Change is in the air

Before I left home for Christmas, I was very uncertain about my future plans in China. Beijing, as many of you know is arguably the most polluted city in the world. It is also massive, has horrible traffic, is filled with people, and designed to a scale that isn't really pedestrian friendly. So, to be honest, after I had bought my ticket, and especially while I was waiting for my connecting flight in Seattle, taking in the view of the harbor and lushly forested hills while eating fresh salmon I kept asking myself, "What the hell are you going back for?" I wasn't really sure myself. I knew the temperature difference between mild Texas and 4 season Beijing would be about 60 degrees Farenheit.

Before returning home about 7 weeks ago, the signs of winter were everywhere. The days had gotten shorter and the nights were becoming quite cold. I didn't really know what a Beijing winter would portend. More hotpots for sure. More investments in winter clothes. My strategy was to wait and see what the Beijingers would do, and they were already preparing for the four months of cold.

Shop owners and public servants hung blankets in front of doorways. Enormous piles of Napa cabbage, sometimes the size of small cars, sprang up in markets and on street corners. Farmers sold the cabbage at reduced prices to avoid frost damage and people bought them by the dozen, to stock up for winter. Small and young trees that line most city streets and parks had been wrapped in rope. The rope is supposed to help insulate the trees to survive the long winter. Oh, and the city turned on the public heating for the year. That was basically the state in which I left Beijing.

After I returned Beijing was a different city. First off, within just six weeks, roads that were under construction near my subway stop had been finished. New roads that I had no idea were planned had been laid and finished as well. Old buildings had come down and new ones were coming up. This is the norm in China; it's surprising, exciting and unsettling, but you get used to it.

The air quality improved dramatically. Strong winds blowing off the Mongolia's plains bring frequent cold fronts into Beijing. Luckily, they also seem to carry off much of the air-borne pollution. Blue skies, something I was so reluctant to leave in the U.S. finally became the norm in Beijing. Even the U.S. embassy in Beijing says so.

The produce improved in quality. This was a shock because I was expecting the winter to cut off access to many of the fall, spring and summer crops. Actually, I think the colder temperatures provided some free refrigeration for the distributors and vendors. There were very few sad, limp vegetables, or blighted piles of fruit, as was so often the case in summer.

The biggest surprise for me was the freezing of Hòu Hǎi (后海) lake. Hòu Hǎi is a city park in the center of Beijing containing 4 lakes or Hǎi within its tree-lined paths. In summer locals and tourists paddle slowly through the lake and old men (as well as drunk friends at 5 AM) brave the murky, polluted water to practice their swimming. Upon returning, I found the entire lake was frozen over and had become 1 big ice skating rink with little kids, skate

rentals, push ice scooters - everything except the hot chocolate (I may have to open a stall). This is all very obvious to those of you living in the Northern U.S., but I was raised in Texas, and the idea that a lake could freeze over and become an ice playground was a complete surprise. Within a few days of arriving I found some friends and donned a pair of ice skates.

I hope you all are savoring the nuances of the seasons as much as I am. To those of you who live somewhere without much seasonal change, I may be a bit envious of the mild weather. Then again, change is fun, change is exciting, and season changes are no different.

Stay warm.

Anecdotes and economic analysis: protecting your health in China

Hey guys, I hope you all enjoy the DRY title.
It barely has to do with what this post will be about.

Anyways, I started writing again! It looks like my last post was written somewhere in Peru or Ecuador in 2009. Well, now, I'm living in Beijing and it's 2011.

There's some more to the in-between story, but I'm here to talk about protecting your health.

This all started because of a great book I just read called Born to Run. It motivated me to get back into running and pushed me to work on changing my running style - something I've been experimenting with on and off. A large premise of the book is that we run incorrectly because of thick soled shoes, and we get injured as a result. According to the author, a lower impact stride means you land and release on the ball and mid section of your foot. Never your heel.

I had tried this in the past, but always found either the ball of my foot got sore or my calves got tired after about 3 miles. This time, with new shoes, I ran about 6 miles up to the 4th ring road and back. The next day the same and on the third day I rested. My calves were extremely tight and though I was trying to push for some longer distance, I didn't want to go too hard too soon. The next day though I could barely walk. I mean, I could, but I felt a very taught, acute soreness in my calves. In the book the Tarahumara people would often get massages from their medical men before setting out on runs. Seeing as labor in China is cheap, I decided to get a leg massage.

There are a number of options for massage parlors; many are suspect. The most inoffensive are probably the Blind Massage. Blind massage parlors in Beijing always have nurses in white button up outfits, older "blind" men with dark glasses wearing all white and an overall bare, concrete hospital-ey kind of feel. Other than that I had walked up to a large massage parlor I pass near home and inquired about rates. The 50s Chinese lady who answered me, said the rate was 80 Yuan, and higher, depending on the type of massage. As she said that I could see about four 20s age girls peering out from behind her in a line and smiling. There was a red Chinese lantern dangling above. Needless to say, they weren't selling just massages.

The only other place I had gotten a massage was at a "foot massage house". I went with my other ex-roommate Kelly (girl) and after some bargaining we got a 30 minute massage for around 4 bucks each. I had just eaten lunch nearby so I decided to go back there. I walked in, told the guy I wanted a leg massage and asked the price. It was 6 bucks, higher than last time, but I didn't feel like bargaining. I agreed and he began to take me into the back rooms of the parlor. Last time when I went with Kelly they sat us at the four bed/seats right in the front room. It had a large television and was visible from the street. I said I wanted to sit there, but the guy kept on walking to another room. He showed me to a room with full massage tables, but I said I wanted to watch TV in the front room. He then took me to another room with a small TV and two massage chair/beds. I asked again about the room in front, but he insisted and I complied. Then he asked if I wanted a male or female masseuse. I said female.

After about an 8 minute wait, a 30s handsome Chinese lady came into the room. I told her I was sore from running and that I wanted a leg massage on my calves. She immediately asked me if I wanted an hour long massage and I said I had paid for a 30 min leg massage and that was all. After about a minute of massaging she asked me if I wanted JinYou or something to that effect. 油(yóu) means oil, so i though she was asking if I wanted lotion. Last time with Kelly the masseuses washed and oiled my legs and feet a few times during the massage. I said ok, and she said,

"It costs extra"; "and it's expensive".

Well, how much is it? I asked. Lotion couldn't cost that much, right?

"How much do you have?" She replied.

I must have missed something...I thought.

I think I'll just stick with the leg massage no 油 whatever things.

After that she was pretty well resigned to a normal, meat and potatoes massage. We chatted a bit. She asked about American currency, American prices, our salaries here vs. there. I asked her where she was from. She said Runan province.

Where is that? I asked,

It's just south of Beijing, she replied

Runan? Am I missing something?

Then I realized she had an accent, RuNan meant Hunan.

I asked her if she had a family there; she said she did.

Then I asked if she had any family in Beijing: she said she didn't.

As the massage was coming to an end she tried one more tactic. This may be my imagination, but for the whole massage she had been massaging my legs by sitting on the side of my body; right then left. At the very end she sat just behind my feet and took my leg. She had to pull it into her body to get to the calf muscle and that wedged my foot right in her upper upper inner thigh. I tried to pull it back, but I didn't want to jerk or make any awkward movements. So I just tried to slowly, gingerly extricate my leg from her groin. At the same time I was trying to relax so she could work out the pain in the muscle and try not to think about where my foot was. The whole experience was mildly exciting, really uncomfortable, and overall stressful. Not really what I was looking for in a massage.

After I paid and left I wondered about the place and the experience. The parlor had 10 or so rooms and was absolutely empty. There were at least 4 workers and I had paid 6 bucks for 30 minutes of their time. Small noodle restaurants in Beijing get by with 1.50 or 2.00 a bowl, but they're generally in a very small room and have high turnover. I wondered to myself how much of that money did she make? If I paid $6 to the business, what was her cut? Then it dawned on me - probably nothing. The massage was kind of crap. My legs were loose on the skin, but I was tight as ever in the deep tissue. Then again, she's probably not there to give a great massage.

This is all conjecture but I think the business scheme works like this: the owner provides the business as a place to meet customers. He takes all the normal wages and provides a place to sleep. If the masseuse gets extra wages for favors, then she gets to take some home and the owner takes a cut. Thus, the only way she makes money is by selling sexual favors. She had said she was the only one of her family in Beijing. I didn't ask if she was working here to support them, but the answer when only one person lives in a metropolis is almost always Yes. So, her family sacrificed her, or perhaps she volunteered to go and sell her beauty, youth and body to support her family. It's just another sad, daily reality in China.

Still, I think things could be worse. She seemed pretty happy and in good health. I didn't sense any coercion, except perhaps out of economic necessity. In fact she was providing a very necessary health service. Almost every massage parlor has a 保健 bǎojiàn sign outside their door. It's a shortening for 保护健康 bǎohù jiànkāng, which literally means: "protect health". You see this sign at massage parlors and adult sex shops. I suppose what they mean is getting off is good for you, and is good for your health (current science apparently backs this up). So, in the end massage parlors, hairdressers and other service businesses serve as a smoke screen for a large "health protecting" prostitution business. You may criticize, but at least it's more transparent, and less dangerous than the illegal prostitution we have in the U.S. Though technically illegal in China, prostitution is tolerated, ignored (or patronized?) by the police excepting a few raids every so often. Although as a 25 year old, active male I'm not really into the idea of a one-off. Why should I judge? The lady supports her family, the man gets his need filled, and both are working together to protect the health of the Chinese population!