Xian
[05-09-2000]
Ed: (Ed just deleted the report so far - jo) Brief explanation of Xi'an. Yesterday we did a nice trip around the Muslim quarter which took us into several little shops where we were of course obliged to sift thorough all sorts of tourist trinkets. I bought Jjoh a lovely Qipao, which is a sort of Chinese dress that transvestites wear, and Jo responded by buyng me some shitty little piece of granite, which had my Chinese name scratched in it with a piece of cheese. It wasn't even as if they had bothered to get it the right way round (it was a stamp you prat -jo). Come to think of it, we spent most of the day travellinmg around the Muslim quarter, and although it seemed like we had achieved little (someone mentioned something about climbing Hua Shan?) we had a thoroughly rewarding day that was justly rewarded by our lounging in the bar of the Bell Tower Hotel, i.e. posh place, with a couple of G&Ts and a nice book. And of course, what would complete such a lovely day than the opportunity to go and take the piss out of a local backpacker `novel writer' who was getting pissed in the cafe next to the hotel (called Dad's cafe, paedophilia anyone?). In the style of this week's tvgohome, we have written the following... We did try and phone his office, to annouce our arrival a bit better, but in the end we just navigated to Yan Tan Rd. and knocked on his office door. He was rather surprised to see us, and even more surprised when he finally understood that I was Blum's son. After prolonged amounts of smiling and hand shaking, we exchanged company propaganda; I gave him a CD explaining the new products, he gave me a copy of the Shanxi Northwest Ordnance and Blasting Company's annual report. Tian took us to the Big Goose Pagoda, as a guest of the company of course, and dutifully explained to us the things which I am sure inspired Blum to bring back those parables about the chinese monkey that discovers Buddhism etc. We felt a bit bad when he paid for us to climb the seven storey pagoda while he waited at the bottom for us, but after the gruelling cramp inspiring ascent, we udnerstood that he had probably done that too many times. Jo did some excellent work as a translator, but I think that gorgeous blonde laowai influences had a steering affect on Tian, who seemed to keep telling Jo how pretty and clever she was. I only learned this afterwards of course. Tian treated us also to supper (at 1630) at the local lamb and grease stall (restaurant shurely -jo). I thought the meal was gorgeous; bits of bread in a fatty mutton soup with glass noodles and chunks of sheep, but Jo did very well to hide bits of meat behind strategically placed condements. Tian was still very pleased to see us, and we talked about times past and what Blum had thought of China etc. It was all great fun meeting this fabled Tian bloke whom I had heard so much of. Top guy, and very helpful as well, we will send him a thank you card before we leave. Now that we have spent another two hours writing letters, we shall go outside and pretend it is warm and not humid, and hope that the flood waters have receded before we get on our thirty hour train journey tonight. All in all, Xi'an has been different, but still rather fun, and certainly better than the other big cities we have been to.
One note of warning before I begin, Chinese internet cafes are rather naive as to how a computer is used by Westerners. Unlike my good self, Chinese computer users appear to potter away at the keyboard and laugh at website cartoons (isn't that what you do? -ed). They also unfortunately set their computers up so that the slightest hint of a key combination such as the (sarcasm) hardly ever used Ctrl-C causes eveything one has written to disappear and the keyboard goes into Chinese mode. This is particularly unfunny for those of who know how to use a computer with some sort of speed, as the friendly input device that is the keyboard becomes something of a minefield.
Backpacker Make-no-friends Drink Drink Prick-o-thon
Live from Dad's Bar Xi'an. Introduced by Floella Benjamin and the late Sir James Goldsmith.
All this and more we `experienced' with some big lairy English bloke while we ate our `chips' at Dad's Cafe next to the Hotel. How we mocked him, and oh how he loved it.
In this event, the truly experienced backpacker will demonstrate his inability to pick up even the slightest bit of the local language, by ordering a plate of chips and being given a banana pancake. Points are awarded for the greatest dichotomy between what is ordered and what is served (for example, `Beer' gets `Soup' is a standard opening move).
An ancient rite of passage that one must complete before the age of 25 has become a popular sport at the prick-o-thon. The competitor is awarded points for the number of empty beer bottles that they are surrounded by at the end of the game by a board of Expats who have been carefully selected according to the size of their superiority complexes. The aim of the game is to shout as many loud English words as possible, before the member of staff being shouted at gives in and reduces the price by 12p.
While being vehemently rude about chinese people, competitors must try to get into the nickers of the nearest waitress, who is already starting to resemble an Ewok even at the age of 16
In the main event, the competitors must make comparisons about the current venue with a better place they visited in some far off country. The succesful competitor will have adjusted their tone of voice to reflect that of someone who is only happy when saving money, or having experiences in somewhere other than `this shithole'. Immediate disqualification follows any mention to a place in their home-country, as this indicates they are too boring to have travelled anywhere better than Westbourne Grove.
Points awarded for: lying about the meaning of a word, comedy grammar, endless repetition of vowel sounds so obviously unpronouncable to the student and not getting past the title of the novel (which may or may not have been written by the competitor). Points deducted for: success with the teaching of English in any shape or form, unless the phrase has anything to do with corrupting the individual (e.g. teaching the student how to proposition foreigners for sex, or in the case of a man, how to say `please take my daughter for your western needs' in chinglish).
One of the last events of the evening, competitors must try and sleep in the cafe without being at all welcome, thus adding to their endlessly banal list of experiences.
As before, but in this event, the subject of the fumbling should under no circumstance be woken up.
Professor Tian
Top bloke! He handled the son of his `good-friend' visiting him after not having seen Blum for 11 years rather well. Tian is an old business friend of my father's, except that I think they rather liked playing in the Xi'an sandpit so much that they are also rather good chums, and converse annually by Christmas card.