Three Month Mark

5.27.2008

Tracy and I have surpassed our 90th day in China, and with time flying by at light-speeds, I can hardly believe I've been here for three months. I originally planned on staying for only six months, under the assumption that I'd probably be more than ready for home at the half-year mark. But as three months has now passed, I find myself lost in a slew of emotions, decisions and contemplations. While there isn't a single part of me that is ready to come home, I feel the pressures of "reality" (ie: grad school, career, missing certain people a lot, my age, etc.) calling, all of which seemingly contradict my desires to stay longer. As much as I don't want to leave yet, admittedly, I have many occasions where I think, "Really? Did that really just happen? Is the air really this bad? Why do they insist on doing it this way? What am I really doing here?" But for as many times that such negative thoughts flow through my mind, it seems I have twice as many amazing experiences that easily trump the bad ones.

You see, I live in a world that I am the center of attention. And I don't mean this in conceded type of way, let me elaborate. Everywhere I go and everything that I do, people look at me, want to speak with me, and giggle uncontrollably if I do as little as say "ni hao." While the "attention" is fun and flattering to a certain extent, it is the cultural exchange aspect of this that makes it so fun and rewarding. It isn't that they want to talk to me because shallow, superficial reasons, they want to understand my culture and make a small or large connection with me, in hopes that they can learn more about the West. But, more importantly (for me), these feelings are completely reciprocated. I have an equal desire to understand their culture, their language, their past, future, desires, hopes, dreams, struggles, etc. I did not come to Beijing with a previous curiosity about Chinese culture, in particular, but instead a general curiosity about any culture different from mine. China just so happens to be a culture that is drastically different than my own, which makes for the most fascinating cultural exchange experiences, be it: anthropological, psychological, governmental....morality, religion, class, warfare, economical, language, art, etc, they are all great.

____________
The Language

The longer I stay in Beijing the more aware I become of the privilege that comes with being a native speaker of English. Besides the obvious benefits that I receive here in China because of my native tongue, it is particularly interesting to learn of how many people crave this language. They desire it to the point that they look up to us, and are extremely jealous of us because we can speak it fluently. I always explain to my students, "You can't be jealous of me, it is just my native language. If anything, I'm jealous of you because you can speak English and Chinese." But it seems that my students aren't just interested in raises, promotions, and further economic opportunity, they also equate English with all things hip, all things cool. They LOVE Western music, fashion, art, style, food, and film. Knowing the language gets them that much closer to these cool things, and grants them more access to them. For those who do not speak English, their consumption of Western cinema is largely limited to what is available with subtitles. They are also unable to read Western media, cutting them further off from the world. Further exemplifying how limited their access to some of these products/information is are their inquiries: "What do you think of Backstreet Boys, Celine Dion, and James Blunt?" "Why does anyone in the West care about Tibet?" Of course, by most people's standards, to admit you love The Backstreet Boys would be embarrassing, which suggests that many of them are limited to the music that actually finds its way to China. Being a huge consumer of both political media and music, I find this is to be yet another privilege we enjoy in the West.

Such insights have also made me think of my language, and country, in a new light. I can remember not too long ago the GOP trying to introduce legislation to make the "English language the official language of the USA." This made me cringe then, and makes me violently ill now. Could such a move be anymore ethnocentric, or shall I say: could it epitomize the current administration any more? The only saving grace of the failing system that is American democracy, is to reject such arrogant notions, and start to embracing foreign cultures, language, and ideas with open arms. Our war in Iraq, is, indeed, a war of religious ideas, and nothing more than that. If you doubt this for one second, just browse the political blogosphere and read the debates on which candidate has a worse religious mentor, and how incredibly ignorant and intolerant the words of these religious leaders are. It is this very intermingling of church and state, faith and politics, that is detrimental to the USA, and consequently to the world. I have some additional insights regarding religious beliefs in USA, China, Communism, conservatism, etc., but I'll step off my soap box for now.

So yes, the Chinese people are very excited to speak to me and quiz me, but it is completely reciprocated, a perfect culture exchange. I guess, the main difference is, that coming from the West, I am used to being around foreigners (or Euro/Mexican/Spanish/Asian-American citizens who are second/third generation). I think this is another privilege we enjoy in America: the opportunity to live amongst people from all over the world. Here in China, foreigners are a needle in a haystack. It seems that the government "opening up" more has introduced new and exciting ideas for the Chinese. I would argue that most people here are excited about this opportunity, and I wish that more Americans could share this tolerance, acceptance, humbleness, and curiosity.

It has been quite fascinating to learn that many of the Chinese have not had the opportunity to speak to a foreigner, let alone be in a small classroom with one. In fact, many of the students who pay a very steep tuition price to take English classes with foreign teachers, simply want to "shoot the shit" with us. Both Tracy and I have had classes where all of the students unanimously agree to have us just "talk" to them, as opposed to teaching them grammar, vocab., etc. They really just want to hear our opinions about everything, and tell us theirs. Some of these student will pay top dollar to sit in a room and chat with us about world issues and cultural differences......It was only thirty years ago that the Chinese government started to loosen up and "liberate," while only in the past 10-15 years have the Chinese started to really begin to openly embrace some Western ideas and customs. Almost all forms of media are still State owned, and private ones are regulated. Some of my students tell me of how things were only 10 years ago, and I can't believe it. These realities only exasperate the curiosity these people have for me, and me for them.


The weather here is getting very warm, and we have a very hot, polluted, sticky summer to look forward too. Apparently it stays hot here from June until mid-September. Yuck. But, the nice warm nights are great, something I haven't really experiences in a really long time. Portland had some great summer nights, but San Francisco was always freezing in the summer, and the nights are chilly year-round. Wearing shorts and flip-flops at night is a great feeling. My new job is actually located further than I previously thought, making for a nice little trek from our apartment to work. My next pay check I will be purchasing a bicycle for sure. I cannot wait to ride my bike, I haven't ridden for three months, and after being a bike commuter for over four years, I miss my bike terribly. I do get plenty of exercise with all of the walking I do, but walking isn't quite the same as biking. I can't wait to ride through the city on a warm summer night.

Beijing is still blowing my mind, Tracy still seems to be enchanted, and we are all very excited for the Olympics to start. This year we can cheer for USA and China, as I feel new ties to this country and these people.

Cookin Up Disaster

5.23.2008

On our latest massive consumption trip to our neighborhood Walmart [how we consistently spend over 100 USD every time we go to Walmart is truly boggling] Collin spotted some good ol' Hunt's pasta sauce in the Imported Food section. "We should pick up some fresh noodles from our street and make spaghetti tonight," he brilliantly suggested.

So we invited a few friends over [only 1 came, but that's actually a high turnout given the number of people we actually had to invite] and set a time. Collin and Sylvia [said friend] went and bought the noodles and some fresh veggies. He came back in holding two bags of fresh, homemade noodles. With a huge smile, he asked, "Guess how much?"

"Umm, for both bags?"

"Yeah."

I knew it'd be low, because our street is amazing, so I threw out a guess of 5 kuai (about $0.70).

"Nope. 3 kuai and 60 fen."

"3.60? For both?"

"Yup." $0.50 for two full bags. Wow.

We started to prep the food. Collin asked me if we had bought a pot on one of our Walmart sprees. "Nope."

"How do we cook the noodles then?"

"I used the tea kettle last time. It's actually kinda cool-- it's like a pot and a strainer in one: just pour the water out of the spout."

Sylvia thought that this was quite hilarious, and even took pictures of our noodle filled tea pot. 0ur kitchen is quite small, so the 3 of us fitting in there to try and cook and move about was pointless. I kinda poked my head in and tried to help out here and there, but the trash can (which was full of old eggs) had already been knocked over once and it seemed as though everything was pretty covered. Collin pulled out the Hunt's to heat up. Then it hit me:

"Uhh, we don't have a can opener..." I shared my revelation. Most cans here have those pull back tabs, so this had never been an issue before. [Key word: had.] "It's cool, I'll run down the street and find one," I offered, grateful to be able to help out more.

"K. Hurry!"

I grabbed my wallet and threw on some shoes. I rushed down the street and went into the Dia Store-- the only actual store on our street-- sure that they'd have one. Just as I entered, I realized that I had no idea how to say "can opener" if I needed to. I looked around quickly, didn't see one. I spotted some cork screws and figured that the can openers would be nearby. No luck. A few employees noticed my searching and tried to help. I racked my brain for how I could act out "can opener" and cursed myself for not bringing my cell phone-- Sylvia could have easily been my translator right about now.

I leave Dia empty handed and popped into one of the small, independent markets on our street that are full of random goods. I looked about, inevitably gathering curious shop owners wondering what this random white girl could possibly need. I tried picking up a can of corn and made a can opener motion [not easy] but the problem was that it had a "pop top." All this accomplished was blank stares at how I could be so foreign that I don't even know how to open a can.

I tried the next place, grabbed a can, did my charade. A sweet old man in line saw me and I saw a flash of understanding cross his face. "Yea! He knows what I mean!" He said something in Chinese and the cashier nodded. Then the old man pulled out his wallet and offered to buy the can of corn for me.

"Awww, bu xiexie. Bu xiexie," I said. [No thank-you, no thank-you].

I flipped the can over to the non-pop-top side and tried again. Another worker put up a finger, telling me just a moment, and ran to the back of the store. My hopes went up again. She came back with a screwdriver.

I had one last stop before admitting defeat. I was offered a bottle opener. I contemplated buying it as it seemed to be the best option at this point, but figured it would do no good.

I walked back to our place and announced, "Mei you!" [Don't have one]. I gave them a quick synopsis of my unsuccessful game of Charade Scavenger Hunt.

"What do we do?"

"Dunno."

Collin put on his MacGyver gloves and went at the can with a hammer and a screwdriver. Messy success.

I came into the kitchen to survey the activity and my socks were instantly soaked. "What the...?"I looked down to find the floor half covered in a quarter inch of water. Collin and Sylvia hadn't noticed because they were wearing house slippers. After a short inspection the problem was discovered: our main pipe that drains the sink had come loose, causing all the water that went down the drain to drain instead to the floor. Whoops. Luckily, it slipped back on as easily as it had slipped off.

Meanwhile, the magnificent noodles were definitely overcooked and our moods were a bit frazzled. We finally sat down to a meal of overcooked fresh noodles [is that an oxymoron?] with spaghetti sauce, rye rolls, and a fresh cucumber and pepper salad. After all that work, I enjoyed the dinner immensely-- overdone and all.

Last night Collin picked up a potato dish, pork meatballs [aka "Balls of Heaven"], rice, and some garlic green beans. We filled our plates and then our stomachs. Total cost of dinner: about $2. And 15 mintues. As I ate the delicious leftovers tonight [yes, leftovers from a $2 meal is actually conceivable], I swore to myself I'd never cook in China again.

-T

3 Minutes

5.19.2008

Today marks one week since the earthquake in the Sichuan Province of China. News of the quake, especially for those of us who didn't feel it, travelled a bit slowly here in China. News always travels slowly here [I found out about the quake from a friend who has access to an American internet connection] and bad news is no exception. Because of this, I wasn't aware of the severity of the situation for quite some time-- even after both Collin's and my inbox were flooded with concerned emails. I shot off a mass email along the lines of: "Hey! I'm fine.. thanks for asking! Didn't even feel it! Here's a funny video. Miss you guys!"

I regret my insincerity now that I have fully come to know the gravity of the situation. There are about 50,000 estimated dead and many more injured. People are homeless, parentless, familyless, penniless.

Last Thursday was payday for us here at ABC. After being handed our pay, we were each asked if we would like to donate part of our pay to the victims of the earthquake. This month will be extremely tight for Collin and I, as our second chunk of rent is due (we pay quarterly), but we each opted to donate roughly 10% of our month's salary. I wish we could have afforded to do more.

At 2:28 PM this afternoon it was exactly one week, to the minute, that the quake happened. It was decided that there would be a 3 minute moment of remembrance, representing the duration of the earthquake. I teach a class from 1-3 PM, so I decided our usual 2:00 PM class break would be put off until 2:25, allowing the students to leave and do as they wish during that time.

Most students went outside. I joined the Chinese staff and a few students at the large glass front of our building, which overlooks the street below. At 2:28 PM, I witnessed something I thought impossible: China came to a standstill. People stopped rushing about their ways. Cars halted in the middle of the road, each driver laying on their horns for the full 3 minutes. We all stood in complete silence, other than the constant sound of the horns. As the minutes passed, I realized just how long 3 minutes could be. My eyes welled up as I thought of the thousands of victims who endured this same, seemingly infinite long 3 minutes in total fear and panic. And worse-- those who endured days and days afterward buried in collapsed buildings and rubble. I needed to contain myself, for class would start up again soon, but it was not easy. I saw people around me let the tears fall. I understood more than ever in that 3 minutes, that it doesn't matter who you are, where you live, what your culture is, what language you speak: tragedy is universal.

Plumcake

5.15.2008

The greatest thing about walking around Beijing is the incredible sights you see all the time, everywhere. I'm not talking about amazing old palaces or (increasingly disappearing) hutong, but the people. What they're doing, carrying, and -- especially-- what they're wearing.

Now, when it first became popular in the States to wear clothing with Asian characters on it, I thought it a bit odd. Ya, it looks kinda cool I guess, but how do you know what it says?

You don't.

Walking around Beijing you'll see a ton of people wearing shirts with English words on it. They're wearing it for the same reason: they think English looks "cool." But I have to wonder, do they really know what their clothing says?

I apologize to all of you for not having my camera on me at ALL times, because whenever I see these shirts, I never seem to have my camera. I should in the least carry a notepad and a pen so I can make note of them, but alas, I don't do that either. Today was an especially great Shirt Siting Day, so I decided it was time to share some of the most memorable with you:

A plain, white shirt with very large black letters on the front stating: "Ready, Set, Begin!"

A grey shirt with white letters, all caps, saying, "DO YOU HAVE A MINUTE?"

Some of the best ones are the One Worders, like:

"Air"

or

"Hesitate"

or

"Electric"

or

"Lamp" (okay on that one I was just looking around the room and saying things)


Some just make zero sense like, "Teddy Bear Farm" or have random words put together like, "Fashion Sun Girl Love."

Today as we waited in line [waiting in a line? in China? noo...] Collin burst into laughter and said, "Best shirt yet!" I looked over to see a girl wearing a tan and black striped polo shirt. She turned her back toward us and in big, black letters it said:

"STAY OUT OF MY LIFE"

Hilarious.

However, I think my personal favorite is still one I spotted at the infamous buffet where Collin ate grasshoppers. It was a bright purple shirt, worn by a male, and in white block letters centered across the front, it read:

"PLUMCAKE"

What does that even mean? Is that even a real food? Not that I know of. This is the only time I actually did have my camera on me, and I tried to pull a stealth shot. However, according to Murphy's Law, every time I tried to get a clean shot something would get in my way or he would move just in time. He got up to go to the bathroom at one point and Collin said, "Give me your camera-- I'll have a perfect shot when he walks back." He took the picture, dead on. We looked at it: blurry. Like Bigfoot. We now refer to him as "The Elusive Plumcake." One of my greatest regrets is not getting a picture of The EPC.

Even better, though, are the Chinglish signs. We have a whole folder of pictures on my laptop dedicated to these horribly translated signs. I promise an album will be sent out soon!

 
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