Shitty Traveler - China

I fucked up. My brother moved to China three years ago and I still hadn’t visited him. I set my mind up to go for his 30th birthday and not put it off any longer.

I’m a shit traveler though. Always have been and this trip would be no different. For example, I never researched or asked if there were visa requirements to get into China. A week before I flew out I discovered there most definitely is and I had to rush to the consulate to get one. They wouldn’t deliver it to me in time for my flight. After some panicked phone calls to the airline (they would charge me over 1,000 to rebook) a doctor’s note (dentist friend who gave me four emergency extractions) I booked a flight that was still in time for little bro’s bday without costing me my first born.

I ended up getting a 10 year visa. Apparently this is not common. But now I can come and go as I please as a tourist for the next ten years. And I will go back.

The trip was fucking unbelievable. I absolutely love that country and culture so much. The people are kind and hospitable. They are generous and share everything with a stranger. The greenery, breathtaking scenery, and FOOD. Had so much fun hanging out with my brother, biking everywhere through mountains and small cities, sweating like beasts, drowning in the streets when it rained, and discovering places like Guillin and Yang Shuo. I won’t ever forget it.

But I won’t go into details about these parts. You should google it and go yourself. I also never take photos anyway. I plan to share my last 12 hours in China.

On the last day I was in Beijing by myself. It was a stop I had to fly back into and had a day to discover the city before catching my flight back home. Because my bro wasn’t there to plan out everything, and I never do my research, I found the closest tourist thing to do near the hostel and set out on foot to Forbidden City. It was the one thing my brother said not to do because it was underwhelming. It was this or spending more time on the internet looking up what to do. Nah. Closest and easiest.

I spent three hours sweating profusely and seeing where former royalty meditated and got laid.

As I walked out I wandered the neighboring streets. I wanted a good Chinese beer and to sit down under shade. So after a few blocks I popped into a little open nook that had tables outside and umbrellas and finally got to sit down and order a cold beer. My brother’s good friend had advised me that if I wanted good vegetarian to always eat near the buddhist temples. So I got on the wifi and began to search the best vegetarian in Beijing, the extent of any research I would do for this entire trip. Sure enough it was next door to a temple. I got pretty excited.

I walked inside to find the owner to see if he could let me know what time the restaurant opens, if there was a dress code of any kind, and if I needed a reservation. I had sweated through my shirt and was wearing really short cut offs. He understood what I was asking and called the restaurant but didn’t know how to explain it to me back in English. He called over two Chinese women that were standing nearby and asked if they spoke English. These women were so delighted to be asked this favor that they immediately grabbed my phone from his hands and began to explain to me all the details. No dress code, opens at 5pm, and a short cab ride away.

I thanked them and asked if they wanted to sit with me and have a beer. They got even more excited which made me chuckle.

We sat and chatted a little. One was a medical student the other a history teacher. They both reminded me of the humans in the film Wall-E. Happily content to be short and plump. The medical student had bleached short hair, with a cut similar to the 90’s bowl style, wearing a t-shirt that said something like “I know I’ve got style.” The other looked completely normal, her hair pulled back in a half ponytail, and dressed conservatively… she looked like a teacher. She would prove to defy my initial perception of her. They were on a girl’s trip without their significant others and were very delighted about it. “No boys. No boys.” 90’s ordered a beer and the teacher ordered a glass of wine that she downed in two sips. Wow. That should have been my first red flag. Before I finished my second beer, these two downed three rounds. They then proceeded to convince me to come to a Kung Fu show before I went for dinner. “You come with us. You come with us.” They really liked repeating each other’s sentences, directly after the other.

In this era of my life I am trying hard to not say no. Although I don’t know if this is necessarily true about me, but I often feel I choose safe and boring routes when I travel.

Like... choosing the closest thing to my hostel. So I said yes.

We got into a cab and stopped next door to the theater where there was an ATM. I pulled out 230 RMB. About 50 bucks. Ouch, but ok, it’s Kung Fu. I really love martial arts and muscular dudes, so why not? And I was going with two alcoholics and a nice too-much-sun-and-beer buzz.

I walked into the theater and was immediately struck by a rush of warm sticky air and noise. Blegh. The usher helped me to my seat through the mayhem of people shouting at each other, everyone was lost and in wrong seats. Then the usher shooed away my new friends once I was seated at the end of a row. I asked where they were going and they said upstairs. I asked the usher if I could just go with them because I didn’t want to watch the show alone. My friends explained to me I had a better seat than them so I should stay. I didn’t care, I explained, I came here with you and I will come sit with you. “Ok. Ok.”

They argued with the usher, and once she walked away, they sat directly behind me, but in one seat, 90’s on teacher’s lap. Turns out they didn’t have tickets to this show. 90’s knew someone that worked there and had gotten the ok to sneak in, but only upstairs IF there was room. What lunatics.

Then the show began and I fell into an acid trip. The stage was covered in floor to ceiling digital screens that had pretty bad graphics and videos as backgrounds. A man (acting as a young boy?) walked out to the stage with a baseball cap and backpack and looked around the stage pretending to be lost, as if in a forest. He turns towards the screen and there is a large book. He uses both hands in the air and mimes opening the giant book. The book didn’t open until a few moments later. He flipped through the pages, with the delays each time, and then walks off. There was no dialogue or anything written on the screen...so perhaps everyone was as lost as me. Whatever. I can’t wait to see some Kung fu.

The show officially begins. It’s not Kung Fu.

At most it was like a circus show? Acrobats. And strange videos in the backgrounds. Spinning flowers and fire everywhere. They really liked using the fire motion graphics.

A large circular cage slowly appeared from darkness onto the stage. A man on a motorcycle zooms out onto the center of the stage and opens his arms towards the audience as if to say “I’M HERE” and the crowd goes wild. He zips into the cage and starts to circle around like a maniac. Impressive.

Then what proceeded to happen was a second came out, did exactly the same arms-open-move to the audience and the crowd cheers louder. He zips in and now there are two making a lot of noise in the circular cage. A third… fourth… fifth… SIXTH. The audience roars. They were losing their minds. I was too. I started to scream “NO!” because it was so overwhelming. And at the same time laughing so hard I was crying.

Throughout this surreal experience I kept getting tapped on the shoulder by my totem pole friends behind me. When I would turn around they would either give me a thumbs up or hand me fried sweet bean things. I ate, laughed, and thought: who am I, where am I.

Show over. Ok I’m now relatively more sober, very hungry, realizing I had only had beer and really greasy fried tiny things. I need to get to that restaurant. My friends say no. “You come karaoke with us. You come karaoke with us.”

Ah, fuck it. Ok.

This is before they kept telling me I was so beautiful and had an amazing body. “You look like a movie star. You look like a movie star.” Haha thanks. I am a fairly confident person, with lots of love for myself both internally and externally, but I do not look like a movie star. I’m like a strong 7.5 out of 10. But continue to blow smoke up my ass ladies.

We hop into a cab and get dropped off in the middle of a cluster of low flat buildings. It was like a hidden neighborhood, all the buildings were gray and had no signs outside. No numbers. Hmm. Creepy. 90’s and I followed the teacher who supposedly knew where this great karaoke place was even though she circled around quite a bit. Every building looked the same. “This way. This way.”

We finally arrive and there is a sign with bright red letters that say “DRUNK”. A little heavy handed foreshadowing on how I will exit this building.

There is a stairwell that leads down and I follow it after my friends. Fuck it’s terribly hot down here. Like a sauna. Imagine a basement with no AC or windows in the dead of summer.

They put us in the VIP room that is a shit hole with a fan that is barely holding its head up as it oscillated and blows out hot air.

But these ladies knew how to party. One stupid strobe light was turned on and we were off.

We began to sing Shakira, their favorite songs in Chinese, bottles of wine kept appearing. I made sure to keep counting how many glasses I had because I didn’t have cash to blow. I said to them in the beginning, I don’t want to spend a lot. “Ok. Ok.”

Platters of food came out, all vegetarian (how sweet of them) but it was not pleasant to eat. It was the soft and soggy tofu I hated. I didn’t touch it. They scarfed it down. All while calling each other fat.

I was having so much fun, we had our arms around each other screaming the words to songs we barely knew. 90’s loved to stand directly in front of the monitor, inches away, with her eyes closed while dancing slowly in a trance while her friend tried to read the words to the songs and yell at her to move.

How many glasses have I had? Oooh! U2!

We were sweating so bad, but it didn’t matter anymore, we were drunk. I taught them to salsa dance. “You are so beautiful! You are so beautiful!”

I AM! and laughed and danced.

I looked at my watch at one point, crap. It’s almost 9pm, I need to head back to my hostel, grab my backpack and head to the airport. Ok ladies, let’s get the bill I need to go.

“Ok. Ok.”

Bill arrives. My friends open it and start to take out their cards. I do the same. What’s the total? I ask.

13,700 RMB. ok. It always sounds more in foreign currency… let me do the math. A little quick division on my phone…

2,000 DOLLARS.

WHAT.

That means I owe…

I look up from my phone and start to feel the rage build in my body. I suffer from Hulk rage. It’s very ugly and I promise it rarely comes out. Only when someone is truly a douchebag or I’m highly inebriated. I think these women qualified to receive it from the circumstances of both combined.

The rage flows through me like poison. It feels like transforming into a villain after accidentally falling into a vat of toxic juice. My veins turn black and bulge, then my eyes flip into the back of my head and come back red. My eyes get smaller as I look at them, and then lower my voice.

What. did. you. order.

They both can tell I’m furious and start to scramble like two little hens. “Remember we had so much fun. We had so much fun.” “You love wine. You drink wine.” “We danced, and eat, and laughed together. Dance and eat and laugh.”

No. I did not drink or eat or laugh 13,700 RMB worth of anything. Let me see the bill.

“Ok. Ok.”

These ridiculous humans ordered the most expensive bottles of wine, over 300 dollars each. 16 beers? Only 90’s was drinking beers.. Did she… oh my god she did.

The food at least is as cheap as it looked. The night started to replay in my head as I looked around the room.

No air conditioning.

That broken fan.

It looks like someone could have been murdered in here.

They both had their credit cards out as they handed to the waitress and say “We split in three. We split in three.”

Absofuckinglutely not.

They looked more terrified. I was cursing now and raising my voice.

I can’t recall how everything went down. One of the women looked like she would cry. I didn’t care.

It’s rage, guys. You don’t think of anything but annihilation and destruction.

This place is a shit hole.

How is this wine worth $300.

I didn’t eat anything.

YOU ARE BOTH ALCOHOLICS.

It was blurry and I was not my normal self. Or perhaps my ultimate self.

I decided to pay what was $300 for me. They split the rest. Who knows how I rationalized this in my head.

They asked me for my contact info because they wanted to stay in touch.

When you come out of rage there is a numbness. You know you’ve done something bad, but you are so exhausted from it it’s hard to process anything. I looked at them and gave them a fake email address.

I need a cab. now.

“Ok. Ok.”

Both of them ran to the street into the middle of oncoming traffic to catch me a cab. The teacher got one first because she threw her hands in front of her like stop signs. She waved me over while waving other cars to move and not hit her. I jumped in and slammed the door. I look at her through the window, she waves like a sad child saying goodbye, and I nod my head. The cab takes off.

I get back to my hostel in a daze. There is a bar in the lobby and I order the cheapest beer possible after getting my backpack from the receptionist.

What on earth has happened. How did I spend $350 dollars in half a day? I am staring into my beer. I need to get to the airport.

And I’m starving.

When I look up, a friend I had made the night before watching soccer was standing in front of me smiling.

“Hello! You look like you’ve been having fun.”

I’ve been robbed.

Telling this story to a man from Zurich that works in finance got the best response. This dude is loaded and still feels for me. Money bags was baffled and beside himself, mouth agape the entire time I talked. “Was the wine good at least?”

I DON’T REMEMBER I’M DRUNK.

We ordered more beers as I tried to laugh it off.

I look at my watch. Fuck. I need to get to the airport.

Help me money bags, I need a cab. No time for public transport.

I stand up and woah. I’ve drank too much.

I need to lean on him as we are walking through the streets trying to hail down a cab. I don’t remember why no one wanted to take me. Because I looked like a drunk? Or because I was yelling at all of them telling them I would not pay more than 200 RMB.

Oh no one's gonna fool this cookie tonight, I know it costs 30 bucks. I say this out loud to the man I’m using as crutches.

Money bags left me leaning on a fence while he hailed one down politely.

The rest is a typical story of almost missing your plane. One bad thing after another, the cab driver got really mad at me because I tried to pay with card. Wrong terminal in a huge fucking airport.

I ran so hard, so drunk, in the wrong directions in an empty airport. I was sweaty and smelly. At one point while I was running another man appeared next to me also running.

“Barcelona?”

Si.

I finally make it to my plane. There is not one dry part of me. I look over at the man that had been running alongside of me. He was in his full suit. We both sigh in relief. I do it like a complete hypocrite. Yeah I was doing very last minute business deals, too.

I think a lot about how horrible of a person I can be sometimes. I was perhaps too harsh on my friends. I was just as big of a drunk as they were. I would have ordered the same amount, just at a different price range.

But how could they afford to drink like that? Also how could they think someone they barely knew would be ok spending that much? They were well meaning but it was truly inconsiderate.

Money bags ended up checking in on me once I was back home asking if I had made it ok. How very kind of him. Yes, all is well. Thank you for your help.

“No problem. Also you left without paying for all your beers, so I had to pay for them.”

Ok. Bye. bye.