oldmeetsnew

There was no waiting on this one! part finale

2009-02-07T16:01:00.003+08:00

November 13, 2008

I promise this is the last part. I have decided to cut some of the show out because if I do not I will never be able to write about my other adventures. Be sure to read the other parts before the finale.

So, our man with the single-hair chest takes a bow and the lights turn up. Mr. Hype Man, the host, skips onto the stage and has a brief chat with our entertainer. He banters with the crowd and does his best to hype us up. He has limited success with only a few cheers and waving of hand clappers. I smell desperation. They must do something to electrify this crowd. I am sure that they have run into this problem before and are prepared for anything. But, am I prepared for anything?
Mr. Hype Man disappears for a moment, when he returns to the stage he is holding a rather large…
Actually, let me fast forward to the act that follows and then return to what our hype man was carrying. I feel like this was the true finale of the show and don’t want to be anticlimactic.
Astronauts, aliens, or gymnasts; I am not exactly sure. There are two of them. I believe one is male and the other, a female. They wear silver-sparkle spandex lined with lightning-blue and no socks. Mr. Hype Man announces their entrance and the sound of eighties synth vibrates the hall. I remember playing this same song on my Casio. What an awesome Christmas present. Well, apparently the Casio has made it to China.
Contortionist! That’s what they are! Contortionist! Oh, look at ‘em contort! How painful. I am impressed. Definitely not something I would venture into but impressive none the less. The pair is twisting and turning and balancing and front bending and back bending. Secretly, I am hoping they fall. I’m kind of a jerk. It is just that I lost interest in their performance after about five minutes and we are now twenty minutes in.
I look over at the now sleeping Fei Fei and then give Marta the lets go nudge. We catch a cab and return home. What a night.
Back to Mr. Hype Man holding a rather large mug of beer, a stein, if you will. He holds it up to the crowd, and then sets it down at center stage. He says some words and the lights cut out. The drummer gives us a role and the portly rock super star stands over the mug, a single spot light shining down upon our hero! Arms raised and looking for praise. The crowd roars “Jiayou, Jiayou!” “You can do it!”
The great porker gets on all fours and wraps his mouth around the rim. Hype man shouts, “Gan Bei!” “Bottoms up!” Our hero leans back, eyes to the sky, and beer down the throat. The crowd is cheering! Clapping and smacking their hand clappers against their knees. I’m speechless. I was speechless then and I’m speechless now. I’m exhausted and have no way to respond to this. I have laughed as much as I can laugh, I have no more!
So, what can we conclude from this night, this adventure, this once in a life time experience?
First, it turns out that this would not be a once in a life time experience. Second, what was sold to me as an opera may have contained an opera performance but was in fact a variety show. A variety show, have you ever been to a variety show? Well, for those who have not, it is a must do.
Finally, I have concluded that a variety show is an immature form of entertainment. Variety shows are prevalent in developing societies. They are a way to develop the entertainment industry. Society uses variety shows to determine what they consider to be entertaining. The current generation in China is the first to have a surplus of money and time to spend. They want to be entertained and are perhaps uncertain of their own taste. How to discover a society’s taste in entertainment? The Variety Show!

There was no waiting on this one! part 3

2009-01-18T22:00:00.003+08:00

November 13, 2008

Have you read part 1 and 2 yet?

Intermission. I stand up to stretch my legs, take a trip to the bathroom, and return to my seat. Hand-clapper thingy in hand (mine had DBZ characters on it!), I am ready for whatever comes next…
When the drums kick in and the bass starts rumbling; the curtains flash open and Russian dancers storm the stage. Yeah, Russian Dancers! By the way, if you got that Jazz June reference you might be a music snob. Before I get to the dancers, allow me to set the stage. In the background and on a raise is a little Chinese man sitting behind an enormous electric drum set. Below him and a bit to the left is a regular sized Chinese man playing bass guitar. He is wearing a torn-70s-rocker-tie-dye-sleeveless-t-shirt, holey-80s-stonewashed-studded-tight-jeans-hyphon and a wig. Yes, a blonde metal head wig. And! This man wielded a Gene Simmons-like axe! I was so incredibly overwhelmed by this mans glory that it is impossible for me to recall or describe the guitar player’s wardrobe. In fact, I’m not sure I can properly describe the dancers.
Children cover your ears… There was one male dancer with an erotically oversized bulge and six female strippers. I am making an assumption and I am no dance critic. I can only be certain that these women were not professional ballet dancers. They dressed the part but no. No! Definitely not ballet dancers. I’m going to go ahead and make the assertion that these women were found in a Russian strip club and offered a reasonable price to tour China as a ballet dance group. As for Mr. Compensation, who knows? Maybe this was his opportunity to escape the Gulag. The opera was confusing enough but…
At this point I am very, very confused. The amalgamation of these elements and I don’t mean the mixing of metal with mercury, has sent my mind into a frenzied state of giddiness. I look over to see Marta’s jaw-dropped face and when our eyes meet we break into an uncontrollable laughter. Here is the problem. Everyone in this building is respectfully and intently watching the stage performance. I am doing my best to contain myself but during every musical break my laughter echoes through the hall.
Now, I have successfully attracted the attention of the audience on the second tier. I do not believe anyone is watching the show at this moment. But that’s ok because watching to foreigners crying from laughter is probably more entertaining than the crap-show on stage. I do my best to calm myself but the harder I try, the more I laugh. Alas, they have left the stage. A flashy dressed man charges out and raises his hand to wave and welcomes himself to the stage. Oh, he is excited. He says something in Chinese and the crowd erupts in laughter. Ah, it was a joke. He says some more words and scampers off stage.
AHH SHIT, it’s the dancers again! I can’t take it anymore. I am almost fall off the edge of my seat. I cling to the ledge like Stallone in the 1993 cliffhanger, Cliffhanger. Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I am really becoming quite the embarrassment. I determine the only way to keep from peeing myself is to hold my breath and close my eyes. It works! Finally, the dancers leave the stage for the last time. The flashy dressed man returns to the stage and says some more words. The lights dim and the guitar player strums an intro.
A hidden 70s rock voice belts out a powerful note. The guitar hits the distortion, the drums pop, the bass pounds, the lights flash, and a portly man skips out to center stage. He belts out another note. On the third belting he tears open his golden-shimmer shirt to expose his supple nipple and sweaty chest hair (singular, he has one chest hair). I lower my head, forehead on forehand. I can’t handle this. I’m too exhausted. The Russians already broke me down. “I give, I give!” “Uncle, uncle, uncle!” “Stop. Please, stop.” He doesn’t, He won’t, and they love it. This is not entertainment. What is wrong with you people? What is happening here? I need a moment…

There was no waiting on this one! part 2

2008-12-09T13:30:00.005+08:00

November 13, 2008

If you have not read part one, part two will make no sense. But do what you want, I merely suggest starting with part 1.

Act-II begins with an empty stage. The emperor and his fair lady stroll across the stage professing their love for each other. We can see in the empress’ eyes that she thirsts for more, she seeks the unknown, she seeks excitement and she seeks adventure. Her eyes drift from the emperor and land upon a handsome man walking among the water’s edge. “Who is this man?” she asks. Is he a scholar, a philosopher, a traveler, or a poet? He is an intellectual. He is an Artist. He is Zhan Zeduan! Oh! If only they could someday cross paths. Surely this man could show her the world!
Act-well this is interesting. The scene begins in the desert. Fifty or so dancers take the stage. They are dancers from all over the world. Russians, Palestinians, Arabians bring brilliants to the stage in their flashy traditional garb. Assyrians, Egyptians, and Zulu leap and twirl threw the air. The drums beat and the orchestra rages. Each group begins their solo and ethnically unique dance number and the finale is a group number. It is at this moment my suspicions arise. Where did these groups come from? Is this the empress’ dream? Did Zhan Zeduan travel the world? Are all these cultural groups visiting Bianjing? Lets wait for the next act. Maybe I’ll put it together.
Act-I’m not exactly sure what is going on. We are back in town! There is a lively market and street performers! The drum beats are heavy and the orchestra is vibrant. Oh Yeah! There isn’t any orchestra, it is all prerecorded. I thought a live orchestra would help give the experience a little extra zing! Sorry. Two children take the stage. A bullwhip snaps! And its time for an incredible traditional street performance! The boy is doing somersaults and the girl is folding her body into unacceptably contorted ways. A group of women twirly wheel string fling-a-ma-bobbers hit the stage in their brightly colored gowns. How exciting. WAIT JUST ONE MOMENT!!! What happened to the story about the scroll and the artist and the empress?
Act-Oh, here we are. The scroll, the artist, the emperor, and the empress are center stage. Zhan Zeduan hand the scroll over to the emperor. The emperor’s servants arrive stage right and inspect the scroll. They are five inseparable beings. Each wears a color representing one of the elements or the Olympic rings. It is hard to tell these days. The Olympics have penetrated every facet of Chinese culture and entertainment. They inspect and inspect and inspect. They role up the scroll and unroll it again and inspect, inspect, inspect. “Ah, what a wonderful piece,” they exclaim. The emperor agrees and belts out a verse describing the beauty of the scroll. The empress agrees and exclaims her love for the scroll. Ah, ha! I see what is happening here. The empress and the artist are going to hook up at any moment!
Act-I’m lost again. The lights are dim. The music is low. The curtains shimmer. I can see an enormous object drifting onto the stage. I can’t make it out. Oh… What is it!?! The curtain is transparent but not enough for me to make out the ominous silhouette now at center stage. Oh God! What it is it!?! The music once again rolls into crescendo! The anticipation is killing me! With a cymbal crash and a triumphant beat of the drum; the lights flash and the curtains rise! There! At center stage! Atop a massive Junk! The Great Zhan Zeduan! He is signing! He is signing about… Wait for it… Not his love for the beautiful empress, not his desire for knowledge… He is singing about the scroll. I’m scratching my head right now.
Act-I give up. We are back at the town square. Our triumphant Zhan Zeduan has returned from his boat trip. Not sure where the boat took him; maybe around the world, maybe to the south of China to avoid the invading Jurchans, or perhaps to the other side of the yellow river. Who knows? I'm currently researching this point. For now, all I know is that kids are doing somersaults and everyone in the cast is on stage dancing. The older woman from Act-I is back on stage and signing again. She tells us that Zhan Zeduan painted a magnificent and now famous scroll and that the emperor likes it, the town loves it, and the world is astonished by it. The End.
Really? That was it? Why all the street performances? Why the boat ride? Why the love affair? Why the elemental/Olympic servants? AAHHHH! What does this all mean!?!

I fear that at this point I will never be able to complete this blog entry. Everything I have discussed thus far is only the tip of the iceberg. I apologize for the lengthiness of this story but it is what it is and I look forward to writing about what happens next...

There was no waiting on this one! part 1

2008-12-08T09:12:00.005+08:00

November 13, 2008

Never before have I been witness to an event such as the one I experienced on Thursday November 13^th 2008. And I have seen a lot of Sh*t! I dare not delay this blog entry for I do not want to forget a single detail nor miss any element. This may be an all-nighter! I fear that any description I can imagine, any words that I can create, or any statement I can manage to type into my computer will not do justice to the display of utterly confused showmanship which would mislead an audience to interpret such an incomplete message that was literally “Lost in Translation” and is somehow interpreted as, of what one would stretch to call… No, dare to call, art or perhaps even entertainment. Wow. And I say again… Wow. Give me a minute here. I am still trying to absorb that last long-winded statement I made. I have read it eight times now, and yes, it is exactly what I meant to say. However, I need yet another minute as my mind is still trying to process everything that has happened in the three hours prior.

The story begins with a simple invitation from a friend. “May I treat you to the opera tomorrow night?” she said. “I would love to,” I said. And so it began. Steve and Travis, “You missed out!” Marta and I met our friends outside of our gate and piled into a cab. The theater is just outside of the city’s west gate. It is a beautiful theater; its grandeur reminds me a little of Vegas. A bold face and towering pillars mark the entryway. As you enter, light shimmers from crystal chandeliers high above. The banisters of a sweeping grand staircase are woven with red ribbons. The center piece of the entrance hall is a masterfully carved wooden Rolls-Royce Silver Wraith commemorating the 2008 Beijing Olympics! This beautifully sculpted wooden artwork was created by a native Kaifeng wood craftsman whom Travis and Steve met not too long ago. Walking up the carpeted staircase I am unaware of the creature that hides behind the enormous hardwood doors ahead.

The girls check their bags and we make our way inside the opera hall. The seats are wonderfully cozy. The interior is much like the Goodman Theater, Chicago-a little bit smaller. The lights dim and the music slowly fades in. Characters appear on stage from the left and the right. The music continues to gain momentum and approaches crescendo as the performers scatter across the stage.

Let me pause with my description of the evening so that I may focus my audience’s attention on the word ethnocentrism! I know some of my students may be reading and it is important that they understand my understanding of their understanding of the cultural significance of the events of this evening as I attempt to understand it myself and help others to understand my understanding of the audiences’ understanding of the performances. If you are lost in this sentence, not to worry, that is a good start. Being lost is important for us to be able to appreciate ethnocentrism. Yes, appreciate. If we are never lost how could we learn to find our way? Let me share with you how I found my interpretation of ethnocentrism.

The dictionary will tell you that ethnocentrism is the belief of the superiority of one’s own ethnic group. Superiority, really? I think the dictionary made a typo; or is their a better word for its definition or perhaps a better definition? I think the dictionary definition of ethnocentrism is meant for the word ethnosuperioritism; patent pending. And no, ethnosuperioritism is not a fancy word for racism. Racism is the belief that race is the primary determinant of human traits and capabilities and that these racial differences produce an inherent superiority of a particular race. Ethnosuperioritism is the belief that ethnicity is the primary determinant of human behavior, customs, and language and that these ethnic differences produce an inherent superiority of a particular ethnic group. So, how is ethnocentrism different? Well, ethnocentrism simply doesn’t have the attitude of superiority within its definition. Bias, yes! Predisposition, absolutely! Superiority, I don’t think so!

Ethnocentrism is the tendency to interpret another ethnic groups’ behavior, ideology, and custom with the bias, predisposition, and filter of one’s own ethnicity. Now, the purpose of my blog is to describe the events I witness and share the interactions I experience. To enhance my definition of ethnocentrism I will continue my description of the event I witnessed on Thursday, November 13^th 2008 and the corresponding interactions of that evening. Let me remind my audience and myself that I am lost in my own ethnocentricity and as the introduction expressed; I am very confused and even overwhelmed. With that said, let me first say that while I may be lost, it is my opinion that the people in the audience whom I shared this experience with were possibly just as lost if not more so. The question I therefore pose is if they are just as confused about the events of the evening then why do they behave the way they do? O.K. enough jibber-jabber! Let’s get down to business!

An older women steps into the spotlight of center stage. Of course I don’t understand a word of the gentile voice that fills the concert hall. Fortunately my friends are here to help translate. I won’t spend time explaining the translations unless it is valuable to the story. From here on I will tell the story as if I understood the language but keep in mind that my descriptions come from a mix of my friends translations, my own incite, and the historical knowledge of myself, Marta, and Wikipedia.

The woman at center stage tells us the story of an ancient time; a time when Bianjing, now Kaifeng, was the capital and Chinese culture was flourishing. I compare it to the French Renaissance; this was a time for new beginnings, new artistic style, and the desire to record history prevailed. This was the period of time when the greatest literary project was compiled. This was the time period that Emperor Yingzong ordered the great Sima Guang to transcribe the universal history of China, the Zizhi Tongjian or “Comprehensive Mirror to Aid in Government.” This was the Song Dynasty (960-1279).

The scene is set as performers pull fruit and vegetable carts into position. In the background dancers are twirling about and tossing colorful ribbons to-and-fro. The stage lights swirl around and around adding to the magic and mystery of the performance. There is a man strolling from one end of the stage to the other. He is well dressed and has a steady gait. The character exudes authority and demands respect. He stops at the different shops to examine the merchandise. He appears to be wealthy but lacks an entourage so I do not believe he is of nobility. We see the man stop and look into the background and foreground and even into the audience. He is an intellectual… He is an Artist! He is the great calligrapher who created the Qingming Scroll, a brilliant visual representation of Kaifeng daily life. He is Zhang Zeduan!

Zhang Zeduan walks the streets of Kaifeng. He ponders life and love. He is gentry. He enjoys philosophy, painting, and poetry. Many of his stature enjoyed such activities. No doubt, he spent many a days in the Iron Pagoda Park; situated just a block from my apartment. With all this extra time on his hands it is no wonder that he was able to paint the beautiful Qingming Scroll and fall in love with the beautiful empress! Ah ha, now things are surely to become interesting…

This is the part were we realize that there is no way that I can complete this in a single entry, not to mention I am now in my second week of writing. With that said, I encourage you to check back for part 2 and 3 and 4 and 5 and I'm just not sure how long this will take!

Super Mario Kart, Kaifeng Edition

2008-10-29T02:17:00.002+08:00

October 5, 2008

Dan and Jim Meyer were my childhood friends. We discovered many ways to cause trouble and even more creative ways to stay out of it. We teepee’d our first house together, built forts in the woods, started fires, fell into the ice covered pond, flipped through the pages of our first porn, smoked our first cigarettes and drank our first beers together. Yes, Billary Beer. Sorry dad. I do not remember if you caught me on that one or not.

However, before all the shenanigans, we had a different passion. Super Mario Kart. It was 1992 and I had spent the night at the Meyer’s house. They had just got the first installment of one of Nintendo’s finest game series ever created. This spin-off of Super Mario Brothers would occupy a large part of my pre-adolescent and adolescent evenings. My parents never bought me a game council, perhaps hoping that I would focus on reading, writing, or sports. I was never much of a reader or writer. Math and science came natural to me and it took little effort to get by in my classes. I played soccer, baseball, and basketball during the day. In the evenings, it was off to the Meyer’s house for some heated battle mode or grand prix. Who would have thought that 16 years later Super Mario Kart would provide me with such a great analogy here in Kaifeng.

It is mid-morning and I stand on the corner of Shu Dian Jie (Book Store Street) and Kai Zheng Jie (the street connecting Kaifeng and Zhengzhou). I have no agenda today. I am simply going for a walk and observing the day to day of Kaifeng-ites. This corner is one of only a few intersections equipped with a street light and crossing guard. The racers rev their engines. They are lined up two-by-two.

Peach has the poll position. She is a young graduate of the police academy. Her uniform is dark blue and she pulls her hair back into a ponytail. She is riding a silver electric-scooter. Peach is a novice rider with great ambition. To her right is Mario. He is a middle aged local driving an auto rickshaw, he carries one passenger today. His Kart is agile and swift. Luigi and Yoshi are set in the second row. Luigi is a second year student at Kaifeng University, the local trade school. He carries a blue backpack and a bag of dumplings hang from the handle bars of his ten-speed peddle bike. Yoshi sits calmly in his Kia Optima. He is on his way to the reality office. He lives in Kaifeng and commutes forty minutes to Zhengzhou every morning. Zhengzhou is a rapidly developing transportation hub. It houses an airport and supports central rail and bus stations. There are loads of opportunities for an aspiring reality tycoon like Yoshi.

Directly behind him awaits the bruiser known as Bowser. Bowser drives a blue cab. His Kart is slow, but not to worry, this man has navigated the chaotic streets of Kaifeng for over ten years. Where he lacks in speed he excels in experience. To his left is the crafty Toad. This youthful liberal arts student has just received a moped from his older brother. The moped isn’t especially quick but gives the rider the ability to weave in and out of traffic and utilize the back streets and sidewalks to evade any traffic jams. Bringing up the rear are Koopa Troopa and Donkey Kong. Koopa Troopa is an older man. He rides his trusty old peddle rickshaw, with a rusty chain and a squeaky break. The old man has seen the world around him develop at light speed. He stays true to his tradition and keeps a smile on his face rain or shine. To his right, Donkey Kong, peddling a bulky pull-cart loaded with a surplus of vegetables from the farmers market. Perhaps he will have better sales tomorrow.

The little cloud man swoops down to wave the starting flag. The light flashes red, then yellow, then green. They’re off! Peach spins her tires into a stall. She hasn’t mastered the timing for the jump start. Mario, Toad, and Bowser nail the start and jump out front, neck and neck. Bowser and Toad are in a heated match for the lead. Bowser’s experience shines on this day. He gives toad the inside lane. Out of nowhere, a bus squeals into the intersection. Toad has two choices; slam on the breaks or slam into the bus. He hits the breaks and Bowser takes the lead!

The racers have not yet crossed the intersection and it is too early to count anyone out. Yoshi, Koopa Troopa, and Donkey Kong are in a dead heat. None hit the jump start, none stalled. Yoshi, with his speedy Kia, inches ahead. Donkey Kong puts his weight into the battle and forces Koopa Troopa onto the shoulder. Luigi relies on strategy, he drafts Donkey until he peddles up enough speed and momentum for an overtake. Yoshi has caught up to the slower Bowser who is preoccupied with his quest for a passenger. Yoshi swerves in and out of the lanes, waiting for the right moment to take the lead. Just then, a pedestrian jumps into the lanes of traffic. Bowser hits the breaks, Yoshi strafes left and puts the peddle to the metal.

Hurling into the first turn it is Yoshi with the lead! Followed closely by Mario and Luigi. Nipping at their heals are Donkey Kong and Peach. Koopa Troopa is far behind but gaining ground with his slowly but surely strategy. Toad is nowhere to be found after dodging the bus and ducking off into a side road. Bowser has picked up a passenger and pulls a U-banger; I think this race is over for him as well. I decide to leave the race and continue with my day. The light changes again and the crossing guard waves me through. I think I’ll check out the morning snacks at Gu Lou.

Producing Guanpee

2008-10-29T02:14:00.002+08:00

October 3, 2008

On the night of October 1,2008 02:00 Mike wakes up in a cool, wet bed. He is confused and annoyed. He immediately drops his pants and moves to another bed. His crotch is dry. He did not pee himself. What happened?

18 hours earlier

06:00 Board the train at Kaifeng

10:00 Play go fish with nudie cards, attract a crowd

12:00 Pass the 25^th power pant

14:00 Pass the elevated bridge to nowhere

16:00 Arrive in Xi’an

16:10 Find the line to purchase return tickets

16:15 Confuse the man at the ticket counter with our broken Chinese

16:20 Get our tickets

16:25 Poop in the McDonalds bathroom

16:36 Head south from the North Gate

16:50 Pass the exceedingly large government building

17:20 Find the youth hostel

17:50 Stop at Starbucks and enjoy a Grande Americano, Travis does not enjoy said coffee. Steve drinks a girly Carmel Frappuccino.

18:10 Enter Muslim quarter

18:34 Do not find The Great Mosque, pass it many times

18:46 Find excellent Muslim grill

18:55 Eat delicious Muslim grilled food (Including Ostrich)

19:45 Return to hostel, poo

20:30 Find Bar Street

20:34 Find bum wine

20:39 Finish bum wine

20:43 Pass tittie bar

20:45 Enter sweet-ass hostel on Bar Street

20:47 Order beer and shots of whisky

20:49 Finish beer, finish shots

20:51 Return to Bar Street

20:56 Enter Captain’s

21:10 Meet Chinese students from Xi’an, they buy us beers

21:20 They buy us more beers

21:31 Students call it a night, we finish their beers

21:40 Meet a group celebrating their 10 year reunion

21:43 Mike goes for smokes

21:46 Travis and Steve drink an unknown amount of an unknown alcohol

21:50 Mike returns

22:57 Mike meets a Chinese student

22:59 Steve names Chinese student Chuck

23:02 Return to hostel on Bar Street

23:03 Travis, Steve, Chuck, and Mike take a seat at bar

23:04 Shots of Jack

23:05 Chugging beer

23:06 Uncertain

23:08 Move to a table, Chuck buys us beer

23:15 Steve talks to an Indian guy from Germany who had lived in China for three years and has returned to visit friends. He speaks perfect English.

23:18 Yuci invites us to club

23:19 Travis is missing, we do not go to club

23:45 Travis returns

23:50 Travis makes enemies

23:51 Mike, Steve, and Chuck do not understand

23:54 Travis yells something and runs out door never to return

23:55 Mike, Steve, and Chuck do not understand

00:07 Uncertain

00:11 Uncertain

00:21 Uncertain

00:24 Uncertain

00:31 Uncertain

00:45 Leave hostel

00:46 Mike falls over

00:48 Mike falls over again

00:52 Mike runs across the street

00:53 Chuck gives chase

00:54 Steve laughs out loud

00:57 Steve and Chuck drag me back home

01:01 Steve wrestles Mike into bed

01:02 Mike does not want to go to bed

01:04 Mike passes out

01:30 Steve needs to puke

01:31 Steve steps in conspicuous puddle

01:32 Steve pukes

02:00 Mike wakes up in a cool wet bed. He is confused and annoyed. He immediately drops his pants and moves to another bed. His crotch is dry. He did not pee himself.

09:30 Alarms ring, Mike mentions the unusual event and points at the wet bed.

Beijing Huan Ying Ni

2008-10-08T19:25:00.005+08:00

Tuesday, September 23 2008

I step off the train at 7am. I look down the platform to see thousands of people poring out of the train. I boarded the train in darkness and did not see how long it was. I can not see the end. It must be a half mile long. I follow the crowd down a stairwell to the left and begin my search for the exit. The station is enormous. There are more than twenty platforms and people are coming and going from every direction. The station has less English than I would have liked so I relied on my fellow passengers to find the end.

After a fifteen minute hike I step outside to catch my first glimpse of Beijing. Exiting the station is much like stepping onto the streets from Union Station. There are massive buildings all around and cabs line the street to take the new arrivals to their final destination. Unlike Chicago, the people waiting for the trains are camped out front. It seems that many people purchase train tickets the day of there desired train. It is impossible to determine when one will get a ticket; some may wait a full day. I do not think I have the patients for such a wait.

I walk a block or so from the station to catch a cab because I do not want to wait in line. I do not need to check in to my hotel until 6p so I have some time to kill. Tiananmen is my first stop. The cabbie drops me off around the corner from the square and I am immediately hounded to buy souvenirs. I am interested in the post cards a man is selling, I ask him how much. He replies, “20.” I laugh and turn to walk away. He asks, “How much you pay?” I reply, “Not 20.” “How much?” He asks again. I bust out my Chinese skills and explain to him that I am a teacher at Henan University and do not make a lot of money. I tell him I am not a tourist and will only pay Chinese prices. He gives me a hearty smile and laughs aloud. He tells me that my Chinese is very good and that I know China. “For you, 10 kui.” I laugh and say, “tai gui le! 5 kui.” He laughs again and tells me I’m a good bargainer but he can not sell them for less then 8 kui. That is 1 USD for ten postcards in a heavy tourist area and I felt it was a good deal. I give him the money and wish him a good day. He wishes me a good time in Beijing and quotes the Olympic song, “Beijing hui yi ni” “Beijing welcomes you.”

It is a beautiful day; the sun is shining and the sky is clear. I walk the sidewalk towards Tiananmen. I am overcome with excitement and my heart is beating heavily. I am about to enter one of the most historical sites in the world. Well, most historical for me because I have studied Chinese politics for the past two years. Tiananmen was witness to massive rallies and protests, celebration and mourning. Tiananmen, Gateway of Heavenly Peace, was initially built in 1417. It marks the entrance to the Forbidden City and represents the political heart of China. Visiting the square one finds Tiananmen Tower, Monument to the People's Heroes, the Great Hall of the People and the Mao Zedong Memorial Hall. Walking around the square I imagine what it must have been like to see Chairmen Mao standing on the steps of the Great Hall of the People to address a crowd of thousands waving their little red books and chanting “Wu huang, wan sui, wan sui, wan wan sui!” or to be witness to the Tank Man standing in defiance. So cool!

I cross the street to The Forbidden City. Steve suggested that I visit the parks outside of the city. I enter the National Garden, located east of the city. There are many rock gardens and wonderful flower sculptures scattered about the park. There are women dancing and singing to old men playing the er hu. The er hu is a traditional instrument I first heard about in my CLS program two summers ago. I would like to learn to play since I do not have a guitar here with me. Plus, I think it would be interesting.

After capturing a sweet photo of a butterfly in flight I make my way through the crowds to The Forbidden City. The city design is powerful in stature. It is certainly meant to leave a lasting impression on the visitor. The main squares and temples are impressive but are empty of any cultural relics. To find those, the visitor must get to the side streets and check out all the mini museums. Unfortunately, I primarily find replicas and souvenirs. However, I do find a sweet Mao Zedong shoulder bag! Awesome! The symbol of Mao is quite powerful and I find myself unable to resist his magic. Even knowing the history, I am falling in love. After careful reflection I have come to understand my new obsession. Mao represents a great paradigm in Chinese culture. There were many policy failures under his rule but he is a symbol of the greater good. An idea; the idea that someday this nation will achieve utopia.

“One World, One Dream” was the 2008 Beijing Olympics motto. A dream shared by a nation, to be shared by the world. To live in peace and act for mutual benefit is the aim of China’s five foreign policy principles. An icon such as Mao Zedong, in a warped way, has lead China towards prosperity. I wonder if a new icon will emerge to bring our world towards prosperity, towards utopia. I wonder if during my life time I will have a Martin Luther King, a Gandhi, of Mother Teresa. Will the 2008 Olympic motto become a reality or will the nations of the world destroy each other? Will we overcome the challenges of global warming? Will we never see past our religious or ideological differences to achieve mutual benefit and peace? I am happy to be living during a time that we may some day look back on and describe as the most defining moments in human history. I hope we survive.

In Queue

2008-10-05T22:45:00.002+08:00

Monday, September 22, 2008

I had to go to Beijing last weekend to renew my passport. My students warned me about traveling on the train. They told me to prepare myself for much more pushing and shoving. I enter the Kaifeng train station on Friday night around 9p. The station is filled with people traveling for the weekend. Some are headed home, others are leaving for business. The station spans near 400 meters with four isles lined with seats. Lines form in the aisles and trains leave every twenty minutes. The neighboring city is Zhengzhou, a major transportation hub. It has bus, train, and air stations. Any trains headed north, east or west will pass through Kaifeng as well. It is very convenient for us. If we need to head south we may need to take a bus to Zhengzhou.

There are no seats available in the waiting area so I roam around the station pretending to read the posters or listen to the television. I walk towards the gates to locate the line for my train. There are little signs above each gate with the train number and time. There are electric signs but they do not seem to be working today. I find my gate and heeding my students’ warnings, I decide to get in line now. I do not know if it coincidence or if others noticed the wei guo ren in line, but seconds after I stepped in line another hundred people jumped out of their seats and stood in line behind me or next to me or cut in front of me. It is an interesting mix of people in line and I observe a generation gap in social order.

As I stand in line, the people who cut in front of me were all older or appeared to be non-urban. Their clothes were solid in color and their shoes a little beat up or re-stitched. They appeared as unfamiliar with the process as me. The people directly behind me consisted of families and middle aged urbanites. The two older generation groups are pushing and shoving to get close to the front or at least close enough to see the gate activity. Behind this jumbled mass are students and young wealthy looking adults. They are waiting patiently and appear to not have a care in the world. The forming of this queue represents three distinct demographics in Kaifeng; the poor rural, the elder lower to middle class families, and the prosperous youth. I now understand why Kaifeng is an excellent choice for Beloit’s cities in transition course.

Robert André LaFleur was one of my favorite teachers at Beloit College and possibly my biggest inspiration for coming to China. In his Ethnography and History course I was assigned to write a review essay on a book of my choosing. I selected In One’s Own Shadow: An Ethnographic Account of the Condition of Post-reform Rural China by Xin Liu. He concludes that the “recent past was characterized by a unique combination of elements derived from three main macro sociohistorical sources: the traditional, the revolutionary, and the modern.” I believe the formation of the line may be characterized by these same sociohistorical sources.

I described the morning market in my “Sun Get Up, Mikey Get Up” blog. This traditional setting depicts the chaotic rush to buy, sell, and barter. One does not enter the market for a casual stroll. It is business. Get in, buy or sell, get out. Waiting in line only delays the rest of the days’ activities. The farmers must get back to tend their field and the shopkeepers need to open for business. This was a daily routine for hundreds of years. The conflict ridden nineteen hundreds exerted enormous pressure on the people of China, from civil war pillaging to revolutionary relocation, from famine to class struggle. It transformed the daily activities and routines into acts of survival.

The elder generation (50-70 years old) experienced The Great Leap Forward (1954), The Great Famine of China (1958-1964), and The Cultural Revolution (1965-1968). Personal accounts of this turbulent time in China’s history are found in countless memoirs and journals published through the eighties and nineties. After reading many of these accounts I am left with the impression that many believed their livelihood to be under constant threat. For them, tomorrow is always uncertain. Students may be taken from school and sent to urban areas to work on new industrial projects. A Farmer’s harvest may be taken for redistribution or their pig taken because it represents class separation. A mother, father, or neighbor may be forced to self criticisms or sent to a labor camp because they own a store and are there for a capitalist. Or they are sent to the country side to learn from the peasants. The peasants void of capitalist corruption.

A life experience of such has a lasting impression on the elder generation. Feelings of anxiety may resonate in such mundane acts as waiting in line for a train. Living through constant uncertainty has left people feeling the need to rush to the front of the line or rush to their seat. Like returning home after a long journey, reaching that seat helps subdue anxiety and creates a feeling of security.

The middle generation (30-50 years old) experienced a time period of rebuilding and economic growth. This generation had the freedom to move about the country. They did not experience frequent policy reversals, constant political reorganization, and life threatening famine. Their generation witnessed the implementation of free market policies. Under Dong Xiaoping, China opened its doors to trade and foreign direct investment. The country began its Four Modernizations (1979-1982); agriculture, industry, technology, and defense.

Enjoying the ability to choose which crops they grew, where they lived and worked, and attending schools of their choice leaves the middle generation more patient and more comfortable in daily activities. While waiting in line is fun for no one, this generation does not share the anxieties of the elder generation. They have worked hard to make their place in society. Their families may enjoy the prosperity created by quick modernization and free market enterprise. Visiting the developed urban centers of Beijing, Zhengzhou, and Xi’an I experienced far more social order then in Kaifeng. In the developed urban centers traffic is more orderly, clear lines are formed, and morning markets are a thing of the past. The middle generation is more patient in line. I can see in their eyes that they are calm and collected.

My generation (20-30 years old) is significantly different from their parents and grandparents. I recognize that every generation is different from the one before. However, this generation has a new set of beliefs and values. In the U.S. children share common values with their parents. Now I am generalizing. In China, the children today are exposed to a very different culture then their parents. From the eighties to today western culture has flooded into China. With this culture is an influx of ideas and beliefs. This generation lives globalization in a way their parents have not. They are not content with the lives their parents lived. They dream of travel and being rich. They want to be writers, singers, and Olympic champions. They have ambitious dreams and lofty expectations. The desire for personal identity, the drive to succeed, and the feelings of discontent sounds a lot like my American generation doesn’t it? That is exactly my point.

I remember my first day of U.S. Foreign policy. Beth Dougherty asked us, what is it to be an American? We discussed how the American spirit or American dream separates the U.S. from the rest. The purpose of the question was for the students to understand the American perception, both the perception of ourselves and the world’s perception of America. I have discussed this social phenomenon, the line forming, with some students. The impression I get is that this generation’s perception of themselves differentiates them from the former. Many see development as a good thing and that social order will come as the country continues to develop. They have a desire to grow and compete. They are proud of their own and their country’s accomplishments. They hosted the Olympic Games. They won more gold medals then any other country. China was second overall in total number of medals. This generation’s perception has changed. Their spirit is different. They live the Chinese dream.

New Campus, Old Campus

2008-10-03T17:06:00.002+08:00

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Antonio is native to Kaifeng. He and Jane are in my Advance English Writing course. They are working on speeches for a competition this fall. I helped them get started on their speeches last week. We met in the pool garden by my apartment and did some brainstorming. Today, we are meeting again to review their first drafts. Before we get to work I asked if they would show me some of the sites around town. We exit the south gate and work our way through one of the morning markets. Antonio has his bike but does not want to push it around town all morning so we stop at his grandmother’s house to keep it safe. Bikes are a hot item here in Kaifeng.

We head south through the Muslim quarter. There are market stands of fresh vegetables, beef, and lamb. Every third stall or so is a breakfast stop. They serve noodles, eggs, and soup. Antonio points out the breakfast spot with the best soup. There are many people sitting inside and an overflow out onto the street. Many young adults are carrying this popular soup out of the restaurant in plastic bags. How weird. I have seen this many times and I even took a bag of soup to go last week. It is weird, but practical. I guess there really is no reason to have a plastic, cardboard, or Styrofoam container…

Half way down the road I notice a church. It is about a block west. I ask Antonio if it is Christian. He says the word for it in Chinese but I did not recognize it so we decide to take a closer look. We enter the main gate and there is a pleasant young lady gesturing for us to enter. Standing out front are two statues of saints that look familiar. I do not know religions very well but I had definitely seen these saints at Catholic churches before. Antonio and Jane had never been in a Catholic church so I believe they were just as intrigued as I. Upon entering I am surprised that I don’t ignite into flames or get struck down by lightning. I guess God is off today or isn’t concerned with the likes of me. I think she is just a really nice gal. Those Christian extremist in the States may want to rethink their position on God’s position.

After walking through the pews and taking pictures of the painted glass we return to the Muslim market. The hustle and bustle has subsided as the breakfast hour is now over. I don’t mean to say the streets have cleared, the pace has simply lessened. The street T-bones into a larger street and I look to the right to find a Buddhist Temple. I ask Antonio if it is appropriate for us to enter and take photos. He did not know so he asked the Monk near the entrance. The Monk motions us in and says I should feel free to take all the pictures I like. In the center is a statue of the Buddha and to the right and left are deities, statues of the protectors. We pass through the first temple and enter the main courtyard were there are many people burning incense and praying. Antonio tells me that on the day of the Mid-autumn festival the temple is packed and a line of people stretches down the length of the road.

We continue east and take a right to find a Muslim Mosque. Again we ask if we can enter. The man at the entryway says it is ok to look around but do not take any pictures and do not enter the temple. I am content with looking around. The Mosque is colorfully decorated but void of statues and pictures. It is much more simple then the Buddhist Temple and Catholic Church. It is then that I realize I had just explored three different religions within a one block radius. I ask Antonio and Jane if this was common throughout China. They tell me that it is common but certain areas have a more dominant religion then others. Antonio points to the south and told me that there is a high Jewish population a couple blocks down. ?????

Jews in China? Yes, Jews are in China. Particular to Kaifeng, Judaism arrived as early as 600 CE and proliferated in Kaifeng during the Tang and Song Dynasties, 600-1200 CE. Kaifeng is located near the Yellow River and became a central commercial hub when it was connected to the Grand Canal via a western canal leading into Shandong Province. Kaifeng became the capital city of the Song Dynasty in 960 CE. It is believed that Bianjing, present day Kaifeng was the largest city in the world with a population of over 400,000. That is a little less then the population of Milwaukee but 1000 years earlier. Today there are about 4 million people living in Kaifeng and we consider this a small city. That’s right. One of the smallest cities in China is half the population of Chicago and 8 times the size of Milwaukee. Did I mention there are a lot of people in China?

The Jews had all but disappeared by the time The Peoples Republic of China was established in 1949 but have resurfaced in areas such as Kaifeng. One of the most impressive cultural differences between the West and China I have observed since my arrival is the great cultural, ethnic, and religious tolerance enjoyed by most. I am not going to claim that discrimination is non-existent. I have read a book or two. However, I will claim, from my experiences thus far, that in Beijing, Kaifeng, Zhengzhou, Xi’an and most of northern China, tolerance is common. Again, within a mile radius Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, and Catholics share space. There are no violent crimes and there is no ethnic warfare. You are not suspect for being black, having piercings and tattoos, or practicing one religion or another. You can be gay. You can be straight. Do I get funny looks? Of course. However they are looks of curiosity, not fear, not disgust, not hate. Maybe it’s because Chinese culture has existed for so long or because there are so many people. Whatever the reason, the Chinese have figured out that there are more important things in this world then race, creed, color, sex, political favor, religious belief, sexual orientation and so on. Except for the whole Japan thing, but I’ll let you do research on that one yourself.

We hop on a bus and head towards the new campus. The bus is 1RMB, that’s 14 cents USD. This is my first time on the city bus or gong gong qi che. It is pretty crowded but you really can’t beat the price. It takes you all the way across town and the journey is not very long, unless of course the bus breaks down. It does. We wait a moment as the driver opens up the engine and begins to fiddle around with the motor. The campus is only a block away so we decide to walk. As we enter the gate our bus drives by and gives a friendly honk of the horn.

The campus is enormous! It is reminiscent of a State school campus. The buildings are megalithic and separated by parks, gardens, lakes, and sports fields. It is quite impressive. The campus is only 8 years old and designed for science and engineering students. Like my campus, the freshmen are lined up and practicing military drills. This campus has 30,000 plus students and every inch of the athletic fields are covered with freshmen in their military fatigues. It is quite a site.

We stop at the 7 story library and check out the archives. I can not help but take a look at the 1989 newspapers. I am too curious. The facilities are much like Beloit, only larger. There are study rooms on every floor and students fill every seat. There are multimedia rooms and each hallway has its own theme; history, math and economics, science, Eastern historical documents, and Western historical documents. I must say that I am very impressed. We don’t stay on the campus for very long. It is really just one massive building after another. The old campus has much more character. Plus, I think Antonio and Jane are eager to get to work on their speeches and I’m getting quite hungry.

We take a direct bus from the old campus to the new campus and I convince the students it is time for lunch, although it is only 11:30. They treat me to Hana Fuku which I am told it is a favorite among the students. I let Jane and Antonio do the ordering because I still do not recognize most things on the menu. We get a sweet and sour eggplant dish which is to die for! We also have some spicy potato and a meat sandwich thing. All very good. After lunch we return to my apartment to review the first drafts. They have a good start and I look forward to the final product.

Making friends and meeting family

2008-09-16T21:47:00.001+08:00

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Sunday was the Mid-autumn Festival here in China. It is a day for travel and family outings. Gu Huang invited Travis, Marta, Steve and I to her parents’ house for the festivities. We arrive early and enjoy tea, moon cakes, and pomegranates. I had never tried a pomegranate. I have had it in juice from but never as a fruit. It is shaped like a pear but looks more like an apple. The inside is filled with hundreds of seeds. They are very sweet but a little difficult to eat. Actually, they aren’t that hard to eat you just need to develop the proper eating technique. Like sunflower seeds, you pop a bunch in your mouth and spit out the waste. Gu Huang’s mother arrived with a bag full of groceries. I am getting excited now. I can’t wait to find out which delicious plates we will be enjoying today.

So far I have sampled plates from all over Kaifeng. Each meal of each day I try something new. Kaifeng has not let me down. I can not think of a single dish that I have not enjoyed. The dumplings are awesome, the xiao long bao are awesome, the noodles are amazing, the meat on a stick is fantastic, and the soups are exciting. I will say that I am not a fan of the fish head soup. It is too fishy. No that I expected anything else from something called fish head soup. I even enjoyed the French Fries, I mean Freedom Fries, from KFC. I couldn’t help myself. They looked so good and everyone else was enjoying them. KFC has an excellent view of Gu Lo. It is the downtown area of Kaifeng, shopping central. Every night at 7p sharp the intersection below KFC transforms into one of the famous Kaifeng night market.

We watch with great anticipation for the clock tower to strike seven. Click, street vendors pour into the intersection from every direction and every ally-way. Only five minutes have passed and dinner is served. There is cart after cart of every type of food imaginable. There are soup carts, dumpling carts, seafood on a stick, and lamb on a stick, pastries, sushi, sweets, and pastries. Everything! It is heaven. Oh, and dinner will cost about 3 USD. That includes appetizers, drinks, and dessert. I love China.

Back at Gu Huang’s home, dinner preparations have begun. Her father invites us to join in the preparations. I am so excited to learn how to make dumplings. Everything is made from scratch; there is no creamed mushroom or tomato paste. The dough is mixed and rolled out into little circles. The filling is prepared by mixing pork, onions, and seasonings. I hold a circle of dough in my left hand and place the filling in the middle. There is a delicate balance of proportion. Too much filling and the dumpling has a blow-out, too little filling and the dumpling lacks flavor. None of us really perfect the technique but most of the dumplings turned out quite delicious. We return to the living room to finish the movie Sideways. If you haven’t seen the movie, I recommended renting it.

Gu Huang’s Mother and Grandmother finish the dinner preparations and set the table. Her father calls us back into the dinning room. I turn the corner to find a banquet feast which rivals that of Thanksgiving. I now understand why Mid-autumn Festival is compared to Thanksgiving. It’s not just the time of year. It is everything like Thanksgiving, friends and family come together to share a magnificent meal and share stories. I learned that Gu Huang’s Father is the head of the History department at my University. He has been there for more then twenty years. We chat for an hour or so and finish the case of beers. He told me that we had to finish the beers today because he doesn’t drink on a regular basis. This is a special occasion. I am happy to oblige.

After dinner, Gu Huang wants to take us to the karaoke bar in the center of town. We grab a cab and are on our way. Karaoke is serious business in China. If you have ever been to a swanky bar in downtown Chicago you will understand the setting. Everyone gets a private room. Beer and liquor are brought to your room. The room is dimly lit with neon lights. The couches are leather or pleather. I’m not sure. Regardless they look nice. The music box is filled with Chinese and American music. You get two microphones. It was the most fun I have had at a Karaoke bar since Primetime.

We leave the bar and cruise over to Gu Lo for some snacks and to find a bathroom. We head over to KFC to use the bathroom and as I’m walking in a group of my students come walking out. They wave and say, “Hi Michael.” I wave back and want to stop and chat but I had drank so much between dinner and karaoke I didn’t want to make an ass of myself so I ran. The next day I met up with Jane, one of the girls who had seen me at the KFC and explained the situation. I hope they were not offended.

Jane and Antonio took me for a tour of the new campus and showed me some of the sites Kaifeng has to offer. I’ll save that trip for another entry.

Sun Get Up, Mikey Get Up

2008-09-04T17:25:00.003+08:00

August 26, 2008

This morning I am up with the sun once again but this time I decide to see the village in its waking hours. I began my day by visiting the street vendor Jackie took us to the day before. “Zao,” I say. “Ni Hao,” replies the man with dark hair and sun wrinkled skin. He works quickly, opening the pita, cracking the egg, and turning each over in a single fluid motion. It reminds me of my barista days. Amid the prep-work and finishing he looks up with a grin overcome by amusement. Certainly, he is just as entertained by my presence as I am with his daily grind. “Yi ge,” he asks holding up a single finger. I nod my head to confirm my order. His wife, already holding a pita, points to the toppings and asks, “yao la, yao ma?” “Yao, Yao,” I reply, gesturing that I would like all the veggies and spice. Quickly she spreads the spices on either side of the fold. In the center she places the veggies and I’m ready to go!

I return to campus while munching on this delicious food item. I know I’ve said it is delicious once or twice already, but seriously, it is so good. By far my favorite food item to date. Walking north along the east wall I pass the group of retired professors exercising tai chi behind my apartment. This is a patient martial art. They seem to stand around more than actually exercise. That’s my kind of work out. I will have to work up the courage to ask them to teach me one of these days. Continuing down the road I pass the sports field, track, and ball court. The sun is barely out and the track and ball courts are filled with hundreds of men, women, and children of all ages. I was thirsty now and decide to head out to the market where I had purchased soap and tissue the day before.

To my surprise the market is closed. In its place are farmers lining the street on either side for what looks like miles. They are selling fresh fruits, fresh or somewhat fresh vegetables, meats, and the occasional pair of socks. My favorite sight is the livestock. Like in the movies or Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations, the chickens are sold live and by weight using traditional scales. A man makes his purchase and hangs the chicken by bound feet over his handle bars. To my left are large wok-like bowls filled with fish. There are catfish, salmon, trout, and carp. Or so I think, I am no expert on river fish of China. They splash around fearing for their lives. Little do they know that the next Wok they experience will not be so cool.

Just then I encounter something very troubling. There is an older man hitting a young lady on the hand like one would discipline a child. All around me people are screaming. The man behind me is doing the old ankle-tap trick. Remember the one from the airport that accomplishes nothing but a sore on the back of my ankle. It still doesn’t work. In front of me, behind me, to my side, and in front of me again are little old people pushing and shoving and yelling. It is 6:30am and I have just encountered my first…

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!FARMERS MARKET TRAFFIC JAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It is quite a terrifying sight and I am helpless to do anything about it. And just like in Chicago there are people diving in and out of traffic as if they are somehow magically going to get through the congestion. Today’s problem seems to have started when the young women, driving a walnut-cart, rear-ended the old man in his corn-cart. The impact sent him into oncoming traffic where he struck a moped head on. The .5 mph collision resulted in a 78 person/bike/cart/moped pile-up. The accident was sorted and I’m happy to report no injuries except for a couple scraped and bruised ankles.

After negotiating the accident sight I reached the corner and headed west towards the south gate. It is amazing that the streets are vacant of activity on this street, while just around the corner is near chaos. Feeling brave, I decide to explore the city. I venture further and further. Every street corner has a restaurant spilling out onto the street. The chairs are filled with people discussing the day’s activities to come. Old men and women sweep the ally’s free of leaves and soot. As I walk, I peak into the homes as the residents convert their bedroom into a kitchen and finally a shop. Living spaces are small and every inch of space is used for multiple purposes.

Fainting, handshakes, cellphones

2008-08-31T09:51:00.004+08:00

Monday, August 25 2008

Jet lag has many effects; one of course is waking up early. I am 13hrs ahead of Chicago. The future is pretty sweet but there aren't any hover cars, I'll keep you posted. I wake up on the couch in the living room because the AC isn't powerful enough to cool the entire apartment but enough to keep the living room pleasantly cool.

Today Jackie, Marta, and I hit the streets for an early breakfast. We stop at two places. The first is a street vendor selling pancakes filled with egg. The pancake is better described as a pita. It is folded in half and smeared with ma on one side, la on the other. Ma is a spice and la is a hot pepper. La means hot tasting and jiao is chili pepper; so lajiao is hot pepper. Also within the fold of the pita are cabbage and a carrot-like vegetable. This breakfast pastry is absolutely delicious. The next stop is a breakfast restaurant on the corner of a morning market. The restaurant spills over onto the street. The food preparation is indoors and tables are set out on the sidewalk and street. This place served hot dumplings stuffed with meat or veggies. We get our dumplings and porridge and take a seat at the knee-high tables. The stool is so low that I feel like I am squatting for a poop. After we eat we return home and wait for Guhuang, our student guide, to take us to the bank and get a cell phone.

Process and Paperwork best describe the bank. We grabbed some sheet to request an account. We then waited in line to learn that we needed a copy of our passport. We walked down a couple store fronts to find an internet/computer cafe. On our way down a very excited old man pooped out of a store front to say "Hello, Hello!" He shakes my hand then Marta's then mine then Marta's. I'm not sure how long this hand shaking would continue but Guhuang was there to shoo him off and direct us into the cafe. It is not that the man is a bother; he is just persistent. We returned to the bank line and initiated the process of opening an account. The man behind the glass must be new. He looked at our passports and papers and looked at us and back at the passports and paper work. He looked to his neighbor and back at us. Then, he stood up and walked off. About five minutes later he returned and looked at us and then the paperwork and then his computer screen and pressed a couple of buttons. I think the button pressing was an act. Next, a women from around the corner approached and looked at the passports and paperwork and then at us and back at the passports and paperwork. She then took the passports and paperwork and walked away. The man pushed a couple more buttons. The women returned with new checkbooks. Now they both looked at the passports and paperwork and checkbooks and us and back at the passports and paperwork and checkbooks. I'm sure by now you are thinking what I am thinking. There is an awful lot of NOT work being done. Let me fast forward an hour. There are now three people looking at the passports and paperwork and checkbooks and us. The man looks up and spouts something off in Chinese and I look at him blankly. After an hour and a half we have not made much progress. Guhuang comes over and translates for me. He had asked, "Do I want to deposit USD or RMB." I want RMB because I will be here for a full year and have little use for USD. He says, "Hao" That means OK. The looking went on for a couple more minutes until the third person goes in back and grabs the USD counter. Did I mention it’s hot in the bank?

It’s hot in the bank. So hot that Guhuang starts to look pale. I ask if she is OK. She says she is fine. She doesn't look fine. I ask her to sit down. We seemed to be wrapping up the process and my Chinese is good enough to understand "sign here" and "enter PIN." Her condition deteriorated and she looked very ill. Bowing her head and sitting back in the chair in exhaustion Marta and I began to worry. Again we ask if she is OK and she replied that she was feeling a little weak because she hadn't eaten yet today. Not to mention that she had been translating in a dreadfully hot bank for the past two hours. Now, if ever you have seen anyone faint you would recognize the moment just before they go down. She began to wobble, her eyes rolled back, and down she goes. I am too late to catch her as we were divided by a rope barrier. Fortunately we are able to get her back on her feet and stabilized on a bench in the corner. Marta rushes across the street for something cool and sugary. Again, fortunately the Process and Paperwork is almost complete. We both have our bank accounts and only need to exchange our USD. Of course this requires a little more Process and Paperwork. Finally, we are done and can move on to lunch and insure Guhuang has some time to rest before showing us the campus and around town.

Over lunch I recalled two Chinese cultural notes. What is a better way of phrasing that, "cultural notes?" First, filial piety. A Confucius idea that is to show love for one's parents or ancestors. This idea is transferred to work. There is a strong sense of duty held by Chinese to do well for there parents and by that do well in there job. I believe that although Guhuang was feeling weak and ill she felt a strong duty or responsibility to ensure we, the visitors, were taken care of.

The next task for the day is to get cell phones. Not as much Process and Paperwork here. Cell phones here are very inexpensive. Partly due to cost of living and partly due to the ancient 2000 phone I purchased. Remember the basic cell phone? Not too big, but not paper thin. No camera, but equipped with Tetris. Also recall that these cell phones could hold a charge. For days in fact! So I sacrifice the bells and whistles but get something practical, reliable, and sturdy. After the whole bank ordeal, lunch, cell phone, and a brief campus tour I am Jet-lag tired.

I wake up around 6p this evening and join Marta for dinner at the night market. We are uncertain about the food around here so we look for something simple. To my right is a street vendor with sticks of veggies, meats, and something. Looks simple enough. We approach the stand and a young man wearing a Lakers jersey stands up to assist. He knows a little English and explains to us the process of ordering. Typically you select 2 kuai worth of meat and veggies, about 6 sticks. The young woman cooking places the selections into a broth, adds some seasoning, lets simmer and you have yourself a delicious bowl of soup! After our light dinner we continued roaming around the market and scoped out the shops before returning home for some much needed rest.

Never be in a hurry; feel free to push

2008-08-30T23:24:00.001+08:00

Sunday, August 24 2008

I’ll spare the details of my flights. They are typical and long. The flight from Seattle to Beijing enters on the night of the 2008 Olympic closing ceremonies. Fortunately, this had little effect on our travels. Beijing airport is extremely spread out. The terminals are separated by a 10-20 minute bus ride. After some tricky interpretation and assistance from a help desk or two Marta, my travel partner, and I found the correct terminal and ticket counter. It is at this very moment that I learn my first China lesson; never be in a hurry and always feel free to push.

The ticket counters look much like those found in the States. Sitting behind the counter are disgruntled employees who spend their entire day sorting out everyone else’s problems or mistakes and absorbing the impatient attitudes. Above the counter are electronic signs flashing entirely too much information to comprehend in the brief moment it is presented. Unlike the States, there is not a single line. The set up is more like a McDonalds. Although there is clearly a specific number of registers, somehow multiple lines form and overlap and collide until there is a large mass of people pushing and shoving and ramming there fucking baggage cart into your ankles. Yeah, lady behind me, the reason your cart won’t move forward any more is because it’s hitting the back of my fucking ankles and yes I would like to move forward but there are five people in front of me and yes I wish they would move forward but I already tried the ramming technique and guess what…

It didn’t fucking work! Now that we have established that the line only moves forward when a transaction is completed we can discuss selecting the line, or in the case of Beijing, selecting the mass of sweaty people. Your best bet, like in the U.S., is to get behind the business women and lone travelers who will not be checking any bags today. Avoid, I repeat, AVOID families at all costs. They are handicapped. For the airline attendant it must be like putting together an entertainment stand from IKEA. It is a simple design. However, you are given the wrong tools, extra screws, and one side is just a little longer than the other. Also, avoid old people. This is a pretty general rule. Old people are slow, enough said. Oh, and this is very important! If you are behind someone in a matching Addidas warm-up suit, get out of line immediately. This is what is known as a line holder. They are sneaky. They are secretly holding a place in line for their entire athletic team who are hiding in the BK lounge. The line holder will fuck your day.

The pushing to nowhere continues at Gate C54. The flight from Beijing to Zhenzhou is at a satellite gate so we all have to cram into a bus and be driven out to the tarmac. The impatient travelers heard onto the bus pushing and shoving as much as possible. I feel like a cow lead to slaughter. We get to the plane and pour out of the bus and push and shove to get on the plane. It is so hectic. I don’t understand the rush. We have assigned seats and there is no reward for getting to your seat first. This event isn’t a cultural thing it’s a human thing. I don’t get it.

I have an aisle seat and across from me is an older American man. I strike up conversation and learn that he too is teaching English here in China. He works for Henan University, the same school but at a different location. He told me I would be very happy with my apartment and amenities. This is his fifth year teaching in China and he really enjoys it. It is not long into the flight that the passenger next to me utilized her barf bag. The flight is a little bumpy but not terrible. She must be easily sickened by motion. A few minutes later the young women kitty-corner behind me is puking, then the women in front of me and then the man in front of her. As the flight attendants collect our drink cups I noticed they had collected quite a few barf bags and I was only 5 rows back. I leaned over to the American and asked if he had ever observed so many people puking on flights. He tells me that it was not uncommon. Apparently Chinese people are very susceptible to motion sickness. I speculate that traveling by car, boat, or plane is new to many people in China. After all, I do believe I am a third generation car driver. Hmf.