Warning: This is a catchup post, and is very long and not as funny as most things will be. This is an attempt to get people up to date on my life, and the stories will start when I can actually upload a lot of pictures.
Well, here we go. The first of many entries from China. The one following this will have lots of pictures, because China has the most awesome signage ever. However, I’m getting way ahead of myself. The journey starts a couple of days ago, and at this point I’ve completely lost track of time. I think today is Sunday, but at this point everything is a bit of a blur. So lets go back to the beginning. I start off at a security checkpoint in Fort Lauderdale. I, being the mighty Jew warrior I am, must look like an EXTREME terrorist, as they fully unpacked both of my carryons, and left me there to repack them. Either that, or I am by far the worst drug smuggler ever, as a number of items in my carryon looked a hell of a lot like weed and coke. Either way, I get through security and onto the plane. I make it into Providence for the couple of hour layover at Cory’s. We repack a bit, and head back out to Boston Logan.
Here is where the fun begins. It’s a bit after 3:30 AM, and our greatest fear almost came true! We gave ourselves a seven hour layover in Toronto just in case Boston disappeared, and we had to drive there. We arrive, and Air Canada staff isn’t there, and the rest of their “alliance” partners were completely useless. I heard such rumors as “Air Canada doesn’t arrive until 6 AM. Oh, your flight is at 6:10? That sucks.” to “Would you like Bacon or Sausage on your Bagel?” Finally, they arrived, and we moved to the next thing. The dreaded Airport Security. That also hadn’t arrived yet. Now, usually you might think, “Well, if security isn’t here, I think I can go straight through!” Well, it turns out this is wrong, and it requires a key card and airport security isn’t amused by looking through their window to watch them eat breakfast. So, yet again, they unpack my bags, and ask me if I’m carrying cocaine or bombs. I answer both of these questions no, and get through.
We board a smaller plane, and I run into the fear of smaller bag areas. Mainly because my carryon weighs around the weight limit for checked luggage, and I’m pretty certain airlines don’t like that. The only eventful thing on the flight was learning how to say “Beautiful woman”, which is apparently all I need to get by in China. So far my attempts to use it at the convenience store and a truck driver that attempted to get me to hitch a ride with him to a deserted resort have failed miserably. I’m assuming that this is only because of my terrible pronunciation, and will continue my quest to survive using only that phrase.
We get into Toronto, and go through the politest air port security check ever. “May we please check your bag?” the guard asked, and I almost wanted to say no to see if they’d let me through anyway. I assumed a Canadian prison would be better than a Chinese one, but decided that I didn’t want to risk getting trapped in the mountains with a bear, a canadian mounty and a moose. After getting through security again, we sit down and wait for everyone else in our group to arrive. A number of hours later, there are 6 of us gathered around the one person with identifiable clothes, a pair of yellow pants. My sign of “I’m the dude with a green Duffel Bag” went to waste.
The flight goes really well, and we get into China, and go through immigration and quarantine. Now, Cory is an idiot and writes down he actually had symptoms of Swine Flu, and he gets taken for a while. We get through immigration, and I have a new greatest fear! A piece of dust got into my nose, and I had to try incredibly hard not to sneeze in front of immigration, so I’m standing there twitching waiting for her to check my passport. I figure a couple moments of twitching is better than three months in a Chinese hospital. We get through, and Cory gets separated from us while waiting on the airport tram. At this point, I make my first cultural faux pass, a 16th century history joke. As Cory gets off the tram, I go to get his attention by screaming “Marco!” “I probably shouldn’t have yelled that here.” “Polo”. Needless to say, Cory finds us, and we get our bags and go into the strictest customs I have ever seen. There are numerous sniffer machines, and a bunch of X-ray machines. We use none of them, and walk straight through.
We get on a bus, and get ready for our first day in Beijing. As we leave the airport, we’re all heavily excited to be in Beijing proper! At this point, we have our first example of disappointment as after a 20 minute ride, we end up back at another terminal in the airport. Eventually we leave, and watch as our bus is eventually passed by mopeds, a station wagon, and a man on a rickshaw. Now, my first impression of China’s roads involved a bike parked in the center of the street, and cars honking as they go around it. We arrive at the hotel, and do what every large group does is the middle of nowhere. Drink! After we start drinking, they inform us we can’t drink because of a medical exam. This fails miserably, and they cancel the medical exam. The next day, we have a short meeting to learn our “teams”, and then get the rest of the day off. A bunch of us wander away, and find the nicest retirement home possible, complete with Chinese police security. After getting the Chinese security officer to pose with a football in the Heisman pose, we eventually wander the other direction passed three fish refineries, four dogs, a toilet, a man driving on the sidewalk, an internet café, the same man later sleeping on the sidewalk, and finally arrive at a convenience store. At some point, I will attempt to eat the Blueberry Lays, or the random “duck in a bag” they had. I’m also pretty certain I drank baby formula, but it was delicious.
We get back and the copious amounts of socializing(drinking) begins. There ends up being another group at the hotel, and they separate us from them for a bit. Eventually, the Chinese men in that group take down the barricade, and we end up doing karaoke and dancing with a bunch of Chinese. Now, one of these men was by far the ballsiest man I have ever met. He’s the equivalent of a guy in a club that gets turned down, doesn’t bother moving and turns to the person next to the last girl and starts going. He doesn’t even just grab woman. Any limb near him is fair game, and he does a fair bit of apologizing every time he grabs a dude. He asks every female for their number, and the second they say “I have no cell phone”, he immediately turns to the next one. However, I should mention the hotel has a grand total of four songs from the real artist, and a lot of early pop from the 90’s sung by knockoff artists. This makes for an amazing dance party! You always know what’s coming, and it’s usually not very good. After hearing “I’m a genie in a bottle” sung by what might have been a 50 year old man for the thirtieth time, I retired for the night. The next day begins, and we go through a lot of meetings. I have my first interview, so hopefully I’ll know exactly where I’m placed soon. Yet again, we do copious amounts of socializing, and eventually pass out.
In regards to non-specific experiences, the people here are completely and utterly awesome. It takes a certain kind of person to come out to China, and it’s great being in a group of almost entirely outgoing people. It’s really easy to go from table to table talking to people. I’m really enjoying my time so far. Anyway, breakfast time.
