Eat, Pray, Love

On Thursday (09-27-12) I had my first schedule conflict.  The students (8th graders) working on the extracurricular Lego project (FLL) wanted me to join them on their field trip to a senior center, a trip that I recommended to help them determine what aging people in China actually need and want, rather than just guessing.  When I learned that we would be gone from 1-8 p.m., I chose to work with TJ’s boyfriend on his paper instead.

Two of the faculty leaders of this project are Pan Yan and her boss (Fan Keke).  It turned out the students didn’t want to stop for dinner on the way home, so everyone got back at 6, at which time Pan Yan and Fan Keke invited me to dinner.  They picked me up in a car right outside my dorm (a luxury: no walking) and we drove only about 3 blocks to a nearby restaurant that I was assured was good but not expensive.  We finally found a place to park, went in, and had to wait 30 minutes for a table.

Fan Keke, a charming guy with almost no English but a nice sense of humor, did all the ordering.  We had an unusual dumpling soup, a dish with very thin green stalks and sliced mushrooms or tofu (that should give you pause, my not being able to distinguish between the two), roasted peanuts seasoned with algae, and a few other things.  Pan Yan and I split one large beer, but because Fan Keke was driving, he had nary a sip.

After we finished these dishes, I was pleasantly satiated but either Fan Keke was still hungry or I looked hungrier than I was because he called the waitress over to order more food.  He asked me what I’d like, and I said I was pretty full but otherwise I eat anything that isn’t moving.  There must have been a communication glitch or something because what arrived was this pretty white, covered dish that, when he lifted the lid, revealed shrimp squirming in this dark brown liquid.  He quickly covered it, though, and Pan Yan explained that there was alcohol in the sauce that “put the shrimp to sleep.”  I sought confirmation that the alcohol actually killed the shrimp, but Pan Yan calmly said no, it just puts them to sleep.

The alcohol must have been too low in concentration or something because after a while, when we lifted the lid again, they were still squirming.  So Fan Keke utters the Chinese equivalent of “dig in” and grabs one of them, peels it, and eats it.  You know me:  I’ll try anything once.  I carefully selected the smallest shrimp I could find, quickly twisted off its head so it would stop squirming and waving its antennae at me, peeled the tail, and popped it into my mouth.  It was tender, raw, and quite good, thanks to the delicious sauce.  I ate 5.  Whuddya know.

On the way back to my dorm we had to stop at their office because he said the students were so grateful for my assistance (also, I was told that their parents had called the school saying how much their kids loved me) that they got me some fruit.  I assumed they were talking about a banana or two, an apple, and 20 grapes, but what I found were 4 boxes of beautiful fruit:  a box each of giant mangoes, perfect apples (with a certificate indicating they’re 100% organic), special pears from another province, and a pomegranates.  Most of the fruit was wrapped, each individual piece, in a Styrofoam sleeve; the pomegranates were wrapped individually in several pieces of very stiff paper towel-type stuff, which I kept for future toilet-bowl cleaning.

We took all of it back to my apartment, where I insisted that they each take a third.  The next day I gave more to Tong Jing.  I’ll have to give more of it away to neighbors (do 2-year olds eat fruit?) as I leave tomorrow for 5 days.

Today (Sunday, 09-30-12) is one of the main holidays in China:  the Mid-Autumn Festival, or Moon Festival, that annually falls on the 15th day of the 8th month of the Chinese lunar calendar year.  Historically, it was to celebrate the autumn harvest.  The moon goddess’ name is Chang’e, and 2 or 3 Chinese satellites have been named for her.  Flowers and special decorations are up all over Beijing.  Today two the main purposes of the holiday (1) is for people to reunite with their extended families, and, like Thanksgiving in America, a high percentage of the people here travel, and (2) eat mooncakes, a traditional Chinese dessert that is something like a pastry dough but not really, filled with red bean paste or date paste or whatever.  Tong Jing and I both were given large numbers of mooncakes by our students, and they now fill my freezer.

To celebrate Mid-Autumn Festival, Tong Jing, her boyfriend, and I went to dinner at a very popular, mid-priced restaurant nearby.  We had 3 dishes that I’ve never seen or tasted before:  sautéed baby Chinese cabbage with garlic, sautéed potato slices with LOTS of garlic and what my friends described as only a few red peppers, and a large soup with mushrooms, seaweed, a freshwater fish, and 20 other things.

Let me back up a little – say 4 decades.  I was having dinner in Tokyo with some friends and we asked the concierge to send us to an authentic Japanese restaurant, one where the tourists don’t go.  We got the directions and followed them to the letter, sat down at a table, and looked at the menu.  After a few minutes of collective puzzled looks, we realized the menu was in Chinese.  The waitress did in fact confirm that this was a Chinese restaurant, and that the Japanese restaurant was one flight up.

OK, to make a long but wonderful story short, we’re now sitting in this booth with our food that we ordered by pointing at pictures.  One of our dishes was a fish soup.  It was a little salty and we got thirsty, so we called the waitress over to ask her for some water.  She spoke no English and we spoke no Japanese, so we made pantomime motions of drinking but she still didn’t get it.  Then we pointed to the soup (which looked mostly like water) and made drinking motions again. That’s when she got this frightened look in her eyes, and she pointed to our soup and made frantic pantomime motions indicating that under no circumstances should we drink the liquid in the bowl.  Now we started to get worried.  If the water is that contaminated or whatever, why were we eating the fish and other crud out of that same bowl?

All of this came rushing back to me tonight as the fish soup arrived.  I suggested that we ask the waitress for 3 bowls so we could drink the soup and not just pick fish and tofu out of the main bowl.  TJ’s boyfriend quite emphatically said we can’t drink the soup.  What he meant, I think, was that Chinese do not drink the soup, but by then my memories joined the algae in communicating to my brain that I should stop right here.

The baby cabbage was very good, the sliced potatoes were great (though everyone’s forehead was dripping at the end of that dish), and, like the trooper that I am, I reluctantly (inwardly only) tried the soup.  At last I found something in China I didn’t like.  It was fishy, the fish had a lot of bones, the seaweed was slimy, and there was something that resembled okra, etc.  Thanks to my “friends,” however, I ended up having 3 bowls.  Between the spicy potatoes and this @#$%& soup, I was forced to down two large beers during the meal.

We had decided to go Dutch, but when we asked for the check, we discovered that the parents of one of TJ’s students, sitting nearby, already picked up the tab.  Glad I didn’t have to pay for that one.  Please don’t ever tell my friends.

Tomorrow I leave for Chengdu, by myself, off to a land where I now know how to say hi, thank  you, yes, and not spicy.  If you hear from me in a week’s time, send in the marines.

   Selamat tinggal

 

Eye of the Beholder

A while ago, Mi Qi, another physics teacher, and I went to see “Prometheus” at the neighborhood cinema.  (Mi Qi would not let me pay either for the whole group or my own ticket.)  It was in 3D and the glasses, which were fancy, required a 100 RMB (about $15) deposit.  Guess they wanted ‘em back.  Movie was OK and, fortunately for this wimp, not too scary or gory.  (It’s the prequel to “Alien,” in case you’re living in the dark ages.)

On the way there, Mi Qi told me he had to get be sure to get his train tickets the next morning to go to his hometown over the holiday.  I asked him why he left this task to such a late date, and he responded that in China one cannot buy train tickets until 12 (or was it 11?) days prior to departure.  So I’m thinking, like most Americans would, that this is ridiculous and why the heck don’t they have a reservation system that allows people to buy tickets earlier.  What kind of a backwards country is this anyway?

Yes, in my typical bull-in-a-china-shop approach (pun intended?), I voiced my view (in a politically correct way, of course), protesting that it must be difficult to plan holidays and other trips without the certainty of knowing you have transportation.  Mi Qi explained that in China there are many more people who want travel by train than there are available seats.  If people were allowed to purchase train tickets far in advance, only those with sufficient funds at that time would get seats and poorer people who scrimp and save, just to be able to afford a ticket to go see their parents (which almost every teacher here is doing), would never be able to do so.  I asked what happens when people plan a holiday to their hometown or anywhere but do not get a train ticket.  He said they change their plans – go later in the week or during a different holiday.  This way everyone (well, everyone except the VIPs) have the same opportunity to travel on a given date.  He said that prior to a major holiday, such as this one coming up next week, all train tickets are gone within the first few minutes of official availability.  Whether he was exaggerating or not, I think you get the picture.

The point, which I think is obvious, is that something in another culture that on the surface may seem ridiculous often has an underlying rationale consistent with the philosophy of the people (or at least the people in charge).  Sometimes that rationale is currently valid, and sometimes it’s outdated but the resulting cultural characteristic is difficult to change.  Change is difficult for most individuals and thus all groups of individuals, such as a nation.  This will be a common thread as I begin discussing Chinese culture and people, with comparisons to American culture and people.

After the movie Mi Qi stopped by my place by to work on my new iPad.  He left and went home, unfortunately leaving his jacket and wallet here.  To get home, he walks ¼ mile to the subway, takes it to the end of the line, then grabs a bus or a “black” taxi (one that’s not registered).  He called an hour after leaving my place that he had to come back to get his wallet so he could get his train tickets first thing in the morning.  Many tasks that both Americans and Chinese have to do take a lot longer to accomplish in China than they do in America.  More on the implications of this in the future.

Love At First Bite

OK, this is important.

Yesterday Tong Jing had to go to her orthodontist to get her braces worked on, and she invited me to go along.  I thought that, given my advanced age and rotten physical state, any information on the medical system in China could prove useful.  We hopped on a bus and went 3 stops to Peking University’s School of Stomatology.  (Yeah, it was a new word for me, too.)  This is, basically, their dental school (including oral surgery).  It consists of 3-4 huge buildings, each with 11-14 floors.

The parent of one of Tong Jing’s students is one of the top orthodontists in this place and they have a special arrangement that all TJ has to do is call, arrange an appointment, and show up on the 4th floor on time.  Seems reasonable so far.

So I sat there in the same little cubicle with the doctor, Tong Jing, and two assistants.  It took about 15 minutes, during which I had a linguistic revelation:  when a dentist has her hand in a patient’s mouth, asks a question, and the patient answers in that garbled way, it doesn’t matter what language the patient speaks because it sounds the same in any language.

When all was done, I mentioned to the orthodontist that I, too, had a small tooth problem.  We discussed it briefly and she said it requires a different type of dentist and that she’d take me around and we’d find one.

First we had the grand tour, of course.  We went up to the top 3 floors where the in-patient rooms were – places where people with serious surgeries can recover.  We couldn’t get into the area of this floor at the end because it was for VIPs only (usually government officials).

Back at the elevators she showed us the detailed directory of what’s on each floor, then we went to the floors to look around.  Finally we got to a special floor (#7) labeled “VIP Outpatients” and she said that because I was a foreigner, I qualified as a VIP.  Cool!

She asked someone who was the best dentist on this floor, and that person went to fetch him.  He ushered me into a real private room (no tiny cubicle for us VIPs), gave me a quick look-see, and asked me if I could come back this Friday (tomorrow) at 1:30.  I said yes, of course, despite the fact that I think RDFZ’s biology department is having a pre-holiday party at that time (but who knows for sure).  He gave me a small, pink, appointment slip, I smiled, shook his hand, and we left.  We finished the tour, during which she showed us the special elevator used only for serious VIPs.  As TJ and I were leaving the building, through the same revolving door entered a tall guy all in black, surrounded by three armed body guards, all heading for the serious VIP elevator.

On the bus back to RDFZ, I mentioned to Tong Jing that it was nice of this VIP doctor to see me so quickly.  TJ said I didn’t really understand how astonishing this is.  Huh?  In China it works like this for most people:

1. You show up at the main floor of this dental hospital, known as the best in China, and go to the registration windows (there are 8 or 9).
2. There you pay the registration fee and tell the receptionist what your problem is.
3. He or she determines what kind of dentist you need, gives you a slip, and directs you to one of the floors.
4. There you check in with the floor’s receptionist and wait about an hour.  (Except for my marvelous dentist in Fairfax, this is not unheard of in American dental offices.)
5. The dentist takes care of you in about 15 minutes, gives you a prescription and an invoice, and you go pay at the cashier (all on the first floor, I think, but I’m not sure).  Total cost is most often less than $10.

Here’s the crux of the matter:  to get one of the top doctors (and evidently they’re all pretty good but some of them are regarded as being great) you often have to wait several months to a couple years to get in to see him or her.  Moreover, the hospital serves about 2,000 dental patients each day and particularly swamped in the mornings when the lines to the registration windows fill the entire lobby (which is large).  Tong Jing told me that some people camp outside the door for 3-4 hours in the early morn, just to get in to see a dentist.

I think I got really lucky here.  Tomorrow I make my way there by myself and negotiate the significantly reduced hurdles to see the doc.  Wish me luck.

In VA I have, as I said, a wonderful dentist (hope she’s watching) who has taken me in often on extremely short notice (including just before I departed for China).  It’s a different world here, and I wouldn’t be surprised to end up concluding that medical care is way near the top of the differences between the two countries.

If my primary physician (A. L.) is watching, he would emphasize this with colorful language.  Health care in America is a topic we debate often.  I suppose you can guess where we both stand on this.  I in fact do believe that everyone, not just the middle and upper classes, should have relatively good health care, and that those of us who can afford it, should pay for the others.  That being said, I definitely do NOT want to have socialized medicine in the US – at least not the way it seems to work in most countries I’ve seen.  There’s no doubt that we have the best medicine in the US.  There’s also no doubt that it’s expensive.  But I think it’s sort of like government:  sure, there are many places where waste and extravagance can and should be eliminated, but overall it works pretty well.

FYI:  We just purchased emergency evacuation insurance.

   अलविदा
(for my Indian students)

I Wonder As I Wander

While this is a great school, there are a few things I would change if I had the power.  One of them is the last-minute approach to management.  (To all my former principals and assistant principals:  you know how I feel about getting jerked around by “emergencies” and “crises.”)  Last week I was asked if I would speak to the biology teachers.  I said yes, of course, and I was informed this would probably be on Tuesday (2 days ago).  I asked for this person to send me an email confirming this request and detailing the length of time and the general topic(s).

Nothing.

On Monday, I was told it may take place the next day, as originally planned, or maybe Thursday.  I said, OK, whatever.  Please send an email.

Nothing.

Yesterday I heard, third hand, that it may take place on Thursday, or it may in fact be Friday morning.  I found my translating buddy who’s been accompanying me on my class visits to try to find out the real story.

He didn’t know.

Later in the day he and I ran into one of the key administrators who confirmed that it was likely to take place on Friday morning, probably at 9, but that the location has yet to be set.

OK.  Some progress.

He said the problem now is not the date/time but location.  Because Friday is a special day (there are so many special days), the woman in charge of this meeting is having trouble finding a “suitable location.”  I learned that this meant a proper room for a VIP speaker.  I responded that I preferred someplace informal, such as the front lawn where we’d sit on the grass.  He laughed a little, assuming, I believe, that I was joking.  I asked my translator buddy to assure him that I was not joking.

It’s a little over 24 hours until my talk, and no one has told me where or what, but at least I know when.  Get my drift?

Here’s the biggie:  last week I learned that I have next week off.  It’s a national holiday akin to our July 4th.  During such holidays I intended to visit other parts of China, but travel is so heavy on this holiday that it’s very difficult to get a last-minute plane ticket and almost impossible to get a train ticket.  (More on trains in a future post.)

I decided to try to fly to Chengdu in Szechuan province.  Initially I was going to fly from there to the nearby Yosemite-like Jiu Zhai Gou, but eventually realized that (a) it’s too expensive at this point in time, as I haven’t been paid or reimbursed for anything yet, and (b) during this holiday it’ll be very crowded.

I contacted the school’s travel agent, and she spent quite a lot of time and effort securing me a roundtrip ticket to Chengdu and a hotel for 4 nights.  This company graciously agreed to defer billing me until I return, by which time I should be partially solvent.  (If you get one of those emails saying that a friend is in some foreign country and needs you to wire him some money, this one may actually be true.)

I’ll be in Chengdu for 4.5 days and 4 nights, and right now have no idea of what I’m gonna do there.  The mother of one of my TJ students (I ran into her here at RDFZ because she has another child who attends this school) will be home in Chengdu over the holiday and graciously offered to take me around one day.  Not sure what we’re gonna do, but regardless, I’m grateful for the company and guidance.  On the other days, well, I’ll probably wander around the city (smoking cigars), or visit the local dam, or travel to the nearby panda park, or go up a mountain by one means or another.

Any recommendations for this venture would be gratefully received and weighed.

وداعا (equal time)

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

A couple weeks ago I decided to take a walk and have a cigar.  I walked 3 blocks and sat on a bench next to some tiny shops.  I got several looks (nothing overt, of course; this is China), probably because I’m the only one in Beijing who smokes cigars.  No other person have I seen thus adorned.

I noticed that about 5 yards away there were some clothes hanging in this public area from a wire stretched from one pole to another.  I assumed they were for sale, but after someone came down a small staircase and added a shirt, I realized the clothes were put there to dry by someone who lives upstairs.  I made a note not to sit next to hanging clothes anywhere.

I was looking forward to enjoying my cigar and reading my book, but after 30 minutes I got a call and had to return to school.  Being a frugal sort (or a cheap @#$%^&, as my brother calls me), I put the half-cigar in a baggie and then into the fridge for enjoyment later.

That later came a couple days ago.  I walked to this little park right be behind the dorm, and sat on a bench.  It was too dark to read, so I just sat there and watched.  The park is complete encircled (or rather ensquared) by a wide sidewalk on which perhaps 30 people of all ages were walking for their evening exercise and entertainment.  Eventually this guy rode up on his bike, parked it, then simply stood about 15 feet away from me, looking in the opposite direction.  I forgot about him, but when I glanced again about 5 minutes later, he was in the exact position I originally saw him in.  After another 5 minutes, he tilted his head slightly but noticeably, then straightened it again.  Obviously some sort of meditation.  That was the extent of our communication with each other.

Off to my right I saw a couple teenage girls walking through the park.  They stopped to take some pictures of something on the ground and, lo and behold, it was a cat!!!  The first, and still only, one I’ve seen in China.  They also must have been astonished as they took 6 or 7 pictures – not believing their eyes, I suppose.

להתראות (for Eva S. and many others)

Men at Work

I thought I’d give you a flavor of what I do on a day-to-day basis, just in case you’re interested.  The work part of my existence here has several aspects:  (1) one of my basic responsibilities is to work with the GT (gifted and talented) program here to bring more interactive teaching and to increase hands-on experiences for students, primarily in science classes; (2) I am in fact a high-level adviser and thus a bit of a figurehead when it comes to public events, so I am often close to the principal, on stage, or in the group of VIPs (unfortunately, always in a suit); (3) if we have a VIP visitor, I often will be part of the tour group and then part of the subsequent meeting, discussing some of the differences between Chinese education in American education.  In these meetings, I am always very effusive about the wonderful teaching going on here.  (Oh, you silver-tongued devil!)

The GT program here is called Early Development, and they take students from all over Beijing and put them in this accelerated learning environment.  Some of the kids are brought from what otherwise would be 5th or 6th grades and put directly into the 7th.  This GT program has been in existence for only 3 years, and thus, at the moment, we have students only in grades 7-9.  For the past 3 weeks, I have been sitting in on mostly science classes, taking extensive notes, pictures, and movies.  I have accumulated many interesting observations and am quickly coming to conclusions of what should be done here.  Though I have chatted off the record with a few friends about my ideas, I have yet to present anything formal.  I speak to all the biology teachers this Friday (tomorrow), but I think I’ll just talk about my teaching philosophy in general and not make any specific suggestions yet.  I think that will happen toward the middle of October.

All the teachers whose classes I visited have been warm and welcoming, and have not shown the slightest twinge when I take movies or pictures.  With one exception, that is.  One teacher who just started this year was a little nervous when I came into her room, even before I took a couple of photos.  She generally talks fast anyway, in any language, but now her pace picked up.  Later that day after school, she called me and said she was sorry she was so nervous and that she didn’t know what to do about it.  I invited her up to my apartment and we talked about it for about a half-hour.  She was worried about her nervousness at this early date because later on administrators will come to view her and she thinks she will be even more nervous.  I gave her lots of reassuring advice, mostly along the lines of “just relax and be yourself.”

When she first arrived, I decided to make some tea.  I put the cup underneath the hot spout of the cooler, then got engrossed in our discussion and forgot about the water.  A few minutes later she shrieked (as excitable women are wont to do) and pointed to the flood on the floor.  I continued pontificating as I soaked up the water with my $2 mop.

Last Saturday (09-22-12) was a very big day for the school.  There was a major meeting across the street at Renmin University, sponsored by RDFZ, launching a new program called “RDFZ United Schools.”  RDFZ, having the best teachers and the most resources, has now established itself as a general adviser/coordinator of teaching in 20 high-level schools around China.  This was a big, fancy shindig with lots of chauffeur-driven black cars arriving with government officials.  There were 500 to 600 people at this event and, as far as I can tell, I was the only non-Chinese person there.  My job at the beginning was to smile and say welcome in Chinese (which I’ve already forgotten).  Then I sat through a series of speeches and short, self-promoting films, all in Chinese.  I stayed awake most of the time and clapped when everyone else did.

On Monday (just a few days ago), a member of the US Embassy who’s in charge of educational programs visited RDFZ, and I was part of the entourage.  One important visitor who was supposed to accompany him could not make it due to food poisoning, so now he arrives tomorrow and I’m coordinating the visit.  I have to find a meeting room, a translator, an administrator who is available to meet, and time in my schedule – easy to do at TJ, tougher here.

Under “other duties as assigned,” I help the Lego Competition kids with their project, review English language papers from faculty and others, view and judge extracurricular projects such as yesterday’s Action for Tomorrow Venture (a Harvard-sponsored, US-China entrepreneurship program), give detailed advice and written materials to advanced biology teachers who want to beef up their teaching, etc.  One of the paper’s I’ve been reviewing is Tong Jing’s boyfriend’s paper on some esoteric math-CS thing.  Over the past few days I’ve spent 7-8 hours at my kitchen table with him, going over the document sentence by sentence, and we have another 7-8 to go – before this Sunday’s deadline.  He’s a very nice and very smart guy (Tsinghua University), and he’s given me an acknowledgement and a couple meals already.  (Just what I need, right?  More food.)

   uz redzēšanos (This one’s for Lauren G.  If you know her, tell her.)

Sunday in the Park With George

On 09-15-12 I took my first real bike ride.  Pan Yan’s boyfriend (Suh) rode his bike from Tshinghua University (sort of the MIT of China) to RDFZ to pick me up, and together we rode through the streets of Beijing back past Tshinghua to Olympic Park, a large park built for the 2008 Olympic Games.  On the way we passed the bird’s nest and water cube.  There were some interesting statues of horsemen (bronze, I think), and Suh kindly took my photo on a little footbridge.

I didn’t even remember to bring a water bottle, but Suh was carrying this large hiking pack on his back, so I asked him what was in it.  “Lunch.”  “All that?  It seems like a lot”  “Yes.”

We arrived at the entrance to the main park, found a bench to have a snack on while we waited for Pan Yan and another teacher (Liu Na) to join us by subway.  He handed me a small container of yogurt but instead of a spoon, he gave me a straw.  Most of the yogurt people “eat” in China is very thin and usually drunk with a straw.  He pulled out a couple other things I didn’t recognize but ate anyway, and then the girls arrived.

We went to the gate but they don’t let bikes into the main part of the park.  (This is not unusual; most or maybe even all parks in Beijing – and in fact in other parts of China I’ve visited – do not allow smoking, bikes, and other vices inside the park, and the places you can walk are clearly designated with paved or boarded paths.)  I said we should just lock it up with the other 2 million bikes that were off to the side, but they all insisted that it was too nice a bike and almost certainly would be stolen.  Then we tried to lock it to a pole closer to the actual gate, but the chief guard came over and prohibited it.  Liu Na did most of the arguing, saying that I was an important foreigner and that it would be a stain on the country if my bike got stolen.  This went on for about 4-5 minutes and Liu Na’s wily charms finally prevailed and the head guard said we could lock it up inside the guards’ office – which we did.

As we commenced our walk into the park, I asked why they were so certain it would have gotten stolen.  After all, I said, the guards were stationed only about 15 yards from the bikes and would see anyone trying to steal it.  My three friends responded as a well trained chorus, saying that the guard’s job is to watch the gate, not the bikes, and that it is doubtful that either the guards or the public would interfere with someone stealing a locked bike.

We walked around until we found a small clearing underneath some trees, then Suh emptied his back pack, pulling out a small propane stove, marinated chicken, pieces of beef, some vegetables, some bread, and a 6-pack of beer.  A veritable feast.  (Turns out that the reason we walked around a lot looking for a moderately secluded area was because alcoholic beverages are not allowed in the park either.)  I took a turn at turning the chicken, but the smooth metal chopsticks were slippery and difficult to control.  These people are too polite to laugh, thank God.

We pigged out for about an hour, taking weird pictures of everyone eating, then packed up and walked around some more.  We saw a young guy walking a tightrope between 2 trees.  By now my feet were killing me, so of course we climbed a hill so we could take pictures of Beijing and more silly pictures of each other.  (What was I supposed to say, that I was too old and decrepit to walk a little more?)

About 6:00, Suh and I rode back to RDFZ, joined up with Pan Yan, and had dinner in the cafeteria.

 안녕

 

Missing

Sorry I’ve been out of touch recently.  To say my life here is eventful would be a gross understatement and even inaccurate in the vernacular.  Something out of the ordinary, and not necessarily enjoyable, seems to be happening every day and, to be honest, I’m a little worn out.  Part of that is probably because I’m not sleeping well; I haven’t slept through the night once since I arrived a month ago, and so I’m fairly tired, physically and mentally, throughout the day, every day.  (While I’m whining and sympathy-trolling, I also sprained my ankle my first week here, probably at ping pong, and it gets aggravated every day because I have to walk so much.  So now everyone has to slow down even more when they walk with me because I have a limp.  “They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?”)

Still, I’m able to function adequately, I guess, because I can smile, say moderately intelligent stuff, and no one gives me really weird looks during meetings.  I had several things to tell you last week, but got too busy and decided to wait until the weekend to catch up.  Then my Internet went out for 2 days under a rare confluence of 3 different problems, and it took 2 computer guys and several hours to get it back.  Finally, as I went to upload this post, I could not access my home computer (remember that WordPress is not accessible in China) due to a recent power outage there.  Can you believe it?!

Anyway, I’m gonna try to fill you in on things before I take off for Chengdu.  Also, I’ve been accumulating observations and perspectives on the Chinese people, thinking that I would give a comprehensive report soon, but now I realize I already have too much to say and thus I will start feeding you this stuff piecemeal, hopefully before I forget it.  As I start to reveal these observations, some of you may be inclined to think that what I say sounds racist.  I urge you to suppress those feelings.  It would be foolish to think that all peoples of the world are identical, and to avoid noting the differences would be ostrichish.  (Sounds like Ogden Nash.)  Also, to assume everyone in any given culture is the same is ludicrous.

Finally, it is clear to me (as I’ve long known) that our view of China and the Chinese that we get in the US media is not, despite our the enormous freedom of the press, as accurate as you may think it is.  The same goes for the general Chinese view of America (they rarely refer to our country as “the United States”), though I’m getting the impression that the Chinese know more about what’s going on in America than they do about what’s happening in their own country.

до свидания

It’s A Small World After All

Thanks to one of my readers (a parent of a student who lived in Beijing), I have a new perspective on the smallness of the appliances here.  I’ve placed his response below:

“You may wonder why the refrigerators and washers are relatively small and dryers are rare in China, right?  Well, the definition of “fresh food” in China means meats or vegetables butchered/harvested the same day [it’s eaten] or the day before and “unrefrigerated.”  You can see live fish in Chinese grocery stores.  As I know, most Chinese families do grocery shopping everyday or every other day in order to get fresher food.  Larger refrigerators are really unnecessary and do not sell well because of their higher costs, higher power consumption, and larger in size.  Besides, the housing cost is very high; an apartment of 1000 sqf (90 sqm) in the area you live in Beijing would cost somewhere between 2.5 and 3 million RMB.  So the sizes of apartments in China are relatively small and the kitchens and bathrooms are also small.  That’s another reason why refrigerators and washers are smaller.  The actual cost of electricity in China is about 0.6-1 RMB per KWH, which is comparable with the price in our area; Virginia Power sells electricity at about 11 cents per KWH including all taxes and surcharges.  But the salary in China is much lower.  So using electricity to dry clothes is an expensive option for most people.

“Since 2004, I went to China to visit my parents almost every year and see a lot of changes.  China today is much better than the time when I left (1986); however, the living standard in the US is still higher than China nowadays.  I am enjoying reading your blogs, which remind me a lot of memories of China.

“If you also do shopping in the US and are familiar with the prices in the US, I hope you can write a blog comparing the prices between the US and China, which is a very interesting topic.”

This writer mentions the shopping differences between the two countries.  While I’m not a big shopper here or there (unless it’s food, of course), one interesting aspect I’ve uncovered is that some of the mid-level clothes (such as my trademark polo shirts) are much higher (sometimes 2x) here than in the US.  I was surprised, so I asked.  I was told that modern (i.e., younger) Chinese people do not believe the quality of clothes is high if the price is low, and thus they won’t buy clothes unless they are expensive.

Tuesdays With Morrie

I thought my post titles were boring.  If you’re one of my students whose literary and musical repertoire extends no further than Harry Potter and Justin Beaver, use Google.

Last Saturday (09-15-12) I had one of my best days here so far, even though I did nothing related to RDFZ.  One of my former students (to protect his privacy I’ll call him D, as in David) arrived and spent the day, stayed overnight, and flew out the next morning.  I hadn’t seen him in many years, and we linked up recently by email, only to discover that he was on a business trip in China.  He changed his departure flight so he could come to Beijing for a day.

Preparation

He was to arrive at 10:30, so I knew I had plenty of time to clean the place Saturday morning.  Earlier in the week I picked up a shower curtain and rod because, as you can see in the first photo, the shower is right next to the toilet and there’s no shower curtain.  I wedged the shower rod against the towel rack on one side, and a corner of the wall on the other.  After adding the shower curtain, I was all set.

On Saturday morning I washed the dishes and prepared to mop the floors.  D arrived an hour early, however, and we had to wade through an inch of dust to get to the guest bedroom.  So I did the mopping while he moved the bucket around.  He also creatively cleaned some sticky tape stuff off my kitchen table with his hand cleaner.

Lunch

We chatted for a while but it didn’t take long for us to realize it was time for lunch – being almost 10:00.  We set off toward that food court with all the noodles and dumplings and stuff, but halfway there we went through a mall and stopped to look at hats so he could buy one for his girlfriend.

I remembered the great noodle shop that TJ showed me, and we changed directions roughly toward that restaurant.  I say roughly, because I knew more or less where the restaurant was but only knew for sure how to get there from the school.  We wandered around for a half an hour or so, then decided to go back to the school and find the noodle shop from there.  And we did!

We had noodles-this and the noodles-that and some barbecued lamb on skewers and barbecued, spicy mushrooms on skewers, a beer, and a plum drink.  Earlier, as we were wandering around the neighborhood looking for the restaurant, I saw someone I knew on the sidewalk and we waved at each other.  Now, in the restaurant, I saw a teacher I knew then called him over to join us.  There’s something about having people recognize you as you’re out and about that makes you feel at home.

Afternoon Sightseeing

After lunch we discussed various options.  D wanted to see the Great Wall, but it was too late in the day to arrange that.  Then he mentioned the Forbidden City, but the last entrance there is 4:00 and we really didn’t have time to take care of that either.  I felt really bad for not having arranged something in advance, and I vowed to be better prepared next time.

In the end, we decided to go to Tiananmen Square by subway.  If this is what the subway looks like on a Saturday afternoon, I wonder what it’s like during rush hour.  My subway experience that day was less than sterling.  Coming back I had ⅓ bottle of water in my hand and the cap came off, unbeknownst to me.  The lady next to me gave a little scream, looked down, and I assumed there was a mouse or something sneaking around the floor.  Turns out I spilled ALL the water down her leg and onto the floor.  Talk about feeling like a dumb foreigner!  Fortunately my charm and winning smile lessened the impact and she seemed to forgive me.  Thank goodness it wasn’t that plum drink!

So we walked around the Square (which is huge, by the way), took a few pictures, etc., and D bought me that fatal bottle of water while he got some weird magnesium drink.  (Yuck!)  Then we saw a few hundred people gathered around the flag.  It was late afternoon so we figured the big event was the lowering of the flag.  We joined the crowd and waited.  And waited.  After a while (who knows, 20 minutes?), some soldiers came marching around the crowd and a few others entered the roped-off section and stood at attention.  Yay!  It’s gonna happen soon!

The crowd stood up, and though I was pretty close to the front, a tallish woman in the VERY front was directly in front of me.  I think someone else said something, and she nicely sat down with her young child.  There was no pushing or anything like that, but we were really packed in there.

What I found the most interesting was that at each corner of this impromptu square of people and in the middle of each side was a non-uniformed young guy – I surmised that they might have been trainees – with a fire extinguisher at his feet.  I wondered if these were for crowd control in the event people got overly excited about the flag lowering.  We’re still in the dark because after another 20 minutes or so nothing happened, so we threw in the towel (not literally; we might have gotten sprayed) and left, the flag still at its mature height.

Junk Shopping

We walked along a side street next to the Forbidden City (which we couldn’t enter, of course, thanks to my knuckleheadedness) where there were these little tourist traps selling goofy stuff that no one ever needs (though it did strike me that my granddaughter might enjoy some of the interesting toys).

D wanted a Mao T-shirt.  We saw a shop with a bunch of them but not in his size (Large).  After searching exhaustively through their stock, the man sent his wife out the door to get one, presumably from their store house.  Turns out she went to a nearby store to buy one, then came back with it.

We stopped in an art studio with a few nice drawings and silk paintings.  This turned out to be a place where an art teacher has his students display their work, hopefully to be sold.  The young art student there showed us a bunch of stuff, and inasmuch as I have no decorations in my apartment at all, we haggled over 4 paintings on silk scrolls he did, one for each season.  Asking price was 900 RMB, but he quickly (perhaps too quickly) came down to 800.  I started out the door.  We haggled a bit more, and I ended up paying 260 RMB (about $41) for the four.  I thought we had settled on 250 RMB but he said that was an unlucky number, so I threw in another 10.  Who’s to know?

Dinner

We hopped on the subway to come back to the school, but as we exited the underground, we decided to go directly to dinner.  At first I was going to take him to this great dumpling place nearby in a fancy plaza, but on the way there I remembered this weird place in the locals’ section of our area that a British guy took me to in July 2011.  We found it and settled into a couple lounge chairs with a table between us.  Most of the food was western, however, and we needed a 12-year-old boy with good English who was working there to help us find a few decent Chinese items on the menu.  Though the food wasn’t as fancy as the dumpling place’s, we had a great time sitting in comfortable chairs, eating, drinking a couple beers each, and catching up.

Foot Massage

It had been a long day of walking for this old man, so at 9:30 p.m. we of course walked some more, several blocks to the local massage place Li Jing’s mom showed me earlier and D, after treating me to dinner, also insisted on treating me to an hour’s foot massage.  They soaked, rubbed, and pounded our feet while we moaned, sighed, and dozed.  Can’t think of a better ending to a wonderful day.  This is one of the great Chinese innovations.

D for Departure

That night at about 11:00, after we got back from foot beating, D decided to shower.  We suddenly realized that the hot water in his bathroom was scheduled to cease at 10:00, but we decided to try it anyway.  We discovered two things:  (1) the water had indeed terminated at 10:00, and (2) the shower curtain I bought was only a shower-curtain cover – and quite porous.  Good grief.

The next morning D and I made and split a cheese and onion omelet, toast, and something to drink (can’t remember what).  He packed and I walked him to the front gate (about 1 NY block), and we said goodbye.

I can’t say D is special to me because all my students are special to me in one way or another, even if they don’t realize it.  But D is special to TJ.  Two questions come up whenever I tell people what I’m doing:  why am I doing it, and how did it come about.  From a historical perspective, D may have been involved with the second question.  D is important to TJ in that he was the first student to take AP Biology as a sophomore.  Previously, only juniors and seniors took it.  But he wormed his way into the course, and the next year several more sophomores took it.  More and more sophomores signed up for AP Bio – today roughly 95% of AP Bio students are sophomores – and I realized that they needed more choices in post-AP Bio biology classes.  That was the genesis of the Neuro class I started, which, if you follow the obvious cascade of events, has led me to Beijing.