Coldstream Corner: Remembering our China Trip

During these "COVID-19" days of self-isolation and limited--but entirely necessary--trips to the grocery store, my thoughts turned back to a trip to China. It was so long ago, we've both forgotten exactly what year it was, but probably 24 or 25 years ago.

As our plane descended beneath puffy clouds on its approach to Beijing International Airport, the previously blue and clear skies turned orange-y brown, and we were later told that dust storms from the Gobi Desert in the north often inundated the areas south. On descending further, rural homesites and farms--whose perimeters included low walls to contain gardens and farm animals--came into view. All looked orange-y brown: rooftops, garden walls, streets, soils, with sparse shrubs and trees.

Unaccustomed to seeing armed soldiers at any airport, we were relieved to proceed through Customs without so much as a hiccup. Glad to be away from the steady gaze of the soldiers, we were soon en route to our hotel--the China World, a modern black glass tower on a main street in Beijing--however, we found the smells of the city unsettling. A mixture of leaded gas exhaust perhaps with whatever the winds picked up over farmland. (To be fair, similar odors emanated from streets after we landed in Mazatlan during another vacation.)

The China World Hotel, back in those days, stood out like a sore thumb amid mammoth dark red brick factories that lined the streets in several directions. Its lobby was breathtakingly beautiful, thick pile carpet quieted footfall, and magnificent red columns reached to the ceiling of the three-storey high lobby. A whisper-quiet elevator soon led us to the entrance to our home for the next few days.

From our sumptuous room high above the street, with floor-to-ceiling windows, a modern-looking structure was being built a few doors away across the street, replete with scaffolding entirely of large-diameter bamboo. Gangways laden with barefoot workers running--yes running--up inclines attached to the outside of each storey. Not a hard hat to be seen, these workers were pushing--yes pushing--wheelbarrows of something -- was it concrete? -- up to the floors where the product was needed. From the sheer angle of the workers' ascent, their wheelbarrows appeared heavy. I looked away, concerned my gaze would cause a worker to topple from the gangway with his load if he misjudged the gangway's turn at the corner of the building.

We awoke the next morning after a deep sleep, and peered down to the street below. Hundreds--perhaps a thousand--bicycles conveyed workers to their jobs, somewhere, during the again-dusty morning. Appearing as small as ants, these bicycle riders were clad in browns and greys, not a bright yellow or blue or green shirt to be seen, not that it mattered. But everything was so...well, muted and dark. Nothing brightly coloured (except the lobby).

While this blog story isn't entirely a trip diary, the story itself is necessary for me to post. Why? Because of the virus pandemic. A virus that originated in Wuhan, China, a place we had neither heard of nor visited at that time.

And, despite my better judgment, the myriad effects of the virus' impact on the world economy and our First World's lifestyles, not to mention investments, needs to find a name to blame. And that's China. For what it's worth. A knee-jerk reaction, yes, but a reaction nevertheless.

Discovering that over 70 per cent of "our world's" drugs originate in China is, in itself, unsettling.
Consider also the "supply chains" to North America. We must, once this pandemic is resolved, get the hell out of China for our needs. Not just because of logistics, but also the cultural differences that promise COVID-19 won't be the last to originate from non-First World countries (including India, in my view).

The balance of the blog post will focus on why my resolve is to never again visit China.
I feel for the people of China, but cultural practices that go back millenia--when combined with over-population--are a risk that must be mitigated.

Little things, big things.
But things nevertheless.

Back to the story of why.

On one excursion, a planned tour of the Ming Tombs, the China World hotel gave each tour participant a styrofoam-boxed lunch (an apple and a western-style sandwich) during the lobby meeting that morning prior to boarding the bus. We were instructed that lunch was to be eaten in the tour bus during a lunch stop, and to eat nowhere else! Sani-wipes were included, and we were instructed to "not touch things outside the bus". And to eat nowhere else!

The bus tour to the Ming Tombs was a long drive (3 or so hours?) through farmlands of mostly flat and slightly rolling lands, punctuated here and there with shrubs and trees. It was a windy day, as I recall, and for literally miles and miles outside my bus window, hundreds if not thousands of garden cloches (like these, but with thin plastic sheets that HAD covered them) were everywhere. Why was windy mentioned? Because the thin plastic sheets were obviously placed during last year's garden season and hadn't survived winter temperatures intact.

That day, the bus travelled along miles and miles of shredded torn plastic that littered the ground as far as the eye could see. The speed of the bus created a vortex of air-borne plastic shreds in its wake, as a passenger near the back of the bus exclaimed! I thought of the litter that now and then borders streets at home, but this was entirely something else. Where were crews of people to clean up the plastic? Not a soul in sight--not even getting things ready for this year's farming--anywhere as the bus continued on.

It was early May and apple blossoms were blooming. Beautiful indeed if you could ignore the shredded plastic.

Once at the entrance to the park that housed the Ming Tombs, we stepped off the bus. Throngs of locals were also visiting the park, and we followed the crowd, walking on 40-foot and 50-foot long slabs of thick shale pathways, edged in grass, to what would be the entrance to the tombs...a rather simple structure about 10 feet tall that held an open door to a stairway, at which park attendants stood to usher everyone in an orderly fashion.

And that's where the fresh air ended. Husband and I today can't agree on how many flights of stairs we descended (maybe four?), but we both remembered what bothered us immensely. As each stairway turned at a landing, our nostrils were accosted by the unmistakeable odour of urine. We continued down the stairs, following shadowy figures lit (actually, barely lit) by the 10-watt lightbulb at each turn of the concrete stairs. Naturally, we were reluctant to hold onto the metal railing as we descended and simply wanted to finish the descent. I thought to myself "perhaps a toddler needed to have a pee", but the smell of urine was very strong at EVERY landing as we descended. So it wasn't just the odd toddler. Thank goodness (maybe) that it was dark going down the stairs. We wouldn't have fallen far from a misstep, simply landing against the four or five people on the stair immediately below us, likely then causing a chain reaction from the four or five people on the stair immediately behind us.

Almost retching, we arrived in the cavernous tombs, fortunately lit by stronger light bulbs than the stairway, shoulder to shoulder with locals and some of our tour members. Then all motion stopped as locals viewed the display(s) and chatted among themselves in their own dialects. We visitors looked at each display item: thick stone "thrones"/chairs, utensils, goblets, as we walked slowly once the line started moving again. A small white sign accompanied each display item. But we couldn't read the signs, they were all in Chinese characters with no English translation. Anywhere.

At least there was no smell of urine in the cavern. Looking up, its tunnel-like construction appeared hewn by hand. I wondered how many people it took with picks and shovels, and for how long, to carve the subterranean tomb from a solid rock mountain. I think of the Fraser Canyon's railway construction, and how many Chinese workers died during its build.

I couldn't wait to get out of the Ming Tombs, and sucked in a big breath of pristine air as we again ascended out into daylight. It had been awful down there, and we learned "bugger all" of the items displayed, as my husband said. Others on the tour bus nodded in agreement. Husband was very disappointed as he's a big history nut.

Now to lunch.
The bus pulled away from the Ming Tombs parking lot, travelled a few miles and then pulled into a large paved empty parking lot. Not a building in sight, so maybe it was a rare Highway Rest Area.
The tour guide suggested we start eating our prepackaged lunches. A low commotion in the bus at the front had us all looking out the window. There at the bus door, on the pavement, stood a dishevelled old woman, clothed in layer upon layer of mismatched warm shirts and jackets and pants, with well-worn dusty shoes. Her hands clasped together, she was silently appealing to the bus occupants.

It didn't take more than two minutes for occupants to react.
We each filed to the front of the bus--the driver had now opened the door but wouldn't allow the woman inside--and almost all the prepackaged lunches were handed out to the smiling -- and by now, crying -- woman. She bowed and bowed and bowed, and cried, her tears glistening on deeply lined cheeks as the bus pulled away, a three-foot tall stack, four containers wide, at her side. She held up an apple and smiled, showing few teeth. Many on the bus sniffled away silent tears; I was among them. None of us, so well-fed and rich in the scheme of things, here in China, would miss the prepackaged lunch. We hoped our donations would feed the woman's family for several days.
And then what? I had to put that thought out of my mind.

But I recall we were all famished as we entered the China World dining room that night.

Another day, another bus tour.
The Great Wall of China...actually walls plural.
Spectacular scenery within a couple of hours from the hotel as the bus traversed hilly lush terrain as we approached the wall(s). Numerous tiny towns every few miles en route, very old--often crumbling--buildings in whose open doorways toddlers played and Mothers fussed. Children don't wear diapers ... their onesies have an open seam at the bottom--both front and back--to permit little ones to simply squat and do their business.

As we were about to climb the steps to walk China's great wall, we wondered aloud if there was anywhere in China that there wouldn't be a crush of local tourists!

Some of the older tour people asked where bathrooms could be accessed, both in the little town and/or on/near the wall? The answer was always the same: raised eyebrows and a shake of the head.

On a "non tour" (free) day, husband and I decided to go for a long walk on the street of the China World Hotel. (I expect today there are many many adjacent hotels and tourist haunts, but few were constructed when we were there).

We walked along a well-paved sidewalk, mile after mile, and it felt good to not be sitting in a bus for hours and hours. We spoke to one another quietly, as did the locals who passed/approached us.
Beggars and vendors were everywhere that sunny day, sitting with their backs against low walls that edged the sidewalk. Their bric-a-brac was spread on the ground on a stained cloth, as they waited for walk-up tourist interest. I bought a little thingy...a small intricately carved green elephant, through whose holes could be seen another, albeit much smaller, carved green elephant. The merchant was ecstatic. I have it to this day, although the green colour is now faded.

My little almost-green elephant...a sidewalk purchase in Beijing.

Resilient, polite and respectful people everywhere...that's China.
Quite a difference from the drug gangs and pervasive lawlessness in our home country.

At some point during our long walk, we simply couldn't pretend that poverty wasn't widespread.
It was everywhere one looked.

We heard the squeak of the wagon wheel before we saw it. A small very old wooden wagon was being lugged along the sidewalk by a solitary and thin middle-aged man. Stepping across the street into the shade on this very warm day, we rested a while to watch. The wagon's contents were hanging from hooks suspended one foot higher than the wagon box...swaying to and fro as the wagon continued down the sidewalk, we realized the vendor was selling meat...raw meat. Hanging from the hooks were sections of unknown meat, pieces of animals, bloody and cut haphazardly (it appeared). We could hear the buzz of flies from our position across the street. He spoke to someone (who purchased nothing) and he tugged at the wagon to continue his journey...in the sun...the meat swaying to and fro, hanging in the sun, as he walked. No refrigeration.

We continued our walk.
Silently, not speaking.
There was nothing to say after what we had seen.

Then after we had lost sight of the wagon-meat merchant, we saw a young-ish man stumble down a flight of stone stairs across the street. Not knowing who to call or indeed, how to react, we soon saw him raise his head, turn, and vomit voluminous quantities onto the steps...and himself. We stopped in our tracks, deciding to do nothing. He stumbled and lurched to his feet, wiped what he could from his clothes--onto the steps--and disappeared between the stone steps and the adjacent wood-frame building.

As we turned and walked back several miles to the China World hotel, we wondered what would have occurred--if anything--had a soldier been present to witness what we saw. It was obvious that no laws had been broken, but ... here? on "tourist street"?

Sharing what we had seen with other tour colleagues during dinner that night at the hotel, we heard comparable stories from their free day ... stories of animal slaughter on side streets, gory muck (entrails) left rotting in the sun. The sounds of poverty and anguish.

The next day, we arrived by bus at the infamous Tiananmen Square, site of the student protests in 1989. I recall a television story of the brave soul in the white shirt standing in front of tanks that were deployed to quell the unrest. Several hundred to several thousand people died as a result. And I've always wondered about the man in the white shirt.

Tiananmen Square is huge...and a large picture of Chairman Mao sits at its center point.

Then it was off to the Forbidden City, a complex of more than 900 buildings over 72 hectares (180 acres). I swear we walked up the steps, into the building(s), and down the steps toward yet another building...bet we walked through 500 buildings. By the end of that trek, each building and its contents resembled the last and my feet were killing me. Couldn't wait to find the bus, albeit at the other end of the 900+ buildings. Again, no signage was in English, so as the saying goes "same old, same old..."

As an aside, we also spent four days in Hong Kong, after which we headed back to Vancouver...finally.

On one of our four days in Hong Kong, we walked along the wharf waiting for the ferry that would take us to Kowloon, across the strait. Although it was recently no longer allowed, some Chinese families continued to live on boats, and some were tied up at the pier when we were there.

I said we headed back to Vancouver "finally".
Because what I saw on the little family-owned boats in the Hong Kong harbour, near the ferry dock, made me sick beyond belief.

On two boats, on the front deck, were wire cages with animals in them.
"Oh look", I said to my husband, "at that beautiful Golden Lab, glad he is in a cage so he doesn't fall overboard."

Before my husband could reply, a passerby said in perfect English, "that dog is their dinner."
I want to go home, I announced.
Now.

Now...all these years later, why did I recall the China trip at all?
I want things to change after this pandemic ends.

China's global impact has resulted in supply chains far, far away from customers. All for the profit of North American companies who outsourced production. Did our North American unions--with their demands for ever-increasing higher pay result in the outsourcing? Yes, of course.
It's been said that over 70 per cent of North America's drug production is manufactured in China.
Just think...diabetics, heart disease patients, etc. etc. all relying on ships traversing half the world to bring their life-sustaining product to our shores.

I no longer want to buy anything from China...or India for that matter.
The conditions, the squalor of those countries whose populations are so large that hygiene is last on a long list of wants...sanitation and clean water for safe food and manufacturing production, the right of a population to live in safe environments, free of horrors and death.

No more live animal markets!

On March 5th of this year, approximately four months since COVID-19 virus reared its ugly head, China has outlawed the consumption and farming of wild animals. The word "wild" is important.

But it'll be a difficult law to enforce, despite the presence of soldiers.

So now we have COVID-19.
All over the world.
The World has had MERS, SARS, Ebola, now COVID-19.
And yes, there's been Influenza and the Bubonic Plague.