Cheapo’s Valentine’s Day

It’s 21 Feb, and we’ve just celebrated our Valentine’s Day.

Valentine’s Day has always been a bit… touchy for us. I don’t like the idea of love being shoved down our throats by every rose-selling clown on the streets (let’s call this my reason for being a cheapskate), but it’s hard not to get “in the mood” once V-day comes around.

Yup, even though we’ve been in each others’ faces 24/7 for the past couple of months, there is still something magical about a day dedicated entirely to looooooveeee.

After the first Valentine’s Day where I went the whole nine yards – gift, movie, expensive (for a student) restaurant (nope, no flowers), we sort of came to an agreement that we would leave this nonsense to the other suckers. We’ll celebrate Valentine’s Day any day we want to, thank you very much.

Yet, every year when February 14 comes around, we’ll inadvertently find ourselves looking for something special to do. We’ll dress up just that little bit better, and try to find that small restaurant/eatery and elusive park/beach that might possibly be just off every other courting couples’ radar.

In other words, we were idiots. Yet, year after year, we are like Charlie Brown when Lucy holds out her ball. We’ll go for the kick.

After nine years of “Aw Shucks” and falling on our backs, we’ve sort of fallen into a comfortable routine of going out for a walk and enjoying each others’ company, along with the other 1000000000000001 couples that are out with us.

This year, because Jo had to work (with no extra pay) late into the night, I ended up playing Skyrim on my PS3 on V Day (like a Boss). What other couples were doing on that day was out of sight and waaaaay out of mind.

Even so, we decided to make up for Valentine’s Day a week later.

We were able to sleep in before going for a slow Valentine’s Day meal (lunner?) at a somewhat elusive and very importantly, uncrowded restaurant (with no V Day price hike). If I wanted to, I could have gotten her flowers without having to pay through my nose. IF I wanted to.

We were even able to take a walk along the beach without squeezing with throngs of flower wielding girls and scores of boys looking for a discreet corner to make out in.

For us February 21 was a day of simple meals, long walks and huge ass Meringues.

We might have just started our first of many Cheapo’s Valentine’s Day s.

It’s going to be a Thing.

What we do…

As far as internet memes go, the “What people think I do / What I really do” one is coming to an end.

It’s a little late to the party, but here’s my contribution to the culture phenomenon that has entertained us for a little while.

(Not so) Happy Mountain

For a place whose Chinese name literally translates to “Happiness Mountain”, Le Shan (乐山) sure has a bunch of moody residents.

Like all our (mis)adventures, our foray into Le Shan started well enough. Once we stepped off the train, we were approached by a really friendly motor rickshaw driver. The driver enthusiastically offered to bring us around the city and help us look for a place to stay for the night. He was enthusiastic to the point that we were sure he was receiving kickback from some of the hotels. However, since the places he recommended and the prices he quoted seemed reasonable enough, we decided to give him a chance.

The decision to go along with this particular driver was cemented when he (defying all known laws of physics about matter not being able to share the same area in a consistent space/time continuum) managed to squeeze our 2 humongous backpacks and barang barangs into the same motor rickshaw with us.

What we did not realize at that time was that this was the same principal he applies to other traffic on the road as well. By now, we were pretty much accustomed to the traffic conditions in most parts of China.

Bumper to (very literally) bumper traffic? Seen that.
Overtaking motorcycles carrying a family of six (and their pet chickens) by mere millimetres? Pphhhbbbbtttt….
Oncoming bus hurtling towards us at (conservatively estimating) the speed of light? Boring…

My point is, there seems to be only one traffic rule governing the whole of China: DO NOT YIELD TO ANYONE. And after two months in China, we actually became okay with that. Yet, our pansy Singaporean/Malaysian bladders very nearly emptied themselves every time Mr Rickshaw Driver Man turned around and asked us if we can believe the kind of idiots they allow onto the roads these days (all the time squeezing through the narrowest of crevices between cars whilst wildly gesturing at fellow road users).

Despite the threat of impending death, we managed to get a conversation going with Mr Rickshaw Driver Man. We spoke of the places we’d gone to and the attractions around Sichuan, but we would inevitably end most conversational threads with him saying, “I know you wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for the Big Buddha.”

Each time, we laughed it off and tried to be polite, mumbling something along the lines that we are sure there MUST be other things to do in Le Shan.

We didn’t think much about it then, but it was a theme that was going to repeat itself over the three days we spent in Le Shan. Seemingly friendly conversations with the locals of Le Shan would invariably end with them punctuating each sentence with ”I know you wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for the Big Buddha”.

We were apologetic at first. We tried to reason with them that there must be other things to do in Le Shan. Then we felt guilty because there really was not much else in Le Shan beside the Big Buddha. After a few (thousand) of these conversations, we became downright irritated.

It’s the Kübler-Ross (non) model of coping with the lack of attractions in a scenic spot.

No wonder the residents of Le Shan are moody.

The Four Hour City

The last stop for our Yangtze river cruise was the city of Chongqing (重庆).

According to our Chinese travel guide, Chongqing is famous for three things:

1) The night time scenery (ok…..)
2) The hottest hot pot in the entire world
3) The prettiest girls in China (a city that claims, I shit you not, you can see a Bridgette Lin every three steps and a Maggie Cheung every five steps) (三步一个林青霞，五步一个张曼玉)

In spite of Jo’s whining that she would need to survive on a diet of bread and fruits for the next few days, I was pretty excited stepping off the ship (see point 3). I wanted to check into a hostel immediately and start exploring the presumably lovely city of Chongqing (again, see point 3)

We first realized that all was not quite right in Chongqing as we were making our way to the hostel recommended by Lonely Planet. We know that Chongqing is VERY hilly and because of the mountains surrounding the city, it is almost perpetually shrouded in fog, mist and… pollutants.

We’ve read about this, yet somehow I don’t think we truly appreciated how potent a combination these two factors make. We know we’ve been pampering ourselves silly the past week or so, but panting madly after a flight of stairs is just… wrong. It doesn’t help that the phlegm we coughed out was kind of grayish. (I know, TMI, but I’m trying to make a point here).

(Un?)fortunately, the hostel (which we did not pre-book) was out of rooms. There were dingy dorms available, but I figured that after a week of cruising, we really need to ease slowly into the whole “roughing it out” routine again. When I say “we”, of course I meant “I”.

The next available hostel is a dizzying 400 metres climb up a hill.

Believe it or not, at this point, we were still willing to give Chongqing a chance, but the straw that finally broke the proverbial camel’s back was a billboard we saw on the way to the other hostel.

It read (in bold) “Chongqing: A Liveable City”.

At first, we thought it was one of those things that got “lost in translation”, but the Chinese sign actually read: “重庆：宜居的都市“ (literally, Chongqing: A Liveable City)

I think you are pretty much scraping the bottom of the barrel when the best adjective you can think of to promote your city is “liveable”. Note to the governor of Chongqing: you really should think about sacking your tourism department.

We booked the first train out of the city.

And that’s the story of how we went in and out of a city in four hours.

We did not even stop to take a photo.

Ok, we took one. The famous night scene of Chongqing which we took from the Queen Victoria the night before.

I know... not that great a photo. We really thought we would be able to take more photos once we get into the city

But what about point 3???

Well, let’s just say that I left the city WILLINGLY.

If you’re going through Hell, keep going

Excursions are funny things.

If you were to mention school excursions, most people would be able to conjure up fond childhood memories of giving hi-fives to anthropomorphic rodents/ducks/dogs in a park and stuffing their faces with all sorts of sugary junk.

If you are a child of the 80s living in Singapore (like me), there is a very high chance that the first images that slip into your mind would probably be of rats chewing on the innards of a disembowelled prisoner or watching someone getting their faces (and other less savoury body parts) cut off by demons.

Yes. Demons.

You see, we have a “theme park” in Singapore called Haw Par Villa. To be honest, Haw Par Villa is more of a sculpture garden than a theme park.  The former residence of two Singaporean tycoons, it is now a large area littered with statues which are supposed to graphically illustrate significant scenes from Chinese mythology and other stories of virtue. To a eight year old me, the only thing it graphically displayed was the content of my bladder on my bed at night.

The last excursion in the itinerary for our Yangtze River Cruise was to a place called Fengdu Ghost City (丰都鬼城). It is billed as a “Necropolis leading into the Gates of Hell where ghosts and demons abound”.

I was suitably excited. Jo… decidedly less so.

The Queen Victoria dropped us at a pier leading to the Ghost City. A county within the municipality of Chongqing, Fengdu (丰都县) and much of the Ghost City had been submerged since the completion of the Three Gorges project.

The Queen Victoria and us

From the pier, we took a leisurely golf cart ride (400 metres) up a hill (did I mention we’ve been travelling in style since we got on the cruise ship?) to the Gates of Hell. Along the way, we passed this weird structure that had been carved into the side of a hill.

The King of Hell (阎罗王) would flip in his... ermm... grave...

It’s supposed to be an uncompleted five star hotel (really!) carved in the likeness of (why not?) the King of Hell (阎罗王). The concept is that the King of Hell stands watch over all of Fengdu….

We passed by a few smaller temples before reaching the entrance to the Gates of Hell which is guarded by 18 Ghosts (each representing a different vice)

The Ghosts guarding the gates of hell. The Hungry Ghost (贪吃鬼), the Ghost of Lust (色鬼) and the most heinous vice of them all, the ermm... Wreath Eating Ghost (食蔓鬼) (?????) that has a goat nursing on her breast....

And my favourite…

Sharing a drink with the drunken ghost (酒鬼)

The Gates of Hell

We then passed through the Courts of Hell that are apparently run by a group of (dusty) demi-gods and ermm.. bureaucrats.

Demons... and some of the milder images in Fengdu

The highlight of the excursion was a diorama of the Chinese Eighteen Levels of Hell, that GRAPHICALLY depict the punishments evil (and some not so evil) doers go through after death.

Due to the graphic nature of the dioramas (and also us not taking enough pictures), I shall only give a small preview of what we saw that afternoon…

** WARNING: GRAPHIC GORE COMING UP NEXT **

Hell, yeah!

l think it speaks volumes of my upbringing when this image makes me nostalgic about my childhood.

How the Gar-inch stole the Chinese New Year

I am not a big fan of the Chinese New Year.

There, I’ve said it.

No, I’m not a bratty 14 year old ashamed of my Chinese heritage, it’s just that I get a bit miffed by the occasional ”obligatory” things we need to do during the Chinese New Year.

Context : A big part of Chinese New Year is the act of “pai nian” (拜年) (literally “pai” and “nian”) where family and friends take turn to visit each other’s houses over the Chinese New Year period. It is part of the Chinese New Year tradition, but ever since I was younger, I felt that it is just a bit too obligatory for my liking. Over the years, I actually grew to be fine with it. In some ways, I even think it is necessary to be “forced” to meet up with people you normally would not have met up with (or even go out of your to avoid meeting with). The thing that bothers me about”pai nian”-ing is how it amplifies the natural dynamics in most Chinese families.

You see, an important factor of the “pai nian” process is the exchange of mandarin oranges with the host and the giving of red packets of money (ang pows) to the unmarried members of the family.

Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve observed that in the steady state, a lot of Chinese families maintain relationships much like the ones between US and the Soviets during the 80s. There is a bit of competition and some hidden spite, but all in all everyone maintains a cordial (sometime respectful) relationship to avoid mutually assured destruction.

The game changes during Chinese New Year. Everyone would probably have started out bringing two oranges for the exchange and passing out $8 ang pows. But one year, Relative A (US) would suddenly decide to bring along a box of new year goodies “just to share”. This will provoke Relative B (Russia) to rush to a nearby supermarket to buy a box of oranges and say it was “just lying at home”. Not wanting to be outdone, Relative A will then give out $10 ang pows the following year because it was “a good year”. To top that, Relative B will start giving out $12 ang pows, bring along two boxes of mandarin oranges and a box of New Year goodies. Before you know it, everyone starts arriving for Chinese New Year gatherings in rented mini vans because of the amount of gifts/ang pow money they are carrying.

At this point, Relative C (China) who had not been able to keep up will pretend to be disdainful of the whole situation, and at the same time, giving himself the perfect excuse to not go for any more Chinese New Year gatherings. All the while, the only ones who stand to benefit from the fallout of this conflict are the blood thirsty terrorists and conniving arms dealers sitting on the sidelines (Child A, B, C to Z).

Of course, the “pai nian” is just an aspect of the Chinese New Year. There are other components. Taken separately, some of the individual components of the Chinese New Year are irritating, but if you put them all together they are practically intolerable.

There’s the “Dong dong dong dong chiang”. I don’t think there’s any concrete study done on this matter, but my intuition tells me that if they do a profiling of known mass murderers, an uncanny number would have a history of writing Chinese New Year songs. I mean any song writer that choose to accentuate every word of his song with a cymbal crash should be classified as what they would call in technical terms, a psychopath.

As a former percussionist in a school band, I speak with good authority that drums and cymbals are a lot more enjoyable for the player than it is the audience. Believe me there’s always a strong sadistic temptation to interrupt the most inappropriate parts of the song with a cymbal crash. Most people don’t act on this temptation because they realize that there would be consequences. I know from first hand experience that a cymbal crash at the wrong moment often cause others to want to stuff a drum stick up your… Dong Chiang, if you know what I mean (when I say “others” I meant “fellow band members who are stuck rehearsing the same piece for hours”). I would like to take the time to clarify that I am not a psychopath. I just possess a seemingly inhuman non-existent sense of rhythm.

Next is the colour red. The Chinese believe that red is the colour of prosperity. The Green Lanterns believe it’s the colour of rage. I stand on the side of the immortal wisdom of DC comics. Scarlet is actually one of my favourite colours, but during Chinese New Year, I have to refrain from wearing it because no one could see you if you are wearing red during Chinese New Year. If Modern Warfare ever comes up with a Chinese New Year mod, the outfits for the players would be red. There actually is a life lesson in all this… There CAN be too much of a good thing, especially if the good thing involves primary colours… and Modern Warfare should totally come up with a Chinese New Year mod.

Finally, there’s the Chinese New Year food.

There’s nothing wrong with the Chinese New Year food.

Chinese New Year food is awesome.

Anyway, this is a bit late, but I’ll like to wish everyone here a happy Chinese New Year and may the New Year goodies not add any bulk to your Dong Chiang.

Gorge-ous Gorges

I can’t help the pun.

The highlight of the Three Gorges Yangtze（长江三峡）River Cruise is the… drum roll…. Three Gorges (surprise!!) – at least that’s what the cruise liners all advertise on their flyers.

Jo, doing the "Titanic" as we sail through the Gorges. We were on a cruise ship. Someone HAD to do it!

To be honest, Jo and I were a bit mountain-fatigued coming into this leg of the trip, so we were really just here for five days of hard core pampering. (when I say “Jo and I” and “we”, I really meant “I”) (Don’t judge! I estimate we have been climbing an average of 1000000000000000000000 flights of stairs a day prior to the cruise… give or take). But like always, in one way or another, China has a way of hitting you in the guts and taking your breath away.

We passed through Xilin Gorge (西陵峡), the first of the Three Gorges at 6.30 in the morning. Maybe it’s just me, but I personally think that anything that can awe Jo awake at 6.30 am to do this… must be doing something right.

For me, all is good in the world when you can see gorgeous mountain sceneries without needing to climb a single step.

In a weird “Inception” – like moment, Victoria Cruises even arranged to transfer us from the cruise liner to a small ferry to an even smaller sampan for our “shore” excursions to the Little Three Gorges (小三峡) and then the (really!) Little Little Three Gorges (小小三峡) There’s something serene about drifting along a river, sipping a beer and watching the idyllic townships float by.

We saw quaint little villages along the river. The vertical lines were apparently cut into the cliffs decades ago when the only way for boats to transit along the (then) shallow tributaries was by, I kid you not... (naked) men pulling them along with ropes. We were then transferred onto a small sampan - like one of those Russian dolls which you open up to reveal smaller and smaller dolls

At the back of my mind, I know it is all very “touristy” and that many of this townships are shadows of their former selves. It’s just hard not to “feel it” when you have a ferry man decked out in his best wuxia novel boat man outfit (complete with long bamboo pole) (and jeans). Mr Boatman completed the picture by singing us traditional folk songs that reverberated around the cliffs that surround us.

Our Funky Boatman

The cruise was made all the more surreal by the colonies of monkeys that scamper along the river edge and ermm.. hanging coffins (悬棺).

The hanging coffins of Sichuan. If you stare (squint) really hard, you can even see the coffins within the caves. The coffins were driven into the cliffs about 2500 years ago by the Bo people, but to this day, no one knows why they did it, or even how they did it. Bear in mind that the water level was 185 metres lower back in the day... which means the coffins were much higher above the waterline

It’s a thing.

All in all, it was a good day excursion before we were transferred back to the mother ship. We spent the rest of the day (and night) sailing through the Wu Gorge (巫峡) and the Qutang Gorge (瞿塘峡)

By “we”, of course I meant the captain of the ship. Jo and I? We spent the rest of the day eating, napping, eating, eating, sleeping and eating again.