Rizhao--Land of Black Snot...

Rizhao is another city located in Shandong province, 2 hours west of Qingdao (one of Shandong's most popular cities). It is a little bigger than Weihai--closer to 3 million--and it is a city we considered living in before we received our current job offer.

My friend Gary, from the Asian Affairs Center (the Chinese Programs Coordinator), was going to be there over the weekend, to get more information and to tour the town in preparation for a China group tour he is leading near the end of May. So we wrote a formal letter to our school requesting Monday off, and we borrowed money/got an advance on our paychecks from the finance office on campus--we are pretty broke until we get our first paycheck--working for a month before getting paid takes its toll on the dough (or lack thereof). We had corresponded with Gary a lot through email; we'd been talking about the visit before we even left the United States. It was a unique situation, too, because the same time we were going to be hanging out with Gary, another AAC person (Sang, the director) was going to be in Korea with a bunch of my former colleagues, visiting Jamie and other Mizzou alum who currently teach throughout Korea. So on the same weekend, both McGeorges and Rory were going to get to see friends from back home. Pretty cool.

Though Gary had confirmed that he had our phone number and that he would help us book a hotel once we arrived in Rizhao, we were still pretty nervous about traveling out of Weihai for the first time without somehow corresponding with him beforehand. So Saturday night I called Jamie to see if Sang had Gary's phone number; before flying to Korea, Sang had been with Gary in Chongqing, China. So Jamie asked Sang for Gary's cell phone number, but he didn't have it. We were assured by Sang (via Lesley and Jamie) that everything would be okay. We should just wait for Gary's call. Okay, no problem. Thomas and a few different people from school helped us buy our bus tickets, directly from Weihai to Rizhao, and a driver from our school took us out to the bus station at 7:00 on Sunday morning.

The bus ride, though cramped, wasn't bad at all. It really didn't feel like we'd been passengers for a little over 6 hours. It was really nice to see the landscape change, to drive through all of these (relatively) tiny villages, to see random dogs and children running around in the street, cows tied up to posts like pets. And more women washing clothing on rocks. Masses of them. There was one point where we passed right through a really craggy mountain pass, and it was sort of like being at elephant rocks, except much more majestic. And in China.

We even had potty breaks on the bus. Bus/gas station toilets are...interesting. And pretty disgusting, but I guess that's par for the course anywhere you go. I remember being in France, at a public rest area, picnicking and looking at the beautfiful view from the top of a pretty sizeable hill, when I experienced my first squatter. I had no idea what it was, how the hell it worked, or why anyone would think that was a suitable way to conduct your business. I had another "rude" awakening on this bus ride. We stopped after the first two hours of riding, pulling into a public bus terminal along our route. I have already grown pretty accustomed to the constant smell of poopoo and peepee within a 25 foot radius of any bathroom in China; as well as using a squatter daily in our own apartment, but this blew my mind. I walked in and there was a series of stalls, with little partitions (no, not walls) about 2 feet tall dividing each plot (again, don't know what you would call it. Space? Area you "go" in?...). There were no doors, so as soon as I walked in, I saw the pale asses of a bunch of Chinese lady strangers, squatting down, straddling a trough that ran the length of the entire bathroom, full of everyone's "stuff." I wasn't going to not go to the bathroom, so I stepped right up and let it fly. I mean, if you're on a bus for that long, you take any opportunity you can to pee, right? So not only was I getting stared at because I'm a foreigner, but these women and little girls were trying to look at my parts--because they're foreigner parts. Rory experienced the same sort of curious glances/stares in the men's room.

But enough about those bathrooms. We had two bathroom breaks, and one random stop. The random stop was weird, too. We pulled up alongside these two guys, standing on the side of the road, out in the middle of nowhere, smoking cigarettes next to their motorcycles. The driver and the driver's assistant--who was constantly wearing his fanny pack, and who had been ordered to take care of us by the man who took us to the bus station--started pulling up (what we had just assumed were) your standard floor mats in the aisle, between the rows of seats on the right and the left. But under the floor mats were all of these really long, thin boxes of something. I don't know what, but they started pulling these boxes out, and 12 (six to eight feet) long boxes later, they were finished. All of the men who had gotten out to smoke got back on the bus to continue the trip. It was so random and funny. They will store things wherever the hell it will fit on these buses. It was really funny to us. Like-- what will they pull out of a confined space next?

Once we arrived in Rizhao (actually the second our feet touched the ground after getting off of the bus), these strange, really dirty men grabbed us, speaking Chinese very quickly, except for the ocassional and very emphatic "Hello! Hello!" They wanted us to get in their rickshaws so they could drive us wherever we needed to go. But we didn't trust them, and we also didn't know what we were doing or where we were going. Rory and I are a little different than some folks, though. We love not having a plan and walking around, just exploring the new terrain and getting lost. We decided to stay close to the bus station, to wait for Gary's call so that we would only have to pay a taxi fare once we actually knew where we were going. We started walking, past the bus station, past civilization; into this really gross, industrial area that was so loud from the noise of all of these huge trucks. I don't know what they were doing, but there were so many damn trucks. Rory took out his map of Rizhao (all in Chinese), our first purchase after getting off the bus (second purchase--return bus tickets the following morning, back to Weihai), and we asked some random guy on the street where we were. So we ended up turning around and walking back to a really neat little side street closer to the bus station.

We were pretty hungry, and we didn't know what we were doing yet, so we decided to find a restaurant. Our goal is to find a place where there are actual patrons (so we know the locals like it) and where the owners and workers are friendly, but not so friendly (in an insincere way) that we think they'll try to charge us extra because we're foreigners. Usually they are hesitant about having us in their restaurant, but once they see that we like Chinese food and that we know how to say "delicious" and "2 beers", they are amused by our mere presence. We found a place where the patrons really wanted us to come in. A pretty large Chinese man shook our hands and said "Welcome to China." It's always nice when that happens--he's welcoming us, on behalf of his entire, massive country. Sweet! The food was great, the beers were great, there was a really cute little girl running around in there to amuse (mostly) me; and we got to see the sign change while we were there. A bunch of Chinese men, in suits and dress shoes, but with welding equipment (but no protective goggles or mask), started hacking away at the wires mounting the old sign to the storefront. Some of them took turns holding rickety, broken ladders, while others grabbed the bottom of the sign so it didn't smash into the ground when the men on the roof cut the other cables. It was pretty fun to watch.

After they put up the new sign and we finished our beers, we headed out to a pc bong to see if Gary had written. He hadn't. I got the phone numbers of some of our friends in Chongqing--they had been partying with Sang and Gary all week--so we called them up to see if they could give us Gary's contact info. After talking to them both, we were under the impression that Gary had gone to Dalian, his hometown, which is actually pretty close to Weihai. They gave us Gary's sister's cell phone number. So we called it up, and Gary answered. Yea!!!!! Evidently there had been a problem with his flight, and he was unable to come to Rizhao until a few days later. Not yea!!!!! We understood that the flight got screwed up, but no phone call? No email telling us about the change in plans? I felt like I could have avoided this if I'd been able to get his phone number the night before. Even if we wanted to stick around Rizhao for a couple more days, we had only gotten off the one day from work (and our pay will be docked accordingly), and we simply didn't have enough money to stick around. But there was no time to dwell. We were stuck in this place (which had lost its luster in a matter of seconds, funnily enough), with very little money, and we just wanted to get a hotel, get some beer, wake up and go home. It was no longer a fun or exciting situation.

So we wandered around, looking at signs, trying to find a hotel. A few different people on the street sent us in opposite directions; one place thought we wanted a "room" (maybe for a few hours), but when they found out we wanted to sleep and spend the night there, they didn't want us around. We finally saw a man who was really eager to talk to us, so we pulled out the phrase book (best purchase ever!) and asked if there was a reasonably priced hotel around. Reasonably priced. So he hailed us a cab and explained to the driver what we wanted, and away we went, satisfied that the man was going to save us a bunch of searching and hassle. Wrong. We were driving for awhile when I said: "it'd be funny if this guy was taking us to the most expensive hotel in town...Holy shit...I hope he's not taking us there...". "There" was this pretty swanky hotel that had a bellboy and a really soft-spoken, attractive Chinese receptionist (who also spoke English), who was under the impression (as I'm sure every Chinese person is by now) that we are loaded. No no no no no. She offered us a room with a huge discount, but it was still more than twice as much money as we had on us. Luckily, she explained to the cabbie that we wanted a cheap hotel near the bus station. She was really nice and helpful, and we were just thankful that someone knew how to communicate with the driver.

So driver takes us to this little community that was actually pretty cool, but by the time we got there, most everything had shut down. We also had a hunch that we were nowhere near the bus station. Our bus left at 8:20 the next morning. Sweet. We walk into this hotel, tired and frustrated, and the man charges us double what we had set aside for a room. We didn't want to try to bargain or talk him down (difficult to do if you don't speak Chinese, plus we reeked of desperation), so we said screw it. We took the room. It was a dump. Boy, was it a dump, but at least it was a place to sleep, even if the toilet didn't flush and the water smelled like rotten eggs.

We went back down the street to the only restaurant that was open--twas dinner time by then--and of course, it was probably the most expensive joint on the block. A man who was working there probably spoke the best English we've heard in China thus far, so that was a relief, and he was really eager to help us out. He told us that we could come in the back, in the kitchen, and just point to what we wanted. So we pointed at this eggplant dish with shrimp. We keep eating the eggplant stuff over here because it's so good and it's cheap, so we were excited to see something that we recognized. We asked how much it was, and he said "Oh, I think it is very cheap. Maybe only 8 dollars." So we told him that we didn't live in America, and that we got paid in Chinese money, so he needed to tell us the "real" price. It was more than we had. We told him that we needed to eat a really inexpensive meal. Rather than explain our whole sob story, we told him that my wallet had been stolen, so that he would understand why we were so desperate for cheap food. We sort of felt as defeated as if my wallet had been stolen, though, so we didn't feel as bad about fibbing. He brought us some food, it was awesome; and the total cost of the three dishes and two beers was less than the shrimp and eggplant dish. So he hooked it up, and we were very thankful.

We went back to the hotel room, and I called Thomas, who kept telling me over and over again, "Just remember, Julie, T.I.C.--This is China...". I need to put that on a t-shirt, with Thomas' face or something on it. It was too funny. He reminded us that we'll have money soon, and it will be more than we know what to do with (it will also be double the amount we had when we came, so it really is going to be sweet). Then Jamie called. I needed that. We vented, and she told us to forget about the fact that we were broke--now the free meals that the school offers will come in really handy!

We woke up the next morning with an hour and a half before our bus left. We "checked out", which meant we threw our key on the desk as the owner propped his head up from his bed in his bedroom, which was right off of the "lobby" (really, it wasn't quite a bedroom, and it wasn't quite a lobby). We were determined to get on the first bus we could find, use our phrasebook and see if it went near the long-distance bus terminal. This meant we would pay 1.50 instead of the 20-30.00 that a cab would have cost. Luckily for us, the first bus went to the bus station, and we had plenty of time to figure out which gate we needed to go to and all that jazz. Finally, we got on the bus, more than relieved to be headed back to our dorm room in Weihai.

Now Rory is sick with a cold, and we've been sneezing black stuff since we got back. It's no wonder people wear those SARS masks all around China. We are lucky here in Weihai--the air is clean, the water is relatively clean (I mean, we're still in China); maybe Gary's group should come here instead of dirty Rizhao. At least they wouldn't sneeze exhaust.