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!!!!
Friday, February 20, 2009
Holla' if ya feel me
The creature that is the street at the back gate of my university may never cease to amaze me.
Bananas took over the street today. THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS of of bananas. I have absolutely no idea why, my best guess is someone delivered them, but why that happened is equally random in my mind. There have been strawberry days before. I think I've already witnessed 3 strawberry days. On a strawberry day somewhere in the range of 10 to 15 people set up a tiny kiosk or row of baskets or bowls filled with these little intensely red strawberries. The strawberries sit in their baskets and bowls and people occasionally inquire as to the price and walk away. Maybe these are only minor strawberry holidays, but today was a major banana day. Something like 60 people were spread out fairly evenly one per 100 feet along my back road. Each person had gobs and gobs and gobs of banana bunches strewn wildly across a blanket or string of towels. Each was manned by someone bored out of their mind and a sign indicating a price of either 7.1 cents or 7.5 cents or in some places just 6.8 cents per pound.
I found a hidden market. One of the holes-in-the-wall that are always 15 feet wide and 30 feet deep ended up going a good thousand feet in before making a sharp U-turn and having a similar hallway. The market was lined with whole animals, parts of animals, grains, fruits (at least 6 banana stations), and lots of unidentifiable things.
My roomate is sitting about 9 feet away from me. He is wolfing down fried rice that comes from yet another person whose life it is to stand on the street and cook things for people who want them when they want them and then go home. He eats so fast that he chokes and the snorts so violently it seems like he's trying to keep the rice from falling out of his nose. The back-street creature, you see, transforms in the night. The fruit people pack up their wares and the griller, fry-ers, and other heat-added product sellers emerge in droves. About half of the day time people sell their 'whatever' in a tiny shop the others have simply staked ground on the sidewalk. The night time is all sidewalk, and there isn't enough room so it spills over into the street. You can get a skewer (like a kebab) of anything. Everything edible has been skewered and organized on little tables that sit in front of tiny overly simple coal grills. You pick as many skewers as you want and pay somewhere between 8 and 60 cents per item and watch your food get heated, seasoned and spicied. Its really delicious, cheap, and fantastically awful for your stomach.
I have been reading in all of my classes that unemployment in China is a rapidly growing problem, because if the rate of GDP growth drops significantly below 8 percent a year jobs start going poof. I didn't understand this at all, and ventured the question in Chinese to my roomate. He drew the obvious connection that I should have realized which is that most jobs are people selling thing to other people on the street - even if people are spending enough that there is positive GDP growth then there could only be 35 banana sellers, and what a tradgedy that would be ... the job loss would be catestrophic.
This place is pretty crazy.
Bananas took over the street today. THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS of of bananas. I have absolutely no idea why, my best guess is someone delivered them, but why that happened is equally random in my mind. There have been strawberry days before. I think I've already witnessed 3 strawberry days. On a strawberry day somewhere in the range of 10 to 15 people set up a tiny kiosk or row of baskets or bowls filled with these little intensely red strawberries. The strawberries sit in their baskets and bowls and people occasionally inquire as to the price and walk away. Maybe these are only minor strawberry holidays, but today was a major banana day. Something like 60 people were spread out fairly evenly one per 100 feet along my back road. Each person had gobs and gobs and gobs of banana bunches strewn wildly across a blanket or string of towels. Each was manned by someone bored out of their mind and a sign indicating a price of either 7.1 cents or 7.5 cents or in some places just 6.8 cents per pound.
I found a hidden market. One of the holes-in-the-wall that are always 15 feet wide and 30 feet deep ended up going a good thousand feet in before making a sharp U-turn and having a similar hallway. The market was lined with whole animals, parts of animals, grains, fruits (at least 6 banana stations), and lots of unidentifiable things.
My roomate is sitting about 9 feet away from me. He is wolfing down fried rice that comes from yet another person whose life it is to stand on the street and cook things for people who want them when they want them and then go home. He eats so fast that he chokes and the snorts so violently it seems like he's trying to keep the rice from falling out of his nose. The back-street creature, you see, transforms in the night. The fruit people pack up their wares and the griller, fry-ers, and other heat-added product sellers emerge in droves. About half of the day time people sell their 'whatever' in a tiny shop the others have simply staked ground on the sidewalk. The night time is all sidewalk, and there isn't enough room so it spills over into the street. You can get a skewer (like a kebab) of anything. Everything edible has been skewered and organized on little tables that sit in front of tiny overly simple coal grills. You pick as many skewers as you want and pay somewhere between 8 and 60 cents per item and watch your food get heated, seasoned and spicied. Its really delicious, cheap, and fantastically awful for your stomach.
I have been reading in all of my classes that unemployment in China is a rapidly growing problem, because if the rate of GDP growth drops significantly below 8 percent a year jobs start going poof. I didn't understand this at all, and ventured the question in Chinese to my roomate. He drew the obvious connection that I should have realized which is that most jobs are people selling thing to other people on the street - even if people are spending enough that there is positive GDP growth then there could only be 35 banana sellers, and what a tradgedy that would be ... the job loss would be catestrophic.
This place is pretty crazy.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
The Day I interviewed
There are always "these days". Days that have dates that I think to myself – “Oh boy, I’ll remember this date for sure ... what a turning point!”.
I can’t give you any examples, because of course – I’m just kidding myself when I say these things, its rare that a date is actually remembered. This blog is neat, it hopefully will remember dates for me.
Transitions are like this. Everyone tells you that a transition will happen, that it will be hard, that it will have characteristics X, Y, and Z. Before the transition you believe that you will be prepared for it, and believe it will occur. During the transition you scorn advice givers and sulk in your rut of difficulties. After the transition you have learned your own lessons and understand to some extant the experiences others must have had when giving you their advice. If the conclusion to this paragraph was simply “you have to live something to truly get through, past, over, or beyond it” then this paragraphs conclusion would be lame, cliché, and void of substance. To avoid this dilemma, the paragraph will instead end quite abruptly.
So as a part of my “Transition Blues” as they were so eloquently called, I decided I had no talents. I decided I wouldn’t learn Chinese, wouldn’t use it, didn’t understand economics, and that I only had hot air, charisma, and pretty rhetoric to cover up a big vacuum of person and trick others into thinking I had merits. I was pretty low self-esteem compared to my usually bloated head. An interview this evening was helpful. My biggest complaint was a lack of tangible skills and assets. I wanted to know numbers, program computers, and speak languages. I may make some improvements on these fronts, but even if these are not my forte, I think I am not for naught. It is possible that I am good and problem solving and understanding process. I think by way of analogy and at times can increase efficiency and efficacy. These are not in my mind “tangible skills” but they are certainly of merit.
I like having discovered this about me. It seems to be the sort of thing that simply need to be discovered. And so, with the help of a blog, may 2/17/09 be known as the day I interviewed.
I can’t give you any examples, because of course – I’m just kidding myself when I say these things, its rare that a date is actually remembered. This blog is neat, it hopefully will remember dates for me.
Transitions are like this. Everyone tells you that a transition will happen, that it will be hard, that it will have characteristics X, Y, and Z. Before the transition you believe that you will be prepared for it, and believe it will occur. During the transition you scorn advice givers and sulk in your rut of difficulties. After the transition you have learned your own lessons and understand to some extant the experiences others must have had when giving you their advice. If the conclusion to this paragraph was simply “you have to live something to truly get through, past, over, or beyond it” then this paragraphs conclusion would be lame, cliché, and void of substance. To avoid this dilemma, the paragraph will instead end quite abruptly.
So as a part of my “Transition Blues” as they were so eloquently called, I decided I had no talents. I decided I wouldn’t learn Chinese, wouldn’t use it, didn’t understand economics, and that I only had hot air, charisma, and pretty rhetoric to cover up a big vacuum of person and trick others into thinking I had merits. I was pretty low self-esteem compared to my usually bloated head. An interview this evening was helpful. My biggest complaint was a lack of tangible skills and assets. I wanted to know numbers, program computers, and speak languages. I may make some improvements on these fronts, but even if these are not my forte, I think I am not for naught. It is possible that I am good and problem solving and understanding process. I think by way of analogy and at times can increase efficiency and efficacy. These are not in my mind “tangible skills” but they are certainly of merit.
I like having discovered this about me. It seems to be the sort of thing that simply need to be discovered. And so, with the help of a blog, may 2/17/09 be known as the day I interviewed.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
I like elevators
I can't even begin to explain how much has happened.
In short, life has begun. I've made it to Shanghai, I don't believe my blog has made it even this far. My actual program is at the Shanghai University of Finance and Economics, and this new life of mine is in full swing.
So what exactly am I doing here?
Classes started and they are awful and wonderful in equal proportion. I have three hours of intensive Chinese every morning, and then two seperate three hour seminars one on International Finance and the other on "China: Economic Giant". Both are pretty chockful of mild propaganda. Its the most interesting phenomenon all of our teachers have PhDs from Chinese universities. They are considered extremely liberal and cutting edge if not revolutionary in how much they stray from the "textbook Chinese academian". Despite this, it is massively evident that China is still the center of the universe in their minds. It seems that the extent of their liberalism makes it so that they can recognize the failures of Mao ZeDong but insist on the immaculate perfection of Deng XiaoPing, Hu Jintao, and Wen JiaBao. They believe the statistics that the government releases quoting 6.8 percent quarterly growth for 2008Q4 and believe that while the free-market has merits, that the current transition of government-managed state-owned enterprise is a beautiful blend of power and autonomy.
It is so odd to come from Brandeis University and being inundated in "Less is More" government ideology and then come to find such a stark difference and have it heralded as daring. The actual class material is FASCINATING mixed in with the "propaganda" are critiques of government publications that come from the World Bank, Harvard Business Review and Nobel winning economists. The combination of Eastern Perspective lectures and Western Perspective course packets are giving me tremendous insight into the various lenses, differences, and understandings of International Economics from both ends of the world.
The caliber of my classmates is rather sorry. There have been questions about what the most basic of economic terms mean (and these classes are taught in English). Petty cries for extra credit, breaks from class, leiniency in assignments, and every other comfort to lessen the work load steal time from the professor and brain cells from my head. Fortunately, the system is set up to encourage those who care to be able to accomplish a lot. We are expected to complete a Capstone Project with a 5,000 minimum summary - a research report that uses primary references collected from our experiences in China as well as secondary (academic) papers. The chance to interview and survey the officials and business of China should be really neat.
I've also managed to land an internship here. I'll be working at the Chi Heng Foundation. They're a UN funded NGO that works on a village-by-village basis to directly fund the education of impovershed AIDS victims in rural Central China. I'm working at the Shanghai Office helping with Business Development, fundraising, editing and translation. I start that next week, but I'm eager for the opportunity.
Internship Applications are starting to get responses, and I have an interview with the Government Accountability Office (GAO) ((in America)) for the summer within the next week or so. These sorts of "job" related things can make it feel like everything is going your way, but its just an interview and I need to not get my hopes up. (Note: Please don't tell me I'll do well and get it -- that won't let me not get my hopes up)
The campus I live on is a pretty decently famous/high quality/well known university. I'm living in a dorm with a Chinese roomate. He's pretty cool and we always talk in Chinese - he has these two friends that he always hangs out with and the three of them are like the three stooges but in Chinese ~ its a blast to hang out with them and be a part of the HIGH_POWER_FAST_PACE_GO_GO_GO_ chinese that they speak. Much of it goes over my head, but I'm glad to be included, and I get more than most would here in my program. I tested into the highest level of Chinese, there are only 4 people in my class, and of these my level is probably the lowest. One is born to Chinese parents and speaks chinese at home (and has studied Chinese for 3 years at Harvard) and the other two have been in China for the past year. Its good to be in a higher level course, because the best way to learn is by drowning.
Communication has been really troublesome, I may finally be getting somewhere on the road to fixing my computer, at which point I hope to me much more in touch with you all.
Entirely stream of consciously I want to talk about the back street behind my university. Its this mile long strip of holes-in-the wall. Everyone is a mini entrepreneur, sells their noodles or their market goods or their trinkets or has a little grill and cooks everything from bread to squid and sells them on sticks. Knowing which places are cheapest and best can make the world of difference - being intimidated by locals that speak to fast and have no mercy on your limited language skills is easy to do but can half the wonderfulness of the experience. I like the area I live in, and more than anything like feeling a little comfortable here rather than being under this massive weight of uncertainty as i was my last time in China.
My mood swings a pretty wide span over the course of a day or a week. I wish I had the opportunity to have already recorded it all in my blog, its been an important beginning to my trip. Things are going pretty well, I miss my families in Florida and Boston, and a few of the things we all take for granted. I miss them a lot, but I feel like things are going about as well as I could possibly have asked for them too here, and I'm extremely grateful for it.
I wrote a bijillion things I wanted to talk about in this post, but of course left that paper lying around elsewhere. If the post seems factual and lifeless ~ my sincerest apologies, there's just so much I've missed out on writing about that the feelings are a thing of the past.
I want to write a funny sentence for me to make a title from. I like elevators.
In short, life has begun. I've made it to Shanghai, I don't believe my blog has made it even this far. My actual program is at the Shanghai University of Finance and Economics, and this new life of mine is in full swing.
So what exactly am I doing here?
Classes started and they are awful and wonderful in equal proportion. I have three hours of intensive Chinese every morning, and then two seperate three hour seminars one on International Finance and the other on "China: Economic Giant". Both are pretty chockful of mild propaganda. Its the most interesting phenomenon all of our teachers have PhDs from Chinese universities. They are considered extremely liberal and cutting edge if not revolutionary in how much they stray from the "textbook Chinese academian". Despite this, it is massively evident that China is still the center of the universe in their minds. It seems that the extent of their liberalism makes it so that they can recognize the failures of Mao ZeDong but insist on the immaculate perfection of Deng XiaoPing, Hu Jintao, and Wen JiaBao. They believe the statistics that the government releases quoting 6.8 percent quarterly growth for 2008Q4 and believe that while the free-market has merits, that the current transition of government-managed state-owned enterprise is a beautiful blend of power and autonomy.
It is so odd to come from Brandeis University and being inundated in "Less is More" government ideology and then come to find such a stark difference and have it heralded as daring. The actual class material is FASCINATING mixed in with the "propaganda" are critiques of government publications that come from the World Bank, Harvard Business Review and Nobel winning economists. The combination of Eastern Perspective lectures and Western Perspective course packets are giving me tremendous insight into the various lenses, differences, and understandings of International Economics from both ends of the world.
The caliber of my classmates is rather sorry. There have been questions about what the most basic of economic terms mean (and these classes are taught in English). Petty cries for extra credit, breaks from class, leiniency in assignments, and every other comfort to lessen the work load steal time from the professor and brain cells from my head. Fortunately, the system is set up to encourage those who care to be able to accomplish a lot. We are expected to complete a Capstone Project with a 5,000 minimum summary - a research report that uses primary references collected from our experiences in China as well as secondary (academic) papers. The chance to interview and survey the officials and business of China should be really neat.
I've also managed to land an internship here. I'll be working at the Chi Heng Foundation. They're a UN funded NGO that works on a village-by-village basis to directly fund the education of impovershed AIDS victims in rural Central China. I'm working at the Shanghai Office helping with Business Development, fundraising, editing and translation. I start that next week, but I'm eager for the opportunity.
Internship Applications are starting to get responses, and I have an interview with the Government Accountability Office (GAO) ((in America)) for the summer within the next week or so. These sorts of "job" related things can make it feel like everything is going your way, but its just an interview and I need to not get my hopes up. (Note: Please don't tell me I'll do well and get it -- that won't let me not get my hopes up)
The campus I live on is a pretty decently famous/high quality/well known university. I'm living in a dorm with a Chinese roomate. He's pretty cool and we always talk in Chinese - he has these two friends that he always hangs out with and the three of them are like the three stooges but in Chinese ~ its a blast to hang out with them and be a part of the HIGH_POWER_FAST_PACE_GO_GO_GO_ chinese that they speak. Much of it goes over my head, but I'm glad to be included, and I get more than most would here in my program. I tested into the highest level of Chinese, there are only 4 people in my class, and of these my level is probably the lowest. One is born to Chinese parents and speaks chinese at home (and has studied Chinese for 3 years at Harvard) and the other two have been in China for the past year. Its good to be in a higher level course, because the best way to learn is by drowning.
Communication has been really troublesome, I may finally be getting somewhere on the road to fixing my computer, at which point I hope to me much more in touch with you all.
Entirely stream of consciously I want to talk about the back street behind my university. Its this mile long strip of holes-in-the wall. Everyone is a mini entrepreneur, sells their noodles or their market goods or their trinkets or has a little grill and cooks everything from bread to squid and sells them on sticks. Knowing which places are cheapest and best can make the world of difference - being intimidated by locals that speak to fast and have no mercy on your limited language skills is easy to do but can half the wonderfulness of the experience. I like the area I live in, and more than anything like feeling a little comfortable here rather than being under this massive weight of uncertainty as i was my last time in China.
My mood swings a pretty wide span over the course of a day or a week. I wish I had the opportunity to have already recorded it all in my blog, its been an important beginning to my trip. Things are going pretty well, I miss my families in Florida and Boston, and a few of the things we all take for granted. I miss them a lot, but I feel like things are going about as well as I could possibly have asked for them too here, and I'm extremely grateful for it.
I wrote a bijillion things I wanted to talk about in this post, but of course left that paper lying around elsewhere. If the post seems factual and lifeless ~ my sincerest apologies, there's just so much I've missed out on writing about that the feelings are a thing of the past.
I want to write a funny sentence for me to make a title from. I like elevators.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Entirely not about Koala bears
Preface: Nice people are the greatest invention of all time.
The past several days have been quite filled. The substance of their filling has been dramatically varied, and if I had a moment to share thoughts at various points, perhaps hundreds of different fillings, feelings, and views could have been forever preserved in the cyberworld. Those moments weren't recorded, and now we are here. So first, an abstract - a summary to let my brain have some organization, and then -- my adventures.
My internet stopped working. I went bonkers. My internet came back. I dropped my computer. The screen cracked and rendered the computer useless.
I gained a sense of perspective. I got out into the city (Beijing). I traveled to the Great Wall, to Beijing's modern art district, to an impossible acrobatics show and a little bit around the city.
I got sick of my host family. I flew to Shanghai. I've started my program now, and just one day in I have loads to share.
Beijing is really cool. I didn't get to have the Beijing experience I came for. In short-hindsight (the hindsight that is still emotionally charged, but has the element of "looking back on it" I have settled on three equally responsible culprits. The weather, my host family, and myself. It was always below 25 and always 20 mph winds or more. It was to cold to wander or stroll. My language is better suited to get goals accomplished than to wander aimlessly or inquire, and my host family enjoyed sitting on the couch until their butts were attached to the vinyl or nylon or whatever the heck couches are made of. A quick rant on the uselessness of this family.
A chinese family -- is supposed to be respectful. I am not one for characterizations of China, I try to avoid them at all costs, because they are almost always wrong or misleading -- but this one I fell for. My little brother (12 years old) in the family and his mom fought constantly. He refused to eat and she failed to make him. He refused to go out with her, to listen to her, to come when she called, to go to school, or to stay by her side. On the day I went to the art area with them they engaged in fist fights and tug of war. He punched his mother as hard and repeatedly as he could. She tried to ignore him or swat him pack. He shoved her and pulled her and when she engaged him he fell to the floor hit his knee and got up pouting and stamping before running away (one of maybe 4 times he ran away that day). The mom explained that she likes to ignore him when he does that -- no wonder he likes to ignore her. They both ONLY watch TV. They had break ... this i understand. But 8 days of TV without breath... this i don't.
My little brother, on the last day took my hair gel (a rarity in China) empties its contents, filled it with water, hid it in a sock and buried it in my bag. I probably wasn't supposed to find it until I was gone. I did find it, and I don't really care for "things" or "possessions" or even "personal space" all that much, but I thought it was the slightest bit rude. I told the mother who said quote "He probably thought it was fun ... you know?". I mean ... maybe? Maybe i know. But not really, and also ... what??? Anyhow that day at the last meal she mentioned it to him. He denied it. I thought this was funny, because there is no one else in the house. I suggested to him that maybe the mice did it, and he got guilty looking and said that mice can't do that. I nodded my head slowly, as though I was chewing on the fact that mice cannot, as a matter of fact, open a bottle, spill out its contents, replace it with new contents, and then put them in a sock and hide them.
--------------------------------
Anyway, my adventures are (believe it or not) at times significantly more exciting than socks. I hiked a good 4 hours on Sunday, with a group of 20 foreigners. We could have held a full meeting of the UN Security council, without a member missing, and had a enough to make quorum for the European Union. I shared my lunch with a German gentleman who had forgotten to bring one, and this was perhaps my favorite moment in Beijing. Just the simplest things like random acts of loving-kindness are what I miss most from feeling uncomfortable with the language, and unable to be myself.
The hike was noteworthy on its own. I don't want to exaggerate things like angles and steepness without knowing the facts, so I'll give the facts I do know, and let you feel from my descriptions what it was really like. It started off about 12 degrees farenheit with about 10-15 mph winds. A half hour into the first climb, I was wearing jeans and a short-sleeve T-shirt and sweating. at the first peak we saw the great wall some 5-6 kilometers away and on the descent we passed through brambles that hid the person in front of you, attacked you from all sides, snaked in tight turns, and as we passed into a valley that had been shielded from sun but still had altitude we walked on trails covered in frozen streams of ice (Note: this occurence in January apparently means the coming year will be good for the harvest -- thought you might like to know).
The great wall was ... great.
C'mon -- you saw that one coming. I bounded ahead of the group and while most went up to the first tower (many dozens of stairs up) I leapt across the rubble encrusted path through 4 towers to the highest peak in sight. It is an incredible thing, to know that no matter where you stand it continues futher than you can imagine. It is some 6000 kilometers long, and the portions I crossed ranged from 550 years old to 550 AD.
------------------------------------
There are many more parts and chapters to any and all of this. My computer screen shattered and my internet access is sparse. I'll try to fill in the gaps as my communicative abilities increase. But for the moment, I'm doing quite well.
The past several days have been quite filled. The substance of their filling has been dramatically varied, and if I had a moment to share thoughts at various points, perhaps hundreds of different fillings, feelings, and views could have been forever preserved in the cyberworld. Those moments weren't recorded, and now we are here. So first, an abstract - a summary to let my brain have some organization, and then -- my adventures.
My internet stopped working. I went bonkers. My internet came back. I dropped my computer. The screen cracked and rendered the computer useless.
I gained a sense of perspective. I got out into the city (Beijing). I traveled to the Great Wall, to Beijing's modern art district, to an impossible acrobatics show and a little bit around the city.
I got sick of my host family. I flew to Shanghai. I've started my program now, and just one day in I have loads to share.
Beijing is really cool. I didn't get to have the Beijing experience I came for. In short-hindsight (the hindsight that is still emotionally charged, but has the element of "looking back on it" I have settled on three equally responsible culprits. The weather, my host family, and myself. It was always below 25 and always 20 mph winds or more. It was to cold to wander or stroll. My language is better suited to get goals accomplished than to wander aimlessly or inquire, and my host family enjoyed sitting on the couch until their butts were attached to the vinyl or nylon or whatever the heck couches are made of. A quick rant on the uselessness of this family.
A chinese family -- is supposed to be respectful. I am not one for characterizations of China, I try to avoid them at all costs, because they are almost always wrong or misleading -- but this one I fell for. My little brother (12 years old) in the family and his mom fought constantly. He refused to eat and she failed to make him. He refused to go out with her, to listen to her, to come when she called, to go to school, or to stay by her side. On the day I went to the art area with them they engaged in fist fights and tug of war. He punched his mother as hard and repeatedly as he could. She tried to ignore him or swat him pack. He shoved her and pulled her and when she engaged him he fell to the floor hit his knee and got up pouting and stamping before running away (one of maybe 4 times he ran away that day). The mom explained that she likes to ignore him when he does that -- no wonder he likes to ignore her. They both ONLY watch TV. They had break ... this i understand. But 8 days of TV without breath... this i don't.
My little brother, on the last day took my hair gel (a rarity in China) empties its contents, filled it with water, hid it in a sock and buried it in my bag. I probably wasn't supposed to find it until I was gone. I did find it, and I don't really care for "things" or "possessions" or even "personal space" all that much, but I thought it was the slightest bit rude. I told the mother who said quote "He probably thought it was fun ... you know?". I mean ... maybe? Maybe i know. But not really, and also ... what??? Anyhow that day at the last meal she mentioned it to him. He denied it. I thought this was funny, because there is no one else in the house. I suggested to him that maybe the mice did it, and he got guilty looking and said that mice can't do that. I nodded my head slowly, as though I was chewing on the fact that mice cannot, as a matter of fact, open a bottle, spill out its contents, replace it with new contents, and then put them in a sock and hide them.
--------------------------------
Anyway, my adventures are (believe it or not) at times significantly more exciting than socks. I hiked a good 4 hours on Sunday, with a group of 20 foreigners. We could have held a full meeting of the UN Security council, without a member missing, and had a enough to make quorum for the European Union. I shared my lunch with a German gentleman who had forgotten to bring one, and this was perhaps my favorite moment in Beijing. Just the simplest things like random acts of loving-kindness are what I miss most from feeling uncomfortable with the language, and unable to be myself.
The hike was noteworthy on its own. I don't want to exaggerate things like angles and steepness without knowing the facts, so I'll give the facts I do know, and let you feel from my descriptions what it was really like. It started off about 12 degrees farenheit with about 10-15 mph winds. A half hour into the first climb, I was wearing jeans and a short-sleeve T-shirt and sweating. at the first peak we saw the great wall some 5-6 kilometers away and on the descent we passed through brambles that hid the person in front of you, attacked you from all sides, snaked in tight turns, and as we passed into a valley that had been shielded from sun but still had altitude we walked on trails covered in frozen streams of ice (Note: this occurence in January apparently means the coming year will be good for the harvest -- thought you might like to know).
The great wall was ... great.
C'mon -- you saw that one coming. I bounded ahead of the group and while most went up to the first tower (many dozens of stairs up) I leapt across the rubble encrusted path through 4 towers to the highest peak in sight. It is an incredible thing, to know that no matter where you stand it continues futher than you can imagine. It is some 6000 kilometers long, and the portions I crossed ranged from 550 years old to 550 AD.
------------------------------------
There are many more parts and chapters to any and all of this. My computer screen shattered and my internet access is sparse. I'll try to fill in the gaps as my communicative abilities increase. But for the moment, I'm doing quite well.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Back to work
I broke today.
I snapped just about all the way in two, and knowing the optimist within me, and how likely it is to resurge in just a few days, I might as well document it. It may also help as a catharsis of sorts, its just been that sort of day.
It is almost certainly one of those sadnesses that is illegitimate. I heard Jason and Jack telling me that I could have lost a leg or be living in a refugee camp, and tried those phrases from time to time for whatever moral support they can offer. I suppose if I am going to be calm about this whole thing, all that happened is that I became afraid that mastering the language will be too hard.
I finally decided to quit with the placid acceptance of staying in this house, and to get out and explore more of Beijing than just a shopping mall and a carnival. I asked my host mother what performances I might be able to see, and she glanced up and said she had no idea before returning to a mixture of her cell phone and TV. I don’t want to blame my host family for too much, blaming a scapegoat is too easy, but it certainly didn’t help. Mostly undeterred by her lack of help, I went to figure it out myself on the internet, which absolutely refused to work. I’m more computer literate and “troubleshoot savvy” than at least 80% of computer users, and almost without exception when I go for computer help, the people run their usual tests (which I’ve already run the gamut of) and then look at me and go “Huh … you really have a problem here”.
Denied of both local advice, and any access to information about the city via the internet or phone, I started my descent into being overwhelmed. I really really wanted to talk with my brother and my girlfriend, and knew that they both wanted to talk to me, and don’t even know if I will be able to tell them what happened.
I decided to “be a man” about it and just dedicate myself to hitting the books again.
Maybe … Maybe its just an attitude thing, but I think I’m really far away. I struggle with language, it is not in the category of things that come easily to me. I have been focusing these past two weeks on words that I think have the highest frequency of usage, and I thought my plan was brilliant. Now, I believe it is the unfortunate truth, that every word is important. Who the heck writes books with only the most common 60% of words? And if you can’t understand 20% of a paragraph, then you’re really just kidding yourself about speaking the language. I’m not even there yet … I think that is “my goal” … but that’s not really my goal. My goal is to be fluent in Chinese, and heck – that was only the first step. The whole point of being fluent was to work on trying to help alleviate the massive rural poverty in China.
Maybe I’m 20 years old, and maybe I’ve only been in China for two weeks now, but mastering the language seems light years away. Being able to confidently have casual conversations (even with mistakes) seems out of reach. My 300 note cards of new words that I’ve learned in 10 days are impressive only out of context. Like, who the hell cares. No one is going to benefit from my ability to correctly write and the phrase “to pick berries”. I’m being hard on my self. I’m lonely, and bothered that I haven’t had a perfect experience here in Beijing. I haven’t seen much of the city, and haven’t bonded fantastically with the family. I’ve learned that my language goals are much harder to achieve than they seemed in my former dream world, and now in addition to having no friends as a physical presence, I’m excommunicated from even hearing the voices of everyone I love.
I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine in more than one way. I’ll have an incredible life no matter how well I master this language, and I am likely to really enjoy and benefit from this semester despite its difficulty today or any other number of days.
I mend easily, and leave almost no hint of a scar. Usually when I break, I learn a few lessons and get back on my bike. Pardon the emotional outburst if you will, sometimes feelings just happen. For whatever its worth, this is how I felt today. And now … I’m back off to work.
I snapped just about all the way in two, and knowing the optimist within me, and how likely it is to resurge in just a few days, I might as well document it. It may also help as a catharsis of sorts, its just been that sort of day.
It is almost certainly one of those sadnesses that is illegitimate. I heard Jason and Jack telling me that I could have lost a leg or be living in a refugee camp, and tried those phrases from time to time for whatever moral support they can offer. I suppose if I am going to be calm about this whole thing, all that happened is that I became afraid that mastering the language will be too hard.
I finally decided to quit with the placid acceptance of staying in this house, and to get out and explore more of Beijing than just a shopping mall and a carnival. I asked my host mother what performances I might be able to see, and she glanced up and said she had no idea before returning to a mixture of her cell phone and TV. I don’t want to blame my host family for too much, blaming a scapegoat is too easy, but it certainly didn’t help. Mostly undeterred by her lack of help, I went to figure it out myself on the internet, which absolutely refused to work. I’m more computer literate and “troubleshoot savvy” than at least 80% of computer users, and almost without exception when I go for computer help, the people run their usual tests (which I’ve already run the gamut of) and then look at me and go “Huh … you really have a problem here”.
Denied of both local advice, and any access to information about the city via the internet or phone, I started my descent into being overwhelmed. I really really wanted to talk with my brother and my girlfriend, and knew that they both wanted to talk to me, and don’t even know if I will be able to tell them what happened.
I decided to “be a man” about it and just dedicate myself to hitting the books again.
Maybe … Maybe its just an attitude thing, but I think I’m really far away. I struggle with language, it is not in the category of things that come easily to me. I have been focusing these past two weeks on words that I think have the highest frequency of usage, and I thought my plan was brilliant. Now, I believe it is the unfortunate truth, that every word is important. Who the heck writes books with only the most common 60% of words? And if you can’t understand 20% of a paragraph, then you’re really just kidding yourself about speaking the language. I’m not even there yet … I think that is “my goal” … but that’s not really my goal. My goal is to be fluent in Chinese, and heck – that was only the first step. The whole point of being fluent was to work on trying to help alleviate the massive rural poverty in China.
Maybe I’m 20 years old, and maybe I’ve only been in China for two weeks now, but mastering the language seems light years away. Being able to confidently have casual conversations (even with mistakes) seems out of reach. My 300 note cards of new words that I’ve learned in 10 days are impressive only out of context. Like, who the hell cares. No one is going to benefit from my ability to correctly write and the phrase “to pick berries”. I’m being hard on my self. I’m lonely, and bothered that I haven’t had a perfect experience here in Beijing. I haven’t seen much of the city, and haven’t bonded fantastically with the family. I’ve learned that my language goals are much harder to achieve than they seemed in my former dream world, and now in addition to having no friends as a physical presence, I’m excommunicated from even hearing the voices of everyone I love.
I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine in more than one way. I’ll have an incredible life no matter how well I master this language, and I am likely to really enjoy and benefit from this semester despite its difficulty today or any other number of days.
I mend easily, and leave almost no hint of a scar. Usually when I break, I learn a few lessons and get back on my bike. Pardon the emotional outburst if you will, sometimes feelings just happen. For whatever its worth, this is how I felt today. And now … I’m back off to work.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Sea Monsters and the Ministry of Defense
Conceptualizing the difficulty of learning another language is (in my personal opinion) nearly impossible – for those without first hand experience.
For most of my friends and family it is extremely difficult. Some of my friends speak Spanish or some other “Romance Language” and claim it is do-able … for this group I will use the excuse that “Chinese is harder” and for those of you who have attempted Ancient Greek, I’m sure I have your sympathies.
I’d like to borrow some of the language of renowned author David Sedaris whose mastery of English allows him to artfully describe the inherent difficulty in mastering just about any other native tongue. I’ve borrowed a number of his words and pulled some bits from his descriptions while adapted it and interspersing my own feelings and thoughts to make what I hope will be an entertaining and useful attempt at explaining what this whole language “immersion” thing is really all about.
Chapter 1: Arrival
I went to China having just studied the word for “bottleneck” and repeating it over in over in my head as a sort of security blanket. I use it to demonstrate my proficiency everywhere I go. I say “bottleneck” at the airport, “bottleneck” on the train to Hangzhou, and “bottleneck” when told that the massive unmarked building lying before me is to be my home.
“Oh … bottleneck” everyone says – you speak well.
As time goes on I pick up a few new words, but overall the situation seems hopeless. The best I can manage is a series of simple nouns.
“Ashtray!” I’d say
“Yes” they’d agree. “That’s an ashtray alright”
“Hammer?” “Screwdriver?”
“No, that’s okay we’ve got our own”
Chapter 2: Dedication
Eventually I could say the simplest of phrases entirely wrong.
“See you again yesterday!” I’d say to the storekeeper. “Ashtray! Bottleneck!”
I committed myself to the textbook promising to learn 10 new words per day
Hawthorne berry
Facial swelling
Magpie (a kind of pretty pigeon)
Death penalty
Persimmon
I found words, wrote characters, memorized translations and kept notecards for review. My list gradually expanded as did my pride in my new language abilities
Slaughterhouse
Sea Monster
Confucius
Ministry of Defense
At the end of a month I had managed to memorize some 400 nouns – not a single one of which proved the slightest bit useful.
Another month and another half a thousand words…
Padded vest
Tumble
Suffer with patience.
For the most part – people knew to shake their heads at the last one, and questioned my sanity if I said any of the others.
Classes began to add the beginnings of structure, and I went from speaking nonsensical nouns to being a severally dysfunctional hillbilly
“I want me some lamb chops with handles on ‘em”…
I managed to get foods close enough to what I wanted that they were edible, and my existence continued.
Chapter 3: “Fluency”
Its been a number of semesters, and this is my second trip to China. I can talk wonderfully with other students who aren’t aware of my mistakes and with teachers who humor them. When “real Chinese people” talk to me on the street I do my best to understand their meaning without truly being able to grasp many of their important words.
“If you have not zhishichiwichqiguai or erishjuchamener then you need to apzkiubjxow. Have you zhishichiwichqiguai? You sure? OK … good.
“Where are you from? O really? Were you palicmkrexis? Most fiusczsa will ticiwelmun kfdtinvfm” Yes? Yes or no? Yes? O … interesting.
Chapter 4: Today (in entirely my own words)
I tried understanding what it would be like for me if I didn’t know English. I picked up a random book turned to a random page and looked at a random paragraph. I realized that it isn’t just fear that keeps me from fluency – it really is a different world. The thought process is radically different the grammar is everything you can’t possibly think to do because you have been trained that it is “wrong”. The words sound almost exactly the same and the characters are actually the same and equally impossible to write.
In that one paragraph I realized there were probably 20 words which I didn’t know the meaning of when in 6th grade. I was a pretty smart 6th grader and I had a good 10 years of learning English with malleable neurons to aid my efforts – yet still, I wouldn’t have understood the message of that paragraph. Perhaps I shouldn’t expect such magic in learning Chinese these past 2 and a half years.
Learning Chinese is hard. I (for now) absolutely refuse to get up. So before I return to my memorization of words that claim to be “practical” Chinese – let me apologize. I am not always fair or honest with myself or others in describing my ability. I don’t know exactly where it is. Sometimes I feel capable other times I feel mute. Sometimes I am harsh on people who ask questions about my level – its not your fault – I’m sorry, I’m just trying really hard and it takes a lot of work for what is inevitably hazy progress. Good luck to me – I think I’ll need it, and I hope I will use it well.
For most of my friends and family it is extremely difficult. Some of my friends speak Spanish or some other “Romance Language” and claim it is do-able … for this group I will use the excuse that “Chinese is harder” and for those of you who have attempted Ancient Greek, I’m sure I have your sympathies.
I’d like to borrow some of the language of renowned author David Sedaris whose mastery of English allows him to artfully describe the inherent difficulty in mastering just about any other native tongue. I’ve borrowed a number of his words and pulled some bits from his descriptions while adapted it and interspersing my own feelings and thoughts to make what I hope will be an entertaining and useful attempt at explaining what this whole language “immersion” thing is really all about.
Chapter 1: Arrival
I went to China having just studied the word for “bottleneck” and repeating it over in over in my head as a sort of security blanket. I use it to demonstrate my proficiency everywhere I go. I say “bottleneck” at the airport, “bottleneck” on the train to Hangzhou, and “bottleneck” when told that the massive unmarked building lying before me is to be my home.
“Oh … bottleneck” everyone says – you speak well.
As time goes on I pick up a few new words, but overall the situation seems hopeless. The best I can manage is a series of simple nouns.
“Ashtray!” I’d say
“Yes” they’d agree. “That’s an ashtray alright”
“Hammer?” “Screwdriver?”
“No, that’s okay we’ve got our own”
Chapter 2: Dedication
Eventually I could say the simplest of phrases entirely wrong.
“See you again yesterday!” I’d say to the storekeeper. “Ashtray! Bottleneck!”
I committed myself to the textbook promising to learn 10 new words per day
Hawthorne berry
Facial swelling
Magpie (a kind of pretty pigeon)
Death penalty
Persimmon
I found words, wrote characters, memorized translations and kept notecards for review. My list gradually expanded as did my pride in my new language abilities
Slaughterhouse
Sea Monster
Confucius
Ministry of Defense
At the end of a month I had managed to memorize some 400 nouns – not a single one of which proved the slightest bit useful.
Another month and another half a thousand words…
Padded vest
Tumble
Suffer with patience.
For the most part – people knew to shake their heads at the last one, and questioned my sanity if I said any of the others.
Classes began to add the beginnings of structure, and I went from speaking nonsensical nouns to being a severally dysfunctional hillbilly
“I want me some lamb chops with handles on ‘em”…
I managed to get foods close enough to what I wanted that they were edible, and my existence continued.
Chapter 3: “Fluency”
Its been a number of semesters, and this is my second trip to China. I can talk wonderfully with other students who aren’t aware of my mistakes and with teachers who humor them. When “real Chinese people” talk to me on the street I do my best to understand their meaning without truly being able to grasp many of their important words.
“If you have not zhishichiwichqiguai or erishjuchamener then you need to apzkiubjxow. Have you zhishichiwichqiguai? You sure? OK … good.
“Where are you from? O really? Were you palicmkrexis? Most fiusczsa will ticiwelmun kfdtinvfm” Yes? Yes or no? Yes? O … interesting.
Chapter 4: Today (in entirely my own words)
I tried understanding what it would be like for me if I didn’t know English. I picked up a random book turned to a random page and looked at a random paragraph. I realized that it isn’t just fear that keeps me from fluency – it really is a different world. The thought process is radically different the grammar is everything you can’t possibly think to do because you have been trained that it is “wrong”. The words sound almost exactly the same and the characters are actually the same and equally impossible to write.
In that one paragraph I realized there were probably 20 words which I didn’t know the meaning of when in 6th grade. I was a pretty smart 6th grader and I had a good 10 years of learning English with malleable neurons to aid my efforts – yet still, I wouldn’t have understood the message of that paragraph. Perhaps I shouldn’t expect such magic in learning Chinese these past 2 and a half years.
Learning Chinese is hard. I (for now) absolutely refuse to get up. So before I return to my memorization of words that claim to be “practical” Chinese – let me apologize. I am not always fair or honest with myself or others in describing my ability. I don’t know exactly where it is. Sometimes I feel capable other times I feel mute. Sometimes I am harsh on people who ask questions about my level – its not your fault – I’m sorry, I’m just trying really hard and it takes a lot of work for what is inevitably hazy progress. Good luck to me – I think I’ll need it, and I hope I will use it well.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Fireworks and Buses
I’m doing real good (well). My mind is full of thoughts and they have no place to go right now other than this page and your eyes – lets begin.
I may have begun a friendship today. I was relegated to my tutor’s place because “my” place was busy celebrating (apparently something this program doesn’t believe in). My tutor is an unassuming mildly charismatic and dignified woman in her early 40s. Its true that we we were speaking in Chinese, and that sometimes I struggled to express myself, but the line between study and conversation blurred a little, the beginning of a semi-friendship began to form, and a weight was lifted off my shoulders. I really don’t ask for much, require much, to be happy – now, with half a friend for 6,000 miles around my world became a bright and shiny place. The truth is, improvements are better than downgrades and that all it takes – I the eternal optimist.
Chinese New Year was last night.
I prefer to call it “Insanity Holiday”. Apparently more people than the current population of Earth take trains to join up with their families in the 15 days surrounding the Chinese New Year (all domestic travel within China). Its more than all of Britain’s travel for a year and blah blah blah other impressive statistics. Everyone gets together and yammers and plays mahjohnng and watches Chinese acrobats in panda suits wheel on unicycles while twirling plates on 20 foot tall sticks and singing the national anthem. Kids eat 50 pounds of sugar and adults get drunk. Then an hour before midnight a 2 hour firework bonanza rips the world to shreds.
THIS WAS INDESCRIBABLY RIDICULOUS. The city doesn’t do fireworks – individuals do. But there are no laws restricting the type of firework and no regulations on quality or safety. Earlier in the day I went with Li Zi to the firework shop and saw others buying these hundreds of dollar firework boxes. They’re the real thing, amd explode mightily sending ear crushing missiles of a thousand colors in every direction. The majority go up, but some turn over, shoot side ways, hit people, things, and cars. The streets light with fire and every car alarm in the city goes off. The noise decibel level is outrageous and the sky all around you from 5 to 500 feet is lit asunder.
I mean … there is usually distance between fireworks – these are launched from boxes standing at your feet. The people light up a cigarette take a few puffs, use it to light a few fuses, and take a few more puffs and the ground beneath them explodes. Anyway, it was pretty frigging cool and for no particular reason nobody got hurt, so that was a plus. It turns out that fireworks can bounce off of jeans – who knew? (Note: kids – do not try this at home)
A brief comment on jobs in China. I don’t understand them. I began not understanding them my last stay in China when after a torrential down pour a mob of people some clad in bright neon green vests emerged to sweep water away from objects and toward drains. They used mops and brooms and sticks with gobs of leaves encrusted on them and struck away at the clear ground pushing water toward already flooded holes. Who were these people? I wondered, who pays them, what do they do when there aren’t 40 feet of rain falling from the sky. I also tilt my head in curiosity at the “extras” at stores and buildings. Even the smallest kiosk usually has 2 people whose job it is to stand near the door. That appears to be it. They stand. They wear a uniform with the company’s insignia. How much do they earn? How did they “qualify”. My new favorite is the “middle of the bus manager”. They are nearly all obese and drifting in and out of sleep. They sit in a chair. That is it. It seems that there used to be an era in which they collected money and announced stops to the passengers. Today everyone beeps into the bus with an electronic card or places money in the electronic machine, and the programmed buses announce clearly in two languages what stops are ahead and when a stop is approaching. They sit. In my experience a bus can take in as little as 7 to 10 dollars per hour. This seemingly must pay for the bus, the maintenance, the gas, the driver, and this extra “dude”. A guy who sleeps. I have to imagine they work like 20 hour shifts of sitting around looking at people. Maybe they encourage people not to cheat the system, but how much is that worth, and how much can they possibly be getting paid. There are like 3,000,000,000,0000,000,00000,0000000000 buses in Beijing/China and every one has one of these dudes – are they middle class? Are others jealous? Just crazy is all.
I may have begun a friendship today. I was relegated to my tutor’s place because “my” place was busy celebrating (apparently something this program doesn’t believe in). My tutor is an unassuming mildly charismatic and dignified woman in her early 40s. Its true that we we were speaking in Chinese, and that sometimes I struggled to express myself, but the line between study and conversation blurred a little, the beginning of a semi-friendship began to form, and a weight was lifted off my shoulders. I really don’t ask for much, require much, to be happy – now, with half a friend for 6,000 miles around my world became a bright and shiny place. The truth is, improvements are better than downgrades and that all it takes – I the eternal optimist.
Chinese New Year was last night.
I prefer to call it “Insanity Holiday”. Apparently more people than the current population of Earth take trains to join up with their families in the 15 days surrounding the Chinese New Year (all domestic travel within China). Its more than all of Britain’s travel for a year and blah blah blah other impressive statistics. Everyone gets together and yammers and plays mahjohnng and watches Chinese acrobats in panda suits wheel on unicycles while twirling plates on 20 foot tall sticks and singing the national anthem. Kids eat 50 pounds of sugar and adults get drunk. Then an hour before midnight a 2 hour firework bonanza rips the world to shreds.
THIS WAS INDESCRIBABLY RIDICULOUS. The city doesn’t do fireworks – individuals do. But there are no laws restricting the type of firework and no regulations on quality or safety. Earlier in the day I went with Li Zi to the firework shop and saw others buying these hundreds of dollar firework boxes. They’re the real thing, amd explode mightily sending ear crushing missiles of a thousand colors in every direction. The majority go up, but some turn over, shoot side ways, hit people, things, and cars. The streets light with fire and every car alarm in the city goes off. The noise decibel level is outrageous and the sky all around you from 5 to 500 feet is lit asunder.
I mean … there is usually distance between fireworks – these are launched from boxes standing at your feet. The people light up a cigarette take a few puffs, use it to light a few fuses, and take a few more puffs and the ground beneath them explodes. Anyway, it was pretty frigging cool and for no particular reason nobody got hurt, so that was a plus. It turns out that fireworks can bounce off of jeans – who knew? (Note: kids – do not try this at home)
A brief comment on jobs in China. I don’t understand them. I began not understanding them my last stay in China when after a torrential down pour a mob of people some clad in bright neon green vests emerged to sweep water away from objects and toward drains. They used mops and brooms and sticks with gobs of leaves encrusted on them and struck away at the clear ground pushing water toward already flooded holes. Who were these people? I wondered, who pays them, what do they do when there aren’t 40 feet of rain falling from the sky. I also tilt my head in curiosity at the “extras” at stores and buildings. Even the smallest kiosk usually has 2 people whose job it is to stand near the door. That appears to be it. They stand. They wear a uniform with the company’s insignia. How much do they earn? How did they “qualify”. My new favorite is the “middle of the bus manager”. They are nearly all obese and drifting in and out of sleep. They sit in a chair. That is it. It seems that there used to be an era in which they collected money and announced stops to the passengers. Today everyone beeps into the bus with an electronic card or places money in the electronic machine, and the programmed buses announce clearly in two languages what stops are ahead and when a stop is approaching. They sit. In my experience a bus can take in as little as 7 to 10 dollars per hour. This seemingly must pay for the bus, the maintenance, the gas, the driver, and this extra “dude”. A guy who sleeps. I have to imagine they work like 20 hour shifts of sitting around looking at people. Maybe they encourage people not to cheat the system, but how much is that worth, and how much can they possibly be getting paid. There are like 3,000,000,000,0000,000,00000,0000000000 buses in Beijing/China and every one has one of these dudes – are they middle class? Are others jealous? Just crazy is all.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
What "American" China is made of...
What a strange and crazy world.
I think I see developed upper-middle class China as a particularly bizarre phenomenon. Somehow it only seems right that if one is closer to the site of impoverished millions that it should be apparent. I am not living with royalty, and there are distinctions for my family that make the possibility of owning a car perfectly unrealistic. Despite this however, my host mother brought me along to purchase some 85 dollars worth of flowers and makes similarly unnecessary purchases on a frequent basis.
My sense of traditional Chinese family is significantly warped. This house seems a far cry from obedience, and studious solemnity. Li Zi spends weekends in front of the TV watching cartoons and week day afternoons alternating between friends houses and computer games. It isn’t that I believe that those who live in China SHOULD have less freedoms or luxuries than we do in America, but it leaves me questioning whether “the West” is all is made out to be. Part of me would be much more at home in the silence of a simple hut in a simple village with rice and several cups of tea. Walking outside only to run into a Wal-Mart, Baskin-Robbins, and Mr. Pizza shouldn’t speak poorly about China, but with a population of tens of millions – I wonder – why? What is it that these people did right that others did not? Why do they get to live in the city, and spend money frivolously? There is almost never a reason to take a taxi instead of a bus, sleep in a fancy hotel, buy expensive imported chocolates – and these are the three things that thrive above all others. It almost hurts to see that the capitalist market, the invisible hand, and free enterprise economics lend themselves to excess, waste, and gluttony.
A quick note on the importance of family. I spent the last day or so wallowing in a medium-deep pool of loneliness, and having re-emerged I have a few lessons of the moment. It is so easy to look at a family and see only the surface and think that everything is well. It seems quite true though, that only in truly getting to know the ins and out of every aspect of life of a family is the picture painted in a fair light. I don’t believe I ever spoke back to my parents, certainly (I hope) never to a point that I turned my back on them or their word. My little brother argues non-stop – but what worries me is that he wins. There isn’t much his mother can (or will) do to get her way on simple things like having him accompany him to the store. I’m extremely glad to have a family that placed such insurmountable importance on respect. I don’t know that I was aware of its presence until meeting its absence in extended form, I think its important and I’m really appreciative to have a family that prioritizes it and has made my life all the more enjoyable because of it. I think it works similarly for friends. Its easy to see two people getting along in the moment, and thinking that they’ve got it good. My friends are awesome, my friendships are unbreakable, I’ve probably upset my friends from time to time – but I love them and doubt that underneath anyone has it better than I do with my crew.
This post may have been uninteresting to some – it is more of a reflection than a story, so to keep those who are in it for the entertainment along for the ride, here are some tidbits worth knowing about China all discovered in my bewildered first week.
• All Americans have blue eyes
• Broccoli is directly translated as “Western orchid”
• In a discussion about Obama’s election my host family’s parents contributed by noting that They “…are interested in the new American President because before he had to be a slave”. They were clear on their belief that this was him – not his people
• My teacher learned from many “reputable” source that the reason that Jewish people do not eat pig is because “Long ago there was a girl in a lot of trouble, and a pig saved her and so now Jews do not eat pigs”
• It is generally known in China that American college students only go to class and go out to parties to have fun. It is expected that Americans don’t participate in any other activities or duties
• A mouse is not heavy enough to press the keys of a keyboard, but can run for more than 50 minutes straight
To all my friends – I really miss you guys, to all who read this – Thanks a ton! I’m enjoying it, I hope you are too.
I think I see developed upper-middle class China as a particularly bizarre phenomenon. Somehow it only seems right that if one is closer to the site of impoverished millions that it should be apparent. I am not living with royalty, and there are distinctions for my family that make the possibility of owning a car perfectly unrealistic. Despite this however, my host mother brought me along to purchase some 85 dollars worth of flowers and makes similarly unnecessary purchases on a frequent basis.
My sense of traditional Chinese family is significantly warped. This house seems a far cry from obedience, and studious solemnity. Li Zi spends weekends in front of the TV watching cartoons and week day afternoons alternating between friends houses and computer games. It isn’t that I believe that those who live in China SHOULD have less freedoms or luxuries than we do in America, but it leaves me questioning whether “the West” is all is made out to be. Part of me would be much more at home in the silence of a simple hut in a simple village with rice and several cups of tea. Walking outside only to run into a Wal-Mart, Baskin-Robbins, and Mr. Pizza shouldn’t speak poorly about China, but with a population of tens of millions – I wonder – why? What is it that these people did right that others did not? Why do they get to live in the city, and spend money frivolously? There is almost never a reason to take a taxi instead of a bus, sleep in a fancy hotel, buy expensive imported chocolates – and these are the three things that thrive above all others. It almost hurts to see that the capitalist market, the invisible hand, and free enterprise economics lend themselves to excess, waste, and gluttony.
A quick note on the importance of family. I spent the last day or so wallowing in a medium-deep pool of loneliness, and having re-emerged I have a few lessons of the moment. It is so easy to look at a family and see only the surface and think that everything is well. It seems quite true though, that only in truly getting to know the ins and out of every aspect of life of a family is the picture painted in a fair light. I don’t believe I ever spoke back to my parents, certainly (I hope) never to a point that I turned my back on them or their word. My little brother argues non-stop – but what worries me is that he wins. There isn’t much his mother can (or will) do to get her way on simple things like having him accompany him to the store. I’m extremely glad to have a family that placed such insurmountable importance on respect. I don’t know that I was aware of its presence until meeting its absence in extended form, I think its important and I’m really appreciative to have a family that prioritizes it and has made my life all the more enjoyable because of it. I think it works similarly for friends. Its easy to see two people getting along in the moment, and thinking that they’ve got it good. My friends are awesome, my friendships are unbreakable, I’ve probably upset my friends from time to time – but I love them and doubt that underneath anyone has it better than I do with my crew.
This post may have been uninteresting to some – it is more of a reflection than a story, so to keep those who are in it for the entertainment along for the ride, here are some tidbits worth knowing about China all discovered in my bewildered first week.
• All Americans have blue eyes
• Broccoli is directly translated as “Western orchid”
• In a discussion about Obama’s election my host family’s parents contributed by noting that They “…are interested in the new American President because before he had to be a slave”. They were clear on their belief that this was him – not his people
• My teacher learned from many “reputable” source that the reason that Jewish people do not eat pig is because “Long ago there was a girl in a lot of trouble, and a pig saved her and so now Jews do not eat pigs”
• It is generally known in China that American college students only go to class and go out to parties to have fun. It is expected that Americans don’t participate in any other activities or duties
• A mouse is not heavy enough to press the keys of a keyboard, but can run for more than 50 minutes straight
To all my friends – I really miss you guys, to all who read this – Thanks a ton! I’m enjoying it, I hope you are too.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Play Time!
Early to bed, Early to rise makes a man -------- able to hang out with an awesome kid and do crazy things.
Maybe that’s not how the quote goes, but we’re gonna stick with it anyway. Today offered me the opportunity for my 4.5 hours of one-on-one tutoring to stretch from 8:30 AM to 1 PM rather than 1 PM to 5:30 PM. This left with the most interesting of phenomena—an afternoon to play with.
At lunch, Li Zi my 12 year old host brother won a battle with his mom for the rights to sole possession of me for the afternoon. Its not quite clear why this family sees me as a treasured commodity. I smile a lot, talk as well as I can every time I understand whats happening, and take everything in stride, but as far as I can tell other than good humored support of whatever seems to be the activity of the moment I don’t offer all that much.
But I digress.
I neglected to mention a few other things on the list of Li Zi’s MUST HAVES. The first is the silliest computer games. In possession of ME for more than 4 hours – we raced to the bus stop to race to the MASSIVE SHOPPING MALL where we raced to the 4th floor where we raced to the waaaaaaaaaaaaaay back end where there's this massive arcade. The arcade is much like an American one with one distinct difference. About 60% of the 100 games there are these crazy things where you put in a token and pick “an opponent”. Your opponent ranges from any number of a variety of fish, to any number of a variety of dodgeball players, to any number of a variety of planes. There is one singular button with a symbol of a hand on it. Each “opponent” has a number hanging over their head that indicates both the level of their difficulty and their reward. Defeat the puny “2 Fish” and you win 2 tokens (that you can reuse) Defeat the Massive “8” Fish and hear the ka-chink of 8 fresh coins for your enjoyment. Like gambling – your bound to lose. You smash the button for all your worth until your arm is ready to fall off – then you win. You excitedly drop more coins in the machine and your exhausted arm loses to the weakest of characters.
It’s a blast.
I’ve tried to explain Li Zi’s single minded focus and energy, but you really have no idea. Li Zi has single handedly invented a system to replace the “Stand on the Right, Walk on the left” policy. Its called the “RUN UP THE MIDDLE AND HAHAHAHAHA PEOPLE WILL GET OUT OF YOUR WAY” ... system . I mean – its really effective at getting you up (or down) the escalator in 2.1 seconds but if he wasn’t so cute (and I wasn’t so skinny) it’d probably be rude or something.
I shouldn’t have been surprised when our second stop was a mouse store. We walked in and he was greeted by all the shop workers – apparently his best friends. (Have I mentioned that he like cute little mice?).
I'd like to note, that I may use Li Zi as my lens for story telling – but these are my experiences too. Through him I’m getting an entirely unique (and entirely hysterical) tour of Beijing. I plan on making it to the Great Wall, and hopefully a few other greats, but I’m also kind of in heaven racing around to play in the cold and laugh at cute mice.
I left the coolest thing ever for last.
We find this patch of ice. Its probably 45 feet by 25 feet. Its ugly and pockmarked and dirty, and it has 4 teeeeeeeeny-weeeeeny cars on it.
Unfortunately, Li Zi has spent ALL of his money being addicted to the gambling games at the arcade. He pouts at the insurmountable $1.30 charge to do whatever this tiny-car-on-ice-with-sticks thing is. I can’t help but think that its worth a little more than a buck to let him have his fun, and after all I want to be a cool big brother. I toss him the money and get a huge smile in return, he runs to buy the ticket and I laugh as he sits in the tiny car poking the sticks into the ice trying mostly in vain to push his tiny car quickly across the ice.
After something like 10 minutes of laughter I cave in and splurge another $1.30 on my own tiny car and sticks. American amusement parks have nothing on the tiny-car-with-sticks-on-ice “ride”. The nice lady standing out in the freezing cold with nothing to do stretched our 10 minutes to over an hour as we slipped, pushed, bumped, and slid across the ice with no purpose, aim, or care in the world.
I’m studying and learning and stuff to, but play time was really fun.
Maybe that’s not how the quote goes, but we’re gonna stick with it anyway. Today offered me the opportunity for my 4.5 hours of one-on-one tutoring to stretch from 8:30 AM to 1 PM rather than 1 PM to 5:30 PM. This left with the most interesting of phenomena—an afternoon to play with.
At lunch, Li Zi my 12 year old host brother won a battle with his mom for the rights to sole possession of me for the afternoon. Its not quite clear why this family sees me as a treasured commodity. I smile a lot, talk as well as I can every time I understand whats happening, and take everything in stride, but as far as I can tell other than good humored support of whatever seems to be the activity of the moment I don’t offer all that much.
But I digress.
I neglected to mention a few other things on the list of Li Zi’s MUST HAVES. The first is the silliest computer games. In possession of ME for more than 4 hours – we raced to the bus stop to race to the MASSIVE SHOPPING MALL where we raced to the 4th floor where we raced to the waaaaaaaaaaaaaay back end where there's this massive arcade. The arcade is much like an American one with one distinct difference. About 60% of the 100 games there are these crazy things where you put in a token and pick “an opponent”. Your opponent ranges from any number of a variety of fish, to any number of a variety of dodgeball players, to any number of a variety of planes. There is one singular button with a symbol of a hand on it. Each “opponent” has a number hanging over their head that indicates both the level of their difficulty and their reward. Defeat the puny “2 Fish” and you win 2 tokens (that you can reuse) Defeat the Massive “8” Fish and hear the ka-chink of 8 fresh coins for your enjoyment. Like gambling – your bound to lose. You smash the button for all your worth until your arm is ready to fall off – then you win. You excitedly drop more coins in the machine and your exhausted arm loses to the weakest of characters.
It’s a blast.
I’ve tried to explain Li Zi’s single minded focus and energy, but you really have no idea. Li Zi has single handedly invented a system to replace the “Stand on the Right, Walk on the left” policy. Its called the “RUN UP THE MIDDLE AND HAHAHAHAHA PEOPLE WILL GET OUT OF YOUR WAY” ... system . I mean – its really effective at getting you up (or down) the escalator in 2.1 seconds but if he wasn’t so cute (and I wasn’t so skinny) it’d probably be rude or something.
I shouldn’t have been surprised when our second stop was a mouse store. We walked in and he was greeted by all the shop workers – apparently his best friends. (Have I mentioned that he like cute little mice?).
I'd like to note, that I may use Li Zi as my lens for story telling – but these are my experiences too. Through him I’m getting an entirely unique (and entirely hysterical) tour of Beijing. I plan on making it to the Great Wall, and hopefully a few other greats, but I’m also kind of in heaven racing around to play in the cold and laugh at cute mice.
I left the coolest thing ever for last.
We find this patch of ice. Its probably 45 feet by 25 feet. Its ugly and pockmarked and dirty, and it has 4 teeeeeeeeny-weeeeeny cars on it.
Unfortunately, Li Zi has spent ALL of his money being addicted to the gambling games at the arcade. He pouts at the insurmountable $1.30 charge to do whatever this tiny-car-on-ice-with-sticks thing is. I can’t help but think that its worth a little more than a buck to let him have his fun, and after all I want to be a cool big brother. I toss him the money and get a huge smile in return, he runs to buy the ticket and I laugh as he sits in the tiny car poking the sticks into the ice trying mostly in vain to push his tiny car quickly across the ice.
After something like 10 minutes of laughter I cave in and splurge another $1.30 on my own tiny car and sticks. American amusement parks have nothing on the tiny-car-with-sticks-on-ice “ride”. The nice lady standing out in the freezing cold with nothing to do stretched our 10 minutes to over an hour as we slipped, pushed, bumped, and slid across the ice with no purpose, aim, or care in the world.
I’m studying and learning and stuff to, but play time was really fun.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Make sure you forget to breathe
I have this 12 year old little brother in my homestay family. He’s a genuine miniature version of me, but more intense and his quirks and oddities are his own.
This kid is the shiz-natch, and he makes no sense at all. He loves his two adorable little mice and massive fluffy stuffed animals. He loves the taste of tasteless air sticks and tasteless orange sea creature eggs. He loves silly cartoon shows and he really really really loves his two adorable little mice.
I think he’s freaking awesome. He runs up and down the aisles of the super market at a billion miles per hour with ABSOLUTELY no regard for a thing in his way. He forgets his stuff everywhere, he is entirely focused on the moment and he seizes that moment like it is the greatest thing to happen on earth and it is entirely his. We play with the mice like 20 hours a day and he force feeds me – literally cramming things down my mouth – whatever it is that at that moment suits his fancy for him to eat. After all, if he loves it every sensible being must -- especially his smiling older brother who for the most part only understands what the heck is happening a good 10 minutes later.
He yammers incessantly, but he’s really cute and agrees with me on the fundamentals of life such as – you should run fast, ignore the cold, have fun, play all the time, and never let anyone tell you that what you enjoy is silly. Its how a kid should be.
In other news, I’m drowning in a world that has no one else like me. The thing about learning a language is that the your teacher is the single most qualified individual to understand you with your bad accent and propensity to mess up, because they know the language you are thinking in as you make mistakes. It’s a horrible false sense of security. When you go to talk to the people in the store, or worse, the people in the street – they don’t really have the, time patience, or frame of reference to understand what the heck your saying – On your side of the equation, you lack something as well -- ability – and that makes it hard to understand them when they tell you they don’t quite understand … It’s a process that starts at the bottom and goes down hill from there.
There’s nobody to speak English to … you know? Hardly a chance to breathe. My options are to nervously speak Chinese and deal with being utterly confused on a frequent basis, or to hide in my room and bask in the glory of English words on a page. Maybe I’m crazy, but that’s a little scary no? I have to encourage myself to engage in terrifying confrontations where I am nearly guaranteed to either say something other than what I mean, or be misunderstood anyway. It feels like it’d be nice just to shoot the breeze with a friend. I know and believe that its good for me though – I’m not defeated yet. We’re at day 2 and I still really really like it here.
Today Li Zi (my little brother) taught me how to say “that company went bankrupt” in Chinese, he also asked me many meters tall I was. I said 2 and he said more like 1.7 then like 10 minutes later he goes “You slouch a lot - if you straighten up you’ll be more like 1.9 maybe you really are 2 meters tall HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA” I mean … my parents will totally agree with him – but I thought that was pretty daring for a kid to say – he didn’t think twice about it – probably didn’t think once . Its scary how cheap things are here I bough all the school supplies I could possibly need or want today for under 5 dollars. That included like 8 notebooks, more than 20 pens of multiple colors, a pack of cards and some banana bread. For Li Zi though – its all real money. There are these huge stuffed animals that he was literally going ballistic over running excitedly between his favorites and lamenting their price as the most unaffordable thing ever and cursing the brutal injustice of the world. They are like less than $9 – there is nothing at all he can do to stop me from getting one for him as a gift.
This kid is the shiz-natch, and he makes no sense at all. He loves his two adorable little mice and massive fluffy stuffed animals. He loves the taste of tasteless air sticks and tasteless orange sea creature eggs. He loves silly cartoon shows and he really really really loves his two adorable little mice.
I think he’s freaking awesome. He runs up and down the aisles of the super market at a billion miles per hour with ABSOLUTELY no regard for a thing in his way. He forgets his stuff everywhere, he is entirely focused on the moment and he seizes that moment like it is the greatest thing to happen on earth and it is entirely his. We play with the mice like 20 hours a day and he force feeds me – literally cramming things down my mouth – whatever it is that at that moment suits his fancy for him to eat. After all, if he loves it every sensible being must -- especially his smiling older brother who for the most part only understands what the heck is happening a good 10 minutes later.
He yammers incessantly, but he’s really cute and agrees with me on the fundamentals of life such as – you should run fast, ignore the cold, have fun, play all the time, and never let anyone tell you that what you enjoy is silly. Its how a kid should be.
In other news, I’m drowning in a world that has no one else like me. The thing about learning a language is that the your teacher is the single most qualified individual to understand you with your bad accent and propensity to mess up, because they know the language you are thinking in as you make mistakes. It’s a horrible false sense of security. When you go to talk to the people in the store, or worse, the people in the street – they don’t really have the, time patience, or frame of reference to understand what the heck your saying – On your side of the equation, you lack something as well -- ability – and that makes it hard to understand them when they tell you they don’t quite understand … It’s a process that starts at the bottom and goes down hill from there.
There’s nobody to speak English to … you know? Hardly a chance to breathe. My options are to nervously speak Chinese and deal with being utterly confused on a frequent basis, or to hide in my room and bask in the glory of English words on a page. Maybe I’m crazy, but that’s a little scary no? I have to encourage myself to engage in terrifying confrontations where I am nearly guaranteed to either say something other than what I mean, or be misunderstood anyway. It feels like it’d be nice just to shoot the breeze with a friend. I know and believe that its good for me though – I’m not defeated yet. We’re at day 2 and I still really really like it here.
Today Li Zi (my little brother) taught me how to say “that company went bankrupt” in Chinese, he also asked me many meters tall I was. I said 2 and he said more like 1.7 then like 10 minutes later he goes “You slouch a lot - if you straighten up you’ll be more like 1.9 maybe you really are 2 meters tall HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA” I mean … my parents will totally agree with him – but I thought that was pretty daring for a kid to say – he didn’t think twice about it – probably didn’t think once . Its scary how cheap things are here I bough all the school supplies I could possibly need or want today for under 5 dollars. That included like 8 notebooks, more than 20 pens of multiple colors, a pack of cards and some banana bread. For Li Zi though – its all real money. There are these huge stuffed animals that he was literally going ballistic over running excitedly between his favorites and lamenting their price as the most unaffordable thing ever and cursing the brutal injustice of the world. They are like less than $9 – there is nothing at all he can do to stop me from getting one for him as a gift.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Fish Stomachs
You should all come to China.
Chinese people operate on an entirely different plane. I want so badly to share with you the differences, words do such a poor job, and I’m eager to avoid boring story telling.
To begin, Chinese people move into open spaces much like they are collective wad of silly putty. An open space for our purposes is an elevator, a bus, a street, a room, a hallway, or a line – its only defining characteristic is that it is the place everyone wants to go.
For the most part, everyone wants to go wherever it is that you think you want to go – you are usually wrong, but they beat you to it anyway, so after your 4th try you succeed in getting on the elevator, only to find out you were on the right floor before hand and you get to start the game all over with burning cheeks and a sense of hopelessness renewed.
The best way to put it is that China eats you. It has no room for your fears or cares or quibbles. It is a moving, breathing, mass of great force and tremendous will and you bend to it – no questions asked, no answers given.
I really like it here.
I boarded the plane and helped the 40-something Chinese woman in my row put her bag up in the uselessly-sized compartment. We got to talking in Chinese, and everything was going pretty well – we covered the basics: (dialogue below translated out of Chinese)
Evan: “Hi, how are you”
Woman: “Fine, thank you, thanks for putting my bag up”
Evan: “Are you from Beijing”
Woman: “Yes, I live an hour outside in a city called Tianjin…. You speak Chinese well…”
Evan: “No I don’t, but thank you – this is how long I’ve been studying – do you like Beijing…”
And though I’m missing a few lines, that was about where it stopped being OK. She started talking faster and it became a game of Whack-a-mole or maybe more like trying to catch flying fish with nothing but a baseball mitt. All these words kept popping up and I had to grab on to the ones that made sense and hope that when all the syllables slurred together I was still listening to something that was close to the intended meaning.
To help the conversation along I bobbed my head happily the whole time.
Bad choice.
Apparently she informed me that her reason for coming to America was that her mother was sick. I found this out because as I was picking out intelligible words from the fast-paced super-garble, she stopped suddenly, and in a slow, pronounced, caregul Chinese said “You shouldn’t nod your head if you don’t understand what someone is saying”.
I heard this, and though it didn’t make much sense why she was saying it, I dutifully nodded my head.
Bad choice.
Apparently her message was important, and I was being a dunce. She switched to a pretty good English and said “You shouldn’t nod your head if you don’t understand what someone is saying”. Resisting the urge to nod my head, I listened in English to the error I had committed by smiling and nodding when when she confided in me about her mother.
Hey … you learn from your mistakes?
Save for the fact that I didn’t sleep for any of the 13 hours, and some absolutely beautiful sunsets, dawn-breaks, and sun rises over Greenland, Antarctica, and Ulaanbaatar respectively (I like the flight map feature – its calming) the flight was only semi-eventful.
Apparently my mistake endeared this woman to me. The first moment that she stopped talking was 90 minutes into the flight. I hadn’t glanced at my watch or dared to divert my eyes for fear of committing a 2nd cultural taboo, as she switched between Chinese and English denouncing the Communist Party and her friends that support it, I heard of a whole new China, a China viewed through the lens of resentment.
The stream of high-powered emotionally-charged China critiquing had about as much order and sensibility to it as a sentence that has all its words scrambled. Without any transitions she plugged through every topic she had opinions on, assured I was enthralled and in concurrence on each. To me, it sounded like this:
Fish stomachs, Poverty in the rurals, Building those factories, and GOVERNMENT OFFICALS! Tibet – did I mention in America – oh, my friends don’t under stand and in your food, think of Tibet, so many people, the American dream! communist party and your stomach the beautiful mountains of China fish stomachs poverty Tibet mountains stomach friend AmericapovertycommunistFISH!!!!!!!!! – what is your name?
The last part I answered, TWO HOURS LATER when she finally asked. That was nearly the end, and eventually an 11 hour silence ensued.
My trip out of the airport required all 5 semesters of Chinese and all 6 weeks of China experience not to incur disaster. I enjoyed feeling like I could talk to people, but it’s a crazy world and its just plain tough to speak Chinese. I bought a phone card, figured out how to use the phone, called the program and learned that I was supposed to meet my host at “The Nine Dragons by the White Hole”. I misheard this – it was actually the Nine Dragons on the white wall – such a subtle difference, but it makes people look at you funny when your asking for white holes that don’t exist.
I went to various information desks asking for the nine dragons by the white hole – one finally figured out that it didn’t matter if there was no such thing as a white hole, 9 dragons are 9 dragons and so I learned I had to get on a bus to get to the place with 9 dragons.
I took a bus. An intra-airport bus. For 30 minutes (China does BIG quite well). Then I took an elevator 6 floors within the 3rd terminal and found some dragons – No contact person. I found another phone called another contact and got the whole 9 dragons story all over again. Right before I hung up – I realized it they were saying something about a wall and caught site of something light colored and marble-looking in the distance. An hour and a half after landing – all was well.
My host family is awesome. The dad is traveling far away for work. The 12 year old boy is totally awesome, super cute, and really friendly – I think I have a new Chinese best bud. The internet doesn’t work. My family knows no English. I haven’t eaten. I’m sort of exhausted, but sort of high on the trip, and high on the country. I love China – you should really come visit … its an experience like no other.
Chinese people operate on an entirely different plane. I want so badly to share with you the differences, words do such a poor job, and I’m eager to avoid boring story telling.
To begin, Chinese people move into open spaces much like they are collective wad of silly putty. An open space for our purposes is an elevator, a bus, a street, a room, a hallway, or a line – its only defining characteristic is that it is the place everyone wants to go.
For the most part, everyone wants to go wherever it is that you think you want to go – you are usually wrong, but they beat you to it anyway, so after your 4th try you succeed in getting on the elevator, only to find out you were on the right floor before hand and you get to start the game all over with burning cheeks and a sense of hopelessness renewed.
The best way to put it is that China eats you. It has no room for your fears or cares or quibbles. It is a moving, breathing, mass of great force and tremendous will and you bend to it – no questions asked, no answers given.
I really like it here.
I boarded the plane and helped the 40-something Chinese woman in my row put her bag up in the uselessly-sized compartment. We got to talking in Chinese, and everything was going pretty well – we covered the basics: (dialogue below translated out of Chinese)
Evan: “Hi, how are you”
Woman: “Fine, thank you, thanks for putting my bag up”
Evan: “Are you from Beijing”
Woman: “Yes, I live an hour outside in a city called Tianjin…. You speak Chinese well…”
Evan: “No I don’t, but thank you – this is how long I’ve been studying – do you like Beijing…”
And though I’m missing a few lines, that was about where it stopped being OK. She started talking faster and it became a game of Whack-a-mole or maybe more like trying to catch flying fish with nothing but a baseball mitt. All these words kept popping up and I had to grab on to the ones that made sense and hope that when all the syllables slurred together I was still listening to something that was close to the intended meaning.
To help the conversation along I bobbed my head happily the whole time.
Bad choice.
Apparently she informed me that her reason for coming to America was that her mother was sick. I found this out because as I was picking out intelligible words from the fast-paced super-garble, she stopped suddenly, and in a slow, pronounced, caregul Chinese said “You shouldn’t nod your head if you don’t understand what someone is saying”.
I heard this, and though it didn’t make much sense why she was saying it, I dutifully nodded my head.
Bad choice.
Apparently her message was important, and I was being a dunce. She switched to a pretty good English and said “You shouldn’t nod your head if you don’t understand what someone is saying”. Resisting the urge to nod my head, I listened in English to the error I had committed by smiling and nodding when when she confided in me about her mother.
Hey … you learn from your mistakes?
Save for the fact that I didn’t sleep for any of the 13 hours, and some absolutely beautiful sunsets, dawn-breaks, and sun rises over Greenland, Antarctica, and Ulaanbaatar respectively (I like the flight map feature – its calming) the flight was only semi-eventful.
Apparently my mistake endeared this woman to me. The first moment that she stopped talking was 90 minutes into the flight. I hadn’t glanced at my watch or dared to divert my eyes for fear of committing a 2nd cultural taboo, as she switched between Chinese and English denouncing the Communist Party and her friends that support it, I heard of a whole new China, a China viewed through the lens of resentment.
The stream of high-powered emotionally-charged China critiquing had about as much order and sensibility to it as a sentence that has all its words scrambled. Without any transitions she plugged through every topic she had opinions on, assured I was enthralled and in concurrence on each. To me, it sounded like this:
Fish stomachs, Poverty in the rurals, Building those factories, and GOVERNMENT OFFICALS! Tibet – did I mention in America – oh, my friends don’t under stand and in your food, think of Tibet, so many people, the American dream! communist party and your stomach the beautiful mountains of China fish stomachs poverty Tibet mountains stomach friend AmericapovertycommunistFISH!!!!!!!!! – what is your name?
The last part I answered, TWO HOURS LATER when she finally asked. That was nearly the end, and eventually an 11 hour silence ensued.
My trip out of the airport required all 5 semesters of Chinese and all 6 weeks of China experience not to incur disaster. I enjoyed feeling like I could talk to people, but it’s a crazy world and its just plain tough to speak Chinese. I bought a phone card, figured out how to use the phone, called the program and learned that I was supposed to meet my host at “The Nine Dragons by the White Hole”. I misheard this – it was actually the Nine Dragons on the white wall – such a subtle difference, but it makes people look at you funny when your asking for white holes that don’t exist.
I went to various information desks asking for the nine dragons by the white hole – one finally figured out that it didn’t matter if there was no such thing as a white hole, 9 dragons are 9 dragons and so I learned I had to get on a bus to get to the place with 9 dragons.
I took a bus. An intra-airport bus. For 30 minutes (China does BIG quite well). Then I took an elevator 6 floors within the 3rd terminal and found some dragons – No contact person. I found another phone called another contact and got the whole 9 dragons story all over again. Right before I hung up – I realized it they were saying something about a wall and caught site of something light colored and marble-looking in the distance. An hour and a half after landing – all was well.
My host family is awesome. The dad is traveling far away for work. The 12 year old boy is totally awesome, super cute, and really friendly – I think I have a new Chinese best bud. The internet doesn’t work. My family knows no English. I haven’t eaten. I’m sort of exhausted, but sort of high on the trip, and high on the country. I love China – you should really come visit … its an experience like no other.
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