Alex

First of all, this text will contain a lot of contradictions, I'm aware of it. But everything is true. Both the facts that I sometimes get lost, that I get of the buses a station too early or a station too late, that I once accidentally (obviously, I'm not perverted) ordered a plate of sliced tomatoes with a heap of sugar on top of it, and the fact that I, in the end of the day, am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and the situation. (Maybe if I wasn't so layed back, always thinking "Every problem have a sollution, why worry about it?", maybe then I wouldn't screw things up all the time. I would also be constantly stressed and worried.)

Well, of all the stupid things I've done so far in China...

I lost my cellphone bill the first thing I did when I got to China.

Before I left Beijing (the first time) I believed that my Visa card had been demagnitized and walked around for two weeks beliving this. Until I got to Shanghai, ran out of money, couldn't find a bank which would help me, couldn't pay my room bill, and in desperation tried to take out money at the ATM. No problem at all (and that was the worst part).

When I went from Beijing to Wuhan (the first time), I only kept my ticket as a memento, as a keepsake. I would easily have thrown it away, but I wanted to glue it into my diary. I'm a tad sentimental sometimes, I know. When I got of the train it turned out that I had to show my ticket once again before exiting the station. Phew.

I once jumped off the bus after asking California if this was the right stop, and he answered that it wasn't. He then told me that he would appreciate if I could warn him before getting off the bus next time.

I threw away my receipt for my deposit at the hostel in Wuhan and couldn't get my deposit back.

I would have thrown away many other scraps of papers that I later needed, if California hadn't stopped me time and again. He saved the life of many other deposit reciepts. One would believe that when I'd done the mistake once, I wouldn't do it again, but no no.

("Marc, can I throw away this?"

"No Alex, that's the deposit for the room key."

"Marc, can I throw away this?"

"Yes Alex, that's just the reciept from the internet café.")

I got myself a new cellphone number when I got to Beijing. It turned out that I couldn't use it on my old cell. Two days before I left Beijing (the last time) I bought a new cellphone, and used my new number for two days. When I arrived to Wuhan I realized that I have to buy a Wuhanese cellphone number in order to not torture my cellphone bills and my wallet.

I aslo forgot the charger for my new cellphone in Beijing.

Not to mention the complete mess I left behind in Sweden, all the things my poor mother have had to take care of (much appreciated mamma). Everything from me not having enough time to move out all my things from the flat before I left, to forgetting to sign my application for study support (and later, sending the signed copy back to Sweden way way too late), to filling in and signing the wrong papers for a insurance (but this wasn't actually my fault).

Not to mention every other occasion when I've spilled food or drinks on myself, stumbled, fumbled, screwed up, made a complete ass of myself, etc. etc.

...yesterday I did the most stupid thing. It's the most stupid thing because.... because... it was so obvious. I tried to move into my new dorm room. I was very proud of myself for finding the right place at all. I mean, in a unknown city, barely knowing the language, to find the right street, then find the right building in the vast campus area, then find the right floor, then find the right office, I think I have the right to be satisfied with myself on this point. But. (There's always a but.) I was there, ready to sign in, ready to be handed a dorm room.

I didn't bring my admission notice.

(What?! I didn't bring my admission notice?! What?! I mean... oh man... how could I not bring the admission notice??) So the teacher gently told me that he couldn't sign me in. Of course he couldn't. Since, you know, I hadn't brought my admission notice.

The teacher, Li laoshi, teacher Li, a young man with a pretty face (I first though he was a student), asked me:

"Why did you check in at a hostel?"

"What?"

"Next time, I hope you come directly to us. For your safety." ( For my what??)

"My safety..?" (Is there perhaps a reasonable explanation?)

"Yes."

"Eh...." (Speachless, stunned.) "Eh.... but.... I've been around..." (I've been around? What is that supposed to explain? That doesn't sound anything but cocky, geez girl!)

Okay mister, do I look like I need a freaking babysitter??

If I had been someone else, following Alex's adventures through China, there would have been many many occasions when I would have thought: "How have this... this ditz, this moron been able to manage to get around China without 24 hours supersvision?". But. I. Have. Managed. Sure, I did not make the best first impression when I arrived to the university , but what does he think?

I am 21 years old. I have packed up my stuff, left my home, travelled to the other side of the planet, dragged my ass around China alone for more than five weeks, and the first thing I hear when I get to my university is that I shouldn't have checked in to a hostel because it isn't safe for me. Come on, give me some creds here!

The issue here is cultural differences. Chinese youths are kids even when they are old enough to be grown-ups according to western standards. They move away from their parents later, they get taken care of and obey their parents' rules for a longer time. I have been aware of this for a long time. But I did not expect them to include me in this cathegory too.

In Sweden I am 21 years old and I am an adult. I'm a young adult, true, an immature adult, true. But in the eyes of law an society I am an adult with the responsibilities of an adult. Well, I'm new in the adult-business, so I often do need some guideance, need some help, need my mamma to come rescue me. But I have paid my own bills, bought my own groceries and made my own important phonecalls for almost a year and a half now. I am not the responsibility of any one else but myself. I am not a problem that any adult have to take care of and solve. I am my own headache. I am proud of being my own headache. (And what a headache it is sometimes!)

In Sweden that is. In China I am 21 years old and I am a kid. A helpless kid who needs to be taken care of, because I can not take care of myself. I am a treassure, too precious and too delicate to stay at a hostel. It is not safe for me. Li laoshi was only concerned about me, he was only being kind. But god damn if that is the way I will be treated for the rest of the year.

Today I went back to the school and had a new encounter with Li laoshi. He is a very nice person. I tried hard to memorize all the things he told me, but I know I'll have forgotten half of it tomorrow morning. Maybe if the conversation hadn't been kept in Chinese I would have had a chance. It is too early for me to move into my student room. They gave me a room at the universitys guesthouse, at the campus. 20 yuan a night for a bed in a two beds room with a bathroom, it even has an A.C, and it's just a little bit broken (can't change to any other degrees than 25 C, not a big issue). The bed is soft, the room clean, neat and quiet. When I got there earlier today there was noone else there. That my friends, is pure luxury to me. I'll get my real room the ninth of September, one day before school starts.

I'll be homeless for another 10 days, but at least I'm getting closer to the spot on which I'll make myself a home eventually. And have I ever told you how wonderful Wuhan is? No? I'll tell you, some other time. I have a dinner date and a big ass backpack to drag over to my new residence.

Until next time, take care, write me a line so I know you're all still alive.



Alex

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Dear Madelene, a.k.a. Madde, a.k.a. Psyk Madde, a.k.a. Mad Dog, a.k.a. Mads,

I know I haven't answered your latest e-mail. I'm sorry. Things have been, as you can imagine, quite busy over here. I hope that this can compensate for it.

I am once again back in Wuhan, I just arrived this morning. After a lot of trouble and confusion, I finally managed to get hold on the contact information for my school about a week ago. Information such as, oh say... the adress. Well, the first thing I wanted to do when I returned at 7:15 this morning was not to go look for my new school and my new dorm room, so I jumped into a cab and went to the Pathfinder's International Youth Hostel. (Which is, by the way, the most wonderful place to stay for any backpacker, even though the staff speaks almost no English, we are in Wuhan after all.) I checked in, got the same room as I stayed in the last time, took a shower (which was by this point crucial), and then crawled into the same bed I slept in the last time, and slept until eleven. This turned out to be a smart move, since it's Sunday today. That means that there are no one at the University who can administer my moving-in today. Moving-in hence postponed until tomorrow.

The memories of our great friendship sometimes comes to me, and I miss you. I miss the times we spend talking shit about the generation born in the 70's. I miss the times we spend having faked angry argues, as between lovers, in public on the subway. And when I think of the time I kicked you in the head at practice when we sparred, even though we weren't allowed to go for the head that time, or when you punched me in the face, even though I had told you that my teeths were unprotected, I just get a warm, happy feeling inside.

Well darling, I still can't tell you when I have winter break, or for how long. I guess I'll know soon. But none the less, as you are planning to come visit me this winter, there are some things that you should know about some things. Things that you should be prepared to have to handle.

1.) The food. Well, the Chinese food is good, I am the first to say it. Most of the time anyway. Sometimes they serve you things that you don't really expect though. Things that you never believed that you would eat, believed you wouldn't even get the chance to eat. Things that you never believed that anyone anywhere would eat voluntarily. Of course, most of the time you can just avoid eating it. (But sooner or later, you'll put something in your mouth that looks oh so innocent, and it will turn out to be the most disgusting thing you've ever tasted.)

When they serve meat, it's most often cut to pieces, à la wok, and you don't have to struggle with bones at all. But sometimes they serve you some dish with bones, not the kind of bones we have on our pork chops, more like splinters of bone, randomly attatched to your meat. And they never bother to cut off the fat either. In fact, fat is fancy in China. The more fat the better.

The bone issue is a big problem when you eat fish, because every little bone in it is still there. And when your Chinese friend picks out a white-ish, slimy lump the size of a golf ball from the fishes head and put it on you plate with the words: "It's fish head, very delicious!", you can't really say no without being a coward. Just hope he won't be so kind as to serve you the eyes too. (But the brain ain't too bad, though.)

 When in Rome, do as Romans. You kind of just have to take it for what it is. So when you buy something resembling meatballs on a stick in some street corner, and discover a hard piece in it, just spit it out and go on eating. A rat fell into the meat grinder, so what? We're in China.

2.) The toilets. Most toilets at the hostels are pretty okay. In Beijing and Shanghai they only had our westen-style toilets at the hostels I stayed at, in Wuhan they only had the Chinese squatting toilet, and in Hangzhou, my my, they had both.

The public toilets though.... well, I ain't picky when it comes to this kind of things (and if I ever where, I sure got over it when I came to China.). First of all, the public toilets are most often really, really dirty. Second, they lack things that we westerners kind of believe is essential when it comes to a toilet. There's no toilet paper, of course, no matter if you're in a public toilet or in a hostel toilet there's hardly ever any toilet paper. Very often the public ones also lack things such as light in the cieling, soap, sinks, and doors.

No biggie. The Chinese do it all the time, why should I fuzz about it?

3.) The English. Generally, no English. Especially not in Wuhan. In bigger cities you'll probably find that at least parts of the staff at the hostels speak some English. How non-Chinese speakers manage to get around in China is more than I can understand. The general population, the cab-drivers, the restaurant staff, the train-staff, they very seldom speak English. You'll come here and find yourself being deaf, mute and analphabetic.

4.) The accomodation. I hope you don't mind sleeping on a plank. If you're unlucky you'll also have the A.C. blowing 17 C cold air right into your face every night, you'll have a cold and a cough within just a couple of days.

5.) The Chinese. Chinese behaviour in public areas, according to western traditions, do lack some desirable aspects.

They often speak to eachother in a very loud voice, almost shouting at eachother.

They spit. Everywhere and all the time (which I was grateful for when I got my cough and had to spit phlegm every 5 minutes), and they make really gross noises while doing it (once again, I was grateful). Not only in the streets, but also in the restaurants.

And speaking of restaurants, they spit out things they don't want to eat, on the table or the floor. Or they just pick it out from the plate and throw it on the floor. If they drop something on the table they let it be where it is. They ash and put out their cigarett butts on the floor. And they are loud. It seemes as if the louder you are, the more important you are (like the boys in class in high school, interesting). And we all know that the best way to get your waitresses attention is to shout: "FU WU YUANR!" at the top of your lungs (at least if you are in Beijing, otherwise you'll yell "XIAOJIE!").

They don't understand the point of standing in line. If you enter a train, or a bus, or whatever, they will push and pull and squeeze in between, you do as they do or you'll get run over.

They stare. Even in Beijing, where there are quite a lot of foreigners, they always stare at you. If you stare back at them, they will laugh (a sign of embarassment) and be ashamed. Sometimes they point at you, nudge eachother and say: "Kanyikan! Waiguoren! Waiguoren!" ("Look! Foreigners! Foreigers!") and you'll feel like some kind of exotic animal in a zoo.

Foreigners find them rude, boarish and completely lacking any sign of good manners.

6.) The foreigners. So many freaks, so many weirdos, so many complete idiots. So many disgusting, rich, fat, white toursists who think they own the place. So many foreign youths who study or has studied Chinese and at one point or another decided that the Chinese culture is Beautiful, so completely blind for the shortcomings of this nation that they become stupid.

So many great, easy going backpackers you can spend hours and hours talking to without ever getting bored. So many funny, intelligent, beautiful, loveable people who emediately becomes your friend, your soulmate, the only one who have ever understood this or that way you think in this or that matter. They will stay in your mind and your heart for many years to come. So many possible friends, lovers, sisters, brothers. Some of them gets deeper in under your skin than you would wish for.

We're here for a shorter or longer period of time and we knock ourselves unconscious. We spend our money, drink our beer in bars filled with others like us, we go crazy because we can do whatever we want, there are no consequenses. We love the country, we hate the country, we put up an effort to understand it, or we just don't give a shit. We sometimes sit with people we can relate to, talking about how stupid all the other foreigners are, how much more we understand, how much clearer we see Reality.

We all return to our homelands telling great stories about How It Is In China, the versions varies. We write our letters and our blogs and puts forth half thought-through analyzes, claiming it to be the Truth, because we have been in China and we have Understood it.

7.) Alex. Same as always, but never the same again. Desillusionized, cynical, naive, idealistic. Smarter, dumber, cleaner, meaner, kinder, stronger, weaker, leaner. I spit if I need to. I push my way through the crowd when I get on the train. I use the squatting toilets if I can, beacuse they're just much more convenient. I yell: "FU WU YUANR!" at the top of my lungs to get the waitresses attention. I've figured it all out. I don't have a clue. Am I embracing my situation, or being embraced by it, devoured by it? I don't know. It doesn't matter. I'm calm, at peace, satisfied. I'm home.

I hope everything is fine with you. Suckerpunch Johan and Stefan from me.

With all my love,

Alex

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So, this is the third time I'm trying to post a text about Shanghai. The previous two times it dissapeared nicely when I tried to save it. And it was two long texts, because Shanghai is a big place. So. Not much patience left for the whole matter right now, you have to forgive me for posting something a bit more inadequate.

Anyway. Shanghai is the place of big-ass buildings and neon lights. It's the place of expensive restaurants and fancy bars. It's the place of watch/purse/shoes salesmen and beggars with babies on the street. Shanghai is a lot. A lot of everything, and there's a lot of everything that there's a lot of. Almost, one could say, a litte bit too much. It's big, and loud and shiny, and there is no place where you can escape it.

I made a new friend during my first night here, Mons Chan, a half-Scandinavian, half-Cantonese Canadian. We've been doing some sightseeing together.

We have, for example, walked around at the Shanghai Museum for hours and hours, making up facts about different objects displayed (my knowledge about the Bing-dynasty and the pig-dragon god Zhulong have now increased immensely).

We have been drinking fancy drinks and eating fancy desserts at the 87:th floor of the Jinmao Tower, Chinas tallest and the worlds fourth tallest building. It was swaying.

We have been watching a Chinese acrobatic show where some girls bend themselves in angles I previuosly believed only snakes could bend in, and Mons was dragged up on stage to be the target in the decent, old-shool, death defying knife-throwing business. Except they put  a blanket over his head everytime they threw a knife, and no knives were really thrown, the knife-throwers assistand stood beside Mons and stabbed the knifes around his arms and legs. He was so impressed, and the face he made when I showed him the video I taped with his digital camera was almost more fun to watch than it was to see him on stage.

And today, maybe we'll go to the waxmuseum during the day. But tonight we have a train to catch. "To where?", you wonder. To the one place I said I wouldn't go to. Back to Beijing.



Alex

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The first thought of the day the last couple of days have been: "I gotta get out of Beijing!". I'm serious. No joking. I thought I would never say it, but I don't want to stay in this city. It's not because of Beijing, really not. It's more because I've already seen everything, done everything (that I'm even remotely interested in doing, that is), I went through all of that last year. There isn't so much to do. Even though it's heaven to sit out in the hostel yard a couple of hours every day, reading, writig, studying, I can hardly spend my whole day doing just that. Things just haven't been all that exciting since Amanda left. Tsst.

This morning I had another first thought of the day: "I'm leaving."
I got up and put on my jeans. When I put on my jeans in this heat, you can be sure of that I mean business. Serious business, such as require a pair of jeans. I  walked to the grand railway station. It's just on the end of the street I'm living at, which means that it took me over half an hour to get there. (Somewhere in the process I realized the mistake of wearing jeans in this heat, serious business or not.) Then I made the most pathetic attempt to get a ticket ever made. That is, I walked in, got confused, walked around for a while, got lost, tried to ask where the heck I could buy a ticket at the info desk and was overrun by a zillion Chinese, said to my self: "F*ck this, I can find the damned ticket desk myself.", walked around for a little longer, went out of the building, walked back to the hostel and paid a extra 40 yuan to have the staff order my ticket for me. Self-sufficient and what not. 

I'm leaving to Wuhan on tuesday night, about nine-ish. I will spend over ten hours in a middle bed, a hard middle bed. I arrive to Wuchang about 7 o'clock in the morning the day after. (And for those who don't know, Wuchang is one of the three parts of Wuhan.) I'll be a mess, but at least I'll sleep tight the night after.

"I gotta get out of Beijing!" have been buzzing around too loudly lately, but still, I know Beijing. Wuhan is unknown, uncertain, strange, and a bit scary. That's the basis of it's appeal, of course. I like it that way. But I can't pretend that I'm not nervous. I'm going home. I hope I'll like it, I've never seen it before.



Alex

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Yes dear friends, I know, I've only written once in the past week. I'm ashamed and hope you can forgive me for this.

Amanda, her younger brother Stephen and her friend Elaine left Beijing yesterday. That was sad, I will miss them a lot. That do however mean that I have more time to write my blog. Yesterday I switched from our three beds room to a four beds room, slept there one night, and then switched to another, much crappier, four beds room. That might sound strange to you, but the people in the first room were insanely, painfully boring, and the people in the room I've now switched to are new-found friends of mine.
 
So, how is Beijing. The whole last week was cloudy and rainy, quite nice though, because it kept the temperature down. And yesterday something amazing happened. It was one of those things that only happends once in a lifetime. I got out of the hostel around noon, the sun was shining, I looked up at the sky, and it was blue! All the clouds had cleared away, and not even the usual Beijing sky haze, a result of pollution, hung heavy above my head. I don't think I'll ever see the blue sky of Beijing again. A strong wind started to stir around the humid air a couple of hours later, heavy clouds rolled in and the air smelled like thunderstorm. It started in sunshine but ended in wet wet wet.