Dr. Ho and Chinese call-girls
Trip Start
Sep 17, 2007
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124
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Trip End
Oct 08, 2008
Lijiang,
China
Monday, March 3, 2008
Having delayed our trip to Tiger Leaping Gorge, we decided to take the field trip to Baisha, a small village outside of Lijiang and home to the most admired man.
Dr. Ho was imortalized in a book about the botanist Josef Rock by Bruce Chatwin. He's like, the glamorizer of Chinese medicine and perfect humble village doctor all in one. Maybe not humble - he definitely likes all the stories published about him and movies made about him. There's a National Geographic special coming out soon. But in person he's the epitome of a gentle old man. This man captures the imagination, and I found him utterly delightful. At first we were a little shy to enter his clinic, but after a strawberry smoothie we made the plunge.
He was chatting to a couple of Chinese men, but the moment he spotted us he hurried over to shake our hands and chat with us
cat nap
. His clinic is covered inside an out with the articles, letters, and documentary film titles devoted to him and his work. He sat us down at one counter and had us read several writings about him. Dr Ho speaks English, Japanese, German, and French, but I guess it was easier to tell his story that way. As a person he is like...the history of modern China. He graduated from university in 1949 - for those of you who don't know, that's when the PRC was announced by Chairman Mao in Beijing. He lived through the rather ineffectual republic, the Japanese invasion, the rise of the Kuomintang, it's defeat at the hands of the Communists. His adulthood was full of the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution. During these times he was forced to close his practice, which he could not reopen until 1985. It could not have been an easy life, and in the rough sketches we read detailing his biography, it doesn't seem to have been, but it didn't bring him down. Apparently he would like to eventually retire and go pick his herbs in the mountains, but now at 85 he's still practising and not readily able to make the treks for his medicinal herbs, so he has others to do it for him. As we sat and read about Dr. Ho in portraits from both his son and a couple of journalists, his wife, dressed in traditional clothing, wizened, and silent, appeared and served us some of his "healthy tea." Then she disappeared again
my new friend
. John Cleese is reported to have said about Dr. Ho, "Interesting bloke, crap tea." The tea tastes strange, but I wouldn't say it's bad tasting. Then, because there was nothing else for us, we signed his guest book, he showed us into his herb store-room, and we took a picture and said farewell. We bicycled back toward Lijiang and I felt like I really should have asked him to diagnose my myriad problems. Maybe he could mix me up a magical cure. At that particular moment my tummy was doing its little queasy thing that happens every so often, which strenghthened my conviction that I shouldn't have been so shy at his office. I stopped on the road. Travis stopped and asked what was up. I told him. He said I missed my chance and was I really going to go back. I decided he was right and I was silly and decided to continue on, but in an attempt to call my bluff (as he said) he turned his bicycle around to make the trip back to Baisha. "Call my bluff!" I huffed, and shot back down the road. I can be very stubborn sometimes.
I arrived shortly before Travis, out of breath, outside of Dr. Ho's office. I think I may have scared his wife, who was standing on the pavement, as I whipped past. Then the shyness crept up again, but I girded my loins and unsurely walked back into his office
it requires a lot of attention
. There was no one there. I peaked out the back door and eventually Dr. Ho's face appeared. I waved. It disappeared, then reappeared and he approached me. I said unsurely, "I'm sorry. I was too shy before, but there are a million things wrong with me and I was wondering if you could help me?""I know," he said. He led me into his herb store-room, which doubles as his office, and began his examination. Outside the office Mrs. Ho was already pouring Travis a new cup of tea.
First, Dr. Ho checked my pulse in one wrist, then the other. I stuck out my tongue. "May I ask what is your age?"
"23."
"33?"
"No, TWENTY-three," I said.
"Ah," he said. "You have bad stomach?" He gestured toward his abdomen.
My answer confused him at first, it being some combination of "no" and "it's bad." For clarification I said, "I had diarrhea yesterday."
"I know," he said
STOP and admire the view
. I raised my eyebrows. This guy knows a lot. "Do you have PMS?"
"No," I said slowly, "I have depression." Hopefully that would be helpful.
"I show you some things to help with depression. Don't worry, be happy." He began to kneed the very fronts of my temples, then reached under my ear lobes and kneeded a bit there. The phone rang. He went to answer it and Mrs. Ho refilled all the tea cups.
When Dr. Ho returned I thought my examination would continue, but apparently he had all the information he needed. With a small plate he began scooping herbs out of various buckets. At one point I was in front of a bucket, so he ordered me to stand up and then went about his business. I hesitantly sat back down. He came back to the table and mixed all the herbs together. At our first visit he had given us a piece of paper about him and with his contact information. He asked that I give it back and it doubled as my prescription. He folded it in quarters and scribbled something unintelligible on it. Then he took out his official stamp and box of red Chinese ink and stamped it for authentification. The directions for use were written into the margins on the front of the paper he had given us, which I found highly entertaining
Outside Dr. Ho's
. "You put one spoon in hot water, take three times per day, add honey. You like honey?"
"Um, I don't usually drink honey in my tea."
"Okay, sugar is okay." Apparently I looked unconvinced because he then said, "No sugar is okay, too."
As he was wrapping up my tea I asked if he could make some for my sister, too, or if he had to meet his patients in person. No, no, he could make some tea for her, too. Thyroid? he double checked. Eventually I left with four huge packets of herbs, two for me and two for my sister. He asked only for a donation, and as we left he reminded me, "Don't worry. Be happy."
"Okay," I said, and hopped happily onto my bicycle. As we rode away Travis said, "Now that was what I was looking for." Apparently he was glad we turned around, even if it did look a little odd.
Back in Lijiang we geared up for dinner at Mama's. This was always an adventure, and tonight was no exception
famous guy
. Travis and I ended up at a table with two Swedes who spoke almost accentless English. I was very impressed. They were roaming the world, too, so we traded stories. At one point they mention that they were heading for Japan, and the guy who had been completely silent up to that point suddently piped up, "That's my country!" It was a fun conversation, overall. After dinner we wandered the old town with Joel, a fellow American we'd met briefly the day before, and a pair of Aussies teaching English in Yangshuo, Kayla and Jason. The shopping and wandering was nothing special. Then, characteristic of Australians, Kayla suggested we go for a beer, so we spent a while hunting for a bar without horrendous music. We ended up in a disco with crazy lights and three guys in traditional dress dancing in circles. As we entered a table of Chinese roared in greeting, and I shook hands with a couple of them. Then one of the men offered me a shot of beer to drink with him. Why not? So I did, and therefore became adopted by the whole rowdy bunch. At first Travis went to sit with the others, but I yelled at him for being a terrible husband, so he came over to join and protect me. I ended up buying the table four really expensive beers - I had intended to buy the table two and escape and then bought two for Travis and I to have with the others, but that didn't work.
In the end we engaged in several rounds of boisterous toasts and had a completely unintelligible conversation, due to the fact that the table spoke Chinese and Travis and I did not
Baisha
. But that didn't stop the geniality, believe me. The group consisted of three middle-aged men and two young women. One of the men looked like a skinny Mao, one was bald, and the other was large and took quite a shine to me. The bald one liked Travis and they toasted to the fact that they both belonged to the brotherhood of bald men. Mao just had a jolly time with everyone. The two young women I couldn't figure out at first. Like almost all young Chinese women they were dressed super-chic and had that ridiculously permed hair. Then, after about the fourth bottle of beer I leaned over to Travis and whispered, "I think they're callgirls." Really, that was the only thing that made sense. What a surreal situation we'd gotten ourselves into. But it was totally fun and worth it. (But in a similar situation you must remember to always be safe first!)The prices of the beer soon drove our friends in search of other bars, and we took the opportunity to escape our adventure. We settled again in a bar with some Jamacain drum action (the only black people I think we ever saw in China...it seemed perfect and yet very out of place), and had a lovely chat. Then it was time for bed, because if you get home too late Mama gets worried!
Erin
