September 2

For our first weekend in China, my entire group took a bus to the zoo. It’s about an hour from the school, mostly on a coastal highway. The scenery is beautiful here: flowering trees, terraced fields, white sandy beaches, lush foliage, and wide open skies. The coastal city where the zoo is located is adorable and seemed cleaner than Weihai; it has a lot more historical architecture, too.
Every time I’m on the streets, whether in a bus or a bong bong or on foot, I constantly pray for my life. There are traffic lights here, which most everyone obeys, and I’ve seen a couple speed limit signs (in kilometers), but other than that people do whatever they want. Drivers are constantly cutting each other off, pulling U-ies in the middle of the road, changing several lanes in one fell swoop—they simply take any opening or lag in traffic that they see. And there are no jay walking laws: people cross the street with the same concern for their safety as the drivers—whenever there is a lag in traffic, or when they simply feel like crossing, and wherever they feel like crossing. We’ve nearly died a few times, especially since drivers won’t wait for you. Chinese people honk their horns like it’s the new fad, and if someone’s driving too slow, they’ll pull into the opposite lane, against coming traffic, to pass them. (Been there, done that. Multiple times.)
There is no road rage like the road rage in China. Maybe it’s a good thing I don’t speak Chinese well, otherwise I am certain I would be haunted by our bus driver’s excessive cursing.
We arrived in one piece to the zoo, which is the wickedest thing I’ve ever seen. Out front, there is a traditional Chinese palace on water, and giant statues of animals. The zoo is built upon the side of a mountain, with innumerable steps to the peak. We saw amur tigers, snow tigers, black leopards, pumas, hyenas, wolves, red pandas, pandas, hippos, all kinds of monkeys and birds, seals, dolphins, sea turtles, goats, chickens, and even a couple raccoons. There is one cage you can enter that has a bunch of rabbits, guinea pigs, and squirrels running around. If you can catch them, you can touch and hold them. We were able to pet a few rabbits. I wanted to pet a squirrel, but they were all too fast.
There was one exhibit that had only a rope separating the people from the monkeys. People were feeding the monkeys and the monkeys came to the opposite side of the rope to take the food straight from the humans’ hands. I didn’t touch any of them, but some of friends did. I could have reached out to touch a couple of the monkeys, but it was near the beginning and I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to touch them. There was a monkey prison in the exhibit, where they put the “naughty” monkeys: the monkeys that stole purses or felt up women (hey, I’m just quoting the sign). Pretty hilarious.
Everywhere we go, we (the Americans) are treated like celebrities. All of the natives stare conspicuously. They even take pictures of us. I was once looking at a baboon when I felt someone push up against my side. I turned to see an Asian mother holding her baby and smiling at another woman taking a picture of the three of us. I obliged. It was completely random, but perversely flattering. After they take pictures of us, or we say hi, they respond politely but then whisper and giggle between themselves. They could be saying anything about us.
Kelli and I got separated from the group (which was alright, because there is one way in and one way out—one long trail throughout the zoo—it’s impossible to get really lost) and we came across this old Chinese guy with a (ratty) eagle—the size of a golden eagle but it wasn’t a golden eagle). He beckoned to us, and so we obliged. He had us sit on a bench in front of the eagle and put our arms out. We thought the bird would fly onto our arms, but the man just prodded the bird with a stick and it spread out its wings. Quite boring, actually. But then the man motioned to us to pay him, and we thought, “Really?” He asked for 50 yuan from each of us, and we thought, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Taken aback, we paid him. (We found out later that we weren’t the only ones to be suckered into his trickery—almost half our group had the same experience.)
This kind of dampened our moods, but I just had to think, “It was bound to happen sometime while I was in China.” Welcome to a second world country, right?
However, our moods were significantly heightened when we discovered what opportunities lay before us: For 40 yuan (about $6.5) I was able sit by, pet, hug and have my picture taken with a snow tiger cub (holy schmokes!) and for 50 yuan (about $7), I had an elephant lift me by its trunk. I stood in front of it, and it wrapped its trunk around me and raised me to its forehead. I was euphoric.
It would be amazing to ride an elephant, but they only gave the option of sitting on it or getting lifted by its trunk. I think, out of those two options, the latter is much more exciting and a much better story. Who can say an elephant lifted them with its trunk? Seriously, it was so cool! Slightly terrifying, but incredible.
I also pet a couple sea turtles and held a baby chicken. I could have sat on a sea lion, but I had run out of money by that time (stupid eagle/vulture or whatever it was man).
The animals, for the most part, aren’t very well taken care of, and it’s kind of sad. Lots of them had matted fur and looked unhealthy, like the countless stray dogs around the city.
On the far side of the zoo, there is a sea walk. You walk past the sea lions, seals, dolphins, sea birds, etc. on this trail that is built into the cliff right above an inlet of the Yellow Sea. It leads into a gorgeous cove with a beach and an amazing view. Kelli, Kaylee and I sat on the rocks and let the ocean mist our legs.
It’s a pretty wild zoo, and I had a total blast.