I completed Undress Me in the Temple of Heaven yesterday, minutes after finishing my last entry. It's hard for me to judge a book directly after reading it. So, after a day or so, I think I've formed my opinion of it...

Overall, I liked the book. It was an entertaining read. But I had issues with many aspects. First of all, the title is cheap and a tad bit cliche. But then again, so are the characters to some extent so maybe it was appropriate. The story is written by Susan Jane Gilman, and it's a memoir that takes place in 1986, when she and a friend decide to backpack through China. I like that the chapters are titled with towns. For example, the first chapter was "Kowloon," which is in Hong Kong. Because I had been there before (and thoroughly loved it), instantly I was drawn to the book because it sparked familiarity. After Hong Kong, they go to Shanghai, where I bought the book. As I was sitting on the train, I read about them walking around the Bund, where I had just been earlier that day. They ride bikes in Beijing and experience the Great Wall. The book is interesting if you are or have been to China.

However, after reading the book, I felt disdain for the characters, Susie and Claire. Over and over the narrator tells me, Yes we went to Brown University, we're so smart and educated and from New York, blah blah blah. Then they go to China and have a huge culture shock, which is to be expected. There are some scenes in the book that made me cringe, especially the part where they completely shun a Chinese man who welcomed them into his family's home. That was the worst part for me. To the author's defense, it seems like a bad mistake that has haunted her over the years. When I read the blurbs, I anticipated something really terrible to happen to them during their journey, some sort of outside force to come and virtually fuck everything up. "They were young, brilliant and bold. They set out to conquer the world. But the world had other plans for them." So of course I was curious, considering China is one of the safest places to be. In the end, it was a woman vs. herself kind of issue, with China as the setting. What seemed like the worst outside forces they actually had to deal with were cockroaches and food poisoning. WHOA.

The book is an entertaining read if you have or want to come to China. However, it shines bad light on American travelers.

I want to backpack the world. Sooner or later, once I have enough money saved, that's what I'm going to do. Who's in?

xo
MISU

I just returned to Baoding after a long weekend spent in Shanghai, China.

Remember when I tried to go last fall but couldn't because there were no tickets? That time, I wound up spending the Chinese independence day (otherwise known as National Day) in Beijing, which wasn't a shabby plan B since I had a lot of fun. This time, however, I made sure to purchase my Shanghai ticket well enough in advance so I wouldn't have a repeat performance.

I purchased a seat for the K-train, third class. This was not my intention. For a 12-hour ride, I wanted to be able to rest enough so I could enjoy a full day in Shanghai without having to crash. But a hard seat on the slow train was going to prove a daunting task if I wanted any rest. I also purchased a ticket to Beijing so I would be able to board my train to Shanghai later that evening after I arrived.

I arrived in Beijing around 5 pm. I looked at my ticket, did the math...if my train left at 11 pm, I had enough time to meet Slava for dinner at my favorite restaurant in Beijing--Matsuko Japanese. It was fantastic as always. We dined on fabulous sushi and sashimi, while swallowing hot sake and Kirin Ichiban, my favorite Japanese beer. My limbs felt like silk instead of the rusty wires they were before. As I parted with Slava, I hugged him and told him I wished he was coming to Shanghai, too.

I took the subway to Beijing West Railway Station, lugging a very heavy backpack filled to the brim with more than enough shit. I'm notorious for overpacking. The long walk from the subway stop to the railway station exuded any sake buzz I may have had, and the tension came back in my shoulders. I was tired and eager to get on the train, regardless if it was the shit train or not. I finally made it through the door and looked on the screen, clutching my ticket, wondering which gate it would be at. I couldn't find my train code anywhere. Then it dawned on me. I was at the wrong station. The train to Shanghai leaves from Beijing Railway, not Beijing West Railway. I had never been to Beijing Railway before, but fortunately there was still an hour and a half before my train. Or at least, I thought.

I took a taxi this time. We rode past Tian'men Square and I glanced at Mao's head, his relaxed eyes watching me back, silently berading me. "Shouldn't you know your way around by now, stupid weiguoren?" he snickered. "I DO know my way around, I'm just taking the scenic route," I mutter back, avoiding any more eye contact than I'd already given.

I arrived at Beijing Railway and wandered around, trying to find my gate. It said "2" on the main hallway screen but in terminal 2, my train code was nowhere to be seen. Now I was getting confused. So I went up to a man selling beverages and held my ticket. "Zai nar?" I asked. I apologized for no reason and waited for him to point in a direction. But he didn't. He waved his arms around a bit then pointed at the time, then waved them around some more. My eyebrows turned, pulling my forehead down. I had successfully managed to miss my train by misreading the time.

China (and the rest of the world) relies on Celsius, not Fahrenheit. China also uses kilometers instead of miles, kilograms instead of pounds, and, like the rest of the world, sets its watch by a 24-hour period, not 12 hours like America. Military time, if you will. I managed to look at 22:10 and think 23:10. I don't have a reasonable explanation. In fact, I'm ashamed to say this is the second time I've done this--mistakened 10 pm for 11 pm. I felt so stupid and ashamed at my mistake. I muttered, "Fuck." and walked away, holding my useless piao. Then I called Slava.

"Did you miss your train?" he asked jokingly, unprepared for the answer I had. I told him earlier if he heard from me it was because I missed my train. He didn't expect me to actually miss it, especially considering how much time we thought I had when I left the restaurant. He started cackling when I told him it was true. We agreed to meet at Dongsi Shitiao so I could crash at his apartment that night. I bought another train ticket for the next evening. The plus side to this was I got a Z train soft seat ticket. Z is the best train to Shanghai. And, I didn't have to pay full price for it. The price I paid for the shit train was deducted. So really, I couldn't complain. The only thing I was bummed about was missing a day in Shanghai.

In retrospect, I'm glad it went that way. My ride down there was so smooth. the guy next to me spoke English and was no fuss at all. Didn't talk my ear off, didn't snore, was pleasant the whole trip. I even slept a little, and I never sleep in seats! So all in all, I enjoyed the trip down. Made it halfway through River Town, pausing between pages to nibble on roasted watermelon seeds, a common Chinese snack. A very interesting read thus far, about an American man living in China, teaching English. It was funny to see how me and this complete stranger related with one another, especially in struggling to communicate with what often feels like an opposite world. I took a break and listened to my iPod, then drifted off and dreamt.

China is never what it your imagination may tell you, so it's best to just disregard any image you have in your mind before arriving somewhere you haven't been. I had this idea that Shanghai--the city with the modern infrastructures, the "Manhattan" of China, the Pearl of the Orient--would look like a white-gloved hand of some sort. Maybe I'd even forget I was actually in China for a couple of days and explore a new water town thoroughly infused with western culture. Sometimes it's good to get a fix. Maybe that's what I was after. I don't really know. I just wanted to get away for a few days, really, and relax myself. Baoding often feels like four walls, and when they start to cave, better start running or you'll get crushed.

The first things I saw while I was on the train... the buildings were stacked condos and apartments, dirty and beaten by typhoons and time. Rust was under the windows as though it was dark water still dripping. Alleyways looked like piles of rubble, nothing could be coherently recognized other than dust and debris. All this from my window. I lugged the heavy backpack over my shoulders, got off the train and made way to the subway.

I had been told by several that the Shanghai subway was easier to navigate but a lot more crowded than Beijing's. Actually, I thought the opposite. It seemed slightly more confusing (but manageable all the same), and far less crowded. In a Beijing subway, especially on Line 1, some days you get so damn close to the next person you can sniff and tell them what their blood type is. I had room to relax and play Othello on my iPhone, something a friend recently showed me is the best way to kill time on a subway (plus, I'm practicing so I'll get good and beat him!). When I arrived at Caoyang, I had to find my hostel.

I think subconsciously I enjoy making things more difficult for myself than what they should be. I could've just as easily asked someone as soon as I exited the station which direction I should go to find the hostel. I had a brochure. I knew enough Chinese to find out. But instead, I stepped out and took a deep breath, then followed the crowd of people, as though they were going there too. I was looking for Wuning lu, the street the hostel was on. I walked for an hour, making a large square, delirious and tired from carrying all my crap. Finally I asked a street patrolman which way, he pointed straight ahead. Walking further, my shoulders were aching and I was considering a taxi, even if it was just a short distance away. I called the hostel, telling them the hotel I was standing near, and just how far was this place? "10 more minutes, walk straight ahead," answered the receptionist, so I started counting steps to distract myself from the dents in my shoulders.

Had I taken the easy route, I would've just taken a right out of the subway instead of the left. But I crave difficulty, like I said. Either that or I'm just an airhead. Ok, yes. Sometimes. But, in my defense, I'm an airhead who frequently travels alone and is grounded enough not to completely lose it and start panicking when things don't seem right. My brain is wired in such a way that other possible answers and reasons appear first before the most obvious, rather than no answer or reason at all. So rather than having a head full of air, it's just a head full of other ideas.

The hostel felt like a hotel. Computers were everywhere. The lounge/bar area had a skylight. Free breakfast. Five floors of rooms. The beds were super comfortable. The bathrooms, not disgusting whatsoever. Strange for me to admit, I actually liked the smell of the water when I turned it on to shower. And oh, that shower felt good. Washing off the past two days was the first thing I did after checking in.

My first excursion was to visit the French Concession, located in the heart of busy Shanghai, but quiet enough to feel like you're strolling a neighborhood.