Drinking
It was now coming to the end of my short time in China and with one evening left, I was certain it was going to be spent exploring Shanghai’s nightlife. Considered a city of luxury and partying there really is a bar or club on every street corner here topped with eager promoters enticing you into their doorways with the promise of cheap drinks. You also can’t visit Shanghai without going to one of the many KTV bars around the city - and naturally the combination of beers and a microphone always make for an entertaining night. Very popular with locals, a KTV bar is a cosy Karaoke room where you can spend hours singing with your friends along to your own selection of songs. As the beers flow the singing becomes louder, more outrageous and more like something you would see on You’ve Been Framed. Seen in Chinese culture as a good way to build strong relationships, even in business, it’s not surprising to see meetings and businessmen in suits singing along with their bosses and international clients. It wasn’t long before I was all sung out. The neon lights and tacky music however didn’t feel like a convincing display of the real China to me. With a long history of political upheaval and secrecy I was convinced there was a more underground side to the city. These places can only be found by word of mouth and it wasn’t long before I’d overheard a mention of a place called Perry’s Cafe. Highly popular with students, this grungy little hideout has exceptionally cheap beer, a good choice of music and seemed like the perfect place to end my time in China. Located on the long Huahai Lu it took a considerable amount of time to find the place and with no official sign the only way you can look for the bar is by spotting a couple of young students smoking outside a commercial building. Enter through the dimly lit corridor and climb into a lift smelling of smoke and by the third floor you open onto a dark room, loud music and complete debauchery. The chatter of the crowd hits you in comparison to the quiet lift you just left and it’s difficult to find a table if you don’t arrive before 9pm. At the bar a large Tsingtao will set you back roughly £1, and before long the whole room is full of drunken students dancing on tables. Alongside the dancing you can also spot a popular Chinese drinking game occurring on each table. Involving 10 dice, two cups and two drunk playing making a number of hand gestures I was curious to find out more - or how I could get that drunk. Having approached some students I was quickly beckoned onto their table and introduced to the local game of Shuohuang Zhe De Shaizi, or Liar’s Dice to me and you. This game involves a strong poker face and the ability to out-bet your opponent by guessing the highest amount of dice on the table (you also need to count to 10 on one hand, the Chinese way). It took me around twenty minutes to get to grips with this simple game but before I knew it I was betting with Chinese students around a dim, smoky table covered in dice and beer. The language barrier wasn’t an issue here as with my 5 fingers I was able to place bets and actually beat the pro’s at their own game well into the night. That’s one game that is certainly being brought back to England. My time in China has certainly made me feel the furthest away from home. The Eastern culture is beautiful, fascinating yet completely different to what I have ever experienced. Nothing can compare you for the shock of feeling like a complete outsider and alone with your English language. Having said this, I have loved the country and feel like I have barely touched the surface of what wonderful things you can experience here. I am certain I will return, with a better language book and a ticket into the countryside rather than the polluted cities. After an addictive night of Liar’s Dice I stumbled out of Perry’s at 3am with my clothes doused with the odour of smoke - in perfect time to catch my 24 hour flight to Melbourne in the morning with a hangover.
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1933 - Hongkou
It was a few days into my Shanghai experience and I was already fully accustomed to the city’s centre, tourist hotspots and how to avoid people chasing you for photographs. It was a grey morning when I was searching for something interesting to do that didn’t involve a temple or a shopping centre. After (illegally) googling more unusual things to try out I stumbled upon a fascinating piece of architecture located a short metro ride away. Heading into the more local area of Hongkou District, the picture taking was in full force before I reached the huge concrete building I had been looking for. Built in 1933 by an English architect, this concrete building now known only as 1933 isn’t exactly a pretty building to look at but it’s history is what I was here for. Built by Chinese developers the building has 50cm thick, hollow walls to control air temperature and has seen a number of uses throughout its time such as being a successful medicine factory - and it’s impossible to overlook it’s original use. The huge structure is in fact 1933 Slaughterhouse and the only one of this kind of building left worldwide.Enter into the complex and you see a web of tiny bridges just wide enough to fit a cow, used to herd millions of them to their deaths. The architecture is fascinating and the further you walk around the more you can sense the connection between the structure and its grizzly past. Being over 4 stories tall there are a series of tunnels and staircases leading into the central atrium, and caged alcoves are dotted around the paths used as protection by workers whenever the cows became unruly. It is said that the pathways ran red with blood at the sheer amount of slaughter that occurred within this building – and you can kind of sense it. Because of its well-kept condition it feels like only yesterday that these barbarous acts were occurring around my very feet and the more you walk the more you notice cow orientated devices and structural features. Now used by artsy companies and cafes I feel like the building could become something far more fascinating than your typical hipster hangout. It’d be an absolutely brilliant venue space for gigs and underground nights if I had my way (very Berlin). I can’t deny that the architecture of this building is both mind-blowing and haunting and it is definitely going to remain as an unusual piece of pre-communist Chinese building work. Finally I had found something that hadn’t been overtaken by tourists. A day in Shanghai's Disneyland
I have never been to Disneyland nor have I watched Lion King or The Little Mermaid - I can already hear the Disney lovers shrink in horror at my confession. However, Shanghai has been the latest city to jump on the Disney bandwagon and with £30 tickets promising a day of ultimate magic at the 3-month old park, I was curious to experience what China had to contribute to Disney culture. It takes over an hour to get to Disneyland from the city centre but I must admit our excitement grew as we edged closer to the tube station aptly named Disney Town. Bar the odd child, the carriage was actually full of adults – perhaps a reminder that they have strict school regulations here and you can’t simply take your child out on an idle Tuesday. Arriving at 9am to beat the crowds didn’t make much difference as we were ushered to join the back of a long security check and there we waited amongst punters trying to sell me Minnie Mouse ears. When it came around to our turn the search itself was relatively quick, but without a bag scan machine the security opens every person’s bag and take a few moments to rummage through. Having quickly purchased day tickets, the next tier of security was to flash your ticket and also scan your ID – it was lucky I was carrying my passport with me – Big Brother was still watching me try to have fun. Finally passing the gates into Shanghai’s Disneyland I was greeted with the typical street of Disney shops overlooked by the distant castle – and it had exactly the same set-up as the LA Disneyland (apparently). The crowds were increasing by the minute so we made our way to what was highlighted as the best ride in the park, Tron. Yet another film that I haven’t seen the entire experience completely blew me out of this world (so imagine what a Tron lover would’ve felt). By using the Single Riders line you are also able to outmanoeuvre the entire queue and get to the front of the line almost immediately. The Tron experience takes almost 15 minutes before you reach the actual ride, with incredible visuals and top of the range tech it truly is awe inspiring for any age – and we shamelessly went on it 7 times. Spending the rest of the day wandering around the park, eating too much food and queueing for over an hour for each ride it soon became clear that there might not be enough attractions for the number of people entering the park each day. Reaching the rapids around midday we had already been told that all the spaces had been booked up until the end of the day. There weren’t even any spinning teacups. What was interesting however was the amount of people hired to work in the park, especially cleaners, meant that the entire space was immaculate with not a blade of grass out of place. As the evening dawned on the park we were now waiting for the most exciting part of each Disney experience. With crowds gathering around the Disney castle the light show began on time and lasted for 15 minutes of animation cast on the castle walls to popular Disney songs. Hang on a second, what were the words to that Disney song again? To our surprise the well-known songs were sung in Chinese along to their popular theme tunes and our night came to an end with the Chinese version of ‘Let it Go’ (still equally as annoying). The staff ushered guests out of the park swiftly but I left feeling a little bit younger inside. My experience had been fun but throughout the day only two features reminded me that I was still in China. Had it not been for the regimentation of their vast work team and Chinese lyrics to popular songs, then you could’ve easily found yourself in America’s Disneyland – I’m not sure whether I’d have preferred more authentic Chinese themes rather than the typical Westernised undertones. Street activities in Shanghai Leaving behind the historic beauty of Beijing, Shanghai has welcomed me with dazzling lights, even more Western shops and a less polluted skyline. Taking a morning walk along The Bund and its recognisably famous cityscape was beautiful and cram-packed with Chinese tourists. The Bund, much like London’s City is the business hub of the entire country and contains some of the tallest buildings in China – I couldn’t help but wonder how many banking companies would be tempted to shift here after Brexit. Compared to Beijing however, my Lonely Planet only listed modern buildings or suggested a wander down iconic shopping avenues, and I was left at a loss of cool things to see unless it involved having a cheap Chinese beer. Furthermore, my hostel (Blue Mountain Bund) was excellent but I remained the only native English speaker amongst young Chinese travellers who weren’t interested in speaking with me. I was alone in a huge, daunting city. Enter an American business man named Nick, who not only spoke English but was keen to explore the city with me on my first evening. After a few local beers he asked the reception where would be a fun place to go for a dance and led the way to the metro station. It was beginning to get late and the prospect of finding a cool Shanghai club seemed more and more appealing. With just a street name pencilled down we navigated the metro easily and arrived at a dimly lit, sleepy street. We walking along the street for about 15 minutes becoming increasingly disheartened – perhaps we’d found the wrong street? Maybe the receptionist misunderstood us? How could he have misunderstood dancing for a dark street? – when suddenly we heard music. We curiously edged closer, journey beers in hand, the music became louder and sounded Spanish. Before long we had come to the edge of a dark park, winding through the trees what we had stumbled upon was the least likely thing I was expecting. Nestled among the trees were dozens of elderly people were doing Zumba, dancing in couples and simply enjoying a warm Shanghai evening. We quickly hid our beers and looked on in amazement. This was not a ticketed event, a lesson or even a club; but merely a local hangout with dancing and music blasting from an old CD player. This evening activity in fact happens all over China and is known as Plaza Dancing or a means of cheap exercise for China’s retirees. Popular throughout Chinese history, dance is encouraged in the morning and evening and a great way to keep occupied on the cheap. Having finally got over the surprise, the American and I agreed that we’d better join for a laugh and before long I had danced my way across the park with a number of Chinese retirees (and for once not one of them asked for a selfie). The routines were complex and fast-paced and as the night went on Nick and I were certainly the most exhausted despite being the youngest in the square. One of the interesting features of life in China is the activeness of the elderly generations. You don’t need to walk far to encounter groups of retirees enjoying their late evenings, doing crazy amounts of fitness and playing games with whoever will join in. Everyone had an excellent time and I can’t see any fault in encouraging the older generations keep their bodies and minds active. And so, my first night in Shanghai was spent dancing with Chinese retirees heading well into their seventies - and I’d certainly do it again. Fake Goods and Mass Production ‘Made in China’ is a phrase known globally and certainly written on the bottom of something every household owns. In the age of mass production China remains one of the key manufacturers of practically everything. Now if you turn your attention to their designer brands and more specifically their immaculate fakes then you’ve hit the jackpot when it comes to shopping in Beijing. I admit that after having left Nepal and finding myself in a cosmopolitan city, my simplistic approach and low-key hippy style was quickly replaced with my old habits (I needed to buy a pair of jeans and fit in).
We begin at the aptly named Alien Street, a dingy looking fake market that is most popularly used by Russian buyers who will purchase in bulk and import back home. I entered the maze of low lighted stalls and was greeted in Russian by the stall owners, each desperately beckoning me into a sale. It only took moments to get lost in the two-storey building, each shop sells near identical fake goods and as I wandered further and avoided more and more vendors’ calls I had absolutely no way of knowing how to get out (I guess that’s how they catch you, get the tourist so lost and exhausted that they give up and buy something anyway). The goods themselves were sports brands, the newest range of trainers, headphones and tech – before I left I bought a ‘Lacoste’ t-shirt, that was quoted to me at £3, having been far too lost to care I paid up and the vendor looked stunned that I didn’t even bother to barter. After several circles I finally spotted daylight and made a break for one of the doors. So far China’s fake markets with dusty, dingy secret alleys were exactly what I had been expecting. On the contrary, Silk Street was my next venture and is somewhere that I might have easily spent days had I not had to leave Beijing. To your unassuming customer this place looks like any other department store donned with restaurants, security, posh mannequins, fancy clothes hangers and modern lights – the works, basically. It is far from your conventional market as it also comes with the designer price tags and as I walked around in awe looking at brands such as Acne, Chanel, Alexander Wang all priced over 3,000Rn (£300) I was seriously beginning to doubt that this was one of their fake markets – but that’s the trick! Bargaining is an interesting challenge and one I didn’t think occurred in China - I also know I’m quite bad at it or perhaps too polite. Before long I walked past a haggling match with the Chinese seller trying to up the buyers last offer and as the foreigner walked off the seller shouted are offers behind them – lowering majorly in price every time. The issue is that once the haggling really starts it would be bad etiquette to not actually intend to buy the item, as I soon found out. Drawn into a shoe shop that was selling brands like Celine I tried on some Prada sandals that were quoted to me for about £250. Without any intention to buy I replied with a counter offer of £30 in the hope the low price would shake the seller off - but I was wrong. At this point she had a bargaining match with herself as I slowly began to walk away starting at £200, £150, £75 before finally ‘OK OK very good price £30, you so lucky’ - and that’s how I unintentionally purchased a pair of fake Prada shoes. By the end of the day I had left with a Lacoste T-shirt, Prada shoes and a Burberry backpack that I honestly can’t tell apart from their legitimate counterparts, made only with the best materials their amazing quality makes Beijing one of the best places to grab a knock-off. Having worked in Selfridges for two years I gained an appreciation for the world of designer brands and fashion yet having seen the other side of this industry I have a new awareness of the demand for consumerism and the darker side behind production. Haggling prices so low means that the production price was even lower and I can’t imagine what sorts of conditions the fake factories exist in. 798 Art District
It’s common for a city’s arts movement to find a home in a dishevelled building and ultimately lead to the artistic rejuvenation of an area. This of course is what has happened in Beijing, but the cities art combined with China’s political history leaves an even more intriguing section of town to investigate. Known locally as the Dashanzi Art District, there was an artistic revolution in the last few decades that saw many of the country’s artist occupy a 50-year-old military factory. The wide complex of high ceilinged factory spaces and chimneys adds an interesting edge to the number of exhibitions currently occurring in the space. Now known as 798 District, it’s a relatively popular spot with young Beijingers alike and can be found close by in Chaoyang district. The factory itself was built in the early Maoist era and used to produce military equipment for China and the country’s communist allies. It’s an intertwining compound of old factory buildings that have now been occupied by arts businesses, hipster restaurants and exhibition spaces (there’s also a fab handmade instrument store where I almost bought a harmonica and an egg shaker). Despite its rejuvenation a stark reminder of the ex-political upheaval can be seen in the huge red Maoist signs that still remain painted around the establishment – the coloured insignia of communism recognised all too well. It is easy to get lost in these weaving tunnels and alleyways and a great way to step away from the busy city roads, yet there is an eerie silence as the past echoes of machinery have now been replaced with the hushed talk of photo taking teens working on their art projects and trying to look cool. Having spent most of the day wandering around the exhibitions, the next step was to grab an overpriced coffee from a hipster looking café and take a break. Sitting on my phone for only minutes I look up to see 5 people taking a picture of me, followed by two others asking for a selfie. It wasn’t because I was sat anywhere interesting or because I’m somehow famous in the Far East – but I may as well be because of the colour of my skin. As well as a language barrier there is also a deep fascination with Western people and what has emerged is a phenomenon of taking selfies with any Westerner you can meet. At first it was fun but I have now lost count of how many pictures I have posed for with Chinese teenagers and even elderly tourists (it was even in the art district when a teen walked by my side covertly trying to film me without me noticing). Of course this isn’t the first time it has happened in Beijing, it has happened every day without fail whilst I have been here despite not having blue eyes or blonde hair. It goes without doubt however that any trip to China for a Westerner will involve a series of shameless photographs wherever you go. The question I am left with is what happens to all the pictures that have been taken of me and Western tourists alike? I daren’t say there’s plenty of shots floating through the internet of me thoughtfully admiring 798’s politically fuelled art – but regardless of how many social media pages my face is on, it’s safe to say that I’d hate to be famous. This post might be dividing. Half of the readers might sneer at today's antics whilst proudly defending themselves as dog lovers. What’s up with that? Why do we need to choose a side between two common pets? Dogs and cats are equally great, more for the ability to stroke something fluffy and mindlessly talk to something that doesn’t have to answer back - so please read on animal lovers (dog lovers at your own peril).
A phenomenon that started in Taiwan is now making headway amongst the winding streets of Beijing, and many locations across the world for that matter. Venture to Dongcheng hutong – a series of winding alleys full of street vendors and tiny houses – wander around for the good part of an hour and you can stumble upon Cats44, one of an increasing number of cat cafes. As per, locating the café was certainly difficult when attempting to ask for directions. It was beginning to get dark, as it does quite early due to pollution, when I finally asked in a café which pointed across the road to an unassuming grey door that looked like an entrance to a local home and one that was closed. I was about to give up when I pushed the door and fell through into a small heavenly looking courtyard full of cats – I guess I had found what I was looking for. Walking inside I was greeted in English and taken to a cat shaped table that was surrounded with fluffy, rather plump looking felines. Ordering from an iPad my coffee was delivered in a cat shaped mug and despite its gaudy element the whole café was full of young Beijingers hanging out in a cosy café and playing with cats. It became apparent that ‘cats’ acted as a universal language and before I knew it I was playing with several kittens amongst a group of Chinese students. Despite a language barrier I felt welcome among the girls and they tried to explain in broken English that they come here very often to hang out and have some fluffy attention. There really were cats everywhere. You only needed to look up at a bookshelf to spot one peeking out at you or step into the cushioned room and lie around as they play – I must admit I did begin to feel quite warm and fuzzy inside – everyone looked so happy. There are a number of cat cafes cropping up around Beijing but Cats44, although slightly expensive, truly had an environment where I could spend hours drinking coffee and reading books. Their English speaking staff made me feel very welcome and often planted a cat in my lap before I had the chance to say anything. More importantly what I had stumbled on is the rejuvenation of one of the small Hutong houses into a modern space with an innovative concept. I had finally experienced what life was like for your typical young Beijing dweller and it seemed pretty fun! Now to navigate the underground during rush hour, regardless of the country you are in it’s hardly ever enjoyable. China's long distance train journeys
There are several travel options to get you from Beijing to Shanghai. Flying was out of the question on my budget so the next best method would have to be the train – and my choices were split between a 6-hour bullet train or the 22-hour local sleeper train. I of course chose the slower option but I could only buy a seated ticket and so I rallied myself up for the experience and the scenic route – costing £15 I’d ultimately scored a bargain. It ended up being more scenic for the Chinese travellers who loved taking pictures of me and offering me local delicacies such as chicken feet. Departing at midday I was in for a long night but it was reassuring that there was food and drink to buy on board. A disheartened looking trolley lady made rounds down the train almost every half an hour, like something out of Harry Potter her trolley was full of strange snacks that I’ve never seen before. The whole train paused and held their breath when I spoke in English to buy some noodles– luckily I’d spotted that each carriage has a hot water dispenser for this very purpose. As the hours ticked on I quickly realised the man opposite me didn’t own headphones as he blasted youtube videos, much to the disdain of a weary British traveller and the rest of the train. Next to me another man was eating handfuls of sunflower seeds and throwing the peels on the floor around himself and the smell of toilets mixed with smoke (yes you can smoke on the train) resulted in an absolutely horrific combination which saw me squashed up against the window increasingly regretting my ticket choice. Between towns there was not much to meet the gaze apart from flat countryside and the occasional skyrise complex and the sky continued to remain smoggy and visibly polluted. The tranquil light from the outside sun I can only describe as almost making the area look cold although in reality it was simply hazy pollution. As the night loomed in there was nothing left to see from the window and I found my entertainment through re-reading a book with earplugs in (you could still hear the crunching food and youtube videos). It was also during this trip that I realised I was yet to master one key travelling skill – sleeping on public transport. However as the old train came to a jittering standstill at every station and bundles of loud Chinese travellers load their luggage and shout at each other, I wonder whether even the most exhausted traveller could get any shut eye. It was going to be a long night of Chinese selfies. Arriving in the bright lights of Shanghai the next day felt like a dream, probably because of my lack of sleep. The city is the heart of business, leisure and indulgence and the cosmopolitan sky scrapers and coffee shops didn’t feel real after the 22-hour endurance test I had just been put through. I arrived at the hostel around 8am where even the receptionists were amazed that ‘I’ had done that train journey – even they wouldn’t dare take the long train. Funnily enough at this moment another traveller came to the desk with the same dishevelled look on his face, discovering that he too had been only a carriage away on my train and had several selfies, we reluctantly convinced ourselves that this was morale building and at least we had lived to tell the tale. The Great Wall and Pollution
It’s quite frankly unthinkable to visit Beijing and not spend a day at the Great Wall of China. Through its literal translation, ‘The Long Wall’ stretches over 21,000km and has withstood the test of time and a number of invasions through its colourful history. Being only an hour from Beijing I wasn’t about to miss the chance to come face to face with one of the wonders of the world. Having out-manoeuvred the busy streets of traffic, the drive into the countryside proves a pleasant escape. The skyline of tower blocks and Chinese neon signs are quickly replaced with beautiful mountains and wide open roads. Gazing up at the landscape it’s quite easy at first to miss a faint brick line meandering amongst the hillside shrubs, until all of a sudden you glimpse the familiar ridged top and the entire length of the Badaling section (and its reams of tourists) greets you. Although this section of the wall is fully restored and famed for its picturesque setting, I wasn’t prepared to join the sea of heads slowly edging up the wall so chose to explore ‘Badaling Ancient Wall’ which is about a 15-minute drive further. What became clear quite quickly is that it could have also been called a great staircase rather than a wall and it’s 45-degree ascent has you sweating from your fingertips – the descent being even worse especially on your knees. Every time we stopped to gather our breath however it was impossible not to appreciate the Wall’s construction - I would have certainly rather fought the Mongolians than had to endure building and climbing every day. The difference with the ancient section is that no-one visits it despite being equally as picturesque as its tourist-ridden counterpart. Connected to a section of the wall that has been unrestored you can see the original build in all of its glory and despite the exhausting climb, each tower that you reach (there’s about an hour between each) the views never failed to be more and more breath-taking. It was at this point that we decided to settle in for the night. We had now ventured off the beaten path and onto the unrestored section of the wall where we pulled out a stolen duvet from the hostel and found watch tower to camp in. Although this was technically not allowed, the thought of camping on the Great Wall of China outweighed the risks, and if we were caught we’d hope to just use the ‘I’m foreign and don’t understand’ card. Before long we were surrounded by nothing but darkness and the sounds of night time critters, and despite blankets and Baidu (terribly strong rice wine) it began to feel terribly cold as the night set in. It’s safe to say the Baidu helped in keeping me warm, putting me to sleep and reminding me that I’m not really a fan of camping but nonetheless my night on the Great Wall was fantastic (although you really have to be aware of your footing on the unrestored section). The trick of course, is to not get caught by Chinese authorities, which we did quite well. By morning the whole countryside is illuminated and the wall looks nothing but spectacular as the sun begins to rise – yet there was something different that caught my eye. Looking out across the landscape it’s nearly impossible to see much of Beijing as it sits under a constant cloud of smog and pollution; to the extent that many people wear facemasks on a daily basis. I can’t deny that I haven’t also felt it whilst I was here, you can physically see the air pollution enshrouding the tops of sky scrapers throughout Beijing and many other cities. A quick google (through my VPN) was all I needed to discover that 500,000 people die in China every year due to pollution related circumstances revealing just how bad the situation is. Standing on top of the ancient wall and watching as the air pollution engulfs the city and surrounding low-lands was a fascinating moment, as both the wall and the air pollution is set to remain as key features in China. For every person that buys a face mask, more young Beijingers will buy huge petrol guzzling cars that leave the city traffic in chaos every evening rush hour. It’s a sad thought – the legacy that the Ming Dynasty and many emperors before was one of the largest, greatest structures on earth whilst our generation is leaving a lasting legacy of destructive city pollution – having seen it with my own eyes I can’t imagine how it could get any better. Speaking English in China
Although every guidebook, every website and every traveller tells you of the difficulties of communicating within China, I wasn't expecting exactly how much of a language barrier I was set to encounter. Naturally through the country's size the majority of tourism within the country is from other Chinese holiday makers and it took just moments off the main square in the capital to find no-one understanding the slightest English phrase (I really can't stress enough that no-one speaks English here). I wholeheartedly felt like a foreigner - finally. The simple letters 'ATM' were met with confused frowns from most shop stalls, waitresses and even in McDonald's staff. Most people I asked simply shook their heads and continued with their daily tasks by ignoring me - even motioning to money and flapping my card about came to no avail until I eventually stumbled upon a machine off my own accord. I quickly made sure my book of translations was ready for my next outdoor venture. I became the laughing stock when it came to ordering food, much to the entertainment of the Chinese and retrospectively, me. Being in the home of Peking duck, I ventured to a restauraunt that appeared popular and famed for this dish (there were even roast ducks hanging in the window) so I was adamant I couldn't get this wrong. Instead of a whole duck I asked for a smaller portion which was met with a hesitant nod and all appeared to be going well, after a long day of sight seeing I was ready for a hearty meal. Minutes later I was delivered a plate of duck bones - not a fraction of actual meat in sight and I was initially convinced it must've been a joke. Amazed that I was able to confuse the order so much I followed British ettiquate, struggled with chopsticks and pretended to thoroughly enjoy chewing on my bones for as long as I could possibly withstand before paying and making a swift exit. In my new bout of hunger I then went to a second place where all the menus were in Chinese - flapping my arms and reinacting chicken noises I finally managed to order something along those lines. The difficulties in language are set to continue throughout my time in China, particulaly as I try to locate tourists spots that are pronunced incredibly different when read in a Chinese accent in comparison to my Northern twang. Although daunting, the trials and tribulations of the language barrier have ultimately been brilliant. There have been points where I felt lonely and frustrated that I couldnt be understood but it has exposed, for the first time, an understanding that many people face in the opposite direction. It is about time that our Western arrogance was put to the test and I am grateful to have experienced this side of a cultural shock. Luckily I'm not the only one to be facing some struggles as a Chinese tourist also stopped whilst I was equally lost and asked me for directions in Chinese and I somehow managed to direct him. |
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