.
Well, we can’t dial out to Hong Kong so we couldn’t call you.
Sorry – say again? Ok. Good. We are making progress. You just admitted your mistake. You lied. You acknowledge you didn’t call, yes? We can agree you lied. And, fine, you gave away our rooms and there are no rooms. So fix it.
Now. Now. Now.
Sorry. We couldn’t call a Hong Kong number.
(Staring blankly. Not blinking. Dumbfounded.)
Ok, please wait a moment. Very sorry about this. (Nervous laughter)
Eventually she found us two rooms at a Hanting about 10 mins away. She kept mentioning how this other Hanting was much better for us because of the free breakfast. That made me nuts. It was a real exercise in self-control not to just go absolutely Mike Tyson crazy as we wasted over an hour plus and this lady was going on about the great free breakfast we had in store for us the next day.
They agreed to a discount for our trouble (the new Hanting turned out to be 186/night rather than 279/night), which was nice though I would have eaten the 100 RMB to have been able to check in without hassle. We had her order a cab and take us to the other Hanting, pay for the cab, and then check us in. I wasn’t about to leave to the other Hanting, get there past midnight and roll the dice if they had a room. Wouldn’t it have just been easier to turn away the people that wanted our rooms rather than argue with us for 45 minutes, have to frantically arrange new rooms at another branch, escort us to the new hotel and have to pay for a round trip taxi?
I’ve missed you TFF! We need to get re-aquainted after a long break.
I’ve been inspired to add a new series to TFF – shopping for vinyl records in Hong Kong. I’m not going to get into the why of records – if you collect vinyl, if you’ve found this post, if you’re interested in music, you probably already know.
I recently acquired a new turntable after several years without one and needed to get my hands on some records to re-build my collection. If this was 2001, or even better, 1991, I would have had a wealth of record stores to choose from in Hong Kong (music selection maybe not so great, but at least the stores would be easy to find). Sad to say it, but in 2011, records stores are not so easy to come by. Not only have independent music stores started to disappear but the ones that remain mostly limit their focus to CDs. The big chains – HMV and Hong Kong Records – carry a few records to cater to audiophiles, but have a limited selection focused on classical, jazz and some recent releases. Every once in a while you can find a gem, but it’s likely to be overpriced and, hey, it’s always better to buy a record at an independent shop rather than HMV.
This post, and the ones that follow, are intended to compile a somewhat up-to-date list of where to buy new and used records in Hong Kong. I’m going to focus on stores that carry what interests me – rock, folk and country from the 60s, 70s and 80s or more recent releases. If you have any suggestions or want to add to the list, please comment.
Spent some time outside in the wind without a scarf yesterday, then moved around furniture at home for a couple of hours. The pain came on last night, fast, in my neck and left shoulder. It was bad enough to wake me up just from moving around in bed. So tonight I went in and got my first baguanr done:
The whole procedure only took about 15 minutes. Nowhere near as painful as it looks, and it definitely loosened my neck up, though I’m told I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to feel the full effect.
