I WENT TO HONG KONG, MACAU, and GUANGDONG this past week. I traveled for 8 days and it rocked life. I visited a Chinese Newspaper, and we were strictly informed that we weren’t allowed to ask questions. If that seems backwards to you – I later found out the reason that we weren’t allowed to ask questions was because they didn’t want to lose face if we ask questions about why there is journalistic censorship. That experience needs to go in the dictionary under tragic irony.
I went bungee jumping. I went to the 61st floor of the Macau Tower with 10 other friends all planning to leap into the air. I went 10th out of 11. We all waited together and watched our friends go careening off a platform into nothingness. Nervous, pumped up, nervous, stoked, excited, and nervous the hour and a half wait was well … nerve-racking.
They bind your feet with a rope wrapped in a towel and attach the rope to a bungee cord. There are plenty of locks and good knots and ropes, and then you fall. Macau is gorgeous, its basically a paradise Island. The scenery is beautiful, the life is fast-pace, the spirit is fun.
That night I went to the casino and doubled the money that I bet playing Roulette. Then I went to MGM Macau and saw one of the best musical performances of my life at the Lion Bar – a world renowned venue – for free. I went to the Hong Kong Stock Exchange and to a number of Hong Kong’s Islands and beaches.
I learned a ton about people. I was crammed in a bus with 43 people and not a moment to get away from them for 8 days and that always makes things interesting. People show their true colors when you see them at every moment, and people get pretty intense with other people (both good and bad) when there is nothing that can be hidden.
We stayed at a Hot Springs resort which should have been nice but surprised me by being a little too MTV Spring Break. Everyone got drunk beyond belief and went straight to Spin the Bottle and Truth or Dare. The majority of the program made-out with the rest of the Program (41 students) and I later learned that no one believed that this constituted cheating on current boyfriend/girlfriends on the program or at home for various excuses. I like the challenge of determining how much drugs, sex, and alcohol I approve of accepting in other people. How far I should go and say “I don’t judge” whether or not that’s true and whether or not it should be. I have a pretty awesome set of friends and family that made me able to be able to hang out perfectly sober and not participate in a single game and not be written off by the group as a an obstacle to fun.
I went to one of the World’s Largest Trade Fairs – the Canton Import/Export Fair. I paired with three friends on the program and we created the business plan for “CollegeXchange” a theoretical client of our (We represented MGN Associates & Co.) that was looking for high-durability, low-cost, compactable dorm-goods. We took our model and did bargaining and price-comparisons and learned about the distribution and wholesale markets.
The majority of the trip was rock-solid awesome, and I’ve really really enjoyed learning from traveling, people, and unique experiences.
There is a month left filled with a lot of work. The semester back in America is ending and its odd to be off schedule with my real home, but I’m looking forward to everything that follows in both worlds.
Note of Non-Sequitur:
Chinese people are really really good at saying things so obvious you can’t help but watch your jaw drop.
I walk in the door --> “O you’ve returned”.
I am in the process of eating dinner at 7 PM --> “You eating dinner?”
I awake to my roommate walking in the door and slamming it and say Hi --> “You were sleeping.”
They don’t even have to be questions. Every time you leave, arrive, eat, breath, walk, run, attend class, blink. It is the way of being polite. Rather than ask question about things that maybe the other person doesn’t want to share, you just comment on the things that they clearly want to share with you – you know, like breathing.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Sunday, April 5, 2009
A trip to the AIDS village
One of my best friends paid me a big compliment and said that he thinks that “I can, do and always will find a way to be happy and enthused about wherever I am and whatever I’m doing”. I hope its true, but I also don’t know how it could be any other way. The experiences I have been afforded are the best I could possibly imagine. With that said, I want to document my travels across China in the past week.
I bucked the trend of Spring Break. Before the time actually came, I was a little afraid that I was just talking big. In the end, I followed through, I did what I wanted to, and it was incredibly rewarding.
I spent the first part of my break traveling out to “AIDS villages” in the Northwest Henan province of China. As a brief background - the Chinese government started a program in the early 1990s where they paid extremely poor villagers to donate blood. These villagers were encouraged to donate multiple times by using a process that recycled their red-blood cells. Within a few short months, unsanitary blood transfusions and shared needles spread the infection and a few years later dozens of villages discovered that as much as 30% of their population had been afflicted with AIDS.
The spread of HIV/AIDS wiped out nearly an entire generation, entrenched poverty even more, and left thousands of children orphaned. In the aftermath, a number of human rights and relief organizations popped up to help alleviate the problem and the Chinese government shut them all down. The government didn’t want it to be a big publicity issue, and didn’t want to have the blame for “spreading the disease”.
My internship now is at an NGO called the Chi Heng Foundation that works in a manner they call being “politically sensitve”. They never blame the government for the problem, and emphasize looking for the solution. My work at Chi Heng helped me to an interest in the issue and after talking with the Program Director here in Shanghai, I was offered to accompany him to visit an old friend that lives near the AIDS villages. Our plan was to go for a few days, to meet some of the kids and teach English at the local school.
I jumped on the opportunity and stuck with it even as the other people I was supposed to go with dropped out in favor of touring some of China’s more exotic and beautiful scenery.
Before leaving, I tried brainstorming ways that I could raise awareness without causing disruption. I personally have been particularly moved by the medium of children’s art, and so I went to a supply store to buy oil pastels, paints, markers, and paper.
After an 11 hour train ride to a small city and a 2 hour car ride to a smaller village, Brian (the program director) and I arrived at the school. We started teaching a class of 5th graders together and within 5 minutes, they principal of the school asked me if I would be willing to take on a class of my own. After a short moment of nervous hesitation, I gladly agreed.
I love kids. They are so open, so eager, so genuine in their appreciation, and I can’t help but be moved by it. We circled through a few different categories of English words, Animals, Fruits, Holidays, Places… For each group I’d write the Chinese character and its English pronunciation on the board and review it with them. After reviewing the animals, I smiled sheepishly and asked “How would you all like to draw your favorite animals?”. They cheered, and then as I passed out the materials – they gasped.
For the most part these children were lucky if they had a pen and a pencil, some had neither. That day, they had all the colors they could ask for, their imaginations sprang to life and the pictures flew from their hands. In a way that I almost can’t understand as soon as they were done drawing – every single crayon, marker, and oil pastel was returned to its place, not a thing broken or missing.
I asked the students to tell me what they drew in English and offered help when they struggled. Afterwards, I let them ask me questions about what they wanted to know about America – I tried to make the material enjoyable to learn. They asked how old America was and I told them it started in 1776. Just for fun, every once in a while I would ask loudly “And when did America start?” … they would chant in unison “SEVENTEEN-SEVENTY SIX!”.
We played Simon Says, the Human Knot, and a few other games. At the end we went outside and played on the playground with them. The boys and girls wouldn’t hold hands, and the few kids who seemed sick tried to censor themselves from touching anyone, but the instant that I joined in, priorities changed. When I offered to play with them, the kids were more eager than afraid and everyone played together.
That first night I sat reflecting on how it didn’t seem that the children lived in such abject poverty as I had expected. I started reforming my image of poverty and decided that the “impoverished” might not be not so different from anyone else.
Before going to sleep, Brian and I went to the largest store in town and bought 60 sets of crayons – one for each student in each of our classes. These children had made an impression on us, they had loved us, we had loved them, and for me at least –bringing color to the world was one of the best feelings I could imagine.
On the second day, we went even further down the road to a place where buildings are few and far between. We turned down a dirt path and drove through fields of wheat before coming to what looked like a run-down prison. Here, I learned, was a school whose students were considerably worse off, that received even less attention, and that had significantly more difficulty in their lives.
Our arrival was something of a scene, the kids and teachers didn’t know what to do with us, and the result left several classes crammed into one small classroom. There was cause for excitement about the opportunity to see foreigners who - for once in their lives - had come to see them. We started with the very very basics of “Hello my name is” and “I am __ years old”. They slowly warmed up to us, and I’d like to think that I helped. When it seemed like Brian or I was being too imposing, or asking too much of them, I knew to take a step back. I remember learning Chinese and feeling overwhelmed as the teachers spoke LOUDER AND SLLOOOWWERR and demanded an answer of me, and I didn’t want to be that figure for them.
When we were reviewing animals, I decide to sacrifice a little humility for a little piece of friendship. I pointed at each animal and asked what noise it made. At first they were shy about it, but as I Oinked, Bleated, Barked, and Meowed, they couldn’t help but giggle at the funny foreigner who was so willing to be a kid. They barked and yowled with me, and we made a breakthrough.
When we opened up ourselves to questions on whatever it was they wanted to know, my heart almost split in two. Nearly every single child asked the same question “Will you come back again please?” “When can we do this next?” “Will you please come tomorrow”?.
We left their school offering each classroom a set of coloring materials, and a big happy picture with all the kids. We returned to our first school and when I walked into “my” classroom everyone started cheering. It feels good to be liked, but if felt even better to be bringing just the smallest piece of happiness. I passed out their personal sets of notebooks and crayons and told them all I would never forget them, and that since I thought they liked to color I got them a gift.
I finished passing them out and told them I had to go and that I hoped they would enjoy their present. Before I could leave, the (real) teacher jumped in and asked them a few questions.
Are you glad that he came?
“YEEEESSSS!!!!”
Do you like the crayons?
“YEEEESSSS!!!!!”
You haven’t forgotten his name have you?
“NOOOOOOOO”
What is his name?
“EEEEEEEVVVVVVVAAAAANNNNNNNNNN……”
I left beaming and I think I left them beaming. The rest of the trip had some incredible experience as well, I dined with some relatively high up government officials and spoke with a few representatives of another small NGO that is working to help the children out in rural Henan. I experienced Chinese culture in way I never would have seen, I dined at the house of the village head and carefully obeyed all the respect due to persons of prestige. I took in everything around me, and had a truly amazing experience.
I’m so glad I went.
I bucked the trend of Spring Break. Before the time actually came, I was a little afraid that I was just talking big. In the end, I followed through, I did what I wanted to, and it was incredibly rewarding.
I spent the first part of my break traveling out to “AIDS villages” in the Northwest Henan province of China. As a brief background - the Chinese government started a program in the early 1990s where they paid extremely poor villagers to donate blood. These villagers were encouraged to donate multiple times by using a process that recycled their red-blood cells. Within a few short months, unsanitary blood transfusions and shared needles spread the infection and a few years later dozens of villages discovered that as much as 30% of their population had been afflicted with AIDS.
The spread of HIV/AIDS wiped out nearly an entire generation, entrenched poverty even more, and left thousands of children orphaned. In the aftermath, a number of human rights and relief organizations popped up to help alleviate the problem and the Chinese government shut them all down. The government didn’t want it to be a big publicity issue, and didn’t want to have the blame for “spreading the disease”.
My internship now is at an NGO called the Chi Heng Foundation that works in a manner they call being “politically sensitve”. They never blame the government for the problem, and emphasize looking for the solution. My work at Chi Heng helped me to an interest in the issue and after talking with the Program Director here in Shanghai, I was offered to accompany him to visit an old friend that lives near the AIDS villages. Our plan was to go for a few days, to meet some of the kids and teach English at the local school.
I jumped on the opportunity and stuck with it even as the other people I was supposed to go with dropped out in favor of touring some of China’s more exotic and beautiful scenery.
Before leaving, I tried brainstorming ways that I could raise awareness without causing disruption. I personally have been particularly moved by the medium of children’s art, and so I went to a supply store to buy oil pastels, paints, markers, and paper.
After an 11 hour train ride to a small city and a 2 hour car ride to a smaller village, Brian (the program director) and I arrived at the school. We started teaching a class of 5th graders together and within 5 minutes, they principal of the school asked me if I would be willing to take on a class of my own. After a short moment of nervous hesitation, I gladly agreed.
I love kids. They are so open, so eager, so genuine in their appreciation, and I can’t help but be moved by it. We circled through a few different categories of English words, Animals, Fruits, Holidays, Places… For each group I’d write the Chinese character and its English pronunciation on the board and review it with them. After reviewing the animals, I smiled sheepishly and asked “How would you all like to draw your favorite animals?”. They cheered, and then as I passed out the materials – they gasped.
For the most part these children were lucky if they had a pen and a pencil, some had neither. That day, they had all the colors they could ask for, their imaginations sprang to life and the pictures flew from their hands. In a way that I almost can’t understand as soon as they were done drawing – every single crayon, marker, and oil pastel was returned to its place, not a thing broken or missing.
I asked the students to tell me what they drew in English and offered help when they struggled. Afterwards, I let them ask me questions about what they wanted to know about America – I tried to make the material enjoyable to learn. They asked how old America was and I told them it started in 1776. Just for fun, every once in a while I would ask loudly “And when did America start?” … they would chant in unison “SEVENTEEN-SEVENTY SIX!”.
We played Simon Says, the Human Knot, and a few other games. At the end we went outside and played on the playground with them. The boys and girls wouldn’t hold hands, and the few kids who seemed sick tried to censor themselves from touching anyone, but the instant that I joined in, priorities changed. When I offered to play with them, the kids were more eager than afraid and everyone played together.
That first night I sat reflecting on how it didn’t seem that the children lived in such abject poverty as I had expected. I started reforming my image of poverty and decided that the “impoverished” might not be not so different from anyone else.
Before going to sleep, Brian and I went to the largest store in town and bought 60 sets of crayons – one for each student in each of our classes. These children had made an impression on us, they had loved us, we had loved them, and for me at least –bringing color to the world was one of the best feelings I could imagine.
On the second day, we went even further down the road to a place where buildings are few and far between. We turned down a dirt path and drove through fields of wheat before coming to what looked like a run-down prison. Here, I learned, was a school whose students were considerably worse off, that received even less attention, and that had significantly more difficulty in their lives.
Our arrival was something of a scene, the kids and teachers didn’t know what to do with us, and the result left several classes crammed into one small classroom. There was cause for excitement about the opportunity to see foreigners who - for once in their lives - had come to see them. We started with the very very basics of “Hello my name is” and “I am __ years old”. They slowly warmed up to us, and I’d like to think that I helped. When it seemed like Brian or I was being too imposing, or asking too much of them, I knew to take a step back. I remember learning Chinese and feeling overwhelmed as the teachers spoke LOUDER AND SLLOOOWWERR and demanded an answer of me, and I didn’t want to be that figure for them.
When we were reviewing animals, I decide to sacrifice a little humility for a little piece of friendship. I pointed at each animal and asked what noise it made. At first they were shy about it, but as I Oinked, Bleated, Barked, and Meowed, they couldn’t help but giggle at the funny foreigner who was so willing to be a kid. They barked and yowled with me, and we made a breakthrough.
When we opened up ourselves to questions on whatever it was they wanted to know, my heart almost split in two. Nearly every single child asked the same question “Will you come back again please?” “When can we do this next?” “Will you please come tomorrow”?.
We left their school offering each classroom a set of coloring materials, and a big happy picture with all the kids. We returned to our first school and when I walked into “my” classroom everyone started cheering. It feels good to be liked, but if felt even better to be bringing just the smallest piece of happiness. I passed out their personal sets of notebooks and crayons and told them all I would never forget them, and that since I thought they liked to color I got them a gift.
I finished passing them out and told them I had to go and that I hoped they would enjoy their present. Before I could leave, the (real) teacher jumped in and asked them a few questions.
Are you glad that he came?
“YEEEESSSS!!!!”
Do you like the crayons?
“YEEEESSSS!!!!!”
You haven’t forgotten his name have you?
“NOOOOOOOO”
What is his name?
“EEEEEEEVVVVVVVAAAAANNNNNNNNNN……”
I left beaming and I think I left them beaming. The rest of the trip had some incredible experience as well, I dined with some relatively high up government officials and spoke with a few representatives of another small NGO that is working to help the children out in rural Henan. I experienced Chinese culture in way I never would have seen, I dined at the house of the village head and carefully obeyed all the respect due to persons of prestige. I took in everything around me, and had a truly amazing experience.
I’m so glad I went.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Today they took the trees away
Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay-HAHAHAHAHAHAMLALAMBL-MABMLABMLABhahahahahaya-aaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyHAHAHAHAYaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay-YAYYYYYYYYYYY-YAYYYYYyyyyyyyyyyyyyyYHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Or at least, thats what it sounds like. The kids.
Yesterday I volunteered to teach at a school for "migrant" children.
I showed up with 8 other college students. They split us up into three groups of 3 at the gates of the school, I followed a teacher to her class room, and without a moment to think, one of the most amazing hours of my life followed.
I walked in with a friend and a near stranger. The class of 60 fifth graders stood up at attention, music came over an invisible PA system and played a grandiose almost military-like marching song. They burst out into a round of applause - and the class was ours.
This was SHOCKING. I had no idea that this would happen, and I was rather stunned about what to do with a class of students, no concept of their expectations, my ability, or even what the intended goal was. I had signed up to teach English, but they didn't speak English, so "teaching" it, would be an interesting proposition.
As we briefly introduced ourselves (the three of us) in Chinese, I took the spare minute I had and raced after the girl who coordinated the program to learn our objective -- Ice-breaking.
This I know how to do. I'm a kid in a 20 year old's body, so Ice-breakers, are right up my alley. I quickly explained the idea of "The Human knot" to my two friends and the teacher. Basically a group of people gather in a circle and each person uses each of their two hands and pairs them up with other random hands in the pile. The result is a big mess. The objective is to untangle without breaking a link. We demonstrated for the class and they thought we were HYSTERICAL.
That lightened up the mood in a flash. If there is one thing to change 60 twelve year olds from obedient students to playful kids, its seeing three funny strangers and their authoritarian teacher wiggling around trying to untangle themselves from each other in front of an audience of children.
I couldn't help but smile wider than a piano as I explained in Chinese that they were next, taught them how to play, and asked for volunteers. I called on six of them, and set them lose. If the class had been raucous before, now they were simply falling over themselves in laughter -- seeing their classmates twist around in circles was even better.
I set it loose on the whole class. I divided the room into four corners, each with a "monitor", and waited to see what would happen. Apparently my demeanor attracted the more outgoing boys, and about 15 of them came over to twist themselves in a knot.
Their first attempt was one of the funniest moments of my life. The purpose of the game is to raise the highest pair of hands over the heads of the group and slowly untangle piece-by-piece. All subtly was lost on them, and in one giant "pop!" they tried to untangle everything while holding on. The result was rather disastrous and they all heaved inward and then outward before rubber-banding back in and collapsing on the floor.
I made smaller groups and re-taught the general principle, and they had things under control, so I went to check on the other small groups, before running down the hall to see if the other classrooms were faring any better.
I picked up the idea of "Simon says" from the other class room - and added a flair of my own competitive style. Again I divided the class into teams, and each team stood up in turn to play. The winner of each group (a 2-person tie in group 2) advanced to the "finals" held in the front of the classroom. This was a game that let us teach some English - using the hand signs for numbers as we said them, and pointing at body parts asking them to be repeated aloud to us.
The final was hysterical, the last two kids, a guy and a girl were REALLY good. They would do each command exactly in time, and then if we said "Raise your hand" -- their hands would shoot-down-to-their-side in a split second.
We let them both win (I'll have to bring some sort of prize when I go back), and then I was mostly out of ideas.
The teacher suggested that we separate into three groups and let them ask us questions about us. This too - was endless sources of amusement. They wanted to know why I was so tall, whether I put vinegar on my beef, why I grow facial hair, why my nose is big, and why I came to China. I told them and asked them if they want to go to America, if they like basketball, and what they want to be when they grow up.
We broke some major ice. I really was in a blissful state of happy. The kids were so trusting, so energetic, so pleased at the experience - I was too.
Today on my back street, more inexplicableness broke out. Today they took the trees away. They filled the street with huge trucks that chop trees into little bits. Then the thick tree branches lined the road. The wider and thinner branches covered the sidewalk, and as always, chaos ensued.
The hierarchy of vehicles is one of the most important laws of the land. Traffic rules are only suggestions in China, and the only rule that does hold is Trucks>Cars>Motorcycles>Bikes>Pedestrians. This determines who has the right of way, how fast you can go, and anything else of significance (it was fun not being on the bottom of the ladder when i had a bike). At any rate, now the cars only had one lane so the motorcycles (2-directions) crammed into the bike lane, the bikes zoomed over branches on the sidewalk, and the people sort of just tried to avoid getting hit.
God knows why they cut down all the trees? God know why anything happens here.
Goodnight.
*I'm planning on writing my "Capstone project" which is something of a mini-thesis on the effects that the Hukou system has on education in China. In short, the government monitors where people are born, and issues residency permits. Years ago one could only find a job where they were born, so those born in rural China were essentially barred from the city. Now, an underground market for physical labor and a government-supported market for intellectuals to find jobs in cities have emerged.
The problem for both groups, is that without a Hukou (the residency permit), the next generation is a set of skill-less "migrants" who aren't technically allowed to live in the city.
And so - the kids are forbidden from being schooled in the cities. Some schools that allow migrant children are shut down, and on the outskirts of towns, special "migrant schools" crop up to help provide primary education for those with out access to the regular system".
Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay-HAHAHAHAHAHAMLALAMBL-MABMLABMLABhahahahahaya-aaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyHAHAHAHAYaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay-HAHAHAHAHAMLALAMBL-MABMLABMLABhahahahahaya-aaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!....
Or at least, thats what it sounds like. The kids.
Yesterday I volunteered to teach at a school for "migrant" children.
I showed up with 8 other college students. They split us up into three groups of 3 at the gates of the school, I followed a teacher to her class room, and without a moment to think, one of the most amazing hours of my life followed.
I walked in with a friend and a near stranger. The class of 60 fifth graders stood up at attention, music came over an invisible PA system and played a grandiose almost military-like marching song. They burst out into a round of applause - and the class was ours.
This was SHOCKING. I had no idea that this would happen, and I was rather stunned about what to do with a class of students, no concept of their expectations, my ability, or even what the intended goal was. I had signed up to teach English, but they didn't speak English, so "teaching" it, would be an interesting proposition.
As we briefly introduced ourselves (the three of us) in Chinese, I took the spare minute I had and raced after the girl who coordinated the program to learn our objective -- Ice-breaking.
This I know how to do. I'm a kid in a 20 year old's body, so Ice-breakers, are right up my alley. I quickly explained the idea of "The Human knot" to my two friends and the teacher. Basically a group of people gather in a circle and each person uses each of their two hands and pairs them up with other random hands in the pile. The result is a big mess. The objective is to untangle without breaking a link. We demonstrated for the class and they thought we were HYSTERICAL.
That lightened up the mood in a flash. If there is one thing to change 60 twelve year olds from obedient students to playful kids, its seeing three funny strangers and their authoritarian teacher wiggling around trying to untangle themselves from each other in front of an audience of children.
I couldn't help but smile wider than a piano as I explained in Chinese that they were next, taught them how to play, and asked for volunteers. I called on six of them, and set them lose. If the class had been raucous before, now they were simply falling over themselves in laughter -- seeing their classmates twist around in circles was even better.
I set it loose on the whole class. I divided the room into four corners, each with a "monitor", and waited to see what would happen. Apparently my demeanor attracted the more outgoing boys, and about 15 of them came over to twist themselves in a knot.
Their first attempt was one of the funniest moments of my life. The purpose of the game is to raise the highest pair of hands over the heads of the group and slowly untangle piece-by-piece. All subtly was lost on them, and in one giant "pop!" they tried to untangle everything while holding on. The result was rather disastrous and they all heaved inward and then outward before rubber-banding back in and collapsing on the floor.
I made smaller groups and re-taught the general principle, and they had things under control, so I went to check on the other small groups, before running down the hall to see if the other classrooms were faring any better.
I picked up the idea of "Simon says" from the other class room - and added a flair of my own competitive style. Again I divided the class into teams, and each team stood up in turn to play. The winner of each group (a 2-person tie in group 2) advanced to the "finals" held in the front of the classroom. This was a game that let us teach some English - using the hand signs for numbers as we said them, and pointing at body parts asking them to be repeated aloud to us.
The final was hysterical, the last two kids, a guy and a girl were REALLY good. They would do each command exactly in time, and then if we said "Raise your hand" -- their hands would shoot-down-to-their-side in a split second.
We let them both win (I'll have to bring some sort of prize when I go back), and then I was mostly out of ideas.
The teacher suggested that we separate into three groups and let them ask us questions about us. This too - was endless sources of amusement. They wanted to know why I was so tall, whether I put vinegar on my beef, why I grow facial hair, why my nose is big, and why I came to China. I told them and asked them if they want to go to America, if they like basketball, and what they want to be when they grow up.
We broke some major ice. I really was in a blissful state of happy. The kids were so trusting, so energetic, so pleased at the experience - I was too.
Today on my back street, more inexplicableness broke out. Today they took the trees away. They filled the street with huge trucks that chop trees into little bits. Then the thick tree branches lined the road. The wider and thinner branches covered the sidewalk, and as always, chaos ensued.
The hierarchy of vehicles is one of the most important laws of the land. Traffic rules are only suggestions in China, and the only rule that does hold is Trucks>Cars>Motorcycles>Bikes>Pedestrians. This determines who has the right of way, how fast you can go, and anything else of significance (it was fun not being on the bottom of the ladder when i had a bike). At any rate, now the cars only had one lane so the motorcycles (2-directions) crammed into the bike lane, the bikes zoomed over branches on the sidewalk, and the people sort of just tried to avoid getting hit.
God knows why they cut down all the trees? God know why anything happens here.
Goodnight.
*I'm planning on writing my "Capstone project" which is something of a mini-thesis on the effects that the Hukou system has on education in China. In short, the government monitors where people are born, and issues residency permits. Years ago one could only find a job where they were born, so those born in rural China were essentially barred from the city. Now, an underground market for physical labor and a government-supported market for intellectuals to find jobs in cities have emerged.
The problem for both groups, is that without a Hukou (the residency permit), the next generation is a set of skill-less "migrants" who aren't technically allowed to live in the city.
And so - the kids are forbidden from being schooled in the cities. Some schools that allow migrant children are shut down, and on the outskirts of towns, special "migrant schools" crop up to help provide primary education for those with out access to the regular system".
Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay-HAHAHAHAHAHAMLALAMBL-MABMLABMLABhahahahahaya-aaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyHAHAHAHAYaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay-HAHAHAHAHAMLALAMBL-MABMLABMLABhahahahahaya-aaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!....
Sunday, March 15, 2009
2 months in
It has been an interesting almost two months. I think that two months is a pretty long time, but the past 60 days have been one of the longer sets that I can remember. I arrived in Beijing and played for a week, then I cowered in a hole and was scared and lonely for a week. I arrived in Shanghai and refused to immerse myself for a week. I stayed on the edges and didn’t really let myself put both feet on the ground. Since then, life has been … well, life has been full.
I’ve been very happy over all. Really happy. I think I am a little bit more confused that usual, I’m not always sure which way is up. For once now, I don’t mean that in the context of language confusion, but rather just in terms of feelings. The work load has been extremely difficult – that has been one of my biggest concerns. The Chinese classes are too hard for me, and I struggle to catch up to a point where I am merely behind. The process of avoiding Chinese work, and struggling with the work that I manage to do is one that is slightly upsetting, because I feel like it is something important to me, but I find frequent excuses to act on it.
I don’t want this to be a list of things I have done, I believe I want to write about my emotions. One emotion that makes at least a daily appearance is questioning my intelligence. In talking people who know me well, are close to me, and so important to me, I have learned that I am being hard on myself. I’ll try to take this advice into consideration, but for now I’m still going to put my feelings on “paper”.
Lately I have been critical of how I dedicate my time, both past and present. I think that for most of sophomore year I ignored academics, got lucky in a few places, and got both slightly lower grades and significantly less knowledge than I would like. This is, in retrospect a very small complaint to have – so much so that I would not be surprised to have some people with far larger problems roll their eyes repeatedly in my direction. For those folks, I know I’m splicing minor details, but most people worry about something.
I think the best way I can phrase my concern is that I want to be “legitimate”. I want to have tangible skills, and I am more worried than confident of my capabilities to acquire them. Learning Chinese for a practical setting often appears out of my reach. The lesson that I would take away from investing 5 semesters of Chinese courses, a summer in Hangzhou, and a semester in Shanghai for the sake of learning Chinese with out “succeeding” is one I don’t quite know yet.
It seems undeniable that my favorite way to spend time is to invest in the relationships I have with friends and family, and/or to do random acts of kindness for acquaintances and strangers. I don’t “dislike” this in me, don’t expect it to change, and don’t particularly want it to – but I do want to make sure it doesn’t come at the opportunity cost of me working on my goals of helping others on the scale of millions rather than dozens.
There is a lot that I have gained by being mostly alone. I don’t mind it, being alone – and it helps that the people in my program are more than welcoming to me. It seems that each and every day has at least a few people come to my room to invite me to join a group in some activity. In a near inverse of how I act in America, I usually say no 80% of the time. I miss the people I love back home. When I am not missing them, there is a lot of time for me to try and sort out what is important to me: what I want to learn, how I want to treat others, which things I think should be prioritized.
The students in this program are a WORLD different from those who I go to school with back home. Perhaps that is part of the experience of studying abroad. I cannot easily label people here. There have been some of the most self-less acts and some of the most shockingly insensitive ones. The nature of camaraderie, friendship, pettiness, and ignorance have all opened my eyes. I have learned a lot just by watching.
My experience so far has been an incredibly valuable one. I think I would like to find some answers, though I don’t feel that I am close to reaching any. It seems like the questions that are worth asking, whether they are about how to solve the financial crisis, how to learn a language, how to spend one’s life, how to treat despicable dictators, or how to respond to a situation with other people involved when you don’t have all of the information don’t have an answer that you can find “the” great solution that no one else has seen. Certainly this is nothing that everyone else doesn’t already know. Its tough, these are all my thought for now, but I don’t want to try and conclude them with a moral.
Note: If for some reason you would really like reading a blog I started offering economic analysis of events that happen in China - feel free to visit eastforthewest.blogspot.com I don't know how well it is written, but i would be happy to hear your thoughts.
I’ve been very happy over all. Really happy. I think I am a little bit more confused that usual, I’m not always sure which way is up. For once now, I don’t mean that in the context of language confusion, but rather just in terms of feelings. The work load has been extremely difficult – that has been one of my biggest concerns. The Chinese classes are too hard for me, and I struggle to catch up to a point where I am merely behind. The process of avoiding Chinese work, and struggling with the work that I manage to do is one that is slightly upsetting, because I feel like it is something important to me, but I find frequent excuses to act on it.
I don’t want this to be a list of things I have done, I believe I want to write about my emotions. One emotion that makes at least a daily appearance is questioning my intelligence. In talking people who know me well, are close to me, and so important to me, I have learned that I am being hard on myself. I’ll try to take this advice into consideration, but for now I’m still going to put my feelings on “paper”.
Lately I have been critical of how I dedicate my time, both past and present. I think that for most of sophomore year I ignored academics, got lucky in a few places, and got both slightly lower grades and significantly less knowledge than I would like. This is, in retrospect a very small complaint to have – so much so that I would not be surprised to have some people with far larger problems roll their eyes repeatedly in my direction. For those folks, I know I’m splicing minor details, but most people worry about something.
I think the best way I can phrase my concern is that I want to be “legitimate”. I want to have tangible skills, and I am more worried than confident of my capabilities to acquire them. Learning Chinese for a practical setting often appears out of my reach. The lesson that I would take away from investing 5 semesters of Chinese courses, a summer in Hangzhou, and a semester in Shanghai for the sake of learning Chinese with out “succeeding” is one I don’t quite know yet.
It seems undeniable that my favorite way to spend time is to invest in the relationships I have with friends and family, and/or to do random acts of kindness for acquaintances and strangers. I don’t “dislike” this in me, don’t expect it to change, and don’t particularly want it to – but I do want to make sure it doesn’t come at the opportunity cost of me working on my goals of helping others on the scale of millions rather than dozens.
There is a lot that I have gained by being mostly alone. I don’t mind it, being alone – and it helps that the people in my program are more than welcoming to me. It seems that each and every day has at least a few people come to my room to invite me to join a group in some activity. In a near inverse of how I act in America, I usually say no 80% of the time. I miss the people I love back home. When I am not missing them, there is a lot of time for me to try and sort out what is important to me: what I want to learn, how I want to treat others, which things I think should be prioritized.
The students in this program are a WORLD different from those who I go to school with back home. Perhaps that is part of the experience of studying abroad. I cannot easily label people here. There have been some of the most self-less acts and some of the most shockingly insensitive ones. The nature of camaraderie, friendship, pettiness, and ignorance have all opened my eyes. I have learned a lot just by watching.
My experience so far has been an incredibly valuable one. I think I would like to find some answers, though I don’t feel that I am close to reaching any. It seems like the questions that are worth asking, whether they are about how to solve the financial crisis, how to learn a language, how to spend one’s life, how to treat despicable dictators, or how to respond to a situation with other people involved when you don’t have all of the information don’t have an answer that you can find “the” great solution that no one else has seen. Certainly this is nothing that everyone else doesn’t already know. Its tough, these are all my thought for now, but I don’t want to try and conclude them with a moral.
Note: If for some reason you would really like reading a blog I started offering economic analysis of events that happen in China - feel free to visit eastforthewest.blogspot.com I don't know how well it is written, but i would be happy to hear your thoughts.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Really people?
I just learned the word for "ultrasonic wave", as in "the ultrasonic wave permitted me to see the gender of the baby" the word in case you are curious is 超声波 pronounced (chao sheng bo) which actually sounds like (chow shung bwou). Its literal translation is "super sound ripple" or something to that effect.
I still don't know how to write words like "easy" at times, but at least now I can read and say "ultrasound wave", god knows I need to say that in English just about everyday.
Other vocab phrases (from today):
-Rack one's brains in scheming
-Be unable to make heads or tails of something
-Be filled with shocked wonder
These phrases are actually very useful, but masterfully hard to remember exactly how to say at the right moment. Given how I stutter along when I speak about more complex topics, it just is unlikely that I'll carry across the right inflection to say "Gee - I'm filled with shocked wonder" without it sounding like "I am fillllled shockkk ummm. ummm. that, what is it - oh! wonder!, right? right? filled wonder shock, filled with shocked wonder?"
I'll keep trying :)
I still don't know how to write words like "easy" at times, but at least now I can read and say "ultrasound wave", god knows I need to say that in English just about everyday.
Other vocab phrases (from today):
-Rack one's brains in scheming
-Be unable to make heads or tails of something
-Be filled with shocked wonder
These phrases are actually very useful, but masterfully hard to remember exactly how to say at the right moment. Given how I stutter along when I speak about more complex topics, it just is unlikely that I'll carry across the right inflection to say "Gee - I'm filled with shocked wonder" without it sounding like "I am fillllled shockkk ummm. ummm. that, what is it - oh! wonder!, right? right? filled wonder shock, filled with shocked wonder?"
I'll keep trying :)
Friday, March 6, 2009
A moment in time
Judaism is a story about humanity.
I am studying in Shanghai, China. A city that has stood witness to thousands of years. Dynasties have risen and fallen, leaders have prospered, citizens have despaired, foreign conquests have shifted boundaries time and time again. Now -- growth rages in the city, peasant farmers languish in the fields, and the world argues about international trade balances, debt, and who is to blame.
We must remember – Judaism, is a way to understand our place in time.
The Jewish people too, of course, have been around for thousands of years. The stories of Shanghai and Jerusalem are distinct but if we will open our eyes, they are closely intertwined.
Last night, I set out to attend Friday night services at the Jewish Center of Pudong in Shanghai, China. I took a taxi some 45 minutes through crowded streets before reaching a more or less desolate stretch of road. The driver had trouble locating the building, and I was confident I would be late, but equally calm that I would be warmly received.
After reaching the complex, a few inquires led me to the right building, and a woman at the desk told me she was unaware of any services that night. She encouraged me to go up the stairs to where services are usually held, and I eagerly wound up the spiral staircase only to find a cavern of darkness.
The room was set up to hold a service. The arc of wooden chairs facing a stage was unmistakable. As my eyes adjusted to the dark I set out in search of an Ark, a Torah, some Hebrew writing, anything to reassure me I was in the right place.
I didn’t find a tangible relic to confirm for me that I was in a synagogue, but I did find within me an overwhelming urge to pray.
Slowly, and utterly respectfully I walked up to the “Bema” and took in the semi-circular tall glass panes which gave me a glimpse of the world outside. Patrolling the streets were perhaps dozens of security guards, sweeping the area with flashlights, piercing the darkness in search of something amiss.
In the darkness, in the loneliness I felt for just one moment what it may have been like for Jews who were persecuted for so many years. I thought of how many dimly lit buildings were turned into temporary temples for small clusters of Jews to gather in hushed voices and affirm their commitment to God, to Judaism, to life.
Something moved me then and there, to a much deeper, much stronger voice than I have ever been able to command. I launched into a 15 minute rendition of L’cha Dodi.
As my voice echoed with a power that would bring chills to a passerby’s spine I belted the lyrics and the verses, one time, after another, after another.
I thought of Jews that lived in concentration camps, and I thought of Jews that lived under Pharaohs rule, I thought of the Jews whose names we do not know, of Jews around the world whose history, whose lives we may never know.
I stood broad shoulders and faced the world, and belted from deep within my gut, the Amidah. I sang about the God of our fathers, Abraham, Issac, and Jacob who many thousands of years ago had lives of their own.
Judaism is a story of time.
In 1949 China was swept by a revolution, its previous rulers were pushed out, a new wave were brought in. In 1948 our state of Israel was born.
We must remember, today is only a moment. We think of history, and we go back at most 60 years. The Jewish people have lived in every crevice of this Earth for thousands of years, and more importantly, today is not the end. Today is not the only moment for our people, there will be thousands of years more.
How rich is our history? How strong are our ties? There is reason for our holydays, there is a story behind our every moment. Every Jew in every service in every time sings testimony to mankind, to what we have been, to what we will be, hopefully if religion does its part, if we can manage, Judaism sings testimony to our commitment to become who we should be.
I stood and faced an open window and sang every song I have remembered since I memorized the Ashrey at the age of 9. I stood in that empty, holy building for hours and tears streamed down my face. My voice never failed me, but it warbled and wavered with the beauty of a story, of a history and of a chance so rich that I know I am blessed to have even a momentary awareness of my position in time.
Today is not the final moment, it is not the most difficult moment. It may not be the easiest moment, or the most rewarding, but it is our moment in time.
We are a part of a story. We are a people. We are a people that have endured so much more than high unemployment rates, we cannot even begin to imagine how much we so often forget. I am a Jew. We are Jewish. It is a beautiful thing.
I am studying in Shanghai, China. A city that has stood witness to thousands of years. Dynasties have risen and fallen, leaders have prospered, citizens have despaired, foreign conquests have shifted boundaries time and time again. Now -- growth rages in the city, peasant farmers languish in the fields, and the world argues about international trade balances, debt, and who is to blame.
We must remember – Judaism, is a way to understand our place in time.
The Jewish people too, of course, have been around for thousands of years. The stories of Shanghai and Jerusalem are distinct but if we will open our eyes, they are closely intertwined.
Last night, I set out to attend Friday night services at the Jewish Center of Pudong in Shanghai, China. I took a taxi some 45 minutes through crowded streets before reaching a more or less desolate stretch of road. The driver had trouble locating the building, and I was confident I would be late, but equally calm that I would be warmly received.
After reaching the complex, a few inquires led me to the right building, and a woman at the desk told me she was unaware of any services that night. She encouraged me to go up the stairs to where services are usually held, and I eagerly wound up the spiral staircase only to find a cavern of darkness.
The room was set up to hold a service. The arc of wooden chairs facing a stage was unmistakable. As my eyes adjusted to the dark I set out in search of an Ark, a Torah, some Hebrew writing, anything to reassure me I was in the right place.
I didn’t find a tangible relic to confirm for me that I was in a synagogue, but I did find within me an overwhelming urge to pray.
Slowly, and utterly respectfully I walked up to the “Bema” and took in the semi-circular tall glass panes which gave me a glimpse of the world outside. Patrolling the streets were perhaps dozens of security guards, sweeping the area with flashlights, piercing the darkness in search of something amiss.
In the darkness, in the loneliness I felt for just one moment what it may have been like for Jews who were persecuted for so many years. I thought of how many dimly lit buildings were turned into temporary temples for small clusters of Jews to gather in hushed voices and affirm their commitment to God, to Judaism, to life.
Something moved me then and there, to a much deeper, much stronger voice than I have ever been able to command. I launched into a 15 minute rendition of L’cha Dodi.
As my voice echoed with a power that would bring chills to a passerby’s spine I belted the lyrics and the verses, one time, after another, after another.
I thought of Jews that lived in concentration camps, and I thought of Jews that lived under Pharaohs rule, I thought of the Jews whose names we do not know, of Jews around the world whose history, whose lives we may never know.
I stood broad shoulders and faced the world, and belted from deep within my gut, the Amidah. I sang about the God of our fathers, Abraham, Issac, and Jacob who many thousands of years ago had lives of their own.
Judaism is a story of time.
In 1949 China was swept by a revolution, its previous rulers were pushed out, a new wave were brought in. In 1948 our state of Israel was born.
We must remember, today is only a moment. We think of history, and we go back at most 60 years. The Jewish people have lived in every crevice of this Earth for thousands of years, and more importantly, today is not the end. Today is not the only moment for our people, there will be thousands of years more.
How rich is our history? How strong are our ties? There is reason for our holydays, there is a story behind our every moment. Every Jew in every service in every time sings testimony to mankind, to what we have been, to what we will be, hopefully if religion does its part, if we can manage, Judaism sings testimony to our commitment to become who we should be.
I stood and faced an open window and sang every song I have remembered since I memorized the Ashrey at the age of 9. I stood in that empty, holy building for hours and tears streamed down my face. My voice never failed me, but it warbled and wavered with the beauty of a story, of a history and of a chance so rich that I know I am blessed to have even a momentary awareness of my position in time.
Today is not the final moment, it is not the most difficult moment. It may not be the easiest moment, or the most rewarding, but it is our moment in time.
We are a part of a story. We are a people. We are a people that have endured so much more than high unemployment rates, we cannot even begin to imagine how much we so often forget. I am a Jew. We are Jewish. It is a beautiful thing.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Bikes, Haircuts, more Bananas, Eggs, and the ever-present Panda
It failed to make it into the blog before the story ended, but it was a story nonetheless. On perhaps the third day I was here I went with another student to the closest large convenience store and set out to buy a bike. I decided it would set me free to unleash myself on the city and see a world that no one else would get. My first adventure I set out with speed and vigor, head down pedaling hard, and then realizing that I was a few miles out in the wrong direction. I checked the map, adjusted course and set out once more for the "Forest Park" that I had picked as my destination. Several stops and a half a dozen miles later I made it to my destination.
The place looked awesome, but also looked like it was closing down. I approached the gate and asked if I could go in. The first answer was "No, were closed", but then another man spoke and said "Its, not problem go right ahead." I smiled and started to ride in -- only to have security hail me down and look at me like I was crazy.
I left the back grinning sheepishly, knowing that I had been "gotten" as good as you can get one. The crowd left at the gate had a similar expression on their faces when I came out, and I said in Chinese "You oughn't pull a joke on me like that just because I'm a foreigner". They thought they/I was hysterical, had a good laugh and I set back for home.
I decided to take a new route home to see the scenery, and managed to get lost again. This time a good 7-8 miles away from home, the pedal of my bike fell off -- right over some train tracks. I spent half an hour trying to fix it, failed miserably, spent a half hour finding a 24 hour bike repair shop and finally made it home some 4.5 hours after setting out - thrilled with my first bike experience.
In the next 2 weeks it broke twice more. Two nights ago, I went to use it, and when I turned the key in the lock -- the 'metal' of the key shredded in half leaving the already rusted lock busted. The dorm wouldn't take my bike in for the night, and by morning, my $25 falling apart brand-new bike was the treasure of some thief.
I shared the story in my "discussion class today" all had a good laugh and said in unison "Welcome to China" -- its a cool story to have. I miss my bike only because it was mine and a symbol of independence and uniqueness, people knew me as the guy with a bike, but I'm OK ... unlikely to get another.
I dared to get my haircut the other day. I walked in - used my recently looked up vocab of "haircut" and found it was a whopping $1.35 for the haircut (a pretty darn good price). I warned him (in Chinese) I may not be able to explain what I wanted to well other than that I wanted it shorter - but it turned out successful and we chatted away while I got a haircut I rather quite like. Today some 5 guys on my program stopped me and inquired where/how/and how to get their hair cut -- I like doing things first, its fun.
They have a word for people who are ABC (American Born Chinese). They call them "Bananas" because they are "yellow" on the outside but "white" on the inside. Today I learned from a classmate who has lived here for a while that he calls himself an "egg" because he is white on the outside yelllow on the inside after having lived here for a while. Apparently he tried explaining this to some people, and was met with great confusion ---- eggs in China are always brown on the outside ... people thought he thought he was "brown" and "yellow" and saw him as an American. Maybe it doesn't come out in writing, but its a hysterical story in Chinese.
The ever-present Panda has also returned! Anything with the word"Panda" --（大熊猫）prounounced [Da Xiong Mao] is by definition hysterical. We have read a few passages about Starbucks in discussion class (by far the most fun Chinese class) and from time to time in answer to a question a classmate or I will give a panda answer. Our imaginary Starbucks Panda has now found a girlfriend, been a give-away for a customer that drinks one thousand cappachinos -- drinken so much coffee that he has turned coffee colored and has unfortunately gotten the Chinese "辣肚子" or Fire Stomach which is the casual description for what happens when one eats too much Chinese street food and finds themselves spending all their time in the bathroom. Our panda stories grow ever more hilarious, and are certain to make their way back into this blog again. Coffee Panda!!!!
The place looked awesome, but also looked like it was closing down. I approached the gate and asked if I could go in. The first answer was "No, were closed", but then another man spoke and said "Its, not problem go right ahead." I smiled and started to ride in -- only to have security hail me down and look at me like I was crazy.
I left the back grinning sheepishly, knowing that I had been "gotten" as good as you can get one. The crowd left at the gate had a similar expression on their faces when I came out, and I said in Chinese "You oughn't pull a joke on me like that just because I'm a foreigner". They thought they/I was hysterical, had a good laugh and I set back for home.
I decided to take a new route home to see the scenery, and managed to get lost again. This time a good 7-8 miles away from home, the pedal of my bike fell off -- right over some train tracks. I spent half an hour trying to fix it, failed miserably, spent a half hour finding a 24 hour bike repair shop and finally made it home some 4.5 hours after setting out - thrilled with my first bike experience.
In the next 2 weeks it broke twice more. Two nights ago, I went to use it, and when I turned the key in the lock -- the 'metal' of the key shredded in half leaving the already rusted lock busted. The dorm wouldn't take my bike in for the night, and by morning, my $25 falling apart brand-new bike was the treasure of some thief.
I shared the story in my "discussion class today" all had a good laugh and said in unison "Welcome to China" -- its a cool story to have. I miss my bike only because it was mine and a symbol of independence and uniqueness, people knew me as the guy with a bike, but I'm OK ... unlikely to get another.
I dared to get my haircut the other day. I walked in - used my recently looked up vocab of "haircut" and found it was a whopping $1.35 for the haircut (a pretty darn good price). I warned him (in Chinese) I may not be able to explain what I wanted to well other than that I wanted it shorter - but it turned out successful and we chatted away while I got a haircut I rather quite like. Today some 5 guys on my program stopped me and inquired where/how/and how to get their hair cut -- I like doing things first, its fun.
They have a word for people who are ABC (American Born Chinese). They call them "Bananas" because they are "yellow" on the outside but "white" on the inside. Today I learned from a classmate who has lived here for a while that he calls himself an "egg" because he is white on the outside yelllow on the inside after having lived here for a while. Apparently he tried explaining this to some people, and was met with great confusion ---- eggs in China are always brown on the outside ... people thought he thought he was "brown" and "yellow" and saw him as an American. Maybe it doesn't come out in writing, but its a hysterical story in Chinese.
The ever-present Panda has also returned! Anything with the word"Panda" --（大熊猫）prounounced [Da Xiong Mao] is by definition hysterical. We have read a few passages about Starbucks in discussion class (by far the most fun Chinese class) and from time to time in answer to a question a classmate or I will give a panda answer. Our imaginary Starbucks Panda has now found a girlfriend, been a give-away for a customer that drinks one thousand cappachinos -- drinken so much coffee that he has turned coffee colored and has unfortunately gotten the Chinese "辣肚子" or Fire Stomach which is the casual description for what happens when one eats too much Chinese street food and finds themselves spending all their time in the bathroom. Our panda stories grow ever more hilarious, and are certain to make their way back into this blog again. Coffee Panda!!!!
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