A Patch of Blue

A few days ago a colleague and I visited a school for the arts on Beijing’s outskirts. The purpose was to see if we could help them with connections in the U.S. We took a tour of the place, and though you can’t really tell from this photos,…

…we were surprised at how shabby the place looked. The paint on all the outside walls peeling everywhere, dirt and trash were in the hallways and stair wells, windows and doors were broken, weeds growing everywhere, etc. The chairs in the main waiting room were very worn and cheap.

Most of the students there major in dance, there also are drama and music majors available. The practicing dancers were elegant and fluid.

We passed the computer room, and I stepped in to look around. This being a holiday in honor of the APEC meeting, almost everyone in the room was playing a computer game, which seems to be somewhat of an addiction among Chinese high school boys.

At the entrance to the Administration Building there was a poster with a lot of photos of former students who had become famous, mostly as dancers, actors, and singers.

After about 30 minutes, we adjourned to the principal’s office to talk for about 20 minutes. In stark contrast to the rest of the school, the principal’s office, which was huge, was impeccably clean and nicely appointed. His desk was the size of a queen-sized bed (or thereabouts).

On the ride back home, it turned out we were both thinking the same thing: at this private school, the owners put lots of money into their own comforts but very little back into the school itself where the students exist.

Going down the highway I noted that there were banners advertising the APEC meeting every 50 to 100 yards. Thousands and thousands of banners! Each was 1 foot by 4 feet with writing too small to read either the English or Chinese. I wondered aloud how much money was spent on these useless, in my view, and unattractive decorations that adorned almost every highway in Beijing. I suggested that we could have put that money in the education system to a lot better use. My opinion was bolstered during the evening when a spectacular and, in CNN’s opinion, over-the-top fireworks show took place.

As we continued down the highway I pointed out how blue the sky was, which, as you know, is a rarity in Beijing. My colleague said this color has a specific name: APEC blue. I laughed out loud. If you’ve been watching the news, the Beijing authorities called a sudden 6-day holiday in the city that started just before the APEC meeting began: schools, government offices, and other stuff were closed, all manufacturing facilities were shut down, and driving was cut in half by having even-odd days (depending on the last number in one’s license plate). For these days the sky really has been blue, though the PM 2.5 still ranged in the 100-150 range, as reported by the U.S. Embassy.

The APEC meeting is over, Obama has left, and school has begun again. Because of the “holiday,” schools and other workers (I’m not sure which) will be in session over this weekend and possibly next.

It’s not often that I’d rather be here than in the U.S., but considering the cold snap there and the 60-degree weather here, hmmmmm.

保罗

Cough Up the Bucks

(Neil Young)

Over the past 15 years my students probably thought I was a little excessive (hypochondriac?) in my insistence that they bury their mouths in the crook of when they cough or sneeze. If they used their hands, I gave them some Purell to use. They probably chocked this up as just one more of my many weird idiosyncrasies. Nay!

About 15 years ago I was listening to a student – I will never forget his name: Alex K. – when he coughed directly into my face without even making an attempt to cover his mouth. The next day I felt very lethargic, to the point of having to lay on one of the tables in my room. A student came in and brought a cool cloth for my head. It was probably the only day I left school early, forcing the school’s administrators to quickly find rudimentary substitute.

I drove to my doctor in Centreville. He listened to my chest and said I had pneumonia and that I should drive immediately to the emergency room, which I did. At Fair Oaks Hospital I waited for 30 minutes in the Emergency Room’s waiting area and then was taken back for examination. They went through their usual routine, including an X-ray, and said they could find nothing wrong with me and that I should go home. I told what my doctor said and suggested they call him before sending me home.

He evidently convinced them to look further, so they did a spinal tap looking for meningitis. That was fun. Everything is negative, but because of my doctor’s insistence they decided to keep me overnight for observation.

In the morning they took another X-ray and said I had pneumonia. It turned out to be a fairly virulent form of bacterial pneumonia, and I was on an IV for 3 days. The hospital doctor said I wasn’t near death but that I was near near death. He was grinning, so I don’t how serious he was. One of the few distinct memories from that experience was my daughter lifting my head and giving me some water to drink.

Present day. The day after I arrived in Beijing (last Tuesday) one of my close colleagues visited me in my apartment. We talked for about an hour, during which time she coughed at least 5 times without covering her mouth. This is a fairly common occurrence in China; a significant percentage of people do not cover their mouths when they cough or sneeze. People around them seem used to it, and thus I am the only one to scowl.

A few days ago I was in a meeting with the big boss and her, and once again she did her unhygienic routine. Not coincidentally, the big boss also had a bad cold, and I am thoroughly convinced that this Typhoid Mary gave it to both of us. Anyway, I’ve been lying on the floor of my office for the past couple days, barely able to get up to use the bathroom or to eat. I’m slowly getting better and predict I’ll be my old, ornery self in a couple days.

In case you’ve forgotten, this is no-man’s time, meaning it’s cold enough outside and inside but the government hasn’t turned on the heat yet. I have a small space heater in my apartment’s office, so I close the door and lie on sofa cushions, moaning only occasionally. One of my favorite studies is one showing that men moan more when they are in the vicinity of their wives as opposed to when they’re alone.

Epilogue:

I didn’t have the energy to press “Send” yesterday, so I’m just now uploading this the following morning. And, Yay!, my cold is gone (or almost). Now I need to rebuild my strength, which, fortunately, involves eating.

保罗

I Walk the Line

I’m able to write this brief status note only because I’m too sick to do anything else, but I’ll explain that in a separate post. Now, I would like to tell you a little about my recent trip to the U.S.

I had expected to be home permanently after Sept. 1 but I was encouraged to stay another year. I insisted that I spend every other month at home in VA, so I was in Beijing in Sept., then VA in Oct.

After all this travel, I’m getting used to being careful about what ends up in my carry-on luggage – or so I thought. On my way to the U.S. at the end of Sept., I was stopped by the security people. They wanted to search my backpack after scanning it, and we kept taking stuff out without finding anything offensive. Finally, way at the bottom of one of the sections, they found my combination bicycle tool.

I had been looking for this thing around my apartment for weeks. I thought it was great that they found it. They wanted to confiscate it, so I argued, using gestures, that it’s simply a combination tool for fixing bikes. They opened it up completely, revealing all the tools, and discovered a small knife. I knew my case was lost, so I smiled sheepishly and moved on.

I had planned to replace that tool when I was in VA, but October was full of stuff: daughter’s birthday, wife’s birthday, and daughter’s wedding.

As it is every fall, most of my waking hours were spent blowing leaves. This year, for the first time, I had a helper.

Velcroed together, we moved along side-by-side, Ava blowing the leaves while I enjoyed my cigar.

The trip home a few days ago was uneventful – until I arrived at the Beijing airport. The immigration lines for foreigners are usually longish, taking about 30 minutes to get through. It doesn’t sound like much, but after a 14-hour flight it’s annoying. There are 4 lines for foreigners and about 10 for Chinese nationals. When I arrived at the immigration area, I saw this huge mob of people lined up in at the foreigners’ lines. I wish I had taken a photo because you won’t believe me, but my estimate is at least 1,000 people, maybe closer to 1,500. The lines wound around and around, then off into the distance.

It took me 5 minutes to reach the end of one of the lines, and it was clear that I was destined to be in that line at least 2 hours, maybe 3. I’m hoping that the large numbers were due to this week’s APEC meeting in Beijing.

You’d think that the airport would bring in extra people and open up extra lines, but not here. The Chinese nationals’ lines were, as usual, almost empty, while the foreigners’ lines were absolutely massive.

I was at the back of my line for about 15 minutes, moving at a snail’s pace. Off to the left I saw two lines, separate from the rest of the rest, labeled “Groups.” I made an impromptu decision to get into one of those lines, at the end of some group. About 10 people were in front of me. I was hoping the official would show mercy and let me thorough. The line crept forward.

I’m now #2 in line behind this woman. That’s when a tour guide came forward with his group (Japanese?) and tried to start his group of 30 through. I encouraged the woman in front of me to ignore the group and simply move forward to the official. She was too polite/timid to do so, and the Japanese group started through. After 3 or 4 people, I merged myself into their line. In a couple minutes I reached the official who showed me the tour guide’s list, indicating that I clearly wasn’t Japanese and that I was not on the list. I pleaded for mercy, but he would not relent. I was moderately persistent and he finally said I should go to Line 1, DP (?).

I pushed my way through this mob of people, past the enormous lines for foreigners, past the Chinese national lines with a few people, over to Line 1. There was NO ONE in Line 1; it was for Diplomats. I thought, “What the heck” and went up to the girl sitting behind the desk and handed her my passport. She scanned it and played with the computer for about a minute. I was waiting for her to tell me that I was not on the Diplomat list and that I’d have to go to the back of one of the foreigner lines.

Thinking back, I suspect she was either being kind or simply assumed I was someone special, despite being in my cargo pants and gray sweatshirt. She stamped my passport and motioned me to continue on. Miracle of miracles! I’m thinking that if I did this on a normal day I wouldn’t have gotten away with it. Still, I may try.

Epilogue:

A couple days after arriving back in Beijing I rode my bike to a bike store up by Tsinghua High School. I wanted to get a rack for the back of my bike so I could bring the one I was using back to the U.S. The shop was small and run by a man and his wife. The man got the bikes down for people wanting to buy them and the wife pumped up the tires.

After some searching, the man found a suitable rack and started to install it. I stopped him and asked him how much. He said 40 RMB (about $6.50), so I motioned for him to continue. When done, he proceeded to adjust my brakes as a kindness. When I took off to go back to school – I was in a hurry because I had a meeting with the big boss – I noticed that the rear brake was rubbing a little, making it harder to pedal. No big deal. I figured I’d adjust it back in my apartment.

But I have no bike tool and everyone (including the workers) is gone for a week, thanks to the APEC meeting). I will try to find a picture of one online, then send it to X23 for ordering in China. It’s possible that I won’t find a cheap one because it’s not a commonly purchased item here (even though they’re probably all made here).

No hurry: I’m confined to the floor of my office until I recover. Oy vey.

保罗