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.
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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.
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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.
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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...
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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!
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We stayed to watch the students' race. The beginning and the end were all we needed to see to keep us laughing for days...
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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.
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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!
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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!
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{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.
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(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.)
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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".
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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.

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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).
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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 .
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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.
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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...
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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.
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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".
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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?
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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.
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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...
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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.
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It took nearly a month, but my leg healed well.