I believe that the genius mind of $1.99/lb. founder, Raf, has been doing some freelance branding and marketing consulting for a banana distributor here in China. Although he is not likely to admit it, I can not imagine that anyone else could come up with a product name that is as descriptive AND memorable as "Ick"; especially for a consumable.
It may well be that this is one of those times where there is so much complexity that it circles back to simplicity. I'm not sure; and if I start thinking too hard about this kind of infinite loop my fingers will start to tingle and my eyes will dry out.
Or maybe, the concept here is to come up with a name that is on point, but not too detrimental. In other words, a sort of distraction that stops the natural progression of increasingly unappealing adjectives at a level that is still somewhat palpable to the consumer. My thinking would have gone as follows: How-Much-Are-The-Apples?, Ick, Nasty, Rotten. When my mind would have gotten to Nasty or Rotten, I would have crossed bananas off of my list. Instead, I was subconsciously advised to stop at Ick and, for me, that meant dig around for one that is edible.
Regardless of how Raf conjured this up, it is good to see a product that doesn't try to hide what it is or what it does. Unlike the market where I bought my Ick banana - it's english name is "Fresh and More".
I was eating dinner about an hour ago and all of a sudden I heard someone singing "Say You, Say Me" by Lionel Ritchie. It was obviously not Lionel Ritchie, unless he picked up a severe Chinese accent. There was a TV showing some music video channel that had subtitles ala karaoke style. This particular tune struck a particular cord in a particular fella and he threw all inhibitions aside to vocalize the words and sounds that had been muffled by the remote's mute button. It wasn't top of the lungs loud, but I'm sure everyone in the restaurant heard. Nobody else seemed to pay mind, but I found myself quietly singing along. Now, had it been "All Night Long", then it would have been on like fillet mignon and grey poupon.
Side note: I know of one Lionel Ritchie fan. She has a collection of at least one 45 record. I would not be surprised if she came out and, on this blog, admitted that she was a back up dancer in some of the more recent tours.
The sun came up this morning in Dongguan to welcome a brand new day. The morning wasn't as muggy as yesterday and the taxi I jumped in to the factory was clean. I enjoyed the entire ride with the window rolled down and watch the people all start their day at a leisurely clip. There was something in the air (or something missing from the air) that made if feel like today was going to be special.
I arrived at the factory and the taxi meter showed 1 RMB less than the normal 19. I gave the driver a 20, said thanks and let him keep the change. If I could do it in a manly way, I would have skipped, instead of strutted, through the factory gate. Parked outside the building, where there are normally two identical Hyundai Sonatas, was a brand new Honda Odyssey (not the minivan that is sold in the US, more of a X-over sedan-van). I admired it a second, but proceeded onward, fighting the temptation to do cart-wheels.
I got to the office area and started to work. When the lunch bell rang (there is literally a lunch bell) and after the workers stampeded down the stairs to the cafeteria, the president invited me to lunch. This is not atypical, but there was an underlying motive to this invitation. He wanted to show off his brand new Honda Odyssey.
Another worker from the factory joined us and he took shotgun. I sat in the back passenger side and found sitting next to me a bouquet of flowers and the Nova Glitter Gel air freshener. In appreciation for my business partner dropping some heavy coin at the car dealer, they in turn threw in some flowers and a brand new little jar of scented spontaneousness. I wanted to go to the dealer and buy a car right away.
The new owner was spouting off all the features the car has, but I was hypnotized and mesmerized and had no interest in anti-theft anything.
This is the first time I held a Chinese car cologne canister with my own hands. As you can see, I was able to get a more detailed view of the magic juice, and I can now answer everyone's question as to what keeps the things from sliding around the dash. Minnesota's own 3M double stick tape, that's what.
I can't expect every day to be all brand new like today, but it sure is nice when it happens.
I spent the last two days in Macau. It was a much needed break encouraged by the necessity to comply with the Chinese customs authority visa requirement. I had a choice of either heading to Hong Kong or Macau. Either way, I technically exit China and upon re-entry renew my stay limit. I was still a few weeks off of hitting the magic number, but there had been a slight lull in work and I decided to head out before things pick up again.
Macau was pretty cool. It is hyped up to be the Las Vegas of Asia. There is an MGM, Sands, Wynn, and Venetian. These all are in addition to local joints such as the Fortuna and Lisboa and a bunch of other casino/hotels. There is a huge difference in the "entertainment" angle that is presented by US based casinos vs. local Macauan counterparts. The original Macau casinos have the feel of what I imagine Las Vegas had 20 years ago. While the US based casinos are almost identical (if not a better "learned from our first try") to their present Nevada counterparts (Venitian Canal and all). The big difference is that even though most of the casinos are bunched up, there isn't a "strip" where you can walk down and have casinos on both sides of the street. They are more in a cluster or a taxi drive away.
I refused to play at the US based casinos. I wanted to feel the grime and keep my lungs primed with second hand smoke (they have been processing nicotine for over 40 days, why purify them now?). I spent most of my time and money at the Casino Lisboa. Nothing glamorous, just an overly decorated room with obnoxious carpeting and tables arranged in the standard form that invite players to walk around and find a seat while pit bosses oversee the action.
To my disappointment, the Macauan casinos don't have craps tables. To my even greater disappointment, their tables are about 75% baccarat. I had always saved learning baccarat until I was either (a) so loaded that I could play in the exclusive Roger Moore bow tie high roller VIP rooms or (b) at the point where I'd squander my social security check minutes after $2.99 worth of eggs over medium, bacon, hash browns, and some Celestial Seasonings chamomile tea just as each month got started.
Baccarat held a certain mystic. I've always felt that it held no middle ground for me. It was heart breaking to see the game being played as if it were blackjack (no offense to those that like blackjack). It was either play some strange variations of poker table games or figure baccarat out. I did the latter. It was alright. I lost money, but, even worse, lost a piece of my future. I'll play baccarat again, but it won't be because of the resulting gains or losses of my life. My future isn't as clear now as it was last week. Who knows on what vice I'll blow my social security checks after breakfast?
Today was a busy driving around day. It started off with me jumping into a VW Santana 3000 with the most well protected driver in China. Most taxi cages are made out of tubing spaced to allow for the exchange of payment and also to prevent an average fist from getting through and making contact with the driver's right cheek bone or an average size fist from coming out of the protected region while it is clenching RMB bills. Either way, today's taxi's cage had an additional lining that kept anything except finger from getting through. I'm sure there is a really cool story behind the motivation to add the additional protective coating. I wouldn't doubt if the driver has a little button on the dashboard that runs juice and electrifies the cage if you go buck wild.
Now for the good stuff. On my ride between factories, I got chauffeured in the elegant luxury of a gold colored Honda Civic. It had camel tone velour seats hidden under lace seat covers (shown in the photo), power everything, and was impeccably clean on the inside. The driver was charismatic without being obnoxious. All the ingredients for a nice ride. The bonus? Well...on the dash was a Glade A/C vent air freshener AND a Monte Carlo 700! Can you believe this? Double the pleasure! Every detail was considered, the Glade wasn't filled with the nasty yellow colored freshening fluid I reported about earlier. Instead it was filled with a red smell juice that matched the MC 700 perfectly. I couldn't enjoy the scent combo because the new car smell still lingered on this ride. But it was one of those times where you just sit back, look out the window, and realize that being solidgold has its benefits.
It has been so long since the last time I wrote about a Chinese car air freshener. Well folks, your wait has ended. Look what I found. I think it is supposed to either be a lotus flower or maybe a rose, but the color of plastic that was chosen makes it look more like a head of cabbage. It did smell nice and look at the perfect fit. It is as if it is designed to sit in a regulation size cup holder.
The driver was courteous and not too talkative. Most drivers talk the whole while, knowing I don't know how to tell them to be quiet like native speakers, they laugh to themselves, turn to me and I join them with a fake chuckle as if I understand what's going on, and they commence to relive their fondest memories, hardest frustrations, or just daily happenings. If I don't feel like listening to their stories, I point to the radio as a request for them to put on some music. Most know the words "dancing" and "disco". The radio either ends up on a talk show (just as bad as hearing the driver) or on some techno station which loops Gwen Stephani / Chinese Super Star Singer remixes. But like I mentioned, this was a pleasant 45 minute ride. My eyes were telling my brain about the dinginess of the city, but my nose was telling it that it smelled spring time fresh.
This is one of the most memorable evenings of my entire life. It is definitely a moment that I will reflect upon, years from now, and stare blankly into a room - making the nursing home wardens believe that the sedatives they injected in me are working, but by that time I'll have developed a tolerance and will self medicate by humming Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam tunes in my mind. I won't need the meds, but will take them anyway just to have boss track marks on my arms and earn a bit more cred at the home. In order to keep up my charade I'll purposefully drool so they have to wipe my chin, not flinching, but keeping my glance into nowhere in tact. They will then talk crap about the crazy old man that keeps mumbling, "shine, shine, shine". The isolation I'll have been in by that time will make it difficult to communicate with others and the social awkwardness will make it impossible for people to believe that I am the solidgoldlovechild - for I will be as far away from child as ever.
Why tell them about the many solid gold statues of me that litter China? They won't believe it. By then, I will look nothing like what had been immortalized in precious metal. This internet thing will be archaic so there will be no record of my writings. Yes, they will have heard of the solidgoldlovechild, but never imagine that they are wiping his chin spit.
This evening I found the first attempt by the Chinese government to commemorate the impact I've had on this land over the last 6 weeks. I can't say that they nailed my likeness, but it was a first shot. I appreciate the effort, but there needs to be some revisions made. I'm sure they are working on the hair system. It is probably the most difficult part. I plan on writing a letter to the local government so they can do something about the pose as well.
The only thing that sucks is that I was not notified about the grand unveiling. I just happened to stumble upon my statue by chance. I'm modest and all, but I would have enjoyed thanking diplomats and government officials, taking photos with the fans, and even saying a few words about how solid gold only tarnishes, but does not corrode. Even when it dirties up a bit, just polish it and watch it shine shine shine.
The other thing that bummed me out is the location they chose. It is in an obscure corner on the top floor of a shopping center. It should really be out somewhere public, near a water feature of some sort, with a bench so weird people can sit and rest and feed rancid bread to the pigeons. Besides, it doesn't shine as much as I'd like it to under fluorescent lights. I don't know, I hate to be picky. I'll fall back on knowing that this isn't the last or largest statue that will be raised in my honor.
I'm not just picking up Chinese here, apparently I'm learning English. I took this photo because I thought I'd get a 2-for-1 on the somewhat common word tweaking with translation done on the signs here. However, in trying to find out how this error could have come about, I decided to look up the definition of 'spontaneous' to see if there was some weird variation that would allow for the mistaken translation and; therefore, the creation of a word 'spontaneousness'. And wouldn't you know, some super genius named either Merriam or Webster had already seen the sign and decided to officalize it by additioning it to their list of words with the allowablity to be used while speaking English.
Granted, I'm an engineer and have every excuse to not know words that use more than 6 letters (in total count), but come on...spontaneousness? This can't be right. I've never heard it used on TV; not on sitcoms, documentaries, game shows, news, 3-part mini-series, or reality shows.
Go on and use it in a sentence. "I buy Sudafed by the truckload at Spontaneousness Low Prce Pharmacy!" does not count.
This blog was initiated by the inspiration I felt when I sat in a hired car and saw, sparkling on the dashboard, the Commander 700 Car Cologne. I can't say it was a religious experience since I've yet to walk on water, cure the blind, or turn water into a nice $20 bottle of Australian Riesling, but it came close. I mean, think about it, one second I'm a walking zombie on my way to some factory and the next minute I had a purpose in life - to share with the world the
genius behind the C700 CC. If it weren't for the internet, I'd be riding a bike all over suburbia with a white shirt and black neck tie knocking on doors asking people, "Brothers, Sisters, have you ever felt an emptiness when you look over your dashboard?"
With that, I have unfortunately deviated from my calling. Not by choice, but by circumstance. Regardless, I'm sorry. I've gotten so used to the city that I can pull a taxi and tell him where I need to go. It is much more convenient and cheaper than calling for a hired driver. Most taxi's dashboards have the "for hire" light and some electrical box in the place where the fresheners would be placed.
The majority of taxis are 80's era Volkswagen Santana 3000's (from a collaboration between the three going back a few decades ago). There are a few Passats, but I haven't had the pleasure. The ride isn't as comfortable and the cage that protects the driver from the passengers or vise versa brings thoughts of Hannibal Lecter (it puts the lotion in the basket). These little cars have a gravitational pull to pot holes and the hub cap retention mechanism only works 25 percent of the time. (A number I came up with based on the average of taxis with a single hub cap)
The only scent producing items in the taxis are the mildewed wash rag that the drivers use to wipe the car off during down time, the spare gas canister that sits between the driver and the shotgun seat, and the driver himself (either from ciggies or more personal expulsions of smell). I've come up with a little trick to balance out the smell inside the taxis with the eye-watering carbon monoxide outside the car. It works best when buses or tractor trailers aren't around. 1. You keep the window rolled down. 2. Put a stick of gum in you mouth, that helps with the smell in the car. 3. When the smell in the car overpowers the wrigley's, you stick your head out the window. 4. Just before you begin to feel light headed and sleepy, take a swig of oj or coke or any strong tasting drink (water doesn't work). This method works for about 20-30 minutes. After that I think it is up to the individual's pain threshold. Some may go a bit longer, some a bit shorter. The more you do it the easier it gets, like everything else.
Believe you me, I'm missing the air fresheners as much or more than some of you faithful readers. I'll do my best to continue on in my search this upcoming week.
Today is the equivalent of memorial day here. Most factories still operate, but with minimal staff. I ended up leaving earlier than usual and walked around Dong Cheng, the neighborhood where my hotel is located. It is a cool place. There is a mix of modern and traditional. On the same street, you can find really expensive restaurants flanked by hole in the wall ma & pa joints.
One of the problems with being here alone is that most Chinese restaurants in the city serve food family style. So, you end up ordering about 4-5 dishes and everyone gets their fill. It is definitely a 2 person minimum. If I'm eating alone, I end up at noodle houses.
So, this evening I was in that predicament. Instead of noodles, I ended up in a little hole in the wall restaurant. There was a bunch of people eating there, vs. other places that were almost empty, so I figured it was good. I was seated at the table and a menu was place in front of me. Most of the time, the menu has photos, but not this time. It was all written in Chinese. The only thing I understood was the prices (written in Arabic numerals). The waitress was a young girl, probably the daughter of the woman serving and the grand daughter of the woman at the register.
On my first trip to China (last fall), I bought a little digital translator with a robotic voice that does both English to Chinese and Chinese to English. It allows me to have Steven Hawkings-like conversations and has come in handy a few times. To avoid being there all night trying to make sense of about 40 items on the menu, I typed: bring me your favorite dish. She said, "Tianji", typed it into my translator and it in turn spit out "field chicken". I said (in my best English), "Well, come with it then!"
I wish I could have explained to her that you pay extra in the supermarket for chicken that wasn't born and raised in a poultry penitentiary. Chicken is good, but chicken that has lived the life it was meant to and had its fill of worms and bugs tastes that much better.
My meal came and I gave her a big thumbs up. It looked good. It was on an iron skillet with meat chunks and red pepper and green pepper and onions and garlic...still bubbling hot. I got a bowl of rice on the side. Oh man, it looked good.
I picked up a piece of meat and started chewing only to discover a bunch of little bones - tiny things. I figured it was the chicken foot or something. I kept picking up pieces and having to spit out these little bones, a bunch of them. It struck me that I was eating a bird much smaller than a full grown chicken, maybe a chick or cactus wren or pigeon. There was a moment of concern where I thought that I may be eating a mammal, in which case small bones like that are the perfect size for a rat. I polished off the-whatever-it-was and my bowl of rice. Rinsed it down with a Coke and asked for my bill. She thought she'd impress me with her English by saying 2-10-9 (29). It's about $4.15USD.
I got home and searched through the list of food names in my Mandarin phrasebook. As it were, it turns out I was wrong. I wasn't eating a bird or a mammal. Tianji is in fact a 'field chicken', but more commonly know in the English speaking world as a Frog. I was somewhat relieved. I didn't much enjoy the possibility of eating pigeon. I have had it before, but for some reason, it bothered me this time.
My unofficial foodie review: I'd order it again.
Today marked my 1 month anniversary in China. It is emphasized by the tail end of a rain storm that has made this place feel like Seattle for the last 3 days. Last week I was sweating, this week I'm wearing a coat.
Maybe coincidental, but I happened to find a store that sells western (in reference to hemispheres and not honky tonk) products. The name is Watsons. It is like a Rite Aid or CVS, a regular drug store, but it has a variety of products with packaging in English, French, Portuguese, and on... along side Chinese stuff. It is limited in the quantity of items, but it has a decent range.
It was weird how much more relaxed I became due to being able to read about 50% of all the signs and stuff. There was a certain level of comfort I experienced that I wasn't aware I lacked everywhere else. It isn't stress, but rather constantly thinking about what I'm doing, how I'm doing it, and what I'm going to have to do...without being mistaken for a shoplifter or being run over when crossing the road.
Anyways, enough about that noise...on to more personal hygiene adventures. I entered Watsons and immediately thought about finding mouthwash (the two little travel size bottles ran out weeks ago) and a replacement for the Romano (the roll-on business just isn't cutting it). I found the oral hygiene products aisle no problem, mainly because of the way toothbrushes stand out. I'll be damned if I didn't find Listerine. You can't imagine how excited I got, almost overwhelmed - would have done a back-flip if I hadn't remembered I don't know how to do one and the thought of knocking over an end display didn't come to mind. While I was there I also got some floss. This used to be an everyday thing, but now, this is momentous and indeed photo worthy.
To balance things out, I went over to the sweets aisle and found some milk & honey flavored cookies from Nestle, which happen to be quite good. They are packaged in Portuguese (maybe for the Macao market). I have a month's worth of experience with Chinese cookies and that is something this place has not nailed down. Homemade oatmeal and raisin cookies would make a killing here.
Before I hit the check out, I searched for some men's deodorant. I looked everywhere and asked a sales person. No dice, women's, yes...by Adidas...men's no. Her English was really good (I soon heard more sales folks speaking in equally fluent English, it may be because they cater to westerners). She couldn't convince me to buy the stuff made for a women regardless of how hard she tried. So, I accepted defeat and went to the counter.
There were four people in front of me. I'm trying to learn numbers in Chinese so I've been paying attention at check out lines and restaurants. I try not to look at the register or the bill when I'm told how much I owe. So, call it snooping, but I was paying close attention to the amounts people were spending. I can't make it out most of the time, so I don't feel bad for eavesdropping. It took a while, but I made it to the front. There, the cashier zapped my three items and then with excitement told me, "You are the lucky grand prize customer today!" Before I could be overcome by joy, he hands me a cardboard fan. I quickly replied, "No xiexie."...knowing I would just throw the thing away. Besides, I was on foot and didn't want to add more of a load than what I bought and the weight of my grand prize. He then proceeded to burst my bubble by, in a combination of English and Chinese, getting the point across that the grand prize winner, me, was to be the proud recipient of the grand prize, the cardboard fan. I couldn't do anything but laugh and take the fan.
Who knows how much I was charged. I just handed over a bill and got change back. I put the stuff in my knapsack and carried my fan out of the store. None of the customers behind me looked envious.
My grand prize fan is decorated with a Nivea advert for "Good-bye Cellulite Gel-Cream". It functions perfectly fine (the fan, that is). I hold it, move my hand, and it pushes air in my face with efficiency. Had I got this thing last week, I'd have used it on my walk back to the hotel. Instead, it will go in the waste bin as I think a folded up newspaper looks more masculine.
So, after one month here, I have managed to regain my ability to gargle until the burning sensation stops and became a grand prize winner.
Note: The title of this blog entry was inspired by an email received from Yvonna. She had the perfect Chinese-English line: "go go super china hawt number one!" She has it tattooed on her neck.
The Fulltime Killer is my neighbor. It is two doors down from my hotel. Once again, I don't know if it is a brilliant marketing decision to name your place something that is difficult to forget or just bad translation.
Note: I can't access the website and am too frightened to go in. For all I know, I might step in and have to fight against Jean Claude Van Dam.
One of the things I like about China is English adjectives that are selected to describe things. For example, last week or so I was in a hotel lobby waiting for a driver and one of the hotel attendants pointed at the bottled tea I was drinking and said, "That is a charlatan". I must have looked at her crazy because she went on, "Your tea is a charlatan." I was still confused and replied using 30% of my Chinese vocabulary, "Ting bu dong." (I don't understand). She said, "Your tea, it is a fraud." Then it all made sense. She was pointing out that my tea wasn't really tea, it was artificial.
This type of thing is seen more in product packaging and store signs. The photo proves it. Who cares if Corn Stick is Aromatic. What does the stuff taste like? I'll find out tomorrow. The bag has been designated as my mid-afternoon snack.
UPDATE: I tasted the Aromatic Grilled Corn Stick. It tasted exactly as if you would put salt on Corn Pops, which I don't like.
The last few days, in every room I've entered there has been a chattering among the special ladies present. Even after a month, I still haven't picked up much Chinese. However, my intuition and instinct tells me that the commotion is all about me. I know for a fact that the ladies are asking each other, "What smells Delicious!?". If only I knew the Chinese words for "Why it's me, of course."
This trip was unexpectedly extended beyond the life of my travel size right guard deodorant. After the 3rd week, I found myself in various department store walking up and down the aisles picking up random items and trying to figure out if they were deodorant. I learned a few things from this experience:
1. I have a knack for finding feminine hygiene products in Chinese department stores
2. There is either a lack of supply or a huge demand for men's deodorant in China
3. Romano has a monopoly
Romano being the deodorant brand that I finally was able find at a Rainbow Department Store. It is advertised as a "Refreshing Roll-on Deodorant for Men". There were exactly 6 items on the shelf, of two different types - 2 Classic (packaged in green) and 4 Sport (packaged in red). As most of you know, there is nothing classic about me, so I defaulted to Sport.
When I used it the next morning, I was not convinced that the sensation I felt was refreshing, I would describe it as burning. I believe that Romano's secret ingredient is either alcohol or acid. Also, I had never used a roll-on deodorant, I don't even think that they sell them in the states. It was a bit strange, that feeling I can't describe other than maybe grabbing a slug and running it up and down your armpit. Finally, the smell was not sporty. It was more geriatric. It would complement a splash of Brut after shave nicely.
Like everything else, I'm getting used to the Romano. I can't say I like it, but I don't flinch when I apply it in the mornings.
