Cellularly telephonic luck

Last week Alison's dad Simon arrived here on his third trip to China, beginning with his second visit to Hohhot. He left here on his solo adventure last night.

On the first night that Simon was here, we were at a restaurant and I couldn't find my cell phone. I figured it had fallen out of my pocket on the way out of the taxi or something. However on calling it we reached someone who apparently was neither a phone thief nor a lost-phone-salvage person, but a cab driver. After speaking with our (Chinese) friend Jessie briefly he told us to wait there, and a few minutes later arrived back at the restaurant and returned the phone to me! So I send out into the grand Internet universe two thank-yous: to Jessie for the provision of translation services at sudden notice, and to the very decent driver for not only returning my phone, but driving out of his way to do so.

I still plan to replace the phone next week, but losing it would have meant a bunch of inconvenience, plus the loss of photos, contacts, and my SIM card. It's on its way out still though because it's missing the back battery cover (which admittedly would only be 80 yuan to replace, much less than the price of a new phone), and also will no longer close (it's a flip phone) without freezing or turning off. (That in fact is another stroke of luck in the phone's recovery: The driver had closed the phone but somehow he still was able to answer it when we called.) Also it's a Motorola, and I've decided after two phones of that brand that their interfaces pretty much universally suck.

In other broken technology news, a month or two back a bunch of us did a trip to the grasslands, followed by a day in the desert. I foolishly kept my camera in my pocket while I was being buried in sand, so now it likes to say "Lens error" instead of working. I even cleaned it out a fair bit with a toothbrush, but there's some sand in spots I can't reach and although the lens assembly has gone from not-moving-at-all to moving-with-a-disconcerting-grating-sound, the camera still won't take a picture.

Shaky exercise ball chair

Today I was at my desk and thought I was experiencing a dizzy spell when I felt like the ball I was sitting on was swaying. Turns out (as my dear readers may have already heard from some more reputable source) it was a magnitude 7.8 earthquake, albeit it 800 miles away. In fact it was near Chengdu, where Alison just bought a ticket to fly at the end of the month.

Before this, the closest thing to a natural disaster I had to write about was the windy night we had a week or two ago. While walking home I was amazed to see the railing down the middle of the road had blown over. I didn't think railings were ones to fall over. I mean, they're railings—shouldn't the wind just blow through them?

In other news, my second bike was stolen yesterday. While with the first theft I could admit some negligence in leaving it out on a busy street with only one small lock on. But this time it was in the bottom of our stairwell, locked twice, and only there because we got home too late the night before to return them to the garage.

But I suppose I have more to be thankful for than to complain about, given the death toll at the other corner of the country.

Does your town have a curtain rod district?

To celebrate making my first post in quite some time, I'm going to aim to be only positive for a change.

Today I tried a new route for my walk to school.¹ I chose the route because I looked at a map for once and it looked shorter than the one I'd previously taken, but I found it was nicer in other ways, too. Mostly it was just pleasant because it took me past a park and involved somewhat less trafficked roads.

People frequenting parks and quieter streets in the morning can be an amusing sight. The "free spirit" nature of most Chinese people (i.e. lack of self-consciousness) is quite refreshing. Any of the below are likely to fit into many people's morning routine around here:

• Performing Tai Chi or something approximating it.


• Walking backwards for some distance.²


• Visiting an outdoor free gym and using some piece of equipment in whatever way you see fit.


• Standing anywhere and waving one's hips every which way.

Regular, forward-type walking is allowed, but while doing it you're encouraged to swing your arms. A lot.

Hey, I think it's great that so many people get out and get exercise though, as funny-looking as it is in many of its forms. And heck, these are people who need this activity even less than us Westerners do because the majority of them are still walking or cycling throughout the day just to get around. It seems in the West that if you're not a couch potato you have to be a crazy yoga freak and there's little middle ground. (Yeah, I know that's an over-generalization. I'm just making a point.)

Anyway, on to my walk home from school. Midday reveals different things than the morning.

Chinese cities (in my limited experience) like to group their stores in clusters. For instance, here in Hohhot we have the kitchen supply store district. Then there are at least two substantial strips of bicycle stores around. When I was on the bus to go and deal with my student visa I saw the toilet store part of town. These areas are hard to miss as samples of the wares in question are typically put out on the sidewalk. Well today, I walked past somewhere new:

The curtain rod district!

There were fifteen or twenty such stores all in a row. (Yeah, yeah, they probably sell curtains too, but the rods are what was on display outside.)

Come to think of it, I could do to go back there sometime soon. Our kitchen has no curtain.



¹After my bike was stolen a while back I decided to see how reasonable it was to walk to school. I've since replaced the bike but since I found that it only takes an hour to get there on foot (compared to twenty minutes riding), it could do me good to walk now and then anyway. Walking has a few benefits: I notice more stuff along the way, I can review my Chinese flashcards while I do it, there's possibly less chance of being in an accident, and it's slightly more exercise.

²I don't necessarily recommend this one. One of Alison's students recently had to (or will soon have to) be treated for a fairly serious head injury incurred while walking or running in reverse. (I think it was part of the PE program at his school.)

Coming home tomorrow for three and a half weeks...

But in the meantime I'm looking up "kumis" on Wikipedia: Last night we after dinner everyone (meaning me; Alison; Phil; Jake, a new teacher who's working in Hohhot for the next month; and Ally, a Mongolian girl whom Alison and Phil met as she is a tour guide around here) came back to our apartment to watch some British comedy in the form of I'm Alan Partridge, which I'd just finished downloading (I mean... acquiring legitimately). Alison and Ally stopped on the way to get some beer, and also picked up a small bottle of what Alison proclaimed was "milk alcohol" when she came in. On closer inspection of the (Chinese) writing on the bottle she found that not only was it "milk alcohol," but "horse milk alcohol." It was somewhat foul tasting especially given that its alcohol content was only 16%. Ally informed us that this stuff even has an English name—i.e. kumis. Well colour me watered-down milky colour!

My Lonely Bike

I forgot to post a picture of my bike which I was so excited about back at the time when I got it. It has been a bit neglected lately, seeing as the roads have been quite snowy, icy, muddy, or any combination of these.

Here it is in all its glory: basket, rattrap, and one speed. I can contentedly ride it in street clothes, whereas at home I feel obliged to wear something more suitable to sweating in. That's not really a concern on this bike since it maxes out at about 24 km/h. (By "maxes out" I mean that if I push it any faster then my legs spin into oblivion.) I wish simple bikes like this were more readily available at home; instead, it seems people ride fancy-pants mountain or racing bikes, or nothing at all (with the exception of the small community of people with custom-made "choppers" and such—I saw a group of these in Stanley Park at the end of last summer and will confess some amount of envy).

Harbor Cafe

This entry is named after a shop located across the street from Alison's school. They have a bakery downstairs, which is quite unique in its selling of bread that very closely approximates bread you might buy in the West.¹ Upstairs is a rather cozy restaurant, again with some half-decent Western dishes. It's one of the few dining places around that stays open between about 1:00 and 5:00 in the afternoon, and we ended up there yesterday for a late lunch.

The first thing of note during our meal: There were three girls at the table next to us, and one of them had chosen to bring her puppy along.² It divided its time between sitting on her lap, briefly roaming around the floor and paying us a visit, and having a short crawl about on their table. (Apparently the table in question was Alison's and Phil's regular spot to eat; I think they've decided to change henceforth.)

On the way out I saw something else that piqued my interest. The restaurant is pretty eclectically decorated, with the walls adorned with an assortment of decorations from photos of old American movie stars to a motorized folding bicycle. What I saw was one thing I never expected to see posted in a public place anywhere in China: A movie poster for Seven Years in Tibet.


¹This is unusual because most things that look like bread here actually contain one surprise or another: maybe it's sweet, maybe it's got a mystery filling, maybe it's got fish flakes sprinkled on top.

²Maybe I should be glad that "hanging out in a restaurant" was adding to the dog's range of experiences; after all, who knows how long it had to live. It seems people in this country acquire dogs and cats at way too young an age when they should certainly not be removed from their mothers. That combined with the less-than-ideal care and diet provided by their owners doesn't make for much of a life expectancy.