Lazy Days of Summer

7.21.2008

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...

7.13.2008

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?

7.07.2008

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

7.01.2008

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

6.29.2008

"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

6.27.2008

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

6.16.2008

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"