I give up, I lift my hands up in despair, I thought I had come far enough away to avoid it, but no, it seems that I am destined, wherever I shall be,
to fall victim to the universal taxi driver club! Is this a secret society that has a 'blog', 'website', 'chat room' or other form of source or contact between and unknown only to themselves?! Is it a secret society that only
licensed card holders can join? If this in truth does exist, will someone please inform me as how to break this 'ring' that can drive an otherwise normal, happy, friendly and positive thinking individual to dementia!
At first it was trying to hail a cab, I have mentioned in the past that they
have surely posted my photograph around their secret Internet group, but
that in time passed and the drivers that were 'sent' to take me proved to be a little more understanding. Then it seems, that every Friday when I have to take a long taxi journey out past the sixth ring road (that is pretty
far), I have to pass through a good number of phone calls, exasperation and threats to actually reach my destination!!! The latter being a call to their office to complain that they refuse to take me to where I wish to go, but instead are happy to leave me along the way, with no other form of transport in sight, 'cos it is too far or too difficult to locate!!!
I have now become clever, along with map, red pen marking the way, limited Chinese vocab and written instructions as to which highway to go on, this too seems to be getting better, but upon arrival and request for repeat performance, am turned down with regret.
When I drove to the airport last week, the driver tried to persuade me to pay for his toll fare back in an endeavour to keep the change from the 100 rmb that I had given him. Amazingly, all my Chinese seemed to leave my memory and I was happy to play dumb, in requesting my change, with an outstretched palm!
After my brief stay in another city, that story will be for another day, a taxi was called for me by the hotel to take me to the airport. The driver set off quite happily, but even I could see that the road taken was not the correct one (I can read picture road signs)! Using gestures and annoyance in my voice, I was given to understand that we were about to change drivers, on my meter time mind and only then after the first one was taken to a suitable destination for himself, would we continue on our original journey, that of the airport!!! Upon arrival, I refused to pay any extra fare and promptly gave only what I knew the fare to be!
Does this mean that every time you travel there has to be a guide as to the exact amount or thereabouts that the fare should cost, to save not only on the 'pennies' but more importantly on your blood pressure level. As for myself, well, you can be sure that you can rely on me to count to 10, before I let 'fly'.
Lastly, please, traffic police out there, or driving authorities, make a law to limit braking!!!! What is it; is this again a way to make us seasick so that at the end of the fare we will be in such a dizzy state that we will overpay? Does no one know how to break with ease? Have you not been
informed that if the drive is smoother and more comfortable, a tip will be
forthcoming without any tricks!?
Saturday, June 14, 2008
A Bizarre Pallette
Every time I sit down with a group of Chinese people, that in truth is daily
due to my job, inevitably comes up the subject of food. This is not suprising considering that despite the media/celebrity/personal pressures of wanting to be slim or skinny, we do have a love and hate
relationship with our stomach and taste buds.
For some, the mere sight or smell of food can revert them to a blubbering mess, for others such as myself, the glance is enough to make me gain weight!! I often say that I wished that I had a 'love affair' with food, but the furthest that I can say that is my passion is yogurt and cheese, both of which do me no service!!
Living in Asia, or maybedue to the hours I work,or TV access is different due to another sat elite system, I have unlimited access to food and travel programmes and can happily indulge myself in a daydream (usually night one) of planning, all the places that I intend to visit in my lifetime. The only trouble with this is that it will not be '1000 places to see before you die' but more of 'the thousand you wish to afford to see before that appointed time!'.
So, it is with great interest that I watch a variety of travelling persona taking me from the Americas to the exotic, happily placing 'food stuffs'in their mouths, either with a grimace, wink or ....... as they attempt to show
excitement in being the one to eat beetles, worms, whale blubber, squirrel or anything else that in that part of the world resembles food! All I can say to that is 'good on yeh!'.
Before I came here to Beijing, I was warned of all the awful food stuffs that they eat, but in truth have been unable to find anything too ghastly except for scorpions! Chicken feet, that I remember we called 'giblets' as
children, would often be served in the chicken soup, together with the bird's neck, but the difference between those 'extras' and the ones served here, are that at least my mother's ones had had a manicure!
My own personal conclusion to the awful things that I subject myself to watch, is that these particular 'foods' were once the only source of protein
or diet that some people had in more remote areas and thus became part of the national diet. Growing up watching your grandparents eat these
strange and moving insects and wigglies, would have seemed normal, for I myself who would think twice about picking up a worm today, thought nothing of it as a child. So, I believe that even though our logical western mind finds these goodies distasteful and some even venture to be brave and taste, I don't believe that any one can look at some of these ugly creepy crawlies, or whale blubber (that stinks to high heaven) and say, yummy yummy!!!!!
due to my job, inevitably comes up the subject of food. This is not suprising considering that despite the media/celebrity/personal pressures of wanting to be slim or skinny, we do have a love and hate
relationship with our stomach and taste buds.
For some, the mere sight or smell of food can revert them to a blubbering mess, for others such as myself, the glance is enough to make me gain weight!! I often say that I wished that I had a 'love affair' with food, but the furthest that I can say that is my passion is yogurt and cheese, both of which do me no service!!
Living in Asia, or maybedue to the hours I work,or TV access is different due to another sat elite system, I have unlimited access to food and travel programmes and can happily indulge myself in a daydream (usually night one) of planning, all the places that I intend to visit in my lifetime. The only trouble with this is that it will not be '1000 places to see before you die' but more of 'the thousand you wish to afford to see before that appointed time!'.
So, it is with great interest that I watch a variety of travelling persona taking me from the Americas to the exotic, happily placing 'food stuffs'in their mouths, either with a grimace, wink or ....... as they attempt to show
excitement in being the one to eat beetles, worms, whale blubber, squirrel or anything else that in that part of the world resembles food! All I can say to that is 'good on yeh!'.
Before I came here to Beijing, I was warned of all the awful food stuffs that they eat, but in truth have been unable to find anything too ghastly except for scorpions! Chicken feet, that I remember we called 'giblets' as
children, would often be served in the chicken soup, together with the bird's neck, but the difference between those 'extras' and the ones served here, are that at least my mother's ones had had a manicure!
My own personal conclusion to the awful things that I subject myself to watch, is that these particular 'foods' were once the only source of protein
or diet that some people had in more remote areas and thus became part of the national diet. Growing up watching your grandparents eat these
strange and moving insects and wigglies, would have seemed normal, for I myself who would think twice about picking up a worm today, thought nothing of it as a child. So, I believe that even though our logical western mind finds these goodies distasteful and some even venture to be brave and taste, I don't believe that any one can look at some of these ugly creepy crawlies, or whale blubber (that stinks to high heaven) and say, yummy yummy!!!!!
Friday, June 6, 2008
A saddened place
My return ticket to Beijing was via the Ukraine, through its capital city Kiev.
Strangely enough I had a niggling feeling that this city should be familiar to me, but for some reason could not place why. At the airport I discovered that my flight had been delayed and settled down with my delicious sandwiches that had
been made and provided for me by my daughter. (Every traveller should have some), I knew though that there was no chance of me going hungry, as I also had a 1kg tub of 'Humus' in my carry on, so I was well set up for my journey.
(It took me almost 3 weeks to work my way through it!)
At the gate I noticed that there seemed to be an unusual amount of Ultra Orthodox (religious) men and women milling around, till it then dawned on me
why the name of the city in Eastern Europe was so familiar, for it was the home
of many a past sage, who had lived or died before or during the Holocaust period. Excited, I timidly approached one of the travellers. This was not out of fear, but more of respect, as I was dressed in thoroughly modest, but nevertheless modern attire, to engage in conversation as to where exactly they were going and how long such a journey took.
Since my childhood, I had avidly read the 'adventurers' of one of the greatest
Sages; I had read from cover to cover countless times the stories of his wisdom
and guidance and had only recently discovered that he was in fact buried some
500 miles from the capital city. After an exchange and questions being asked
and answered, I realised that the possibility of my visiting the graveyard this trip was impossible and had to resign myself to a second visit at a later date.
Upon arrival, delayed by a number of hours, it was to discover that there were no rooms of any nature available in or around the city, as an exhibition was on and there was not a place to spare. Wishing to settle down in the airport to sleep, it was to discover that this even though a major city, mini Moscow, this particular airport was a sight for sore eyes, Stan stead in England, Pap hos in
Cyprus, would appear to be ultra facilitated and modern in comparison!
Finding a wonderfully kind taxi driver, named Alexander, he chauffeured me from place to place, till at last we found one vacant spot, that would use my limited resource of dollars, so leaving him short for the return taxi fare the following morning, but upon his insistence, I moved in for the night and fell into
an exhausted slumber.
If you are planning to travel in Eastern Europe, you must be armed with local
currency or at least dollars, sterling or euro to exchange (I only had Chinese rmb) as most places are not equipped even for credit cards. As morning broke,
I ventured out of my hotel room. I found myself in the very center of this old
city. Unlike other cities that I had visited in the East, Poland and Hungary, this was a place that resembled past beauty, as in a faded work of art, or an elegant
aristocrat of a past age, well worn and broken due to hardship and poverty. This once beautiful city was undergoing major renovation in order to return it to some of its former glory.
The streets are cobbled and broken, the houses chipped and brown, muddied by neglect, poverty and a hard winter. Nevertheless, walking through the old Jewish Ghetto and quarter, the city has an undercurrent, a vibrancy filled with
melancholy and past richness. Many a stall holder is out selling their wares, refusing to be photographed, lest it should be used in a future mug shot. My new found friend, my driver, told me that many a true antique bargain can be
found there and that in summer the streets are lined with eager visiting tourists, hoping to find a genuine antique.
Progress nevertheless is coming to this place, as McDonald's, Starbucks, Pizza
and other Western delights, line the streets, trying to bring a sense of normality into the dismal. Charming, but sad, I shall certainly return to that place, for it
is steeped in memories for us from past atrocities done by the Germans at
Babi Yar, the forest where young and old were massacred and the history of
the sages, who left their mark in their books, for all to follow their teachings.
At the airport though, I witnessed a new kind of 'modern torture'. No overweight is allowed, fines must be paid, visas produced and any offending item removed at security, but all this is done by 'un smiling' even stern not
unattractive female police/custom officers, who walk around in 'mini' skirts, dark stockings and high heels! I couldn't help but hide my mirth, as many a male was reprimanded and forced to pay a fine, but trying unsuccessfully to avert his eyes from the 'legs' of the officer standing in front of him, as he had to
hand over the required sum.
As for me and my overdraft?! Well, I offered to pay in Chinese Currency, but as
this was a no goer and I was unintimidated by a female officer, I was let off with a warning and fine less!!!
Strangely enough I had a niggling feeling that this city should be familiar to me, but for some reason could not place why. At the airport I discovered that my flight had been delayed and settled down with my delicious sandwiches that had
been made and provided for me by my daughter. (Every traveller should have some), I knew though that there was no chance of me going hungry, as I also had a 1kg tub of 'Humus' in my carry on, so I was well set up for my journey.
(It took me almost 3 weeks to work my way through it!)
At the gate I noticed that there seemed to be an unusual amount of Ultra Orthodox (religious) men and women milling around, till it then dawned on me
why the name of the city in Eastern Europe was so familiar, for it was the home
of many a past sage, who had lived or died before or during the Holocaust period. Excited, I timidly approached one of the travellers. This was not out of fear, but more of respect, as I was dressed in thoroughly modest, but nevertheless modern attire, to engage in conversation as to where exactly they were going and how long such a journey took.
Since my childhood, I had avidly read the 'adventurers' of one of the greatest
Sages; I had read from cover to cover countless times the stories of his wisdom
and guidance and had only recently discovered that he was in fact buried some
500 miles from the capital city. After an exchange and questions being asked
and answered, I realised that the possibility of my visiting the graveyard this trip was impossible and had to resign myself to a second visit at a later date.
Upon arrival, delayed by a number of hours, it was to discover that there were no rooms of any nature available in or around the city, as an exhibition was on and there was not a place to spare. Wishing to settle down in the airport to sleep, it was to discover that this even though a major city, mini Moscow, this particular airport was a sight for sore eyes, Stan stead in England, Pap hos in
Cyprus, would appear to be ultra facilitated and modern in comparison!
Finding a wonderfully kind taxi driver, named Alexander, he chauffeured me from place to place, till at last we found one vacant spot, that would use my limited resource of dollars, so leaving him short for the return taxi fare the following morning, but upon his insistence, I moved in for the night and fell into
an exhausted slumber.
If you are planning to travel in Eastern Europe, you must be armed with local
currency or at least dollars, sterling or euro to exchange (I only had Chinese rmb) as most places are not equipped even for credit cards. As morning broke,
I ventured out of my hotel room. I found myself in the very center of this old
city. Unlike other cities that I had visited in the East, Poland and Hungary, this was a place that resembled past beauty, as in a faded work of art, or an elegant
aristocrat of a past age, well worn and broken due to hardship and poverty. This once beautiful city was undergoing major renovation in order to return it to some of its former glory.
The streets are cobbled and broken, the houses chipped and brown, muddied by neglect, poverty and a hard winter. Nevertheless, walking through the old Jewish Ghetto and quarter, the city has an undercurrent, a vibrancy filled with
melancholy and past richness. Many a stall holder is out selling their wares, refusing to be photographed, lest it should be used in a future mug shot. My new found friend, my driver, told me that many a true antique bargain can be
found there and that in summer the streets are lined with eager visiting tourists, hoping to find a genuine antique.
Progress nevertheless is coming to this place, as McDonald's, Starbucks, Pizza
and other Western delights, line the streets, trying to bring a sense of normality into the dismal. Charming, but sad, I shall certainly return to that place, for it
is steeped in memories for us from past atrocities done by the Germans at
Babi Yar, the forest where young and old were massacred and the history of
the sages, who left their mark in their books, for all to follow their teachings.
At the airport though, I witnessed a new kind of 'modern torture'. No overweight is allowed, fines must be paid, visas produced and any offending item removed at security, but all this is done by 'un smiling' even stern not
unattractive female police/custom officers, who walk around in 'mini' skirts, dark stockings and high heels! I couldn't help but hide my mirth, as many a male was reprimanded and forced to pay a fine, but trying unsuccessfully to avert his eyes from the 'legs' of the officer standing in front of him, as he had to
hand over the required sum.
As for me and my overdraft?! Well, I offered to pay in Chinese Currency, but as
this was a no goer and I was unintimidated by a female officer, I was let off with a warning and fine less!!!
Home Sweet Home
Apologies for all those who read and see that I paid a flying visit back home, but did not have time to stop and say hello. At the start of May, knowing my visa was about to expire and after countless efforts to have it extended or revised, the night before my departure, I found out that I was now 'visa less!' Having already decided that it would be an opportunity to slip off home and see the brood, I had booked a flight previously and was planning to be home for a few brief days. This was necessary whatever happened, as I would have to re-enter on my British Passport, as at this point in time, no further visas were to be issued on my Israeli one.
This was by no means singled out for the Middle East, but in general the 'f'' visa
is being revoked, temporarily or otherwise as of yet unknown and all those who
wished to continue their time here, were required to go home to their own
embassies for validation. Just as I was about to board the plane, in fact with one foot on, my youngest son called to say that he would be meeting me at Ben
Gurion airport in Israel, flying in from Spain.
It was fun creating a stir in the airport lounge as we met flying in from different parts of the world and made our way back to Jerusalem together, chatting about our experiences. When we arrived, we crept into my daughter's home, as
my son in law and grand-daughter were still sleeping. It was a precious moment, when she began to wake up. I was careful not to frighten her, by making a lunge to pick her up in my arms, but smiled and spoke to her quietly.
Never mind what the books say, I guarantee that she recognised me, whether it
was my voice, or a familiar face, the beaming smile she gave was one of familiarity, for after all, I had held her just moments after she was born!
The weekend was spent walking the old city, stepping back into old haunts,
basking in the warm sun and admiring the blue sky. As we traipsed the streets
of the ancient city, I was startled to be recognised by shop sellers from my days
as a guide and pausing to say a prayer at the Western (Wailing) Wall, the last
remnant from the second temple, always manages to bring a tear to my eye.
Sunday was spent visa-shopping as I used all my wits to procure that stamp to re-enter China, even making sure that I had a ticket for the games. Proof of living accommodation had to be produced and even though I had brought a pile high of documents, they still managed to find that one vital one, to be missing.
The remainder of my stay was spent with the rest of my brood, winding in and out, touching home, a word of advice, a girlfriend intro, a wish, a blessing and all too soon I was leaving. I love Israel, I belong there, I am part of it and it is part of me, but for some reason, I miss my family greatly as well as my friends, but I am not ready to go home yet.
Upon my return and happy welcome back, many a person asked me if I wished to settle in China. In answer to this question, I will explain - that China has many merits, it is a country that is old in its history, but young in its change.
It is exciting and annoying at the same time, it is mysterious and warm, but at
times so unto tally un-western that the exasperation knows no bounds. For me
though, with all its fascination, it can never be home, for not only because of my children, but my heart belongs to another and has since I was a little girl, I am
on loan, for my place and home lies across the Mediterranean Sea, in Israel.
This was by no means singled out for the Middle East, but in general the 'f'' visa
is being revoked, temporarily or otherwise as of yet unknown and all those who
wished to continue their time here, were required to go home to their own
embassies for validation. Just as I was about to board the plane, in fact with one foot on, my youngest son called to say that he would be meeting me at Ben
Gurion airport in Israel, flying in from Spain.
It was fun creating a stir in the airport lounge as we met flying in from different parts of the world and made our way back to Jerusalem together, chatting about our experiences. When we arrived, we crept into my daughter's home, as
my son in law and grand-daughter were still sleeping. It was a precious moment, when she began to wake up. I was careful not to frighten her, by making a lunge to pick her up in my arms, but smiled and spoke to her quietly.
Never mind what the books say, I guarantee that she recognised me, whether it
was my voice, or a familiar face, the beaming smile she gave was one of familiarity, for after all, I had held her just moments after she was born!
The weekend was spent walking the old city, stepping back into old haunts,
basking in the warm sun and admiring the blue sky. As we traipsed the streets
of the ancient city, I was startled to be recognised by shop sellers from my days
as a guide and pausing to say a prayer at the Western (Wailing) Wall, the last
remnant from the second temple, always manages to bring a tear to my eye.
Sunday was spent visa-shopping as I used all my wits to procure that stamp to re-enter China, even making sure that I had a ticket for the games. Proof of living accommodation had to be produced and even though I had brought a pile high of documents, they still managed to find that one vital one, to be missing.
The remainder of my stay was spent with the rest of my brood, winding in and out, touching home, a word of advice, a girlfriend intro, a wish, a blessing and all too soon I was leaving. I love Israel, I belong there, I am part of it and it is part of me, but for some reason, I miss my family greatly as well as my friends, but I am not ready to go home yet.
Upon my return and happy welcome back, many a person asked me if I wished to settle in China. In answer to this question, I will explain - that China has many merits, it is a country that is old in its history, but young in its change.
It is exciting and annoying at the same time, it is mysterious and warm, but at
times so unto tally un-western that the exasperation knows no bounds. For me
though, with all its fascination, it can never be home, for not only because of my children, but my heart belongs to another and has since I was a little girl, I am
on loan, for my place and home lies across the Mediterranean Sea, in Israel.
Croc Mania
Well, it is festive time again and this time it coincides with the Jewish Holiday of Shavouot. It is my favorite one, for all those that know me, are bound to remember that I cannot say no to any 'irresistible' cheese, whether it be white, yellow or have blue bits in it, I am mad about 'it!' So, back to what I started, the
time for all the locals to pull out their assorted best is upon us again and it will be 'baby' show time as if the days are sunny and dry, all will be awash with strollers, carriers, proud fathers and grandfathers, all eager to show off their
offspring.
During the last break, I was a noticeable fashion icon, in my bright yellow crocs
and maybe spotted only another few pairs dotted here and there, but due to an
all out campaign of the brand, 'Crocs Mania' is hitting this town. Thanks to the company themselves, I am now a proud owner of Scutes (kingfisher blue) and
another pair of the 'regulars' in the finest palest blue too! As I already attract
attention, it seems now that I have earned a further following and comment section just on my plastic shoes!!
Last holiday I was sitting in Xian, under the drum ancient drum tower, imagining its beating in a distant past. Here in a country of 52 races, 51 ethnic
minorities and 1 majority it is always interesting to sit and observe as opposed to being .....
In a country full of holiday revellers, a charming site is when you see a family sitting down together playing cards and enjoying their game, whilst in another corner, the old folks are playing poker! But lastly, the charming site
of a larger family, all sporting cartoon (Disney) t-shirts with the family name on
as a logo.
For all that is said about China, at the end of the day, one has to admire their
family values. We may not understand all their ways, or habits, but a sense of
respect and honor for each other, is apparent and heart warming to see.
time for all the locals to pull out their assorted best is upon us again and it will be 'baby' show time as if the days are sunny and dry, all will be awash with strollers, carriers, proud fathers and grandfathers, all eager to show off their
offspring.
During the last break, I was a noticeable fashion icon, in my bright yellow crocs
and maybe spotted only another few pairs dotted here and there, but due to an
all out campaign of the brand, 'Crocs Mania' is hitting this town. Thanks to the company themselves, I am now a proud owner of Scutes (kingfisher blue) and
another pair of the 'regulars' in the finest palest blue too! As I already attract
attention, it seems now that I have earned a further following and comment section just on my plastic shoes!!
Last holiday I was sitting in Xian, under the drum ancient drum tower, imagining its beating in a distant past. Here in a country of 52 races, 51 ethnic
minorities and 1 majority it is always interesting to sit and observe as opposed to being .....
In a country full of holiday revellers, a charming site is when you see a family sitting down together playing cards and enjoying their game, whilst in another corner, the old folks are playing poker! But lastly, the charming site
of a larger family, all sporting cartoon (Disney) t-shirts with the family name on
as a logo.
For all that is said about China, at the end of the day, one has to admire their
family values. We may not understand all their ways, or habits, but a sense of
respect and honor for each other, is apparent and heart warming to see.
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