Five Things to Take When Traveling to China
I’ve been meaning to write this one for a while but could never narrow the list down to just five things. Sure, there are a lot of items every traveler should take with them, but I wanted to highlight a few specifics that may get overlooked when going to China for the first time.
1. Tissues
You can certainly buy tissues in China (and buy them cheaply), but fresh off the airplane, it could be a while before you get to stock up. The last thing you want to do is go to the restroom tissueless. The majority of public restrooms in China do not have toilet paper. People are expected to bring their own.
2. Hand sanitizer
Another commodity missing from public restrooms is soap. While nicer restaurants will have a sink and soap dispenser, most of the restrooms you come across will not only lack any hand-cleaning liquids but are so scary and dirty, you can’t stop thinking about the germs crawling on you until you fully disinfect.
3. Hand fan
The best thing you can do if you’ll be doing most of your traveling in the summer is to take a handheld, electric fan. I was surprised by how humid China is. The major cities like Beijing, Shanghai, and Nanjing are particularly hot and miserable, and yet air-conditioning is not always readily available.
4. Printouts
Unless you are already fluent in Chinese, it’s going to be tough trying to explain to people where you want to go. While English is common, there are still many people—taxi drivers included—who don’t know much past hello. An easy cop-out is to print off the Chinese names of the places you plan to visit.
5. Granola bars
Also known as emergency food, these will help you when you can’t find anything else to eat that sounds good. I like Chinese food, but for new travelers, the noodles and fried rice can be really hard to stomach. Go for the high fiber granola bars, though, because… well… constipation isn’t fun to have on vacation.
Another Dirty Chinese Restroom
Courtesy of my father’s bravery, this picture comes from a hotel lobby restroom in Jiuzhaigou. Pretty scary stuff.
Wanna See a Dirty Restroom?
If you answered no, then… uh… oops. Too late.
The Bus Stops for Wee
Okay, I actually do have a story to tell about Yangzhou. I’ve just been feeling tired and sick lately and haven’t even had the energy to complain about it in written form. But the blog must go on! And you’ll appreciate this story, too, because it’s about pee.
I took a bus to Yangzhou, since the train takes twice as long. I don’t really like taking long-distance buses, though, because the drivers don’t stop for bathroom breaks unless a passenger is about to explode. Guess who the near-exploding passenger was this time? I really didn’t want to bother the driver, but I finally tapped him on the shoulder and asked if he could stop the bus so I could “xiao bian” (which makes for an amusing translation: little convenience). He told me to wait 20 minutes. I already knew I was reaching my limit, but I thought I’d humor him. I sat back down.
As I shook and sweated in my seat, a lady behind me offered to help. “I can tell the driver what you need,” she said. Oh, but the driver already knew, and I already knew I wasn’t going to make it. I confronted him again and said, in Chinese, “I need to use the bathroom now.” He reluctantly pulled over, and I got out and xiao bianed on the side of the road for everyone to see. For like five minutes straight. I climbed back onto the bus and hurried to my seat to hide my embarrassment. Aside from the fact that I did avoid peeing my pants, my only consolation now was that I would never see any of these people again. Never… again…
The next day, I got on the bus to go back to Changzhou, feeling a little more confident that I wouldn’t have to halt this particular trip. But then I made eye contact with a familiar woman. She was the same woman who had offered to help me on the first bus ride. As soon as she saw me, she smiled and said, “Good luck!”
You’re in Squatter Country Now
Collectively, I’ve been in China for 16 months. That’s spread across five years, mind you. And in all my travels (and staying-putles), I’ve only gotten food poisoning once. But that doesn’t mean everything I’ve eaten has settled well. Many long nights were spent sipping on a bottle of Pepto Bismol. Getting struck by… uh… we’ll call it lightening… isn’t so serious when you’re in the comfort of your own home, however. It’s when you’ve gone downtown that it becomes a matter of life and death.
Foreigners like to hold out (or hold it in) for a Western toilet, because there’s no way in hell we’re going to squat to do our business, but you’re not always going to find yourself next to a hotel with a clean lobby restroom when nature comes kicking down your door. And even hotel lobbies can’t always guarantee a Western toilet. So you get used to the squatter very early on, because it’s either that or poop your pants and smell like everybody else in China.
Oh, come on. I’m joking!
I’m to the point now where I prefer using a squatter. I’ve been there for a while, actually. Uh… that last sentence could go either way. Keep in mind that this has nothing to do with being a fan of squatting and everything to do with avoiding the alternative when it looks like this:
The truly sad part about this picture is the handicap sign above the toilet. A wheelchair-bound person’s only option is this disgusting seat out in the open (and right next to the urinal trough) for everyone to see? Really? I know stall doors are a novelty in a lot of public bathrooms, but I would think anyone who has to use that toilet would be completely humiliated.
Then again, Chinese people find public urination/defecation much less embarrassing than we do. On any given day, I can walk down the street and pass two or three guys casually peeing in the bushes. They’re not trying to hide it (and they’re not trying to hide it, either). In fact, yesterday, I was riding the escalator down to the underground walkway/shopping area when I saw a mother letting her son pee at the bottom. It was a huge puddle, too! And I seemed to be the only one who noticed. I also seemed to be the only one who cared not to step in it.
Another Close Call to the Bathroom
It doesn’t matter if you go to China or India or Africa or stay home in hopes of avoiding all misfortune, there will come a time when you have a bad bathroom day. While nothing I do will ever compare to the night a doctor in Hexian asked me to poop on the floor, today’s events were still pretty funny. See? I’m laughing about it already. I’m healthy!
So on the way downtown, there is a market that sells clothes and all sorts of random junk. I wanted to go there to look for a winter coat, but as soon as I stepped into the market, my stomach started rumbling. This wasn’t a slight rumble that suggests you still have another hour to find a restroom, either. This was urgent. The market was crowded, though, and everyone was in my way. By the time I got to the WC, I thought I was going to explode. And then I saw this:
Actually, this picture is a different WC. The one I ran into was much darker and dirtier, and all the stalls were taken. Not that I cared, anyway. There was no way I was going to do number two in there. It isn’t that I refuse to use squatters. I have nothing against squatters. I have everything against bathroom stalls that have no doors. I need a door. I need it! But I wasn’t going to get a stall with a door in this neighborhood. If I wanted that luxury, I’d have to go downtown.
It seemed like ditching the market and hopping on the 201 bus would be a quick transition. It wasn’t. I saw the 68 bus come by twice and the 14 bus come by three times, but the 201? Where was the 201?! I waited out there for ten minutes! And I was dying the whole time. Of course, when the 201 bus finally arrived, it was packed. It looked like a gumball machine that had just been refilled, and only one gumball came out when the bus stopped. I couldn’t get on.
The thought crossed my mind that I would soon be sending a message to Bart telling him, “I had to go back to my apartment. Please don’t ask me why.” Just then, a taxi came by, and I took it, directing the driver to Nan Da Jie. If I knew how to say, “And step on it!” I surely would have thrown that in. But as my luck was going, the taxi got stuck behind a bicycle. A bicycle! I had exact change in one hand and the door handle in the other, ready to bolt once the taxi stopped. I barely—and I mean barely—made it to a restroom. But it had a door, and that’s what really matters.
Everyone Poops, Even in China
The book Everyone Poops has circulated through my family as a gag gift for years, so I was justifiably drawn to this Chinese children’s book about the very same thing: the wonders of going potty. They had several books that cartooned bodily functions, including one that explains where tears, sweat, blood, and boogers come from and another book all about breasts. But, um… that one was just a little too unsettling to buy.
A mighty fine poop.
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