China
Trip Report 2007: Do not drive tiredly.
Handan
Note: Here is where I will deviate off of the original posted Trip Report. It was a self-imposed redaction of the real report. Now the gloves can come off for a number of reasons.
Handan, China
Day 3 Friday Feb 9 continued . . .
So it was off to Handan. It was a dull gray cold February day. The countryside was downright boring as we zipped along at 75mph. The ever-present poplar trees were like a picket fence separating the highway from the peasants in the field. Distant farms were marked by tendrils of smoke reaching into the winter sky. There was one toll stop and we took a bathroom break at a roadside restaurant. It was very strange to accompany my son’s father-in-law (Yuquan Ren was his name btw) into the men’s room at a cruddy roadside place in the middle of nowhere China. I felt like an alien with 3 heads. Grim truckers at the urinals – think Twilight Zone in black and white. And Yuquan had the voice and the demeanor of a thug - obviously used to getting his own way. Now thug is actually too strong a word perhaps, but you get the idea.
Anyways . . . the countryside zipping by was very flat the whole way - interrupted only by a couple of river valleys. Conversation was difficult because of the language barrier and Yuquan was not the sort for idle chitchat anyway. We would ask a question from the back seat and Shennie would translate it from the third seat. Etc etc. His answers were always abrupt and I never really saw him smile – ever. Ok, maybe there was a wisp of a smile in one photo . . .
The highway skirted numerous industrial cities and passed through the middle of the large depressingly gray hulk of Shijiazhuang. Dismally gray monster buildings lined the highway on both sides. While highway views can be deceiving, ugly is the first descriptive word that comes to mind.
Things brightened up on the off-ramp into Handan. This is an industrial city with a core of about 1M and the greater incorporated Handan area accounts for 6M souls. And no one I have ever spoken to since has ever heard of the place. This area of town was obviously the ‘new’ area - the streets were wide with lots of open space gradually being populated with new imposing corporate buildings, condo developments and bright strips of stores. It looked like a new business park area anywhere in the world. We pulled into a small low-slung newish condo building on a store-lined busy side street.
We were designated to stay with the bride’s uncle (the mother’s brother) in one of his condos while the mother and various relatives stayed in the other one that he owned in town. He was an obviously well-to-do entrepreneur that owned a steel fabrication factory. He told me – through a translator – that he had a third condo in a city on the coast. Speaking of translators, aside from Shennie, a cousin (Yuheng Li) appeared for the weekend who spoke passable basic English and she proved to be very helpful – as well as being a happy sort of person so we weren't totally isolated. Another translator – some slick government assistant of the bride’s father – was also around for the money negotiation and the ceremony later in this narrative. Yeah, I will tell you more.
Our hosts were the very charming Zhaojun Li and his lovely wife Lijun Guo, who proved to be extremely warm and welcoming to us. It didn't take us long to figure out that the mother's side of the family (the Li side as it were) was the friendly side, the ones that loved a good party. Their three bedroom condo was on the top floor of 5. It sported a surprisingly large shoe room at the entrance, a spacious living room with a balcony into the inner courtyard of the complex, one bathroom, a small kitchen and three bedrooms. Nicely furnished with a large fish tank. They gave us their son’s room for the three nights, while the bride and groom got their daughter’s. The son slept on the couch and the daughter went to the other condo.
After a round of greetings to all – including meeting the bride’s mother (Zhaoyun Li) for the first time - the bride’s father excused himself for the evening and most of the next day and left to attend to some urgent business. No one missed him – including his wife. She was a very ‘jolly’ woman – for lack of a better description. Always smiling – always speaking to us in Mandarin – with or without translation. After the near-stifling van ride with her uncommunicative husband, she and her brother’s family were a breath of fresh air. They happily bundled us outside and down the road to a restaurant for a family meal. And we had a blast.
Right from the start, Zhaojun (uncle) was determined to test my drinking skills. He ordered an expensive bottle of Moutai and two porcelain cups and proceeded to get me drunk. While the ladies ordered the food – which was heaped into the middle of the large table – he challenged me drink by drink through the whole bottle. Just the two of us. We had a very entertaining evening with lots of laughter as they welcomed us into their family. Great food btw as well.
Moutai or Maotai is served in tiny 1/2 - 3/4 ounce porcelain shot glasses. Suggestion: Drink lots of tea, warm water, Coke . . . anything to dilute this 53% rocket fuel. It has a distinctive taste, but not one that I really like. To signal a toast, you tap your shot glass on the glass lazy Susan & point it at your drinking partner. The toast 'Ganbay' signals your intention to 'bottoms up' your drink. Then after you slug it down, you show him that your glass is empty.
All of our family dinners over the weekend were similar. Food always seems to be served at a round table with a lazy Susan which accommodates sharing of all the dishes. Prepare to eat with only chop sticks - Western utensils were non-existent. Dinner items: edible fungus - hot & cold, egg, chicken, pork & beef dishes, whole fish, various broths & many different vegetables dishes. Steamed dumplings with misc meat fillings were always good - the locals dip them into a vinegar. An individual bowl of noodles is often served to each diner at the end of this feast. Hotpot - as described in the Beijing page - is always viewed as a special treat. For drinks, expect tea, warm water, sometimes wine & soft drinks.
Completely satiated, we struggled back to the condo and settled into bed. Our bed was not Western-style but was a slightly contoured wood slat construction thing. It was almost comfortable.
So it was off to Handan. It was a dull gray cold February day. The countryside was downright boring as we zipped along at 75mph. The ever-present poplar trees were like a picket fence separating the highway from the peasants in the field. Distant farms were marked by tendrils of smoke reaching into the winter sky. There was one toll stop and we took a bathroom break at a roadside restaurant. It was very strange to accompany my son’s father-in-law (Yuquan Ren was his name btw) into the men’s room at a cruddy roadside place in the middle of nowhere China. I felt like an alien with 3 heads. Grim truckers at the urinals – think Twilight Zone in black and white. And Yuquan had the voice and the demeanor of a thug - obviously used to getting his own way. Now thug is actually too strong a word perhaps, but you get the idea.
Anyways . . . the countryside zipping by was very flat the whole way - interrupted only by a couple of river valleys. Conversation was difficult because of the language barrier and Yuquan was not the sort for idle chitchat anyway. We would ask a question from the back seat and Shennie would translate it from the third seat. Etc etc. His answers were always abrupt and I never really saw him smile – ever. Ok, maybe there was a wisp of a smile in one photo . . .
The highway skirted numerous industrial cities and passed through the middle of the large depressingly gray hulk of Shijiazhuang. Dismally gray monster buildings lined the highway on both sides. While highway views can be deceiving, ugly is the first descriptive word that comes to mind.
Things brightened up on the off-ramp into Handan. This is an industrial city with a core of about 1M and the greater incorporated Handan area accounts for 6M souls. And no one I have ever spoken to since has ever heard of the place. This area of town was obviously the ‘new’ area - the streets were wide with lots of open space gradually being populated with new imposing corporate buildings, condo developments and bright strips of stores. It looked like a new business park area anywhere in the world. We pulled into a small low-slung newish condo building on a store-lined busy side street.
We were designated to stay with the bride’s uncle (the mother’s brother) in one of his condos while the mother and various relatives stayed in the other one that he owned in town. He was an obviously well-to-do entrepreneur that owned a steel fabrication factory. He told me – through a translator – that he had a third condo in a city on the coast. Speaking of translators, aside from Shennie, a cousin (Yuheng Li) appeared for the weekend who spoke passable basic English and she proved to be very helpful – as well as being a happy sort of person so we weren't totally isolated. Another translator – some slick government assistant of the bride’s father – was also around for the money negotiation and the ceremony later in this narrative. Yeah, I will tell you more.
Our hosts were the very charming Zhaojun Li and his lovely wife Lijun Guo, who proved to be extremely warm and welcoming to us. It didn't take us long to figure out that the mother's side of the family (the Li side as it were) was the friendly side, the ones that loved a good party. Their three bedroom condo was on the top floor of 5. It sported a surprisingly large shoe room at the entrance, a spacious living room with a balcony into the inner courtyard of the complex, one bathroom, a small kitchen and three bedrooms. Nicely furnished with a large fish tank. They gave us their son’s room for the three nights, while the bride and groom got their daughter’s. The son slept on the couch and the daughter went to the other condo.
After a round of greetings to all – including meeting the bride’s mother (Zhaoyun Li) for the first time - the bride’s father excused himself for the evening and most of the next day and left to attend to some urgent business. No one missed him – including his wife. She was a very ‘jolly’ woman – for lack of a better description. Always smiling – always speaking to us in Mandarin – with or without translation. After the near-stifling van ride with her uncommunicative husband, she and her brother’s family were a breath of fresh air. They happily bundled us outside and down the road to a restaurant for a family meal. And we had a blast.
Right from the start, Zhaojun (uncle) was determined to test my drinking skills. He ordered an expensive bottle of Moutai and two porcelain cups and proceeded to get me drunk. While the ladies ordered the food – which was heaped into the middle of the large table – he challenged me drink by drink through the whole bottle. Just the two of us. We had a very entertaining evening with lots of laughter as they welcomed us into their family. Great food btw as well.
Moutai or Maotai is served in tiny 1/2 - 3/4 ounce porcelain shot glasses. Suggestion: Drink lots of tea, warm water, Coke . . . anything to dilute this 53% rocket fuel. It has a distinctive taste, but not one that I really like. To signal a toast, you tap your shot glass on the glass lazy Susan & point it at your drinking partner. The toast 'Ganbay' signals your intention to 'bottoms up' your drink. Then after you slug it down, you show him that your glass is empty.
All of our family dinners over the weekend were similar. Food always seems to be served at a round table with a lazy Susan which accommodates sharing of all the dishes. Prepare to eat with only chop sticks - Western utensils were non-existent. Dinner items: edible fungus - hot & cold, egg, chicken, pork & beef dishes, whole fish, various broths & many different vegetables dishes. Steamed dumplings with misc meat fillings were always good - the locals dip them into a vinegar. An individual bowl of noodles is often served to each diner at the end of this feast. Hotpot - as described in the Beijing page - is always viewed as a special treat. For drinks, expect tea, warm water, sometimes wine & soft drinks.
Completely satiated, we struggled back to the condo and settled into bed. Our bed was not Western-style but was a slightly contoured wood slat construction thing. It was almost comfortable.
Day 4 Saturday Feb 10
We spent the day just hanging out with the family and preparing for the wedding. For breakfast, we were served huge bowls of packaged noodle soup to which they had added a poached eggs. It was interesting to attack this concoction with chopsticks. This routine was repeated every morning - we never saw them cook anything else. Quite tasty actually but quite a break from Western style. The family didn't seem to eat breakfast that we could see . . .
The women spent a chunk of the day hustling around preparing the Wedding Bed with red linens and a phrase spelled in decorative nuts praying for the couple to have a male child very soon. A large picture of the bride and groom was placed at the head of their bed.
We spent the day just hanging out with the family and preparing for the wedding. For breakfast, we were served huge bowls of packaged noodle soup to which they had added a poached eggs. It was interesting to attack this concoction with chopsticks. This routine was repeated every morning - we never saw them cook anything else. Quite tasty actually but quite a break from Western style. The family didn't seem to eat breakfast that we could see . . .
The women spent a chunk of the day hustling around preparing the Wedding Bed with red linens and a phrase spelled in decorative nuts praying for the couple to have a male child very soon. A large picture of the bride and groom was placed at the head of their bed.
We went out for a big lunch with a large entourage at a local eatery across the road from the condo. It was very, very good once again and the family had a good time. Then around 5:00 pm, the whole family went with us to the mall to exchange the shoes that the bride’s father had purchased for the groom for the wedding. They were tastefully stylish but too large so a replacement was urgently needed.
On the way, we stopped at the main Bank of China location in Handan to exchange some US dollars for Yuan. This proved to be harder than expected. After bypassing an unofficial money changer just inside the door, we went to a wicket with Shennie acting as translator. The totally apathetic teller had me fill out several forms and then spent 10 minutes analyzing them. Then she came back because she suddenly needed my passport - which she already had on her desk. This back and forth continued for a while longer until she finally announced that she refused to accept the USD. Really? At the Bank of China? And the main branch in Handan? WTF? We stomped out muttering curses and by this time even the money-changer had disappeared for the day. Great. In the middle of China - totally out of a normal comfort zone - and we only had a paltry amount of local currency. We gave up the search and made do with what we had.
After that frustrating scene, we made for the busy mall - with its massive wall of bicycles parked outside - to meet the rest of the family. With a dozen people in tow, we did the groom's shoe exchange and we also did some last minute shopping for shoes for the bride. What? I couldn't believe that this was left to the last minute but women and their shoes . . . We paid for her shoes of course, to honor our commitment to her and the wedding. As we cruised around the mall, we proved to be quite the celebrities, with people staring at us, following us, taking pictures of us with their cell phone cameras, and even joining our family group as if they were with us so they could listen in. It was quite a strange feeling.
On the way, we stopped at the main Bank of China location in Handan to exchange some US dollars for Yuan. This proved to be harder than expected. After bypassing an unofficial money changer just inside the door, we went to a wicket with Shennie acting as translator. The totally apathetic teller had me fill out several forms and then spent 10 minutes analyzing them. Then she came back because she suddenly needed my passport - which she already had on her desk. This back and forth continued for a while longer until she finally announced that she refused to accept the USD. Really? At the Bank of China? And the main branch in Handan? WTF? We stomped out muttering curses and by this time even the money-changer had disappeared for the day. Great. In the middle of China - totally out of a normal comfort zone - and we only had a paltry amount of local currency. We gave up the search and made do with what we had.
After that frustrating scene, we made for the busy mall - with its massive wall of bicycles parked outside - to meet the rest of the family. With a dozen people in tow, we did the groom's shoe exchange and we also did some last minute shopping for shoes for the bride. What? I couldn't believe that this was left to the last minute but women and their shoes . . . We paid for her shoes of course, to honor our commitment to her and the wedding. As we cruised around the mall, we proved to be quite the celebrities, with people staring at us, following us, taking pictures of us with their cell phone cameras, and even joining our family group as if they were with us so they could listen in. It was quite a strange feeling.
After this expedition, the inevitable large family dinner followed - this time with his eminence - the bride's father - plunked down beside me for some heart-to-heart discussions. Over mounds of food and far too many Moutai shots, I convinced him that I would be a good steward for his daughter and would treat her as my own etc etc. The rest of the family was having a great time - with gales of laughter - as I solemnly gave my promise to him.
Then it was back to the condo to meet the wedding organizer. We were extremely relieved that we were finally going to learn about the wedding ceremony that was now a little over 12 hours away. The wedding organizer and a gentleman, who was to be our son’s escort throughout the wedding, interviewed us and went over the events of the following day. The wedding organizer was extremely nice but his English was very poor and yet we managed to communicate, in spite of the official translator’s very late arrival at around 10:30 pm. This was the government stooge that I mentioned above. We were explicitly told what amounts of money were to be put in each red packet as our contribution to the wedding costs. And no matter who gives who a red envelope, they all end up in the bride's father's hands - either to offset the wedding costs or as a bribe - as often happens in modern Chinese society. At some weddings, tens of thousands of Yuan can change hands quietly, invisibly. I had read about that as well. Fortunately, we were prepared to contribute, but it was a little late in the day to lay this on us, especially since I was half in the bag from excessive Moutai. Luckily we had wallets bulging with US & CNY in various denominations. The bride and groom were really upset as they didn't realize that this was going to happen – they were just blissfully in love and didn't have a clue as to what to expect on the business side of things - so we had to do some feather smoothing to keep everybody happy. Who said it was easy being a parent? After the envelope stuffing, our cash reserves were $800 - $900 lighter . . .
People eventually left and we finally started to wrap up around 2am, when all hell broke lose. A panicked call from the bride. She was ensconced with her mother in the other condo for the pre-wedding night. Her father was cancelling the wedding. And something about the father calling out the army to destroy the evidence of the civil ceremony and . . . who knows? . . . railroad us out of China? What? I mean seriously WTF?
It turned out that during our interview with the Wedding Planner and the slime ball translator earlier in the evening, we had mentioned the groom's age. Well, he was two years younger than the bride, and the bride had lied to her father. Kaboom. He hit the roof and made his threats. And everybody went ballistic.
Meet force with force. I thing it is in Sun Tzu's The Art of War. Zhaoyun - the bride's mother - pulled out all of the stops. She threatened to leave for Australia with her daughter that night. Leave him. Leave the country. Goodbye.
We went to bed not knowing if the wedding was on or off and wondering where we would be tomorrow . . .
People eventually left and we finally started to wrap up around 2am, when all hell broke lose. A panicked call from the bride. She was ensconced with her mother in the other condo for the pre-wedding night. Her father was cancelling the wedding. And something about the father calling out the army to destroy the evidence of the civil ceremony and . . . who knows? . . . railroad us out of China? What? I mean seriously WTF?
It turned out that during our interview with the Wedding Planner and the slime ball translator earlier in the evening, we had mentioned the groom's age. Well, he was two years younger than the bride, and the bride had lied to her father. Kaboom. He hit the roof and made his threats. And everybody went ballistic.
Meet force with force. I thing it is in Sun Tzu's The Art of War. Zhaoyun - the bride's mother - pulled out all of the stops. She threatened to leave for Australia with her daughter that night. Leave him. Leave the country. Goodbye.
We went to bed not knowing if the wedding was on or off and wondering where we would be tomorrow . . .