Sunday, September 30, 2007

Ian and Ray's Excellent Asian Adventure - Part 5

One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster
The bars are temples but the pearls ain't free...

I had been singing this song in my head since boarding the plane, but I had absolutely no idea how apropos it would be.
Until we actually arrived and lay witness.
As we came in early in the evening, the sun had just about set and we couldn’t make out much, other than it was reasonably hot, and insanely humid. Humid like I didn’t know humid could be. I was sure that humidity in fact maxed out at 100%, but that rule doesn’t seem to apply in Bangkok, I am convinced if you ran down the street you’d likely drown from the amount of moisture you’d wind up inhaling. Luckily it is bearable, because even at 140% or whatever it really is, the temperature seems to stay steady at around 28 to 30 degrees, not so bad. And truth be told I like the texture of this humidity, it has that nice tropical quality that’s hard to pin down; it feels somehow softer, more velvety and inviting than that crappy, smoggy, sticky stuff we get back home.
Or maybe that’s just the nature of this town.
One thing is screamingly apparent, although not big as Shanghai – at 20M people not much is – this place is pretty big and densely packed. The recorded population is only 6 million but the reality is known to be much higher, looking around I’d buy 10M plus any day. One thing’s for sure, the traffic here is retarded. No matter where we go or what hour it is, there’s a jam somewhere. But enough whining, on with our story.
Our hotel this time is the Oakwood Suites, one of a world-wide chain of lodgings that offers everything from standard short term rooms to long term apartments. We each wind up with our own 3 1/2 with full kitchen, dinning/living room, good size bedroom and a big balcony overlooking downtown Bangkok off in the distance. The building is huge, with 5 diffrent towers surrounding a gorgeous central garden / bar / pool complex. The only problem is getting to the room, which nearly requires a map. Two seperate elevator rides, connections through indoor and outdoor passageways, the only thing missing is a portage. More than once I wind up in the garage.
We are fortunate enough to once again have two excellent hosts / guides for this leg, our sales rep, Lee Ming, and one of the factory’s administrators, Patra. Once again nothing seems to be too much trouble, the entire time we are in their company they seem eager to make sure we’re looked after and are enjoying the experience. Since we already know Lee Ming quite well, and she being all too familiar with Ray and his habits, she immediately takes over from Mike in the let’s-terrorize-the-out-of-sorts-Irishman department, and Patra being extremely sharp is quick to get in on the act. I just sit back and enjoy. I mean the guy asks for it, he really is the perfect victim. But I must say I respect the fact that he is the first to admit it. And hey, how dumb is he, really? He’s the one with the two cute chicks fawning over him…
First stop after settling into our hotel is dinner, where we are taken out to a local steak house as once again the reputation of Ray’s temperamental belly precedes him.
After some great grub we are on route to some sort of nightclub that girls describe as a “cabaret” with dance acts, etc. Hmmm, the last time we went down that road here things were interesting, to say the least, but there was nothing to prepare us for this place. Bangkok is of course world famous for many things that, um, you won’t exactly see on the Travel Channel, so my Situational Awareness Radar is immediately set to high.
From the outside it looked just like any other nice club we’ve been to, but immediately upon entering the main hall my eyes went saucer-wide. The place was HUGE. A giant dark hall, easily 10,000 sq ft or more with ceilings that had to be five or 6 stories up. And the scene… There are perimeter bars stationed all the way around the edges, a huge show stage at the front with a fashion-style catwalk extending straight out, and another high semi-circular catwalk that runs from the corner of the long back wall bar out to the center of the hall and back to the other corner. The music is blasting, the lights are flashing and there are many hundreds if not easily a thousand people in here partying like it’s the last days of their life. We are taken to a table where the balance of our kind hosts await and greet us like long lost children, and are then in turn introduced to our team of hostesses. Much like the Karaoke bar experience, you are assigned a team of girls to pour your drinks, play dice, dance with and generally see to it that you are entertained. I can’t help noticing that there are however at least 6 or 8 of them, so much is going on that I can’t be sure, but we are only 4 men in the group, so there is most definitely a surplus in the hostess-to-guy ratio. And they seem rather keen on outdoing one another to get our attention. Which isn’t terribly hard to do, as reputed, the Thai girls are stunning. Imagine the typical petite regional frame, but with Euro style fender flares and, um, lots more cubic displacement. They are like the Type-R of Asian women.
I struggle in how to describe the overall formula. The recipe seems to be: take equal parts FTV, dance club, rock concert and Playboy mansion party, put in blender and set to liquefy. Once again Ray looks over at me as if to say “uh, what’s the deal????”. I have no more answers than I did the first time.

One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble
Not much between despair and ecstasy

Just as we are trying to take this all in, the huge stage at the front comes alive, and announcements are made in rapid-fire Thai. I have no idea what is said, but the next thing we know the music is pumping again and a veritable Broadway-style cabaret show starts up with costumed guys and girls dancing all over to a musical number, glittery stuff flying in the air, lights all over the place. Just as suddenly as it started, it transforms into a fashion show and at least a hundred girls or more parade out in an endless variety of evening fashions. Once over, the regular DJ program returns, then groups of hostesses take turns getting up on the big semi-circular back catwalk and put on their own show, one that makes the Coyote Ugly girls gig look like a pre-schoolers’ review. Then back on the main stage a full-blown pop concert breaks out with a surprising talented band and, of course, go-go dancers…

One night in Bangkok and the tough guys tumble
Can't be too careful with your company
I can feel the devil walking next to me

Murray sure got that part right.
I still can’t believe I’m seeing all this in one place. Ultimately we just go with the flow, dance, drink, play dice and enjoy the scene. And yes, I did use “we” and “dance” in the same sentence, meaning I personally witnessed something I imagined not possible, Mr. O’Regan grinding it out to Black Eyed Peas. Had there been a fax handy I'd have issued a press release.
Along the way I have one of the coolest experiences of the trip – as if this place alone didn’t define cool experiences – I meet a fellow from Singapore who seems to know our hosts quite well and soon we are all exchanging shots. I learn that he works for Audi, and is on his way back to Singapore from the head office in Germany, just back from the model introduction of the new S5. Cool! We start blabbing about – what else - our cars…
“I have an old B5 gen A4 Quattro” I say.
“Me too! 1.8T” he says.
“Me too, man! I switched up to the K04 turbo, much quicker” I say.
“No way, me too! Let me guess" says he, "you have APR 2.5 inch exhaust and downpipe?”
“YEAH! You too?”
“YEAH! MTM chip too” he says.
Mine is Neuspeed, but it’s all good. Big grins and high fives ensue. How freaky is this?
We exchange more shots, high fives and compare more notes on the place, the girls, the new S5 as well as the rest of our collective universe. It’s like I’ve known this guy for years. I knew I would meet cool people over here, but I am blown away by the fact I have an Asian twin brother. Afterwards in the sudden stark tranquility of the hotel room, I sit staring out the window at the city lights and wonder how many people from vastly different cultures might have similar experiences if only they had the chance to get out a little more. And how many might then think twice before making crude comments or ignorant assumptions. It proves one thing to me that I've suspected all along, though. We are almost certainly all more alike than we imagine, and with the blistering speed of modern communication continue to become more so each day. If more people would take a minute to realize this, there might one day be hope for our tormented little blue ball in space.
Or maybe we just need to get all those uptight megalomaniacs in charge of world politics out to this club for one night...
Daybreak arrives, and I am feeling the pain. Not so much from the partying, but the lack of steady, quality sleep, and the intense speed with which we are doing things. I am living solely for the fact that we actually have no official plans tomorrow, something that hasn’t happened for us in nearly two weeks. We proceed with our plant visit, and despite my weary state I am awed. This one is long, very thorough and highly impressive, the highlight of the business side of our trip.
Once done, we take a late lunch out in the countryside in the most remote restaurant to date. Lee Ming is very curious to see how Ray will stand up to genuine Thai cooking, I am excited just to finally get the real deal, no poofy, westernized-for-your-protection stuff here. The food is a variety of traditional Thai stuff, with the main course being BBQ’d prawns, essentially giant shrimp about 6 – 7 inches long cooked whole. They’re pretty ugly with their beady little eyes and millipede-like legs, but tasty, especially when dunked in the excellent spicy sauce. Ray does OK, actually trying most of the stuff that comes around. About the time we finish it clouds over and starts to rain. And I don’t mean rain like we get at home. I mean the sky just opens up and lets rip, a veritable Monsoon style rain. The individual drops look like they would each fill a shot glass. We run to get into the car and in the 5 or 6 seconds required to do so our clothes are completely soaked through; water drips all over the interior of Patra’s Accord.
The ride back to the hotel is uneventful; save for the last hour it takes us to go 5 kilometers or so. Traffic here truly is intense. What’s interesting though is they seem to be doing something about it, there are whole new sections of elevated rail lines and expressways being built all over the place, and just like Shanghai building construction is everywhere. Later that night when we head out to dinner we see hundreds of workers welding, sawing and hammering away at a huge office tower site, lights blazing away. Progress is everywhere, and many folks here wonder why we aren’t on the same page. We tell them we don’t have the money to fix our existing busted up and tired infrastructure, let alone build stuff on a scale like this. Sad.
Dinner was Italian this time. I know, we’re in Thailand, but why not? I suspect Lee Ming is rewarding Ray for surviving the mutant prawns. The food is excellent; I have veal pamigianna that is as good as anything at home. Do these people do anything poorly??
We eventually head back to the hotel for one of the trip’s few extended sleeps.
Praise Budha.
Saturday we are picked up at the reasonable hour of 11:00 and the girls take us on the tour of the town. I don’t care where we go, ‘long as I can switch my brain off for a while. Now being an official card-carrying member of the Hog fray, Ray wants to go see the Harley dealer – yes, you read that right, there is a Harley dealer in Bangkok. I tell you, you can get anything in this town. Still kind of amazing, really though, because I’ve been watching for a day and a half and have yet to see anything bigger than a 150cc bike here.

We show the map to Patra, who is a great driver, speedy and smooth, my favorite combo, but self-admittedly not the best in navigating the vast city. Hard to fault her for it, the place is only 3 times the size of Montreal. Probably bigger. She says she can find the neighborhood, then drive around ‘till we locate it. Fine by us, we get to see the local scene at the same time. Low and behold, after a few false starts we find it. It is to say the least strange to actually be standing in front of a Harley dealer in Thailand, especially in light of the fact that we’ve seen but one on the road, and that was a couple of hundred yards down the street. It’s small but actually quite nice inside, with a full selection of accessories, the real HD ones being astronomically expensive, but whaddya expect? We’re not exactly in Kansas, Toto. We check out the service bay, it’s packed with one of every description of Milwaukee’s finest. I'm amazed how busy they are! But then how cool is it to be riding a hog down the streets of Bangkok?
Feeling 2-wheeled homesickness coming over me, I ask the parts guy if there’s a Duc store in town, and sure enough there is. He gives Patra the instructions on how to get there and we are off and running again. The traffic is slightly better, what with it being Saturday and all, but it’s still thicker in places than you’d ever see it at home on the weekend. Part of the problem is the traffic light system; some of them stay red for 3 minutes! So things move along slinky-style, stop, wait wait wait, then fly for a stretch, repeat. The good news is people are way more courteous, they move quickly but we witness only a handful of kamikaze style maneuvers the likes of which happened several times a minute in China.
We somehow wind up at the Triumph dealer of all places (see what I mean? They go it all…) but they then set us straight, and we soon see the familiar red sign.
The showroom is microscopically small, I think about the same size as my apartment, maybe less. But it is beautiful floor-to-ceiling glass affair and contains a surprising array of models that are well in organized considering the small space, most numerous being several examples of the positively erotic 1098 S which sells for a cool $50K here. I guess if you have the cash to do an Italian bike in this town you can afford to go all the way.
After picking up the de rigueur souvenirs we hit our lunch stop, a delightful little place simply named Coffee Bean. Why I have no idea, as there’s absolutely no emphasis I can detect on beverages of a caffeinated nature. The place actually specializes in Thai Fusion which, contrary to my initial assumption, is not a method of generating nuclear energy from rice but an Asian hybrid variant of Thai food.
Although neither the place nor the food is particulary elaborate, the extensive menus have big photos and numbers identifying nearly every choice, and every selection we make is absolutely delicious. Plus they have giant screen TV's everywere playing Dexter's Laboratory. Ecclectic sorts that we are, it gets voted our favorite meal stop of the trip. Ray is once again proud of himself for pushing his personal limits of Asian food adventuring, I actually saw - wait for it – SPICY food on his plate. Well, not really spicy by Thai standards, but spicy nonetheless. The girls tell us the place is also famous for its deserts, and they’re not kidding; the place has a cake counter that gives Calories a run for the money. I settle for Brownie Cheesecake, which also wins the award for Most Rockin’ Dessert of this trip. I know, I know. I gave up on my near religious dedication to the Atkins thing from around the time we got on the first plane. Between all the airline meals and the local fare it’s pretty tough to get enough protein alone to survive on so I let loose a little. Believe me, that won’t last either, I’ve easily gained 6 or 7 pounds so far. Back to straight meat and veggies when that last Triple Seven touches down in the homeland…
At the end of the afternoon we are cut loose for a while and get picked up later for a dinner with our whole host crew. This time it’s a seafood place, one about the size of a Costco store and strangely that analogy applies in more ways than one. Certainly the volume and choice is there; along the back wall is a giant neon sign with their slogan, “If It Swims We Have It”. And they mean it.
After sitting down and getting your drinks, you go walk over with your group to what looks like a 300 ft. long grocery counter, where they stock every form of water bound creature imaginable. Squid, Alaskan crab, dozens of species of fish, lobster, the locally ubiquitous prawn, scallops… you get the idea. As you make your selection a hostess follows you around with a grocery cart, finally proceeding to the checkout where you pay. The waiter/waitress then comes over to the table with a tally of your purchases and you give instructions item-by-item as to how you want it cooked.
Really cool concept; you could come here hundreds of times and never have the same meal twice. Once again another great shcoff, I realize I have no idea what I’m going to do when I get home and go back to culinary reality. Once again we are indebted to our wonderful hosts, and head on our way to our last accompanied outing in Bangkok
One of the city’s favorite tourists destinations, the State Tower is at 64 floors one of the tallest buildings in Bangkok. Please insert more superlatives here. Really. OK, let’s start with the most beautiful terrace bars I’ve ever seen.
Yes, that’s right, plural. There is a large multi-level one on the 54th floor, the long translucent walkway surface that takes you outside glows an eerie blue in the darkness like something out of 2001 A Space Odyssey. Another is a circular design that’s part of the outdoor restaurant on the 64th; this one literally hangs out over the corner of the roof into space. The view at 10 o’clock at night, as you can well imagine, is absolutely spectacular. A warm breeze is blowing, I have a vodka on the rocks in my hand, and I’m high a top one of the world’s most exotic cities. Does it get any better?
Well, truth be told it would have been much nicer to have my girl with me,
whom I am beginning to seriously miss. I look around the place; it is wall-to-wall couples. I am jealous… I vow to someday return and bring her to this very spot. Ray, who normally delights in such situations as an opportunity to torture me about my wimpy romantic side, is thankfully busy stocking up on liquid courage so he can suck it up and venture over to the railing’s edge to impress the girls. He is not a big fan of heights, and anyone so prone would probably break out in hives simply at the idea of this place. When you walk out the door on the 64th floor you are actually on an large flat surface that leads out to a set of stairs taking you down to the main terrace. The effect initially is that you are about to float out into the skies above Bangkok; there is no visible barrier anywhere in sight.
Eventually, we get down and he works his way around the bar. I say it don’t count unless he hangs his arms out over the edge. He looks over, looks at the girls, looks down, and jams them out into space, flailing them a little for effect. I am suitably impressed. So are they.
On this note of triumph we head out, and once at the hotel say goodbye to Lee Ming and Patra who once again have given us the full visiting dignitary treatment. One could get use to this.
Sunday finds us on our own, our last day in Thailand. We originally talk about venturing out and seeing a little more, but the idea of just flaking out and actually resting is overwhelmingly powerful, so we do.
The day did start out in an interesting fashion though, as I rolled out of bed I looked down on the floor and in my pre-contact lens haze notice a small dark blob on the floor. It looks vaguely like a bit of Velcro strap or something, maybe from my laptop, so I go to pick it up… but getting closer it doesn’t look quite right. Still in a fog, I just reach down and give it a flick. It rolls over with a hard plasticky “click” as my fingernail smacks it. Hmmm, this is no piece of Velcro. I go clean up and put my lenses in, return, and having a closer, focused gander I realize it’s a bug. A roach, to be precise. And at two and a half long the biggest one I’ve ever seen. They must have them on high protein diets or something down here. He appears to be quite dead however, so I am not particularly alarmed. I decide he should be photographed for the record though, so I go to pick him up, and he flinches. Hmmm, not so dead. Well then, it appears I have a new pet. I name him Earl. He is now slowly coming alive, so before he gets too hyper I bring him over to the living room table and try to get him to pose, but Earl is having none of it. I try to explain that if he doesn’t behave it’ll be off to the Big Porcelain Whirlpool in the little room next door. He remains rebellious, so I shoot him lying on his back, then sadly it was off to the toidy. What was I to do? They say the first rule in disciplining roaches is following through with your threatened actions, so it had to be done. In any case, I knew I was leaving the next day, so I would be out before his gang sent out a military junta to get me. I debate whether or not to tell Ray about Earl, he seems to be really settling into the region, but finally I capitulate. Wrong choice. Ray is now going up to his room on an hourly basis for roach recon.
Sitting down by the pool bar typing, I observe the scene. The variety of people you see here is impressive, lots of Australians, Japanese, Europeans, Indians, a real mix of everybody from this side of the planet. It’s easy to understand why, it’s beautiful, the people are really friendly and relatively speaking, it’s cheap.
I chill, write a bit, teach the staff how to make Kalua milshakes, and soon enough the day is done. After a poolside dinner we are off to pack, as we have to be on our way to the airport before 6 a.m.
Time to bid Thailand goodbye.
The last leg is upon us...Hong Kong awaits.

Ian and Ray's Excellent Asian Adventure - Part 4

So sorry to have left you all hanging this long, but our schedule just seems to be getting more intense, not less. To wit, I started this in the plane 3 days ago and have only just finished tonight, and this won't even cover what we've seen in Bangkok (just wait!!!)...

Greetings once again, this time from 3?,??? ft over somewhere in mainland China.
We are currently about an hour into our flight to Bangkok, with a little over 3 more to go. Much more reasonable than the major schlep across the Pacific and North America, but things aren’t quite as good as we had them on that A340. Firstly our China Eastern A321 is most definitely configured for cattle car work, the seats are not too badly squashed front to back but they are noticeably tighter side-to-side. There is no in flight info, and of course my GPS system steadfastly refuses to pick up a single satellite, something about the windows on this bird I assume, so I’ve not a clue where we are save for drawing a line on the map and making an educated guess. This is too bad, because the weather is allowing us to see down to the ground, unlike the ultra hazy conditions around Shanghai. Well, what’s visible from my seat, anyway, as we are right over the wing. Crap.
I realize I’m starting to sound like a pain-in-the-ass spoiled western biz traveler; I should just shut up and try to enjoy the flight. But it ain’t easy. There are a LOT of kids on this one, most are good but we have at least half a dozen grade A howlers evenly dispersed around the cabin, thankfully the loudest – his volume dial most definitely goes to 11 – is way at the back. Seriously, for the first half hour it sounded like they were performing surgery on him with no anesthetic. Thankfully someone must have got out the tranquilizer gun, things have settled down… hmm, maybe not. Behind me now is a 3 year old who delights in playing slam-the-tray and kick-the-back-of-the-seat; charmingly his mother two seats over doesn’t seem to know he exists. The occasional Look-Of-Death over the back of my seat seems to chill him out pretty good though. Sometimes it’s handy to have a bit of Attila The Hun in your genealogy.
I am however completely charmed by the little fellow in front of me, he seemed very unhappy when we boarded about having to sit still on Mom’s lap, but a little game of peek-a-boo with the funny looking westerner seemed to put a smile on his face and we haven’t heard a peep since.

Time to reflect and report on our last day in Shanghai. The double plant visit went well, owing to the proximity of both to the city, and we actually got home quite a bit earlier than the day before. The ride to the second plant was quite a departure from our experiences thus far, our driver for this leg was so chilled I would question whether he actually a pulse. For the first time ever I paid absolutely no attention to the traffic around us, but Ray was getting visibly agitated… “This guy’s useless maaaannnn, look at how slow he’s goin’… He’s pluggin’ up the whole system, maaaannn!!!” (I should point out here that we have both picked up a distinctly California surf style dialect since spending a lot of time with Mike, lots of “mans” and “dudes”). He is well and truly annoyed that buddy isn’t picking up the pace and defending his lane position from the hundreds of intruders who continually barge in front of us. In the tranquility, I am completely spaced out (no comments from the peanut gallery out there, ‘kay?), still engrossed in my observations of what this place looks like and how it works, so I’m not immediately sure I understand the problem, but after watching for a moment I can see what he means, it now seems odd to be more than 3 ft away the car ahead, observing the speed limit, or any of the other rules for that matter.
We do however arrive alive, and after visit number two are now crawling our way back to the hotel. When we look back to see an endless line of traffic behind us in one of the tunnels I do fear Ray will burst a blood vessel. Luckily he keeps cool, and we get back to the hotel with something we’ve yet to experience… 2 hours of free time while the sun is still up. I toy with the idea of going for a stroll but figure I’m better off getting my plant visit report out of the way, so I won’t be typing at 3 am. Mike is taking us out again, so who knows what time we’ll be back.
We start with a visit to a local indoor market/shopping center that basically sells nothing but fake stuff, watches, purses, shoes, luggage, you name it. Now the concept of "fake" as we know it is actually debatable; we learn from some well informed locals that since the factories for the "real" products are actually in a lot cases right here, what they do just run an extra batch here and there and they shows up mysteriously at these street markets. How to tell what's what is beyond me. Well maybe the watches, which being mechanical devices I can at least kinda tell what's going on. But the soft goods? Fuhget about it.
As we walk in the door Mike feighns misery... "man, I can't believe I'm goin' in there with you two gringos... you guys are shark bait, man... you gonna get killed!"
What he really means is that we'll likely get mauled for being the only two Caucasians in the joint, they'll be coming out of the woodwork once they get the scent of North American cash.
Sure enough, we aren't two steps into the place and we're completely surrounded, actually being pulled into rooms by the shirt sleeves.
"Oh maaaaan, I knew it..." bemoans Mike, with a sly grin on his face.
We hadn't really planned on a stop here, as I was waiting for Hong Kong to address the chick shopping list I'd been saddled with long before leaving home. Note to self: in future, do not under ANY circumstances divulge any details about trips to Asia to those of a female persuasion in one's immediate circle. The resulting baggage overcharge alone could well exceed the cost of the trip...
The place itself is something to behold. Little tiny shops, nicely decorated and stocked, halogen lit, the whole thing, all seperated by little miniature hallways. Hundreds of them. Imagine Fairview or Carrefour Laval run through the Xerox machine set to 25%. Bizarre.
As we wander through wondering what the hell to look at or buy, Ray gets a taste for some of the watches and starts looking at fake Rolexes. I am amazed at how good they look, at first glance it would be real tough to tell them apart. They even have the scratch proof face, as many a vendor is proud to demonstrate by going at them with various steel implements.
And the pricing... Barganing here is done on a ferocious level, at least as nasty as a Turkish carpet bazaar, perhaps worse. Starting price for the watch Ray wants is 500 RMB, or about $75. Lots of haggling ensues, and the old classic rule still applies, if you want to find out the bottom line, head for the door. In this case it drops to 200 RMB, or about $30. I am amazed to think that this would even cover the cost of the materials.
As we travel around checking out other shops it's the same drill, and what's even funnier is that they're all in cahoots, the minute you want a model they don't have, someone bolts out the door and reappears an instant later with the exact selection you just looked at ten shops ago. Hmmm.
And these are always "Best quality! Best quality". We can only conclude somehow they believe the molecules inside the watch magically become better aligned in the sprint down the hall. Finally Ray blows a gasket... "Look, enough already. How about showing me your worst quality instead?..."
This throws them for a loop. But resourceful folk that they are, they sprint across the hall, disappear behind a secret opening in one of the walls, and reappear with a whole new selection we've not seen before, in an expensive looking Samsonite case, which is no doubt no more genuine than the watches it contains. "You know" says Ray "I think the whole building is fake. Check the walls". After examining the new batch - which incidently was double the price, but at this level who the hell cares? - he gives up in disgust. "Can't do man... can't be That Guy".
He's right, no matter how good the fake, wearing an imitation Rolex is just too cheesy to deal with. I on the other hand find a couple of good items to strike off my list, so at least something productive came from the excersise.
Time to dine.
Tonight venue - wait for it - an actual, honest-to-goodness real Chinese restaurant. Will wonders never cease? Ray once again looks apprehensive about the possibilities of being served live monkey brains, but I’m no longer buying it; if we’ve made it this far there ain’t much that’s going to phase him anymore. To wit: when we nearly hit a dog on the back roads coming home I look over and without missing a beat Ray quips “wouldn’t have been a great loss. It’s probably what’s for dinner tonight anyway”.
The restaurant is top notch, I wish I had brought my camera out more in the evenings as I’m getting sick of laying on the superlatives to illustrate these places, but damn it was impressive. We had our own beautifully decorated private room with a giant flat screen TV no less, and the food as usual is fabulous.
It is a long process, and by the end Ray’s low battery light comes on; he opts to go back to the hotel, Mike, his friend David and I will soldier on to tonight’s entertainment, a visit to a Japanese style spa house. Once again, big, imposing, impressive, gorgeously decorated, you get the idea, right?
But it really is. The concept is interesting; it’s like a giant family relaxation center where you have your choice of different themed floors and activities; showers, saunas, massages, game rooms, TV rooms with big electric Barcoloungers - where I personally went sound asleep after the warmest sauna I’ve experienced in a while.
I understand why Mike says you could spend the whole day in here.
After a reasonable night’s sleep (thank God for afternoon departures) we are off to the airport. Mike and David were once again at our service, this time showing up with an Asian market Honda Odyssey, which looks like a radically chopped and sectioned version of the much more utilitarian version we have at home. Man is this thing cool!
They had originally planned to take us straight to the airport, but I had asked if they could drop us at the MagLev train station, a little closer for them, and a wicked cool opportunity for us.
If you’ve never heard of it, the Shanghai MagLev is far and away the world’s highest tech and fastest operational train.
I had heard there was something like this here, but forgot to investigate it in any detail before we left. No worries, it announced itself in short order upon our arrival. As we were driving down the expressway on the way to our hotel, Mike at one point casually says “hey man, here comes that high speed airport train”. I had noticed that there was a set of strangely configured elevated tracks following alongside and over the highway, but looking up now, I saw nothing.
KAABBLLAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMM!!!!
I nearly jump out of my skin as the thing explodes past right over our heads. There was no chance of seeing it, by the time I had reacted and turned around it was long, long gone.
God almighty, how fast is this thing??
Ready?...
It goes 431.
Yes, you read that right.
Four-hundred-and-thirty-one kilometers per hour.
268 mph, if you prefer.
Don’t believe me? Have a look for yourself:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shanghai_Maglev_Train

I knew at that point we just HAD to try it. I was about ready to go downtown right then and there just to do it round trip to the airport and back. But Mike was perfectly happy to drop us there for our return on departure day.

Getting on is just like any other train, buy your ticket (about $7 or so), wait on the platform and just grab the next one, they arrive every 15 minutes or so.
They do actually x-ray your bags as you go through the turn style, but other than that you wouldn’t guess you’re about to travel faster along the ground than but a small handful of human beings who have set land speed records.

It takes off very gently, being a maglev there is virtually no contact with the track; the train floats on an electro-magnetic field, resulting in the eeriest, smoothest ride imaginable. No clicks, no clunks, no squeaks. Just a faint hum and steady, gentle push in the back.
The cabin is very nice inside with huge picture windows and airline quality seats.
There is also a digital speedometer at the front of each car, and we made sure to park ourselves right there to be able to photograph it.
At first it’s quite disappointing, a metro ride is more thrilling, but as we were told it’s quite deceiving. When it finally feels like we’re starting to move, we look up at the speedo, we’re passing through 130. Hmmm.
Now things are starting to happen. Seconds later 200.
230.
260.
300.
Holy crap, stuff is really starting to fly by.
330.
350… the acceleration hasn’t backed off one iota. Jesus, we’re gonna go into orbit.
380.
390.
400!!
We’ve now gone well past the speeds attainable by any other ground-bound machine that comes out of a factory.
420.

425.
430!!!!
It actually does it.
Looking at the reading, there seems little difference from when we were parked in the station. Turn your head to look outside, though, and it’s a world gone mad.
The cement barrier beside the track goes by so fast you eyes cannot register what the surface looks like, nor possibly resolve individual markings or items that may lie on it. Looking farther down the track things seem a little more normal, but still come at you in one hell of a hurry. The worst is looking straight out, perpendicular to our direction of travel, at houses and buildings nearby. You are tricked into thinking that this is really just a movie screen and they’ve sped up the film. The video I shoot looks even crazier, something surely must be wrong with the playback. Ray and I laugh like idiots.
Almost as soon as it tops out it leans into a gentle curve and starts decelerating, but braking from this speed is no easy task, I remember watching a show on the French TGV, which with the governor switched off can actually hit these speeds, but the conventional friction braking system on it required thirty kilometers to stop it from that speed. Not terribly practical.
The MagLev, however, brakes just as smoothly as it accelerates, simply by reversing the current in the track surface that normally pushes it forward. No heat, no fuss.
We have covered the 30 kilometers from the Pudong station to the airport in a little over 7 minutes, something that can normally take an hour or more in Shanghai traffic.
Unreal.
And it's all technology from ze fahzerlandt. Comforting to know that the Germans are still the world's top speed freaks, but strange to realize that the Chinese are the only ones with enough coin to build the thing. Too bad. I mean, how cool would it be to have one of these that goes to Toronto?

Once back at the airport, I am saddened that Phase One of our trip is over. Although we have learned an enormous amount about the inner working of our industry, I have the overwhelming feeling that we have but scratched the surfaced of what really makes this vast nation tick. I try to balance this with the fact that we will at least have one last chance to catch a look at the areas of China outside of Hong Kong, from where we will re-enter in 4 days to visit another factory. And of course it doesn't hurt that we are on our way to a whole new world of wonders in Bangkok.
How does that Murray Head song go again?



Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Ian and Ray's Excellent Asian Adventure - Part 3

Visited our second factory today, this one a long ride away to the city of Nantong.
As the crow flies it’s not all that far from Shanghai, but the problem is a little creek called the Yangtze lying in the way. There is as yet no direct way to drive over to the north side, a ferry ride is the only method and that adds a good hour to hour and a half each way with the wait to load factored in. With that and the rush hour traffic leaving Shanghai in the equation, it took us no less than 4 hours to get to there in the morning. Going back we were able to use a priority access lane lane to the ferry, so that cut it down to 3.5 hours. Still, 7.5 hours of China-style stunt driving in a Buick mini van gets old quickly.

On this journey we at least got to see a little bit of the countryside, and in a few ways it looks a bit more like what I pictured mainland China to be. I actually spotted some farmers out in field
with the trademark big triangular hats, a variety of those ubiquitous three-wheeled single-cylinder tractor-like hauling things, and even a couple of pagodas.
But other than a few like observations, this part of the country still resembles ours in more ways than it differs; the highway portion from Shanghai to the Yangtze could have been interchanged with many a section of the 401 between Kingston and Montreal and no one would have been much the wiser. Highlight of the outbound leg: our driver actually got busted by the cops. We were just slowing down to enter the ferry lineup when we were waved over into a parking lane, and the next thing we know our man is hauled off to face the music. He returns to tell us that he has received a speeding fine, but we are more than a little mystified as to exactly how they clocked him. The journey home provides the answer; Ray spots a camera unit on the approach road that must have snapped us. The fine is a whopping 50 RMB, or about $7. One more thing to love about this place…
The ferry ride is nearly as interesting. First off, I can't believe (you know I'm gettin' sick of saying that but dammit it's true, I really can't believe...) that we're about to cross the Yangtze river. That name has sounded about as far away and exotic to me as imaginable ever since I was old enough to read my grandfather's National Geographics, and here I am staring at its gaping green vastness. After an interminable wait we finally make it onto a boat, of which there are no less than three loading or unloading at the
immense ramp at any time. I thought we were in for a least a small break from the wild Chinese road ride, but the boat drivers are absolutely no better, and there is more traffic in a day on the vast expanse of this river than St. Lawrence likely sees in a month. Several times we bear down on like size vessels, clearing their sterns at the last minute with but about 50 feet to spare. Meanwhile it occurs to me that every major shipping disaster I've heard of in the last twenty years involved, um, ferries.
Where's that other shore?
Eventually we reach terra firma again and proceed on our way.
I should mention the cars themselves prove an interesting mix. I had known for sometime that the VW Passat outnumbered anything else here simply because VW was the first to embark on a joint automotive production venture with the Chinese. At one point they actually represented 90% of the cars on the road, but owing to the explosion of the middle class here in the last 15 years there is now a remarkable variety of machinery to be seen. GM seems to be running a close second place, they apparently sell a ton of Buicks sedans as well as a Buick-badged version of the Chevy Uplander, which is in fact what we're riding in as I write this. Apparently it’s the most profitable division GM has in the world at the moment, and judging by the number of them we see I’ve no reason to doubt that.
After that there’s a mish-mash of stuff from all the Japanese and Korean majors, and quite a few Chinese-grown things too, mostly rip-offs of Japanese designs (go figure), including a really convincing Corolla clone. Being that privately owned cars are a relatively new phenomenon here they all look to be in really good shape. This would be in stark contrast to the trucks, which for the most part seem to be from the Stalin era, and run about that well too. It’s not unusual to come screaming up an overpass only to find yourself staring at the ass end of one these things spewing toxic waste while struggling to crest the top at 30 or 40 km/h. Like one needed more excitement… but this road trip also provides some of our hairiest driving experiences to date.
The smaller city roads that connect the Yangtze river ferry and the main highway to Shanghai are jammed with all manner of two, three and four wheeled devices constantly fighting for space and often turning two lanes into six. These people play a game of chicken with oncoming traffic that has no equal in the western world. We try to photograph it but it doesn’t do it justice. I finally light up and switch my camera to video mode and capture a few truly excellent moments, punctuated perfectly with Ray's howls of delight and profanity at the amazingly close calls happening but mere feet from our front bumper. I thought the chase scenes in Ronin were good... they got nothin’ on a typical day in back road China.

The three wheelers seem to a rural phenomenon, but the most populous creatures by far are of the two-wheeled variety, there are quite literally millions of scooters
and bicycles on the roads of Shanghai alone, and they are braver/crazier than any of their four-wheeled competition. We are constantly amazed by how far out in the lanes they ride, how close they cut it when crossing intersections, you name it. At one point we passed two women riding along a good six feet from the road's edge on a main highway, blabbing away to each other, not a care in the world, cars blowing by them with not inches to spare. They never looked behind, never even flinched. Unreal. Still, at four days in we have yet to see an accident, and have seen only one car that even had a dent. It's almost like some carefully orchestrated ballet that we just don’t get.

Our good friend Mike tries to entice us out once again this evening but there's no way, we are wiped from our wild ride and have two different factories to visit tomorrow. As a result we decide we want to keep things simple for dinner and hit the Rotten Ronnie's about 2 kms down the road from the hotel. We could have walked, but we elect to grab a cab and so ask the greeting girl from the front door to explain our destination to the cab driver. She's not sure what we mean (I suspect she was hired more for looks than English comprehension, a phenomenon frequently observed here) so she hauls out the concierge and he has a go at it.
We sit down in the back seat while he and the driver start debating the whole matter. The concierge translates bits as the fight escalates... driver claims to not know where it is, the concierge thinks he's moron, we think he just can't be bothered with a 2 km fare... At this point the junior concierge breaks in on the deal and announces that he has Mickey's phone number and can get the stuff delivered. Huh? McDonald's delivers? Anything seems possible in this town. We get out of the cab and proceed to the concierge desk where a meeting takes place to determine what we want. They ask us to write it down. They get Ray's Big Mac, but my Quarter Pounder throws them for a loop. It doesn't help that Ray writes 2 x 1/4 lb w/cheese. They look at it like it's written in Sanscrit. I explain slowly, in my best phonetic English... QWAAAAARRTTEERR POUHHHNNDAAAAHH WITH CHEEEEEEESE!
It eventually seems to register, they ask us to leave a cash deposit and say it'll be about twenty minutes. We wander off to the bar to wait, conjecturing on just what exactly what the bag will contain when it arrives.
Sure enough the head concierge shows up twenty minutes later, but no bag, just Junior in tow.
They want to review the order again for quality control purposes.
We begin to realize that we likely could have walked there, eaten and been on the way back by now, but hey, at this point we're committed. Besides, I've never sat in an opulent hotel lounge eating Mickey's accompanied by Chinese lager. I like to think the novelty of it somewhat balances the considerable grief.
Another 20 minutes go by, and lo and behold our bag arrives. And I'll be damned if it didn't contain a Big Mac, two fries and two Qwaaaaarrrteeerr Pouhhhnndaaahhhs with Cheeeeese.
God Bless China.

Monday, September 24, 2007

Ian and Ray's Excellent Asian Adventure - Part 2

So we made it.
Despite the crappy weather at the outset, 2/3rds of the way there we finally got some cloud break, right over the islands of Japan.
Truth be told, of all destinations in Asia that would be my first choice, so much history, technology, mystique... I am fascinated just looking down at the miniature signs of advanced civilization from 38,000 ft. What sort of science-fiction stuff is being toyed with in those millions of offices and factories at this very second?...
Sleep came in bits and pieces. Ray did a little better, but I was too wired to get more than maybe 2 hours in, not near enough since I had managed but 3 the night before. The number one interuption was the evil child three rows up from us. Judging by the looks, most passengers were close to the point of simply lobbing him from the nearest emergency exit. We figured this one might be a problem when the gate agents actually yelled at the father to please get him under control while he ran amuck during boarding. Sadly we were correct.
I try to tune out the howling for the most part by keeping my earphones jammed in tight and catching up on a few films. Let me tell you, in-flight entertainment has come one hell of a long way in the last few years, these long-distance birds now have not just individual seat LCD screens but a whole menu-driven array of movies, TV shows, games and flight data that you can pause, fast forward, you name it.
By about 10 hours in I was getting a little antsy, but once I saw Japan and then the Asian mainland looking but a few hundred kilometers away figityness turned to excitement. The only casualties were my ankles and feet, which had swollen so badly that I could hardly get my shoes back on. My fault for not getting off my ass more often and doing a few laps of the plane.

Shanghai airport was a model of efficiency, we were through customs in no time and our bags were already on the carousel. Score 1 for The People's Repulic; Mao & co. could teach a few things to the noodnicks that run more than a few of the world's democratic airports.

Our friend and business partner Mike picked us up and quickly got us moving into the ebb and flow of Chinese traffic. This I must tell you is not for the faint of heart, these people are some of the most aggressive drivers I've seen anywhere in the world. They don't drive particularly fast or make any really sudden moves, but they just constantly signal and go any damn direction they please. If you happen to be in the way, then you best move or crash into them. It's really quite amazing. I've witnessed more unbelivably close calls in just a few days than I would see at home in a year. This applies to cars, trucks, bicycles, scooters, you name it. I mean, these folks are nuts. I still can't believe I've yet to see an accident.
Although our hotel looked impressive on the website, nothing was really sufficient to prepare us for the reality. I mean, this place is da bomb. I'm sure we have stuff in the western world to top it, but I'll never likely experience it myself. I'll let the photos do most of the talking, but just to rattle off a few points of interest:
You have your choice from a menu of seven different pillow types for your bed.
All the area lights the room's hallway, closet and bathroom are motion controlled, no switches. You show up, they turn on, you leave, they go out. The room has 4, yes, 4 remote controls. The area lights and air conditioning are remote controlled, as well as the electrically powered inner and outer curtains. Nothing like rolling over in the morning and pressing a button to let the sun in. That never gets old.
The shower stall is quite unlike anything I've ever seen, it's a complete glass enclosure at least 5/8ths thick and the hinges that hold the door on look about right for the main turret hatch of an M1 Abrams. The shower head is nearly a foot in diameter and does an impressive job of duplicating Niagara falls after a spring storm. Madness.

Knowing that Ray in particular is, um, a wee bit conservative in matters of a gastronmic nature, Mike breaks us in easy with a first dinner out at a place that more or less duplicates a German style schnitzel haus. Although it's more than a little bizarre to see a fleet of petite Chinese women dressed up as Bavarian beer fraus, the food is great and I heartily tuck into a pile of sausages and saurkraut along with the biggest mug of lager I've ever seen. Not wanting to appear rude I do my best to finish, despite the fact the medical website I've just checked says the worst thing to do about the swollen ankle thing is ingest more alcohol. Of course, the sacrfice must be made in the interest of diplomacy...

Day two is a real treat, we are taken to the Shanghai F1 circuit. I know little about this track owing to my waning interest in the sport the last few years, but I do remember reading up about it a bit from a Moto GP (bike) race article and thought it pretty futuristic looking from the photos. We are not disappointed. Upon rounding the bend into the main parking lot Ray's and my jaws drop in unison. The place looks like it just landed from outer space. Like Shanghai itself, it is big on a scale that's hard to describe and is spectacularly designed. We are treated to a full guided tour, in Chinese with Mike doing translation. Mike has been to most of the F1 tracks in the world and he confirms this one takes the cake. The most impressive aspect is how much of the track you can see, depending where you sit anywhere from a third to nearly three quarters of the entire circuit is visible. I would kill to see a race here. The view from one of the two signature giant ovoid bridges that houses the Media center way high up over the start/finish line is positively dizzying.
We discover along the way that the facility also houses a karting circuit; Mike and I light up like a couple of 10 year olds and we make a beeline for it. The track offers a choice of entry level 4 strokes, or the real deal, 125cc 2 strokers. Unfortunately there are only 3 of those operational so we elect to go two at a time. Mike and I go out first but we never really get to race as the drive chain blows on his car on the second lap, and by the time they get it fixed my time is up. Although it's likely nowhere near the performance of the all out liquid-cooled race jobs, the air-cooled two stroke is much quicker than anything I've tried before and is a real scream when you get it up on the powerband. Braking proves to be pretty spongy, but hey, slowing down is overated in my books. The day's best moment is when Mr. O'Regan takes to the track. I am amazed to learn that he's never actually set foot in a kart. I give him a few pointers about the quick steering and rear only braking techniques, but omit to mention the giant water hazard that awaits on the inside of the first chicane. Oops...

SPPPPLOOOOOOOOOSSSHHH!!!

Well that was entertaining. Despite this he soldiers on, slowly, but steadily cracking off better and better laps. Come time to get out, he is truly a sight to behold, clean as a whistle on the left, completely drown in water and muck on the right. Classic. I immediately wonder if they'll let him back into the hotel like this. "Homeless Irishman found on Shanghai sidewalks, film at eleven..."
After a clean-up session we are off to dinner, this time a Japanese style steak house. No big flaming show like Beni Hana's but the food is awesome. I try everything that comes at me, including goose liver and caviar cooked inside a poached egg, normally something based on description alone I'd run screaming from. Who knew?
The strangest activity yet was to come. Mike has been making noises about showing us some real Shanghai style night life but divulges no details. We arrive at a rather imposing and regal looking structured named simply the Shanghai Night Club and upon entering and are accosted by an army of perfectly uniformed male and female staff singing out greetings full blast to us as we walk down the lavishly decorated halls. We eventually wind up in a private room surrounded in deep pillowed couches, big coffee tables and a huge TV screen and sound system at the front. We are told it's Kareoke time. Um, OK...
It gets weirder still. The next thing we know three hostesses show up, one looking like the boss, drinks are served and suddenly a lineup of beautiful, elegantly dressed Chinese girls are paraded in. Huh?!? Really not sure where this is all going, Ray and I exchange furtive glances. Mike says we have to pick. Um... OK. We each in turn pick a girl, they sit down next to us and we all are introduced. Turns out they are our Kareoke partner / personal hostesses for the evening, and they are there to sing, get us to sing, pour drinks and generally see to it that we remain charmed and pleased with the whole experience. Having never heard of this I'm not sure what to make of it all, but one thing is certain, in my experience more drinks generally leads to easier acceptance of such situations, and so once again I did my duty. The drink of choice was whisky and green tea, which again sounds more than a little weird but goes down just great. Better yet, it amazingly leaves zero hangover. This stuff ought to be patented.
Everyone seemed to have a blast, I even belted out a couple of tunes, Hey Jude being my best work, Hotel California less than exemplary (didn't remember Henley being in such a high register, but at least I didn't crack). I gave up communicating with my pleasant but painfully shy hostess pretty early on, as although she was part of a group selected for their ability to speak English, her vocabularly was extremely limited, plus she was coming down with a cold and looked pretty done in after the first couple of hours. I continued to sing, drink and observe. Fascinating.

Day three had us out to visit our first factory, which I will call Echo in the interests of industrial secrecy. This being a public forum I can divulge no further details other than to say the tour was very detailed and it was incredibly insightful to witness the material literally going from ingot at one end to boxed product at the other, and I can't wait to compare the extensive notes with the other places we'll be visiting on the trip. We have another tomorrow that's 3 hours away, then 2 different other ones on Wednesday so energy will be at a premium from here on in. Thus tonight's an early one, no craziness.
What further ancient Chinese secrets await Team Fast? Stayed tuned...

Ian and Ray's Excellent Asian Adventure - Part 1



Greetings from 32,428 ft over beautiful North Washagami.
Where?
According to our handy dandy Microsoft GPS mouse hook-up, that'd be about 100 clicks south of Hudson's Bay.
No, not the store in Fairview. The real one.
Closet (or perhaps not so) geek that I am, I just had to see if Streets and Trips would work with the sensor glued to the airplane's window; lo and behold it does. Spectacularly well I might add. Ray and I amuse ourselves comparing our speed, altitude and position data to the generic readouts the peasants are being fed on the in-flight screens. Ours are better. We just know. Plus we can zoom in and garner extraordinarily important facts; such that we are now directly overhead… uh… beautiful North Washagami. That might even matter, if we could see what the hell beautiful North Washagami actually looked like. But it's covered by 10/10ths cloud. No doubt like the rest of the upper Northern hemisphere we will fly through for the next half a day.
Still, at two hours into our 14 hour and 45 minute flight, we are feeling reasonably content. The food cart has just past with a pretty decent lunch, the wine is on the house, and the Airbus A340-500's seats are proving to be better than the standard short-hauler school bus fare. It hadn't looked promising from the outset though.
Apart from a stalled van blocking up the 20 on my 6 a.m. cab ride out, our quick jaunt to T.O. went flawlessly. A nice start. It didn't stay that way for long.
We were asked to board the Shanghai flight no less than 45 minutes before the 10:30 departure. Then sat on the ground until 11:30 before the plane finally moved. Oh, and the APU (little backup jet engine that runs stuff when you're on the ground) was busted, so the temperature inside soon soared to tropical jungle levels. Acclimatization training? Maybe they do this to all the Canadians on the way out, see if they can hack it in the steaming metropolises that lie beyond the next baggage claim. But no, turns out some goof thought he could get onboard without a visa. They only caught this at the gate, so they had to spend an hour unloading all the baggage containers to get his suitcase out, then reload them. We know it was the farthest one. Because we sat there in the sauna for an hour counting every f@%$*^ last clunk as they went in and out of the cargo hatch below us. The last thing you want on a fifteen hour flight, without question, is to make it seventeen hours.
Despite this, everybody stayed very civilized, and I was frankly amazed at how well the many youngsters on board fared, all cute and extremely well behaved little Chinese kids. Except the one that every passenger and crew member wanted to kill. Also the reason Ray and I got but 2hrs sleep at best. Boarding the plane was the first inkling I got that I will be very much a strange person in a wholly different land. Of course I was well aware of the fact that this trip represented the greatest cultural departure I've yet experienced, but the reality of it has now begun to sink in. This is for real. Cool.
What exactly awaits us on the far side of the Pacific? Give me 12 more hours and I'll tell you. For now I'll content myself with staring at the GPS readout and now imagining what the middle of Hudson's bay would look like down there, if only I could see the damn thing… What? 532 mph ground speed???? Hey buddy, drop the cup of Timmy's and put the spurs to 'er, eh? Book says she'll do 550! Eh? I don't give a damn it's the headwind. In J.F.K.'s words, I want to get there before this decade is out.
11:30 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add