Patty O' Catt

Yet another encounter with yet another crazy person has caused what I intended to be a good deed to go terribly, terribly wrong! How do these people continue to find me, and why am I always the last to realize just how crazy they are!?!

I spent the summer waiting tables on the patio of the small neighborhood restaurant where I work, and began noticing a small, rail-thin tortie cat who would show up at closing time each evening-- like clockwork-- scavenging for crumbs and any morsels of food that messy customers may have left behind. Being the animal lover that I am, I began saving little bits of chicken or steak for the tiny visitor, when it became apparent that she wasn't going to be leaving any time soon. She was quite skittish so I wasn't able to touch her, which is when I decided that I would rent a trap from the shelter where I volunteer to have her spayed and-- if it turns out she wasn't feral-- possibly admitted to the shelter.

I happened to mention my plans to a regular who lives in the neighborhood who told me she had also seen the cat and had the same idea. She told me not to rent a trap, that she could borrow one from her friend. Next thing I know, she has trapped the cat and taken her into the spay/neuter clinic. Turns out she wasn't feral at all; she had already been spayed and was likely an abandoned house cat. With the weather turning colder and patio season ending, she couldn't continue fending for herself outdoors. She asked me if I could keep the cat for a day or two, as she was planning to house the cat in her garage until she could be admitted into a shelter, but was having a garage sale that weekend. Of course I agrees, setting "patio cat" up in the bathroom of my 350 square-foot apartment. Well, days turned into weeks, and I still had this tiny, terrified cat in my bathroom while the lady who trapped her keeps changing her story as to why she can't take her, despite the fact that she has a house with locations such as the "guest room" and the "upstairs bathroom".

When it came time for me to leave for China, a spot still hadn't opened up in either of the shelters we were working with, so I told the lady that she had to take her. She said she'd be by the night before I left to pick her up, which turned out to be about an hour after I had planned to leave on the day of my trip; I had to cab it to the airport. Along with the cat, the trap, and the supplies, I handed this woman an envelope of money I had collected from my coworkers to cover the admission fee into one of the shelters, should she be placed before I got back.

To make a long, weird story as brief as possible, a spot finally opened up for Patty O' Catt the day after I returned. I called crazy lady to tell her that, which is when she told me that she already had an appointment to admit her to the other shelter and to cancel the appointment I had made. Also, she said she had $450 worth of extensive dental work done on the cat while I was gone, and anything more I was able to pitch in would be great. I freaked out at this point, because: a) because I had never agreed to pay for dental work, which I had told her (on multiple occasions) that b) my shelter friends would have done upon her admission.

The next day I get a call from my shelter, saying that they had gotten a nasty phone call from this lady ("I was really nasty", she later boasted to me, to which I could only respond, "why!?!"), saying that I should have never cancelled her admission appointment and that she had to get rid of Patty O'Catt right away. So my shelter friends rearranged their plans once again, and admitted the cat. When I came in to volunteer the next week, I was met with furious gazes from the admissions counselors. Turns out that a third person-- the lady who loaned us the trap-- had come forward, saying the cat was hers all along and that we had no right to admit it (um, nice try, but no). Then she says Patty O. was a feral cat that she was helping to socialize (not true), then she says that she has already found people to adopt her (also not true). At any rate, she had helped the other lady pay for the dental surgery and because she had vet records, they had to relinquish Patty O'Catt to this woman, who turned around and begged the shelter where she volunteers (who the other lady was also "really nasty" to over the phone) to admit the cat. I was horrified-- I thought the goal was to get the cat off the street before winter... wasn't the mission already accomplished?

I'm not sure what happened to Patty O'Catt, but I do hope she's better off now than she was on the patio. On the bright side, my shelter was then able to admit another deserving cat-- a pitiful creature found living in back of a strip club-- who has since been named Tassels. What I can't bring myself to ask is whether the shelter ever got the money I gave crazy lady for Patty O' Catt's admission... Once, she told me that she gave it to my shelter, but then she told me that she and her middle-aged frenemy (the one with the trap who was so insulting to my shelter friends) put it toward the cost of the dental surgery. I suspect the latter is true, but I don't have the heart to ask... She has since avoided coming into the restaurant on the nights I'm working. Will I live and learn? Maybe. If another stray cat needs my help getting off the street, I'm sure I will help, but next time, I hope I have enough sense to go it alone!

... Prosperity and Longevity

Beijing provided all the history, contrast and grandeur that I was expecting from one of the largest (and oldest!) cities in the world. A contact in Hong Kong helped to book us on an English-speaking tour of Beijing-- which, considering it included hotel, airfare, and food, was dirt cheap by American standards-- and I was relieved that I wasn't going to have to self-navigate my way through a sprawling city of 17+ million people. I've made my way through a number of foreign cities, but having no knowledge of Mandarin combined with the fact that, unlike Hong Kong, very few people speak English, Beijing was a little too foreign for me. And considering the traffic in Beijing makes even the most congested expressways in Chicago look desirable, I was thrilled to be chauffeured around the city. I was fully prepared to be on a bus full of old people, and was shocked to discover that we had been booked a private tour, and instead of geriatric travel companions, a tour bus, and brightly colored hats, we had a guide, a driver, and a black sedan.

Our guide, however, failed to meet us at the airport, so with the help of another guide we took a death-defying and interminable taxi ride to one of the nicest hotels I had ever seen, comparable only to the hotel where we stayed in Hong Kong-- stunning! My only complaint was that (like our Hong Kong hotel) the bathroom had glass walls. And unlike our Hong Kong hotel, the privacy shade was not opaque. Oy. Mom and I got closer in ways that we never intended. But it was at the hotel that we met our guide and our driver (a gruff, intimidating fellow who was quite possibly affiliated with the Chinese mafia), and they whisked us away to dinner, where we were served an absolute feast of Szechuan-style cuisine.

Our whirlwind tour began in earnest the next morning. We adhered to a very strict schedule, and were closely supervised. Even when our guide not with us, he was either at a table across the room or passed the responsibility of keeping tabs on us to another guide or a store clerk. I got the feeling that we saw exactly what they wanted us to see, and little else. Which was strange... what we saw was incredible, but it seemed that the poorer, urban, and less glitzy parts of the city were carefully hidden just out of our view. We shopped where they wanted us to shop, ate what they wanted us to eat (turns out that Chinese food is just called "food" over there), and did what they wanted us to do. Our only glimpses into what life was like for the majority of those who live in Beijing was when our guide and our driver pointed out where they lived... which, by comparison to what we saw and where we stayed, was pretty grim. Guess that's communism for ya!

We started our tour in the (infamous) Tiannamen Square, which is much more massive in person than anything I've ever seen in pictures. The big draw there is Chairman Mao; the guy who turned China into a communist country. I had never heard of him, as he died before I was born, but his body has been preserved and has been lying in state in one of the buildings on the square for more than thirty years. The Chinese love Chairman Mao, and many make a pilgrimage from the farthest reaches of China to see his carefully preserved corpse; it was all our guide could do to keep from slapping himself in the forehead when I (astutely) commented that he was the same guy that was on their currency. I spent most of that day (most of the trip, actually) listening as best I could to the volumes of information our guide recited to us, pausing to snap a few pictures, then dashing through the crowds to catch up to him and start the process all over again. I learned that, in addition to numbers, colors hold great significance to the Chinese. The color red, for example, is a symbol of prosperity and good fortune, which is why so many things in China boast this color. It turns out that the color was a significant part of Chinese culture for thousands of years before the birth of Karl Marx; the fact that it also symbolizes communism is just a happy coincidence. And the number 9 is tops in mainland China; it's the closest mortals can get to a perfect 10, which is reserved for the gods. Not even the emperors have things in multiples of 10!

From Tiannamen Square we ran through the Forbidden City and Prince Gong's Palace. I learned more than I'll ever be able to remember about Chinese culture; but mainly that the emperors had their own bridges and concubines and walkways and whatnot, and that every yin has a yang: male and female, circle and square, etc. etc. After a lunch at a government-approved restaurant (where they looped one Chinese Opera aria through the speakers, over and over... and over, thinking we tourists wouldn't notice) we took a pedicab ride (that's a rickshaw attached to a bike) through the Ho-Tung district to see how the "locals" live. We felt bad for the poor little pedicab guy for having to pedal the two "fat Americans" around the village... he was tipped handsomely afterwards.

The next day took us to the Great Wall, one of the Seven Wonders of the World. It was quite impressive, but not easy to climb. The ancient stairs were wildly uneven, and the railings (when there were any) were quite low. We climbed as high as we could in the time we were given, but didn't make it to the top of the mountain, which might have given us a better idea of its grandeur. From there we visited the Summer Palace, which was probably my favorite stop on the tour. An idyllic property built on a prime lake shore location, the sprawling buildings had a lovely backdrop of waterfront and willow trees. Because many of the buildings are still in use, one of the only places we were able to enter was the "four-star" bathroom, which turned out to be anything but.

Our final day was as cold, miserable, and snowy as the previous day had been sunny, warm, and beautiful. We visited both the Temple of Heaven and the Lama Temple. After learning more about the inner workings of the feudal system, with the emperors, castes, and human sacrifices and whatnot, I can almost see how Communism would be a welcome change for the Chinese-- yikes! Our guide had some terse, yet carefully worded comments about the Dalai Lama, too, and why Tibet shouldn't be autonomous.... I completely disagreed with him, but it was interesting to get such a different view on the matter.

All in all, I enjoyed my brief time in Beijing. I appreciated the efforts made by the people we encountered to speak our language and make us feel welcome. Just as I can't pronounce some of the phonemes in the Mandarin language, many of the people we encountered had trouble pronouncing some of the syllables commonly used in the English language; it took me the better part of the day to figure out that when our guide was saying "prorry", he meant "probably". Like I said, though, their English is much better than my Mandarin will ever be. Yet in the too-literally translated words of a store clerk from Beijing, I would like to say to the hospitable and welcoming people of China, "I hope we can keep touching!"

Happiness Good Fortune...

My second trip to Asia (in as many years) landed me in Hong Kong, the former British colony located at the southeast corner of this massive continent. A modern, somewhat westernized oasis surrounded by the foreign and exotic sights, sounds, and smells of a vibrant and fascinating culture that is (both literally and figuratively) half a world away from my own. In hindsight, I'm glad that our trip started in Hong Kong; it's a good, tourist-friendly starter city for first-time visitors to the Orient: Think of it as China: 101. Nearly everyone I encountered spoke English, and all the signs and announcements were trilingual, meaning that all pertinent information was listed in Cantonese (the primary language spoken by Hong Kongians), English (phew!), and Mandarin (the official language of "mainland" China).

The public transportation system is clean, efficient, and easy to navigate (not to mention dirt cheap!) and I was able to make my way from the airport to the hotel without any problems. My only beef with the MTR was with the commuters' customs; there's an entirely different standard of "personal space" over there. At 5'4", I was a giant amidst this mass of humanity... my fellow metro riders may have been small, but man were they pushy!

The stunning skyline and futuristic-looking architecture were interspersed with more traditional, Eastern style buildings. The friend (Hong Kong native and impromptu tour guide) who invited us to come to her hometown was continually pointing out signs of "East meets West" which, if you looked closely enough, were everywhere!

There aren't many historical sights in Hong Kong, as it is (comparatively speaking) a relatively new city. The British began developing the barren, volcanic islands less than 150 years ago, so compared to the rest of China, it's still shiny and new. That said, there are plenty of other things to do in the city: mainly, shopping. Oh, the shopping! Considered by many to be a shopper's paradise, stores line nearly every street in the city, selling everything from the latest electronics to the trendiest new fashions. I gravitated toward the jewelry shops, as this area of the world is known for jade and freshwater pearls. I also enjoyed the open-air, outdoor markets; I marveled at the bird and flower markets, and got most of my souvenirs at the massive Stanley Market, a huge bazaar where haggling is accepted. I gawked at the fish market; many restaurants shared its waterfront location, and those patrons who were so inclined were able to pick their next meal from the strange, myriad assortment of sea creatures (that the Chinese consider to be cuisine) that were crammed into rows of tiered aquariums. The unlucky creatures were then plucked from their cramped glass quarters, killed, cooked, then served up on a platter-- tentacles, scaly fins, googly eyes and all!

Thankfully, I wasn't scared of all the food in Hong Kong; dim sum, the Cantonese delicacy known best for its many varieties of steamed dumplings and meat-filled buns, is considered to be the local cuisine, and offers many non-oceanic options. After decades of trying and failing, I learned how to use chopsticks in a hurry while I was in Hong Kong, out of sheer necessity. I spent my downtime in the hotel room practicing with peanuts and candy corn; by the end of our stay, the candy corn was easy to do (probably because the humidity made it sticky), but the peanuts, not so much. I'm still not very good at it, and I can't eat very fast this way, but at least I didn't have to stab my dumplings, eating them as food on a (chop)stick, a la Taste of Chicago. My favorite foods, though, came from the many bakeries located throughout the city. These rich and tasty treats were flavorful and not too sweet; it would have been very easy to try one of everything they offered!

And have I mentioned that Hong Kong is equal parts urban, modern city and tropical paradise? Located just north of the Equator, late October brought us ample sunshine and temperatures in the 30s (Celsius, that is-- that's 80s and 90s for us Americans). The palm trees, large tropical flowers, and exotic species of bird were all highlights of my trip.

I found it curious, though, just how superstitious the Cantonese are. Numbers carry a particularly heavy significance; the hotel I stayed in was missing a number of floors; apparently any number ending in 4 is bad, but 8 is a sign of good fortune. One hotel we saw was designed with a big hole in the middle, so the evil spirits could pass through! They also share the Chinese affinity for the "three happiness" symbols (pictured above), characters that translate as Happiness/Good Fortune, Longevity, and Prosperity. We just happened to be in Hong Kong during the holiday of the "double nines" according to the Chinese calendar (which changes with the cycle of the moon... confusing!)-- I forget what the number 9 signifies, but the holiday is similar to "El Dia de los Muertos" in Mexico-- it's a day to honor those who have passed, and many go up into the mountains or to the cemeteries (which are usually mountainside locations as well); apparently the higher you go, the better it is. We just so happened to take the tram up to Victoria's Peak that day to admire stunning views of Hong Kong's skyline... but nearly half the population had the same idea.

We only had a few days to explore Hong Kong, and without the help and hospitality of our family friend, we wouldn't have seen nearly as much as we did. As is the case in all my travels, I boarded the plane to Beijing wishing I could have stayed longer. I always tell myself that it gives me a reason to go back someday, but in a place so far away from home, that's easier said than done!