When we last left our hero, he had just gotten off the fast plane to China, looked around and said to himself, "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore." Or something like that. Anyway, here's Part II, with a few more pics to spice it up. (Click to enlarge). Let's see how he does. . .
From Shanghai we took "soft seat" class on the train to Hangzhou. During the 100 mile trip I got to see farms and small factory towns. When we passed peasants ankle deep in rice paddies, wearing broad brimmed hats, bending over (to pull weeds I presume), I turned to Curtis and said, "Now I feel like I'm really in China."

I met Curtis's friend Chuck in Hangzhou. We figured out that when Chuck lived in University Heights and Kathy and I did, also, we lived so close to each other that our backyards probably touched. It's an irony of suburban living that we never met until now, in Hangzhou, China.
Over beers that night Curtis and Chuck complained at length about Chinese people, which begged the question of why they stayed in China. Chuck said that there are plenty of good things about China, but they just need to blow off steam when they have the chance to talk with other expatriates. Among the expats that I met I found this love-hate relationship with their new chosen home to be very common.
The next day we took the train another 100 miles from Hangzhou to Curtis's hometown, Ningbo, where I would spend the majority of my time in China. Ningbo is about the same population as Columbus, Ohio. There were a lot of people, but it was not as crowded as I thought it would be. Ningbo is a modern, quite livable city. The bus system is excellent and if you're impatient for a bus you can get across town in a taxi for about a dollar.
The most satisfying part of my vacation was just learning to get around the city on my own. The language defies our automatic expectation of Latin roots and spellings. Once I began to think of it like a word game or puzzle it was fun. "Let's see, this symbol means this, and if I make this sound the taxi will drive where I want it to go" -- that sort of thing. The funnest word to say was Cuibai Lu, the street close to Curtis's apartment. When said aloud it combines the musical quality of a frontier folk song with the articulation of Tweety Bird.
The other fun thing was meeting Curtis's friends -- a pleasant mixture of expats and their Chinese mates. We enjoyed eating, drinking, watching World Cup games, and playing poker together. Mark and Lilly's LBB bar is home away from home for foreigners in Ningbo.

An issue that you have to find a way to deal with is being stared at. I mean Chinese people will just unabashedly stare at a Caucasian like he just landed from outer space.
A favorite children's game is "see if you can get the white guy to say hello". A child will run up to you and say, "Hello!" Then if you reply, "hello", they squeal, run around, point, and come back and try it again. Now I know how Slider feels at an Indians game.
I found the staring to be a harmless lesson in being a minority. If it was bothering me I found that staring back usually terminated the process.

Old people exercise in the morning. They walk backwards, slap themselves, do tai chi, or line dance. They also use machines in parks. Chinese people believe in the health benefits of hitting themselves.
Several people recommended that I go to The Purple Orchid for a foot massage. I made my way across Ningbo and found the place. I communicated what part of my body I wanted massaged by pointing to my feet. A young man took me to a room and handed me a menu. Since it was all in Chinese characters, I just pointed to something in the middle of the page. He gave me the "that?" look, and I nodded. He then proceeded to beat the crap out of my legs and feet. I scrambled for my Chinese phrase book to look up the word for "pain!" In the end I was able to endure.
The pedicure was the best ever, but I could have gone without the beating.

One day Curtis and I escaped from the city and took a bus ride to TianTong Temple, an active Buddhist monastery in the hills south of Ningbo. Rows of tea grew on the mountainsides. On the way I told Curtis about the book I read about the Japanese Zen Master Keido Fukushima and some of his sayings, like "Hey! Throw it away" and "Watch, touch, and bite".
The temples and Buddhas were awesome. We enjoyed touring the grounds and hanging with the monks.
Saturday it was so hot that Cathy Yao and I spent the afternoon in the Ningbo public library, just to be in cool place. It was a good choice. Libraries provide wonderful respites the world over. Instead of governments expending effort on silly laws against desecrating flags, they should pass laws against desecrating libraries.

On Sunday we took the soft-seat train back to Shanghai. This time I saw the big city in all its lit-up glory. Monday I enjoyed the Shanghai Museum. We ended as we had begun, having a couple beers on the balcony of Captain’s overlooking the Whangpoo River and the Pudong district. Kites flickered in the city lights. It was beautiful!
. . .
There is a sense of irony when the Chinese talk about their culture being so old, written history going back four or five thousand years. The irony is that in many ways they are the youngest culture on earth. This experiment with the free market is less than thirty years old after nearly a century of communism and millennia of kingdoms. And they don't have the free market thing quite right, yet.
. . .
One final thought about traveling to the other side of the world and back. When people talk about what's best for Americans, God bless America, and all that stuff, it rings even more hollow to me now. What, do they think we're the only people on earth? Everyone wants to be happy and every society is trying to figure it out. Perhaps if we'd work together instead of bombing each other it would help.
Okay, now everybody form a circle and hold hands.
Denny
