reverse culture shock

I could tell the moment I set foot back in the States that everything had changed. I would later realize that the only thing that changed was me. I am not a religious person, but I have strong beliefs. They were challenged and thus, strengthened during my trip. They will be challenged to a much greater extent here at home.

Giant white people. Giant cars. Fresh air. Trees. My dad picked us up from the airport and drove us to our house in Salem. Sylvan and I had been up for nearly 24hours but were determined to stay up until 10pm, a feeble attempt to fight jet-lag. We went for a walk in my neighborhood. We walked on clean sidewalks between barren streets and manicured lawns: the perfect picture of suburbia. But suburbia had never felt like such a nightmare. I suppose my tolerance for the 'common American' is waining. Our economy is in a recession. We're depleting our natural resources. The globe is warming. All the signs are there, but nobody's paying attention. And all the stupid white people are still consuming, using, wasting, and trimming their perfect lawns.

I think if I could send every American to a foreign country (specifically China) they might not care so much about the frivolities we fill our lives with. Perhaps they'd care more about the air and the water after visiting a country where drinking water is only found in bottles and a breath of truly fresh air is hard to come by. Perhaps after visiting such a place, they would appreciate how fortunate they are to have been born into a beautiful world and how important it is to take care of what we've been given.

The smog on our last day in Shanghai was so bad, it made my eyes burn. By the end of the day my throat was sore. It just happened to be the day after the conclusion of the paralypmic games; the same day the driving and factory bans were lifted in China. Perhaps it was an especially bad day. Maybe there is some other reason for gloomy grey skies and nearly toxic air. I hope so.

I have felt on more than one occasion that my trip to China was somehow a glimpse into our future and that I have been recruited to help save us. Though this, my final blog entry, is a bit of the 'doom and gloom' variety, have hope! I'm not pessimistic, I'm realistic. And if you read carefully, you'll see that what I speak of is not impending doom, but the beginning of something beautiful. There's still a world worth saving and a whole lot of people out there who want to save it. I'm one of those people and I'm going to make a difference. Thanks for reading.

the people at the zoo

"They have pandas!" somebody exclaimed.

Our one hour bus ride to Suzhou turned into a two plus hour bus ride because our arrogant driver didn't know where he was going and refused to listen to anyone who might have known. When I say bus, I really mean a medium-sized van that was clearly built for tiny Asian people and not for anyone over 5'7". The air conditioning didn't really work and since Sylvan and I were sitting in the front, where there were no operable windows, we didn't have the luxury of fresh air-- or any air for that matter. Maybe we were lucky that we chose the front. Even though we were roasting, at least we weren't crammed up against the seat in front of us. Some of our classmates were less fortunate and once out of the bus, needed several minutes to regain feeling in their sleeping limbs.

After visiting the first site, we got back on the bus, hoping that the driver might be able to get us to our next destination. No luck. We drove around for 45 minutes only to reach a point beyond frustration and be dropped off a couple blocks from where we started. A lot of the sites we had wanted to visit were under construction so we decided to make the most of our situation and just enjoy what was around us. We found a zoo. "They have pandas!" somebody exclaimed. That was enough to convince our group that the zoo was a great idea.

It did seem like a good idea. I was positive that an Asian zoo would have a wide variety of interesting and exotic animals. The rusted monkey cage in front of us looked like a giant industrial-strength bird cage resting on the ground. As we got closer, I saw a crowd of Chinese people standing at the railing that wrapped around the cage, leaving about 3 feet between the humans and the monkeys. Three feet was not enough. The Chinese people were pointing and laughing because someone had given one of the monkeys a cigarette and the monkey was eating it. That kind of thing is hilarious if you like torturing helpless animals. Since I hadn't actually seen anyone give the cigarette to the monkey, I tried to convince myself that someone had dropped the cigarette and one of the monkeys had snatched it off the ground. I tried to convince myself that it was an accident. No one is that stupid or that cruel, right?

Wrong. Some guy pulled out another cigarette and taunted the poor little monkey. The guy didn't hand the cigarette to the monkey but a woman a few feet away gave the monkeys her zoo ticket. The monkeys faught over it and eventually started eating it. Everyone in our group was disgusted. We walked away from the troubling scene not quite knowing what to do with what we had just witnessed.

If you know me at all, you know that I am not a person to stand by and watch things happen. If I'm unhappy with a situation and think something should be done about it, I do something about it. It's hard being in a different country and not being able to communicate with people. If I had been in the US, I would have said something but knowing that the Chinese people would have no idea why I was shouting at them, I didn't think it was a good idea.

We walked toward more cages, which housed bigger monkeys. The sad monkeys sat against the bars of their cages staring blankly. A woman with an umbrella walked toward the cage. I watched her. She lifted her umbrella toward the cage. I continued to watch in disbelief. She actually poked the monkey with the end of her umbrella. I began to fill with rage. It's not a feeling I often experience but it is an intense one. My blood starts to boil, my skin turns green, and my clothes tear as my muscles swell. Wait, no, that's the incredible hulk. My blood really did start to boil... and blinded by rage I wasn't sure what to do. I said out loud "Yeah, poke the monkey. How would you like it if someone poked you." I said it mostly to myself as I assumed the woman spoke no English. She didn't seem to notice that I had said anything. I could have run over to her screaming in a language she wouldn't understand but decided that would be pointless. I decided to walk over to her, slowly, and poke her in the back or side with my finger then stare at her. That way she would know what it was like. I had made my decision. As I began to walk toward her, she walked away. Damn.

Still full of rage, I made my way to the glass cages and watched a leopard anxiously circle its pen. The pen was entirely too small for such a magnificent animal. The guy next to me began tapping the glass with his water bottle. The enormous cat hissed angrily. Again I began to fill with rage. I stared at the man and if looks could kill he would have been killed instantly. He began to hit the glass harder and I reached my breaking point. "Hey" I shouted at him knowing he wouldn't understand but hoping to get his attention. He didn't notice me so I moved closer to him and put my hand between him and the glass. "Bu! Bu. Bu." I said. Bu means No in Chinese. The man was a bit taken back, smiled, and laughed a little. He pointed to the "no touching the glass" sign and smiled. I pointed to it and said "Xie xie." which means thank you. He was probably wondering why the hell some little white girl was enforcing the Zoo rules but I didn't care. He walked away from the glass.

I wanted to run around as some kind of self-appointed rule enforcer or protector of animals and just yell at these incredibly inconsiderate, disrespectful people all day. Maybe it wouldn't help. Maybe I'd get kicked out. Maybe I would just be wasting my breath. I just couldn't believe that people, in this day and age, would treat animals so badly. I saw the caged animals. I saw the people torturing them and laughing. In my eyes, the people at the zoo were the real animals.

art for art's sake

My first art show, though short-lived, was a personal success. I built my city, placed more than 300 people outside the city wall, and hung a bleeding red star from a crane. My piece was dynamic and could have been interpreted in a number of different ways.

I took my inspiration from my travels through China, current events, and my own life-experiences. I had a strong reaction to the yellow star on the Vietnamese flag, and the red star that appears on Chinese soldier uniforms and hats. The red star seems to be the symbol of communism, but my reaction was stronger than a mere association. In response to the lack of resources that were available to me, I found local materials to complete my project. I collected plastic bottles from my classmates. Since there is no potable tap water, I was able to acquire a number of bottles in just a few days. I decided to paper-mache the bottles in order to make the project mostly monochrome, which is an artistic style I enjoy. I was able to get my hands on a stack of old Chinese newspapers. I looked like a homeless lady, collecting empty bottles and old newspapers. It was only embarrassing when empty bottles would fall out of my bag and people would confusedly pick them up for me.

I knew that building a crane out of bottles would be challenging and would not result in the aesthetic I desired. I found a small hardware store near the hotel/dorm we were staying in and Sylvan helped me buy a good length of medium gauge wire, some pliers/snippers, and a bowl. Glue was hard to find so I found a recipe for paper-mache that calls for only flour and water. I went to a grocery store and found a bag of flour.

The days leading up to the art show were stressful. The day of the show was equally, if not more, stressful. There was a bit of controversy about my project. A few people voiced concern that I might offend Chinese people with the red star over the city. Sylvan and I had a long conversation that night. We talked about whether or not I should change my project, what that meant to me and my project, and whether or not art should be offencive. Normally, when someone tells me I can't do something, I find a way around it but since we're in a foreign country, I'm much more willing to compromise.

In an attempt to be sensitive to my surroundings and to the people that had shown me such generosity, I began thinking of other ways to express myself through my art. Since the star seemed to be the real issue, I started thinking of other 'stars' to hang over the city. A quick mental-search yielded limiting results: 1. The star of David: incredibly offensive to a people who have undergone great tragedy, also really not the message I was trying to send. 2. The North star (star of Bethlehem), which strangely resembles a cross, also not the message I was trying to send. I constructed the North star and toyed with the idea of using it. I even hung it at the installation but, being that I really didn't want to make a religious statement, I decided to go with my original idea and my original five-point star. I poured red ink over my beautiful star. It dripped onto the city, the red boldly contrasting the black and white print. A few people were still concerned about the red star. I took quite a bit of heat for that decision, but felt good because I refused to compromise the integrity of my artwork.

The thing I did compromise on was the title of my piece. Although "One world. One dream." was more than fitting, China is proud of the fact that they hosted the 2008 Olympics. I decided to choose a name I felt would be ambiguous enough to stir curiosity. I called my bleeding utopian city "Beautiful."

Going back to the conversation that Sylvan and I had when I was initially faced with the 'red star' dilemma: I have often struggled with the idea of meaningful art and art for art's sake. I have never been an artist but now that I've been faced with the challenge of creating something for other people to see and experience, I've decided that I don't want to force people into seeing or feeling something. I want to create art that is meaningful to me and somewhat meaningful to other people. It is my hope that my art means different things to different people and that there is no perceivable intended meaning.

So I built my city, placed more than 300 people outside the city wall, and hung a bleeding red star from a crane. I will leave the interpretation up to you.

entirely too much

I can't possibly write about everything that we've done on this trip. Our days are action packed and we're bussed from place to place. Sometimes we know where we're going, other times it's somewhat of a surprise. Since a picture is worth a thousand words, I'll show you some of the things we've seen and done. Some highlights: A giant golden Buddha, hand-painted kites, tiny turtles, beautiful Chinese people, wood-block printing, and giant crickets... oh... and the cutest puppy I've ever seen.

china's goodwill outlet

We've been traveling for over two months. I brought three pairs of shorts with me and bought a pair of jeans in Bangkok. I have four or five cotton t-shirts, most of which are visibly worn. When we started the trip, I took the time to put a little make-up on in the morning. I haven't worn make-up in a month. I haven't had a haircut and my bangs are becoming dangerously long. Picture me in worn clothes, with shaggy hair, and without makeup. Here's a picture of me from this morning: When I present my work on Tuesday, I want to look presentable. Our free time thus far in Jinan has been scarce. Most days we're at the SUAD campus working with our partners from 8am-8pm. When we get home we work on our individual art projects. On the days we don't go to campus, we go on tours. Often we leave earlier and return later. I've been meaning to buy a dress or a skirt for the exhibition and was hopful that I might have time to do so in Jinan. I paid careful attention on our bus rides to and from our hotel/dorm and noticed that there are a number of clothing shops just a few blocks from where we're staying. One shop, in particular, peeked my interest. It wasn't the fanciest, nor the trendiest shop we passed. It was the simple storefront window, behind which were piles of clothes and a hand written sign that read "15Y." As we passed the store, I quickly memorized its location in relation to our hotel/dorm. I waited for four nights hoping to steal away from the group but never found an opportunity. Finally, last night I had my chance.

We had the option to take a local bus back early and grab dinner on our own. I jumped at the opportunity and though I was hungry when I got off the bus, I knew I wouldn't have another opportunity to search for a dress or skirt. Sylvan agreed to accompany me on my clothing adventure and so we set out for the 15Y shop. We passed the designer shops and peeked in a few of them. I refused to pay twenty us dollars for a skirt I may never wear again. I'm just not built like a Chinese woman and the more "designer" the clothing, the more tailored it will be to fit a tiny Chinese woman. After walking a few blocks and passing a number of clothing shops that had already closed for the night, we stumbled upon our destination.

The storefront was generic and it could have been a grocery store as easily as pharmacy or clothing store. No sign advertising name or brand hung above the door. The hand written "15Y" paper taped to the inside of the window was the only identifying sign. We walked in to find clothing piled on tables and thrown hapazardly into boxes and bins. Sweaters and sweatshirts hung along the perimeter of the room. No doubt, China's version of the goodwill outlet. No one seemed to notice or care that we had entered. Men and women picked through the clothing and tried things on over their clothes wherever they happened to be standing. There was a full-lenght mirror proped up against the wall by the front door.

I sifted through the pile of clothing nearest the door. The clothes seemed to be grouped by gender. Tops and bottoms had also been separated. I found myself browsing the women's bottoms table. The size selection was slim and since I'm neither a zero nor an eighteen, the pickings were slim. I found a coupld of skirts that I thought were interesting and grabbed them to try on. The medium skirt was entirely too small and the large seemed a bit snug, but fit. Skirt in hand, the search for a shirt began. I didn't see any shirts but didn't lose hope. I sauntered around the room until my gaze fell upon a medium-sized cardboard box near the cash register. Shirts! Well, tank tops. Ugly tank tops. I tried a couple on over my shirt only to realize that my man-shoulders and rib-cage were not meant for Chinese clothing. I dug to the bottom of the box and found a taupe collared shirt. Size S. I kept digging and found a medium. I doubted the medium would fit but was pleasantly surprised when it appeared to fit my shoulders and even more pleased when I was able to button the shirt without dificulty. Finally, an outfit for the exhibition.

I asked the woman at the register, in Chinese, how much the clothes cost. She answered, in Chinese, 25 yuan. For four US dollars, I found myself a great Chinese outfit and enjoyed shopping with locals. They pulled the gate down over the door as we left. Our timing was impecable.

progress

Making progress with Lily has been difficult but things are starting to pick up today. Even though it's difficult for us to communicate, we are both hard workers and are both producing work. It's been really interesting to see how our missed communications turn out and how they fit together into our project. I'm really excited to see how it all turns out. Yesterday Lily was working on the video editing software and I didn't know how to help or what to do. She suggested that I create background images in illustrator. I've never done that, but wanted to contribute more to the project so I sat down on one of the computers and taught myself.

















I've also been working on my personal project in the evenings. I'm building a city out of water bottles and using Chinese newspaper to paper mache the whole thing. The city is Beijing and it is surrounded by a great wall. Inside the wall there is a crane that holds a bleeding star over the city. Outside the wall are the people. Instead of acting as protection against enemies, the wall serves to keep the people out of their own city... A city for no one. I'm titling the project "One World. One Dream" as a tribute to the Olympics and their affect on China. The bleeding star is a symbol of the future and how communism and capitalism are bleeding onto the world. The exhibition is Tuesday. Pictures coming soon.

be a nice tourist

The signs with Chinese translated to English are almost never correct. Here are a few particularly interesting examples.

flying cowgirl

We had an action packed Tuesday. Like everyday, we he had breakfast near the hotel/dorm we're staying in. Breakfast here isn't anything like it is back home. Half the stuff I can't quite identify and can't imagine stomaching, especially at 6:30am. My favorite parts of breakfast are the glass of warm milk and the fried bread. So after a hearty, and somewhat strange, breakfast we got on a bus and headed toward Qufu (Confucius's Temple, Grave, etc.) We arrived to find that a tour had been arranged for us.

I've never really been a fan of guided tours through ancient monuments, museums, etc. This was no exception. Our "English speaking guide" spoke to us as if she thought WE didn't speak English. She spelled out most words two or three times and was constantly repeating herself. And as if she wasn't obnoctious enough, like most people in Asia who speak just enough English, her favorite thing to shout at us was "Hello." Maybe my patience is beginning to dwindle after traveling for almost 8 weeks in countries who's primary source of income is tourism. Contrary to popular belief, Hello does not mean 'excuse me'. Hello is not a way to get my attention, nor is it something to shout as I pass by your store, booth, or cart. Hello does not mean 'follow me' or 'come this way.' Hello is a greeting... and it's supposed to be friendly. I'm so completely over Hello. End rant. Anyway, I had an okay time being herded through Confucius's Temple, though the parts I enjoyed most were sans tour guide.

We had an amazing lunch at a four start restaurant that serves us dishes that resembled the Americanized Chinese food I'm accostomed to back home. It was less salty, more familiar, and (like every meal) paid for by SUAD. We were running short on time so instead of hiking up Mount Taian, we took a gondola up to the top. Atop a beautiful mountain with abundant fresh flowing streams, there is a town built for tourists. Like most of the beautiful monuments we've visited throughout our travels, the tourist industry has inflicted unhealable wounds. People sell coffee, buttons, bracelets, pots, and anything else they think you might want. Some of the kids in our class succombed to the temptation and bought souvenirs. Sylvan and I, in protest of what tourism has done to beatiful and ancient sites, stayed away from trinkets and souvenirs. I did buy an ice cream cone only to discover that it wasn't really ice cream but some kind of banana syrup icey. It was not extremely delicious.

We had a very limited amount of time on top of the mountain but it was enough. Whether the cloud cover was thick or the smog was especially bad, the view was less than amazing and the monochrome sky and lingering haze made everything look a little grey.

That flying cowgirl is me.

i eat bugs

That's a giant locus. I ate two of them. Sylvan ate a bunch. They're crunchy and taste kind of like duck heart. Locus isn't all that bad if you can get past the fact that you just shoved a huge bug in your mouth and you'll have to floss its little bug-legs out of your teeth later.

art... in china

All of the students we are working with are juniors at Shandong University School of Art and Desing (SUAD). Most of them are 21 and look 14 but they are all incredibly friendly and eager to learn. We have enjoyed a very warm welcome here from students and faculty alike.

Li Li (or Lily) is my Chinese student-partner. She is adorable. She speaks better English than I do Chinese, but the language barrier is difficult. We've decided to do a video project together. Things are moving slowly, but I imagine that they'll start to pick up in the next couple days... especially since our exhibition in Sunday. I'm working on an individual project for the exhibition as well as my partner-project with Lily. I'm very excited to see how both turn out.

I'm still having a hard time adjusting to Chinese customs. Lily and Sylvan's partner, Jared, insist on paying for all of our meals, drinks, snacks, etc. Jared even bought some supplies for Sylvan at the school store. Lily and Jared insist that Sylvan and I sit together at every meal and if we're walking somewhere as a group, they always make sure that Sylvan and I are near each other. It's cute and at the same time very strange. Sylvan and I have done our best to argue for the bill but we because we don't speak Chinese, we seem always to be at a disadvantage.

My classmates and I have noticed that our Chinese partners are eager to work with us but that they are more eager to follow our instruction and make us happy. I have asked Lily several times what she would like to do, but she always defauts to my suggestions. I am under the assumption that creativity is not encouraged as much in the Chinese education system and that it may be unnatural for a lot of these kids to come up with ideas on their own.

Our days have been filled with partner-project time, meals, and various other activities. Every other day we take a trip to some famouse monument, temple, mountain, etc. The University is taking extremely good care of us to the point where I wish they weren't. It's nice to have a schedule, but unfortunate when you are rushed and herded like cattle from one destination to anther. It's also unfortunate that we don't have m0re free time to wander the streets and hang out with our new Chinese friends. I enjoy them most when we're walking from place to place or during meals when we can talk about our cultural differences and share experiences with one another. Today we were able to sneak away after lunch for a while and play ping pong. We also found a few minutes after dinner to play a short game of basketball as the last rays of smoggy daylight faded over the mountains.

amazing human being

Sylvan is quite popular with the locals. His hacky sac skills have helped bridge the communication gap and allowed him to communicate and interact with local people in a very unique way. Inside the gates of the forbidden city, we found a few groups of people playing the Chinese version of hacky sack. They don't play with a ball, but with a coin wrapped in leather and attached to a feather or a group of feathers. In Vietnam they play something similar and call it "kick kick." It's been interesting to see the transformation of these hacky sac like toys through SE Asia.



Everyone was impressed with Sylvan's skills and even though I couldn't tell what they were saying, it was easy to see that they enjoyed watching him kick they're toy around. At one point they even cheered and clapped.After Sylvan played with this group of people, they gave him one of their hand made hacky sacs. It's probably the most interesting and unique souvenir we've acquired on our trip.

After playing hacky sac, we walked around a bit more and found a man with two sticks and a baton. He was twirling and throwing the baton around and invited us to try it. He spoke very enthusiastic English and was overly impressed with our lack of skill. He told me that I was a natural, but that was nothing compared to the praise Sylvan received. The man was absolutely in awe of Sylvan's natural abilities. He said many things. Here are a few of the better ones:
"You must be great athlete!"
"Amazing human being!"
"It is an honor to watch you play!"
It was really hilarious. We drew a crowd. We seem to draw a crowd wherever we go. People are interested in what we're doing, no matter what it is, and many Chinese ask if they can take pictures of us.

oh good, they have pictures

Most of our meals have been as a group. All 14 of us sit and watch in awe as our professor and instrctor order for us in Chinese. The plates of food come one at a time and quickly fill the lazy susan in he middle of the table. Ying and Edwin have tried to expose us to the Chinese culture as much as possible and have encouraged us to try new things and local dishes. In China, if you eat a nice restuarant, it is taboo to eat all the food on your table and even more taboo to ask for a doggy bag (to go). If you are wealthy, you show it by ordering too much food and leaving whatever you don't eat (ususally quite a bit) on the table. This sounds silly, but it's kind of tricky. We went out to eat with some Chinese artists and they treated us to dinner. Even though we were supposed to leave food on the table, they kept encouraging us to eat and asking us if we liked the food. I'm not quite sure what you're supposed to do in those situations. I don't understand these customs.

When we manage to venture out on our own, our only hope is that the menu will have pictures. Otherwise, the only thing I know how to say is beef noodle soup and dumplings. Don't get me wrong, beef noodle soup and dumplings are delicious, but it would be nice to try some other things. So a group of us found ourselves near Tiananmen Square and hungry. We found a restaurant and sat down. Oh good, they have pictures. We looked through the menu and ordered one plate with meat, one plat of vegetables, and some dumplings. We tried to pick meat that looked like chiken or beef. When the dish came, it looked like neither. It didn't even look like the picture of the dish we had ordered. The pieces of meat looked like fingers. We were unable to identify what animal they had come from. We were also unable to identify what part of the animal they might be. We decided, after looking at the menu a second time, that they had brought us the wrong dish. Sylvan had clearly pointed to the dish on the bottom right hand corner of the page, and they had brought us the dish from the top left. Our waiter didn't speak English but I managed to ask him which dish he had brought us. He pointed to the one at the top left. I somehow convinced him that it was the wrong dish and he took it away and brough us the right one. It was fried in a batter and looked more appetizing, but unfortunately we were still unable to identify it. We at it anyway and enjoyed a meal we'd ordered on our own. Most of the meal was spent guessing what we were eating. Christian thought it was some kind of organ. I joked that it was duck butt. I just figured that since we'd sent a dish back, the kitchen staff was pissed and served us duck rectum or something. We were curious to see what we'd eaten so we took a picture of the menu and decided to ask our professor later that evening.

The good news is that both of the mystery meat dishes were duck... so at least we weren't eating dog. The bad news is that the one we sent back was duck tongue and the one we ate was duck heart. Another great adventure.

way to go mao

Big brother is watching.  The streets are unusually clean.  The transit system is efficient.  Cranes tower over the cityscape as buildings take root and begin to rise.  The Chinese flag is over every shop, on buildings, cars, and bikes.  Children wave it on the streets.  The city is growing exponentially and with the recent boom associated with the Olympic Games, Beijing is bigger and better than ever.  China is proud.

for the people

We visited a few art districts, explored the forbidden city, and walked the streets of Beijing.  The art was powerful, the forbidden city was big and ornate, but what I really loved was the people.

airport limbo

Beijing is the biggest city I've ever experienced. It is expansive to a point that is entirely un-walkable and essentially unmanageable. Even local people are lost in their own city.

Our flight from Bangkok to Beijing was delayed... 5 hours. That's right. We were scheduled to leave at 7am. That means that Sylvan and I were up at 3am, at the airport at 4am, and delayed at 4:30am. Our flight was initially delayed and set to leave at 9:30, so we got breakfast and wandered around the Bangkok airport. We would have gone to our gate, but seeing as the flight was delayed, no gate was posted. After only 3 hours of sleep, we were exhausted. We found a comfy (sort of) spot to sit and waited it out until 8am, when we checked the monitors again. Our flight was further delayed and now scheduled to leave at noon. Sylvan and I, in our exhausted state, were in good spirits. We wandered further through the airport and thought about different games we could play while we waited for our flight. Our best ideas were hide and seek or a wicked scavenger hunt. We never actually played, but thinking about it was entertaining enough.

Since we had already gone through immigration, we couldn't leave the airport. We had officially been stamped out of Thailand but had not entered any other country. We were in some kind of airport limbo. Sri Lankan Air managed to strand us in the middle of the airport with no way to contact them. Since I like being in control and am generally impatient, I found an information kiosk and asked how to contact our phantom airline. The woman at the desk gave me a phone number and pointed to a phone.  The man on the other line spoke english with an indian accent.  I politely asked why our flight had been delayed and if they were anticipating any further delays.  The man assured me that the flight would leave at noon.  Then he asked if I had gotten my free meal voucher.  I was instantly appeased.  It was brilliant.

A free lunch later, I was still exhausted, but a little happier and we made it to our gate in time for our 12:15 flight, which actually left at 12:30.  I've never flown with Sri Lanka but I would fly with them again.  The flight announcements were in english and sounded very much like they normally do on a domestic flight in the States except somehow more sincere.  When the announcer said, "It has been our pleasure to serve you" I believed that he was ACTUALLY pleased.  The in-flight movie was "Made of Honor" staring the overly-popular but somehow still charming Patrick Dempsey.  Major chick flick... it was exactly what I needed.  Plus, we got a meal on the plane and Sylvan had two glasses of whiskey... at no extra cost.  I won't mention the half hour of incredibly bad turbulence or the fact that someone two rows up from us threw up all over the place during the complimentary meal.  Oops.

We got to Beijing at around 6pm, made it through customs, and attempted to figure out how to get to our hostel, The Temple Side Hostel.  Because we're really smart, we had the address of the hostel.  We didn't have the phone number, nor did we have a map, nor did we know where the hostel was on a map.  We soon realized that no one at the airport would speak english so we asked a woman who was on our flight to translate the address from english to chinese.  She wrote the characters in Sylvan's notebook.  We then showed the characters to the woman selling bus tickets.  She spoke chinese and pointed to a stop.  "Xidan."  I grabbed a map of Beijing from an information kiosk and we were on our way.  It was dark out and I gazed out the window in awe of this new city.  Beijing was lit up like a Christmas tree.  Classier than the lights of Vegas, but incredibly over the top.  The bus dropped us at Xidan, which happened to be a huge shopping mall.  We found the street that matched the address of the hostel and determined that the hostel was off of an alley.  As I mentioned before, Beijing is HUGE.  It appeared that our hostel was within walking distance of Xidan so we started walking.  We tried to ask people for directions but no one seemed to recognize the street or the address.  Most people pointed the way we were going so we continued.  A young man who spoke a little English approached us and tried to help us.  He grabbed our map and the address with one hand.  His other hand held a half eaten cob of corn.  He ran around frantically asking security guards and locals if they knew they way.  No one did.  After running us around in circles for 15 minutes, he tried to get us onto a bus and we thanked him, but decided to continue walking.  A mile or so later, another guy who spoke a little bit of English tried to help us using the same technique.  It was mildly amusing but it was nearly 9pm and we'd been walking for over an hour.  I was hungry and tired.  I thought we were close to where the hostel should be, but was still unsure.  The man told us which bus to get on and where to get off.  This time we got on the bus.  Once off the bus, we realized that we were getting desperate and weren't necessarily any closer to finding the hostel.  We went to an upscale hotel in the hopes that someone there might speak English.  They didn't.  We decided to walk back to where we had gotten on the bus and look for the alley.  It was nearly 10pm when we got back to the bus stop.  Sylvan and I were hungry, tired, worried we wouldn't find it, and losing patience with each other.  

Sylvan spotted the "TempLe Side" (that's literally how it was written) sign and our hope was restored.  We looked around and saw no signs of a hostel.  We walked down the dark alley and around a corner.  We spotted another sign.  100m or so down the alley and around two or three corners we finally found the Temple Side Hostel.  We knocked on the door and checked in.  I have no idea how we found it.