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afox

I have had plenty of crazy experiences as an international teacher and frequent traveler. The following one is best told in person, but I will try my best to relay the story via print.

My husband and I took a break from the honking horns, crowds, and chaos of Shanghai during Christmas of 2006 to visit Australia. We had a great time renting a car and hitting the road with a cooler full of snacks on our three week trip. On Christmas Eve we stayed at a backpackers cabin called On the Wallaby. Despite the listing as a “backpackers” accommodation, the place seemed really nice upon arrival with private rooms and a central commons area for guests to share. We checked in late in the afternoon, introduced ourselves to the other guests, dropped our stuff in our room, and then left to have dinner and drinks. We came back late and everyone was asleep. We quietly went to our room and quickly fell asleep. In the middle of the night I was awakened by a man’s loud groaning. At first I thought it was my husband who had a bit too much to drink. When I realized my husband was asleep, I got worried that the man was in the room because his moans were so loud. I laid there frozen in fear until I heard a woman’s moans as well. It was then that I realized that the couple in the room across the hall were engaged in an intimate act. At first I thought it was quite comical that I could hear them so clearly and figured it would be over in five minutes and I would be back to bed. Boy was I wrong….it turned out to be a two hour marathon lovemaking session and I could hear EVERYTHING. If you have never experienced the sounds of another couple in the throws of passion for several hours, let me tell you, it is quite nauseating. I tried to block out the sounds by covering my head with my pillow, putting in ear plugs, listening to my iPod….nothing worked. They were dreadfully loud and really into it! Finally after what seemed like an eternity, the couple had their big finish and I thought I would be able to get some sleep. But the worst was yet to come. The man told the woman (remember, I can hear this as clearly as if I was in bed with them) that he needed to use the bathroom which was a shared toilet downstairs. He stood up to leave the room and started shouting at the top of his lungs, “Oh Lord! My legs have gone jelly! My legs have gone jelly!” in a thick Aussie accent. He ran down to the restroom and I figured that he would return and go to bed. Nope. Not this guy. He came back upstairs and proceeded to talk this woman’s ear off for another hour. He was saying some really corny post-lovemaking one-liners to her…the kind of stuff no woman really wants to hear. One thing I heard him say was, “I haven’t done that in twenty years” which really confused me because the clientele of backpackers places tends to be people in their 20’s and 30’s. Eventually the guy shut up and I was able to get a couple hours of sleep before the sun came up. When the alarm went off bright and early Christmas morning my husband and I got out of bed to go make breakfast in the communal kitchen. Somehow my husband and managed to sleep like a log through the whole ordeal. I briefly explained the bags under my eyes and marveled at the fact that he had not heard any of it. While we were sipping our coffee, other guests started to arise. They would say good morning and say things to us like, “Last night was real interesting, eh?” and we would comment back, “Ya, it was hard to sleep.” While we were discussing our plans for the day a group of guests who were sitting in the den kept giving us peculiar looks. My husband went to ask the manager about a day trip and one bloke shouted, “Are you sure you have enough energy to kayak after last night?” My husband replied, “I slept great, it was only my wife who was awake all night.” Everyone then gave us even more outlandish looks. “How did you manage to sleep through it?” they asked. “I guess I drank too much and just passed out,” my husband answered. It was then that I realized that everyone thought that they had heard US in the throws of passion all night long. “No! It wasn’t us!” I exclaimed. “Then who was it?” asked the manager puzzled. Just then a scraggly looking middle-aged Australian man came down the stairs. Try to picture a potbellied, sunburned, scruffy bearded construction worker in cut off shorts and a loose tank top. Behind him was a bleach-blonde old woman, the typecast of what Americans call “trailer trash”. They were carrying their suitcases and headed out the door to two cars which were parked out front. The rest of us looked at each other in disgust. It was them?!?! I stayed up all night hearing THAT GUY grunting? HIS legs went jelly from too much lovemaking? I had already felt like vomiting but at this point I could feel my mouth watering and the upchuck reflex kicking in. As they drove away the feelings of disgust turned to giggles and grew into rolling laughter. We were all in hysterics at the whole situation. “You thought those sounds came from us?!” I sniggered. “I haven’t done that in 20 years? I am only 25 you guys! You really thought I said that?” choked my husband through tears of laughter. After the hilarity of the situation died down, we all shared the pure absurdity of what had happened. It turned out that the couple had told the manager that they were both unhappily married and had snuck away for a secret weekend rendezvous to see each other and cheat, which is why they came in separate cars. They figured no one would know them at a backpackers cabin. Maybe we didn’t know their names….but they sure left a lasting impression! The lesson we learned; Cheap price equals thin walls!

A weekend at the Marriott is something we cannot afford on teacher’s salaries, but it would surely offer us a relaxing and peaceful night’s sleep.

8 months, 2 weeks ago

jj84

Crazy travel stories are often the "Had to be there!" type, so I'll try my best to describe one of my crazier travel adventures.

When my sister and I were small, about 6 and 8, respectively, we went to Paris with my parents and my grandmother. One night my parents went out and left us in the hotel room, under the supervision of my grandmother. Her room was connected to ours, so they figured we would be fine.

At this point, it's important that I raise the fact that my grandmother is quite deaf. During the day, she wears hearing aids, but at night, she takes them out, and doesn't hear a thing!

My sister and I, quite aware of the aforementioned fact, decided we would have our fun as well. We were in a "magic potion" making phase and that's what we set-out to do. What better than a hotel mini-bar for magic potions? We opened every single bottle, and mixed everything together...if only we had been mature enough to at least make the "Rum and Coke" magic potion or something similar, but this was far from the case.

After quite some time, mixing and matching, we got tired and finally went to sleep. My parents didn't notice anything until it was time for check out...now THAT was an impressive bill! They made us give them all the money we had, though I'm sure this probably just covered one bottle, if even that.

To this day, my sister and I tend to stay away from the mini-bars, remembering quite clearly the high cost attached.

8 months, 1 week ago

jobella

My husband and I have always been avid, albeit thrifty, travellers and up until we had children, always stayed at '1 star' (and that's probably being generous!)establishments. We were always pretty happy to score beds with clean sheets and hotels/hostels with running water. I have hazy memories of some places being a bit seedy and unclean...but NOTHING will ever compare to our stay at the Boka Hotel in Earl's Court, London. When making our booking on the internet, it presented itself as a clean, hip and glamorous place with amazing facilities and service to match. We loved the look of the place (and as an added bonus it had a moderate price tag too!) and didn't hesitate to pay for a full week's accommodation on line. This was to be our first time in London and we didn't understand all the hype about accommodation being so expensive! We gloated to everyone that would listen about our amazing internet discovery! Well fast forward to our arrival at The Boka and needless to say, things turned pear-shaped the minute we walked through the creaky, grease-ridden door. We were shown to a room with a damp, mildew-ridden shower and toilet stuck in the corner (have never seen anything like it in my life!). The whole room STANK and had me dry-wretching within minutes. This was probably due to the fact that the toilet flush was 'out of order'. I promptly told the seedy looking dude behind the counter that the room wasn't suitable but my heart-felt speech fell on deaf ears. I think he was used to customer complaints and didn't even bother trying to please dissatisfied lodgers any longer....To make things worse, we watched a very sick mouse die in our mould infested dirty shower. I told my mate at the reception and he gave me a towel to pick it up in!!! This is not a joke either! So outrageous but 100% fact! Unbelivable! Breakfast was also included as part of the amazing 'deal' we had at The Boka! The breakfast room was full of the seediest looking crew that I have ever seen and on offer (on a daily basis) was watered down jam, orange juice, stale bread and slabs of butter full of other peoples bread crumbs and slimy matter. I also feel compelled to mention the fact that on the kitchen floor underneath the counters were HUGE rat traps! The whole place still makes me shiver with disgust. It's very interesting reading other traveller's reviews for this hotel on 'Trip Advisor'. They really make me laugh. I love the dude that says "run...and don't look back" and also get a rise from the guy that says "luckily one of our party fell down the steps of a bus and we were able to spend the whole of the second night in acident and emergency at a local hospital". I'm glad I can laugh about my experiences at this hotel now (8 years later!), but at the time - it was a living nightmare- and I DO NOT use this term loosely!

8 months, 1 week ago

bugsy

I was waiting for my flight from Thailand to Sydney when I noticed a young woman standing in line behind me. She caught my eye because she had such a markedly dissatisfied and unhappy look on her face. She was certainly not excited about what lay ahead of her (well not at that stage anyway!).

It turned out that this mysterious woman sat in the row ahead of me in the aeroplane. The man next to her was an attractive man perhaps in his forties. They were getting along smashingly, and as the flight progressed I noticed that the stewardess kept bringing them drinks. I thought, in passing, "That gal is going to get very drunk!," and then forgot about her.

After a time, my seatmates left to go to the restroom. When they returned, they were giggling, obviously very tickled. I asked what they were laughing about. They said that as they were waiting, a toilet door opened and the girl came out. One of them started for the door, but then the door opened again and the man came out of the same restroom.

These folks had obviously joined the "mile-high club!". I thought, up until this point, that the mile high club was purely fictitious. I am here to tell you that this club does INDEED exist and don't be too surprised if during your future air travels that YOU meet some of its members!

8 months, 1 week ago

joanne73

I pride myself on being a somewhat intrepid traveler. I’m not easily intimidated, grossed-out, or deterred by seemingly unfavorable circumstances. I’m not a destination traveler, and I often relish the experiences I’ve had "in transit." Taking a night Chinese sleeper bus, though, curbed my desire for the "real thing" this past year, and I found myself wanting to be a bit more bourgeois in the midst of all the authenticity.

Imagine a bus with, instead of seats, rows of bunk beds (about 45 beds in all). Now, imagine this same bus filled with sweaty travelers, blue-collar workers, and farmers from China. Now, imagine all these people with their shoes off. (Getting the idea? Oh, hold on, it gets better).

This same bus, filled with the aforementioned smelly people, had some added perks. It would become a proverbial Pandora’s Box of bodily fluids and excretions. My husband, and I were too excited about the genuineness of such travel to sense impending doom and discomfort. We got in our assigned bunks (squashed because they're meant for short Chinese people that weight about 80 pounds), and were initially delighted by such an innovative way to travel.

Soon, our joy turned to dismay when we started choking on the billows of cheap cigarette smoke that filled the bus. As I'm sure you are all aware, China has the greatest number of chain-smokers in the world (Well, it has the greatest number of people, and so every bad habit we know is amplified by a million in China!). If only we had to battle the smoke throughout the trip, I’m certain it would’ve been bearable.

However, while trying to fan away the smoke, we had to keep our mind on the "rain of loogies", as I like to call it. Pollution, smoking, and habit have created a country of people that spit. All of us are guilty of spitting now and again -- especially those of us who do outdoor activities and aerobic sports. The Chinese, though, don’t just spit. They huck loogies. These aren't just any loogies, but loogies that come from the depths of their souls and entrails (making Booger from Revenge of the Nerds look nothing short of a total amateur). As the bus windows were open, it only makes sense that all spittle and bodily fluids would be channelled out the open windows. It wasn’t. They opted for the floor. While fanning the smoke and dodging loogies, we were blessed with the sound of "huck, splat, huck, splat, huck, splat, splat."

This was all going on and the bus hadn’t even left the parking lot. (I’m sure some of you imagined we were well in to the trip by now. No, no .. We were only beginning!) When we rolled out of the parking lot, a 1960s Kung-fu movie started to blare over the crackling speakers.

After grasping the situation at hand, I knew it would be a rather long trip, but I wasn’t prepared for the climatic challenges we would face. Because of the smoke and stench, all the windows were opened, and we barreled down dusty Chinese roads in sub-zero temperatures with wind ripping through the bus (this, then made it more difficult to judge loogie landing as wind factor and direction came into play). Shivering in our respective bunks, we noticed that blankets (somewhat damp and not "tide-clean") had been provided for the passengers.

At that time, there was nothing to do but deal with the "authenticity" of Chinese sleeper buses. I zipped my jacket, put on my hood, and pulled every piece of clothing over my body, covering all surfaces and skin in order to avoid direct contact with anything in the bus. I closed my eyes, put in my earplugs, and sighed (one of those long, soulful, Scarlet O’Hara sighs). It was a long 14 hours.

Luckily, we survived, flea bites and all (We hoped that's what they were). We arrived to Hanoi fairly unscathed (two bus-rides, three-taxis, and one mini-van ride later). If one lesson can be taken from this experience, it is this:

When travelling in a Chinese sleeper bus, wear a disposable, plastic suit.

Do you think I should sell this phrase to the fortune cookie makers? It’s certainly better, and more practical, than the typical, "The moon shines on your business dealings today!"

8 months ago

sip

I am a young, blonde Canadian female and used to live in Taiwan as an English teacher. Let me preface this story by saying that generally, the dating scene for foreign women in Taiwan is quite dismal. The foreign guys tend to go for Taiwanese girls and the Taiwanese guys tend to be too intimidated by foreign girls to ask us out.

So one night, me and some girlfriends went to a predominantly Taiwanese nightclub that is particularly well known for harbouring the city’s hottest Taiwanese guys. After some dancing, I ended up meeting a nice Taiwanese guy who spoke amazing English, wasn’t overly shy and was in medical school. Despite a recently unsuccessful bout with a Taiwanese guy (re: text message obsessed and possessive) I nevertheless decided to give him a shot because he was very confident and I thought it might be an interesting experience. And it was definitely interesting. Or perhaps I should say that I, the blonde foreigner, was very interesting.

We went to a move on Friday night. While entering the theatre, he tells me how all his friends lust for Japanese girls because they’re so small and cute. But not him; he’s different. Ever since he was a young boy, he’s had a thing for western girls. He recalls telling his mother about his fascination with blonde hair. And he likes their figures; western girls are “bigger” (accompanied by a hand demonstration of big…perhaps he was charading the hips?). "But you’re thin for a western girl,” he reassures me. Ok, things are getting a bit strange now. Childhood fantasy fulfillment? I’m not really into that. But it’s all experience right? He still seems nice, just go with the flow.

So eventually we sit down in the theatre to watch “Knocked Up”. Before the previews even end, he is holding my hand and doesn’t let go of it for the entire duration of the movie. Needless to say, by the end of the movie, I had a bad case of limp-hand. Anyways, for those of you that haven’t seen it, “Knocked Up” stars that hot blonde chick from Grey’s Anatomy and is all about sex, particularly the meet-at-a-club-and-have-sex kind of sex. With every sex scene and glimpse of female nudity, my body and mind cringe at the thought that he must be making connections and assumptions between the busty, blonde, promiscuous Westerner on the screen and the one sitting beside him holding his hand (I’m such a skank! I should never have led him on by letting him hold my hand like that!).

Once the movie is over, we go back to his car and instead of driving me home, he has plans to “show me around”. I was under the impression that we were stopping by his apartment to pick up his scooter. But before I know it, I’ve been challenged to race up the stairs of a student housing building and somehow find myself sitting on the edge of the bed in this (love) doctor’s single cell room (with locked door). Where’s my cellphone?

Facing each other while sitting on the edge of his bed, our conversation about education and careers soon deteriorates into a fascinating examination of all my exotic physical features. Um, is this supposed to be un-weird cause he’s a (soon-to-be) doctor? First, he examines my hair, it’s texture, it’s layered colours. “It’s so good!” he gasps with awe. “But you have to wear it like this,” and promptly pulls out the elastic from my ponytail so that my “good hair” can shine in all it’s foreign glory. Nervous laugh. Then, it’s my eyes. “Wow, they’re so big,” he exclaims, while opening his eyes widely in imitation and fascination. Nervous laugh. “And your eyelashes, they’re so long,” he gasps, stretching out his fingers to verify their realness. Nervous laugh. Hands sweating. Finally, the doctor takes hold of my arm and with total sincerity, begins sniffing my skin. “You smell different,” he declares. “How do you say in English? Ah, yes…unique!” Okay, this is actually getting weird now! I’m starting to feel like the bearded lady in a carnival sideshow who draws attention because she is just so different looking. Instantly my mind takes me back to my undergraduate lectures in Art History. So this is that “exoticization of the Other” that Edward Said was theorizing about. I am the “Other,” and he is totally exoticizing me. What do I do? Can I simply laugh it off as a naïve boy’s first encounter with the foreign kind? Yeah,yeah, just laugh it off. Still going with the flow.

For his next smooth move, he turns on the TV to watch a Taiwanese food program. Upon propping the doll (me) on his bed, he lies on my lap to watch the show and dreamily talks about the places he wants to take me in Taiwan. He then proceeds with his masterfully smooth physical flirtation. First, he awkwardly pinches and fondles my knee. Whoa, that’s hot. And then comes the piece de resistance. Moving his overly inquisitive hands about my feet, he bluntly (attempting coyly) asks, “Where is your toe?” Legs squirming. “What? What do you mean?” “I mean where is your toe? I want to bite your toe!” Ahhhhhh!!! Legs thrashing wildly. “NO, NO, NO, I don’t want you to bite my toe!” Ahhh! Ok, this is where I draw the line. This does not flow. Mildly entertaining his fascination with a foreigner, I can (kind of) handle. But satisfying his foreign foot fetish? No way. Entirely astounded by the fact that I don’t want to stay the night, the doctor drops me off at my apartment. After shutting down his final attempt for a goodnight kiss, I run inside and shut the door on any more attempts at dating in Taiwan.

8 months ago

leemack

Wow, this is a tough one, these are all great stories and, oddly, most of them have something to do with sex. From the mile high club to overhearing way too much of the dirty nasty to a mis-pull in Taiwan. Though we're tempted to go with Sip simply for her mention of Edward Said, we're going with Joanne73 who braved a long distance Chinese bus for 14 hours. Congrats, Joanne73! Contact me at leemack@cityweekend.com.cn and I'll hook you up with the prize. Best, CW

8 months ago

shanghai_female

 I had a lovely dream some night , I saw a splendid building about several hundreds of meter squares with all green trees, vines and colourful flowers inside the so grand hall, decorated in very art smell anywhere , even on the roof of it...like in a small spring garden.
  So grand a green park, what i am astornished is trees, vines and flowers can be cultivated and decorated in such art styles, naturally, so naturally, and what I am astonished more is all the plants are inside the so grand hall, in so big but one room.
   From then on, with such a lovely sweet dream in mind, I travel a lot, trying best to meet such a splendid green garden room, but never met the same scene as the dream still.
   Curious about if there is such a real place somewhere on earth always and eagerly wish to know why I dreamed such a lovely paradise never met before?
    Is it possible somewhere in JW Marriott Hotel waiting there for me?
   Curiously seeking still...

7 months ago

shanghai_female

 I had a lovely dream some night. I saw a splendid building about several hundreds of square meters. What I was astonished is so grand a hall with only one room, is cultivated and decorated with so many green trees , vines and colourful flowers, anywhere inside the grand hall, even on the roof, naturally, in very art styles.  
 I was really astonished, trees , vines and flowers can be cultivated in such art smells but all are so naturally.  So natural art-cultivated and decorated spring garden , within the so big but one hall. 
  So splendid a hall ... so many green plants... so art styles...anywhere, but inside one room...
   I never met such an indoor garden before, but in such a fantasy dream, i really see so lovely a small park like a dreamy paradise. 
 So clearly in mind always, so astonished always with the dreamy fairyland scene. 
  From then on, i travel a lot, trying best to seek and find such a paradise scene as in my fantasy dream, but never met still.
  Astonished by such a natural  indoor art garden, and curious why I had such a lovely dream I never saw in real in my life.
  Is it possible there is such a dreamy art scene somewhere in JW Marriott Hotel there for me?
  Curiously travelling and seeking...still...

7 months ago

shanghai_female

I had a lovely dream some night. I saw a splendid building about several hundreds of square meters. What I was astonished is so grand a hall with only one room, and is cultivated and decorated with so many green trees , vines and colourful flowers, anywhere inside the grand hall, even on the roof, naturally, in very art styles.
I was really astonished, trees , vines and flowers can be cultivated in such art smells but all are so naturally. So natural art-cultivated and decorated spring garden , within the so big but one hall. So splendid a hall ... so many green plants... so art styles...anywhere, but inside one room... I never met such an indoor garden before, but in such a fantasy dream, i really see so lovely a small park like a dreamy paradise. So clearly in mind always, so astonished always with the dreamy fairyland scene. From then on, i travel a lot, trying best to seek and find such a paradiselike scene as in my fantasy dream, but never met still. Astonished by such a natural indoor art garden, and curious why I had such a lovely dream I never saw in real in my life. Is it possible there is such a dreamy art scene somewhere in JW Marriott Hotel there for me? Curiously travelling and seeking...still...

7 months ago