quiet cab, huh...

Earlier this evening I took a new Chengdu cab. They are sleek and shiny and more expensive. At a red light, I noticed that the inside of the cab was silent, a large difference from the older models.

I'm pretty sure the driver noticed me notice the silence of the cab. Immediately, we were deep in a silence contest. Having practiced mightily in my youth against stiff competition at MacKenna's Restaurant, I was prepared. The red light must have lasted 30-60 seconds, tops.

It was quiet.

Sure, I heard noise coming through the open passenger window, but inside the cab I could have heard a kuai fall.

Right before the light turned green, I turned my head slightly, making a slight rustle with my hair against the seat. It was finished. I had lost.

A half-step later, the driver shifted his hand on the steering wheel, and the silence was officially over. A few moments passed, as we settled back into the noise, then he let go of the clutch and we moved on.

what the f.

Let's get the facts straight.

1. It's October 8th.
2. I live in the desert...supposedly.
3. Some people still argue that global warming is a myth.

Yeah, it's snowing right now. Freaking my stuff out pretty bad. Not quite prepared for this type of weather, considering the time of year that I thought I had signed on for.

I'm pretty pissed I washed my camera. And that Li Fengyang and Hu Yanqin's are out of batteries.

Use your imagination:
A wet street surrounded by monotone beige buildings. Thick snowflakes fall, then melt on the ground, making it indistinguishable from rain, other than the fact that it's difficult to see 200 yards away. No one looks any different, clothing wise...they treat it like visible rain. I, meanwhile, have on every sweatshirt I own and my slicker. Not too shabby, albeit I look like the Michelin man.

I'm still in shock.

Life is amazing. Thanks global warming!

snazzy tracksuit

In addition to being trained in the illustrious art of volleyball, I have been given, along with everyone else, a tracksuit, a basketball uniform, and sweet kicks.

Here is a picture of me modeling my tracksuit, in the bad-ass way that I model.

Here's Xiao Long and Hu Yanqin in theirs. Not as bad-ass, but pretty sweet.












Please, please pick up on the self-deprecating sarcasm here.

volleyball

During the past few weeks, all the da weis (or workgroups) in the city have been practicing. For what, you ask? Sports Day. Oh yes. To begin the National Holiday, the city of Yanchi holds a sport day. There is basketball, pingpong, running, and of course, volleyball.

I was given the option of volleyball or basketball. Lord knows I wasn't going to play basketball after spraining my ankle, even though I'm probably better at basketball (which means I'm horrifically bad at volleyball). So I went down and met my teammates. We had 2 practices every day, and it was like being back in elementary school.

Kids, excuse me, adults were running all over the place. They would sit out when they got tired. Some of them complained while we were warming up. My favorite was when the men would smoke in the middle of a scrimmage. It was clear that I, as the American, was taking this competition must more seriously than anyone else.

Not that I'm competitive or anything...wink.

The pinnacle of my frustration came when our da wei's basketball team came over and challenged us to a game. Now at this point, I will say that many of our good players weren't at this practice. So we were playing, and not listening to each other, and one man was running around into everyone else's space. We lost 2-1. I was pissed.

But I let that rage go, and realized that I just need to try my best, and do the best that I could.

The contest was supposed to be held last Friday, but was postponed due to rain for tomorrow. Let's hope my team brings their A game. I know I will.

dryclean only

Well, I was wasted, as I am apt to be on a Sunday afternoon, and had spilled something down the front of my Mayhew hoodie. That is alright. I can deal with that. But in washing the said sweatshirt, I left my digital camera in the pocket.

The camera came out spotless...and non-functional. This before my week of vacation where I was going to visit the legendary Xixia Tombs. Frustration abounded. Luckily, I returned from my trip and the thing would turn on, even if the buttons wouldn't work. If there's some way to get past the date/time setup, I should be in business, just unable to browse my pictures on the camera.

Here are some descriptions of pictures I wanted to take.

• The view from the top of Chuangsi Ta, demonstrating that Yinchuan looks like every other Chinese city. Worn out apartment buildings and offices spread out before you like, well, every other Chinese city.
• A bus driver smoking as he drives, with a do not smoke sign directly over his head.
• Evidence that the dogs in Yinchuan eat a ton of corn, and do not effectively chew it. (Maybe not a picture on this one...but I saw these little presents every where in the city.)
• Yinchuan does not only have the first waterslide park (admittedly defunct) I've seen in China, but also the only mini-golf course I've seen. I would have played a round, but where's the fun of playing without friends?
• A picture of the best pizza place in China...Robin's Pizza. Imported mozzerella, imported meats. It was real pizza, not the kind you can get at a buffet in China. Pretty impressive for Yinchuan, if you ask me.

But now I've entered into my last week here in Ningxia, and it's certainly bittersweet. I'm ready to go home, but also I've hit my stride here. I'm comfortable, I have friends, my alcohol tolerance is through the roof...life is good.

dance off?

I, for one, never imagined being embroiled in a dance off. It brought images of Britney and Justin (albeit when they were a bit more innocent) dancing for respect in some L.A. nightclub.

A few weeks ago, that all changed. After dining (and drinking, of course) I met a man and a woman at the restaurant who wanted to drink with me. He was a banker from Yinchuan, and she was a teacher in Yanchi. We played drinking games, took pictures, then my friends and I left for the KTV bar downtown.

The man and the woman were invited, and we were soon dancing all together. The great thing about dancing with the Chinese is the complete lack of self-consciousness that abounds. They are not dancing to be seen, they are dancing to dance. It's a lot of fun.

Soon everyone had sat down except the banker and me. We were both dancing furiously, and it had begun to take on quite an aggressive feel. By the end, when I sat down to rest, I was hustled outside by friends, and we walked home.

It was told to me then that I had been involved in a dance off. Unbeknownst to me, the woman had taken a liking to me, and to defend his honor, the banker had been, to quote Michael Sambell0, "Dancing like [he] never danced before." Clearly, the rhythm of my Anglo-American body put him quickly to rest, but it was a good contest. I'm just glad my friends got me out before we experienced the results.


ps-This picture is not of the banker and I, but of Zhang Bo, a good friend.

wow...hiatus. and soda.

I figure at this point no one is reading this blog, and for good reason...not posting in a month in a half (two months?) will wreak havoc on a person's readership. But some things I have come across recently need to be commented on.

One of the first happened when I went out the country for a celebration with the director of my company. I'm often dragged along so the clients can see that this organization has real clout. I mean, what more could you ask for than a big (for China) bearded foreigner? As the festivities began, things were traveling along the same old path. Baijiu and beer were produced, and the jinging (or showing respect by toasting the person and both of you drinking) began. Then the games began.

This is where things took a turn for the weird. We were drinking with a few people from my organization, and probably 8 farmers, half men, half women. The women, instead of drinking baijiu or beer, procured liter bottles of soda (Future Cola, an even nastier version of Coke), and proceeded to drink that.

Now at first, I enjoyed seeing the use of such a vile beverage (second only to baijiu) as a punishment. It seems to me that a drink with that much sugar should only be used for such a teeth rotter of a torture. But as the night went on and these women farmers drank more and more of it, I began being unable to imagine drinking that much soda. At a certain point, they called over their children to help them out. It was bizarre to seeing kids helping their parents out in a drinking game, but they enjoyed it. But only up to a point. After two glasses of sugary goodness?, he decided he'd had enough and refused to drink more. Score one for health.

Things in China have been going well, and I'm sorry that I haven't been writing. But life is good. In less than 2 months I'll be back in the States. I already miss it.

spoiled

Here is a perfect recipe to spoil your child. First, bring him to a grown up dinner of hotpot. People may be smoking, you yourself might be smoking, but that's okay, who's ever been hurt by second hand smoke? While he is there, try to ignore him as much as possible, unless he's hidden the baijiu. At that point, try to lavish enough attention on him until he shows you where he's hidden it. Then begin to ignore him again.

My favorite moment was when this kid--who I also know from the office, where he was sitting at his father's desk screaming "Ba! Ba! Ba!" (ba means dad) for at least a minute, when clearly his father was out of earshot. I told him to go and look for him instead of sitting there screaming, and he did...all it takes is a little chutzpah.--was playing with matches. He was about to light one, when his uncle took the match away. Phew, I thought, at least some one is looking out him. His uncle then took the match, rammed it in his ear as a Q-tip. Meanwhile, his nephew had lit another match, and coughed as he breathed in the sulfur fumes.

Another fun instance was when the kid realized that you could take two lighters and put them together to make one big flame. It was awesome! He smacking his mom was cool too.

Please, parents, pay attention to your kids, and not just only when they've hidden your alcohol.

爽 （shuang)

This weekend was shuang. My newest vocabulary word, my roommate described it as very, very happy. On Friday night, I spent a comfortable night not binge drinking. Delightful. Because of construction our power was off, so my roommate and I played cards. Since there are not many Chinese card games that can be played by only two, I taught him Shifty, perhaps the best card game in the world. (Sorry, Mike.)

He was a quick study, so already we've had some good matches.

The next day, I woke up late, did my laundry, cleaned my room, and mopped my floor. By the time I was done with that, my roommate showed up with the makings of lunch. After a few bites of sausage and green pepper and stir fried green beans, we started playing dice. To be honest, I don't mind playing as long as I don't drink too much. I didn't, and things were comfortable.

We both rested, as that is the Chinese way, and I read my book. I also realized what a timeless movie The Yellow Submarine is. There are many movies that beloved in my childhood, viewed recently, have not stood the test of time. Hook is always first in my mind. Who knew Robin Williams and Dustin Hoffman could be so cheesy. But The Yellow Submarine is just as cool and trippy as it was the first time I saw it when I was 8 years old. Perhaps that speaks to the timelessness of the Beatles.

The next day, I just lounged around the apartment, doing little, eating lunch, and reading. I was psyched. I survived the weekend without binge drinking. Sweet. Next weekend, I'm off to Shanghai, and I am ready for it.

Life is good.

my birthday

After a harrowing night of drinking and hotpot (yes, hotpot) I was informed (again, see the previous post) that I would be traveling to the country on Saturday. Disappointed that I wouldn't be able to sleep in, I woke up hung over for a rollicking, incredibly bumpy ride into the country-side.

First thing I encountered of notice was this interesting plant growing next to corn in a farmer's field. Interesting...very interesting. I was told it was hemp, and only used for the rope and oil that is extracted from it. It was not 大麻 which those leaves might bring to mind.

We were taking a Beijing professor on a whistlestop tour of the country side, so we stopped at many places. The second was a village on the top a rise in a sweeping land. It was breathtaking.

After contemplating the view for a few minutes, we went inside to have ostensibly have lunch. Much to my surprise, my coworkers brought in a western style cake, complete with heaps of frosting. My friends were upset there weren't 25 candles, but I told them it would be okay. We ate the cake, and then started to play drinking games. Beer and sickly sweet frosting are delicious! After a few drinks, we ate lunch for real, which really was delicious...I just didn't quite like the order of the courses.

After that, and a few more beers, we hopped back into the car, and traveled one of our driver's homes where a group of college volunteers were staying. Drinking many beers and then getting into the backseat of an offroading SUV is never a good idea. But I was able to maintain composure.

For much of the time we drove next to an irrigation ditch which flowed throughout the countryside. It is by far and away the most water I've seen in Ningxia up to this point. It must have gone for miles, and in at least two places crossed valleys in huge aquifers. I cannot imagine the amount of physical labor that made this amazing construction.

Finally we arrived at the second village, and immediately I was pulled into another game of liar's dice, but thanks to some luck and some skill (if I say so myself) I was able to escape relatively unscathed.

We returned to Yanchi at about 3 and I rested for a few hours before I was picked up (again, not my plan) and taken to dinner. My plan was to have dinner with my friends at the office (read those do not make me drink), instead I went with a driver to meet his friends in a restaurant while my evening hangover set in. As the night went on, and the room filled with cigarette smoke, my mood steadily worsened. They had gotten me another cake (this one had happy birthday in English, as well as a dog! [my chinese zodiac sign]). This one I convinced them to eat after the meal. We played liar's dice again, but I refused to drink very much, so by the end, I was watching a bunch of drunk Chinese people speaking to fast for me to understand playing drinking games. Just the way I wanted to spend my birthday.

That curmudgeonenous aside, I'm sure they meant it to make me happy, so I tried to force a smile. Unfortunately, many of you know what a great poker face I have, so they may have had an idea about how I felt.

At least now I'm 25...and you know what that means...Hertz baby! Yeah!

introverts, anyone?

There are many ways in which my Ningxia experience is different than Chengdu. The desert, 50,000 vs. 12 million people, peer pressured drinking. One of the most frustrating, for me, is my lack of autonomy. On a regular day, I work in the office until lunch, or perhaps someone asks me to go the country. Either way, I'm with someone else. Then I go back to the office until dinner time, when I go to dinner with a coworker.

I'm not sure if they're afraid I might get lost, or that I couldn't order for myself, or that I don't have money to pay, or what, but it's frustrating for someone who values his independence. I'm also considering that maybe one of my colleagues is really lonely and that's the reason.

I'm loathe to bring it up, but spending another week of meals wracking my brain to keep up with conversation without at least one meal of just me and my book might drive me crazy.

big puddle (大水坑）

This weekend I traveled by bus over rocky roads to visit Big Puddle, my coworker Xiao Wang's (小王's) (Little Wang's) hometown. A large part of my trip was being introduced to the family. Everyone was incredibly nice and hospitable. Xiao Wang's family owns a restaurant, so I was treated to delicious food. But by the end of the weekend, my anti-hospitable streak was showing, as I started to get annoyed with everyone telling me to eat.

Why must I be told to eat when I am eating already? It drives me crazy.

By far, the highlight of the trip was when Xiao Wang's brother-in-law, a Sichuan man as well as the cook of the restaurant, cooked me Sichuan food for my last meal there. Mapo Tofu，Huigourou (twice-cooked pork), and gongbao jiding, (the delightful kung-pao chicken). It was the most delicious Sichuan food I had eaten since...well, since I was in Chengdu.

It was only slightly hampered by the addition of Guopi (果啤）or pineapple flavored beer. Very weak stuff (less than 1% abv) but boy was it awful. Luckily the man's 5 year-old son loved it, so I didn't have to drink to much.

Speaking of, this kid was the biggest ham I've seen in China. Climbing over everything, screaming, and at the least hint of music dancing to the delight of all. He definitely had a bit of the "Little-Emperor" syndrome going on.

All in all it was a good trip--the food was delicious and the hospitality was wonderful. I mean, what more can a Laowai ask for?

garlic

Now please, do not misunderstand me, I love garlic. But all things in moderation. Like dice and mutton, garlic is an integral part of every meal in Yanchi. You might be served a bowl of noodles, or a plate of meat and a bowl of rice. With those things, a bulb of garlic is tossed onto the table, sometimes on a plate, most times not. As you eat, you crush the garlic against the table in order to peel it. Peeled, between bites of food, you take bites of raw garlic. It's a bit much, even for me. Some people eat 2 or 3 cloves a meal. At least it keeps those mosquitos away.

yinchuan with a side of office sleeping

I spent the weekend in the 银川 Yinchuan office. It's classy place in a residential area, and has a few bedrooms for those of us staying the weekend, so I didn't have to sleep on the conference table. But if I had slept on the conference table, it wouldn't have made much of a difference. A bed in Ningxia is usually a slab of plywood covered with a few blankets. I like a firm bed, so I'm okay.

Sleeping in the office has some drawbacks, however. I'm not a huge fan of getting dressed and ready in front of the NXCEPA vice-president, so I felt obligated to wake up fairly early to avoid any wacky antics that may have already transpired on Bosom Buddies.

The main difficulty was when my coworker's mother showed up. To begin with, my Chinese isn't great, or even very good. That coupled with the fact that she spoke a Ningxian dialect wicked fast didn't help. Whenever she spoke to me, I would either a.) think hard and come up with my best answer, or b.) stare blankly. Both responses would bring howls of cackling laughter.

I know I'm not very particular about my food, but ever since a particular incident in Salt Lake City (sorry Skinny), I have been most serious about not eating more than one meal during dinner. What I mean to say, is if I'm invited to dinner, I do not like to have a pre-dinner.

On Saturday night, my coworker asked me if I liked roast meat. At the mention of roast meat, I get a bit excited. We finished up our work (yeah, I work weekends as a volunteer), and started to leave. As we were heading out the door to meet his friends for dinner, his mother stopped us. "Dinnertime!" she said, I assume.

A bowl of noodles greeted each of us at the table. I began to eat grudgingly, and soon she was tossing slices of Chinese hotdog (a type of sausage with the consistency of soft cheese) into my bowl, splashing broth onto my clothes. There must have been something wrong with my face, because my coworker said, laughingly, "Uh oh mom, he's getting angry."

Happily, the noodles weren't too heavy (compared to a foot-long buffalo-chicken sub), and I was able to fully enjoy the roast meat.

The next morning (Sunday), his mother woke me up wondering if I wanted to save a 5 foot long rubber band (I removed from a tennis ball) I had put in the trash. Again, at least I think that's what she said. I kept saying "Don't want, don't want," and eventually she left me alone.

It's frustrating to me because I shouldn't be frustrated. One of the main problems I had with Chengdu was that everyone around me spoke English. Now everyone around me speaks Chinese, and I'm still not happy. At least now that it's past I'm okay with it, and to be honest, it was more painful frustration than unhappiness.

At least now I'm back in Yanchi, in my own room, with my old roommates, and I'm happy. That is until his mom comes to visit here....cue Psycho soundtrack.

what?!?!?

Yesterday, I was riding my bike to the office when I passed something that made me question my reality. A naked man was sitting in front a tree, in a fairly...open position. He wasn't exactly engaged in omphaloskepsis, but I wish he had been.

This may speak to the abject poverty here in Yanchi County. Perhaps the man lacked a place to maintain his bathing rituals, and he figured that this skinny little tree afforded him the privacy he needed.

On the other hand, I may have misjudged the cultural norms of Ningxia. As I zoomed past on my bike, it seemed to me that the people across the street weren't bothered in the least.

Or perhaps he was just a crazy guy, and since I have yet to see a police officer here, there was no one to help him (for who else feels it necessary to approach a naked crazy man?).

As I rode past today, a nearby square was blasting Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On." My first thought was that I'm glad it wasn't playing yesterday, or a probably would have lost my mind.

use your imagination...

I'm cameraless. I'm pretty sure it got poached off me in Beijing before I left, either that, or I'm a complete idiot. To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if it was the latter.

But it's alright, the lack of a lens between me and my surroundings is probably a good thing. Last night was my first night sans a drinking extravaganza. 张永军 (Zhang Yong Jun) and I went and got dumplings at a restaurant.

张永军 has been my keeper of sorts, taking me to meals, providing me with medicine, and even putting me to bed, to make sure I got all the rest I needed. We speak to each other in Chinese and English, and at meals the dictionary goes back and forth quite regularly.

It turns out, as of now, I'm teaching English. I guess I'm probably the only one surprised by these turn of events. When I told Chinese people that I was moving to Ningxia to work for an NGO, they were shocked. How could I not be teaching English. It's clear to me now that if I want to do something different, I need to acquire some skills. The speaking-Chinese skill included.

So I sit at my desk from 8 to 12 and from 2:30 to 6, writing lesson plans and bettering myself. I mean it's only my first week, so who knows. I believe things will heat up further into the summer, so right now I'm enjoying myself, trying to get adjusted.

The people here are salt of the earth, and I feel lucky to be getting such a genuine experience.

address

Since I'm living in a new place, I thought it might be helpful to put up an address. Clearly, I mean this as helpful to me. The old promise still stands. You write me, I'll write you back. So here's the address for those of you with computers who can handle it. 宁夏盐池县陵园街八号 邮编：751500 中国. For those of you who don't have such capable machines, check out this cool jpeg.

blue skies and baijiu

I arrived in Ningxia a few days ago, and so far, it's been great. The weather here is lovely, and by lovely I mean I can see the sky all the time. It's amazing. I live quite near the Great Wall, which at this point looks more like a natural ridge than a wall.

I traveled to Ningxia with Jake, and when we arrived we met Blandine who was a previous intern at Ningxia CEPA. With her were two other French women, Julie and Silva, who were doing a report for France's new 24 hour news network about microfinance in Yanchi County. With them was a Chinese translator and a French teacher from Beijing. We were then given a tour of the city before they were dropped off at their hotel (it looked quite swanky) and I was taken to my apartment where I will live for the next four months.

Squat toilet aside, I have a great little room and a glassed in porch. I share the apartment with three Chinese people who work for CEPA. Judging by the bunkbeds in the apartment, we might have at least 3 more people move in. The more the merrier.

My bed is a plywood platform covered with blankets. Luckily, I like a firm mattress, and I have my faithful pillow. Unfortunately, I did not sleep well the first night. After I had dropped my stuff off, we came back to the hotel where we met Mr. Long, the head of Ningxia CEPA.

We began a delightful meal of desert onions, lamb, tofu, etc. But about 20 minutes in, the jinging began. A jing is a toast you make with baijiu (白酒）or white spirits. About the strength of vodka, it is served in tiny little white cups, which I'm guessing hold about a shot, if not less. Everyone cheered everyone, many people drinking beer instead of baijiu...I was jealous. After we had made everyone feel sufficiently good, the shaizi came out. Two cups of 3 die each are placed on the table, and one person steps up. In this case, it was Mr. Long.

This meant that Mr. Long had to play everyone at the table in a three game match. Each game carries the penalty of a cup of baijiu to begin with, but those stakes rise depending on the person that is challenged. The French girls (with the exception of Blandine) were drinking beer, but even as time went on, they were challenged with more and more drinks. (Jake told me a story about one of my colleagues' father who in one go had to drink 45 drinks of baijiu. Each game was 9 jiu, and he lost 5 times in a row. Brutal.) If either person during the match loses all three games, it must be repeated, unless the winner drinks with the loser.

After a few trips to the bathroom to void my stomach, the night finally ended with Jake and I doing the old Soule Hall cheer. That consists of one knee on the ground, elbow up, and your glass against the forehead of the person you're drinking with. I drank the the six shots down, and they promptly came back up. I barely made it to the bathroom (some might say I didn't).

By the time I was out, things were finished and I was ready to go home. I set my alarm to go off every fifteen minutes so I could wake up and drink a bottle of water. Even with that precaution, I woke up at six with a pretty awful hangover. Not good for your first full day in the desert.

summer palace

So I've been sweating like crazy here in Beijing, as I move from place to place, seeing sights and getting things ready for my journey to the west. The first full day I was here, I took 3 lines of the subway (that's the maximum) to drop off my passport so as to get my visa fixed. By the time I got back to my base of operations, it was the afternoon, and I was soaked through.

I took a shower and a nap, got up, and took a cab to the new Summer Palace. It is gorgeous. Built around a lake after the "Anglo-French Invasion of 1860" burnt down the old one, much of it is a line of bridges connecting small islands across the body of water. On the north end of the lake, a palace presides over the complex, giant and imposing.

It was too late when I got there to go inside, but I was happy walking around the lake and decompressing. There were fishermen (I use that in the same way I use the word guys) all around the lake, and even a few people with spears. I can't be sure if they were going for frogs or fish, but this spear was one wicked looking implement.

As the sun went down, the Palace quieted, until I was practically the only 老外 there. I sat on a bench reading about what the Americas were like before Colombus, when a red flash of light caught my eye. It looked like it was the light of a radio tower in the distance, but because of the property of aerial perspective, it seemed too close. As I went to investigate, I could not figure it out. It seemed a red lantern was floating about 20 feet over the water, swinging back and forth, seemingly hung on the sky. UFO was my first guess, and I got pretty excited.

It turned out to be a man I had seen earlier flying kites. His wife had attached a battery-powered LED lantern to the string of his kite, and so in a sense, it was hung on the sky. It was fairly unworldy.

back again

Well, I apologize again. For some reason it's difficult for me to stay up with my blog when I'm in transition. For the past two months I have been saying goodbye to 成都 (Chengdu). I've been reading articles about 宁夏 (Ningxia). I've been a lump on a log doing nothing.

But soon that will all change. Right now I'm in 北京 (Beijing) on vacation, visiting friends, and meeting a few people who consult with the NGO I'm working with. It's been fun, but a little overwhelming. 五道口(Wudaokou), the neighborhood where I'm staying, houses Tsinghua and Beijing Universities, as well as Google, Microsoft, and Sun Microsystems. The 老外(laowai) ratio is pretty high.

I'm staying with Jake who has been in country for 3 years and Wiley who has been here for 5. My paltry 9 months pales in comparison.

On Saturday, I fly to 宁夏 to begin my adventure. I hope during that time that my Chinese improves and that I grasp at some sort of direction in which to take my life. Either way, it's gonna be an experience.

counterfeit?

My Chinese tutor had an interesting lesson for me today. She told me that the 50 kuai bill that I had paid her with was counterfeit. When she went to the bank to deposit the money, they took it from her and destroyed it. The poor woman.

She apologized profusely on behalf the Chinese people. When I asked her that I might have gotten the bill accidentally, she was convinced that it was done on purpose. We then went over how to spot a counterfeit bill, along with watermarks, color-changing ink, and textures so even blind people can spot a fake. Unfortunately, none of those things help a dumb American.

So since now I'm out $6.25, I'm gonna start checking my 50s and 100s.

overcoming bureaucracy

At our dining hall, every day at lunch you have a good choice of a bunch of meat dishes, a few vegetable dishes. Behind a row of teller windows, lunch ladies stand in front of bowls, collecting the chits that are used for currency at DH (that's what I call dining hall [it's catching on]). You get to choose two meat and one veg, as well as a nice big block of rice. Usually, I'll mention one or two of the vegetables or dishes I know and point to the rest. I sit eating with chopsticks, shocking the teachers with my skill.

If someone finishes their tray and is still hungry, they are welcome to go back to back to the lunch ladies to get more...but only of the dishes that they chose the first time. Perhaps they are worried with too many choices the faculty may become fat. I'm not sure why, but some of the teachers have figured a way around this. After finishing your firsts, you clear off your tray into a soup bowl. (Soup is available at every meal. People drink that instead of a beverage.) Using your friend's tray, you get a bit of what you'd like to have that you didn't the first time, and go to the window. Spying your tray, they give you a refill of what they thought was there the first time. And boosh, you've beaten the system. Out of what, I have no idea, but you've beaten it. Congratulations.

syrup? not maple syrup, just syrup.

Squat toilets are not the most sweet smelling things. Trough squat toilets smell even worse. I will not describe the odor of trough squat toilets in a boys high school rest room. As Nadia and I pass the bathrooms, we can tell what day it is. Monday isn't too bad, but on Thursday I'm nauseous for the 20 seconds as I pass those foul rooms.

Today, however, there was a sweet smell of syrup as I walked by. Now this is not the syrup of the majority of my youth, not the amber nectar that is produced from the beautiful maple tree. This is the smell of fake syrup, of the french toast sticks of Burger King on an early morning trek to a ski race.

There is something pretty disturbing about the combination of smell and location. The smell is pleasant, but shouldn't be. The dissonance makes it that much worse. But, eh, such is China.

buddhism

This week, I'm trying to be Buddhist. I'm not drinking alcohol or eating meat. Avoiding these things isn't hard, as there are plenty of veggie dishes, as well as plenty of vegetables in the meat dishes. My main difficulty is dealing with the external peer pressure and the internal rationalization. Patrick feels weird drinking alone, and I can't blame him. Especially since I stare longingly at his glass as he drinks it.

Yesterday, I had planned the crown jewel in my no meat week. At all the major temples in Chengdu there are vegetarian restaurants. I took 3 buses to get to this temple, paid 5 kuai, and found out the restaurant was closed, just for that Saturday. Right then and there I almost went to How Nice, a Brazilian Barbecue buffet. But in Buddhism it worse to break your vows than to ever make them in the first place, so I reined myself in.

Instead, I went to the supermarket and bought all the vegetarian western food I could think of. Milk, cheese, bread, spaghetti sauce, real orange juice (hard to find), peanut butter, jelly, and most importantly, Planter's Honey Roasted Peanuts. I then gorged myself on them and watched Patton. Take that China!

So now I'm trying to recover from a peanut binge, but I still haven't broken my vow. I'm just glad I didn't make it lifetime.

a fantastic ride

After class today, I packed my bag full of books (V. by Thomas Pynchon, Chinese books by Chinese teachers) and headed off on my bicycle. I rode west and north to explore Xi Pu and Pi Xian. Pi Xian is about a half an hour away by bike, and gorgeous.

I went down one street with trees on one side, and a river on the other. All the establishments on this road were either tea gardens, beer gardens, or just garden gardens. If anybody else visits, this is where I'm bringing them.

Riding around in Pi Xian today, I came up with a new way to practice Chinese. If anyone says hello to me, I turn around, ride back to them, and ask them (in Chinese) if they speak English. This is a great opening into a conversation, and I met a ton of people.

On my way back, I passed an electric scooter, and then he passed me. As he passed me, he asked if I was tired. I said no, but he still offered his shoulder to me, and we shot down the road toward my home. We had a broken conversation--steering a bike, holding on to a shoulder, and speaking Chinese is a bit much for me--but it was good enough. Often I fantasize about grabbing on to the back of a scooter. It was nice to have someone offer.

It's too bad my time in Chengdu is winding down. Things are going so well.

xi'an and surroundings

Sorry for the lack of posts, but I've been on vacation (along with the rest of China). I also had the post-vacation work rush to deal with, hence the mid-week post.

Brian and I took a train up to Xi'an on Monday. We had a hard sleeper which was counter-intuitively comfortable, albeit intuitively hard. On the train we talked to a gaggle of strangers. One woman who I met after just getting on the train and putting my bags away was a real charmer. I told her in Chinese: "It's too hot!" She returned, "Perhaps it is just that you are too fat." Delightful. Now don't get me wrong, almost everyone calls me fat in China. It's just the too fat that bothers me. (Luckily, my Chinese teacher told me that she might have meant very fat, not too fat. Great.) The ride was a piece of cake, most of the sixteen hours happening while I was asleep.

Xi'an was cooking. Spring has sprung in China. Everywhere women had their umbrellas, their giant welder's-mask-like sun visors, their newspapers. We spent the first day checking out Xi'an proper, inside the giant city walls.

The day after, we went to the Terracotta Warriors, because if you're in Xi'an and you don't, you're an idiot. I wasn't too sure. First, we had to wait 45 minutes for a public bus. Then, about 2 or 3 kilometers away from the site, we hit huge amounts of traffic. It's barely a two-lane road, and there are buses up and down it. We finally get off the bus and walked. We walked past the entrance, and up into this tourist complex. It was filled with vendors, restaurants, and more vendors. All of them selling Terracotta miniatures for "one dollar!" When we arrived at a gate, we were told, nay gestured, that we were at the exit, and we had to walk back through the complex. And the vendors.

We finally made it in, and it was impressive. I can't imagine having all that built just for my dead body. But hey, maybe the afterlife is a rough place, and you need a division of clay soldiers to protect you. The sheer scale of everything in China is pretty amazing, and this rests its case.

We stood in line for another hour and a half for a bus back, and when we arrived, we ate some Paomo (noodles and lamb poured over pieces of bread), and I passed out.

Next we went to Hua Shan (Flower Mountain), THE MOST DANGEROUS MOUNTAIN IN ALL OF CHINA!!!!! Boy was it dangerous. We hiked for eight hours, and the scariest moment was when we thought we were going to be caught in a mob that was trying to push past some security guards/police. The place was crowded with tourists, but if you kept hiking up and up, you eventually outpaced the rest. On the east peak (there are five peaks in the shape of a blossom[I guess...], hence the name of Flower Mountain), we bought beds at exorbitant prices, and prepared for the sunrise the next morning.

We must have arrived early, for the rest of the night people trickled in. They either took a bed, or just bought a long army parka called a da yi (literally big clothes). By the time I turned in, there were people huddled against every wall, sometimes in a da yi, many times not. When I woke up at 4 (a little early for even a sunrise) I had to step over people sleeping outside my door. I staked out a spot and absorbed the quiet beauty of the mountain without an incredible amount of people. By the time the sun was rising at about 5:30, the barriers on the peak of the mountain were crowded like people were waiting for the Shriners at a parade.

A gorgeous sunrise, then a race to the bottom. Some of the other tourists waited for the last cusp of the sun to clear the horizon, and set off at a dead run for the bottom (Or to be accurate, the cable car to the bottom). We set off at a leisurely pace, and got to the cable car (after standing in line) at about 10:30. We then had a horrendous bus ride back that took almost twice as long, due to construction, and you guessed it, traffic.

The next day I spent relaxing, and the day after that, we took the train back to Chengdu. Now when I bought the tickets I could have sworn the lady said soft seats. Considering my Chinese, I was completely wrong. I booked hard seats. But since this time I had an seat assignment, and I wasn't standing room only (like I was for my previous 14 hour hard seat experience) it was cake.

My favorite thing about hard seats is that they try to sell you some great stuff. Sure there's snacks, drinks, beer, and even hot food, but they also try to sell you bracelets and toys and cool games. By far, the best, however, is the sock salesman. First he throws packets of socks at you, the motivation being that if you are simply close to the socks, you will want to buy them. Then he lets you touch the socks. Then he takes a fork, or some other object with a bunch of tines, stabs it into the sock, then drags the fork the length of the sock three or four times. The sock comes out unharmed! It is amazing. The final act is when he gets some unsuspecting audience member to grab one edge of the top of the sock while he grabs the other, and they both are unable to tear this incredible garment asunder. I'm shocked that I've been through two hard seat rides and I haven't bought any socks. I have a will of steel I tell you, a will of steel.

Finally our trip was done, and I was able to get some good spicy food. I missed Chengdu.

Editor's Note: Never ever travel in China during the first week of May, first week of October, or Spring Festival. These are national holidays, and everywhere is packed. I saw numerous guided tours, families, tourists, and it drove me nuts. You could come at any other time to China. Do not come during national holidays. DO NOT.

le shan revisited

Midterm exams began the day before yesterday, and while the Chinese teachers and students worked hard, the foreign teachers were whisked off to Le Shan. Patrick and I had visited once before, but because of the crowds, we were only able to see a giant ear and face. We figured since this time it was a Thursday, and it was raining, the line wouldn't be as bad. It wasn't. Still it was pretty bad.

After being led around in circles, we were finally able to get to the spot where you either to decide to a.) wait in line for 45 minutes to slowly walk down stairs (still in a line) to see the Grand Buddha from his feet, or b.) give up. Our guide took told us that the only way down was by this staircase. This clearly wasn't the case, as we certainly had not come in via those stairs, and the party began to get restless.

A quick note: our party was augmented this rainy day by 2 headmasters from 2 schools in England. I think their presence made it easier for the following to happen.

As we stood in line, I thanked God I had glasses on, because the chance of getting poked in the eye from a stray umbrella spar was quite high. While I watched, a woman looked me straight in the eye, and cut me. This is the type of thing that bothers me. I don't know why. It just does. I said hello to her, she smiled, nodded, said hello back, and moved forward more, just to make it clear who was ahead of who. I decided I didn't want to stand in line anymore.

The first time in Le Shan, Patrick and I regretted not taking a boat to see the Buddha. You miss all the lines and you get a better perspective on Da Fo. We'd been talking it up all day, and our stint in the line finally riled people up enough to demand it.

We exited the park, got back in the minibus, and drove to the docks. There was another hour long wait for the big boat. Not deterred, our driver found us a motorboat. There was no line, but it was open-topped and expensive. Luckily, it wasn't our money we were spending. We got into the motorboat, and it sped off towards the statue. In 5 minutes, we were out in front of it, staring at it's grandeur. The boat took as many pictures as possible, and we headed back. The trip, all-told, took 15 minutes. The boatman took away 450 kuai for that 15 minutes. That's...1800 kuai an hour, as David Brent would point out. For my money, it was worth it.

After an exciting boat ride, we were bundled back into the minibus and taken to the swankiest restaurant in Le Shan. I stuffed myself full of tofu, pig's ear, a tofu dish very reminiscent of fried dough, and many other things as well. Delicious. Washing it down with a few beers, I slept most of the way back to Chengdu. Not bad for a Thursday.

flip-flop fascism

I have always been a sandal activist. I brought this type of comfortable footwear to the Athenaeum, Trustee Meetings, etc. I even faced down a professor at an Ath Committee meeting about it. At college, it was about all that any administrator could say to me. "Got your sandals on, I see." (Except DOS. They rock.) College is great because you aren't getting paid, you are paying (or more precisely, being paid for). That makes you the boss, in my book.

Jobs, however, are different. At school I am not the boss. At my old job, I had to wear a tie. A tie doesn't bother me, as long as I can wear flip-flops. Couldn't do that either. But I could deal, because you can make the argument that wearing flip-flops is too casual with a shirt and tie.

At my new job, this is not the case. Teachers wear ripped jeans and t-shirts to class. And so when my boss tells me that slippers are too casual, I want to say that we should not allow ripped jeans or t-shirts. Or even that everyone needs to wear their uniform, which is a chilled out gray suit. I'm pretty sure however, that not one teacher would approve of that decision.

But I think it gets back to culture. While almost all clothing is considered fashionable and perhaps more than casual, it seems that footwear might have a decided message to it. I think I may be straying too far away from that foreign teacher ideal that my administration is shooting for. I'm not sure what the connotation of the flip-flop is, but I have a feeling that the middle/upper class with their long pinky nails and fear of the sun may not like it.

No matter. Since entering the real world, I have become a little less headstrong [read wimp, pragmatic, smart, whatever]. Sandals are not what is important in life. I think. I'm not positive, though.


P.S.--I chose fascism only because it was an alliteration. *wink*

painful news

I'm a bit self-conscious in China. Continually on my guard against pick-pockets, swindlers, and laowai who speak better Chinese than I do, I might be a bit more sensitive to perceived insults, value-judgments, and borderline patronizing comments. A Chinese English speaker on the bus a few weeks ago asked me if I knew the city of Beijing. Another asked if I knew how many people lived in China (my number was more recent than hers).

Therefore, I get a little touchy when discussing the Virginia Tech tragedy with the Chinese. Now this just might be where my head is at, but with some people it seems like there is some triumph in their eyes when they ask, "Did you hear about the Virgina University....?[the hand gesture for pistol is used]"

One of my students posited that since it is so important to make money in the United States, that if you don't do it, you go crazy. I told him that Seung-Hui Cho was troubled before he moved to the United States, but he either did not understand or did not listen.

Another was worried that this would affect his chances of going to college in the States in 4 years. I told him, with all confidence, that firstly, that Mr. Cho was South-Korean, and secondly, he was an outlier and no one in the US would say that all South Koreans are that way, much less all Asians.

It occurred to me later that perhaps my idealism prevents me from seeing the truth. Perhaps my student will have difficulties getting into the States because of this incident. I hope to God he is wrong, but who am I to say with such assurance that it won't happen?

I always try to answer questions as honestly as possible. Even then, afterwards I sometimes get the feeling that I may have been telling what I thought was the truth to my student and fooling myself.

a nice house

This was a sweet place. First off, it's on Zhi Min Street. Now, pronounced correctly the street is ja meen, which is close enough to sound like German for me. And the name of the place was Rhine Side. Now, a place that is set up for me to lay a joke like that and make an incredible first impression with party goers...wow...it's gotta be great.

I went through a sparse lobby and rode the elevator up to the 21st floor. I noticed at that point that after the 15th floor, the buttons went up by twos. When I entered the apartment, I could see why.

The best thing about this apartment, by far, is the spiral staircase in the center of the living room, which led up to a sitting area and the bedroom, on the 22nd floor. Freaking sweet. Even better, I got to christen the banister with an inaugural slide down, because since the owner hadn't thought to try it yet. The ride was short, but well worth it. They do need to wax the banister a bit more, however.

In addition to a spiral staircase, they have a large balcony with a set of patio furniture and a beautiful view. Great for parties or a quiet breakfast of watching the world go by.

The feather that made the camel's posturpedic mattress that cured his back pain was a full sized oven, which many said was the first one they had seen in a house in China. Mine is the size of a toaster oven.

The company was pleasant as well, but what I would do for a banister of my own!

Rediculous house, nice house party.

a delightful cab ride

After a nice house party, and a ridiculous house (which i have just decided to write a whole separate entry on), I made my goodbyes and started home. I was gonna walk to Tianfu and take a cab from there to save some extra kuai, but after a cab made a U-ie for me, I decided to take him up on his offer, even though I had a few more blocks to go.

I asked him to take me home, and he gave me the uniform, "Your Chinese is good." I think he said something about me saying Xipu better than some Zhong Guo Ren, but I can't be sure because I didn't understand him. He proceeded to talk to me at such a rate that I felt the Micro Machine spokesman couldn't keep up. I told him I understood a little, and to speak slower. At that he threw his head back and laughed (we were luckily at a green light), and said, "Your pronunciation is good but you don't understand anything!" We shared a small chuckle about what a crazy laowai I am, and drove the rest of the way in silence.

When we arrived at my school I paid, and he gave me a wave and a thumbs up. Exactly what I needed.

Jon Grassbaugh: A Good Man Who Will Be Missed

Jon Grassbaugh, an American soldier in Iraq was killed on April 7th by an IED. I went to school with him, and he was a solid, funny, easy-going guy. He was able to bring levity and fun into any situation, and he will be missed by all who knew him. A link to the Concord Monitor article is here. Whatever the American objectives are in Iraq, we are paying a terrible toll.

Chuan Ju

The night of the Panda morning, Brian, Patrick, Strav, and Steve had a quick dinner before a minivan picked us up at our school and drove us to the Sichuan Opera. Now the Sichuan Opera we saw turns out to me not the traditional opera, but more of a vaudeville show with many different acts.

Many of the acts were done in traditional Sichuan costume, I believe. We began with a fight between the heroes of "The Romance of the Three Kingdoms," and their enemy, Lu Bu. Brightly colored costumes and intricate choreography kept me from taking pictures, but man, was it great. There were some songs and dances, a comedic/acrobatic skit featuring a strong woman and her soft-eared (read whipped) husband. Another great act was two women juggling with their feet. awesome. Yeah, those are tables.

The penultimate act was what everyone comes for, the mysterious face changing. Seven or eight dancers came on stage with cloth masks on. They dance around, and every so often, there will be cymbal crash, and his or her mask will change in the blink of an eye. I think I figured out how they got the masks off (I'm not telling), but I can't figure out how they were able to put the masks back on as they did at the end of the act. Talk about entertaining.

After the show was over, the cast all came back on to thunderous applause, and we left the operahouse, boarded a van, and rode back to Xipu. Needless to say we were bushed, and after a few oreos, we went to bed.

Complaints Abound

Well, listen, I've talked to some of my readers, and I have recieved two complaints about my blog. One, it has been lacking capitalization, and two, it is not updated often enough. Well, here is my attempt to appease both of these complainers.

In my defense, I've always thought lack of capitalization was a nice socialistic idea, giving no word any extra force, whether it be referring to myself, the beginning of a sentence, or dare I say it, God. But we'll see how this works out, if it really is easier to read this way.

As for my posting, I have fallen a bit behind in that. I've been making new friends, I have 3 more Chinese lessons a week, and I am still lazy. 3 strikes against me posting regularly. I am still going to my best to overcome my challenges, and angry readers are a great motivator. Thanks for your interest, and be excited to read a post tomorrow. (Fingers crossed.)

pandamonium

get it? get it?

after a few days of leaving strav and steve to their own devices (which mostly consisted of oreos and sight seeing), jesse came on thursday. his plane got in on time (shockingly!) and we had a great dinner at cheers, where strav turned his charm up high. after a lot of smiles and a good meal, we hit the sack.

the next morning we were up early, and took a cab to Panda Headquarters, Chengdu. Basically a big panda zoo, the enclosures were spacious, with a ton of bamboo and jungle gym type apparatuses. we got there at 8 when it opened, and were disappointed by the lack of giant pandas. my guide book said that after 10, when they've been fed, they become basically comatose. we walked around for a while until they began feeding. i think you may have had to been here to understand, but they were so human.

the bamboo is put into holes drilled into the ground, so it stands as if it grew there. the adult pandas waddle over, take a seat, and rip a stalk off. they peel it with their teeth, and begin to munch away with abandon, every so often stopping to get another stalk. one kept hitting another in the face with the shoots, but neither seemed to care. it was great.

we then walked up to the panda cub enclosure, where there were about 8-10 panda cubs playing and eating. they would climb over the jungle gyms, fight, and chase the scrubs-clad zoo keeper around. pretty cute.

after that we saw some red pandas, which look like a cross between a fox and a raccoon that climbs trees. we could have had our pictures taken with it, but 50 kuai seemed a little much. maybe next year. after that, we walked around a little, then headed back home. we arrived at school at about 11. not bad for a morning's work.

sunday funday

the day after st. pats, we woke up late, and went to check out chengdu xiao chi cheng, famous for its snacks or "small eats" (xiao chi). apparently, my luck of the irish ran out, because i was hurting that morning. we made our way to a cab with bags in tow, and got in. i tried to explain to the cab driver where we wanted to go, and either because my voice was too gravelly, my chinese was polluted from the night before, or we were marked for uninformed tourists, i did not have an easy time. eventually, i got out my rough guide to lay it out for him, and the cab driver still got the wrong place.

he dropped us off at chunxi lu, chengdu's premier shopping plaza. the noodle restaurant he thought we wanted was packed to the gills with chinese, leaving us no place to sit, let alone put the huge bags. instead, we walked through chunxi lu, ogled the commercialism, and caught another cab on the other side.

we took this to dufu's cottage, which was our primary tourist spot we were going to hit after lunch. luckily, almost every tourist attraction in chengdu has a restaurant somewhere inside, so we went looking for some tasty, yet pricey fare.

apparently there was a wedding reception just ending at the restaurant as we entered. there were huge round tables covered with red table cloths, confetti, and a few hardcore guests still eating and drinking. i could smell the baijiu, having a bit of experience with it, but steve and strav did not seem to notice. we were led off to another room where we were given an english menu to peruse. we ordered a wide range of things, including something listed on the menu as "simmered pears." i should have recognized the characters for ku gua.

our meal came in fits and starts, as is it is the way a chinese restaurant works. midway through, strav got up to use the restroom. it was here that strav had his first real baijiu experience. he came back talking about a bathroom covered in vomit and stinking of baijiu. as anyone who as drank it can tell you, it has a very distinctive smell. from that point on strav could smell what i was talking about in the main room.

eventually the "simmered pears" came, which was actually bitter melon. my least favorite vegetable in the world (no hyperbole there), bitter melon is...well, extremely bitter. it is said to take away the burning of sichuan food, but i would much prefer to burn. i can't help make a face like i'm drinking baijiu while eating it. we left soon after, with our lives intact, and began to explore dufu's cottage.

dufu is a famous chinese poet, and his place was niiiiiice. i guess he lived in a 4 room grass hut, but all around it there is a compound that might suit the chinese kennedy's. though it's a beautiful place to walk around, it was very similar to every other park in chengdu. bamboo, koi ponds, flowers, and ancient chinese buildings. the one thing that was different was a room full of statues of 10 of the most famous chinese poets and summaries of their lives in chinese and english. it turns out most of them were failed officials.

also, mao visited and had his picture taken there, so all the chinese tourists have their picture taken in the same spot. according to their motto for this trip, "when in rome..." strav and steve also had their picture taken there. check out the mao-type looks on their faces.

after that we took a cab to my apartment and chilled a bit. steve and strav settled in, enjoying the mint oreos that china has to offer. after some good maxin', we went to cheers, where strav promptly fell in love with fuwuyuan (waitress). he was no match for her smile, sunny disposition, and huge vocabulary that patrick and i (mostly patrick) taught her. after a great meal (of course), we headed back to my place and crashed. what a delightful, albeit a bit hungover day.

qing cheng shan (green castle mountain)

so the first day that steve and strav got here, we woke up, grabbed a bus and took a two-hour ride to qing cheng shan. after a nice bus ride full of cards and reminiscing we arrived in the crisp, cleaner air of the mountain. we had an expensive lunch of unspicy sichuan food. i think they saw us as wimpy tourists and took it easy on us. way too easy. boring kung pao chicken, boring fish flavored eggplant, boring qing cheng greens. ah well, it set the guys up for a delicious initiation into chengdu cuisine, which they had yet to experience.

as we climbed we ran into porters which were carrying people up the mountain in sedan chairs. pretty ostentatious. at one of the temples which line the path to the top, i had a conversation with one of these porters. quickly we got on to politics, and soon he was talking about bu si. i couldn't figure it out until he yelled it 80 times in a row, at which time all three of us laowai realized he was talking about our illustrious president. he went on to talk about yi la ke, and how that was a big bad egg. very interesting.

we thought the steps would never stop. finally, we reached the top of the mountain, and in the clouds there was a giant pagoda with a huge golden cow inside. it was about 30 feet high, and 40 wide. i'm pretty sure the god of the 10 commandments would not be happy about it.

we climbed down, and had a nice bus ride back. we had a quick nap, and then went out to celebrate st. patty's day. huge deal in chengdu. big irish-chinese population. not really. but it would be cool if there was.

explanation

again, sorry for the break. steve, strav, and jesse visited last week, and i spent the days after cleaning up and recovering. this entry marks that i'm back to a hundred percent. we had a great time, and because of them, i got to see a bunch of the sites in chengdu that i haven't checked out before. so to come are a bunch of entries about the entertainment of these three intrepid travelers. check it.

a nice lunch

i sat down to lunch alone in the cafeteria. it was 12:10, 5 minutes before class got out, and the place was empty. when class got out however, a few people sat down. first was an art teacher i met a few weeks ago. he set his students' drawings on the table as he went to go get food. while he was gone, hiro came by and sat down, and then a student i met a few nights ago. i felt like the most popular girl at the dance.

so we sat and ate, and talked about march madness and sports terms in chinese. the yuen dong, the art teacher, asked me what i was doing after lunch in chinese. sadly, i didn't understand him the first time, even though that was the exact same question i was asked 30 times the day before in our weekly chinese class. luckily, i got him the second time.

i said resting, which was one of the responses from class, and he offered to show me his classes' paintings and drawings. we walked into the gym--first time i've been there--and looked at the easels and the drawings. pretty good, in my opinion. while we were checking out the art, his phone rang, and he motioned for me to follow him.

we went out to the street, where the vendors are. we stopped by the fish vendor, which is a guy standing next to a modified motorcycle with a pick-up truck for a back filled with a tarp, water, and fish. most of the fish were this boring bottom of the river black, but one was a bright orange koi. gorgeous. as dong pointed to the orange one for the fishman, i worried about the future of this delightful fish.

after dropping it on the ground only once, the fishman got the koi in a plastic grocery bag. dong paid him 20 kuai (2 and a half dollars), and we walk off toward the condo development north of my school. i've never been past the menacing guards, and boy was it nice. we walked through a nice little park, and to a condo, which dong yelled up at. a woman peeked out quickly, then disappeared.

a nice old lady answered the door, and we went into the largest house i've seen so far in china. to be honest, i've not been into too many houses. she took the fish from dong, and the went out into the backyard, with me following behind. outside there was a gorgeous patio and luckily, a nice koi pond. phew. the fish got dropped in, and li bobo--at least i think that was it--gave me a handful of fish food. so i fed the fish, and then we walked back to school.

on our way back we talked about cars, and i learned the word for gasoline, and i told my first wittisicsm in chinese. (it was about how these giant suvs often have tiny people inside them). eliciting laughter is always nice...but i guess i shouldn't be too happy about it.

what a great day!

the rocking of class 9B

ah the fickle crowd. at the beginning of class, i was handed a note, nay, a letter, by my rebellious student about how to make my classes better. turns out i didn't need it.

i rocked them hardcore...with a lesson plan i borrowed from patrick. it occurs to me that preparation is a huge part of teaching and preparation is not my strong suit. now the fact that it's taken me well into my 2nd year of teaching to realize this says something. luckily, it seems that at least one of patrick's strong suits is preparation, so for the rest of the semester, i'll be appropriating as much of his preparation as i can for myself.

i think 9B should be my litmus test. i think my other classes, while they might feel the same as 9B--that the lessons are boring, they don't like what we're doing, etc--they are too frightened or polite to say anything. 9B has no such compunctions. if they don't like it, they ignore me, or stand up in class and berate me.

just what i needed.

quote

before class.

boy 1: something indecipherable in chinese.
boy 2: he says you are fatter than before.
me: oh.

pretty straight forward. no offense meant, no negative connotation--i've just added some meat to the bones.

does make me want to start running again though.

the revolt of class 9B

this new semester has been going well. i'm energized, the students have been energized, i had a good lesson plan...and then 9B happened. with a vengeance.

they are my toughest class, and i have them monday mornings. i have two students i think who are on a listening comprehension of the rest of my 8th grade classes. the rest tune out immediately, chatting with each other, reading chinese books, and working on other homework. i try to get them chatting with each other to explain to me the traditions associated with chinese new year. in past classes, they have fallen right into it, excited to explain to the laowai about their culture.

here, they sit dejected in their seats. after five minutes of chatting in chinese, i ask for some answers. blank stares. one girl raises her hand and starts speaking to me in chinese. i ignore her, and sigh with relief when one of my two students prepared for my class puts his hand up. i call on him, and he tells me, with defiance, that this plan is boring.

not what i expected. luckily, the second half of my lesson plan is a survey trying to figure out what my students want to learn this coming semester. i explain this in simple terms to the class and to my defiant student who is still standing. i hand out the survey, emphasizing that this will make class less boring, and more about what they want to learn.

my defiant student finally sits down, luckily, they did not applaud him, and i tell him if he thinks this class is boring, i need his help to make it more exciting. his solution is that he acts as my interpreter, translating my english instructions into chinese. i explain to him he may be missing the point of having a foreign teacher.

the bell finally rings, and i collect the surveys. a collection of poignant insights to help the class be more enjoyable they are not.

what would you like to learn about american culture?
i don't want to learn. i love china.

i'm afraid what we have here is a classic case of miscommunication. i gotta figure out how to bridge this gap. i know they can do this, i just got to get to them somehow.

luckily, i'm optimistic.