A couple days ago, I began describing some of the differences between riding in southern China and the Midwest of America. I want to continue the theme today.
Critters - One of the many odd things about my riding experience in China was that I rarely saw any wildlife. True, much of my cycling was done in a polluted, chaotic and sprawling metropolis that was barely fit for the 10 million humans who lived there. But I also rode a lot in undeveloped mountainous areas – like Nankunshan and Maofengshan – surrounded with lush subtropical forests, places you would think would be crawling with all sorts of critters. However, the only wild creature I remember seeing was a lime green lizard with really bad timing. He ran in front of my front wheel on a steep mountain descent, and I’m afraid I crushed his spine. I did see plenty of rats in the city and a turtle or two in the Pearl River by my home, but I can’t recall seeing any squirrels, rabbits or deer in rural areas. It was as if the countryside were stripped of all wildlife during China’s many famines. The Chinese have a knack for driving nature to the mat and getting it into a deadly choke hold. (OK, my Czech, German and Irish ancestors arrived in America after the white man wiped out the buffalo.)
My friend Brendan and I saw a huge rat climbing the garbage-shrewn bank of this stream near Bapian Mountain. We stopped and stared at it for five minutes. I snapped some photos but the rat just looked like a black blob.
The province where I lived, Guangdong, is home to the Cantonese – famous for being adventurous eaters: dogs, cats, frogs, scorpions, turtles. You name it, they’ll pick it up with their chopsticks. One of the cruelest, most disturbing things I’ve seen in my life was on display in Guangzhou’s famous Qingping market. It was some sort of small deer stuffed in a cage. The cage was so cramped that to get the animal to fit into it, the butcher had to hack off the deer’s legs at the knees. The creature stared out at me, eyes filled with pain and fear, with four bloody stumps sticking out of the cage. I witnessed this when I was a language student in China in the late 80s, but I can still close my eyes and see that animal.
In stark contrast, America’s rural and suburban Midwest region seems to be full of wildlife. I’ve been seeing a lot of wild geese. On one ride, they blocked the road, and I had to unclip and stand there with a guy in a big pickup truck, waiting for them to waddle slowly away as if they owned the road. If they tried a stunt like that in China, the whole flock would be captured with nets and on sale in the nearest market within minutes. I’ve already mentioned the raccoons in a recent post. Deer are everywhere. Yesterday, I was riding home in the middle of the afternoon when I saw a big fat pear-shaped brown mammal lounging around on my neighbor’s front yard. I quickly ruled out the dog or cat possibility. It looked like a beaver without the flat tail (I saw a beaver on another outing!). I’m certain it was a wood chuck. My neighbor behind me said she had a family of them living under her deck. Before I passed the creature, it woke up and scampered away.
I like to ride hard, hammer down the road like everyone else does. But I also love cycling because it’s a great way to get out and see things. I’m always ready to stop my workout to gawk at wildlife. I like the feeling of being in the presence of something that lives in another world with different rules and cares. It’s always a thrill. It’s also comforting. The presence of wildlife tells you that you’re living in a place that’s healthy enough to support all kinds of life. You’re not living on a factory floor or a toxic waste dump.
UPDATE: After reading the post, Brendan found a great picture of the rat at Bapian Mountain and shared it with me:
Few things flood our hearts with fear faster than the black moss from hell. Sometimes I call it Bermuda Triangle Fungus because of its mysterious ability to make cyclists vanish off the radar screen. It’s as slippery as BP oil. If your bike isn’t perfectly upright when you ride over it, you’re going down really hard without warning. Now is the time when the black moss is out in full force, waiting for bicycle tires – the thinner the better.
You can’t see it that well in the above photo, but the black moss is growing on the pave along the fence. It thrives in wet places that don’t get much direct sunshine. I stepped on a patch of it today. Just as I began pushing off with the ball of my foot and toes, my foot quickly slipped out from under me. I recovered my balance before my knee went crashing into the sidewalk.
We often encounter the moss on shady stretches of mountain roads lined with trees. My Canadian riding buddy Dean has become a permanent fixture in Guangzhou expat cycling folklore because the moss once ambushed him during a ride on Nan Kun Mountain. I didn’t witness the incident, but I’ve heard the story told by Dean, who moved away a couple years ago, and others who were there. He was riding along in a seemingly proper upright position with a couple other riders when he suddenly went down hard on his hip. His wheels just went out from under him, and the moss body slammed him with extreme prejudice.
Dean is a tough rider and wasn’t seriously injured. The incident definitely secured his Guangzhou legacy. I’ve been on several rides when the group encounters some black moss and someone says, “Look out for that stuff. Remember what happened to Dean!” And once again, the story is retold.
“Headache gray” is the best way to describe Guangzhou’s skies on most days. The description comes from the R.E.M. song “Daysleeper.” One of the most common questions people ask me about my cycling here is whether I worry about breathing in all the smog. I really don’t. I try not to worry about things that are beyond my control. I also tell myself that I won’t be living here forever, and I’ve promised myself that my next move will be to a place with clean air. But I often feel guilty exposing my kids’ young lungs to the filth.
This is what the skies looked like last weekend. If you got rid of the haze, you would be able to see the lattice design that runs up Guangzhou’s new iconic TV tower – the world’s tallest. But because of the smog, you can barely see the tower. It looks like a shadow that has been Photoshopped into the image. Sometimes it looks like a twister in the far distance.
It’s hard to find reliable air quality readings. I don’t trust the numbers that appear in the state-run media. In Beijing, the U.S. Embassy does its own daily air quality tests and distributes the numbers via Twitter. The Chinese authorities probably aren’t happy about that. I’ve grown so used to the foul air that I don’t notice it much. The only time it really bothers me is when a weather system blows in that seems to push down the smog on the city. After a long ride, my eyes will sting, as if some noxious chemical got trapped between my contact lens and my eyeball.
When the global financial crisis began hitting China with full force in 2008, there was a wave of factory closures in this part of the country, known as the Pearl River Delta – the “world’s factory floor” because of the industrial density. During the downturn, we noticed a dramatic improvement in the air. Blue skies were much more common. There was certainly an upside to the economic downside.
Waah Waaaaaaaaaaah!!!!! The truck comes roaring up from behind, honking its horn as I begin my climb up the Pazhou Bridge over the Pearl River. My left hand is gripping my handlebars, while my sweaty right hand tries to hold my slippery camera without shaking it too much. With quick glances, I look at the screen for a second and try to frame a good picture. Then I look down at the road to make sure my wheel isn’t straying into the convoy of trucks on my left or into the tall concrete Jersey block on my right. I’m also scouting for chunks of brick, glass and scrap metal as I rev up my cadence so I don’t get dropped by my two strong riding mates, Brendan and Nelson, visiting from Portland. My heart is pounding. I’m holding my breath so I don’t inhale too much truck exhaust. Lastly, I’m thinking how crazy I am. Is getting a decent photo of the climb over the Pazhou Bridge really worth risking my life? Well, yes it is.
Crossing the Pazhou Bridge was always my favorite part of the weekday rides I used to do with a small group of neighbors when I arrived in Guangzhou three years ago. I always got my butt kicked in the sprints, but I could usually redeem myself when climbing the bridge. Our ride was on a 30-kilometer out-and-back route, and we would hit the bridge at the midpoint. Three years ago, I don’t remember the traffic being that bad. We rode at dawn so there weren’t many vehicles. But now, there seems to be a constant convoy of trucks during all hours of the day. I’m guessing many of the early morning drivers have been behind the wheel all night, fighting sleep or jacked up on who knows what.
Nelson (blue) and Brendan (black) attacking the Pazhou Bridge.
The trucks hog the roads, giving cyclists a lane that’s barely half a meter wide. The road is usually bumpy, covered in blobs of concrete that were dripped from mixer trucks and allowed to harden before they were cleaned away. The northbound part of the bridge usually has migrant workers on bikes salmoning, or riding against traffic, and they’ll stick close to the shoulder and force you to swerve into traffic to avoid them.
Once on a group ride, I launched a blistering Marco Pantani-like attack at the base of the bridge and opened up a big gap. But in the middle of the bridge, a truck had spilled a bunch of gravel, and I had to slow down as I struggled to stay upright while riding through the patch of rocks. The group caught me, so I had to throw in another Pantani attack near the top. Luckily, I still had the legs to do it. It’s still one of my fondest cycling memories.
The southbound lane often has people trying to push or pedal heavily loaded three-wheel bike carts up the bridge. One morning I passed an elderly woman trying to get her shipment of vegetables over the bridge. As I rode by, she said to me in Cantonese, “Can you help me please?” Now that’s a bad way to start your day! Using a Chinese dialect to ask a geeky foreigner in Lycra for help!
The morning I shot these photos, we encountered the guy below with the load of oranges. My riding mates were lucky to zip around him just before a huge container truck caught up to us. I was busy shooting photos and got stranded behind the orange cart just as the container truck pulled up beside it, merged slightly into the lane on his left and just stopped! Traffic on the bridge was blocked for a half minute, and I had to unclip and wait in a cloud of black exhaust for traffic to flow again. Another Pazhou memory.
So after I got dropped by the cyclists, the guy pushing the orange cart came along and dropped me, too! It was a bad day!
Waffles & Steel occasionally gets pictures and anecdotes from readers in other parts of China that help confirm that Guangzhou isn’t the only wild and wacky place to ride in the country. We love to get this material and will find a way to post it, with permission from the source, of course.
Here’s something from a reader in Beijing who commutes by bike daily. The note inspired a discussion with Waffles & Steel:
Reader: It’s barely Spring in Beijing and already have had two incidents happen to remind me to be careful when pedaling around town. Maybe a week ago, one of those three-wheel cabs nearly flattened me on the way to work as I was going straight and he was trying to make a sudden right turn across traffic. We exchanged pleasantries in Chinese, then I gave his windshield a New York smack with the palm of my hand and rode off. A few moments later, the guy caught up with me going pretty fast and tried to sideswipe me down from behind. He came damn close to nailing me and then kept going away still very fast. Lesson learned. No more New York smacks. Haha. On Monday, I was pedaling home from dinner with friends when a car strayed over into the bike path to make a right turn and clipped my handlebar with its side mirror. The car, which did not stop, wasn’t going that fast but the nudge threw me off balance and almost knocked me over. Luckily, I hit both brakes hard and somehow managed to stay upright but snapped a brake cable in the process.
W&S: (About the smack downs) Yeah, they’re really sensitive about that kind of stuff. I did that to the hood of a car once, and the car completely stopped and the driver seemed ready to get out.
Reader: And yes on the smack downs. Smacks instantly piss the Chinese off because they are quite protective of their vehicles. Am sure if you were not a “lao wei” (a foreigner), that the guy would have popped out of his car and confronted you. Just remember, though, you can only play the “lao wei” card so far. Haha. The rundown attempt surprised me but I saw him out of the corner of my eye just in time to move over.
Maybe I’ve been watching too much “Dexter” lately. I might have given the serial dumper too much credit. Oh, he’s definitely a serial dumper. And he’s certainly ballsy. But I don’t think he’s as cheeky as I’ve made him out to be. Specifically, I don’t think he’s been rigging up the caution tape around the piles he’s been leaving lately in some of the most scenic new parts of Guangzhou. A correction or clarification is in order for Waffles & Steel.
I say this because on Wednesday morning we discovered another dump-and-run pile in the same general spot – close to the TV Tower, the city’s newest landmark. We found it just as two guys in an official white city government pick-up truck were leaving the scene. Caution tape had already been neatly strung up around the pile of debris, stuffed into heavy duty burlappy white nylon bags. It seems like the guys in the pickup were on dawn patrol, searching for fresh piles and calling them in to clean-up crews.
The dawn patrol guys were getting into their truck when I whipped out my camera to shoot a photo of the mound. They saw me do this and quickly got out of the truck. It looked like they were getting ready to stop me from shooting. That’s when I realized that the last time I uploaded photos to my computer, I forgot to stick the memory card back into my camera. I put the camera back into my jersey pocket and said to the men, “Who’s doing this? I’m seeing these piles almost everyday.” One of them grumbled back, “Some really bad person is doing it. Yes, it’s happening almost everyday.”
It’s interesting how efficient and vigilant they’ve become. When the Asia Games start in the fall, Guangzhou simply can’t tolerate dump and runs.
We warmly welcome you to our civilized city of Guangzhou!!!
On today’s morning ride, we encountered the best dump-and-run ever! Regular readers of Waffles & Steel already know that I’m obsessed with these things. Background: It’s common in Guangzhou for trucks hauling construction debris to dump their loads in the street overnight. Most of them do it to avoid tipping fees or to save fuel and time. But I’m pretty sure that I’ve discovered the work of a serial dumper who’s trying to make a statement. The culprit has been dumping his load near Guangzhou’s newest icon – the TV tower, touted to be the world’s tallest. It looks like a giant rolled-up newspaper that’s scrunched in the middle and standing up on one end. This is the second time I’ve seen a dump-and-run pile left so close to the TV tower. Also nearby is the half-built stadium that will serve as the venue for the Asian Games’ opening ceremony. By picking this spot to dump, the culprit is basically giving the big finger to the Communist Party mandarins who run Guangzhou. It’s extremely brazen.
Be careful, I just dumped a massive pile of crap on the road. Have a nice day!
Initially, I thought the dumper favored this spot because it was convenient. It’s a frontage road along the Pearl River, and there are no CCTV cameras in the area. But something in today’s pile tells me something more is going on. Check out how the dumper carefully rigged up the warning tape around the pile. It was as if he were saying: “Careful, be sure to avoid this huge pile of debris I left on the road near the spectacular TV tower. Hah! Boo-yah!”
A calling card?
It even looks like they took a break for a game of cards. Before Guangzhou really started to rev up for the Asian Games, these piles would stay on the streets for two or three days. Now it seems that crews waste no time cleaning them up. A street sweeper was already working on it when I stopped to shoot it. He said it would take three people to get rid of it.
King of the mountain!
This was the first of two piles that we had to ride around this morning. It was mostly bags of dirt and other fill, dumped in the fast lane a few kilometers from my home. I’ve said it many times before and I’ll say it again. For me, the dump-and-runs are a perfect example of a popular attitude in China: “Screw everyone else! I’ll do what I can get away with!” Sure, this is a common attitude with the human race in general. But it’s way too common in China.
Few things make me crack a smile faster than a banana bike. And I really needed something to cheer me up at the end of a miserable ride – and week in general – on Sunday.
I was lucky to avoid catching a cold all “winter.” I got slammed by a couple stomach bugs but was spared by the common cold that seemed to torture Guangzhou’s other 10 million residents at least once or twice during the past few months. But last week, I started waking up with a sore throat, dull headache, fatigue and congestion. It kept me off the bike on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. It should have kept me out of the office, too, but I was scheduled to move my operation. So for most of the week, I had to deal with the hassle of supervising the movers, switching off the utilities, shredding documents, cleaning, landlord inspections, etc. I dragged myself through the process in the morning, crashed for an hour after lunch, then pressed on the rest of the afternoon. By Thursday, I was feeling better and went out for a short ride. My exuberance got the best of me, though, and I rode too hard and strained my right Achilles tendon. That kept me off the bike on Friday and Saturday.
On Sunday, I was looking forward to a nice, steady 130-kilometer ride that would clear my mind, gently exhaust me and burn off any lingering nasties in my body. I planned to do laps around the 16-kilometer loop in “Unitown,” where the road is smooth and you can just zone out. There’s a section of rolling hills that I like to ride hard, and I was really looking forward to that. But once I got to that section, I discovered that construction crews had cut huge square patches out of the road. They ripped away the asphalt epidermis, leaving only the bumpy and rutted dermis layer of the road that, until Sunday, seemed perfectly fine – one of the best in Guangzhou. The rough patches were spaced about 100 meters apart for about three kilometers over my beloved rolling hills. So once I got into a rhythm, I would have to slow down to ride over a torn-up piece of road.
After doing this for the second time, I snapped. Rage and disgust welled up inside of me. It had been building for a long, long time – for several months actually. Living in a construction site is slowly driving me insane. That’s what Guangzhou has been the past couple years. A massive, sprawling construction zone. It’s impossible to avoid. The detours, the spilled concrete, resurfacing, scaffolding, construction barriers, hard hat zones, blocked sidewalks, rubble strewn roads. It seems to be everywhere.
After riding two loops, I couldn’t stand it anymore and decided to cut my ride short at 65 kilometers. On the ride home, I got caught in a traffic jam of construction vehicles . It’s SUNDAY folks! Take a break! Spend some time with the family that Chinese people are supposed to value so much! Usually cycling mellows me out. That’s partly why I love to do it. But I was getting crankier and crankier. I was cursing under my breath, feeling like a grouchy Cadel Evans in the 2008 Tour after the stage 10 climb to Hautacam when he yelled at the journalists, “Don’t touch me!” But I was saved by the banana bike about two kilometers from my home. I rode up to him and couldn’t help admire the brilliant yellow of the fruit. It somehow had a soothing effect on me. I stayed behind him as long as I could before I had to turn off and thread my way through another set of road construction barriers…
Thinking outside of the box is still really hard to do in China. The education system still encourages a great deal of rote memorization. The authoritarian culture discourages people from challenging the norms. The legal system doesn’t provide much protection for intellectual property. At the same time, China’s ongoing success depends on its ability to be innovative and creative. Can the country pull it off? It’s a huge question. Last week, when I was walking around the Shanghai Bike Show, I kept looking for a booth set up by a local company that had a new mind-blowing product, something that would stop me in my tracks and force me to say, “Wow!” I never saw that product. Maybe I overlooked it. But most of what I saw was derivative stuff churned out by OEM companies.
I swear that I didn’t ask this guy to ride around with a box on his head so I could snap a funky photo. We had just finished a climbing workout on War God Hill and were pedaling to Niutou Mountain when we passed this guy. After I starting taking pictures, he took off the box and wouldn’t put it back on. There’s always something bizarre to be seen on Chinese roads. That’s what I really love about them.
Here’s your mission: You need to deliver a big chunk of meat across Guangzhou in morning rush hour traffic. How will you do it? By meat bike, of course! Follow this guy’s example and just drape the meat over your top tube. Don’t bother wrapping it in plastic so the meat isn’t tainted by car exhaust, dust and other pollutants. You’re not the one who will be eating it!
I was walking to work, climbing the stairs up a pedestrian overpass when I looked down and saw this meat bike going down the road. I stopped for a couple seconds, debating whether it was worth pursuing. I wasn’t in the mood to chase after this guy, but I knew I’d regret it later if I passed on the opportunity. I thought about how it has been about six months since the last time I saw a meat bike.
So I ran down the stairs and started weaving through people on the sidewalk as I fished for my camera at the bottom of my tote bag. Luckily, the meat bike started riding on the sidewalk, and I was able to sprint ahead of him to get into shooting position. People were looking at me like I was crazy, and when I started snapping pictures of the meat bike, I’m sure they were most certain that I was insane. The basket in the back contained a set of ribs or what might have been soup bones. I’m guessing this guy was delivering the meat to a restaurant. It’s one reason why I pretty much stick to vegetables when I eat out.
Recent Comments