Some things never change...

Bar Blu, circa. April 2004

Kai, January 2005

Babyface, January 2005

Ross, Alex and myselef can always been found in different stages of moral decay in various establishments around the Jing.

Tomorrow, the Girlie Show...

Anti-inflammatory plastic bag

So THIS is how Merck plans to recuperate its losses from its Voixx recall: adverstising in China through mass distribution of Voixx branded plastic bags at local clothing markets! What a marketing brainchild!

Breakin' the law

Grrr... grrr... of all the days of the week I had to have my first run in with the Beijing jiao1 jing3 (traffic police) on a Monday. Poo.

I was at the Shitiao traffic lights when a traffic police flagged me down and gestured for me to pull aside. It must have been some operation, it wasn't just me and I most certainly wasn't riding around like a lunatic. All motorbikes, scooters, tricycles, disabled motorcycles, even the huan1 bao3 bloke (street cleaner, or as we would say in KL - Bandaraya) with his little green mobile wheely bin on a tricycle that he rides all around town to pick up pieces of litter wasn't spared. I was quite tempted to ride off when the lights switched to green but I reckoned that not having any valid documents on my person was probably less of an offense than resisting arrest.

I almost blew my cover but remembered to switch to my"I'm sorry, I don't speak Chinese" mode. I think I must have been the most unconvincing of people to pull that off. I almost didn't have him for a minute and must work more on that blank look. The following conversation ensued:

(Blue: Chinese; Black: English)

Police: License and registration please.
Me: *slightly twitching upper lip* I'm sorry, I don't speak Chinese, I don't understand.
Police: Don't try that rubbish with me. I've dealt with foreigners like you before, and I'm sure this won't be the last time! You think you can just stand there and speak English to me?! Pah!
Me: *genuinely looking distressed and trying my utmost to act like I really had no idea what he was saying* I really have no idea what you're saying.
Police: *peering at my Inner Mongolian license plate* What license plate do you have here?
Me: Inner Mong... Er... I told you, I don't know what you're saying. I'm sorry.
Police: *gleefully* See! I knew you were lying all along! Stop it, you're not fooling anyone, guniang.
Me: *doing my best middle-class English lady impression, which must have been weird with my bleached blonde hair and bright yellow fisherman trousers* Rea-ly my dear fellow I haven't the faintest idea what you are talking about.

I called the office and told them to send someone down to help me out of my mess. It took them so long and I was getting tired of passers-by - street sweepers, idle middle-aged men and fellow commuters - dropping what they were doing and inquiring "guniang, ni che zenmele?" (what's up with your scooter, miss?) I didn't mind so much that they were asking me that question, but everytime they did I had to resist paying them any attention. I've never realised that offering an answer in Chinese is such an involuntary action for me now. It was difficult, I make a terrible spy.

In the end, my lovely colleagues came to my rescue and made up lots of lame excuses for their ignorant foreign colleague from Malaysia.

Colleague: Please forgive her officer, she's only just arrived in Beijing not too long ago. And she's from Malaysia! You know what those underdeveloped South East Asian countries are like. Nobody has any money to buy a car! They all ride scooters! And they don't have the sort of law enforcement officers like yourself...

Policeman's chest puffs with pride

Colleague: ... to uphold traffic regulations. Why, they all ride scooters without licenses! It's a very normal thing to do. You must excuse her, she doesn't know any better. It will take her some time to get used to living in Beijing!

Trying very hard to look demure and apologetic while casting my colleague the evil eye. Cheeky bugger!

After my colleagues' arbitration with el polizia I was let off without so much as a slap on the wrist. I was quite expecting to pay a fine; worst case scenario would have been my scooter confiscated and becoming property of the Dongcheng District government. I offered to push it back home and promised as sincerely as I could not to ride it again until I got my driver's license sorted out (pffth... fat chance). The policeman wagged his finger in my face warning me to get my act together as he had been doing for the past half an hour. I offered a handshake to seal our new found friendship. I think the policeman was rather surprised but still graciously removed his white Mickey Mouse gloves and shook my outstretched hand.


What a way to start off the week. Is it any wonder that most heart attacks and suicides take place on a Monday?!

Weekend casualty

RIP - Ridiculously high wedged mule, 4th June 2005 to 27th August 2005, Beijing

Tis sad. Especially recalling how red in the face I got bargaining with the shoe seller at Hongqiao Market for it - may she suffer from a lifetime of athlete's foot and bad sex.

The weekend has landed!

And for a while it felt like it had landed on my head. Actually the weekend has come and gone, rather sadly... :-/

Birthday Boy Alex

I was until this morning playing temporary innkeeper to two of Maxs housemates. Not that we really needed a reason for going out but it was Alexs birthday and it was as good an excuse as any other. After dinner at the Korean BBQ restaurant on Chunxiu Lu we walked down to Nanjie. I was planning on keeping things fairly civilized, or at least taking my time to get going. But the moment the first round of tequila shots were passed around I knew it was the beginning of the end.

New friends...

... and the original gangstas

We made our drunken journey along Gongti Beilu, sidestepping beggars, cigarette vendors and dealers although I nearly ran into lamp posts and trees a few times. For reasons still unclear to me we went up to First Cafe on South Street, stayed for a good 20 seconds and decided to leg it out of there but not before breaking the bar's glass door with my right foot. Foot intact, we ran as fast as we could and decided that 50 metres was a good enough distance to put off our pursuers.

After a headcount making sure that everyone was still here, we staggered over to Star Bar where the unfortunate mistake of buying a whole bottle of whiskey was made. In China, tables that purchase liquor by the bottle are rewarded with free popcorn and a fruit platter. What could we do with free popcorn, fancy shaped pieces of fruit and tolerant bar staff? Start a food fight, of course!

After polishing off our bottle of whiskey and then some, we decided it was time to impose ourselves on other bar patrons. We

fell out of Star, Matt D and Alex acting out the literal meaning of that statement by racing each other down the steps and taking a tumble. We flagged down a private cab and six of us piled ourselves in, everyone else in the back and Ross in the front seat, shouting a mix of instructions, profanities and an occasional proclaimation of endless love for the cabbie who was, to his credit, a most patient and cheerful fellow.

We got off near Kai and at this point my right mule decided it had had enough abuse and the thong gave way. Matt K gave me a piggyback through the hutong where one of the street urchins decided he liked the look of my left leg and hung on to it like his life (or a prospective 5 kuai donation) depended on it. Recollection of Kai was actually quite hazy to begin with, although I did recognise the dodgy French guy from a couple of weeks ago who was once again without his shirt.

The night ended where it always does - on the sofa in Ross and Alex's apartment watching South Park. I still had some life in me but the Matts had stumbled into the apartment, placed themselves on the settee and promptly passed out. Jet lag and excessive drinking have never been a great combination.

Before we left our apartment I had predicted that we would arrive home at 6 a.m, and I was true to my word. I fidgeted impatiently while Matt D opened the door, pushed past the two of them, mumbled an apology for my grumpiness, closed my bedroom door behind me and passed out fully clothed in bed. It wasn't till late next morning when the smell of damp clothes, bar smoke, old alcohol and body odour convinced me that a shower was very much in order.

The morning after

A sorry sight indeed - slightly worse for wear and not averse to the idea of never drinking ever again. But haven't we all heard that one before? ;-)

Sanlitun Urchin

The Bar Street Massif will know what I'm talking about - the group of dirty young children that roam around Sanlitun pestering foreign bar patrons for donations. Newcomers to China find it difficult to ignore them. But hard nosed sceptics such as myself see it as it is: a scam and what could only be a vicious cycle. Give them the message that a living can be made by scrounging loose change off the laowais and the slim chance for upward social mobility grows even slimmer. When they are old enough, or more accurately no longer cute enough to beg, the adolescent ex-child beggars recruit young urchins to take their place.

Now they usually leave me alone, or even if the dare to venture near me I bark "I'm Chinese! I ain't giving you any money!" or something to that effect. But that particular night I was especially inebriated and was sitting outside Fish Nation watching my friends making a nuisance out of themselves. I thought it would be amusing to whip out the digital camera and take some drunken photos. I caught the attention of one of the urchins who gave me a good telling off.

Urchin: You cannot take photos of me!
Me: Why not?
Urchin: *hesitates* You must pay me if you take a photo of me!
Me: *feigned shock* Why must I pay you?
Urchin: *looks over his shoulder at the big kid for moral support* Because I'm hungry.
Me: Well then my friend you should go to school.
Urchin: Just give me 10 kuai. I'm hungry!
Me: *looking hurt* Nobody gives me money when they take photos with me.
Urchin: ..............
Me: Look, you must go to school to learn and get an education. Then, one day, you may even get a job that pays you TWENTY KUAI a day. How about that?
Urchin: *face lights up as he struggles to grasp with the concept of 20 kuai - don't think he can count that far*

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is my good deed of the month. :)

I feel like rabbit tonight

Credit to Lev for taking this photo one winter morning on his way to work. This was actually outside the Jiaodaokou residence area where we both used to live and is home to a large community of cash strapped foreigners like ourselves. You can usually see crowds of middle aged ladies (men sometimes) walking their yappy little dogs, usually of the Pekinese, Pommeronian or Pug persuasion in the morning or after dinner. But rabbits you don't see everyday. Possibly because after their owners air them out a bit they end up in the pot or are sold to one of the many rabbit meat establishments on the nearby Guijie!

It's Friday...

So why the hell not?

An ordinary day on the roads of Beijing

Road safety legislators wanted...

A motorcyclist enthusiast friend of mine had a close shave himself while out riding on the 4th ring road. He was tailing a truck transporting similar cargo - big water pipes or something like that - and decided to overtake the truck. Just as he did, a part of the load came loose and fell off the truck, landing in the path of where my friend had been just seconds ago. Crazy, but hey, it's China so it really doesn't surprise me.


Launch of the new Audi model. Availability - mainland China only.

I personally prefer the Chinese cars as opposed to the ubiquitous Audis. People say you can tell a person by the car he or she drives. There has been so much written about the sort of person that drives an Audi in Beijing in far more eloquent terms than I could ever manage so I won't even try to be clever here. Anyhow, a metallic red Chinese made Vespa is by FAR the superior mode of transport in this city. :p

Message Bean

So anyway, after numerous attempts of keeping a written content based weblog and now that my previous excuse of not having a digital camera is invalid, here is my new site, in its 571st incarnation.


I'm not sure why I chose to post this first picture. It's one of the most novel little gifts I've ever seen, not to mention a somewhat dodgy result of possible genetic engineering to the innocent sprout. This was a colleague's birthday gift. It came as a seed in soil packaged in a simple tin with instructions to water and leave out in the sun. After three days, voila! A little green sprout poked through the soil and came out into the sun.

This however is no ordinary sprout as the name on the in suggests. This is a magical message bean!




The former bean part of the sprout/seedling comes engraved with birthday wishes on either side. What technology was used in creating this horticultural wonder/mutant I can only guess. The boss suggested the technology was either German or Japanese. However, my Chinese colleagues, not suprisingly, preferred to think that the Message Bean had teutonic origins.

Here we go again...

And one more time... Have lost count of the number of times I've started and tried to keep a blog alive, but here's to perserverance.

More in a bit, downing the rest of my Nescafe before shooting out of the door.

It's Friday!