There's an interesting difference between American and Chinese TV News:
American TV news spends the vast majority of its time talking about disasters, crimes, potential problems that you will run into in life, and then spends most of the rest of its time talking about what other sensational thing they are going to show next in order to get you to keep watching.
Chinese news spends the vast majority of its time talking about its developing economy.
Often, Chinese news doesn't make me feel as awful about the world after.
But that doesn't mean that Chinese news is always positive. Or sometimes it means to be positive but rubs my American-raised mind the wrong way. For example, when they are showing this burning hot steel being heated up enough so that it can bend into the correct form, and there, maybe 20 feet away or less is a worker with a hardhat on. Besides the hardhat, he is wearing nothing particularly special to protect himself. Nothing to protect his eyes from the blinding white light that is coming from the furnace and nothing to protect his face from flying metal sparks that seem to be flying everywhere. The news reporter continues to report on the success of the business as the worker looks blankly at you from the side of the screen.
The next news topic is the pearl markets. The camera shows people individually sorting through piles and piles of harvested pearls. That kind of tedious work might outrage the average American. They would never agree to do that work themselves. And I don't know how many would like seeing that sort of work being done on TV. (But I'm sure they'd still go to the pearl market and buy pearls for their friends...along with their clothing and just about everything else we buy from China that is tediously put together. Many of these factories don't seem to have as many machines as we assume. I've seen documentaries showing a woman spending day after day poking a hole through a small plastic part and the woman after her in the assembly line squirting water through the hole to make sure the hole is complete. They weren't protesting on the documentary, they were just working. Work in China, for the ordinary people, is just work.)
It's still nice to watch more positive news than American news, but there are so many special words related to the development of the economy that I have trouble following the news here. I'm hoping by watching it every other day or so for half an hour, my listening comprehension will get tons better. Because right now, they speak way too fast for me to absorb exactly just what sort of economic progress is happening...
Monday, December 8, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
A warm fuzzy
There's this sweet stray dog that lives on campus that seems to turn up whenever I'm feeling down or lonely.
She seems young, with yellow lab-colored fur. She's got these sweet pointy ears that flop and a face somewhere between a chihuahua and a terrier. She’s a little taller than a terrier, but mostly because she has longer legs and a longer neck, and a slightly curled long blonde tail. She’s pretty slender, and her most defining characteristic is that her hind hips seem a little out of alignment so that she swivels her back feet a little when she walks. She sits funny too, with her two hind legs pointed to one side below her. But the best part is that when her tail wags, her whole rear behind goes crazy.
So i’ll be wandering around feeling a little down and then I’ll see her somewhere. And if I call her...usually with “Baby!” She comes running, or more like wobbling, her tail a wagging and shaking her behind all over the place. She doesn’t seem to do this to just anyone either. I’ve never seen her run up to another person. She comes and nuzzles against my legs and I scratch her neck and back while she tries to lick me (which I try to politely avoid by letting her lick my jeans and sweatshirt). She will sit herself down next to me and will continue to sit there nuzzling my jeans until I decide I have to go.
And she’s dirty too, no doubt. Whenever I’m done petting her, my fingertips are black with dirt and who knows what else. She’s a stray dog and probably ends up in the garbage more often than not...but I figure as long as I wash my hands thoroughly afterward I am basically safe. Afterall, the same stuff that’s on her is also on my shoes too, and all thought I don’t pet them, I for sure handle them all the time.
There’s just something so soothing about having a warm fuzzy creature who enjoys your company. She has a way with me that calms me and reminds me of the simple lovely things in life. I think it is in return for the scratches.
She seems young, with yellow lab-colored fur. She's got these sweet pointy ears that flop and a face somewhere between a chihuahua and a terrier. She’s a little taller than a terrier, but mostly because she has longer legs and a longer neck, and a slightly curled long blonde tail. She’s pretty slender, and her most defining characteristic is that her hind hips seem a little out of alignment so that she swivels her back feet a little when she walks. She sits funny too, with her two hind legs pointed to one side below her. But the best part is that when her tail wags, her whole rear behind goes crazy.
So i’ll be wandering around feeling a little down and then I’ll see her somewhere. And if I call her...usually with “Baby!” She comes running, or more like wobbling, her tail a wagging and shaking her behind all over the place. She doesn’t seem to do this to just anyone either. I’ve never seen her run up to another person. She comes and nuzzles against my legs and I scratch her neck and back while she tries to lick me (which I try to politely avoid by letting her lick my jeans and sweatshirt). She will sit herself down next to me and will continue to sit there nuzzling my jeans until I decide I have to go.
And she’s dirty too, no doubt. Whenever I’m done petting her, my fingertips are black with dirt and who knows what else. She’s a stray dog and probably ends up in the garbage more often than not...but I figure as long as I wash my hands thoroughly afterward I am basically safe. Afterall, the same stuff that’s on her is also on my shoes too, and all thought I don’t pet them, I for sure handle them all the time.
There’s just something so soothing about having a warm fuzzy creature who enjoys your company. She has a way with me that calms me and reminds me of the simple lovely things in life. I think it is in return for the scratches.
Halloween is coming
I think Taigu is probably the only place in all of Shanxi that will celebrate Halloween.
We've all been teaching our students about the American holiday in class. Each class gets to celebrate differently, some of us hand out candy and tell ghost stories, some of us talk about what we are afraid of, some of us share American superstitions in exchange for Chinese ones.
We will also have a Halloween party on Friday for all of our students. That's about 600 students. It's in an old classroom building. It is going to be crazy. These Halloween parties have a history of being crazy in Taigu. They all have to be in costume too.
I'm still trying to think of a costume. If you have ideas, you should tell me.
But my favorite thus far is that Ben and Nick have both had their classes carve pumpkins. (The pumpkins here are green on the outside instead of orange.) And they are awesome. Much more creative and clever than a lot of pumpkins I've seen in America. Some are faces, some are patterns, some have English carved on the side, and some of them are smoking cigarettes.
Nick has put them on our porch. And the best part is watching other students walk by the outside of our house and stop suddenly and stare at the strange carvings. Some smile, some step closer to get a better look, some look confused, some seem to shake their heads, others point to show their friends, most have never seen a carved pumpkin in their life.
We've all been teaching our students about the American holiday in class. Each class gets to celebrate differently, some of us hand out candy and tell ghost stories, some of us talk about what we are afraid of, some of us share American superstitions in exchange for Chinese ones.
We will also have a Halloween party on Friday for all of our students. That's about 600 students. It's in an old classroom building. It is going to be crazy. These Halloween parties have a history of being crazy in Taigu. They all have to be in costume too.
I'm still trying to think of a costume. If you have ideas, you should tell me.
But my favorite thus far is that Ben and Nick have both had their classes carve pumpkins. (The pumpkins here are green on the outside instead of orange.) And they are awesome. Much more creative and clever than a lot of pumpkins I've seen in America. Some are faces, some are patterns, some have English carved on the side, and some of them are smoking cigarettes.
Nick has put them on our porch. And the best part is watching other students walk by the outside of our house and stop suddenly and stare at the strange carvings. Some smile, some step closer to get a better look, some look confused, some seem to shake their heads, others point to show their friends, most have never seen a carved pumpkin in their life.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
My students are my saviors
I love Nong Da University students. Why? Because they are so sweet. And so eager to learn. And so willing to do silly things. And so dorky, but in the coolest and most love-able way ever.
For example, there was today. It was a dreary rainy day, and many of them looked really tired, until they looked up at me when I walked in. They started cheering and clapping when I walked in today. I had worn an absurd amount of clothes to class including a brightly colored stripped skirt on top of jeans that they claimed was pretty. The theme of the class was pretty obvious--clothes. I had gotten the idea from Beth and Ben who had used a fashion show in previous classes. I had my students say the names of everything as I took them off. (Don't worry I still had a t-shirt, sweater, and jeans by the end. Most of the stripping was accessories and jackets.) They were clearly tired still, some of them were nodding off after the initial show. But even their nodding off was more respectful than the nodding off in America. It consisted of a subtle closing of the eyes followed by a quick opening and determined stare in my direction and a wild writing down of the name of some article of clothing I was listing.
The fashion show, however, was what made my life. At first when I explained that pairs would have to do a fashion show, with one person as the announcer and the other as the model, the girls giggled and the guys grumbled. But as soon as the fashion show started, the cheers and clapping overflowed. The modeling and announcing was amazing. Male students, no matter their level of cool or awkwardness, were seen strutting down the classroom aisles convincingly tousling their hair, throwing off scarfs, pulling off sunglasses to flash a dashing glance at the audience and throwing jackets over one shoulder. Ordinary young women flaunted them selves as movie stars, with the confidence to match. The imagination and acting ran wild. It was great to see.
American students are sometimes too cool to have such fun. A group of American students, besides perhaps an acting class, would never be able to pull off such a stunning performance as my students presented.
Our classes seem to be one of the few creative outlets these Graduate Agricultural students have. And they live it up.
I'm gonna follow their example, live it up too while I can, and enjoy these wonderfully enthusiastic students.
For example, there was today. It was a dreary rainy day, and many of them looked really tired, until they looked up at me when I walked in. They started cheering and clapping when I walked in today. I had worn an absurd amount of clothes to class including a brightly colored stripped skirt on top of jeans that they claimed was pretty. The theme of the class was pretty obvious--clothes. I had gotten the idea from Beth and Ben who had used a fashion show in previous classes. I had my students say the names of everything as I took them off. (Don't worry I still had a t-shirt, sweater, and jeans by the end. Most of the stripping was accessories and jackets.) They were clearly tired still, some of them were nodding off after the initial show. But even their nodding off was more respectful than the nodding off in America. It consisted of a subtle closing of the eyes followed by a quick opening and determined stare in my direction and a wild writing down of the name of some article of clothing I was listing.
The fashion show, however, was what made my life. At first when I explained that pairs would have to do a fashion show, with one person as the announcer and the other as the model, the girls giggled and the guys grumbled. But as soon as the fashion show started, the cheers and clapping overflowed. The modeling and announcing was amazing. Male students, no matter their level of cool or awkwardness, were seen strutting down the classroom aisles convincingly tousling their hair, throwing off scarfs, pulling off sunglasses to flash a dashing glance at the audience and throwing jackets over one shoulder. Ordinary young women flaunted them selves as movie stars, with the confidence to match. The imagination and acting ran wild. It was great to see.
American students are sometimes too cool to have such fun. A group of American students, besides perhaps an acting class, would never be able to pull off such a stunning performance as my students presented.
Our classes seem to be one of the few creative outlets these Graduate Agricultural students have. And they live it up.
I'm gonna follow their example, live it up too while I can, and enjoy these wonderfully enthusiastic students.
Monday, October 20, 2008
难过 and 过了 （sadness and getting through)
China, for me, has a perpetual, essential sort of sadness that permeates everything in the countryside.
There is a sense, especially when a Chinese person finally gets close to you and starts opening up, that people here have a lot of difficult things that they deal with and have to keep hidden. And so I think the earth, building and streets start breathing sadness instead.
I’ve had a number of students already ask for leave to see doctors for various surgeries and conditions. It is not as easy to be open about having a disease here. The U.S. is sometimes rough for sure, but here, students often won’t even tell their close friends that they are suffering from a serious chronic illness. A chronic illness can prevent people from getting the job they want, and word about it will spread like wildfire on a college campus. A few people have opened up to me about their illnesses because I am foreign and they know we have different standards about such things. To suffer from an illness and not be able to ask for the support of your friends seems crazy. As does the number of 20 year old students in this small population that I've already found out are dealing with some chronic disease.
That doesn’t begin to talk about the sadness of young women who have given up playing basketball because they are girls. They now sit on the sidelines and watch the handsome boys make the shots instead. Or the sadness of young women who are afraid to be outspoken in class because they believe that the men really are smarter. Or the sadness of the young men and women working on the streets serving all the young students street food because they never graduated high school or never passed the Gao Kao (the College Entrance Examination). Or the sadness of the man old enough to be my grandfather who sells fruit on the corner and who probably has his whole life and probably will for the rest of his life.
Then there is the sadness that you feel when you walk out on the streets in Taigu. It is written in the dust, the faded plaster on the houses, the lines on people’s foreheads, the tired way the waitresses toss the dishwater out on the street, and in the wobbly slow way the bicycles make their way down the street. Beth and I talked about both having felt it—this common sadness that seems have a presence all over the countryside.
And the Chinese version of "sadness," like many emotional words in Chinese, is much more specific than its equivalent in English. The usual translation in Chinese is 难过 （nanguo) which literally means hard going or hard to go through. That is the kind of sadness that permeates everything here.
But then, as clear and present as the sadness is the persistence, calm, acceptance and even joy in the face of it all. People continue, people 过了. People don’t seem to complain about their work, they just do it. Women don’t complain much about their status, they just keep doing their studying and all the things they are allowed to do. And there isn’t a student who isn’t proud of China. Their faith in their people and country, in spite of their knowledge of fraud mines causing mudslides into villages, failed milk that has poisoned children, and knowing first hand of all the poor people still struggling in the countryside, is incredibly strong. Even my friends struggling with illness, who sometimes explain to me their frustration with Chinese cultural norms, continue to impress me with their pride in their country. There is a patriotism and faith in family and country here that is stronger than anything I’ve met in the U.S. It’s pretty incredible.
And then there’s the friendliness here. The average American would not think to be half as friendly as the ordinary Taigu person is to us. In spite of the stares and comments about us wherever we go, I feel really welcomed and completely safe here (well except maybe from the traffic). People here are by and in large honestly curious and really tolerant of our differences from them. I find that I can sooth any stare with a friendly smile. I’m so grateful that smiles and laughter are international. I’m really good at those. And they are accepting of me playing basketball with the young men (I even got a few of my female students to join me), of me as a teacher, of me talking with the storekeepers and ordinary folk on the street. There’s an interesting line that I walk that has them viewing me with something between tolerance or respect, between viewing me as just crazy or acceptable. I rather like it actually. And I’m pretty grateful the people here allow me to walk it. It’s a privilege I’m willing to accept.
I have also realized that part of what drew me to the people in China this ability—this extraordinary ability to face a country and history of sadness and continue to smile and hold their heads up. I’m still always amazed. Our young, proud country could learn a lot from these people.
There is a sense, especially when a Chinese person finally gets close to you and starts opening up, that people here have a lot of difficult things that they deal with and have to keep hidden. And so I think the earth, building and streets start breathing sadness instead.
I’ve had a number of students already ask for leave to see doctors for various surgeries and conditions. It is not as easy to be open about having a disease here. The U.S. is sometimes rough for sure, but here, students often won’t even tell their close friends that they are suffering from a serious chronic illness. A chronic illness can prevent people from getting the job they want, and word about it will spread like wildfire on a college campus. A few people have opened up to me about their illnesses because I am foreign and they know we have different standards about such things. To suffer from an illness and not be able to ask for the support of your friends seems crazy. As does the number of 20 year old students in this small population that I've already found out are dealing with some chronic disease.
That doesn’t begin to talk about the sadness of young women who have given up playing basketball because they are girls. They now sit on the sidelines and watch the handsome boys make the shots instead. Or the sadness of young women who are afraid to be outspoken in class because they believe that the men really are smarter. Or the sadness of the young men and women working on the streets serving all the young students street food because they never graduated high school or never passed the Gao Kao (the College Entrance Examination). Or the sadness of the man old enough to be my grandfather who sells fruit on the corner and who probably has his whole life and probably will for the rest of his life.
Then there is the sadness that you feel when you walk out on the streets in Taigu. It is written in the dust, the faded plaster on the houses, the lines on people’s foreheads, the tired way the waitresses toss the dishwater out on the street, and in the wobbly slow way the bicycles make their way down the street. Beth and I talked about both having felt it—this common sadness that seems have a presence all over the countryside.
And the Chinese version of "sadness," like many emotional words in Chinese, is much more specific than its equivalent in English. The usual translation in Chinese is 难过 （nanguo) which literally means hard going or hard to go through. That is the kind of sadness that permeates everything here.
But then, as clear and present as the sadness is the persistence, calm, acceptance and even joy in the face of it all. People continue, people 过了. People don’t seem to complain about their work, they just do it. Women don’t complain much about their status, they just keep doing their studying and all the things they are allowed to do. And there isn’t a student who isn’t proud of China. Their faith in their people and country, in spite of their knowledge of fraud mines causing mudslides into villages, failed milk that has poisoned children, and knowing first hand of all the poor people still struggling in the countryside, is incredibly strong. Even my friends struggling with illness, who sometimes explain to me their frustration with Chinese cultural norms, continue to impress me with their pride in their country. There is a patriotism and faith in family and country here that is stronger than anything I’ve met in the U.S. It’s pretty incredible.
And then there’s the friendliness here. The average American would not think to be half as friendly as the ordinary Taigu person is to us. In spite of the stares and comments about us wherever we go, I feel really welcomed and completely safe here (well except maybe from the traffic). People here are by and in large honestly curious and really tolerant of our differences from them. I find that I can sooth any stare with a friendly smile. I’m so grateful that smiles and laughter are international. I’m really good at those. And they are accepting of me playing basketball with the young men (I even got a few of my female students to join me), of me as a teacher, of me talking with the storekeepers and ordinary folk on the street. There’s an interesting line that I walk that has them viewing me with something between tolerance or respect, between viewing me as just crazy or acceptable. I rather like it actually. And I’m pretty grateful the people here allow me to walk it. It’s a privilege I’m willing to accept.
I have also realized that part of what drew me to the people in China this ability—this extraordinary ability to face a country and history of sadness and continue to smile and hold their heads up. I’m still always amazed. Our young, proud country could learn a lot from these people.
Monday, September 29, 2008
The American Team: or when Anne, Nick, Ben and Yue get to pretend they are super 厉害（lihai)
(For those of you who don't know, lihai sort of means really amazing or awesome at something. Basically it doesn't have a really good English translation, which is why I used it.)
So we heard there was a large martial arts event being held at a High School in Taigu. It was for a special kind of marital arts, similar to Taiqi that had been started in Taigu. (I believe it is called Xingyi quan.) Ben, Nick, Yue (my Chinese teacher and new friend), and I all decided to go see the opening ceremony.
At the gate to the field, everybody was crowded and pushing and nobody was being let in. But the moment the guards saw Ben and Nick’s face, they asked what country they were from. “America” they responded, to which the guards let them in and pointed to a side of the field. Yue (my Chinese teacher and new friend) and I quickly yelled that we were with them, and with my foreign-looking face and Yue locked on my arm, we made it in too. The organizers pointed us to a series of High-school aged girls dressed in pink, sparkly short dresses holding signs with names of countries and Chinese provinces on them. We were pushed behind the United States sign. Ben and Nick were smiling, Yue and I were horrified. They thought we were participants! We got to march around the stadium representing “The American Team.” Yue hoped that no one who knew her was in the audience, I reassured her that she spoke English well enough to be an ABC (which was true) so she might as well march with us. It was entertaining, until we had to stand in front of the bleachers and listen to 5 officials give speeches about the significance of the event. Then things got exciting again as the fireworks went off, hundreds of students did a large performance on the field and the competitions began.
It was fun, for sure, but it felt really strange to have the doors wide open to us just because of the faces we were born with, when the people who grew up in the city were not allowed into this exciting event unless they had special invitation. I wanted to take the almost one hundred patient, ordinary Taigu people standing with their faces pressed against the fence and tell the guards they were American so they could also use the strange backseat passes our faces allowed us.
So we heard there was a large martial arts event being held at a High School in Taigu. It was for a special kind of marital arts, similar to Taiqi that had been started in Taigu. (I believe it is called Xingyi quan.) Ben, Nick, Yue (my Chinese teacher and new friend), and I all decided to go see the opening ceremony.
At the gate to the field, everybody was crowded and pushing and nobody was being let in. But the moment the guards saw Ben and Nick’s face, they asked what country they were from. “America” they responded, to which the guards let them in and pointed to a side of the field. Yue (my Chinese teacher and new friend) and I quickly yelled that we were with them, and with my foreign-looking face and Yue locked on my arm, we made it in too. The organizers pointed us to a series of High-school aged girls dressed in pink, sparkly short dresses holding signs with names of countries and Chinese provinces on them. We were pushed behind the United States sign. Ben and Nick were smiling, Yue and I were horrified. They thought we were participants! We got to march around the stadium representing “The American Team.” Yue hoped that no one who knew her was in the audience, I reassured her that she spoke English well enough to be an ABC (which was true) so she might as well march with us. It was entertaining, until we had to stand in front of the bleachers and listen to 5 officials give speeches about the significance of the event. Then things got exciting again as the fireworks went off, hundreds of students did a large performance on the field and the competitions began.
It was fun, for sure, but it felt really strange to have the doors wide open to us just because of the faces we were born with, when the people who grew up in the city were not allowed into this exciting event unless they had special invitation. I wanted to take the almost one hundred patient, ordinary Taigu people standing with their faces pressed against the fence and tell the guards they were American so they could also use the strange backseat passes our faces allowed us.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Adventure Run #1
When I am in a new place I feel that part of my way of figuring out where I am is to get lost in it. Running is usually my mode of transportation.
So one morning before my classes, instead of my usual route around the border of the campus, I decided to step outside the walls. (The entire University--like almost every other school in China, from Elementary school to University—is surrounded by a large cement wall). I could just feel the excitement under my feet as I headed out of the gates under the curious stares from the guards, the taxi cab drivers waiting at the gate and every other person who walked or biked along the dirt road that went by the entrance. I headed around the wall, followed it a ways just to see where it went, found how to get to North Yard (the small neighborhood full of restaurants and shops right next to the university) without going through the gates, ran along through the corn fields, past stares from farmers and bikers and the large group of people constructing a house. I ended up on a main road that I hoped headed back towards the campus, but as I followed it, I realized that the tall apartment buildings where the teachers stayed were sinking further and further to my left. I realized that the train tracks on the bridge above the road were headed in the right directions so I ran up some stone steps built into the wall and ended up on a small path running next to the railroad. I followed the path for a ways and was pleasantly surprised by how alone I was, until a train went by and got some good stares from at least a hundred Chinese people. Suddenly Nong Da was again moving slowly to the left as I ran and I had to find a way down. The tracks took another overpass over a road that I knew was really close to the entrance, but there were no convenient steps this time. I followed the top of a cement wall that led down from an overpass, got barked at by a small dog that came up to my mid-shins and only got one surprised stare from a woman who happened to be looking up from her bicycle as I was walking down. I made it back safe, tired, contented and extremely excited that I had finally been comfortable and brave enough to have had a run by myself outside the walls in Taigu. I realized that I didn't have to go very far outside of campus to find a little adventure.
Terror set in though when Zhao Hong, the teacher in charge of us foreign teachers here gave me a call soon after I came back. “I need to see you in my office” was the approximate translation of what she said. Oh no, I thought, someone who saw me on the train or the lady who was on the bike knew her, or maybe the guards mentioned that I had been outside the gate running for almost an hour. I was in trouble. I went into her office and she began, “Anne, there are certain traditions in China revolving around teachers...” Alright, I thought, preparing myself to be yelled at, here comes the explanation of why teachers are not allowed to be out running all over the countryside. “...and one of them is Teachers Day. Here’s your bonus.” She handed me 200 yuan. I must have looked a little stunned because she reassured me, “Take it. All the teachers receive the same amount.” I couldn’t believe how well the morning was going. I thanked her and left to finish getting ready for my first class.
So one morning before my classes, instead of my usual route around the border of the campus, I decided to step outside the walls. (The entire University--like almost every other school in China, from Elementary school to University—is surrounded by a large cement wall). I could just feel the excitement under my feet as I headed out of the gates under the curious stares from the guards, the taxi cab drivers waiting at the gate and every other person who walked or biked along the dirt road that went by the entrance. I headed around the wall, followed it a ways just to see where it went, found how to get to North Yard (the small neighborhood full of restaurants and shops right next to the university) without going through the gates, ran along through the corn fields, past stares from farmers and bikers and the large group of people constructing a house. I ended up on a main road that I hoped headed back towards the campus, but as I followed it, I realized that the tall apartment buildings where the teachers stayed were sinking further and further to my left. I realized that the train tracks on the bridge above the road were headed in the right directions so I ran up some stone steps built into the wall and ended up on a small path running next to the railroad. I followed the path for a ways and was pleasantly surprised by how alone I was, until a train went by and got some good stares from at least a hundred Chinese people. Suddenly Nong Da was again moving slowly to the left as I ran and I had to find a way down. The tracks took another overpass over a road that I knew was really close to the entrance, but there were no convenient steps this time. I followed the top of a cement wall that led down from an overpass, got barked at by a small dog that came up to my mid-shins and only got one surprised stare from a woman who happened to be looking up from her bicycle as I was walking down. I made it back safe, tired, contented and extremely excited that I had finally been comfortable and brave enough to have had a run by myself outside the walls in Taigu. I realized that I didn't have to go very far outside of campus to find a little adventure.
Terror set in though when Zhao Hong, the teacher in charge of us foreign teachers here gave me a call soon after I came back. “I need to see you in my office” was the approximate translation of what she said. Oh no, I thought, someone who saw me on the train or the lady who was on the bike knew her, or maybe the guards mentioned that I had been outside the gate running for almost an hour. I was in trouble. I went into her office and she began, “Anne, there are certain traditions in China revolving around teachers...” Alright, I thought, preparing myself to be yelled at, here comes the explanation of why teachers are not allowed to be out running all over the countryside. “...and one of them is Teachers Day. Here’s your bonus.” She handed me 200 yuan. I must have looked a little stunned because she reassured me, “Take it. All the teachers receive the same amount.” I couldn’t believe how well the morning was going. I thanked her and left to finish getting ready for my first class.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Yelling English, Military Training and Losing Weight
Today was really cold for the first time. It was raining this morning and instead of getting warmer as the day went on, it got colder. By the evening it was cold enough that I was wearing a scarf and 3 shirts when going outside. (It wasn’t actually that cold--I’ve just been spoiled with nice weather.) Outside, “Crazy English” (as I discovered the groups practicing English by yelling every night are called) continued to go on in spite of the cold. Only this time, the students were all dressed in camouflage military uniform. To a person who wasn’t familiar with the Universities in China, it was pretty intimidating looking—a large group of young people dressed in military uniform repeating loudly after a single leader: “If!” “IF!” “I!” “I!” “were!” “were!” “WERE!” “WERE!!”....
But to those of us who now knew how things worked, we saw that the entire group, based on their military uniforms, was made of freshmen who had just arrived at the University. All the freshmen were required to have a week of military training before starting school. So we would see them all for a week or so, all dressed in their camouflage uniforms, starting from early in the morning yelling chants, marching in time, and sitting on little stools listening to some speaker yell something through a loudspeaker in Chinese. Even at 10pm they were all walking around in their military clothing. Most of them are a fair amount smaller than I, but that didn’t stop me from being spooked when I went around a dark corner and a person dressed in camouflage comes striding around the bend. I had to remind myself that they were the same students who when I was running in the morning, parted a path for me, called out a timid, Hello? and then whose faces broke into big, smiles and laughter when I smiled and said hi to them. They all looked really young and quite in wonder at everything, including the exotic foreigner running by them.
Later tonight at the underground supermarket I ran into one of my English majors. Another side of these young people’s lives was exposed when I asked her about what she was up to tonight. The slender girl replied cheerfully that she and her roommates were going running because she needed to lose weight. I almost gagged, but I held it in, “But you are so skinny!” I exclaimed instead. “Maybe in your eyes” she said with a smile, looking my body up and down, “but in Chinese people’s eyes, I am fat.” Oh, I thought, well in that case, I am obese by Chinese standards. But I said nothing, smiled and listened to her finish talking about running being good for losing weight. I was happy when she changed the subject to the upcoming vacation.
I have realized that everyone thinks I’m running because I want to lose weight. It seems like the idea of running for fun is quite foreign here. Just like me and my body type.
But to those of us who now knew how things worked, we saw that the entire group, based on their military uniforms, was made of freshmen who had just arrived at the University. All the freshmen were required to have a week of military training before starting school. So we would see them all for a week or so, all dressed in their camouflage uniforms, starting from early in the morning yelling chants, marching in time, and sitting on little stools listening to some speaker yell something through a loudspeaker in Chinese. Even at 10pm they were all walking around in their military clothing. Most of them are a fair amount smaller than I, but that didn’t stop me from being spooked when I went around a dark corner and a person dressed in camouflage comes striding around the bend. I had to remind myself that they were the same students who when I was running in the morning, parted a path for me, called out a timid, Hello? and then whose faces broke into big, smiles and laughter when I smiled and said hi to them. They all looked really young and quite in wonder at everything, including the exotic foreigner running by them.
Later tonight at the underground supermarket I ran into one of my English majors. Another side of these young people’s lives was exposed when I asked her about what she was up to tonight. The slender girl replied cheerfully that she and her roommates were going running because she needed to lose weight. I almost gagged, but I held it in, “But you are so skinny!” I exclaimed instead. “Maybe in your eyes” she said with a smile, looking my body up and down, “but in Chinese people’s eyes, I am fat.” Oh, I thought, well in that case, I am obese by Chinese standards. But I said nothing, smiled and listened to her finish talking about running being good for losing weight. I was happy when she changed the subject to the upcoming vacation.
I have realized that everyone thinks I’m running because I want to lose weight. It seems like the idea of running for fun is quite foreign here. Just like me and my body type.
Chinese Dog Culture
Even the stray dogs here have a different culture. Instead of the solitary, tough street dogs of the cities in the U.S., these dogs have a different way of survival. If they see you and you say something to them or stop, they stop for a moment and check you out. The cute dogs know their positive adaptations and they will sit down, tilt their head and give you puppy eyes. I have gone up to many the (somewhat clean looking) puppy, put my hand near them and they lick it, and then let me rub their neck for a bit. I know the warnings about rabies, but these dogs have no signs of aggression. They sit down when you come close, or grovel with a tail between their legs. They are not ashamed to take handouts. They know that the way to get good food around here is to look cute. And most of them do it really well.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Curiosity Terrified the Teacher
So I was curious, as most people are, about large gatherings of people. Mistake number one. I was also curious, as English speakers might be, about why they were yelling English. Mistake number two. I was also curious if I could manage to stay behind everyone and pretend to be a Chinese student without being noticed. Mistake number three. It took maybe a minute for someone to come around, pass me a flyer and then gawk at my face as I tried to avert my eyes. (You know the normal if I can’t see them, they can’t see me approach.) In a moment, 3 people jumped by my side and asked if I was a foreign teacher, while a circle of students pulled out of the mob and surrounded me. I knew I was done for. Question after question came out of the students (and one student in particular who seemed more interested in practicing speaking than practicing listening.) And I awkwardly answered one after the other with a word or two. At one point the young man who was doing most of the talking (a very gutsy, and skilled freshman) asked me if I had some words of advice to give everyone, and I semi-unconsciously said “wo mei zhunbei hao le” (I haven’t prepared well.) And everyone laughed. That lightened things a little.
It is just terrifying when you are suddenly in the midst of the kind of people who idealize you. (And by idealize you I mean they idealize English-speaking foreigners, and you are one of them.) You are the holder of this thing they are trying to attain. It’s terrifying. You have all these eyes on you and ears listening to every word you say like it may be the gospel. I felt like I wanted to shrink into myself. “Surely you have taught many people...” the young man was saying. Did he even know that I was only a few years older than him? That I had just graduated from university? That I had only been here three weeks? Well, that he knew, because I had just told him, but that didn’t seem to register. I was sure I must have looked terrified. But one of the young women was nice enough to tell me that I was very charming, that I had a very charming smile. Oh that’s good. At least I look like a nice person even if I had only been able to get out the total of two sentences worth of words.
A couple of my Graduate students passed by, and I grabbed a desperate hello at their blessed familiar faces. They asked what I was doing. I wanted to know too, but instead I told them I had never seen such a group of people and came to see what was going on. They smiled and said they had been walking along and had also been interested by the groups, they had never seen it before either. They told me it looked like I was quite the interest here (well, that in simpler words), and all I could do was nod helplessly. They took their leave politely and with smiles. I wished it was so easy for me.
Soon enough I realized that it actually was that easy for me too. I apologized to the circle of stares and told them I had to go because I had class tomorrow morning. They smiled and nodded enthusiastically, yes of course. All I had to give them was my name, a brief excuse that I had just gotten here as reason why I couldn’t give them my address, and smile politely and leave. It was just as simple a trap to get out of as to get in.
Classrooms are fine for staring at the teacher. That I'm used to. In everyday life, groups of people you've never met watching your every movement can be quite intimidating. I cannot tell you how relieved I felt to slide into the shadows again.
It is just terrifying when you are suddenly in the midst of the kind of people who idealize you. (And by idealize you I mean they idealize English-speaking foreigners, and you are one of them.) You are the holder of this thing they are trying to attain. It’s terrifying. You have all these eyes on you and ears listening to every word you say like it may be the gospel. I felt like I wanted to shrink into myself. “Surely you have taught many people...” the young man was saying. Did he even know that I was only a few years older than him? That I had just graduated from university? That I had only been here three weeks? Well, that he knew, because I had just told him, but that didn’t seem to register. I was sure I must have looked terrified. But one of the young women was nice enough to tell me that I was very charming, that I had a very charming smile. Oh that’s good. At least I look like a nice person even if I had only been able to get out the total of two sentences worth of words.
A couple of my Graduate students passed by, and I grabbed a desperate hello at their blessed familiar faces. They asked what I was doing. I wanted to know too, but instead I told them I had never seen such a group of people and came to see what was going on. They smiled and said they had been walking along and had also been interested by the groups, they had never seen it before either. They told me it looked like I was quite the interest here (well, that in simpler words), and all I could do was nod helplessly. They took their leave politely and with smiles. I wished it was so easy for me.
Soon enough I realized that it actually was that easy for me too. I apologized to the circle of stares and told them I had to go because I had class tomorrow morning. They smiled and nodded enthusiastically, yes of course. All I had to give them was my name, a brief excuse that I had just gotten here as reason why I couldn’t give them my address, and smile politely and leave. It was just as simple a trap to get out of as to get in.
Classrooms are fine for staring at the teacher. That I'm used to. In everyday life, groups of people you've never met watching your every movement can be quite intimidating. I cannot tell you how relieved I felt to slide into the shadows again.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Stranger in a Strange Land
It struck me last night walking in the cool moonlight how amazing it is for me to be where I am. A dream really.
Sometimes, I look at night at the pink, green dancing neon signs saying “Shanxi Agricultural University” and wonder where I am. The smoke coming from the nearby building turns purple in its strange light and the illumination from the almost full moon. With these strange tall buildings radiating light and colored smoke and the moonlight making even the darkest buildings look sharp and clear and full of geometric shapes, I wonder if this China I’m standing in is fake. At other times, the fountains turn on and loudspeakers blast Kenny G or the latest Chinese pop song, and the water dances up and down to the music, and I wonder if they are trying to make China fake.
And then sometimes, I see the quiet corner of a restaurant sharply illuminated in the moonlight, strange geometric shadows making the dirty scene look strangely neat and tidily drawn, and I wonder if I am in a museum. And then, walking along in the dark, I see a young girl sitting on a young man’s lap, the tree shadows carefully covering the places in their face their mouths would be, and I wonder if I am in Oakland, California again.
But sometimes, walking along a dirt road, hearing the quiet sounds of friends giggling and speaking Mandarin together, walking arm in arm, watching others hurry off to their dorms for the evening, with the feeling of a light autumn wind brushing my face and the moonlight illuminating my path, and I remember where I am and I am awed.
Sometimes, I look at night at the pink, green dancing neon signs saying “Shanxi Agricultural University” and wonder where I am. The smoke coming from the nearby building turns purple in its strange light and the illumination from the almost full moon. With these strange tall buildings radiating light and colored smoke and the moonlight making even the darkest buildings look sharp and clear and full of geometric shapes, I wonder if this China I’m standing in is fake. At other times, the fountains turn on and loudspeakers blast Kenny G or the latest Chinese pop song, and the water dances up and down to the music, and I wonder if they are trying to make China fake.
And then sometimes, I see the quiet corner of a restaurant sharply illuminated in the moonlight, strange geometric shadows making the dirty scene look strangely neat and tidily drawn, and I wonder if I am in a museum. And then, walking along in the dark, I see a young girl sitting on a young man’s lap, the tree shadows carefully covering the places in their face their mouths would be, and I wonder if I am in Oakland, California again.
But sometimes, walking along a dirt road, hearing the quiet sounds of friends giggling and speaking Mandarin together, walking arm in arm, watching others hurry off to their dorms for the evening, with the feeling of a light autumn wind brushing my face and the moonlight illuminating my path, and I remember where I am and I am awed.
Mooncakes!
The Mid-Autumn Festival is this Sunday, which means that I have been stalking up on mooncakes in hopes of distracting myself from the topic of the festival—home. For everyone who cannot be at home for the festival (and that is a lot of people in China), the festival is about remembering and missing the people you love who are far away. There are a ton of famous poets who have written famous poems about missing family for this holiday. (I have yet to see a poem that is about being with your family and enjoying it. It seems as though all these poets were quite the travelers.) All I can think of all this is that I don’t need a holiday to remember this...
But I do love mooncakes, whether it is the Mid-Autumn Festival or not. I already tried like 4 different flavors in search of a Red Bean one. (I still haven’t quite figured out how to read the ingredient characters yet.) One of the cakes I had no idea what flavor it was, even after I tried a bite. Nor did the Chinese person who tried a piece. I think it was like an everything mooncake. There were peanuts and rose flavor and some other strange things...it was like the fruitcake of mooncakes. But not bad tasting. I could get used to Chinese style fruitcake.
But I do love mooncakes, whether it is the Mid-Autumn Festival or not. I already tried like 4 different flavors in search of a Red Bean one. (I still haven’t quite figured out how to read the ingredient characters yet.) One of the cakes I had no idea what flavor it was, even after I tried a bite. Nor did the Chinese person who tried a piece. I think it was like an everything mooncake. There were peanuts and rose flavor and some other strange things...it was like the fruitcake of mooncakes. But not bad tasting. I could get used to Chinese style fruitcake.
Privilege
I am really struggling with this sense of privilege here that is sometimes quite overwhelming. I’ve always been seen as a pretty average in America. It’s been difficult to stand out as much as I do here in Taigu. I think it is as close as I will ever come to celebrity status—everyone knows our faces, our names, watches our every move, wants our patronage, wants to visit us and ask us about our everyday lives. And we live in these houses that are so much nicer than those of the average teacher here, and have our own bathroom, a kitchen and shower (with water pressure that does not turn off at 11pm like in the dorms). Moreover, everyone knows we are young, but have enough money to come visit here, have enough privilege to come visit their country with nothing more than a VISA (when it is nearly impossible for them to visit America), and that we get paid a lot compared to the average Chinese wages.
It takes a good conversation with a Chinese student to remind me that I am human too. But sometimes even then I realize that I have been born into speaking the international language that they will always struggle to speak smoothly. I much prefer speaking Mandarin with Chinese friends here. It reminds me that I will always struggle with some things. :)
It takes a good conversation with a Chinese student to remind me that I am human too. But sometimes even then I realize that I have been born into speaking the international language that they will always struggle to speak smoothly. I much prefer speaking Mandarin with Chinese friends here. It reminds me that I will always struggle with some things. :)
Conditions of Living
In general I have no complaints about our living conditions. We live really well considering the place. But sometimes the water pressure goes out. And that’s all fine and well for an hour or so here or there. But 6 hours like it was yesterday was too much. Especially when you have stomach problems from dinner the night before and end up having to run to the bathroom in the closest classroom building. The food here is good, but often a gamble as to its cleanliness. mmm. yeah, you know what I mean.
Not quite a celebrity
Yesterday, I went to eat by myself at a noodle place. So I was wearing glasses (which seems to hide my eyes enough to deceive people at least at first glance that I am Chinese) and this middle-aged couple and college age son sat down next to me. The server who had seated them next to me seemed completely comfortable with who I was. (I’m pretty sure she’d seen me come enough with the foreigners that she knew what category I fell into). But the couple wasn’t so sure. I reassured them in Chinese that they could sit next to me after the mother asked. I ordered my dishes in Chinese, and the couple still seemed uncertain. The woman kept staring at the side of my face when I turned to look at some paperwork I had brought. I wanted to laugh, but decided to hide it. She clearly wanted to ask where I was from, but didn’t know how to say it. The son was clearly a new student because he didn’t know where the chopsticks were in the restaurant. I showed him and explained in Chinese. She took a good stare at my face every time I looked at my bowl of noodles. I decided I’d rather not explain this time, so I kept quiet, and they seemed busy enough slurping up their noodles. I wondered what they would say about me once they got out of my ear-range.
It’s entertaining to be on that border of people’s perceptions of Foreigners and strange-looking Chinese.
Sometimes I forget about being an obvious foreigner until I join up with Ben, Beth, or Nick, because their light hair and complexion elicits an English phrase from every passerby.
It’s entertaining to be on that border of people’s perceptions of Foreigners and strange-looking Chinese.
Sometimes I forget about being an obvious foreigner until I join up with Ben, Beth, or Nick, because their light hair and complexion elicits an English phrase from every passerby.
Fast Food meets Taigu
Ben and Alex discovered a new restaurant. It’s called Manhattan and it’s like a KFC/McDonalds fake. I’ve never seen everyone so excited about a restaurant here. (There’s not even a McDonalds or KFC in downtown Taigu.) We all went there today. I was still stomach sick from some strange food a day or two before, so I didn’t order much of anything, but it sure looked like American food to me. Beth said it stuck to your ribs like American food too. The moment we walked in, the people working at the counter got really excited. “Welcome!” one of the young ladies proclaimed proudly in English. (I believe the pride was in her ability to remember the English word, not necissarily out of pride for the restaurant.) We all laughed at the strangeness of it. They didn’t have beef this day, but they did have the fried chicken, which looked pretty authentic. (hah. authentic, who ever thought I’d use that word to describe fast food?) The entire time we were eating we laughed about the irony of it—of these imported people eating this imported-style food. And the fact that if we kept eating here we would actually become fat Americans. They came up to us after we had finished eating and told us to come there tomorrow again for a free meal. Free meal? We were celebrities. It felt really strange and uncomfortable to me. But like Ben explained to me, it was easy to live like a rockstar in Taigu (he, for example, had an amazing sound system and an electric guitar). Easy, if you were a privileged foreigner. Especially because you wore your ID on your face everywhere you went. Everybody wanted your business.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Dance Partay!
Nick, Alex and I were introduced to our first Taigu dance party at Ben and Beth’s place last night. It was super fun. We listened to dance party music from a decade ago (some of which I hadn’t heard in maybe 5 years) and many of us danced our hearts out. The Chinese students who came were mostly graduate student friends of Beth and Ben and Morgan and Mike from the previous years. There were also some undergraduate English majors from some of their classes. Most of them were much more shy, and many left soon after they came and introduced themselves, but some had no inhibitions about dancing and stayed for the entire party. They were all super friendly and excited to meet us new foreign teachers. Although it was clear that these students weren’t necessarily joining us to practice English. I wore my sparkly blue sequined party hat, which all the students told me in English was “cute.” That was a new one for that crazy hat.
The experience reminded me how much I enjoy dancing with Chinese college students. American college students have too much sexy dancing. Chinese College students get their crazy-fun on. It was fantastic. We jumped and flailed around to everything from Madonna to Michael Jackson to Britney Spears to some Chinese pop star I’ve never heard of. Absolutely lovely.
The experience reminded me how much I enjoy dancing with Chinese college students. American college students have too much sexy dancing. Chinese College students get their crazy-fun on. It was fantastic. We jumped and flailed around to everything from Madonna to Michael Jackson to Britney Spears to some Chinese pop star I’ve never heard of. Absolutely lovely.
Sports and socializing
So turns out a big way to socialize on this campus is sports.
Maggie and Peter were sweet enough to take me to play badminton and tolerate my horrible skills and be patient enough to teach me how you really are supposed to hit the birdie. It was super fun. They thought it was funny that I laughed each time I messed up. Oh yes, I get the comments all the time here, just like in America: wow, she really laughs a lot. What can I say, it’s one of my trademarks in English or Chinese (or any other language I might attempt).
Swimming is also another way to meet people. Ben goes swimming consistently because a lot of his guy friends go all the time. It’s pretty entertaining. At first it was a little terrifying because I am pretty horrible at swimming. And by horrible I mean I know how to swim, but can’t get anywhere fast, and always feel like I’m drowning when doing freestyle. And then I discovered that the Chinese version of swimming is socializing with a few laps in between. You swim a couple laps and then talk for 10 minutes and then swim a couple more and talk some more...It’s pretty fun. Plus, right now in the pool there are lots of children because school hasn’t started. They are very curious about us and once they figure out that we speak Chinese (although they have more trouble understanding our strange accent than most of our college age friens) have a blast playing with us and following us around. The other day Beth and I made friends with a bright little 10 year old girl who insisted on following us back and forth down the lanes and even escorted us back to the showerroom when we were done. She told us we were the first foreigners she had ever met. I always forget that we are so uncommon in Taigu.
Teller tried to teach me how to do freestyle correctly. Now I don’t feel like I’m drowning, but I go about ¾ of the length of the Olympic sized swimming pool and am too out of breath to keep it up. Breaststroke is my savior.
The shower room was another thing of terror initially. Here I was, already stared at with clothes on, and I was pretty terrified to take them off in front of Chinese women. For better or for worse though, I guess I look surprisingly like a Chinese woman naked if they can’t see my eyes. I heard a couple arguments between people about whether I was foreigner or not. (It is really entertaining here the amount of discussion about you that goes on right in front of your face.) The usual conclusion was foreigner as soon as I looked over at them.
I keep up my running occasionally, but running is difficult because the air gets pretty bad pretty quick after the morning. Also, it is not a thing to do when I am feeling shy--I get stared at incessantly wherever I run. In spite of the fact that they have two tracks here, no body seems to run but me.
Maggie and Peter were sweet enough to take me to play badminton and tolerate my horrible skills and be patient enough to teach me how you really are supposed to hit the birdie. It was super fun. They thought it was funny that I laughed each time I messed up. Oh yes, I get the comments all the time here, just like in America: wow, she really laughs a lot. What can I say, it’s one of my trademarks in English or Chinese (or any other language I might attempt).
Swimming is also another way to meet people. Ben goes swimming consistently because a lot of his guy friends go all the time. It’s pretty entertaining. At first it was a little terrifying because I am pretty horrible at swimming. And by horrible I mean I know how to swim, but can’t get anywhere fast, and always feel like I’m drowning when doing freestyle. And then I discovered that the Chinese version of swimming is socializing with a few laps in between. You swim a couple laps and then talk for 10 minutes and then swim a couple more and talk some more...It’s pretty fun. Plus, right now in the pool there are lots of children because school hasn’t started. They are very curious about us and once they figure out that we speak Chinese (although they have more trouble understanding our strange accent than most of our college age friens) have a blast playing with us and following us around. The other day Beth and I made friends with a bright little 10 year old girl who insisted on following us back and forth down the lanes and even escorted us back to the showerroom when we were done. She told us we were the first foreigners she had ever met. I always forget that we are so uncommon in Taigu.
Teller tried to teach me how to do freestyle correctly. Now I don’t feel like I’m drowning, but I go about ¾ of the length of the Olympic sized swimming pool and am too out of breath to keep it up. Breaststroke is my savior.
The shower room was another thing of terror initially. Here I was, already stared at with clothes on, and I was pretty terrified to take them off in front of Chinese women. For better or for worse though, I guess I look surprisingly like a Chinese woman naked if they can’t see my eyes. I heard a couple arguments between people about whether I was foreigner or not. (It is really entertaining here the amount of discussion about you that goes on right in front of your face.) The usual conclusion was foreigner as soon as I looked over at them.
I keep up my running occasionally, but running is difficult because the air gets pretty bad pretty quick after the morning. Also, it is not a thing to do when I am feeling shy--I get stared at incessantly wherever I run. In spite of the fact that they have two tracks here, no body seems to run but me.
Desperate to make music
What have I been doing in this crazy place? Well, it was really quiet until about 3 or 4 days ago when all the students started coming back so I tended to hang out and sometimes go into Taigu to check it out. It has been only a week and I already bought 2 instruments. I went to an er hu store as soon as I found out from Ben where it was in Taigu. It was a sweet little shop in one of the allyways lined with little stores selling just about anything you could want. They took me into the back and put together a cheap er hu for me. It was awesome to watch the guys put it together. Their shop was full of pieces of er hu and another similar instrument that is special to Shanxi province. I sort of hoped I could maybe come back sometime and watch them assemble an er hu from scratch...but although they were nice and somewhat impressed with my Chinese (once they figured out I was a foreigner) it was really one of the other customers who took an interest in me and showed me how you really play it and helped me check out the instrument. But he wasn’t from the area, so he couldn’t give me lessons.
I went 2 days later to get a guitar cause I desperately needed to express myself in some sad song longing for California (and someone in particular) so I ran off thinking I could get into the city, buy a guitar and come back in an hour to meet some friends for lunch. I had been to the store before, but he said all the guitars were 500 yuan or more. That was more than I wanted to pay for something that I might not bring back to the states, so I left. But I was back cause I desperately needed a guitar, and the store owner seemed like a nice enough guy, so I figured at most I would pay 300 or 400 at most (that was all I put in my pocket) for a good guitar plus nice case. I figured if he wouldn’t lower it that much at least I wouldn’t have enough to pay and I could just leave. Turns out he was happy to see me back and said he had one that was nice and for 400, but he’d let me have it for cheaper. It had a nice little dent on the bottom too, to make it more affordable for me. But he of course reassured me that the most important part—the neck--would not break off, as it had for a cheap 100kuai guitar that he had in the back. Turned out though, that he didn’t have a guitar bag that fit the guitar so he gave it to me for 300. He asked if I was a student at Nong Da (as everyone seems to assume I am) and I said, no I teach English. Immediately, he was more interested. Do you teach outside of the university? He asked. Not yet, I said, I just got here. He explained that he had a son and would like some lessons for him. Possibility I said, but not right now. So he gave me his phone number, name (I told him I didn’t have one yet...not quite true, but at least I had not memorized it yet...) and we will see. Perhaps if I’d like some guitar lessons, I could trade with English lessons. We’ll see. As it is, it was a nice deal, cause not only have I been enjoying it, but every time people come to the house Nick and I live in, somebody picks up the guitar and starts fiddling with it. Great. That was exactly what I wanted.
I went 2 days later to get a guitar cause I desperately needed to express myself in some sad song longing for California (and someone in particular) so I ran off thinking I could get into the city, buy a guitar and come back in an hour to meet some friends for lunch. I had been to the store before, but he said all the guitars were 500 yuan or more. That was more than I wanted to pay for something that I might not bring back to the states, so I left. But I was back cause I desperately needed a guitar, and the store owner seemed like a nice enough guy, so I figured at most I would pay 300 or 400 at most (that was all I put in my pocket) for a good guitar plus nice case. I figured if he wouldn’t lower it that much at least I wouldn’t have enough to pay and I could just leave. Turns out he was happy to see me back and said he had one that was nice and for 400, but he’d let me have it for cheaper. It had a nice little dent on the bottom too, to make it more affordable for me. But he of course reassured me that the most important part—the neck--would not break off, as it had for a cheap 100kuai guitar that he had in the back. Turned out though, that he didn’t have a guitar bag that fit the guitar so he gave it to me for 300. He asked if I was a student at Nong Da (as everyone seems to assume I am) and I said, no I teach English. Immediately, he was more interested. Do you teach outside of the university? He asked. Not yet, I said, I just got here. He explained that he had a son and would like some lessons for him. Possibility I said, but not right now. So he gave me his phone number, name (I told him I didn’t have one yet...not quite true, but at least I had not memorized it yet...) and we will see. Perhaps if I’d like some guitar lessons, I could trade with English lessons. We’ll see. As it is, it was a nice deal, cause not only have I been enjoying it, but every time people come to the house Nick and I live in, somebody picks up the guitar and starts fiddling with it. Great. That was exactly what I wanted.
SO WHAT'S THE DEAL, YO?!
Here’s what my situation is as I know it thus far.
I’m at Shanxi Agricultural University (山西农业大学) otherwise known as NongDa to the people in the area. I am teaching English to two classes of Graduate students, one class of PhD students and one class of Undergraduate English Majors (the Graduate and PhD majors have various concentrations...but mostly related to agriculture). The Graduate and PhD classes meet 2 times a week for two hours, the English Major class meets once a week for two hours. (I'll admit that I'm a little terrified, especially of teaching the PhD classes, but super excited too.)
There are 5 of us foreign teachers: Ben Reitz, Beth Rogers, Nick Hatt, Alex Paik and I. (Full names for those of you who are/were Obies and know these characters.) Yes, we are all from Oberlin, and Ben, Beth, Nick and I are on the same 2 year commitment to the Shansi Fellowship. Alex came on his own so he will probably only stay for a year. Ben and Beth share a house and each have an individual apartment in it (as in there is a shared livingroom, but each has a separate bedroom/study, kitchen and bathroom). Nick and I have a simliar housing situation, and Alex, as of yet, has no housemate, but has a similar apartment in a house.
As for the classes themselves, well, we aren’t guided too much at all. Basically they tell us when and who we are going to teach and the rest is up to us. English is the goal. I assume oral English since that is our specialty, but who really knows. Luckily, both Beth and Ben were here last year so they have been preparing us and reassuring us that the students are super respectful and really nice. You have to work hard to make them not like you. (Apparently it has been done before though...although not by a Shansi Fellow.) We start class on Monday, September 1st. As in 2 days from now.
The school has a beautiful campus, full of trees, gardens, and lovely old buildings. It’s pretty unusual in China to have a big famous University in a small town (small in China is 40,000 people), and so NongDa is exceptional in many ways. The University was founded by a Chinese man (H.H. Kung) who grew up with some Oberlin Missionaries. He himself, after the Boxer Rebellion and the death of those Missionaries, later went to Oberlin College to study and then to Yale. He came back to China and became a wealthy businessman (well, he was already wealthy to begin with) and founded this school. He also invited Oberlin missionaries (through the Shansi Memorial Foundation—the same organization that sends us here now) to come back and teach at the school. During the Communist Revolution, the school was taken back by the government. In the early 80s, NongDa and Shansi started talking with each other again, and again Oberlin graduates, no longer religiously affiliated, were invited to come and teach there. (Some NongDa teachers also go to Oberlin to study and teach through Shansi.)
The town of Taigu is a typical, dusty, dry, small Shanxi Province town that holds lots of little secret spots of historical interest. It is full of dirty streets, lots of small shops and some lovely old (and mostly falling apart) buildings with courtyards, old carvings and all. It has no city wall remaining, the way that Pingyao, its famous, touristy nearby neighbor, has. But it does have some old stone streets, lovely old buildings, some old houses that used to belong to some wealthy merchants, a few temples nearby, the old drum tower and a-thousand-year-old pagoda downtown. Apparently, 100 years ago, Taigu was full of wealthy merchants (mostly bankers). Now, it seems to be full of pretty ordinary, perhaps relatively poor people.
Shanxi Province is known for its baijiu (a strong kind of alcohol), its noodles, its vinegar, and its coal mines and coal processing plants. The province is dry and in the mountains to the west and slightly south of Beijing. The weather, they say, is similar to Oberlin, but a lot dryer. The Province is relatively poor compared to its wealthier coastal neighbors, but there are a few absurdly rich people who own the mines and factories. We are lucky because the campus is so green and Taigu itself is not a coalmining city, but we get some nice pollution from the neighboring capital of Shanxi—Taiyuan. We are about an hour bus ride or train ride from Taiyuan, (which we only go to if we are crazing luxuries like cheese, pizza and good chocolate, because, though modern, is not a particularly beautiful city).
Basically, overall, I feel really lucky to be here. It will be an experience unlike what many foreigners would ever get to experience when traveling in China. It will be tough at times I know--I’ve already heard stories—but I also have heard that it is super hard to leave here after two years. So I'd better start enjoying it now.
I’m at Shanxi Agricultural University (山西农业大学) otherwise known as NongDa to the people in the area. I am teaching English to two classes of Graduate students, one class of PhD students and one class of Undergraduate English Majors (the Graduate and PhD majors have various concentrations...but mostly related to agriculture). The Graduate and PhD classes meet 2 times a week for two hours, the English Major class meets once a week for two hours. (I'll admit that I'm a little terrified, especially of teaching the PhD classes, but super excited too.)
There are 5 of us foreign teachers: Ben Reitz, Beth Rogers, Nick Hatt, Alex Paik and I. (Full names for those of you who are/were Obies and know these characters.) Yes, we are all from Oberlin, and Ben, Beth, Nick and I are on the same 2 year commitment to the Shansi Fellowship. Alex came on his own so he will probably only stay for a year. Ben and Beth share a house and each have an individual apartment in it (as in there is a shared livingroom, but each has a separate bedroom/study, kitchen and bathroom). Nick and I have a simliar housing situation, and Alex, as of yet, has no housemate, but has a similar apartment in a house.
As for the classes themselves, well, we aren’t guided too much at all. Basically they tell us when and who we are going to teach and the rest is up to us. English is the goal. I assume oral English since that is our specialty, but who really knows. Luckily, both Beth and Ben were here last year so they have been preparing us and reassuring us that the students are super respectful and really nice. You have to work hard to make them not like you. (Apparently it has been done before though...although not by a Shansi Fellow.) We start class on Monday, September 1st. As in 2 days from now.
The school has a beautiful campus, full of trees, gardens, and lovely old buildings. It’s pretty unusual in China to have a big famous University in a small town (small in China is 40,000 people), and so NongDa is exceptional in many ways. The University was founded by a Chinese man (H.H. Kung) who grew up with some Oberlin Missionaries. He himself, after the Boxer Rebellion and the death of those Missionaries, later went to Oberlin College to study and then to Yale. He came back to China and became a wealthy businessman (well, he was already wealthy to begin with) and founded this school. He also invited Oberlin missionaries (through the Shansi Memorial Foundation—the same organization that sends us here now) to come back and teach at the school. During the Communist Revolution, the school was taken back by the government. In the early 80s, NongDa and Shansi started talking with each other again, and again Oberlin graduates, no longer religiously affiliated, were invited to come and teach there. (Some NongDa teachers also go to Oberlin to study and teach through Shansi.)
The town of Taigu is a typical, dusty, dry, small Shanxi Province town that holds lots of little secret spots of historical interest. It is full of dirty streets, lots of small shops and some lovely old (and mostly falling apart) buildings with courtyards, old carvings and all. It has no city wall remaining, the way that Pingyao, its famous, touristy nearby neighbor, has. But it does have some old stone streets, lovely old buildings, some old houses that used to belong to some wealthy merchants, a few temples nearby, the old drum tower and a-thousand-year-old pagoda downtown. Apparently, 100 years ago, Taigu was full of wealthy merchants (mostly bankers). Now, it seems to be full of pretty ordinary, perhaps relatively poor people.
Shanxi Province is known for its baijiu (a strong kind of alcohol), its noodles, its vinegar, and its coal mines and coal processing plants. The province is dry and in the mountains to the west and slightly south of Beijing. The weather, they say, is similar to Oberlin, but a lot dryer. The Province is relatively poor compared to its wealthier coastal neighbors, but there are a few absurdly rich people who own the mines and factories. We are lucky because the campus is so green and Taigu itself is not a coalmining city, but we get some nice pollution from the neighboring capital of Shanxi—Taiyuan. We are about an hour bus ride or train ride from Taiyuan, (which we only go to if we are crazing luxuries like cheese, pizza and good chocolate, because, though modern, is not a particularly beautiful city).
Basically, overall, I feel really lucky to be here. It will be an experience unlike what many foreigners would ever get to experience when traveling in China. It will be tough at times I know--I’ve already heard stories—but I also have heard that it is super hard to leave here after two years. So I'd better start enjoying it now.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Getting to know Taigu August 21-23
The campus is beautiful. Especially because after the rain, the sky was blue, the temperature perfect and the air clear. There are plenty of trees and small parks for a tree hugger like me, and an unusual amount of grass for China (but still probably less grass than most American Universities require.)
There is no other foreigner but me here thus far, which makes things a little more lonely, and me a little more terrified that I have less than 10 days to prepare for a semester class of Masters students that I've never taught before. But it also forces me to walk around on my own and get up my confidence.
Apparently we were given a cook. Being the middle class American that I am, I was terrified of this at first. And then I met her. She immediately won me over with her big smile and sweet face (is there a common theme in what I like in people?). And then won me over even more because one evening she sat down at my table and started talking with me. It turns out that she is brand new, and has never cooked except for her own family before. She seems a little terrified of the prospect of pleasing all these foreigners, but pleasantly surprised that I am so easy to please.
SEEING THE CITY OF TAIGU
There is also a young man (a senior in college), who is the son of some of the people in charge of the university, that the Foreign Affairs people have assigned to show me around the campus and the area. Today we went into Taigu and I finally got to see this little city that I'm going to live in for two years.
It's definitely a small city, they say 40,000 people. (Based on some websites, the University has about 11,000 students, undergrad and graduate.) The tallest buildings are...well...there aren't really any tall buildings, unless you consider 7 stories tall.
We saw a pagoda in the center of town that is over 1000 years old, 7 stories tall. Really cool, except that there were pieces of the wooden stairs that appeared to be missing. I hoped the internal structure was not the original. We could see the mountains next to the city from the top of the structure and I'm super excited to figure out how to get to them and hike.
We also went to the drum tower, which is still intact, unlike the bell tower and the old wall, which have long been taken down to make room for development. There were plenty of old houses surrounding, which my new tour guide/friend, Jack, explained were a common thing for foreigners to come study. He explained that the houses were really well insulated; cool in the summer and warm in the winter. He said it was because they were made of soil. I didn't quite understand until we watched for a minute the men working on a roof on a nearby house. They were taking thick globs of mud and using it as mortar and then spreading a thin mortar-type mixture into it, and then putting the traditional half-cylinder tiles on top. I laughed and explained to Jack that they are re-learning how to build houses made of mud in the U.S. now--it's part of a movement to do better to the environment. Jack said he heard the U.S.'s environment was a lot better than China's. In a land that has very few trees left, my friend explained that wood cannot be used in building anymore. It used to be that traditional buildings were made with huge timbers and without nails. Now, nobody can make such buildings anymore--most buildings are brick in the countryside and concrete in the city.
ZHONGGUOREN OR WAIGUOREN
It's funny to see what people think of me as a foreigner here in Taigu, where the only foreigners seemt to be teachers at the University. But again, I appear not to be a good example of a standard foreigner. One woman, asked me as we came down from the drum tower if she and her friend were allowed to go up. She looked at me closer as I came down the stairs and laughed, "Ah, ta shi waiguoren!" (Oh, she's a foreigner!) Most people stared at me only after taking a second look. We got onto one bus and the busdriver took a closer look. He asked Jack, "Ta shi waiguoren ma?" Jack replied positively, and the busdriver smiled excitedly and gave me a thums up. I wasn't sure what for, but I smiled back. Later, I was looking for some fruit and a little lunch in the area between the teacher's section of the school and the main campus where all the little restaurants and stores were, a woman was much more blunt with me. As I walked into a dumpling place, she yelled to me from the next store over, "Ni shi zhongguoren haishi waiguoren?" (Are you Chinese, or a foreigner?) For a moment I thought I should just tell her I was Chinese for kicks, but then I realized my accent would probably give me away. "Waiguoren" I replied. I secretly hoped that wouldn't mean that the dumpling place would try and charge me more...
Night time is easier to walk around and not be taken for a foreigner or an odd-looking Chinese. I have dark enough and straight enough hair, and luckily for me, most of the women in Shanxi are taller and stouter than in places like Kunming where the people are really small and I always felt like a giant. I was still a slight bit taller and stouter than what was probably normal for a young woman, but in the dark, no body paid me any attention. It felt pretty nice.
I saw the stars out tonight too. Another good sign.
There is no other foreigner but me here thus far, which makes things a little more lonely, and me a little more terrified that I have less than 10 days to prepare for a semester class of Masters students that I've never taught before. But it also forces me to walk around on my own and get up my confidence.
Apparently we were given a cook. Being the middle class American that I am, I was terrified of this at first. And then I met her. She immediately won me over with her big smile and sweet face (is there a common theme in what I like in people?). And then won me over even more because one evening she sat down at my table and started talking with me. It turns out that she is brand new, and has never cooked except for her own family before. She seems a little terrified of the prospect of pleasing all these foreigners, but pleasantly surprised that I am so easy to please.
SEEING THE CITY OF TAIGU
There is also a young man (a senior in college), who is the son of some of the people in charge of the university, that the Foreign Affairs people have assigned to show me around the campus and the area. Today we went into Taigu and I finally got to see this little city that I'm going to live in for two years.
It's definitely a small city, they say 40,000 people. (Based on some websites, the University has about 11,000 students, undergrad and graduate.) The tallest buildings are...well...there aren't really any tall buildings, unless you consider 7 stories tall.
We saw a pagoda in the center of town that is over 1000 years old, 7 stories tall. Really cool, except that there were pieces of the wooden stairs that appeared to be missing. I hoped the internal structure was not the original. We could see the mountains next to the city from the top of the structure and I'm super excited to figure out how to get to them and hike.
We also went to the drum tower, which is still intact, unlike the bell tower and the old wall, which have long been taken down to make room for development. There were plenty of old houses surrounding, which my new tour guide/friend, Jack, explained were a common thing for foreigners to come study. He explained that the houses were really well insulated; cool in the summer and warm in the winter. He said it was because they were made of soil. I didn't quite understand until we watched for a minute the men working on a roof on a nearby house. They were taking thick globs of mud and using it as mortar and then spreading a thin mortar-type mixture into it, and then putting the traditional half-cylinder tiles on top. I laughed and explained to Jack that they are re-learning how to build houses made of mud in the U.S. now--it's part of a movement to do better to the environment. Jack said he heard the U.S.'s environment was a lot better than China's. In a land that has very few trees left, my friend explained that wood cannot be used in building anymore. It used to be that traditional buildings were made with huge timbers and without nails. Now, nobody can make such buildings anymore--most buildings are brick in the countryside and concrete in the city.
ZHONGGUOREN OR WAIGUOREN
It's funny to see what people think of me as a foreigner here in Taigu, where the only foreigners seemt to be teachers at the University. But again, I appear not to be a good example of a standard foreigner. One woman, asked me as we came down from the drum tower if she and her friend were allowed to go up. She looked at me closer as I came down the stairs and laughed, "Ah, ta shi waiguoren!" (Oh, she's a foreigner!) Most people stared at me only after taking a second look. We got onto one bus and the busdriver took a closer look. He asked Jack, "Ta shi waiguoren ma?" Jack replied positively, and the busdriver smiled excitedly and gave me a thums up. I wasn't sure what for, but I smiled back. Later, I was looking for some fruit and a little lunch in the area between the teacher's section of the school and the main campus where all the little restaurants and stores were, a woman was much more blunt with me. As I walked into a dumpling place, she yelled to me from the next store over, "Ni shi zhongguoren haishi waiguoren?" (Are you Chinese, or a foreigner?) For a moment I thought I should just tell her I was Chinese for kicks, but then I realized my accent would probably give me away. "Waiguoren" I replied. I secretly hoped that wouldn't mean that the dumpling place would try and charge me more...
Night time is easier to walk around and not be taken for a foreigner or an odd-looking Chinese. I have dark enough and straight enough hair, and luckily for me, most of the women in Shanxi are taller and stouter than in places like Kunming where the people are really small and I always felt like a giant. I was still a slight bit taller and stouter than what was probably normal for a young woman, but in the dark, no body paid me any attention. It felt pretty nice.
I saw the stars out tonight too. Another good sign.
arrival in Taigu August 20
wow. lovely. I knew I would like the place before I got there because it was raining hard in Taiyuan, and the woman who met me at the airport didn't speak a word of English and had a robust smile. As we drove from the airport to Taigu, she spoke quickly to the man driving. But I liked her immediately because not only could I understand a fair amount of what she said, but she was super animated when speaking--you could tell she was a gutsy woman just from the way she spoke. I liked the man driving too, because even though he spoke to her in a thick accent that sounded like Vietnamese to me, he spoke slowly and clearly to me in Mandarin when they figured out I could speak it.
It was dark and wet when we got in, so I just washed up and conked out in bed.
It was dark and wet when we got in, so I just washed up and conked out in bed.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
August 19th
I met up with my former Chinese roommate from CET. It was absolutely wonderful to see her. We picked up right where we left off. She always understands everything I'm trying to say in Chinese even if I say it wrong. Plus, I'm used to her vocabulary, so I can keep up with what she's saying (in spite of the fact that she speaks very fast). We had a meal and went to Bei Da (Peiking University), which I hadn't been to last time. My grandfather went to Bei Da back in the day, and it was pretty awesome to see it. I assumed it was easy to get in like most American colleges and followed my roommate in past the gatekeepers, but she told me afterwards that they let us in because we looked like students. It was actually not easy to be let onto the campus. Oops. Bei Da was beautiful and I took a ton of pictures. Hopefully I can post them soon.
That evening my family took me to one of the track and field Olympic games. Funny, I swore I wasn't going to the Olympics when I went to Beijing, but I had a blast (actually I think more of a blast than my family did...three hours of track and field is pretty tiresome when it is not your favorite sport.) It was pretty entertaining--when they first told me we were going I had no idea what event we were going to see (I didn't know the word for track and field in Chinese), so I figured I would nod and smile and be surprised when I got to the stadium. I wasn't only surprised I was super excited. Track and field and cross country are the only sports I've ever competed in. I wasn't very good at them, but I know the challenge of them, and to see these superstars in their game was amazing. Actually, when we first got there, I was surprised at how small the competitors were (we were on the 3rd tier up). They seemed a lot more human from the balcony and through binoculars than when they are on the TV screen. That is, until they started running, jumping or throwing.
Turns out, the track and field tickets are sort of like buy one get 15 free. You pay for one event and you get to see a ton of other ones. This is what we saw:
Trials for: Women's 200m, Women's 5k (my favorite), Men's 150m hurdles
Semifinals for: Men's 200m, Men's 400m
finals for: Men's high jump, Men's discus, Women's 400m, Women's 100m hurdles, and Men's 1500m.
and award ceremony for: men's long jump, men's hurdles (forgot which length--they were all Americans), women's pole vault, men's high jump and Women's 400m.
(whew.)
these were all interspersed and usually a track and field event were going on at once. (I kept being afraid that the men high jumpers were going to be run over by the women 5k-ers.)
The most amazing thing was the size of the stadium and the power of the crowd. As the runners ran around the track a giant wave of cheering followed them. Each country had their little group of fans (mostly the European countries and U.S.) that were wearing all the right colors and carrying flags and crazy hats and jumped up and went wild when someone from their county got on the field. And when a Chinese competitor (there were only 4) was on the track or field the crowd went wild. A chant of jia you (which means literally add oil, but is used to encourage people to do well, work hard, etc.) would start quietly and rise up and swallow a whole side of the stadium until the large video screens on both sides of the stadium would post in Chinese and English "Please be quiet for the start of the competition." Pretty incredible support considering these Chinese competitors were not the most famous or the most likely to get a metal. That certainly didn't stop the majority of the crowd from bringing Chinese flags, putting stickers on their faces and chanting their hearts out. What a time for China. The Olympics seem to take up the majority of the TV stations on Chinese TV, and every day the upbeat songs played while showing a review of the Olympics seem to be able to incorporate one more recent Chinese gold metal into their series of images. Amazing.
I didn't think I'd like watching the Olympics, but I did. It means a lot to a lot of people. And it was pretty awesome to see that even countries that were paid very little attention in international politics were paid a lot of attention in international sports competitions. It's amazing how much pride is in these games. And a decent amount of respect, too. Everyone gets cheered for, no matter the country.
That evening my family took me to one of the track and field Olympic games. Funny, I swore I wasn't going to the Olympics when I went to Beijing, but I had a blast (actually I think more of a blast than my family did...three hours of track and field is pretty tiresome when it is not your favorite sport.) It was pretty entertaining--when they first told me we were going I had no idea what event we were going to see (I didn't know the word for track and field in Chinese), so I figured I would nod and smile and be surprised when I got to the stadium. I wasn't only surprised I was super excited. Track and field and cross country are the only sports I've ever competed in. I wasn't very good at them, but I know the challenge of them, and to see these superstars in their game was amazing. Actually, when we first got there, I was surprised at how small the competitors were (we were on the 3rd tier up). They seemed a lot more human from the balcony and through binoculars than when they are on the TV screen. That is, until they started running, jumping or throwing.
Turns out, the track and field tickets are sort of like buy one get 15 free. You pay for one event and you get to see a ton of other ones. This is what we saw:
Trials for: Women's 200m, Women's 5k (my favorite), Men's 150m hurdles
Semifinals for: Men's 200m, Men's 400m
finals for: Men's high jump, Men's discus, Women's 400m, Women's 100m hurdles, and Men's 1500m.
and award ceremony for: men's long jump, men's hurdles (forgot which length--they were all Americans), women's pole vault, men's high jump and Women's 400m.
(whew.)
these were all interspersed and usually a track and field event were going on at once. (I kept being afraid that the men high jumpers were going to be run over by the women 5k-ers.)
The most amazing thing was the size of the stadium and the power of the crowd. As the runners ran around the track a giant wave of cheering followed them. Each country had their little group of fans (mostly the European countries and U.S.) that were wearing all the right colors and carrying flags and crazy hats and jumped up and went wild when someone from their county got on the field. And when a Chinese competitor (there were only 4) was on the track or field the crowd went wild. A chant of jia you (which means literally add oil, but is used to encourage people to do well, work hard, etc.) would start quietly and rise up and swallow a whole side of the stadium until the large video screens on both sides of the stadium would post in Chinese and English "Please be quiet for the start of the competition." Pretty incredible support considering these Chinese competitors were not the most famous or the most likely to get a metal. That certainly didn't stop the majority of the crowd from bringing Chinese flags, putting stickers on their faces and chanting their hearts out. What a time for China. The Olympics seem to take up the majority of the TV stations on Chinese TV, and every day the upbeat songs played while showing a review of the Olympics seem to be able to incorporate one more recent Chinese gold metal into their series of images. Amazing.
I didn't think I'd like watching the Olympics, but I did. It means a lot to a lot of people. And it was pretty awesome to see that even countries that were paid very little attention in international politics were paid a lot of attention in international sports competitions. It's amazing how much pride is in these games. And a decent amount of respect, too. Everyone gets cheered for, no matter the country.
August 18
We went to the Great Wall--to a section that normally only Chinese know about and go to. But this time, there were a ton of foreigners there too. It was the first time I got asked, "Do you speak English?" I got to translate for someone who didn't quite understand how to buy tickets. It was fun to see the guy's reaction when I spoke in Chinese with my uncle (because I didn't really know how to buy tickets either). He asked me if I was from here. I laughed and said, no I'm from America. He, who sounded like he was from Europe, gave me a look that seemed to say, now why would you be from there, and accepted our advice.
I think I'm starting to like saying that I'm American. The only time I feel American is when I'm not in America. And plus, I enjoy breaking people's stereotypes of the blonde, blue-eyed, stubborn, monolingual American.
The mountains at that re-built section of the Great Wall were incredible. It was like the Sierras only smaller and sharper peaks. Also greener, a lot greener. And there are the remains of a wall that stretch miles upon miles up and down the peaks. Okay, so by "like the Sierras" I mean they were incredible and awesome and mountains, but really different.
It was super hot on the wall. We took a lift (as in a ski lift) up and walked a ways on the wall and then hiked down. (You can also take a slide down, but it's quite expensive and the wait was like 45 minutes in the hot sun. It did look pretty fun though.) There were plenty of exhausted tourists on the wall. And quite a few complaining Americans who just wanted some Coronas.
That evening I went into town to see my cousin who had been studying Chinese at ACC in Beijing. It was crazy to speak English again. And she speaks quickly, so it was quite fun to feel at home in a language again. I thoroughly enjoyed sitting with her at a jiaozi fangguan (a dumpling restaurant) and chatting away in English too fast for anyone in the restaurant to understand. Plus it was so wonderful to see a familiar face and catch up. NOTE TO ANYONE PLANNING TO VISIT ME: Please come. It will be fun. Trust me. You will be thoroughly enjoyed.
I think I'm starting to like saying that I'm American. The only time I feel American is when I'm not in America. And plus, I enjoy breaking people's stereotypes of the blonde, blue-eyed, stubborn, monolingual American.
The mountains at that re-built section of the Great Wall were incredible. It was like the Sierras only smaller and sharper peaks. Also greener, a lot greener. And there are the remains of a wall that stretch miles upon miles up and down the peaks. Okay, so by "like the Sierras" I mean they were incredible and awesome and mountains, but really different.
It was super hot on the wall. We took a lift (as in a ski lift) up and walked a ways on the wall and then hiked down. (You can also take a slide down, but it's quite expensive and the wait was like 45 minutes in the hot sun. It did look pretty fun though.) There were plenty of exhausted tourists on the wall. And quite a few complaining Americans who just wanted some Coronas.
That evening I went into town to see my cousin who had been studying Chinese at ACC in Beijing. It was crazy to speak English again. And she speaks quickly, so it was quite fun to feel at home in a language again. I thoroughly enjoyed sitting with her at a jiaozi fangguan (a dumpling restaurant) and chatting away in English too fast for anyone in the restaurant to understand. Plus it was so wonderful to see a familiar face and catch up. NOTE TO ANYONE PLANNING TO VISIT ME: Please come. It will be fun. Trust me. You will be thoroughly enjoyed.
Arrival. August 16th and 17th
The first and most shocking thing I noticed when we landed:
There was blue sky in Beijing, and you could see the blue-gray outline of the mountain range surrounding it.
Last spring and summer, I never saw the mountains even once from the city. The influence of the Olympics is apparent even without going to the stadium.
The countryside just outside of Beijing is really beautiful when the sun is shinning. I didn’t remember the area around the airport being so green. I was pretty sure it was rather dusty last time I was here in the summer. I thought perhaps they had washed all the plants near the airport like they did for the trees in downtown Beijing. And then I remembered that they can make it rain if they want to. And if they want the Olympics to be clear, that can be planned. We turned down a side road and there were people squatting in the green shade of the trees playing chess and others wobbling by on bicycles with a large load or another person sitting on the back of their bikes in and out of the sunshine and splotchy green shade. It looked the same as it might have 20 years ago. Except the people would have never believed you could make it rain, let alone that the world was coming to see their city.
The housing complex where my grandfather's nephew and his family live is called Watermark, Longbeach. (Does anyone know if there is actually a Watermark, Longbeach, in California?) I actually like the Chinese translation better—watershadow. The houses where my family live are about the size of an average American house. Normal for an American, they are huge for an average Chinese family. Funny, the neighborhood is a replica of those fancy houses in California, with red tiled roofs, intricate carved wooden doors and everything. There is even well-maintained grass, a small park, and some large, American-size dogs.
I know many people from other countries, especially us Americans, criticize China for its rapid modernization and worry how it will use up the world's resources by having things like cars (oh wait, which country owns the most cars in the world?). But there are some differences in the way China immitates and modernizes. For example, in this community, what separated it from the equivalent wealthy Califorian community was that the lawns were small (compensated by a park in the middle of everything, the houses, though well-made, were not excessively large, they only had a one-car garage, if that, and in the evenings and mornings there were always quite a few people walking themselves, their children, and/or their large dogs about. There was also a beautiful, long mural of what I assumed was an interpretation of Longbeach, which never would have been allowed in a wealthy American community. It was an old Longbeach—there were ships that looked like the Mayflower, and people dressed like old fishermen. The mountains in the background really looked like California hills, and, as Longbeach may have been in the U.S., the people in the mural appeared Caucasian. In spite of the setting being out of time and place, the quality of the painting was impressive for an outside wall. The U.S. communities could learn something from that, and realize that blank walls are boring. They should also hire crazy people like me to paint them.
My family was lovely. They treated me well, and were so patient with me as I struggled with my Chinese. They figured out how to ask simple questions of me in order to keep conversation up, and I remembered enough Chinese to answer some questions and ask some questions. Cooking, traveling and children also helped bridge some language gaps. Plus smiling and laughing are international and I'm pretty good at those things.
Another aunt and uncle took me and my great aunt out for a car ride into the nearby mountains. The scenery was beautiful. The sun was still out and a breeze coming through. We might call them hills in America, but they had the sharp jagged peaks above the green trees proved that they were mountains. They pulled over next to what appeared to be an orchard of chestnuts to step out and look. They walked across a small steam right into the orchard (I followed them eagerly, assuming that this sort of thing was therefore acceptable in China) and went up to the woman working there to ask her what she was doing. (I thought it was pretty apparent--she was kneeling on the ground pulling up weeds. But I think the question was a precursor to asking more about the orchard.) She said she was clearing beneath the trees so that they could more easily find the chestnuts that fell. (Good answer for what I would have just impatiently called pulling weeds.) She was surprisingly friendly and talkative considering she was on her knees on the ground doing what many Americans really dislike doing, and considering she had probably been doing it since the early morning. My aunt and uncle were also very respectful and talkative considering the difference between their situation and the woman's. I liked the message of the encounter--be respectful, know that the other knows more than you about something and learn from each other. Sounds good to me. The farmers around Taigu have to watch out though, I might come up to them in the middle of their work day and think it's polite to start asking them lots of questions. Maybe it's a good distraction.
As we walked along the dirt road by the orchard a little ways I noticed another borrowing from America. They had three plants growing together: beans, corn and squash. The woman had said they grew the beans, corn and squash as food for themselves. Nice use of Native American knowledge. Too bad modern agriculture in the U.S. forgot about it.
There was blue sky in Beijing, and you could see the blue-gray outline of the mountain range surrounding it.
Last spring and summer, I never saw the mountains even once from the city. The influence of the Olympics is apparent even without going to the stadium.
The countryside just outside of Beijing is really beautiful when the sun is shinning. I didn’t remember the area around the airport being so green. I was pretty sure it was rather dusty last time I was here in the summer. I thought perhaps they had washed all the plants near the airport like they did for the trees in downtown Beijing. And then I remembered that they can make it rain if they want to. And if they want the Olympics to be clear, that can be planned. We turned down a side road and there were people squatting in the green shade of the trees playing chess and others wobbling by on bicycles with a large load or another person sitting on the back of their bikes in and out of the sunshine and splotchy green shade. It looked the same as it might have 20 years ago. Except the people would have never believed you could make it rain, let alone that the world was coming to see their city.
The housing complex where my grandfather's nephew and his family live is called Watermark, Longbeach. (Does anyone know if there is actually a Watermark, Longbeach, in California?) I actually like the Chinese translation better—watershadow. The houses where my family live are about the size of an average American house. Normal for an American, they are huge for an average Chinese family. Funny, the neighborhood is a replica of those fancy houses in California, with red tiled roofs, intricate carved wooden doors and everything. There is even well-maintained grass, a small park, and some large, American-size dogs.
I know many people from other countries, especially us Americans, criticize China for its rapid modernization and worry how it will use up the world's resources by having things like cars (oh wait, which country owns the most cars in the world?). But there are some differences in the way China immitates and modernizes. For example, in this community, what separated it from the equivalent wealthy Califorian community was that the lawns were small (compensated by a park in the middle of everything, the houses, though well-made, were not excessively large, they only had a one-car garage, if that, and in the evenings and mornings there were always quite a few people walking themselves, their children, and/or their large dogs about. There was also a beautiful, long mural of what I assumed was an interpretation of Longbeach, which never would have been allowed in a wealthy American community. It was an old Longbeach—there were ships that looked like the Mayflower, and people dressed like old fishermen. The mountains in the background really looked like California hills, and, as Longbeach may have been in the U.S., the people in the mural appeared Caucasian. In spite of the setting being out of time and place, the quality of the painting was impressive for an outside wall. The U.S. communities could learn something from that, and realize that blank walls are boring. They should also hire crazy people like me to paint them.
My family was lovely. They treated me well, and were so patient with me as I struggled with my Chinese. They figured out how to ask simple questions of me in order to keep conversation up, and I remembered enough Chinese to answer some questions and ask some questions. Cooking, traveling and children also helped bridge some language gaps. Plus smiling and laughing are international and I'm pretty good at those things.
Another aunt and uncle took me and my great aunt out for a car ride into the nearby mountains. The scenery was beautiful. The sun was still out and a breeze coming through. We might call them hills in America, but they had the sharp jagged peaks above the green trees proved that they were mountains. They pulled over next to what appeared to be an orchard of chestnuts to step out and look. They walked across a small steam right into the orchard (I followed them eagerly, assuming that this sort of thing was therefore acceptable in China) and went up to the woman working there to ask her what she was doing. (I thought it was pretty apparent--she was kneeling on the ground pulling up weeds. But I think the question was a precursor to asking more about the orchard.) She said she was clearing beneath the trees so that they could more easily find the chestnuts that fell. (Good answer for what I would have just impatiently called pulling weeds.) She was surprisingly friendly and talkative considering she was on her knees on the ground doing what many Americans really dislike doing, and considering she had probably been doing it since the early morning. My aunt and uncle were also very respectful and talkative considering the difference between their situation and the woman's. I liked the message of the encounter--be respectful, know that the other knows more than you about something and learn from each other. Sounds good to me. The farmers around Taigu have to watch out though, I might come up to them in the middle of their work day and think it's polite to start asking them lots of questions. Maybe it's a good distraction.
As we walked along the dirt road by the orchard a little ways I noticed another borrowing from America. They had three plants growing together: beans, corn and squash. The woman had said they grew the beans, corn and squash as food for themselves. Nice use of Native American knowledge. Too bad modern agriculture in the U.S. forgot about it.
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