Memories of Canton

I prefer the name Canton to Guangzhou, so I will continue to refer to the area as Canton. The food is called Cantonese, the people are Cantonese, so its Canton.
And, as I think I said last night--although things were a little groggy as 2:45am, things went well, despite the fact that I was again hospitalized for most of the afternoon.
Well get to that...
The trip began as a hurried rush to do something for the holiday, as I feel every available moment in the country needs to be spent either writing or traveling--no time needs to be wasted on idle things like being bored. As Joe widen said, live close to the bone--which I can tell you is happening more and more as each week passes into the memories. I was, if you have been following, supposed to go to Shanghai for the holiday where everyone with a bit of free time seemed like they were on their way to-- more than four times the normal city size, Shanghai was supposed to simply explode with people, but I got sick with a nasty round of food poisoning or something closely resembling it and decided to rest for a while and ride out the storm in the comforts of my own western toilet.
When the darkness cleared, I decided to head off to Canton and possibly sunshine with one of the people in the foreign affairs department, fine. She is a sweet girl from the North of China who seems to have a bit more edge to her than most of the people at the university, so I was glad to have such good company that I got along with. She agreed to go because the Foreign affairs department is worried about the foreigner a little more than I am sure that I would find in another place. I think that having the honor of going with a westerner is a big one and she has more than happy to serve as my guide to such a modern city.
We chose to spend the extra money and take a bus down to Guangzhou. I should note the different prices for things now--even though I am sure that throughout this blog I will notate it again and again and again.
(Actually, I am just going to remind myself to make it as its own special posting and maybe devise a link for it.)
The bus is about double to the destination as a seat on the train, but seemingly more comfortable--a little roomier and it feels a little safe as well, but it has the potential to take much much longer than if you were to board a train.
And it did take much longer to get to Canton via bus. The roads in China are not the best, but the trucks that drive the products around the country are by far in the worst shape of the transport. A truck broke down on one of the roads and it looked like the driver was either trying to get over because he knew that he was about to break down or he decided to cause as much trouble as possible and crash right there, blocking the only two lanes that passed by in a section where no one could just get by--because in China, all bets are off when it comes to driving and the highways are no exception.
The jam took more than an hour to clear, maybe closer to two hours, but it was a relief to get moving again once we did. Then, about 20 minutes later, we stopped in a random spot along the highway and had a "rest" for about 30 minutes near a cantina, which was obviously still in the Hunan province because of all the peppers that were on peoples plates that bought the food--buffet style from the food vendor. My stomach was still questionable, so I held off. Once the driver was finished with his dish, he sat smoking, eyeing the place and me on occasion, no doubt a common experience on this run from the North to the South.
We arrived in Guangzhou more than 2 hours off schedule, which put it at just before 11pm on a Monday evening, but we had called ahead and booked a room in the same place that housed the youth hostel, so we figured it would serve the purpose it needed for us. Upon arrival outside of the gate, we were mauled by people trying to hauk us a room in one of the local motels--everything from not even good enough for a star to the garden hotel downtown, known throughout the land as the Hotel that the real George Bush stays when he comes to Canton. We proudlt breezed through these Cantonese paper pushers, we had no use for them--we had a joint.
Or so we thought.
Upon arrival, we were not greeted with the happiness that I am normally met with--these people looked at my with no concern in my stay and immediately began to look to Fiona for what was supposed to be going on at the moment. She explained of our registration--they nodded in approval. She asked me, not smiling, in English, for my passport, which I proudly handed her. She then asked for something in Chinese, which Fiona seemed to take personally. She laughed slightly, a sign of nervousness and looked at me and said Amerigua--which is American, the woman nodded at my passport and gestured to Fiona for her papers, which she gave her Identity card, a makeshift communist card with a black and white picture of the person identities on it and a hologram that simple says CHINA all over it.
The woman took the identity and motioned for more. Fiona, puzzled, looked at her and began to ask (I think) in Chinese what else this woman wanted.
The woman, in the closest tone to a Russian order, commanded something in Chinese. Fiona laughed more nervously from this request. The two argued as the Chinese do with each other, each getting as loud as possible while still retaining a respectful tone.
"We will not stay here." Fiona said flatly.
I was tired and didn't feel like lugging my stuff somewhere else. Surely they must be trying for more money, which was fine. I just wanted to go up to the room, drop my things off and get some food that wasn't going to give me dysentery.
"We can not share the same room. We are not married and this hotel does not allow such behavior."
I stood there for a moment, taking this information in. It was difficult to process. At first I thought that this must be a ploy to get more money out of me. Surely this couldn't be the case.
"How much more do they want for us to share a room?"
She duplicates the same look of wonderment I have just given her.
"I am sorry? I don't understand?"
"How much is it going to cost us?"
The hotel woman magically begins to speak English. "You can't be in the same room if you are not married, Mr. Do you have a marriage certificate?"
"No, no. You are misunderstanding. We aren't married. We are colleagues at a University in Hunan."
She looks back at Fiona and says something in Chinese and ends it with 80 yuan. Fiona nods and both turn to look at me.
"I can stay in the hostel for 80 yuan, but your room is 160yuan. No exceptions and I am forbidden to go upstairs."
Amazed at what is happening, I stand for a moment taking this in. Fiona, who I know somewhat well, is not kidding. She likes to mess with me to a certain point, but this is beyond the territory she knows where to go.
"Maybe we need to find another place." She suggests.
I am the most angry I have been in a month, maybe longer, but I am holding it in to the best of my ability. As we walk outside, she immediately begins to bargain with the first paper pusher outside of the hotel, who says that the hotel across the way has rooms for 140yuan, which I find to be a good price, so we begin the trek over to check out their hotel. Fiona continues to speak to this woman in Chinese, probably trying somewhat to work her to give us a lower price, but moreso to not have to listen to my growing anger over the previous hotel. Halfway to the place, their conversation ends naturally and Fiona looks over at me with a cautious smile.
I unleash my thoughts.
"What the hell was that? We can't stay in the same room because we are not married? This is China, the country that has no official religion--that claims to be a godless society, but they have rules about who can sleep where and under what conditions? That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard! We are just friends touring the country! Is this going to happen everywhere? Was it a bad idea to come with you because of your gender?"
All of these questions were confusing to her, but she understood the point, which was that I was angry. I was also worried--if this was the case everywhere we went, I was going to be in trouble when I traveled because most of the people here at the Uni are women--women who I have no desire to have them be anything but good friends and guides around their own country. As we walked to the next hotel, I wondered if it was going to be the same story as what we had just witnessed.
"This is China and the government frowns upon a man and a women sharing the same area if they are not family. That place is run by the government which is why hostel is there. I do not think that this hotel where we will be going will give us any problem."
I pondered this for a moment--the government, the Chinese government, runs the hotel. The Communist Chinese government is in the hotel business. The atheist, Communist Chinese government runs a hotel and a hostel and decides who gets to stay where. I laughed at the overall absurdity of what I had just discovered.
This is China.
After some negotiation with the hotel, we finally were allowed to live in sin for the night--two double beds for 18yuan per night, a small price for the nice room we ended up getting. When it comes down to it, we should have stayed at this place for the remainder of the time that we were in Guanzhou-- the overall cost of the place was a little more than the other places that we stayed, but when add in time lost and cab fares to get to and from the different locations, it would have made more sense to just stay near the train station.
Once we were checked in, it was time to find something to eat--quickly. We went back and forth about where we should go to eat--it was getting late--about 11:30pm by the time we got to the room and there didn't appear to be all that much in the way of nightlife outside, so we decided to roll it with the cab--which turned out to be a great choice.
For all of those of you that have traveled here, you''ll understand what I say more than people who come here for a vacation--when you arrive somewhere new, there are two different schools of thought-- to sample the regional Chinese food and to sample the regional attempts at Westernized food. For me, after spending the last month in a small city with nothing western to offer but a crazy KFC and the occasional big mac, I was excited to give real cuisine a roll.
I had Fiona tell the cab driver to find a decent western restaurant that was still open this late at night-- and he selected, amply titled, "Italian restaurant". I beamed with a cautious joy. Surely, this was an oasis. There wasn't even a Chinese name next to this place.
The restaurant itself was inviting, warm lighting, bottles of real Italian reds, whites and even some gasp!! from California!! I didn't feel much like wine, but still ordered a glass of Italian red, which tasted like the best droplet of booze to graze my tastebuds in a millennia. The menu was dynamic, lots of different dishes from pastas to lasgna to traditional Chinese. A smile spread widely across my face.
I ordered:
French Onion Soup (which didn't come with the baked cheese and croutons on top, but good nonethe less)
Beef Lasgne (baked in the traditional dish, smothered with real cheese, another thing I had not had the pleasure of tasting in a long time)
Chicken Fettuchine Alfredo with tomatoes and pasta (Buttery perfection)
It was perfect--such a nice detour from the constant Chinese diet that had been rattling so ruffly through my system for the month. Fiona, who had never dined with Italian food was equally blown away at the taste and flavors of western food.
*She ate nothing but western food the entire time we were gone and like everything else, but throughout the trip she kept asking me if I knew how to make the lasgne.)

We went back to the hotel and feel asleep quickly due to our full stomachs of western food.

tomorrow-- Day 2--Hotel shopping and Clan Trekking.