Well, It’s Not New York, But It’ll Do.

January 5, 2017
11:15 pm
Beijing, China

Sorry, guys. I meant to post yesterday, but after a long day of skiing, I just wanted to curl up in my nice, warm bed and go to sleep. I do want to tell you guys about yesterday, though, because I had a blast!

If you look at this picture of the Beijing skyline, what do you see? Do you see mountains? No. Not even on an especially clear day do you see mountains in the distance. So where did we go skiing? Well, like most of the times you go skiing in the States, we had to travel a fairly long way, but not nearly as long as our trips to New York. To get to Nanshan 南山 (literally “South Mountain” in Chinese), I had to take the metro for about an hour and a half at rush hour, then I met up with Brad and Nayyir to grab a bus. Finding the bus was a bit of an adventure. We didn’t have any directions, we were simply relying on Apple Maps on my phone, which meant we were wandering around like crazy people trying to find a bus with the correct number on it. After walking around for about 10 minutes, we finally spot a bus with the correct number, just as it’s pulling away from a stop. Nayyir goes and flags the bus down so that we can get on. The security guard (yeah, there’s at least one on every bus here in China) says something to Nayyir, but Nayyir has no idea what the guy is saying. Brad, who speaks Chinese fairly well, was able to tell the guy that we were going to the bus stop at West Bridge to get to Nanshan. The guard tries to tell us something, but we’re all confused at this point. Finally, he lets us on and we sit down. At this time, we notice that we’re the only ones on the bus. Apparently, we were supposed to take the bus from an actual train depot, which was where the bus we were now on was heading. We ended up riding through the depot on the bus and waiting about 15 minutes before picking up the other passengers. Turned out fine, though. Once everyone was on, we were off.

The bus was an express (快 kuai) bus, but it still took us almost two hours to get to the stop. After arriving, we had to hop into a black taxi for a 10ish minute drive to the actual resort. Notice I said “black taxi.” Here in China, you have a few different types of taxies. The first is a normal taxi. They’re usually yellow with a company name on the side and the normal light/fixture on top of the cab. Inside they have a mile counter and charge you a fixed-ish rate. Then there are rickshaws. The metal rickshaws are everywhere here. They’re small, only holding two people, and are inexpensive if you’re not going too far. Technically, they’re illegal, but people use them all the time and there’s no real danger. My vlog about my first trip to IKEA has a video of my rickshaw ride. Additionally, Beijing has Uber and it’s Chinese counterpart, DiDi. I believe DiDi actually just bought out Uber here in Beijing. Finally, there are black taxis. Black taxis are taxis run by individual people, but not associated with any company. They are basically like Uber drivers, but with no official affiliations with a legitimate corporation. If you’re in Beijing, I wouldn’t recommend using these if you don’t speak the language or if you’re by yourself. They jack up the prices like crazy for foreigners. And while they don’t pose too much danger, riding in a car alone with a person who answers to no real authority is not a smart idea. I’ve had a couple of friends lose their wallets to black taxi drivers when they haven’t been careful. That said, black taxies are often useful, especially in areas where normal taxies don’t run, such as up north in the mountains. So we took a black taxi to and from Nanshan and had no problems with them.

The resort itself is beautiful, if a bit small. It reminded me a lot of Mad River Mountain in Ohio. The buildings were definitely made to look like something you’d find in Europe. They actually reminded me a lot of the buildings I saw when I was in France. Anywho, before we could enter through the gate, we had to go purchase entrance tickets at the window for 20块. Yep, we had to pay to just get into the resort. Then we went to the window with, apparently, the only worker who spoke English. There, we were able to get our lift tickets and cards to rent out snow suits, equipment, helmets, goggles, and gloves. They provided you with basically everything you need to go skiing, very different than in the States. It was a really great blessing to not have to actually purchase ski clothes. If that had been the case, I probably wouldn’t have gone. The whole ticket purchasing/equipment rental was a little confusing, though. On the pricing table it says that you pay 210块 for a 4-hour lift ticket and equipment rent, plus a 200块 deposit for the equipment, then a 45块 price for renting the ski suits, plus a 200块 deposit for the suit, then 30块 for the helmet, 35块 for the gloves, 15块 for the goggles, and 10块 for a locket to put all your stuff in. So the total for the day came out to around 745块, but the guy tells us we only have to pay 610块 and he’ll give us 300块 back at the end.  100块 covers the cost of all costs, aside from the original ticket–a pretty good deal. That’s about $87 for everything you need for a half-day of skiing. But they only except cash, and there’s no ATM at the resort.

At least, that’s what the guy originally told us. Turns out they are actually able to accept cards, but the process then becomes even more unusual. Instead of charging the card for Nayyir and accepting the cash that both Brad and I had, before we went in, the guy kept Nayyir’s card and his passport. He told us to come find him after we finished and then we’d pay and he’d return Nayyir’s card and passport. Although we were a little wary of giving him Nayyir’s passport and card, we went ahead and did it. In return, he gave us four cards. One was to return to him to prove that we we’re the same people. The other 3 were our rental cards. We provided these to the people inside to get—and later return—our equipment and suits.

The rental process was similar, but also different than what I’m used to back home. We walked into a big room with a long wooden desk. Behind the desk were workers and equipment, just like back home. Two ski instructors helped us figure out where to go for suits and then left after realizing that we didn’t want to take lessons. Each of us got our suit rentals—normal ski jackets and ski pants—and then changed in the changing rooms provided. Afterwards, we got our boots and our boards from the people on the other side of the room. What’s funny is that all of the people giving us equipment just based it on our looks. In the States, you have to fill out a form giving your name, age, phone number, weight, height, experience, etc. Here, they literally just looked you up and down and said, “Yep, this’ll work,” and handed you the equipment. The only question we were asked was what size shoe we wore. (I was the only one who knew my size. Brad asked me how in the world I knew my Chinese shoe size. I responded with, “Brad, come on. I’m a girl.” But then I actually told him that I had to buy a pair of shoes after I got here. He found it pretty funny.)

So after we finally had all of our stuff, we headed out to the slopes. We only had four hours, so we planned to make them count. Note (just to show you how long it took): I left my house at 7:10, we purchased our tickets at 11:09, and we finally hit the slopes around 11:30. Out of the three of us, I was the only one who had much experience on the slopes. For those who don’t know, I’ve been skiing since I was two and snowboarding since I was nine. Being on the slopes is basically my second home. Brad had only been on a board twice before and Nayyir had never skied or boarded in his entire life. As such, I figured I’d be spending most of my day on the bunny hill teaching the basics of snowboarding. Turns out that Brad had actually had a pretty great instructor and he was able to quickly remember how to do his turns. He was ready to hit the bigger slopes after only a few times down the (very, very small) bunny hill. Nayyir, on the other hand, was a different story. I tried to help him get the basics of snowboarding, explaining how to put your weight on your heels and slowly work your way down the hill. Nayyir’s philosophy, though, was to watch other people and just trust that he’d figure it out. My attempts at helping, while appreciated, weren’t really welcome. And I’m not saying that his approach didn’t work, but it isn’t the way I would recommend learning to snowboard. In my experience, it’s not a sport you can just figure out by watching other people do it.

After a few times down the bunny slope, Brad and I were no longer able to locate Nayyir in the crowd, and it didn’t help that his jacket looked like half the other jackets men were wearing. Turns out that he actually wasn’t just blending in with the crowd, as we had thought. He had actually gone inside and exchanged his board for skis. Another difference between Nanshan and resorts in the States: bunny hills are segregated. Skiers have a bunny hill and boarders have a bunny hill. Skiers are not allowed on the boarding hill and boarders are not allowed on the skiing hill. As such, once Nayyir switched to skis, Brad and I were no longer able to ski with him. So, even though it went against my better judgement as a person firmly raised to follow the buddy system, Brad and I headed out to the actual slopes while Nayyir went over to the skiing hill. While we did go check on him throughout the day, he was never actually able to come out on the slopes with us.

Brad and I ended up having a ton of fun. The hills were all fairly easy, although there are apparently harder ones if you venture to the other side of the mountain. I had no problem hanging out on the beginner slopes with Brad, though. He continued to get better, growing much more confident in his abilities. It was pretty cool to watch him improve throughout the day. The difference between his first and last runs was great. I enjoyed just being back on a board. I missed all of our trips last year (the first winter I haven’t been on the slopes for as long as I can remember). It was nice to strap on my bindings and feel the rush of the wind on my face. I loved the few runs I took fast! Feeling my hair whip and tears run down my cheeks as the harsh wind made my goggle-less eyes water. Those exhilarating seconds of weightlessness as I flew off a jump. All of it making me feel slightly more at home. My heart feels lighter just thinking about it now.

Although the slopes made me feel at home, there were a few things that definitely made me realize that I was in China. First, they are crazy strict. There are patrol men everywhere! One of them was at the bottom of the lift. If you lingered just a bit too long after undoing your bindings at the bottom of the slope, he’d blow a loud whistle and make you move. I got whistled at times, and I wasn’t even in the way! The first time, I was standing back away from the bottom waiting for Brad to catch up. I wasn’t in the way of any skiers coming down the hill or getting onto the lift, yet I got a stern whistle. The second time, I was up against the barriers for the lift line, again in no one’s way, waiting for Brad. That time, I got a stern look along with my whistle and a strong hand wave. The third time, I was actually behind the lift line, literally against the wall where no one could possibly hit me. I’m pretty sure the gesture he wanted to give me would have been considered extremely rude. And I wasn’t the only one getting whistled at. If someone took more than 10 seconds to undo their bindings and move towards the lift line, they got whistled at. If someone sat to take a breather off to the side, they got whistled at. I told Brad, as we headed up the lift, that someone needed to take away his whistle privileges, because he obviously was letting the power go to his head.

Another obvious difference was the surroundings. Now, it’s not unusual for there to be snow on the slopes and not in the surrounding area. Man-made snow is normal in the States, too. But I have never seen a ski resort that has a chicken farm directly beside it. Yeah, I’m serious. There was a small chicken farm right next to the slopes. We could hear the dogs barking, the roosters crying, and the geese honking as we rode up the lift. It was a funny sight to see, and definitely not one we expected.

The final notable difference was the air quality. I was hoping that we’d get a little bit of nice, crisp winter air that I associate with ski trips. You know, that feeling of clean, fresh air that almost burns your nose. I love that air. Alas, that hope proved to be futile. Although the air was pretty clear upon our arrival (see the picture of the three of us), it got worse as the day wore on (see the picture of the mountain from the resort).

I hated breathing in the dirty air today, much more than I normally do. It also ruined what I’m sure would have been a gorgeous view of the mountains surrounding the resort. Brad did mention something while we were, once more, on the ski lift. We’ve both become used to the air now. Back when we first arrived, air that bad would have had both of us coughing and hacking. Now, we were able to breathe normally, if not enjoyably. I never used to think of breathing as something I enjoyed. I guess clean air is a blessing you don’t realize you have until you no longer have it.

Do me a favor: go outside and take a deep breath for me. Notice how the air enters your nose, tickling just a little bit. Allow it to clear your mind and fill your lungs. Hold it for a moment. Relish in the sense of it move through your chest. Let it out slowly through your mouth. Be aware of how wind gently caresses your lips as it slips out between them. Take one more breath in. As you do, image the H—y Sp—it entering your body. Allow it to fill all of the nooks and crannies of your soul. Hold it and listen to it sing. Slowly release the breath and, as you do, p—y that Abba will use this breath, and all the others you have left to give, to further His will and His kingdom.

Bless,
Kristen

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