The Three Gorges

I think my timing is off. We didn’t go through the first gorge after we saw the hell temple. After the hell temple, we didn’t do a whole lot. We had dinner, which was a whole issue in itself. While breakfast and lunch were buffets, dinner was served in the style we have been accustomed to for the last month: dishes in the center, share with your table mates. This concept wasn’t really clear to the other seven people at our table. They were ravenous and greedy. Oh, well. We just kind of laughed at them and watched them scrambling to pull a new dish close and shovel as much as possible onto their tiny plate. Jeez…

Anyway, the next day I opted for an optional tour, which was a mistake. I was too tired at my 6:20 wake up call and sort of zombied through the tour, sitting and nodding off at every opportunity. Not money well spent. When we arrived back on the boat, we went through the first gorge. It was really magnificent, though the fog sometimes obscures my photography:

I was still feeling very tired, so before the second gorge I went to take a nap. Another mistake, as I slept through the second gorge. There are no pictures from any of our group, as Freddie lost her camera in Xi’an and Anne’s died right before we passed through. Oh, well. In the afternoon we had a very interesting excursion. We boarded a ferry and moved up a tributary for an hour. The water and air were exponentially cleaner.

You may notice a ring of dead fauna around the bottom of the mountainsides. This is where the water level was last year (naturally) due to heavy rains. After a while, we passed a most mysterious “hanging coffin.” It is very high up a mountain and no one is sure how ancient peoples got them up there.

at which time we transfered to small “pea pod” boats, which were manned by a variety of local men. There were four paddlers, three in front and one in back, and two “captains,” one on each end, helping to steer.

The oldest was in his 70s, the youngest in his teens. After paddling us upstream for a while, it became very shallow. They got out of the boat and pulled our boats using ropes from dry land. I can’t say I was completely comfortable with this. They are very strong but very skinny, which makes me think they are not well nourished. I suppose, though, that this is their job… I always feel rather awkward in situations where a person is “serving” me, much less dragging my large American bum up a river. Anyway, here they are. I couldn’t whittle down my collection of photographs any further:

Once again, I must wrap up before finishing. I am days and days behind and I am beginning to think I will not catch up until I return home.

I only hope that everything doesn’t become distorted and blend together in my memory. I will have to rely on photographs and the notes I make at night to battle this inevitability.

Oh! I wanted to share the blog of the most adventurous couple! They have been traveling the world since April, I met them on the river cruise. Check it out:

http://realtravel.com/member-m2041942-wandering_spaulls.html

as always, well wishes and love. And please prepare diligently for my return.

Exhaustion

I have had a very overwhelming month and my body is starting to give up on me. On the rare occasion that I sleep enough, it does nothing to lift the exhaustion. My hands are falling apart and I need to see a dentist about my fixed tooth as soon as possible, as I fear it won’t hold much longer (though it should and if you are Eric or anything like him you will claim any ailment I complain of is completely psychosomatic).

But aside from my bitching, things are amazing. On the evening of August 7th I finished Harry Potter. It was satisfying, but a bit too ideal, I think. I thought I had left A Clockwork Orange but I found it and finished that, as well. Also, I’ve finished Possible Side Effects by Augusten Borroughs. Both of those were very good. The former made me cringe and think, the latter made me laugh out loud, a lot.

The morning of the 8th we flew into Chongqing extremely early. After being picked up from the airport, it became clear that there was no plan for the many hours until we would be able to board our boat. We certainly made the best of it, attending the Three Gorges Museum. It was rather fantastic. We learned about the history of the three gorges and Chongqing, as well as Chinese painting and poetry. I am very glad our guide was there, as there was very little information about any of the exhibits (in any language).

After dinner, we boarded our boat for a three days cruise down the Yangtze(Changjiang) river. After unpacking and walking around the boat, I settled in at the lobby bar and starting talking to whomever was present. I realize, now, that English truly is the universal language. Every single person on that ship spoke either English, Chinese or both. There were more people from non-English speaking countries than those from the opposite, but English the common language of all foreigners and staff on the boat.

I had a couple beers and talked to the bartenders. One asked me to explain a few words from an American magazine. One was “quartile” and another, which was harder to describe simply, was “egalitarianism.” I said “equality for everyone,” but I don’t think this really envelopes the entire concept… Oh, well. I went to bed rather early.

On the 9th we had a “shore excursion” to a place called “Ghost City.” When we got off the boat, as with everywhere that tourists may be, there were a barrage of people begging us to buy their wares. There was a sort of makeshift shelter, there, housing a toddler. He was very cute and ran out to point at us and yell rather gleefully to his mother:

The “City” was a series of temples dedicated to Taoist hell and all the demons and torture contained within. See:

(Alcoholic demon)

(Demon for cheaters)

(I think this one is for anger)

(I have no idea about this one, but it is rather weird, I think)

After the demons, we saw the torture! The above statues were larger than life, the ones below were about 1/2-1/4 of life size:

Eerie, right?? It was also really beautiful, though. Below is a set of three bridges. The middle one is to hell, the right is “silver” for health and the left is “gold” for wealth. On the way in, one must go through the middle, on the way out one can choose a side. I chose silver.

We re boarded the boat and were soon passing through the first gorge, but these pictures are still uploading, so I fear I must stop here and add to this in the morning and perhaps the evening, tomorrow. Whenever I get the chance.

I am in Shanghai. We are being driven to a nearby city and back tomorrow and then, the next day, returning to Beijing after touring Shanghai in the morning. The next day we fly to DC and I come home to FL the next day… Tuesday 8/14.

love and well wishes.

Dear Friends and Family

I took many pictures today but this connection is too slow to upload anything. I just wanted to say I am safe and having a good time, but also anxiously awaiting Tuesday.

I will write a blog with pictures tonight and post it when I have a faster connection, probably Friday in Shanghai.

Love, Jamie

Dear Panda Advocate

Dear Panda Advocate,

Thank you for your kind retort. I agree completely with what you are saying, you misunderstand my point. No, I am not impressed by pandas, really, but that does not mean that I think they are less worthy of life. I am not so anthropocentric. They are, no doubt, wondeful in their own panda way that I do not recognize. However, after going to this panda preserve, it became quite clear to me that human beings are not the only reason that pandas are going extint. Yes, we are taking their habitat for urbanization and tea farming, and this is unfortnuate. It does become our responsibility to stop and reverse this practice. My point is that this is not the only reason pandas are having problems! Their lifestyle is such that natural selection is killing off their species. Even when a male and female find one another while the female is in estrus, they have problems figuring out what goes where. If they do, the chance of pregnancy is very low. This is NOT due to human beings and so I believe we should not be knocking them unconscious so we can extract sperm, refine it and then artificially inseminate a female panda after doing a paternity test to eliminate inbreeding! I feel that this is “messing with nature” just as much as destorying their habitat. There were nearly 100 pandas at this site, and I heard nothing of reentering them or their offspring into the wild. They are unnaturally creating more pandas just to have them around, not to restock the Chinese countryside with them. I agree that we should do our best to not destory the panda and to undo any damage done, but the practices at this place seemed creepy and unnatural. I hope you better understand where I am coming from. I appreciate and respect all animals and I think they have just as much a right to live as we do. My only apprehension is stopping a natural extinction because we think the animal is cute. How is it different from turning a blind eye to an extermination because we think the animal is a nusance?

Please reply,
Jamie

Oh, my analytical mind…

Yesterday we saw the Terracotta warriors. It was overwhelming. There are over 8,000 terracotta officers, calvary men (with horses), archers and infantry men that were buried in 210BC! There are three pits. No two of the soldiers or horses are the same: there were no molds, they were done by hand. It is truly a wonder. And archaeologically, very exciting. There was no record of this army before it was stumbled upon by a couple of farmers digging a well in the 1970s.

I cannot believe that this was done over 2200 years ago. For example, a cross bow trigger (sorry for the low quality of the photograph):

Apparently, the pits serve public interest in the day and the archaeologists work in the evenings.  In the back of pit one was their area to reassemble the destroyed figures:

Such a complex and wondrous puzzle!  It reminds me, morbidly, of my forensic anthropology class, where Dr. Kimmerly talked of reassembling skeletons found in mass graves.  Putting all the hands in one place, the skulls in another… working tediously to make thousands of parts into hundreds of wholes.

Leaving the warriors, we visited a bell tower.  It stands directly in the center of Xi’an, and was even moved once to maintain this when the city’s layout changed.   The view from the top shows how Xi’an keeps to its deep historic roots in their modern architecture:

We had eaten a late lunch and decided to wander in the nearby Muslim Quarter before dinner.  The roads twisted like a labyrinth, the sky overhead obstructed by canopies over the shops which stood in all empty space, spilling on top of each other and into the street, where no cars could pass.  Is that a run on sentence?  Anyway, I found a mysterious object that I plan to give to my most mysterious friend for use in a cryptic plan that he gave to me in the past.  I doubt he has any clue what I mean, which makes the whole mess quite delightful.  Our journey through the maze of alleys ended at a mosque.  It was beautiful but strange, to see the blending of two distinct cultures.

We were there when one of the day’s prayers commenced, and it was interesting to see the Chinese men all bustling to the structure at the back of the complex, throwing off their shoes and rushing to meet the other worshipers.  All white hats and strange, song like chants, they prostrated, knelt, stood, and laid down again.

On the way back out of the area and to our van/dinner, we passed a small tea shop.  Anne collects teapots so we went inside and the apparent owners started pouring us cup after cup of delicious tea.  I am grateful that Qingliang bought some, I would have felt awful leaving without a purchase, but I simply don’t need anymore tea!

(A man steeps yet another cup of tea for our enjoyment)

Dinner was fabulous, the best I’ve had since arriving in China.  It was called “hot pot” and was rather like fodue.  Except instead of oil, we cooked our own meats and vegetables in boiling water.

It was delicious, I wish I could describe it!  The woman in the front in Qingliang, she was great.

So this morning we arose at 5:30 and were on another plane, bound for Chengdu, by 7:30am.  We came to Chengdu for one night, in order to go to their famous panda preserve.  We saw so many pandas!! Learning about their habits, I grow doubtful that their low numbers are due solely, or even mostly, to human beings.  They live completely solitary lives, save one time a year when they may or may not mate.  When they do, it hardly ever works.  When it does work, they eat freaking bamboo!  They can only get 20% of it as nutrition, so their life LITERALLY consists of eating as much bamboo as possible, and trying not to move too much.  I don’t understand.  I have no attraction to these creatures except that they are cute.  They are not noble or intelligent or amazing… they are stupid.  I feel it is rather ridiculous to go through so much trouble to save a species that has no interest in saving itself.  These things happen, extinction.  If it is our fault we should do our best to stop it, but I am apt to believe that this is not the case, and altering nature to STOP extinction seems just as wrong as altering it to cause it.  Is this evil?  My point is cold and scientific, I know. Sorry.  But they are also severely adorable, which makes me want to save them all.  Does that make it the right thing to do?

(baby panda– illegal picture.  I turned off the flash.)

(nap time, wherever it happens)

(playful fighting)

(Group nap– how they get nonsocial creatures who are biologically programmed to have their own territory to sleep like this is beyond me.  But I like to look at it!)

After the pandas (which I did enjoy, I am just less impressed with their lifestyle and admirable qualities than I thought I would be), we had dinner and returned to the hotel.  We were all falling asleep on the way home, and it is time.  Tomorrow we fly to Chongqing to start our river cruise.  This should be most relaxing and I am intensely looking forward to it.

I am 70 pages from finishing Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows and I can barely bring myself to look at the book.   I can see what is going to happen, basically.  One can never be sure with this, though.  Rowling’s writing style is decent but her plot is genius, I love it.  You start to think you know what is going to happen and then it does happen but not nearly how you thought it would.  It is so difficult to finish a series, really.  I was thinking about it, and I love British series.  Narnia, Hitchhikers’ Guide…   When I finish them I feel sad for a week.  I will have to do it, though.  Right now.

Goodnight, and wish me luck, please.

Xi’an likes my hair

Yesterday was unprecedentedly relaxing. I think we needed it.

We left Wen Hui middle school at 5:30a.m. The night before, Steve and I walked up to the basement o’ computers and he drank pijiu while I wrote an involved e-mail. On the walk home we realized that was it for our Chinese adventures and I wondered if we’d ever see each other again. You become friends with some one rather quickly when you get along and then you do pretty much everything together for three weeks. So, good-bye China Buddy. Come to Florida some time.

So Anne, Freddie and I were up at 5. It was a quick, uneventful flight and we met up with our tour guide at the airport in Xi’an. She told us her English name is Jennifer, but she much prefers her Chinese name, Qingliang, because it she likes the meaning, “pure lotus.” I suppose she has taken the image of a flower that springs from the mud but never gets dirty as her own. I don’t mind calling her by her real name, I wish more people would ask me to.

Our driver was exceptionally slow and became lost a few times on the way to our hotel. In fact he became lost a few times on the way to everywhere, so Qingliang says we will have a new driver today. We made it to the hotel, and we are truly amazed.

Pillows

Internet access in the room

A shower curtain

When you drop something on the beds, the object bounces back up. We are living in luxury, which excites us.

(The three of us in front of our hotel)

After we dropped our stuff off, we went to lunch at a very touristy buffet. I was glad to eat, but it was nowhere near authentic. I grabbed a piece of sushi with a red center. I know, Japanese, whatever. I take it, thinking it has tuna in it. Nope: ham. A piece of ham sushi…. gross!

There was a stand where men made noodles, though, and that was awesome. They pulled and twisted the dough until it was in little strings, and then boiled it for about one minute to make wonderful little noodles.

After we ate, everyone went to the rest room. Standing in the hand washing area, I pulled my hair out of its usual ponytail, kind of shook it out upside down, and began putting it back up. Qingliang said “I love your hair. It is very shiny.” I thanked her and finished my ritual.

“Can I touch it?” She wants to touch my hair? I guess so, yeah. I thought it was very odd. She says it is soft. Perhaps it isn’t odd to want to touch a near stranger’s hair, here. I don’t know.

We went, then, to the Wild Goose Pagoda.

It was built 1,300 years ago to represent a story in which a vegetarian Buddhist is wondering why they can’t eat meat. A fellow monk replies that Buddha would give them meat if they were to eat it, but they shouldn’t kill. A goose flew out of the sky and died in front of them, bowing. Apparently Buddha became the goose and offered himself to the monks. This is what I understood.

Xuanzang was a monk at this temple. He wanted to help “fix” Chinese Buddhism, as they did not have texts written in Chinese, it was mostly taught by word of mouth. So he went to India without the blessing or help of the emperor. It must have been very difficult, as they said he went basically alone on his horse. It took him years. once there, he spent 17 years in India and translated many texts into Chinese from Sanskrit. This has had a huge positive impact on not only Chinese Buddhism, but on Buddhism everywhere. Many Indian original texts have been lost, but their Chinese counterparts exist, still. Here is Xuanzang:

We walked around and took pictures. A woman walked up and asked, in very broken English, if she could take a picture with me and her daughter. I obliged, with confusion, and had Qingliang take one for me, too, for good measure:

Our guide says this happened because of my hair. Look at the picture: my hair isn’t looking so great. So strange.

Here are some more pictures from the temple:

(The Buddha meditates)

(Happy Buddha! His smile is for happiness and (this I had never heard) his big belly holds things that would upset him. His big belly is for tolerance.)

(Many people write their wishes and leave them here. I’m not sure of the point.)

We left the temple and went to the City Wall. It is 600 years old and encloses a small part of the city, presumably what was the most important part of it 600 years ago. After the wall, we got massages. Yes, massages. It was delightful, though unlike any I’ve had before. Sometimes I felt like I was being hit. Punched and slapped. It was nice, though, and inexpensive. About $20, US.

We went to a show, then, and dinner. The show was fantastic and showed dancing and music from the Tang Dynasty (618-907AD). I’m looking at a sheet of the dynasties, and the oldest known is the Xia Dynasty, which lasted from 2100-1600BC!! It is amazing how old China, and indeed Xi’an, is.

(Dancing in the style of the Tang Dynasty)

There was live music, as well. It was really well done.

Dinner was mostly steamed dumplings, which were delicious. Curiously, and apparently traditionally, some of the dumplings are formed into the shape of what is inside them. Examples:

(Fish dumplings in the foreground)

(Duck dumplings!)

Well, we are leaving for the Terracotta Warriors in ten minutes and I still have to brush my teeth. It was beautiful, I slept in until NINE AM!!! I needed it, I feel much more functional than I have since I fell ill.

By the way, I finished Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell and I am about 200 pages into Potter. I suppose I shouldn’t mention how it is going as not to destroy anyone.

Love, Jamie

Three days worth…

Well, I am going to try to recap the past three days, but I make no promises regarding legnth.

7/31:

After school, we had the school make our lunch to go and headed the Ming Tombs.  As I  mentioned, we obtained a ride and a guide.  We had a bus!  For seven people!  Granted, not a huge bus but a bus all the same.  So I had the room I wanted to lay down and read as much as possible.  Our guide had the same name as I have.  He inquired where we were from and when I answered “Florida,” he became quite excited.

“Tampa?” He asked,

“How did you know??”

Apparently the only Americans he knows well live in Tampa and he plans to visit there in the winter.  “Small world!” he exclaims.

So we went to the Tombs, but really it was a misnomer in this case.  We did go to where a tomb is, but it hasn’t been opened (which is common practice in archaeology– leave something to be excavated once more sophisitcated techniques and technology have been developed).    We did see where the entrance of the tomb was probably hidden, but mostly it was buildings and a sort of small museum with artifacts from a different tomb.  The entrance was here:

The most interesting thing, I thought, was a gate that seperates ying from yang.  When walking through it on the way out we had to yell out “I am coming  back to life!” in Mandarin so that our souls wouldn’t be left behind.  How delightfully creepy!

The bricks on some of the buildings had marks from the craftsperson, which showed them to be dated from the 1400s (though I can’t read it…):

Upon reentering our bus, Jamie said it was time to go home.  I am glad that the members of our group that had read about the Tombs beforehand objected to this.  They demanded we see the “stone animals,” which we did.  It was much more marvelous. 

 On the way home, we drove by the future Olympic Stadium, which people call “The Bird Nest:”

We had dinner out and went home to prepare for the next day. 

 8/01

This was our last day of teaching.  Here are some pictures of my class:

(Everyone.  Lisa, my translator, is standing to the far right.)

(In the front are my two Lilys, who are both very bright.  I am holding up Jerry (AKA DOOM) because he wasn’t visible.)

Here are two pictures of me looking quite teacherly on previous days (A school employee took pictures randomly and gave us a CD of them yesterday).  I also look very tired, I think:

 After a dragging TWO HOUR assembly where my kids sang “Do Re Me” wonderfully (to me, who knows how it really sounded…), Anne and I went back to the Silk Market in search of The Yellow Dress.  I found it but, depressingly, it didn’t fit.  No amount of weight loss would ever make it fit.  So I searched for another yellow dress but it truly seemed to be the only one in the huge building.  So I bought a cream and brown silk dress instead.

We went back to the school for a quick dinner before heading to the Peking Opera.  I wish that I could say I enjoyed it, but honestly it was terrible.  Afterwards, I wondered outloud, “What kind of analogy can I use to describe this?”  Steve suggested “chewing on tinfoil” but I find that “seeing a terrible rock band” is more apt.

It wasn’t that the Peking Opera was awful, it was that it had no soul.  It was the echo of something that could have been great.  The costumes were dirty looking, the make up was slightly sloppy, the music was too loud and the stage was unimpressive.  The acting was all right, but not stellar.  It was just a lack luster performance of a beautiful tradition.

I don’t usually go for picutures that aren’t clear and that didn’t come out how they should have, but this is a pretty cool picture of the opera:

After the Opera, it was raining quite vigorously.  I got a cab and put four people inside, with the thought that another would come just as easily.  How wrong I was.  Steve, Anne and I walked in the rain for half an hour and no one would stop.  They were either full, off duty or just didn’t want to take foriegners.  Once we got in a car and the driver kicked us out, despite my pleadings and pointings to the terrible weather, because he didn’t want to make a u-turn.  Finally, we were on our way and made it home without further incident.  My new dress, sadly, was soaked.  It will have to be dry cleaned before I can wear it again.

When we got home, my “little buddy” was waiting.  No, not Karma.  A different little budy.  He speaks no English so I learned only today that his name is Mr. Pung.   He opens the door to the room with the computer in the evenings.  I don’t use it in the evenings, but I set it up so others can Skype, so I am the one he finds when he is ready to open the door.  He wasn’t waiting to let me into that room, though, as it was quite late.  Kathy was locked out and I guess they both assumed that I would be able to translate their thoughts and needs, some how.  It turns out Mr. Pung doesn’t have an extra key to their room.  In order to get in, Steve (much to his grandmother’s dismay) became Spiderman temporarily and climbed up a pipe, onto a roof, swung over to Kathy’s balcony, hopped the railing and climbed in through the bathroom window.  A confused Mr. Pung arrived with an arm full of wrenches. 

8/02

Today we went to the Summer Palace.  It is not a palace at all, but a garden and a retreat for the royalty of yesteryear.  It was so beautiful, I can hardly describe it.

(A ceiling in a pavilion)

(The Long Corridor’s ceiling.)

We took a boat ride:

The most spledorous thing I think I have ever seen was ”The Garden of Harmonious Pleasure.”  How aptly named!  It has an overwhelmingly romantic air and it made me feel a little sad.

There was a man playing a flute and the sound of the creek.  The smell was sweet and powerful.  I wish I could have sat there all day…

In the course of my trip, I have become slightly obsessed with the imagery of the phoenix.  It is the symbol of the Empress (as the Emperor is the dragon).  I love everything the bird is.  Graceful, powerful and able to become pure and perfect again under any circumstance.  So, here she is:

Enchanting. 

After the park, we were quite starving.  Breakfast was at 7:30 (which we considered a nice sleep in) and we didn’t have lunch until after 4:00.  It was worth the wait and, for the first time, we finished nearly every dish on the table.  Duck, pumpkin, two kinds of shrimp, chicken, soup, fried rice (the first time I saw any!), squid, libations and things I am sure I have temporarily forgotten.

We had dinner within an hour of returning home, and no one (except Mackenzie and Steve) ate much.  Steve and I set off after that to where I am now, a sort of warehouse full of rows and rows of computers.  On the other side of a partition and door is a pool hall.  The fee is 3 Yuan per hour!  Less than $.50!!!

Alas, my 9 Yuan is running out and my story is finished.  I will update as soon as I have the chance.

Love!  Well wishes!

absence…

I am allowed to use the computer for another three or so minutes. I don’t know if I’ll get to use it again until I make it to America… That is 9 days (I think?)  This is not desirable because I took wonderful pictures and hilarious videos yesterday that I would like to share.  Also, I would like to call my parents before I can’t anymore and would like to hear a certain life story from a certain recently beardless gentleman.

I will do my best to get back here tomorrow or the next day.  If I don’t, love and well wishes to everyone and I look forward to hugs and stories upon my arrival.

Problems have solutions (Part II)

I got another odd search term that brings my page up as the number two search result on google. This one is so mysterious, I can’t stop wondering what the person was feeling or thinking when they searched for it… And since they navigated to my page in their results, whether they enjoyed my site and if it helped them at all. The search was:

“the time my heart not to stop to ache”

The most wonderful thing happened this morning. Usually Anne wakes me up at 6:00, but today she overslept and alerted me of the time at 6:30. As is “par for the course” I half slept for another 20 minutes or so. When I finally arose, still in my PJs, Freddie calls out to me from her room across the hall.

“Jamie, come here for a moment. I have a gift for you!”

A gift? What could it be. When I saw it I nearly cried. I hugged her and could scarcely bring myself to let go. I danced and I hugged her again. What was it?

IT WAS HARRY FREAKING POTTER’S NEW BOOK!!!!

I am not entirely sure where she got it, but it is without a doubt the official verson. FIRST EDITION! YES! YES!

I can’t contain my excitement, really. However, this gift brings its own small set of problems. Specifically, what to do of the most interesting Misters Norrell and Strange:

I am sufficiently engrossed in their story, but I am only halfway done! It is 1000 pages! It will take days to finish it. It is not a difficult read and while it does carry you well through the plot, it does not flow easily and I find myself having to take breaks when I become frustrated with stunted action.

You may be wondering why this is so inconvenient for me. I am quite compulsive about the way I read and I am extremely torn between two very important practices.

1. Finish one novel before starting another.

2. Read Harry Potter as soon as it comes out.

I am already a week late on Harry. I don’t even know if I will be able to enjoy the conclusion of Mr. Norrel’s quarrel with Mr. Strange and whether the man with the thistle-down hair is really the Raven King if I know that Harry is waiting… God this is awful. I am in distress.

My solution must be to finish Ms. Clarke’s book with haste and then try my best to remember that I must pay attention to my new destinations in China even though I have important fiction to absorb. I have been waiting for this day since about three days after the 6th Potter book came out (which is when I finished it).

I just realized that I cannot remember the last novel I read that has no element of fantasy… Nothing I read has the slightest possibility of happening. Before Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrel (which is about two magicians), I read House of Leaves (I feel like there must be something between them, but I cannot think of it) Before that, I read Chuck Palahniuk’s new book about the future and traveling through time by participating in not so accidental but rather disastrous traffic accidents. I truly believe the last realistic fiction I read was A Moveable Feast by Hemingway, and that was for a class semester before last (though it was a very good book). Actually, that isn’t even fiction.. he wrote it about his life in Paris!! I started A Clockwork Orange but I forgot it. Although it is about the future, it is possible, I suppose..

I’m sorry I am rambling about books. I know it is is not the most interesting topic to most, but I am quite excited and upset about fiction at the moment.

THE TOPIC AT HAND:

I went to the market again, yesterday, but it was a different one. It was nicer and my heart ached that I could not afford the prettiest yellow dress I have ever seen. I felt as if it were my dress and they stole it from me. Even Steve admitted it was a very nice yellow dress.

When we first arrived, I was struck by the hilarity of the following two signs:

(I wonder what numbers eight and nine were that they weren’t translated…)

About the second sign:

After I took the picture, a girl asked if it was incorrectly written. I told her no, it is in perfect English. It is just a strange sign to see indoors as Americans consider it a given that you should not spit inside.

There is no shame in clearing your throat here. And I don’t mean a little “ahem.” People loudly bring phlegm and spit from their throats and chests. Sometimes I feel as if they are over exaggerating because these are not sounds I would ever make in private, much less in an office or restaurant. I wish I could demonstrate, but onomatopoeias fail me completely on this one.

The market was wonderful and I now have more gifts than I have people to give them to. I know I will find myself unprepared upon my return, though.

When it was time to leave, Freddie went to meet her brother in law who had just arrived in Beijing, and Anne decided to stay. I found myself out of money and having abused my credit card sufficiently for one day, so I went with Kathy and her grandchildren and the four of us crammed into a cab. We showed the driver the address of our school and off we went. Then he didn’t know where to go and started asking for directions. He was SO ANGRY that we didn’t know exactly where to go. It is quite confusing once you get near the school. You must cross a bridge, cross another going over the same river in the other direction and then pass through two round abouts. He started yelling at us in Mandarin and Steve, in the front seat, started yelling back “WHY DID YOU AGREE TO TAKE US IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHERE IT IS!?” I found the situation to be very funny. So much yelling, but not a word of it understood by the intended parties. We finally got across that we would prefer to be dropped off where we were and walk back (which can be done by a much more direct route).

This afternoon we are going to the Ming Tombs, which, despite my grumbling last night, I am very exited about. Apparently we are taking a small bus just for us so I will have opportunity on the 1.5-2 hour drive to put a dent in either my regretfully large book or my sleep needs.

Freddie, Anne and I are starting to worry about our travel arrangements for next week. The travel agency is supposed to bring our Beijing>Xian ticket to our school, but we haven’t received it and are not even sure of what time our flight leaves on Saturday!  This is not a good thing.  I just tried to call their number in Shanghai but I had very little success which may be due to my mild dyslexia which becomes slightly more severe with lack of sleep and an increase in stress (This always works out so well for me during exam week.  Note the sarcasm, please.).

I have tried to teach my class The Bear Song, to no avail. They simply don’t like it. So back to Do Re Me it is. Thank you to my father for emailing me a version of The Bear Song that contains no grammatical oddities, references to guns or religion and still keeps the complete song in all its campy splendor. I regret that I cannot use it.

So I conclude with a very important inquiry regarding differences between cultures. It brings into question the entire concept of cultural relativity (which I may be so bold as to say an entire subfield of my discipline depends on for survival) :

How could anyone not enjoy The Bear Song?

Annoyed

Today marks the third time I have been told I owe money to some one for something that I wasn’t consulted on.  And once again, the plans have been finalized and I have little choice but to pay and attend.  This time it is the Peking Opera.  Not that I don’t want to see it… I was simply under the impression that the school was taking us.  Suddenly I am being asked for 140 Yuan for a ticket that has been purchased on my behalf.  Granted, it is only $20, but is quite nearly my very last $20.  I had to give up $60 (USD) earlier today in order to go on a tour of the Ming Tombs.  Once again this is something I want to do, but I was not consulted about the schedule or pricing, simply told how much to pay and when to show up where.

I am quite miffed about this.  I thoroughly appreciate being consulted about what I’d like to do with my money before it is promised to people without my knowing.  I might not have decided to attend the Opera (which I will understand scarcely a word of) if I had known I had to pay to go.  I might have liked to participate in deciding which tour and what transportation to take to the Ming Tombs.   It isn’t that the wrong decisions were necessarily made on my behalf, it is that they were made at all.  Okay, I am done with my complaining.

I am going to write about what I did today and post pictures tomorrow morning to get myself back on my regular blogging schedule.  I leave Beijing in four days and I do not expect any internet access until I reach Washington D.C. a week later.  My plan is to write and archive pictures every evening using my laptop and then post it all in the correct order once I arrive home.  It is sure to be quite an adventure.

This should be slightly more interesting.

Before I say anything else: I was just browsing my blog stats. One part tells me how people navigated to my page (through a link or search engine). Apparently, I am on the first page of google search results for the phrase “drop in sunscreen sales volume.” I find that extremely hilarious.

Joe: No food goes to waste. We never finish, but the people who work at the restaurant (and the kitchen workers at the school) take home left overs. They start boxing it up for themselves as soon as we stand up. I don’t know if there is a hip-hop “culture” per say, but a lot of the bars the other night were playing hip hop. I haven’t seen evidence that this pervades any part of Chinese culture besides music at bars.

I am getting better, still, but I believe my healing process is being hindered by the construction at the school or, more specifically, the dust that it produces:

Here are some pictures from Steve’s and my night out:

The latin band, singing La Bamba:

(Where is the Chinese?? This is the bar we ended up at.)

(A fellow Americano!)

This afternoon Anne, Freddie and I went to a student’s house. His name is Jerry, but he isn’t my Jerry. The home was disappointingly unsurprising. It was a three story town house (plus basement) that I would have been impressed with in America. The only hint that it wasn’t an American household was the ever present stuffed animals, pictures and paper cuttings of pigs (it is the year of the pig) and the altar.

Oh, and here is my class! We have to perform the last day (!?!?). One girl suggested “Do Re Me.” They seem to know it. Any other suggestions are appreciated.

Steve awaits the computer, so I leave you.

no pics!?

Due to a technical problem (I.E. my stupidity), I have no pictures to share today.  I do have a few stories:

The night before last Steve and I went out to a strip of bars where college aged kids gather to drink and listen to live music.  All kinds of alcohol were 20x more expenisve in bars than in stores, but we made it happen.  There was a latin “band” (none of them played instruments, they just sang) in one bar (which I will add a video of to this post tonight or tomorrow) who were very talented.  I made friends with the bartender there, and we met another American from Washington, D.C.  He claimed to be 21, even showing me his ID, but he looked like he was in his mid 30s.  I guess one would have no reason to bring a fake ID claming to be younger to China, but it was really hard to believe.  I exchanged email addresses with the bartender.  The night ended with a very amusing cab ride in which Steve and I shouted Chinese phrases at the driver (which had no relation to our needs in the cab) which made him laugh.  We couldn’t stop laughing, and I think it was slightly infectious.

YO JI SHIR

PIJIU!

NI JIAO SHENME MINGZI!?

SIGUA!!!

 I went to sleep immediately upon returning home.  I woke up five hours later unable to breathe.  I was having an asthma attack, a real one.  My family, I’m sure, remembers when Dad dissasembled the clothes dryer in Parkland and the dust made my breathing nearly impossible, until I had to be attended to by a doctor.  The sound of my wheezing was worse than that, and my breathing was almost as labored.  I used the yellow inhaler (albuteral) and coughed up a lot of nasty looking stuff and eventually came to a point where I was no longer afraid.  I was quite alarmed when I awoke, though.

I still haven’t been to Jerry’s, and it seems like I may not.  Today should have been the day, but when I asked him he said “It is very far from here.” And I’m unsure of how to interpret this…

 Either way I am going to a home this afternoon.  If I do not go with Jerry, I will go with Anne to wherever she is going.

Yesterday was fairly uneventful.  We went out for Peking Duck.  Again, the duck was probably the 15th dish to come out.  The table was overflowing so that when the center turned, plates were knocking over glasses and everyone left with dirty clothes.  I didn’t want to infect the table with my illness, so I used a fork to serve myself and chopsticks to eat it.  I couldn’t explain this reasoning to my Chinese table mates and they thought my behavior most odd.  Mr. Han asked if I miss my parents.  I said “Yes, very much.  I miss my dog, too.”  Through translation, he thought this was beyond hilarious.  He said, “In China, very few people love thier dogs.”  My love for Karma is pretty abberant in America, too, but I do love her.  I do miss her.  I hardly had her back and now she is gone, again.  She probably thinks I am not coming back…

 I AM, KARMA!  Oh, and thanks for looking up habitude for me.  You are one smart pup.

So after lunch yesterday I went to bed.  I feel like I am on the mend today.  Still feeling crappy, but getting better. 

Mom:  How many days do I take the antibiotic for a respritory infection?

All right, until tomorrow I wish well to my friends and family.  I wish these things after tomorrow, too, of course.

Healing, slowly

So I didn’t really do anything yesterday except sleep, so I dug up some pictures from earlier in the trip that I thought people might find interesting. There is nothing famous or generally important in the pictures, just everyday things I captured.

First, a video:

I saw this on the street. It appears to be some sort of drum line. It is all women, which I find interesting. In the U.S. I have met only one female on a drum line, at my brother’s high school. This video is for Spudly and Joe. And everyone else, of course, but first for them.

This is my school from the outside:

There are trash/recycling cans on every street corner. Unlike at home, though, there are no bags in said cans. There are doors on the side which start at the very base. When opened, the trash spills out and is shoveled into a larger bin, which is, I presume, carried to a dump.

(produce stand. Sigua [watermelon] is plentiful and very sweet.)

(Two days before this photo was taken, a building and a wall stood where there is now nothing.)

(The red characters on each side of the gate mean there is a couple living within that were recently married.)

(Old men playing games on the sidewalk, again!)

So I am healing slowly. I tried to get call an acquaintance who has been in Beijing for a couple months to show Steve and I around the nightlife tonight, but he didn’t answer. I believe Anne, Freddie and I are going back to the market tonight. I will take some pictures/video of the inside, Joe. It i s basically exactly as you described.

The only not so great part is that they will corner and grab you if you don’t want to buy their wares. Literally not let you go. I had to get angry a few times and say “Let go of my arm!” or “Let me by!” in a near shout multiple times. The sellers are pushy beyond belief.

Teaching has been going well. I was feeling very low this morning so I tried to get out of working by showing a movie (Finding Nemo). There wasn’t a DVD player to be found and my laptop is not loud enough for the students to hear. So I taught food, food groups, flavor words, adjectives to describe food and money. We drew and labeled a picture of a meal. Jerry’s was over the top awesome. Everyone but him (myself included) used to sheet of paper as a placemat and drew a plate on it. He drew an entire scene from an outdoor restaurant. There was food, of course, but also people and animals and waiters and plants. It was really very creative. I am still excited about going to his home tomorrow afternoon.

It is lunch time, so I will eat. Thank you for the healing vibes, I’ll take as many as possible.

Well wishes.

I am a master haggler

Yesterday breakfast was at 6:45am, 15 minutes later than usual. We were to meet Shirley (Freddie’s in class translator) at 7:30 to take taxi’s to the Temple of Heaven. So we ate, and then we waited… and then we waited more…

Shirley didn’t show until 8:30, which is when she swears we decided to meet. Oh, well. So we went to the Temple of Heaven. I have been feeling rather ill for the past two days, so I turned on my mp3 player and zoned out. I was very interested in what the people at park were doing, and not as interested in the architecture or the ancient function of the place, though it was rather enthralling, too.

(A group of women make beautiful patterns using ribbons)

(Tai Chi?)

(The usual suspects in front of an ornate building once used by the “Emperor of Heaven” for prayer and sacrificing animals)

(Dragon= Emperor, Phoenix= Empress. Very common symbolism.)

(roof)

(No feet on the grass, you say? I live dangerously!)

(This is actually extremely difficult. Try it! How’d you do? That’s what I thought…)

Leaving the Temple/park, we walked to lunch to have some Peking noodles. On the way, there was a man on an overpass with a string of kites. Every few seconds, he would release another kite into the sky, until there was a chain of them in the air that seemed to stretch beyond the clouds:

Lunch was awesome. Every time they say we are going out for a particular dish, we don’t see that dish for the first six or seven plates that come to our table. This was no exception. The noodles themselves were rather salty and a bit slimy, but I liked them.

It came as plain noodles and a bowl of very thick sauce (which you can see to the right of my bowl). The point is to combine it a little at a time, but I didn’t really understand that and made the mistake of putting all of my sauce onto the noodles at once. It was still edible, but like I said, quite salty.

I started to feel much better when we got to the market.

I am truly my mother’s daughter. I shopped hard and bargained harder. For a dress, the seller’s first offer was 1300. I walked away with it for 65 Yuan. I had a blast. I bartered for gifts for nearly everyone… It is just quite hard to shop for my brother and father. One shop owner tried to convince me to buy a sword for my brother. I said “You heard me that this is for my younger brother, right…? Do you wish death on me?”

Anne and I are going to go back at some point…

This afternoon I was supposed to have lunch at a student’s house but I was really too ill. I slept instead of blogging after class and came back to the classrooms just before lunch to ask my translator to explain to my student that I want to come, but I cannot. My lungs have been producing a delectable combination of green mucus and blood all day, so I thought it best that I sleep away the afternoon, which is exactly what I did. Kathy and Jen took my place so all is well. Saturday I am going to Jerry’s house. This I am quite excited about. I would really like to meet Jerry’s parents.

I never really explained about the Great Wall. I have been too sick and tired. The climb up took about four hours. Kathy, Freddie and Mr. Tsoon (sp?, Kathy’s in class translator) took a cable car back to the bottom and Anne, Mackenzie, Jen, Steve, Mr. Tsoon’s daughter and I walked to the bottom on a new (to us) part of the wall. It was, as I’ve shown, extremely steep and quite alarming. We made it safely to the bottom, where I assumed we would be picked up. Apparently not. We had another 45 minutes of walking to do. My legs were quite literally shaking. I was very proud to do it. There is a saying that if you do not climb to the top of the Great Wall, you are no hero. I am a hero, now, I guess.

We had lunch after the Wall and then piled into the van for the two hour drive back into Beijing. After stopping for another walk around the Hutongs (my poor, blistered, aching feet!), we had lunch at a pizza buffet, of all places and things. Strangely enough, this killed my insides. All of the traditional Chinese food I’ve been eating has left me quite happy but the first time I eat American style food I feel like my insides are dying. Weird. I’m better now.

So Beijing continues to be beautiful and exciting. They are doing construction on our school which I think is a bit odd while classes are in session, but it seems safe enough (except for the bags of rubble they throw to the courtyard from a fourth story window which land close enough to blow my hair up!).

I grow exhausted once again, so this is where I leave you. I’m sorry if my posts haven’t been as inspired and exciting, I just haven’t been feeling my best. Starting on antibiotics tonight, Mom, thanks.

Missing everyone!

The Great Wall

Today we went to the Great Wall. It was amazing, of course.

Pictures:

(Let’s do it!)

(On the wall.)

(It was extremely crowded on the first leg.)

(I made it! The Great Wall of China!)

(It is huge…)

(Extremely huge…)

(Climbing onto a tower… the only way up. I was actually pretty scared.)

(But I made it!)

We climbed for hours, working toward the highest point in our section:

(Touching the back wall of the highest point in the area. Is my hand distinct enough?)

(Anne and I at the top!)

The way back down was terrifying. Look how steep it was:

Many parts were just as steep with no steps. Steve fell and the rest of us nearly did.

Here are some more shots of the wall:

And at the very end, after the wall. For some completely unexplained reason, four pits full of bears:

I am exhausted. We stared this climb over 12 hours ago. Since then we’ve driven around, walked around and eaten two meals. I can’t make myself write anything… I need a shower and sleep.

love to everyone, still missing home.

the tougher moments

I am determined to enjoy every moment of my trip. Today is a tough moment to enjoy. I feel lonely and I want to go somewhere that people don’t stare at me. I don’t want to point and grunt to buy a soda.

I know that this will pass and that tomorrow, when I look off the Great Wall, I will know it is worth it. I am so happy to be here, I am just tired of standing out, today.

It started yesterday at the zoo. These images are burned into my mind:

I don’t want to talk about it or write about it. The zoo was terrible and I hated every second of being there.

At lunch, when we talked about going to the zoo, I asked quite clearly if the animals were well taken care of. I explained that if they aren’t, I don’t want to go. We went and they weren’t.

Lunch was great, though. We made amends with Mr. Han:

(Rose, Freddie, Mr. Han, Anne and everyone else toast with pijiu)

(About half of our lunch: spicy pumpkin soup, two kinds of mushrooms, chicken, fish that is very tricky to eat without choking on a needle thin bone, salad, corn that used to surround shrimp, bitter melon, shrimp (half of them fried, half boiled), sweet chicken, quail eggs and water chestnuts, shrimp and squid, mussels and something I never did identify.)

The food you see on the table is not nearly all that was eventually presented. We went out for dumplings and, as you can see, there are not any dumplings yet. I found something very important about dining in China: If you don’t want more, don’t finish what you have. Also, quail eggs are delicious. I didn’t know that is what they were when I first tried it. Man, I’m glad. They are seriously awesome.

(Beautiful tea: somehow, no particles went into the cup)

(Yummy lunch. I am laughing because the chicken from Steve’s chopstick just fell on my hand. Twice.)

(The first floor of the restaurant had a quantity of fresh seafood.)

(my finger tastes yummy!)

I don’t have a lot to say today, but I wanted to write something. I was invited to a few of my students’ homes, but I’m not sure when. That should be nice. I think tonight the majority vote is to rest. No one feels great. Steve is sick and I gave him my upper respiratory antibiotics, so I hope I don’t get sick, too. I’m sure I have something else I could take…

I miss everyone a lot today. A lot a lot…

well wishes.

In your heart, not the temple.

In the morning I always think it is raining when I my hearing first comes into focus. Drip drop patter patter patter. Heavy drops intermittently plunk to the metal roofs surrounding the school. It isn’t rain, though. It is the sound of a thousand air conditioning window units shedding condensation. My Aunt knocks on my door at 6am and I am confused. Where am I? Why does my body ache? What is wrong with my eyes?

Oh, yeah…

Oh, yeah! Beijing!
Puff puff, spray spray, drop drop. That’s better. A deep breath and a colossal stretch later, I emerge. Breakfast at 6:30. The teaching day starts at 7:30 and mine ends at 9:45. After my lessons, I rush down the hall and work until lunch, which starts at 12:20. I upload, edit, Skype, reply and edit again.
This is my only “me” time, and I depend on it. While I am tremendously grateful for every hit on this blog, my motives are almost completely selfish. I need to do this. This… thing… is how I center myself. It is how I understand my experience, the place where I cement what I have learned in the past 24 hours. I am learning about Chinese culture, sure, but every minute I am here I learn more about myself than I’ve learned in my lifetime. It Is not that I am learning about myself so much as I am (excuse the cliche [and my inability to paste an e with an accent over it]) finding her.

This afternoon we decided to follow a walk mapped out in a guide book (Lonely Planet. I highly recommend it for everything. The guidebook is Kathy’s, but I have their Mandarin phrasebook and it is very useful.). The adventure started at Lama Temple. Steve and I walked off to look at hats outside the gate and when we came back, Freddie told me I owe her 20 Yuan for the guide she just hired. I have to admit, I was highly skeptical of being guided through a temple, but it was a really good decision. This woman was awesome. For an hour she explained the significance of every piece of this most holy place.
Nearly begging us to leave any negative or troubled thoughts outside the temple, she reiterated over and over:
“Buddha is not in the temple, Buddha lives in your heart.”

(Buddhists venerate the Enlightened One with incense and prayers)

(Flags fly outside one of the many shrines)

(Hand mandala)

(Spin with the right hand, only! Peace in my mind, my heart and my body.)

(Once again, the architecture is severely intricate)

(This picture makes me dizzy)

Steve and I bought incense and paid our compliments to such a beautiful place representing such a mystifying, brilliant notion.

I could not take pictures inside the shrines, and I understand. The statues inside were some of the most breathtaking man made wonders I’ve ever encountered personally or through photography. I had to take home some record of an 18 meter statue of Buddha carved from a single tree, so I broke down and bought a book about the temple. It was 40 Yuan, which breaks down to under 6USD. I’m in. It’s a nice book with many pictures.
We spent much more time at the Lama Temple than we had originally planned, so we did not finish the walk. The next “stop” was not a stop at all. Our group wandered through the “Hutongs” of Beijing. Hutongs are very old alley ways where people live in very old courtyard style houses. They are in danger of destruction because they take up too much space for how many people the house. In a city with 15 million people, the government is perhaps thinking more of efficacy than history.

From Wikipedia

“The word hutong comes from the Mongolian hottog meaning “water well.” During the growth of towns and cities, wells dug by villagers formed the centres of new communities.

In Beijing, hutongs are alleys formed by lines of siheyuan, traditional courtyard residences. Many neighbourhoods were formed by joining one siheyuan to another to form a hutong, and then joining one hutong to another. The word hutong is also used to refer to such neighbourhoods.

In old China, streets and lanes were defined by width. Hutongs were lanes no wider than 9 metres. Many are smaller; Beijing hutongs range in width from 10 metres down to only 40 centimetres.

Since the mid-20th century, the number of Beijing hutongs has dropped dramatically as they are demolished to make way for new roads and buildings. More recently, some hutongs have been designated as protected areas in an attempt to preserve this aspect of Chinese cultural history.”

(The alley toward most homes are so adorned)

(Caught!)

(A group of men enveloped in their game)

(The last thing I expected to find, but I am excited to see it. Hoorah for behavioral health services!)

We caught cabs and were home in time for dinner without incident. Steve and I decided to try the park dance again, but quickly changed our plans. Knowing we can always get home via taxi, we started walking.

(People dancing in unison under a pedestrian overpass. I know it is low quality, but I thought it was interesting.)

(Reflections)

(Where are we going? As it happens, nowhere)

(Steve makes a friend.)

Every lighted sign we thought there might be a place to sit down and get some pijiu. Most of them were salons, which seem to be open later than anything else. People getting their hair cut, colored and styled at 10pm. We found a pool hall but decided to keep walking.

So we never found a bar or even a club or the like. After a long walk we got in a cab and went home and to sweet, badly needed sleep.

Please see the post below as it is also new today. I had some technical issues yesterday but I am up and running again.

Well wishes, all.

A dance in the park

Yesterday after lunch, Freddie’s interpreter from class lead us down the street to the cleaners. There is no laundry mat for us to use, so we have to surrender our clothing for a day and a half.

They had to count each item to give us a price and, of course, when it came my turn, the proprietor held up each of my underoos, one by one. For those of you who don’t know me personally or haven’t had occasion to find this out, I am conservative and easily embarrassed by such things. When coupled with my uncontrollable, intense blush reaction, it was not a pleasant few minutes. Kathy had to scold steve and Mackenzie because they were watching! How humiliating…

Steve and I left the cleaners and went to the local walmart equivalent to stock up on toilet paper, a couple of towels, two more badminton rackets and something to use as bingo chips (we decided on gravel made for a fish tank).

Dinner was early, at five, to allow for travel time to an acrobatic show. It was the best students of some famous acrobatic school. It was a very nice show, I enjoyed it a lot. 0

We happened to be at the same show as Jim, another teacher with our group teaching at another school. He taught at Wen Hui last year and told us about some fun things to do near the school. Apparently there are dances at the little park near our school (I call it MY park) every evening. So when we arrived home, Steve and I went straight there.

It was really hard to get pictures of anything more than a few feet away for lack of adequate lighting. Here is the best video I could get:

The dance consists of people bringing a CD player and a small amp. The older attendees teach the younger people intricate, weaving dance steps. Steve and I got in a group and started to learn, but the group moved to a new area soon after and the teacher signaled for us to stay where we were. We think. Poor us.

There is no taboo against members of the same gender dancing together, and they did. Men danced just as closely as mixed pairs, and I honestly don’t believe it reflects on their sexuality. It just isn’t a big deal.

I plan to attend these dances every night I can until people stop staring at me. It is almost unbearable, the staring. I start to feel very awkward when I look around and see that a good percentage of people in my general area are burning a hole into me and Steve with their eyes. Two older men stared at us even when we moved to sit down on the other side of the park. When we would look back, they would look away. At one point I yelled “HELLOOOOO!” to them. They seemed pretty shaken by that. Most people seem to look with interest, because white people don’t generally hang out there. But those two old men seemed upset by our presence. It was the kind of stare that means “What the hell are you doing here?”

At 10pm SHARP everyone disappeared. So Steve and I walked and sat in front of a corner store for another hour or so and drank pijiu. After 20 minutes, some one from the store came outside and gave us each a broken down cardboard box to sit on. They apparently didn’t mind our presence. It made me feel a lot more welcome than I felt in the park.

I woke up this morning in bad shape. I worry every time I wake up that I am becoming ill. I always perk up after breakfast, though. I wake up unable to breathe through my nose or properly inflate my lungs, but puff puff spray spray that is solved. I still sneeze a lot, but I can breathe. My biggest issue is my eyes. It takes hours after waking for them to function properly. They are red, puffy and they really hurt for a while. If it didn’t clear up throughout the day, I would take some eye infection drops that my mother so thoughtfully packed for me.

Class was very fun today! We talked about things in a city. Here is the second round of words on the board:

I am slightly concerned with one of my students, Jerry. He is the one who made the DOOM picture. During the break after I drew those pictures, he came up to the board and made this addition (he is also responsible for the man jumping off the bridge, above):

He is very bright. We made maps using these words and his was by far the most in detail (I had to teach him the words for”helicopter” “army base” and “space station”). And it isn’t as if he thinks he is being bad. He called me over with the intention of showing me this man jumping off a bridge and the house on fire… I think maybe he just watches too many movies.

I am late for lunch. Trying to get my wordpress blog running took a lot of time. This afternoon we are taking a walk to see the “Hutongs,” so expect many pictures tomorrow!

Well wishes!

Habitude

While walking to the bus the other day, a police officer stopped our party and asked our translators if we had registered. We had not. In fact, that was the first we had heard of such a responsibility. It seems that if one visits China and stays at a citizen’s home or at a Chinese institution (such as the school where we reside), that person must go to the local police station and declare their presence within 24 hours. So we went today, on the way to Beihai Park.

This was quite a long process that involved temporarily surrendering our passports, waiting, individually signing a form written entirely in Chinese characters, waiting some more, retrieving our passports and finally leaving. This doesn’t sound too difficult, but the combined time of the waiting periods was about one and one half hours. So now, we are registered.

The positive outcome of this marginally annoying stop was a ride to Beihai Park, which was exceedingly splendid. We paid 20 Yuan for a ticket that provided admission to the park grounds, the White Pagoda and the Round City. Access to the latter two can be gained only by entering the former. Within the first minutes of being in the park, I suggested that we split up. Trying to see something so large with seven people will end with everyone unsatisfied and uspet. So Steve, Mackenzie and I ventured into Beihai Park.

(Me posing in front a lake covered in loti. In the background, you can see “Bai Ta,” The White Pagoda)

(Ornate architecture was the defining characteristic of all structures on the park grounds)

(Steve strikes a pose on rocky terrain)

(A dragon-turtle hybrid. One of many golden animal statues in the area.)

(Roof beams skillfully painted with scenes, some that one might see in Beihai Park.)

(The ancient skyline of the Forbidden City juxtaposes that of modern Beijing.)

(Inside the White Pagoda: Does anyone know who this is, exactly? It has so many arms so I thought of Hinduism, but all other deitous statues in the park were distinctly Buddhist.)

(An aerial view of the lower part of the park)

(A stone dragon smiles for the camera)

(The Enlightened One- I dedicate this picture to my “Little Spirit Friend,” Stacey)

(I rang this bell three times for luck while looking rather rabid)

(A blooming lotus)

(Delicate and stunning)

(What are these? They hang on one side of the Jade Urn, which was used in the 13th century to serve libations.)

Once again, I believe the pictures speak for themselves. The perfume of so many flowers was overpowering while the sun respectfully showed mercy. It was a perfect day to lose oneself in the astonishing united craftsmanship of the earth and generations past. We plan to return to Beihai Park to take a four hour hike through parts we haven’t yet seen. I am debating whether to venture alone on this day, so that I can take photographs, as well as time to plunge headfirst into the awe such splendor demands of my spirit. I retained my ticket stub with the name of the park and a picture of it printed on the front, so I believe I could make a cab driver understand my intended destination.
In fact, I am sure I could do this without the ticket stub. To get home this afternoon, we took two taxis (to hold all seven of us). I acted as translator to obtain the transportation, and while the ride was long and the driver frequently yelled out his window for directions (once even leaving the vehicle at a red light to ask the driver of a car two lanes away), I was quite thrilled with my ability to converse.

(Our driver on the ride home checks a map to confirm we are heading the right direction. We were.)

Having communicated before the ride, he was rather intrigued by my rudimentary Mandarin and struck up a conversation once we were on our way.
“What country?” He asked
“Mei Guo,” I replied, “America.”
An eyebrow lifted and he smirked at me. “Wo shi Mei Guo Ren!” He challenged.
“Bu! Bu! Ni shi Zhong Guo Ren!”
He had claimed to be an American and I corrected him. He is Chinese. We laughed and I realized that these simple exchanges will build to more complicated and useful ones. I was impressed by this small conversation because I understood him without any problem or hesitation.

I speak frequently and confidently, and I never leave my dorm without my phrase book. I have a serious advantage in having a year of classes in the language and while I don’t remember much vocabulary, I do understand a bit of how the language works. I thought when I arrived that I would sit down and make myself learn 10 phrases every day. I’ve realized, though, that need is my primary instructor.

I am afraid of a lot of things. Cockroaches, forced social situations (getting better at that one) and academic failure make me shiver with anxiety. One thing I have no fear of is making a fool of myself while trying to learn this language. The only thing mistakes can do is make me a better speaker. If I were troubled by slip-ups to the point of not trying, I would be doing myself a great disservice and I would learn nothing. I try as many new phrases as possible and take criticism as the greatest tool for improvement. My craving to understand and be understood is voracious.

While I find that the English speaking natives of China articulate quite well, the printed mistakes can be hilarious. There is a sign near the exercise equipment (see pictures on 7/18 and explanation on 7/17) that explains how to use them and warns against mishandling. Two comedic gems:

“Your ability will depend on differences in age, sex and habitude.”
“Misuse could result in disordered incretions.”

Microsoft word isn’t identifying either “habitude” or “incretions” as a misspelling, so apparently they ARE English words. The dictionary in my mind is pretty decent and I did well on my GRE, but I have never heard either of them.
Perhaps I am wrong to laugh. Maybe the sign was written by a Chinese speaker with a better handle of the English language than I have. Maybe.

Today in class we made “Kite Poems.” The formula is as follows:

name in English
the names of two of the student’s favorite places
three adjectives to describe the student
four verbs that the student enjoys doing
three more adjectives
two favorite things
name in Chinese

When centered, it is shaped like a diamond. My students did this very well, and it brough together a lot of the vocabulary we have been learning in a creative way. We decorated them with foam letters, stickers and things we cut out of catalogues and magazines that I provided. They had a lot of fun:

While many were done perfectly, my aboslute favorite was the student, Jerry, that brought this up to my desk to show me:

I laughed so hard and he was confused. The other side of the sheet was a well done poem, and he said that “DOOM” was his favorite American film. Still, though, to ask for a poem and then be handed that paper is sort of awesome. I am laughing outloud right now thinking about it.

We also played a form of BINGO today with adjectives written in the squares. They get small prizes (today that got first pick of the colored paper, yesterday they got stickers.). Today, one of my brightest students, Lily, tried to cheat. When she didn’t get a BINGO and many other students had, she whited out one of the words she had written in a square and replaced it with a word that had already been called. I wasn’t sure what to do… should I discipline her? I just said “no cheating” and didn’t give her a prize. After that she sat for a while and wouldn’t play. Then she started to play again and eventually did get a BINGO honestly.

In closing, I wanted to show you my own kite poem. I worked on it at the same time as my students, and I had fun making it:

Well wished until tomorrow.

[NOTE: My rich text editor for my posting has dissappeared. I apologize if this results in awkward formatting and pictures that are larger than the page. I will work on this problem tomorrow.]

go with the flow…

Do you remember the advice of Judy Wu that I swore to live  by on this trip?  I do, but I fear some of my trip-mates have forgotten the wise words of our only American contact regarding this voyage.  The recommendation is as follows:
GO
WITH
THE
FLOW
I believe the micromanaging nature of my cohort is putting a damper on their experience.  Yesterday there was a meeting with Mr. Han (the headmaster of the school).  Many of the other staff members attended so that there were about 15 people there, including our group.  We talked about transportation in the afternoons to see different parts of Beijing, whether the school would provide us with additional water (our supply is rapidly dwindling) and if there is any sports equipment we can borrow to entertain ourselves in the evenings.
When we asked about going out in the afternoons, Mr. Han said that he wanted us to spend the afternoons planning our lessons and that they did not have any transportation to provide us with.  This enraged the older women in our faction and the meeting soon turned into a sort of negotiation.   I really felt like we were threatening to wage war and not asking for an extra case of water.  Kathy would direct a question at Mr. Han and Sam or Betty (not Becky, as previously posted) would translate this for him.  He would answer, she would translate for us.  And so it continued:  Mandarin Mandarin, English English, Mandarin Mandarin, English English.  In the end we decided to visit Tiananmen Square this afternoon by bus, with Sam and Betty in tow.  The trip was wonderful and I will give details in a moment.  Mr. Han asked that we beef up our lessons a little bit, as the students know more English than they let on.  “Alright,” I thought, “Now I know.”
Then they singled out Steve and pretty much told him, in front of the Wen Hui staff and our entire group, that his teaching sucks.  I thought this was incredibly rude and humiliating but he took it pretty well.  Like me he interpreted it as constructively as possible.
After the meeting, as I said, the older women were pissed.  They think Mr. Han is a jerk and that too much is being asked of them without enough in return.  Maybe I would feel that way if I had to teach, as they do, twice as much as I do presently.  But I am enjoying teaching.  My students like me and we have equal amounts of learning and fun.  Today, one of my students drew me a picture.  I nearly cried it is so sweet:

 Look at the detail!  My watch, my skirt, my necklace!  I am so happy with everything this trip is providing for me.

So, after the meeting, we went to the Tiananmen Square area by bus:

There was a foreign dignitary arriving at the actual Square while we were there, so it was closed to the public.  Instead, we went across the street and looked around the free areas at the Forbidden City for an hour or so (we will be taking a guided tour of the other areas next week):

(Betty, me, Sam)

(Outside the city)

(What kind of animal is this?  A lion?  A dog?  a Dragon?)

(a beautifully carved stone pillar)

(all the roofs have gargoyles on the corners)

(a design on one of the gates to the “city”)

(guards stand at attention)

It was lovely.  I don’t know what to say that the pictures don’t show, in this case.  It was beautiful, though presently functions as nothing but a point of tourist interest.  You might be thinking, “Jamie, why are Betty and Sam holding umbrellas?  We the Beijingites expecting a downpour??”
Well, pondering blog readers, no.  It did rain in the morning and this served to lift the fog, exposing the threat which the mass of umbrellas combated:  the sun. The amount of umbrellas was crushing, a sea of pointed fabric:

Upon inquiry I came to understand that there are two completely separate types of umbrellas for sale for completely separate climactic events.  One for rain, one for shine.  I think this is a marvelous idea and I plan to purchase a parasol tomorrow.  Over time, I assume that it will pay for itself through a extraordinary drop in sunscreen consumption (Don’t worry mom, I’ll still use it!).
After losing me (I wasn’t lost, I was waiting with Sam and Betty), finding me, losing Mackenzie and Steve (who were supposed to be looking for me but were soon distracted by an air conditioned art exhibit) and letting two overcrowded buses pass, we started on the return leg of our journey.  Steve wants the girls working at the makeup sales counters to notice him, so I showed him some pick up lines in my phrase book while on the bus (which is very tricky on a stop and go bus, one hand death gripped to a pole).  Our favorite is, “Ni zhangde xiang wode biao mei.” In translation:  “You look like some cousin of mine.”  What an odd pick up line that makes in English, but perhaps it is more appropriate in China, I don’t know.  Maybe the writers are just odd people and thought it would be funny (like that Monty Python skit on “And Now for Something Completely Different” with the phrasebook intentionally mistranslating with the specific purpose to upset all parties affected by it).   Across from the school, we stopped to get some beer.  I wrote yesterday that I got a can for 2.50 Yuan.  This day, I got a much larger bottle for 5 jiao less (2 Yuan):

The money is interesting here.  The smaller the denomination, the smaller the physical bill:

The smallest bill there, 1 jiao, is about the size of monopoly money and is worth a tenth of a Yuan.  It is our equivalent of a dime, but in paper. There are very few coins, here.  I haven’t seen any, but I know they exist.  Prices are generally to the jiao and tax is not added at the time of purchase, so there really isn’t that much change going around.   I’m sure that in the long term it cuts down on the pocket weight and clutter of coins. 
Here is the exercise equipment I was talking about:

It is almost always in use and seems to be in good repair.  It is a nice thing to have in the neighborhood, I think.
After we purchased our beer, the elders wanted to rest for a half hour before dinner and the kids can’t be out without their grandma, so Steve and I walked down the street to a small park near our school.  We sat mostly silent, watching the day draw to an end in our little corner of Beijing.  Many people passed through the park on their way home.  One man stopped and pointed at me and laughed at me for drinking a pijiu. I smiled and repeated, “pijiu” which elicited a long winded speech in Mandarin.  And so, once more, I spoke the single most used phrase in my mental Chinese lexicon:  “Wo bu dong!” which means, ”I don’t understand!” He laughed and walked away.
A small child walked by with a slit in his pants, causing his little bum cheeks to catch a nice breeze.

We found this hilarious but upon reporting it to our friends at dinner, we found it to be common practice with pre-potty trained children.  Cheaper than diapers, right?

Nearby, in the park, were two men getting haircuts with single blade razors. 

Steve was ready to go next, but we were late for dinner so I dragged him back.  And we feasted.  As usual, it was delectable and bountiful.  Afterwards, we had a quick worksheet cutting and planning session on the ping pong table in our dorm building.  I thought it was rather fun to brainstorm and talk about what we have been doing and what we might do later in class.

So, I am taking what comes and experiencing it as completely and personally as I can manage.  If my personality were just a slight bit stronger I might question and even overturn the assumed leadership roles my elders have commandeered.  I would like to do things that aren’t in a guidebook.  I would like to get in a Taxi and just hope that the driver understands where I want to go.  If not, I know I can get home.  I want to take this city for my own and not be hindered by what I think should happen.  I want to let it happen.
By letting it happen, though, I am losing opportunities.  I am letting more conservatie people make my decisions.  But what can I do?  I cannot venture alone and Steve is almost entirely under the control of his grandmother.
I feel like I am missing out on things, but I refuse to let this upset me.  I absorb every moment as it is.  I float along and seize the beauty in all that I perceive.  I take good advice when I hear it:  I go with the flow.

I’m a teacher!

I am a teacher and I love it.  Really, I do.  My students are incredibly bright and attentive and they know so much English already. 

Here are a couple of pictures of my class:

I will take a better one, later, with me and my (regretfully titled) “assistant” in it.

Today was my second day teaching.  We played cherrades to learn action words, which I think my class really enjoyed.  One boy swam instead of drank, but I can understand the confusion.

In the afternoon yesterday we were supposed to go and tour somewhere.  It didn’t really come together, but I had a fanstastic afternoon and evening.  We walked up to a store and did some shopping for necessities and ate at McDonald’s.  It was Mackenzie’s birthday, and that is what he chose.

Kathy, who is Mackenzie’s (as well as Jen and Steve’s) grandmother, insisted that we sing to him and put a candle in his big mac.  I can only imagine what the citizens of Beijing who were (un)lucky enough to be in the restaurant for our ceremony thought.  A group of Americans standing around a flaming cheeseburger, singing? What a wonderful representation of our culture, really.

This was not the only instance of humiliation involving a song yesterday.  There was an opening assembly in the morning where a few people gave speeches and two girls sang us a song.  Surprisingly and perhaps lyrically innappropriate, it was “Memories” from the musical “Cats.” After the first song, one girl left and the other sang “Auld Lang Syne.”  This was a nice gesture, and I smiled at her and everyone clapped along.

Then the bad thing happened. 

She made us come on stage with her to sing along.  I do NOT know the words to “Auld Lang Syne.”  Not even close.  Not even a little bit.  Maybe the chorus if I am singing along with a group.  So I mumbled along and blushed furiously.  It was really quite terrible.

That was the morning, though. I would like to talk, rather, about the last evening.  Returning from an American meal I wouldn’t have eaten at home, Steve, Mackenzie, Jen and I played some badminton on the school grounds.  The rackets started to fall apart, despite being purchased hours before, so Mackenzie went and got his soccer ball.

This resulted in the most fun I have had in a long time while physically exerting myself.  All we did was kick the ball to eachother for an hour, but it felt good.  We were barefoot on the dirty turf, the boys seeing how long they could hit the ball off of various body parts before it touched the ground.  I generally kicked it as hard as I could in a direction that was not quite occupied to make my cohorts run and dive.  I’m not sure why something as simple as passing a ball around made me feel so happy, but even now I feel at peace when I think of it.

Our school is fenced in on all sides and while we were playing soccer I heard a “Hello!” come from the other side of the fence.  It was a Chinese man, in his early to mid twenties, wanting to speak with us.  “I am so excited to see you here!” he beamed.  “You will come here another day and we will make appointment to play badminton at a sport center!”  I’m not sure if this will happen.  I one very strict criteria:  I am not getting in a car, on a bus or walking farther than I would know how to get back easily.

Other than that, as long as Steve is going, I think it would be fun to hang out with Peter.  English speakers are very excited when they see us and strike up conversations without any reservation.  Peter’s English was impressive, it rivaled that of our translators.  He must be (or have been) a University student.

While the English speakers are very helpful, they are few.  I have been improving my Mandarin by the hour.  It is amazing how much easier learning a language is when you HAVE to use it.  Not surprising, but amazing none the less.

While out yesterday, most of the people in our group wanted to buy phone cards.  There was a kiosk that seemed a possible solicitor of such, so I stopped and asked him.  When he understood me easily, I was so taken aback that I couldn’t get my thoughts back together at first.  An entire conversation in Mandarin followed, which informed me that the kiosk sold IP cards, SIM cards and local phone cards, but not international calling cards for land line phones.  My group was impressed with the fact that I held a conversation to the point that they seemed uneasy about it.  Jen asked how I understood what he was saying, and my honest answer is: I don’t.  I don’t know what words he is saying, but I know what he means.  I pay immaculate attention to context cues.  I am quite done bragging, I am just very very proud.

A readheaded reader of this blog asks, “Jamie, how much does beer cost in China?”  And I answer: last night I bought a can of beer for $2.50.  That’s about .33USD.  It was the first cold drink I have had since the airplane, and it tasted a lot like a Heineken.  Steve and I bought two beers a piece and walked up the street a bit.  There is some exercise equipment (which is really interesting and useful, actually, and I would like to post a picture.  Maybe tomorrow) where we sat to watch the city and share stories for an hour or so.  I was a little uncomfortable about drinking on the street, but there are no laws against it and I see it all day long.

A note on beer:  Today in class we went over foods.  I asked the students what foods they know and wrote their answers on the board.  One of the more vocal students, Jacob, answered with “beer!”  I said “I can’t put that on the board, you shouldn’t drink beer!”  and he said “I like beer!”  There were three other “adults” in the room and none of them looked surprised of humored.  Apparently he is free to drink beer and no one looks down upon it.  Or maybe the others just weren’t listening…

So last night was very fun.  It was nice to just sit and take in the feel of the city… watch it go by.  I didn’t feel scared at all.  Sometimes people yell “Hello!” at us and find it impossibly hilarious when we answer, “Hello!” back.  I think we are being teased.

A few things before I close:

Eric, I am so glad to hear from you.  You were absent for a couple weeks there and I feared the worst.

Everyone, thank you for visiting!  I am so surprised and excited by the volume of hits!  Keep coming back and comment as much as possible!

I love you all and I miss you all and I’ll post again tomorrow!

First two days

(to avoid confusion, I would like to point out that I am not writing this directly before I post it.  This was written offline, the evening of 7/16/07.  Any future entries written offline with no expectation of expedient publishing will be dated at the top of the body)

Ni hao!  I made it!  Any spare moment I have (which are few) I just stare around and beam.  To be here!  The other side of the earth!  My heart swells with excitement and adventure. 
 The flight wasn’t bad.  I ate, tried to sleep, read, ate, had a couple drinks with an ambien which I didn’t know I had but was grateful to find, slept, ate, read, wrote, read, slept.  Nothing quite like a jack and coke and a healthy dose of MSG to induce sleep:

We got off the plane, went through one line to turn in a sheet we filled out on the plane regarding our health.  Then we waited in a long line to declare our entry and have our passports stamped.  After that, we picked up our luggage.  One of my bags had been searched and when I unpacked I found a slip in it telling me so.  All my belongings were present and intact.  We went through a third station to turn in a third form stating that we had no pets, random body parts or agricultural items to declare.  Finally, we could walk outside the airport.  Friends, family and transporters waiting for arriving travelers were pressed hard against a short barrier with signs and shouts to identify who they were there for.  At the very end we found our hosts.  After a seemingly endless wait in an overwhelmingly hot parking garage, we were on our way.  Already exhausted, I think we all expected to be taken to our rooms right away to change our clothes, shower, eat and sleep.  Apparently not.  We were shuttled to Beijing Normal University for a small tour.

 
(back row:  Kathy, Jen, Anne, Freddie, me;  front row: Becky, Mackenzie, Steve, Sam.  Sam and Becky are translators.)

 
(A young boy and an old man bowl in front of a building at Beijing Normal University which houses the library and social sciences department, among other things.  Many people played games in front of this building, including badminton)

 
(A statue of Confucius stands in the center of a garden in a corner of Beijing Normal University)
At this point I think I had been awake four about 20 hours except for a few short naps on the plane.  Despite our collective fatigue, our obligations for the day were far from over.  We had a meeting on the campus of the University.  I met a woman who introduced herself (through Sam and Becky, the only people who spoke both English and Mandarin) as “Ms. Jo.” I walked into the meeting room and said “Ni hao! Wo jiao Jamie.” And that is apparently all it takes to win her affection.  I can’t explain her hospitality and excitement when she realized I speak the small  bit of Mandarin that I do.  She is on the far left in the back row in this photograph:

 

Within three minutes she had asked me to her home, but it was (thankfully) a very vague invitation.  I say thankfully not because I don’t like her, but because I wasn’t sure at that point how to respond.  After the meeting we walked to a restaurant and Ms. Jo sat next to me.  For each of the delicious, beautifully presented dishes, she taught me the pronunciation and wrote down the characters.  When the food ceased coming, she taught me the words for everything else on the table.  I’m not sure I’ll see her again as she works at BNU and not Wen Hui Middle School, but we talked (although we do not share a language in common) about teaching each other language in the afternoons after I am done with my lessons.  I hope this happens, really.  I’m sure we would not sit in an office or classroom, but adventure into the city.  She must know some wonderful places.
 

The food at dinner was fabulous, as all meals thus far have been.  It is not served in the same fashion as in the United States.  We are never given a plate of food.  This is simply not how it works.  We each get a plate of the size that we would use for bread or appetizers at home.  Many different dishes are served in large quantity, and the point is to eat directly out of a common dish, using the plate as a stopping point to wrap, dip, drip, or adjust one’s chopsticks.  For dinner that night, we had:

 duck that we wrapped in what I can only call a light tortilla (although I’m sure that isn’t what it was)

 chicken

pork with barbeque sauce to be tucked inside a light rol

fish in a thin, spicy sauce (a strange sort of spiciness, it hurt my mouth in a very physically odd way)

fried rice (which Freddie swears is different that the rice we eat at home, but I couldn抰 tell)

 soup

salad

two different arrangements of vegetables (one pushed tight into a perfect pyramid)

beef with spicy pumpkin

three types of dessert

The center of the table rotated, so you could easily reach what you wanted:

I told the table at dinner “Zheigu chi fan shi hen mei.” Which means, “This food is very beautiful.” The other English speakers asked what I said and we talked about the word “Mei.” Ms. Jo showed me the symbol and I said “Yes, mei.  Beautiful.  As in Mei Guo: Beautiful Country.”  The Chinese speakers thought that was hilarious.  Even though the symbol for “Mei,” as in beautiful and “Mei, “as in “Mei guo” or “America” are the same, people do not generally think of saying “Beautiful C ountry” when they say “America.” They all got a big kick out of assumption that they did. 
After dinner we made our way to Wen Hui Middle School, where we are to live and teach for the next three weeks.  At this point, everyone in our group was so physically and mentally beat we could hardly function.  However, we did not go straight to our rooms.  We spent another hour in another meeting where we discussed sleeping arrangements and breakfast the next morning.  I have found it extremely hard to get a straight answer out of the Chinese people I have talked to.  Everything is “It is possible,”"At some point,” “We will see,” “Maybe…”  Like a magic 8-ball!  I have been following the useful advice of Judy Wu, the woman who coordinated this trip from the US:  “Just go with the flow.”
Somehow in this meeting, I ended up staying a room by myself!  Here are my living quarters:

And my view:

I also have my own (western style) bathroom, which I really appreciate:

 
Do you see my shower?  It is awkward to shower with the water running all over the floor, but it drains eventually and I’ll get used to it, soon.  My bathroom is exponentially better than many of the alternatives I have seen in public. 
I know that writing a synopsis of everything I’ve done may be boring to read, but I want the record of it.  It will not continue like this once I have internet access every day, so please come back even if you find my minute by minute a bit dull.
So finally, we were able to shower, unpack and sleep, which is exactly what I did.  I plugged my alarm clock in via converter and set it to the correct time.  When I awoke this morning, the time said 5:30. I was no longer tired, so I turned on the TV and my laptop.  Each of these said 7:15.  So, at some point, my alarm clock lost nearly two hours.  I don’t see how, but it did.  Very strange.
We asked last night for breakfast to be at 9:00am, so I still had a while until I would be able to eat.  I dressed and went and sat outside for a while and watched people from inside the gates of my school:

For a while I stood on the steps, but after about five minutes the guard came over and gave me a wooden chair.  So I sat.  And I watched.  So many bicycles:  Bicycles loaded with at least twice as much cargo than I ever thought was possible.  Everyone that passed by me was greeted with a warm smile.  I like to smile at people.  I do this at USF all the time.  I sit on a stairway and I smile and say good morning/afternoon to everyone that walks by.  Although the point is to be friendly, it has turned into a type of experiment.  In both locations, most people ignore me.  Here, two people smiled back.  Many looked at me with great disapproval, although I cannot be sure why.  One young girl, probably 10 years old, bowed at me with a look of near terror on her face.  She was clearly confused by my presence.
Breakfast was as beautiful and nearly as plentiful as dinner was.  And then we ventured!  Since we left the airport, I have not seen anyone outside our group of any ancestry besides Han Chinese.  While most people let us well alone, a few have shown distaste.  A few of the men have made very lewd gestures at me, to which I turn away and walk faster.  The seven of us walked to a type of shopping mall, where Anne, Freddie and I bought towels.  The towels we were provided were about the size of a golf towel and proved grossly insufficient at drying my hair and body.  The process of purchasing a towel took about 20 minutes.  Twice today, people have offered to help us with simple things.  First, a man saw us with a map and stopped to explain, in English, where to walk and where not to go.  Second, another man in the booth next to the towel saleswoman came over and asked if we needed any help translating.  He asked me where I came from and wished me much luck and happiness in my travels.  Here are a few pictures from our walk/shopping escapade:

(Produce being sold on the street: a very common sight)

 
(Men play cards on the sidewalk.)

(A pig sleeps in a cage outside of a convenience store)

(A humidifier with live goldfish in it!!)
We had lunch after our outing and a meeting at 2pm.  It was kind of a fiasco, but in the end I learned that I only have to teach 3 hours a day and I saw my classroom. 
We then had dinner and took a short walk to get ice cream.  After ice cream, we walked in the opposite direction we had this morning.  As far as I am concerned, it was a mistake.  We entered a kind of tent city and it made me uncomfortable, even panicky.  It was purely residential, but lacked any kind of decent shelter as housing.  I knew logically that I was safe, but I started thinking about St. Maarten and how things WILL go wrong.  It CAN happen to me.  I had to really try not to act foolish and have a fit.  Fits are not like me, not in these situations.  So I politely demanded we turn around and start walking back toward the school.  I realize that no one was going to try to hurt or rob a group of seven people, but I cannot help my unease.  We made it back to the school safely, where I am now typing this.
I wish I could describe the overwhelming sensory input from the city.  The smog is terrible.  I woke up this morning feeling more asthmatic than I have in at least 10 years.  I’ve used an inhaler twice today.  I can’t remember the last time I even owned an inhaler.  I thought about bringing my sunglasses when we went out today, but I realized I wouldn’t need them:  the sun never really shows.  The smells come in very fast waves.  First I will smell garlic and curry that makes me very hungry, only to be barraged with the scent  of rotting raw sewage only a few steps later.  The sound seems to never stop.  Perhaps this is because I am not used to Mandarin being spoken and therefore cannot tune it out as easily.
It is interesting to me how my mind stores language.  I took Spanish from fourth to eighth grade and then, thanks to block scheduling, five years worth in high school.  I have taken two semesters of Mandarin Chinese in college.  Obviously, I know a lot more Spanish than I do Mandarin.  I find myself wanting to speak Spanish to people here, in China.  I mean to say “Ni hao ma?” but instead I think “Hola, que pasa?” I mean to say “Duibuqi!” but instead I think “Lo siento!” Sometimes my mind even combines the two for such sentences as “Zheige chi fan esta muy hao.” My brain apparently assumes that if an individual does not speak English, they must speak everything but.  All of those garbled sentence fragments and unclear grammar rules I have stored in my non-native language center are working overtime to become comprehensible to me.  I have remembered some Mandarin in only the day that has passed, but I have a long way to go before I can complete simple tasks like buying a meal or asking for directions.  My social anxiety is going to have to take a back seat to necessity for a while.
Tomorrow I start teaching.  I have no idea how much English my students know, so my first lesson is going something like this:
1. Brief introduction
2. Pick American/English names
3. Write alphabet on board
4. Have students write their name on a large folded card and prop it on their desk for identification purposes.
5. Have students line up in alphabetical order.
6. Introduce myself.   Age, family, school, work, hobbies.
7. Do pages 4-7 in work book.

This should take the entire block, but if not, I will play some kind of game.  I will be thinking about this.  For now, I am extremely exhausted (again).  It is time for a shower and sleepy time (apparently, it is 9:15).  Breakfast is at 6:30am and my school day starts at 7:30.

I am so happy to be here.  Many people have told me this is “the trip of a lifetime,” or that this will be the most exciting thing I’ll ever do.  A conversation with my father helped me gather my thoughts on this. While I am very excited and I know this is an extremely wonderful and lucky opportunity, I do not agree with these people: Absolutely not.  This is not the trip of my lifetime.  I am 22 years old and I plan on taking many, many more trips all over the world.  I want to see everything, and while this is not possible, I will see as much as I can.  I will experience as much as I can. 

Well wishes, I miss you all.

This is the final boarding call for flight 897

Direct service to Beijing Capital Airport:

30 minutes until I board. I didn’t get a seat near my trip mates, but I’m okay with that. This is a time for reflection, I believe, and not as much for planning. The planning stages are through.

My next post might take a while, as I’m unsure of my internet access. There will be many, many pictures once I figure it all out. So, spend this break in blogging preparing yourself for visual overload.

Goodbye, all!

The waiting game…

I am at my cousin’s home for one last evening. It is odd to see people getting older (Bren, I don’t mean you are old, just older than you were when we saw more of each other!). He has a delightful little girl named Bridget, whom I had never met:

I am no longer even slightly nervous, I just want to get there. The waiting game has gotten very old and, I assume, will get older and older as my arrival draws nearer.

I hope I can keep everything important together for another 12 hours or so. I’ve printed out my boarding pass, I have my Chinese visa glued into my passport, my bags are the correct size and weight… I should be essentially set.

Wish me luck, all. I’m going to go play Xbox with Brendan.

A stop in our nation’s capital on my way to their’s

Today I flew into Washington DC where I am staying with my aunt, Anne, until we both leave for Beijing on Saturday. I left my house about 13 hours ago and just made it to Anne’s. We spent the day running errands and the like. I am no longer anxious, really, not in the way I was. The generalized, unfocused terror has dissipated so that my excitement is hindered only slightly, and by more practical fears. This dotes entirely on the equally questionable quality of my packing and teaching abilities. At this point, no more can be done. Things will unfold identically whether or not I worry.

I learned something quite interesting. The flight I am taking is a 13.5 hour non-stop from DC to Beijing. Now, why would one fly over Europe and Western Asia in order to get to China? WHY NOT JUST FLY OVER THE NORTH POLE???

Here is my interpretation of the flightpath:

I am severely amazed and excited about this.

For now, though, I have had a very long day and am exhausted. Well wishes!

 

Anxiety

I have been so terrified of this trip. While I am convinced that everything will go perfectly, I am still incredibly anxious. I do not fear being robbed or attacked or lost or any kind of founded, concrete problem. My terror is founded completely in that which is truly the most alarming thing one is ever confronted with: the unknown. I am sick because I am unsure of what the next month will hold. I know it will hold opportunity and excitement, but in what form? As I write this I am feeling better. iI have talked to three very intelligent individuals about quelling my near panic and received three pieces of advice, which I am taking in varying degrees:

1. Let your anxiety run its course. Distract yourself as much as possible, but just let it go. You cannot stop panic when it comes so you might as well sit back and let it wash over you. It will not kill you, even if it feels like it will.
2. In not so few words, but the point was: a little CBT. Create and complete attainable short term goals that will actively prepare you for your trip.
3. Remember that if you need to you can come back home! (That one, quite obviously, was my mother.) I wouldn’t come back early but it is a bit of a comfort, I suppose.

</bitching>

packing list

TWO SUITCASES- 50LBS EACH

CLOTHES

• 10 days worth of comfortable, casual, (appropriate!) warm weather clothes
• sweater/jacket/sweatshirt?
• two pairs of jeans
• birks
• nikes
• one pair of dress shoes
• one skirt and two to three nice tops
• one zillion underoos (One can never be too prepared in this respect. I can wear dirty clothes if necessary… but not underoos.)
• two braziers
• five to seven pairs of socks
• two hats
• glasses and sunglasses (in a case!)

ELECTRONICS

• laptop with charger
• dad’s mp3 player (thank you!!) with charger and transfer cable
• mom’s camera (once again thank you!!) with charger, two memory cards and transfer cable
• headphone/microphone thingy
• converter
• alarm clock (?)

TEACHING SUPPLIES

• magazines
• small board games
• photo album
• one copy of all worksheets
• index cards
• binder with paper and many pockets
• pens and pencils! duh!

TOILETRIES

• assorted prescription pills in the bottles
• acetaminophen
• first aid (band aids, neosporin, H2O2)
• deodorant
• toothpaste
• toothbrush
• mouthwash
• shampoo and conditioner
• soap
• lady problem things
• face wash
• hairbrush
• many many hairties

MISCELLANEOUS

• passport
• credit card and debit card
• $300 in Yuan
• journal
• small purse
• a few books

Am I forgetting anything?

Two weeks away…

I leave for Beijing in two weeks. After staying there for three weeks in order to teach English at a summer camp, I will spend a fourth week traveling throughout the country with stops in Xian, the Three Gorges, and Shanghai.

This is an amazing opportunity for me. The Chinese culture has always fascinated me. I have taken two semesters of Mandarin language in college and focused any cultural study for my major (anthropology) on China. As children, we dig holes in our backyards with the intention of reaching this mysterious destination: the other side of the earth. To experience China not as a tourist but instead stay in one place for weeks presents me with the opportunity to briefly use the past two years of my ethnographic training. My goal with this blog is to communicate with family and friends about my adventures and my well being, and also to chronicle my observations and come away with some sort of conclusion.

My academic interests lie in behavioral health and, ideally, I would ask as many Chinese people as possible about the state of their country’s behavioral health care system. However, while applying for my required visa, I stumbled over this surprising and rather offensive warning:

“Any person suffering from a mental disorder, leprosy, AIDS, venereal diseases, contagious tuberculosis or other such infectious diseases shall not be permitted to enter China.“

(can be found at: http://www.china-embassy.org/eng/hzqz/zgqz/t84246.htm)

I don’t want to say that the Chinese government believes that “mental disorders” are infectious. That implication could be a mistranslation, the ignorance of one individual or any number of other errors. What truly saddens me is the fact that mentally ill people are not permitted to enter the country at all. The obvious stigma (that mentally ill people are dangerous, uncontrollable and a general liability) is outrageous. I wonder what American’s policy is on this matter? Do we ban visitors with schizophrenia? depression? obsessive compulsive disorder? alcoholism? attention deficit disorder?

The point here is that gathering ethnographic information on the state of behavioral health care and the general opinion and stigma regarding those in need of such will indubitably lead to a chastising, at the very least. I haven’t decided, yet, how to focus my quest for understanding this culture (which I realize is quite impossible to do). I know that I have to find some kind of a niche to analyze and gather information on or I will find myself restless and overwhelmed. The course of my latest studies has not only prepared me to scrutinize the details of “the other,” it has fed my already unhealthy appetite to do so.

Please, as I post during my stay on the other side of the world, leave me comments. I will need to know that the people I love are thinking of me and that my home does still exist while I am immersed in the unfamiliar.

well wishes,

Jamie