I have a problem with traditional Chinese medicine. It is a gimmick, something that entices only because it provides hope to those seeking it. In my opinion, it is a false hope, predicated by profit and the business of fear. When I went to the acupunturist, there is no question whether or not he could heal me. Simply come twice a week, and you will be healed, he says. Western medicine treats the symptoms, Eastern medicine treats the source. However, there is no proof that acupuncture works, that taking herbal medicine will heal. It is driven only by people who lack a scientific understanding of the body and need something to comfort (or discomfort) them periodically. The only difference between the beginning of treatment and the end of it is that I had perfect red circles all over my back, and relief that I don't have to go back there anymore.

Athens Olympics a big lifesaver

Usually, television doesn't offer much in terms of good daytime entertainment. Thank God for the Olympics, because they couldn't have come at a better time for me. Over the past 17 days (including some of my trip in Shanghai), I have watched the Games almost religiously, and simultaneously acquiring useless knowledge. Watching the Olympics in China differs from watching them in Canada in one fundamental respect: in China, the Chinese athlete always wins, usually at impossible odds, and you're always at the edge of your seat. In one day, China wins more gold medals than Canada has in the past fifty years. You're always left with a good feeling. On the other hand, in Canada, the programming is stuffed with awkward personalities like Brian Williams introducing segments like "Olympic Moments" and "Rediscovering Athens." You're always left with the desire to change the channel.

Always check your plane ticket before going to the airport.

My last day in Shanghai was another unintentional adventure. After arriving at the airport with my uncle, I proceeded to one of the TV screens to check the status of my flight. ANA flight to Tokyo departing at 10:15am. I looked across the board to see what the time was. Searching, searching, ahh. 9:45am. WHAT??!! Fear seized me and for a moment I couldn't move. I had thought the flight was at 12:00! Stupid me, I forgot to check my plane ticket. I tried to explain to my uncle that I had half an hour to catch my flight, and that I'll probably miss it, but he didn't speak English well and didn't understand why I was suddenly so flustered. With a sprained ankle, I couldn't walk at all, and the check-in counter was all the way at the other end of the airport. I asked my uncle to race there while I hobbled slowly behind. By the time I got there, I was dead tired, and I knew there was no chance to make the flight. Could I make my connection in Tokyo? I asked around, but they all said that it was impossible. After several agonizing trips back and forth through the airport and many fruitless attempts to rebook, I looked at my uncle with desperation and defeat, not knowing how I was going to get out of this mess. Then suddenly from out of the blue, a woman from the airline company came out of her office, looked at my ticket, went back into her office, and minutes later came back out with a stamp for tommorrow's flight- at no extra change. At that point, I didn't know how to express my thanks. Eventually, I did, and then I quickly looked for a chair to sit down in and rest my swollen ankle. I found a massage chair nearby, sat down, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Ultra-modern Shanghai

Even though much of Shanghai is being built with little regard to site, there are spots of ingenuity within the city. One of these places is Xintiandi, an ambitious neighborhood redevelopment in the centre of the city. It is now fully developed, with the old apartments turned into luxury shops, Western-style restaurants, theatres, up-scale cafes, and high-end condominiums. On the surface, it presents itself as a unique example of how a slum can be turned into an exciting urban experiment. Alleyways become part of a network of pedestrian paths that join one 'piazza' to the next. Exquisite brick coursework, hidden nooks, narrow vistas all combine and recombine as you walk through the distinctly Oriental spaces. Time will tell though how the general public will embrace development like this- right now, it only seems to attract foreigners.

Tip #4: Don't let the taxi driver call the shots

I went to Hangzhou for a couple of days to escape from the big city. Little did I know that Hangzhou is ALSO a big city. However, as the tourist capital of China, it's a city bounded by water and mountains. The West Lake is a large expanse of green water with gondolas ferrying to and from the islands. Many of the islands are incredible micro-landscapes, each with stuff one dreams of when thinking of China: pavilions, reflecting pools, arched bridges. Lingyingsi Temple, out in the mountains, is a large Buddhist temple, with several stone-carved cliffs around the temple. At the Great Hall, monks were chanting prayers while locals were worshipping the large Buddha statue.

Hangzhou is also famous for its Longjing tea, grown just west of the lake. During a taxi ride towards the train station, the taxi driver said that it would be a shame if I didn't buy this tea before I left. With time to spare, I naturally took up the driver's offer to take me to a place to get this tea. Little did I know that he'd take me all the way to the farm that grows this stuff, heading 15 minutes in the other direction. In the tea shop, he was also kind enough to help me select the finest tea from one of the three sacks that an old woman had carried out. Sipping the tea, I had no idea what was good, and I was partly afraid that the tea might be spiked. After a few minutes of nervous debating and confusion over the price, it was I who came out on top. Apparently the tea I bought was quite expensive (like fine wine), and I had inadvertently paid half the price I should have. Let's say it was a happy accident. However, the taxi driver was happy too. I had given him fare for two rides.

The Hospital, the Church, and the Karaoke Bar.

What do they all have in common? Oddly enough, these are the places I went over the past few days. After not being able to get over my fever, I decided to go to see a doctor at a local hospital. Hospital treatment here is very "3rd world" compared to what I'm used to- patients would wait and stand impatiently in the same exam room that the doctor would check you in. One old guy actually interrupted my examination to ask the doctor a question about his prescription. The corridors are pooly lit, and reek of chemicals. Also, there's a small IV room where dozens of patients would sit hours at a time strung up to IVs hanging from the ceiling. I had to take an IV for four hours, while trying to avoid breathing the same air as my neighbor with SARS-like symptoms.

I also went to a Karaoke Bar. Karaoke in Canada would be pretty 3rd world compared to what they have here in China. Within a building that one would confuse with a high-class hotel, dozens of employees cater to your needs. Finely cut marble and granite give shape to a large neo-classical lobby, from which a grand staircase takes you up to the private leather-seated karaoke rooms, each with a private washroom. All-you-can-eat buffet on every floor. Thousands of tracks to choose from. Hundreds of rooms. It's absolutely insane, considering in every room, young Chinese teens are howling off-key renditions of Christina Aguilera.

Lastly, I went to the Community Church, one of a few churches here in Shanghai. High security guards keep unwanted people out of the grounds of the church- I had to show my passport just to get in. The large congregation was a very exciting community of people from different parts of the world. It was actually weird to be an English-speaking Chinese, in a Chinese speaking city, going to an English Sunday service. Something like a double reversal.

The Jin Mao Tower and Pollution

In Shanghai, there's an impressive new building piercing the skyline: the Jin Mao Tower, an 88-story skyscraper in the new Pu Dong district- the financial core of the city. Its design recalls the form of tall pagodas, and its ornamentation speaks of the industrialization of China. From the top, one can see a 360 panorama of the city, marked with skyscrapers in every direction. Berlin times 10. On a clear day like today, you can even see the blue edge of the East China Sea.

Out on my aunt's balcony, you can see a similar panorama of the city, except looking towards Pu Dong and the Jin Mao. However, I've noticed that when the wind doesn't blow away the smog at night, the Jin Mao along with most of the other buildings disappear from the skyline underneath a thick layer of brownish-grey smog. Normally, a society prides itself on the objects that it produces. The irony is however is this: at the peak of its productive capacity, its own toxic exhaust obliterates the view of these objects. In other words, the more we produce, the more we're unable to enjoy the things we produce."

Don't plan to watch "Friends" in China

I've had to deal with stomach problems and fever over the past three days, and it's probably from something I ate. (It might've been my unfortunate discovery of the 1 rmb red-bean popsicle that other night.) As a result, I've had to rest at my aunt's place. I finished reading the last 300 pages of the Fountainhead. I finished the last 200 pages of another book. When I got bored, I watched TV. In China, English TV can be agonizing if you watch it alone because most of the time, you're staring in disbelief and you'd wish someone was there helping you make fun of it. That's because there's only one English channel, a publicly funded channel that has no commercials. It relays the same five shows throughout the day. The news shows are perhaps the most annoying- the anchormen were probably plucked off the street just because they could speak a hint of English. They have white dudes with British accents, but are quite ugly. The weather-man is a lanky guy, and REALLY ugly. The Chinese reporters are not ugly, but their English is often inflected with a ridiculous accent so disturbing that has made my gastro even worse. "Dialogue", a talk show much like Larry King Live (they even have the small round lights in the background), is not so much a debate, but a bunch of people attempting to understand what the other is trying to say.

STARBUCKS IN PARADISE

Today, I found a Starbucks in the most unlikely place: the ancient Yuoyuan Gardens. This magical place is where you can go see authentic Chinese gardens, bargain down bric-a-brac merchandise from vendors in the narrow lanes, and look at children feed the thousand goldfish in the lily pond. Right smack in the middle of the bazaar, where tourists normally go enjoy the centuries-old big hat pagodas, you can now purchase your non-fat caramel macchiato.

There were other eccentric stuff there too, mind you. In one of the shops, I saw this woman demonstrate this iron-like stapler contraption that allows you to actually cut a plastic bag filled with water into two completely sealed bags without the water bursting out. It was really cheap- only 25 yuan- and I was tempted to buy it, but then I wondered... exactly when would I ever need to do something like that?

Tip # 3: Look six ways before crossing the road

It appears to me that the rule of the road is that there's no rules. The system works like this- forget the traffic lights, forget that there's lanes on the road, and believe in your mind that everyone is crazy. Shanghainese pedestrians are quite the experts in navigating these treacherous roads- it's amazing to see them stroll nonchalently through a busy street- vehicles barely inches away and bicyclists headed on a collision course- without even the slightest hint of fear. On the other hand, I fear for my life each time I have to cross an intersection. I usually do this: I wait for somebody, say, a young mother with a kid who also needs to cross, and then I squimishly follow close behind them. It's the safest way to avoid getting hit by a half-ton truck.

Tip #2: Don't pretend that you know how to paint.

My days so far have started exceedingly early because I keep waking up at 4 in the morning. I guess my body gave up fighting jet lag, resolving only to go halfway and settle with Hawaiian time. So now I'm here in smokin' hot Shanghai, enjoying an exchange rate that lets me buy a lunch for three dollars cdn, eating long donuts several times greasier than Krispy Kremes, and dodging crazy cars and bikes on the street. (I even saw an accident where the driver was trying to calm his bleeding bike-wielding victim with a wad of cash.) What has fascinated me the
most are the old residential alleyways, or tongs, of the city- narrow gated alleys with weathered brick, clothes-lines dangling everywhere, and old fragile people sitting outside with their wooden fans. This afternoon, I decided go to these places and do some watercolors. It felt like sketching school again, except that everything I did was horrible. People would stare over my shoulder, thinking they might see some Chinese master painter at work. Most walk away disappointed. One guy mumbled something incomprehensible, and briskly walked off. It's always neat to be famous, or in my case- infamous.

After a few breathtaking moments of sheer whiteness, the plane pierces the surface of the clouds to reveal the atmosphere above- a seamless gradient of brilliant blue. Joe could feel the bright hot sun on his face as if layers of invisible insulation had been peeled off.

The seatbelt light turns off, and Joe relaxes his grip on his chair.

As he admires the peacefulness of the cloudscape, he thinks to himself,

"I've packed all the medicine I could possibly need. Cipro for food poisoning. Tylenol for headaches, and Advil for pain. Mom also packed travel tabs for dizziness, Sudafed for congestion, and Cepacol for sore throats. Definitely prepared for the worst."

Two hours into the flight, turbulence starts rocking the plane. Moments later, Joe gets a nagging headache and vertigo. Not to mention that the on-flight lunch isn't sitting too well. Luckily he's prepared for stuff like this. Joe smiles confidently at the passenger next to him and reaches forward into the backpack for the pills. A few seconds pass. His smile disappears.

Realizes he had checked them all in.

TIP # 1: LEARNING ESSENTIAL CHINESE WORDS

If there's one thing that scares me the most, it's not knowing any Mandarin. Mandarin, for those who don't know, is the primary dialect used in mainland China. I actually know only how to say one thing: "I want to fart."

I'm fully aware that this useful phrase probably won't get me too far at the family dinner table.

A few days ago, my mom learned of my obstinate illiteracy and she offered me her conversational phrase tapes to help me out. As I put on the dusty headphones, I got really gung-ho about learning Mandarin. It's been three days since I started. Now I know how to proudly say in perfectly fluent Chinese- wo men you ge wu xian dian xue xi xiao zu da jia hai: "We have a Radio Study Club and they have elected me then as Club leader." Another powerfully useful phrase.

Normally, you should be happy when you walk out of a store, especially after you've bought something you want... not my experience.

Case in point: Boxing Day afternoon 2003.

4:30pm. At Staples. There's no line-up.

Me, my dad, and my sister are at the till purchasing two printers, costing $88. (This is not a math problem!) We were trying to take advantage of the store's rule of beating the lowest price of their competitor, so we hold up a flyer from Compusmart, pointing out the fact that the other guys are selling the exact same thing for a lower price- $79. Girl sees it. Claims that there's a mathematical mistake on the flyer. We argue that there's no such error and after three minutes, she gives in.

4:35pm. Two people behind us.

For some reason, the store's cash just won't do the price match. She calls another guy to come in an examine the machine. The guy fixes the machine and tells her to do two separate transactions for each printer so that we can take advantage of their holiday offer for a free $10 gift certificate for each $100 we spend. Then, he suggested, we can apply the $10 on the second printer, saving us money. What a deal!

4:40pm. Six people behind us.

"Ding!" The register shows $115.75 on the screen. Dad peers at the number, and asks in a confident voice, "That's for the two printers, I suppose?" Girl shakes her head and says bluntly, "No. Just one of them." After another five minutes of haggling, we realize that on top of the $50 instant rebate that brought the price down to this astronomical figure, we had to send in a separate "mail-in rebate" to bring the total down below $79. Add the taxes (and subsequent inflation that occured while waiting in the line), you get $115.75. Plus, we can't actually use the $10 coupon on the second printer, because that would cancel out the the other $10 coupon we'd get. Dad argues some more.

4:45pm. Some disgruntled shoppers leave the line. The woman behind us is quite entertained, however.

The visa card is finally swept through and a flurry of receipts pour out of the till. One for the VISA. Two for the rebate. (Three to get ready, now go cat go...)

In the 21st century, you'd think shopping technology would advance to a simple a swipe-and-go process? No. At Staples, they've turned shopping into a mini calculus course.

West Edmonton Mall.


If you could ascribe one adjective.. one singular thought.. to the Edmonton's shopping mall, it would be this: MONSTROUS. But I'm not talking about size- I mean, it's not the 800 shops that boggles my mind. Neither is it the acres of multi-level parking surrounding the sprawling monolithic complex. For me, the monster is the Mall's absurd bricolage. Under its roof contains a collection of oddities: an amusement park, an ice rink, a golf course, a submarine grotto, and even a Spanish galleon. It's also got a kid-friendly mascot, a catchy jingle, and a claim to fame as largest mall in the worl. With all this in mind, doesn't it remind us of something in Southern California?

Of course, despite being a two-headed monster, it also has a distinction of being an amazing BLACK HOLE for the whole region of Northern Alberta. Think about the economics..

Canadian company discovers oil near Fort McMurray. American oil conglomerate extracts oil from sands. Oil is sold to Esso. SUV pulls up to gas station and fills up. SUV guzzles most of the gas driving 30 km across the city to West Edmonton Mall.

Here's a familiar story: Teenage girls think about what to do on a Saturday afternoon. One says emphatically, "SHOPPING!" Another exclaims, "WATERPARK!" Third one shakes her head and wants to watch a movie. No matter what they pick, one thing's for sure: they'll all end up somewhere in West Edmonton Mall.

I'm thinking right now that since it's past 5AM, i've resolved to just stay up the whole night.

OK.. getting sleepy...

"I can't believe I paid 15 bucks for this?!" exclaims my exasperated friend Dan as we headed up the ramps of the Guggenheim Museum in New York. Although he might have thought of wringing my neck for dragging him all the way here, my other two friends are wringing their stomachs, faces pale from the nauseating climb up a parking-lot style ramp of wonder. The exhibition was an exercise of various artistic media- moving pictures to still life- to confront a dramatic perspective of our biological nature. Everything that wasn't plasticized was covered in vaseline goo, and flat screens in the atrium and elsewhere showed various parts of a continuous mythological film that was both absurd and perverse. Although the art never really made much sense, I read later that afternoon that the artist's theme was based exclusively on a muscle that regulated testicular ascension and decension. Satisfied with this epiphany, it was soon very clear to me that my appetite for dinner had completely vanished.

New York City is a megalopolis of contrasts. A simple jog from the boathouse in Central Park to the Nasdaq billboard in Times Square shows that the city isn't the monotony of over-scaled office buildings some claim it to be. Favorite spot? Forget skating in the winter at Rockefeller Center- sip a margarita on ice at the very same place in the heat of the summer. The colored lights of a glorious fountain, the serenity of the shiny stone buildings above, the reassuring tapping of jazz- this is New York at its finest.

So it's been ages since i posted a blog..
Things that have happened since my last blog...

-The US starts and finishes war with Iraq
-SARS virus attacks the globe and parts of Canada under quarantine
-Quebec is no longer sovereigntist
-The Oilers make and lose the playoffs
-My egg salad sandwich is still in fridge

Crazy, huh?

Read Adrian's blog. It's the funniest thing I ever read!
http://www.8w.blogspot.com/

There's only two sets of people in the world. Those who know how to tune a guitar properly, and those who don't. As a proud member of the musically deaf half of society, I triumphantly lift my electric guitar tuner in the air and say..

"Over my cold dead body!"

Of course, people don't know the difficult logistics of using an electric tuner. It's- like blowing your nose- a fine art. First, we need a couple constants: A guitar enthusiast is usually in the seated position. Second, you use both hands to play a guitar. Third, the tuner is as big as a Palm.

And now the critical problem: With the exception to people with three arms, most people cannot play the guitar and hold a tuner at the same time. And the tuner HAS to be inches away from the sound hole to register a note (especially in loud environments). For short-legged people like me, the body of the guitar takes away most of the surface area of the thighs. Failure to stabilize the tuner is the number one reason why people stop using tuners.

Of course I think positive.. it not so much an OBSTACLE as it is an OPPORTUNITY.

My secret is this (drum roll please): I clasp the tuner with my thighs (much like a clamp), and the pressure exerted horizontally allows me to both position the tuner at any angle i want AND I can sit like a regular man.

Now advice like this is priceless. So I won't charge you a penny. But what I DO ask you to do is to spread THIS word: Let EVERY WARM-BLOODED GUITARIST know that it is indeed possible to use an battery-powered tuner WITHOUT SHAME.

And that it is OK if you think A sounds like E....