tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30951752012-02-01T10:58:52.053+08:00A New York girl's adventures in China: Beijing expat life, China travel, China books, and Beijing rock 'n' roll.JCnoreply@blogger.comBlogger2531100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-27576408690329548482012-01-26T12:45:00.001+08:002012-01-26T12:45:25.913+08:00

Although I'll continue to update the China blog from time to time, I'm mostly posting to Tumblr these days, including interesting bits about Chinese bands. Here's one thing I'm cross-posting—I'm doing Shanren's PR, so I want to spread their message far and wide. Excerpt from the press release: In 2011, Beijing-based indie folk band Shanren traveled across China’s Yunnan province to take in

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-33870342727445748312011-12-28T22:47:00.002+08:002011-12-28T22:47:25.903+08:00

Like God. Shadowy. Always there, but never seen. Those are the sort of characterizations of the Chinese Communist Party that you take away from The Party. Written by Australian journalist Richard McGregor, The Party: The Secret World of China’s Communist Leaders relies on interviews with academics, anonymous party members, and whatever records the author could get his hands on to delve into

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-18471165610698741362011-11-21T08:03:00.000+08:002011-11-21T08:03:40.541+08:00

Performers in Miao minority (I'm pretty sure) garb in Guizhou. All over China, you'll find massive theme restaurants serving up teeming plates of specialty dishes and a song-and-dance show, like the restaurant featured in The Biggest Chinese Restaurant in the World. But for those who've grown tired of Peking opera or the usual "ethnic" shows (like the one pictured at left), there's a growing

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-13802654670126456972011-11-21T07:29:00.000+08:002011-11-21T07:29:08.039+08:00

Somewhat intimidating but insanely fascinating, Chungking Mansions seems dropped from the Third World onto Hong Kong’s "Golden Mile," a luxe shopping strip in Kowloon. It's a place filled with cheap guesthouses, cell phone shops, money changers, Pakistani restaurants, and a swirl of people you're not likely to see together anyplace else. In Ghetto at the Center of the World: Chungking Mansions,

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-56377717637836815042011-11-08T07:15:00.000+08:002011-11-08T07:15:06.399+08:00

Hedgehog has a new-ish album out called Honeyed and Killed. They were in NYC last month to record their next album, and I took them to dinner and to see the building where CBGB used to be. Also passing through, Queen Sea Big Shark recently played at The Creators Project in New York, though like in Beijing, it was a hassle to get into the Creators event. You can read the definitive article on

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-83412116943891175912011-10-20T10:28:00.000+08:002011-10-20T10:28:46.400+08:00

Although I made fun of The Good Earth a little, my housing situation in Beijing followed a similar cycle of ups and downs. In fact, it's probably my punishment for taking a little swipe at a Nobel Prize winner that just after posting that, for my last stretch in Beijing, I didn't have a place at all. It wasn't always that way. At one point, I had two apartments. Another time, I had an apartment,

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-40197435467535093792011-10-14T11:00:00.000+08:002011-10-14T11:00:47.927+08:00

On Saturday, I saw this great documentary, The Biggest Chinese Restaurant in the World (directed by Chen Weijun), at the Asia Society about West Lake Restaurant, a 5,000-seat Chinese restaurant in Changsha, Hunan. The film presents the restaurant's owner, a female self-made millionaire with a teenage daughter, as well as the servers—often working far from home in difficult conditions—and patrons

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-39370086035368882542011-08-21T04:44:00.000+08:002011-08-21T04:44:29.303+08:00

I was lucky to see Chuanzi at the InMusic Festival last year. I thought his music was pleasant enough (and it was cute when he brought his kid onstage), but, I'll be honest, my Chinese isn't good enough that I can figure out what he's talking about when I hear him live. So I was very interested to see this video of him performing his new song criticizing the handling of the recent train crash

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-30426165617054179422011-08-20T23:34:00.000+08:002011-08-20T23:34:19.641+08:00

I’m standing in line for one of the dirty bathrooms at the back of a rock ‘n’ roll venue in Haidian, Beijing’s student district. “Hey, I’m in a band,” says a Chinese guy who looks like he’s just stepped out of a Skid Row video: long feathered hair, black muscle shirt, bleached jeans, double belts (brown and black studded), and motorcycle boots. “You should come see us tomorrow.” Kathy Sena, who

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-74946576991501810092011-07-18T09:27:00.000+08:002011-07-18T09:27:47.993+08:00

The New York Times has an interesting piece on some of the ethnic minority musicians on China's folk music scene—and the photographer captured Hurcha of Hanggai's awesome stage vest. I do think the reporters overstate some of the political aspects. At the Hanggai festival referenced near the beginning (which was partially government-funded), the security guards seemed to be the same bored

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-48940884162517720012011-07-05T01:06:00.000+08:002011-07-05T01:06:04.370+08:00

I've had two small things published recently that I haven't had a chance to post about. First, there's this bit in Condé Nast Traveler's "The Global Bar Hop." I contributed the (microscopic) write-up on George's, a new cocktail place from an old favorite bartender in Beijing. I remember visiting on a slow night when we chose songs via the owner's iPad, and he introduced us to a Shanghai jazz

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-90894959109600330802011-07-05T00:49:00.000+08:002011-07-05T00:49:54.626+08:00

I've dedicated my career to working in the media, and I generally defend journalists. But sometimes—especially regarding China—I see how distorted coverage can get, and how willing people are to stick to a narrative that fits what they think about China. The reason I know is, I pitched the story about Bob Dylan going to China all over the place, and I said, despite what you're reading, the

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-58627247060622953002011-06-25T04:14:00.000+08:002011-06-25T04:14:16.154+08:00

Alan Paul offers an account of his family’s three-plus-year relocation from New Jersey to Beijing in Big in China: My Unlikely Adventures Raising a Family, Playing the Blues, and Becoming a Star in Beijing. It’s actually one of two books by Beijing expat parents that just came out (the other is The Foremost Good Fortune by Susan Conley) because, gosh, every foreigner who steps foot in China

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-47342314831865550412011-06-16T06:21:00.000+08:002011-06-16T06:21:33.047+08:00

In China, it’s easy to rack up weird jobs. Through a friend, I started writing for an English-language magazine that's published by a Chinese guy. It's glossy and aimed at expats, with articles on topics like food, fashion, and art. The editor admittedly doesn’t know too much about those fields, so he’d call me up and ask for an article on art, or a musician, or whatever, and leave the rest up to

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-56304948436955274812011-05-26T20:57:00.000+08:002011-05-26T20:57:31.556+08:00

There are other books that illustrate contemporary China through a series of portraits: John Pomfret's Chinese Lessons, in which the author tracks the amazing paths of his Chinese classmates, and Zachary Mexico's China Underground, which profiles a series of scenesters and fringe characters. Jianying Zha's Tide Players is slightly different in that she doesn't profile ordinary people, but those

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-1517729376962070562011-05-26T20:12:00.000+08:002011-05-26T20:12:47.894+08:00

Before I hang up my China-journalist hat, I'm trying to get out another piece or two on some of the places I saw. I just wrote an article for travel site BootsnAll on Eight Lesser-Known Places to Visit in China. It's some of my favorite spots, including historical Cuandixia outside of Beijing, weird colonial enclave Gulang Yu, and coastal town Dalian, home to an annual beer festival. The

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-81129954465570693462011-05-05T09:03:00.000+08:002011-05-05T09:03:35.642+08:00

I just had an article published in Billboard (April 23, 2011 issue) about Beijing bands who'll be appearing Stateside this year, highlighting five I think have the most appeal for US audiences. The article isn't online (although some blogger did rip off most of the piece and post it without attribution—please don't link to that), but I've made a link to a PDF of "China Rocks." The article

JCnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-60957528381557764122011-05-03T05:18:00.000+08:002011-05-03T05:18:31.855+08:00

I'm friends with Eveline Chao, the author of Niubi! The Real Chinese You Were Never Taught in School, and she's very nice, so it's kind of funny to read her write things like (to pick an only slightly profane example from the book): 婊子 biaozi (byow dz) Can literally mean "whore" but also used as a strong insult for a woman, equivalent to "bitch" or "whore." Often strengthened to 臭婊子 chou biaozi

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-3242637735913633902011-04-21T06:05:00.000+08:002011-04-21T06:05:13.239+08:00

"Anyone who recalls a time when China was a conformist society where everyone dressed alike should cast their gaze toward the band’s keyboardist, Pang Kuan, as he delivers ["Sex! Drugs! Internet!"] in tight, Pop Art–inspired trousers while dancing spastically," I wrote about Beijing band New Pants in this week's Time Out New York. In their first New York appearance (on Monday night at the

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-52742391754824110822011-04-19T06:01:00.000+08:002011-04-19T06:01:25.600+08:00

Modern Sky runs (probably) the biggest independent music label in China. Though I often bang my head against the wall when working with them—sooo disorganized—I have to admire what they do. Founded by Shen Lihui, a musician who was in the rock band Sober and a judge on an American Idol–style singing competition, the 14-year-old entertainment company supports some of Beijing's best-known bands,

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-71877680476019474532011-04-13T22:34:00.000+08:002011-04-13T22:34:44.575+08:00

Living overseas, it's easy to neglect your health. You want to try all the food; you're running around experiencing new things rather than logging time at the gym. In Beijing, add to that the near-constant exposure to secondhand smoke and toxic pollution. It's also easy to put off doctor's appointments, as though the time you're away doesn't count, and you can handle those things when you get

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-42858814448975930982011-04-07T06:01:00.000+08:002011-04-07T06:01:40.340+08:00

Lisa Brackmann's debut novel, Rock Paper Tiger, packs suspense and action into every page—it's a thriller first and a China book second. The protagonist, Ellie, follows her husband to Beijing after a spell as a military medic in Iraq—where she saw shit as readers learn through flashbacks to her National Guard days. Separated and living in Beijing, she falls in with a crowd of artists. Two men—"

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-59677742701984578742011-03-21T06:29:00.000+08:002011-03-21T06:29:21.779+08:00

You'll think this whole thing is an ad for Coca-Cola, but it's really not. In my windowless office in Beijing, I get a little antsy by mid-afternoon and want a break from the cubicle farm. So it's Friday afternoon, just before a holiday, and a colleague and I head for the xiaomaibu (convenience store) in the building's basement for cans of delicious Coke. There are two xiaomaibu in our basement

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-31414362488326159602011-03-13T10:03:00.000+08:002011-03-13T10:03:05.304+08:00

Will Dylan's China concerts go off? The answer is blowing in the wind. Positively Chang'an Avenue. Not like a rolling stone because the times they are a-changin' in Beijing. Bob Dylan articles at least a few lyrics puns, so I decided to front-load them here. Bob Dylan is coming to China! This time last year, that rumor swirled, but then things got weird. No one could confirm the show. Dates

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-81523587986725160612011-03-02T05:01:00.000+08:002011-03-02T05:01:49.382+08:00

In this recorded exchange, shared by a friend, a Chinese girl calls an English producer, explaining that she needs a DJ, and the only qualification is that he be a "white foreigner." I spent so much time in China that the only surprising thing about this recording to me is that the guy on the other end is totally chilled out and doesn't lose his temper when the girl struggles to articulate what

JCnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-24410387923505522922011-03-02T04:54:00.000+08:002011-03-02T04:54:07.223+08:00

The Chungking Mansions—made sort of famous by the Wong Kar-wai movie Chungking Express, which partially takes place in the complex—looks foreboding enough from the outside. I was too chicken to go inside the first couple of times I was in Hong Kong. On the grittier Kowloon side of the city, the building is home to guesthouses (according to Frommers, there are more than 100), restaurants, and

JCnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-89539536314066886492011-02-21T11:43:00.000+08:002011-02-21T11:43:40.465+08:00

Though I've been out of China for two months, I haven't completely gotten away. Last night I turned up at a Beijing friend's birthday party only to find that half the guests were former Beijing expats. It was strange seeing them back in the real world. And I was in Chinatown last weekend when I ran into Chinese New Year festivities with dragon dances snaking down the back streets and into Old

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-9583596219255647682011-02-21T11:12:00.000+08:002011-02-21T11:12:12.191+08:00

Ann Mah left her New York publishing job and moved to Beijing, where she worked at an expat magazine for four years. She's just like me—sort of. Some details of our biographies don't overlap too well: she came because of her husband's job and worked as a dining editor. But her debut novel, Kitchen Chinese, takes place in the Beijing expat scene I knew well. Mah's stand in, Isabelle, moves to

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-33819479956901481452011-02-05T08:01:00.001+08:002011-02-21T11:49:16.243+08:00

As you can see, the links lists on the right are filling up. Truth be told, I've unsubscribed to the RSS feeds for a lot of those since moving back to the States. But there's tons of good stuff happening in the China-related English-language blogosphere. If I've missed a link, or you'd like to be added, e-mail me. I also subscribed to these newsletters: Time Out Beijing's weekly events

JCnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-50889704792282981192011-02-02T07:15:00.000+08:002011-02-02T07:15:44.399+08:00

I do love a Chinese banquet, so I'm excited to sit down to a dinner for the International Green Tea Expo. An older woman who's a tea guru (she looks much younger than her age and attributes it to the types of tea she drinks, uses in beauty treatments, and washes with "down there"), some of the women who performed in ethnic costumes at the expo, and a couple of industry types populate our table.

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-70787161346966417462011-01-29T01:54:00.000+08:002011-01-29T01:54:24.682+08:00

"Country roads, take me home…" I'm in a vaguely puke-smelling minivan, part of a police-escorted convoy of International Green Tea Expo bigwigs. Rather ridiculously, about 100 matching coaches snake along a two-lane highway through rolling green hills of Guizhou's Meitan County. One of our Chinese guides sings an off-key version of "Country Roads." What is it about that John Denver song about

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-50573203812394015662011-01-28T10:45:00.000+08:002011-01-28T10:45:06.638+08:00

Note: Some of this, minus the behind-the-scenes press tour goss, will appear in Time Out Beijing…someday. You've probably never heard of it. I never considered a visit to Guizhou until an invitation to visit this corner of southwestern China came over the transom. Unlike its neighbors Yunnan, Guangxi, and Sichuan, the province, one of China's poorest, doesn't have a firm place on the tourist

JCnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-65279232218309905592011-01-15T06:27:00.000+08:002011-02-01T01:32:07.361+08:00

You can wander through the Forbidden City, climb the Great Wall, and stand on the banks of Shanghai's Huangpu, marveling at the difference between hyper-modern Pudong and the colonial Bund. But to really experience China, you have to do a bit more. Here are ten ways. 1. Shack up with a rural family. Some will question whether visiting poor areas is doing more harm than good. Are you just

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-52498727030074534292011-01-05T05:44:00.000+08:002011-02-01T01:41:46.735+08:00

Seth Faison, who first came to China as a student and later worked as the New York Times Shanghai bureau chief, offers his memoir of his years in China. It's heavy on his personal journey as well as the amazing stories of some of the people he met. There are compelling parts—a Tibetan sky burial and his time on the ground with student protesters in Tiananmen Square, in particular. But mostly

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-24843082963464213252011-01-05T05:41:00.000+08:002011-01-05T05:41:23.790+08:00

Don't take Boniva if you have low blood calcium, severe kidney disease, or can't sit or stand for at least one hour. Follow dosing instructions carefully. Stop taking Boniva and tell your doctor if you have difficult or painful swallowing, chest pain, or severe or continuing heartburn as these may be signs of severe upper digestive problems. If severe bone, joint, or muscle pain develops, tell

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-65530156786817774422010-12-30T10:55:00.000+08:002011-02-01T01:41:46.736+08:00

Blame it on Hollywood: American high school is blown up popular imagination. Just try convincing someone who didn't grow up in the US that high school isn't a haze of letterman jackets, cheerleaders, proms, and hijinks a la American Graffiti, Grease, or American Pie—he or she likely won't believe you. And the US fascinates a class of Chinese young people who are trying to absorb the culture and

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-9273510733257415532010-12-29T09:48:00.000+08:002010-12-29T09:48:00.431+08:00

I'm on the other side of the planet now. I'm in Florida for a little longer than I planned since I can't get a flight back up to New York City. Three years in China is hard to sum up, so I'll let 100 pictures do the talking. (If the images appear cut off below, click on the slideshow to view it.)

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-18267237209471531522010-12-07T00:49:00.001+08:002010-12-07T19:32:53.663+08:00

This afternoon, I stopped by a DVD store in a Beijing market with a friend. We walked into the sparse but legitimate-looking store, muttered something about more DVDs, and then were lead to a back room in the market, operating fairly out in the open, where they sell the pirated DVDs everyone actually buys. On Saturday night, I went to my friend's DJ night. When I arrived, I found out he wasn't

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-73825888229957602112010-12-07T00:42:00.001+08:002011-02-01T01:41:46.738+08:00

The Good Earth is one of those classic China books. The American daughter of missionaries to China, Pearl S. Buck won the Nobel Prize for Literature for this work and others, so I should have liked it. But it read kind of like a fable and felt like something I should have read in sixth grade. It's the story of a peasant man who works hard, earns a fortune, turns into a jerk, and then sees his

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-54617149854701693132010-11-29T20:54:00.000+08:002010-11-29T20:54:17.505+08:00

My first impression of Queen Sea Big Shark: Chinese Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Maybe not the nicest thing to say about a band—no one wants to think they sound like anyone else—but it was certainly better than I expected. They had a wild female singer dancing frenetically across the stage and owned the room with their dance punk songs. My first week in China, without much of a plan, I read about their show

JCnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-15139332182457164432010-11-29T19:45:00.000+08:002010-11-29T19:45:41.368+08:00

Ooooh, turns out I wrote this and never posted it. This should have appeared in early September. There was a glut of music festivals in China this year. So many, in fact, that it's hard to justify them—they've all got the same bands, and more or less the same vendors and attendees. Over the festival season that stretched from May to October, I think I went to about a dozen. They vary mostly in

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-63279911715891119832010-10-25T23:20:00.000+08:002010-10-25T23:20:47.834+08:00

I posted early on about what pollution looks like—mostly I was shocked that you can actually see the pollution here. The contrast between clear and polluted days still amazes me. Earlier this month, we had some of the worst pollution I've ever seen. There's a monitoring station on top of the US Embassy that sends out Twitter alerts with the current air quality readings. Here's what it looked

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-83494659908538334332010-10-25T23:13:00.000+08:002011-02-01T01:41:46.739+08:00

With Beijing Coma, Ma Jian, himself a young activist who now lives in the UK and continues to be a critic of the Chinese government, creates a massive tome dealing with the student movement in Tiananmen Square and the aftershocks over the next two decades. The novel is told from the perspective of Dai Wei, a student protester shot in the head on the morning of June 4, 1989. His mother takes

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-63562646986584954822010-10-13T00:46:00.000+08:002010-10-13T00:46:48.917+08:00

Oh, yeah, here's the one where I give you all the behind-the-scenes goss about what really happens when you take care of a touring rock 'n' roll band. All the antics, law-breaking, fights, and meltdowns. Unfortunately, this isn't really going that kind of post—the band, despite a couple of people warning me this particular group might be difficult, was easy. I was expecting a little more

JCnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-16190441444173722932010-10-07T22:18:00.000+08:002010-10-07T22:18:05.354+08:00

It occurs to me that I never did one of these last month, so I'll do two parts this time. This part was written on October 1. While for last year's National Day the air was almost unnaturally clear, the irrepressible Beijing smog made its presence felt this year. I was up early. I've been tasked with looking after a visiting American indie band that's coming to town for a music festival. And

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-86502916717944496162010-09-05T20:08:00.000+08:002010-09-05T20:08:51.665+08:00

Note: Some parts of the posts about Mongolia ran in a shorter version in the September issue of Time Out Beijing. Read from the beginning here. We said our goodbyes at the camp. The Canadians were setting off that day for six weeks on their own. Stepperiders' owner was going to drive them to a town to buy their horses, and then the pair planned to take off. They seemed stressed out, and I felt

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-54961168441103901722010-09-05T19:43:00.000+08:002010-09-05T19:43:14.259+08:00

I woke up sore, but it wasn't nearly as bad as I expected. We were anticipating breakfast before we hit the trail again, but ended up making do with tea and pastries. The ride back seemed shorter—we only had one break for water, rather than multiple stops the day before. Little Brown and I mostly walked through the beautiful grasslands—maybe he was anxious to get home, but I had to stop him from

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-37628774702247778722010-09-05T19:34:00.000+08:002010-09-05T19:34:14.942+08:00

(I stole the title of this post from the name of a bar in UB.) The next morning, we ate fried dough with jam and instant coffee (why is it so good when you're traveling?) in the dining ger, and then strapped on chaps and helmets and led our (very gassy) horses through the grasslands. My horse, named Little Brown, was very slow and lazy—and being a city dweller and music editor doesn't make me

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-39689036790246339782010-09-05T19:25:00.000+08:002010-09-05T19:25:51.797+08:00

On June 1, Mongolians marked Children's Day with a parade and a fair in the main square. About a third of Mongolia's population of 3 million lives in UB, and it felt like the other two-thirds drove in for the occasion. Kids wore their Sunday finest while families played games and posted for photos with Chinggis Khan backdrops. We stopped by the Choijin Lama Temple (a Buddhist site somewhat

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-68578345616545101012010-09-05T18:41:00.000+08:002011-02-01T01:43:25.689+08:00

As our plane descended into Chinggis Khaan Airport—one of the many, many things we'd encounter that's named for the Mongolian national hero who was emperor during the 12th and 13th centuries—Summers (who came over from New York for a visit) and I left the Gobi desert behind and saw colorful rooftops popping out of the green mountainous landscape of the Mongolian steppe. Our guesthouse, the

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-8969261900572238932010-08-30T22:57:00.000+08:002010-08-30T22:57:26.001+08:00

Recently, the Chinese government declared today a national day of mourning for the landslide victims out west. (I'm not sure how much press this is getting in the States, but the images coming over here are all shocking and horrifying.) All of the flags flew at half-mast, newspaper front-pages and some web pages ran in black and white, bars closed, and all entertainment was called off. The days

JCnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-48499714563202260002010-08-28T10:49:00.001+08:002010-08-28T11:03:46.343+08:00

I was talking to a coworker the other day, and he related the story of getting a ride home with the owner of a very popular nightclub in Beijing. (Remember, in China, in order to avoid counterfeit large bills, the largest bill you can get is 100RMB—about $12. And cash is used a lot more often than plastic here.) So, at the end of the night, they're riding in his car—a Honda, I believe—with the

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-45730635331541287152010-07-25T12:50:00.000+08:002010-07-25T12:50:32.124+08:00

A few media reports have come out lately about "ants" or "ant tribes"—young people cramming themselves into apartment complexes housing hundreds of young Chinese college graduates. The some of residents live dorm-style, with just a tiny bit of space to call their own and shared bathrooms—or public bathrooms. Commutes might take a couple of hours each way; typical rent a couple hundred RMB. The

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-77303465553879580252010-07-12T01:30:00.000+08:002011-02-01T01:41:46.741+08:00

I just finished The Lost Girls, a book by three girls about my age who took a year off from their high-pressure jobs in New York City to travel around the world. I know all of them, and one of them, Holly, is a good friend who came to visit me in China (she's pictured on the bike; I'm in the other picture with members of family we stayed with in Yunnan.). Told in turns by each of the three girls

JCnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-13711383185789865402010-06-22T19:47:00.000+08:002010-06-22T19:47:14.142+08:00

OK...this monthly update is pretty late. The last day of school fell last week. There's a school near my apartment, and I was walking into the complex just as classes were letting out. Moms were lined up expectantly, waiting to see the results of kids' exams. A guard was even stationed to handle crowd control. But here's one other thing: in Beijing, it's an open secret that a lot of small

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-68055997733950017482010-05-06T23:36:00.000+08:002010-05-06T23:36:32.382+08:00

Over the weekend, China's May holiday, Beijing hosted its two biggest music festivals of the year, Strawberry (pictured above, put on by a local indie music label) and Midi (pictured below, put on by a music school). Unfortunately, they happen at the same time, forcing everyone to choose. (It's kind of how things work here—if there's one successful bar in an area, several copycats open up right

JCnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-36809807465004544942010-05-04T11:22:00.000+08:002010-05-04T11:22:59.609+08:00

When you haven't been working full-time for a while, you tend to forget just how much time work can take up. All of a sudden, weekends are actually weekends—when you can go out at night without having to worry about getting to the office on time the next morning, when you have some spare time to get things in your life done. Perhaps I've been out of it for too long, but I always find it hard

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-38601258001112309252010-04-21T09:53:00.001+08:002010-04-21T10:01:23.294+08:00

As you've probably noticed, I haven't posted in quite a while. I will return to blogging soon, but I need a little more time to adapt to having a full-time job. I have a backlog of half-written posts that will see the light of day soon—promise. Also, I turned on word verification for the comments. It's annoying, I know, but I'm getting tons of dirty SPAM comments, and most readers email me

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-29404102759086543942010-03-16T09:31:00.000+08:002010-03-16T09:31:03.147+08:00

I didn't realize that it was my two-year "Chinaversary" until about 10pm on the actual day—which is possibly a factor of settling in or (more likely) the result of being really busy (it's taken me two weeks to post this!). Now, I've been here for so long that it's hard to remember why I came here in the first place. I think it had something to do with… Learning Chinese My Chinese is much better

JCnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-43721982547685218772010-02-14T21:08:00.000+08:002010-02-14T21:08:43.847+08:00

Chinese New Year started last night, and just like last year, amateur fireworks displays were going off all over town. I'm house-sitting for a friend in Sanlitun (an expensive expat-heavy area near the center of town). In his 15th floor apartment, I felt like my eardrums were being blown out. There are big fireworks firing in every direction—I saw the smiley faces Macy's pulls out on the Fourth

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-27258232188536515732010-02-03T22:08:00.000+08:002011-02-01T01:41:46.743+08:00

Wild Swans is one of the classic books about China, one that everyone reads and recommends. Author Jung Chang grew up in China and moved to the U.K. in the late 70s. She recounts the history of three generations of women in her family, with life stories that parallel the incredible history of China in the twentieth century. Her maternal grandmother grew up in the waning days of the Qing dynasty

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-77171618642842014632010-02-03T21:48:00.000+08:002010-02-03T21:48:35.313+08:00

It's a cliche to say that Beijing is a city that changes before your eyes, but since I feel like I've transitioned from person-passing-through to person-who's-been-here-awhile, some things are obvious. Just shy of two years (gasp!) in Beijing, it's not so much that anything different is happening from when I arrived, but that everything has multiplied. There were a few posh Western-style bars

JCnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-431178607490592642010-01-13T12:20:00.000+08:002011-02-01T01:41:46.745+08:00

The author of this book, Anchee Min, does extensive research to recreate what the life of Mao's wife, Jiang Ching, must have been like. In the beginning, she's a young opera performer who may not be any good. But when she has power, she's vicious and vindictive, going out of her way to punish people—including guys who blew her off in her youth. It is the ultimate portrait of someone frighteningly

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-2326950992662923842010-01-03T19:50:00.000+08:002010-01-03T19:50:54.090+08:00

When I worked in the women's magazine biz, "New Year, New You" was an annual headline because, apparently, every woman wants to transform herself at the same time each year. But you can't reinvent without looking at the transformative events of your past, so here are ten of my highlights from the past year. 1. Letting teeny fish eat away my dry skin in Malaysia. (That would be a couple of days

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-86958502200620382062009-12-10T12:50:00.002+08:002009-12-10T12:50:53.062+08:00

Sometimes, salespeople here will tell you anything. I wanted to get postcards printed. The woman at the photo shop insisted that they had to be done on regular photo paper, not the thicker matte paper I wanted. "Beijing doesn't have that kind of paper," she said. "But I had these printed in Beijing," I said, waving around the postcards I'd made a year ago. "Beijing used to have that paper,

JCnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-58831096593026008352009-12-07T08:37:00.000+08:002011-02-01T01:32:26.712+08:00

Some of the most popular online games in China right now are farming games. Players own virtual plots and sometimes steal other players' crops. It's funny, though, because most urban dwellers in China have no idea where the food they actually eat comes from. Back in September, I wrote an article about locavorism—eating only food grown or produced near where you live—for the September issue of

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-1830471799726247742009-12-02T21:38:00.000+08:002011-02-01T01:25:06.494+08:00

Here's a question most of you have probably encountered in your careers: how do you do a good job in a crap organization? You want your work to be your calling card—to showcase your skills and your ability to work well in any context—but sometimes you're working in an environment that makes it really difficult to do good work. Often, the problems are lack of funds, disorganization, or

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-85683474181236259782009-12-02T14:56:00.001+08:002011-02-01T01:41:46.746+08:00

In 2002, British journalists Ed Jocelyn and Andrew McEwen retraced the path of the Long March, the Red Army's 4,000-mile retreat to Gansu province that began in 1934. From there, the Red Army regrouped and eventually took over all of China. Important to China's Communist Party's lore, the trek holds a place in the minds of everyday Chinese people. (Today, there's a Green Long March sponsored by

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-54514326451289017662009-12-01T11:01:00.001+08:002011-02-01T01:41:46.748+08:00

American James Lilley, who wrote this memoir along with his son, was born in China in 1928, and saw the country through dramatic changes. As an adult he worked in the CIA and later as ambassador, along with other posts around Asia, including Taiwan. Although there must be many secrets he's keeping, his first-person account offers exclusive details on how the U.S. tiptoed around its relationship

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-42782818421173090212009-11-22T20:52:00.000+08:002011-02-01T01:25:26.510+08:00

As I mentioned before, when I was in Shangri-la, schools were closed as a precaution against H1N1. The local cases had everyone freaked out—as I was told more than once, SARS never made it to the Yunnan province. In Beijing, plenty of people are wearing masks and trying to get vaccinations, which are apparently in short supply. I spotted this topical graffiti outside of the 798 Art Zone in town

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-17061616320942909572009-11-22T20:34:00.000+08:002009-11-22T20:34:18.248+08:00

Barack Obama was in town last week, and he managed to run everyone's fun. The newly popular T-shirts of Obama dressed as Mao in Red Guard uniform—"ObaMao" as they're known—were pulled from stores because they might offend him. (How? No one can quite explain what they mean, and here they're kind of a tribute to Obama as a pop icon. His image is also on cheap woodcuts and random items like

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-4567823024995264452009-11-15T19:27:00.000+08:002009-11-15T19:27:49.333+08:00

On Halloween night it was rainy and gross, but I went out anyway because it was my first night back in town. Sometime after midnight, someone announced it was snowing, and we went out to play in the big flakes. It was weird because Beijing usually only gets a few snow showers a year in January or February. Even stranger, when I woke up the next day several inches of snow covered the city.

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-89604970371410932632009-11-11T14:39:00.000+08:002011-02-01T01:43:25.691+08:00

Sometimes called the mini-Potala Palace, the Songzanlin Monastery in Shangri-la is considered a must-see, especially if you can't make it to Tibet. Originally built in 1681, the active Tibetan Buddhist monastery is striking, jutting out from a hill. But what's most noticeable is that the central building is missing—the monastery was almost completely destroyed during the Cultural Revolution and

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-38654416440956158162009-11-11T14:03:00.000+08:002009-11-11T14:03:19.534+08:00

Tucked in the mountains, the Tian Sheng Qiao hot springs are worth the pricey admission. The air outside was chilly (maybe in the 50s), but the sun was super-strong and the water must have been close to 90 degrees. It's too hot to swim, but I floated around and enjoyed the warm water and perfect blue skies, taking breaks to sit outside for a bit or go to the cooler, shaded pool. Male and

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-14822347852480254342009-11-11T13:39:00.000+08:002011-02-01T01:43:25.692+08:00

Shangri-la is the kind of place where maps are drawn on scraps of paper and there's no need for street names—turn left at the horses will do. And if you're looking for said maps, or the best hiking spots, or the back way into anything, Kevin, owner of Turtle Mountain Gear & Outfitters in Old Town, is the person to see. An American who's lived in town for years, Kevin owns a store that rents

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-82716846011738373342009-11-10T20:58:00.000+08:002011-02-01T01:43:25.694+08:00

I've visited a few villages in the Chinese countryside, but I still can't get over how hard the life is. Recently, I spent the night in the Tibetan village of Yisong, arranged by my guesthousein Shangri-la, and saw how firsthand how much work the villagers put into a day. This part of Yunnan is near the Tibetan border, but it's much easier to interact with the villagers here, partly because it's

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-34220389089112976852009-11-08T14:53:00.005+08:002011-02-01T01:43:25.696+08:00

I'm in Shangri-la, which—according to the Chinese government—is a real place. In his 1933 novel Lost Horizon, British author James Hilton wrote of Shangri-la, an imaginary Himalayan monastery, where residents have perfected the art of extra-long life. In an effort to promote tourism, the Chinese government decided to "locate" the place that served as the inspiration for Hilton and turn it into

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-20686484858229002232009-11-01T21:12:00.003+08:002011-02-01T01:43:25.698+08:00

I just got back from Shangri-la in the Yunnan province near Tibet (blog posts will go up this week). The region is still beginning to develop its tourist infrastructure, and guidebooks don't dedicate much space to the area, so the next best thing is to look online for travel information. Unfortunately, a lot of what's online in English right now isn't that helpful, either. Some of the posters

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-49276428414146950162009-10-16T16:44:00.003+08:002009-11-04T02:11:28.880+08:00

A Chinese hair metal band? I wasn't sure I wanted to see Rustic when I first heard of them, but in the course of a week, they were all I heard about: they'd just won the China round of the Global Battle of the Bands, and everyone who'd seen them was freaking out a little bit.I needed to see this for myself, so I went to their next show, last Wednesday. Ricky, the bass player and sometime singer

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-239538429065414942009-10-16T11:26:00.002+08:002011-02-01T01:41:46.749+08:00

Susan Jane Gilman pens this memoir about traveling through China backin 1986, when the country had just opened to foreign tourists.Susie (as she's known in the book), traveling with a fellow recent Ivy League college graduate, comes off as over-educated but totally clueless about international travel when she arrives in Hong Kong. Holly (who I was traveling with when I read the book) and I

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-9234533237203549202009-10-16T10:18:00.002+08:002011-02-01T01:43:25.699+08:00

When I was traveling around Yunnan in May, on the recommendation of a friend of a friend, we visited a little village called Long Wang Bian near the larger Haba village and an hour or so north of Tiger Leaping Gorge. Yaks and chickens ran around the town, a Muslim village close to Haba Snow Mountain.Our double rooms were 100 RMB a person—more than we'd paid anywhere else in the region, but we got

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-83983825246808556982009-10-13T08:36:00.002+08:002009-11-03T22:22:32.465+08:00

See the Tiger Leaping Gorge while you still can, people warn.China is building an incredible amount of hydropower dams satisfy the country's growing energy needs. But that construction comes at a price—relocating entire communities and some pretty intense environmental impact.Although a plan to dam the portion of the Yangtze cutting through the Tiger Leaping Gorge has been halted for now, several

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-6275893453444629632009-10-11T09:17:00.002+08:002011-02-01T01:41:46.751+08:00

Zhao Zhiyang saw firsthand dramatic changes in China over several decades. He ascended to powerful positions within the Communist Party before being purged after the crackdown on student demonstrators in Tiananmen Square in 1989.He lived out the rest of his life (until 2005) under house arrest in Beijing, only occasionally allowed to have guests or leave to play golf. Despite surveillance, he

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-24122322972372420652009-10-03T19:43:00.002+08:002009-11-04T02:22:54.780+08:00

Before I moved to Beijing, I didn't know much about Daoism beyond the highlights—yin and yang and whatnot.  I still don't know that much, but I've learned that Chinese Daoists have a whole constellation of deities. These gods and goddesses are pretty much ignored by Western practitioners, who tend to just take up the Daoist philosophy. But their statues populate Chinese Daoist temples—and the

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-17312345571272056302009-10-01T14:41:00.002+08:002009-11-06T13:17:14.738+08:00

Today "upgraded intercontinental DF-31 nuclear missiles capable of striking Washington" rolled through Chang'an Avenue, Beijing's central axis, as part of a military parade to celebrate the 60th anniversary of the founding of the People's Republic. (At least, that's what the AP reported in a story about parade preparations). Of course, I'm not there watching because it's impossible to get

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-81076173764955824992009-09-10T23:11:00.002+08:002011-02-01T01:43:25.701+08:00

I went to see Chairman Mao's embalmed body in the center of Tiananmen Square today. I'd always meant to go to the mausoleum, but one thing or another got in the way—it's open limited hours (Tues-Sun, until 11:30 am), and you can't take in cameras, cell phones, or large bags.Today, I made a special trip, carrying just my transit pass, keys, and some cash. (There were signs saying to show an ID. I

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-39377638116934944392009-09-03T20:24:00.002+08:002009-11-06T13:53:10.123+08:00

Last week I went to an event organized by Greenpeace China. Ice sculptures of children were placed outside in the Temple of Earth (Ditan Park) to melt in the summer sun. The ice came from rivers fed by melting Himalayan glaciers (the watershed 1/5 of the world's population depends on, according to the organizers) that are starting to feel the effects of global warming.The event was meant as a

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-871057013904329762009-08-31T14:14:00.002+08:002009-11-06T14:07:03.061+08:00

Summer in humid, land-locked Beijing can get unbearable. Though the beach is at least a couple hours away, people make due with slightly nasty fake beaches like this one. Today at the park near my house, I saw kids playing in these floating inflatable balls. I'm sure they're perfectly safe, but I kept worrying they were going to suffocate in their bubbles.The video:

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-11394371581874573792009-08-27T19:06:00.002+08:002009-11-06T14:13:02.145+08:00

Dear unemployed graduates,The New York Times will have you believe that you can move to China with no work experience, no Mandarin, and no knowledge of China—and fall into an impressive and well paid job.I wish! We all wish. I know one of the people profiled in that article, and he happens to speak awesome Chinese. Another friend knows several of them, and says that most of them hopped off the

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-66213803531614652152009-08-02T20:55:00.002+08:002009-11-06T14:16:51.001+08:00

I'm officially done lodging complaints about China. Yes, all of the difficulties I've cataloged before (in this blog or in person) are still there, but this month I realized something: the foreigners are just as bad as the Chinese people they complain about. (I know, this probably isn't very shocking.)If I hear one more foreigner blaming all of their troubles on Chinese people and their way of

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-36771819320547550192009-07-12T11:19:00.002+08:002009-11-06T14:20:20.746+08:00

When I was traveling through Xinjiang last fall, there was palpable tension between the Han Chinese and ethnic minorities in the region.But I didn't expect it to erupt so violently with people killing eachother in the streets.Thankfully, things seem to have calmed down now. Here are photos frombetter times:

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-68417039680314824702009-07-09T20:34:00.002+08:002009-11-06T14:26:51.363+08:00

I went to New York at the beginning of June, and on my way back, my fortune cookie read, "If the table moves, move with it." Appropriate, but I'm still trying to figure out where the table is.In New York, in the space of two days, you can spot Spider-Man on the subway and a guy on Fifth Avenue with what looks like the robot from Short Circuit. In Beijing, the weather fluctuates between gorgeous

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-85440809078701893622009-06-20T17:56:00.002+08:002011-02-01T01:43:25.703+08:00

The steep, Yangtze River-cut gorge is stunning—say, Ithaca's gorges times ten. The site, famous for being (possibly? depending on the source?) the longest and deepest gorge in the world, is more massive than anything I've ever seen.I negotiated a ride (280 RMB, too much in retrospect) for us that went as far as Qiaotou, near the southwest entrance to the gorge and about two hours from Lijiang.

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-15224559244562053152009-06-11T00:08:00.003+08:002009-06-11T00:18:06.723+08:00

I'm on the plane to America! (and normal internet access) as I write. Last month, I celebrated my 30th birthday with 30 or so friends in Beijing. It was one of my best birthday's ever, ending at Chocolate, Beijing's craziest new Russian nightclub with a midget doorman, gold toilets, framed paintings on the ceiling, and a nightly show. I'm still sort of amazed that I pulled it off: Last year, if I

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-11203358470981971132009-06-04T12:49:00.002+08:002009-11-06T14:42:11.342+08:00

Today is the 20th anniversary that event we're not supposed to talk about. Some people are protesting by wearing white, the traditional color of mourning in China. (When I walked around my neighborhood this morning, a fair amount of the older people were wearing white shirts, but it's also close to 100 degrees today, so it's hard to say how much of it was intentional.) I don't think anything

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-19685290875284768412009-05-31T09:52:00.002+08:002009-11-06T14:43:03.244+08:00

Blogger is suddenly blocked, making it challenging for me to post anything. (And even when I do, it kind of looks like crap—see previous post!).I think it will get better after the big anniversary next week, but otherwise, I'll post everything next time I'm out of China and look for a better fix.

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-25773355832093417332009-05-29T10:17:00.004+08:002011-02-01T01:43:25.704+08:00

With narrow stone streets, red lanterns swaying overhead, and canals gushing through town, Lijiang (the ancient part at least) is what I think of when I imagine a classic Chinese city. Old women in their traditional outfits walk around selling fruit. The low buildings have carved-wood doors and roofs tipped up at the corners.It's pricey and touristy, too, but if you walk away from the main strips

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-89945648467600565002009-05-07T20:34:00.004+08:002011-02-01T01:43:25.706+08:00

Dali is charming enough, but the best parts are outside of town. Four of us rented bikes to zip around Er Hai ("Ear Lake") just outside of the city. We cut through soybean and rice fields, where farmers worked by hand and wound through narrow alleys of white buildings with black tile roofs and paintings on the walls—the white reminded me a little of the south of Spain.We made it as far as the old

JCnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-19395801908700449032009-05-04T20:34:00.005+08:002011-02-01T01:43:25.708+08:00

Dali, in northwest Yunnan, feels like a stop on the backpacker circuit, a little bit of Thailand in China, with little cafes serving Western food and shops selling sarongs and colorful, shapeless dresses. But despite that, we didn't see a lot of backpackers—just Chinese tourists. The town was lovely and sleepy, tucked into the mountains and filled with preserved old buildings. The coffee and

JCnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3095175.post-71799271093941866002009-05-04T18:42:00.002+08:002011-02-01T01:43:25.710+08:00

"Lijiang!" "Dali!" "600 kuai!" "Where do you want to go?" I'm used to people swarming and trying to sell me rides, but when we approached the bus station in Kunming, the scene was out of control.I negotiated a ride to Dali (about 5 hours away) for 100 kuai each. I thought we were going in a car, but we ended up stacked in a minibus. In front of me, a woman sat on a stranger's lap. Four people

JCnoreply@blogger.com0