The group

Warren and Marva Beck, my parents, currently teaching English at Guangdong University of Technology, in Guangzhou, P.R. China. (They are hereafter abbreviated as W/M.)

Scott and Kaylyn Beck, one of my older brothers and his wife, of St. Petersburg, Florida. (abbrev. S/K)

Todd and Wendy Beck, of Brandon, Florida. (abbrev. T/W)

Unless specifically mentioned, all six of us travelled together.

The story

Because there were six of us traveling together, there are at least six different ways this travelogue could be written. I’ll try to represent the perspectives of my companions, but you’ll probably notice my personal bias. (Please blame me for anything offensive, inaccurate, or incomplete.)

For convenient comparison (and because most of the intended readership is American), all temperatures will be stated in Fahrenheit, all costs in US dollars, all distances in miles, etc. Please also note that the dates labeled clearly throughout this story were NOT so conspicuous to the participants: Because of jet lag, date changes, and broken routines, most of the time we didn’t know what day/date it was. (In fact, I started writing this in Tampa at 4:00am the morning after we got home, because I was still jet-lagged and couldn’t sleep. Fortunately, both Wendy and I seem to be quickly getting back on "normal" body clock schedules.)

FRIDAY, 09JAN98
Tampa, USA; 75-degrees F, sunny

S/K escort their kids from St. Pete to Salt Lake City, where the kids will stay with relatives for two weeks.

SATURDAY, 10JAN98
Tampa, USA; 75-degrees F, sunny
Then across the Pacific Ocean

At 0-dark-30 Saturday morning, T/W rolled out of bed. We had scheduled a taxi to meet us at 5:30am at Wendy’s office (near the airport), so we had to get to the airport, drop off Wendy and all the luggage (TONS OF STUFF), and get me back to Wendy’s office where we would park the car for two weeks. Fortunately, everything went as planned and we were both standing at the head of United’s check-in counter when it opened.

We each carried on a rollaboard, and we checked in three huge boxes of stuff to take to China. Mom and Heather had sent us "wish lists," which included both expected and slightly surprising items (it’s weird what people miss when they’re away from home):

• Various medications, toiletries, and cosmetics
• Business documents (blank checks, etc.)
• Crystal Light orange-pineapple drink mix (Mom marked this as "***MOST IMPORTANT ITEM***")
• Other foods not available there (e.g., pudding mix, instant oatmeal, Raviolios for the Torrealba kids, pumpkin pie filling, taco mix)
• Things to make cooking easier (e.g., turkey bags, oven thermometers, a manual can opener)
• Candy (e.g., Jolly Rancher Fire Sticks, ranch-flavored sunflower seeds, Reese’s, and all the other stuff they couldn’t find--even in Hong Kong. We decided to surprise them by taking some additional stuff we thought would be unique, only to find Snickers, Oreos, Twix, etc., for sale all everywhere in the PRC.)
• Florida-theme gifts for their Chinese friends (e.g., hats, t-shirts, candy, playing cards, stuffed animals)
• School supplies (e.g., file folders, index cards, transparent tape—often hard to get or very expensive there)
• Basketball cards and basketball-related magazines and key-chains (the kids love basketball—see below for the story about Todd’s "new career")

We had divided up that list with S/K, and knew that at almost the very same time that morning, they were in SLC, checking in their huge boxes (their stop in Utah meant they had to haul the boxes around TWICE). The combined boxes totaled more cubic space than a full-size refrigerator/freezer, and weighed at least as much.

S/K were originally scheduled on a separate flight to Hong Kong, but on Friday night they were able to secure seats on our flight, so we met them at SFO. Their inbound flight was delayed by California fog, and we were just about ready to shut the aircraft door when S/K came down the jetway. All four of us were obviously very relieved.

The flight SFOHKG was 15 hours long, and we were in economy class (darn!), but fortunately T/W got bulkhead seats in a small section just aft of business class. The legroom was the same as other economy seats, but there was knee room to cross your legs, nobody reclining into your lap, and the LCD movie screen just in front of you. It was kiddie day for films ("George of the Jungle," "Leave it to Beaver," and "The Faerie Tale") so we slept (a bit) and read (most of the way). Flying westbound, the sun never set on us all the way across the Pacific.

SUNDAY, 11JAN98
Kowloon Tong, Hong Kong; 70-degrees F, sunny

Meanwhile, across the dateline, my parents had just been married on Saturday in Guangzhou (GWAWNG-JO). It’s a long story (you can ask my mom for details), but each year Guangzhou has a "collective wedding," and in 1998, 206 couples chose to be married in one big ceremony conducted by the mayor. It’s a city promotional event, so the newspaper and TV reporters were out in full force. This year, to build international awareness, the city invited W/M and one other American couple (the Browns, who teach at nearby South China University of Technology) to renew their vows. February 28, 1998 is W/M’s 40th anniversary, so it was especially appropriate.

On Sunday, the morning after the ceremony, W/M hopped a train from Guangzhou (People’s Republic of China) across the border into Hong Kong, where they checked us all into the Holiday Inn Golden Mile. That evening they ended up waiting 90 minutes at Kai Tak airport (they expected S/K to arrive on the separate, earlier flight), where they met us outside Customs, and the six of us taxi’d to the hotel in Kowloon (COW-LOON), arriving about 10:00pm.

We broke down the large shipping boxes into smaller boxes (packed especially for this purpose), and strapped them onto two sets of luggage wheels brought from the states. Parents being parents, of course, mine had made serious preparation for us. In the months prior, while they were sending US their American wish list, we were sending THEM our Chinese wish list. They had purchased things like:

• Dirt cheap (and thus, somewhat "disposable") clothing, such as shirts and socks
• 220V hair dryers
• Down parkas (more later about the weather)
• Small backpacks
• Large suitcases, which my parents had brought to China full of supplies but now no longer needed
• Octopus cards—a universal transit card for Hong Kong trains and subways
• A small container of carefully counted exact change, to save us time when boarding ferries and busses which don’t accept the Octopus card—with a day-by-day printed itinerary of when we’d need that exact change
• "China survival kit" full of tissues, wet naps, hand soap, and Tylenol;
• ...and even food for the jet-lag-middle-of-the-night munchies.

It was so nice not having to bring hardly anything from home (our rollaboards were practically empty)—even for a two-week trip. My parents are not only Holiday Inn club members, but are at the Holiday Inn Golden Mile all the time (it’s their "home away from home" in Hong Kong), so the hotel had comp’d a bunch of drinks. So at 11:00pm, S/K and Mom all took off for the restaurant, while the sane among us went to sleep.

MONDAY, 12JAN98
Guangzhou, People’s Republic of China; 65-degrees F, overcast

We knew we’d be jet-lagged, and sure enough, at 4:00am, T/W woke up ready to go. We thought about a quick walk, but it was pitch dark in a strange city, so we watched CNN and ate my Mom’s caramel apple chips instead. (I was excited about this new "Chinese" food she’d found, only to discover they’re made in Washington State and also sold in Tampa!)

At 8:00am we checked out, stored all our suitcases at the hotel, and boarded the train for the People’s Republic of China. Between the six of us we had five backpacks and two wheeled carts, stacked high with boxes. The carts, by the way, wouldn’t fit through the transit turnstyles, so we had to unpack/repack and/or lay the carts down each time we changed trains (which we did about six times that morning). At one point, the bungee cord on Scott’s cart broke, snapping his hand hard enough to make it swell and ache (NOT good news for Dr. Scott, the surgeon!).

At 10:00am we crossed through passport control and customs into PRC. At Shenzhen (SHEN-JEN), hometown of my BYU MBA friend T.J. Lu, there is a canal, lined with barbed wire and guard towers. Once across, we walked the half-mile to the train station and soon boarded for the 90-minute ride to Guangzhou. As soon as we left Shenzhen, we could see things were different in the PRC. Instead of the modern, clean look of Hong Kong (or Shenzhen, the border town), Guangdong Province was consumed by growth. Among the many rice and vegetable farms were huge buildings under construction. There is at least one completed, elevated freeway intersection—with no freeway yet, so it’s still a bridge to nowhere, suspended over the train tracks. Similarly, all the new buildings were vacant—reportedly because there is no process in place for deciding who gets to live and work in them—so people live in broken down huts next to modern, empty high-rises.

The sky began to get progressively whiter (dirtier). The train itself had no advertising banners inside (unlike other countries), and everything was apparently designed to be labor intensive. (PRC certainly has the technology to automate processes, but chooses the manual route, instead, to keep people busy.) Food served on the train was prepared onboard, and then served in thick ceramic bowls and cups. The onboard lavatories were "squatters" (typical all over Asia) but these were open holes, venting directly onto the tracks below.

During this last train ride we were temporarily relieved to not be pushing those awkward luggage carts. My parents told us to watch carefully because, as we approached Guangzhou East Station, we would see their university on the north side of the tracks. My dad assured us that, once the train stopped, we’d have at least five minutes to gather up the now loose boxes, reassemble our luggage carts, and climb off the train. I’m not sure why, but that day the train stopped, counted to ten, and blew the "we’re leaving again" whistle. You should have seen us run to get off!

Everything my parents had told us about Guangzhou was accurate. Well, except it was wrong. Thus began two days of very funny experiences, hearing my parents (and even their friends) say, "Huh? It wasn’t like this yesterday!" For example, my dad directed us through the almost entirely vacant station to the taxi stand which, surprise!, wasn’t there anymore. You could see the old markings and fences, but not a single taxi. Naturally, we razzed my parents about getting old, but they were clearly surprised. We eventually located the one-day-new taxi stand, and headed for the Guangdong University of Technology’s Wushan (WOO-SHAWN) Campus. My parents had joked about the rude or uncaring taxi drivers they’d met, yet ours drove us well beyond the university gates and the other cab’s driver smiled as he unloaded all the boxes (reportedly they NEVER even get out of the car).

Guangzhou was exactly as described. On-campus faculty housing was small and cold, but as good as most Japanese apartments I lived in. (Well, my parents often catch big rats in theirs, so maybe things are different.) The bathroom is a toilet on a tiled floor, and you sit on the toilet to take a shower using the hose fed through a hole in the wall from the kitchen water heater. (Years ago, Darren’s friend David Sanguinetti used to harass me about my bathroom at my parent’s house in Sandy, saying that he’d seen cleaner restrooms at gas stations. Well, that’s what I thought of when I saw my parent’s Guangzhou bathroom. They can’t complain, though, because they’ve got nicer digs than most, and—unlike their students—have hot water at all!)

After dropping off the boxes of supplies, we headed off for a walking tour of the university, and then we went to lunch. Throughout the day, my mother missed no opportunity to introduce us to the neighbors. I quickly learned the word for "son," always accompanied by large, pointing gestures in my direction. We met students, neighbors, local shop owners, produce market vendors, and even the lady who sold my parents the socks I was wearing (that time the "son" gestures aimed at my ankles, while my mother told me to "pull up your pant legs and show her your socks!").

The trip to JUSCO (a Japanese-owned chain of modern malls) for lunch was on the infamous Bus #197. That’s the bus my parents ride several times a week, and where they and most people they know have been pickpocketed. Typically, Bus #197 is jammed with people (who climb in/out the windows because the door is blocked), stifling hot, disgustingly dirty (body odor, vomit, you name it), and unsafe (pickpockets often use razor blades to slice open your pockets for easy access). According to the people we’ve talked to, it’s ALWAYS like that—except the day we arrived. The bus was nearly empty, so we all got seats. The windows were open, with a fresh breeze. Traffic was light, so the trip went quickly, and we all arrived with wallets and stomachs intact. Once again, my parents were surprised and, I think, a bit disappointed.

After a quick "food court" Chinese lunch, we taxi’d back to the university where we jammed into my parents’ tiny apartment with two dozen students, faculty, and friends for a couple of hours of English conversation. The students asked questions about American work, school, family, society, pop culture, and everything else. Because the audience was students, my mother introduced us by education, so Scott was the doctor, Kaylyn was the engineer, Wendy was the lawyer, and Todd was the MBA. A few minutes later, one group of boys eagerly asked me questions about American basketball. Most of you know I’m NOT a basketball fan, and the boys were confused. Finally, one of them said, "But I thought your mom said you are an NBA player?" Too funny. At one point, after little sleep, unusual food, jet lag, and not enough air, Wendy started feeling woozy. Interrupting one student in mid-sentence, she said, "Excuse me," and quickly stepped out into the stairwell. After some water and a rest, she was feeling better.

It was neat to finally meet many of the people my parents have emailed us about over the past six months. I don’t think the people of Guangzhou realize how much my parents tell us about them, and about how much they teach and take care of my parents. It was similar to meeting the cast of a TV show, or the characters of some book, in that we knew all about them but were now living the story. Jingle (that’s his "English" name, because it sounds like his Chinese name which is "Zhang Ge"), is my parents’ "waiban,"(WHY-BAWN) which means "nanny" or "host." He has been their friend since the day they arrived, and is their official liaison with the Chinese government. He was the last person to leave that night, because he wanted to help button up the apartment for the time my parents would be on the road with us. Jingle’s a cool guy, and we enjoyed meeting him.

As Jingle locked the door, the Torrealba’s driver arrived to take us to their apartment for dinner. Thelmo and Nancy Torrealba and their family live across town in a beautiful high-rise apartment overlooking the Pearl River.

After enjoying the last home-cooked dinner we’d be eating in a while, we met the Websters’ driver at the lobby and began the 90-minute drive to Shunde (SHOON-DAH) City, farther south in Guangdong (GWAWNG-DAWNG) province. Jim and Charlotte Webster are from Canada, and currently in China running a housing development designed for ex-patriot North Americans. (As another of life’s odd coincidences, the Websters are also parents of Larry Webster, a classmate of Wendy’s at BYU Law.) Their housing development is a limited-access, walled compound in the middle of otherwise typical China. It’s got big, western-style houses; wide streets; lots of green grass, landscaping, and a lake. If you ignore the background skyline, you’d swear you were in a North American subdivision. The Websters not only invited us overnight, but actually opened up a whole new house for us to use!

TUESDAY, 13JAN98
Shunde, PRC;
then Macau;
and then New Territories, HKG; all were 65-degrees F, overcast

After breakfast at the Websters’, we walked from the compound down to the local Chinese outdoor market in Rongxi.

The crowd of foreigners (we are "guilo," (GWHY-LOW) in Mandarin) attracted attention as we snapped photos of exotic meats for sale: dogs, cats, rats, fish heads, goat heads, snakes, ferrets, and others.

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Out of time, and being lazy, we traded our return walk for a pedicab ride home. China has a varying scale of readily available public transport, from trains, to busses, to taxis, to motortricycles, to motorcycles, and to pedicabs.

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A two-hour van ride took all eight of us (six Becks and two Websters) to the PRC border, where we walked through passport control and customs--and past the Chinese guard who never moves (in function similar to England's Buckingham Palace Guard) into Macau (MAW-COW).

Macau is a Portuguese colony which, similar to Hong Kong, has a lease which expires in 1999. For now, however, it’s a separate country, and—like Hong Kong—is very different than PRC (including bilingual Chinese/Portuguese). A 30-minute bus ride got us to the beach, and to Fernando’s. Remember I mentioned the email stories we read about China? Well, my parents, whenever they tire of Cantonese cooking, make the four-hour trip from their apartment to Macau, JUST to eat at Fernando’s, a small, beach-side restaurant specializing in, naturally, Portuguese ribs, chicken, and shrimp. T/W/S/K had been eating well for the past six months, yet we, too, were impressed by (and grateful for) the delicious food there.

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Next stop was the shopping district in central Macau, with its Portuguese architecture and style. There, in stalls and shops which line numerous streets and alleys, we found name-brand shirts for $1.50, compact disks for $2.00, and down-filled ski parkas for $25. Many things—such as the CDs—were probably copyright violations, but the prices were great!

After filling our backpacks with cheap goods and saying goodbye to the Websters, we caught the 45-minute Jetfoil (a hydrofoil!) back across the bay to Hong Kong. (Todd only has only two boats left to complete The List—a hovercraft, many of which were ferrying people around Hong Kong harbor, but not to any place we wanted to go; and a submarine. We paid extra to ride the hydrofoil because I’d already ridden on a high-speed cat, but were disappointed when the cheaper cat later blew by us, doing much better speed.)

That evening we met up with Wendy’s younger sister, Heather Harkness, who is currently a missionary in Hong Kong. We met some other missionaries who work with Heather, had dinner together at Pizza Hut, and saw Heather’s apartment and neighborhood before heading back to the Holiday Inn Golden Mile.

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WEDNESDAY, 14JAN98
Hong Kong Island and Kowloon Tong, HKG; 70-degrees F, sunny
Guilin, PRC; 40-degrees F, overcast

At 8:00am we went to the lobby to meet up with Heather and another missionary, Sister Chan. (No, Mormon missionaries aren’t nuns, but use the "sister" title.) The eight of us stopped at McDonald’s to grab breakfast to eat on the Star Ferry across to Hong Kong Island. For those of you who don’t know, Hong Kong is not just a city—it’s a huge area, comprised of a zillion islands and a chunk of the Chinese mainland. The current airport, Kai Tak, is on the mainland, but the new airport (opening June 1998) is on a semi-distant island, requiring a 45-minute train ride over a brand-new (and very impressive) system of bridges. The Star Ferry dodges huge freighters and the tiny-but-famous "junks" as it carries commuters from Kowloon Tong (one area on the mainland) to/from Hong Kong Island, where much of the business district is.

At the Hong Kong dock, Wendy got her picture taken in a rickshaw—now used only for tourists. From there we took a double-decker bus (this was a British colony, remember) for a beautiful ride over the mountain to Stanley Market on the south shore. Stanley is another series of alleyways lined with shops.

We bought more souvenirs and clothes, and then T/W and the missionaries took a bus and train back under the harbor (no ferry this time) to KT. There is a Mormon temple in Hong Kong, so we toured it and the adjacent missionary office. Meanwhile, W/M/S/K toured and shopped some more. After lunch we all joined up back at the Holiday Inn, where we said goodbye to Heather, checked out, and headed for the airport.

The Dragon Air flight to Guilin (GWEE-LIN) was so turbulent I thought we were going to lose a wing or something. Most of China is a mix of deep, narrow river valleys surrounded by some of the most rugged mountains in the world. Our first flight took us from Hong Kong through a storm brewing above some of those peaks, and bouncing around wildly at night—even in an Airbus A320—was a bit nerve-wracking.

At 9:00pm, as we landed, they took away our Hong Kong newspapers (banned in PRC) and we deplaned into a huge, modern, and very deserted Guilin International Airport. It was built recently, to encourage foreign trade, and is beautifully lit at night. It was 40-degrees F inside and out (few buildings in China are heated), but because our parkas were in our checked luggage, we had to wait until we got through passport control and customs before digging them out.

The only vehicle in the huge parking lot was ours—a twelve passenger van—and our local guide, Frank (who says his Chinese name is too hard for westerners to remember), narrated the 60-minute ride into town on the brand-new, empty 4-lane freeway. It’s odd traveling off-peak in a country with few tourists anyway: The modern, "5-star" Royal Garden hotel was vacant except for our party and one other American couple. It was luxurious, with a big atrium café and lobby waterfall, but completely vacant.

To read about the rest of our trip, click here.

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Updated 18FEB98
Copyright Frog Prints

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