Monday, 15 April 2013

Rock, paper, scissors

Sitting in a car in Asia has, on the whole, proved interesting for me and whilst it has not always been the most relaxing affair, it has offered me a story or two to impart to others. Whether it be the log jam that is an intersection in Manilla rush hour or the 155mph early morning run to Kuala Lumpur in the dark or desperately attempting to talk for sixty scary minutes to my non-English speaking Taiwanese driver to keep him from falling asleep, Asia has never disappointed. However, whilst I have grown to really enjoy the country and the people here, the last five days in China have done much to make me grip the seat extra tightly with both buttocks and to draw short breath through gritted teeth on more occasions than I can count on my four children's fingers and toes.

Driving in a Chinese city is a complex task and is not for the faint hearted. Being a passenger is equally concerning until you work out how to play the game. It is a little like playing rock, paper, scissors. In the city game car beats scooter, truck beats car but car and truck and scooter all beat cyclist and pedestrian. In fact the latter two categories should be considered inconsequential as far as this game is concerned and the game should not be slowed by the presence of these aforementioned non-motorised objects. For all intents and purposes cyclists and pedestrians have been shrouded in Potter-esque invisibility cloaks so as not to distract from the game. The only time that they are not invisible is, no wait, they are ALWAYS invisible. This is worth remembering if you are planning to walk anywhere in China.

There are then some general rules to apply to increase your chances of success in the game. Success in this game is winning. Winning is defined as reaching your destination uninjured and alive since every safe arrival generates a feeling of euphoria similar to that which I imagine winning the Champions League or the Monacco Grand Prix would instill.

The first rule of driving in China is that there ARE rules.

The second rule of driving in China is that if you like playing by the set rules then play another game.

The third rule is that it may look like a road, smell like a road and even feel like a road but do not under any circumstances assume that you know how to use it or more specifically do not assume that your expectations of how to use it aligns in any way with those around you.

The fourth rule is to be at one with your horn. Prioritise the use of this tool above all else. If you do not have the mental capacity to apply the brakes and honk your horn simultaneously then forget the brakes. THERE IS NO SUBSTITUTE FOR HONKING THE HORN.

The fifth rule is that if crossing multiple lanes of traffic to join the correct lane for the direction of intended travel is difficult then do not attempt it. Slowly pull into the oncoming traffic and proceed up the wrong side of the road. Do this with enough confidence and aplomb and it will look like this is allowed. If you move slowly enough then you can claim that you are stationary and that you are in fact parked at the side of the road. Cut diagonally across the next intersection to join the correct lane.

Rule six denotes that when turning across traffic at an intersection and there appears to be no traffic then check again, there ALWAYS is. There will be something sneeking up the inside from behind you to get ahead.

Rule seven, if you are waiting behind someone to turn across traffic at an intersection then sneek up their inside, it is imperative that you get ahead.

Rule eight is that when approaching a toll booth you should form an orderly single file line, then jump the line and form a double line, you are now a trend setter, a leader of fashion. When all around you have followed your lead, jump the double line and form a triple, you are the now Alexander McQueen of the queuing world and a fashion demi-god so now is the point to push for the chance to be omnipotent. The result is that you are all at the front of the line although it now impossible for you to squeeze into the toll booth itself.

Rule nine is that if you struggle to remember any of the rules then procure yourself a old vehicle with only three wheels as your mode of transport. Armed with this (preferably one that billows large amounts of black smokey exhaust) you can ignore any or all the rules of the road, either official or made up. This three wheeled relic will be your ticket to driving in any direction, along or across any road that you like. If you are entrepreneurial then convert an old motorbike into a trike and start your own courier service - good luck.

These nine rules may of course just be an incorrect interpretation of what I have observed and therefore their actual applicability cannot be guaranteed. Jumping to the wrong conclusion is easily done which I why I have not included that Policemen should always travel three-up on one small underpowered motorcycle or that the use of a patio umbrella is advisable when riding a bike in the rain, that small children should use litter bins as roadside urinals, et cetera, et cetera.

Perhaps then, should you be lucky enough to visit China, you should disregard the rules that I have listed above but remember the underlying key message. The message is this, everyone on the road is playing rock paper scissors. It should be a simple game but is extraordinarily complex and as such you, as a humble pedestrian, are not allowed to play. Assume that you are invisible at all times, remember that you are mortal and therefore BE CAREFUL.

 

Tuesday, 9 April 2013

Reading the signs

I have just read a sign on the breakfast buffet "Please don't eat this on an empty stomach!". I only paid it a momentary glance when I was in the restaurant. Added to that, the description of the contents of the omninous looking black pot was in Chinese so I am none the wiser as to what might have jumped out at me if I had been brave enough to lift the lid. However, I have been pondering on this black pot and its accompanying sign ever since I returned to my hotel room. What is it that can not be eaten on an empty stomach? Why would you have such a thing on a breakfast buffet where it is likely that most people have not eaten in the last eight hours or so? Surely something like this should have a guard stationed next to it to ensure correct usage.

However I have started wondering whether there is the merest chance, the smallest possibility that in my desire not to see something that I did not want to see, that my brain added in two little words that made the sign more acceptable to my squeamish Western brain.

Could the sign perhaps, just perhaps, have actually said "Please don't eat this empty stomach!". Maybe it had been reserved for some guest much higher up the social ranking than me? Well, what else should I expect, I am in China after all.

 

Must be delayed jet lag?

My first full day in China and I woke with a jump when the alarm went off. No sign of jet lag as I bounced out of bed and skipped down to breakfast. All day meeting today but approached it with a positive frame of mind and with a spring my step. Discussions were productive and no technical hurdle too high so we fairly leapt through the agenda items. Before I knew it, we were finished for the day and I vaulted for the back seat of the taxi as we were being taken to a Chinese restaurant for dinner. By the time we arrived I was practically hopping up and down with hunger. Keen to get started I bounded to the table and sat down.

"What was the dish of the day?" I hear you ask. Well, it was fried frog.

I think I'll be off for a dip in the pool.

 

Monday, 8 April 2013

Cold sweat

It's funny the kind of thing that can cause a cold sweat, the uncontrollable body response to the feeling of slightly irrational panic. Today I was intrigued and slightly concerned at the cause of mine. Being sat at 37,0000 feet with my knees wedged against the back of the seat in front of me is not unusual, I have been here before, quite a few times as it happens. I checked my passport recently and calculated that I have effectively flown completely around the world fifteen times, been exposed to more background radiation than Superman and breathed more stale air than a deep sea diver. Despite being a seasoned traveller, I have never really got used to turbulence and if there is one thing sure to ratchet my heart rate up a notch or two it is a sudden drop in altitude followed by a few judders and wobbles and the seatbelt sign being turned on hurriedly. This however does not induce the aforementioned cold sweat it merely reminds me that I am mortal and that I am powerless to affect a safe arrival at my destination, I am reliant entirely on others.

No, today's clamminess was brought on by something seemingly far less important than the discovery of fatigue cracks in the wings or the demise of an engine but, it appears, more important for my general well being. It was a discovery of sorts though, the realisation that I was sat with eleven days of China and Malaysia stretched out in front of me and no mains adaptor plug. In short, no way to charge the tools that I have become so dependant on for connecting to the world and people that I love at home. My reaction frightened me, a moment of panic, despair, sadness, anger that I had forgotten to buy one at Heathrow and cold cold sweat. Mid-movie I entered damage limitation and survival mode and fully shutdown everything that I wouldn't be able to charge: ipad, laptop, psvita. I spent time working out how long I could maintain communication if I rationed the amount of time that each device was switched on each day. I figured I could FaceTime from the ipad until the battery ran out and that might give me three days, the psvita has a Skype app so that might be good for another couple of days and for my laptop I might be able to timeshare an adaptor with the colleague I was travelling with but certainly not a full time thing. He however was asleep at this time of MacGyver-esque behaviour and so not available for consultation. I just had to make it as far as Malaysia where they subscribe to sensible UK plug sockets but that meant nine days. No-one had gone that long before, surely?

Then, at my darkest hour, a glimpse of inspiration. What if maybe, just maybe, the British Airways "On Board" duty free magazine had something. I reached for it like starving man finding food for the first time after wandering for days in the Austrailian outback, a frantic and frenzied attack on a poor unsuspecting catalogue of mile high (shopping) club overpriced merchandise. I didn't care though, I was dying, a man on the edge of reality. Then I saw it, the brightest, shiniest, rescue helicopter of a plug adaptor that I have ever seen. The flight attentent completed my rescue by presenting me with this, the most complicated, overpriced (don't ask) adaptor complete with USB ports and soft red drawstring bag:

It is stupidly over the top but I love it and I feel complete again. MacGyver, you may stand down now.

 

Brief enCOUNTER

I had felt drawn to her, as if I needed to be there, my legs carrying me forwards with little instruction from my brain.

"Hi" she said.

"Hi" I said.

She looked me directly in the eyes and smiled, a smile that came with the confidence born of experience. I could tell that I wasn't going to be her first and, if truth be told, probably not even her first today. This was someone who new exactly what she wanted and how to get what she needed. She knew that she now had me in her power and that I would struggle to resist anything that she asked me to do, it was as if she had my very identity in her hands. She looked down but then almost immediately back into my eyes. It was clear that she was checking me out. There was a moment's pause and my body tensed, ready to make my move but first I waited for the signal, the signal that I knew she would undoubtably give me.

"Can you put you bag on the conveyor please." she instructed politely as she handed my passport back.

Bag drop off complete...next stop Hong Kong.

 

Tuesday, 2 April 2013

First time

So, the difficult first blog post. It kind of feels like the moments before that first kiss with the girl that I fancied at secondary school. Should it be short? Passionate? Long and rambling? Should it explore ground that I have never covered before? What happens if I dive straight in? There is a real danger that I don't actually know what I'm doing and that I will get found out. What if my friends laugh about me...for all the wrong reasons. I think that I just need to get it over and done with and then move on, start something more serious, a little more meaningful, something that I will enjoy rather than worry about. So here goes, eyes closed, mouth open (but no tongues...hey, I hardly know you), leaning in, heart beating faster, contact...

Done, what was all the fuss about?