Across Continents

Ken's Blog

Chinese medicine

October 11th, 2010

Antibiotics - web

I’d made an important discovery. Replenishing antibiotics in China is relatively straightforward. Name written in English on the box. Just a question of pointing to the right one in the pharmacy. But the much more important, and elusive, was Loperamide Hydrochloride. Better known by its trade name “Imodium“, it’s the drug of choice when faced with a tenacious bout of traveller’s diahorrea. Stocks were depleted, and waiting for a further dose before hunting for more had struck me as a particularly bad idea.

Much smiling. And shaking of heads. I’d tracked down the Simplified Chinese on the web for both the brand and generic names. Had been particularly diligent to copy out the characters with absolute accuracy. Didn’t want to inadvertently end up with the wrong medication. With some embarrassing side effects. But, in each pharmacy, I drew a blank.

Couldn’t believe there wasn’t the call for anti-diahorreals in China, nor could I imagine they’d rely solely on traditional Chinese medicine. In the right circumstances I’d probably give anything a go, and I’m sure there is some substance to the various concoctions. But, given the choice between, say, half a rabbit’s foot, a dose of the placebo effect, and some chemically contrived tablet with proven effectiveness, I’m definitely with the latter. But perseverance pays. My eighth pharmacy – incidentally, a very lucky number in China – and success.

[And for anyone caught, well, short I suppose, in China for Loperamide Hydrochloride, the images below might be very helpful indeed…]

LH - front - web

LH - back - web

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Through the Gobi

October 10th, 2010

Through the Gobi from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.

Ken describes his crossing of the most challenging part of the Gobi desert, and eventual arrival in Dunhuang

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Cottoning on

October 9th, 2010

Cotton pickers - web

The desert ended abruptly. The Dunhuang Basin. Cultivated crops. Workers dotted across the fields, small groups mostly. At first I thought they were picking tea but somehow the bushes didn’t seem quite right. None of the little buds I imagined you plucked. Eventually I stopped at the roadside, venturing over to a couple who’d waved as I’d approached. I was curious, intrigued. Cotton.

Cotton buds - web

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Midnight at the oasis

October 8th, 2010

It might have been a dream. Fragments of past memories. Night in a Scottish lay-by. Little sleep in the cramped confines of a Ford Cortina. Industrial scenes. "Bladerunner" perhaps. But this was very real. Gone midnight. Inside the cafe young women shepherded customers, mostly lorry drivers, to tables.

I joined a driver and his mate I’d met earlier in the day. Bowls of hot food – rice, steamed soft dough balls, vegetables, stew – quickly appeared. I was glad of the warmth indoors. Outside, cold as sharp as the harsh lights of the many small workshops on both sides of the road. Lorries parked up in ordered lines. Others trundling past, like shadows amidst all the dust.

Welcome as the food was, I’d still to secure somewhere to spend the night. My hosts sought to reassure me there wasn’t a problem. And yet I’d already established there were no spare beds left in this vast truck stop. I was confused. Our late night meal eventually finished, we returned to the rasping, bitter cold outside. The driver gestured towards his cab. But, I quickly realised, not to retrieve my panniers. Rather, to sleep. In the passenger seat.

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Road to hell

October 7th, 2010

"The reward of suffering is experience" – Aeschylus the Greek

The Gobi proper. A harsh, arid desert. Negligible vegetation, few settlements. Far more remote, hostile places exist. And yet it engenders a strong sense of loneliness. Vulnerability. Its openness, much of it featureless, stretching far out of sight. Appearing to be never-ending. Sapping the resolve of the solo traveller. Exacerbated by the constant wind. Little diminished by the frequent passing of lorries.

The carriageway soon fades. Then a traffic jam. Lorries backed up, for several kilometres at least. A few drivers choose not to wait, passing perilously close to those waiting patiently, presumably hopeful of no sudden oncoming traffic. The few cars on the road share my vulnerability in the chaos. Combined effect of roadworks ahead and the only fuel stop for miles. Beyond it, the last vestiges of tarmac disappear. Rough, unmade road, potholed, dusty. For sixty miles. The road to hell.

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Raking it in

October 6th, 2010

Some people are fortunate enough to grow up knowing exactly what they want to do in life. Others are less lucky. They know what they’ll be doing. I’d found a group of workers for whom I was fairly sure it wasn’t a vocation they’d ever wanted to aspire to. Working conditions were unenviable. Intense heat in the summer, not even a modicum of shade. Bitter cold in the winter. Sandstorms. Gale force winds. No shelter.

Their job? Raking gravel. In the Gobi desert. Plenty of scope I suppose. There’s a lot of it. And a lot of them. Strictly speaking, they confine themselves to the roadsides, the embankments. Which still leaves quite a bit. And a great job they do. Neat borders, as pristine as the carriageway they run alongside.

You might imagine they’d be an unmotivated lot. But no. Quite the reverse. Save for their punctual lunch breaks, never saw them slack, no matter how ferocious the wind or intense the heat. Perhaps just grateful for the opportunity to work. And, almost without exception, women. I’d no aspirations to follow them, but theirs was an admirable work ethic.

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A year on… air

October 5th, 2010

Courtesy of friends at my local community radio station in Somerset, England – www.10radio.org – you can catch up with my regular monthly on air chats with the Saturday Morning WakeUp team.

In this latest episode Ken talks to his good friend and neighbour, Jon, about his first year on the road, and the challenges of China’s Gobi desert. Just click on the link below to hear the latest instalment.

Download.

[If you enjoyed listening to this broadcast, or any of their other programmes – you can listen online – please do consider making a donation]

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From afar

October 4th, 2010

He spoke excellent English. His was a fast growing economy, but what of mine, he enquired? Chinese television painted a fairly grim picture. So I sought to explain….

“Something has to be done. There at least seems to be general agreement on this point. But as for what that something is, well, that’s the first stumbling block. Most blame the previous administration racking up a huge deficit. So big they’ve had to divide it into chunks. For example, there’s what they now call the structural bit. The part that never goes away, unless you repay it. Some advocate doing just that, as you might were it your own credit card. Others argue spending more is the solution. You hope they haven’t got cards.

Even those who agree the debt should be repaid are divided on how quickly to do it. Those who argue for prompt repayment suggest it shows the markets we’re still credit worthy. So, presumably, we could borrow lots more money, and start all over again. Others are pushing for more gradual repayments, but as they were largely the ones that got us in the situation in the first place nobody’s listening to them.

A motley crowd of characters, claiming to represent the ordinary man, have sought to fill the vacuum. They seem to agree the problem’s someone else’s fault. Bankers mostly. Certainly not theirs. And whatever is to be done about it, that’s fine provided nothing actually changes. Pay, conditions, working practices, the usual stuff. It’s starting to look like a Greek tragedy…

They’d been the odd bold utterance from a senior public servant, a few politicians. Suggesting there might actually be some inefficiencies in the system. To be rooted out. Only to retract or diminish, offer profuse apologies, a day or so later.”

He looked baffled. And quite unimpressed. How could your Government let this happen? Time to return to the road I thought. Didn’t want to get bogged down in quantitative easing. Or fiscal stimulus. Not before lunch.

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Lipstick and ladybirds

October 3rd, 2010

Synchronised swimming

I thought the judges a bit harsh. I’d definitely rated the Kazakhstan contingent a bit ahead of their Russian counterparts. Maybe I’d been influenced by their garish lipstick. Choices had been limited. Synchronised swimming or a stalker movie in Uighyr with Chinese subtitles. Helped to take my mind off my recent excursion to the second worst pit toilet of the expedition. First prize went to one about ten miles back. So terrible I’d wretched.

I’d ended up in a small settlement south of the city of Hami. Last outpost of habitation before the Gobi proper. Secured a room for the night behind a cafe for a few pounds. The sort of place that was often reluctant to admit foreigners lest they incur the attentions of the authorities. But not tonight. I’d enquired at the nearby toll station as to whether there was anywhere to stay. Produced the magic card. Encouraging signs. Waited patiently amidst the clouds of ladybirds. Then a Police escort. Right to the door.

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Chromosomes

October 2nd, 2010

Some blame the male chromosome for many of the world’s ills – wars, flood, famine, pestilence. Whilst overlooking that most pernicious of woes to beset roughly half the human race. Man flu. Surprisingly for such a virulent, debilitating illness it’s a remarkably poorly understood condition. But suppose that’s no different to the Great Plague that struck London in seventeenth century. The mistaken notion that killing stray cats and dogs would curtail the spread of the rat borne disease merely exacerbated the situation.

Admittedly I’d not contracted bubonic plague, but I’d an undeniably strong bout of man flu. For such a prevalent illness I was a bit surprised my pocket medical book had inadvertently omitted any reference to it. But all the familiar symptoms were there. Even found a website to help confirm the diagnosis. Endless self-pity, lethargy. Barely the strength to operate a TV remote control. If I’d had one. And a bit of a sniffle. Consoled myself with the knowledge that at least my Will was in order.

What had surprised me was that I might succumb to such a condition in the Gobi. Suppose I should have known better, a desert’s sole defining feature being precious little rainfall. Everything else, intense heat in the day, bitterly cold nights, sandstorms, violent electrical storms. All are possible. But no sign of dusky, veil clad maidens bearing gifts of Turkish Delight.

[With thanks to the creators of www.manflu.org.uk]

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