On New Year’s Eve we took full advantage of the Ocean Park, visiting the Aquarium, Jellies, Sea Lion Show, and Musical Fountain Light Show. I’d seen the fountain show at the Bellagio in Vegas, which I mistakenly used as a reference. To be fair, I should have known that I was in for a different kind of show when Kelly and I were the only people in the audience between the ages of 40 and 4, and the only couple present without a fetus. The water sprays, spurts of fire and fireworks were actually impressive, but I could have done without the breaks for rapping and dancing starfish, projections of Disney characters onto water sprays, and ballet-renditions of lion fish falling in love.
At night we watched the fireworks over the water from “Club H20”, the lounge/bar of the hotel. The wine was delicious (I’d forgotten what non-Greatwall wine tasted like!) and the night outside was a wonderfully starry sight. Me and Kelly recounted all that we could of 2010, thinking of “best __(new food/month/season/trip)___” and made resolutions for the new year. It’s hard to believe that just a year ago we were on Avenue D drinking someone’s Patron and thinking about moving to China.
Each part of our trip to the Philippines was exactly what I needed, from family to resort, to beach, to Jellyfish. I have to say though, I’m starting to seriously wonder if me and Kelly are the only people like us anywhere. (Or at least on this side of the world.) That’s not even just to say we’re the only lesbians, as I’m sure I’ve made that point before. But on this trip, we were the only mid-20’s girls traveling. In each of our four locations, we were mostly with families, even young families, with the occasional straight couple under 40. Many, many people asked us if we were sisters.
Unfortunately, the questions of me and Kelly being related is not new to us. In America I’ve been asked if we were cousins, and even told as a “compliment” that we “look so much like!” But sisters is a whole new level. Kelly said that it’s just their way to wrap their heads around two women traveling alone during the holidays. That I guess I can understand, not that I find it more settling.
I’m back and had my first day of work on January 4th! (We had a day and a half to settle back before going to work.) My kids were so much smaller than I remembered, and so darling. They actually got a positive report from a special! It’s a whole new year!
Friday, December 31, 2010
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Hotel H20
We chose Panglao instead of Bouracay island, which is known as a “party island”, because we were not looking for lots of night life and drunken strangers. As much as I love the beach and enjoyed my relaxing time there, I was ready to go back to the city of Manila by the fifth day.
This time in Manila, we stayed at the newly opened “Hotel H20”, which is literally in Manila’s Ocean Park. The pool for the hotel is behind the pool for the sea lion show and in front of the water for the musical fountain light show. Next to this is called “liquid club”, which is another set of pools and a bar and dance floor. Kelly and I were having a drink in one of the pools when the sea lions came waddling past it with their trainers on the way back to their habitat. It was the closest I’ve ever been to being behind the scenes at an Aquarium.
The best part for me we had a giant fish tank in our room which ran the entire length of one wall. The fish tank itself is even bigger, running through multiple rooms. This way, we could watch the fish swim past our tank, not knowing when they might return, and spotted new fish every day for the three days we spent there.
My favorite part of the Aquarium was the Jellies exhibit. You may know of my fascination with Jelly Fish. I am mesmerized watching them move and float. The Jellies exhibit had many different tanks and mirrors, with different flashing lights coordinated with the blasting music. The back wall is made up one giant tank with bright changing lights where hundreds of tiny circles of jellies float in swirls to the music. Smaller takes with larger jellies, the kind with pumping bells and hook-shaped stingers are placed alone the walls. In the middle, closed during the day, is a bar which turns this exhibit into “Genius Bar” by night. Brilliant!
This time in Manila, we stayed at the newly opened “Hotel H20”, which is literally in Manila’s Ocean Park. The pool for the hotel is behind the pool for the sea lion show and in front of the water for the musical fountain light show. Next to this is called “liquid club”, which is another set of pools and a bar and dance floor. Kelly and I were having a drink in one of the pools when the sea lions came waddling past it with their trainers on the way back to their habitat. It was the closest I’ve ever been to being behind the scenes at an Aquarium.
The best part for me we had a giant fish tank in our room which ran the entire length of one wall. The fish tank itself is even bigger, running through multiple rooms. This way, we could watch the fish swim past our tank, not knowing when they might return, and spotted new fish every day for the three days we spent there.
My favorite part of the Aquarium was the Jellies exhibit. You may know of my fascination with Jelly Fish. I am mesmerized watching them move and float. The Jellies exhibit had many different tanks and mirrors, with different flashing lights coordinated with the blasting music. The back wall is made up one giant tank with bright changing lights where hundreds of tiny circles of jellies float in swirls to the music. Smaller takes with larger jellies, the kind with pumping bells and hook-shaped stingers are placed alone the walls. In the middle, closed during the day, is a bar which turns this exhibit into “Genius Bar” by night. Brilliant!
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Highlights of Panglao
We spent the next five nights at that hotel on Panglao Island. It was many relaxing days of reading, thinking, beaching, and eating. Alona beach has a whole strip of restaurants that have tables on the sand, a few feet from the ocean. It felt like a dream to have dinner watching the sunset and listening to the waves.
Best View: Chocolate Hills
These are a collection of hills that turn brown in the summer, hence the name. Even though they were green because it was the “cold season”, they were beautiful.
Best Star-Gazing Spot: Alona beach
If you walk past the restaurants there is a stretch of beach that is wider and darker, without the many lights for the Christmas-decorated restaurants. Lying there, looking up at the sky, I suddenly remembered that I grew up in a place where I could see constellations.
Biggest Annoyance: “Taxi?” “Island hopping?” “Diving, ma’ am?”
You could not make it to the beach without being asked each of these questions a few times. I’ll admit I’m out of practice because in China, I either walk right by because I don’t know what they’re saying, or at most shake my head and say, “Sorry, no Chinese” and am left alone. Luckily, though, the approaching men would not follow us, and would eventually take, “No thank you” for an answer.
Best Wine: Le Elephante Blu
This awesome spot, which we only referred to as “the Blue Elephant”, was a great little spot off of the beach. It was a cottage that had been turned into a restaurant and hotel. With their multiple couch areas, delicious wine and tasty appetizers, like hummus and buffalo cheese on bread, and coffee-house, stay-as-you-wish, atmosphere, it quickly became a daily spot for us.
Best Lunch: Floating Riverboat
As part of a tour-the-island we arranged with our hotel, were hired a private driver to take us to Bohol’s top touristy spots. One of my favorite parts was this lunch on a riverboat. You sit at a table and help yourself to the buffet of fish, meat, rice, fruit, etc. as you float down the river. They even have a live singer create some playful ambiance to oldies-but-goodies like the Beatles, while you take in the lush surroundings. Everyone who had done this recommended it to us, and it did not disappoint!
Best Beach Fun: Building a Sand Castle
What started as an impromptu idea became a 3-hour collaborative project. By the end of our efforts, Kelly and I had designed a castle with a sea-weed designed mote, a shell and coral garden, and a backyard pool complete with a palm-made path and a working hammock made from a coconut, piece of rope, and two branches. We collected everything from the sea, and after the nigh heavy rainstorm and high tide, everything was returned.
Best View: Chocolate Hills
These are a collection of hills that turn brown in the summer, hence the name. Even though they were green because it was the “cold season”, they were beautiful.
Best Star-Gazing Spot: Alona beach
If you walk past the restaurants there is a stretch of beach that is wider and darker, without the many lights for the Christmas-decorated restaurants. Lying there, looking up at the sky, I suddenly remembered that I grew up in a place where I could see constellations.
Biggest Annoyance: “Taxi?” “Island hopping?” “Diving, ma’ am?”
You could not make it to the beach without being asked each of these questions a few times. I’ll admit I’m out of practice because in China, I either walk right by because I don’t know what they’re saying, or at most shake my head and say, “Sorry, no Chinese” and am left alone. Luckily, though, the approaching men would not follow us, and would eventually take, “No thank you” for an answer.
Best Wine: Le Elephante Blu
This awesome spot, which we only referred to as “the Blue Elephant”, was a great little spot off of the beach. It was a cottage that had been turned into a restaurant and hotel. With their multiple couch areas, delicious wine and tasty appetizers, like hummus and buffalo cheese on bread, and coffee-house, stay-as-you-wish, atmosphere, it quickly became a daily spot for us.
Best Lunch: Floating Riverboat
As part of a tour-the-island we arranged with our hotel, were hired a private driver to take us to Bohol’s top touristy spots. One of my favorite parts was this lunch on a riverboat. You sit at a table and help yourself to the buffet of fish, meat, rice, fruit, etc. as you float down the river. They even have a live singer create some playful ambiance to oldies-but-goodies like the Beatles, while you take in the lush surroundings. Everyone who had done this recommended it to us, and it did not disappoint!
Best Beach Fun: Building a Sand Castle
What started as an impromptu idea became a 3-hour collaborative project. By the end of our efforts, Kelly and I had designed a castle with a sea-weed designed mote, a shell and coral garden, and a backyard pool complete with a palm-made path and a working hammock made from a coconut, piece of rope, and two branches. We collected everything from the sea, and after the nigh heavy rainstorm and high tide, everything was returned.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Christmas Day
On Christmas morning we had before 12 to check out of our resort, and we used our time wisely. We had our free breakfast, which unlike the cornflakes and jam I’d predicted, was your choice of any full meal (eggs, meat, rice, fruit, coffee, etc.) at the restaurant. Kelly’s been eating meat here non-stop, even though I still can’t tell the difference, other than the fact that there’s less bones than in China.
We laid and read in hammocks and on chairs by the beach. Then we took out one of the two-person kayaks into the nature-preserved section of the ocean. It’s meant for snorkeling, but even from the boat I could see through the beautifully clear water to the ocean life below. I saw fluorescent fish and intricate reefs. I saw coral of all different shapes and sizes, blooming like flowers, flat like mushrooms, and spikey like hundreds of starfish. Even walking around near the shore we saw so many starfish and sea urchins (which made us step lightly!)
From the kayak I saw little blue fish, ones with a glowing yellow tail and bright blue fins, fish that were zebra-striped and flat. They came right up to the kayak in schools, swimming around our oars. Looking at their dazzling colors, I remembered for a moment why black lights had been a fad. There is something awesome about blue lighting of water and sharp yellow, red, and white details.
We drifted, holding an anchor rope set in the middle of the reef, watching the world below and listening to the beach blare “The Little Drummer Boy” and Maria Carey Christmas.
After a dip in the pool it was time to pack up. We were brought to our new hotel, free of charge. It was sad to leave.
Our new hotel, though much cheaper and a hotel, not a resort, is closer to stores and restaurants and Alona beach. We walked down to the beach, (about a 5 min. walk) and had a San Miguel, THE beer of these islands, and went swimming.
As you can tell from my rambling, it was a very long day! Without traveling and family and gift-opening, there are a lot of hours to fill on Christmas day. We swam in the pool, played rummy in our room, played pool (billiards), and had a nice Christmas dinner too!
Then we watched TV for the first time in…a long time, considering neither of us had cable in NY. I’d forgotten what it was like to flip through channels, especially since the invention of the “guide” button. (It’s slightly alarming to see “Pentagon Hour” from outside the US, which chronicled a young towny from ME who raised however much for US soldiers by walking across the country, and then more footage of soldiers and military. Do the conservatives run all of our media?)
After channel surfing for a while we actually managed to catch the end of “Four Christmases,” with Reece Witherspoon and Vince Vaughn, and then called it a night. I’m not complaining, mind you. I am loving the weather and the food and the relaxing time on the beach. But Kelly and I agreed at night that Christmas day away from everyone and everything familiar is a lot like how people don’t really have fun on their birthdays. Damn you, memories and expectations!
Merry Christmas to our loved ones! We are thinking of you!
Friday, December 24, 2010
It's Christmas Time...in the Islands
Even though the weather here only brings to mind summer vacation, the lights, trees, and merry spirit is comforting to be around. There is tons of Christmas bling in the Philippines. I’ve seen carols, lights, decorated (fake) trees, nutcrackers, and even a fireplace-turned-gingerbread house that Kelly and I had to pose in front of. It reminds me of the “Christmas Land” in The Nightmare before Christmas.
I was even told that there is a mandatory Christmas bonus here of one month salary. All the signs here advertise a “Christmas sale” or wish us a “Merry Christmas!” It is nice to be in a country that celebrates Christmas during the holiday. Not that I don’t promote the “Holiday Season” division in America to represent our diverse culture, but it’s nice to be in a place where Christmas is the same for everyone. I wonder if this is what my Jewish friends would feel if they went to Israel during Hanukkah, you know, with less religion and more commercialism?
This is a Catholic country, but it’s not too religious-y. It’s nice to see relig
ion as it’s meant to be, un-judgemental and friendly, with people living harmoniously and welcoming others. The family knows that Kelly and I are a couple, and they had no qualms of putting us in the same room, or worries we might influence their children. (I did, however, notice public busses with the tag, “God Bless This Ride” and I spotted a little sign off to the side that said, “Fear God. Repent and Be Saved.” I also love the billboard that is all black with just the white writing, “Talk to Me. – God” Just a gentle reminder!)
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We spent 3 days at Amarele, a really nice resort on Panglao Island. All of the reviews we’d read held true. We had a private balcony overlooking the pool and down to the beach. We did all sorts of resort-y things like get fruity drinks brought to us on the beach, and eating dinner in the quasi-outdoor restaurant overlooking the water. Our resort had free DVD rentals and board games, and I thoroughly enjoyed sinking into modern-classics like “She’s All That” and “Casper”, while we played scrabble with what’s left of our English literacy.
The resort staff was beyond friendly and accommodating. The resort even had performances like choirs and bands play Christmas songs every night, and gave us a little present of Filipino cookies on Christmas Eve!
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Manila
Manila is a big city in the Philippines. There are taxis to get around, but we were really lucky to have family drive us around, because the taxi lines were outrageously long, running all the length of a sidewalk. I was amazed when I saw these, family after family with their holiday purchases, just waiting patiently in a mile 50 ft long. No one was swearing, or cutting, or bumping others as they inched forward. As we were walking someone actually bumped Kelly, and then apologized! Can you imagine? After going from NY, where they don’t have the time to say sorry as they brush past you, to Beijing, where it’s just not in their culture to recognize that as a wrong doing, I had forgotten that was a possible response.
Kelly and I spent three days in Manila, mostly shopping, reading, and enjoying the warm weather. The family we stayed with had four lovely, adorable children, whose Philippine accents made everything they said, even when they were rough housing with or teasing each other, so adorable!
On our last day there the grandfather of the family volunteered to take us to the beautiful city of Tagaytay. It was so above and beyond for a host. There is a volcano that has a lake inside of it. This volcano is actually inside of another, much larger lake, which is actually in the city, which is also a volcano. The city sits above these, and from there we could look down at the lake, inside the volcano, inside the lake, inside the volcano. It is difficult to explain but so very worth seeing. The grandfather took us there, brought us to two restaurants so that we could see it from different views, and bought us breakfast, lunch, and delicious cappuccinos. We are very lucky tourists.
On the way back he even stopped by the roadside to get us coconuts. You can pick the one you want from the pile and they chop it until they strike the water. Then they just throw a straw in, and there is a surprising amount of coconut water. Our “tour guide” the grandfather even told us that during the war they used coconut water in IVs for the soldiers, when there wasn’t any clean water!
I really enjoyed learning about the history of the island and the culture of the people while staying with the family. I feel that I learned more about Philippine culture in a few days than I have about Chinese culture in the many months I’ve been in China. The language barrier is really difficult to overcome. I’m doing well in the city, but I find myself in western places, or western-adapted Chinese places, because I cannot read a real menu or really speak to a waitress. It was so refreshing, also, to be given a tour and driven around by someone who could just show me this and that, here the new sky bridge and how it was built, there the Philippino Christmas Star and what it is made of. It makes me wonder how much of China I have seen, but not been able to realize or understand.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Christmas Miracle
What can I say about the miracle that is being in the Philippines right now?
I can start by saying that Kelly and I are definitely having the culture shock we couldn’t register in China. I guess culture shock has more to do with your expectations than the culture you’re actually experiencing. The city of Beijing, with its buildings and traffic, stores and restaurants, did not feel so different from NYC. I think that’s why we slipped into living there, month after month, adjusting to menu-pointing and the art of mime.
It’s hard to explain, but walking around the Philippines is both completely different and welcomingly homelike. The English is the first incredible difference. I feel like I’ve been given super powers. I’m amazed just walking around and reading store signs, or leering out windows and catching billboards as they fly by. I know what that means! That’s saying something…to me! I feel invincible, like I can wander around somewhere and not have to worry about getting lost…because I could ask for directions! Beautiful!
Unfortunately, Kelly and I have been interacting with English –speaking strangers like we’ve been recently released from the wild. We’re so used to mime and pointing that we’re confusing words and our tone and deliverance needs some serious work. I’m still talking about people like they can’t hear me, which is a very dangerous game in a crowd. By habit I’m still gesturing wildly with my hands and arms to waitresses that must be thinking, “I’m not an idiot, you spoiled American.” But actually, the other amazing culture “shock” here is how incredibly nice everyone is. Those waitresses are probably thinking, “wow, this person talks expressively” and keeps a smile on herher (At first I was put off by the “ma ‘am” thing, which I’ve been getting from everyone here, but now I realize it’s a respectful greeting, and not an indication that I’ve gotten seriously older since I left for China.)
There’s the shock of the weather, of course, that is so warm Kel and I had to buy dresses upon arrival. I had a serious cold in Beijing, and was up to a pack a day – of tissues. Here I can finally breathe again. (What’s so interesting and ironic is that this is the Philippine cold season, and the family we stayed with actually had coughing colds.)
The other major shock is just the color. I feel like I’ve been in Kansas and have finally stepped out into the Technicolor world. The greens are greener than I ever remember. The flowers, pink, yellow, orange, purple, just vibrant against the lush green. I’m sitting on our balcony overlooking the ocean, and there are more shades of blue and green in the water than I remember from my many memories of the sea.
This is not an advertisement for the Philippines (because I’m not yet getting paid for this), nor is this meant as a dig on China, or discrediting my time there. I’m just really amazed at how, regardless of time zones, this feels like the other side of the world.
I can start by saying that Kelly and I are definitely having the culture shock we couldn’t register in China. I guess culture shock has more to do with your expectations than the culture you’re actually experiencing. The city of Beijing, with its buildings and traffic, stores and restaurants, did not feel so different from NYC. I think that’s why we slipped into living there, month after month, adjusting to menu-pointing and the art of mime.
It’s hard to explain, but walking around the Philippines is both completely different and welcomingly homelike. The English is the first incredible difference. I feel like I’ve been given super powers. I’m amazed just walking around and reading store signs, or leering out windows and catching billboards as they fly by. I know what that means! That’s saying something…to me! I feel invincible, like I can wander around somewhere and not have to worry about getting lost…because I could ask for directions! Beautiful!
Unfortunately, Kelly and I have been interacting with English –speaking strangers like we’ve been recently released from the wild. We’re so used to mime and pointing that we’re confusing words and our tone and deliverance needs some serious work. I’m still talking about people like they can’t hear me, which is a very dangerous game in a crowd. By habit I’m still gesturing wildly with my hands and arms to waitresses that must be thinking, “I’m not an idiot, you spoiled American.” But actually, the other amazing culture “shock” here is how incredibly nice everyone is. Those waitresses are probably thinking, “wow, this person talks expressively” and keeps a smile on herher (At first I was put off by the “ma ‘am” thing, which I’ve been getting from everyone here, but now I realize it’s a respectful greeting, and not an indication that I’ve gotten seriously older since I left for China.)
There’s the shock of the weather, of course, that is so warm Kel and I had to buy dresses upon arrival. I had a serious cold in Beijing, and was up to a pack a day – of tissues. Here I can finally breathe again. (What’s so interesting and ironic is that this is the Philippine cold season, and the family we stayed with actually had coughing colds.)
The other major shock is just the color. I feel like I’ve been in Kansas and have finally stepped out into the Technicolor world. The greens are greener than I ever remember. The flowers, pink, yellow, orange, purple, just vibrant against the lush green. I’m sitting on our balcony overlooking the ocean, and there are more shades of blue and green in the water than I remember from my many memories of the sea.
This is not an advertisement for the Philippines (because I’m not yet getting paid for this), nor is this meant as a dig on China, or discrediting my time there. I’m just really amazed at how, regardless of time zones, this feels like the other side of the world.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
You Have to Earn Your Vacation
The last week of school went incredibly slowly. I got a terrible cold and still had to make it through the “holiday performance”, which had only Christmas songs and some embarrassing NYC-style hip hop, to close the week. (It was on a Thursday, and we had the kids all day, after school, fed them dinner, and then sat with them during the show until 8 pm. Thank you, 14-hour work day!)
Friday night Kelly and I decided to have our Christmas Eve, while we still had “The North Pole”, as I now refer to our Christmas-style bedazzled apartment. We even got our hands on a copy of the Muppet Christmas Carol, a staple for Christmas-eves from my childhood.
Unfortunately, we both got a stomach bug, on top of the colds, and had an unpleasantly sick evening with the movie in the background. Luckily by fake Christmas morning we were better, if not cured, and were able to at least sip coffee while we opened our presents.
We left the next day for the Philippines. We arrived insanely early at the airport, but I was just so happy to be in an airport again that I could have stayed there all night. Beijing Capital International Airport is really a gorgeous piece of architecture, if I do say so myself. In our terminal the food options were a Japanese place, a Chinese restaurant, and one called, “STEAK, BEER, PASTA CAFÉ.” That was meant for us.
In Manila we stayed with some of Kelly’s Aunt’s family, who really treated us like family. They were so warm and welcoming. It was wonderful, on top of being in such a friendly place, to be staying with family near the holidays. Let the vacation begin!
Friday night Kelly and I decided to have our Christmas Eve, while we still had “The North Pole”, as I now refer to our Christmas-style bedazzled apartment. We even got our hands on a copy of the Muppet Christmas Carol, a staple for Christmas-eves from my childhood.
Unfortunately, we both got a stomach bug, on top of the colds, and had an unpleasantly sick evening with the movie in the background. Luckily by fake Christmas morning we were better, if not cured, and were able to at least sip coffee while we opened our presents.
We left the next day for the Philippines. We arrived insanely early at the airport, but I was just so happy to be in an airport again that I could have stayed there all night. Beijing Capital International Airport is really a gorgeous piece of architecture, if I do say so myself. In our terminal the food options were a Japanese place, a Chinese restaurant, and one called, “STEAK, BEER, PASTA CAFÉ.” That was meant for us.
In Manila we stayed with some of Kelly’s Aunt’s family, who really treated us like family. They were so warm and welcoming. It was wonderful, on top of being in such a friendly place, to be staying with family near the holidays. Let the vacation begin!
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Santa Con
When I heard about Santa Con, an event where strangers around Beijing gather, dressed in Santa Costumes, and bar crawl, I knew had to be a part of it. Kelly and I bought Santa bling from Wal-Mart, including extra Santa masks and hats, just in case we could persuade others to join in the fun.
Santas in Beijing met up in two different spots in the city at pizza places at 12:00 pm. Our meeting spot was in Woudaokou, the “city” area conveniently next to where we live. We decked out in hats, belts, tinsel scarfs, and black boots. The taxi driver was hesitant to pick us up, which made for an interesting cab ride. It probably didn’t help that I sang, “Santa Clause is Coming to Town” all the way there.
Kelly was nervous to open the door, but when we looked down at the pizza place, we found we were not the first to arrive. At least 20 Santas were already there, drinking free beer and eating the pizza special. One exceptionally cute baby Santa was sitting on his Santa mom’s lap.
We got a table near the bar and were soon joined by a few of our other Santa friends we knew were coming. Some of us Santas also treated ourselves to the 5Y tequila shots (divide that by 6.8 to figure out how ridiculously cheap that is!) to ease the last jitters.
After about an hour our group of 50 Santas were instructed to head out to the subway. We sang “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” as we paraded to the subway, to the surprise of many Chinese bystanders. We were an even bigger scene in the subway, crowding through the security check, where I put by “purse”, a stocking filled with my belongings, through the obligatory X-ray machine. We sang on the platform, and all managed to crowd onto one car.
I’ve never done the Santa Pub crawl in BK, but one thing that is unique to being Santa, or a crowd of caroling Santas, in Beijing, is that most of the public have no idea what you’re doing. So many of them must have just thought this is how Americans celebrate Christmas. Another difference is that in China there are no open container laws, so many of the Santas, myself not included, chose to bring their jolly juice right on the subway. One of the Santa leaders even had a full bottle of Jameson in one hand, and a bottle of coke in the other.
Now, as I said, I’ve been listening to Christmas music non-stop for weeks, even singing to myself as I bike ride to work. You can imagine my surprise, then, when I realized I didn’t know the words to so many Christmas Carols! “Frosty the Snow Man, …What jolly … happy? Soul?”…
I could surely sing along with the music to any of the classics, but coming up with the lyrics to the second verse of “Deck the Halls”…impossible. We rode the subway all the way to the Forbidden City, which took about an hour including the transfer, and quickly realized that the only songs we could fully sing were “Rudolph” and “The Twelve Days of Christmas,” which was mostly shouting numbers, mumbling, and screaming “FIVE GOLDEN RINGS!” I probably sang those songs 20 times, if not more, before the end of the night.
At Tiananmen Square we met up with the other 50ish Santas from the South of the city. I’m not going to write much about this part on this public forum, but I will say that it was the “buzz kill” of my experience (even though at this point it was 2 pm and I’d only had half of a beer.) I had only signed up for the fun of dressing up as Santa and singing carols and bringing cheer to strangers. I had not signed up for pissing off Chinese policemen. We quickly left and went to the Drum and Bell tower, a really interesting part of the city. (I will admit, though, that having a picture of me and Kelly, dressed as Santas, in front of Mao, is a preserved memory that I don’t regret getting.
Taking the bus to the next bar was also a trip. At the Drum and Bell tower, we were able to go on the roof and look out at the old Chinese architecture. We overlooked old Chinese men who have trained sparrows to do tricks like catching a marble thrown 50 feet into the air, and then soar down like bullet before sharply turning back to their owner’s stand. Outside on that square, we did a “Santa Freeze”, where Kelly and I froze pretending to fight over my stocking. It reminded me of improve everywhere.
Then we went on another Santa Parade, now with all of the Santas together. We went to Hohai Lake, which is now frozen over, to a bar with couches inside of a Hu tong. I sipped mulled wine and met people who all introduced themselves as , Santa _____.
Another mini-parade down a really old and intricately designed ally led us to the next venue. The people here stood outside, taking pictures and clapping as we sang the only two songs we know. The next place had infused rum. I had “apple and cinnamon”, which I swear smelled like Christmas in a glass. Kelly and some Santas decided to go home after this, as it was about 7 but felt like 11 at night.
I went off with some other Santas I knew to Fu Bar in Sanlitun, the quisi-city where foreigners have some nightlife. I ate a questionable “hot dog”, and went on.
(Warning, “beef” hot dog in China means actual beef. It’s like a hamburger wrapped in some type of skin, served with something like mayonnaise.)
At Fu Bar I met some more Santas and enjoyed the atmosphere or being in night life as Santa. The next move was to “crash a house party.” At first I thought this meant a party at someone’s house. Then I thought it meant a club with house music. Actually, it was a club called “House.”
This was one of my favorite entrances, as the club was filled with people just out on a Saturday night, looking their best and not at all expecting a crowd of Santas to tear it up on the dance floor. The next bar was a fancy smancy bar that did not seem welcome to Santas, so we almost left until we discovered a glass door covering the fire escape, which ended up leading to a deck-style rooftop bar and dancefloor with a much more inviting crowd.
Our final stop was a cab ride away to a Hu tong-style bar with a DJ and dancing. Upstairs there was a livingroom-style room, and an open rooftop which gave a great view of the city. By the time some strange guy asked if I was wearing perfume, which sounds even more ridiculous as a pick-up line when you’re dressed as Santa, I was ready to call it a night.
Overall, I’d call Santa Con a success. It was a great way to see more of the city, to meet other people who share my affinity for costumes in public, and to celebrate the Holiday Season!
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
BBQ?
I just ate the most delicious fish. I am literally full with warm, spicy, fishy goodness.
My friends Eric and Alison took me and Roxanne to a “Barbecue Fish Restaurant” near our apartments. What I imagine when I hear that is fish with BBQ sauce, or at least a fish on a BBQ grill. In China, that means fish in a pan flattened over vegetables and topped with chills and spices. This was one time I was not disappointed by China’s version of the truth.
Eating whole fish, as I think I’ve talked about before, is definitely one of my favorite treats of being in China. I love how soft fish meat tastes when you have to pull it out of the bones of a fish. I love crunching on fried fins, which have been cooked enough that you can eat even the bones like chips. (I’m sorry for my vegetarian readers, but to me, it’s delicious!)
I never would have been able to go on my own. It has a full Chinese menu, which leaves out picture-pointing. Luckily, with Eric, Allison, and an I-phone translator ap (not that I’m promoting those!) we were able to pick a fish, a level of chilies, and order celery, potatoes, some anonymous green vegetable, wood-ear mushrooms, rice and noodles, and of course, pi geo, which is served warm because, according to our waitress, “the chinese do not drink it cold”. (Really, there is a lot of interesting hot and cold ideas for balancing your chi in the winter. They won’t drink cold beer. But they do open the windows, even in cabs and in the bathroom, to get “new air”. I don’t know if there’s new air or what, but I do know I keep my hat on in cabs, and feel like I’m camping every time I have to use the bathroom at school.)
We also got an appetizer which was something like romaine lettuce cut up into strips and stacked on a rectangular plate doused in sesame oil and peanut sauce.
One additional treat was when they brought out our fish, flopping around in a bucket to ask us if it was big enough. (How should I know?) We nodded and sent it back.
There is something that I appreciate about the Chinese idea that food should look like what it is and where it came from. Even though I could have done without the live version, I can’t say that chicken nuggets and fish sticks are a better way to eat meat.
Cut to me, deliciously full with a fiery mouth that stands up to the Beijing winter.
Good Night!
My friends Eric and Alison took me and Roxanne to a “Barbecue Fish Restaurant” near our apartments. What I imagine when I hear that is fish with BBQ sauce, or at least a fish on a BBQ grill. In China, that means fish in a pan flattened over vegetables and topped with chills and spices. This was one time I was not disappointed by China’s version of the truth.
Eating whole fish, as I think I’ve talked about before, is definitely one of my favorite treats of being in China. I love how soft fish meat tastes when you have to pull it out of the bones of a fish. I love crunching on fried fins, which have been cooked enough that you can eat even the bones like chips. (I’m sorry for my vegetarian readers, but to me, it’s delicious!)
I never would have been able to go on my own. It has a full Chinese menu, which leaves out picture-pointing. Luckily, with Eric, Allison, and an I-phone translator ap (not that I’m promoting those!) we were able to pick a fish, a level of chilies, and order celery, potatoes, some anonymous green vegetable, wood-ear mushrooms, rice and noodles, and of course, pi geo, which is served warm because, according to our waitress, “the chinese do not drink it cold”. (Really, there is a lot of interesting hot and cold ideas for balancing your chi in the winter. They won’t drink cold beer. But they do open the windows, even in cabs and in the bathroom, to get “new air”. I don’t know if there’s new air or what, but I do know I keep my hat on in cabs, and feel like I’m camping every time I have to use the bathroom at school.)
We also got an appetizer which was something like romaine lettuce cut up into strips and stacked on a rectangular plate doused in sesame oil and peanut sauce.
One additional treat was when they brought out our fish, flopping around in a bucket to ask us if it was big enough. (How should I know?) We nodded and sent it back.
There is something that I appreciate about the Chinese idea that food should look like what it is and where it came from. Even though I could have done without the live version, I can’t say that chicken nuggets and fish sticks are a better way to eat meat.
Cut to me, deliciously full with a fiery mouth that stands up to the Beijing winter.
Good Night!
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Beijing's Narnia
Yesterday we were skyping with my father, and a security guard came to the door. I didn’t know what he wanted, of course, so we tried to get my father to translate. I kept trying to get him to step inside, but he stood, frozen, in the doorway. We don’t have wireless internet, so I was limited in my ability to bring my father/the computer over to him. In trying, I nearly ripped the cord out of the wall, and hurriedly pushed the couch 3 feet from its normal position while balancing the laptop/my father in one hand.
Technology is a strange thing.
I did my best to hold the computer up to the guard, and my father asked him to step into the apartment and said that he could translate for him.
The look on his face is probably what people really looked like when they saw Narnia for the first time, a mix between “Am I going crazy?” and “What the hell is this?” rather than a look of magical wonder.
It seemed that the guard had never seen skype before, and couldn’t understand how the man in the computer was talking to him in Chinese. It must be a strange thing to see a lai wai (non-Chinese ex-pat) holding the interactive talking face of a Chinese man.
I definitely don’t think that it helped, however, that our apartment is a virtual North Pole of dazzling lights, stockings, trees, tinsel, complete with blaring Christmas songs.
Needless to say, we couldn’t get him to step any further into the apartment, and, after shaking his head and looking around, he quickly turned and ran to the stairs.
Technology is a strange thing.
I did my best to hold the computer up to the guard, and my father asked him to step into the apartment and said that he could translate for him.
The look on his face is probably what people really looked like when they saw Narnia for the first time, a mix between “Am I going crazy?” and “What the hell is this?” rather than a look of magical wonder.
It seemed that the guard had never seen skype before, and couldn’t understand how the man in the computer was talking to him in Chinese. It must be a strange thing to see a lai wai (non-Chinese ex-pat) holding the interactive talking face of a Chinese man.
I definitely don’t think that it helped, however, that our apartment is a virtual North Pole of dazzling lights, stockings, trees, tinsel, complete with blaring Christmas songs.
Needless to say, we couldn’t get him to step any further into the apartment, and, after shaking his head and looking around, he quickly turned and ran to the stairs.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Girl’s Night Out
Anyone who knows me knows that my community of lesbians is very important to me. (You may remember me from such LGBT events as NYC PRIDE, Blue Crush pool parties, or any of the many girl parties thrown on random weekdays, because that’s the only day they’ll give us. But that’s another story.)
That being said, it’s been 114 days since I’ve seen a lesbian other than Kelly. (But who’s counting…)
My friends here don’t understand my need to see others like myself, to find a community even here, because I have a girlfriend. Now, it’s true that Kelly’s definitely moved serious points on the gay scale since we’ve arrived (her becoming Volleyball Coach Callahan definitely bumped her up) but it’s no secret that she doesn’t share my affinity for lesbian culture.
I decided that it was past time for me to actively seek out at least a party or a club. There is something about walking into a room with just women like myself that is reassuring and comforting for me. Here, where everything is like a concrete cultural slap in the face, I was overdue for a little comfort and community.
That’s when I found out about Pink. I saw it advertised in City Weekend under LGBT nightlife (which had one other entry just for boys).
"Every Saturday, PINK, Party at LAN with Beijing' LGBT community. Queer Comrades organizes this weekly LGBT even tthat geatures 2 for one drinks, Y30."
I didn't know what “queer” meant in Beijing, but I was so interested to find out. I was trying to explain to my friends here, who don’t know about the scene in NYC, the difference between girl parties and queer parties (between Eden and choice c’s). But I had no idea what it meant here.
I was excited either way, especially because of the venue. LAN is a really swanky and interesting spot that I’d been dying to check out again since I was first brought there. There are giant paintings hanging and overlapping all over the celling. There are vintage couch spots facing the stage, and a spot in the middle for dancing. They have a spot for live bands interchanging with a decent DJ, and a bar in the next room with tall vintage stools with magnified body parts on the backs. It sounds weird to explain, but it makes for a cool vibe.
At the back, you can wind your way through a hallway with different rooms on either side, separated at times just by hanging curtains and rugs. In each room is a pre-set table and chairs. Each dining room is unique with outlandish chandeliers, plates, chairs, and tables. I’m no artist, and I’m no architect, but I know that these rooms are gorgeous and I loved walking around, sitting in them, and pretending to be at the mad hatter’s tea party.
Saturday finally came and, armed with my new haircut and motley crew of Kelly and two straight girls, we set out to check out Beijing’s LGBT scene.
Honestly, setting out, my expectations were beyond low. I had already heard from a gay may I happened to chat with one night while I was being a wingman for my straight friend, I was told that the “queer” mostly meant men. I remember, though, from my early days of going out to with gay men friends, that being one of the only lesbians in a gay man bar can be good for your odds. (This only really works in cities where the scenes are so small that they’re overlapping if not combined, outside of NYC.) I was ready for those odds. I was even ready to meet some gay men, who may know lesbians or other LGBT hang outs, where the G is less pronounced, or at least the L is included.
You can imagine my surprise when even those expectations were too high. The crowd at LAN was and older, stuffier, more pretentious group of straight people that even I’m willing to ignore just to have a good time. I asked the hostess about PINK, and she squinted her eyes and looked at me like she’d never heard that word before in her life. We stood by the bar and reassessed the place, the crowd, and came to the same conclusion. My friends went to scope out the awesomely decorated rooms and I cried by the bar over my disappointment.
My mistake, well, one of my mistakes, had been to discuss at length over dinner the intricacies of the scene in NY and ideas about identity. I quoted too many Savage Podcasts. I had let too much ride on one night.
We decided not to contribute any money to the false PINK and got our coats to leave. On the way out my friend who speaks Chinese asked the same hostess about PINK in English and, after a few rounds of denying everything, eventually admitted that they’d had it twice and then discontinued it. (For what it’s worth, which is nothing, I told her that she should know they’re still advertising for it as a weekly event.)
If you’re reading, my NY girls, go out for me, the last lala in China!
(I was resolved to find people using the internet. I typed in “Lesbians” in Beijing and was told, “There are results for your search.” That hurt.)
That being said, it’s been 114 days since I’ve seen a lesbian other than Kelly. (But who’s counting…)
My friends here don’t understand my need to see others like myself, to find a community even here, because I have a girlfriend. Now, it’s true that Kelly’s definitely moved serious points on the gay scale since we’ve arrived (her becoming Volleyball Coach Callahan definitely bumped her up) but it’s no secret that she doesn’t share my affinity for lesbian culture.
I decided that it was past time for me to actively seek out at least a party or a club. There is something about walking into a room with just women like myself that is reassuring and comforting for me. Here, where everything is like a concrete cultural slap in the face, I was overdue for a little comfort and community.
That’s when I found out about Pink. I saw it advertised in City Weekend under LGBT nightlife (which had one other entry just for boys).
"Every Saturday, PINK, Party at LAN with Beijing' LGBT community. Queer Comrades organizes this weekly LGBT even tthat geatures 2 for one drinks, Y30."
I didn't know what “queer” meant in Beijing, but I was so interested to find out. I was trying to explain to my friends here, who don’t know about the scene in NYC, the difference between girl parties and queer parties (between Eden and choice c’s). But I had no idea what it meant here.
I was excited either way, especially because of the venue. LAN is a really swanky and interesting spot that I’d been dying to check out again since I was first brought there. There are giant paintings hanging and overlapping all over the celling. There are vintage couch spots facing the stage, and a spot in the middle for dancing. They have a spot for live bands interchanging with a decent DJ, and a bar in the next room with tall vintage stools with magnified body parts on the backs. It sounds weird to explain, but it makes for a cool vibe.
At the back, you can wind your way through a hallway with different rooms on either side, separated at times just by hanging curtains and rugs. In each room is a pre-set table and chairs. Each dining room is unique with outlandish chandeliers, plates, chairs, and tables. I’m no artist, and I’m no architect, but I know that these rooms are gorgeous and I loved walking around, sitting in them, and pretending to be at the mad hatter’s tea party.
Saturday finally came and, armed with my new haircut and motley crew of Kelly and two straight girls, we set out to check out Beijing’s LGBT scene.
Honestly, setting out, my expectations were beyond low. I had already heard from a gay may I happened to chat with one night while I was being a wingman for my straight friend, I was told that the “queer” mostly meant men. I remember, though, from my early days of going out to with gay men friends, that being one of the only lesbians in a gay man bar can be good for your odds. (This only really works in cities where the scenes are so small that they’re overlapping if not combined, outside of NYC.) I was ready for those odds. I was even ready to meet some gay men, who may know lesbians or other LGBT hang outs, where the G is less pronounced, or at least the L is included.
You can imagine my surprise when even those expectations were too high. The crowd at LAN was and older, stuffier, more pretentious group of straight people that even I’m willing to ignore just to have a good time. I asked the hostess about PINK, and she squinted her eyes and looked at me like she’d never heard that word before in her life. We stood by the bar and reassessed the place, the crowd, and came to the same conclusion. My friends went to scope out the awesomely decorated rooms and I cried by the bar over my disappointment.
My mistake, well, one of my mistakes, had been to discuss at length over dinner the intricacies of the scene in NY and ideas about identity. I quoted too many Savage Podcasts. I had let too much ride on one night.
We decided not to contribute any money to the false PINK and got our coats to leave. On the way out my friend who speaks Chinese asked the same hostess about PINK in English and, after a few rounds of denying everything, eventually admitted that they’d had it twice and then discontinued it. (For what it’s worth, which is nothing, I told her that she should know they’re still advertising for it as a weekly event.)
If you’re reading, my NY girls, go out for me, the last lala in China!
(I was resolved to find people using the internet. I typed in “Lesbians” in Beijing and was told, “There are results for your search.” That hurt.)
Friday, December 3, 2010
It Was Time
I’ve had the same hair cut for 5 years, ok 6, ok 8 or 9. Ok, my whole life except for when I was a child and my father cut my hair himself into the Chinese-bob, complete with v-shaped bangs that started in the back of my head.
I had been wanting to cut my hair since I came to China. One, because I’ve had it the same forever, and there’s nothing like being in a new place to make you want to try a new do. Two, because there’s nothing like being in a place where no one knows you help you anxiety about taking a risk. When my friend told me that she’d gotten a haircut at a place in Woudaokou where there were two English-speaking people, I knew I had no more excuses. Erica, my ever-useful and helpful Chinese-speaking friend, agreed to come with. This turned out to be an incredibly useful amenity, as I never saw the English-speaking workers that had led me there.
The place was impressive. It was all new and shiny, with white walls and light-up mirrors. Everyone who worked there looked like they had just stepped off the set of a reality TV show for hair stylists. Chinese men are already bordering the metro-side of the spectrum, but these boys were hugging the end, with their spikey gel-styles and frosted tips.
Erica used my head as a prop as she explained the style that I wanted, longer in the front and going shorter towards the back, but not so short she had to buzz my hair. She asked if I wore my hair in a ponytail, and I said I was fine if it was too short for that, as I usually wore it down.
While she was cutting, however, she told Erica that she had asked because my hair, “has a wave in it, and it’s not pretty.” This led her to suggest that I get a “treatment” that would keep it straight. She suggested one that was 200Y ($30) or one that was 400Y ($60). Erica asked about the difference between the two, and was told that the 200Y was “a little terrible.” I was ready to spring for the “expensive” stuff, (especially since my hair cut was $5), when the hairdresser changed her mind and recommended the “little terrible” treatment for my “standards.”
The “treatment”, I’m pretty sure, ended up being that they relaxed my hair so that it would curl under.
In America, I’ve always had quote unquote Asian hair. It’s slippery and straight, and stubbornly resistant to curling. Apparently in Asia I have black hair. Awesome.
Everyone else in the salon was fluffing up their hair. The 80’s are IN right now in China. The girl next to me had crazy medusa, electroshock-treatment-style curlers, where each one was connected to a wire and plugged into a machine behind her head.
This may be the reason that all of my student’s parents said that my hair makes me look “much, much younger.” At my publishing party on Friday, one mother even commented that I look “just like a teenager.”
Exactly as I planned.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Tis’ the Season
Immediately after Thanksgiving, Kelly and I began our Holiday Season (aka Christmas celebration, because we’re the only people involved this year, sorry Jewish friends!) I wasn’t about to let Christmas sneak up on me like Thanksgiving had, so a few days after Turkey Day me and Kelly took a trip to the Super Wal-Mart of Beijing.
This was clearly an event, as we rarely take the subway after work. We typically save this slow method of transportation for the weekends when we have more time to walk for 10 minutes down a winding path, sometimes emerging above ground and winding through a labyrinth in a crowd of angry Beijinger (which is amazingly more terrifying than angry New Yorkers) just to make a transfer between lines. New Yorkers definitely walk with a purpose, but they are (generally) still able to walk in a crowd with an understanding of personal space. During Beijing’s rush hour, if I were to attempt to retrieve something I’d dropped, I would never emerge, but rather disintegrate into the ground, crushed by thousands of high-heeled boots.
But, the Christmas decorations were a must.
We had heard about there being a Wal-Mart, which is kind awesome and mostly pitiful, except for the fact that it carries the only holiday decorations in the city. The store was giant, with multiple floors. All the department and grocery stores here have something like ramp-escalators, which is exactly as it sounds, and really comes in handy when you’re moving from floor to floor with a cart-full of Christmas décor.
We bought one of everything, and two of some things that were too good to skimp on.
We debated buying an actual fake tree, which they did carry, but the expense, the waste, and the idea of trying to ride it home on our bikes seemed to outweigh our desire. Instead, we bought 5 boxes of lights, and Kelly used green electrical tape to make a tree on our wall, which we adorned with classy ornaments from a package, like a bright pink felt raindeer, and a purple, styrofoam mini-wreath.
I did buy a mini-Christmas tree, about one foot tall and pre-decorated with fake snow, golden balls and bows, and what appears to be a some gold plastic sticks sticking here and there. We put it with some stockings under our TV, and presents that we bought and wrapped together for each other. Some I accidentally wrapped for myself, and then had to write, “To Bekki, Love Kelly.”
That’s not to mention the tinsel, bows, and random Santa-wear we also purchased. Kelly said no one is allowed to come to our apartment until January. I already invited everyone I know for a cookie-decorating and eggnog extravaganza.
At the checkout, we managed to package all of our holiday bling into a giant backpack, and one giant open bag, about two feet by one foot long. We felt successful, until we reached the subway.
It was 7:30, which in Beijing Subway terms means “death.” The crowd just to get onto the subway platform started at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the platform. We heard a train leave and made our way into the stair crowd, working towards the platform. There was another giant crowd waiting at the bottom, seemingly waiting to leave the station. Instead, the guard released a gate and the mass moved up the “exit” stairs and crowded the beginning of the platform. Safe, right?
Eventually we made it to the platform of no escape. We thought about taking a taxi, but were trapped by the crowd on the exit stairs and had no choice to inch closer to the tracks at each train. When a train did come, the crowd was aggressive in a way I’ve never seen before. One man was pushing people onto the train, wildly shoving their shoulders with the palm of his hand and then forcing himself behind the closing doors. I clutched my giant bag of teetering goodies and went as “city” as I get to make it onto the train and off at the next stop.
It was no small victory to be riding our bikes, overflowing with Christmas accessories, back to our apartment.
This was clearly an event, as we rarely take the subway after work. We typically save this slow method of transportation for the weekends when we have more time to walk for 10 minutes down a winding path, sometimes emerging above ground and winding through a labyrinth in a crowd of angry Beijinger (which is amazingly more terrifying than angry New Yorkers) just to make a transfer between lines. New Yorkers definitely walk with a purpose, but they are (generally) still able to walk in a crowd with an understanding of personal space. During Beijing’s rush hour, if I were to attempt to retrieve something I’d dropped, I would never emerge, but rather disintegrate into the ground, crushed by thousands of high-heeled boots.
But, the Christmas decorations were a must.
We had heard about there being a Wal-Mart, which is kind awesome and mostly pitiful, except for the fact that it carries the only holiday decorations in the city. The store was giant, with multiple floors. All the department and grocery stores here have something like ramp-escalators, which is exactly as it sounds, and really comes in handy when you’re moving from floor to floor with a cart-full of Christmas décor.
We bought one of everything, and two of some things that were too good to skimp on.
We debated buying an actual fake tree, which they did carry, but the expense, the waste, and the idea of trying to ride it home on our bikes seemed to outweigh our desire. Instead, we bought 5 boxes of lights, and Kelly used green electrical tape to make a tree on our wall, which we adorned with classy ornaments from a package, like a bright pink felt raindeer, and a purple, styrofoam mini-wreath.
I did buy a mini-Christmas tree, about one foot tall and pre-decorated with fake snow, golden balls and bows, and what appears to be a some gold plastic sticks sticking here and there. We put it with some stockings under our TV, and presents that we bought and wrapped together for each other. Some I accidentally wrapped for myself, and then had to write, “To Bekki, Love Kelly.”
That’s not to mention the tinsel, bows, and random Santa-wear we also purchased. Kelly said no one is allowed to come to our apartment until January. I already invited everyone I know for a cookie-decorating and eggnog extravaganza.
At the checkout, we managed to package all of our holiday bling into a giant backpack, and one giant open bag, about two feet by one foot long. We felt successful, until we reached the subway.
It was 7:30, which in Beijing Subway terms means “death.” The crowd just to get onto the subway platform started at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the platform. We heard a train leave and made our way into the stair crowd, working towards the platform. There was another giant crowd waiting at the bottom, seemingly waiting to leave the station. Instead, the guard released a gate and the mass moved up the “exit” stairs and crowded the beginning of the platform. Safe, right?
Eventually we made it to the platform of no escape. We thought about taking a taxi, but were trapped by the crowd on the exit stairs and had no choice to inch closer to the tracks at each train. When a train did come, the crowd was aggressive in a way I’ve never seen before. One man was pushing people onto the train, wildly shoving their shoulders with the palm of his hand and then forcing himself behind the closing doors. I clutched my giant bag of teetering goodies and went as “city” as I get to make it onto the train and off at the next stop.
It was no small victory to be riding our bikes, overflowing with Christmas accessories, back to our apartment.
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