Letter from China

We have been in China for almost 6 weeks now.

Only 3 more days before our return to Malaysia – REAL food, genuine smiles and the English language.
Not that we don’t like China, it’s just that we’ve had enough.
The food, the people, language difficulties, cigarette smoking, all eventually wear you down.

We are currently in Hangzhou, Zhejiang Province. Everyone should come here at least once in their lifetime – it’s like wandering around in a classic Chinese painting.

The place is quite beautiful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We are always on the lookout for new ideas or themes for future tours. The latest concept on the drawing board is to plan a Hospital Tour of Mainland China. This would involve tour members being admitted to as many hospitals as practicable within a two or three week period.

The experience could be life-changing.  Anyone interested?

Veronica and I have done extensive research in this area over the past 10 years.
We have an intimate knowledge of the hospitals in most major centres throughout China.
Our latest project involved Veronica being admitted to the Hangzhou General Hospital with Pneumonia.

Despite the dower nature of her research the entertainment meter just kept banging off the scale.
In short, their hospital system works. How it works, God only knows.
We spent a whole day being shunted from one floor to another, one counter to another. Pay money, blood test, pay money, x-ray, pay money, medicine.

While we’re standing in Radiology, which more closely resembled the graphics department of a fashion magazine, a typhoon struck.
It was like a bewitching scene from Mary Poppins with papers flying everywhere and the world outside appearing to swirl around like the inside of a washing machine. The noise beating at the window was some kind of sinister howling. Veronica slapped her boobs against a board and smiled for the x-ray.

After every hospital manoeuvre you have to consult the Oracle.
The Oracle is a little buck-teethed girl wearing thick glasses and a stethoscope for decoration.
She was apparently the only doctor who could speak ‘any’ English, so we were sent to her.

Her consulting room was annexed to a huge Railway Station and was over-run by patients milling around trying to be assessed. You just have to push in. If it’s your card she takes next, then everyone stands around and listens to your problem. The Doctor makes her comments and then everyone joins in with their opinion. Once everyone has had their say, the patient leaves with a prescription created by concensus and then the masses start jostling for position, and on it goes.

Of course the biggest problem in China is that they haven’t yet figured out that smoking is bad for you.
It’s OK to smoke in Restaurants.  Infact it’s almost compulsory.
The world has woken up to the dangers of unprotected sex and now the Inventor in me wants to design condoms for cigarettes. This would help protect us all from the disgusting habit and hopefully, by some deftly designed implosion technique, help to remove offenders from the gene pool even sooner than usual.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Chinese Government should be doing a lot more to protect the health of its citizens.
I envisage millions of little Death Rooms being set up all over China for the 99.9% of Chinese males to go and suck toxic fumes into their decaying bodies and spare the precious lungs of women, children and Australian tourists.

So that’s about it. We saunter around beautiful West Lake in the morning and Veronica spends the afternoon hooked up to a drip at the Zhejiang Hospital.
Beer is really cheap.

 

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Letter from China

We are sitting in a ritzy open air Russian cafe on the Dadonghai coastal strip of Hainan Island in China.

A tropical storm has imprisoned us here.

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We’ve been on the run for over a week now. It all began with a Air Asia flight to Kuala Lumpur, which was fortunately without incident albeit uncomfortable. I did my best to contract Durian poisoning while Veronica tried to track down her Malaysian boss who has been hiding from her in KL. We eventually found his Clinic but he had somehow gotten wind of the approaching Dragon Lady and fled.
We checked out of our KL hotel at 4 am and took a hair-raising, one hour taxi ride to the airport for our flight to China.
“Sorry sir, your flight has been cancelled, come back tomorrow.”
Various textures of excretement hit the aircon before they consented to putting us up in a ghost town on the outskirts of KL. It was a reasonable hotel surrounded by reflexology brothels and hundreds of deserted shops.
We arrived in Haikou ( Capital of Hainan Island ) a day late. The official welcoming party tried to explain to us that there was no bus and their overpriced taxis were the only option. We eventually arrived at the Banana Hostel after a series of bus trips and settled in to playing one of our favourite holiday games – spot the cockroach.
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There are parts of China where a white man can starve.
Last night we stayed in a remote ethnic minority region called Wuzhishan ( Five finger mountain ). The restaurant served up a dish I call Exploded Chicken.
The basic recipe is: One chicken; 6 large mushrooms ( which the chicken has to eat just before going to God ) and a stick of dynamite.
The dynamite is forced inside the chicken and then they blow it up. The resultant mess is gathered up, put in a pot and sauteed in its own urine. Toss in some chilli, garlic and more chilli then serve hot.
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The previous night, after being eaten alive by mosquitos the size of small birds, we discovered that this area is Malarial. My little Lotus Bud panicked and we made a bee-line for the nearest Yaofang ( Chemist ). I must point out that we have not heard a word of English in 3 days and my Chinese only serves to confuse most people. I asked for quwenji ( mosquito repellant ) but they wanted to give us toilet paper. Veronica immediately drew upon her years of professional acting and started buzzing around the shop, flapping her wings and poking her proboscus-like index finger into the arms of several very distressed looking shop assistants.  They asked us to leave.
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As we drove out of town on the first bus this morning I imagined passing a huge under-cover area full of tai chi masters teaching advanced forms in perfect English. Next door was a boutique Coffee House with a large TV screen showing replays of Brisbane Lions Grandfinal wins and episodes of Master Chef. Home suddenly didn’t seem such a bad place.

Video link 1

Video link 2