Lavender Blue (Dilly, Dilly)

(Not quite a one-hit wonder, this is one of Sammy Turner’s hits in the late 1950s.  Find it on YouTube.)

Sichuan Day 4, Part 1

From the day I arrived in China years ago, my now good friend MQ has been telling me that I MUST go to Jiu Zhai Gou, a national park in Sichuan Province.  He said this place is regarded by many as the most beautiful natural place in China.  Jiu Zhai Gou (pronounced “Jew Jye Go”) is the main reason X23 and I came to Sichuan, and now, on Day 4, we’re finally off to this “paradise” by a short plane ride.

The airport is high up in the mountains on a plateau, and thus we had to take a long taxi ride down into the town of Jiu Zhai Gou.  On the way there, the taxi driver pointed out that it’s much colder here than in Chengdu, whereupon X23 realized that she didn’t have a jacket.  Thus the taxi driver took us first to a sporting goods store on the outskirts of town where X23 bought the needed apparel.

Across the street from the store was a field of lavender, and I couldn’t resist having photo of me in my customary pensive and peaceful mood.

X23 also assumed her customary low-key demeanor.

The route into town reminded me a little of Montana.

The town of Jiu Zhai Gou (as opposed to the national park of the same name) has the colorful prayer flags…

…and colorful buildings typical of Tibetan villages.

We finally arrived at our little hotel, which was on an unassuming side street.

The place was clean but austere.  In the rooms there are no towels or toilet paper.

Hungry.  Always hungry.  Fortunately, X23 has an appetite almost equal to mine.  We set off on foot to find an eating establishment, and around the corner we saw this place.

Who can pass up an opportunity to luncheon at a place with such a welcoming name?

Inside were two tables resentfully squeezed in next to the storage area.

Though not lavish, the place seemed clean enough with clean dishes.

We were greeted warmly by the waitress-owner-cook (and probably also chief bottle washer)…

…who immediately poured us some barley tea, which turned out to be surprisingly delicious.

She helped us select 2 dishes from the menu,…

…which we devoured as if we hadn’t eaten in weeks.

While we were eating, the owner set about to crack a bunch of goose eggs into a trash basket, fortunately lined with a plastic bag.  Maybe French omelets for dinner?

After lunch, we set off to explore the town.

Jiu Zhai Gou is situated in a small valley between two mountains (as valleys are wont to be),…

…with a fast moving stream coursing down the middle.

A quick pause for a little ice cream dessert:

We were reminded occasionally that although this is a big tourist destination, it’s still rural.

Just like everywhere else in China, children often spend their non-school hours in the stores or restaurants where one or both parents work.

We came upon a couple women sitting at a table outside a restaurant.

They were picking unwanted stuff out of some kind or fungus or whatever that falls from nearby trees.  This was destined to be part of the evening’s dinner menu.  Yum.

The people in this part of China have stockier builds than those in northern China.

We continued exploring the side streets…

We saw lots of construction, implying that tourism is growing (which ultimately turned out to all too true, as you will see).

Occasionally we passed prayer wheels that people spin as they walk by.

On the main street you see poor people paid to lure people to hotels.

We finally found a small store that sold towels, and we bought the biggest ones they had.  Honest.

Like most Tibetan villages, Jiu Zhai Gou is a very colorful place, with, as I said, flags everywhere…

…and lavishly painted houses.

There are flowers everywhere, also.

Then we looked up and didn’t quite believe our eyes.

Yes, it was a swastika.

But not quite.

We saw an old woman sitting by herself.

Most Chinese people are reluctant to approach strangers, but not X23.

The woman was saying her prayers with her beads.

The two women hit it off quite well, and they were both smiling when we left.

Back at the hotel, we loafed the rest of the afternoon on the second floor patio,…

…eating some peanuts and some other kind of weird nuts.

保罗

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

Sichuan Day 3, Part 4

To finish off this day, we arrived back in Chengdu from the day tour in the evening – hungry. Our hotel was in an interesting neighborhood: though not necessarily seedy it was certainly working class.

We started down one of the little side streets and immediately came across a common site: some guys playing Chinese chess in the street on a warm summer evening.

Then we saw some fruit carts and knew we were getting closer.

Nearby was a group of young people eating at a little outdoor café, sitting on the customary plastic stools.

We were tempted to go inside but in the end we wanted to eat outside, and there was only that one table.

Across the street we saw a man and a woman running a grilling operation where you choose what you want to eat, then they grill it for you and put it in a Styrofoam box. Ah, yes, our kind of haute cuisine!

Here’s what I got:

I don’t remember what the big stuff was (fish? tofu?) but evidently I liked it.

I guess the beer helped my enjoyment of the food.

Next to us was a group of young people having dinner and drinking a lot of beer.

At first I thought how nice it was that these kids were out eating together, but then I saw them take tissues from the box on the table, wipe their mouths, then casually toss them onto the sidewalk next to them.

I have a theory about littering in Third World countries. A large percentage of the people are still not sophisticated enough to realize that littering hurts their country, and until there is a national educational priority to change this, it won’t happen. Fortunately, the various levels of government hire armies of street sweepers, so you rarely see much litter linger in public places for long periods of time.

On the way back we saw a bridge spanning the river. The Chinese have a penchant for gaudy lighting on their bridges.  Nothing subtle here.

Then, almost home, we rounded a corner and saw a bunch of people sitting on stools, all facing the same direction, and we wondered what’s up.

So we went behind them and saw what they were looking at.

X23 told me this is common in her village, also: many people don’t have TVs, so they gather at someone’s house or shop and watch together. It’s reminiscent of the days when my parents huddled around the radio and when my siblings and I fought over which of the 3 available TV channels we would watch. (Of course, whoever won had to actually get up off the sofa and change the channel because there were no remotes in those days.)

Most of you know my feelings about personal communication devices and social media. The latter is a misnomer in that, despite the ability to maintain tenuous connections with large numbers of people, this newly acquired ability to isolate ourselves with our lives self-contained in digital devices has resulted in the weakening of the deep community spirit that used to bind us together. “The road to Hell is paved with good intentions”

保罗

12 Gates Into the City

I’m currently in Shanghai and I have some interesting things to show you, but it seems illogical to do so without first completing the Sichuan trip.  (Sorry I’ve been so lazy.)

Sichuan Day 3, Part 3

After Qing Cheng Mountain, we were taken to an “ancient village.” I put it in quotes because, though I suppose it may have been an ancient village long ago (hmmmmm), it now seems to be little more than a tourist trap. To control the number of people inside the village to a mere few billion, they held up the buses of tourists outside the city, letting only one bus in when another departed. Here’s the only entrance.

Off to my right, across the river, I saw an old man fishing. It’s not often you see people alone in China.

Clearly, some parts of the city were indeed old,…

…while other parts were newer, such as this bridge.

Parts of this “ancient village” resembled an amusement park, such as this walk-on-swinging-log attraction.

One distinguishing characteristic of this village was that there were statues EVERYWHERE, though none of them were old.

There was a shallow area in the river where the tourists played.

I don’t know whether it was intentional or not, but the little café also had water you could walk through.

More statues.

More amusement stuff.

All along the way, you’re assaulted by the horrible, tinny sounds of the tour guides squawk boxes that are ubiquitous throughout China.

Of course, to get out of the “ancient village” you had to pass through the shopping area,…

…which wasn’t so bad because after the street of useless trinkets, you entered the narrower street of yummy food.

The only negative things about this part of the village were the crowds were thicker and you were bombarded by more squawk boxes – this one from a girl in a cowboy hat.  I called her “Tex” but she had no idea what I was referring to.

X23 saw a food stand with spicy stuff she liked,…

…so she picked up some really spicy noodles…

…and some weird, gelatinous stuff in a brown liquid. Yuck!

Other people were enjoying the same spicy food…

…while others preferred weird stuff on sticks.

I preferred the grilled squid, which seems to be everywhere in China,…

…though X23 was not a fan.

Not everyone can afford an actual food stand, and this woman was selling her product right from the bowl.

Not everyone feels the need to dress formally while eating in public places.

Two final notes on typical Chinese customs. First, like Chinese women throughout the country, they’re very big on posing.

Second, one of the most popular entertainment events for locals is watching other people work.

Note the ratio of supervisors to workers is 4:2. Yes, the guy with no shirt is Chief Supervisor.

保罗

 

Carry Me Back to Old Virginny

Sichuan, Day 3, Part 2

Leaving that dam show, our bus took us to a lunch place that was very crowded and clearly designed specifically for large tour groups, of which there were many already there.

We found a couple seats at a table with people we didn’t know from a different tour, and few words were spoken by anyone.

The food was just this side of edible. We had to gobble it down fast (which was probably a good thing) because in a few minutes we were called by our respective tour leaders to get going, so everyone pushed back their rickety stools and left en masse.

Our next stop was Qing Cheng Mountain, a popular tourist destination. As always, there was a long walk just to get to the entrance.

Finally, we got to the entrance gate,…

…walked through, and began the trek up the mountain. It started off nice and easy,…

…but I looked up and saw 3 billion steps.

Still, with the positive attitude for which I’m widely known, I started up.

Occasionally, we’d come across a tree in the middle of the wooden walkway. I hope this one doesn’t plan to put on any weight around its middle.

You may notice from my expression in the photo below that my smile is beginning to fade.

I kept looking around for a bench or anyplace to sit, but in China such places are few and far between, considering the number of people on these treks. Thus all sitting places were occupied.

So, with head hung low, I continued my upward trek.

Then, like magic, an opportunity presented itself – one that for decades I swore I’d never succumb to. (Pardon my preposition.) Yes, I’m ashamed to say that I was so worn out that I let two guys carry me the rest of the way.

Note the returned smile on my face. No smile on this guy’s face.

It may look like this one is smiling, but I think he was screaming in pain.

We finally got to the top (?) where they dropped me off. I can’t remember what it cost but it was worth every yuan.

We found ourselves at the edge of a small lake where we debated taking the ferry across to the other side. (The question on the table was whether we’d get back to the bus before it left.) The ferry arrived back on our side and we hopped on.

On the other side was a cable car station,…

…that took us farther up the mountain.

X23 enjoyed the view.

At the top end of the cable car run we came upon another temple gate…

…beyond which was – can you believe it? – more stairs…

…that led to this relief (oh, joy).

Speaking of relief, that’s what I felt overwhelmingly when we finally got back down.

保罗

It Ain’t Over ‘Til It’s Over

Sichuan Trip, Day 3, Part 1

I rarely take tours, always preferring to get my own transportation and wander. (“Mentally confused and prone to wandering”) We came across an ad for a tour to the famous Dujiangyan Dam and a couple other nearby places, so we signed up. Our instructions were to be at a certain street corner near our hotel at some ungodly hour.

We left even earlier than we needed, so we picked up a couple of weird sandwiches for breakfast.

Eventually the bus picked us up and drove for an hour out of Chengdu to a Taoist Temple. While the tour guide was arranging for our entrance into the Temple, we watched the obligate tai chi group in the adjacent park.

Once inside the gate, the entire tour group (about 30) immediately headed toward the steps that led up to the Temple proper. Except us. We saw some guy giving archery lessons off to the side, so decided that the short time we had there was better spent learning how to defend ourselves from those violent tai chi people.

I think the last time I shot an arrow was in 8^th or 9^th grade with a friend in Montecito named John Schneider. Anyway, after brief instructions, I put the arrow on the string,…

…pulled it back,…

…and let go. I might even have hit the target if I had kept my eyes open.

We spent our last remaining 10 minutes looking at old jars,…

…old clothes,…

…and old chairs.

Upon exiting the Temple gate, we were comforted in knowing we had made the right decision to take archery lessons as the tai chi people had now armed themselves.

We hopped back onto the bus and went to Dujiangyan Dam, a very popular tourist site. A cute car took us in small groups to the official entrance.

We got separated temporarily from our group before getting our tickets, so we were forced to sit on a little footbridge and watch the pretty girls go by.

Finally, we entered the grounds, which is a large park with footpaths,…

…sculpted schrubs,…

…and waterfalls.

We came upon a large pond with large koi…

…and a not-so-large kid massacring them with a squirt gun.

There was the ever-present food stand with spicy snacks…

…and then a group of dances doing their thing for us passersby.

To get to our destination, we had to cross a narrow suspension bridge that was already swinging wildly over a raging river.

We approached the bridge…

…and wobbled across, pleased to see someone fixing the grip on one of the railings.

Our destination was a large amphitheater where we were going to watch one of those famous Chinese extravaganzas with hundreds of people dancing while telling a story. We were a little early and sat in a section with few people around us. Off to the right were a lot of people sitting in a shady part of the amphitheater, not realizing that, by the time the show started, they, too, would be in the sun.

This is what was in front of us:

Eventually, people started coming onto the “stage”

Soon we noticed that water was coming down the main stairway.

The whole show was about the history of the area and the importance of water and the building of the dam.

The hat on the lady in front of me was attractive to a predaceous insect aptly known as an “assassin bug.”

As the show progressed, the flow rate of the water increased.

The heroine arrives. How did she keep from slipping on the wet pavement? Special shoes?

I believe this dance depicts workers in the rice paddies.

As the sun rose higher, out came the umbrellas.

At least this one has an artistic origin.

The heroine is approached by the hero.

A couple of young acrobats or contortionists?

Occasionally, a couple performers would come right up to the seats.

Then out comes the big red banner…

…and fake trumpeters in blue.

Now, the wedding. As part of the traditional ceremony, the bride is helped to step slowly over a hibachi, which signifies the burning away of unlucky things, thus ensuring the couple will have a prosperous future.

Here’s an analogous photo from a real wedding.

The large red ribbon with the knot in the middle evidently represents something along the lines of the American saying of “tying the knot” when getting married.

And finally, the groom carries off the bride.

After one more jumping acrobat,…

…the music stops and the stage empties. Many people leave the amphitheater, not noticing that a small cabin is beginning to be revealed by rotating shrubs.

I get up to leave, but X23 tells me it’s not over. (She evidently had read about this online.) Indeed, there is now more music and dancing girls with large red lanterns.

In China, red lanterns during festivals, weddings, and Chinese New Year, like firecrackers, means life will be more prosperous.

Then we see outside the cabin that the wandering son is greeted warmly by his parents while people continue to leave, unaware.

The show continues, with more banners (yellow and white this time) coming out,…

…and as more water emerges, the performers wave goodbye.

Finally, we leave…

…and we’re the last two onto the tour bus: all the others left at the fake ending. They gave us nasty looks.

保罗

Love Letters in the Sand

Let’s continue with my Sichuan trip.

After being delayed a day, we finally arrived in Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan and one of my favorite cities in China, even though the food I too hot. We got a couple rooms in a low-cost hotel (right in the center of the photo)…

…and looked out across the alley to our neighboring apartment building.

Down below in the alley was a typical sales couple selling stuff for cheap prices. The husband walks around without a shirt (very common in China during the summer) while the wife eats and waits for customers.

Across the street from the hotel was a coffee shop.

In China, almost every coffee shop has a sign of some sort that is round with green on it. (Gee, I wonder why!) Also, coffee shops do not open early in the morning but rather at 9:30 or 10:00 a.m. They are not meant as a caffeine source but rather as a social gathering place. They can be crowded at lunch and through the afternoon. One teacher I know gave her students the assignment of writing an essay about why coffee houses now outnumber tea houses in Beijing.

For dinner we decided to take a taxi to the famous I-don’t-remember-the-name ancient village area. This is a major tourist attraction in Chengdu, as you can see.

This “village” is about a square mile in size, and every inch was as crowded as this one. Note the ubiquitous Starbucks (a real one this time), which itself is an attraction.

Across from Starbucks was a cheap noodle place,…

…so we got some noodles,…

…dumpling soup,…

…and beer,…

…and sat at the window seats watching the people go by.

After dinner, we braved the crowds again…

…and sauntered around, looking at the hundreds of fast food stands, all of which looked pretty much like this one…

…except for the stuff they were selling.

Each food stand would have a specialty. This one sold rice balls of different colors and, presumably, flavors.

Most dishes came with a pile of Sichuan peppers on top.

This place specialized in duck parts,…

…while this place had fish or chicken on a stick (very common in China),…

…with duck heads thrown in just for fun.

Not to be outdone, his two neighbors were selling rabbit heads…

…and pigs’ feet.

The gimmick at this place was one continuous noodle, which the guy would make in the metal pan in front of him,…

…then whip it across the room to the woman by the window.

There were a few real restaurants for those who wanted to spend more money.

They usually had a singer somewhere.

This is a fancy tea house.

Chinese girls love to pose for pictures.

We finally came to a place that wasn’t selling food. This Egyptian guy used colored sand to make decorative bottles.

He used a long-stemmed funnel to slowly add sand of different colors to the bottle until. Careful addition of the sand produced recognizable pictures in the bottle.

Thanks to the beer and old age, I suddenly needed a restroom (“toilet” in their vernacular).

I noticed a little sign above the urinal – first time seeing something like this.

Finally, tired of fighting the crowds, we took a little cart home.

That was Day 2.

保罗

Its Fleece Was White As Snow

Before I continue with my Sichuan trip, I’d like to tell you about yesterday’s lunch. My friend JJ seems to know everyone, including a lot of rich people – and I mean VERY rich people, billionaires (though he himself falls outside that category).

He invited me to join some of his friends and him for lunch, partly as a business lunch and partly as a farewell luncheon for me. JJ is very frugal, and though I know he can afford taxis, he takes the bus whenever he can. So we met in the park at 11:00 and walked a quarter mile through the Renmin campus to the bus stop.

We got on the bus and he said it’s only about 3 stops. We talked. The bus came to a stop. And he looked up quickly, then jumped off the bus even more quickly. I followed. He said we went 1 stop too far and had to walk back a few blocks.

It was hot and muggy. We started walking. I said, “Are you sure we came too far?” He stopped, looked around, then said maybe we got off a stop too early. We crossed the street and went back the other direction, hopefully toward the restaurant.

We passed a group of people, some sitting on the sidewalk, some lying on cardboard.

I thought they were homeless people, but I know those are not allowed in Beijing. It turns out they were people waiting in line to see a dentist at the dental hospital. (In Beijing, maybe throughout China, doctors and dentists are associated with hospitals and see patients there. Generally they do not have private offices.)

We finally made it to our destination, which is a well-known Mongolian restaurant.

Our luncheon was early (11:00 a.m.) so when we arrived the large restaurant was devoid of other diners.

Along the sides of the restaurant, on the second floor, are private dining rooms, and we were in one of those.

In China, as it is in other Asian countries, the placement of people at a meal table is important and I’ve learned to hang back until the host tells me where to sit. The seat of honor today, which is the seat farthest from, and facing, the door is the eldest person present, a retired government official.

I was placed to his left. To his right was the host, the guy with the short-sleeved white shirt and the dough.

Continuing counterclockwise around the table you see my friend JJ, his wife, and the RG2 (whom I think I introduced you to ages ago).

RG2 stands for Red Generation #2, meaning that she is the daughter of an important military official who was part of the revolution that established current-day China. I think he is currently head of China’s missile defense system and JJ semi-jokingly said that if the U.S. and China came to war, RG2’s father would be in the front line.

The host placed his daughter next to me because she speaks English and wanted to talk to me about universities.

Then the food started coming. The first dish was something that looked like a common Chinese seaweed dish but turned out to be a special type of grass that grows in Mongolia. It was good.

We had some fat, slimy noodles (looked like they were made from rice) in a delicious brown sauce.

An unusual dish then came: jellyfish. A bit too chewy for my taste.

There was a very nice salad of lettuce and cantaloupe,…

…hot milk,…

…and fish pieces with snow peas. Good.

Halfway though our lunch the entertainment began in the form of a woman singing traditional Mongolian songs.

More food: pig’s feet pieces in a sweet sauce with slightly dried plums,…

…the ever-present tofu with two dipping sauces,…

…turbot in a wonderful dark brown sauce,…

…a strange green vegetable (green squash?) I have not seen in the U.S.,…

…huge shrimp baked with garlic and scallions,…

…and what seemed to be a whole, small lamb.

This was accompanied by small pita-like pieces, 4 sauces, and spears of cucumber and scallions.

By this time I was so stuffed that all I could manage was to stuff a bit of lamb into a pocket and force it down.

Finally, as is customary in China, we ended with a soup. Instead of the usual light broth, however, this soup had noodles and potatoes and a delicious but unidentifiable liquid.

Fortunately I was able to waddle home.

保罗

Hot Diggity Dog Diggity Boom

(Most of you probably don’t even know who Perry Como is, but in 1956 this was America’s #1 song for a while.)

I have several close friends at the school, but to keep my sanity, I’ve needed a couple off-campus friends, too. I’ll remind you that these are JJ, the retired government worker who’s about my age, and X23, the grad student in mathematical logic. JJ and I talk mainly about economics and politics. For example, yesterday JJ broke the news to me that a high level marshal in the People’s Liberation Army was arrested – for bribery, of course. That makes two in the last 6 months. X23 and I talk about her boyfriends, her girlfriends (all of whom are glamorous), roommates, and philosophy. We tried some logic puzzles in the park one day, but I felt really stupid: I’d look at the problem for several minutes, scratch my head, and suggest an answer – invariably wrong. She’d look at a problem for a few seconds and then state the correct answer. I found an excuse to leave.

Everyone who comes to visit me likes these two people; I don’t tend to waste my time with also-rans. X23 and I have become very close friends primarily, I think, because we’re both a bit anomalous within our respective groups. I’m not Chinese, and thus the Chinese teachers tend to come to me and spill their guts about everything; X23 stands out in her crowd because she’s so much smarter than they are. She’s also not the glamorous type as the rest of her crowd is. We have bonded to the degree that we’ve actually talked about marriage – between my son and her. I showed her his picture and she said she’d like to meet him (after I said he was as lively as my daughter, whom she’s met). Believe it or not, there are still a lot of arranged marriages in China. (JJ and a friend of his are trying to get his son and her daughter together.) I haven’t told her yet, but I suspect the only thing Charlie and she have in common is that she likes beer (though not to the extent he does). She comes from a small village in rural China and is a very conservative, traditional Chinese girl. Probably not Charlie’s type. Still, you never know.

Anyway, X23 and I went to Sichuan Province for a week’s vacation. When we arrived at the airport there was a torrential downpour, and all flights were delayed. We waited and waited for information, but the Chinese airports are notorious for NOT telling passengers anything. Finally, the natives got restless and started yelling at the gate agents. That’s when they decided to bring out some food. We each got a little bag of “goodies”: 2 small rolls, a tiny hot dog-like thing, and a sealed bag of pickled cabbage. Yum.

I tore my roll in half and peeled the plastic off the hot dog thing,…

…put half on one of the rolls,…

…added the pickled cabbage (at this point I was so hungry that I would eat anything),…

…and ate it.

X23 did likewise.

We waited hours. Can’t remember how many. People were yelling. I suggested to the agents, in my typically modest tone, that people would settle down if they’d just give us some information.

Finally we were informed that our flight would not take off this evening and that we should follow this guy here to board the buses that will take us to a hotel. We drove for about 45 minutes (I could have gone home!) and we finally arrived in the middle of nowhere at what I first thought was a gaudy place…

…but that turned out to be just the entrance building. Behind it was the understated entrance to the actual hotel.

Thanks to my strategic planning and X23’s quick feet, we were among the first ones to get rooms, so we took a few minutes to take some pictures while everyone else was still checking in.

In front of the hotel was this elaborate stone carving, surrounded by little carvings.

Each one was different.

At the top was a guy on a dragon.

Inside, in the lobby, there was fancy, carved wooden furniture everywhere,…

…and what I think is very expensive pink jade.

We asked the powers repeatedly when we should get up to go back to the airport but got no reply that made any sense, so we set our cell phone alarms for 7 a.m., assuming this would give us time for breakfast before we returned to the airport.

Anyway, that was Day 1 of my vacation.

保罗

Baby You Can Drive My Car

For quite a while I’ve been wanting to talk to you about transportation in Beijing, so finally I begin these installments with a little about cars in Beijing.

There is a lot of money in Beijing, and you see many Mercedes, Audis, Porsche SUVs, Range Rovers, VWs, etc. What you don’t see are Lexuses because, after all, they’re Japanese. You don’t see many sports cars, though here’s one:

Expensive cars (small Porsches, large BMWs, etc.) are common on the campus of Renmin University. They are students’ cars, of course, from wealthy families who spoil their children, something else that is very common here in China.

Beijingers complain a lot about bad traffic, which, I admit, often moves at a snail’s pace. But they think it’s due to too many cars. Only partly true. My keen observational skills have led me to discover that the number of cars is not the primary reason for lousy traffic in Beijing. Rather, it’s NOT ENOUGH PARKING. They continue to build lots of big buildings in Beijing office without ANY parking. Nothing underground, nothing on top, nothing off to the side. I’ve been told very specifically that this is done intentionally to discourage people from driving to work.

Doesn’t work. They drive into downtown Beijing, then creep around, looking for a place to park. They park all over the sidewalks, sometimes in designated parking places painted onto the sidewalks, and just as often simply any place they can fit their car.

In most American municipalities, this narrow street (adjacent to my school) would be a one-way, no-parking avenue. There is in fact “No Parking” signs on the sides but they are completely ignored – and they have yet to convert this, or any similar street, as far as I can see, to one-ways. The result is that quite often we have incredible traffic jams here with cars trying to go both ways while avoiding the illegally parked cars.

Fortunately, I’m pretty adept at maneuvering my bike through this mess.

One day I was riding home down this street and saw a piece of paper on the window of a car.

Looking closer I was amazed to see a parking ticket, the only one I’ve seen in 2+ years here.

And in that time I have seen only one person stopped for a moving violation, and that was in Chengdu, not Beijing.

Occasionally you come across a car parked with boards leaning against the wheels. Can you guess what they’re for? I couldn’t. (Or did I tell you already?)

This guy is turning around, awkwardly and slowly, holding up traffic for quite a while.

The thing that bothers me the most about drivers here is their total arrogance and total disrespect for pedestrians and cyclists (and each other). In the photo below the pedestrians have a green walking sign but the driver pays no attention.

This is more than common; it’s routine, even when there are 100 people trying to cross the street. Drivers often approach the intersection honking their horns and barely slowing down, expecting the pedestrians to jump out of the way even though they (the pedestrians) have the green light. The pedestrians do in fact stop and jump out of the way, which only encourages drivers to continue their behavior. I am possibly the only pedestrian in Beijing who does not yield to drivers exhibiting this behavior, and though I’ve had many close calls (one with a bus), I refuse to encourage the drivers by letting them push me around.

At major intersections during peak times of the day there are traffic wardens who try to control the pedestrians. Sometimes they have cute signs,…

…sometimes they appear more serious in vests and with flags,…

…and sometimes they are apparently high school student volunteers.

Most of the time the pedestrians, carts, and cyclists ignore these wardens, but this guy is one of the few to get serious. He was persistent in trying to get these carts to come back, out of the intersection, so cars could get by. The cart guys made half-hearted, mostly insincere, attempts to circle back until the light changed and they moved on.

You see lots of the usual, lumbering SUVs in Beijing, which is weird in a city that is flat, sees virtually no snow, and has few large parking spaces. Status is a big deal here. But poor people also want motorized vehicles, and some of these can be pretty small:

In the photo below you see most of the pedestrians, cyclists, etc. staying behind the two wardens, who were relatively aggressive in performing their duty. They argued with and yelled at the two girls on the motor scooter but the latter simply ignored the wardens and stayed put, slowing the right-turning traffic. Obviously, traffic wardens need enforcement power. More generally, Chinese people need to get into the mode of following rules where enforcement is minimal.

People complain about the traffic in Beijing and blame it on the number of cars. I’ve studied the traffic situation here (anecdotally, of course) and find that the principal problems are related to (1) pedestrians, bicycles, and carts, (2) parking, and (3) poor urban planning. I’ve just described a little about the pedestrians involvement, but there’s more to say to bring some balance. I resent the drivers who honk and cruise through crosswalks full of pedestrians and cyclists who have the green light. On the other hand, if a driver comes to an intersection with no light, he is faced with a bigger problem: There are so many people in China’s cities that there is a constant stream of people crossing the street. None of these people stops to wave a car through, so the only way a car can progress is to be aggressive.

There’s so much more to say on this subject, I’ve decided to terminate this post now and call it Part 1. More later.

It’s good to be back.

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As Falls Wichita, So Falls Wichita Falls

(This is one of the more unusual song and album titles I know. It’s an early effort by the great jazz/fusion guitarist Pat Metheny.)

I am pleased to announce that any news of my demise is premature. I am still here, both geographically and corporeally. I have a plethora of excuses for being silent for several months in this medium, but I’ll burden you with only a few. As you know, this school year I have a fairly long commute: I spend 1 month in Beijing, then a month in Virginia, and so on. Thanks to my intimate friend jet-lag, I feel lousy half of my life: the first two weeks of each month.

I reported in “Cough Up the Bucks” that I was sick in November, thanks to a good friend who seems physically incapable of covering her mouth when she coughs or sneezes. That happened in my first day back in Beijing at the beginning of November. It lasted through that month and through December, during which month I finally was able to visit my doctor in Washington who prescribed an antibiotic. At first I thought it was pneumonia, but it turned out to be only a virulent case of bronchitis.

By the time I returned to Beijing at the beginning of the New Year, the bronchitis disappeared – more or less. Within a couple days of arriving, however, I acquired a violent intestinal “issue” any accurate description of which would gross out the toughest marine (DS?). That lasted 3 weeks, and over that period I was highly reluctant to stray more than 10 feet from the facilities in my apartment.

I seem to have come down with a mild bout of laziness, a condition I despise in anyone.

Some of the projects with which I’m connected have begun to catch fire, and I find I have a lot more writing and editing to do than I’ve had in the past.

Finally, and very irritatingly, the Internet here declines daily. You may have read about how China is cracking down on VPNs and other taboos (i.e., mechanisms that bring information to its people). If you add that to the already astoundingly poor Internet connection here in my dorm (which is intentionally minimized on my floor because we’re foreigners — no joke), it takes me 30-60 minutes just to log into my email or to do anything else that is not expressly permitted in China. It takes a similar length of time just to post something to a blog that’s already written.

Oh, well, enough about me.

I’ve mentioned X23 a couple times, a female graduate student from the university across the street. Though certainly an odd couple, we’ve become very good friends for what I believe is a very logical reason: we’re both are set apart from the people in our respective circles; she is much smarter and kinder than the others in her circle of friends, and I am an American surrounded by Chinese.

Anyway, X23 (who’s 25 now) has been informing me of events at the university (Renmin). During the past 6 months, there have been 4 suicides at Renmin. Three people have jumped from high-rise dorms, two of which from the dorm immediately adjacent to the park where we sit. I’ve looked for blood spatters, but X23 assures me that the authorities are very quick to clean up after one of these Icarus days. The latest jump happened 2 weeks ago.

One week ago a student poisoned himself.

Details of these events are difficult to come by; they’re acquired mostly via word of mouth as the authorities are reluctant to publicize this stuff. (Duh.) I’ve asked several people if this rate of suicide is similar at other universities, but most people have no idea. One professor I know told me that 4 suicides per university per year are normal for Beijing universities. I involuntarily raised my voice a bit, saying “FOUR SUICIDES IS NOT NORMAL. It may be the average but it certainly isn’t normal.” She seemed unconcerned and simply replied that 4 wasn’t the average but the minimum.

The Renmin University’s administration has instructed all professors with graduate students to meet with those students and give them anti-suicide pep talks. X23’s anti-suicide briefing is sometime this week, so I may report back to you if anything interesting is said.

* * * * *

On my last trip to home in Virginia, I installed a program on my laptop and a new desktop called Outlook Sync. It allows me to ensure emails written and received on one computer appears on the other. Unfortunately, I botched the installation process and deleted my IN box. In that box I had been saving several emails from friends and students that required substantive and lengthy responses from me. I was waiting for a good time to sit in my back yard and enjoy responding. I can’t remember all of these ephemeral email messages, but I do think there were some from Ritu D. (whom I loved to call R2D2), Henry H., Alice G., as well as others. If you sent me an email of any length and I have not responded, PLEASE resend it. I wouldn’t want you to think I’ve forgotten you and just didn’t feel like responding.

Pictures next time. I promise.

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