Collin & Tracy's China Adventure

Christmas-ish

2009-12-26T12:25:00.000-08:00

A Christmas for the books, indeed.

Gareth had to make a last minute trip home, so my plans were up in the air. Luckily the lovely Jenea was coming into town, and her boyfriend was also back in Europe for the holidays. We ended up spending Christmas Eve at Adam & Megan's, along with another couple who works for Wall Street. We ate a few goodies and talked about all things China, all things teaching English, traveling, current affairs... etc. It was good conversation, good wine, and good times.

We let our good times go on a little too long, though-- Jenea and I were headed home around 4 am. Then, deciding we were hungry (for breakfast?) we [*cough* Jenea] decided to order Mickey D's for delivery. [Yes, China has 24-hour McDelivery, complete with an English hotline.] This is where the night took a turn for the worse....

The delivery showed up, but was completely wrong. So two tipsy girls that speak little Chinese when sober were trying to explain to a McD's delivery man who spoke no English that the order was wrong and we didn't want to pay.

I was pointing at the receipt, which was all in Chinese, saying:

"Zhe shi Kole ma?" (This is Cola?)

"Zhe shi tudou ma?" (This is potato?) [closest I could get to french fries]

"Zhe shi ji ma?" (This is chicken?) [McNuggets]

"Zhe shi shenma?" (What's this?)

To the first 3 questions, he confirmed. To the last question he said something I didn't understand, but then it hit me.

"Zhe shi ni ma?" (This is you?) [closest I could get to 'delivery charge']

At that last question we both laughed, but it quickly stopped being funny after that. After about 4 phone calls back to Mickey D's between us and him, we finally settled on paying a lower price for the wrong order. The last thing we wanted was for this poor guy to have to get in trouble (it clearly wasn't his fault) but we also didn't feel we should pay some giant stupid corporation for something that was clearly wrong.

So, at 6 am on Christmas morning, when children should be racing to the Christmas tree to see what Santa brought, I was banging my head on the kitchen counter saying, "I don't caaaaaaaaaaaare! I just want to go to bed!"--in both Chinese and English-- with a confused McDelivery man in the living room and a livid Jenea on the phone.

Definitely a Christmas morning I will never forget.

Thanksgiving in Beijing

2009-11-29T22:56:00.000-08:00

I have to admit, I was getting a bit frantic when I realized I only had a handful of American friends here in Beijing, and the only one throwing a party & dinner was holding it on the day after Thanksgiving. Not only did I feel sad at the thought of doing nothing on the actual day, but I realized I wouldn't even be able to attend the Friday party either.

After reaching out to a few others, turns out my British boyfriend had an American friend/coworker who was trying to set up a small dinner at an American restaurant that serves the traditional fixings on Thanksgiving. So I ended up going to a place called, "Grandma's Kitchen" with 5 other Americans and 1 British person for our 'traditional' dinner. We paid about $30 each for a set menu that included an appetizer, salad, and soup, then a main course of turkey, mashed potatoes (regular & sweet potato), gravy, cranberry sauce, and stuffing. Our dessert choices were pumpkin or apple pie. Oh and we got a glass of red wine or a beer with our meal. Not too shabby for $30.

One of the girls at our dinner, Annie, brought some homemade oatmeal/chocolate chip/walnut cookies. We were completely stuffed but ate them anyway because none of us had had homemade cookies in ages.

After dinner, we then went to a small alley of hutongs that have shops & bars & cafes and went into a cozy Spanish bar to drink some hot mulled wine. It was my first time drinking mulled wine... it was really nice on a cold night and definitely put me in the holiday mood.

At dinner, I had tried to justify eating in a restaurant by saying we didnt have to spend all day in the kitchen and wouldnt have to worry about dishes or cleaning up afterward. My friend Jenea just looked at me and said, "but i like cooking and baking for Thanksgiving!" I said, "Ya....I do, too. Thanks for not letting me pysch myself out!"

Wasn't the most traditional or ideal Thanksgiving, but we made the most of it. I certainly missed my family and real homemade cooking-- I wished I had been in my real grandma's kitchen! But I'm truly grateful for my friends abroad and the chance to share international holidays with people from all over.

Random Pictrures of Daily Life

2009-08-21T01:35:00.000-07:00

Some random pics I took....

My modest living room.

Things I see for sale on the streets on my 4 minute walk to work.

My lovely workplace.

My old little baby bedroom (I've now moved into the master bedroom).

View from my balcony during a nice sunset.

More pics of the complex I live in.

Wo Shi Zhende Zhongguoren Jintian

2009-08-09T07:26:00.000-07:00

Translation: I was really Chinese today.

When I got home from work today, I immediately started to change out of my work clothes. I got distracted somehow... I think maybe I suddenly needed to xiao bian... and so I went to the bathroom. After washing my hands, I figured I'd wash my face. In the middle of washing my face, I heard some super angry Chinese yelling coming through the windows on my balcony. As it got angrier, my curiosity got the best of me. Despite being in the middle of washing my face, I went out on my balcony to see what all the commotion was about.

Two men were screaming at each other. I thought they'd fight at any moment. Four random people just stood next to them and watched, and every person walking by slowed for at least a short look. Next to the randoms, stood two "security guards" (looking no older than 14 years old, as usual) who surely would do nothing if they did indeed get physical. As I surveyed the scene, I thought, "This is so Chinese." Then I thought about what I was doing: I was on my balcony washing my face, dripping water and face wash on my interesting outfit-- half work clothes, half pajamas-- and watching the fight just as intensely as the randoms.

Wo de tian, I am SO Chinese.

Have a More Chinglish?

2009-06-23T21:10:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty sure I found the Mecca of Chinglish: Happy Valley amusement park. Not only was every sign grammatically incorrect and/or full of misspellings, the words on the sign were often completely irrelevant. For example, a sign for a carnival game that read "Hang Precious Bottles" was actually a game of throwing balls into cups. [I would upload some pictures on here to demonstrate what I mean, but alas, the Great China FireWall continues to block blogger.com, so I only have text access through a proxy site at this point.]

There was also the "Crazy Drunkard" game-- ring toss.
The "Beat Mice" game-- another ball tossing game.
And don't forget the "Milk Factory" game [I was too scared to go near that one].

There were a few signs that nearly got the names right; the dart throwing stand was labeled "Rapid Dartlike" and yet another ball throwing game was called "Throw Balls WTO The Bud." We never were quite sure what the game called "CO Percent Sure" entailed, but we were CO% sure we didn't want to waste our money finding out.

I send and receive texts almost daily to/from friends claiming we have spotted the "Chinglish of the Day." Here are some of the gems we've seen in the last few weeks:

MINUTEMEN
MEATPUPPETS
DESCENDANTS
ANGST.
(on a woman's tote bag)

WET
(on a young girl's shirt)

NO PAINT
NO GAINS
(worn by a middle aged woman)

zeroclan pirate looking the first choice and you?
(on a woman's shirt)

HIT ME WIT YOUR BEST SHOT!
--with a picture of a radio--
(on a guy's shirt)

Hi. You'll do.
(worn by a young Chinese guy)
[not Chinglish, but definitely hilarious]

F*CK
IN THE
BOX
--written in the form of the "Jack in the Box" logo--
(worn by a young Chinese guy)
[again, not Chinglish, but I had to wonder if he had any idea what he was wearing]

And last but not least, I saw a Spanglish shirt on a Korean guy on the subway:
CRITIC-
yo soy a real chicano
but why mi parents no latino?

Yay for easy & free entertainment wherever one goes. Wo ai Zhongguo.

Lights Out

2009-05-05T22:22:00.000-07:00

My power ran out while I was getting ready for work today. My roommate told me that I should recharge the electricity in "at least 7 days" (yesterday) and that I should go to "China Construction Bank" to do it.

After getting ready in the dark, I ran down the street to China Construction Bank in the squelching heat and in my work clothes and shoes (which are neither comfortable nor cool). As I approach some train tracks, I hear the sound alerting that a train is coming. I see the gates start to close. I realize by the time the train passes, I will not have time to go to the bank and make it to work on time. I stop, seemingly defeated. I see a few Chinese guys running at full speed to beat the closing gates. Hmmm… Now, these aren’t “gates” like the American ones—skinny planks that drop down. No, no, these are actual metal gates that fully close. Maybe it was the heat causing me not to think clearly, or maybe I’ve been living in China for too long [the latter is more likely], but I ignored the guards already yelling at people running past and dashed through the gates, seconds before they closed.

Death narrowly escaped, I go inside CC bank and ask someone where to pay for my electricity. The answer is that I have to go to ICBC bank to pay my electricity. Awesome. Go inside an ICBC near by. It is hot, sticky, and awful. Again, I ask where to charge my card, and they tell me to get a number. There are 30 people ahead of me; I have to be at work in 20 minutes. I leave and head towards work, deciding to stop by the other ICBC that is on the way. [By “on the way” I mean the one that is literally right next door to Wall Street. As in the one I could have casually strolled to in the first place, had I known that’s where I needed to go]. I walk through the doors and a man speaking English and a blast of air conditioned air greet me. I tell him meiyou dian and hold out my card. He asks for my VIP card. I stare in confusion. He tells me it is a VIP center only: no VIP card, no can do. As I turned to leave, I guess my sweat-drenched, pathetic, tear-brink look affected him in some way because he stopped me and said, “Ok you can this time. Next time you go to another.” I sank with relief on a plush black leather couch. I was asked to come to a window 45 seconds after sitting. [I wonder how much a VIP card costs??]. Paid 100 RMB ($15) to recharge the card and rushed next door to work. It was 5 minutes to 2:00. Plenty of time to run back home and turn my electricity on! I dropped my stuff off, sprinted home, (found my roommate sitting in the dark), put the card into our meter, flipped a few switches, changed my sweat drenched shirt into a dry one, and darted back to work.

I was a few minutes late, hot, and flustered, but proud that I had somehow pulled off this feat in a very short time. I briefly longed for the days of simply paying your electricity by a click of a few buttons online or even having it automatically taken from your account while you sleep… imagine that! But shrugged it off and declared today what we expats like to call an “OIC” day: Only In China. We talk about OIC moments like we hate them, but we all know that we secretly live for them... otherwise we wouldn't be here!

I've Been Cupped!

2009-04-29T04:25:00.000-07:00

In my last blog about living in the Wu, I mentioned that my masseuse asked me if I wanted to get "cupped" to help my cold and cough. I would guess that most people don't know what this is exactly; it is an ancient Eastern practice. The only time I know that people in the West were talking about it was when Gwyneth Paltrow exposed a few "cupping marks" at a premiere about 8 years ago.

Sixiao had done it once shortly after she arrived in Beijing-- she sent me pictures of her back afterward and I was mortified. It looked really painful. She assured me it was useful. I remained skeptical.

When my masseuse asked me the other night, I began to say no, but then stopped to consider. My cold & cough was actually extra bothersome since I am now back in the classroom-- running a phonetic class for survival level students isn't exactly easy when everything you say comes out with a nasal tone and pausing to cough between every instruction isn't desirable, either. Curiosity also played a factor in my considering. I was curious about the process, how it would feel, and mostly if it would be at all effective. Even if it didn't work, though, I thought to myself, "Hey it's China. I'll try anything once. Why not?" With that mentality, the last but not least of my deciding factors was: "Duo shao qian?" (How much money?)

"San shi," he said. (30 RMB/$4).

"Hao de. Yao." (Good. I want it).

He left the room and came jingling back in a few minutes later pushing a cart overflowing with round glass jars, like the ones on the right.

He pulled a curtain shut and asked me to remove my shirt and lay face down. "Keyi ma?" (Alright?)

Once I was lying face down, he unsnapped my bra [Yes, this was awkward. I reprimanded myself for not thinking to do this] and rubbed some kind of oil or lotion up and down my back. After I was oiled up, I heard the click of a lighter as he prepared the first cup. I felt it leech on. I tensed up.

"Tong ma?" (Hurt?) he asked.

"Yi dian dian," (A little) I replied. He took the cup, now suctioned onto my skin, and glided it up and down, down and up. He repeated this process with 3 different cups.

During my full body massage just before this, my stuffy nose had been getting extra stuffy as I laid face down, coughing sporadically through the hole of the massage table. After the second "gliding" cup my nose was completely clear & my urge to cough had disappeared. I was amazed, but still skeptical. Could this really work?

Once the gliding portion was finished, I heard him prepare another cup and stuck it firmly on my lower back. Then another. So it went --cup, flame, suck! cup, flame, suck!-- until there were 15 glass cups sticking to my back and shoulders. Some hurt more than others as some had a tighter vacuum and some has less skin to suck onto (like on my shoulder blade). With all cups strategically in place, he lay a blanket over me and my 15 new appendages and left the room.

It is hard to describe the feeling of 15 glass jars pulling on your skin simultaneously. Okay, not hard to describe-- impossible to describe. The best way I can explain it is that it almost feels as though you have 15 glass jars pulling on your skin simultaneously.

After an intense 10 or 15 minutes, my guy came back into the room. He proceeded to remove each cup by pushing down on the skin next to the cups and sliding his finger under the rim until it came off with a pop! I was told to lay there for a few more minutes and was given hot tea to sip on. After my tea was finished, I was told I could get dressed and go home, but to make sure I didn't shower or bathe that night. (No clue why).

My back felt a little tender and I figured I'd be bruised by the next day. When I got home and looked in the mirror, though, I saw this:

Instantaneous bruises!! I couldn't believe it. Way darker than I had envisioned, too.

For the next few days, I couldn't sleep on my back or even sit back in a chair. Did it cure my cold and cough? Nope. I was left with the cold, cough, 15 bruises, and the inability to wear any tanktops in public. My friend asked me if I regretted doing it. I replied that the experience was cool, but it was the bruising that sucked! [Then I realized it was also the sucking that bruised]. While I have no regrets it is definitely something I would do once and only once!

The West Side

2009-04-28T01:38:00.000-07:00

“You live ALL the way out in Wudaokou?”

“Damn, your apartment is really far away.”

“Are you in town tonight?” [In town? WDK doesn’t count as being ‘in town’?]

Such is heard from the East Siders of Beijing all the time. I wouldn’t say there is a rivalry between the West side, where I live, and the East side of Beijing; the two sides are too different to really compare. [I do sense a slight air of snobby pride coming from the East Siders though]. There are definitely more neighborhoods and pockets that dot the East side where foreigners reside & play. If you live on the West side of the city, however, there is a 98% chance you live in Wudaokou. [Collin and I belonged to that rare 2% last year, by residing in a purely Chinese, incredibly random ‘hood].

The East side caters more to the young professional crowd, while WDK is clearly known for hosting the student population, as nearly every major university is in the area. As mentioned, there isn’t much argument as to which side is “better”—if you are a young business person, the CBD (Central Business District) would better suit you, if you are a student, WDK is obviously the place to be.

Wherever foreigners gather & live, East or West, surrounding businesses naturally cater to them. In the well known expat 'hoods, businesses like bars, cafes, a variety of Western and international restaurants, boutiques, and shopping malls flourish. With all of this also comes inflated prices, but with the East side catering more to young professionals AND tourists, prices there range from expensive to outrageous. Assuredly there are overpriced places in the Wu as well [I am sipping on a 28 RMB ($4) blended coffee right now] but even the pricier places know to give the student crowd what they want: discounts & happy hours. After living here for about a month, one memorizes which establishments offer discounted food and drinks on various days and at various times. For example, Monday evenings you can get 2 tacos for 5 RMB (75 cents) at our favorite watering hole that pretends to be a Mexican restaurant. [The tacos are small and not good at all, but who cares if you can eat dinner for $1.50?] Every Tuesday you will find my friend David and I stuffing our faces with delicious 2 for 1 sub sandwiches at a local sports bar. If you don’t mind drinking with masses of students and listening to awful hip-hop music (and you are a female), on Wednesday nights you can imbibe unlimited amounts of alcohol for 50 RMB ($7) at the local club. Thursdays from 2-4pm—if you are fortunate enough not to be trapped at work—you can get outstanding burgers for only 15 RMB ($2) at a local pub/cafe. And every day from 2-4 am, if you are lucky (or maybe unlucky enough) to be awake still, the burgers are also 15 RMB. [They knowingly call this the Drunk Munchy Special—don’t even bother on Friday & Saturdays]. There are happy hours nearly every night at nearly every place with specials like 5 RMB pints of Tsingtao & 10 RMB mixed drinks.

Offers like these generally do not exist on the East side. I suppose this is an argument for the West. One thing we West Siders definitely lack is quality restaurants, though, especially international foods. If you want good food from other countries, you have to venture to the East, and you have to pay for it. I just read a review about a new place in the heart of Sanlitun (the most popular East side expat spot) that serves amazing pho. I was watering at the mouth—I strangely haven’t found decent Vietnamese ever in this city. Then I read that one bowl of pho is 58 RMB ($8). That is outrageous. I wouldn’t pay that in the States! But that’s how these places get you—you crave decent pho/tapas/burritos/curry/nan/sushi enough to wear you break down and pay the over inflated prices.

A downside of living in the Wu is that it really does feel like living a world away from the rest of the city—making the journey to the East is timely and sometimes expensive. You get stuck in the comfortable little Wu bubble & start to run into the same people all of the time. This is both good and bad, but it does eventually get old. Sometimes you see some fresh East Side friends' faces, but for some reason East Siders have this constant expectation that you will venture to their side to hang out, but never, ever come out here. And when they do it is a BIG deal for them. With one trip out, they feel as if they have fulfilled their “West Side Quota” for at least 6 months. “Come out to the Wu!” we say. “But I was just there!” they say. “What? That was 4 months ago!”

Despite the Wu being a small bubble of 18-21 year olds floating in the far reach of Beijing, it is still a wonderful place to live. Last night five of us feasted on chwar (barbeque meat on a stick) and a plethora of amazing noodle and veggie dishes and washed it all down with beers while sitting out on a patio enjoying the warm spring night. We were ridiculously full and only paid 20 RMB ($3) each. Afterward, we all walked home together, as we live within 1-3 minutes of each other. I decided to stop off at the massage place in our complex and paid 58 RMB ($8) for a 90 minute massage—30 minutes on my legs & feet followed by an hour full body massage. [Best massage of my life, by the way]. My masseuse noticed that I had a cold and offered to get rid of it using the “cupping” method. For only 30 RMB ($4) more, my stuffy nose & cough was cleared away with the ancient Chinese practice. I made the 2 minute walk home, full, happy, & healthy.

A night like that on the East side would have easily cost me 300-400 RMB. Wo ai Wudaokou.

Bally's Gym.CN

2009-03-25T08:14:00.000-07:00

I'm sure most of you are familiar with the Bally's chain of gyms in the States. What you might not know is that Bally's is an international chain, including locations in China. In fact, there's a branch in the big office building where I do my editing and one of the benefits my company offers is a joint account for the employees. I've been trying to go 2-3 times a week over the last few weeks, as my "China 15" [yes, similar to the "Freshman 15"] has been sneaking back up on me. [Damn you $3 large, delicious meals.] I went a few times last year and the gym (which is huge) is always nearly empty. Most of time I'm the only lao wai, but I will see another expat every now and then. It is both comforting and awkward when you are the only two non-Chinese people in the gym-- or anywhere for that matter. While you feel better about not being the ONLY one, there is also this pressure to acknowledge each other's presence. Most often, you try to avoid eye contact or pretend to be oblivious to the fact that you are the only two expats around. But you can't continue this forever, so you eventually give in and do the polite "you're-a-stranger-but-I'm-obligated-to-give-you-a-head-nod-because-we-are-both-foreign" head nod and clear the (white) elephant out of the room.

There is the occasional male expat gym patron, but never another female. I am always the only white girl in the two story gym. Again, the place is nearly always empty, so I don't really feel that out of place. I've been the only white girl around many, many more people before.

I went to the gym last Wednesday night-- the first time ever going during the week. The place was PACKED. Like "waiting-your-turn-for-a-treadmill" packed. China packed. And I was still the only white girl. Now I was feeling a bit self conscious. I don't know if everyone does the "imaginary audience" thing to some degree at the gym, but I'll admit that sometimes I feel as though people are watching me work out. Whether it be because I'm doing something really wrong or doing it really right, I can't help but have a small paranoia that someone, somewhere in the gym is counting my reps with me. [Silly, I know.]

Now take this small, silly paranoia and add a little "only white girl in the entire gym FULL of people" to the equation: I was sweating before my first curl. I turned my MP3 player up extra loud, tried to ignore it, and set to work.

As I did some weight lifting in the free weight area, I noticed a full-on Chinese rou tou (the term I coined for "Meat Head" in Chinese-- pronounced 'row tow'). He was a Bally's personal trainer and--in true Chinese fashion--was training about 5 people at the same time. He was running around like a mad man with his popped collar & popping veins. I thought I saw him looking over at me. Ahh! He's probably thinking that I am doing everything all wrong, I assumed. I tried to disregard him.

I guess I wasn't completely imagining my audience because a few minutes later he came up to me. I saw his mouth moving, but couldn't make out the words because of my blaring tunes. I took my earphones out. I saw his mouth moving again but still couldn't make out the words-- because he was speaking Chinese. [Weird]. Finally he said slower: "Ni shi na guo ren?" ("What country are you from?")

"Ah," I said, forcing back laughter, "Wo shi Mei Guo ren." ("I'm American.")

"Ahhh. Mei Guo ren!" He kept talking but the only thing I caught was "hen hao" ("very good") and the motions he was making-- imitating my lifting. I smiled and gave him a xiexie and he went on his frantic way.

The reason I forced back laughter when I realized what he was asking me was because I couldn't help picturing the same scene in an American Bally's: you're in the middle of a work out and a trainer comes over to you and says [and I picture this in a "Joey" from Friends voice], "What country are youuuu from?" That would be the weirdest and worst line ever. But in China, being the only nu lao wai in the place, this somehow made sense.

After weights I always end with cardio. The gym is set up so the 30 or so treadmills are all lining and facing huge windows overlooking the busy street below. This 30 minutes is not just cardio time, but also my "revenge time". That's right. All of you Beijing ren that constantly stare at me inside and outside the gym? Yup. I people-watch the shit out of you while I run. I watch you walk/bike/run/scurry by. And I stare. I stare hard. I dissect everything about you-- your hair, your clothes, your bike, your load, your car, your boyfriend/girlfriend, your child. And I relish every single second of it.

When I'm finished I take a quick trip to the locker room, not to shower [ew, who showers at the gym??], but to wash my hands and grab my things. I'm clearly kidding about the shower thing, though, because apparently I am the only one who doesn't shower at the gym. I try really hard to just look straight ahead, get in and get out, because there are naked Chinese women everywhere. For a supposedly conservative country, these women are not shy about nudity. There is usually at least 5 women standing around chatting or blow drying their hair-- completely naked. Who blow dries their hair naked? In public? For the love of FSM put some undies and a bra on! And how come none of these women have nice bodies? I know that's mean and all, but you would think that Chinese women that actually work out [very, very rare] would have smokin' bodies. Nope. Gross. My people watching doesn't extend to the locker room, and I get the hell outta there.

On my walk home, things go back to how they were before: the staring commences. If you ever want to feel like a microbe under a microscope, just walk on a Chinese street wearing only your gym clothes when it is a few degrees above freezing out. I might as well be the Loch Ness Monster eating a bag full of baby Chupacabras while riding on a unicorn that is farting rainbows. Eh, I'm used to it by now.

-T

How to Apartment Hunt in Beijing

2009-03-01T05:58:00.000-08:00

Below you will find 15 easy-to-follow, step-by-step instructions for finding a place to rent in Beijing:

Step 1. Consult ads on TheBeijinger.com first. You may be able to avoid agency fees this way.
Step 2. Send off a few emails, an SMS or two, or—if you are the brave sort and your Chinese is better than mama huhu—start making some calls.
Step 3. Set up appointments to view the potential living spaces.
Step 4. Go to your first appointment. Realize the person you have just met is not a landlord or a current tenant, but indeed an agent.
Step 5. Decide to see the apartment anyway through a struggle of broken English and yi dian dian Chinese.
Step 6. Stand around for 25 minutes while the agent frantically makes calls to set up as many apartment viewings as possible. Feel very annoyed that these calls weren’t made earlier.
Step 7. Realize that you have now becomes this person’s victim for the rest of the day and mentally cancel all other appointments made for that day.
Step 8. Set off for the first apartment, which according to the ad is “very near* the WuDaoKou subway station."

*Further reference for decoding the distance of the actual apartment’s location from where you actually want to live:
-"very near here" = 1-8 miles away
-"close to here" = 3-12 miles away
-"not so far from here" = 5-28 miles away
-"I think the location is very convenient for you" = might as well move south of
the Yangtze

Step 9. Ride all over the city of Beijing, sitting Chinese-style side-saddle on the back of the agent’s bicycle. Get stared at 100 times more than usual for being a female laowai on a local man’s bike.
Step 10. Get shown apartments that are either out of your price range, uninhabitable, nowhere near where you want to live, or PERFECT!!... except for the bathroom. Nobody could possibly shower in that bathroom. Nobody.
Step 11. Finally find one that fits most of your criteria. Negotiate rent with agent. Have agent slyly add that there is a “service fee” of 1500 RMB for this apartment.
Step 12. After hearing 20 times how cheap, convenient, cheap, and convenient the apartment is for you, decide paying the 1500 RMB fee isn’t worth it.
Step 13. Go home exhausted and defeated-- and still meiyou place to live.
Step 14. Feel extremely anxious and depressed knowing you have to do this all over again the next day. Crack yi bing ping pijiou. Or er.
Step 15. Repeat steps 1-14 as needed. Once you can’t stand it anymore, settle on small, clean, overpriced place that has a mediocre bathroom, a so-so kitchen, a decent living room, and a truly convenient location.

Womende ZhongGuo Yi Zhou Nian! (Our China 1 Year Anniversary!)

2009-02-21T16:02:00.000-08:00

Yesterday marked one year to the day that Collin and I first step foot on Chinese soil. I can’t believe it has only been one year; I can’t believe it has already been one year. Collin contacted the owner of our favorite bar-- Bed Bar, where he DJs-- and asked if we could throw an anniversary party there. He said of course and we invited all of our foreign and local friends to come out. The last time the same group of people gathered at the same place was for my “Going Away Party" (yeah, yeah…), which was a lot of fun but tinged with sadness. This time, it was all good times and happiness. Collin spun all of our favorite tunes and we danced the night away.

Who would have thought we’d still be here one year later? One year and counting… Is it something about China that sucks certain laowais in, making it difficult for them to ever leave? Or is it simply something about becoming immersed in a new culture and country that is so enchanting? For me, it is certainly a mixture of both of these.

Attempting to reflect on everything we’ve been through and experienced this last year makes me feel overwhelmed—almost as overwhelmed as I felt when first touching down here. I don’t think I could have done it without Collin. No, I know I couldn’t have done it without my gege and we certainly wouldn’t have made it very far without Sixiao, our new students, and later our great friend Song Ge, who were/are consistently willing to help play interpreter/guide/assistant/translator every time we are in need.

The sweetness of the Chinese people—their hospitality, their eagerness to aid even a perfect stranger—is also overwhelming. The day I came back, as I was hauling all of my belongings in the cold rain, people stopped all along the way to help me. Holding doors, holding elevators, and even bringing my suitcases all the way to Collin’s front door for me. Collin’s students, whom I haven’t even met, were contacting agents to help me find a room to rent. Song Ge was contacting visa agents and helping me look into room situations as well. So sweet.

Of course this is also a dog eat dog world and if you slow down for one second in the fast lane, you will get run over. Quite literally. You have to keep your head up, your shoulder to the wheel, and nose to the grind to last here—this is not a country of slackers. Not all Chinese people are really sweet, some will try to take advantage of foreigners, but I don’t suppose that occurs more here than any other country.

It does seem as though when things are opposite here, they are vastly opposite. Because of this the running theme for our time here has been “Wo ai/bu ai ZhongGuo” (“I love/hate China”) and one truly feels these extremes every day. After a long day of being shoved around on the subway and breathing polluted air, eating amazing food and getting a 2 hour massage for less than $10 (for dinner AND the massage) helps you remember why you love it so much. Getting swindled out of money by a shady employer or a cunning vendor is awful and frustrating, but your brother’s student’s friend’s neighbor offering you help with anything you need (without ever having met you) reminds you how kind the majority of citizens are.

----

I’ve been spending a lot of time going around the city on my own since I’ve been back. During the daytime when everyone else is at work, I’ve been running around getting my life back in order. It is almost humorous to think of how daunting this huge city once was to me, mainly due to the immense size and the spoken and written language barriers. Now I zip around via subway, bike, and taxi without a second thought. My Chinese is still hen bu hao, and has gotten worse due to my recent absence, but it is still enough to get by. I definitely thought 1 year in it would be much better, but without formal studying (and a lot of it) this language seems near impossible to ever master.

I run into people in Beijing all of the time now. A city of 20 million people, and I run into people I know. This is partly due to the expat community being somewhat tight knit and the fact that we all frequent the same areas and establishments, but bumping into people on the subway or in random places never ceases to blow my mind. Similarly, meeting new people here that know the same people you know back home, or have grown up in cities next to yours, or went to your same university at the same time, always makes you feel like this world is such a small place, despite living miles from where I grew up and in a country with a billion plus people. However, if there is one thing that I have learned from living abroad, it is that this world certainly is not a small, and there is much I must see and experience in my lifetime. But for now, China is still captivating and will be a great launching pad for my next adventures abroad.

Top Tens

2008-12-07T05:52:00.001-08:00

Top 10 Things I DON'T Miss About China:

10. Having everyone stare at me everywhere I go and everything I do.

9. Random people shouting 'Hello!' at me constantly.

8. Riding my crappy bicycle around, escaping death at every turn.

7. Meeting crazy laowais.

6. Being the minority in a major way.

5. Not understanding what people around me are saying.

4. Insane taxi rides and angry cabbies.

3. Pollution.

2. The food.

1. Every single task being a complicated adventure.

Top 10 Things I DO Miss About China:

10. Having everyone stare at me everywhere I go and everything I do.

9. Random people shouting 'Hello!' at me constantly.

8. Riding my crappy bicycle around, escaping death at every turn.

7. Meeting crazy laowais.

6. Being the minority in a major way.

5. Not understanding what people are saying around me.

4. Insane taxi rides and funny, sweet cabbies.

3. Appreciating each day with beautiful, clear blue skies.

2. The food.

1. Every single task being a complicated adventure.

A Day In Collin's Life

2008-12-01T08:08:00.000-08:00

I was inspired by Tracy's recent blog depicting some of the intricacies of daily life here in China. I'd actually been wanting to do something similar, as I felt I've really slacked on sharing my experiences here, which while not being so "crazy" any more, they're rife with wonderment, joy, humor, fulfillment, and WTF's?

So here's my attempt at giving you a peek into a day in the life of a Meiguoren Yingwen laoshi (American English teacher), 10 months later....

here is what our apartment corridor looks like, our apartment door is on down on the right...

this is the view from the corridor...the tall building in the distance is adjacent to the shopping mall I work in.

Here's a video of me riding from our apartment complex, down our street, and to the subway stop. I use this route when I need to take the subway, such as the mornings I have Mandarin lessons across town. I've been fighting a cold, so sorry about the coughing and throat-clearing in the video -- gross.

If I were to go straight instead of stopping at the subway, I would take Zhichun Lu (street) towards the West, then turn right onto Zhongguancun Street. Zhongguancun district is considered to be the Silicon Valley of China, as it is the IT, tech, electronics, and all things computers district.

Here is me headed down the Zhichun Lu towards Zhongguancun.

And as you might have noticed, I commute to work on the wrong side of the road, weaving through on-coming traffic, but if you've ever been to China before, you'd know that this is the norm. It is quite amazing at how desensitized I've became....riding my bike into oncoming traffic, holding a camera, and all the "close calls" (the "close call" phenomenon doesn't even exist here) through the hustle and bustle of Beijing doesn't even phase me anymore in the slightest. Keep in mind these videos are NOT shot during rush hour. The streets are quite tame here.

Lastly, my ride up Zhongguancun toward the shopping mall in which my center is located, ends with me at one of many bike-valet that surrond the area (and Beijing). This one is especially impressive with it's double-decker rack. I pay .50 yuan per day to park it here. There are approximately 9 million bicycles in Beijing!

here is my bike valet....

and here's my beast. it's completely natural to feel envious...

here is the area that I work in full of shopping malls and electronics stores....

And here's the mall that I work in...(yes, working inside a mall is awful and I don't want to talk about it)...

entering the shopping mall one finds a recreation of the Zhongguancun area...
a bird's eye view...
and after an escalator or two, you arrive at my center

and at the end of the day, this is what makes it all worth it, my wonderful students:
I hope to make more blogs such as this, as I feel it is the small things in my China-life that are the most profound part of this experience.

Chinese Training

2008-11-24T02:11:00.000-08:00

I am now officially trained in the methodologies, procedures, and the culture of Chinese trains.

Before this last weekend, I had ridden on a train in China once-- a high speed bullet train to Tianjin, which is only 30 minutes each way. The train ride was smoother, easier, and cheaper than the cab ride from my house to the train station. This last week, however, I spent 3 of 4 nights on 11-12 hour overnight train rides. Slightly different experience.

I wanted to see some new cities and provinces before going home in December, so I conned Sixiao into taking a last minute trip with me. [Being unemployed and being my best friend, she really had no choice in the matter]. We decided upon going to Xi'an to see the Terracotta Warriors, but my wise hao pengyou (best friend) felt that a trip to Xi'an only would be a bit of a waste-- we should try to see more on our way back. After consulting maps, the internet, and friends who have traveled these places before, we added a city called Pingyao to our itinerary. Pingyao is an ancient city, better preserved than most of its kind. Its city wall is still fully in tact and the houses and buildings and streets have, for the most part, been left unchanged for years. [I just sounded like a travel brochure. Sorry].

Anyway, to get to Xi'an from Beijing, we would take an 11 hour overnight train. The choices for tickets are "standing tickets" (yes, people stand for 11+ hours on trains), "hard seats," "hard sleepers," and "soft sleepers." Sleeper tickets are beds that you can lie down in, the difference between "hard" and "soft" being minimal-- or so we thought.

The hard sleeper trains are made up of many chambers, each housing 6 beds each-- one bottom, middle and top bunk on two opposing walls. The beds are smaller and bit more uncomfortable than a soft sleeper. Soft sleepers only have 4 bunks per chamber and they are private-- you have a door that locks and closes, you can control your own lighting (hard sleepers are "lights out" at 10 pm), and you have more room to lay down, more room for your belongings and less strangers to share your space with.

Sho and I boarded our train at 9:30 pm, with the estimated arrival in Xi'an being 8:30 am. We figured we'd get settled, shoot the breeze for an hour or so, get a full night's rest, wake up fresh and ready in Xi'an.

We poked our head into our chamber. Two men were already lying on the bottom bunks. Sho had booked us the middle bunks. We kept our fingers crossed that the tops would stay open. It is slightly awkward in the middle bunk before you are ready to lay down because there isn't enough room to sit up. After arranging our belongings (place them above your head, away from the door and potential thieves) we half-lay, half-arched awkwardly as we talked and waited for lights out. The ticket collector came by and one of the men on the bottom bunks asked if he could upgrade to a soft sleeper. Sweet! Only one random man in our sleeping quarters!

Lights went out, we laid down. A few minutes later, we see shadows in our doorway. One man climbed into the remaining bottom bunk, another climbed his way to an empty top bunk. Damn! Now we had three lao tous (old men) to deal with. Sho's voice pipes up from the dark, "Dude. I bet they're gonna snore."

"Nooo! I really hope they don't."

"They will."

Within ten minutes, the snoring had begun.

It began with the man above Sho. Not so bad at first, but growing louder and louder as the man fell deeper and deeper asleep. Then he stopped. Yes! I sighed with relief at the thought of getting a possible 8 hours of sleep still.

The relief was short lived-- the snoring began again. This time, however, it came from the man in the bunk below Sho. Different kind of snoring, not as loud, but just as annoying.

"Are you awake?" Sho asked.

"Yes. How could I not be?"

"This sucks!"

"I know."

Soon, the man above Sho started to snore again. They sawed away like lumberjacks, cutting through the dark room with their awful sounds.

Just when I didn't think things could get any worse, the man below me joined as well. We lay, wide awake, listening to a snoring chorus (or what I like to call a "snorus") of three Chinese lao tous.

A few hours later, as I tossed and turned, I swore I heard a 4th person snoring. Traitor! I thought to myself. Sho passed out on me and joined them! I couldn't believe it.

However, Sho's voice spoke up again, "UGH! Shut up!"

"You're awake?" I asked rhetorically.

"Yeah! I thought you were asleep though-- I coulda sworn I heard a fourth person snoring!" she laughed.

"I thought that was YOU!" We both laughed despite our misery. We decided to put in our MP3 players and come to terms with the fact that the next day was going to be a looonnnggg day.

After getting about 3 hours of sleep, we waited in line for the train "bathrooms" to freshen up. Imagine squatting to pee in a hole on a moving train. Imagine doing this over a hole that a whole lot of people have also used on this moving train. Yeah. Bu hao.

Splashing a bit of cold water on our faces & brushing our teeth in the small metal sinks was about all we could do to wake up. Before setting out on out Xi'an tour, we made sure we booked our ticket to Pingyao for later that night-- SOFT sleepers this time.

----

Train ride number two--bound to Pingyao--was bound to be better. We had soft sleepers with top bunks and high hopes that the remaining two passengers would not be snoring lao tous. On top of that, we were absolutely exhausted from our lack of sleep and long day. We thought we could sleep through anything.

One chamber mate was already there when we arrived-- an interesting older Chinese woman who was very interested in us. Not to be stereotypical, but she was a typical nosey lao tai tai (old lady) who wanted to know all about me and all about Sho... from everything from family details to our salaries. Sho kindly answered as many questions as she felt comfortable answering. As we got ready for bed, we again kept our fingers crossed that no one else would join our chamber. This time, our finger crossing worked. As we pulled out of the station with just the three of us in the room, Sho explained to the woman how glad we were to not be sharing with any lao tous, due to the night before. The woman laughed and said, "Oh I snore, too!" Of course she did.

And, of course, at the next major stop, a lao tou joined our chamber. However, the gods smiled upon us and neither of our chamber mates snored... too loudly. We managed a good 6 hours of sleep.

----

After two relaxing days in the quaint town of Pingyao (I think Sho calculated that we slept for about 20 hours of our time there) we were ready for the last train ride of the trip. We were lucky enough to score two limited tickets direct from Pingyao to Beijing. Unluckily, they were hard sleeper tickets.

The train was smaller and older than the last two. It was crowded and hot. We located our beds. We realized that although we were in row 8 and row 9, our bunks weren't actually facing each other, but were in neighboring chambers. We didn't want to be in a situation where we couldn't see each other or talk, so Sho decided to ask someone if they were willing to switch. As I watched her ask a young Chinese guy, I could tell he was hesitant. The bed Sho was assigned to had 3 people sitting on it at the moment-- they apparently didn't care it didn't belong to them. Two beds above, a young girl was chain smoking, despite the complete lack of ventilation. In short: this chamber was not desirable. However, Sho was able to work her magic and I watched the guy change tickets with her. I gave him a big smile and said xiexie ni, and he returned with a gracious mei wenti.

After we got settled in our beds, I asked her what she had said to get him to switch. "I told him that this was your first train ride and you are in a strange country and you are afraid to sleep alone," she smiled.

"Thanks! Did you also tell him I wet the bed??" No wonder his "mei wenti" sounded so heartfelt. [Oh well. I knew I'd never see these people again and it's true that I would have rather not slept "alone."]

The poor soul who traded to beds for the scaredy laowai had to sit in the aisle, his eyes nearly shutting with exhaustion, as an obnoxious couple continued to chill and chat away on his bed. The rude randoms finally got up... and came to our room. Even after lights out they continued to talk away. They finally passed out and we were able to get some sleep.

Around 5 am, the couple woke up and started to talk again.

"Shh!" Sho hissed at them.

They were undeterred.

"SHHH!" She hissed louder. I giggled at the ferocity of her hushing.

Still, they talked.

Pissed, Sho spouted off something in Chinese. I was hoping she was telling them to shut the hell up. Whatever it was, they got quiet.

About 30 seconds later, the silence was broken: bvwwwrrrppp!

I guess the man decided if he couldn't make noise with his mouth, he'd make noise with his bowels. He kindly repeated this action at set intervals until we arrived in Beijing. I would have rather listened to his mouth.

----

For those of you who haven't been trained in Chinese trains, I hope my experiences don't deter you. I don't by any means recommend NOT taking the train, but I do recommend paying extra for soft sleepers, whenever possible. I will also recommend that you don't do back to back nights on trains-- it is always good to shower, rest, and refresh in a hotel before getting back on a sleeper train.

I must say, if nothing else, taking the train adds adventure to Chinese travel. And adventure, like pizza, is always good... even when it is bad.

My Chinese Life

2008-11-16T05:50:00.000-08:00

A little glimpse of the day-to-day Chinese life I have now grown quite accustomed to...

This is where I live:

The building wasn't always pink and white. But one day it just was. So pink. And so white. So, so pink.

This is where I work:

I work on the 11th floor. The elevators in my building are never available and when they are they are always crammed with a million people. I usually take the stairs. My co-workers think I'm crazy.

Speaking of the elevator, there is a small room in front of the elevator.
For some reason, someone decided that this room in front of the elevator
needed a sign to indicate to people that this was, indeed, the room in front of the elevator:

This is how I get to work every day:

Yup, that's her. The sweet blue one on the end. I paid 150 kuai ($21) for that baby. It's only about 5 months old... and it's about at the end of its sweet little bike life.

This is what I eat on the days I work, which is a company provided lunch:

On this day I had a little fruit, some spicy noodles, some eggplant, some rice, some green beans, some mystery veggies, some tofu with a mystery sauce...

[This lunch was one of the better days. I usually have no idea what I'm eating.]

This is where I go to grab something to eat if I am tired of the company lunch:

7-11! It is on the other side of my work building and it is more or less like one you'd find in America, but they have a lot more 'fresh' food choices. But don't worry, they also have 5 day old hot dogs complete with random hairs and used band-aids, just like in the States.

This is my coffee cup that I drink out of:

The cup was taken from my last employer, ABC school. [I added a bit to the design myself ;o) ]

Most days in China I learn a valuable lesson from the Chinese people:

The lesson of this day was, "If a light switch isn't working right, the WRONG solution is to stick a piece of paper in it."

The locals here tend to always try for the cheapest, quickest fix the first time. Luckily they always learn from their mistakes and opt for the correct solution in the end:

Much better.

At the end of the day, it is always nice to have a nice warm cup of tea:

This is a very special tea. [Get it? Special-tea?]

Only special people like me drink
this very special Chinese tea:

And, just like my mother, I love to have a little bit of chocolate every day. While I drink my special tea, I like to munch on a few of these:

Mmmm...nothing like a small, brown, cylindrical, crispy chocolate Collon to snack on before bed.

Hao chi! (Delicious!)

And finally, at the end of my long Chinese day, I snuggle into bed next to this guy:

Wan an! (Goodnight!)

-T

Voting-- It's everywhere you want to be

2008-11-03T08:10:00.000-08:00

Cab ride to Democrats Abroad meeting to request an absentee ballot:

30 RMB ($4)

Postage to mail absentee request:

10 RMB ($1.50)

Printing out emergency ballot when absentee ballot doesn't show:

2 RMB ($0.30)

Faxing emergency ballot to an overseas number:

52 RMB ($7.50)

Being able to vote in historical federal and state elections from China: PRICELESS

For the Record

2008-10-09T00:34:00.000-07:00

Being one of China's most treasured resources (a native English speaker) Collin and I are often overused and abused by people. Being well-humored, we are able to joke about it. We joke about it a little too much, maybe. I believe the amount of humor we find in our abuses has now reached masochistic levels.

You see, last Monday we did some "voice recording" work. It was, to say the least, an interesting experience. Put it this way: Collin and I can now call it even.

Last Saturday Collin casually asked me if I wanted to make some extra cash by doing some voice recording. It sounded harmless enough-- which is generally a huge red flag.

"Are we going to actively take part in our own abuse?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Alright, I'm in."

He calls me late on Saturday night to inform me that the abuse, I mean work, will take place at 9 am on Monday morning. [I love being abused before noon on my days off.]

We get a call late Sunday night saying we need to meet at 8 am instead. The beatings had begun.

Monday morning, we meet up with a Chinese woman who speaks very good British English. (Unfortunately she speaks it a little too often, especially for 8 in the morning). Together the three of us take a cab to an apartment complex not too far from our neighborhood. We go inside an apartment that has been converted into an office & recording studio, where we are greeted by no less than 8 people. Collin turns to me, "Two people actually needed to get the work done and six others to stand around and watch?"

"Yup." [I love China.]

We're handed our voice recording scripts, which turns out to be English teaching material[surprise] for primary school children. We scan through the pages --about 10 in all-- and it looks simple enough. Let's get 'er done!

We are led into a recording room with fancy mics and soundproof material on the walls. The door shuts behind us, and we're told (via speaker from those in the neighboring room) we can begin when ready.

We start reading.

We're stopped.

"Um, could you maybe use a little emotion? You sound very boring. Like maybe you are sleeping." [Maybe?].

I dig deep down and pull out my "Oral Language Voice" that hasn't been used since '95 and begin again. Things are rolling along quite smoothly, until a word pops up that triggers my giggle reflex. The word was "nude." [I understand that I am nearly 25 years old, but seriously, why are they teaching 6 year olds the word nude?]. Collin rolls his eyes at me and tells me to get it together. We continue on.

The next page has the word: "delicious." This isn't a funny word, to MOST people. However, this is a highly loaded word in my family-- it is part of a never ending inside joke we invoke constantly. I giggle again. Collin joins me this time, but reprimands me for being "the worst person he could possibly be doing this with. Well, except for Erin."

The script moves from being simple words and phrases into dialogues. Very cheesy dialogues. Despite being a "Kitty" that is talking to Collin, the "Puppy" I manage to keep a straight face through these.

We get on a roll and are dishing out the dialogues, back and forth, back and forth. Then, in a dialogue between "Rabbit" and "Frog," a 3rd character was introduced: "Monkey." Collin and I exchange confused glances, but I read the part of Monkey anyway. At the end of the dialogue, the voice from the speakers cut in:

"Collin and Traylee? Yes, um, there is a 3rd character in this dialogue, see, so Traylee could you read Monkey in a different voice from Rabbit?"

I whisper over to Collin, "Different voice? I only have one voice."

"Um, sure.. okay, I'll try," I tell the speaker. Different voice... different voice.. a monkey voice? What does a monkey voice sound like? I don't do voices!

I tried. Really, I did. But I sounded so stupid. I couldn't get through a single sentence without erupting into laughter.

The speaker voice came on, "Maybe we should take a break?"

After a quick break & some mental prep, I knocked out the Monkey voice and we moved on.

The dialogues became more and more complicated; Collin and I would have to hold conversations between Pig, Rabbit, Dog, Monkey, and Frog in one dialogue. [Multi-logue?]. It was hard to keep all the voices straight as we read ("Was Pig my high voice or my low voice?") but it was harder to keep from laughing at how dumb we sounded.

Reading through all of the material basically blindly, we had little to no warning when an extra cheesy or funny word was approaching. However, as we neared the end of the script, a word a few lines ahead was glaring at me. There was no way in this world that I would be able to say (or hear Collin say) this word without completely losing it. The word, innocent to those who are not versed in American slang, was a synonym for 'rooster.' This is not a word I generally like to say out loud. Or while being recorded. Or while being recorded and sitting next to my older brother. Awesome.

The seemingly innocent script of conversations occurring between farm animals was dripping with sexual innuendos, causing my face & chin to be dripping with tears & drool as we laughed uncontrollably. The Chinese people in the next room must have thought we'd absolutely lost our minds. We weren't just being immature or unprofessional. This was bad.

Let me give you a sample of what we had to say, but I will use the more proper term, "rooster."

Pig (Collin): Hi, Mrs. Duck!
Duck (Tracy): Hi, Mr. Pig!
Pig: How are you?
Duck: I'm tired. Mr. Rooster wakes me up at 5 am every morning!
Pig: Oh, that's too bad!
Duck: I don't like Mr. Rooster. Can you help me?
Pig: No problem!

The several botched attempts at getting though that dialogue was easily the hardest I have ever laughed in my adult life. The speaker voice cut in again "suggesting" another break.

We graciously accepted. As I went to the bathroom, I could hear Collin awkwardly explaining in the hallway: "You see, um, the word you're using for rooster is actually a, um, bad slang word in American English. That's why we are having such a hard time saying it."

"Oh, no, should we change it?"

"No, no. It's okay. We get what you mean. It is just kinda difficult to say sometimes without laughing."

Collin and I go back into the room, vowing to knock the rest of the script out so we can get our money and go. Grateful that it wasn't me saying "rooster" this time, Collin got to try his own luck with the lovely word:

"Duck, duck, duck,
Rooster, rooster, rooster
Duck in front,
Rooster in back!"

I buried my face in my hands and dared not make eye contact with him. He laughed anyway.

There was only one page left-- we were nearly out of the woods. And the barn.

But not without one more humiliating line for me:

"I'm a rooster!"

The speakers came on: everyone in the other room was laughing. Still not knowing quite what was so bad about the 'rooster' synonym, they at at least understood that me declaring I was one, was pretty damn funny.

Mentally exhausted, we finally neared the end of the last page. Collin was in a zone as he read the final titles to each section:
"Let's Chant"
"Let's Sing"
"Happy Reading"
"Happy Spelling"
"Let's Chant"
"Let's Sing"
"Happy Ending"
"Happy Spell--" An explosion of laughter from my side of the table interrupted him again.

"What? What's your problem now?" he demanded.

"Happy ENDing? You just said Happy ENDing instead of Happy Reading!! God, you better hope the people in the next room don't know what that means."

The look on his face was priceless--he had NO idea that had slipped out.

I couldn't have asked for a more 'Happy Ending.'

Wo hen baoqian (I'm very sorry)

2008-10-07T20:44:00.000-07:00

I am truly sorry for getting so behind on the blog, especially when so many amazing, funny, and 'bloggable' things have been happening lately. I suppose this is a sort of Catch-22... the busier we are and the more fun we are having, means less time to sit in front of a computer to blog about the adventures. Collin is currently away on a trip with his friend Tash in another province; I just returned from 3 trips to 3 different cities. Meanwhile, I hosted my lovely friend Jenn for about 10 days and am now hosting my wonderful friend Liz for the next 10 days. Collin and Tash return to Beijing on Thursday, which means a full house this weekend as well as good times. I've been keeping notes (literally & mentally) of all the things I can't wait to share with you all, so stay posted!

And Breathe Out...

2008-08-25T00:15:00.000-07:00

A collective, massive exhalation occurred last night as the Olympic Torch was extinguished here in Beijing. Some were breathing sighs of sadness, others were sighing with relief. Whichever the case, not a single individual in the Capital last night didn't feel a sudden emptiness. The Games are over.

We've only been on hand to see the preparation for the last 6 months-- but this country and these people have been setting up for this two week event for eight years. Can you imagine preparing for anything for 8 years? [Okay, MD's and Ph.D's aside]. How do you feel when something that grand, that important, that huge is now over? Even after just 6 months of hype, I can honestly say I woke up today feeling a large void. I can't imagine what others must feel.

Collin and I have only known pre-Olympic Beijing-- we've never known "normal" Beijing, if there even is such a thing. Now we will witness post-Olympic Beijing, and can only wonder if it will seem "normal" to the locals. Is a city ever the same after hosting a world event of such a massive scale? I'm sure most past host cities are the same eventually; in fact, it is hard to even think back to who hosted the previous Games more than a few Games ago. But I feel as though here it is different. Here-- the country, the government, the people-- they all wanted to show the world something. They all wanted these Games to be more than just fun and games, they wanted to prove something. Did they succeed? What does the world think of them now?

Whatever the world is saying, the hype will surely settle within a few days and the world spotlight will shine elsewhere.

Here in Beijing, it is back to reality. Back to business as usual. Today is truly the mundane Monday of all mundane Mondays.

Gold on the Green

2008-08-24T04:39:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning I lay in bed, drooling away on my pillow, per usual. My phone rings. I answer it before being fully conscious of what I am doing.

"Hellooo?"

"Trace. Get up. Get your stuff together."

"Wha?"

"I just got two tickets to the gold medal football match today!"

"Today? What time? Are you serious?"

"Yes. Noon."

“What time is it now?”

“10:30. Can you be on the subway by 11? I’ll pick you up from there.”

“Um, yeah, sure, okay.”

I jumped up, totally awake now. Gold medal? Football? Inside the Bird’s Nest?! Surely I was still asleep and dreaming.

I took a shower & got ready in Olympic record time and ran to the subway, taking a "no unauthorized persons" shortcut, putting my head down to ignore the guards who usually prevent my passing.

I arrived at my stop at 11:30; soon after I was hopping in a van with Sean Matthew, on my way to the Olympic Green.

After several botched attempts at getting me through media checkpoints with only Sean Matthew's pass, we finally arrived at the "Spectator's Entrance." The line to get in, as well as the heat at this point, was overbearing. We saw one more shot at a shortcut: the media line (or lack thereof) at the spectator's entrance. Guarded only by a young volunteer, SM once again flashed his pass and after three rushed, "She's with me, she's with me, she's with me!" he relented and let us by.

We hurriedly walked toward the looming National Stadium, more commonly known as the Bird's Nest, and scrambled to our seats. We sat down, thankful for shade and rest, and looked out: our seats were dead center of this amazing field. Luckily we hadn't missed too much, as the score was still 0-0.

I tried to soak it all in, but being in a stadium that grand, along with almost 90,000 other spectators, watching a game that would be watched around the world, is a bit much to comprehend.

The game ended, but there was still more to take in. I had the whole Olympic Green to wander about for as long as I pleased. But after taking a few pictures with me and giving me a general guide to the Green, SM had to get back to work, leaving me to explore alone. And worst of all: meiyou gege! Bu hao. (No brother. No good.)

It was only about 2:30-- 5 hours until sunset-- but I decided I would try to travel around the Green until nightfall. I knew from afar how incredible the stadiums look at night; this would be my only chance during the Games to see them lit up, close up. Maybe I could stick it out.

I walked around and took pictures of nearly every building, every statue, and every display. I walked for 4 hours straight, only taking 10 minutes to rest while eating room temperature yogurt and some Ritz crackers I had picked up at a snack stand. My feet, legs, and knees ached, and my shoulders and chest burned from too much sun, but it didn't matter, I was at a historical place at a historical time. When I finally couldn't walk any longer, I sat on a bench next to the Today Show's set.

"Tracy?"

To my surprise, my friend Megan, also alone, was approaching me. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I've been here since noon-- for the soccer game. What about you?"

"I'm gonna be a guest on the Today Show." She proceeded to tell me her story about how she was asked to be on it last week and after becoming friends with one of the anchors, she was asked back again today. Grateful for company, we sat and chatted until it was time for the show. (Unfortunately, Obama's VP announcement caused her segment to be bumped last minute, but we still enjoyed playing the part of "dorky tourists in the background" as the show aired).

Meanwhile, the sun went down, and the Green's lights came on. It was hard to stop staring at the stadiums towering overhead, and the humongous torch burning above it all.

Sixiao and her parents then stopped by the set-- Sho was getting off of work and her parents were on their way to watch the athletic finals in the Nest. Sho pointed out some of her work she's been doing for the last year and a half, "That fencing there is mine.. those ladders are mine.. all those trailers-- mine," she said with a laugh. We took a few pictures and she set off.

After the show ended, SM was off work and we met up again. I insisted on more dorky tourists shots now that the stadiums were lit and the torch was more visible.

Finally, at almost 9:30, 10 hours after arriving, I walked back to the subway. I was exhausted. My legs were throbbing and my shoulders burning, but I was carrying a huge smile and a camera and mind full of Olympic memories.

Beijing Faux Pas Police on the Prowl

2008-08-01T03:34:00.000-07:00

According to the Huffington Post:

A campaign with nearly a million volunteers was launched to give etiquette tips to Beijing locals. "Etiquette booklets" were handed out to 4 million households, which included tips such as:

no public spitting
wait patiently and orderly when in line
wear no more than three color groups in your clothing
no wearing pajamas and slippers when visiting neighbors
white socks should never be worn with black leather shoes-- and dark-colored socks are recommended overall
no public displays of affection [like anyone here does that anyway]
feet should be slightly apart or in the shape of a V or Y when standing
handshakes should not last more than three seconds
don't ask foreigners their age, marital status, income, past experience, address, personal life, religious beliefs or political beliefs [then what will you talk about? Ohh, right… the Olympics!]

I hope everyone gets their act together soon-- Collin and I noticed 6 violations alone when walking down our street today. I wonder if they'll be issuing actual citations for these etiquette & fashion faux pas? Here I was worried about my registration... now I have to go buy a pack of black dress socks and put some "real" clothes on if I want to go shoot the breeze with my neighbors. The handshake thing is actually good advice though-- I always count to 3 in my head when shaking someone's hand and then jerk it away as soon as I hit that third tick. Shaking for 4 seconds is just creepy.

www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/07/31/beijing-issues-style-guid_n_116041.html

Chinglish Part 3

2008-08-01T00:28:00.000-07:00

Seen on shirts:

"Overtime One of the World"

"Free Keeps us Living Live"

"Flash Memory"

"Sunrise" on a pink shirt, worn by a male-- with a picture of an ape. [Spotted twice in one day in different parts of the city.]

"Curly Sue: how many flappermades?" [flappermades??]

"Happy Baby" -- worn by a very old lady

Grey shirt, blank on front, but this amazing text in silver on the back: "Nobody Seems to Understand the Nature of Project SHINY." [Could not have said it better myself.]

"Free to Move"

Pink sequins on black: "STOP and THINK"

Song titles as seen on a KTV (karaoke) menu:

"Standing Sex "

"Fluffy"

"Porno Graffiti"

"Lushy"

Seen on signs:

"Beauty Face Hair" - hair salon sign

"Forsaken Items" - bin in Walmart for unwanted goods

"Love yourself and love the woods" - sign in a park

Nice Day for a Red Wedding

2008-07-22T05:27:00.000-07:00

For the better part of last week Tracy conveniently reminded me that she was invited to a traditional Chinese wedding by her language exchange partner on Saturday. By Thursday I had realized that her "reminders" were subtle "can you please be my date because I feel obligated and I desperately don't want to go solo" requests. I in turn made very subtle agreements to go, mostly because if the situation was reversed I would ask the same of her, but also because I was pretty curious to see a Chinese wedding. By Friday morning I inquired additional information about this gathering and learned that the wedding STARTED at 10:58AM. No, that is not a typo, 10:58 is the official starting time. In China people are very superstitious, especially when it comes to numbers. I don't quite have a grasp on how much they truly buy into these silly beliefs, or if it is simply tradition. The Olympics begin on 08/08/08, at 8:08pm, and that is not a coincidence: eight is the mother of all lucky numbers here. So 10:58? "OK, where is the wedding?"

"I guess it takes about an hour and a half to get there, it is just outside of Beijing" Tracy replies.

"Ummmmmm..." Now I realize that I have to wake up early on my precious day off. I ask Tracy for a confirmation, "Did I ever actually TELL you I was going?"

"YES!!" she proclaimed.

"OK. I hate you."

Knowing I had to be up early, I still stayed out very late exploring the hutong of Beijing with friends because I'm, well, me. After a hardy five hours' sleep I woke up cursing Tracy. We hurriedly threw ourselves together for the wedding (what do you wear anyways?), hopped on our bikes, and headed to the subway. We took the subway further north than I had ever been, which was quite eye opening for me: wow, Beijing is really, really big, and even out here, there are still a million people in every direction. After reaching our stop, our directions told us to take a bus. Yeah right, which bus? Which direction? We're running late. Let's catch a cab, it can't be that far from here. No cabs. Awesome. We reluctantly opted to take a "black" cab, which are essentially just old guys who are sitting idly at such locations hoping to profit off of poor saps like ourselves. We are particularly perfect victims for these characters, as we're foreign, naive, and don't speak the language. We point to out our destination written in Chinese characters to the driver, he seems to recognize it and says "Zou ba." (Let's go). We ask "Duo shao qian?" (How much money?) "San shi kuai," (30 yuan) he replies. We agree.

So here we are, deep in the outskirts of Beijing, in this strange man's unmarked "taxi," no air conditioning, stifling hot, stuck in traffic, with the future of our existence on planet Earth in this man's hands. Might sound a bit nerve-racking to the novice, but this is life in China-- doesn't even phase us. We finally break out of traffic and hit the highway. It is quite rural and pleasantly green. With faster speeds comes natural cooling, our moods are up as we curiously stare at our surroundings.

After a solid 15 minutes on the highway, he suddenly pulls off... and starts asking random people on bicycles for assistance to find our desired location. Great. He has no idea where he is going. Not understanding most of the language, Tracy and I have the pleasure of predicting our immediate fate through body language, facial expressions, gestures, and the few Chinese words we know. The shaking of the head is a universal "no." Combine this gesture with "bu ji dao" (don't know), and we become more unsettled with every attempt our driver makes to find our way. After more wrong turns and more questions asked, it seems like we're finally heading in the right direction. We are on small rural roads without many signs of civilization. Where is this freakin' wedding? Who gets married out here? I'm hot, hungry, and grumpy. Seriously, why am I in this car, in this field, in the back of this seat right now? How did 26 years of a life lived lead up to this very moment? Tracy, I hate you.

We finally find a road that the driver recognizes and drive into a large resort of sorts with a very large restaurant/special event center that is essentially a over-sized tin barn with some classically Chinese cheesy decor inside. We enter at 11:30ish-- well past ten fifty-EIGHT. Upon entering, Tracy and I simultaneously realize something via the look on the fuwuyuan's (waitress/service person) face: omg, we are going to be the only foreigners at this extremely large wedding. By now T and I are very used to standing out amongst a crowd of black-topped heads and dark eyes, but the dynamic would be very different here. How many foreigners have EVER been in this building? And how many foreigners ever go to traditional Chinese weddings? Making matters worse, we're late. Not only are we "those" people straggling in late to the most important day of your friend's life, we're also foreign. What should we do? What next? We tentatively approach the event area where we can see the bride and groom on a large stage, an MC of sorts having them perform random things in front of a large crowd seated at circular tables filled with food, beer, and liquor. Maybe we can sneak to some seats during a break in the procedures? Is there assigned seating? What should we do? Just then the bride spots Tracy and I and waves to us, giving us a "come in and sit motion" which causes a scene as all eyes were on her. 200 Chinese people simultaneously look our way, realize that we aren't Chinese, and stare curiously at us as the bride's sister escorts us to our presumably assigned seats. We're sat next to the bride's twin sisters, who speak some broken English to us. All eyes are still on us when they are supposed to be on the bride and groom. Awkward.

The rest of the ceremony was interesting. We were practically force-fed large amounts of food and pijio (beer), the Chinese people at our table (and some from other tables) who could speak English curiously struck up conversation with us, we were asked (forced) to take tons of photos with people we didn't know, I flirted with a fuwuyuan or two, and Tracy and I assumed our usual roles as people of great interest. All was good-- until we met "that guy."

We all know "that guy" at the wedding. You know: the drunkard. Now we weren't particularly surprised to meet "that guy" because everyone inevitably has to meet "that guy" at every wedding. What made "that guy" particularly memorable was the fact that he was American. Yup, that's right: "that guy" was also "foreigner number three." As we met, I felt a bit of tension between T and I and him. You see, our existence at this gathering was mutually threatening. There is no way T and I are going to let some other dude steal our thunder. We are The Foreigners here, thank-you-very-much. It is one thing to have your thunder stolen, it's another to have it stolen by "that guy." Come to find out, "that guy" is from San Diego and both him and Tracy are UCSD alumni. Even in a city of 17 million, the world still seems small. Through drunken slurs we unfortunately learned a bit more about this guy's past, and even more unfortunately were constantly reminded of "how drunk he is" and "how the Chinese men made him drink the baijio (liquor)." From here we learned additional fascinating insights such as "English teachers get ripped off in China," "you should learn Mandarin if you live here," "there is a lot of money to be made in China, especially if you are a Westerner," "if you need a good job I can totally hook you up" (goes for business card, doesn't have one), and finally, the kicker: "I'm friends with Jackie Chan." Drunk Chinese men fight for our respective foreign statuses to get us in their individual and group shots. Here I am, extremely tired, in the middle of nowhere, smiling, posing, and throwing up peace-signs with a bunch of random Chinese people drunk on pijio, baijio, and love. Welcome to China.

When the photo requests began dying down and the crowds started to thin, T and I let the bride know that we wanted to head home. She graciously arranges a ride for us, a ride that is to take us all the way home into the city! Awesome. Finally caught a break... right? Nope, this is China. We quickly learn that one of our co-passengers for this journey is.........drum roll please: yup, you guessed it, "that guy." Just when things couldn't get any worse, we realize that in addition to that guy, our ride-home party has now recruited "that girl." Now this was the first time I've seen a Chinese "that girl," but for the most part, she was tame. As you could easily guess, "that guy" thought that "that girl" was attractive, and as we climbed into the back seat of the tiny vehicle, "that guy" thought it was necessary to let T and I know that he had every intention of taking "that girl" home. As the door slammed, locking T and I into the backseat with "TG and TGr," if you could be inside my head at this very moment you would hear "take me to a happy place, take me to a happy place" on repeat.

The backseat dialog was unfathomably less articulate than previous conversations. Aside from literally repeating everything he told us at the wedding a short half hour ago, "TG" went on to elaborate on how his friends know Jackie Chan and how important it is to learn Chinese if you live here. He then goes on to display his impeccable Mandarin skills by flirting with "TGr" in the front seat. She acts not interested; I want to die. However, we're well on our way home and we can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel. "TG" has successfully bummed and lit a cigarette (quite the feat) and we're temporarily relieved of his drunken rants. Just then, "TGr" motions and yells for the driver to pull over. She hops out and proudly re-displays all the fine wedding cuisine and liquor for all of 5th Ring Road to see. After involuntarily puking, she continues on by sticking her finger down her throat. "TG" rushes out to comfort her; she wants nothing to do with him. While she continues to projectile, "TG" and the driver hover around her for support. Meanwhile, I grab Tracy's camera and start taking photos of the scene-- at this point, I might as well have fun with the situation. After a nice zoomed shot of "TGr" puking, Tracy reminds me that I'm going to hell.

Ten minutes pass and it is now obvious that "TGr" is so sick that she is REFUSING to jump back into the car. I tell Tracy: "OK, I'm hailing a cab and if we get one, you're paying for the entire fare home." Without daring to disagree Tracy concurs. Luckily it takes only a few minutes for me to flag one down (we're on the highway still so there aren't many cabbies), we wave goodbye to our comrades, say insincere "nice to meet you's" to "TG" and we're off. We debrief in the back of the taxi and try to pick up the pieces. I remind Tracy of how much I hate her and that she is eternally in debt to me. Within minutes I've fallen asleep with my head against the back window. I awaken to see we are in our neighborhood and am a bit dehydrated and disoriented. Tracy pays the cab fare (50 yuan) and -- after all we've been through -- informs me that she "snapped some great shots" of me sleeping in the cab. Awww, yes, that's what siblings are for.

Another day, another yuan. Welcome to China.

-C

Lazy Days of Summer

2008-07-21T00:28:00.000-07:00

And I mean lazy. Unemployed lazy.

I have been unemployed now for almost 2 weeks. I don't like to refer to this time as unemployment, however, I consider it taking a short break. Or a vacation. And oh how glorious it has been. Here's a quick log as to what a person in Beijing does, when they have nothing to do.

Day 1: Thursday. Rode my bike over to Wudaokou, the University district. Went to my favorite cafe, The Bridge, which serves real coffee and Western food and has free wifi. I sipped on a blended mocha, snacked on a fruit salad, and surfed the net. Awesome. Later that night, I was invited by my friend Jenea (a fellow ex-ABC teacher) to dinner with former students. We were treated to (our students never let us pay) Sichuan food. I tried pig's feet. Not recommended.

Day 2: Friday. Slept in. Amazing. Went out with Jenea for day one of her birthday weekend. We dined at a fantastic Spanish restaurant with live Spanish music. Then we met up with Collin to meet all of his new Wall Street folk. Stayed out as late as we wanted because we had nothing to do the next day. Wonderful.

Day 3: Saturday. Went for a doctor's check-up. First time I had time to do so in Beijing. Met up with Jenea for birthday night number two. Ate amazing Thai food and went dancing till the sun came up. Literally. And we could, because, well, we had no obligations the next day. Incredible.

Day 4: Sunday. Slept for a few hours. Met up with Sean Matthew for our first weekend day off together. He wanted to get some clothes, so I took him to Wafujing. He bought a few things, including a shirt for me :o) Weather was perfect. As the sun was going down, we sat on a rooftop patio while drinking freshly made margaritas. Perfect.

Day 5: Monday. It was raining outside. I did nothing. Absolutely nothing all day. It was everything I dreamed of. Toward the evening, I headed over to Sean Matthew's hood, or what I call "America-Land," a place I have been going quite frequently. Its real name is the "Lido Area," but it is full of foreigners, Western restaurants and bars, as well as lots of international cuisine, it is quite pricey (by Chinese standards), and it looks just like America. I was meeting with Sean Matthew and his coworker for a few drinks at Frank's Place for happy hour, which turned into many happy hours. When we finally decided to head back it was pouring out. Sean Matthew did something very gentlemanly: he took off his shirt and gave it to me for cover from the rain, and started to walk back in just his undershirt. My pleasant thoughts about this chivalrous gesture were abruptly interrupted by a cold splash of water-- Sean Matthew had just jumped in a huge puddle directly in front of me. I was shocked. "NOT COOL!!" I yelled, but couldn't help but laugh. The 5 minute walk back to the Lido turned into a 30 minute puddle fight, one which I largely lost. I was at the mercy of Sean Matthew and Greg, who thought it hilarious to hold me still while the other jumped in the largest, nastiest puddle they could find; my only defense to frantically kick water back at them. We came back drenched and muddy, but my mouth and stomach ached from laughing. I felt like a 5 year old again. Fantastic.

Day 6: Tuesday. I did something productive, finally. I went to a job interview. It is for a 6 week summer camp and pays pretty good money. It doesn't start until September, giving me time to roam around China and host Natalia's visit in August worry free. And it is Monday-Friday, weekends off. Sounds too good to be true. Kinda is. It's in the outskirts of the city, about an hour and half commute, so the teachers stay in a hotel during the week. I will be isolated from M-F and faced with the 1.5 hour commute every Friday and Sunday night. They said, "Free accommodations!" I said, "But I have an apartment!" It does include meals, though. I am still considering this offer. After the interview, it was off on my bike to enjoy yet another perfect day in Wudaokou. I found a new cafe with a rooftop patio. Very enjoyable. Later that night, Collin and I went for a night bike ride around the 'hood. Marvelous.

Day 7: Wednesday. Collin's day off. We spent most of the day at our favorite place: Wal-Mart! That evening we met up with Mr. Li, one of my former students. He took us to a nice Korean restaurant. Of course, his treat. He is a very sweet man who dearly loves speaking English and drinking pijio. We left the restaurant very late and very full. Good times.

Day 8: Thursday. I planned to make cookies using my mother's recipe. Sean Matthew has an oven, a rarity in Beijing, but he lives in America-Land. However, I accidentally slept in until almost 2:00p, leaving no time for baking. I did manage to meet up with my first private client that evening, a business man from Korea. He (conveniently) lives in the Lido Area. [I guess I'm not technically unemployed anymore?] Then I had dinner with SM at "Pure Lotus" a restaurant I'd been dying to check out-- it's a vegetarian restaurant and with very fascinating decor and presentation. Overall, I was quite pleased.

Day 9. Friday. The start of another fun-filled, crazy weekend. This one was insane. Friday afternoon, Collin and I met up with a few friends to go to an Olympic Garden we read about online. After driving around for 30 minutes and asking every person in sight, we decided it was inaccessible to the public. We settled for pictures in front of the stadium and went for burgers at Lush-- best burgers in town. Friday night I planned to take it easy. Met up with Sho and friends at a cool bar near the Drum Tower. We got antsy, though, and headed for a sports bar. From there, we (inevitably) ended up in Sunlitun, a popular weekend spot for foreigners. So much for taking it easy!

Day 10. Saturday. Saturday morning I made Collin attend a Chinese wedding with me-- my language exchange partner was getting married. This event must have an entry of its own. By far the craziest day of my life. Collin claims he will never forgive me. Yet somehow after all the mayhem (and a botched attempt at taking a nap), I went out to meet up with SM, Sho and a bunch of others on the NBC crew in... you guessed it: Sunlitun. I don't know how I was even alive at that point, but I lasted through the night.

Day 11. Sunday. Took it easy, did some shopping, went to bed early.

Day 12: Today. Monday. I have spent the day searching for jobs, desperately wanting to avoid working weekends, and wish I could be through with teaching entirely. I may have an editing interview soon. I certainly hope so. The weather has been drier, cooler, and clearer. I swear the government can control the weather here. Their power is mind boggling. I'm meeting with my private student again in a few hours and then I will finally bake cookies! I guess these summer days aren't that lazy =]

-T

To leave, or not to leave...

2008-07-13T08:37:00.000-07:00

I just realized today that Tracy and I are fast approaching our five-month mark. They say time flies when you are having fun, but I'm going to argue that time is hardly a distinguishable unit of measure while living in China. Wow, five-months, almost a half-year.

I've reached a pivotal point in this China adventure: I'm finally legit and my first day at Wall Street is tomorrow. Like anytime one starts a new job, I'm both excited and nervous. Although I have a really good feeling about the opportunity, only time will tell how well I will fit into this company. After everything I've (we've) endured to secure this new position, I feel my experience at Wall St. will have a profound influence on my future in China.

-How much longer should I/do I want to....stay?
-How much longer can I bear the pollution and over-population?
-When the bad really does outweigh the good, will I be capable of admitting this truth to myself?
-Wait, what I am I really doing here?
-If I return to the States now, what am I actually going to do?

The latter question is honestly the 'big one,' as I don't really know what I want to do when I come back. Tracy and I recently met a really cool group of New Yorker expats at a dance-club, with the usual dialog: "hey, where you from?" "what are you doing in this crazy place?" "how long you been here" "how long you gunna stay?" I particularly liked Tracy's witty response to the NY's question: "What are you two doing in Beijing?" "We're running away from grad-school!" When we reciprocated the question, the young NYer responds, "I'm studying Chinese." "ohhh, cool," I mentally respond, "you're actually accomplishing things here, what's that like?" Of course, this is not to deny that I'm gaining important life-lessons and unforgettable cultural exchange, but, you know...

Over the past 6 years I've lived in Bakersfield, San Francisco, Portland, and Beijing. I don't really have a place that I call "home." When I return to Bako for holiday visits, I don't feel attached to the place at all. On the contrary, the Bush bumper-stickers, suburban sprawl, Taco Bells, SUV's and strip malls make me cringe. The City by the Bay? Along with Tony Bennett's, my heart still resides in San Francisco. But I had a great stint there, made life-long relationships, and can always go back (when I'm pulling in 1.5 million USD annually). I left Portland right about the time I was finally feeling settled there. When I think of "home" my emotions gravitate towards P-town, mostly because my mother lives there and it is the last place I left. So what next?

I'd be lying to myself and everyone that knows me if I said I didn't have a particular female in my life that is pulling me Westward. I'll confirm the truth of the old cliche: absence makes the heart grow fonder -- oh how I miss her so. Until now I've never experienced the feelings of almost complete isolation. Unless you've lived an extended amount of time w/o the luxury of picking up your phone and calling your loved-ones, you could never understand how much that messes with your emotions. Just 15 years ago, expats living abroad didn't even have the internet as means for staying in contact with friends and family. I couldn't imagine that.

Back to Portland, get a part-time job, do some volunteer work in the psychological field, and start applying to graduate schools?? Hmmm. Fun. Sounds so, like, grown up. Then what? A career? Shudder.

I'm well aware that having a house, a wife, and a decent career doesn't mean that your life is over. In fact, a steady income could provide for more traveling opportunities. But I do have a perpetual fear of conformity, establishment, and the cookie-cutter lifestyle. I'm learning a lot more about myself during this adventure, but it seems that the more I learn, the more perplexed I become about the future.

The roller-coaster ride that is China coincides with my internal perspectives of life, here, on planet Earth, in the 21st century. I live desperately and dangerously inside my own mind, an atmosphere full of outrage at myself and fellow homo sapiens for the decisions we are making and the state of the world. At times I see our species as nothing more than consumers, spending our dreadful lives acquiring income to rush out and spend it on pointless items that are happily displayed on an end-cap on the third-floor, isle-3, of WalMart. Like androids we all push our carts, trying to avoid eye contact with each other, trying to gather the goods we "need" and go about our day. You drive home in your cushy air-conditioned mid-sized SUV, unpack your goods, with two-thirds of all items purchased finding its way to a landfill near you. Ahhh, modern-day hunter and gathers.

Meanwhile I meet people who, despite their impoverished conditions, unthinkable hardships, and foreseeable permanence in this life and country, with a huge smile on their face, yelling "Hellllo" to me, and offering me beer, food, and cigarettes. I have educated, middle/upper-class students who are well aware of their place in the international community, and share similar dissatisfactions about the Chinese gov't, overpopulation, and depressing pollution, but seem to be endlessly optimistic despite the reality that it is here they will live, here they must stay. I have young children students who adore me and jump on me when I arrive for the lesson, and can't for the life of them pronounce my name correctly, always referring back to "tee-cha." Their parents pay me top-dollar in hopes that they can give their only allowed child more opportunity in this unfathomably competitive country.

It is so much easier for Tracy and I to complain about the ugly side of China because we can simply pack-up and leave whenever we want. Ultimately, in this mind I live in, I'm constantly reaching out to grasp the profound human spirits I experience here, in hopes I can use it to combat my growing pessimism and disdain towards the ways of this world.

Tracy, some friends, and I share a taxi home after a late night of well deserved dancing and we pass "The Nest" Olympic Stadium on Fourth Ring Road. It is massive, illuminated, iconic, and awe inspiring. We sit in silence, heads simultaneously moving backwards as our eyes are fixated on the architectural marvel. The whole world's entire gaze is on this very area, and here we are, living and breathing it.

I don't think it is quite time to come home yet.

-c

Cash Flow or Po-Po?

2008-07-07T23:10:00.000-07:00

So as some of you know, or don't know, we've been kinda, sorta hiding from the Chinese Po-Po.

Due to tight security leading up to the Olympics, many foreigners are having trouble with keeping their visas secured and their residences registered, present company included. Our lovely landlord jumped on the "I Wanna Profit From the Olympics" Bandwagon and decided to up our rent, despite the already signed contract which is good until December. We argued with the landlord about this. Not directly, of course, because nothing in this country is direct, and we don't speak the language. To argue "with" our landlord, we called Sho who called her uncle who called the rental agency who called the landlord. With a chain this complicated, this has dragged on for a long while. Meanwhile, our temporary residence registration has expired. Normally we could lay low until this has been taken care of, but with our ex-company desperately seeking revenge on Collin for quitting, the police have been hot on our trail.

We sought refuge in the homes of friends for awhile, but with the end to all of this seemingly near and no actual sign of the police yet, we decided we'd move back home and live quietly. If the doorbell rang, we simply wouldn't answer. There are no windows in the front of our place and no way to tell if we are home or not. Only about 3 people know where we live, so it would be easy to tell if we had a valid visitor or not. Usually. Enter the twist.

A few weeks ago I got a random assignment to proofread a document for a company I interviewed with. It took me about 30 minutes and they promised to pay me 250 RMB (~$35 ) for my time. Not too shabby. I was a bit skeptical I would actually receive this money, but if I didn't I only lost 30 minutes of my life. I took the risk. I was told an express mail service would deliver the cash to my address. I didn't know if this meant to my door or my mailbox. I assumed the latter, but realized in the coming days that I don't even know where our mailbox is. I figured there was 250 yuan chilling in a box somewhere that I would never get my hands on. I was given the name of the express service and a confirmation number, but again, I don't speak the language so I had no way of finding out how/when/where this money could be expected.

Last Monday night, around 9 pm, our doorbell rang. Collin and I were both home. We exchanged panicked faces. "Are you expecting anyone?" Collin asked.

"Sho is coming over, but not for awhile..." I replied.

"The police?"

"Must be."

With no windows or even a peephole in our door, we had no way to see who was out there. I quickly texted the three people who might actually stop by; all confirmed is was indeed not them at our door. We sat in silence until the doorbell stopped.

Later that night, Sho came by. As we took my building's elevator down, our elevator lady asked her something. When we exited, she translated: "She asked me if you guys are registered because the cops came by looking for you."

Yikes. Good thing we didn't answer.

Wednesday night. 8:55 PM. I receive a text message from Collin: "Doorbell was ringing again just now. Be careful when you come home."

I hung out a little while longer at work before carefully returning to my apartment. When I came in, we discussed our stressful situation. "Maybe it's the delivery guy with my money?" I offer optimistically.

"At 9 o'clock at night? Doubtful. But I dunno. This is China."

So it came down to this: the person ringing the doorbell was either the po-po or my cash flow, but without a peephole, I'd never know.

Go ahead and open Door #1! It's either 250 RMB or a quick trip to the police station! Hmm, I'm going to go ahead with the option behind Door #2: losing 30 minutes of my life.

Saturday night. 11:05 PM. Collin and I are about to leave to go to a house party. We are seconds from taking off-- I'm standing with purse in hand. Doorbell rings. And rings. And rings. "Maybe it's my money?" I offer again. I still don't even know at this point if it will be delivered to our door or our mailbox.

"At 11 at night? No way," Collin says. He's probably right.

We lay low until 11:35, before sneaking down the stairwell and leaving the house. We really can't live like this.

Monday morning. 10:00 AM. I receive a text message from the company: "Please advise a good time for the delivery. They have tried reaching you at home several times." I forward the text to Collin, and we have a good laugh about it. We still have no idea who has been ringing our doorbell. Maybe it's been the cops half the time and the money half the time.

I gave the company a window of time today: 1 PM to 5:30 PM. I figure if the doorbell rings in that time period, I have a slightly better chance of getting cold, hard cash rather than cold, hard time.

Today. 2:10 PM. Doorbell rings. I'm wearing my "I <3 China" t-shirt. (I figure the cops might go a little easier on me if I'm wearing this attire). I slowly open the door and peer out of our gate, my heart pounding so hard in my chest I can swear the screen printed heart is moving as well. I peer out and see. . .

A young delivery boy. "Ni hao!" I want to kiss him. He hands me an envelope with my name on it. I sign a paper. I bring it in. I rip it open. There is the 250 RMB neatly clipped with a small note:

Such a simple note. If only they had any idea of the true complexity behind it. The panic, the fear, the anxiety-- and now the humor--that was involved in getting that little envelope with that little note and that little money delivered.

I'm trying to decide how to use the money now. I'm thinking of a few options: Treat Collin and I to a nice relaxing massage for anxiety relief... Get it framed and hang it above our door for comic relief...

I've got it! I'm going to install a peephole in our door.

-T

My China Television Debut

2008-07-01T09:46:00.000-07:00

Sixiao informed me tonight that the two of us appeared on Chinese television. No, it wasn't the local news-- in fact, it wasn't even filmed here. When we were seniors in college, Sho worked on a MTV production called "The U" which went around to all the major universities interviewing students about the school and their college life. Since Sho worked on it, of course she and all of her buddies [enter me] got to be on the show. Sho gave a tour of our sweet pad in SD as an example of "living off campus" and I played the part of "girl who studies at the beach." I got interviewed about the academic and social life of UCSD while lying on the sand with my textbooks. [It was actually somewhat realistic-- I really did study at the beach. Eh, a few times.]

So tonight, years later, Sho's coworker calls her up: "You're on TV!" Sho was trying to think of how and when she was shot in Beijing, but her coworker went on to explain that she is watching Sho give a tour of her old place in America. Apparently one of the stations here was showing programs about colleges abroad and showed "The U." How random is that?

Tonight was my grand China television debut... and I missed it. I don't even have a TV.
Bu hao.

-T

Moments That Make it Worth it

2008-06-29T08:53:00.000-07:00

"Hello, Teacher!" from a random adorable 4 year old Chinese girl with pigtails and dimples.

Having know idea what you are eating, but knowing it will be amazing. Prime example: The Mystery Meatballs (aka Balls of Heaven) for $0.50 on our street.

The inevitable gigantic and ridiculous bike loads seen on the walk to work:

"HELLO!!" from JOE! (the crepe boy on the corner) followed by a, "OUCH!!" because he was waving so excitedly at me that he burned his hand on his hot plate. [Followed by uncontrollable giggling by me].

"Tracy I want to thank you for helping me improve my English," from a student almost twice my age-- in perfect English.

Getting my lunch delivered to my desk at work for $2.00. It's even better when it comes with comic relief: last week I unwrapped the napkin that usually holds the chopsticks, only to find not 1, not 2, but 6 plastic drinking straws. 6? Why 6? I didn't even order a drink. I think it was a decoy so I wouldn't notice the lack of chopsticks until after I had paid and was sitting comfortably at my desk. Sneaky.

Getting a ride home from a family who cannot afford the gas nor the time to take me, but insists on it anyway.

Sweet emails from students in their adorable ESL:

Collin,

Help yourself!Because we are the friends!

Please cheer up!It will all be fine!Long time no see you.Are you better now?

Your sister is a good teacher too.We all like her very much!She is very lovable!

best wishes to you and your sister!

And, of course: Chinglish signs and Chinglish shirts!

Biking in Beijing

2008-06-27T23:15:00.000-07:00

We finally did it. We bought bikes. We changed our lives forever.

I honestly don't know how we lived without them. We got advice from a student about a bike shop that might sell used bikes. We wanted to get used ones because they are cheaper, but mostly because bikes get stolen about 3 times a year-- you don't exactly want to splurge on a nice one. So we hop in a cab, hand the driver the phone [enter student to translate for us] and off we go. After making a few turns here and a few turns there we get dropped off on the main road right behind our home-- only now we're about 2 km down. We look for a shop but see nothing. Hmm, maybe we can ask someone? Collin sees a man fixing a bike inside a small covered "Bike Valet." There are little areas around town where you can lock your bike up and an attendant will watch your bike for a few yuan. This was one such place. Collin says, "I think this is it?"

"No, it's just one of those bike valet things."

"No, look," Collin points to a small row of bikes, wrapped in plastic and foam, with bright, shiny rims instead of rusty, used ones.

"Whoa, you're right." We approach the man and say, "Duo shou qian?" (How much?)

"Yi bai wu, san bai, er bai leo, er bai," (150, 300, 260, 200) he says, pointing to four groups in the row.

"How do we ask about used bikes?" Collin looks at me.

"No idea." We bust out our pocket dictionary and look for the word "used." No luck. We find "new" and add "no" in front of it: "Bu xin?" [We don't even know how to say bike. Whoops.]

"Mei you," (Don't have any) he replies.

Seeing as the most expensive new bike he has is 300 kuai ($42), we figure we might as well just get new ones since we're here and we really need bikes. We try out one from each group, test the brakes, go for a short ride down the block and back... finally decide on a little black, compact, fold-able for Collin and a single speed blue one for me. He wants 220 for mine and 260 for Collin's. Let the bargaining begin. We ask for 400 for both, then 450, but he isn't budging. He throws in a basket for mine and two bike locks, throwing the price up to 520 or so. We try again at 480, but he still isn't having it. Just then, the clouds that had been threatening rain all day grow darker and closer-- our bargaining is done. We hand him 500 kuai and say, "Hoa ma?" (Good?) He laughs at us, gives up on the last 20 kuai and says, "Hao."

We jump on the bikes and pedal as fast as we can, trying to beat the rain. Unfortunately we are pedaling toward it, but fortunately it isn't coming down too hard. We arrive home safely--slightly wet but very happy--with our new transportation.

Getting to work now takes 5 minutes instead of 15-20 on foot, getting around our neighborhood doesn't call for taxis anymore, and seeing the city from a new vantage point is amazing. I got my first real experience with that today, on my first long ride through my district.

I set out with no particular destination, just a strong desire to explore places that are always around me but never seen. You can't hop in a cab and go for a joyride, especially if you can't communicate with the driver. I've been to the north of our district quite a few times, but never to the south-- my direction for the day. I was told the zoo was that way and a park I had seen once was also to the south, so off I rode. I smiled as I realized each pedal motion was taking me along a patch of earth I had never been on before. "Never been here or here or here...or... here," I thought to myself, laughing at my own silliness. I figured that if I got lost I could always backtrack, but doubted this would occur due to my keen sense of direction [and the fact that almost every street has north, south, east, west in the name].

I got off to a rough start, being stuck on a busy street near my home packed with cars and taxis and bikes and buses and people. I was already frustrated that I couldn't just ride. However, I finally broke free to a larger street with a larger bike lane where I was able to ride with a bit more liberty. I passed huge buildings and looked down small streets I'd never seen. I turned down one, and then another, basing my destinations on one factor: greenery. The greener the street, the more I followed. I passed a dance academy and instantly noticed women and men with dancer bodies and shops filled with dance clothes and costumes. I saw a huge patch of trees in the distance... maybe the park I was hoping for? Indeed, soon I approached a beautiful park-- not the one I was seeking but this one was far better-- but was discouraged to find no bikes allowed. I made a mental note of the landmarks and streets: I will definitely be visiting this park in the future for reading, pondering, walking, and wondering.

I continued on, back on the main road, sure I would come to the zoo soon. I turned down a smaller street, away from the main road into a large government complex with trees and flowers and gardens. Charming. I miss charming. I headed back south. I saw a bridge. And water. Water? And boats. Boats? Incredible. [I thought for a moment I had been biking too long and my mind was creating a mirage.] I turned my bike along the water-- it was a long canal with weeping willows and summer flowers lining its edge. The best part? A small street that followed along the edge, allowing me to follow the waterway. I came to a dead end (the water continued, but the road turned into a private drive) and decided to take a short break. I sat and watched boats filled with people float by on a cool summer day and was truly amazed that this place sat a few kilometers away from my home and I had never known. I biked along the rest of the water in the opposite direction and noticed a distinct smell. I looked toward where it came from. Deer?? Surely my lack of sleep was getting to me now. Nope, it was real. I saw a group of deer in Beijing. I assumed this was the back of the zoo. Meeting another dead end, I headed back north.

I continued my direction decision method (follow the green) on the other side of the main road now. I pedaled along new streets with new shops and new people, hearing the inevitable random shouts of "Hello!" with almost every turn. I came to an intersection that looked oddly familiar. As I sat at the light I realized where I was: on a street full of "Hot Pot" restaurants where Collin and I had taken Mom during her stay. I laughed at myself for actually finding a place I had been before, knowing I still would have no idea how to get there once I left it again. I also felt a sense of belonging between myself and the city, similar to when I run into a student or a friend on the opposite side of this enormous city.

I biked along in the direction I assumed was home, looking for landmarks as clues to my whereabouts. I finally noticed a large road, most likely one of the city's Ring Roads. Sure enough, 3rd Ring Road appeared and I knew I was close. I saw a market in the distance and realized through all my zig-zagging I ended up on the main street behind our home, the same one I started on today and the same one I purchased my bike on before. On cue, the clouds began to threaten rain and then to sprinkle as I hurried home--arriving safely and happily--on my new transportation.

-T

Chinglish Part 2

2008-06-16T09:09:00.000-07:00

One of the best things to do in China: stand on the corner (wearing your sunglasses) and read all the Chinglish shirts as they stroll by in the hundreds. Here are a few gems from the last few weeks--

"Surfer: Like a newborn dolphins and sea"

"David Fell to Her"

"Strikes"

"Andoy"

"I Love Party Girls" (worn by a girl)

"What Story Would You Like to Tell Me?"

"Crazy about.... CASH!!"

"I Did What Last Night?"

Bright, neon pink shirt with bold black lettering: "Mervyn's Super Sale"

"Everybody has Imaginative Power"

"STAGE" in all silver sequins on a black shirt, worn by a male.

"Animal Kingdom Monkey Story"

"Surfer dreams is wet"

Three Month Mark

2008-05-27T03:02:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-23T07:52:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-19T01:19:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-15T09:11:00.002-07:00

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!

Crop Dusted in China

2008-04-23T21:53:00.000-07:00

Yesterday evening I scratched the slang I had planned to teach my students (nerd, dork, dweeb, doofus..) and taught them words from a whole different category: fart, toot, gas, butt, bottom, ass, booty, tush, buns...

I started with 'butt' and tried my best to describe the meaning with words to the 4 innocent Chinese women staring at me. "Buttocks? It's short for buttocks?"

Nope.

"Ummm, bottom? Does anyone know bottom?"

One girl sheepishly lifted her water bottle and pointed to the bottom of it. "Yes," I tell her, "but not quite what I'm going for."

Sigh. Okay. "It's this," I said and turned around and pointed.

"Ohhhh.."

"Alright. And these are all names for your butt... " I went onto pronounce each synonym for them. Moving on, "Now, 'fart' and 'toot' is slang for, um, when your butt makes noise."

Giggles.

"And when you have a lot of that going on, you say, 'I have gas.'"

More giggles.

"But, of course, us women never do such things."

Agreeing giggles.

I then preceded to tell them why I was teaching them such words: "These are very important slang words to know-- especially fart, toot, and gas. If you hear someone say, 'I just farted' or 'I have really bad gas' now you'll know to move away as quickly as possible," I darted across the room to demonstrate the suggested speed in which to remove yourself from such volatile situations. "However, the whole reason I decided to teach these words today is because of what just happened to my brother and I..."

Flash back to the day before, Tuesday, our "day off" [there is no such thing as a day off in China]. We were casually strolling through WalMart filling our already overflowing basket with god knows what and talking (most likely about the next ten items we'd throw in there). We turn the corner and--

"FLLLBBBPPRRRBBPPP!"

Collin and I throw each other a quick glance. "Did you just hear that?" he asks me.

"Yes!" It took a second to realize, but the old man standing in front of us (in a FOOD aisle nonetheless), just ripped one.

"Wow.." Collin said, "That was my first Chinese fart."

I, of course, could not contain my laughter at this statement. I completely lost it, right there in WalMart, right behind this gaseous old man. Did he know why we were laughing? Don't know. Don't care. He should feel a bit of shame for this deed.

Flash forward to the next day, one hour before my class. Collin and I are again walking and talking and minding our own business-- this time on a street in our neighborhood. Collin is discussing the craziness of battle between bikers and drivers: "Now, in Portland, if a car came that close to a cyclist--"

"FLLLBBBPPRRRBBPPP!"

Collin was literally stopped mid-sentence by the man in front of us. Again, an old man. Again, he didn't excuse himself or apologize. Again, he didn't break stride or even blink, for that matter.

We rushed past him because we were both laughing so hard we knew we'd offend him if he saw and heard us. [Why did we care about offending him? Not sure. The reverse was certainly not true]. Once we had a half block lead, we conferred through our chuckling.

"Two days in a row??! Two months and we never hear a single Chinese fart and now TWO days in a row??" I wondered aloud.

"We just got Chinese CROP DUSTED! For the second time!" Collin said.

Crop dusted indeed. "Crop dusted" is something I would never attempt to explain to my students, but for the sake of anyone reading that might not be familiar with this particular phrase, I'll provide a definition:

Crop Dust: to expel gas onto unsuspecting victims as you stroll by, just as a crop dusting plane sprays the fields below.

I shared these stories with my students, in much simpler English, and found that farting is universally funny. Not that I doubted this for a second.

-T

Just Add Soundtrack

2008-04-22T08:03:00.000-07:00

"No matter what happens now
I shouldn't be afraid
Because I know today has been the most perfect day I've ever seen..."

I walk through my neighborhood.. the same streets I've walked everyday for the last 2 months.. but this time-- tonight-- it's different. My MP3 player sends sound waves through my ears, through my mind, through my body, that remind me of life in America. Each step I take subconsciously synchronizes with each beat. The traffic, the honking, the bicycle bell ringing, the random Mandarin talking & shouting may as well be a million miles away.

"Today you were far away
and I didn't ask you why
what could I say
I was far away
You just walked away
and I just watched you
What could I say..."

I am viewing Beijing from a new point of view. The air seems crisper. The lights brighter. The streets cleaner. The buildings don't look so strange. For a few moments, I feel as if I could be walking in any large city-- New York, London, or even Paris. Even the people don't seem as foreign. And most important: I don't feel so foreign. With my earphones plugged securely inside my ears, I've created a musical force field that is now protecting me from the harsh sounds and hard stares I normally encounter. I can't hear them. They can't see me. It doesn't make any sense, but it feels this way. Guarded by my harmonic shield, I feel at home, happy, safe.

"This time it's on my own
Minutes from somewhere else
Hurry go on ahead
Good things won't let you wait
I'll catch up when we get home
At home..."

I imagine everyone hearing the same tunes and lyrics that I'm hearing. They walk in step as well. A bike turns, a light turns, a car turns-- all in perfect rhythm.

"Jigsaw falling into place
There is nothing to explain
Regard each other as you pass
She looks back, you look back..."

I learned an important lesson tonight: music is magic. In an instant it can turn the most alien of places into a familiar haven. Beijing isn't so different after all-- if you just open your mind... and add your own soundtrack.

Oceans Apart

2008-04-20T02:32:00.000-07:00

We've been in China for just over two months now. Each day flies by, yet these last two months is an eternity. I'm starting to feel the impact of being 6, 000 miles away from California, the only home I have ever known.

I explain the term "homesick" to my students. I encourage them to talk about it. None of them have ever left home, excepting short vacations.

"What would you miss if you moved abroad?" I probe.

"Family."

"Friends."

"Chinese food."

"Family."

"My cat."

"Friends."

"Classmates."

I start to tear a bit as I listen to their lists. They're listing my list. Well, save for Chinese food. And cats. I quickly change the subject to my disdain of cats, avoiding my own tears by inducing their laughter.

I'm feeling the sting of being disconnected from American culture. Once upon a time I followed American and world news daily. Politics, sports, good news, bad news. Now I don't even know the weather forecast. I woke up, surprised, to rain falling on my window today. Will it rain tomorrow? I don't even know.

A coworker hums a song to herself, "Man, I have 'Bunny Hop' stuck in my head!" I didn't fully hear "bunny" but I did hear "hop" and assumed it was some new American hip-hop or pop song I've yet again missed. I said, "I'm so out of mainstream America now that I've never even heard of that song. Is it new?"

"The bunny hop? It's like really, really old." She hums it again, louder: "Buh dun-uh-dun-uh-dun-uh. Buh dun dun dun. Buh dun-uh-dun-uh-dun-uh. DUN DUN DUN."

"Ohhhhh..... that song." I feel ignorant. I realize I am so out of the loop that I actually believed for a second that a song called "Bunny Hop" could be topping the charts back home. I scold myself for losing that much faith in my country. What's next, John McCain becoming president?

New movies, new songs, best sellers, top stories, my family and friends' daily events are all 6,000 miles away now. And I feel it.

I understand a lot of this is my fault. I have daily access to the internet-- my only portal to my past life. However, I don't have access to time. Chinese time goes faster than American time. It must. In San Diego I worked 40 hour weeks, played on 5 softball teams, went to school at night, went to the gym twice a week, went out with friends at least 2 times a week and still had time for TV watching, news reading, email sending, random phone chatting, MySpacing, blogging, and sleeping. In Beijing, I [technically] only work 25 hours a week. I have managed to make it to the gym 2 times... since I've been here. I don't play softball, I don't have class, I don't talk on the phone, I don't have a TV, I hardly have time for email or MySpace. Blogging and sleeping are indirectly proportional. As I type this, my laptop clock ticks to 2:28 AM.

The rain poured down today as I walked to work. I instinctively reached for my phone to call my sister to tell her how my street was a sludgy mess and my freshly ironed work pants were now drenched to my knees. Oh, yeah. 6,000 miles. How easily I often forget.

--
My last class this evening had "dating" themed vocabulary. I attempted to explain how you go on a date with someone you are dating, and this person is called your date. Date is a noun, a verb, and another noun. [Thanks American English for making my job more difficult!] Next came "stood me up." This was much easier to explain-- the bold rudeness of someone not showing for a date is definitely international. One of my darling students, a 20-something law student with very good English asks, "You could also say 'flashed,' right?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Flashed. One of our Chinese teachers said that if you get stood up, you can also say, 'she flashed me.' Is this right?"

I immediately doubled over in laughter. I had to contain myself enough to ensure her I was not laughing at her, as I did not want to discourage her from asking questions or seeking clarification. But she just said the sentence "she flashed me" and conjured images in my mind that would cause any nice girl to immediately blush. I looked around at my students-- women and men ranging from late 40s to early 20s. I would have loved to skip this particular explanation to this group but knew I had to clarify. For their sake.

"Ummm.. 'she flashed me' has a totally different meaning," I began. "If you were to say 'she flashed me' to someone, they would think that she took her shirt and went like this," I made a mocking motion of lifting my shirt to neck level.

Puzzlement. (Damn. I really don't want to keep talking about this). "You know, like she would show, um, her front side to you."

I see some comprehension cross their faces. I continue. I have to. "And if you were to say HE flashed you, that would mean he did this," I pretend to pull my pants down.

"Ohhhhhhhh...." they get it. They better get it-- I just made a fool of myself in front of them.

"So," I conclude, "if you were to say, 'I went on a date last night and he flashed me' that would NOT mean he didn't show up. That would mean he showed up and showed off."

We all laughed. I told my student I was very glad she asked that question. She assured me she was also very glad she asked and was very thankful for my clarification.

Moments like these-- precious, priceless, humorous moments-- throw the thought of those 6,000 miles to the back of my mind. Even if just for a moment, this, to me, is invaluable. These stories, these memories, these experiences will forever be mine. And when I do someday return home, I know there will be times where I feel "homesick" for China.

"Students."

"Friends."

"Chinese food."

"Coworkers."

"My street."

"JOE!"

"Beijing."

"China."

-T

I'm in Love!

2008-04-13T21:55:00.000-07:00

.... with my street.

If you want to eat on our street, you have many options. You can grab food from a street vendor who simply has a cart or sometimes just a blanket on the ground displaying their wares. Some vendors have a small space with just a window... you walk up to the window, hand them money, they hand you food and off you go. Others still have a small space for eating-- they may have a few tables and chairs inside and/or some out on the sidewalk and they cook the food on hot plates & make-shift stoves while you sit and wait. There are a few bigger "sit-down restaurants" as well-- there is one we frequent often & not having any idea of its name, we simply refer to it as "Our Restaurant."

So, we have our certain "go to" places (our pastry girl, our restaurant, our produce guy) but we have a long way to go before we've tried every little place on our street, something I definitely plan to do. With that goal in mind, today I decided to grab some lunch at a new shop. This shop fits into the "hole-in-the-wall-with-a-window" category. I walk up and poke my head into the window. I see a man working on a table covered in flour, making fresh dough. Another man is working with some meat and vegetables, and a women is manning 3 large metal bins near the window. All three look up at me, returning the same quizzical look I am sure I am giving them. I'm thinking, What in the world are they making? while they're thinking, What in the world is this white girl doing here?

I point at a metal bin, assuming there is food inside. "Duoshao?" (How much?)

The lady responds with a few words. I hear the word "chi" (seven), most likely because she is also making the Chinese hand signal for "chi/seven." [Side note: Chinese people have hand gestures for each number, 0-10. 1-5 is simply holding up each finger, as we do, but they only count with one hand, so 6-10 are not shown with both hands. 6 = thumb and pinky out; 7 = all five finger tips together; 8 = index finger and thumb out, similar to making a "gun signal" in America; 9 = hooking your index finger while making a fist with the other fingers; 10 = crossing your index and middle finger, like a "R" in ASL. You all just tried to do each of those while I described it, huh? I knew it.] Anyway, so she's making the hand sign for "chi" so I repeat, "Chi?" and she says "Dui" (Correct). Ok, I assume whatever deliciousness is in these tins is 7 kuai ($1). Sweet, I'll take two.

"Liangu" (Two of those).

The lady laughs at my Chinese, or Enlgese, I'm sure, and takes the lid off to reveal a bin full of steaming Chinese buns. Yum. I hand her a 10 and a 5.

"Bu, bu" (no, no) she says and waves her hand. She hands me back my 10 and takes my 5. I'm a bit puzzled because I could've sworn I heard "chi" and know she was doing the sign. Then she hands me back 3 kuai and 60 fen ["kuai" is their "dollar" and "fen" is their "cent"]. Ahhh, now I see. She was telling me each ball of freshly made heaven is 70 fen (10 cents).

I walk away with a small bag of awesome homemade treats to eat for lunch and a huge smile on my face. Not only did I just get lunch for 20 cents, but that lady was actually honest with the dumb white girl handing her way too much cash. She could have easily taken my money, but didn't. I love her. And her buns.

I turn the corner and wave to my true love. His name is JOE! The reason I write JOE! instead of Joe is because I don't know if JOE! is his English name or his Chinese name. All I know is that when I asked his name he said, "JOE!" I repeated, "Joe?" And he said, "JOE!" So maybe he likes to yell his English name, or maybe his Chinese name is "Zho." I'll never know. But it doesn't matter, because I do know this: I love him.

Leston, a fellow teacher, introduced us one day as we walked home together. He stopped us on the corner of my street and said, "Wait, I'm gonna grab dinner." I'd passed this "hole-in-the-wall-with-a-window" many times, but never stopped to check out the wares. Boy had I been missing out.

JOE! became very excited when he saw Leston. "Leston!" he yelled and held up one finger. Leston held up two fingers and Joe began working his magic. He stood directly in front of us, with only a tall, hot plate-looking thing between us. He poured a scoopful of batter on top of the hot plate. As it began to sizzle and bubble, he pulled out a small tool and artfully spread the batter in circles, making it about 10 inches in diameter. He then cracked a fresh egg and spread this on top of the batter circle, which was now turning into a crepe. Then JOE! threw a handful of cilantro and white onion on the egg layer. Next, he carefully & quickly flipped it over and pointed at three small bowls of sauces next to the hot plate and asked Leston something in Chinese. At Leston's confirmation, JOE! grabbed a small paintbrush tool and dipped it into the first bowl, spreading the sauce all over the freshly cooked side of the crepe. He repeated the process for bowl #2 and bowl #3. Then he grabbed something that looks like a thin rice cracker and placed it in the middle of the crepe. He folded it up, crunching the cracker into small pieces and threw the whle thing into a plastic bag. He handed it, steaming hot, to Leston. "Here you go," Leston handed it to me.

"How much?" I asked.

"Don't worry, I got it."

After JOE! made Leston's crepe he gave us our total: "Liu kuai" (six kuai; $0.90)

"It's only 3 kuai each?"

"Yup. Have some."

Oh... my... god... it was all I could do to keep from devouring the entire thing on the walk home-- I had to save some to share with Collin. Collin took one bite and said the same thing we say every time we eat in China: "Best thing ever." Agreed. Best thing ever.

Now I visit JOE! all the time. The magic he makes is perfect for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. It's only 3 kuai. It's amazing. AND it's made by the most adorable person in Beijing. Every time I pass by, I always wave and shout, "Ni hao!" at JOE!. Everyone in the shop laughs. [Side note: It isn't customary for people to wave and say hello here-- you only say hi to people you know or when you want something. My students had to explain this to me when I told them we walk down our street saying, "Ni hao!" to strangers. They died laughing. They said everyone we say "ni hao" to must think we want something from them, and are probably very confused when we pass them by without another word.]

JOE! is coming back with me to America... he just doesn't know it yet. I'm going to kidnap him if I must and take him and his hot plate and batter and spice bowls and paintbrush home. We will get married. Every morning he will make me his delicious crepe. And we will live happily ever after.

I love my street.

Honk if You're Alive!

2008-03-31T10:29:00.000-07:00

HONK!! HOOONNKK!!! HON-HON-HONKKK!

I swear to jebus if one more person honks at me, I will--

HONK!!!!!

Deep breaths, Tracy. Take deep breaths.

I power walk down our street. [Or should I say market? Or marketplace? Or barber shop-produce market-butcher shop-bakery-trinket stop-pharmacy-locksmith-grocery store-restaurant-massage parlor-liquor store? Times four.] Our street is not regulation size-- it is more like a wide alley-- and clearly there is not enough room for all this activity + car traffic + people rushing by on bike and foot. The sidewalk goes and comes without warning or reason; it is hardly a safe haven for pedestrians. I jump up on it anyway, completely convinced that one more "honk!" will drive me over the edge.

HONK!!

What the.... ?? Did I seriously just get honked at on the sidewalk??

I turn around to see a long, skinny van directly behind me. On the sidewalk.

Only in China.

I have come to expect to be honked at in every imaginable place in this city. In fact, as I lounge comfortably on my couch in our living room right now, I would not be surprised if my peaceful writing was interrupted by an invasive horn. The saddest part about this is not that being honked at in my living room wouldn't startle me, but that it wouldn't even phase me at all. I would simply pick up and move into my bedroom and let the vehicle pass through to the kitchen.

It wasn't always like this though. There was a time in my life that being honked at infuriated me. Even if I was clearly in the way of someone, it would still get under my skin. Who honked? Did you just honk at ME? Surely they didn't just seriously honk at me.

The first time I was honked at in China, I was a bit caught off guard. The honking is incessant everywhere you go, but the first one truly directed at me was still disturbing. Whoa, whoa, whoa... can't you see I'm not from around here? How was I supposed to know that cars don't yield to pedestrians?

I began to get used to this whole idea that 'cars have the right-of-way.' I pondered aloud to Collin one day, after about a week into our adventure, "Well, I guess, if you think about it, if people had the right-of-way in China, cars wouldn't be able to get anywhere. Ever."

Then I got honked at again. The light I was facing turned red. Alright, its my turn to walk. A blaring horn told me otherwise. As the car sped past my toes, I remembered a small passage in a guide book my mother gave me for Christmas: "The easiest way to get killed in Beijing is to step out in the street and try to cross right after a light turns red." Oops. Shoulda dog-eared that page. So not only do cars not yield to us people on foot, but they do not have to yield to us when the light is red. They can make a right turn on red (just like in America) but they don't have to stop or even slow down before they turn (just not like America). Alright. Dually noted.

And then, I got honked at, again. On the sidewalk on my street, by that long, skinny van. That's when I started to realize that almost nowhere in Beijing was safe from traffic.

I think about the absurd honking quite often when I walk; I suppose because it is now a constant soundtrack to my life. One day, as I strolled along a footbridge with some goods from a nearby market, I looked down at the road & sidewalk below. Watched people get honked at. Thought to myself: Heh. Suckers. Down on the sidewalk and road getting a 'HONK!' here and a 'HONK! HONK!' there. God I love these footbridges. They are the only place in Beijing where I don't get honked at. They should build more of--

HONK!!! HONNNNKKKK!!!!

No way! NO WAY!

Way. I totally got honked at on my precious little footbridge. Yes, FOOTbridge. I turned around to see a man on a small, motorized, three-wheeled vehicle, similar to a Thai tuk-tuk. Boy, did I want to wipe that smug little look off his face as he rolled by me. That's when I fully realized nowhere was safe. There is no escaping the horn-happy citizens of this crazy country.

HONK!

Argh. Sorry.. gotta move.

No Such Thing as a Day Off

2008-03-27T05:55:00.000-07:00

A fellow teacher at ABC said it best: "There's no such thing as a day off in China."

We are alloted two days off a week, but in truth, everyday is packed full of things to do, places to see, people to meet... if only we could actually speak to people when we met them. We are trying really hard to learn words here and there, but the pronunciation continues to impede our progress. As Collin and I walked down our street today, we discussed how frustrating it is to be saying the word somewhat correctly, only to draw completely blank stares. We got to a main road and hailed a cab (we needed to go to WalMart to return and exchange some things... ha!). We jump in: "Ni hao."

"Ni hao."

Collin decides a cab driver in our 'hood should recognize 'WalMart' being spoken in English: "WalMart."

"Eh?"

"WalMart!"

Blank stare.

Collin unzips his bag, pulls out his notebook, flips to the page where our Chinese friends wrote WalMart in Chinese for us, points to it.

"Ahhh, WalMart!" the driver responds. We crack up and the driver chuckles along, with no way of knowing what could be so funny. It never fails to blow our mind how the tiniest inflection can matter so much.

Surprisingly, we managed to return the shower rod we bought (it had fallen apart as soon as we touched it). A very nifty Mandarin guide we own had these sentences: "This was broken when I bought it" and "I want my money back" written in Chinese. We simply pointed to the sentences, the customer service worker said something in Chinese to which we replied, "Uhh.. dui? (correct?)" and then we got handed 40 RMB and something to sign. Awesome. Now to exchange the cell phone, because it hasn't been working right. Not so awesome. Through hand gestures, 3 different workers (one who spoke a bit of English, thank god) and going back and forth between the cell phone counter and the customer service counter 3 times, we managed to leave with the broken cell still in hand and instructions to call the phone manufacturer to fix the problem. [Hmmm.. I wonder if we can 'press 2 for English' on that phone call?]

The funniest part of this adventure was me walking around the city for awhile with a shower rod in hand. Instead of feeling as though I stood out in the crowd, I actually felt like I blended in. Everywhere you look people are hurrying to and fro with the most random of objects. A dude biking by with 8 Dell computers? Why not. A girl cruisin' by on a scooter with a small child and a bag full of mysterious vegetables? Absolutely. The best is when they pile half of the world's garbage on the back of a tricycle cart. All over the city people are transporting anything you can think of on these trikes at all times of the day and night. We love to play the "Find The Biggest Load" game. The record holder (as of now) was a pile that was roughly 10' x 10' that we were lucky enough to witness on Monday. Imagine a pile of junk 10 feet high and 10 feet wide. Strapped to a tricycle. And someone actually riding this trike. Without it all falling off. It was 10:3o pm on a Monday night and this is what 'casually' passes our taxi. Only in China. [We tried to get a picture from the cab, but it was too dark, so you'll have to take my word for it.]
--

In other news, Collin ate grasshoppers and worms. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, so how about a video?

Or two?

I didn't do it because someone needed to be the videographer, right? Actually, I wanted to keep all the delicious food I had just consumed in my stomach rather than projecting it back onto the table, so I insisted on passing on the insect course. Collin and Kurt (fellow teacher) decided to sample these delicacies at a really fancy buffet where the three of us were eating. This place had salad, soups, meat dishes, seafood dishes, sushi, noodles, pizza, dumplings, fresh fruits, sandwiches, deserts-- basically anything you could think of-- and it was all you can eat. On top of that, it had juice, soda, wine and beer-- all you can drink. Insane! How much did we pay for this amazing, endless supply of food and drinks? 67 RMB a person (about $9.75). This place is a 3 minute cab ride from our apartment. Dangerous!

I am working up the courage to eat a bug. As one of Collin's friend's put it: "Well chickens eat bugs and we eat chickens, so it's all the same... right?"

Hmm... now that she put it that way, maybe I will get rid of the middle man and go straight to the source. Grilled Grasshopper comin' right up!

-T

Chinglish & Englese

2008-03-15T09:52:00.001-07:00

"Then he grabbed his briefacase," Sixiao messes up a word.

"Brief-uh-case?" I tease.

"Haha, whoops. Chinese moment!" she laughs.

Sho has been here for long enough and speaks Chinese often enough to slip and say a bit of "Chinglish" every now and then. I heard this term at work. "You must help the students improve their Chinglish!" the foreign teachers' manager repeatedly repeats. [No really, she repeatedly repeats things more repetitively than anyone I have ever known. Or anyone I know for that matter. She's so repetitive!]

So if the Chinese commit the sin of speaking Chinglish, the English commit the crime of...

"Englese?" Sho offers. Collin & I laugh. "Englese." Definitely.

We are earnestly trying to learn Chinese while we are here. As we approach the 1 month ticker mark [can you believe that?] my Chinese vocabulary consists of:

-Ni hao! (Hello!)
-Zaijian (Goodbye)
-Xiexie (Thank you)
-Bukeqi (You're welcome)
-Zuo (Left)
-Yao (Right)
-Dui (Correct)
-Bu (No)
-Gan bei (Bottom's up)
-Hen hao (Very good)
-Wo shi lao shi (I am a teacher)
-Mei Guo (America)
-Ma fan ni (May I trouble you?)
-Fu yuan (Waiter, bartender, server)
-Di tie (Subway)
-Hu tong (Old street/buildings)
-Counting from 1-99 [Once you learn 1-10, 11-99 is simple.]

Oh and I almost forgot:
-Wo bu ai lao tou (I do not love old heads). [Long story].

Alright, so I have my little base of words. Not bad for a few weeks, right? Yeah, well the problem is this: PRONUNCIATION. If you are learning English and you say the word a bit off, you might still be understood. Example: someone approaches you and asks where the "toiret" is. Chances are, you are going to correctly direct them to the toilet (especially if they look distressed). In Chinese, there is so much emphasis on tones that to pronounce a word or syllable with the wrong tone means you are saying an entirely different word. Couple that with the fact that many Chinese tones are sounds that we've never heard before in our life. The result? Englese.

Collin and I exchange Englese stories almost daily. We try to explain something to our students using a Chinese word and they stare at us blankly. After a moment of awkward silence, a student (sometimes) figures it out then translates to the class. From our point of view, err, point of hearing, the word we just said sounds just like the word the student repeated. But us saying it equals complete confusion and the student saying it provides complete comprehension.

Example: Collin said to my students, "... and then we went to the di tie." [Pronouncing it dee-TEE-uh]

Perplexed faces. "Subway?" he attempts. Nothin.

"Oh, oh, oh...." a student finally says. "Di tie." [Pronouncing it DE-tee-eh]

We gave each other a quick glance. "That's what he said!" we're both thinking.

Sometimes we just have to write the pinyin (romanticized Chinese) on the board and hope they figure it out.

"And on Thursday, we went to Beihai Park and then ate across the street in the hutong [who- tong]," I told my class today.

"Hutong?" they repeat. No idea what I'm talking about.

"H-U-T-O-N-G." I write on the board.

"Ahhhhh, hutong!" they all say.

"That's what I just said!" I silently declare. Stupid Englese accent.

On the cab ride home from Beihai the other day, our student asked us how to say our address in order to tell the driver.

"Uhhh.. no idea," we respond.

"How do you get home?" she inquires.

"Um, we just yell 'right' and 'left' as we get close," I explained.

Then I demonstrated:

"Yao! Yao! [Yo! Yo!]" and frantically pointed my hand right.

"Zuo! Zuo! [Zow! Zow!]" and frantically pointed my hand left.

Our student looked at me, "Zow?"

"Ya. Left."

"No... left is zoo-oh."

"Then what does zow mean?"

"Morning."

The three of us burst into laughter. "You mean I have been getting in taxis and yelling 'Morning! Morning! Morning!' at them?"

We laughed about it the whole ride home; Collin mimicking me by throwing his hand left and yelling 'morning!' and then throwing his hand right and yelling 'afternoon!' Our student was extremely amused by all of this and I'm sure appreciative as well-- her foreign teachers struggle with her language as she sometimes struggles with ours.

After we got out of the cab, we giggled about it more. I had this hilarious picture of a Chinese person hopping into a cab in NYC and yelling, "Morning! Morning! Morning!" at the driver. I shared this with Collin, who said that he's sure the drivers here knew what I meant, given the context. I agreed, stating it'd probably be more like a foreigner in NYC screaming at the cabby to go "White!"

I can't help but feel as if an American driver would be slightly annoyed at the person's Chinglish. Do Beijing drivers scorn my Englese? I might never know, but I do know that I scorn my Englese. I hope that one day I can claim: "My Chinese is hen hao."

Videos From the East!

2008-03-11T08:54:00.000-07:00

Fireworks at Houhai Lake. It was the last night of the year the Chinese can light off fireworks, and they definitely took advantage. Listen to all of them going off in the background.. then imagine hearing that ALL night ALL over a giant city:

As mentioned in a previous post, we got lost can came across this little gem:

There's a park near our apartment. Old people love to gather in the park to do Tai Chi or play card games or play what seems to be similar to what we American's call Hacky Sack:

Our new neighborhood! Our street is amazing:

Adventure No. 88

2008-03-11T05:31:00.000-07:00

It is Saturday night, 6:00pm, I've been working since 8am, I decide I really need to get out of the office and head home. Tracy has class until 7:30pm, I tell her to meet me at home and we'll go grab dinner. On the way home I stop by the market and pick up some staples: yogurt, bananas, chips, and water. Standing in line waiting for check-out, I notice the store has a good selection of tools for sale and I make a mental note: we need tools for the house. Check-out, walk home.. it's a few minutes after 7pm. Pulling out the set of duplicate keys that we just had made the day previous, I struggle to get the front gate open. With trial and error (just like everything else in China), it finally works. I approach the front door to find the same problem...jiggle giggle, turn upside down, right side up, sideways, jiggle jiggle. Not working. After many patient attempts, I'm frustrated beyond belief. Why doesn't anything work, ever? Come on! I have perishable products in my bag, I'm tired, thirsty, hungry, and I really really need to use the restroom. Coming home to my Western-style toilet is a luxury I look forward to every single night of my new life. Until you've lived in a world of "squatters," you really can't understand this luxury.

My frustration reaches new levels: I think I might be locked out because of a faulty key. Already picturing myself waiting for Tracy to come home, I try to force the key to work. What happens next??? Yup, you guessed it, the key breaks inside the door. With just a sliver sticking out, I try to pry it out with my finger nails. No luck. Ironically, I head back to the market to browse the tool section I just saw 20 minutes ago. Needle-nose pliers were not on my original list, but now they will be our first tool in the new apartment...that is if I can get in of course.

I'm back, it is 7:30, I've now been stuck outside for an hour and a half. I come close to snagging the key out of the lock a few times, but on my final attempt, I do more harm than good: I shove it so far inside that the needle-nose cannot even grab it. I'm screwed. A phrase I'm all too familiar with now. What makes matters worse is that I still don't have my own cell phone (I'm broke until pay-day). At this point the best thing for me to do is wait for Tracy, as I don't want to risk missing her if I attempt to walk back towards the school. She is almost off, she should be home in about 20-30 mins. Tracy, as my luck would have it, took her sweet, sweet time leaving work and walking home. She arrived at 8:45, putting my time outside at 2 hours and 45 mins. Tracy finally walks down the corridor towards our apartment. Even though I was extremely frustrated, I could not take it out on her, it wasn't her fault. I've never been so happy to see my sister before.

I greet Tracy with, "Hey sis, guess what? We're screwed." After explaining everything to her I say, "we need to call Sixiao so we can find out what our options are." Tracy pulls out her phone, which is beeping to inform us that it is about to die. One minute into her conversation with Sixiao the phone dies. Miraculously our neighbors arrive as this happens, we explain to them using hand gestures what our situation is, they let us use their phone. Sixiao says she is going to cab over, she'll be there in a half-hour.

Upon arrival, Sixiao, always our savior, had already arranged for a locksmith. We waited another 30 minutes for him to arrive. While he was banging the lock out of the door, our other neighbor (who is apparently friends with our landlord) got suspicious and nosy and called the police because she felt we didn't have the right to change the locks without permission. Before the locksmith could break into our apartment, the cops had arrived with flashlights in hand, shining them in our foreign faces. They demanded our passports at once, looking suspiciously at us the entire time. It is Chinese law that foreigners must registers with the police dept. as soon as they obtain a residence. Tracy and I had yet to do this, as we've barely moved into our place, and we are incapable of competing the task independently. This of course created more suspicion, and the environment became increasingly nerve-racking. Sixiao was apologetic for our irresponsibility with the law, and promised them that we would register first thing Monday morning.

As for the snoopy neighbor, her dog was barking like crazy at the police, which annoyed them greatly, so they asked for her pet registration papers. Because China is so overpopulated, a pet dog must be registered properly too. Her dog wasn't, which means she now has some legal hurdles to jump over. Moral of the story: mind your own business!

By the time we all sat down in the living room and debriefed it was 11pm. I left work around 6pm; you do the math and assess my mood. I had class at 8am the next morning, I was not a happy camper. All said and done, I was almost surprised how well I took the situation... this must be a sign that my resilience has reached optimal levels, an essential tool for successful China survival.

An Adventure in Everything

2008-03-05T00:36:00.001-08:00

We are nearly settled into our new pad. All the suitcases have been cabbed over from the other side of the city; our daily commuting to work is no longer. We did a giant Wal-mart (yes, Wal-mart-- I am very ashamed) shop yesterday to get as many of the essentials we could fit into two carts: plates, cups, utensils (forks and spoons come in quantities of 1 only, and are expensive; chopsticks come in large quantities and are very cheap), bedding, towels & cleaning supplies. We carted our huge load outside to the waiting line of taxis. Colllin and I did a quick mental check of how much RMB we had on us... we think about 16 between us.. it will cost around 14 to get back to our pad. We have so much stuff that to carry it all between two pairs of arms isn't even an option. We must get dropped off directly in front of our building and take it up shifts.

We unload the carts into the trunk and the backseat. The cab driver is visibly annoyed at our mounds of goods (1,450 RMB worth, to be exact). We hop in and Collin accidentally gets the bottom of his shoe on the driver's newly covered white seats. He yells at him in Chinese, points to the scuff marks he's left. Collin rubs it off, but the permanent damage is done: this guy hates us. We ask [read: point to Chinese characters our Chinese friends wrote for us] him to head to the Haidian Theatre. The meter starts at 10 RMB and goes up 2 RMB every 2 kilometers. We live less than 4 km from Wal-mart, however, like most cabs, the meter ticks away if you sit in traffic.

It is only about 2:30 in the afternoon, but the streets are packed, as usual. We head toward the theatre near our home, and then shout "Zuo! Zuo! Zuo!" (Left! Left! Left!) when we approach the street we need to turn on. The driver turns to us and says something in confused Mandarin, which we interpret as "Left? But the theatre is straight!" We stick to our "Zuo's!" and he relents, getting into the left turn lane. We nod and say "Dui, dui" (Correct, correct) utilizing one other word from our extremely limited vocabulary. The meter hits 12 RMB. We frantically count our cash, finding we only have 15, not 16 yuan between us. We are very near our house now, turning onto our street, but our street is INSANE. I say street, but I should say market. You can buy anything and everything imaginable (and not imaginable, for that matter) on our street. People roam all over buying things, selling things, bargaining, eating, carting goods, going to their homes. From daybreak to nightfall, our street is full of people on bikes, people on foot, and cars honking and desperately trying to get through.

Which is us, right now. Desperately trying to get through before the meter clicks past 15. We are completely stressed out. Our cab driver honks repeatedly and slowly squeezes through the masses. The meter hits 14. Our street is even more crowded than usual. What is that we see? A cop car. No, two. Four? Seven?? And a news camera? This is a first.

We get passed the mess of cops and confusion. A small break in traffic. We see the hipster salon on our road, a landmark for our apartment building, in the distance. 15. We'll never make it. We can't even run up and grab more cash from our place or "tell" the driver to take us to the nearest ATM. We might end up in the back of one of those cop cars. Soon.

The driver inches forward. Honks. "Yao! Yao! Yao!" (Right! Right! Right!) we yell in unison. He turns into our complex. "JAR! JAR! JAR!" (HERE! HERE! HERE!) we stop him. He clicks the meter off. 15 RMB. We made it. By the skin of our teeth. Sighs of relief.

Such is our life here in China. Every single thing is an adventure. "Let's make a simple trip to Wal-mart." Ha. EVERYTHING is an adventure. Without resilience, a fantastic sense of humor, and an adventurous spirit, one would not last a single day in this place. We hate it. We love it. We want it to end. We want it to last longer. It is week 2 and might as well be month 2, year 2.

Everyday is a waiting adventure. What more could two young people ask for?

Dog Eat Dog World

2008-03-03T20:32:00.000-08:00

Tracy and I are fast approaching our two-week mark, and we are exhausted. The jet-lag is officially gone, but sometimes I think we are too tired to notice the difference anyways. Between work, lesson planning, commuting, apartment hunting online and on foot, there is little downtime, and even less sleep. I literally haven't had time to sit down and write an email. That being said, I apologize in advance for the long-winded nature of this update. Things are looking up, though, as we finally scored our own apartment last night! Much more on that later....

Beijing is not a place to come if you a looking to 'get away from it all.' This is escapism, but not in a relaxing kind of way, more of a 'have your mind blown' kind of way. I would suggest that everyone comes to an Asian country to visit, just to see it with your own eyes. But this is not the kind of country you would want to live in permanently (in my opinion). After visiting Paris, for example, I left thinking, "I would raise my family in this wonderful place." Away from the safe little 'expat haven,' that is our work, you step outside on the streets that are littered with human beings as far as the eye can see, bicyclists as far as a pair of binoculars can see, and a rush hour that easily makes NYC's look like child's play. This society encompasses the very notion of 'dog eat dog.' It is vitally important, though, to realize that this 'every person for themselves' mentality is just the nature of the beast, not the individual. In a city of 17 million, and a country of 2.2 billion, if you take one second to look over your shoulder, you're finished. This is not the ideology of the individual, but the way of the world they live in... I would argue that it is the inevitable result of human overpopulation.

Another direct result of this mentality is negotiation. Yes, everything fathomable -- void maybe a cup of Starbucks -- is negotiable. In the States, companies compete for business, therefore they must acquire returning customers through exemplary customer service. To do something shady is to risk tainting your company's reputation. Here, in the main, this is not true. With so many people, if you lose one customer, by sheer default, someone is going to be knocking at your door three minutes later. There is little regulation of the sales industry (how can you regulate anything on a scale this size?), and foreigners get the short end of this stick. In a world of price negotiation, if you don't look like a native, and you don't speak the language: you're gonna get screwed. So what is the foreigners only saving grace? A Chinese friend; not just an acquaintance, but a friend.

I have been sharing stories with my students about my unsuccessful apartment hunting. They all have suggestions for me, they all want to help. Many have taken it a step further, and have text messaged me with leads, emailed me contacts, or called me with new information. The Chinese people, especially my students, work, go to college, and take English lessons to better their chances in this unfathomably large and competitive job market. Many of them tell me that they literally never do anything social, ever. Here at ABC, we are encouraged to have a lot of fun with them, play games, tell jokes, and teach them about culture. We want to create a relaxed atmosphere for them, where they can actually learn about culture as opposed to the vocabulary that they've been learning since grade school. We have a lot of fun in class, and I've gotten to know them on a more personal level, and I've learned of how incredibly hard they work. Despite everything going on in their lives, they have all reached out to me, taken time out of their lives to search Chinese websites, make phone calls, etc. Amazing. I even had one student who took me to meet an agent...we spent 2 hours seeing a few places. I offered her dinner afterward, to return the favor, but she refused. She said, "The pleasure was all mine, please don't worry." So sweet.

Last night, I met Sixiao after work, who had contacted another agent on our behalf earlier in the day. We cabbed over to see a few more apartments, but to my dismay, I wasn't too happy with the condition of either one. She asked me if I would be interested in meeting her Uncle, who's house was a short mile-walk away. I told her I would love to. She phoned ahead to inform them of our nearing arrival time, then explained to me that they were excited to meet me. I was like, "really?" She said she had called earlier that day, and said she might stop by with her American friend. Her niece, Meomeo, is 13 years old, has been studying English in school for a few years, and has only conversed with an American once before in her life. On the phone Sixiao had learned that Meomeo was in the bathroom, "getting ready to meet you, and that she was extremely nervous."

Upon arrival, we took off our shoes, slipped on house slippers, and I was greeted with a "he-rro, welcome, welcome, pleashe, plieess, pa-lease sit, sit...are you dirsty? would you like sshum tea?" The parents then had to yell and sream at Meomeo to come out, as she was too nervous to do so. She finally did, and I stuck my hand out for an introduction (traditionally, the Chinese only shake hands in a business setting). "Hello, my name is Collin, very nice to meet you..." "Herro, my, ahh, name ish Meomeo, ess nice to meet you too." Her short bout of confidence quickly diminished, her demeanor immediately resorted back to the most bashful girl I've ever seen. I couldn't believe it. I came to China with a self-perception of myself as that 'boring, white, American, monolingual dude,' how could anyone be so excited to be in my presence? It is as foreign of a feeling that I've ever experienced.

After hot tea, I learned that Sixiao's Uncle had contacted an agency on our behalf, and that he wanted to take us to see a couple of places tonight. What happened next blew my mind. The entire family dropped what they were doing, put on their coats, scarves, gloves, and shoes. We walked out to the main road, hailed two separate cabs, and headed over to the real estate agency. Upon arrival, we greeted the agent, and walked to the complex. After viewing two apartments, I had fallen in love with one, and expressed great verbal interest to Sixiao. After the translation was complete, the bargaining began. Now this isn't any kind of negotiation you could possibly imagine. This is not one agent contacting another, this is not an emailed offer, this is not a timely process in which you make an offer and hope to hear back on it soon......this happens here, and now, in a verbal shouting match. Uncle simply sits on the couch, crosses his legs, and just starts laying into the agent. The agent, a cute, hip, young, frail, petite Chinese woman, shows no sign of backing down. As you may know, the Chinese language is loud and choppy by nature, so to hear it in this context, was quite a treat. Neither party was backing down, Uncle, being the patriarch, stayed sitting, slapped his thigh a few times, the coffee table once, and demanded one thing after the other. Occasionally he would point to me. I just stood there and tried to keep my feelings of disbelief and culture shock harbored -- away from my face. This continued for 20 minutes minimum, all the while Sixiao and the Aunt piped in their two cents when the dialog allowed.

With another slap on his thigh, Uncle stands up, the negotiating is done, and a smile is on his face. The agent was reduced to some uncomfortable laughter, and out of context alone, I can tell she had reluctantly subsided. Uncle's demeanor suggested: No foreigner is going to get screwed this time, he is a friend of my family. And just like that we have an apartment: 2 bedrooms, spacious, clean, western bathroom, a 10 minute walk to work, all for 3,200 kuai/month. Mine and Tracy's combined monthly income is 13,000 + possible bonuses, so we'll be doing quite alright.

Afterwords we all went to a traditional Chinese restaurant and had some of the best food I've ever had in my life. Phenomenal. Tracy had gotten off of work and she came to meet us for dinner. As we sat down, Tracy and I told Sixiao's family that this was the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for us. We explained that their generosity was unparalleled, and we are forever in their debt. Uncle simply smiled and said, in broken English, "It was our pleasure, we just want for you to have a comfortable stay in our country." Tracy and I snuck out later and payed for the bill before they could, as we assumed they would probably try to do this as well. Sure enough, Uncle attempted to pay, then tried to explain to us that it is their duty, as host, to pay for the meal. We tried to explain that it was the least we can do, and it was almost as if they didn't understand how blown away we were by their generosity.

Needless to say, if I ever in my life hear anyone say anything negative about the people of this great country, I will be the first to have words with them.

So tomorrow is only 6 hours of sleep away, and after some shopping for general house supplies (it is fully furnished already), Tracy and I will actually be settled in. No more hour and a half commute, no more 3 subway transfers, no more 6am alarms going off for 9am classes.

We shed our skin, once more, packing our bags to venture over to a new side of town. The adventures are perpetual, and although it is tiring, I hope it stays this way. I came here to escape monotony, and I think I found the polar opposite.

-C

Why Not?

2008-02-27T01:58:00.000-08:00

There is one phrase that is essential for expats living in Beijing. It isn't "ni hao"[hello] or "xiexie" [thank you]. It isn't "mafa ni" [may I trouble you?] or "bukeqi" [you're welcome]. In fact, it isn't even a Chinese phrase. It is a phrase that our wise Chinese-American friend Sixiao, who has been living here since August of last year, recently used in response to the endless questions we have bombarded her with over the last week: Why not?

"Sho," we say, "Why do the waiters/taxi drivers/masseuses work so hard when they don't get tipped?"

"Oh my god, Sho," we cry, "Why don't the cars stop for pedestrians? Or stay in their lanes?"

"Wow," we remark, "How can there be so many people living in one city?"

"Sho," we continue, "Why are there huge, modern skyscrapers next to old, run-down slums?"

"Sho," we pester, "Why do people wear the same outfits 2-3 days in a row?"
"Because it's extremely annoying doing laundry in China.. you'll learn this very quickly," she answers.
"Okay, we can understand not washing something every time you wear it, but why wear it 3 days in a row?" we persist.
"Why not?"

Silence. Laughter. The answer of all answers: Why not?

Sixiao's answer was a brilliant breakthrough for us. Our world has been turned upside down. We are illiterate. We might as well be deaf and mute. We know only one person [other than each other] in a city of 17 million people. We are in a new culture that is completely foreign to us. We see things every minute that baffle our Western minds. And after a full week of asking Sho, "Why?" we finally realized we need to say, "Why not?"

Last night, we accidentally got off the subway one stop too early. In a sea of buildings and people this massive, everything still looks the same to us and it took a long time to get our bearings and realize our mistake. In the process of figuring out where we were, we came across a massive building decorated beautifully in thousands of red and yellow lights in celebration of the new year. We took lots of pictures, enjoying our unintentional scenic route. Then we came across a dancing Mickey Mouse. Not a small toy, but a person dressed in a Mickey Mouse suit [just as one would see at Disneyland] seriously getting down to electronic music blasting from unknown origins. There are no street performers or beggars here, like NYC or SF, so, for no apparent reason, we stumbled across a life size Disney character shakin' his mouse booty in the middle of a Beijing sidewalk.

Why? you might ask.

We just looked at each other and said, "Whyyyyyy not."

Lost in Translation

2008-02-25T02:23:00.000-08:00

I (Tracy) am trying to set up our blog right now and the whole site is in Chinese characters. I am only going on memory and common sense as to what the buttons and tabs might be saying. By some small miracle I have gotten this far.

I understand now why Sixiao only blogs maybe once every few months since her time here. There are so many things to write about, but never enough time. Time in China goes 1 million times faster than time in America. We have only been in Beijing for 5 days. 5 days that have blurred seemingly into an instantaneous moment. 5 days that have streched seemingly into an infinite, indefinte amount of time.

We move into our apartment tomorrow. The move will be hectic-- from repacking all of our stuff, to hauling it in cabs across town, to figuring out how & where to buy things in China for our new place-- but it will be welcome. Finally, we can begin to get a sense of feeling settled in this crazy new planet we now call home.