Travel

One last post to mention the foot massages we had last night… Someone is sending me pictures because you would never believe the experience we had.

We arrived at the massage studio around 2am for a 90-minute massage EVENT that included 9 masseurs, tea, wine (by our request), hammers and fire. And a free pair of silk socks. For $17 USD.

Afterward my whole body felt like marshmallows… I floated into a cab and into bed just after 4am.

Exactly 12 hours til takeoff.

Since Wednesday was my night “off” from USA House, I was able to go to bed at a reasonable hour and sleep soundly through the night. I’ve found that when I turn my “air con” unit on in the bedroom, I tend to sleep in later. Otherwise, the heat wakes me up around 6am. I turned the air con unit on HIGH.

I woke up around 9:30am and left the apartment for a 10am yoga class. When I got outside I realized it was pouring rain. That’s one of the things that is sometimes hard to identify from inside the apartment. The sky is normally the color of rain, so I’ve forgotten to assume that gray could mean precipitation.

And it was pouring rain. Cats and dogs, as they say. The roads here don’t drain well, and you’re quickly left with dozens of small lakes and rivers running through the streets of Beijing. Some of the sidewalks are dangerously slippery – I’m not sure if it’s because of pollution on the roadways or if it’s the type of stone. Either way, it makes travel by foot a little bit of an acrobatic feat.

After yoga it was still raining very hard, so I decided to stop in the spa next door that had been highly recommended by both locals and USOC staff. Unfortunately, they were booked for the afternoon (I think that’s what she said, anyway). So, I started to walk back to my apartment complex. A few folks in the building found a spa in our complex and had very good experiences getting foot and full body massages.

I wish I shared their experience! Beware of masseuse #005!

I’m not sure what I “ordered” from the spa menu, but I picked the one that seemed reasonably priced and included a back massage. For the equivalent of $20 USD, I ended up being there for two hours – getting a one-hour foot massage and a one-hour massage.

I’d heard that foot massages can be uncomfortable, so I wasn’t too concerned. It was occasionally painful and I tried to let the masseuse know “OK” or “No OK.” But then I realized that he understood the two phrases to mean the same thing: absolutely nothing.

It was the back and shoulder massage that almost killed me. Number 005 pulled my legs backward and away from the rest of my body so far that I’m certain I’ve grown a few inches. (Man, I was thankful that I had just come from a yoga class.) Then he pressed on my body so hard that I kept getting the wind knocked out of me. I’m amazed that I wasn’t broken into two, although it’s very possible that I have internal bleeding somewhere.

I don’t know why I endure experiences like that. Why don’t I just sit up and say STOP? Maybe it’s because I don’t know that word. Or maybe I’m too afraid to leave barefoot and in the little pink robe they’ve given me. Really though, I live just across the street. Worst case, I’d have wet feet and a few Chinese people who think I’m crazy. I could return the little massage outfit tomorrow if I wanted to.

But, I stay.

And at the end, I even tipped the dang guy. I don’t know why. Maybe I was just thankful to be alive.

So, now I am sitting at Club Sandwich – not to be confused with Club Bud. Club Sandwich is a little cafe behind our apartment complex and, unlike Club Bud, if you want something other than a sandwich, the people here are perfectly fine with that. I’m having the pita.

The shop seems to attract more expats than locals. Probably because it’s one of the only places in town to get a cold sandwich if you’re craving one.

The lights are on low, and there’s a mix of couches and tables. And free wireless Internet. They also serve beer, and I noticed that they recently added Dead Guy Ale to their menu, which I think is brewed in Oregon.

Print of Huang Kai's HuTong Series Woodcut

The walls are a combination of white brick and heavy plaster. They have prints of Chinese artwork on the walls and a surfing drawing that I think my brother would like. Actually, I’m really terrible at guessing what he likes and dislikes. So, maybe I like it because it reminds me of him.

The music here has been a combination of US and European artists. I just heard songs from Cake and U2, and if I stay here for very long I might forget that I’m in Beijing.

My plan is to stay here for a bit and get caught up on some work. It’s very relaxing, and I have a few more hours before heading into USA House for the night shift. We’re expecting a busy night with Women’s soccer playing just next door to our venue.

So, I’m soaking in the quiet and the “alone time.”

I have to admit that I’m starting to feel more relaxed and “limp” than I did before my massage. Maybe it was more productive than I thought. Or maybe this is the body’s natural reaction to a near-death experience.

Tonight I went to Factory 798, also known as the Dashanzi Art District. The Chinese also refer to the location as “Originality Square.”

It’s called Factory 798 because the grounds used to operate as a factory, but now hold dozens of contemporary art galleries. It’s an atmosphere unlike anything else in Beijing – a little gritty and a little European feeling (or, what I imagine parts of Europe might feel like) – with lots of little studios and coffee bars and cafes. Remnants of the factory still remain.

It’s an odd little place – which I loved. The art galleries were mostly contemporary. And the streets were lined with huge statues and the first instance of “graffiti” that I’ve seen in China. Although it really probably wasn’t graffiti – it all seemed pretty perfectly planned out. Photos of the district are on Flickr here.

Factory 798 is also the location of Swiss House, which I briefly visited. Sadly, the chocolatier was not available so they didn’t have any samples. They did have Swiss army knives though. Not exactly as fulfilling. You can listen to the sound of Switzerland – in Beijing – on Flickr here.

Driving down the lit-up Ghost Street in a haul-ass taxi.

Most of the galleries close at 7pm, so from there I met a volunteer couple for dinner. We went to a Chinese restaurant around Ghost Street – where the restaurants and streets all glow by lantern light and traditional Chinese decorations

We weren’t sure that we were in the right place – we exited our cab and the driver motioned for us to go down a dark alley. We went.

Sue almost didn’t, but we convinced her… Past a dry cleaners. Past a traditional hutong residence. Stopped at a single red lantern. Turned left. And found Dali Courtyard – the most darling little oasis in Beijing.

It looked like a stack of cinder blocks from the outside, but inside it was an open air dining room under a nearly full moon and white Christmas lights.

The menu was set, so there were no decisions to be made. And they just kept bringing us plates and plates of food – beans, tofu, vegetables, chicken, shrimp, fish, fruit, wine, and a few things that I cannot discern (and probably don’t want to). I wish I’d taken photos, but I really didn’t want to ruin the atmosphere.

We had an easy time finding a cab home – although we’d all forgotten our handy “cheat sheets” with our apartment address and directions written in Mandarin. After nearly a month in China, I was able to pronounce the nearest subway station – Dong Si Shi Tiaou – clearly enough that our driver understood. I was a little proud.

So, here we are… Another night in Beijing comes to a close. And only four more to go!

I was very careful about my Internet use after buying 40 hours at the bank. If I wasn’t on the computer, I physically removed the Ethernet cable so I couldn’t forget and walk away with my email connected or a web browser open.

But, about 15-20 hours into it (by my count), the tap ran dry again. I’m definitely not sure how this works – whether those 40 hours are on a timer that starts when you pay, or if it’s for 40 hours of actual Internet use. I don’t speak enough Chinese and the woman at the bank doesn’t speak enough English to really figure it out. We tried…

Moving forward, I’m told that I can check my hours online. Just go to www.bj.cnc.cn.

No problem.

So, I can’t remember if I told you about my suitcases…

Well, shortly after I arrived I unpacked my bags and found “Chinese vacation homes” for all of my belongings. I was lucky to have closet space and built-in cubby holes above a desk, so everything had a place to go.

See, I’m not the type of person who can live out of boxes or suitcases or a van or something. Whenever I move, I always have everything unpacked and put away within 24 hours. Pictures on the wall and everything. I can’t sleep otherwise; I get this awful twitch that keeps the cat up.

So, when I was done I put my two suitcases into the hallway closet – so I wouldn’t break out in hives from looking at them – and I shut the door. And as the door closed and latched, the handle just kept on coming until I was standing there with it in my hand.

I call this shot "Door without handle holding luggage hostage".

And with a closet door that wouldn’t open.

Lovely.

I was actually very calm about it. I figured that I had 25+ days to figure out how to rescue my bags – and I really didn’t need them until then. One of the bags wasn’t even mine, so who cared anyway, really? Worst case – I could go to the silk market and haggle for a fake designer suitcase before I left. My Mom couldn’t possibly be upset if I upgraded her suitcase to a Coach luggage piece. Right?

Over the last two weeks if there was a dull moment in the apartment, I would try a few MacGyver tricks. Butter knife. Tweezers. Hair pin. Straw. Clothes pin. Shoelace. Whatever.

Nothing worked.

Then the building superintendent came through the apartment to show a prospective renter. I wasn’t here, but my roommate showed him the door and he tried to help. Whatever he stuck in the door didn’t work either, but it did knock the other half of the handle onto the floor INSIDE the closet. Which made the door really stuck shut.

No problem. Still almost two weeks to figure it out…

And then yesterday I was in the kitchen washing dishes while my roommate told me about the Chinese Acrobat performance she went to on her night off. And all of a sudden I noticed something behind the refrigerator…

A window? A door? A hole?

I don’t what it is. And it’s really weird that it’s there.

But I started to size it up in my head and guess whether or not I could fit through it. If I could get myself up there, we could find out…

So we paused the Chinese acrobat conversation for an impromptu performance…

Up and over the refrigerator… sucked it in… climbed down the closet wall… prayed that I could get back out… And, viola!

I have suitcases again.

So, sorry Mom. You’ll just be getting a crappy T-shirt from China. No new luggage this trip.

Acrobat show that my roommate saw in Beijing.

Door handle on the floor INSIDE the closet.

Melissa Blevins - Chinese Acrobat