Spring Festival

With the impending start of Spring Festival, the air was full of merriment and anticipation...

Within China, the beginning of their new year heralds a new start, shops are busy with last minute shoppers, desperately trying to get their new clothes for the new year. Oh, and the bangers, we mustn't forget those too, as they are always popular!

My host family were no exception. Much to my surprise, it turns out that very few presents are given during this period. The notable exception being small red envelopes containing money, this is exclusively given by married couples to “Children” (who include any unmarried person in Chinese culture).



On the eve of New Year my host family and I undertook a whirlwind tour of the relatives of the family. Each relative were given a very brief time to offer their gifts and exchange what I assume were kind words. With much of the visitation finished for the day, we were off to the local market to grab some last-minute specific foods for the next few days. Everyone else had the same idea, so with the fabled Chinese etiquette always amiss, I jostled my way through the crowd heading for the family favourite food vendors. Like all Chinese desserts, they looked brilliant, and were a horrible let-down when you tasted them and realised they tasted just like rice, again!



It is also customary on the actual day to visit a temple - but, as we didn't want to hit the queues on the day itself, we decided to visit on of Shanghai's three temples the day before. Here, we saw a large collection of statues, each one depicting a year. After some figuring out (as the years were given in Chinese), I managed to locate the one for my mother's birth year, as it was her birthday in a few days. I think you will have to agree that the likeness is uncanny:



That evening all the family and I gathered together to have one huge meal. With this being the custom in China, the meal had to start at 5pm, finishing by 7pm, as we were packed into the first sitting of a rather nice restaurant. The meal was tremendous. A real selection of what makes Chinese food brilliant, with dishes from all parts of almost every animal. There were pigs ears, skin and meat. Chicken offal, head and meat. Some rather random fish, including the now “normal” fish-head soup. Random bits of the sea which I have no idea what they were, and vegetables which needed a science fiction novel to identify.



Much after everyone else had finished, I was still picking through the bones of a rather nice sweet and sour whole fish, who looked like it had lost a battle with a hand grenade. Fantastic stuff!



As the evening drew closer, the frequency and volume of fireworks increased. All happily sheltered within one of the relatives house, I had taken it upon myself to learn Marjong. Marjong is a “card game” which is played with tiles similar to dominoes, but with Chinese characters on them. With no-one in the room able to speak a word of English, my very limited Chinese was put to the test as I part mimed, partly guessed as to what was going on.



Just as I was becoming aware of what was actually going on, and with only two hours to go until the big moment, my host family decided rather randomly that they wanted to go home.

So we quickly rushed home via the last tube and then took one of very few remaining taxis to arrive only 40 minutes before the big moment. I was rather shocked therefore, when the girl hid in her room playing her computer, and at midnight the mother and I decided to set fire to about eight fireworks. It seemed like a bit of an anti-climax, but was still the best Chinese New Year I've celebrated in China.



Over the following days, I went exploring the surrounds of the city, meeting fellow travellers on the way. Often I would simply stumble across an excellent local market, which gave ample opportunity to practise my Mandarin bargaining skills.





An art in itself, I hope to enlighten you as to what methods seem to work best in China:

1) The Approach. This is one of the most important parts – with so many of those “Self Help” books talking about how the initial impact will often determine any relationship, you must get this right. My objective right from square one was to look firstly like a student and secondly look like I was local, or at least knew what I was doing. So time to put on a shabby jacket (my Paramo jacket was perfect for this as it didn't have a logo they recognised and is frankly styled by a blind-man). Now time to put on an equally well worn relaxed and comfortable smile. This is my neighbourhood, don't you k now....

2) First Contact. This MUST be done in their local language. If they talk to you in English, look blank and consider moving on. Never reply in English. One time I even said “I don't understand” in Chinese and then went into my normal patter of “Hello”, followed by “I'll look.”

3) Hassle Prevention. Being a foreigner, they will want to talk to you, they may even want to be nice to you. These pose a serious issue; I cannot really understand what they are saying, let alone formulate a sufficiently plausable answer to their questions. One phrase which works really well is the “I'll look” phrase. If they start asking loads of questions, look really interested in the garment in front of you, or notice something really interesting the other side of the store, open it up and start to examine.

4) The Examination. Now it's time to determine if you actually want the product. So pick it up, and look at it like you buy the things professionally. I mean really look at it. Check out the stitching, blow into the fabric to see if it allows air to pass through, if it's waterproof, get out a bottle of water and put it closer as if you were about to test it. If it's silk, then get out a lighter and prepare to light a thread and sniff. One method which always works well if you don't have a clue what you are supposed to examine, is either to rub two things together (like bracelets etc) smelling what's been let off, or peer at it really closely with a light. I've actually got a light on my bag to do this. At this stage make sure you don't let on that you like it. If the store manager is near you (which he will be) then look sufficiently unimpressed, even if it's the best thing you've seen, ever. Defects should be emphasised heavily!

5) Pricing. Now that we've ascertained that we want the garment, it's time to ask how much (in Chinese). If you are in a foreigner place like a fake market, ask how much at the first store, walk away and then listen for the lowest number. Go to the next place which will sell the same identical product, and instead of asking how much, offer about 1/4 of the lowest number they shouted at you. This should be below 10% of the initial asking price they would have mentioned in the first shop. If you are at a non-touristy place, then ask how much before offering. Whatever they say, the next words out of your mouth should be “too expensive” (in Chinese though.) Now put a look on your face as if they have just insulted your mother – although you have to gauge how heavy this should be, as looking deeply insulted for a pair of socks could be seen as slightly excessive...It's now time to enter the world of offering and re-offering. Personally, I tended to bargain REALLY hard in tourist spots, and be a wet anywhere remote. Sometimes I even tried to pay them more than the asking price if I was in the middle of nowhere, as they gave me such an excellent price to begin with! If you don't get the price you think is fair, walk away.

6) Wrap-up. Remember that you are always an ambassador for your country, so whatever the negotiation consequences, say thanks and give them a good smile and goodbye. I've had the most hostile negotiation, only to get such a fantastic thanks at the end. Business is business, what comes after is separate in China.



After honing some of my Chinese market skills, and playing some rather shockingly bad games of pool with some fellow Brits, my time in Shanghai was drawing to a close. My last lessons in Mandarin were more cultural than they were Mandarin based, with my questions relating to ettiquite and common Chinese games. Very kindly, one of my teachers brought in a kind of shuttle-cock which you hit with your feet. Now, I did warn her, I would like to point this out now. My football is utterly dire. I have many skills in life, and football is not one of them. This game is too close to football.



Playing on the seventh floor balcony, we tried to hit the ball from one person to another. Things were going really well, right up to the moment that I deftly kicked the toy over the balcony edge. It arced majestically over the small bushes, to drift onto the first story roof of the guard tower. Go me.

If you're reading this, I'm really sorry I'm so inept!



It was now time to say goodbye to my host family, who had kindly arranged for my train into Xi'an, the location of the Terracotta Warriors, and one of the old capitals of China.



On the train I met a very friendly local Chinese resident who was also a local tour guide. As a result, I think my knowledge of Xi'an was already pretty good for someone who was just arriving I such a city. He kindly offered to give me a lift to a local hostel (which was excellent) on the way to his house.



In the next edition, it's back to being the only tourist in the village, as I cross a mountain pass which formed a vital part of China's history for thousands of years. I meet the local communist party, do some dancing (this time captured on camera) and also befriend an American student who teaches me more about Chinese culture than I knew existed. And much, much more...

Confused Conversations

Once again, it was back to being the only tourist in the village - I would probably guess I was the only tourist in the whole valley, knowing that area of Bhutan. By now this is something I'm rather used to and am actually beginning to enjoy. Though my guide I managed to hold multiple conversations and rather like in Borneo, everyone was rather amused by my hobbies. One conversation amused me greatly when I look back at it, as they have a point.



It was now time to try and discuss sailing with a land-locked Bhutanese.
"This 'sailing' then, where do you go?"
"Usually just out into the bay and back again."
"So you don't go anywhere?"
"Not really, just out and then back."
"But you fish when you are out in the bay though?"
"No"
"Why not, you are in the bay after all, does it not have any fish?"
"It has fish, but I can buy my fish from the market, we are there to race other boats instead."
"But you are out there already, why not fish and save the money?"
"Well, I race against other boats, that's more exciting!"
"So where are the other boats going then?"
"They are the same as me, they go out and back too."
"Oh, so they aren't going anywhere either?"
"[Trying to change the subject a little] I also do a martial art."
"What's that then?"
"It's where I practise fighting."
"So you are a warrior?"
"No, I don't fight anyone."
"But if you don't fight, why do you practise?"
"It keeps me fit."
"But why don't you work in the fields, that will keep you fit and will also make your family money?"
"Because I don't need to earn extra money, I have a job. I do this to relax."
[To his friend]"These foreigners have too much time and waste it doing strange things..."
I think he's got a point.



During the archery competition, we were all kept well fed with the local tuak, a kind of rice-wine which varied greatly in strength from about 10%, to about 35%, although that was just a guess as it was all home-brew! Unfortunately, the archers were also keeping up with the drinking, and being that they started before 7am, must have been close to paralytic as they rocked from side to side, desperately peering into the midday sun to see the tiny target.

In true "room full of monkeys, typewriters, Shakespeare," style though, hit the target they often did, actually more often than I would have been able to, so hats off to them. Whenever this was done, a wonderful dance erupted, which pretty much meant "well done for hitting the target, aren't we better then the opposition!" Either way, it was great to watch and something I later repeated much to everyone's amusement during our own archery competition.

Despite offers to give it a go, I was rather aware of the close proximity of everyone to the target, coupled with the fact that I haven't shot a bow in over seven years. I was [briefly] part of the archery club at uni though, so archery is something I'm pretty good at. Not that I was about to tell the Bhutanese that!

Accompanied by a few of the locals and a throng of small children eager to see the foreigner and his weird archery style, we found a small paddy field where we would try our own mini-competition. It was the driver and guide on the Bhutanese side, vs me for the westerners. We were all being rather modest and didn't really want to let the other know any level of skill.


[The target is at the base of the three trees which were propped up, it's the wider bit of trunk of the middle one - I managed to hit it three times!!]


[This is the target close up, with my arrow in it :-)]

With our target placed at a modest 70 metres, which is still a very long way away, we fired off our series of arrows. Much to my excitement, I trounced the locals! The first game was 0,0,7 to me. As you can imagine, the children found this very amusing and although I don't speak Bhutanese, the hard time they gave my Bhutanese friends was evident for all to see. They weren't impressed about the foreigner beating them and so a hasty re-match was organised, with the older Bhutanese providing a few tips to prevent a second white-washing.

My glory was short lived; we were using a child's bow and it couldn't really stand up to the forces being placed on it. So with arrow in hand, I let go and watched as the bow self destructed all over me, sending bits of string, wood and arrow in all directions. By some slight miracle, no-one was hurt and the bow was quickly repaired, but still needed a bow string to be complete. The round two of beatings would have to wait until another day.

After spending a very cold night in the house of one of the locals, which was akin to my survival experience in the Arctic (who builds a house with windows and doesn't put any shutters or glass on them - and then places it in the wind-channel of a valley!?) we were off to see some more sights and our next valley.



The following valley was significantly higher and therefore colder. Recent snowfall meant that the journey took longer than expected, but with some truly stunning views on the way there, it certainly wasn't a let down.

After a late arrival we settled into our hotel. Once again, I was the only guest. Each time I would enter the main dining room, the huddle of five employees would quickly get up from their chairs which were huddled around the fire in the middle of the room and bow to greet me. Unfortunately, the hotel's generator had failed, so no heating or hot water was currently operating. This meant that the only way to warm up the room was a small fire in the room which had to be lit. Lighting fires has never been an issue for me, in fact, it's usually the other way around. I like my fire hot, and that means I like them big. Something which had already got me into trouble whist in the jungle as I scorched one of the tarps with my inferno. Consequently, lighting the tiny little fire in my room wasn't an issue.



When I came into the restaurant for the evening meal, the hotel staff looked really puzzled. I asked what was up and one of them said that it was strange that I didn't need heating in my room: they thought that I had not lit my fire. On telling them that I had already lit my fire using the matches and wood provided just outside the room, they looked even more confused. How could a foreigner actually light a fire?? Apparently the last guest which had just checked out had been so inept, they had used two boxes of matches to try and light their fire, and eventually gave up. Wow, I'm glad I'm in no survival situation with them!

That evening we played some more cards and I took it unto myself to teach the people of that valley a game called "Big Two", which is always good fun in a large group.

The next day we departed back the way we had come, but after only 2km were coming across some difficulties. The ever faithful Toyota 4*4 which I had earlier praised for being one of the most reliable cars on the planet, had been listening. Today was its day to wind me up and stop working. Don't worry, it's only -10 outside, probably about -40 with the wind-chill. Oh, and the nearest mechanic is about a 3 hour drive away. Drive, yes, that thing we cannot do right now.



After some faffing around with the fuel pump, and multiple stops to jump out, pump the fuel pump a little more manually, and then hop back in again, the car finally managed to warm up and get going as it should. Phew.



At the ridge of the valley we came across a large queue of traffic. It seems that the fog and ice had collected on a single road and everyone was waiting for this to clear before proceeding. Not us however, for we had no fear [sense] and decided to half slide half drive our way down, with only a few twigs and some grass hidden under deep snow to keep us from falling a good few hundred metres. I'm glad our driver was good!



After another night on the road we arrived in the second largest town in Bhutan, which is about the size of Dorking (if you are from Surrey) or perhaps Hamworthy (if you are from Dorest.) If you aren't from either of those places, imagine a large village, perhaps 100,000 people. Here we were to take our flight out the following day, but first I was off to see the Bhutanese tourist sight and in true Bhutanese style, it involved a walk.

Every country has one, the "must see" sight, and for Bhutan this is a temple on the side of a cliff. I'm not talking about a temple which has been built right next to a cliff, no, this has been built ON a cliff. It was quite a sight.




After a brisk walk which the guide said takes between 90 minutes and two hours (so we almost jogged up it in less than 28 minutes - I'm a stickler for competition okay!) We took our first glimpse of the temple, which, I think you will agree from the photos, is quite a sight. Apart from the prat standing in the way that is...



Whilst there we also came across our first beggars of Bhutan, which had been a pleasant break from India where they seemed to be everywhere. These beggars were a little different though, being small puppies (everyone go "ahhhh")...



That's enough of that.

With the final major sight of Bhutan wrapped up, I can only say that it's been amazing. I can see why people say that Bhutan is one of the most unspoilt places on earth; fingers crossed it will stay that way until I return, just please, sort the food out between then and now?

The only thing which remained was to read Michael's article in the in-flight magazine for the Bhutanese airline, as I gawped out of the window at Mt Everest...





Onwards, to Hong Kong!