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.