Tokyo Blond Is Not Porn

Tokyo Blond is not a porn blog, about hair or even, as one pithy friend remarked, a micro beer or late 1980s glam metal band ("Dude, I just saw Skid Row and Tokyo Blond opened and played a killer set").


The purpose of this blog is to chronicle my experiences in Tokyo - poignantly, visually, irreverently - for fun.


Anybody can tag along...that is if I like you. This blog will endeavor to be entertaining and honest and frequent enough to keep those following interested including me.


Thursday, May 16, 2013

Great Wall of China - Bring Water and Toilet Paper

The first time someone mentioned the Great Wall of China to me, in China, it wasn't in reference to a place I had to see.  They were talking about a great place to exercise.  Exercise?  Huh?  "Oh yeah, they said enthusiastically, "we go hiking on the Great Wall all the time! It's outstanding hiking."  

Even though they said that I was not prepared for what they really meant.  I read the guide books.  They corroborated their story, at least the fact there are trails you can hike up to the wall.  They mentioned taking a gondola to the wall.  I thought that just meant the wall was up on a hill.  

I didn't realize it meant the wall itself was a hiking trail.  Oh my, were we in for a shock. Great doesn't really capture it.  

First of all the wall is not contiguous and you can't see it from space.  Wait a minute - what?

The wall was built 400 to 200 years before Christ by rival kingdoms to thwart advances by enemies. There are sections of the wall all through Northern China.  The sections don't all connect.  The Chinese call it "Wanli Changcheng" which means, "Very Long Wall."  Thanks, I would never have guessed that.


Second it takes an hour, due to traffic, to get to the closest part of the wall from Beijing and Beijing is the closest major city to the wall.  It reminds me of New Orleans.  I used to think plantations with oak lined driveways were in New Orleans.  It wasn't until I actually stayed in one did I learn the closest plantation to New Orleans is an hour outside the city.

After reading the guide books I decided we were going to hike up to the Great Wall of China, tool around for a while on the wall, and hike back down.  The best laid plans....

Most tourists visit the Ba Da Ling section of the wall.  China is already populated and mad as it is, I didn't want to have to fight even more crowds so I chose the Mutianyu section of the wall which, allegedly, is less crowded.


Our driver, otherwise known as Joe Pesci given his one-word English vocabulary "OK", picked us up in his customary driving uniform - shorts and a polo shirt.  It didn't take very long to get out of Beijing and into the countryside which was surprisingly flat and green.  It was a one of those days.  The one day out of ten in Beijing when it is actually Sunny. The horizon is not cloaked in brown and you can almost breathe. Almost.

Since being there for two weeks I'd noticed a pattern.  Basically you get about one clear, sunny day in ten.  The first day starts out beautiful. The sun is shining. Plants are green.  The sky is blue.  Then each day the pollution builds, piles on another layer of brown, until the sky is so dark and heavy with grime you can take a putty knife and scrape it off your face.  Then around day ten, when the sky is bulging and pregnant from pollution, the skies erupt and bleed out the grime in the form of a refreshing acid rain. Rinse and repeat.

Even the government encourages their citizens to take cover when it first starts raining.  Course they don't tell you it's because you might literally get burned by acid rain. You wouldn't want to get wet would you? Bring a lead umbrella.

So on this one glorious day in ten we arrive at a huge parking lot stuffed with more fuming tour buses than Disneyland in June.  So much for less crowded.  You can't really see the wall from the parking lot, or the gauntlet of vendors along the path to the entry gate.  However, there is an old Chinese woman selling puppies of dubious breed out of a box.  They are adorable but way too young to be weaned and I shudder to think where they'll end up.  The Chinese do not eat dog anymore, at least not in Beijing I've been told.



Russell takes one look at the situation, the situation being the wall is not in plain sight and the gondola seems to go up a long, long way into oblivion, and refuses to hike up.  "I'm not hiking up to the wall.  I'll take the gondola up and hike down but I'm not hiking up," he states emphatically.  Since it was only about 95 degrees at ten in the morning he did have a point.  And from the look of his stance it was obvious there was no use arguing.

Taking the gondola was the smartest thing we did all day.  It was a pleasant ride, even without any apparent safety devices.  As we ascended the wall came into view and GREAT does NOT describe it.
AMAZING would be a much more accurate description.




I guess I thought it would be like walls in the U.S.  You know, where we level the Earth, and everything in its path, including entire communities, and build an even, flat wall.  Oh no.  This wall was built before tractors and Tonka trucks.  This wall was built by hand.  Basically they built the wall directly on top of whatever was in its path.  Because of that the wall capitulates over gullies and crags, precipices and valleys.  It is truly incredible and more challenging than a step machine on the highest resistance setting. 

Ohhhhh, now I get it.  "I told you, " Russell announces triumphantly as we step off the Gondola and on to the platform.  There's a shaded patio with an astounding view of the wall in both directions.  A vendor sells much needed refreshment. Hoards of people of all nationalities pant heavily, their faces red and puffy, their souvenir t-shirts sweat stained.

"Shall we?" I suggest hopefully, trying to get Russell away from the enervated crowd before he realizes this will soon be him.

We begin hiking.  We spend a couple of hours traversing, scaling, climbing, (no literally), and panting, on the wall.  Some places are so steep you have to use your hands. No joke.  We pass frighteningly obese tourists hyperventilating, threatening to pop like over-ripe tomatoes in the sun.  They're far from the shade and I wonder, will they be able to make it back?  Will we?  Where's the airlift evac pad?

My goal was to hike to the end of this section of the wall where I read you can view some of the parts that have not been rehabilitated.  Most of the wall is crumbling from time and erosion.  Only a few parts have been refurbished for the tourist trade.


Incredible not merely "Great"

You want me to climb what?

Where's the elevator?

Do not adjust your screen - this is the actual grade.

Um, yeah.
Hands and feet, hands and feet. Just 2,000 uneven steps more.


About every 100 yards there's a turret which offers much needed shade from the merciless heat and pitch of the wall.  Russell's like, "can we go now?"


What goes up must go down, a lot.

Just to the top of that hill honey. I promise.

Actually we didn't hike that way.  We did hike to the end of the stretch of the wall I chose and found the path that lead to the ruins.  The path was apparently used as a latrine since there aren't any bathrooms along the wall.  At least not officially.  In one of the turrets I almost stepped on a pile of human feces.  Oh my God!  I thought I was back in Beijing for a minute.  Really!!!? Heinous!!!!

The path to the ruins was green and leafy and reeked of urine.

Almost more amazing than the wall itself, I was able to convince Russell to hike down instead of taking the gondola.  The trail, just like Tokyo, was paved, with helpful signs along the way.  Like the one below.

What about clothed flames?

Most of the trail was shaded, which was nice.  But I couldn't help thinking how fun a slide would be.

When we got to the bottom we thought our exertions were finally over but they had only just begun.  
Getting through the gauntlet of vendors is a gargantuan challenge, requiring tremendous strength, tenacity, resourcefulness and bravery.

Every vendor had a story to tell, mostly guilt ridden and designed specifically to evoke sympathy and generosity out of gullible tourists. Apparently the more guilt induced, the higher the price they can get for their goods.

Oh my God, Thailand has nothing on the sellers along the Great Wall.   They should call it the "Great Scam."   These vendors are amazing actors - Academy Award caliber story tellers.  Steven Spielberg could learn a few things.  

I tried to grab Russell and rush him through but he wouldn't hear of it.  He likes to haggle.  He thought he could handle the heat.  He actually thought he could get a good deal.  He spent almost as much time on the vendors path as he did on the wall.  Now I was the one moaning, "Can we go now?"

At the end we made it out with a "hand-made" parasol, "authentic Chinese military hat" and "real military pins."  Uh huh, pull this leg and it plays Jingle Bells.


I"ll buy that for a dollar.

Everyone Knows Americans Carry Diseases

So Russell informs me I am required to have a National Health Screening in order to be issued a resident Visa.

The health screening consists of eight different stations or testing areas.  The testing facility is an hour out of Beijing near the Summer Palace.

I ask him if anyone in is office has been through this, assuming naturally they all have as most of them are in fact not Chinese.  I am specifically interested in knowing if a woman in his office has been through the screening.  I want to know what to expect. Like, for example, does one of these tests include an, um, "female examination?"  I am not relishing this idea at all.

He says he'll ask around.  Of course when he had his test, it didn't include stirrups and lubricant.

He asks around and discovers that, apparently, not everybody has to have a National Health Screening. What do you mean? I say wonderingly.  There are Germans, English, South African and Australians in his office.  None of them had a screening.  In fact it appears only Americans have to be screened. What the?  Oh, that's right, us Americans are notorious for carrying diseases, especially STDs.

Nice.  They want to make sure we don't have an STD or Aids or Stupidity?  Foreigners are not allowed to work in China unless they have a minimum of a bachelors degree and two years work experience.  Or maybe that's just Americans.  I didn't ask specifically.

On the morning of the test my driver, Hiro, who looks like an Asian Baby Huey in an orange and brown striped Charlie Brown polo shirt and shorts, waits for me anxiously.  The only English word he knows is "Ok".  He smiles enthusiastically when he sees me. He rushes around the car to open my door for me, all the while, saying "Ok.  Ok, Ok, Ok."  I feel like I'm being driven around by Joe Pesci.

We drive the hour in heavy traffic in silence.  For some reason he doesn't like to have the radio on when he's driving, although I know he listens to it really loud while he's waiting. Perhaps it has to do with concentrating. The first time the driver picked me up from the airport Russell implored me NOT to watch him drive.  He was right.  Driving, that is being driven in China, is harrowing.

The Chinese drive their cars like they drive their bicycles: e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e.  Lanes and traffic signals are merely a suggestion.  Extra points are awarded for hitting people.  There is no safety proximity bubble; cars travel within an Angstrom of each other. 1,500 new drivers are added to Beijing roads everyday.  90% of the drivers are newbies.  It's like being on the 405 with newly minted teenage drivers high on Mountain Dew and violent video games.  HELP.  I've learned not to watch.  If you do, you have nightmares, high blood pressure and persistent white knuckles.  Instead, I daydream about Triscuits and Sees Candies.

When we arrive my driver consorts with the parking attendant.  Somehow he arranges to park the car in a no-parking area close to the front entrance. It's about 100 degrees out here.  Some road workers on break under a scanty tree comment enthusiastically when I get out of the car.  There's that universal gesture for "Big American Breasts," I've begun to recognize where ever I go.

Hiro rushes me to the check-in desk where the attendant takes my information without any human emotion, in spite of my dimpled smile and cleavage, and brusquely points in the direction of the stairs to the first testing area.  Hiro grabs my purse and my paperwork and rushes me upstairs.  When he gets upstairs he barks out to an attendant.  It always sounds like they're arguing.  He rushes me towards a curtain.

Behind the curtain they make me step on a scale and record the retched number into the computer.  Thankfully it's in Chinese so I can't read it.  Same with my height.  A man in a white coat listens to my chest.  Apparently my heart is beating so I am passed on to the next station.

Next I am asked to lay on a table in a dimly lit room.  The woman gestures for me to pull up my shirt and then freezes me, while she does an ultrasound on my abdomen.  She informs me, in a loose translation of English, that she is checking my kidney and gall bladder.  She seems genuinely surprised when she grunts out "good" at the conclusion.   What was she expecting - aliens?

Next I am escorted into another room where an attendant who looks like he's 15 hangs a heavy lead poncho over me, points at the machine and runs into the other room. He's laughing with another guy behind the glass.  I look around confusedly.  I guess I'm supposed to stand here?  A buzzer sounds.  He's impatient with me.  Apparently that was the cue to take off the lead.  He practically pushes me out the door.

The next room I am asked to read an eye chart.  It's the kind where you have to point to the direction the letters are facing.  The man behind the chair looks kind until I don't understand his next question.  My driver erupts at my side and gestures wildly at some piece of paper taped to the desk.  After a minute of blond confusion I realize I'm supposed to read the piece of paper that has two squares with an odd design.  One design is red; one is green.  Oh, I get it - it's a depth perception/color blind test.  I blush, blurt out my answers and I guess I pass because we run down the stairs to the last test stations.

My driver, still carrying around my purse and my paperwork, thrusts me into the next room, almost interrupting the previous test in progress.  His urgency to protect me and get me through the exam is endearing, if not comical.  He takes his duties very seriously.

So far no stirrups.  Good.

A young woman gestures for me to lay back and pull up my shirt and soundlessly and efficiently attaches electrodes to my chest and other vital areas for an EKG.   Thirty seconds later she hands me a paper towel and gestures towards the door.

The next attendant takes my temperature, pulse and blood pressure.

The last room takes my blood. Another vial gone.  I wonder what it will reveal.  It looks the same color as the others collected from patients before me.

I am relieved.

We rush to the check out counter.  Why are we running I wonder?  She intimates we are finished and asks if we want to come back in four hours for the results or pay to have them delivered.  Pay for delivery; I'm not coming back here. She grunts out something to my driver who takes my arm and pulls me to a stand in the middle of the room where a good looking twenty something year old man stands smiling pleasantly.

He speaks good English and takes my address and money for the delivery.  And we're done.

The whole process took 30 minutes, literally.  Two hours of driving time for 30 minutes of exams that would have taken a minimum five appointments at different doctor's offices and hours of insurance forms in the U.S.

Well, at least they're efficient I muse as Hiro hands me my purse, opens my door, and says "Ok?"