Brief Overview of Hangzhou’s Nightspots

For me, Hangzhou is a lot like the bed Goldilocks slept in. Not too big (like Shanghai) and not too small (like any of the innumerable small villages throughout China…for example Wuzhen) There are a great deal of clubs and bars that stay open as long as you’re drinking (last calls be damned!), and streetfood vendors abound with delicious finger foods that help soak up the excess alcohol your liver can’t process. Anyone visiting this city, who enjoys the nightlife, will have no problem indulging their desires for dance, drink, and all the other saturnalias activities you enjoy that make you all filthy sinners. However, for those of us who live here, a little circumspection goes a long way in finding establishments worth visiting on a regular basis. Of the many clubs, bars, and pubs in Hangzhou there are few I would patronize on a regular basis so having said that I will give you my rundown and evaluation of the night spots worth visiting in this scenic city (also my evaluations of some places that just flat out suck.)

Nanshan Lu (“Lu” means road)

Nanshan Lu is to Hangzhou what Maoming Lu is to Shanghai. It is a trendy stretch of road that fringes the shores of West Lake in neon chic. There is no shortage of bars and clubs on this stretch of road and your options are seemingly endless (if you’re a backpacker in Hangzhou for a few days.) If you’ve lived here for more than a week you will begin to realize that 90% of all the bars, lounges, discos, watering holes, taphouses, rum-mills, cantinas, saloons, speakeasies, taverns, and groggeries are all more or less the same: a writhing stew of rhythmically challanged, unattractive, horny, white males looking for petite, comely Chinese girls looking to bag themselves a sugar daddy. It’s life unscripted (TLC please don’t sue) with bad house music providing the soundtrack. Initially, I observed this social milieu with the same interest an ornithologist might bestow upon the discovery of a new sub-species of puffin, but this sociological curiosity soon gave way to wanton disgust. When I go out I want to relax, not bear witness to a bunch of over-weight, goateed, Land’s End wearing crackers and greasy Euro-trash as they gyrate and slobber all over the daughter’s of the Middle Kingdom. So what I’m trying to say is that I don’t go to a lot of clubs on Nanshan Lu.

The List (not yet complete, actually far from complete):

Absolute House: Absolute shit.

Aerospace: Aerospace is a lot like Todd Oldham. Todd Oldham was once a well-respected, internationally renowned fashion designer. Now he hocks an uninspired line of pastel hampers and place settings at Target.

House Bar: Located on a side street of Nanshan Lu. House Bar offers reasonably priced drinks that are in all honesty poorly concocted (my gin and tonics have never shown a sign of carbonation or a lime but for around 15 kuai who cares?). Decked out in an eye pleasing black and red color scheme House Bar’s first floor caters to deaf patrons, or at least I think they do because they play their shitty dance music and a tympanum rupturing volume. I suggest sitting upstairs where the music is not quite as loud. It’s worth a look.

Kana’s Pub (recommended): Hands down the best nightspot on Nanshan Lu. Kana’s Pub offers excellent drinks (the best shots in town) at reasonable prices. The attentive wait staff is always there to help and most of them speak English for those of you too lazy to learn Chinese. There is a live band that gets your toes a tapping before the DJs come on and play a wide range of rap, R&B, hip hop and funk that keeps you dancing all night. I love the Jackson Five and early Michael Jackson and this is the only place I’ve heard it played. The atmosphere and decor is warm and relaxing as is the pub’s owner, Kana. Kana is a wonderful man who welcomes you into his establishment and makes you feel at home. In return he asks only one thing from his patrons and that is to have fun. Of all the places I’ve been on Nanshan Lu, Kana’s is the place I feel most comfortable. Leave the pretentious egos at the door and just chill. Check out my archives for more on Kana’s Pub.

Night & Day Cafe: This place is more for the older crowd. Late thirties and above. Their salsa nights are fun as is the live music. Their drink prices are kind of steep but you can keep the price down with a little pre-crunk at yo’ crib (can you say, “caucasian?”) The atmosphere is chill and relaxed and the clientele is much the same. The highlight of this place is the bathroom which I’ve commented on before, but I cannot stress enough how much it rules. If I’m out on a tear anywhere near Night & Day Cafe and the need to take a wicked scooby hits my lower intestine I’ll split and head there because the bathrooms are so nice (and squat toilets are a tool of the devil.) I actually feel bad using the facilities at Night & Day sometimes, it’s like I’m defiling some work of art.

Unique Peoples: The only thing unique about this place is that all the patrons suffer from a unique form of retardation that actually compels them to go this crap hole. It’s expensive, boring and the girls dancing on poles aren’t going to fuck you no matter how nice a laowai you think you are.

I can’t emphasize enough how disgusted I am with you white honkies that prey on and exploit Chinese women or any women for that matter. A pox on you! But if you are that type of guy I have but one establishment for you:

L.A. Disco (pretty sweet segue huh?): This high end monstrosity is a sleazy slice of Shanghai. L.A. Disco (not located on Nanshan Lu) is chock full of dirty laowai with bad sexual intentions (might I recommend masturbation) and prostitutes looking for a john. This place is perfect for you(s) and it keeps you(s) out of the bars I’m at! Yay!! Besides all the Bacchanalian unpleasantness this bar…well…still sucks. First off you are going to drop a fat knot trying to get your swerve on at 35 kuai a twelve ounce (355ml) Bud Ice (ugh.) You’ll blow half a weeks pay before you’re drunk. Secondly, the music sucks as do the DJs. Thirdly, the dance floor is not nearly bouncy enough to warrant dancing to the crappy music (bouncy floors are just fun) played. If my only two choices for a Friday evening are a night at L.A. Disco or being gored up the ass by an ibex I’ll choose L.A. Disco but it would come down to the size horn.

Well that’s about it for bars downtown that I’ve been to. Well I’ve been to more but I can’t remember them. I’ll have a new list up in a while. For all those visiting and all those living here I hope this list helps. If there are any places you’d like me to check out let me know.

Here is a picture of an ibex:

On the Subject of Me. (Plus a little tirade on my frustration with spoiled students.)

I was reading through the myriad (I totally suck) of comments left on my site and noticed that there appears to be a little confusion as too who exactly is authoring these well crafted wastes of time (read: blog posts.)

My full name is Gregory Todd Kummery. I left out my confirmation name but if you are curious it is Stephan. I’m a 25 year old MALE who teaches Spoken English at a University in Hangzhou city, Zhejiang province. That’s in the People’s Republic of China for all you retards out there (that was kind of harsh I apologize….you retards.) I’m a towering 5’7” (Chinese women are less than impressed, height is the ultimate aesthetic in China) and weigh an imposing 136 pounds. I have uninspired brown hair that appropriately does not compliment my uninspired blue eyes. I have a build that resembles that of the god, Adonis, if Adonis were an emaciated anorexic (read: Karen Carpenter “Water with lemon please”) and skin that is, at best, a pock-marked substandard porcelain. If I were a Ming vase I would have been thrown in the pit before the Emperor could have ever laid eyes upon me. I have no self-esteem and could utterly care less about losing face, much to the shock and horror of my Chinese friends (a few students and a tutor).

When I’m not teaching, I indulge in but two pleasures: cigarettes and alcohol. Due to my Roman Catholic upbringing I partake in little else. In fact, Catholicism is to be credited for my superhuman abilities of regret, guilt, and utter self-loathing. I can over-analyze the mundane events of my life with such severity and critique that I can make myself physically sick. I very rarely look back on events in my past without shuddering and verbally chastising myself which tends to draws eyes in public places.

I’ve never been a big fan of writing about myself because quite frankly I hate myself and want to die. But that’s just stinkin’ thinkin’. Women more oft than not are quite fond of my penis and that makes a man feel good (admittedly it is the flesh equivalent to heroin), if it didn’t take a Kasparov defeating Deep Blue amount of effort to get women in the requisite scenario to actually see it. I don’t go flashing it about all willy nilly. I do have a modicum of class.

I’ve been down in the proverbial dumps lately because my students are getting restless. There are but two weeks of school left and even my good students are conducting themselves in an insubordinate manner I would rather not deal with. I find myself losing my temper in class which, normally, I’d never do. I can usually contain myself till I’m safely in the confines of my office before I let go with the profanity and the demeaning and the anger and the rage.

It wouldn’t be that bad if I simply didn’t care, but I genuinely care for my students and want them to benefit from their time with me. I should state at this point that it is only a small minority of my students that razz the hell out of me. The majority are very well behaved or at least polite enough to pretend to be mute. But as the old adage goes, “one bad apple can spoil the whole damn bunch,” and this was exactly the case last week when the male portion of one of my classes decided to show up after being absent for the entire semester (by the way you are all failing.)

It bothers me when students think they are either too cool (trust me they’re not) or too important (they ain’t shit) to participate in class activities, but it pisses me off when they disrespect the other students in class that are actually trying to participate with their incessant Chinese jibber jabber. I lost it last week in one class when they wouldn’t shut up.

Me: Alright class quiet down.

Class: Mindless loud jibber (they’re ignoring me)

Me: Hey quiet down, shhhhhh (this usually works)

Class: Mindless loud jabber (they’re still ignoring me)

Me: Hey! Shut the fuck up! Jesus Christ! You little fuckers show some respect!

Class: Gasps and silence.

I’ll admit it wasn’t my finest moment but they finally shut up and allowed me to conduct class. I hate them so much sometimes, but only because I love them so much and want them to excel in English. Well, sometimes I want to beat them senseless with a plunger handle but once again it’s out of love.

Here is a picture of me playing Crazy Train on the Gu Zheng (the rockin’est of all traditional Chinese instruments):

I Spoke too Soon

Okay it is now Friday and I’m still sick. In fact I got sicker after my last post which erroneously stated I was actually getting better. Apparently having your office located in a meat locker is not conducive to the healing process. So for the past 3 days I’ve resigned myself to the relative discomfort that is my futon (it looks like a futon but feels like a medieval rack) and sweat. And by sweat I don’t mean a dew-lipped glisten. I mean a Cool Hand Luke level of sweatiness (for those of you who haven’t seen Cool Hand Luke it’s quite a sweaty movie.) To undertand just how much I’ve sweat over the past three days all you have to do is this:

1. Drink 2-3 liters of water or Gatorade in about an hour’s time.
2. Go into a sauna.
3. Masturbate….a lot (but only think about non-arousing stuff like venomous snake attacks or school bus accidents)

This should provide you with the level of sweating I’ve been privy to the past three days. On top of the sweating and much more aggravating is the glandular swelling. When I’m healthy and happy, like I was Monday morning, those glands (you know the ones your mom always checked when you tried to stay home sick from school) are about the size of raisins. As of today my right gland is about the size of a whiffle ball, while my left gland is about the size of an aardvark. I am literally struggling to swallow*.

I’ve gotten sick like this once before and I think it was the flu though I can’t really remember. All I know is I’m not worried in the slightest, because of the top notch medical staff we have here on campus. Not only did she make me go “AHH” with the old tongue depressor, but she also took my temperature. The preceeding two tests proving incontrovertibly that I am allergic to neither wood nor glass. Relief.

The medical staff basically gave me two options, antibiotics or an IV. Mind you they didn’t give me a diagnosis, so it was a crap shoot for yours truly. The Chinese love the IV. It’s just saline from what I hear, but they demand it. Oh! my spleen just burst! Give me some saline. I fell in the oven and my skin’s all flaky and peeling…hook me up with the saline IV. I’m very particular when it comes to needle hygiene, as in if it ain’t a brand new needle I ain’t using it, I don’t care how many times you cleaned it. It’s a quality of life issue and one I won’t waver on (I say that now but China does have a way of changing you) so I opted for the antibiotics. Even though there is the high probability that I don’t even need them.

I began taking them last night and I think it’s too early to make a call on whether or not they are working. All I know is it hurts like hell to swallow and my body is really tired. So I am going to go. Everybody stay warm and wear your scarves, and your ear muffs, and your mittens and wool socks.

At the end of the second paragraph you will notice an asterick. It denotes that I restrained myself from saying something ribald in the body of the text. This was done out of respect and love for my mother and father. However, if you want to read the line in its original form just look below:

I am literally struggling to swallow, and as any of my previous boyfriends will tell you that’s never been a problem.

Making the Band, Rambling, and Damn it! I got sick

Okay I’ve been out of commission for the past couple of days because I’ve been sick. A pretty steady fever, that lasted a better part of 24 hours, kind of put me under but I’m feeling much better thanks to some traditional Chinese medicine one of my students brought me this morning and the fact that I’ve been blessed with Wolverine’s immune system. That and all the other teachers here who were kind enough to bring me food and juice when I was too weak to get off the couch. I thank you all a great deal.

I had a wicked bad anxiety attack a few days ago which sucked. Once again my brain is doing what it does best and is completely fucking me over. I just want to get some Arctic clothes and go on a snowy sabbatical. It’s times like this I hate being Catholic and hate being me. I suck. I need to flagellate my self with my jiao sock (a crew sock that contains two and a half pounds of China’s lowliest coin) a la St. Jerome.

I saw that John posted about the Making the Band idea (he also told me he was going to so it wasn’t like I just came across it), and it really does work great. I highly recommend it. My favorite group was indeed Milk Cow Goes to Australia because I could actually see that being the name of some new wave pop group out of Holland. The reason I like this excercise so much is because it forces the students to be creative, which is something they don’t get to do often. For me, that is very sad because a lot of these students are wonderfully creative and don’t have an outlet.

Making the Band Highlights:

Death - Three of the cutest girls you could imagine helm a band that strives to be like Marylin Manson. Their hit song is “Embryo.”

Night Elf - Sort of like a cross between Blue Oyster Cult and Rush. Straight geek rock. But one should expect such music from guys named Fantasy and Eaglet (those are their class names.)

Hamburger 4 - Their stage names were Meat Patty, Vegetable, Bun, and Lettuce. There song was also quite funny but I can’t remember it right now. It had something to do with sizzling meat.

Queer - Apparently these four guys really liked the definition their electronic dictionaries provided for the word, “queer.” I’m really immature though, so I just laughed uncontrollably everytime I called their band name out loud and thought of Jim J. Bullock capering about in the upper, left hand corner on Hollywood Squares.

Okay I’m freezing and I don’t want to get sick again. So I’m going to split for now.