I have had a day off today being sick. Not that we have sick leave here, but I was just too sick to work.
On Monday I was standing in the kitchen making myself a cuppa, and my right knee suddenly started to hurt really badly like I had whacked my knee. I rubbed my leg, and found that below the knee was numb ... but the rest of it sure hurt! I rested a bit. The next day we had no lessons because the kids were doing exams, so that was ok. On the Wednesday I struggled through my morning lessons, but by the afternoon my leg was excruciating, so I went to ask our "minder" to take me to a doctor.
She took me to a "very famous doctor" who lives nearby. (She wanted to do this to find out how good he is so she can take her boyfriend's father there if he is good.) The college van was out, in Zhengzhou, so we went in one of the "bam-bam"s, or motor-bike taxi ... which was pretty hard on the old leg! We eventually found the good doctor's house after stopping to ask directions a few times from local villagers. I was assured he is retired, but very good.
I went into his house, a large all-open local Chinese village house, and all sorts of curious hanger-arounders wandered in with us. A lot of chatter went on around me, and about me. The doctor agreed to check me - taking my pulse for a long time on each wrist. He said my body is very weak - I was sitting there in agony on this wooden chair! Then he took my blood pressure with the oldest one of those things I have ever seen, but apparently it worked. He said my blood pressure was up a little - I get that way when I am in pain and distressed.
So then I was asked if I would be willing to try his medicine, he assured me I would be feeling better by morning. So, ok. He gave me an injection in the bum, sitting there on that hard chair with all the locals craning their necks around the door. I think it was penicillin. Then they closed the door so he could give me the "secret medicine". This was a sticky patch with some pooey-looking herbal poultice which they stuck on my lower back. Finally he gave me some medicine to take. There were four little 5cm squares of paper, each with 22pills, 7 different colours and sizes, carefully folded into a little parcel.
In the morning I hoped and prayed it would be all better, like he said, but by the time I got up and had a cuppa I was in agony again. So I looked up some stuff on the net about DVT (deep vein thrombosis) because that was what I scared it might be, and then ran it through "babelfish" and translated it into Chinese. I printed it out and gave it to Xiao Dong, which panicked her enough into taking me to the doctor in Zhengzhou.
They took me to the "number 1" hospital - everything here has numbers, schools, hospitals etc. I have been there before, and it’s always busy and bewildering, even for those who speak the language. I dragged myself upstairs to a long corridor with labeled doors along each side, and wooden seats to wait on, and hoards of unhappy (sick) people. Each tiny room along the hall held one or two of what would (in a Western hospital) be a whole department. We chose the (unfortunately) most popular one "peripheral vascular surgery" which was next to what was probably the least popular "anus and intestines surgery". All the doors were open, and patients and doctors and nurses wandered in and out.
Our minder tried to hurry things up for me by calling in some "guanxi" - relationship payback - from another doctor at the hospital whose son I taught last year. That at least got me into the queue, but I still had to wait an hour or more.
Finally it was my turn, and I was shunted into place on a little wooden stool by one of the doctors, a little old man was on the stool by the doctor on the other side of the desk. The room was full of people, all trying to get their little medical books onto the desk for a turn too, and all curious to see a foreigner in the hospital. After our minder gave a long explanation and showed the (trainee) doctor the sheets I had printed, he got out a flimsy little tape measure, and wanted to measure around my legs (to see if they're swollen at all I guess). So I stood there, trousers around my ankles, having my legs measured, feeling just a little silly but willing to do anything to ease this pain. I looked sideways at the little old man next to me who was having his pencil thin legs measured by the doctor at the other side of the table, and decided at least I wasn’t the only one being humiliated. And the crowd chattered on. The student wrote down the measurements, but didn't know what to do next , so he passed my book across to the professor, and I then had to take a turn on his little wooden stool.
Well, after lots of Chinese chatter we went to another hospital, on the other side of Zhengzhou in the back-blocks. We arrived at 12.03, and of course everything (especially hospitals) closes down between 12.00 and 2.30pm. So we had to sit around, grab a bite to eat at a street stall.
This other hospital didn't seem to have a number. It was very small, with almost no one there (yay!), ceramic tiles falling off the walls, torn fly screen doors on the inside, peeling paint ... all the usual Chinese hospital stuff ... and an x-ray machine! I paid 500 yuan, and we were given a bottle of dye to be injected into my leg and a turn at the machine. They had a couple of stabs (literally!) at getting the needle into a vein in my foot, and the "sit", "lie", "hold your breath" instructions were translated by our minder, who also stood by my head to hold my head when they asked me to lie down because the bed wasn't long enough. They had a "return to Oz" style machine - a wooden contraption, old and hand-made looking, driven by lacky bands, for pushing the dye syringe steadily. That wasn't too bad, I was tired and very sore by then! I ended up with some x-rays of some very tatty-looking veins in my leg.
Then we went back to the number 1 hospital and pushed through the crowd to get my little book onto the desk in front of the professor doctor again. Once again I was on the little stool, and our minder was chatting with him about his daughter going to university in Singapore, and the people around grabbed my little book off her to have a good read and pass it around, but finally he wrote on a piece of paper some medicine I could go and buy. That was a relief - the x-ray doctor had talked about a "small operation", and I am pretty scared of doing that in China!
Last night was agony. I think the dye had to work its way out of my system - they said something about it making my leg swell. They also said something about not taking any other medication at the same time, so I didn't take any painkillers. I had intended to get up and teach today, but I just couldn't face it. Tomorrow ... I don't know. I am hoping the medicine will make it better real soon!
Saturday, April 2, 2005
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Poked, Smoked, and Cupped
I have been having a lot of back-aches, and decided to try the ultimate Chinese remedy - acupuncture. (Do you know how long those needles are?!) Unfortunately, we are at the mercy of our "minder" here to help us find someone, and translate for us to them. They took me to the "Number 2 Affiliated Hospital of Henan University of Chinese Medicine." The presence of the word "university" in that title only became apparent later!
After we had paid the receptionist for the right to see a doctor (that's how they do it here!), we went to his room, and found it full of people (about 20) lounging around. Some, we gradually came to realize, were other patients, some were their friends and relatives, and lots of them were students. (ah! It’s a university!) When the doctor arrived, he gabbled on to me in Chinese, and my minder told him stuff, explaining especially how I had fallen at New Year and maybe that was the cause of my problem. (She doesn't listen - I told her the problem started before that.) He diagnosed me by taking my pulse (both wrists), looking at my tongue, and poking my back and legs with his fingers to find where it hurt (yoW!) Then he sent me off for x-rays ... another whole new experience.
I came back with the x-rays still dripping wet and with a little piece of paper with Chinese writing from the 15-yr old (it seemed) who was the radiologist, saying that I have ... something that is normal for my age (my minder couldn't translate it).
So then I had my first of 6 treatments.
First they stuck me full of needles in my back, buttocks, legs and ankles. I particularly don't like the behind-the-knee ones! Then they attach electrodes to the ones in my legs - ankle, knee and buttock - and run a current through them so the muscles are jumping. Then they put a big wooden box on my back, with some sort of smoking thing in it, and a metal cage over all, and a thick blanket. That stays there for forty minutes or so ... oh, the pleasure when the electrodes suddenly beep and go off!! And they take it all off, and remove all the needles ... another pleasurable moment! Then the doctor gets some glass jars, dips a burning wad momentarily into each one and slaps them onto my back and legs - 10 of them. The jar fiercely sucks my flesh up into its vacuum - at first it feels quite bitey, but after a couple of moments it actually feels quite good. After ten or fifteen minutes they remove the jars, each one with a loud sucking noise, and then give me a fairly strong massage all over my back and legs.
And all this happens in a roomful of people! It’s the funniest thing. Most of them, of course, are the university students - it is, after all, a university. Some of them are patients, and patients’ friends and relations. But it all has a remarkable sociable family feel. And they are all fascinated with the presence of a "waigoren" (foreigner). The little doctor man was very proud when he learnt to say my name (well, as best he could!), proudly repeating "Loosha, Loosha!" Then he learnt to say "Geta uppa!" And everyone had a go at saying that too. That triggered a rush of everyone having a go at any other English words they knew. Our college driver/handyman (who was looking on, of course) knows how to say "tomorrow" and "money". Peter said "Here comes the hot box", and they all started saying "boxa, boxa". I said to Peter, "at least you can look", and they all started "Looka! Looka!"
It is a series of 6 treatments, I have had three. Today I went in by myself – it’s a 2 hour bus ride (on three buses) each way, quite an ordeal in itself. But, I have to admit, I feel a lot better. One of the trainees, who has a few more words of English than the others, usually says "Do a you a feel a well?"
Lots more I could tell, but I have a washing machine full of smoky clothes and more waiting to go in. They tell me not to wash the smoke off after the treatment as its part of the deal, and I have been good for the last few days... but today I can't handle any more and I'm washing everything! Tomorrow the hospital is closed so I get a break, and I don't want to smell that stuff again until Monday.
After we had paid the receptionist for the right to see a doctor (that's how they do it here!), we went to his room, and found it full of people (about 20) lounging around. Some, we gradually came to realize, were other patients, some were their friends and relatives, and lots of them were students. (ah! It’s a university!) When the doctor arrived, he gabbled on to me in Chinese, and my minder told him stuff, explaining especially how I had fallen at New Year and maybe that was the cause of my problem. (She doesn't listen - I told her the problem started before that.) He diagnosed me by taking my pulse (both wrists), looking at my tongue, and poking my back and legs with his fingers to find where it hurt (yoW!) Then he sent me off for x-rays ... another whole new experience.
I came back with the x-rays still dripping wet and with a little piece of paper with Chinese writing from the 15-yr old (it seemed) who was the radiologist, saying that I have ... something that is normal for my age (my minder couldn't translate it).
So then I had my first of 6 treatments.
First they stuck me full of needles in my back, buttocks, legs and ankles. I particularly don't like the behind-the-knee ones! Then they attach electrodes to the ones in my legs - ankle, knee and buttock - and run a current through them so the muscles are jumping. Then they put a big wooden box on my back, with some sort of smoking thing in it, and a metal cage over all, and a thick blanket. That stays there for forty minutes or so ... oh, the pleasure when the electrodes suddenly beep and go off!! And they take it all off, and remove all the needles ... another pleasurable moment! Then the doctor gets some glass jars, dips a burning wad momentarily into each one and slaps them onto my back and legs - 10 of them. The jar fiercely sucks my flesh up into its vacuum - at first it feels quite bitey, but after a couple of moments it actually feels quite good. After ten or fifteen minutes they remove the jars, each one with a loud sucking noise, and then give me a fairly strong massage all over my back and legs.
And all this happens in a roomful of people! It’s the funniest thing. Most of them, of course, are the university students - it is, after all, a university. Some of them are patients, and patients’ friends and relations. But it all has a remarkable sociable family feel. And they are all fascinated with the presence of a "waigoren" (foreigner). The little doctor man was very proud when he learnt to say my name (well, as best he could!), proudly repeating "Loosha, Loosha!" Then he learnt to say "Geta uppa!" And everyone had a go at saying that too. That triggered a rush of everyone having a go at any other English words they knew. Our college driver/handyman (who was looking on, of course) knows how to say "tomorrow" and "money". Peter said "Here comes the hot box", and they all started saying "boxa, boxa". I said to Peter, "at least you can look", and they all started "Looka! Looka!"
It is a series of 6 treatments, I have had three. Today I went in by myself – it’s a 2 hour bus ride (on three buses) each way, quite an ordeal in itself. But, I have to admit, I feel a lot better. One of the trainees, who has a few more words of English than the others, usually says "Do a you a feel a well?"
Lots more I could tell, but I have a washing machine full of smoky clothes and more waiting to go in. They tell me not to wash the smoke off after the treatment as its part of the deal, and I have been good for the last few days... but today I can't handle any more and I'm washing everything! Tomorrow the hospital is closed so I get a break, and I don't want to smell that stuff again until Monday.
Friday, February 18, 2005
Cracked Head
Don't you hate it when you know something bad/stupid is about to happen, and no matter what you do you can't seem to stop it?
Just outside our place there is an old water-pipe sticking up in the air, all old and supposedly blocked off. Well, it started to leak a bit, all of a sudden. We saw it when we came back from Beijing, and it looked so pretty - there were icicles and stalagmites and stalactites all over the nearby bushes from the spray as it froze.
Well, that was all well and good, until the leak got worse, and it was squirting across our driveway ... and then of course the water on the ground froze, and it was very very slippery.
So we went out in the afternoon, and came back after dark. The pipe was still spraying across the road which was totally awash - and frozen by now - and it was pitch black. Peter and Bea headed out carefully into the icy section, and I took a tiny step and then stood still, waiting to think what to do and how to approach. The ground under my feet, I suddenly noticed, sloped gently downwards. All of a sudden my feet just went off by themselves. I fell flat on my back like a tin soldier, hands still in my pockets! Peter turned around and said, "What are you doing? Come on, get up!" But I didn't think I could. I felt the back of my head, and I had a huge (instant) lump.
So he helped me upstairs. I pointed out that I needed ice and there was none in the freezer. "Ha. Ha." he said and headed back downstairs to fill a tea-towel with ice and snow. And I sat there with it on my lump for hours.
It seemed like I was looking through a sheet of broken glass, the light reflected and sparkled off the jagged crack across the centre of my vision. I was relieved that that slowly cleared after the first hour or so.
I went to bed, but stayed sitting up because I have heard that with concussion you have to stay awake so you don't fall into a coma and no one knows. I found I was falling asleep sitting up, so I gingerly lay down. It was like diving headfirst into a deep abyss, spinning all the way. I sat up again, and started vomitting.
Poor Peter, he stayed awake most of the night, he was so worried. So was I, and feeling so grotty. In fact I haven't been out of the apartment since - a week ago now. The bump has gone down, but I have a real sore spot on my skull still. And I still feel nauseatingly dizzy whenever I turnover to the right in bed, or turn my head the wrong way when I'm sitting up. But I'm much better. I have had a heavy cold, too, a reaction to the bump, I suppose, and that is almost gone now too.
We are tired of snow. Its very pretty, but cold and uncomfortable. Yesterday, again, it snowed and snowed, and I watched it through the window. Our CNN weather forecast email service says it will be 16 degrees on Monday. We are finding that hard to believe as it hasn't been over 2 degrees for weeks. They also reckon it will be -13 degrees tonight, which is also unlikely as it generally goes down to -5 most nights. I think they make up these figures for fun and don't believe there is anyone out here actually reading them!
Just outside our place there is an old water-pipe sticking up in the air, all old and supposedly blocked off. Well, it started to leak a bit, all of a sudden. We saw it when we came back from Beijing, and it looked so pretty - there were icicles and stalagmites and stalactites all over the nearby bushes from the spray as it froze.
Well, that was all well and good, until the leak got worse, and it was squirting across our driveway ... and then of course the water on the ground froze, and it was very very slippery.
So we went out in the afternoon, and came back after dark. The pipe was still spraying across the road which was totally awash - and frozen by now - and it was pitch black. Peter and Bea headed out carefully into the icy section, and I took a tiny step and then stood still, waiting to think what to do and how to approach. The ground under my feet, I suddenly noticed, sloped gently downwards. All of a sudden my feet just went off by themselves. I fell flat on my back like a tin soldier, hands still in my pockets! Peter turned around and said, "What are you doing? Come on, get up!" But I didn't think I could. I felt the back of my head, and I had a huge (instant) lump.
So he helped me upstairs. I pointed out that I needed ice and there was none in the freezer. "Ha. Ha." he said and headed back downstairs to fill a tea-towel with ice and snow. And I sat there with it on my lump for hours.
It seemed like I was looking through a sheet of broken glass, the light reflected and sparkled off the jagged crack across the centre of my vision. I was relieved that that slowly cleared after the first hour or so.
I went to bed, but stayed sitting up because I have heard that with concussion you have to stay awake so you don't fall into a coma and no one knows. I found I was falling asleep sitting up, so I gingerly lay down. It was like diving headfirst into a deep abyss, spinning all the way. I sat up again, and started vomitting.
Poor Peter, he stayed awake most of the night, he was so worried. So was I, and feeling so grotty. In fact I haven't been out of the apartment since - a week ago now. The bump has gone down, but I have a real sore spot on my skull still. And I still feel nauseatingly dizzy whenever I turnover to the right in bed, or turn my head the wrong way when I'm sitting up. But I'm much better. I have had a heavy cold, too, a reaction to the bump, I suppose, and that is almost gone now too.
We are tired of snow. Its very pretty, but cold and uncomfortable. Yesterday, again, it snowed and snowed, and I watched it through the window. Our CNN weather forecast email service says it will be 16 degrees on Monday. We are finding that hard to believe as it hasn't been over 2 degrees for weeks. They also reckon it will be -13 degrees tonight, which is also unlikely as it generally goes down to -5 most nights. I think they make up these figures for fun and don't believe there is anyone out here actually reading them!
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Hamster Down the Drain
Maybe we were just really tired, I don't know. We just didn't shut her box, and off we went to bed. Later in the night I got up for a drink and noticed the lid off her box. I peered inside - sure enough, no Happy!
Ok, I thought, I've done this before! I pulled the wood panel off the wall, sure she would be tucked away inside there like before - but no sign of her, it didn't even look like she had been there. I tried the other wall, nothing except a plastic bag in there - vaguely wondered why there was a plastic bag, but not worth spending time over.
Then I noticed the kitchen door was open. Had I just opened that when I went to get a drink? Could she be in there? I took a quick glance around the kitchen, noticing the open pipe-hole (drain) in the floor next to the sink ... surely not? I put a plastic washing-up bowl over it to make sure she didn't go down it while I continued to look.
Back in the lounge room, searching in vain, suddenly I heard the wash-bowl on top of the drain hole bouncing around. I ran into the kitchen and picked up the bowl just in time to see her tiny pink stub of a tail disappear back down into the murky depths.
I had read that with Russian hamsters, who are great escape artists, what you do is lay a trail of peanut butter - which they love and can smell from great distance - and book-steps up to their box, which they hopefully then fall into and cannot climb back out. I found a stick of wood which I lay from the drain up to the top of her box, coated it with peanut butter, and sat down on a chair in the kitchen to watch and wait.
I could hear her all over the place in the drain pipes. What if she follows it all the way down to the ground floor and into that deep watery hole outside? What if she's not back by morning and I want to have a shower? Could she show up in the bathroom drain? I tried to follow the sounds, but couldn't work out where she was.
If only I could make her smell the peanut butter from down there ... I got my hair drier and blew hot peanut-butter-flavoured air down the drain. No reaction.
After two hours of useless silly ideas I decided "that's it, she's gone", and went back to bed to wander through endless weird hamster-hunting dreams. I woke up at first light thinking "that's it, she came back!" only to remember that was a dream too. I wandered into the kitchen - nope, no sign of her back in the box. Maybe she doesn't even like peanut butter, after all she's Syrian not Russian.
Would I dare to have a shower? Which drain would she be in by now? I sat down to have a cup of tea and mourn the loss of my little friend.
Then I heard a rustling in the plastic bag behind the wooden wall panel. There she was, silly thing, trying to make a nest in a crackly plastic bag instead of her own warm box. She used to be a golden colour, with a white saddleback stripe. Now she was drain-sludge grey! I wonder how long it will take her to lick her colour back?
She stood tall on her tiny back legs to sniff at my hand as I reached out for her, unafraid as ever. Glad to see me? I don't know. Not fussed apparently. I was certainly glad to see her.
Tuesday, February 8, 2005
Have Hamster, will travel
Hey, don’t you just love holidays? Of course, Australia’s holidays are over and everyone is back at work, but we are just in the middle of it.
Today is "New Year" here. Firecrackers have been going off all night. Everyone visits their family and gives presents.
We have just returned from a trip to Beijing and Qingdao. Bea has been really sick for a few days, but she finally seems a little better today. I am so relieved, because I was beginning to think we should take her to hospital, and Chinese hospitals are really scary places.
All of the foreign staff here decided to take off for holiday at the same time, so I couldn't ask anyone to mind hamster "Happy" - I had visions of coming back to find her cold and stiff (dead) and smelly. So I took her with me. Sounds simple if you say it quick!!
I crocheted a little bag to pop her little cage into, so I could walk nonchalantly into hotels and onto trains...! I made a nest for her (in the cage) out of a cut-down Pringles-type tube. And I enclosed the cage in a custom-made cardboard box, and put the whole thing into my little bag.
The thing went really well, at first. She (oh, yes, now she's bigger she's obviously a girl) slept quietly for the first train trip, 8-hours to Beijing. Then we booked into a 4-bed dormitory in a youth hostel. Each bed had a big wooden locker - which looked like an ideal place for a hamster to live. I put her cage in there, open, locked the door and went to sleep on the bed directly over the locker. I was so tired that I didn't pay much attention to the sound of workmen hammering and sawing and dragging stuff around ... somewhere. But it kept Peter awake, and he woke me up. Of course the wooden locker acted as a great sound magnifier of Happy's activity. I thought she would just want to run around (they apparently run about 8km a night), but she had decided to remove everything from her cage and build a nest in the corner of the locker, and then set-to chewing and gnawing at everything. She had made quite an impression on the corner of the locker door.
So then I put her (and her nest) back in her tiny cage, and sat it on an easy chair where it would be quieter. I fell back into bed listening to her scritching around in her cage ... and suddenly realised she had gone quiet. Sure enough, there she was running across the chair. Opening a cage is hamsters'-play, apparently. After that I tried putting various things on top of the cage so she couldn't open it. A jar of honey we had just bought seemed like a good, heavy, option - until I awoke again to the unmistakable sound of honey-jar smashing on floor! I had to creep down the hallway to find a mop in the cleaner's room and get it all cleaned away while the world slept.
Then we went on a sleeper-train to Qingdao. We had "hard sleepers", six tiny bunks in each cabin; bottom, middle and top on each side of the room. All very squeezy, and no chance to give Happy a run. She was a bit upset about this and chewed away the cardboard box around her cage almost completely, and even managed to chew a hole in the crocheted bag.
The time in Qingdao was easier. We had a nice big hotel room, and I had a chance to put her in her wheel and give her a run-around each night. (Her wheel is totally enclosed, so I can't leave it for her to get in and out of.) Then we had another sleeper-train ride, Qingdao to Zhengzhou, 2.30pm to 8am. That wasn't much fun for any of us!
Zhengzhou is a really grotty place at the best of times, but it never looked so good as when we arrived back here on Monday! It is snowing again, so it actually looks fairly pretty for now.
Here at our apartment I have adapted a big, strong cardboard carton for a play area for Happy. I inserted cut-off Coke-bottles into the sides that she pops in and out of like tunnels. I was sitting here at the computer after the others had gone to bed half-listening to her scritching around in her box and ... yep, suddenly realised it had gone all quiet. She had somehow climbed right out. I found her near the desk, looking like a tennis ball with ears - her tiny feet were so cold when I picked her up. She is very tame, and was quite undisturbed by her little adventure.
The next night I left her in the cardboard box overnight, and got up about 4.30am for a drink - peeped into the box and couldn't find her. I discovered the neat, round hole she had chewed right through the side of the box. Then I heard a tiny noise in the corner by the huge split-system air conditioner. Remembering how one of the college classrooms had been evacuated after a mouse had made a nest and been incinerated in (causing a bad smell) one of those ... I got straight to it then and there with a screwdriver and took the front off the thing to look for her. I couldn't find her in there, and then I heard a noise behind the heater - in the wall. There is an old, defunct radiator system throughout the building, and the radiators are hidden behind wooden paneling, with a slatted section that easily pulls out. Sure enough, in behind the radiator in the deepest darkest corner ... I could see her dark little eyes and her twitching whiskers.
Peanut butter almost enticed her out; she came halfway, and then changed her mind. I went to find a broomstick to poke her along a bit, and came back to find she'd gone ... she was just exploring around a bit. And I reached in and picked her up. She seemed glad enough to see me, quite unperturbed by yet another adventure.
I was just relieved to put the panels back on the walls, screw the front back onto the heater, and fall back into bed! No more cardboard-box play times!
But, back to our trip and how the rest of the family fared!
I was amazed how homely grotty old Zhengzhou looked after ten days traveling...
Beijing was like a money pit. We stayed in a Youth Hostel because it was the cheapest place we could find - 50yuan per bed per night in a 4-bed dormitory. We were in a fairly new place, actually the "workers stadium" - they have rooms on the 2nd, 3rd and 4th floors all around the outside of the stadium. We were on the 4th floor (no elevator, or course) looking out over a frozen lake. Everyday they used a steamer-thing (or something) to make a smooth circle on the ice, and people would ice-skate and stuff. One enterprising gentleman had made these skating seat things (see Bea on ice picture) which you could hire for 10yuan and push yourself around. Not as easy as it looks!
The Youth Hostel arranged tours, and you could put your name down for it and their guide would pick you up at the door and look after you. We went to an acrobatic show one night, that was good. And then we decided to try their trip to the Great Wall. Of course, there are many parts of the wall you can visit, and this one was chosen for young hikers! We drove three hours north east of Beijing, and they dropped off the hardier walkers at a village where some guides would take them on a 9km walk of the wall, parts of which are quite crumbling and decrepit. The rest of us took the "easy" way, they took us to Si Ma Tai village where we walked a section of the wall and waited for the others to join us. I didn't expect it to be so steep, and the steps varied from a few inches wide (too small for you foot to sit safely on) to several feet wide, sometimes shallow, sometimes so tall you needed hands and knees, and tipping forward, back, sideways ... It was quite an experience, and very, very cold. Three women showed up to "help" us, quite annoying really, having someone holding your hand when you are trying to climb. We should have been less polite, of course, we just put up with them. And then at the end they wanted us to buy their souvenir goods. Understandable - I am sure their story about being poor farmers who have been in brought for three years is quite true.
We also visited the "Forbidden City", regrettably. It was so, so cold, about -16 degrees and a very strong wind blowing. It was miserable, we could hardly stand up, and all the other (Chinese) tourists were miserable too. It cost us 40 Yuan each, and when we got to the other side we just wanted to get back to the hotel. We tried to hail a taxi, but these motorbike taxi-chaps kept getting in our way, and were most insistent that we went with them. Our motorbike taxis here in Long Hu are excellent, so we gave in - and forgot to arrange a price ahead of time. (In taxis you don't have to of course.) We needed two of them for the three of us, and we seemed to travel a very long way even though we knew we were only about three blocks away. When we got out, they wanted 100yuan ... each! And they wouldn't bargain about it. Peter offered them 20, but they wouldn't take it out of his hand. So he dropped it on the taxi seat and we shot upstairs. One of them followed us, and physically restrained me on the stairs. We argued some more, and he "agreed" to 30, so I gave him another 10 and had to push my way away from him because he still wanted more. It was not a pleasant experience.
We did a lot of walking around – and it was so cold! I found a foreign doctor clinic a couple of blocks away from the stadium, and I went and had my necessary blood tests done - that cost me a week's wages. But they did have a nice (free) coffee and hot chocolate dispenser at the clinic, which Bea and Peter made good use of! And it was so pleasant to talk to an Australian (doctor) and to be treated in the way we are accustomed to. (Don’t get me started about Chinese hospitals…!)
On the last day we had to check out at noon, but our train wasn't until 8pm. So we decided to leave our bags at a left luggage place. We thought the "State-Owned" one would be safest, even if they can't spell! But they wanted 100yuan each. Once again, we had handed over our bags without negotiating first. They refused to give the bags back, but we did talk them down to 40yuan. We then spent a long, slow 8 hours trying to find a warm place to wait for our train.
Like I said, it just seemed like everyone in Beijing has the idea that foreigners are fair game for their money. We were glad to be out of there!
Next stop, Qingdao...
So then we went on the sleeper train to Qingdao. As we were approaching the city, Peter was just commenting that we had nowhere to stay, and no ideas, when a lady came down the train with a folder advertising a particular hotel. We "discussed" with her and were offered two double rooms at 80yuan a night each - sounded good and we agreed. When the train arrived she led us off the train, through a side door into the street and to our hotel right next door - lovely.
We are not sure if the "Tong Da" has any "stars", but it was spacious and cheap. We found that the bed-lamps didn't work because there were no bulbs. In fact, there was only one bulb in the whole room, and the same in Bea's room. Way to save money! And the hot water was great - but only on occasionally. There were towels, well, hand-towels ... we were glad we had brought our own. No fridge (or mini-bar), no water purifier - but they filled a large flask with hot water each day, and bottled water is only 1 Yuan a bottle in Qingdao (not like Beijing!).
We wandered around and looked at the beach - cold, but lovely to be near the sea again. The buildings have a real Bavarian look, strong German influence. There are even a couple of big old churches, apparently still functional. It’s just a whole different sort of place from Zhengzhou.
We were trying to follow our map (all in Chinese) to catch a bus up to a hill where you can get a great view - there's a revolving tower at the top. A young lady stopped and asked to help us. She has just graduated from university and is about to start teaching in Qingdao. She wanted to be our guide, because she was just plain bored. So she went with us and showed us around a bit, it was really great.
We managed to get train tickets to Zhengzhou, despite the hoards of people trying to travel everywhere just before the New Year. We watched people buying these boxes, special things you give as gifts at New Year. And of course fireworks.
Last night (back here in Long Hu) the fireworks went all night, and still going spasmodically today. It really sounds like we are in a war-zone. Sometimes we see pretty displays rising above surrounding buildings, but mostly we just hear loud bangs and pops resonating off the buildings and see flashes of light reflecting off the cloud and smog.
Our holidays are not over yet. Just for now it’s advisable not to travel while the New Year celebrations are on. The weather is pretty unfriendly anyway – it snowed the day we returned, and it’s all murky-looking like its got some more snowing to do. And it’s very, very cold.
Today is "New Year" here. Firecrackers have been going off all night. Everyone visits their family and gives presents.
We have just returned from a trip to Beijing and Qingdao. Bea has been really sick for a few days, but she finally seems a little better today. I am so relieved, because I was beginning to think we should take her to hospital, and Chinese hospitals are really scary places.
All of the foreign staff here decided to take off for holiday at the same time, so I couldn't ask anyone to mind hamster "Happy" - I had visions of coming back to find her cold and stiff (dead) and smelly. So I took her with me. Sounds simple if you say it quick!!
I crocheted a little bag to pop her little cage into, so I could walk nonchalantly into hotels and onto trains...! I made a nest for her (in the cage) out of a cut-down Pringles-type tube. And I enclosed the cage in a custom-made cardboard box, and put the whole thing into my little bag.
The thing went really well, at first. She (oh, yes, now she's bigger she's obviously a girl) slept quietly for the first train trip, 8-hours to Beijing. Then we booked into a 4-bed dormitory in a youth hostel. Each bed had a big wooden locker - which looked like an ideal place for a hamster to live. I put her cage in there, open, locked the door and went to sleep on the bed directly over the locker. I was so tired that I didn't pay much attention to the sound of workmen hammering and sawing and dragging stuff around ... somewhere. But it kept Peter awake, and he woke me up. Of course the wooden locker acted as a great sound magnifier of Happy's activity. I thought she would just want to run around (they apparently run about 8km a night), but she had decided to remove everything from her cage and build a nest in the corner of the locker, and then set-to chewing and gnawing at everything. She had made quite an impression on the corner of the locker door.
So then I put her (and her nest) back in her tiny cage, and sat it on an easy chair where it would be quieter. I fell back into bed listening to her scritching around in her cage ... and suddenly realised she had gone quiet. Sure enough, there she was running across the chair. Opening a cage is hamsters'-play, apparently. After that I tried putting various things on top of the cage so she couldn't open it. A jar of honey we had just bought seemed like a good, heavy, option - until I awoke again to the unmistakable sound of honey-jar smashing on floor! I had to creep down the hallway to find a mop in the cleaner's room and get it all cleaned away while the world slept.
Then we went on a sleeper-train to Qingdao. We had "hard sleepers", six tiny bunks in each cabin; bottom, middle and top on each side of the room. All very squeezy, and no chance to give Happy a run. She was a bit upset about this and chewed away the cardboard box around her cage almost completely, and even managed to chew a hole in the crocheted bag.
The time in Qingdao was easier. We had a nice big hotel room, and I had a chance to put her in her wheel and give her a run-around each night. (Her wheel is totally enclosed, so I can't leave it for her to get in and out of.) Then we had another sleeper-train ride, Qingdao to Zhengzhou, 2.30pm to 8am. That wasn't much fun for any of us!
Zhengzhou is a really grotty place at the best of times, but it never looked so good as when we arrived back here on Monday! It is snowing again, so it actually looks fairly pretty for now.
Here at our apartment I have adapted a big, strong cardboard carton for a play area for Happy. I inserted cut-off Coke-bottles into the sides that she pops in and out of like tunnels. I was sitting here at the computer after the others had gone to bed half-listening to her scritching around in her box and ... yep, suddenly realised it had gone all quiet. She had somehow climbed right out. I found her near the desk, looking like a tennis ball with ears - her tiny feet were so cold when I picked her up. She is very tame, and was quite undisturbed by her little adventure.
The next night I left her in the cardboard box overnight, and got up about 4.30am for a drink - peeped into the box and couldn't find her. I discovered the neat, round hole she had chewed right through the side of the box. Then I heard a tiny noise in the corner by the huge split-system air conditioner. Remembering how one of the college classrooms had been evacuated after a mouse had made a nest and been incinerated in (causing a bad smell) one of those ... I got straight to it then and there with a screwdriver and took the front off the thing to look for her. I couldn't find her in there, and then I heard a noise behind the heater - in the wall. There is an old, defunct radiator system throughout the building, and the radiators are hidden behind wooden paneling, with a slatted section that easily pulls out. Sure enough, in behind the radiator in the deepest darkest corner ... I could see her dark little eyes and her twitching whiskers.
Peanut butter almost enticed her out; she came halfway, and then changed her mind. I went to find a broomstick to poke her along a bit, and came back to find she'd gone ... she was just exploring around a bit. And I reached in and picked her up. She seemed glad enough to see me, quite unperturbed by yet another adventure.
I was just relieved to put the panels back on the walls, screw the front back onto the heater, and fall back into bed! No more cardboard-box play times!
But, back to our trip and how the rest of the family fared!
I was amazed how homely grotty old Zhengzhou looked after ten days traveling...
Beijing was like a money pit. We stayed in a Youth Hostel because it was the cheapest place we could find - 50yuan per bed per night in a 4-bed dormitory. We were in a fairly new place, actually the "workers stadium" - they have rooms on the 2nd, 3rd and 4th floors all around the outside of the stadium. We were on the 4th floor (no elevator, or course) looking out over a frozen lake. Everyday they used a steamer-thing (or something) to make a smooth circle on the ice, and people would ice-skate and stuff. One enterprising gentleman had made these skating seat things (see Bea on ice picture) which you could hire for 10yuan and push yourself around. Not as easy as it looks!
The Youth Hostel arranged tours, and you could put your name down for it and their guide would pick you up at the door and look after you. We went to an acrobatic show one night, that was good. And then we decided to try their trip to the Great Wall. Of course, there are many parts of the wall you can visit, and this one was chosen for young hikers! We drove three hours north east of Beijing, and they dropped off the hardier walkers at a village where some guides would take them on a 9km walk of the wall, parts of which are quite crumbling and decrepit. The rest of us took the "easy" way, they took us to Si Ma Tai village where we walked a section of the wall and waited for the others to join us. I didn't expect it to be so steep, and the steps varied from a few inches wide (too small for you foot to sit safely on) to several feet wide, sometimes shallow, sometimes so tall you needed hands and knees, and tipping forward, back, sideways ... It was quite an experience, and very, very cold. Three women showed up to "help" us, quite annoying really, having someone holding your hand when you are trying to climb. We should have been less polite, of course, we just put up with them. And then at the end they wanted us to buy their souvenir goods. Understandable - I am sure their story about being poor farmers who have been in brought for three years is quite true.
We also visited the "Forbidden City", regrettably. It was so, so cold, about -16 degrees and a very strong wind blowing. It was miserable, we could hardly stand up, and all the other (Chinese) tourists were miserable too. It cost us 40 Yuan each, and when we got to the other side we just wanted to get back to the hotel. We tried to hail a taxi, but these motorbike taxi-chaps kept getting in our way, and were most insistent that we went with them. Our motorbike taxis here in Long Hu are excellent, so we gave in - and forgot to arrange a price ahead of time. (In taxis you don't have to of course.) We needed two of them for the three of us, and we seemed to travel a very long way even though we knew we were only about three blocks away. When we got out, they wanted 100yuan ... each! And they wouldn't bargain about it. Peter offered them 20, but they wouldn't take it out of his hand. So he dropped it on the taxi seat and we shot upstairs. One of them followed us, and physically restrained me on the stairs. We argued some more, and he "agreed" to 30, so I gave him another 10 and had to push my way away from him because he still wanted more. It was not a pleasant experience.
We did a lot of walking around – and it was so cold! I found a foreign doctor clinic a couple of blocks away from the stadium, and I went and had my necessary blood tests done - that cost me a week's wages. But they did have a nice (free) coffee and hot chocolate dispenser at the clinic, which Bea and Peter made good use of! And it was so pleasant to talk to an Australian (doctor) and to be treated in the way we are accustomed to. (Don’t get me started about Chinese hospitals…!)
On the last day we had to check out at noon, but our train wasn't until 8pm. So we decided to leave our bags at a left luggage place. We thought the "State-Owned" one would be safest, even if they can't spell! But they wanted 100yuan each. Once again, we had handed over our bags without negotiating first. They refused to give the bags back, but we did talk them down to 40yuan. We then spent a long, slow 8 hours trying to find a warm place to wait for our train.
Like I said, it just seemed like everyone in Beijing has the idea that foreigners are fair game for their money. We were glad to be out of there!
Next stop, Qingdao...
So then we went on the sleeper train to Qingdao. As we were approaching the city, Peter was just commenting that we had nowhere to stay, and no ideas, when a lady came down the train with a folder advertising a particular hotel. We "discussed" with her and were offered two double rooms at 80yuan a night each - sounded good and we agreed. When the train arrived she led us off the train, through a side door into the street and to our hotel right next door - lovely.
We are not sure if the "Tong Da" has any "stars", but it was spacious and cheap. We found that the bed-lamps didn't work because there were no bulbs. In fact, there was only one bulb in the whole room, and the same in Bea's room. Way to save money! And the hot water was great - but only on occasionally. There were towels, well, hand-towels ... we were glad we had brought our own. No fridge (or mini-bar), no water purifier - but they filled a large flask with hot water each day, and bottled water is only 1 Yuan a bottle in Qingdao (not like Beijing!).
We wandered around and looked at the beach - cold, but lovely to be near the sea again. The buildings have a real Bavarian look, strong German influence. There are even a couple of big old churches, apparently still functional. It’s just a whole different sort of place from Zhengzhou.
We were trying to follow our map (all in Chinese) to catch a bus up to a hill where you can get a great view - there's a revolving tower at the top. A young lady stopped and asked to help us. She has just graduated from university and is about to start teaching in Qingdao. She wanted to be our guide, because she was just plain bored. So she went with us and showed us around a bit, it was really great.
We managed to get train tickets to Zhengzhou, despite the hoards of people trying to travel everywhere just before the New Year. We watched people buying these boxes, special things you give as gifts at New Year. And of course fireworks.
Last night (back here in Long Hu) the fireworks went all night, and still going spasmodically today. It really sounds like we are in a war-zone. Sometimes we see pretty displays rising above surrounding buildings, but mostly we just hear loud bangs and pops resonating off the buildings and see flashes of light reflecting off the cloud and smog.
Our holidays are not over yet. Just for now it’s advisable not to travel while the New Year celebrations are on. The weather is pretty unfriendly anyway – it snowed the day we returned, and it’s all murky-looking like its got some more snowing to do. And it’s very, very cold.
Monday, January 31, 2005
Semester End
We are going up to Xi'an again today - that's where we visited this time last year! We had a train ticket booked, for the three of us and George and his Chinese girlfriend, to go yesterday afternoon. We thought Lucy (George's girl) would be an asset in translating stuff for us ... but she was so slow and indecisive when we were trying to get to the station that we missed the train!! So we are trying again today. We will (hopefully!) be leaving soon to catch the bus(es) to the Zhengzhou railway station.
My students have all left. They went about 3 days earlier than anyone expected. We suspect that burst water pipes in the students apartments and the general discomfort there may have had something to do with it. (They reckon we are having a colder winter here than usual.) They have gone off to have their medicals and all the rest before they leave. And I have just been hearing about the fires and stuff in SA! I have no idea what will be expected of me for the next 10 days of lessons before the semester actually ends.
Peter is very excited because the students in his class (many of whom are also about to leave) have just given his a Chinese name ... but I have no idea how to spell it. Its something like "Wei Da Zhi". Wei is an old dynasty name - so no one can complain that he stole their name. If/when I get a Chinese name I would not have the same family name. The two given names mean "intelligent" and ... I can't remember what the other one is.
My hamster has become very tame. We have so much fun watching himj stuff his pouches. We give him peanuts and sunflower seeds and count how many he can get in each pouch! The other day he picked up a whole burnt match-stick and put it in his pouch - he's only a baby yet!
For reasons they have not told us about - probably the burst water-pipes that we aren't supposed to know about, but the students told us about (despite being told not to) because we kept nagging them about why they all suddenly became extra tired in class - the semester is going to end earlier than expected. So we get 4 weeks holiday instead of 3 over the winter. We haven't yet decided what to do with it all!
My students have all left. They went about 3 days earlier than anyone expected. We suspect that burst water pipes in the students apartments and the general discomfort there may have had something to do with it. (They reckon we are having a colder winter here than usual.) They have gone off to have their medicals and all the rest before they leave. And I have just been hearing about the fires and stuff in SA! I have no idea what will be expected of me for the next 10 days of lessons before the semester actually ends.
Peter is very excited because the students in his class (many of whom are also about to leave) have just given his a Chinese name ... but I have no idea how to spell it. Its something like "Wei Da Zhi". Wei is an old dynasty name - so no one can complain that he stole their name. If/when I get a Chinese name I would not have the same family name. The two given names mean "intelligent" and ... I can't remember what the other one is.
My hamster has become very tame. We have so much fun watching himj stuff his pouches. We give him peanuts and sunflower seeds and count how many he can get in each pouch! The other day he picked up a whole burnt match-stick and put it in his pouch - he's only a baby yet!
For reasons they have not told us about - probably the burst water-pipes that we aren't supposed to know about, but the students told us about (despite being told not to) because we kept nagging them about why they all suddenly became extra tired in class - the semester is going to end earlier than expected. So we get 4 weeks holiday instead of 3 over the winter. We haven't yet decided what to do with it all!
Thursday, January 20, 2005
Blood Test
Just bought some eggs and fruit and ready-cooked sweet potatoes, and devoured one of those! Went down there and back in a "bam-bam cart" - little covered cart drawn by a motorbike. Most of the time we walk, but we wanted to be quick this time.
The weather has been remarkably kind the last few days, in the positive range, even up to 6 briefly during the day. But there is a forecast for snow for the next four days. The last lot (from a few days before Christmas) is still lying around in many places, though the roads are pretty clear now. Still piles of dirty ice along the streets - which melts into a puddle then re-freezes into a slippery patch!
I had a coat tailor made. It’s big and long (below my knees) and padded, with a padded, fur-lined hood. I feel quite invincible wearing it - and often too hot! The padding is actually down - feathers - I know because every now and then one slides out through a seam. Peter persuaded me to go bright, and so I got it made in red. It looks even brighter in the photos, kind of glows! Peter has bought one of the "Chinese Russian hats", with fur lined flaps that come down over his ears, and a Chinese army-style coat, so he is quite warm now too!
They keep extending our holidays more and more. My students left earlier than expected, and then they brought forward final exams and holidays, so we actually finish up this Sunday, 23rd, instead of the end of January as originally in the plan. They decided not to give me more lessons when my class finished up. I have been asked to work on a book about Australian Expressions to be used in the school Suits me!
And we start back at work on Feb 28th I think, so a longer break than we were originally told.
I decided it was time to get my haemachromatosis tested. Our liason person took me to the number one hospital for blood tests .(.. I really don't want to ever get sick in China!!) First they said the machine was broken -! Then we called in some "guanxi", family/relationship favours. The mother of one of my students is a doctor at the hospital. So she pulled some strings, and we were to return the next day with all the necessary paperwork in my hand to have the test done. I lined up, took my place on the little stool in front of the window, with my arm through the hole resting on the little cushion ... and they started making a fuss. We don't do this test, etc etc. So she got on her mobile phone and called our special doctor from the other end of the hospital to come and sort them out. So then they consented to take the blood. No results yet ... But I was told that the one and only doctor who does these tests has a dying husband, and therefore is finding it hard to be motivated to work. I guess that was the "broken machine". I am not sure how things will go when I have to start having venesection here (i.e. having blood taken to reduce my iron).
Happy continues to delight us. He is growing quite fast, looking a bit fat ( ... I keep wondering whether he is an already-pregnant female instead of a male). He is very tame, stays happily on a shoulder or in a pocket while you walk around, loves to share the sofa in front of the TV. I can't help wondering what happened to his brothers and sisters.
The weather has been remarkably kind the last few days, in the positive range, even up to 6 briefly during the day. But there is a forecast for snow for the next four days. The last lot (from a few days before Christmas) is still lying around in many places, though the roads are pretty clear now. Still piles of dirty ice along the streets - which melts into a puddle then re-freezes into a slippery patch!
I had a coat tailor made. It’s big and long (below my knees) and padded, with a padded, fur-lined hood. I feel quite invincible wearing it - and often too hot! The padding is actually down - feathers - I know because every now and then one slides out through a seam. Peter persuaded me to go bright, and so I got it made in red. It looks even brighter in the photos, kind of glows! Peter has bought one of the "Chinese Russian hats", with fur lined flaps that come down over his ears, and a Chinese army-style coat, so he is quite warm now too!
They keep extending our holidays more and more. My students left earlier than expected, and then they brought forward final exams and holidays, so we actually finish up this Sunday, 23rd, instead of the end of January as originally in the plan. They decided not to give me more lessons when my class finished up. I have been asked to work on a book about Australian Expressions to be used in the school Suits me!
And we start back at work on Feb 28th I think, so a longer break than we were originally told.
I decided it was time to get my haemachromatosis tested. Our liason person took me to the number one hospital for blood tests .(.. I really don't want to ever get sick in China!!) First they said the machine was broken -! Then we called in some "guanxi", family/relationship favours. The mother of one of my students is a doctor at the hospital. So she pulled some strings, and we were to return the next day with all the necessary paperwork in my hand to have the test done. I lined up, took my place on the little stool in front of the window, with my arm through the hole resting on the little cushion ... and they started making a fuss. We don't do this test, etc etc. So she got on her mobile phone and called our special doctor from the other end of the hospital to come and sort them out. So then they consented to take the blood. No results yet ... But I was told that the one and only doctor who does these tests has a dying husband, and therefore is finding it hard to be motivated to work. I guess that was the "broken machine". I am not sure how things will go when I have to start having venesection here (i.e. having blood taken to reduce my iron).
Happy continues to delight us. He is growing quite fast, looking a bit fat ( ... I keep wondering whether he is an already-pregnant female instead of a male). He is very tame, stays happily on a shoulder or in a pocket while you walk around, loves to share the sofa in front of the TV. I can't help wondering what happened to his brothers and sisters.
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