Portrait of an LBX

By Evan (with significant contributions from Andy)

*Click here to see all the  pictures we took in the old town of Tangyin

The path between the fields on the outskirts of town and the stone compounds of the Tangyin Old Town, by Andy

In Shanghai we decided to modify our methodology of just fluttering around China wherever the four winds blow us toward a system of identifying some worthwhile destinations in advance. As such, we picked up some books about ancient towns (古镇) in Jiangxi and Fujian. Pushing into central Jiangxi, we had a chance to make use of our guides and pedaled toward the recommended ancient town of Tangyin (棠阴镇). As we crested a green mountain pass topped with a sign exhorting the locals to “develop the tourism industry (大力发展旅游产业),” we feared a repeat of our last ancient town experience in Wuzhen (乌镇), Zhejiang — an over-commercialized, touristic, stupidscape with a extortionate entrance fee and nigh zero meaning whatsoever.

A street bisecting the main road at first seemed to confirm our worries — Commercial Street (商业街), as it was called, was a filthy, cluttered, little road with hawker stalls on both sides. It appeared that the city was trying to enact its goal of tourism promotion but, not knowing what to do, resorted to the tried-and-tested “tourism alley” strategy. We were encouraged, however, to see many old structures just beyond the end of the street, and determined to find a hotel and return on foot to explore. (more…)

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By Evan

Every once in a while a new acquaintance asks us if anything bad has happened to us on this trip. The honest answer is yes, any run-in we have with Public Security organs or the state in general is an event we wish we could forget, but we usually bite our tongues. In truth, the police have been our biggest worry since the planning stage of Portrait of an LBX began about a year ago. Nowadays we frequently pass signs on the side of the road that say, “If you have a problem, call the police!” accompanied by the cute little cartoon police characters Jingjing and Chacha (think comical cop icons called Po-po and Lice-Lice). “What if your problem is the police?” we wonder.

The long-standing fear reared its repugnant head in Tangyin (棠阴), Jiangxi just after we had ridden past a statue of the solemn fiberglass police officer saluting us in front of the busted town hospital with a rusted-out, tire-less car out front. As we stopped to take pictures, a cop car headed in the opposite direction suddenly turned around and cut us off. We were braced for confrontation, but the cops, after hailing us to stop, simply offered any assistance they could and, amid the usual compliments on our Chinese ability and exclamations about our height, gave us words of praise for our bike journey. Whew, that was a little too easy. (more…)

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We found a fitting welcome at the edge of Tangyin, Jiangxi province where we went specifically to see some old architecture and ended up being harassed by a group of Foreign Affairs Bureau scum who made the trip over from Yihuang, the county seat, to "have tea" with us.

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By Evan

First and foremost, I’d like to wish everybody who cares a Merry Christmas. As I write this post on December 25th in the Sun Party cafe of Quzhou, I am physically surrounded by cheap Chinese renditions of Christmas paraphernalia and stereos blaring a strange holiday music mix of about ten songs on endless repeat, but as for the rest of the world outside the window, today remains just another day in a big, polluted, frantic urban mess. In a way I’m relieved that the commercial nightmare back home snuck up on us without my realizing it.

Back to the blog, here goes a review of our activities since last I updated. Before leaving Jingning, I stumbled across a She clothing shop all done up in quasi-traditional wooden motifs outside and was culturally compelled to enter. In the store the two young She girls working the floor explained to me that the She people’s traditional symbol is the phoenix, and let me tell you, they put it on everything. The shop, they told me, is one of a very few in the whole world that produces traditional She wardrobes (most She now dress the same as their Han counterparts, i.e. neo-modern tacky for youth or standard black LBX garb for the older generation). Apparently they even sell some outfits to overseas Chinese restaurants as uniforms — cool. Upon request, I got a tour of the upstairs workroom, where I had a funny conversation with the head seamstress. “The phoenix is the symbol of us, the She people. (凤凰是我们畲族的吉祥物),” she told me. Oh, you’re a She as well, I asked. “Well, no, but I know a lot about that sort of thing.” Oh you silly poser Han! At the end, I wanted to pick up one of their really cool shirts, but realizing it impractical to lug around for the rest of the year, I compromised and had a phoenix sewed onto my Under Armor shirt — now equally sweat-wicking and auspicious! (more…)

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What a difference 39 km can make! After the police hijinks in Wen’an we made southward into deep Hebei determined to stay on the country side of things. The dirty hotel room we found in Liugezhuang (留各庄) for 30 yuan (~$4) was across a dirty courtyard from the hotel’s banquet facility / restaurant (mind you, the best restaurant / banquet facility in town, which isn’t saying much), where during our dinner a terribly drunk middle aged LBX man (they don’t need an excuse to be drunk, but on this particular night there was a wedding party going on) barged in to drink with us. In between strange nonsensical outbursts, he repeatedly told us, “I’m a policeman!; I go for training to Beijing all the time!; My family has connections and are in power!; This is my son! (as his son burst in); My son is in power with the government! This is my son! (he was afraid we might forget)” and so on. Basically you should imagine being in backwoods, Massachusetts and being told by a flamboyant drunken asshole, “I’m a Kennedy! I got put in power because of my family! My son has political pull and a hefty paycheck because of our family connections!”  After his son dragged him away embarrassed, and we left the restaurant, we were again forced into drunken conversation with two more elder male members of the family, primarily surnamed Gao, one the head of a local insulation enterprise (more on that later) and the other a government official. They both regaled us with stories of how successful or powerful the other was (a favorite face-giving game) before insisting we meet them at noon for lunch the next day in the courtyard. My point is that in Wen’an the police are terrorizing unsuspecting locals because of connections to us, and in the other they’re sitting us down over beers letting us know how great they are. (more…)

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After attempting in vain to resolve the situation between the hotelier and police in Wen’an, we begrudgingly set off on the road south out of town for another late start. Power and politics in China has a way of making you feel completely helpless, and it cultivates a natural instinct for self preservation and nourishes it until it becomes a way of life. This often means that a car accident victim will lie on the ground, bleeding from the head, while a crowds will simply look on. It is tempting to identify the phenomenon as part of Chinese culture, but after observing it for some time, I now feel that it is much shallower than that. Rule of law is secondary to the power of people here, and the legal system is not developed enough in most places in China to ensure your own protection if you choose to help an injured person. If the police are involved and the injured is someone of means, you could be arbitrarily punished because they are looking for someone to blame quickly. If the injured is a commoner, a laobaixing, he likely doesn’t have the medical insurance to pay for his rehabilitation and is looking for someone to blame for the accident (the guilty party has probably already fled the scene), and I have heard of numerous cases of someone stepping in to take someone in dire need to the hospital only to be blamed for the accident later. “I was just trying to help!” is met with the response of “What business is it of yours to help this person? You don’t even know him!” by the authorities.

So it is with this background that I recommended from the beginning of our incident at the hotel to try to stay uninvolved. Morally, it is difficult to watch an innocent person suffer, but in the context of power and law in China, it is much safer to let events simply unfold around you.

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Today was quite the day, as Hebei is quite the place. After last night’s hour and a half local police fiasco at our cheap little hotel, we assumed the whole affair done and laughed it off as just another example of why we should avoid third-tier, middling cities. As we left the hotel this morning, and I got my deposit money back, the laobanniang (boss lady) gave us three apples for the road and said she admired both the courage it takes to be on such a journey and the way we talked to the police as it displayed how much we know about China and that we got out of the situation much better than any laobaixing could have. When I asked her name, she said, “please don’t put my name into anything you might write about your trip. We laobaixing have enough trouble.” (more…)

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Our Dongbei restauranteurs who had relocated to Bazhou, Hebei

Getting in shape is hard enough under any circumstances when one has been sitting in a desk job for two years without sufficient self motivation for a regular exercise routine. Getting in shape while breathing the air in Hebei province is an altogether different beast.

China has a severe desertification problem brought on by decades of equally severe deforestation. It is most evident in places like Inner Mongolia where lush grasslands have turned to sand dunes. In Beijing it can be felt in unbearably dry skin, heard in hacking coughs and seen in the sandstorms that blow in from the northeast in the spring. In Hebei there is simply dust everywhere. It covers the trees and grass, casting them in dull hues as if they are seen through a dense fog, and it covers the roads, which is what concerns us most. We spent much of our 75km ride today sucking dust as we rode alongside massive cargo trucks carrying who-knows-what toward Tianjin. The challenge was coupled with the already unbearable Hebei air, palpable in its polluted grayness from brick kilns, cement factories and other heavy industries.

After a late start, we left Gu’an for a town called Bazhou where we had lunch with a welcoming mother-son team running a hole-in-the-wall restaurant and hotel. The family had migrated from Heilongjiang province in China’s northeast 18 years ago for the father’s job. What we found interesting was that they had switched their hukou from their town in Heilongjiang to Bazhou in Hebei — basically an indication that they would never be going back. They were able to secure the hukou with a 2,000 yuan (approximately $300) processing fee per person and the purchase of a house. They had no idea what the processing fee would be today, but estimated that it would be much higher and that they likely would be unable to obtain the hukou at all. When we asked why (after all, China is more open and relaxed now than in the years directly after 1989, right?) they told us that people from the northeast are no longer allowed to get hukou here as they are viewed as hooligans and troublemakersby the locals .

From Bazhou we sucked dust for another 40km to a shitty city called Wen’an — a total misnomer, really, as it means “cultured and peaceful.” Evan has written more about our experience here in his post, so I won’t repeat, but I will say that I can’t wait for October 2 to roll around when I presume that the government will stop making local police so damn nervous that they overreact and treat a bunch of stupid bikers like terrorism suspects.

One good thing on our way from Bazhou to Wen’an was that we took our first “provincial road,” that is, a very local road running usually through rural areas. These are indicated on our map by tiny gray lines that often dead-end in this or that village, and these are the roads on which we will spend the majority of our time on this trip if all goes according to plan.

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Today marked our second day in Hebei and plenty of lessons learned. The first lesson we learned was that it is now officially corn season in Hebei. Other than the thousands of Chinese everywhere, the traces of giant industry, the very young forests of perfectly grid-patterned trees in between the industrial and urban centers, and the Arabic signs of Muslim Chinese enclaves, it’s hard to differentiate this place from Nebraska. Ok, so it’s not the Midwest, but there is a ton of corn everywhere – being shucked by families in front of their establishments, or already de-cobbed and drying along the side of the highway for miles and miles (see picture). Even a tax bureau had drying corn out front. I wonder if they’re using it for animals mostly or if here, as in the US, they are selling it to food companies to be put into all their packaged foods. This will need to be asked soon.

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