I heard all about the wonders of WuDaLianChi (五大连池）and decided to hop on a train to visit the famous northern volcanoe region. Leaving Harbin on the train during golden week is a freaking bad idea. At 6am in the morning, the train station is a mighty clusterfuck of people, boomboxes and hawkers already up and about selling wares. the ticket line is akin to the great wall of china, with everyone fighting to stay in line and when bored, would occasionally throw a spit out just to keep it interesting.

A simple Harbin breakfast: porridge, salted vegetables and fried biscuit bread

as the gates open to admit passengers, the policemen are shouting into the speakerboxes, " Please be careful! Please take care! Please do  not push." All this of course falls on deaf ears. I am bewildered since we all have seat numbers so what’s the rush in getting to the train? Boarding the train is another mission in itself as people push and shove and hiss at eachother in displeasure, not realizing that in this very instance, orderly ascent would have been the most efficient way of getting through a bottleneck. But i dont think anyone took a lesson in POM, so my mutterings turn on deaf ears.

As I walk through the cabin, it’s a crazy smorgasboard of human beings, bags and the smell of desperation fills the air. A random woman reaches over to grab my backpack and I am shocked. She then shouts at me," You are so strong!!! your bag is very heavy!" Geez, dont i know it…?! yanking me back and causing me to nearly fall would not be a great thing, only this being the beginning of my trip…I was so sure that she would immediately start marketing me a marriage proposal with her son, since their farm probably needed an extra pair of strong hands. What better girl than a merchant immigrant’s daughter from Singapore?! niak niak.

The train ride is horrendous. For 6 hours to Bei An (北安), the seats don’t lean back. The train is oversold so people are standing cattle-style on the train. Some dude’s crotch is pressed hard against my face for 4 hours of my journey. And no, i did not feel aroused, but he loved my chinese accent.

People fighting over space and seats:

My immediate neigbours: Crotch man on left

But don’t be mistaken, the trains are actually extremely new and modern, minus the overcrowdedness. And thankfully, no one lit up on the train and there is a constant flow of food carts going through the train. The only problem being that, there really isn’t space for any other human, bag or food cart. I love the can-do attitude of the chinese. Any opportunity is one to make more money. Seeing the sardine situation on board, the cook from the food cart comes up and announces that for 10RMB, people whom are without a seat are welcomed to sit at the bar area, until 12pm. I love it how they are so specific, i should hire her to write in ratchets for any deals that i do. This helped to allievate the people bulge, but still…However, a ride in any chinese train is a must as the locals are friendly, always willing to chat, debate and in 6 hours, i think everyone pretty much knew everything about everyone else. That, i truly enjoy, that i never have to struggle to find a good conversation anywhere.

Leaving Harbin to head further west and closer the russia, the landscape is decidingly wild, harsh and dry. As I open my mouth to yawn, I taste sand and i can feel my skin drying out as i place my hands out of the train cabin. Nothing is growing right now and the grounds are fallow. It’s a bright confluence of dusty yellows, browns against the backdrop of a blue blue sky.

Dusty sunset:

Bei An is a shit city. Think about some disused, fading mining town in the U.S - this is the chinese equivalent. At this far north to the Heilongjiang, there is a prevalence of russian people speaking mandarin here. There are also russian tourists that have come in across the Black River (黑河）from Blagoveschensk on tours.

I am getting miffed at this tour organization when I realized that 1) our tour bus was actually the local bus as well, so all sorts of randoms were hitching a ride. I was almost made to sit on the roof of the bus, not before i reminded the bus driver that i was the only sucker to overpay for this trip did i get a seat. 2) When I asked to go to a toilet, the tour guide "pretended" to take note of my request and then said…sure, we stop in 10 minutes…which turns out to be a lie as i nearly burst from a bladder overrun when we finally do stop at the side of the road and do my business at some hole by the side of the road. don’t worry, i did not look down. (that is a good tip for survival in china).

At the Fire Mountain entrance: we must dress all tourist destinations up in some artificial way

The dormant volcanoes around this area have produced a series of blackened rocks, against the dried brush. All in all, the landscape is arid and desert-like. I head over to 2 natural springs to taste the magic waters of this region. There is an acidic taste to it, and the water while cold, is naturally effervescent. It has a strange sulphuric taste but the locals love it as they line up, with plastic bottles in hand, to collect this water for drinking at home. it is said that this water will heal heart problems, promote health and lengthen life. Wow, this miracle water is quite something. And it’s being turned into facial products to promote good skin, health and of course, supporting a burgeoning mineral water industry.

I make this trip with four 16 year old girls on vacation during golden week. Sweet girls whom are really more interested in taking photos with the signboards than understanding the culture or history of the region. But still, real sweethearts. Dinner is once again, in giganormous proportions, in true Northern style.

plate of salted prawns:

the best fish ever: this river fish is native to this region and since all the bedrock is volcanic, there is a lack of mud. hence, this is one of the few river fish that does not have a muddy taste.

I end today’s blog with some last images. The north of china to me, is a wild place, with its own rustic charm. It’s not pretty and picturesque, neither will it make a charming picture, but there is something about its people, their kindness and their appetite for food that makes the north still a pleasurable experience.

At some point in time, i need to start penning some of my cultural learnings and tips in china. stuff that the lonely planet just doesnt include or simply got wrong. And I have learnt much to date, its all about getting it down.

The weather here is so extreme that the lakes still have ice on them:

bridge over no water:

有山有水：

ciao:

Today was a relatively easy day. After all, i only had 1 place to see, the Japanese Germfare War Museum. I wander around looking for the perfect breakfast that turned quite quickly into a lunch made for 3. That is despite me telling the cook to "make it small, make it small!!" I figure if i shout loud enough they would understand. But brunch (at 11 in the morning) ends up being a 2 hour lunch as I hang out with the cook and his family and we trade stories about life, money and wealth. He finally sends me on my way to a public bus for my 1 hour bus journey to this famed museum.

yummy. salted fish fried rice with squid. my 4 treasures dumplings. all for me!!!

the bus ride turns out to be a joke. The first thing you have to understand about china is this. They operate on an assumption of slack. There are about 10 buses waiting at the stop; each one is waiting for a full fare before moving off. Therefore, it is possible to "pick the wrong bus" that never fills up and hence, never leaves the terminal! I picked such a bus today. But heck, I had time, I had till 4pm to burn and I was french-trained! Pas de probleme! The bus finally leaves, I managed to get an old but grossly filthy seat, which I don’t care really, but 5 minutes into the journey, the bus driver pulls over at a mechanic’s shop and starts yelling that his radiator was burnt. Everyone in the bus looks confused, there was no smoke and the bus was purring fine. I mean, surely he could have come up with a better excuse to get a coffee break, no? In true Chinese fashion, he commands the help for not 1 mechanic but all 4 that were loitering by the side of the street. Some furious shouting and pointing goes on for 10 minutes. Nobody ever moved from pointing and fingering to getting a wrench or spindle or whatever happens when radiators go bust. i love it…MBAs could do this job - we do enjoy telling people how to do things, but not necessarily do them ourselves.

People were turning hysterical. After all, they had paid 2RMB for this bus ride! The bus driver promises everyone that a new bus would arrive at no charge to ferry us off to our destinations. The next bus arrives…but only to get servicing at the mechanic. This is truly disasterous. In a fit of pique, a well-dressed lady (in chinese fashion, mind u, which means…overly frilly and too complicated to imagine) takes up her grouse and throws out a comment that to me, embodies the New China. "What about our rights? What kind of service do you call this?" America, good job! We love it that the rest of the world has started using fancy consumer right’s terminology as such. at this point in time, the driver is exasperated and manages to turn on the bus engine and drives off! leaving us stranded…

angry passengers: which translates into a crazy market scene at 150 decibels.

nobody do anything except point…ok? the mechanics relak one corner.

A third bus weaves past but seeing the amok and rabid crowd, decides to speed off. The well-dressed lady takes her wrath on the unsuspecting passengers. "What are you all doing? Just standing around and complaining! Come with me and support me talking to the driver!" (Note: this is direct translation) I piped up that seriously, we were better off going back to the bus terminal (an 8 minute walk) and waiting for a new bus (0-20 minutes, given how fast the bus fills up). Everyone looks like i am mad. I get pissed and storm off into the dusty afternoon.

strange scenes along the way: chicken…speech! refer to chinese character….

When i finally do get a bus, I go past the motley crue, still doing a great job of milling around. Its funny. And this is why, China is still china. Inspite of its ability to churn productivity and make its people stressed out and work hard, i just dont think people are driven to action unless proded. usually, by some mechanical or electrical device.

The germfare museum is situated in the south of Harbin. Ironically, it is located in the 和平区 which translates as "Peaceful District". This gave me an opportunity to leave the swankiness of the northern part of town to traverse the entire length of Harbin down south. as the bus got further from the shopping district. the scene became more derelict, more industrial, the markets were messier and prices cheaper. it was something of a real china that i recognized and much more aggressive.

old residential blocks in hepingqu:

At the germfare museum, the exhibition spans 2 floors, on the now defunct prison and laboratory grounds of Unit 731. Unit 731 was part of Japan’s "Manchu" army that invaded China between 1938 and 1945. In order to win their wars swiftly, the Japanese army had built labs to develop and test all forms of germs, bacteria and torture methods on humans. I learn that there were 31 forms of testing in the lab, everything from heat exposure, frostbite, intestinal bacteria to sleep and food deprivation. during the time of the invasion, some 3000 chinese were captured and tortured. Live tests where rats Carrying the bubonic plague were let loose in villages to "record the results". Instances where test germs were injected into victims were followed swiftly by live vivisections and immediate burnings of the victims, many of whom were still alive. War is cruel and affecting. War with unseen weapons such as germfare…even more so. Humans being treated as cattle…grotesque. And such is man’s history - one that is littered with interventions, wars, crimes against humanity and inexplicable actions of violence.

the head honcho of Unit 731: Shiro Ishii

The leftover remenants of the power supply building:

Scene along the walls of the grounds:

I chat with an old groundskeeper who has been retired for some years now. And his only task is to help the museum "watch its doors". That’s all he does, all day. watch 1 gate - and it’s the back gate at that! He asked me if i was rich, since i could afford to fly to china on a plane - I asked him, how else would i come? He asked me what i did and if i made a lot of money…I said, no…life in singapore is expensive but it’s still good. he seemed sad, he felt that china was getting expensive and there weren’t that many opportunities. He said he felt i was 出头露面 which i momentarily took offense to since i thought he was trying to say that i was doing somthing that i shouldnt be doing - like: travelling alone for instance. a quick discussion on semantics reveals that he thinks i am a strong face, of a person that bears a man’s energy, such taht i can "bring my head out and explore the world." i playfully asked him if looked like man too, he just laughed.

barren forests

frostbite lab:

It’s been a long time since i spoke mandarin with such religious continuity and it’s been great. it’s always been a language that i loved and respected, almost honoured that i was taught as a child to learn it by rote. translating mandarin phrases into english is always a riot, everything sounds more intelligent than it really is. Hence, this blog is starting to read like an Amy Tan book.

Anyways, i pick up axel and mathieu, 2 french boys at the museum and we bus to town to have dinner….again, it was an interesting moment to speak french in china but then both axel and mathieu spoke mandarin, so our conversations were a melange of english, mandarin and french. it totally confused our fellow bus fellows…

axel et moi:

mathieu et moi:

Dinner was at…a dog restaurant. which is fucking awesome but the way. i could totally convert to eat poochie from now on. we named our dog "finky" and finky was cooked in a spicy sichuan pepper chilli oil, with garlic and carrots. amazing taste. the dog meat is soft, with a thick layer of soft fat that melts in your mouth. the meat does not smell, neither does it have bones. a welcome surprise. I paired my dog dish with a bowl of cold noodles （特色冷面). good and great. we swap travel stories and check out eachother’s photos. mathieu has a freaking leica m6 - world’s best camera, one that i m definitely willing to die for. hot damn.

finky in hot sauce:

cold noodles: yum!

and that is how one spends a day. learning, talking and eating. dog-dammit!

I love gusto of chinese people. Anytime there is an opportunity for enterprise, businesses will pop up. As I trotted over to Songhua Jiang (松花江), I was bemused to discover that a patch of sand had been converted to a makeshift kite-flying and horse-riding type of playground. The Songhua Jiang cuts through Harbin city and is one of the tributaries to lead off into the Heilongjiang. At low tides, it becomes a cooling spot to fly kites, a date joint and a place to bring your kids for some fun in the cool sun.

The monument for survivers of something. (防共纪念塔)

Strange romanesque arch…who knows? still, a fashionable hangout. That’s the thing about new cities and an importing culture. People were extremely excited to take photographs of themselves in this weird place with distorted roman columns, but no one notices the cheap cement or the machine-manufactured indents that ought to be hand crafted. It’s like clockwork orange that went to design school and came out fucked. Only the nouveau niceness of these things is observed, and this is really funny to me. the idea that it could be tasteless, beyond large, is quite beyond me…

I want this…kite. Doraemon, with wings! Ahhhhh….so cute!

The long procession to kite-land. follow the lines, follow the lines!

Octopus vs Squid fight.

And if u get bored…you can always ride an ATV. This is hardly a desert but I appreciate the entreprenuarialism here. Random and chinese go hand in hand.

A wonderful strip by Songhua Jiang to faire une promenade…

All over the city, old men gather to pit their gambling skills. Most play cards, some play chess, a few crazy ones play the incredibly impossible game of GO. respekt. This was taken in a tiny park place that was between a major road and a rubbish dump. Thank god it’s cold and the smells don’t waft.

There is a stretch of beautiful temples within Harbin’s cultural zone. The only problem is that none of them are old. it all feels too restored, kinda like singapore’s chinatown. I head for Ji Le Tah (吉乐塔), a historical temple that draws many chinese all over to come here and offer wishes.

throwing coins into the pagoda gets you luck. Since i just got my fortune told by some random on the street - who claims that my fortunes are great, amazing, fantastic…i will be rich beyond belief, i will find a husband soon, i will have a healthy life and be rich beyond belief…i didn’t feel i needed to extend greatly for more luck. One should not be greedy, after all

The typical square chinese courtyard:

Temple set against the foreground of russian-style austere housing blocks. yith. industrialism is not meant to be beautiful.

all is quiet. This is a wonderful change from the crazy pace of Beijing…i like that Harbin has its silent moments. With the cold breeze blowing and the quietness of the temple, it almost feels like i ought to have some kind of moment of clarity. But beyond the fact that i will be rich beyond belief….nothing yet so i continue to hunt for good snaps.

Even religious praying can be boring after awhile. we can all just hang together:

see…this is the newish construction mayhem i was mentioning. these floor tiles are damn wrong. where are my decrepit oldish chinese tiles? but i like shadows, so it’s ok. i snap….

The oddball amusement park stuck to a string of temples. i will never comprehend.

Where better to rest than on a high-speed highway?

Runaway bride…

this be best. The Strong and Handsome college of communication is making its no-nonsense message clear. i m sold, aren’t u??

6 meals later (and its only 4pm)…i am tired but happy. kinda…given that nobody in this place seems to be able to handle a camera. i only have ugly and ugly snaps of me hrmph. and clearly underdressed too.

frustrated? take a self-snap. it helps to clear the head. this one comes complete with double chin and everything.

My grandmother ought to be doing this. Taichi is soooo yesterday. seriously. and it’s wonderful how everyone standing by the side of the road starts dancing along and getting involved. i even learn a couple of moves. never mind that they were totally taking over the carpark and blocking the entrance to a departmental store…but hey, i cannot think of a better reason otherwise to do such a thing.

I leave the best for last…Face off! Cat vs Suit: i bet cat wins. Taken from life-best bus ride!

public transport never looked this good.

Harbin is one of China’s northernmost cities, sitting square in between the borders to inner Mongolia and separated by the famous Heilongjiang (黑龙江) river from Russia. It’s a city that has been made famous for its artic cold winters and its man-made ice palaces and theme parks. It plays up its fantastical winter-wonderland image and despite being in the middle of nowhere, its architectural influences are decidedly Russian. But take away the whiteness of the snow. the rest of the city still aims to keep its fantasy like atmosphere during the rest of the year.

Walking down the Daoliqu district, along Zhongyang street, all its malls and buildings possess the distinctive russian cupolas and turrets, although, someone needs to give a lesson to the architects here on geometrical and spatial balance. Even if this is the country where yin-yang and balance of the forces is imagined and created, the chinese still have no idea how to balance european designs with the enormity and singularity of chinese buildings. Overly small domes sit on grotesquely large buildings.

Chinese architecture is long rooted in squares. Most cities are built in a squared structure. Large houses are often square, with inner corriders and smaller houses within, all built in a perfectly squared outline. In today’s Harbin, the buildings, despite aiming to have the pretty european influence, are still, monolithically squarish in shape. And fundementally, that disagrees with the softer lines of european architecture. Neon lights, billboards and loud propagandanistic messages on "Visit Harbin. Harbin is lovely. If you need help, please feel free to approach our friendly Harbin tour staff" blare off in the streets. Every other shop plays loud pop songs to attract shoppers, and if not, have a manical screaming voice that reads out the latest sale items. It’s pretty mad.

The only one building that is truly russian is St. Sophia’s Church. While it is tiny in comparison to the mega malls that surround it, it is structually perfect (finally) and wholly proportionate. Built in 1907 by the russians, the shops that surround this church all sell russian dolls, vodka and cigars.

The food in harbin is a mix of kebabs reflecting its muslim inhabitants, fat sausages, hot pots, noodles and all things stewed in sauce or herbal taste and its all meaty. I could not resist grazing and by 1230 pm, was onto my fourth meal of the day.

Breakfast began with a wonderful sweet bread with pork floss and salty sausages with condensed milk (肉松包）. It’s a weird combination of sweet, heavy creaminess and saltish. Damn good and only 3RMB.

Next on the list: stewed quails eggs in black sauce. So, this is what China has come to mean to me: While I requested just a couple of eggs since I was on a taster menu hunt, the waitress looks at me flabbergasted and proceeds to give me about 50 eggs for 10 RMB. I had to explain multiple times that I only wanted a taste, and ended up with 10 eggs as a compromise.

Fried chicken somethings. Not sure what they are called, but damn nice to eat.

My buy of the day: Fucking fat sausages, with bamboo shoots mixed with pork. Everyone at the shop loved my Chinese accent and thought it was "cute". Man, should I be sad??? The point is, any negotiation attempt to get just half a sausage was met with a stern NO. so i ended up getting 2 sausages for 8RMB, which could basically feed me for 5 meals. there are still some left in my hotel room.

The confectionary products here taste great in a plebian, farmer-esque way. With strangely decorated cakes that are overly large and not too pretty. We need to import some french patissaires in.

My ravenous eating has basically opened an unstoppable valve and i head off to get more street food. This time from a vendor that sells waffles and sausages, de rigour street cuisine. More sausages, i know. He is a lovely dude. This time, I get told that my mandarin is totally incomprehensible but that Singaporean girls must be very pretty. When I told him that is not true, because i was the ONLY pretty girl in Singapore, I got 2 extra waffles for free. I love this country! and they love my shamelessness. kakaka.

Lunch: the best 3RMB beef noodles i have ever had…the cook was sad that i only got through 1/3 of the bowl, since everyone finished EVERYTHING here. But seriously, this bowl of noodles…was the size of china. thats all i can say to describe it.

Lunch was spent at this dinhgy local noodle house．A place where no tourists ever visit. In fact, i was such a guest of honour that the cook, his wife, their daughter-in-law and his brother come out to talk with me. Conversation is an expectation here. At any point where there is a meal or you request information or help from someone, do expect that it will turn into a solid 1 hour conversation. The best question I got from the proprietress was: "Is Singapore near the Gansu province?" I was nearly speechless. Now, I have to remove that "only white people make these ridiculous jokes about Singapore being in china" from my repetoire. I had to tell her that Singapore is quite small and very far away from Gansu, and China. She asked about the cold winters in Singapore and was disappointed to find out that there wasnt any. But, like any conversation that one has with a Chinese person, a must-topic…prices and all sorts of personal information. What are the prices of strawberries in Singapore? What is the exchange rate between SGD and RMB? Does Singapore use RMB? How much money do I earn? (Thankfully, i could say none since i was jobless. i think they would have been pissed to sell me 3 RMB noodles knowing that i was an investment banker). Was I married? Why was i alone in china? how is it that i speak mandarin? all quite surreal. but i answered as honestly as i could without blanching too much. I did not, however, know the prices of strawberries in singapore. And I did find out that given the opportunity, they would sell noodles to a foreigner at 15RMB. So hear hear, if u don’t speak mandarin, u are quite damn screwed.

The awesome little restaurant! spartan interior with big meals at little prices.

Life best strawberries. Home grown by the seller herself. i could not resist trying one and despite the berries being muddy, i devoured everything. at one go while strutting down the street.

and voila! the elusive dog restaurant, finally rears its head and tail. maybe tomorrow, i eat poochie.

Is Harbin a lovely city? In all fairness, it’s charming in a neon-lit and chinese way. Where the new is built out too quickly, using poor quality materials and where big is better. But its people are endearing and the conversations are great. But it is a tough city for anyone that doesnt read chinese nor speak it since nothing is in english, except for the "Sale" sign. Come April, there are no tourists in sight and I do think, beyond the 1 russian couple i met on their honeymoon…there is no tourists here. at all. amazing. and that’s why it’s great. i have the wide pedestrian streets all to myself.

more to follow.

I attempt at all costs to avoid taking an airline from China, only because one hears all these terrible things about it. But, given how it’s Golden Week in China, where is a mass movement of people en mass throughout China and plus the Labour Day holiday in Singapore and thousands of overworked Singaporeans running off to Beijing/ Shanghai/ HK…I find myself choiceless in the matter.

So, I find myself on an Air China flight to Beijing. Not that I have much to complain, since I hadn’t slept the night before (encoding Deadly Marsupials for my ipod just takes that long), I basically got on the flight and slept my way through. But here is my take on the service levels of developing economies. They don’t exist. I ask for a glass of water and the flight attendent basically gives me whatever water she has left in her bottle, which makes for 1/3 glass of water for me. Never did she consider opening a new bottle to top up my glass. Grrr…The movie selection is not only basic, the entire movie system is old. Meaning: there is a main screen with 1 common film showing. Thank god for my movie-filled ipod.

Meals get served at an odd hour of 10.30am in the morning and after that…nothing. No biscuits, no peanuts. I feel almost privileged that I actually managed to get hydrated with water and apple juice. The best thing is the landing. I don’t think I have ever been put through such a terrifying hard landing. The wheels are actually creaking under the bulbous weight of its passengers. But of course, this being China, the passengers are already scrambling to reach for their bags in the overhead cabinet. At this point, the stewardess is frantically shouting for everyone to please remain seated. No one sits back down for obvious reasons: everyone wants to be the first to get off. As the plane halts (finally), the crazy rush begins again, and all of a sudden, the once stationary plane lurches forward, throwing bags, people and flight attendents into a state of mad chaos. I am not quite sure if I should be laughing or crying. But remains is this: I would definitely be one of the firsts to get off the plane, because being the frequent flier that I am…I had requested for 1) aisle seat 2) no baggage check in 3) started packing up my seat 30 minutes before the flight lands.

Lesson: China is a perfect example of perfect competition markets. There is just no advantage garnered from pre-planning. My efforts to gain a headstart were ruined completely by the mysterious airport bus. So, here’s a great moment. I descend the plane and there is no damn airport bus. There are however, 2 empty buses just for the 6 air crew. This is probably the first time in my life I have ever witnessed the air crew taking off before the passengers. As the air crew gleefully gets whisked away, a hundred passengers are left on the tarmac wondering what just happened. At this point, I am jostling with all things human and luggage-like and as we circle eachother like vultures, everyone is trying to make predictions on where the airport bus is going to stop. This is a bad replay of a stock market game theory situation. The airport bus FINALLY appears - and there is only 1 bus for 100 people. This is getting ridiculous and I get saddled with an Australian woman who goes on and on about how the locals just love to "stare at white people", and they "don’t mean any harm by it". She then proceeds to snap photos of the overcrowded bus, probably to illustrate how populous China is. And we haven’t even left the bloody airport yet. She also thinks that Australia has the 3rd largest population in the world. What a moron. 

But nothing is as amazing as the noise levels in Beijing. I am going deaf as I am checking my emails and a businessman man in the printing business is shouting into his cellphone that he is being "chased by his client until his pants are dropping"….nice. I burst out laughing and pretend that it’s because I have just received naked pictures of something. Everytime I think there is a fight going on, it’s only because someone is asking another person if they want a drink.

But the domestic flight…is probably a greater reflection of real China. smaller planes, dinghy toilets and a 90% male population on deck (definitely different of cities, where there is a large female population). On route to Harbin, I sit beside a Chinese man that decided that inflight carpet was too unpleasent and proceeds to lay newspapers on the floor to cushion his feet. And then he plugs in his headset and blasts the radio loudly. He obviously does not understand what the personal headsets are for since he leaves the headset on the seat and the whole plane is forced to listen to the wafting sounds of chinese pop songs. Arghs!

When I finally arrive in Harbin, i am shocked. It’s 3 degrees celcius. I have my Gap pink sweater on and a rough scarf. That’s it, i m dead. China, the land of the unexpected. Hello China, I have arrived.

This is how random being unemployed is. A brief mention by several friends as to where my life is headed leaves me thinking…you know what, I think I should be travelling more. I find myself scanning travel guide books at Kinokuniya and finally settling on China. Pouring through the pages of a 800+ page book, I feel a rousing sense of excitment - le travel bug. Armed with a desperate need to understand Chinese history, be physically on the move, and simply go against the demands of time, I act on my gut instinct and plan out a scattered China trek that begins with Haerbin in the North and ending far west in Kashgar. According to my superior MBA-fied spreadsheet with goals, targets and to-dos, this trek will take something like 5 weeks, but we shall see and at this juncture, that course in POM and planning for slack is kicking right in.

Rummaging through my bookshelf, I discover my Mongolia guidebook, in mint condition and purchased…in 1997. That is how long I had wanted to visit the vast plains of Mongolia. So, why not? I squeeze Mongolia into the itiniary (where my ancestral grave actually resides, us being of the proud Yuan dynasty that helped Genghis Khan conquer all). A bit of horse-riding and seeing the blue blue skies of Mongolia can’t hurt. I gather Ally and Shin as partners in crime and really, this is the only part of my trip that has some form of tickets or activity structure. Although, I still don’t know how I will make it from Beijing to Ulaan Baatar. Trepidation is good for the heart, it makes one’s blood run faster. A form of good stress I believe, quite like first love or hormonal crushes.

Checking the weather today gave me a heart attack. It’s 6 degrees celcius in Harbin. This is just dandy, and I thought i had escaped the cruelties of winter. I cave and run off to buy a winter jacket. In deciding which jacket to buy, i naturally select a "Made and DESIGNED in China" piece. It is after all, extremely important to gel into the locale… when in ROME

So goodbye Singapore, at least for the next couple of weeks as I plunge headlong into the cold wilderness of China. And you know what, I may just learn how to speak Mandarin with sophistication. But i wouldnt bet too much on it.

The last time we talked about models…Ashvin came up with his idealogy about likening dating models to "saving the whales". I don’t really want to keep repeating myself or even seem like there is some thematic madness to my life, but here is another great model story.

A bunch of us bored Insead kids and Design students hit the Fashion Bar, so right, I am like some village peasent, since I have never gone to the Fashion Bar. Who knew that the Fashion Bar really had models? I always thought places like that gave themselves cool names so as to hope to attract models. Anyways, to cut the long story short, here is an excerpt of a conversation between me and my new model friend.

Me: So, is it true that models get free drinks at bars?

Model: Yes, it is!

Me: That sounds unfair. I mean, you already get paid for what essentially your parents gave you, by no means of your doing. And now you also get free drinks?! Based on economic theory, you should earn nothing for having little capabilities. *snigger*

Model: Well, there are other people who get paid more for like…other kinds of work. Like when they use their brains and stuff.

Me: You look like Jim Carey. did anyone tell you that? *sip drink*

Model: Yes, it’s true. Many people told me that.

(I am still waiting for my credit card, and have no choice but to continue this conversation. Although, I smell a joke coming up, so why not?)

Me: So, do you travel much for work?

Model (v. excited): Yes, I do! I just went to Osaka for 2 months, did shoots, travelled to S. Africa, did Hong Kong for 4 months….

Me: Osaka? Since when was there a fashion scene there?

Model: Yes there is. Twice a year, for men. It’s catalog work, for uniforms.

Me: Uniforms?

Model: Yeah, like fireman’s uniforms, architect’s uniforms, engineer’s uniforms.

Me: Architects have uniforms? What about bakers? I think bakers are sexy. (droll tone, slightly sarcastic but still…unnoticeable to the eager).

Model: Yes, bakers have uniforms, with the top hats and stuff… (model is very excited to share his wealth of experience now. I can’t seem to stem the flow. Still no sight of my credit card).

Me: Well, if you are bored, you can come over and meet the rest of our crew. We all go to school together.

Model: Oh wow, I think I left school like 10 years ago. What school is this?

Me: oh, it’s business school.

(Tah-dah! punchline to follow….)

Model: Business school? What’s that?

Ok, this is truly a save the whale moment. I am sorta amused but also flabbergasted. But since I am surrounded by skinnies and tall women with neverending legs who insist on wearing sunnies in the dark (why?!!), i quietly made my exit, but not before throwing the model a candid grimace before sauntering away.

At the entrance of Fashion Bar, I con 2 models into thinking that Sal is actually an ear model from California. And while they look at Sal’s slightly portly frame and stare hard at his ear lobes (Which are quite nicely proportioned), they were too nice to make any jibes, nodded politely and attempted to welcome him into the model family. But not without a slight tightness to signal that they would have much preferred it if he was like…hotter. Which is where I decided to drop the ball and admit that really…I was not really a hand model from China and neither was Sal an ear model from California.

So, why are models exclusive? Why do they all insist on hanging out with each other and build up a thick wall between "their corner" and the plebs? Why can’t models be inclusive? Why do they peruse dance floors with a stern eye and yet refuse to commit to dance? Perhaps, someone patient enough will let me know that in fact, models are shy beings, that they feel bad for being good looking and tall, while the rest of the world struggles with their poor physical selves. My reading? They are just too afraid to have real fun. Waving your arms and pretending to be hot and sexy is only fun for so long…I still prefer taking out my robot moves and do the occasional running man for shits and giggles.

At some point during the day, I was invited to a random dinner of current P2s in Singapore. Sitting at a posh restuarant somewhere in Chinatown, I am reminded at how surreal and whacked out Insead can be. And how we all dress up nice, talk about our somewhat similar travel experiences, job search ambitions with the same oomph. And the best part of all, I am reminded at the amazing sexual tension that exists when one first starts at Insead. (you must know what i am talking about! )

Everyone is interested in each other, be it on a friendship level, and always open for "more". It’s almost like a game of hunting, except in this instance, both prey and predator are switching roles on an instantaneous basis, being aggressive and yet passive, from minute to minute. It’s never quite clear if you did score someone, whether it was you playing predator or being preyed upon. It’s all a good laugh for me and nothing quite hits home as the sexual innuendo that goes around to a string of rancous laughter. To the observer on the outside, it’s a magical if not burlesque, an awkard scenario.

To say that "I am way past it" seems a tad condescending, but you know what, it really does get old after awhile and one has no choice but to realize that I have officially graduated and belong to the mundane reality that is life (read:non-insead existence) which does not include fancy restaurants, nor a raging hormonal charge, nor an interest in anything beyond the simplicities of momentary friendship. But it is a reality and I am thankful that life has returned to a semblance of normalcy. Although, I still do occasionally wish that we were still sitting in the springtime sun, out on the deck area of the bar, organizing another Vorspiel and flipping through another case load.

Memories. Love it.

Here are a collection of random moments in Vietnam.

Meat fried miscellanously: good to know

Mimicking a mannequin - part of Ashvin’s Mannequin Mockery series:

Puppies on sale: only $200

I want to be a telephone receptionist (man the pink phones) - at the President’s planning bureau: Reunification Palace

If not receptionist…I want to be a palace baker. Check out the size of this mixer! Press ON!

Deep in prayer:

A photocopy sign that needs a photocopy of itself:

GWAR! I rip this nem to shreds!

Porcupine biscuits…pokey:

Plastic plates for offerings at the temple:

Hard head…amongst other things:

One of the many street cooking scenes in Hanoi:

Padi rice farming…also another common sight:

Religion vs capitalism:

this is great. Vinpearl as Hollywood: