May: Shenanigans of the Month

The iconic image of Hans Solo and Chewbacca's silhouetted against the Millennium Falcon's windshield as they jump into light speed aptly encapsulates the month of May for us. The spring semester always flies, but the month of May especially so thanks to the hundreds of competitions and activities crammed into its thirty one days. This year was no different. The time to sit and write was minimal, so, once again, I find myself conveying a broad stroke over a very active and fun month.

For the fourth year, my classes competed in the GDOU Sophomore English Major Kentucky Derby Hat competition. Again, their creativity astounded me. Their hats were eclectic, as were the stories behind their designs. There was a lot of laughter, a lot of cheering and a lot of posts on WeChat about this annual event. Some of the hats even made an appearance later in the month during the musical dramas. When one particular hat, a humongous diamond ring, was used in a stage proposal, one of the judges leaned over to me and whispered, "Wasn't that hat in your competition this month?" It made me proud.

By word of mouth, we found out that an American pianist was visiting the university and giving a concert. We cleared our calendar for the evening, as live music is something we adore and miss greatly living here. It ended up being a very entertaining evening, as she was not the only one visiting, but was with a delegation from the University of North Carolina at Greensboro Arts Department. Our shock at seeing so many foreigners matched their shock at finding out foreigners actually lived at the campus. A great laugh was had by all, followed by stories and exchanging of information. Before they left, they gave us T-shirts. They were excited that we were so thrilled with such a gift.

As for the concert, she was amazing and our musical souls were sated for the time.

About mid-month we had a brief scare that our beloved snack street would officially be closed. It has been an ongoing battle between the locals and the government over the health status of the food vendors in front of the campus. Really, it is gross and disgusting and is nowhere near reaching any guidelines, but the bosses are fantastic and the food really good. Apparently, after a day, the correct bribes were paid and it opened for business - much to our delight.

The cicadas appeared in plague proportions this year. It was so loud and our nightly battle against their intrusion resembled Hitchcock's, The Birds. Zach's tong-wielding skills were magnificent, as were his skills of slamming a window closed to turn on the air conditioner. Laundry was a tag team endeavor - I would hang clothes while Zach swung at them with our mosquito racquet. It was a very interesting two weeks, but eventually they succumbed to the heat and our hutong is silent once more.

It was a hard fought match when Zach's team took to the pitch in the quarter-final round of the competition. Their opponent was good, but for sixty minutes, the men in orange battled and controlled the game. Unfortunately, it was a game where the goal just was not big enough to catch their shots and Zach's 50th minute PK shot being saved by the keeper meant the winner was determined by penalty kicks. Three to two, Zach's team lost when the ball hit the crossbar. It was gut wrenching loss and Zach was despondent. It was the first game in his life where a penalty kick had been saved. The missed shot and the knowledge that he missed the shot weighed heavily. It was a somber evening in the hutong.

The next week he told me he spent an evening practicing penalty kicks.

Hot weather means stunning sunsets. In the four years we have lived here, I have not grown tired of the sunsets. I find myself more times than not stopped in my tracks to witness the end of a day displayed through a mishmash of bold colors and cloud configurations.

In the four years of living here I have never been on top of the main building, a favorite sunset viewing area. Therefore, I checked this off the GDOU bucket list at the end of the month. We chose a good night for the colors and gave thanks that a breeze came with the sunset. It had been a scorcher of a day. 

Missing Soul of Halong Bay

Boats seem to outnumber residents, tourist agencies abound and a big bay filled with adventure beckons, but the life of Halong Bay is missing. The soul of an Asian town - the local markets, the night vendors, the yummy street food, the evening strollers, were nowhere to be found. The entire shoreline of the bay has been decimated with signs declaring a new monorail and amusement park. Abandoned shops and piles of rubble seem to be the remnants of a bygone era.

Our evening constitutionals were disheartening. The very thing we love to experience while traveling had been pushed aside in the name of development and tourism. Granted, development will always happen, but gentrification in the name of improvement is always ugly.

Nonetheless, amid the overpriced noodle and coffee shops, a glimpse of local life could be found. A nook holding a sugar cane juice stand where locals played cards or the corner store that held an amazing old record device sitting on an intricately designed case. The owner loved that we lingered just to sway the Vietnamese ballad playing softly.

Our final evening, we stopped at a coffee shop for Zach to enjoy a final Vietnamese coffee. The waitress was bubbly and very talkative, even more so when she found out we were English teachers in China. While the coffee stewed, she regaled us with tales of her freshman year at the local university, her quest to learn five languages and her observations of the changes in Halong Bay. She was dismayed that the shoreline had been destroyed and that locals were continually being pushed farther and farther from the bay so the government could collect the profits. Though, she was a university student who was really more worried about what music Chinese people listened to. She was a fantastic conversationalist and a highlight to our stop. Yet, even as we walked away, we were saddened that we had not been able to enjoy that cup of coffee in a lounge chair, at an outdoor coffee shop, watching life buzz around the local square. 

Bumper Boats in the Bay

Our morning was a series of chaotic mistakes.

The previous evening, after our lovely swim, we repeatedly asked what time we needed to be at breakfast and departure. Everyone told us 8am was breakfast, 8:30am was departure, with the assurance that all rooms would receive a wake up call. We set our alarms, knowing that wake up calls are finicky, and planned on arriving at breakfast early to savor western delights and the nice ambiance.

Packing our bags, a knock reverberated our door. Zach opened it to find Michelle, frantic. "We are leaving!"

"What?!" we yelled.

"Why weren't you at breakfast?" she asked.

"Because it is 7:50am and we are getting ready to walk down," replied Zach.

"Why didn't you wake up with the call?" she asked.

"Because we did not get a wake up call," retorted Zach. "Why the hell are we leaving at 8am?"

"The guide told the times in Beijing time zone," she exclaimed.

"You cannot tell times in another time zone," we shouted in unison.

"I will go tell Carrie what is going on," said Michelle.

"We will eat breakfast," yelled Zach as she walked away.

Of course, we were mad. Our relaxed morning had just became a frantic dash. There had been no wake up call (to which the front desk would say that our phone was off the hook), our English-speaking-guide-who-spoke-no-English had forgotten what country he was in when giving times, and while everyone noticed that we were not at breakfast, no one came to check on us. Though Carrie swears she sent "someone" to knock on our door. We do not know what door that person knocked on, for it was not ours.

We ate our breakfast. The guide attempted to rush us, until Zach made a scene yelling at him to which he quickly retreated. For the record, he never gave another Beijing time the remainder of the trip. Plus, we had a good laugh when we arrived at the bus to find that most of the Chinese travelers were no where to be found and the guide was running around like a bandy hen trying to find her chicks.

Our angry and frantic state subsided, replaced by excitement because we were starting the day on a boat. There is nothing better than starting a day on a boat, especially when it is in a place I never thought we would visit.

The dock was organized chaos, with vendors hauling goods to boats, captains yelling, tourists jostling in search of their chosen vessel, and the creak and crack of boats squashed together as if in a sardine can. It was quintessentially Asian.

We were directed to our water chariot and soon underway.

Our jaunt about the bay was basically a three hour tour, with many jokes as to what a Vietnamese Gilligan's Island would be like should such a wreck occur. However, there were many interruptions of the banter for the oohs and aahs that resonated around the boat. The mountains of Halong Bay are breathtaking and it was a perfect day to experience their majesty.

Every so often a small canoe would sidle alongside us, harking their choice of seafood. A few times the steward leaned over the railing to gaze at the goods, selecting something here and there for our lunch. The foreigners wistfully hoped for a coffee canoe, as Zach had regaled them with tales of our time in the delta among the floating market, and the plethora of canoes that dispensed the condensed milk concoction of the gods. Alas, none appeared. It was observed by all that the bay seemed to be highly regulated. We assumed that those that did putter their way among the tourist boats paid a hefty fee for the privilege.

Our three hour tour came a comical end with our arrival at the dock. I feel, after watching the procedure, that the docking manual reads, "Hit as many boats as possible until an opening appears." The bumping was not an unknown maneuver, for frequently in the open waters of the bay, a healthy bout of bumper boats would erupt. Kilometers of empty sea would surround, but three boats would vie for the exact same location for unknown reasons. It did not even faze our captain. At such bumpy times, I would watch him and find that chuckles followed the apparent love taps.

The dock dance was choreographed bedlam. Several shoves to the left, one to the right, a retreat for a few knots, repeat with a flourish of a boat-ish pirouette. A brandished fist, a snarky comment spoken also added depth to the dance. Eventually, a space opens and the boat is docked. I think our time of tango was a solid twenty minutes. It was mesmerizing and an endearing lesson in boatmanship.

Actually, a handful of us had so much fun that we decided to take part in the adventure again the following day as it was designated a choose-your-own-adventure day.

An item on Gavin's bucket list was to kayak the bay. Initially, we thought we could rent kayaks at the dock and set our path, but the crux of the mountains are a fair distance from the shore. Plus, after our reconnaissance the previous day, the bay is heavily regulated so kayaking is only permitted in certain sections. Therefore, in negotiations of a day trip with a travel agency near our hotel, Gavin set the itinerary to include time for kayaking, beach and cave.

With a longer tour time, our jaunt into the clusters of mountains was even more spectacular than the previous day. From our lounges, we frequently remarked that the farther we went, the prettier the mountains became. I understood why most people choose to spend at least a night or two on the bay.

Our initial stop was at Sung Sot Cave. We were not thrilled about the stop, but it came with the package deal. After a trek up some bizarre sized steps, we entered into a behemoth of a concrete shrine. While cave is attached the name, and I do feel at some point it was an actual cave, the Disneyfication of this hideaway is extravagant. I have never seen a cave's ceiling so smooth nor so many bricks peeking through chipped concrete around water ponds. Nonetheless, the stop is worth it for the view over the bay. After exiting the cave, there is a platform that overlooks the dock and bay, which is beautiful.

Our kayak adventure took us beneath one of the mountains into a secluded cove. Aside from the Chinese tourists who were ferried in via Vietnamese gondola, it was a peaceful and serene place to paddle. Thankfully their journey stopped almost immediately inside the lagoon for the designated feed the wild monkeys area. On the far side, their screams and squeals were muted as we watched the actual wild monkeys laze about in the foliage.

Returning to the boat, we enjoyed a great Vietnamese lunch followed by a grand round of yelling and gesticulating. We noticed after eating that we were much closer to the mainland than expected, as we still had the beach stop on the agenda. Zach asked the captain, who even in is meager understanding of English, had a wild look of panic. The following forty five minutes, was the epitome of Asian scam. The captain had messed up, passed the beach and therefore blamed it on the foreigners. Unbeknowst to us, somehow our forty five minutes of paddling became two hours and we had put the entire operation far, far behind schedule. Of course, the tour company sided with the captain because one never wants to make a captain mad. Tempers flared. Even a good-cop-bad-cop role-play did nothing to reverse their decision that we horrid foreigners had destroyed their neatly planned agenda. The crew's face clearly showed the chagrin about their mess up, even moreso as we disembarked without bestowing any tips.

In all honesty, Zach and I been waiting for the scam, the oh-so-convenient mess up. We have traveled enough to know that in Asian tourism, scams are the norm. Before starting the adventure, our bet had been on the kayaks, that somehow they would not be available or conditions would be "too dangerous." While we were mad about the lack of beach time, we were actually more surprised that the day's journey had gone rather smoothly until the final hiccup. Ultimately, all was right with the world as we returned to the hotel and lounged by the pool for the rest of the afternoon. 

Vietnam Bound

It was a sly suggestion that resulted in a new Vietnam visa in our passport and an itinerary with Halong Bay as our destination. We were stunned that a Vietnamese destination won the approval for our annual expat sojourn rather than the handful of Chinese destinations also suggested. However, domestic travel has become a ferocious game of price gouging which is a good reason to steer clear of Chinese sites especially on a holiday. Plus the idea that we could arrive in Vietnam quicker than Guangzhou seemed a better reason for the choice.

It is no secret that our first jaunt through Vietnam was much rougher than expected. It was a country that we were not overly eager to revisit, yet a free trip and the mutual vow that we would steer clear of all motodrivers paved the way for our return. Besides, we were with a Chinese tour company and that would be the continual point of contention because they are always a disaster.

A lethargic stream separates Dongxing, China and Mong Cai, Vietnam, with a bridge spanning its width to join the two countries. Standing in the center of the Friendship Bridge is the perfect location to observe two countries trying to outdo the other and for people watching. In true Chinese fashion, money and tons of concrete has been poured into the swath of land along the waterfront in the appearance of great development and wealth. If you go half a kilometer past the towering skyscrapers and shop stalls, it is a ghost town which resembles the Vietnam side of the position posturing. While Mong Cai definitely does not have the building stature, it has character and the top market for toilet paper.

Time gazing at the buildings was diverted by the number of porters toting large bundles of toilet paper across the bridge. It was a continuous stream of toilet bundles topped with the iconic Vietnamese hat tottering along. It was completely baffling. Chinese toilet paper is not that great of a commodity, so we stood verbally processing what reasons could be valid for such a steady stream of the stuff. We still do not have a legitimate reason.

While toilet paper was not the only commodity making a trek across the border, it was in the highest demand. We had a lot of time to observe the comings and goings on the Friendship Bridge, for we were there for two and a half hours. Apparently, being in a tour group does not make border crossings go any faster, especially when the tour leader decides that it is the perfect time to exchange money while the Vietnamese guards have our passports. We westerners immediately saw the scam, tried to tell the Chinese who ignored our observations and handed over their money with a smile. She took a ten percent commission with each transaction and the passports were conveniently ready once they had all exchanged their money. Our Chinese counterparts were shocked when we crossed beneath the gate and found an ATM on the other side. While it was out of service, their shock was even greater when there was one beside our hotel that took UnionPay and did not charge such an exorbitant exchange rate. Nonetheless, we were grateful they were willing to pay the ransom for the safe return of our passports.

The drive to Halong Bay was spectacular. I had heard and read that the northern sections of Vietnam are the prettiest. After our drive, I may have to agree. The late afternoon sun gave the entire region a beautiful glow and I was mesmerized by the passing scenery; rolling hills, etched with terraced rice fields and tea plantations. Plus, it was refreshing to see a landscape not marred by continual construction and destruction. Even our Chinese travelers commented on this observation. China, the country whose legacy will be concrete.

The arrival at the hotel was met with exclamations of delight. It was one of the nicest hotels we have ever stayed at, complete with a beautiful outdoor pool. Our evening was spent swimming until it closed. Most of the group went for a second dinner, but Zach and I opted to enjoy the rainfall shower head, cozy bathrobes and relish being in an amazing hotel for the evening.