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a home away from home

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The Third Weekend…

I have been in China just over a 2 and half weeks and am finally feeling like the place that they have put me in, this spacious apartment, on the second floor in a compound full of similar buildings in a city I had never heard of before this job offer, this random, but warming place, is starting feel like a home. I don’t think it will ever be home home. It’s too empty. There is only one person in it. And I guess that could be a home to someone who was okay with single occupancy. And that might have been alright when I was of the single occupancy mind. But I am not that now. So a home away from home will do and I will make the best of these rooms and their four walls. I will adorn, I will garden, I will masturbate in every crevice. Kidding. I just have to keep you on your toes, right?

Because sometimes your school gifts you big boxes of pomelos pomegranates

Because sometimes your school gifts you big boxes of pomelos pomegranates

Jiaxing is a lovely city of 7 million, which is considerably small for China and ridiculously big for most other parts of this weekend amusement park filled planet. Last weekend I walked around and explored the sites and by sites I refer to things I found via google maps that looked mildly historical and possibly entertaining. Being a smaller Chinese city means that it is more accessible by foot. I have set up my phone so that it can pay for the City Bikes…but just because a system is set up, does not mean I have any clue as to how to operate it. I tried a few times to set of the city’s two wheeled jalopies free, scanning the QR code from different angles, staring at the bicycle like a concerned parent, whispering a muted curse into it’s hypothetical ear and then moving on before a Westside Story-esque fight broke out. I ventured towards my destinations, the “sites” of Jiaxing, through through clusters of malls and overpasses, through glares and gawks, passed “waigerens and laowais”, through beeps and snot rockets and stenches and fragrances. The first on my list was a temple that shot up like a magnified wart near the side of one of the rivers, a cluster of smaller structures and towers, white and brown and moldy.

my office

my office

The temple was currently inaccessible due to a ceremony going on within. I leaned up against the ancient welcoming post and peered in as the monks within the first inner shrine chanted, played instruments that echoed generations long dead, encircled by thick tornadoes of fragrant and blooming incense. After the ceremony I entered. The pictures say what I have no words to say. So I exited. Another temple down the way. This one, with a large inner courtyard. It was dedicated to a fallen General who had saved the Song Dynasty and was poisoned. More pictures.

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More walking. The city’s greenness, almost obnoxious, with its abundance, but so welcoming and so unexpected. I walked through several of the touristy, made to look as if they were ancient sections of a long forgotten and abandoned Chinese water town, that lined one of the canals. Historical Disneyfication and commodification. Though, we do the same thing to actual history. The BC version of it, Barkerville, cashes in on that every summer. And why not? You learn a little, an impression is made and context is given to faded words and histories. It makes the past tangible and kinetic. I guess, in this particular instant, you learn nothing if you cannot read the Chinese signs. All I can surmise from areas such as these is that at some point something like this might have existed somewhere around here. I read that last sentence. Trust me, I got this.

shrimp pork dumplings from my local RT Market

shrimp pork dumplings from my local RT Market

I walk through a park lined with beautiful trees that rise like Tolken spires or war spears, their tips piercing the blue vastness that expands to horizons on all sides. The path ends at a wooden pagoda at the Beijing to Hangzhou Grand Canal. I have seen this canal in both Suzhou and Hangzhou. It felt as if I was reconnected with a cousin that my mother had told me about and who I had met at I point in my life where I didn’t tie anything down to memories. There wasn’t much to say, but still I felt I had a duty to stop and view it with wonderment and curiosity. It definitely was and is a technical marvel, the longest man made canal in the world and it was created over 700 years ago.

sounds interesting. tastes boring.

sounds interesting. tastes boring.

Before leaving the extensive greenway, I stop on a small island, accessible by a gate to have a glimpse over South West Lake. I peer down on it from an ancient bridge. Jiaxing is beautiful. I needed this. Having left things and people I didn’t want to leave behind, nature was a comfort to the barren feels inside.

At the edge of the park, old men, dressed like the Chinese version of Grumpy Old Men play polo on two, official looking polo courts. I stop, watch and snap a few pictures. People really take leisure time seriously and really do spend it with their friends, families and loved ones. It’s really quite nice.

Fishing on the canal

Fishing on the canal

I stop into the house of a local resident who was one of the first people to translate Shakespeare into Chinese. He is long gone, but his house still stands, amongst modern constructions, byways and shlubbly dressed guards who wander aimlessly too and fro like poorly programmed baddies in an old school PC Shoot ‘Em Up . Today was a lot of walking. I peer through a small breach of a large, corroding fence that surrounds the Catholic Church that was partially destroyed by the Red Guard. It’s a beautiful structure is haunting; partially in part due to it’s dilapidated state. Renovations are on the table, right beside gay rights ;). Durian milk shake. Not sure about that. Kind of tastes like what, I imagine, an onion milkshake would taste like.

Delicious hot pot

Delicious hot pot

Marking, marking, marking, teaching, teaching, teaching. Planning, planning. Dinners with bosses. Presents for teacher day. Pillow of my face. Originally I was like, this is so strange to own a pillow with my own image on it. It’s grown on me. I’ve had more than a few naps on it. I fear I am going to wake up from a nice slumber and feeling a bit disoriented, come face to face, eye to eye, with pillow Ira, his facial expression slightly altered from what I remember it to have been. In that regard, pillow Ira is not to be trusted.

Mark, mark, buy some stuff on Taobao. BOX comes from Canada! Only took a month. Coffee from Canada. Candies. Break bodum. DAMN. Order another off Taobao. To explain, Taobao is the place to get anything ever online in China. It’s better than Amazon and doesn’t generally charge for shipping and it usually shows up in a few days, unless it’s ginormous. I am obsessed.

big box of treats

big box of treats

Yesterday night, I went to see Planet of the War of the World of the City of the Planet Again of the Apes. It was fun and it was great to hang out with my new teacher friends. Went to Moon River after and my bike lock key broke. Nevermind. Had some drinks, 45 minute walk home. Rinse, repeat and return. Today I went to museums. Words. Sometimes no. Pictures. Yes. Those. More soon. Right after I get through this Tower of Babel of papers.

Mooncake full of meat. Yum!

Mooncake full of meat. Yum!

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Ground Myself in Jiaxing

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My complex.

My complex.

So this is what day number three feels like alone in another country, without a person or two wheel companion to share the experience with?

Wow. That sounded quite disheartening. And that’s not how I feel. I feel…okay. I see possibilities. In teaching. In an overgrown garden that needs tending and care. In a life that needs foundations cemented deep into Jiaxing’s soil for a year.

My school is wonderful thus far. I was picked up from the airport by the principal and a co-worker and driven the hour and a half from Shanghai to Jiaxing in the dead of night skies with no stars, guided by yellow street lights and straddled by gray buildings, trees and expanses of black. We arrived at my complex at 12am. My principal shows me the basics of my place. Here is the air conditioner controller for this room. Here is the air conditioner controller for that room. Here are some bananas. Here are the three TVs in your place, two of which sit beside each other, one flat screened and one an old tuber, like a father/son talk or an awkward visit to the old folks home where you are left to for an hour to have a conversation with your hard of hearing elderly relative. They look uncomfortable on the same shelf and I am uncomfortable with them both being them being there, because of the inutility of the older generation model and how much space it occupies. But, I shall not be bothered with that now. I fall into a sleep of sorts.

my pad for the next year.

my pad for the next year.

The sleep was not great. Jetlag is a newborn infant. You wake up every ten minutes or so. The sounds of a new place are unfamiliar and thus are whispering cruel things to me. The next day, I shower, eat one of the aforementioned bananas in cereal in a too small bowl that I will have to remember later on, and meet my principal outside to head to the school. I am ready. I am sleepless, but I am ready. She and several students show me the school. They show me the mediocre bathrooms (students words, not mine), the classrooms, the offices. The most exciting parts of the tour are self-revolving. MY DESK! MY CLASSROOM! The tour finishes and the principal returns to her office. My classroom is being used as a study hall. I sneak in and start to put up posters. But how can I sneak in? I am a Caucasian person in China. We cannot sneak anywhere. My students watch my every move. I am sleepless, but I am ready and I am choosing posters. I have too many for the space. Too many for a concert hall let alone a classroom. I will rotate them throughout the year. I have Goliath plans. I am dreaming and floating in a red sea of China. My name is spelled in pushpins on a green, felt board at the back of the classroom. Mr. Cooper. I am not Mr. Cooper. I speak with the principal. She okays it. I am Ira. I am Ira to everyone. There are no Mr. Coopers in my family. That generation was buried in 1994 with my grandfather in Toronto, Ontario. I am Ira.

entrance to my pad.

entrance to my pad.

The next couple days blaze by like the heat, heavy like the humid slog called air. I went to the nearby Decathlon, my first solo outing. I take a moment now to note that the lack of tense uniformity us due to the lack of it in my life currently. I am everywhere like a suped up Delorian. This is not a good time to interrupt with that sidebar. We were talking about Decathlon. Decathlon is an amazing sports store from Europe. I am wowed by their selection of camping gear. I have previously purchased a tent at one of these stores, in Beijing, in fact. It met a fate of cat claws and piss. I will purchase another one. Quelcha is an amazing French brand that makes these great two person tents that fools like me needn’t worry going out of their comfort zones to put up. I used it throughout my Europe bike trip. I will use it again, but this time, my plans involve some local bikepacking. I am giddy with the long haul options and the untranslatable unknown.

one of the many canals in Jiaxing.

one of the many canals in Jiaxing.

I eat a meal with the principal and a few teachers. Muslim food. I love Muslim Chinese food. It, like many other dishes, cannot be found in North America, except for a few, in the know, places. I nosh on noodles and potatoes and dumplings. There are more dumplings and buns to eat. My mouth unabashedly waterfalls at the thought of more.

I am on the hunt for a bike. Another teacher takes me to several outlets to check out what is available and at what price. I borrow a city bike and love every minute of the insanity of directionless cars, and tuktuks, and electric bikes, and stares and putrid canals and sounds and honks. The city bike is way too small for me and is rickity like the surrounding architecture. I will make my decision tonight as to where I shall purchase said two wheeler (as of two nights later, I am still undecided).

Yesterday, I complete my medical exams, which are comprised of a series of random tests, including having clamps attached to my legs and parts of my torso and stomach like a German dominatrix film, a series of squats, peeing into a cup (which was the hardest part, as they told me not to drink prior) and sticking uncleaned utensils in my nose and ears. After the medical, a co-worker took me for the local cuisine, zongzi, a sticky rice triangle, filled with meat or red bean paste. Delish!

Just in case you were unaware of where you were, which you might.

Just in case you were unaware of where you were, which you might.

That night, the teachers and principal went for a dinner at the mall. The mall is a strange and marvelous place of the gaudy and decrepit. A strange amusement park that screams R.L. Stein sits in the centre of the mall’s open forum. It includes a Ferris wheel, several roller coasters and a random, broke down prop plane. If you have a penchant for trusting shotty mechanics, I suggest you take a ride. I happen to be quite a fan of this little ditty called life, so I passed. Oh, I most definitely passed on the basement aquarium, complete with suicidal dolphins.

Teachers' dinner. One of many amazing dishes.

Teachers’ dinner. One of many amazing dishes.

The dinner was epic, fine dining. Shrimp and dumplings and fungus and salad and pork belly. OOOOOOOOH YEEEAH.

Next day was a wandering day. I headed to a used bike store I had heard about from my co-worker. It was an hour walk, but I decided it would be a good way to see the city. So I hoofed it and found the following things:

fuzzy chamber.

fuzzy chamber.

Walmart – I bought oatmeal and tiramisu Oreo. I have yet to try to Oreos. I feel they will disappointment, as were most side-bar ventures of Oreo in Central America.

Sleeping Monk

Sleeping Monk

A random, old temple – complete with dozing monk

A pork bun outlet – I consumed a pork and veggie bun. Yum.

The used bike store was pretty good, though ridiculously hard to find. A random room in an indistinct cinderblocked, crumbling factory. The bicycles made the room distinguishable from a place that one makes a mistake coming to and is promptly murdered or kidnapped for their erroneous decision.

Tonight, a colleague of mine will take me to Moon River, the central hub of tourism and alcoholism in Jiaxing. It should be a once in a life time experience, translating to a probably “been there, done that” evening. But YOLO, right kids?

Jiaxing living.

Jiaxing living.

 

Hilarious sign #1.

Hilarious sign #1.

 

Puerto Vallarta Without the Booze Cruise

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Oblivion. A place we intend to or unintendedly meet on any Puerto Vallarta booze cruise. I met it unintendedly. I did it to stave off contextually onset depression. The plastic bathtub boat us and as many others could be shoved in. The subpar continental restaurant. The scuba spot occupied by at least 85 hundred (accurate count) other “tour group” bathtub boats. This was not a place to see fish, but rather the fat, pink wiggling bait of thousands of fleshy limbs. The waterfall. Oh. Sorry. The waterfall wasn’t the depressing part itself. It was the way there. A mud path, where horses were being unvoluntarily pulled, topped by unamused, drunken camera clicking, sombreroed tourists, passing through electricless towns, where kids hobbies included obligatory begging for money from the insensitive kings and queens for an all inclusive week getaway, riding atop their slave horses.

Let me suggest an alternative, a few things that I don’t usually see on the Puerto Vallarta to do list, which I think make for a more cultured, different experience.

 

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Walking Around Beyond the Malecon…

If your not at the beach, The Malecon is the PLACE to be in if you’re a tourist in PV. It has everything you could ever want: street performers, art, food, hawkers, gawkers, walkers, lots of exposed skin steaming out of the open faced bars and clubs that line the boardwalk. It’s a no brainer and super close to the hotels, so there is no way of getting lost. In a way, it’s the epitome of John Huston’s Mexico, a theme park like Americanized Mexico, manageable, accessible, rife with stereotypes and panchos and sumbraros. So keep walking, go beyond the Malecon, beyond the Senior Frogs, beyond the Yellow Brick Road. Get a map of the city, a good map of the city, even BETTER a digital map and just wander. Don’t set a destination, don’t route a course, just explore.

random neighborhood

random neighborhood

On my random walk I found a beautifully ornate and peacefully silent Church, just North West of the Malecon, found a lovely Mexican Candy store and a place that made fresh tortillas, the old school way. Yes, numerous people have been/seen/ate at these places, but for myself, they’re not in the guidebooks, they’re not on the tourist radar, so when I happen upon them, it feels as if I have made a triumphant discover, a discovery you can tell people about later, but more so, a discovery that you can experience. Some of these findings may not be a SIGHT, but could just be a place of everyday business, a residential area, a school, something. Just like Alice in wonderland – If you walk long enough, you’ll get somewhere and if your not too concerned about what that somewhere entails, then your in good hands in Puerto Vallarta, with small surprises around every corner. There’s a desire to find the “real” _____________ (country name). I am not sure exactly what that fully means ever, but I feel that you have a better chance of finding authenticity outside of the marketed, consumer based downtown hub.

Galleria Dante

Galleria Dante

Exploring the Art Galleries

This is an activity that many partake in, but can be a great way to traverse the city, see art and see all the wonderful places in between. The city is full of amazing art and amazing artists, with many contemporary galleries displaying everything from installations, to mixed media, to everything in between. The Dante Galleria on Basillio Badilio is a wonderful cluttered art space, that is both in doors and outdoors and claims to be the biggest gallery in the city. Your eyes dart too and fro, trying to take everything in, an impossible task, as there are so many unique pieces, from the pop culture influence origami paintings of Emilio Rama, hiding behind the ceremonial garbed metal, stone and wood statues of Oscar Zamarripa.

More of Galleria Dante

More of Galleria Dante

Galeria Contempo has some funky up and comers, while the Sergio Bustamante gallery and jewelry store, with the artist’s signature long faced figures (which are even on the door handles to the store), is a great place to not only see, but also own some pretty amazing functional art. And that’s just the tip of the paintbrush or pen or whatever medium you wish to work in. There are also a lot of places with folk art, though, personally, I am not a BIG fan of beading, tiles or simple cut wood carved masks (though the gallery with the masks, of which the name escapes me, is in a REALLY cool building that was an old colonial house, one of the few originals still up).

Torta numiness

Torta numiness

Trying a Local Restaurant

If your at an all inclusive or the hotel zone, it’s easy to simply pop into a tourist filled eatery and indulge on fare that is made particularly to suit your tastes. But why not get out of your comfort zone and, for that matter, the tourist zone, and try eating at a small, family run hole in the wall, with an assortment of mismatched tables and chairs, maybe a football match, blaring on a fuzzy, old school television set, the smell of food and sweat, both pungent and thrillingly aromatic filling your nostril with fear and curiosity. Sure, at these joints, the menus might not be sprawling or in English, but with a little Spanish or some fancy gestures, I’m sure you’ll be eating something super yummy, with the owners more than happy to take your money (support the local, local economy) as well as your kind praises. On Calle Jacarendas, at a restaurant that was, I believe, entitled something “Dolphins”, I had the best mole I have ever had, period. This restaurant is not in a guidebook, not even on a blog. It’s there and serves the local populous, good, affordable sustenance.

Squid and wine sauce.

Squid and wine sauce.

Take a chance, find a restaurant full of locals, which is a sure bet that it’s pretty good. Not all local restaurants can be classified as “hole-in-the-walls” either. Chenan2 Restaurant, which was a blog recommended place, is a family owned establishment, where the chef, who was formally a painter, decided to pick up cooking, after his mother passed. His work is both on the plates and on the walls of this medium sized restaurant. The sala, guac and chips were pretty on point, but it was my main meal, grilled octopus in a white wine sauce that blew me away with a lovely, rich flavor palette of salty butter goodness, with a slight and desired tang. Num Num Num! If I hadn’t gotten severe stomach poisoning (a story unto itself), I would have eaten at many more wonderful places throughout PV, because, rest assure, there are many.

Fish and shrimp tacos.

Fish and shrimp tacos.

Planning Your Own Taco Tour

There are some great professional guided taco tours that I have heard about in PV and saw several of them while I was on my own taco tour. Due to budgetary restrictions, an official taco tour was not in the cards, but that doesn’t mean a unofficial tour wasn’t possible. So how did I know where to go? Well how about I give you a link of a map that I used:

http://vallartainfo.com/street-food/

It’s a good starting point that you can add to for future trips!

Church of Talpa De Allende

Church of Talpa De Allende

Visiting Outlying Towns

PV started off as a small fishing village that expanded due to the influx of tourists flocking to see the place made famous by John Huston’s films, so a lot of the culture is geared towards that market and presenting it in it’s most big and bold forms. For something more intimate and what many would consider more authentic Jalisco culture, one has to leave the city.

The issue with leaving the city is….where do you go? There are many options out there, such as Bucerias, a small fishing/artist community, but many of them too, are overrun with tourists and have lost a bit of their charm (not all of it, just a bit!). It all depends what you are interested in. For me, I was interested in culture and history, not beaches and booze. By doing a few google searches I found Talpa De Allende, a former silver mining town that has an important church for Christian pilgrimage and Mascota, a old colonial town. After searching online for tours, we decided to go with Vallarta Adventures, who we actually got connected with by a tourist agency on the beach. Now, usually I would travel via public transit bus, but I was with my father, so I thought to give him a little more ease by taking a tour. And what a wonderful tour it was! We were fed a continental breakfast right at the door of the tour. Once we got on the bus, Alfonzo, our knowledgeable guide started to tell us information of what we were seeing out the windows, as well as the history of the area. You had a question, Alfonzo had a very well articulate answer. The tour wasn’t your regular SEE THE SITES tour. “This tour will attempt to give you a glimpse into the REAL Mexico”, Alfonzo, as if reading my mind, told the four of us on the bus as we were leaving the hustle and bustle of PV, “and it’s not for everyone”. He shared with us that he liked that the tours were small, so that they could talk more, rather than him simply lecturing and spewing out facts.

Mascota door

Mascota door

In Mascota, we visited a practical application high school, where students learned to farm and make cheese and raise animals. We saw the unfinished cathedral, ate fresh baked cookies and hot chocolate in a local’s house and hung out in the town square for a bit, along with men conversing on benches, sporting big cowboy hats, getting their shoes blackened and shined.

Milk from Mascota's practical high school

Milk from Mascota’s practical high school

In Talpa, we saw how guava roll candies are made, along to Rompope, an eggnog like alcohol, that tricks you into finishing off the whole bottle on a school night (true story). We were given time to walk around the town centre, where I purchased a taco-press, engraving the wood with “Tacotim!” (it was suppose to be “Tacotime!”, but that’s what I get for trying to get a Mexican engraver to write in a foreign language), as well as visiting the much venerated church, that was packed to the brim for services, complete with Mariachi Band. Our lunch was taken back in Mascota, before we returned along the mountainous, lush green, roadway that took us back to PV. An amazing day-trip, which really felt like I saw and partook in something really special, that not everyone bothers to see.

Again, my idea of a good time might be slightly different than yours. But who knows? Some of those likes might sink up and you’ll find value in this post. If not…hope you liked my word choice and the pretty pictures. Ditto for those who are interested in what I am interested in as well, when it comes to travel, at least!

Again, if you ever have any questions about what you see or have seen, suggestions, ideas for Each Mile and the BIG trip in 2017 (World Cycle Tour – Vancouver, Canada to Beijing China), let me know! Or just comment, hate it? like it? Care very little for it?

Hammocks are cool.

Hammocks are cool.

Thanks!

Ira