One of the first things most foreigners notice when they come here is that pedestrians do not have the right of way. Nobody has the right of way. Right of way is an alien concept. As is stopping at red lights, driving in one lane at a time, parking in only one space at a time, driving on the right side of the road. The list is endless. Every day I see people turn left from the right hand lane, turn right from the left hand lane, make u-turns from any lane in any direction, regardless of light color. People park wherever they want. There are very few real parking spaces in the cities so they will park absolutely anywhere. There are very few sidewalks in this country. Probably because if there were people would park on them.
In order to drive here legally you have to pass a written test and a driving test. The driving test is a joke. It is on a closed track without any obstacles. There are no other cars; no trucks, buses, scooters, bicycles, ox carts, farm vehicles, pedestrians or dogs. There are none of the situations every driver faces on the streets every day. If you can start the engine and not hit the borders of the track, you can pass the test. Licensed drivers never have to demonstrate any knowledge of the road or ability to drive. All you are required to do is drive around the track, back into one parking space, parallel park in a space that is much larger than anything you will find in the real world, and drive backwards on a curved road. The most interesting part is driving backwards on the curve because the written test clearly says that this is illegal. To legally drive in this country you must perform a completely illegal maneuver.
The more you drive around here the more it appears that there are few if any rules and regulations, and even less common sense or courtesy. When you see drivers make recklessly illegal moves in front of police officers who do nothing, it is easy to assume that there are no laws. But the laws exist. They are rarely enforced, and I doubt that most drivers know or care about them, but the written test implies that someone somewhere wrote a few things down.
The written test is more challenging than the driving test because of the creative word usements. All of the following are actual questions taken from the study guide, which are the actual questions on the test. I never bothered to study it, but I read most of the questions because I found them amusing.
Most of the questions are simple common sense.
True or false:
* To use overpasses or under passed would be the last resort.
* If driver deliberately kills or injuries someone, he will punished accordingly.
* Vehicles should not break down for lack of water or oil.
* Speeding is one biggest reasons for accidence.
* It is definitely reduce accidence if everyone follows the traffic rule.
* The drunk driver cause serious hurt or death. Will punished for find, his license will canceled and cannot retake.
* Driving is both physical and mental work. With a regular life, driving safety can be ensured.
* Must not reverse on bends, narrow roads, steep slopes or one way roads.
(And yet you have to on the driving test.)
Multiple choice:
* I am good driver and always obey traffic law, for traffic safety, I hope traffic police will (1)observe and strongly enforcing traffic law(2)no observe nor enforcing(3)observe but not enforcing.
(This reveals a great deal about local law enforcement that such a question is even on the test.)
* When the blood sprays out continuously, that will bleeding of (1)vein(2)capillary(3)artery.
(The answer is obvious, but why is this on a driving test?)
* When the broken bone is out of skin, should (1)push it back to original place(2)stop bleeding first(3)sent injurer to hospital.
(If any of my bones are out of my skin, the last person on Earth I want touching me is some dude who just hopped off his scooter.)
There are the usual questions about being a good citizen.
True or false:
* I discover from two passenger whispered conversation they are the drug dealers. To help my country, I should take to police stations and not them to escape.
* If driver has no driving moral, it is misfortune for him and others.
* Politeness and forgiveness is best driving behavior.
Multiple choice:
* If driver wish to uphold national honor, promote social state ability and family happiness, they should (1)have driving morals and obey law(2)have good driving skill(3)not drink or smoking.
* The driver clothes and appearance should (1)have limits(2)clean and dignified(3)not important.
There are also too many questions about weight and height limits for trucks and other things that make more sense on a professional driving test.
True or false:
* If driver finds the infective, mental ill passenger or some carry stinky stuff. He can make excuse and refuse admission to passenger.
* Those with heavy truck driving licenses may a tactor or mini bus.
* Both owner and the driver should responsible for loading goods.
(I assume this is about trucks. Or am I legally obligated to help Pi Chi carry all of her crap out of her car?)
Multiple choice:
* If because of sickness or going abroad, professional driver is unable to his license re-examed on time, he must give proof and have his professional license re-examed within (1)1 months of recovery or returning(2)3 months of recovery or returning(3)6 months of recovery or returning.
* Those who apply for having license to drive container lorry, their past experience should first have drivers license (1)for driving sedan more 1 years or for driving heavy truck more 2 years(2)for driving heavy duty truck more 1 years(3)for driving coach more 1 years or for driving heavy truck more 2 years.
* What is limit truck charring dangerous goods may parked to bridge, tunnel or five? (1)50 meters(2)100 meters(3)200 meters.
* When have old, difficult moving passengers, should (1)say no to them(2)drive after they sit well(3)double passenger fee.
* When loading dangerous goods, must follow regulations. Or will be find and (1)will marked 2 violation points(2)will marked 1 violation points(3)will not marked any violation point.
(How many people really know?)
There are more than a few questions that have questionable answers.
True or false:
* When wishing overtake, should give two short honks or flashing the lights once, wait for car in front slow down or make hand signal. Only then can overtaking.
* If front car doesn’t reduce speed and drive aside, you should not overtake. If you did, you’ll be find and be marked 1 violation points.
(The answers are true. You can only pass another car when it signals that you can pass. That cannot be right. And if it is then absolutely no one in the entire country ever obeys this law. Including me.)
* Only person involved or legal representative or guardian or heir can mediate the accidence.
(The answer is true. My heirs can mediate the accidence. Apparently.)
* When green light says you can pass, driver should pay attention of cars and pedestrians illegal going through red light.
(False. Drivers should not pay attention to anyone running the red light. This explains why no one ever does.)
* Drivers who injured people because broke the traffic safety rule will their license revoked.
(False. Personal injury is a very low priority.)
* When drive on highway, lane for reducing speed, or single lane highway entrance and exit ramps, cannot overtaking. On acceleration lane, if front car drives slowly and blocks traffic, can overtaking.
(False. You can pass someone on a single-lane on-ramp and cannot pass a car that is going slow. I think maybe it should be the other way around.)
* When you driving with tired body, will easily cause accidence.
(False. Tired bodies never cause accidence.)
Multiple choice:
* If driver hit working police officer while drive, his driving license will invalidated and (1)cannot take road test in next year(2)cannot take road test in next 3 year and a find NT30,000-60,000(3)can never take road test.
* Driver who kill people because broke traffic safety will (1)have license canceled and may not retake test for 5 year(2)have license canceled and may not retake test for 3 year(3)have license canceled and must wait year before retake.
(The answers are (2) and (3). If you hit a cop under any circumstance you lose your license for three years and pay a large find. If you kill a civilian while driving illegally you only lose your license for one year and need not worry about paying any pesky finds.)
* Which following illicit behaviors can it are directly reporting police? (1)Unlicensed driving(2)Drunk driving(3)Illegal park without driver attendance.
(You might think the answer is (2). That is the most illegal. But the correct answer is (3).)
* When car is sliding and out of control, you should (1)brake right away and turn opposite direction(2)brake right away and no turn(3)no turn wheel instead, follow the direction of sliding.
(All of these options are stupid and would likely bring pain. The correct answer is (1), which would cause your car to spin uncontrollably.)
And some of the questions I had to read several times before I had any idea what they were talking about.
Multiple choice:
* The two directors on highway dividing by (1)same markings as normal roads(2)absolutely dividing method in order have two unilateral director road(3)color of lights.
* If driver not follow police officer persuasion when commit illegal parking or over speed police (1)can inform driver again(2)cannot inform again(3)can detain driver and car.
* When have serious accidence with you car should (1)have regular check after repaire car(2)have temporary check after repaire car(3)to apply for number plate check after repaire car.
* If vehicle not equipped with tachygriph owner will find (1)$12,000 to 24,000(2)$15,000 to 60,000(3)$ 9,000 to 12,000.
* The car accidence happened inner lane because passer-by or other slow driving car doesn’t follow rule and cause the hurt or death, driver who driving inner lane and follow regulation will punishment is (1)original sentance(2)mitigating the punishment(3)comulating the punishment.
* Driver should taking roadway safety lecture if following illegal behavior is happened (1)Run acrossing railway(2)Cause accidence illegally with license detained(3)Above mentioning correct.
* People should taking roadway safety lecture if following illegal behavior is happened (1)Driver’s left child who under 6 years older or is needing the special care of car alone(2)Legal agent or guardian allow teenager who under 18 years age of unlicensed driving, racing or dangerous-drivering(3)Above mentioning correct.
* If car driver is found that snake on road will punished (1)find, number plate will detained 3 months(2)find, roadway safety lecture(3)find, roadway safety lecture, number plate will detained 3 months.
(I still have no idea what the hell this means. Is the snake punished? Some of my students often write snake when they mean snack, but changing those words does not help.)
* What is main reason to cause the accident while turn left? (1)Driver ignores(2)Dead space(3)Inner wheel turning distance.
* The identification of the “Visional Tunnel Effect” is driver has the visional mistake of bright front side but dark side in surrounding of drunk-driving. Therefore, what will driver visional became if driver is drunk-driving? (1)No visional change(2)Visional becomes hard(3)Visional becomes soft.
* If notice somebody take animals go through road, should (1)horn them and make aware of surround(2)increase the speed and go through road before they(3)reduce the speed and wait for going through.
(People taking animals go through road is not at all rare around here so the question deserves a space on the test, but as usual the answer has nothing to do with how people actually drive.)
Most of the things I see drivers do every day are illegal according to the test.
Multiple choice:
* Slower cars should drive in (1)inside lane(2)outside lane(3)slow lane.
(Slow cars, trucks, buses use every lane. In South Africa, I was impressed by trucks going out of their way to move aside so cars could pass, even on narrow roads. Here, trucks and buses go out of their way to jump in front of faster cars and drive next to other trucks so that no one can get by.)
* When you driving (1) may use handy phone to dial or answer(2)may not use handy phone to dial or answer(3)may use handy phone to dial or answer if traffic condition is find.
(People use handy phone while driving all the time. Handy phones are an extension of self around here. I have 10-year-old students with handy phones. I never had a handy phone when I was 10. When Pi Chi drives while screaming into her phone I point out that it is illegal. I might as well tell her to drive in only one lane.)
True or false:
* On hearing ambulance, fire engine, police car or rescue vehicle, no matter which direction is coming from, should give way and must not following quickly.
* On a two-lane road, when entering a lane, right of way should be given to vehicles already on lane.
* At intersection where are lanes specified for right or left turn, vehicles which go straight may not use these lanes.
* At intersection with no lights or policeman and both road are main road, cars on left should give way to cars on right.
* On two-lane road, when vehicle wishes turn left, he should use indicate 30 meters from intersection. When reaching center of intersections, turn left. Not use oncoming lane left turn lane.
* When pedestrians crossing ahead, you should slow down.
* Where there are signs prohibiting U turns, overtaking or changing lane, car must not make U turns.
* Do not park at station, airport, quay, school or hospital entrances.
* On same lane, if front car want reduce speed and stop, he should warn following car by signaling in advance.
* Do not park where you will clearly obstructing other vehicles.
* In normal weather condition, driver should obey marked speed limit rules.
* Vehicle on highway must not race at high speed or drive slowly side by side.
* When driving on highway, should pay greater attention to movement of other vehicles on both side.
* When changing lane, use indicator lights to give vehicle behind advance warning. You must also pay attention to movement of vehicles around you.
* Before enter lane or change the lane, should use turn signals and check lane next you.
All of these are true. Foreigners who drive here might be surprised to see that these things are indeed illegal. And yet I see the locals break every single one of these rules every day. I live next to a hospital so I have a good deal of experience with ambulances. I am the only one who ever lets them pass. And usually when I do, several cars recklessly jump in front of me. Yielding to emergency vehicles, pedestrians, cars that clearly have the right of way or anybody is just crazy talk. I can only assume that to yield is to show weakness before the enemy. And that is what every other driver seems to be.
And the questions about paying attention are laughable. Paying attention is simply not a Chinese character trait. Drivers are rarely aware of anything that is not within 5 feet in front of them. Pedestrians routinely slam into each other, and they travel at much lower speeds. I have often said that you could walk down the street wielding a chainsaw and people would still walk right into you. And everybody seems to walk the way they drive. That is not a good thing in a place so crowded.
True or false:
* When see vehicle nearby is indicate and preparing to change lane, you should increasing speed to avoid being overtake.
(The best way to get a slow car to speed up is to make him think you want to change lanes. Drivers react as if their family will suffer horrible dishonor if anyone passes them. Even if they are driving 5km/h. Especially if they are driving 5km/h.)
* When drive at night and car from opposite direction use upper beam, you should use upper beam as revenge.
(From what I have seen, the high beam is used solely for revenge.)
* If see the elder, children or handicapped people walk slowly on pedestrian cross, you should sound the horn.
(Not only will most drivers honk at old people and children, but they will usually come as close to hitting them as possible. Except when they actually hit them. I do not understand why handicapped people are included. The handicapped are rarely seen in public.)
* When see red light, you can still turn left if traffic not busy.
(Everyone turns left at red lights. I used to think it was legal since it is so common. But there is no such thing as traffic not being busy.)
* You may throw anything you like while driving on freeway.
(Throwing trash out of moving cars is an art form around here. I have seen people throw kitchen-sized garbage bags out of their windows. I saw a scooter driver throw his drink cup straight up into the air while he was driving. It nearly landed on another moving scooter.)
* A driver doesn’t have care about traffic rules.
(From what I have seen no one cares at all about any traffic rules.)
It is easy to pass the test without knowing about most of these rules. I passed without understanding much of the test. Once you have a license you never have to take the test again and since the laws are rarely enforced there is little reason to obey them. “Monkey see, monkey do” should be the official motto. When newer generations constantly see anarchy, they will follow along.
I drove in this country illegally for years. I can appreciate the irony of complaining that no one obeys any of the laws that are never enforced. But I am probably the safest driver in the entire country. I stop at red lights. I drive on the right side of the road. I have never driven into oncoming traffic. I have never driven backwards on the freeway. I look before I leap. I yield to everyone and everything. I have never hit any other cars. Every day someone comes within inches of hitting me. Usually because they are unaware that other people exist and they do whatever the hell they want. I have never been in any accidents in this country when I was the driver. Every year thousands of people die at Pi Chi’s hospital because of traffic accidents. I have seen enough to assume that they died because they or the car that hit them did something really stupid.
These are not inherently stupid people. They invented fireworks and pasta. Some of them can be very nice in person, if you ignore the racism. This is not meant to be a backhanded compliment. I often like living here, despite the tone of everything I have just written. There are advantages to my current lifestyle that might be difficult to find elsewhere. And I have no genuine dislike of Chinese people. Most of the people I know are Chinese. The best relationship I have ever had is with a Chinese woman. And not for the reasons most people in “the West” assume. She is demanding, contrarian, selfish, aging me prematurely, and one of the nicest people I have ever met.
But even nice Chinese people become raging assholes behind the wheel. It is not road rage. It is more like road superiority. Chinese people are without a doubt the most selfish drivers I have ever seen anywhere in the known universe. And probably in the rest of the universe as well. Every single one of them seems to have a sense of entitlement as if wherever they are going and whatever they are doing is infinitely more important than everyone else. This selfishness kills people.
I am an outsider here. If I live here the rest of my life I will still be a visitor. Children on the street will still point at me and say, “美國人”. When you are a visitor in a strange land you should accept the cultural differences and never expect them to adapt to you. I never complain anymore when people eat with their mouths wide open, proudly release gas from every orifice or scream at the top of their lungs into their cell phones. That is simply their way. But I will always complain when they drive as though they are invincible and no one else exists.
Several years ago one of my students was hit by a car. She was always the sweetest little girl and too smart for her age. I called her 小 Amy because there were originally two Amys in her class and she was easily the shorter of the two. Whenever I called her 小 Amy she would smile, even if I was calling her to write something on the board.
She was out of school for months after the car hit her. When she eventually came back she used crutches, then walked with a limp. I never saw her happy after she came back. Her test scores went down the toilet. On my last day at the school I gave her an American dime because I had given a girl named Penny a penny and I wanted to give Amy something. Before the accident she would have been overjoyed to see the dime because it was something new and different. When I gave it to her she just stared at it blankly. I have not seen her in years but every time I think about her it still pisses me off. I can only imagine the suffering she went through, and I saw how it clearly changed her. And all because some asshole was driving the way the Chinese drive every day.
05 May 2010
29 April 2010
Licensed To Kill
I started driving when I was 15. I started driving legally at 16. About a year before I left my home country, my driver’s license expired. I renewed it as was the fashion of the day. But the DMV would not give me a new license because I was trying to get a commercial license at the time. Why I was trying to get a commercial license remains a mystery to this day. I am simply not the type and would have never fit in with any of my colleagues had I gotten such a job. But I passed the written test and had passenger and air brake endorsements. All I needed was to take the actual driving test, which required driving an actual commercial vehicle. Since the commercial license was still pending, they would not give me a new regular license. The thinking being that the commercial license outranks the regular license so who needs both and why should the DMV spend the money. Even though I was the one paying for them. Instead, I got a little piece of paper that told any interested law enforcement types that my license was indeed current. This paper was only valid for 30 days so I had the pleasure of going to the DMV every 30 days to get another little piece of paper.
Then I left the country and stopped getting the little pieces of paper. But I took my expired but not really expired license with me.
You can get an international license around here if you have a valid license from wherever you are from. When I started driving Boss Lady’s car during my first year, she suggested I might want to get one. My problem was that my valid license said that it expired and it seemed unlikely that any Chinese bureaucrat would believe my story. Especially in English.
An international license is only valid for the first 30 days or six months or year that foreigners are here. Which time limit depends on where you get your information. Foreigners who have been here beyond that time are expected to get a local license and anyone who drives with an international license is actually driving illegally. I eventually reached all of those stages without getting an international license. Getting a local license proved to be difficult since the nearest government office was a good hour drive away and only open on weekdays. I worked every weekday and could not possibly get there and back in the time allotted. Boss Lady also did not want me to drive her car there since I would be driving illegally to the office where people become legal drivers. That may seem reasonable, but she had no qualms about letting me drive her car illegally just about anywhere else.
Eventually I came across the local police while I was driving illegally and discovered that it was much easier to be a foreign driver than to have all the right paperwork anyway. I soon lost interest and no one noticed or cared.
When I moved in with Pi Chi, I started driving her car, but we never really talked about how illegal that is. I try to let her do most of the driving anyway.
Then I got a job that is about 45 minutes from home. Driving proved to be the only way to get there. So I did. At that point I had driven several different vehicle types all over the place without incident and never really thought much about it. When you are surrounded by fatally reckless drivers who would willingly drive over their own grandmothers to get home five seconds sooner, not having a little card seems trivial.
But then I might have up and got me a stalker. The details about that are still a little hazy and I have yet to decide how to approach the subject in writing. I am sure I will type up something sooner or later. But it quickly became obvious that I should have a driver’s license. Experience has made me impressively skilled at avoiding the endless obstacles on the roads, and if I were a lesser driver I would have been hit by countless people by now. But even the best driver in the world can do little if someone is deliberately trying to damage their car. The local rule is that any unlicensed driver is at fault in any accident regardless of who actually hit whom. According to Pi Chi. So if someone went out of their way to try to hit me and I could not avoid it, I would have to pay heavy fines, I would have to pay what is really just extortion money to the person who hit me, and Pi Chi’s license would be suspended for allowing an unlicensed driver to drive her car.
So I asked the Internet how one goes about getting such a thing around here. The Internet was as useful as a jar of tomatoes on a cactus farm. It lied to me. As it so often has.
With time and the great patience for which I have always been known, I found that the process is simple, if not complicated.
Step 1: Travel to the only city where the tests can be taken in English. This would likely require spending the night since government offices are usually open in the morning and the train never leaves early enough to get there on time. I was confident that I could take the driving test in Chinese but thought that taking the written test in Chinese would be stupid.
Step 2: Fill out a form. This is in Chinese, but that does not bother me since most of the forms I fill out are in Chinese.
Step 2a: Get the form stamped by the appropriate people. An unstamped form is like Wyoming. Pretty to look at but functionally useless.
Step 3: Get a medical test. I get tested medically every year so I already knew how half-assed it would be. This particular medical test is to see if you can stand without falling over and have all of your given extremities. There is also a vision test that has nothing to do with driving.
Step 3a: Get the medical test papers stamped. See above.
Step 4: Give the properly stamped form and medical test, expired foreign driver’s license, passport, resident ID card, two visa-sized photos and cash to the woman at the counter. It is always a woman.
Step 4a: Make sure she stamps the form and medical test.
Step 5: Take the written test. In “English”.
Step 6: If you pass the written test, make sure the guy stamps the form, and come back in three months to take the driving test. If you fail the written test, you can come back in seven days and take it again.
Step 7: Take the driving test. Make sure that guy stamps the form, and take all of the paperwork to the woman at the window and make sure she stamps all of the forms. If you fail the driving test, you can come back in seven days and take it again.
Step 8: Be sure to renew your license before it expires or you will have to go through the entire process again.
I tried to make an appointment but found that appointments are not necessary. Except for everything beyond taking the written test. I was ready to pack my bags and get it done when Pi Chi told me that I could take the English version very close to home. I found this hard to believe since everything on the Internet told me otherwise. But I did it her way just to humor her, fully expecting to do it my way later.
She took the day off and drove me to the government office. This was unusual and I still do not know why she did. Perhaps like Boss Lady she did not want me to be seen driving her car. What was not unusual was that we arrived much later than we should have because of a communication issue. The test can only be taken at a certain time and it was fast approaching. She had been told that I could take the medical test at the same office. This was false. We had to drive to the nearest authorized clinic when I was sure we would not have enough time to get all the stamps. The clinic was a typically filthy little building where I would not be caught dead with any medical needs. But they were qualified to see if I had all of my arms and legs. Then there was the vision test.
I do not have what one might call great eyesight. I come from a family of relatively blind people. But I did not get my first glasses until I was 24 years old. I still have them. My eyes are weaker than they were when I was 24, but I only wear glasses to drive and watch movies. I never wear them around the house. I cannot wear them at the computer. I wear them during vision tests. I need them to read the Snellen chart.
But I live in a country where 95% of everybody wears corrective lenses. And there is no alphabet. They use different tests and there does not seem to be any standardization. The test in question was unusual in that it would have been better without glasses. There was a point where my score was a judgement call and the woman behind the counter went ahead and scored it in my favor. Chinese people will often cheat on meaningless things, like tests to determine if a person is too blind to operate potentially fatal machinery.
Stamped medical report in hand, we rushed back to the government office just in time to get it stamped and go to the testing room. I was still unconvinced that it would be in English. Especially since this was a small office and there are not many foreigners in the neighborhood.
The test was in English, more or less. Mostly less. I passed. I had to read some of the questions repeatedly. I guessed at about a quarter of them. I have since read the questions and answers and still do not understand some of them. It is not that the questions are difficult. It is that they were obviously translated by someone who does not understand basic rules of English grammar and spelling. Fortunately, I live and work with such people and no longer look twice at sentences without pronouns, articles, conjunctions, verbs or nouns.
After lunch we were supposed to come back for the driving test. The Internet repeatedly told me that there was a three month wait between tests, ostensibly to learn how to drive. There is even a flow chart in the government office with the same information. But both tests can be taken on the same day. What was even better was that once all the paperwork had all the correct stamps, we went to the woman behind the counter and she printed up my license right then and there. She glued one of my visa photos to a piece of paper and laminated everything. It is unimpressive and expires in three months, but at least now when I am inevitably hit by another car it will not be my fault. Assuming the police listen to my side of the story rather than just go with whatever one of their own kind says.
My license expires in three months because it is only good as long as I have a resident card. Even though I took all the same tests and have all the same stamps on the same forms as the locals, licenses held by foreigners are only valid while their resident cards are valid. Those are generally only valid for one year. So we have to renew our driver’s license every year while the locals have to renew theirs every six years. Even though my resident card actually expires in four months, it expires in three since that is when my passport expires. The resident card is only good as long as I have a passport. So when I get my new passport I will have to get a new resident card and then I can renew my new driver’s license. But since my resident card will expire one month after I get it, so will my license. In 2010 I will have to pay for three resident cards and three licenses. Yet the one passport costs more than everything else combined.
Then I left the country and stopped getting the little pieces of paper. But I took my expired but not really expired license with me.
You can get an international license around here if you have a valid license from wherever you are from. When I started driving Boss Lady’s car during my first year, she suggested I might want to get one. My problem was that my valid license said that it expired and it seemed unlikely that any Chinese bureaucrat would believe my story. Especially in English.
An international license is only valid for the first 30 days or six months or year that foreigners are here. Which time limit depends on where you get your information. Foreigners who have been here beyond that time are expected to get a local license and anyone who drives with an international license is actually driving illegally. I eventually reached all of those stages without getting an international license. Getting a local license proved to be difficult since the nearest government office was a good hour drive away and only open on weekdays. I worked every weekday and could not possibly get there and back in the time allotted. Boss Lady also did not want me to drive her car there since I would be driving illegally to the office where people become legal drivers. That may seem reasonable, but she had no qualms about letting me drive her car illegally just about anywhere else.
Eventually I came across the local police while I was driving illegally and discovered that it was much easier to be a foreign driver than to have all the right paperwork anyway. I soon lost interest and no one noticed or cared.
When I moved in with Pi Chi, I started driving her car, but we never really talked about how illegal that is. I try to let her do most of the driving anyway.
Then I got a job that is about 45 minutes from home. Driving proved to be the only way to get there. So I did. At that point I had driven several different vehicle types all over the place without incident and never really thought much about it. When you are surrounded by fatally reckless drivers who would willingly drive over their own grandmothers to get home five seconds sooner, not having a little card seems trivial.
But then I might have up and got me a stalker. The details about that are still a little hazy and I have yet to decide how to approach the subject in writing. I am sure I will type up something sooner or later. But it quickly became obvious that I should have a driver’s license. Experience has made me impressively skilled at avoiding the endless obstacles on the roads, and if I were a lesser driver I would have been hit by countless people by now. But even the best driver in the world can do little if someone is deliberately trying to damage their car. The local rule is that any unlicensed driver is at fault in any accident regardless of who actually hit whom. According to Pi Chi. So if someone went out of their way to try to hit me and I could not avoid it, I would have to pay heavy fines, I would have to pay what is really just extortion money to the person who hit me, and Pi Chi’s license would be suspended for allowing an unlicensed driver to drive her car.
So I asked the Internet how one goes about getting such a thing around here. The Internet was as useful as a jar of tomatoes on a cactus farm. It lied to me. As it so often has.
With time and the great patience for which I have always been known, I found that the process is simple, if not complicated.
Step 1: Travel to the only city where the tests can be taken in English. This would likely require spending the night since government offices are usually open in the morning and the train never leaves early enough to get there on time. I was confident that I could take the driving test in Chinese but thought that taking the written test in Chinese would be stupid.
Step 2: Fill out a form. This is in Chinese, but that does not bother me since most of the forms I fill out are in Chinese.
Step 2a: Get the form stamped by the appropriate people. An unstamped form is like Wyoming. Pretty to look at but functionally useless.
Step 3: Get a medical test. I get tested medically every year so I already knew how half-assed it would be. This particular medical test is to see if you can stand without falling over and have all of your given extremities. There is also a vision test that has nothing to do with driving.
Step 3a: Get the medical test papers stamped. See above.
Step 4: Give the properly stamped form and medical test, expired foreign driver’s license, passport, resident ID card, two visa-sized photos and cash to the woman at the counter. It is always a woman.
Step 4a: Make sure she stamps the form and medical test.
Step 5: Take the written test. In “English”.
Step 6: If you pass the written test, make sure the guy stamps the form, and come back in three months to take the driving test. If you fail the written test, you can come back in seven days and take it again.
Step 7: Take the driving test. Make sure that guy stamps the form, and take all of the paperwork to the woman at the window and make sure she stamps all of the forms. If you fail the driving test, you can come back in seven days and take it again.
Step 8: Be sure to renew your license before it expires or you will have to go through the entire process again.
I tried to make an appointment but found that appointments are not necessary. Except for everything beyond taking the written test. I was ready to pack my bags and get it done when Pi Chi told me that I could take the English version very close to home. I found this hard to believe since everything on the Internet told me otherwise. But I did it her way just to humor her, fully expecting to do it my way later.
She took the day off and drove me to the government office. This was unusual and I still do not know why she did. Perhaps like Boss Lady she did not want me to be seen driving her car. What was not unusual was that we arrived much later than we should have because of a communication issue. The test can only be taken at a certain time and it was fast approaching. She had been told that I could take the medical test at the same office. This was false. We had to drive to the nearest authorized clinic when I was sure we would not have enough time to get all the stamps. The clinic was a typically filthy little building where I would not be caught dead with any medical needs. But they were qualified to see if I had all of my arms and legs. Then there was the vision test.
I do not have what one might call great eyesight. I come from a family of relatively blind people. But I did not get my first glasses until I was 24 years old. I still have them. My eyes are weaker than they were when I was 24, but I only wear glasses to drive and watch movies. I never wear them around the house. I cannot wear them at the computer. I wear them during vision tests. I need them to read the Snellen chart.
But I live in a country where 95% of everybody wears corrective lenses. And there is no alphabet. They use different tests and there does not seem to be any standardization. The test in question was unusual in that it would have been better without glasses. There was a point where my score was a judgement call and the woman behind the counter went ahead and scored it in my favor. Chinese people will often cheat on meaningless things, like tests to determine if a person is too blind to operate potentially fatal machinery.
Stamped medical report in hand, we rushed back to the government office just in time to get it stamped and go to the testing room. I was still unconvinced that it would be in English. Especially since this was a small office and there are not many foreigners in the neighborhood.
The test was in English, more or less. Mostly less. I passed. I had to read some of the questions repeatedly. I guessed at about a quarter of them. I have since read the questions and answers and still do not understand some of them. It is not that the questions are difficult. It is that they were obviously translated by someone who does not understand basic rules of English grammar and spelling. Fortunately, I live and work with such people and no longer look twice at sentences without pronouns, articles, conjunctions, verbs or nouns.
After lunch we were supposed to come back for the driving test. The Internet repeatedly told me that there was a three month wait between tests, ostensibly to learn how to drive. There is even a flow chart in the government office with the same information. But both tests can be taken on the same day. What was even better was that once all the paperwork had all the correct stamps, we went to the woman behind the counter and she printed up my license right then and there. She glued one of my visa photos to a piece of paper and laminated everything. It is unimpressive and expires in three months, but at least now when I am inevitably hit by another car it will not be my fault. Assuming the police listen to my side of the story rather than just go with whatever one of their own kind says.
My license expires in three months because it is only good as long as I have a resident card. Even though I took all the same tests and have all the same stamps on the same forms as the locals, licenses held by foreigners are only valid while their resident cards are valid. Those are generally only valid for one year. So we have to renew our driver’s license every year while the locals have to renew theirs every six years. Even though my resident card actually expires in four months, it expires in three since that is when my passport expires. The resident card is only good as long as I have a passport. So when I get my new passport I will have to get a new resident card and then I can renew my new driver’s license. But since my resident card will expire one month after I get it, so will my license. In 2010 I will have to pay for three resident cards and three licenses. Yet the one passport costs more than everything else combined.
27 March 2010
Ye Olde Tyme Tokyo
When I booked our hotel I was a little concerned by how cheap it was. Especially being so close to a major attraction like the Imperial Palace. It was actually very nice. The rooms are small, but so is every hotel room in Japan. It was on a small residential street, directly across from a subway line. It was nowhere near all the pop and parties, but we liked the neighborhood.
The day was half over by the time we checked into the hotel. I had a list of things I wanted to see and I knew we would be wasting an entire day at DisneySea. Pi Chi was recovering from the flu, so she was not as hungry as usual. This gave us much more time. She also must have been a little delirious because she readily agreed to go wherever I wanted to go. I told her there would be shopping, which there was, but I had an ulterior motive. I knew there was also a Krispy Kreme.
The Krispy Kreme in question is very hard to find when you have no idea where it is, but very easy to get to once you know. I knew it was near a station but that was all, and none of the subway maps happened to mention Krispy Kreme. That may seem obvious, but sometimes they mention 7-11 or McDonalds, so it is worth a try. There was also heavy construction between the station and Krispy Kreme, which did not help.
When Pi Chi found out we were looking for donuts, she was less than excited. We walked around the very large subway station and through at least two shopping areas. Pi Chi gets a little grumpy when she has not eaten in several minutes, even if she has the flu, and she does not especially care for donuts. She repeatedly wanted to give up, but I was persistent. She had never had a Krispy Kreme before so I could forgive her lack of enthusiasm.
We eventually went over a bridge and I saw the green and white sign in the distance. It turned out to be rather close to the exit where we originally left the station. Had we simply turned right instead of left we would have found it much earlier. Such is life.
The “hot now” sign was on, so Pi Chi’s first ever Krispy Kreme was less than a minute old. She was unimpressed. I thought about how I should pack my things when I move out. But it must have been the flu because we went to that and another Krispy Kreme a few times on this trip and she ate almost as many as I did. And I found the other Krispy Kreme by accident.
How dough becomes ambrosia
Pi Chi wanted to eat department store basement food for dinner after we left DisneySea, so we went to the Ginza. It is easy to get to by train from the Disney area, and there are more than enough department stores to satisfy Pi Chi. Interestingly enough, everything was closed. Even the seizure lights were off. We left DisneySea a few hours before closing time because it sucked so much, so we assumed finding dinner would be easy. The Ginza is arguably the most popular shopping area of Tokyo. But it either closes at 8pm on Sundays or it was some special holiday we knew nothing about.*
Pi Chi wanted to give up and go back to the hotel. Ordinarily, she would never give up on finding her dinner, but that flu was still lingering. I knew of a restaurant near another subway stop, but it could have just as easily been closed as well. I thought it was worth a try, and I was still confident from my Krispy Kreme triumph. We never found the restaurant, but we found a Shakey’s Pizza. They are almost completely gone in California, but apparently there are quite a few in Japan, and more in the Philippines than anywhere else in the world. This particular Shakey’s was very open. It looked and sounded like a Shakey’s, although with Japanese signs. They had the Dixieland music and lunch buffet. They even had mojos. The most amazing part was that the pizza tasted like a genuine Shakey’s pizza. In my experience it is unusual when somebody opens an American restaurant and the food actually tastes American. But Tokyo Shakey’s has that distinctive Shakey’s sauce and crust. They also have toppings like squid and chocolate and marshmallows, but I generally stick to mushrooms and olives anyway.
It may seem strange to travel to a place like Japan and seek out Shakey’s and Krispy Kreme, but I live in Asia. I eat Asian food all the time. Japanese food is not at all hard to find at home. You can even get bad Japanese food at any 7-11 if you are so inclined. But prior to this trip, Seoul was the only place on the continent I knew to find Krispy Kreme. There is a reason everyone says they are the best donuts in the world. And I grew up on Shakey’s pizza. For me, eating a Shakey’s pizza is probably what it is like for other people to eat their mother’s cooking. I may never be quoted by the tourist bureau, but those pizzas were the highlight of my trip.
Westernland
The Frontierland of Tokyo Disneyland
You may think that we went to the Imperial Palace as soon as we got DisneySea out of the way. You would be mistaken. The next day we went to Disneyland. Nobody knows why. But it was nice to see a real Disney park after that travesty of an imposter. Walking down Tokyo Disneyland’s World Bazaar is just like walking down any other Disneyland’s Main Street. Except the name is different. And it looks different. But there are still millions of Japanese people running around.
I think I already described Tokyo Disneyland, but this trip was different. The park was relatively empty the first time we went. Not Hong Kong empty, but California empty. This time there were a few more people. The ride lines were almost as long as the popcorn lines. If you know anything about the Japanese you know how long they are willing to wait in line for popcorn. The wait for any food was ridiculous. Fortunately, we thought ahead and brought our own. We ate our leftover pizza and department store food next to the vending machine at Space Mountain. This is notable not only because there is only one vending machine in the entire park (in a city that elevates vending machines to an art form), but also because sitting on a concrete bench near the vending machine next to Space Mountain and eating leftover pizza and department store food (and probably a few donuts) was worlds better than that lunch we had the day before sitting in real chairs at a real table in a fake Italian restaurant.
Outside of Hong Kong and Paris, you are going to get crowds when you go to any Disney park. But Tokyo Disneyland on this day was completely absurd. We had been there before and it was reasonable. On this day you could not see the ground. I went to California Disneyland on a Christmas Eve or possibly Christmas Day when I was in high school and the park was so crowded that we spent some of our time in a walk-in phone booth just to get away from the people. That was empty compared to Tokyo. I understand that the purpose of the park is to make money and the more people you let in, the more money you make. But eventually there is a satiation point. If the park is too crowded, the people in it do not enjoy their experience. If they do not enjoy it they are less likely to return. This is an aspect of business strategy that many Asians simply do not understand. Customer satisfaction is meaningless to people who are only looking at how much money they can make today. Repeat customers are not something you worry about when you do business in a very crowded marketplace. Tokyo Disneyland has lost two potential customers because of their greed. Pi Chi and I shall not return.
There is still plenty of room to cram in more people
When we finally spent an actual day in the actual city of Tokyo, Pi Chi wanted to go shopping. I wanted to go to one of the skyscrapers and see the city. I like to find the tallest building in whatever city I am in and look around. Pi Chi likes to go shopping. I like to go to thousand year old temples and cathedrals. Pi Chi likes to go shopping. I like to walk through city parks and see the juxtaposition of trees and grass against tall buildings in the background. Pi Chi likes to go shopping. If I am somewhere that has a river cruise, I want to take it. If she is somewhere that has shopping, she wants to go shopping.
When Pi Chi and I travel together there is a constant struggle between what I want to do (culture, history, get some sense of what the place is about) and what Pi Chi wants to do (shopping). In this case she agreed we should go up the building first and go shopping later after I convinced her that the shopping is open all night (except Sundays) and the view from the building is very different in daylight. There was a threat of rain the entire time we were in Tokyo and it was mostly cloudy. But it was relatively clear at this point so I decided we should go to the tallest building, which also happens to have a free observation deck. Free is a good thing in Tokyo.
It is rare that I get to do what I want to do when Pi Chi wants to do what she wants to do. What really does not help matters is when she agrees to do what I want to do and it turns out to be the weakest observation deck I have ever seen. It was all indoors, which is bad enough, but the glare on the windows from what little sunlight there was made it difficult to see much of anything. It was not the most exciting area of Tokyo anyway. The harbor was covered by other buildings and Mt Fuji was lost in the haze. Pi Chi spent more time in the tiny gift shop than I spent looking out the window.
Diligent readers may have noticed that I might complain about Pi Chi’s shopping. I do that more to her than I do to you. Believe me. But this shopping excursion brought us to Shibuya, which we had never been to before. If you know anything about Tokyo, you know how strange it is that a shopper like Pi Chi had never been to Shibuya. The lights of the Ginza will give you seizures at night, but Shibuya is shopper’s paradise. It has the overpriced department stores that Pi Chi prefers and the cheap little shops that I prefer. And it has food. All kinds of food. Everything from Pi Chi’s department store basement food to my pizza and donuts. And plenty of Asian food, but we pay less attention to that.
We eventually saw a temple and more than enough shopping. We saved the Imperial Palace for the last day because of lack of time and the constant threat of rain. The last day was the sunniest and our flight home did not leave until evening. Our hotel was right around the corner and it was an easy walk. The nearest gate into the park to our hotel was closed, so we walked around to the main gate. It was also closed. I knew a reservation was needed to get into the inner grounds, but most of the park is usually open to visitors. This day it was not. So I have still never seen the Imperial Palace. And I think I know why our hotel was so cheap.
We knew that we needed two tickets to take the express train back to the airport, but I still have no idea how to do that with the ticket machine. There is an English option, but it has far fewer choices than the Japanese. The woman who operated the machine that got our tickets pushed many buttons from many screens that simply did not exist in the English version. I have bought many train tickets from many machines in many languages. This was not my first pony ride. I have read several times how difficult Tokyo’s subway system is. I find it very simple. It is no more difficult than New York’s or Seoul’s. It is simply in a different language. But I have no clue how to get a train ticket to Narita without dealing with a person.
Our return flight arrived too late to take the train home. It was delayed because the plane was falling apart. There were problems with the radio and electricity that kept us on the runway longer than is generally comfortable, and later at 30,000 feet the window at my seat leaked water from outside. I think that might be bad. So we spent the night at another airport hotel before taking the train home the next morning. And I had to work that day. Pi Chi wisely took the day off.
In the end, our travel voucher for a free plane ticket cost us one round trip plane ticket, three hotel rooms in two countries, eight train tickets and several taxi rides getting from one to the other. This is why I do not do coupons.
*[Update: It was some special holiday we knew nothing about.]
A wedding procession at Meiji Jingu in Shibuya
The day was half over by the time we checked into the hotel. I had a list of things I wanted to see and I knew we would be wasting an entire day at DisneySea. Pi Chi was recovering from the flu, so she was not as hungry as usual. This gave us much more time. She also must have been a little delirious because she readily agreed to go wherever I wanted to go. I told her there would be shopping, which there was, but I had an ulterior motive. I knew there was also a Krispy Kreme.
The Krispy Kreme in question is very hard to find when you have no idea where it is, but very easy to get to once you know. I knew it was near a station but that was all, and none of the subway maps happened to mention Krispy Kreme. That may seem obvious, but sometimes they mention 7-11 or McDonalds, so it is worth a try. There was also heavy construction between the station and Krispy Kreme, which did not help.
When Pi Chi found out we were looking for donuts, she was less than excited. We walked around the very large subway station and through at least two shopping areas. Pi Chi gets a little grumpy when she has not eaten in several minutes, even if she has the flu, and she does not especially care for donuts. She repeatedly wanted to give up, but I was persistent. She had never had a Krispy Kreme before so I could forgive her lack of enthusiasm.
We eventually went over a bridge and I saw the green and white sign in the distance. It turned out to be rather close to the exit where we originally left the station. Had we simply turned right instead of left we would have found it much earlier. Such is life.
The “hot now” sign was on, so Pi Chi’s first ever Krispy Kreme was less than a minute old. She was unimpressed. I thought about how I should pack my things when I move out. But it must have been the flu because we went to that and another Krispy Kreme a few times on this trip and she ate almost as many as I did. And I found the other Krispy Kreme by accident.
Pi Chi wanted to eat department store basement food for dinner after we left DisneySea, so we went to the Ginza. It is easy to get to by train from the Disney area, and there are more than enough department stores to satisfy Pi Chi. Interestingly enough, everything was closed. Even the seizure lights were off. We left DisneySea a few hours before closing time because it sucked so much, so we assumed finding dinner would be easy. The Ginza is arguably the most popular shopping area of Tokyo. But it either closes at 8pm on Sundays or it was some special holiday we knew nothing about.*
Pi Chi wanted to give up and go back to the hotel. Ordinarily, she would never give up on finding her dinner, but that flu was still lingering. I knew of a restaurant near another subway stop, but it could have just as easily been closed as well. I thought it was worth a try, and I was still confident from my Krispy Kreme triumph. We never found the restaurant, but we found a Shakey’s Pizza. They are almost completely gone in California, but apparently there are quite a few in Japan, and more in the Philippines than anywhere else in the world. This particular Shakey’s was very open. It looked and sounded like a Shakey’s, although with Japanese signs. They had the Dixieland music and lunch buffet. They even had mojos. The most amazing part was that the pizza tasted like a genuine Shakey’s pizza. In my experience it is unusual when somebody opens an American restaurant and the food actually tastes American. But Tokyo Shakey’s has that distinctive Shakey’s sauce and crust. They also have toppings like squid and chocolate and marshmallows, but I generally stick to mushrooms and olives anyway.
It may seem strange to travel to a place like Japan and seek out Shakey’s and Krispy Kreme, but I live in Asia. I eat Asian food all the time. Japanese food is not at all hard to find at home. You can even get bad Japanese food at any 7-11 if you are so inclined. But prior to this trip, Seoul was the only place on the continent I knew to find Krispy Kreme. There is a reason everyone says they are the best donuts in the world. And I grew up on Shakey’s pizza. For me, eating a Shakey’s pizza is probably what it is like for other people to eat their mother’s cooking. I may never be quoted by the tourist bureau, but those pizzas were the highlight of my trip.
The Frontierland of Tokyo Disneyland
You may think that we went to the Imperial Palace as soon as we got DisneySea out of the way. You would be mistaken. The next day we went to Disneyland. Nobody knows why. But it was nice to see a real Disney park after that travesty of an imposter. Walking down Tokyo Disneyland’s World Bazaar is just like walking down any other Disneyland’s Main Street. Except the name is different. And it looks different. But there are still millions of Japanese people running around.
I think I already described Tokyo Disneyland, but this trip was different. The park was relatively empty the first time we went. Not Hong Kong empty, but California empty. This time there were a few more people. The ride lines were almost as long as the popcorn lines. If you know anything about the Japanese you know how long they are willing to wait in line for popcorn. The wait for any food was ridiculous. Fortunately, we thought ahead and brought our own. We ate our leftover pizza and department store food next to the vending machine at Space Mountain. This is notable not only because there is only one vending machine in the entire park (in a city that elevates vending machines to an art form), but also because sitting on a concrete bench near the vending machine next to Space Mountain and eating leftover pizza and department store food (and probably a few donuts) was worlds better than that lunch we had the day before sitting in real chairs at a real table in a fake Italian restaurant.
Outside of Hong Kong and Paris, you are going to get crowds when you go to any Disney park. But Tokyo Disneyland on this day was completely absurd. We had been there before and it was reasonable. On this day you could not see the ground. I went to California Disneyland on a Christmas Eve or possibly Christmas Day when I was in high school and the park was so crowded that we spent some of our time in a walk-in phone booth just to get away from the people. That was empty compared to Tokyo. I understand that the purpose of the park is to make money and the more people you let in, the more money you make. But eventually there is a satiation point. If the park is too crowded, the people in it do not enjoy their experience. If they do not enjoy it they are less likely to return. This is an aspect of business strategy that many Asians simply do not understand. Customer satisfaction is meaningless to people who are only looking at how much money they can make today. Repeat customers are not something you worry about when you do business in a very crowded marketplace. Tokyo Disneyland has lost two potential customers because of their greed. Pi Chi and I shall not return.
When we finally spent an actual day in the actual city of Tokyo, Pi Chi wanted to go shopping. I wanted to go to one of the skyscrapers and see the city. I like to find the tallest building in whatever city I am in and look around. Pi Chi likes to go shopping. I like to go to thousand year old temples and cathedrals. Pi Chi likes to go shopping. I like to walk through city parks and see the juxtaposition of trees and grass against tall buildings in the background. Pi Chi likes to go shopping. If I am somewhere that has a river cruise, I want to take it. If she is somewhere that has shopping, she wants to go shopping.
When Pi Chi and I travel together there is a constant struggle between what I want to do (culture, history, get some sense of what the place is about) and what Pi Chi wants to do (shopping). In this case she agreed we should go up the building first and go shopping later after I convinced her that the shopping is open all night (except Sundays) and the view from the building is very different in daylight. There was a threat of rain the entire time we were in Tokyo and it was mostly cloudy. But it was relatively clear at this point so I decided we should go to the tallest building, which also happens to have a free observation deck. Free is a good thing in Tokyo.
It is rare that I get to do what I want to do when Pi Chi wants to do what she wants to do. What really does not help matters is when she agrees to do what I want to do and it turns out to be the weakest observation deck I have ever seen. It was all indoors, which is bad enough, but the glare on the windows from what little sunlight there was made it difficult to see much of anything. It was not the most exciting area of Tokyo anyway. The harbor was covered by other buildings and Mt Fuji was lost in the haze. Pi Chi spent more time in the tiny gift shop than I spent looking out the window.
Diligent readers may have noticed that I might complain about Pi Chi’s shopping. I do that more to her than I do to you. Believe me. But this shopping excursion brought us to Shibuya, which we had never been to before. If you know anything about Tokyo, you know how strange it is that a shopper like Pi Chi had never been to Shibuya. The lights of the Ginza will give you seizures at night, but Shibuya is shopper’s paradise. It has the overpriced department stores that Pi Chi prefers and the cheap little shops that I prefer. And it has food. All kinds of food. Everything from Pi Chi’s department store basement food to my pizza and donuts. And plenty of Asian food, but we pay less attention to that.
We eventually saw a temple and more than enough shopping. We saved the Imperial Palace for the last day because of lack of time and the constant threat of rain. The last day was the sunniest and our flight home did not leave until evening. Our hotel was right around the corner and it was an easy walk. The nearest gate into the park to our hotel was closed, so we walked around to the main gate. It was also closed. I knew a reservation was needed to get into the inner grounds, but most of the park is usually open to visitors. This day it was not. So I have still never seen the Imperial Palace. And I think I know why our hotel was so cheap.
We knew that we needed two tickets to take the express train back to the airport, but I still have no idea how to do that with the ticket machine. There is an English option, but it has far fewer choices than the Japanese. The woman who operated the machine that got our tickets pushed many buttons from many screens that simply did not exist in the English version. I have bought many train tickets from many machines in many languages. This was not my first pony ride. I have read several times how difficult Tokyo’s subway system is. I find it very simple. It is no more difficult than New York’s or Seoul’s. It is simply in a different language. But I have no clue how to get a train ticket to Narita without dealing with a person.
Our return flight arrived too late to take the train home. It was delayed because the plane was falling apart. There were problems with the radio and electricity that kept us on the runway longer than is generally comfortable, and later at 30,000 feet the window at my seat leaked water from outside. I think that might be bad. So we spent the night at another airport hotel before taking the train home the next morning. And I had to work that day. Pi Chi wisely took the day off.
In the end, our travel voucher for a free plane ticket cost us one round trip plane ticket, three hotel rooms in two countries, eight train tickets and several taxi rides getting from one to the other. This is why I do not do coupons.
*[Update: It was some special holiday we knew nothing about.]
23 March 2010
One If By Land, Two If By Sea
Tokyo is about a million years old with more culture than anyone can stand. The history alone is enough to drive one to seppuku. There is so much to see and do in Tokyo that you need at least 10 years to see it all. So on our first trip Pi Chi and I stayed for a few days. And what is the first thing we saw? The Imperial Palace? Meiji Jingu? Shinjuku Gyoen? Nicholai-do? Mt Fuji?
We went to Disneyland.
While at Disneyland during our first trip we discovered that next door is DisneySea, a water-themed Disney park. Most of the world’s Disneylands are essentially the same. DisneySea is completely different. We decided that if we ever went back to Tokyo we would give the sea park a try.
Through accident and coincidence, I have been to every Disney park in the world. This was never a goal and I have little respect for the Disney empire. They made Kurt Russell a star. Need I say more.
My favorite parks are the original Disneyland in California (probably because I have been there the most) and Disneyland Paris (probably because all the Mickey Mouse spiel sounds somehow sophisticated in French). My least favorite before this trip was Hong Kong Disneyland. It is too small and does not have many of the best rides. They only recently built a small world. There is more than enough space to make a California sized park, but they have yet to use it.
Now I can say that DisneySea is easily the worst. It may not be a Disneyland, but it is part of the rat’s empire and they want you to think it is a different version of a Disney park. Overall, it blows. Even Pi Chi was unimpressed and she is the kind of person who is easily impressed by short people in animal costumes. But DisneySea does not even have any of the familiar characters running around. The A-lister while we were there was some dog named Duffy. I still have no idea who that is.
DisneySea is divided into sections just like Disneyland, but the names are all water based. Main Street is Mediterranean Harbor, which looks like a hotel in Las Vegas and is the most like Disneyland. Like Main Street, it is essentially shops and food. It is also one of the docks for the boat that goes around the entire park with docks in each section. This was far and away the best ride at DisneySea.
To the left is the American Waterfront. Part of it is supposed to be New York Harbor at the turn of the 20th Century. Except that it is clean and full of Japanese people. The only rides are a train that goes from one section to the next and a free-fall ride in a faux Gothic building that is supposed to look like it is falling apart and has nothing to do with 1900’s New York. There is also a full-sized reproduction of an old ocean liner that holds more shops and restaurants. On the border of the American Waterfront is a tiny Cape Cod that looks nothing like Cape Cod (especially with the volcano) and only has shops and food. Most of the people there were in line for popcorn.
Beyond the American Waterfront is Port Discovery, their Tomorrowland. But the vision of tomorrow looks like something out of a Kevin Costner movie. I would not be surprised if the people who designed it also worked on “Waterworld”, or at least watched it more than once. The moral question being whether it is worse to have been paid to make “Waterworld” or repeatedly paid to see it. Port Discovery has all of two rides and is one of the two places to get on the train that goes to and from the American Waterfront. One of the rides looks like tiny helicopters without rotors that ride along a water track and spin around in circles for about a minute. This ride is probably best for children or people who smoke questionable herbs that should not be smuggled into Japan. You can ask Paul McCartney about that.
To the right of Port Discovery is the Lost River Delta. This has the Indiana Jones ride, the only Disney-familiar ride, and seems to be based around it. There is also something that might be a roller coaster, but we did not go on it because the line was ridiculous. This section looks like Adventureland, but there is no Jungle Cruise or any of that tiki crap because they are at Disneyland across the street.
On the far right of the park is the Arabian Coast. When I first heard about DisneySea, this was the place I wanted to see the most. It seemed like it might be the most interesting. It was not. The two rides are the carousel, which is sufficient as carousels go, and a small worldesque ride about Sinbad. Only it did not seem like a Disney version of it’s a small world. It was like some cheap state fair version. While on this ride I imagined how much Walt Disney would vomit in disgust. In case you were wondering, imagining Walt Disney vomiting violently while on a cheap theme ride is not the best of combinations for such a sensitive soul as myself.
In the middle of the park is Mysterious Island, centered around a large volcano. This is the castle. The entire section has a Jules Verne theme, but both rides had a waiting time of at least two hours and the only restaurant served Asian food. The uniformed person at the end of one of the lines said that the waiting time was 2000 minutes. I decided that this was not true.
While I was explaining to Pi Chi who Jules Verne was and giving a painfully brief synopsis of the two books represented (Journey To The Centre Of The Earth and Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea), we discussed the differences in our native educational systems. Children in my country were always encouraged to read books, and most people probably know who Jules Verne was even if they have never read any of his work. In her country they did not and do not. I probably read more books in high school than she has read in her entire life, and I was a lazy reader. Ask Mrs Orsinger.
DisneySea is nothing if not educational.
Next to Mysterious Island is Mermaid Lagoon, the Fantasyland. This had all the children’s rides based on jellyfish and koi. There was an indoor Toontown type area that was interesting. Mostly because it was indoors and heated. We went on what turned out to be one of the coldest days of the month and as a sea park, almost everything is outdoors. The park’s location in Tokyo Harbor is a great way to get free water, but not so great when spring takes its sweet ass time coming.
We had lunch at an “Italian” restaurant in Mediterranean Harbor. Since this was a Disney park, I was not expecting much, but Pi Chi was disappointed that we waited an hour in line for undercooked Disney food. One of my main complaints about Disney food has always been that it is much more expensive than food outside the park. The great thing about Tokyo’s expensive food is that their Disney food prices seem reasonable.
Pi Chi and I both found DisneySea lacking. Most sections were little more than shops with a few restaurants here and there. They also had various shows in various sections, but they were all in Japanese, and I do not even want to watch them in English. The novelty of some dude in a plushie costume screaming in Japanese wears off quickly.
There were plenty of popcorn carts with extremely long lines, usually longer than the lines for rides. But we were unimpressed. Each section had about two rides and none were any good. The boat that goes around the park was the best only because it lasted longer than 30 seconds and it is the only way to really see anything. There is no monorail at any of the Asian Disney parks, probably because the locals ride similar trains to work every day and may not be as excited about the concept of mass transit as Americans.
When I first heard about DisneySea, I thought it was a good idea. The problem is that it does not feel like a Disney park. As soon as you walk into any Disneyland you know you are at Disneyland, whether the Haunted Mansion is in New Orleans or Fantasyland. Even the lesser Hong Kong Disneyland has that Disney feel if you give it a chance. DisneySea feels like a Las Vegas impersonation. And not a good one like Steve Lawrence or Scatman Crothers. DisneySea is like a Charo impersonator.
19 March 2010
Goin’ Tokyo
When Pi Chi went to Minnesota, her flight home was overbooked and the airline asked her to take the next day’s flight. This happened to us in Amsterdam, and KLM gave us a nice wad of cash and a room close enough to the city for me to show Pi Chi one or two of the sights in the very limited time we had. This was a good experience for her so she did not hesitate when Northwest asked her to spend an extra night in Minneapolis. The airline booked her a small room at an airport hotel and gave her a travel voucher for future flights with Northwest. The hotel was nowhere near the city and too far away from the food she likes for her comfort. The travel voucher was not quite as good as a wad of cash for obvious reasons, one of the least of which is that Northwest flies directly to only two cities from an airport two hours away from our house by train. There is an airport about the same distance from us as the train station, but Northwest does not go there.
We found that the voucher was enough for two tickets to either Tokyo or Bangkok, the only two cities available. We could fly elsewhere, but then we would have to connect with another airline and the prices went much higher. I have been to Thailand repeatedly and Pi Chi has been to Japan almost as much. We already went to Tokyo together once, but only for a very brief stay. I could easily show her around Bangkok since I consider myself familiar with that city in the way foreign tourists do while the locals laugh at our ignorance. Given the choice, we opted for Tokyo since it is a much more expensive town than Bangkok and if we have any kind of discount we might as well use it at the place it is needed most.
After reading everything I could find on Northwest’s website about their travel vouchers I felt that using it would be a simple operation. I was as wrong as a Republican who thinks they represent family values. Despite everything I had read to the contrary, their travel vouchers can only be used for the person in whose name it is printed. If you have a voucher for $100 and want to buy two tickets for $50 each, the voucher can only be used toward one of those tickets. According to the website, the remaining $50 is lost.
Being us, we decided that one free ticket was better than nothing. We would go ahead and pay for the other one and fall right into the airline’s web. The punishment for making Pi Chi miss her return flight from Minnesota was that the airline sold an extra ticket to Tokyo they would have never otherwise sold. KLM foolishly gives away cash, which customers can easily spend on frivolous things like food and shelter. Northwest is clearly better at making money.
Yet Northwest Airlines is no more. They are now part of Delta. This change took place while we were trying to book our flights. When I tried to use the travel voucher online, their website was under redecoration from one company to another. What was available to me would not recognize the voucher. This forced me to do something I had thus far had the rapturous pleasure of avoiding for years. I had to call an American customer service office.
Where I live, companies are backward. If you need to talk to someone, you talk to that person. If your electricity is off, you call the person who can turn it back on. If you run out of gas for the stove, you call the guy who brings a new tank. For more complicated situations, you let Pi Chi make the calls. I have not been on hold in years.
After listening to recorded messages about how important my call is for a good 20 minutes, I was greeted by a Northwest customer service operative. I asked him if he was a real person. He assured me that he was and I took him at voice value. During our conversation he explained that the voucher could only be used for one ticket, regardless of the balance, and I explained why that sucked fat ones. He laughed knowingly when I made some derisive comment about working for a soulless corporation and said that he was impressed by my “good English”. At that point he knew where I was calling from and where I wanted to fly from and to. I told him that I watched a lot of American television growing up. I never bothered to mention where I had watched these shows. How is that any of his business.
With an electronic confirmation number from a website that was closing and a company that was no longer in business, I went ahead and found us a hotel. Pi Chi and I have been to Tokyo together. She has been there by herself. Neither of us has seen the Imperial Palace. This is like going to New Jersey without visiting a shopping mall or Paris without the Eiffel Tower. The Imperial Palace is the only prominent part of Tokyo that has never been bombed by Americans. It is an important historical, cultural and architectural part of Japan. And it looks pretty in pictures. So I booked the cheapest hotel I could find within walking distance. It was very cheap by any standards. Alarmingly cheap by Tokyo standards. I assumed there would be something wrong with it, but had no intention of spending much time in the room anyway.
When you fly to most countries, they want your passport to be valid for at least six months. Mine expires in five. Renewing it before the trip would have been the smart thing to do. But Pi Chi’s travel voucher was about to expire and if my passport was still in the mail I would not be able to go anywhere. I decided Japan would let me in anyway since I have always had such good luck with uniformed officials in the past. As usual, the immigration clerks dutifully stamped my passport and sent me on my way while I had to wait for them to question Pi Chi and her motives. Because of the seal on my passport, I can go almost anywhere in the world without suspicion. Because of the seal on her passport, every country Pi Chi wants to enter questions her at length. The only revenge she gets is when we get home. If there are 1000 foreigners and 10 locals waiting to pass immigration, they will still open more lines for the locals. While I wait behind 1000 foreigners to enter the country where I live, she waits behind one or two of her own kind.
Since our flight to Tokyo left very early in the morning (by my standards) we took the train to the airport the day before and spent the night at a sex motel. Pi Chi booked the hotel. Not because it was a sex motel but because it was close to the airport and cheap. It was cheap because it was cheap. We have stayed at other sex motels and none were as bad as this.
It is worth mentioning that Chinese sex motels are nothing like the dirty cardboard smoking rooms you rent in Hollywood while cruising for hookers or those tiny pay-by-the-minute closet-rooms the $5 Thai hookers take you to. Or so I am told. Chinese sex motels are where businessmen take their “little wives” since so many business meetings are met at the usual corporate hotels. They are also some of the few places in the country you will ever find your own private parking space. Not that that mattered to us on this trip.
What I hate the most about traveling pretty much anywhere is all the hurry up and wait. You wake up early to wait around for whatever vehicle takes you to the airport. If it is a train, you hurry to the station and buy the tickets to wait around for the train. At the airport you hurry to the check in line where you wait. After you check in you wait in the security line so they can take away your 12 ounces of liquid. And it is a good thing they do. There is no telling what damage I can do with a can of Pepsi and a tube of toothpaste. Appropriately, the airlines have us put our tiny bottles of lotions in plastic bags, thus thwarting our MacGyver abilities to turn soap into an atomic bomb. Without those little plastic bags we would all be doomed. I hope the evildoers never realize that items placed in plastic bags can be removed.
If you and your lethal shampoo make it through security, you have to wait at immigration. This is one of my favorite lines for reasons you would know if you were paying attention. After immigration, you get to wait some more, even if your flight actually leaves on time. When they call your row (or “zone” lately), you hurry up and wait in the line to get on the plane. After you hurry on to the plane, you wait for the plane to hurry up and wait in line to take off. Once airborne, you have no control over the hurrying, but you do get to wait. And when it lands you get to repeat the entire process in reverse.
I decided long ago not to let all of that bother me. The journey is half of the trip and sometimes the most adventurous part. I keep telling myself that while I wait in line between the screaming toddler who thinks everything within a 10 meter radius is his own personal playground and the sweaty fat guy behind me who thinks sneezing is a distance competition. I assume someday that I will believe it.
On my first trip to Japan I took a taxi from the airport to the hotel. If there is one rule about visiting Japan it is that you never take a taxi anywhere as long as there is some other mode of transportation. Japanese taxis are clean, efficient, and have those cool passenger doors that the driver can open automatically. But they are apparently the most expensive taxis in the world. A taxi ride in Thailand will cost you less than a bottle of any liquid that can be taken on a plane. A taxi ride in Japan will cost about as much as the flight to Japan.
On our first trip to Tokyo, Pi Chi and I took the hotel’s shuttle bus from the airport. It was free and easy, but time consuming. I think it took a good 15 years to get from the airport to our hotel. We might still be on that bus and everything I have experienced since is a dream.
For this trip we took the train to the hotel. It costs slightly more than a bus, but takes far less time. The Japanese were kind enough to build their international airport nowhere near their capital. No matter how you get into the city, it will take at least an hour. The express train is a good option, but buying tickets from the machines is an exercise in futility. We found out the hard way that you need two tickets per person to get on the train. One ticket reserves your seat and the other allows you to ride the train. You cannot get on the train with only a reserved seat ticket, which makes me wonder what the point is in selling it individually. How does it benefit anyone to have a seat if they cannot get on the train? But since the Japanese are generally helpful people and the people at the station probably see this sort of thing all the time, a small woman in a shiny uniform took us to a nearby ticket machine and quickly pushed all the appropriate buttons to get us the appropriate tickets.
The express train into the city was quick and clean, but I still like Hong Kong’s airport express better. And you only need one ticket.
We found that the voucher was enough for two tickets to either Tokyo or Bangkok, the only two cities available. We could fly elsewhere, but then we would have to connect with another airline and the prices went much higher. I have been to Thailand repeatedly and Pi Chi has been to Japan almost as much. We already went to Tokyo together once, but only for a very brief stay. I could easily show her around Bangkok since I consider myself familiar with that city in the way foreign tourists do while the locals laugh at our ignorance. Given the choice, we opted for Tokyo since it is a much more expensive town than Bangkok and if we have any kind of discount we might as well use it at the place it is needed most.
After reading everything I could find on Northwest’s website about their travel vouchers I felt that using it would be a simple operation. I was as wrong as a Republican who thinks they represent family values. Despite everything I had read to the contrary, their travel vouchers can only be used for the person in whose name it is printed. If you have a voucher for $100 and want to buy two tickets for $50 each, the voucher can only be used toward one of those tickets. According to the website, the remaining $50 is lost.
Being us, we decided that one free ticket was better than nothing. We would go ahead and pay for the other one and fall right into the airline’s web. The punishment for making Pi Chi miss her return flight from Minnesota was that the airline sold an extra ticket to Tokyo they would have never otherwise sold. KLM foolishly gives away cash, which customers can easily spend on frivolous things like food and shelter. Northwest is clearly better at making money.
Yet Northwest Airlines is no more. They are now part of Delta. This change took place while we were trying to book our flights. When I tried to use the travel voucher online, their website was under redecoration from one company to another. What was available to me would not recognize the voucher. This forced me to do something I had thus far had the rapturous pleasure of avoiding for years. I had to call an American customer service office.
Where I live, companies are backward. If you need to talk to someone, you talk to that person. If your electricity is off, you call the person who can turn it back on. If you run out of gas for the stove, you call the guy who brings a new tank. For more complicated situations, you let Pi Chi make the calls. I have not been on hold in years.
After listening to recorded messages about how important my call is for a good 20 minutes, I was greeted by a Northwest customer service operative. I asked him if he was a real person. He assured me that he was and I took him at voice value. During our conversation he explained that the voucher could only be used for one ticket, regardless of the balance, and I explained why that sucked fat ones. He laughed knowingly when I made some derisive comment about working for a soulless corporation and said that he was impressed by my “good English”. At that point he knew where I was calling from and where I wanted to fly from and to. I told him that I watched a lot of American television growing up. I never bothered to mention where I had watched these shows. How is that any of his business.
With an electronic confirmation number from a website that was closing and a company that was no longer in business, I went ahead and found us a hotel. Pi Chi and I have been to Tokyo together. She has been there by herself. Neither of us has seen the Imperial Palace. This is like going to New Jersey without visiting a shopping mall or Paris without the Eiffel Tower. The Imperial Palace is the only prominent part of Tokyo that has never been bombed by Americans. It is an important historical, cultural and architectural part of Japan. And it looks pretty in pictures. So I booked the cheapest hotel I could find within walking distance. It was very cheap by any standards. Alarmingly cheap by Tokyo standards. I assumed there would be something wrong with it, but had no intention of spending much time in the room anyway.
When you fly to most countries, they want your passport to be valid for at least six months. Mine expires in five. Renewing it before the trip would have been the smart thing to do. But Pi Chi’s travel voucher was about to expire and if my passport was still in the mail I would not be able to go anywhere. I decided Japan would let me in anyway since I have always had such good luck with uniformed officials in the past. As usual, the immigration clerks dutifully stamped my passport and sent me on my way while I had to wait for them to question Pi Chi and her motives. Because of the seal on my passport, I can go almost anywhere in the world without suspicion. Because of the seal on her passport, every country Pi Chi wants to enter questions her at length. The only revenge she gets is when we get home. If there are 1000 foreigners and 10 locals waiting to pass immigration, they will still open more lines for the locals. While I wait behind 1000 foreigners to enter the country where I live, she waits behind one or two of her own kind.
Since our flight to Tokyo left very early in the morning (by my standards) we took the train to the airport the day before and spent the night at a sex motel. Pi Chi booked the hotel. Not because it was a sex motel but because it was close to the airport and cheap. It was cheap because it was cheap. We have stayed at other sex motels and none were as bad as this.
It is worth mentioning that Chinese sex motels are nothing like the dirty cardboard smoking rooms you rent in Hollywood while cruising for hookers or those tiny pay-by-the-minute closet-rooms the $5 Thai hookers take you to. Or so I am told. Chinese sex motels are where businessmen take their “little wives” since so many business meetings are met at the usual corporate hotels. They are also some of the few places in the country you will ever find your own private parking space. Not that that mattered to us on this trip.
What I hate the most about traveling pretty much anywhere is all the hurry up and wait. You wake up early to wait around for whatever vehicle takes you to the airport. If it is a train, you hurry to the station and buy the tickets to wait around for the train. At the airport you hurry to the check in line where you wait. After you check in you wait in the security line so they can take away your 12 ounces of liquid. And it is a good thing they do. There is no telling what damage I can do with a can of Pepsi and a tube of toothpaste. Appropriately, the airlines have us put our tiny bottles of lotions in plastic bags, thus thwarting our MacGyver abilities to turn soap into an atomic bomb. Without those little plastic bags we would all be doomed. I hope the evildoers never realize that items placed in plastic bags can be removed.
If you and your lethal shampoo make it through security, you have to wait at immigration. This is one of my favorite lines for reasons you would know if you were paying attention. After immigration, you get to wait some more, even if your flight actually leaves on time. When they call your row (or “zone” lately), you hurry up and wait in the line to get on the plane. After you hurry on to the plane, you wait for the plane to hurry up and wait in line to take off. Once airborne, you have no control over the hurrying, but you do get to wait. And when it lands you get to repeat the entire process in reverse.
I decided long ago not to let all of that bother me. The journey is half of the trip and sometimes the most adventurous part. I keep telling myself that while I wait in line between the screaming toddler who thinks everything within a 10 meter radius is his own personal playground and the sweaty fat guy behind me who thinks sneezing is a distance competition. I assume someday that I will believe it.
On my first trip to Japan I took a taxi from the airport to the hotel. If there is one rule about visiting Japan it is that you never take a taxi anywhere as long as there is some other mode of transportation. Japanese taxis are clean, efficient, and have those cool passenger doors that the driver can open automatically. But they are apparently the most expensive taxis in the world. A taxi ride in Thailand will cost you less than a bottle of any liquid that can be taken on a plane. A taxi ride in Japan will cost about as much as the flight to Japan.
On our first trip to Tokyo, Pi Chi and I took the hotel’s shuttle bus from the airport. It was free and easy, but time consuming. I think it took a good 15 years to get from the airport to our hotel. We might still be on that bus and everything I have experienced since is a dream.
For this trip we took the train to the hotel. It costs slightly more than a bus, but takes far less time. The Japanese were kind enough to build their international airport nowhere near their capital. No matter how you get into the city, it will take at least an hour. The express train is a good option, but buying tickets from the machines is an exercise in futility. We found out the hard way that you need two tickets per person to get on the train. One ticket reserves your seat and the other allows you to ride the train. You cannot get on the train with only a reserved seat ticket, which makes me wonder what the point is in selling it individually. How does it benefit anyone to have a seat if they cannot get on the train? But since the Japanese are generally helpful people and the people at the station probably see this sort of thing all the time, a small woman in a shiny uniform took us to a nearby ticket machine and quickly pushed all the appropriate buttons to get us the appropriate tickets.
The express train into the city was quick and clean, but I still like Hong Kong’s airport express better. And you only need one ticket.
21 July 2009
The Eighth Wonder Of The World
The only reason I encouraged Pi Chi to submit her paper to the Durban conference was because I wanted to go to Cape Town. And presenting it at such a conference would make it easier to publish. But mostly I wanted to go to Cape Town.
Every so often Pi Chi rattles off a list of places where such conferences are held. They are mostly in cities or countries I have no desire to go, or are in exceptionally expensive areas at rather inconvenient times. There is almost always a conference in Hawaii at the end of April. Nurses seem to like going there, and April is a good time for Hawaii. Unless you have to fly through Japan, as we would. The end of April is Golden Week in Japan. Several public holidays are all smashed together and a shitload of Japanese hit the road. It is like flying through China during what the Chinese do not call Chinese New Year. When not going to Disneyland, the Japanese love going to Hawaii. We could get cheaper flights if we flew to Australia or California and then to Hawaii, but I am morally opposed to taking the absurdly long way around.
There is usually a conference in Scandinavia in January. I am always up for a trip to Denmark or Sweden. Or any of the lesser Scandinavian countries. But they get a little chilly in January. I like snow as much as the next person who does not have to live in it, but I prefer to stay as far away from the Arctic Circle in January as possible.
Turkey has recently shown up as a conference site. I could do Turkey. The odds of my accidentally hiking near the Syrian or Iranian border are pretty thin. But the cheapest flights from here to there require stopping in Johannesburg or London. Johannesburg is not what one would call close to Turkey. And the flights from London to Ankara cost as much as the flights from Hong Kong to London. I am cheap enough to find that inexcusable.
When Pi Chi said there was a conference in Durban I said yes, emphatically.
“Durban good?” asks she.
“A mere pittance on the world stage,” says I, “But a brief sojourn to the wondrous metropolis that is and always will be the Cape Town.”
“Captown good?” asks she.
“Aye, verily,” respondeth I.
I do not remember the exact conversation, but I am sure it went something like that. I think one of us was holding a parrot.
We rented a Honda at Cape Town International that looked just like the Toyota we rented at OR Tambo, and drove to our house on False Bay. Obviously, this meant a good deal of driving. Especially since the N2 was under serious construction for the World Cup next year.
I put more effort into finding our Cape Town house than any accommodation I have ever used anywhere. Cape Town has relatively few traditional hotels and more guest houses than most cities its size. It also has a wide variety of houses for rent at amazingly low prices. Unless you go during the World Cup. Fortunately, we were a year ahead. The low prices threw me off, and I was suspicious of the first few houses I saw. Common sense told me that a four bedroom house with a swimming pool for US$100 per night must be a rat hole and/or in a horrible neighborhood. The more I looked into it, the more I saw that $100 was the high end and most of the houses looked pretty nice. At least according to the websites.
I eventually chose a house with great views of False Bay that looked pretty good on several websites. The good news in renting a house rather that going to a hotel is that there are no hotels overlooking False Bay. If you want those postcard views you have to rent a house. The bad news is that the person who claimed to be in charge of the house did not take credit cards. I had to send half of the payment in a bank transfer and pay the rest in cash when we got there. All of my research told me that this was standard operating procedure. Apparently South Africans are trusting enough to rent out their very nice fully furnished houses to total strangers, but not trusting enough to take anything besides cash.
If I lived in a normal country, it would probably be very easy to send bank transfers. I could probably do that sort of thing online with today’s e-technology. But I live in a place where computers are used almost exclusively for playing extremely violent and graphic games that depict women as very small, save for their enormous breasts. Business is rarely transacted via computer as all Chinese business requires a Chinese hand stamp before anything is official. A personal seal outweighs a signature and most of the computers around here cannot produce either. I do not even know if my bank has any computers. Everything is done with paper and stamps. Sending money from my bank to another requires filling out several very long forms. When I found that the information provided by the person who manages the house in Cape Town was insufficient, I had to ask him for more information. He told me that what he gave me should do the trick. I agreed, but it did not. After several attempts and far too many e-mails, I was finally able to send him a big wad of cash. Or not.
He was supposed to send a confirmation e-mail upon receipt of said wad. After a time, I sent him an e-mail asking if he indeed had my easily earned cash. When there was no response I considered the options. The money might not have gone through. If not, where is it and can I have it back? Sending money from an Asian bank that no one outside of Asia has ever heard of to an African bank that no one outside of Africa has ever heard of could be risky. But if the money went into some interdimensional banking void, why was this guy not answering my e-mails? The second option was that he had my money and I would never hear from him again. That would be inconvenient. I could find another house and go through the entire process again, hoping for a better result, and hunt this person down once we got there. But I only knew where the house was, not where the person who said he managed it was. Also, I tend to think that when something goes horribly wrong I should probably not repeat the process. Excluding marriage, of course.
A third option was that he had received the money and had simply not yet had a chance to send an e-mail. This was my bank’s opinion when I went there to see if I could get my money back. They guaranteed that the money went through successfully. When a Chinese person guarantees something it means that they think there is a fair chance that something might be as they possibly say it is. They also say that things are impossible if they are unlikely, unusual or require some effort.
With the money gone forever, I did what I could to look into this person who may or may not have gotten it. I had his name, bank account number and business address. Apparently with the e-technology, that is enough.
I found his Myspace page with plenty of photographs of him surfing and skiing, some college information, his work address and quite possibly his mother’s home address. When I found out that he is the manager of a tile company, I was a little worried. It did not seem likely to me that the manager of a tile company was authorized to rent out houses to visitors. The tile company is located very close to the house, which only made me more suspicious. Anyone who drives by a house for sale every day could easily take pictures of it and advertise it as rentally available. The fact that this same house with similar pictures was on several different websites recommended by the South African tourist board did nothing to assuage my concern.
Surfer Dude eventually sent an e-mail saying that he received the e-money and all systems were go, but I was never confident that any of this would work out. Before we left the Silk Continent for the Dark Continent, I printed out a large list of alternate accommodations should this one turn to the absolute shit pile I assumed it would. I also brought along every piece of information I had on this guy just in case legal action and/or Molotov cocktails were required.
I told none of this to Pi Chi. I generally like to avoid telling her about such speed bumps because she always “has a feeling” that only the worst outcome is possible. Once she has her feelings she will either nag me until I do whatever she wants me to do or I smother her in her sleep. In this case she would have insisted that I book another house. But I preferred to keep her in the dark and be optimistic. And I really did not want to go through all the paperwork for another bank transfer.
I also neglected to tell Pi Chi that half of the house payment was to be paid in cash on arrival. Since Cape Town was at the end of our trip, this meant I wandered around South Africa with a big wad of cash in my pocket. This would have sent her into apoplectic shock. The last thing the Chinese will have on them when facing Big Black Men is money. And there were all those animals at Kruger that might have eaten me. Not to mention the Indians. One should never get a Chinese started on the Indians. When I lived in the filthy little farm village of 崙背, one of the locals told me that he would never want to visit India as it is too dirty. Most Chinese do not get irony.
When we drove up to the Cape Town house, it looked just like the pictures on all the websites. That was encouraging. But the address was wrong. The number that I had been given was the house next door. That was discouraging. While we waited for Surfer Dude to show up with the keys, I was still willing to believe that this situation could go either way. When he actually showed up, I was more than a little surprised, and Pi Chi was relieved as she was in desperate need of the facilities.
When Surfer Dude told me that the house next to the house that was featured on all of the websites was indeed the rental house, I could feel my eyebrows involuntarily fall. But this was the same jock on Myspace and he had the keys to one of these houses, and with Pi Chi in the bathroom, that was good enough for me. The actual rental house turned out to be bigger and nicer than the one on all those websites. We did not need bigger, but nicer was nice. Lamentably, the actual rental house did not have a pool. But it was winter, and whether I would have actually used the pool is debatable. Since Pi Chi cannot swim, it is likely that she would not have. The pool at the fake rental house is also clearly visible from the actual rental house, so naked time would have been problematic. And the actual rental house had a large stoep spanning the length of the house from which one could watch whales in the bay and suns setting. I spent more time on the stoep than I probably would have in the pool.
When Surfer Dude left, he had my big wad of cash and we had keys to a very nice house that he may or may not have been authorized to rent. If anything went wrong I could always call his mobile phone that always goes to voice mail or write an e-mail to which he would take weeks to respond.
The entire time we were there I expected a surprised family to come home from vacation. But it was a nice house.
The great thing about Cape Town is that it is lekker topgallant. Dude. Specifically, it has friendly natives, excellent food, great weather, well-paved roads and outstanding scenery.
With no conference to occupy Pi Chi’s attention, I had no free days to see Cape Town my way. But Cape Town is not a popular travel destination amongst the Chinese. This means that they do not watch television shows that tell them where to eat, or buy travel books that tell them where to shop. What this meant for me was that I could suggest going anywhere or doing anything without Pi Chi wanting to visit the famous commemorative thimble shop. If we go to Paris, she has to buy a €25 Eiffel Tower statue that is worth about 50c. If we go to Amsterdam, she has to buy bags full of tiny porcelain shoes that probably cost far more than they should, but I could not tell you the price since I likely walked away in disgust. But if we go to Cape Town, she does not know what famous souvenir she is supposed to buy.
But somebody told her about Century City, in which lies Canal Walk, “Africa’s premier super-regional retail environment”. It advertises “the most comprehensive and compelling lifestyle shopping experience in South Africa”, “spectacular architecture and an unparalleled array of local and international retail brands” all in a “majestic setting”. It looked like a mall to me.
Once again I found myself in a city with a unique culture, history and scenery, but I got to spend the day standing around oblivion while Pi Chi looked at purses. Fortunately, she was unimpressed with the food court so we spent less time there than we could have. The best thing about Century City for me was that it is on the way to Bloubergstrand, from which one gets the most famous view of Table Mountain.
Table Mountain would have always been at the top of my list of things to see in Cape Town were I to make such a list. It is not the tallest mountain in South Africa. It is not even the tallest mountain near Cape Town. But it has great views of Cape Town and is as flat as one of those mites that kills citrus fruits, or as flat as a table, if you will. When I visit a city, I like to go to the top of the tallest building or observation tower and have a look around. Cape Town is not known for its skyscrapers, but it happens to have a big flat mountain right where you would want a tower. The flat part is convenient for those of us who are not too terribly keen on hiking up rocks and dirt and other horribly natural surfaces. The people in charge of Table Mountain were also considerate enough to put in a cable car that stretches from a paved parking lot to the top of the mountain. Those who wish to hike up the mountain may do so, but those of us who wear comfortable shoes can take a ride in a little box that dangles precariously over a sheer cliff. And the cable cars rotate 360 degrees so everyone can get a good view of their impending death.
Cape Town is a popular destination for hikers, surfers, fishers, divers, snorkelers, sky divers, kayakers and general outdoor sporting activity enthusiasts. These are not things that Pi Chi and I do. Cape Town has a wide variety of beaches, and each might have completely different water temperatures on the same day, thanks to the city’s jagged coastline and two different oceans. But there was one beach that was always at the top of my imaginary list.
Boulders Beach is a tiny patch of sand and rocks on the eastern shore of the Cape Peninsula. It gets its name from the giant rocks on the beach and in the water that keep most waves and surfers out. It would be a very good beach for small children if not for the thousands of penguins that invaded several years ago. And that is what I wanted to see. I cannot think of anywhere else in the world where you can swim with penguins. Most of their beaches in South America are protected, and swimming around Galapagos is probably an excellent way to get eaten by sharks. I suppose you could swim in Antarctica but that would be stupid. As it turned out, the water of False Bay in winter was too cold for me. Yet I think Antarctica might be colder.
But Cape Town was not too cold for a drive. Our rental car had somewhere around 20km when we drove it away from the airport and over 1000km when we returned it, and we never really left the False Bay/Cape Town area. Unlike our drives to and from Kruger, we never got lost in Cape Town. I am not really sure how anyone can. The roads are in excellent condition and everything is well marked. In English, no less. Afrikaans is the dominant language, which means the government has been changing everything to English since 1994. In Durban, they are changing everything to Zulu, which is probably good for the people who speak Zulu, but does nothing for me.
The first time I rode the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Tokyo Disneyland I felt an odd tinge of familiarity. The ride looked, sounded, smelled and felt so much like the one in California that I felt for a second like I was in California. It was kind of spooky. The first time I drove up the M4 near the University of Cape Town I felt as though I could be driving in California. This is unusual for me since I usually drive amongst Chinese people who obey no rules of the road or common sense and on Chinese streets that could not possibly remind any sober person of California. But the palm trees, mountains and oceans of Cape Town could remind one of California, especially the superior southern part.
There is also the issue of climate. Cape Town’s and Los Angeles’ temperatures are comparable, though Cape Town can get colder. They get about the same amount of rain in winter. The humidity levels feel similar and it all just generally feels the same, though I would say that Cape Town has much cleaner air. If international terrorists ever blindfold me and put me on a plane, I will immediately know where I am if I get off the plane in Southeast Asia, Eastern Africa or Western Europe. But if they let me off in Los Angeles or Cape Town, I will probably have a difficult time sensing which it is.
But they would likely take me to some Middle Eastern desert wasteland anyway. There I would be bathed in rose petals and water collected from the morning dew on lovegrass bushes while nubile handmaids feed me fresh dates and tahini-filled dark chocolates with just a hint of mint. After all, this is what international terrorists do. If pirates can be wacky madcap heroes, I imagine there will come a day when we treat terrorists as big lovable teddy bears. Maybe a Broadway musical with jovial songs about global jihad and honor killings.
(Photograph not by me)
One of the great things for me about traveling to and fro is the food. I live in a place and time where everyone eats Chinese food. All the time. Chinese breakfast, Chinese brunch, Chinese lunch, Chinese afternoon tea, Chinese dinner, Chinese dessert, Chinese midnight snack. I have nothing against Chinese food on principle but I like to eat other food as well. Despite what Chinese children learn in school, there is a larger world out there. Some of it has some good food.
South Africa has an outstanding variety of food thanks to its long history of submission and oppression. What should be at least 15 different countries are crammed into one. Add to that the Nederlander and British conquerors and a disproportionate proliferation of Indians and you get some nice recipes. The larger grocery stores in the larger cities are about as international as you can get.
We had a very large kitchen at the Cape Town rental house and I always assumed I would cook most of our meals. But we also went out a lot and Pi Chi has to eat when Pi Chi has to eat. This was never a problem as Cape Town is littered with enough restaurants to suit practically any of her whims. But as often happens, her favorite restaurant was not some small hole in the wall with excellent food and a pleasant atmosphere. Those are always my favorite. Hers was the snack shop on Table Mountain. They had packaged convenience store food, though far superior to 7-11, and a basic cafeteria. All at much higher than average prices because, on a mountain, where else are you going to go. Pi Chi thought their potato salad was one of the great wonders of the world. I thought it needed more mustard.
10 July 2009
Betty And The Jets
Durban is the largest city in the Zulu Nation. The current king is a direct descendant of Shaka. He holds absolutely no power in government but does more to combat the spread of AIDS than the people who are actually supposed to do something about it. Durban is famous for several things I do not care about and has some of the best beaches in the republic. I generally spend very little time at beaches.
Durban also has the largest shopping mall in Africa and the Southern Hemisphere. Supposedly. I can believe it is the largest mall in Africa, but I have to assume Australia has a larger mall or two. I have no doubt that Pi Chi has seen larger malls. I know that I have.
We spent an entire day in this mall because that is Pi Chi style. It is home to a wide variety of crap I could not care less about and Pi Chi’s favorite juice stand in the world. That is saying something since Pi Chi has lived her entire life in a country that has at least one juice stand every five feet. It also has a very nice Superspar where we bought entirely too many groceries. Despite not having a car in which to take them away.
We rented a car for Kruger because not having one would have put us at the mercy of drivers and guides who know what they are doing but tend to charge money for their time and services. They also have schedules that are hard to keep when traveling with Pi Chi. And we stayed outside of the park, which would have added extra complications with regard to said fees and schedules. We rented a car in Cape Town because our lodging of choice was not entirely in the CBD, or Central Business District to you and me.
We chose not to rent a car in Durban because we stayed relatively close to the Indian Ocean and not too terribly far from the pop and parties. This left us at the mercy of taxi drivers since Durban, and indeed most of South Africa, has virtually no public transportation. There are no metro systems anywhere, the buses rarely follow any schedule or route, the kombis are shared taxis that go wherever the driver wants to go and there is no guarantee that he will speak any language that you speak. Visitors are discouraged from using most public transportation since the system makes sense only to locals. Cape Town is slightly better since it has a local train system, but the trains only go around half of False Bay. This may be why renting cars in South Africa is much cheaper than anywhere else that has international chains and a highly developed highway system.
The taxi driver who picked us up at the airport told us that he could take us wherever we wanted to go for the duration of our stay for a very reasonable fee. This seemed too convenient for comfort, but it turned out to be standard practice since almost all visitors either rent a car or rely on taxis. Somewhere along the line, the taxi drivers realized that repeat business was more profitable than picking up random strangers. Much as I did when I met Pi Chi. Another benefit was that where we stayed seems to be very hard for anyone to find.
Built for the 2010 World Cup
Rather than stay at a traditional hotel in the CBD or something more expensive on the Golden Mile, we chose a guest house in a quiet suburban neighborhood which was a few rooms above someone’s garage. But it was so much nicer than that sounds. From the outside it looked like a few rooms above someone’s garage. From the inside it looked like a small house with an average size bedroom, living room, dining room, very large closet and changing room next to the bathroom, and one of the best kitchens I have ever used anywhere in the world. It was not the largest kitchen, but it had everything we needed and was very comfortable. Like the rest of the loft, the kitchen was almost completely surrounded by windows. The living room and bedroom had floor to ceiling windows with sliding glass doors that opened to the wrap around stoep. The sunlight penetrated every inch of those rooms like something not vulgar even though only vulgar similes are occurring to me right now.
The owners of the loft were a friendly old couple, much like the owners of the rondavel in Hazyview. Except that instead of showing any interest in birds, they were endlessly fascinated by military history. The small library in the bedroom was full of books about the Boer Wars (or Freedom Wars, depending whose side you are on), Voortrekkers, the British Raj and Churchill’s entire History Of The English-Speaking Peoples. The owners were also Hungarian, so bereft of that goofy South African accent.
When we arrived at the loft, the kitchen was stocked with enough food to tide us over, all the condiments, herbs and spices we could need and even a chilled bottle of wine. We appreciated the attention to customer service, but I do not drink and Pi Chi gets drunk before finishing a single glass. Lamentably, she is not an entertaining drunk, so I like to discourage her from imbibing. But I like to visit the local grocery stores wherever I stay, and since we had that great kitchen, I was determined to use it. We were going to call our airport taxi driver, but the Second Mr Owner offered us a ride to the nearest store, which he claimed would more than suit our needs. And it did.
The local Kwikspar was only slightly larger than a large 7-11, but instead of dead open spaces and a bunch of stale Chinese crap, it was packed with fresh produce, fresh bread, fresh pasta, and a variety of African and European food. It was within walking distance of the loft, but carrying uphill all the groceries we bought would have been a chore. We were grateful for the free ride and surprised when Mr Owner II apologized that he would not be able to give us similar rides in the next two days as he had previous engagements. But we had more than enough food and noticed more than a few restaurants during our short trip down the hill. We also planned to go out on the town from time to time and thought it unlikely that we would starve.
Yet again, these African innkeepers were displaying hospitality unheard of in Asia. They were treating us like their guests.
The hardest thing to get used to at the loft was the housekeeper. Employing domestic workers is common amongst white middle class South Africans. The fact that all of their housekeepers, cooks and drivers are black does not seem to bother anyone. Everybody is used to the system that has been in place for generations. It was only when the black population started to make more money and wanted their own help that things got awkward. I have never met a single African who had a problem with black people serving white people, but some find the idea of a black person serving another black person unnatural. And a white person serving a black person would probably cause the universe to crack.
I am not comfortable with domestic workers of any ethnicity. I cannot see my home as a workplace for someone. Home is where I can take off my shoes, close my eyes and blast music until the neighbors bang on the walls. Living amongst Chinese, home is the only place in the entire country I can go without anyone staring at me. Unless Pi Chi is home. Chinese people are endlessly fascinated by whitey. And rightly so. We are an unusual breed.
Hotels never feel like home, but they are the closest thing applicable whilst traveling. And even then I do not like being in the room while housekeeping is keeping house. It just seems wrong to be lying on the bed and defacing the Gideon Bible while a middle aged woman is on her knees scrubbing the toilet. Unless you are into that sort of thing. Who am I to judge.
The loft’s housekeeper was an older Zulu woman who lived in Mr and Mrs Owner’s house. We were determined not to give her any extra work to do, but one day we left the loft in a rush with a dish or two in the sink. When we came back, the dishes were washed, dried and put in their proper receptacles, and the entire sink was scrubbed spotless. We had been told beforehand that Betty would be more than happy to satisfy our laundry needs for a small fee paid directly to her, but since there was a washing machine in the kitchen we decided to be self-sufficient. However, as often happens on vacations, we had better things to do and ended up giving her a pittance to do our mentionables. We returned to find our clothes neatly folded in the changing room and cleaner than they have been in a very long time.
Betty was also an incredibly friendly person who proved invaluable during our stay. Mrs Owner was called away on family business just before we arrived and Mr Owner was not entirely sure how things worked around his home. He had his own semi-retired business going on and the loft was Mrs Owner’s project. Betty knew where everything was and how it all worked. When the heater in the bedroom chose not to cooperate, it was Betty who brought in a portable device. Winters in Durban are not exactly cold, but when one lives with thirty degrees year round one tends it find it a bit nippy at ten. Pi Chi puts on a coat at twenty.
After our second or third taxi ride, we assumed that the driver who picked us up at the airport would be our driver for the duration of our stay. He seemed more than happy that we not use his competition, and he was very prompt in the beginning.
I originally assumed that while Pi Chi was at her conference I would be free to do whatever I wanted to do. This is usually how we operate. But the taxi ride to the convention center required going through a neighborhood of Big Black Men. There was never any danger since downtown Durban is relatively safe for a city its size, the neighborhood between us was more working class than post apocalyptic dystopia, and our taxi driver knew where he was going. But Pi Chi is Chinese. So I had to go with her in the morning and pick her up in the evening. This often turned two taxi rides into five since whatever I was going to do was not necessarily anywhere near the convention center. Having our own personal taxi driver was convenient, but renting a car would have been cheaper.
On Pi Chi’s first full day off she wanted to go to the largest shopping mall in the Southern Hemisphere. Supposedly. I had already told her about some of the more interesting parts of Durban I had seen, but a large shopping mall will always be her top priority. Our regular taxi driver was unavailable so he sent someone else. This was not a problem as we were going somewhere famous that any taxi driver should know how to find. Unfortunately, Someone Else could not find the loft. It is tucked away on a tiny street away from any large streets. It is very easy to miss the street. And if you find the street, it is very easy to miss the loft. And that is what the other taxi driver did.
Eventually, we made it to the mall and bought too many groceries. The second taxi driver gave us his card and wanted us to use him, but we felt a sense of loyalty to the first driver and called him when we wanted to leave the mall. He was still unavailable and sent someone else. We slowly realized that we had no idea what this other driver’s car looked like and he had no idea what we looked like. Since this was the largest shopping mall in the Southern Hemisphere, supposedly, there were more than a few cars going and coming and more than a few people waiting. At home it is easy for taxi drivers to find me. Look for the tall white guy. In South Africa there are quite a few tall white guys.
In the end we called the second taxi driver since we knew what his car looked like and he knew what we looked like. He picked us up within fifteen minutes and we decided to use him from then on.
Until the next time we wanted to go to the convention center. Thirty minutes after we called him, we called the first taxi driver. He was unavailable yet again but said he would send someone else. When we reached the point where Pi Chi was going to be late no matter what we did, we called a third driver. Mr and Mrs Owner kept a book of local phone numbers in the loft. There was a page for taxi drivers that they considered reliable. None of our drivers was on their list. So we called one of theirs and he knew exactly where the loft was. He seemed to know Mr and Mrs Owner personally. We thought he was probably the best choice, but Pi Chi wanted to get there as quickly as possible. Whoever showed up first would get our business.
Mr and Mrs Owner’s recommended driver and our second driver showed up at the same time. We chose the recommended driver since he had not let us down. Yet. Our second driver was more than annoyed and felt that he should be compensated for making the effort. I pointed out that had he made any effort we would have never been in this situation. He was uninspired by my logic and gave the impression that he wanted to express his dissatisfaction with life in greater detail, but Betty looked at him and he got back in his car and drove away. Since she was facing away from me, I could not see what she communicated, but I have to assume that she meant business.
The recommended driver took me back to the loft after we dropped off Pi Chi, and I arranged for him to pick us up at the convention center when she was finished. I would make my way there in my own way at my own time. After the arranged time came and went I called him and he said he was on the way. Much later I called him again and he said he was on the way. We took a random taxi back to the loft. That driver gave us his card and said he would be more than happy to drive us around during the rest of our trip. We threw away his card. From then on we called a taxi company that sent different drivers each time. None of them could find the loft and all of them showed up.
Pi Chi likes to shop. I might have mentioned this already. She likes to shop at famous department stores and the supposedly largest shopping malls in various hemispheres. I prefer local street markets. The Gateway in Umhlanga, Pacific Place in Hong Kong, CentralWorld in Bangkok, Sarit Centre in Nairobi and Westside Pavilion in Los Angeles all seem the same to me. At least the CentralWorld did before the Red Shirts burned it down. But Fa Yuen in Hong Kong, Shibuya in Tokyo, Myeongdong in Seoul, der Graben in Vienna and Cuypsmarkt in Amsterdam all have their own character. Pi Chi wanted to do some authentic African shopping, so I took her to the Victoria Street Market. She hated it. There were no department stores, no designer clothes and no ridiculously expensive purses. And it was populated and surrounded by Big Black Men and tiny Indian women.
Pi Chi’s conference was the only reason we went to Durban, and it was the conference that really made it worthwhile for me. While she was busy talking shop, I was able to see the town the way I wanted to see it. And when she had free time I was able to go with her to the things I do not care about. Since she spent several days in her conference, I almost had enough time to visit Durban my way. The more I do what I want to do, the less I bitch and moan about going to yet another shopping mall. At least until I write about it later. Have I mentioned that she made me wait for ten hours at Louis Vuitton in Paris while I was hobbling around on a cane? That has to give me at least a few more years of bitching rights.
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I have no qualms about disseminating creative works for the public benefit when the author is duly credited, but if you use any of the writing or photography contained herein and try to pass it off as yours, that just shows you are a big pussy who is too lazy to come up with your own word usements or shoot your own digital paintings. You should be ashamed of your dipshittery.