Cooking Adventures

My friend Tracey and I frequently cook -- teaching each other recipes from our homelands. Here she is (with her assistant Stone) teaching me how to cook qiezi & yu (eggplant with dried fish):



. . .
And here we have huanggua chao jidan (Cucumber & Eggs):

"PAGE LOAD ERROR -- NETWORK TIMEOUT"

"PAGE LOAD ERROR -- NETWORK TIMEOUT"
Usually these words are associated with a bad internet connection or momentary glitch...but when you're in China, you know better.
. . .
Twice in the past 2 weeks YouTube has been blocked. The first was for videos that depicted a Ti bet an being beaten by Chinese military. The second time...well, we're not quite sure...perhaps there still working on the situation.
. . .
On March 30th the "State Administration of Radio, Film, and TV" released a notice of the new requirements for internet videos and audio. Click on this post's title for the article.
. . .
Here are a few fun excerpts:

There shall be no "excessively frightening images, text, background music, or sound effects". Terrified by sound affects? Serious?! I mean, I've jumped when BAM! something happens in a movie, but I'm not sure that I've ever heard a...uh, "excessively frightening sound effect". Sometimes I just don't know. That's when I just shake my head and sigh -- "China".

Also, in association with religious audio-visual, "hurting the feelings of the public" is prohibited. I guess Christianity doesn't qualify under these regulations. We know that Christ was offensive -- people murdered Him because they didn't like the message He brought. But Christ's goal wasn't to spread a popular message. It was to spread the Truth.
. . .
We'll see what happens.
At least China will be achieving its dream of a "harmonious society". (I hate that phrase.)

HAIKU!

This past week I had my classes write haikus -- syllables are challenging for them. I was curious to introduce this poetry form since it's a Japanese style of poetry and most Chinese (99.9%) hate the Japanese, but it went quite well. Here are a few:
. . .
Tunnel through the time
See a candle in the wind
Direct us go ahead
. . .
After a sudden meet
You will change my life, I thought
Can you leave your heart
. . .
A beautiful night
Girl dancing and boy singing
They are fall in love
. . .
I have many dreams
If I were a bird in sky
I can fly freely
. . .
Food is delicious
Meat, milk, and vegetable
I love food so much
. . .
It's an animal
We think it's lazy and fat
We all call them pigs
. . .
The girl is charmful
Long hair, slim and wonderful
You must be careful
. . .
Bird can fly anywhere
Blue bird I really want to be
Freedom is my dream
. . .
Chinese girl is good
Piano, chess writing, and drawing
Let's marry with them
. . .
Friendship is glorious
Linked by ties of fate, unselfish
Let's treasure it now
. . .
What is a Haiku?
It is "H-A-I-K-U"
I don't really know
. . .
China I love you
China do you love me too?
My love is hot to you
. . .
We play Warcraft games
Mountain King and Super Fort
God like if choose them

The Pressure of Chinese Education

I live in an apartment building with 7 other teachers and our fu wu yuan (housekeeper/cleaning lady/landlady/etc.) and her family. The family consists of the mom, dad, a 14 year old girl, and a newly adopted, yippy puppy named duo duo who goes back and forth between nuzzling up against us and biting our ankles. The daughter is a good student and her English is improving very quickly. I'm always surprised at her schedule: she leaves before I do each morning (prior to 7:30am) and returns home nearly 14 1/2 hours later at 10pm. This is her normal routine Monday through Friday, and on Saturday she has an English tutor come for a few hours before she starts her homework.
. . .
And this is the normal schedule of any student. High school, a time that seems (relatively) very carefree in American education, is the most stressful time of a Chinese student. They have no social life and are constantly studying for the dreaded gao kao -- the exam that determines whether a student goes to college or not. When a student passes the gao kao, universities then select the student, and the student may choose which one of those universities he or she would like to go to.
. . .
Once at college, everything changes. For the first time, students have the freedom and time to participate in social activities and they can relax a bit in their studies. It's interesting to watch my students, because, at times, them seem like high schoolers. But then I realize that they are just being introduced to what we call a "social life".
. . .
To further illustrate this point, I wanted to share something one of my students wrote:
. . .
"Nobody can deny the function of education. Education is the only way of saving a nation. But if it is carried out in a blind and narrow way, it’s negative effect can be destructive.
“What goal should edu achieve? Should it be the onlytool of getting a good job, living a decent life, or entering upper class? Should it’s objective focus on skills of earning a living?
“In my opinion, it’s definitely not! So what should be the ultimate aim of education? I think it’s first goal should be carrying forward and cultivating the free spirit, teaching next generation how to think and seek happiness of life, how to know about the world. China does emphasize the value of education, so parents push their children to study desperately at school. In China, middle school students have to stay in the classroom from 7am (even more early, say, 5am) to 7 pm (even later, say, 9:30pm). It is the truth. Students bury their heads into teaching materials – books and exercises. No activities. What’s worse is a large size of class, students’ voice couldn’t be heard in most of classes. Teachers control the class and is the only speaker all the time. Gradually, students care nothing, because nobody cares them. Even if they yell, who cares?
"Please free our students from being controlled both physically and mentally! Our nation needs real national spirit and strength. Let education be the hope of China. We need to think and step forward.”
. . .

This week...

Food poisoning sucks!
. . .
Back in a few days.

In the Studio

The vacation recap will continue with the coming blogs, but now a story from this week:
. . .
For the past few months I've had a side job at the recording studio on campus. I come in a few times a week and read for English textbooks -- simple sentences, dialogues, monologues, speeches, stories...whatever they have. Usually I read with another American. Last semester it was Kyle from Alaska; this semester it's Kyle from Minnesota. We usually have a pretty good time -- there's always some good chinglish to keep us laughing.
. . .
W: Andy, I will have an important exam tomorrow. Can you give me some advice? M: Sure. Are you feeling a bit nervous?
W: Yes, I feel stressed.
M: Perhaps you should try this white t-shirt. And white can make you feel calm.
W: OK. What do you think of my blue jeans?
M: It's a good idea to wear blue jeans because blue and white are a good match.
W: Anything else?
M: You'd better take your yellow stationary. You know, yellow represents wisdom.
W: Yes. That's right. Thanks.
. . .
But this week is different. This week Kyle and I work separately and there are no simple sentences, no dialogues, no monologues, no speeches, and no stories. This week we are reading from the dictionary. Just word after word -- each one 3 times over: slow, slower, normal. I've never had to takes so many yawning breaks before. And ya know how people joke about things being "as boring as reading the dictionary"... Well, I disagree. Nothing is that boring.
. . .
And it's even worse at 9:30 a.m. About every 20 minutes we "save file" and that gives me a chance to wake up. During one of the breaks I found a soccer ball in the studio and started kicking it around. I was like a puppy that had been penned up for the whole day. The guy who overseas the recording and makes sure we say the right thing came in and asked me if I could be "a little more excited". You're joking, right? We both laughed. But he was being serious. And so now I have to read the words as if I'm seeing them for the first time.
. . .
"ABILITY"! Oh, and "SCHEDULE"! And "CHARACTER"! What a marvelous thing that one could comprise mere letters and conjure up such entertaining sounds!
. . .
This is my life for 2 hours a day. But it's amazing how we still manage to have a good time. The yawning and my Seattle accent keep us on our toes. Sometimes I am requested to say words in a British accent (ex. schedule) because that is the phonetic spelling given in this dictionary, and we all get a kick out of this. So it's back to the studio tomorrow -- on to the C's, D's, and E's.

Jail Cells for Cheap: Guangzhou Pt. 3

The guys left Guangzhou for Hainan; I still had 2 days until my flight to Dhaka. Their last day consisted of meals with friends and finding a wang ba (internet cafe) to print off flight information. China is littered with wang ba's so finding one wouldn't be too difficult -- we use them all the time when we're traveling or our internet goes out. They're just big open rooms with rows and rows of PCs and comfy chairs -- mostly filled with gamers and college students who are so glued to the monitor that a natural disaster couldn't stir them. It's the quitest place you'll find in China.
. . .
Later we had lunch with 3 chinese friends -- 2 girls and a guy, Frank. The meal was phenemonenal! There was a live seafood market below the restaurant where we picked out the fish, shrimp, and scallops we wanted to eat. The staff would fish them out of their tanks and take them straight to the kitchen where the chef would prepare them as we requested.

After the meal, we asked our friends where we could find the nearest net bar...the girls' response was: "Wang ba? maybe it's not safe." ("maybe" always means "definitely") Drew, Keegan, and I just looked at each other. We turned to Frank. "Yeah, there's one by my hotel."
. . .
There turned out to be open rooms at his hotel. "It's not nice, but it's really cheap." That sounded fine to me. Little did I know that I was about to be charged 40 yuan a night ($5.70) to sleep in a converted jail cell. The door was metal and looked like something out of the 1940's. When you turned the key in the lock a little square door opened and your hand shot through. To actually unlock the door you had to lift up the metal bar on the inside of the door and slide it across. The bars on the windows were the added touch. Welcome to jail.
. . .
My bathroom was furnished with a water heater and a bucket. I was a little leary of the water heater since I could distinguish the flames heating the water. It will not explode. It will not explode. It will not explode. There was also the shower head which was conveniently positioned over the squatter (also my sink drain). It was never exactly appetizing to spit my toothpaste into the squatter -- always felt like I needed to brush them again.
. . .
The last full day I was in Guangzhou I was treated to a tour of the city by a few of my friends: Ken, Clark, and Moon. We saw the Sun Yat Sen Memorial Park and the famous Beijing Lu (Beijing Street) where you could see the layers of buried roads that had been used during the ancient dynasties.

They also showed my around their campus -- the Guangzhou School of Business. "This is the only field...this is the only gym...this is the only library...this is the only park...everything here is 'only'." It looked quite big to me, but, then again, Guangzhou has a "university city" which is a city comprised of 10 or so university campuses, complete with restaurants and malls and post offices and anything anyone would ever need.
. . .
I went back to my jail cell that night and flipped through the ear-piercing, terrible acting Chinese TV shows but I didn't even notice them, because in less than 12 hours I would on a plane out of this country -- the first time since I arrived in August.

Closest to China's Heart are Squatters & Communism: Guangzhou Pt. 2

The sun was blinding as we stepped out of the subway. It was as if we hadn't seen it for months (which is closer to the truth than not). There we stood in the middle of the sidewalk -- frozen as we stared at something so rare and beautiful: clear blue sky. We walked the entire city (my knee giving out long before Keegan and Drew grew tired). We eventually made our way back to the subeay and headed to "Xia Jiao Station" -- we would meet a friend there later that night for KTV (karaoke). By this point we were starving. As we made our way for the exit, we all agreed "we could go for some McDonald's". That was our plan... But as we ascended the steps, all we could see was clear blue sky. We didn't want sky, we want skyscrapers...and one of them to have a McDonald's. But there we stood on the landing with growling stomachs and an expanse of farmland in front of us. "Where ARE we?!" It was as if we popped up in the middle of the countryside. The tallest builiding was maybe 6 stories. But we did end up finding a restaurant with some of the best eggs and tomatoes we've ever eaten.
. . .
I spent the next day on my own at Starbucks. I love coffee shops -- some of my favorite places in Seattle are coffee shops. (Caffe Ladro, Chocolati, Top Pot...I'll see you in July.) But what I loved about this one was the footprints on the western toilet. The preference to squatters still stands firm in China.
[For more info on squatters: http://www.banterist.com/archivefiles/000348.html ]
. . .
Huo Guo (Hot Pot) dinner with some Chinese friends who Keegan knew. We spent 4 hours at dinner (which only felt like 1). I had an interesting conversation with one of my new friends. He and I both have degrees in business, so we started there, and from there, as all conversations do, it morphed into a variety of topics...religion being a main one. When I asked him of his faith, he replied that he belived in something but didn't know exactly what he believed. He said he went to church "for peace". He continued to explain to me the decline of religion within China; that it's mostly the oldest generation that holds firmest (if at all) to faith. "Communism is the religion of China," he said. So it is.

"Look! Foreigners": Guangzhou Pt.1

Guangzhou was my 1st destination. I traveled there with 2 other teachers, and none of us could wait to reach warmer weather. But, wouldn't ya know it, we were stuck in the Chongqing airport for a few extra hours due to "fright delays".
. . .
Realizing that the idea of a taxi from the subway station to our hotel at 11 at night was far superior to the idea of meandering around in the dark for a few hours in hunt of our lodging, we hailed the next cab. Yeah, we would have never found it. The cab weaved down and back the freeway on-ramps and through a part of town which looked strikingly similar to the road beneath the Viaduct around Pioneer Square and Safeco Field. Chain link fences, railroad tracks, and just some sketchy alleys. But things are never as they seem in China. Safe? Sure. But it sure doesn't feel like it.
. . .
From the taxi we saw 5 black guys walking down the alley. "Look! Waiguoren!" (We always get a little excited when we see foreigners.) One of them was dressed in full Arabic garb. "Cool." They were staying at our hotel which conveniently had an Arabic restaurant.
. . .
Room 702.
We stood in the elevator looking at the buttons for awhile.
"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...where's 7? there's no 7. how can there be no 7?!"
By way of the elevator there's no 7, so we went to the 6th floor -- logical. Coming out of the elevator and turning the corner we saw a stairwell with old chairs stacked on one side. It looked like the staircase to the attic where they put the undesirables.
We were in 702. Quasimodo was in 701.
. . .
Needing a little fresh air and, perhaps, a late night snack, we ventured out.
"Hey look! There's a shop with Arab clothing." "Yeah, and there's another Arabic restaurant...and another...and another...and there's more black people...a lot of them...WHERE ARE WE?!" We would find out the next day from some local friends that our hotel was situated in "Little Africa" -- the Muslim quarter of Guangzhou. Mostly black people, a few Chinese, 2 white guys and a pale girl. Out of all the minorities, we were the minority of the minorities.
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Click on this post's title for pics!

A Chinese Wedding

"Wait, was that the ceremony?" This was my response to the Chinese wedding I attended at the beginning of January. It seemed like more of a variety show than a actual wedding. Allow me to explain...
. . .
About 2 months ago I was asked to be in a Chinese wedding by a friend of the happy couple. "Really? Why?" were the only words I could find at that moment. Yes, I know that sounds a bit rude and ungrateful, but hear me out. In China, being an American -- white face, brown hair, blue eyes -- means being a bit of a celebrity. The myriad of photos taken (even during my class by my students), the constant yells of "hello!" as I pass by followed by the giggles of both gals AND guys, the stupid requests to perform at competitions we've only been invited to watch, being taken places so that people can be seen with us...it's ridiculous and confusing. So often it's just: "TIAOWU HOUZI TIAOWU" (dance monkey dance). Now you might understand my reaction when, not even knowing the bride or the groom but only the daughter of the groom's father's friends, I was asked to be the maid of honor. The MAID OF HONOR! I've never even seen these people before! But, as the American girl and in hopes of another China adventure, I tiaowu-ed.
. . .
I packed my overnight bag with 5 different outfits, not knowing what to wear as the maid of honor in a Chinese wedding. It was only when we arrived at a location a few hours away that I was informed that my services were no longer needed. (Typical of Chinese agreements to "save face" and not expose the breaking of an agreement until the absolute last moment when it seems like an unavoidable, unforeseen crisis [which it isn't] and then you are stuck with whatever they had intended.) It turns out, most people...actually, all except the bride and groom...wear jeans and sweaters to the wedding. It's incredible casual. I felt so under dressed but I was the same as everyone else. It even looked like one kid was wearing pajamas.
. . .
We sat in the banquet room of the hotel waiting for the couple to arrive. (Since there are no churches as we have in America, couples typically get married in hotels.) There must have been 20 or 30 tables set up for all the guests. We, the token Americans, sat with the extended family. My fellow monkeys didn't get enough sleep the night before which was evident by the way they held their heads in their hands in an attempt to comfort their throbbing heads from the blaring high-pitched Chinese music. I just laughed and took pictures.
. . .
Fog machines, colorful stage lights, Enya...typical Chinese wedding pre-game festivities.
...I think.
. . .
Photos of the couple were set up all around the hotel, including a WAY larger-than-life poster at the entrance of the hotel. This gigantic picture spanned 20 feet and went from the floor to the elevated ceiling. As we were told, the wedding photos are very important with a lot of time and money going toward them. The couple was photographed by lakes and rivers and fields and forests and parks and houses and everywhere. We were amazing at the amount and variety of pictures.
. . .
The bride and groom appeared once they had finished greeting all the guests. Pandemonium erupted as they walked into the room. They walked together down the elevated, colorfully illuminated aisle-- all I could think was "Project Runway". There was music and cheering and stage lights. It was as if the ceremony was the reception. The party had already started.
. . .
I couldn't hear most of the ceremony but that's okay because it was mostly in Chinese. It all looked very Western: the exchange of vows, the music, the kiss. But there was no designated officiant (or maybe I was just too short to see above the Asian people). It seemed as though they were marrying themselves or that there were a few emcees to provide a little structure to the ceremony. I'm still unclear on all that happened. I don't even know what to call it since the couple was already married and had been for several months. This was an additional ceremony for the friends and extended family. The funny thing was that a good percentage of the guests weren't even watching. They were just sitting at the tables munching on snacks and chatting with those around him. I bet half of the people were paying attention only to know when the food would come. And it did -- for the next hour.
. . .
We ate and ate and ate. Perhaps the most fun we had was watching the consumption of the raw lobster with wasabi soy sauce. An unsuspecting guest at our table dipped his piece into the huge mound of wasabi and proceeded to take a bite. We, the monkeys, just stared with eyes wide open waiting for the reaction. His face was calm and then his brow furrowed in wonder of why we were so activley staring at him. It took longer than expected but the wasabi hit and we all laughed as he frantically gulped down orange juice and red wine. It was surely a memorable experience.
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More on this later and other stories. Gotta catch my flight to America!!!

And I'm Back...for a day.

I just returned from my 3 week traveling adventure (returning only 2 days late -- trouble at the airports to say the least). So many things to tell but not nearly enough time before my flight tomorrow. Yes, I'm leaving again. This time, going to the great US of A!
. . .
So, here is the introduction -- the beginning of my story of the past month.

This is Christmas...???...Really?!

So, I've had time to collect my thoughts on the whole "Christmas in China" experience...and I still don't have the words to adequately and accurately describe it.
. . .
I actually managed to decorate my apartment and make it look semi-Christmasy. In fact, my apartment still looks like Christmas and will until the 28th of January when I get back from my travels. (Forgot to take it all down before I left.) Anyway, the decorations were...ARE as follows: I spend a whopping 18 kuai ($2.5) on a Charlie Brown Christmas tree -- complete with lights that had 8 different blinking settings! Stockings were difficult to come by. I bought the only 2 in Beibei and were they gaudy! But my Chinese friends (more like sisters) loved them all the same.
. . .
On Christmas Eve, we (the English teachers and some of our friends) had a potluck dinner at my apartment. There was a wide assortment of American and Chinese dishes and no one left hungry. I was in charge of mashed potatoes and somehow managed to pull off fudge too (but it was nothing compared to yours, Grannie!) In addition we had grilled veggies, salad, rolls, duck & chicken (feet and heads included!), ganbien tu dou (Chinese fries), dougan (firm tofu) and spring onions, lotus, and so much more... But it would not be complete without baijiu (thanks Robb). This is the most disgusting alcohol -- the celebratory drink of China. I can't even begin to describe it. The smell alone makes me sick and the taste...death in a bottle at 57% (that's kinda low for Baijiu) -- but the Chinese love it. We kinda see it as a mark of strength if you can take a sip without grimacing. If you've had it, you know what I'm talking about.
. . .
But the main story of our Christmas in China was what happended in downtown Beibei. I had heard stories but never witnessed it. It definitely lived up to its reputation. Here's the account of our adventure. Believe me if you can...
. . .
The 8 of us -- Kyle, Drew, Keegan, Jackie, Tracey, Evan, Evan's girlfriend, and me -- jumped on a surprisingly uncrowded little yellow bus and headed toward the weirdest and most confused Christmas celebration I have ever partaken in. Walking down to the main square, the massive population of China in evident; people fill the walkway and the streets but, unlike in America, I (standing at 5 feet 2 inches) can almost see over the crowd. Street vendors selling inflatable bats and aerosal cans of fake snow (more like soap suds) are a dime a dozen. I convince the guys to go in on a purchase of bats with me. They reluctantly agree.
. . .
The entire square is filled with people beating the crap out of their family and friends while covering each other in the fake snow. As soon as we have our bats in hand, the fighting begins. Being the token foreigners, we are attacked by anyone and everyone. And if you ran, they ran after you. At times all I could do was cover my head with my arms and search for safety (laughing the whole time though). Tracey and I had a epic battle across the entire square and back again -- everyone wondering what in the world we were doing. A classic moment came when Keegan was attacked multiple times by a group of 14 year old girls -- all we did was stand back and laugh as he struggled against the onslaught of bats.
. . .
After a few hours, we were worn out and decided to retire from fighting. Our great Christmas adventure was over but it will never -- it CANNOT be -- forgotten.
. . .
Jackie, Tracey, and I spent Christmas together. Opening present and cooking an amazing breakfast (which half consisted of leftovers). The other teachers came by later and a puzzle was attempted as is tradition in my family. Dinner was the Chongqing classic -- Hot Pot -- which we ate at the base of the mountain in Beibei with our Chinese teacher and her parents. It was a nice conclusion to our Christmas in China -- a mix of East and West.
. . .
Picutres are here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2050565&l=4c202&id=42901658

Ready, Set, GO!

Friday was race day at Southwest University -- a 5K for the teachers and a 10K for the students. Because I was sick for 2 weeks (and just plain lazy...haven't run in awhile) I didn't run. But I did go to watch. My friend Keegan and I caught the finish of the 5K -- seeing our friend Phil finish in the top 10. We continued to watch the teachers finish -- some of them running in jeans and wool sweaters. I saw one guy in his 30's or 40's in khakis and a button up shirt! (drenched in sweat, of course) One girl was running in flat shoes (like Converse), jeans, and a nice white, wool, turtleneck sweater. We couldn't believe it!
. . .
We stayed to watch the students' race. The beginning and the end were all we needed to see to keep us laughing for days...
. . .
Imagine hundreds of people lined up on the goal line of a soccer field. The gun sounds and they race across the field -- all aiming for the same gate, which is not even as wide as a soccer goal. The first few runners get through just fine, but, by the end, the last people (including the guys dressed in their army gear) were walking through, taking their sweet time, and waving at the camera.
. . .
The finish was just as spectacular: as the racers came back in through the gate, the PE majors went to the right around the track and the non-PE majors ran left -- each only halfway down the straightaway. (For the PE majors, this may have been their final exam.) Before the racers re-entered the stadium, we spent a good chunk of time pondering over the signs...which Chinese characters say "PE majors this way" and which say "all the non-athletic people this way" (and, yes, China would say something like that). We waited on the non-PE side for our friend to finish. To our surprise, this is where the winner came! We thought he went to the wrong side, but, no, he wasn't a PE major. And he finished in just over half an hour!
. . .

. . .
The rest of the runners came in and the finish line was backed up 100 M. We could also tell which side was the non-PE majors by the puddles of puke surrounding the finish line. "Chinese delicacies of things like oranges and corn," as the boys put it. So, the non-PE students ran hard, but there were a few things concerning "pacing oneself" that were overlooked. Nothing like a track meet in the States, that's for sure...something much more fun!
. . .
{Click on the title for the video of the start of the 10,000 M race. And here is a link for the post-race commentary: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=83gvN7yv3Xg&feature=channel}

Silly Rabbit, Trix is proof of International Business

I have never appreciated my major as much as I do now -- especially since I'd love to be home for the holidays. Here I find myself sitting at a computer 6,000 miles away from home, eating a bowl of Trix with soy milk, and watching "It's a Wonderful Life" in an apartment all decked out for Christmas in a country that only celebrates the holiday because "it's western...and that's cool" -- this is the point at which I begin to love international business.
. . .
(Today, as you can tell, is one of those days where I miss America. And, on those days, I get away from all things "China" and become a hermit with a bowl of cereal in my hands. Don't worry -- I'll be fine tomorrow.)
. . .
But let me further explain...just a little more:
On Saturday, our boss took a few of us to Metro. (This is a Costco of sorts -- a warehouse which sells a wide variety of international items.) There I bought Heinz ketchup, sharp cheddar cheese, Trix, soy milk, French's mustard, butter, spaghetti noodles, and flour. It's like a shopping euphoria -- big aisles, forklifts, American food items, and -- most importantly -- hardly any people. I get tired of people shoving and pushing and yelling in the grocery stores. Metro is one of the quietest places I have found in all of China. All we hear is the soft sound of Western music playing on the speakers high above our heads, above the many levels of warehouse racking (probably up to E level, Dad). We spend 2 hours walking around with big shopping carts trying to find all the little things we can't find anywhere else.
. . .
Coming home is just as fun. The other Americans and I display what's in our bags (which are more like treasure chests full of goodies).
"OH, where did you find that?!"
"I love those!"
"No way!"
"How much did that cost?"
"Can I have some?!"
It's so funny! It's like Christmas morning. We love international business.

Midterms

The past week and this coming week have been devoted to midterms. My students were required to speak for 5 minutes with a partner on any subject they wanted. At the end of this process I will have listened to roughly 180 midterms. And I love it! All of them have put in such wonderful effort and some have taken me off guard with how creative they have been. Traditional Chinese education is that the teacher teaches and the students accept that information -- no questions asked. This is beginning to change.
. . .
I must also note that most of my students have been studying English for 5 - 10 years and still remain at a simplified, slowed down conversational level that is in need of much work on pronunciation. My friend Phil and I chatted about this the other day. It's frustrating because their pronunciation has been taught by Chinese teachers who, though they have done a good job, have trouble with pronunciation themselves. In every midterm I'm finding that my students and I must go back to the very beginning and work on letter sounds along with verb conjugation and sentence structure. But when they are able to express themselves in English, it is a beautiful thing.
. . .
On the 1st day of midterms I had 2 guys talk about the problem of suicide related to the immense pressure of education. I was floored by their ability to talk about such a serious and difficult topic. I had become so engulfed in their dialog that I had forgotten to take notes on the first couple minutes.
. . .
Two girls performed a variation of Titanic. And it was AWESOME -- complete with props and signs to tell us what year the scene was in. Jack and Rose had both survived and, 50 years later, bumped into each other on the street. Their undying love awoke and they began to recall those days of yesteryear on board the Titanic -- reenactment of the "I'm flying" scene ensued. Back to the scene on the street, they decided to do that once again for ol' times sake.
Rose: Oh Jack, let's do that again.
[Rose steps forward to "the railing" and Jack goes to help her but struggles.]
Jack: We can't. You are too fat!
The play concluded with a performance of the famous, and ever-popular-in-China song: "My Heart Will Go On".
. . .
Another group (which included my most creative student) performed for the whole class a skit and a song and mini dance lessons to a few volunteers. All of this was based on Obama's speeches and slogan "Yes, we can". (99.5% of my students would rather fail then speak publicly.) I was left speechless at their creativity. Afterwards I told the whole class how amazed I was that these guys took the undesirable task of a midterm and modified it (while fulfilling all the requirements) into something . I requested a written copy of their performance. Here it the song:

It was a creed written into the founding documents
that declared the destiny of a nation.
Yes we can.
It was whispered by slaves and abolitionists
as they blazed a trail toward freedom
Yes we can.

It was sung by immigrants as they struck out from distant shores
and pioneers who pushed westward against an unforgiving wilderness.
Yes we can.

It was the call of workers who organized;
women who reached for the ballots;
a president who chose the moon as our new frontier;
and a king who took us to the mountaintop and pointed the way to the Promised Land.

Yes we can to justice and equality.
Yes we can to opportunity and prosperity.
Yes we can to heal this nation.
Yes we can repair this world.
Yes we can.

. . .
Obama has been a hot topic, so I decided that I would have my classes watch the speech he gave after becoming the president-elect while I was listening to midterms. They were required to write a response paper answering the following prompt: "Whether you like Obama or not, he won. What does that mean for America, China, and the rest of the world?...also include YOUR thoughts and opinions." After reading 1/2 of the 350+ papers, I realize that I will need to go over the fact that "negro" is not a word we want to use anymore. One paper had "bla" crossed out and "negro" written in. From their papers it appears that my students believe discrimination to be very prominent in America -- almost to the extent that is was in the 60's. Next week's lesson: MLK's speech and racial discrimination.

Election Day

Right now I'm eating an oatmeal raisin cookie -- a legitimate, made-in-America, delicious oatmeal raisin cookie. And I'm convinced that I would undoubtedly give up that cookie for the opportunity to watch the news coverage of the presidential election. I'm continually refreshing the news websites I have open to see if any information has developed in the 15 seconds since the previous refreshing. The only live news coverage I've been able to view was the few hours in Xi'an where we were able to watch CNN. I've never been more excited to see the news (especially since the alternative is crappy Chinese soap operas).
. . .
About a week and a half ago, my friend Phil gave a speech on the presidential race, voting system and the U.S. government. I've continued this lesson to my classrooms -- teaching my students about the electoral college, introducing them to the candidates, and discussing the "hot topics" (the economy, Iraq, health care, illegal immigration, abortion, gay marriage, and taxes). We've gone over many things and the conversations have gotten very interesting, especially when we talk about the war in Iraq, abortion (which inevitably leads to the One Child Policy), and gay marriage (Chongqing having the highest percentage of gay people in all of China). These conversations are the closest my classes have gotten to debates with only slightly opposing viewpoints.
. . .
I go on to explain the electoral college and the requirements for voting (American citizen, 18 yrs. old...). I then ask my classes if they think that I am able to vote even though I am in China -- 6,000 miles from my designated voting location. Split between "yes" and "no", the class can never decided whether I am able to or not. Some are shocked that I can still vote while being so far away. Very interesting. But I suppose it makes more sense when you realize that you're trying to explain something that is so commonplace to Americans to a group of people who have never experienced it.
. . .
When asked this morning if I had voted, I responded "no". "My ballot got lost in the mail and I am unable to vote...also because I was 12 minutes late registering for my overseas absentee ballot," I tell them. As I'm explaining all of this, my phone beeps. I have a text message. During break I read the following: "Julie, you have a package to pick up at the reception of the foreign students' dorm". Cool. But my parents just sent a package with my friends who came to visit from Seattle.
. . .
Despite feeling so sick and not wanting to make the trek across campus, I went. And on November 4th, 2008 -- Election Day -- I received my voting packet. Giddy, I rushed to my apartment, Skyped my parents to verify which school superintendent is pro-Math and quickly filled out the rest of my ballot. Math Question: if you are in China and the time difference was +15 from Seattle but changed to +16 over the weekend due to Daylight Saving Time and, regardless of it's irrelevance, 2 trains are traveling in opposite directions of each other at 50 kph, what day does the ballot need to be postmarked by? ... whatever...I mailed it on the .
. . .
So, it turned out that I was in fact able to vote from China. And now we wait to see how America votes. *Refresh button time*

New Post!

Scroll down to Sept. 9th's entry to read of another one of my adventures -- I started writing it on Sept. 9th (took awhile). Enjoy! And there's more to come soon!

Love you all!
Julie

Seared Skin

So I'm working on writing more-- one of my many goals this year. It's very easy to fall into the evil grip of "Chinglish" over here. My speaking ability has been reduced to that of a child at times. So often I pause because I simply forget the vocabulary necessary to complete my thought. There was one instance where I used the word "gelatilized" (and thought it was correct) to describe something that had transformed to the consistency of Jell-o. So here I am making an attempt to retain what is left of my English. The story for today: how I charred my flesh.
. . .
Sunday, Sept. 21st
I often ride a motochi (motorcycle taxi) to get across Beibei. The following story happened the morning the SPUBA (SPU Business Abroad) group arrived. In fact, I was on my way to the airport...
. . .
I was hired by SPU to be the go-to person for the students studying abroad. Part of my contract includes meeting them at the airport, simple enough, so I took a motochi to the far side of the campus where I was to meet the bus. Cruising down Tiansheng Lu (the main road that runs along campus) with the wind in my hair and the last little bits of red and orange light tinting the city before disappearing with the rising sun. The day was beautiful and I couldn't wait to see my friends who I'd been waiting for for weeks.
. . .
I told the driver to stop at the 3rd gate...also known as the 5th gate. Last year it was the 3rd gate, and for some incredibly valid and logical reason (I'm sure) they renamed the 3rd gate the 5th gate and transferred the name of the 3rd gate to this small, mysterious gate in the middle of campus, which we still refer to as "the mystery gate". We will accept the risk of being "un-harmonious".
. . .
We pulled up to the 5th gate. The motochi came to a halt and the driver leaned the bike to the left. The curb was to the right. With my right leg unsteadily balancing me, I swung my left leg over the seat. (I'm always working towards efficiency.) With my leg mid-air, I began to feel this rapidly increasing heat on my right calf. It took me a few moments to notice that I searing the flesh off my leg. I can't remember if I screamed out loud or just heard a deafening yell resound within my skull. Either way, I paid the taxi driver quickly before the pain could mature further. I looked down only to see a patch of skin, with an area of roughly 2 sq. inches (I <3 style="font-style: italic;">shui attached to my leg (my best imitation of Igor accomplished without even trying), I fumbled for my money. 10 kuai down on the table. I knew the price: 1 kuai. My change...8 kuai. What?! The pain in my leg came out in a fiery glare. He got my message. Math is universal, Buddy. Don't even think of messing with me right now. With his head turned downwards he slid another kuai on the table. His head remained lowered until I began to walk out -- who could resist looking and laughing at the awkwardly walking, injured foreigner?
. . .
On the ride to the airport I depleted the thermal energy from my cold water and a soda -- my leg still on fire. Obtained some "burn cream" (or at least that what my friend Allen [our translator] told me) and the pain subsided just in time to greet the 32 students. My leg continued to seep puss for a week.
. . .
The Second Trip to the Doctor
...because once isn't enough
My friend Thug took me to the hospital on campus and was translator for this visit. We walked in and I felt instantly transported to the 1950's. Linoleum floors, yellow tiles going halfway up the walls, the doctor sitting in his white coat at a old style light brown wooden desk, the smell of iodine floating in the air...
. . .
Thug relayed the story of what happened and we proceeded into another room. Here there were two tables: one looked as if it could be used for giving birth and the other being for, perhaps, operations or examinations. The rusty, yellow-metal beds with hand cranks to adjust the height revealed their...longevity. I sat down in a chair and propped my leg up on a Y-shaped stand. As I was pondering the origin of the dark, red-brown stains that concealed the yellow color of this stand, the doctor raised a pair of tongs and removed something from a blue metal container that was of the same color as the stains. Meat?! Chicken kidney?! Liver pieces?! Leeches?!! I couldn't tell what it was but I thought I was going to faint as soon as he touched it to my skin. I quickly realized that it was only an iodine-soaked cotton ball -- it's amazing I didn't think of that 1st. ...or 2nd...or 3rd...or even 4th... But the price was just right: under $10 (without the usage of insurance) for the visit and some antibiotics to fight the infection.
. . .
It took nearly a month, but my leg healed well.

1st Week of School

I've survived the 1st week of classes; this is how it went:

The electronic mimic of an old Chinese song played on my cell phone. I rolled over only to see the early morning darkness outside my window. It's hasn't been since high school that I've woken up for class at 6 in the morning. "I don't wanna get up for school," I sleepily whined to myself. My laughter from this pathetic statement drew me awake. No one should have to get up when it's so dark outside.

I started to get ready. Clothes, makeup, hair... And then I began to realize that the nervousness (which I had felt the night before) had evaporated with the morning light. And, with each passing minute, my excitement for what the day might hold grew. It was the end of the countdown -- I was on the edge of something new. I grabbed my lesson plan, put on my shoes, and headed off to my 1st day at school...this time as a teacher. But, before I did, I took a picture at my front door (a tradition that started on my 1st day in Kindergarten -- that's for you Mom & Dad).

Left my apartment early in order to print an Excel spreadsheet for names and grades. Time for another round of charades. The print shop was closed so I proceeded to walk into every internet cafe waving my flash drive and pointing to pieces of paper. Eyes that revealed thoughts of "crazy American" were all that I received. And then I saw an old, gray desktop printer in another shop -- victory was mine! I ran in waving my flash drive in front of the laoban's face.

Class began at 8:00 and I was ready. I introduced myself to my first class: 31 graduate students -- all of them studying modern poetry. This was one of my smallest classes (my largest consisting of 59 students). I told them where I was from, how long I've been in China, that I studied here last fall and loved it so much I thought I would come back and teach...the same speech 7 times over (Monday classes were cancelled due to Mid-Autumn Festival). I asked them to guess what I studied in school, and, it never failed, there was always one person who would guess "Chinese". When I revealed to them that my major was International Business they were stunned. I suppose not many women study business in China.

The other part of class consisted of the students answering questions (mainly a time for me to evaluate their speaking levels). Question: where do you want to travel? It was always the same set of answers: America, Seattle, Europe, Australia. But, even though I could predict the words that would be said, there was always some explanation that would catch me off guard. One girl explained that she wanted to visit America because she didn't want to just go by what she reads on the internet or sees in movies. "I want to see truth...not just [believe] what I hear." Beautiful.

After this I wrote "America" on the board and had the students give me words to describe it. Here's the list:
Hollywood, open door policy, strength, powerful…but aggressive, rich, open, Wall St., prejudice, crazy, democratic, freedom, 9/11, beautiful, humorous, modern, crime, law, selfish, technology, passion, individualism, war, ice cream, Disneyland, McDonald's, confidence, tall and big, high civilization, developing, interesting history, KFC, Phelps, 5th Avenue, optimism, hip hop, NBA, friendly, presidential election, spirit, strong, famous universities, immigrants, Monica Lewinsky (I'm not joking! The whole class erupted with laughter!)
I then asked them which words also applied for China. The bold words "also describe" China.

At the end of class, I gave them a chance to ask questions. Here's what my Friday class offered:
Girl: "Do you have boyfriend?"
[Class giggles]
Me: "No."
Class: "Awww"
Me: "Oh, thank you."
Boy: "Do you like Chinese boys?"

More interesting moments:
*My physics students cheered for me as I wrote my Chinese name on the board in hanzi (Chinese characters) -- a huge feat for anyone learning the language.

*"censorship" was written in pink chalk underneath one of the chalkboards

*One student asked, "Can you tell us about Jesus?" I was shocked. I had been instructed in my orientation meeting never to talk about any religious topic in class. When I told Keegan (an English teacher who's already taught for a year), he didn't believe me. The students are usually either opposed to religious or have interest in it. Amazingly enough the topic came up in another class: "Please teach us about religion". I was not prepared for this. I'm going to have to be.

Ridin' in the Back of a Cop Car

I never aspired to being able to say that I've ridden in the back of a cop car -- especially a cop car in China -- but I have. (This story happened way back in September before life got crazy, the SPUBA (SPU business abroad) group arrived, I began my 2nd job, I went on vacation, our internet went out for a week, and I took another vacation. But enough of excuses. I'm now back and ready to tell more tales from my adventures in the Middle Kingdom.) About that cop car...
. . .
We waited at the corner -- the corner at the entrance of our housing development where there is a bus stop and a light with an actual crosswalk (no buttons to push but an actual working crosswalk system that most people obey and actual stoplights that, like the crosswalk lights, most people obey...depends on the day...). We (we being a few other teachers and myself) waited for our friend: the chief of police to pick us up and take us out to dinner. Yep, that's right, I'm friends with the chief of police.
. . .
A phone rang. "Yep, we're here."
. . .
No more than 5 seconds later did the car drive around the corner and into sight, as if it had been waiting for us. Didn't want to make a scene, of course. We piled in -- Mr. Zhou (the chief) in the front; his daughter and the rest of us crammed in the back. Pulling away from the curb I had no clue where we were headed (this is the norm when going out with the cops). Looking through the tinted windows we saw the aftermath of a fender bender. We didn't stop. Dinner was waiting. This was probably the safest I've felt in a motorized vehicle in all of China (despite the fact that seat belts were still taboo -- even in a police car).
. . .
We arrived at a classy restaurant in Beibei -- "classy" meaning that it might be at a sanitary level at which it could pass a U.S. health code examination with only a little bit of fudging the numbers. As it is with every meal we eat with the cops, the food was plentiful. We dined for quite some time -- all the while making attempts at conversations with the help of those who can translate. Jokes are even more amusing. The entire table listens as the speaker tells his story but only half can understand; that half laughs when the punchline is delivered while the other half smile and chuckle, knowing that something funny is coming. The joke is then translated to the second half while the first half watch closely -- waiting for the laughter to ensue. It does. And everyone at the table breaks into laughter now that the joke is understood by all. This might seem like a tedious process, but one must experience it to fully appreciate the beauty and humor within these moments.
. . .
The night is usually concluded with a few hours at a nearby KTV (Karaoke). I can't even begin to tell you how many humiliating nights I have spent belting out "My Heart Will Go On", "Yellow Submarine", and "A Whole New World". There are even some ever-popular Chinese songs that I've heard so many times I think I could proudly sing along. But I won't.

At the end of the evening -- usually 5+ hours after we were picked up -- we are escorted home by a caravan of cops and their friends from around Beibei. Everyone gets out of their car to say goodbye and the finale of our party, I'm sure, wakes the neighborhood. Oh, the things that happen just because I am a foreigner.