Visiting the Doctor

Having experienced the filth and publicity of the Tianjin medical clinic during the mandatory health evaluation for my visa, you may wonder why I would voluntarily seek medical care at a Chinese hospital when I have access to the Embassy clinic, the SOS International Medical Clinic, and when neither of those can help, to Beijing United Family Hospital, a fully-equipped international hospital.

Those of you that know me may recall that for more than 20 years I have had difficulties with chronic joint pain. After many years cycling through standard Western doctors, I finally turned to what we in the West consider alternative medicine. After struggling with recurring pain for 15 years, I finally found that acupuncture and other forms of holistic medicine were far more successful at managing the pain is anything standard Western medicine had offered me. Consequently, when the pain flared in my shoulder this fall to the point where it was interfering with my regular routines, I opted for medical care in the Chinese system, rather than at one of the Western facilities to which I have access.

I asked around and everyone familiar with Beijing recommended the same hospital, Dongzhimen Yiyuan (East Gate Hospital). After making some phone calls, we discovered that an appointment was unnecessary so Ben and I headed down there one afternoon to see for ourselves. We arrived at a dilapidated, malodorous building. With some difficult we explained to the receptionist what the problem was. She wanted to know what kind of treatment I wanted. With some difficulty, Ben managed to explain that we weren't sure and would like a doctor to advise us as to a recommended course of treatment. We were sent to the massage department on the third floor.

We made our way to the third floor and followed signs to the massage department, a dim, dirty, grey corridor. After asking advice from several people evidently waiting in the hallway cum waiting room, we finally identified the right room. Inside was a row of massage tables covered with filthy, unwashed rags. The only reasonably clean thing in the room was the doctor's white lab coat. Although he seemed to be in the middle of working on a patient, he sat me down on a chair, made a few inquiries about my shoulder and asked me to demonstrate what hurt. He announced that massage was the appropriate treatment, wrote out some forms and sent us back down the hall to pay. Each treatment cost RMB45 or about $6.50. After paying for that day's treatment we returned to massage department. Again, we had to inquire of the other patients sitting around as to what was the appropriate next step. Were we to wait until called or simply go back in?

The verdict, just go back in. Privacy is non-existent here. Fortunately, treatment was all conducted without any adjustment to clothing so it didn't really matter. The doctor set his apprentice to work on my shoulder. I received nearly 30 minutes of massage, first from the apprentice and then from the master. It was the least relaxing, most painful massage I have ever experienced! Although the joint pain did seem to diminish some over the next few days, the pain in my bruised muscles (and bruises certainly appeared - if I'd then been seen at an American hospital in the next several days I doubtless would have undergone a grilling designed to determine whether I had been the victim of domestic violence) more than made up for it. I wasn't certain I could face another treatment and so skipped the follow-up the doctor had recommended.

When the pain returned, though, I gritted my teeth and decided to give it another go. The second treatment was mercifully shorter than the first, although it resulted in nearly as much bruising. Having failed to return on the recommended day for my follow-up, the doctor decided I would need four treatments, rather than the two he initially recommended. I think he just got a kick out of chatting with Ben (and it's not clear whether the hospital actually got its cut of the last few treatments since we just gave the money directly to the doctor and didn't get the forms stamped by the cashier).

That being said, though, I do have to say that however painful the treatment may have been, it does seem to have been reasonably effective. The pain in my shoulder is greatly diminished. I also must say that I am relieved the doctor advised massage and not acupuncture. Even if the needles were sterile, as I imagine they probably are, the environment was so dirty I am not sure I'd have been comfortable allowing anything to break the skin.

Better in Beijing...bye for now.

Xi'an

If you haven't been to Xi'an what are you waiting for?! The Terracotta Warriors must truly be one of the great wonders of the world. I admit to being a bit of an archaeology fiend (Archaeology Magazine is the only magazine I have ever reliably read cover-to-cover within days of receiving each issue), but I have been to a lot of places and few were quite so entrancing.

True, there is less of a tendency in the West to restore archaeological finds and it is only with restoration that the Warriors have real impact (the unrestored pits were interesting, but not breathtaking in the way the restored pits were) so maybe there are other sites which would, in their original glory, have been equally impressive, but it is hard to imagine. Even in their partially-restored state, the Terracotta Warriors are extraordinary. Endless ranks of bigger-than life warrior statues, each unique. Originally they were painted in brilliant, primary colors. Today the colors have vanished, but in the restored areas each painstakingly reconstructed statue stands proudly in its place silently guarding its lord's tomb through the endless still of death.


Moving back through the site, we eventually come to the open, but not yet restored excavations. Here the warriors lie decimated, their shells shattered and jumbled by ancient marauders. In just a few decades since their discovery, thousands of warriors have already been remade. There are untold thousands more waiting patiently for their turn to rejoin their comrades in silent vigil. The magnitude of this army, wrought by ancient hands, is awe-inspring. Equally remarkable is the effort which has gone into assembling the massive jigsaw puzzle one shard at a time.

From where the warriors watch, it is more than a kilometer to the mounded tomb where the king is actually buried. The tomb stands impenetrable, sealed against time and those who would desecrate it by chambers filled with mercury, a fortress which even modern technology cannot force to reveal its secrets.

In awe in Beijing...

For more pictures see: my Xi'an Album.

Off to the Ball

While we're all accustomed to the endless festivities of the holiday season, the diplomatic community takes the party atmosphere to new heights. To the best of my knowledge the black-tie-ball season started off with the British Ball (which we skipped) at the end of October. The following weekend we helped celebrate the founding of the US Marine's at the full-dress Marine Ball.

The evening started, in typical fashion, with cocktails and hors d'ouvres outside the ballroom followed by a mad scramble to locate our seats when the doors opened. It was another hour or more before dinner was served. First we had to observe the formalities: speeches by the US Ambassador to China and the ranking Marine officer in the Pacific region, the raising of the flag, and the cutting of the birthday cake by the eldest Marine present (a woman, much to my surprise!). All carried out, of course, with proper military pomp. Only after the speeches, toasts, marching, etc. were complete was dinner served. Fare was that of any unmemorable, large, Western hotel banquet. Dancing, naturally, followed, with some guests staying as late as 2 or 3 AM. We left at a relatively early 11 when my cold medicine started to wear off.

We skipped several other balls but landed in late-November at the St. Andrew's Ball, the Beijing Caledonian Society's black-tie affair celebrating the saint's day of the patron saint of Scotland. Although both are large, black-tie events, the St. Andrew's Ball is considerably different in character from the Marine Ball, and, dare I say it, rather more fun. The typical cocktails and hors d'ouvres were followed not by a general rush for tables, but by the Grand March. Guests lined up couple-by-couple at the door to the ballroom behind the chieftan of the Caledonian Society and his wife. At the appointed hour the doors opened and the piper (flown in from Scotland for the occasion) began to play. In time to the music (more-or-less) we marched across the dance floor to the base of the stage. From there couples turned alternately left and right, to circle around the outside of the dance floor and return to center. Once all the guests were in the room, the line continued moving back up the floor. As pairs of couples met in the middle, they linked arms. Foursomes again circled the floor in alternating directions, linking arms into groups of eight and then sixteen as they met again in the center. The broad lines dissolved into the first dance, the Gay Gordons, an easy progressive dance. We proceeded to toasts (can't forget to toast the Queen!) and on to a many-course dinner (complete with haggis) punctuated wtih music by Katie Targett Adams. Dancing continued into the wee hours with a midnight break for soup & stovies and a hearty breakfast before heading home around 3.

After a lull in January, the ball season gives a final huzzah in February with the Australia Ball on Valentine's Day (which we do not plan to attend) and the Caledonian Society's Burns' Supper (happy birthday Robert Burns!) on February 21 (which we wouldn't miss).

Off to the dance...

PS For more pics see: my Marine Ball Album.

At Work

Many of you have been asking about my job, so here goes. I joined Ethos Technologies in June as the head of the .NET Web Solutions group. Ethos is a small software outsourcing firm of slightly under 200 employees. We serve primarily European clients. I manage a group of about 40 people. My teams use .NET technology (don't ask me too much about that because I don't know!) to provide a variety of web solutions for clients. Our solutions range from social networking sites to hospital data management systems.

In addition to the day-to-day work of managing my staff and overseeing their projects, the other department heads and I spend a significant amount of our time working on corporate strategy and internal process improvement initiatives. Since we are a small firm, the breadth of our work is quite broad - we work on everything from IT and HR policies to sales strategies to training.

On a typical day I arrive at the office between 8:30 and 9. After catching up on overnight email, I might spend some time preparing a performance review for one of my employees, go on to a meeting with my colleagues about HR policies, then have a routine one-on-one meeting with one of my project managers. Returning to my desk I might then spend some time reviewing quality or financial reports or drafting a new standard for some aspect of HR. Except on Mondays & Wednesdays when I have a Chinese lesson at lunch time, I typically head out for lunch with some of my colleagues around 12:30. Lunch usually consists of greasy, stir-fried green beans and rice, although we occasionally vary the diet with a sandwich from Subway or spaghetti (when they aren't out) from the coffee place. Afternoon looks very much like morning, meetings on a variety of topics interspersed with brief periods at my desk to work on resource assignments, performance evaluations or formulating standards, strategy or training materials. Time at my desk is, of course, always punctuated by IM discussions and email exchanges. I typically wind down and head home between 5:30 and 6:00.

Yunnan with Habitat for Humanity

Halloween weekend Ben and I went to a small village, Ganhaizi, in Yunnan Province to work on a Habitat for Humanity project. The trip was interesting, although of perhaps somewhat questionable value (more on that later).

Day 1 started with a mid-day flight to Kunming, capital of Yunnan, China's southwestern-most province.

About 15 of us (mostly US Embassy personnel and/or spouses) gathered at the Kunming airport for the 4+ hour drive north to Shilata, the tiny town where we stayed in a primitive, concrete guest house with a single "squatty-potty" for the lot of us and no showers. Here is our room:

From Shilata, it was about a 45 minute hike to Ganhaizi. We were warmly welcomed on the first morning by a group of villagers who sang us into the village.

Our welcome was the only thing warm about the morning. It was chilly, damp and muddy. Nevertheless, we were eager to get to work. Ganhaizi is a village of Miao people. It was visited at some indeterminate time in the past by Korean missionaries and since then the people of the village have been practicing Christians. The church is the most substantial building in the village and it was there we deposited our things to keep them dry while we set off to work.

Our assignment for the day was to finish digging out and leveling the ground for the foundation of the house. Despite the weather we went to work with a will and made quite good progress over the course of the morning.

Our tools were primitive. We had hoes, hand woven baskets for carting dirt, one shovel and a pick-axe to help with the hardest patches. Although the weather grew progressively worse over the course of the morning, we managed to nearly double the cleared area before the rain drove us to take shelter in the neighboring house. After just a few minutes in the building, it was clear why new homes were so critical. The house we sheltered in was of rammed earth construction - basically a dirt floor, packed dirt walls and a few wooden beams supporting a very leaky tile roof. The house was heated by an open fire in the middle of the floor of the main room. With no chimney or smoke hole, the only outlets for the smoke were the poorly covered doorway and the gaps between the roof and the walls. It was almost unbearably smoky inside. We were grateful when we were summoned to lunch which the villagers had prepared for us. Lunch consisted of rice, french fries, a tomato and tofu dish, cabbage and a bit of chicken (unfortunately not the rooster that crowed all night every night!).

By the time lunch was over it was raining too hard for it to be feasible to continue work on the house. After some discussion, our Habitat host finally arranged with the villagers for us to help them with an important autumn task, the preparation of the feed that would keep their pigs alive through the winter. Pigs in Yunnan eat corn during the winter. The villagers grow the corn, harvest it, allow it to partially dry by hanging it in bundles from every conceivably place, then remove the kernels from the ears and finish drying them. All of the work must be done by hand and we all developed blisters from the remarkably difficult task of removing the stubborn kernels from the ears.

I have a sneaking suspicion that one villager could have cleaned as many ears of corn that afternoon as all 15 of us together managed. Even so, we felt as if we'd put in a good day's work and were pretty exhausted by the end of the cold, damp hike back to Shilata. Some people even managed to sleep through the rooster's crowing that night.

Unfortunately, the next morning the weather had deteriorated further and we faced a serious decision. Return to the village and go back to work despite the weather (even the villagers thought we were pretty crazy for having worked the preceding day), or declare the weather to be untenable and return early to Kunming. Several people had urgent work to return to in Beijing and were eager to get home a day earlier than anticipated, but we all felt an obligation to try to do the work we'd come to do. After much debate we finally decided that we would work in Ganhaizi in the morning, but return to Shilata in the early afternoon and take the bus back to Kunming that evening. Those who were eager to get home could fly out on the late flight to Beijing and the rest of us would stay over in Kunming. A few people decided for various reasons not to make the trek to the village and were appointed to arrange the flight changes, hotels, etc.

The rest of us bundled up and set off. We arrived in Ganhaizi to find that our new assignment was to move a heap of bricks. We organized an assembly line to hand the bricks from the top of the hill down, to a pile at the bottom and got to work. I would estimate that we moved about a thousand bricks over the course of about 2 1/2 hours. That may not sound like so much, but those bricks are heavy! I was certainly feeling it by the end. Although we didn't manage to move all the bricks, we did make quite a dent.

We joined the villagers for an early lunch, then were treated to a brief performance by the church choir before heading back to Shilata and on towards home.



Although we worked hard and the work was clearly appreciated. We left with somewhat mixed feelings about its true value. While I think Habitat is, in general, a fantastic organization, I am not sure that whoever plans international resource usage fully understands how things work here in China. We began to doubt what we were doing on the afternoon of the first day when we stopped in to see the house that last year's trip had worked on. A year after they were there, it remained an unoccupied brick shell with no doors or windows. Another house from earlier years had one of six rooms occupied with the remaining also unfinished, vacant spaces. Of the 200 or so people counted in the population of the village, I don't think more than 40 were actually present when we were there. Most of the working-age adults had likely moved to a major city where they can earn far more than what they would earn from subsistence farming in their home village. Due to Chinese system of residence records, all of those people are recorded as residents of the village even if they spend only a few weeks a year there, or less. While the solid Habitat houses are clearly a vast improvement over the rammed-earth huts typical of that part of China, it is not so clear that they will ever really be lived in. Although it was satisfying to see our accomplishments, and the villagers clearly appreciated that we were there, I am left to wonder whether the Habitat for Humanity might find a higher-impact way to put its resources to use in China.

Worn out in Beijing...off for a shower (now that hot water is finally back!).

No Hot Water?!

Last week at about 10 PM on Wednesday (October 28) we got a note under our door from the building's management: effective immediately there would be no hot water. Hot water service would resume on Saturday, November 1. Thanks for the advance warning!

After suffering cold showers for a couple of days, we left for a long weekend working in the mud in the middle of nowhere with no showers at all (post coming soon). By the time we got home on Monday night we were exhausted, dirty (ok - we did get showers of sorts on Sunday night, but not exactly optimal), and sore. I was dying for a hot bath.

Surprise! There was still no hot water. Ben called the office. Sorry - no hot water until November 5. He called back to ask if the gym had hot water. Nope. He called back again to ask what alternative arrangements had been made for showers. Huh? We don't know.

I had a tantrum and enough points for a free night at the Grand Hyatt. I checked online and there seemed to be plenty of rooms available. Around 10:15 PM we headed out. I didn't want to wait in the cold for a cab so we went to the office to get them to call us one. Ben explained that we were so upset at not having hot water that we were going to spend the night in a hotel. The office staff (explain to me why there need to be three people in the office in the middle of the night!) dutifully noted in their log book that we were unhappy at not having hot water and we headed out. Much to our dismay, the Hyatt, despite showing rooms available on the website had no rooms available. Back we went to our cold, hot-waterless apartment.

By the time we headed back I was so exhausted I just wanted to get to bed. Ben stopped in the office to demand that they make arrangements for us to have hot showers by the time we got up in the morning. After much dithering they finally had to get the manager out of bed. It turns out arrangements had long since been made. We could shower at a spa down the street (open 24 hours) and the building would reimburse the charges. Why didn't anyone say so in the first place?!

Shower facilities aren't exactly optimal at the spa down the street but between the two of us we have managed to get 3 warm showers and 1 cold one there in the last few days. Why did we pay for the privilege of taking a cold shower? Well...it turns out that unlike in most places I am familiar with, hot water is provided from centralized hot water plants scattered around the city, not by hot water heaters in the individual buildings, let alone apartments. The spa heats some of its own water in addition to the hot water it gets from the city which is why it is able to provide at least some warm showers. So why has there been no hot water for over a week (no...the hot water did not come back on Nov. 5 as promised...it is still off)? Apparently we are served by the hot water plant that was constructed to service the Olympic zone. Now that the Olympics are over the city has taken that hot water plant offline. I would guess that close to 10,000 apartments (granted many not occupied) and businesses lost their hot water. The city is now working "around the clock" (although most of the workers must be invisible because I have only once seen any sign of them) to reconnect all of us whose water they turned off to other hot water supplies. Why did they not simply leave the hot water plant running or, at least, tie us into the other systems before shutting down the hot water plant? Beats me! TIC (This Is China).

Signing off cold in Beijing...