Qufu, China
The Lonely Planet China really didn't like Qufu, home of the famous 孔子 (who us Westerners know by his Latin name Confucius). There was talk of high prices and being constantly hassled by souvenir vendors and paddy cab drivers. Don't know which Qufu they visited. I actually liked it quite a lot here. So much that I extended my planned stay by a day.
Yeah, sure, there are lots of tourists (mainly Chinese ones) around the centre of town with two of Qufu's "Three Kongs", the Kong Temple （孔庙） and the Kong family home （孔府）. And there's the souvenir alley where any foreigner (or any obvious tourist, for that matter) is just a walking wallet waiting to be milked of its contents. But it's not too difficult to get away from all that. Just a bit off the centre, e.g. just outside the city walls, hotels are affordable, food is cheap and people are very kind. I got invited for dinner on two successive evenings. First was a group of young local businessmen who called me over to share their noodles, fish soup and crispy chicken head. Then there was a big group of cab drivers who insisted I had to have a beer (or two) and some barbecued snacks with them.
The final highlight and my favourite was the Kong Forest （孔林）, the final resting place of the sage and all (!) 76 generations of Kongs that followed after him. Of course, all tourists get herded (literally!) to his tomb and onto electric buses for a tour. But the area is vast and has countless little paths. I ended up spending an entire day walking around the peaceful forest of ancient trees, purple spring flowers and silent graves. I can't imagine a more relaxing way to end the day than watching the sinking sun through the foliage at this ancient place.
Showing posts with label Qufu. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Qufu. Show all posts
Sunday, 27 April 2008
Saturday, 26 April 2008
Please, sir, I want some more ... presents
Qufu, China
An encounter that started very friendly but turned sour in the end.
I was eating at the Qufu night market. A stall owner seemed friendly and persuaded me to eat at his place. There were noodles, fried vegetables and mushrooms and a kind of large, stir-fried, crispy insect. It was a feast. I had a feeling it would be pricey but what the heck? This time I'd indulge and not mind the price.
Things weren't too busy so I chatted with some of the stall owners. They were eager to talk once they discovered I spoke some Chinese. My chef bought me a beer, another made me smoke a cigarette with him - I'm getting good at faking this. They asked lots of questions, introduced one stall keeper's wife and daughter. The little girl was learning English at primary school, she was eager to show me her exercise book. I listened to her recite some of the things she had learned.
Then someone asked if I had any German money on me. No, I hadn't, all changed into RMB. Disappointment. Oh, but I still had some US Dollars. I produced a one and a five Dollar bill, gave the little girl another one Dollar bill so she could see, too. Everyone gaped. American money. Then the stall owner made the bills I had given him disappear into his pocket. "I can keep these, okay? As a souvenir." I protested: "That's an expensive souvenir." I wasn't that drunk yet. Why was I being so stingy, his wife commented. That stung my ego. Fine, he could keep it. The company was nice and it was unlikely that I would find further use for the notes. The little girl's mother asked what her daughter would be able to buy in USA with one Dollar. So, I gave her another Dollar and told her now she should be able to buy a hot dog in New York.
I realised later that this was the moment I should have made my exit. I stayed because there was still some food and beer left. A while later another woman came to join the party pushing two little boys in front of her. The newcomers were introduced as friends and then stood and looked at me expectantly. And all of a sudden I knew where this was going. Word had spread that a rich foreigner was giving out money to children. And I had been warned! Never give money to children. Damn! It was obvious in the way the woman was pushing her boys forward, in the way that the kids were giving me their biggest smiles, trying to look like wonderful boys who deserved presents. I continued eating, drinking, talking as if I had no idea. Then the bigger of boys came up to me and popped the question: Did I have any more Dollars? I had already found him unpleasant from the beginning, the way he had eyed me, waiting for what his mum had surely promised him. If the laowai thinks you're really cute he'll give you money. But now I could see he was tired of playing the cute. He was in it for the hard cash. Everyone waited. Well, I could have another look. I "found" him another one Dollar note. How much was this worth in RMB? He looked at it as if he had found gold. It literally sparkled in his eyes. "It's a souvenir", my stall owner reminded him. I had a feeling he even gave the boy a meaningful look, as if admonishing: "Don't blow this." Neither of them looked like they were interested in souvenirs. The adult was just better at acting. How much was this? Seven. 7. He rather looked like he wanted to run to the bank immediately. Then there was the little boy. A chubby, equally unpleasant specimen. That was his brother, their mother introduced. Did I have a Dollar for him, too? That did it. No, I said even though I knew there was more. This would end now. The little brat looked up at me with big, sad eyes pulling a professionally miserable face. They must have rehearsed this. Was I really sure, his mother urged, wouldn't I give the little boy a "souvenir"? Even she was loosing it, seemed way to eager now. The big, sad eyes seemed ready to well with tears should the strategical moment come along. But my heart had turned to stone. No, I had no more. Now, at last, I paid and left as quickly as possible. “下次再来”, the stall keeper told me. "Please come again." Yeah, sure!
Taking stock, the meal had been 50 Yuan (expensive as expected) plus nine US Dollars. Grand total: I had paid the price of the meal again - almost 100 RMB. Please come again indeed! Their meals come with way too many hidden charges.
An encounter that started very friendly but turned sour in the end.
I was eating at the Qufu night market. A stall owner seemed friendly and persuaded me to eat at his place. There were noodles, fried vegetables and mushrooms and a kind of large, stir-fried, crispy insect. It was a feast. I had a feeling it would be pricey but what the heck? This time I'd indulge and not mind the price.
Things weren't too busy so I chatted with some of the stall owners. They were eager to talk once they discovered I spoke some Chinese. My chef bought me a beer, another made me smoke a cigarette with him - I'm getting good at faking this. They asked lots of questions, introduced one stall keeper's wife and daughter. The little girl was learning English at primary school, she was eager to show me her exercise book. I listened to her recite some of the things she had learned.
Then someone asked if I had any German money on me. No, I hadn't, all changed into RMB. Disappointment. Oh, but I still had some US Dollars. I produced a one and a five Dollar bill, gave the little girl another one Dollar bill so she could see, too. Everyone gaped. American money. Then the stall owner made the bills I had given him disappear into his pocket. "I can keep these, okay? As a souvenir." I protested: "That's an expensive souvenir." I wasn't that drunk yet. Why was I being so stingy, his wife commented. That stung my ego. Fine, he could keep it. The company was nice and it was unlikely that I would find further use for the notes. The little girl's mother asked what her daughter would be able to buy in USA with one Dollar. So, I gave her another Dollar and told her now she should be able to buy a hot dog in New York.
I realised later that this was the moment I should have made my exit. I stayed because there was still some food and beer left. A while later another woman came to join the party pushing two little boys in front of her. The newcomers were introduced as friends and then stood and looked at me expectantly. And all of a sudden I knew where this was going. Word had spread that a rich foreigner was giving out money to children. And I had been warned! Never give money to children. Damn! It was obvious in the way the woman was pushing her boys forward, in the way that the kids were giving me their biggest smiles, trying to look like wonderful boys who deserved presents. I continued eating, drinking, talking as if I had no idea. Then the bigger of boys came up to me and popped the question: Did I have any more Dollars? I had already found him unpleasant from the beginning, the way he had eyed me, waiting for what his mum had surely promised him. If the laowai thinks you're really cute he'll give you money. But now I could see he was tired of playing the cute. He was in it for the hard cash. Everyone waited. Well, I could have another look. I "found" him another one Dollar note. How much was this worth in RMB? He looked at it as if he had found gold. It literally sparkled in his eyes. "It's a souvenir", my stall owner reminded him. I had a feeling he even gave the boy a meaningful look, as if admonishing: "Don't blow this." Neither of them looked like they were interested in souvenirs. The adult was just better at acting. How much was this? Seven. 7. He rather looked like he wanted to run to the bank immediately. Then there was the little boy. A chubby, equally unpleasant specimen. That was his brother, their mother introduced. Did I have a Dollar for him, too? That did it. No, I said even though I knew there was more. This would end now. The little brat looked up at me with big, sad eyes pulling a professionally miserable face. They must have rehearsed this. Was I really sure, his mother urged, wouldn't I give the little boy a "souvenir"? Even she was loosing it, seemed way to eager now. The big, sad eyes seemed ready to well with tears should the strategical moment come along. But my heart had turned to stone. No, I had no more. Now, at last, I paid and left as quickly as possible. “下次再来”, the stall keeper told me. "Please come again." Yeah, sure!
Taking stock, the meal had been 50 Yuan (expensive as expected) plus nine US Dollars. Grand total: I had paid the price of the meal again - almost 100 RMB. Please come again indeed! Their meals come with way too many hidden charges.
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