Street Food

Street food is one of my favorite things about traveling in China. Daniel refuses to eat it--he's grossed out by the fact that it's often cooked over coals in a metal pan or on the top of a fifty-gallon drum. (**UPDATE: I win!!! Daniel has started selectively eating street food! Muahahaha!) But I really don't think it's unsanitary. Occasionally I've come across a street-food vendor that doesn't look exactly clean, but I think the food is generally ok. Anyway, baozi are of course a long-time favorite, but I've discovered several new treats this trip:

Giant greasy onion pancake: found in Yangzhou and sometimes in Shanghai. Batter is spread over the top of a greased 50-gallon drum; egg and onion is added. A greasy but tasty treat once in a while.

Tiger Paws (couldn't find a picture, sorry!): Found at the center of the human mob by the Shanghai hotel. Dough is kneaded, beaten rolled, pinched, then half-cut into quadrants to make the paw shape, then somehow stuck to the inside of some kind of modified 50-gallon drum with coals in the bottom and cooked. Butter and a little sugar are thrown into the drum, then the paws are pulled out with tongs to the delight of the mob which has by this time gathered. Kind of like a bagel/soft pretzel/bun, with a hint of sweetness.

Green-bean popsicles: Ok, not exactly street food, but they're sold in just about every shop along the road, so they kind of qualify. I've long loved red-bean popsicles, but discovered recently that the green variety are just as tasty.

Spicy "lamb-burger": Found in Luoyang and Xi'an, it's a bun with a crunchy crust, shaped kind of like an English muffin, cut in half and stuffed with spicy mutton or beef and green bell pepper.

Nan (also naan, and various spellings/pronunciations): I think it was originally an Indian or Middle Eastern dish, but it's an Urumqi specialty. Daniel calls it "Muslim bread" and likes it a lot. It comes in different shapes, mostly flat like pita bread or pizza crust. Quite tasty.

Kebobs: Found throughout China, but especially good in Xinjiang and Chengdu. The spices are better here, I think. You can find lots of different meats, seafood, veggies, songbirds, tofu...you name it, it's probably on a stick on some kebob vendor's stand.

Yummm...typing about them makes me hungry. Don't be surprised when I come home fat (er)!
I'll add to this post as I discover new delicacies on our grand tour.

Urumqi and Tian Chi

Urumqi is a fascinating city. It's a nice city, in terms of weather and relative cleanliness; I keep wanting to take pictures of the sky--I guess because it's been awhile since I've seen actual blue sky, clouds, and sunsets. Incidentally, the sun doesn't set here until about 10 p.m. As Daniel put it, the sissy businesses close around 10-11 p.m., but the hard-core shop owners stay open til midnight or later. Close to our hotel there is a giant night market, with an entire street dedicated to street food. Kabobs of lamb, beef, sparrow, liver, seafood (in the world's most land-locked city, interestingly enough), bread and other ingredients wait to be grilled; noodles of all different shapes and varieties, rice pilaf, dumplings, soft serve ice cream, yoghurt, and all kinds of fruit are either sold from street-side stands or carried through the crowd on platters or in boxes.

Yesterday morning we slept in a little and we went to the Urumqi museum--one of the best I've been to in China. There was an entire exhibit about Xinjiang's minority cultures (13 of them, with Uighurs being the largest, and including such others as Kazakh, Hui, Manchu, Russian, Tajik, Mongolian, and Bulgarian), with mannequins in traditional dress, cases of jewelry, musical instruments, and handicrafts, and rooms set up in the styles of the different living arrangements. There were a couple rooms of yurts--giant circular tents. Another exhibit had displays of mummies from the days of the silk road--some 4,000 years old, but in remarkable condition, and displayed very well. We also enjoyed the air-conditioning during the heat of the day.

That evening I left Daniel in the hotel and went wandering. I walked up to People's Park (there's one in every Chinese city, I think) and then caught a bus and rode it almost all the way around. I got off in the Muslim quarter and wandered around there for awhile, picking up some street food to snack on for dinner. The bread I liked a lot, but the pomegranate juice was a little sour. I walked almost the whole way back to the hotel, but as I wasn't exactly sure where I was I decided to take a taxi to the night market and wander through there before walking back. There's just a huge mass of humanity in places like the Muslim bazaar and the night market--it fascinates me, but it wears me out! I was happy to get back to the hotel.

Today we took a day trip to Tian Chi--Heavenly Lake, north of Urumqi. We got up extra early to catch the bus--a minibus operated by a tour company. They packed us in and we were off on a 2.5 hour ride through the desert. They played ridiculously awful music for most of the ride, and described (in Chinese) the special features of Xinjiang, Urumqi, and the minority cultures. I liked this better than the music of course, but it didn't do much for Daniel. He was immensely grateful for his MP3 player.

We finally arrived, were given instructions to be back at the bus at 4:30 p.m., and set off on our trek uphil to the lake. We wound our way up the mountain along a river rushing through incredibly beautiful scenery. A pleasant temperature of 65-70 degrees made the day that much better. Finally we reached the lake. It was a beautiful blue-green, surrounded by mountains. We thoroughly enjoyed our half day there, although I was really disappointed that we didn't get to eat lunch in a yurt.

The ride back was much less enjoyable. The terrible music was back in full-force--a mixture of American dance music and Chinese pop--ugh. For some reason they didn't turn the air conditioner on, although the day had gotten significantly warmer and the sun was strong. We stopped to "xiuxi"--rest--supposedly. Then we had to stop to change a tire. Then to visit a suvenier shop. Please, just take us back!! Finally, we were back in Urumqi and caught a taxi back to the hotel. We hit the night market for a street-food dinner, and then back to "xiuxi" and pack for our plane ride tomorrow to Chengdu--stop number 4 on the grand tour!

Days 4 and 5 of the Grand Tour -- Xi'an and Urumqi

After visiting the Terra-cotta Warriors in Xi'an, we had dinner at a local restaurant recommended by the guidebook. The "yang-rou-pao-mo" was excellent (but I think it was almost as good at the hole-in-the-wall place where we had lunch the next day). Basically it's bread pieces in a mutton soup with mutton, onion, maybe some cilantro, and some other spices. It's a Xi'an specialty, and it's quite tasty. After dinner, we wandered through a tent market with souvenirs and lots of dried fruit and then down the walking street by the Drum Tower and browsed for a while (Daniel's favorite!) The next day, we went back to the street for lunch, and then to the Xi'an city walls. We rented bikes, and rode on the wall, 14 km around the old city. A little hot, and noticeably polluted (as China's cities tend to be), but quite nice. After our exercise, we wandered the downtown part of the city by the Bell Tower, then back to the walking street for street food before we caught a taxi to the airport for our flight to the wild wild West!

Our first full day in Xinjiang province (Urumqi is the capital) we took a day trip to Turpan, about a 2.5 hour bus ride. Turpan is in a basin, and is actually the second lowest spot on earth, next to the Dead Sea. It is therefore quite hot. Forty degrees Celsius hot, in fact. That's 105 degrees Fahrenheit. So we took a walk (to Daniel's delight!). The goal was the Emin Minaret, some 3 km from the long distance bus station. I had copied the map from the travel book, and thought the walk would give us an opportunity to see the city, so I felt good about the walk. Except I had forgotten that although Xinjiang is officially on Beijing time, it's actually several hours behind, meteorologically speaking. So what I thought was South, judging by the sun, was actually North, because although it was 14:40 the sun was still in the East. Minor miscalculation. We figured it out about 20 minutes later, and set off in the right direction (Daniel complaining in the faux British accent the whole time). We finally made it to the minaret, after touring a good deal of the city on foot. The minaret is beautiful; the tall adobe tower seems to rise from the middle of grape fields, the patterns in the brick stand out against the blue sky.

We decided to take a taxi back to the bus station.

"Poshi-doodle-doo" (or, "What happens when you spend 7 weeks in one person's constant presence")

It started with the faux British accent. Hearing a foreign language around you all the time does funny things to your psyche, I admit. After a long day of interviews I'd be thinking in Chinglish...but Daniel instead has adopted a faux British accent. After the accent came the nicknames. "Pointy-head" was the first one, but I really just didn't like that one. After a day or two of being called "pointy-head" I decided to cure him of the habit by pure Skinnerian conditioning--every time he said "pointy-head" (or "pointy-nose" or "pointy"-anything for that matter), I whapped him. So a new nickname had to be chosen. "Poshi"emerged as the winner. Consequently, it has undergone several mutations--"Poshi-doodle-doo," "Poshi-snosh," and just "Snosh" are just some of its several forms. All are spoken in the faux British accent.

I was on dorm staff my sophomore year at Sewanee (I know this doesn't sound related, but hang on--I'll make the connection), and we had to do a whole training course on roommate conflict. We had all been told of course that it's dangerous to room with your best friend--you might not be friends at the end of a year living together in a small space. And we had been trained in how to talk to roommates about roommate issues, how to advise the little freshmen, etc., so I came into this 7-week roommate arrangement with my brother well prepared. And too, my brother and I actually like each other and enjoy each other's company. We fought some as kids, but mostly grew out of that. Of course, fighting hit an all-time low when we were no longer living in the same house. That could have been a source of worry as we began our 7-week trip living not in the same house, but the same room. And not talking to anyone else very much. But I figured, you know, we're both semi-mature young adults (tee-hee-hee) or at least semi-mature college students, we should be able to handle this.

And handle it we have. The only real arguments have been about my navigational skills (Me: "You try reading the bus map!" DTB: "Duh, I can't, it's in Chinese!" Me: "Oh you're kidding! Give me a break, this is not exactly easy!!"); mostly the problem is that when I have time, I don't mind meandering for awhile, seeing the sights so to speak, before arriving at the destination. Daniel, however, is a git-er-done type person. He wants to have a destination, know exactly how to get there, and go, no detours, thank you. So this has caused a little friction. I should admit here, I once led him on a very long kind of hot meandering walk through the streets of Shanghai in search of--wait for it--a bookstore. I messed up the navigation pretty badly that time. But only that time. Overall, I think I did a pretty good job of getting us around, if I do say so myself. And if you've never looked at a Shanghai bus map, I can assure you, it's quite complicated and all in Chinese.

So basically what happens is Daniel complains, or makes snide comments, one after the other, endlessly, in the faux British accent. It grates on my nerves. And I tell him so. And he replies that meandering, or shopping, or waving to Chinese babies, or whatever it is that I'm doing that he's making snide comments about, gets on his nerves too, so we're even. He told me yesterday (walking, on a kind of hot day) "You know, when we get back to the US, I don't think we're going to need any more brother-sister bonding time for awhile." Yeah, ok. But he also tells me a lot, "You know, you're gonna miss me when this trip is over." He's probably right about that too.

Luoyang and Yan-yan

I've finished my research (well, I've finished collecting data anyway--the real work begins when I get home), and we've begun our grand tour of the country! We left Shanghai Thursday afternoon on a sleeper train for Luoyang. We were waiting in the station in Shanghai when I noticed a woman and her son walking over. They weren't close enough for me to hear what they were saying, but from the mom's glances and gestures and the son's face, I imagined the conversation went something like this:

Chinese mom: "Look! Waiguoren! You should go over and talk to them!"
Son: "Mom, no!"
Chinese mom: "Come on! You know you're English is bad, and you really need to improve it--here's an opportunity!! Go talk to them!"
Son: "Mom, no! We shouldn't bother them! Besides, if my English is as bad as you say it will be too hard to communicate."
Chinese mom: "That doesn't matter. You should work hard to improve. Come on, there's an open couch next to where they're sitting."
Son: **sighing** "Mom, you're killing me."

At about this point, I caught Chinese mom's eye and smiled. Delighted, she dragged her son to the open couch, sat him down closest to me, poked him, and told him to ask where we were from. He asked me in Chinese. Chinese mom immediately scolded him, and told him to ask me in English--"you need to practice! Besides, she probably doesn't understand Chinese." I smiled, and waited for the question in English.

Son: "What country are you?"
Me: "United States."

He leaned back and looked at Chinese mom, like "Are you satisfied?"

Oh no, she was not.

Chinese mom: "Ask her if she is a student!"
Son: **rolls eyes at Chinese mom**, then to me, "Are you a student?"
Me: "Yes. What about you?"
Son: "Uh, I'm sorry, my English is very bad. Please say again?"
Me: "Are you a student?"
Son: "Oh, yes."

Chinese mom was smiling. I asked the son if they were traveling for fun in Shanghai, and after rephrasing the question once or twice, discerned that he had just graduated from high school in Luoyang, and he and his mother were in Shanghai looking at colleges. I asked him which one he wanted to go to, and he told me that a top university would be best of course, but that he was not very successful at his studies and would not get into to those universities, so he was looking at a vocational college. I asked him when he would find out the results of his college entrance examination. He didn't understand the question, even after a rephrasing or two, so finally I asked him in Chinese. I was gratified by a surprised laugh from both of them, then waited while he struggled to find the words to answer me in English.

Son: "I'm sorry, I don't know how to say it in English. What month is it now?"
Me: "June."
Son: "Yes, June. June......twenty...twenty five."
Me: "You should say, June twenty fifth."

And so began a day and a half of Chinglish mutual tutoring. Chinese mom discovered to her delight that we were on the same train car, and sent Son (whose name is Guo Peng Yan and who goes by Yan-yan) to our car to talk a couple of times during the ride. She was really very nice, thanking us profusely and apologizing for her son's bad English. I assured her I was in no position to say anyone else's language-learning efforts were not up to par. Yan-Yan, Daniel, nad I talked about movies, which was complicated because neither Yan-yan nor I knew how to say the titles of the movies in the other's language; music was a little easier, as he gave us a translation of the (awful) Chinese pop being piped throughout the train, and we gave him a translation a Guns and Roses song that he had on his phone.

He came to talk again the next morning, about an hour or so before we arrived in Luoyang. "My mom told me ask you to with you play in Luoyang--I can help you if you need help--my mom wants me to practice my English." Yes, I'd gathered as much. I told him we'd love to have him along.

We had a good day of touring Luoyang. Yan-yan took us to lunch at a delightful hole-in-the-wall noodle shop (my favorite!) where all three of us ate for about a dollar, and then we spent most of the day at the Longmen Buddha Caves, a major historical and cultural site (tourist attraction) about 10 miles from town. We pretty much only spoke English, or Chinglish I should say; a lot of the time I had to translate for Daniel when Yan-yan didn't get the phrasing or pronunciation quite right. But I have to say he was a quick learner. I usually only had to tell him a word once or twice before he had it and used it in further conversation. And he helped me as well--if he asked for a word that I didn't know in Chinese I'd ask him to give me the Chinese word and check my pronunciation. We must have looked pretty ridiculous--he with his electronic dictionary and me with my trusty yellow pocket dictionary, checking to make sure we were talking about the same concept.

After the caves, we went to a market in downtown Luoyang, and then Yan-yan took us to his "study room." He explained that it was not his home, but because his school was an hour from his home, he had "how-do-you-say..not-buy...pay-money...yes!yes!.RENT" this room to live in and study, because he should study very hard for the college exam. The little flat was dark and run-down, like millions of other similar flats in this country. It had a little kitchen, but the bathroom was shared with the flat next door. Really not a bad set up, but really a slum by American standards. It reminded me of many of the homes I went in last summer, except of course not nearly as lived in. Maybe a cross between a typical cheap Chinese flat and a college dorm room. Anyway, I was happy that Daniel got to see how many people live in this country.

We had dinner at a traditional Luoyang "water food" restaurant. Yan-yan ordered, and did an excellent job--we enjoyed all of the dishes. He insisted on ordering beer (Yan-yan said the drinking age here is 18, but the waitress laughed and told him she didn't care when he showed her his ID) because "you know, it's traditional to have how-do-you-say-"keren"..yes! GUESTS drink at dinners."

Well, after a little alcohol, 5'6'' 105-ish Yan-yan turned out to be an English speaking monster. He'd come a long way from the hesitant English-practicer we'd met in the train station--I have to say I was a little proud. And a little annoyed, I have to admit although it's ungrateful of me, that he insisted on accompanying us to the train station, and to the platform, and on the train--asking for directions, fretting that we were comfortable, getting our email addresses, etc., the whole time. We were a little worried that we might actually miss our train. But we made it on time, told Yan-yan thank you, and wished him well.

We arrived in Xi'an this morning, checked into our hotel, showered (after 2 days of trains and touring in the sun, we both needed it badly) and then headed off to Xi'an's major tourist attraction--the Terracotta Warriors. Daniel was a bit whiny--neither of us had had much sleep, and he was less than thrilled at the prospect of another tourist stop--and a museum at that, but even he was impressed with the place. The Chinese government has put a lot of money and effort into making it a big tourist attraction, and it shows. A couple of hours there, and we were ready to get back to the hotel for a nap. I think our grand tour is going to be a bit of a shock to our systems--we've been used to a leisurely pace and plenty of sleep, but Xi'an is city two of six in two weeks. It's going to be fun.

The Students

I had a marathon interview day today—11 interviews. Far from complaining about the scheduling, I’m really grateful that these students agreed to talk to me, as they’re right in the middle of final exams. Having completed my own semester exams in the not-too-distant past, the pain of it all is still fresh in my memory. And Fudan University students don’t just take 4 or 5 classes like we do at Sewanee (and most other American colleges, I think); a normal load for these kids is 10-13 classes. (Whoah!) I really am in awe of these students, truth be known. Of course they’re the cream of crop—Fudan is one of the top universities in China, and only students with the very top scores on the nation-wide college entrance examination are admitted. To give you some idea, this year’s entrance exam occurred about two weeks ago; 9.5 million high school graduates took the exam—competing for 2.6 million college slots. (It’s a huge event here; parents take off work to stand in the parking lot of the building where their child is taking the exam, construction zones near the building are shut down so they don’t disturb the test takers, the evening news offers suggestions for what parents should feed their test-taker for breakfast, this kind of thing. Everything is riding on this one exam…I can’t hardly imagine the pressure.) Fudan University has a total student population of around 25,000, which means they accept around 6,250 students each year. Six thousand, out of a pool of 9.5 million.

(I don’t mean to exclude the Yangzhou University students from my praise here. Yangzhou University is not nearly as prestigious as Fudan, but those students are doing pretty well for themselves too. I found them, if not as impressive as the Fudan students, pretty darn impressive.)

The students are without doubt intelligent, but they’re also just fun to be around. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know them, even just a little bit. Most of the interviews have been in “Chinglish,” although all of these students speak better English than I do Chinese. When I point this out, they all tell me of course their English should be better; they’ve studied it for 7+ years. It only slightly consoles me. Some of these students can discuss philosophy, cultural differences, even sociology and psychology, in English. (***nerd moment alert***Almost all of them mix up “he” and “she” at least once however—another thing that fascinates the psychology student in me. In Chinese, although the characters for “he” and “she” are different, they are pronounced the same way. When I say “he” or “she” in Chinese, I’m of course thinking in gender specifics, but apparently native Chinese speakers don’t make this cognitive distinction.) The interviews almost always begin the same way—with the student apologizing because s/he doesn’t speak very good English. By interview number 6 today, I had begun to say, “Yes, everyone tells me this, but then everyone I’ve spoken with today speaks very good English, so forgive me if I don’t believe you.” I usually at least got a smile, and only got a confused look once. Felt kind of bad about that one.

This kind of modesty I think is rooted in the traditional importance placed on modesty, and maybe a little bit in the interest of preserving face. Maybe the two are related anyway. It made me laugh though, when one of the Yangzhou students, when I complimented her on her English, immediately protested, embarrassed-- “No, no, no.” Then she laughed, “I mean, yes…I mean my English is just o.k.” Another laugh, “I think what I said first was the traditional Chinese response to a compliment. Does that help your research?” One of my interviewees today, when I asked her to give me an example of the Chinese concept of face (I’ll write a blog entry about this topic later) told me that she used to be very concerned with not losing face, but that she’s loosed up a bit as she’s gotten older, and maybe also as she’s proven to be such a good student. “You know,” she said, “a couple of years ago, I probably wouldn’t have come to talk to you, but now I don’t mind losing face because my English is so poor. I just enjoy this kind of conversation.” Losing face because your English is poor!! I shudder to think about my own face in that case…I wonder if you can have negative face…

Despite their tendency toward modesty, the students are refreshingly, matter-of-factly honest about their own abilities. They don’t hesitate to tell me about past failures; one Yangzhou student told me that she had been one of the top students at her middle school, but didn’t do as well in high school, and so she couldn’t go to a better university. Another told me that she’d wanted to major in economics, but she wasn’t very good at math and had failed that part of the placement examination, so she ended up an English major. She continued happily however, “But I think I’m a good student in the English department; I never have to study too hard and I usually still do well.”

One of my favorite questions of the 10 that I ask is “What would make you happy?” One of the most common answers, especially at Yangzhou but sometimes at Fudan, is that the student will be happy when his or her family members are healthy, and when he or she has close friends. The first couple of times I heard this kind of response it took me by surprise, even though collectivism and one’s identity as a member of a group are central to my research. After thinking about these replies, I decided they’re really quite wise. While I would never have thought to give that response to that question, the health of my family and having close friends of course central to my happiness. I guess these things are quite easily taken for granted when they are secure; I’m grateful to my interviewees for giving me a different way to look at things.

Occasionally, I have to work very hard to keep a straight face during the interviews. Today, for example, one young man looked at me straight-faced and told me that Harry Potter had really influenced the direction of his life. The student had found a role model of sorts in J.K. Rowling’s character, it seems. My next interviewee, another young man, (dressed in his PJ’s incidentally, as he was going to shower after the interview) told me in an almost feminine voice that he planned to use his advertising degree to hopefully get a job with Estee Lauder or Loreal Paris. No, he’d never considered working for the government (it’s one of the 10 questions; I had to ask even though I could pretty near guess the answer), that kind of work is boring! He wants to work in field that is passionate and creative!

Sometimes the students’ questions for me are also fun. Some I’ve learned to expect; several have asked me about New York—I think they’re disappointed when I admit I’ve never been. A couple have asked about TV shows or which American university is good place to study management or law or marketing or whatever their major is. They usually ask which university I’m from (no one’s ever heard of Sewanee) and what my research is about. One asked me how often there are earthquakes in San Francisco. (?) A couple have asked me how I would answer some of the questions, and I surprised myself by not really having a good answer. Maybe that can be another blog post; how would I answer my own interview questions… I always thank the students for helping me, especially the Fudan students who are spending valuable study time during finals to help me, but many of the students thank me! It makes me happy to think maybe they’ve enjoyed the interview. Several have asked for my email address, which makes me happy as well. Perhaps I’ll have a few new pen pals from this trip.

Thoughts on Learning Chinese

"Wo jiu hui shuo yi dian dian." or "I can only speak a little, really."

People often ask me if I’m fluent in Chinese yet. It’s funny, but the question now seems kind of absurd to me; I once naively thought that after 2 years of college Chinese I’d be at least close to fluent, but the more Chinese I learn, the more laughable that seems. Oh how I wish I could say yes to the question! I’m not sure I’ll ever reach the point where I feel fluent—there is so much to learn. Not only vocabulary (of which there is a copious amount) but context, idioms, common ways of speaking, formal ways of writing…it gets confusing pretty quickly. Forget fluency--I would settle (quite happily) for proficiency. So in answer to the question, I usually say that I’m nowhere near fluent, but that I know enough to get around in China without too many problems.

This is the truth, although sometimes language issues cause hassle or embarrassment, or acceptance of a less than ideal situation. One of the books I’ve read on the trip is River Town by Peter Hessler. The book describes the author’s experiences during two years teaching English at a college in a small town on the Yangtze River. It’s an awesome book—I’ll say more about it in a later post. What I wanted to mention here is Hessler’s description of his Chinese self; “Ho Wei”—he talks about how Peter and “Ho Wei” are two separate people, with different languages, of course, but also different personalities. Ho Wei can only use simple words, laughs at himself a lot, often feels awkward, lets things happen to him instead of being proactive, accepts things Peter would not… I can sympathize with this a little bit. In some ways, “Jin Jing” is not so different from Jean Anne—mostly because Jean Anne has been Jin Jing at Sewanee, in a Chinese class where she was the most serious student and did well. She is Jin Jing with friends—and friends are patient and encouraging. But it’s true that my personality changes a bit when I’m in “Chinese mode.” I’m much more hesitant, more humble I guess, eager to show goodwill, quick to brush off an insult or a joke about the waiguoren, generally ignoring people who yell “heellllo” or “ladyladylookeelookee” but smiling at all the kids. I use the phrase “bu hao yisi”—I’m embarrassed—a lot, and also “dui buqi”—I’m sorry.

I especially identify with Hessler about accepting things. I do it a lot here. So we ended up with hard seats on the train to Suzhou…at least we have tickets. So the drinks aren’t cold…at least we have drinks. So I ended up with plum-flavored cola…I guess it’s drinkable. Thing is, my vocabulary could handle all of these situations—I know how to ask for a soft seat and for cold drinks of many different flavors, but often the hassle of communication or the risk of upsetting someone is just not worth it. Plus there’s just something Chinese about accepting whatever comes. Not karma exactly, but a similar idea maybe. Fate, I think; after all, with all the craziness of China’s past century, what else could the people do but hang on and hope for the best? A common Chinese phrase, “mei banfa,” means really there’s nothing that can be done—you accept it and move on. (Hey, it sounds better than that I just don’t want to deal with the hassle of a controversy in Chinese.)

My Chinese is improving, though. I’ve learned a lot of new words already this trip; things like “reservation” and “check-out” and “long distance bus station” that I’ve never needed to know before. And of course the more I speak Chinese and listen to Chinese and read Chinese the more fluent I become with the words that I already know. That’s maybe the biggest battle—recognizing words that I already know in context and also, learning to use them correctly.

Sometimes the missing pieces of a particular conversation will fall into place later, when I learn a new word. Last year in the course of our Shanghai research I talked to a 25 year old guy from Sichuan Province in China’s southwest. He was trying to explain to me (being extraordinarily patient with my bad Chinese) what he thought were the major differences between his hometown and Shanghai; one of the things he kept saying had something to do with marriage, but I never did quite understand...something about only a couple of months…I thought he meant people in Shanghai sometimes married after only knowing each other for a couple of months. A week or so later, I figured out what he’d been saying—when I learned the word for “divorce.” Another example: a girl I spoke with in Yangzhou was telling me about the difference between the way people of the young generation thought and the way some people of the older generation sometimes thought; I caught her basic meaning about the younger generation accepting new ideas more easily, but it wasn’t until later when I learned the Chinese word for “feudal” that I realized exactly what she’d been saying. The psychology student part of me is fascinated by these occurrences--these puzzles stay in my head, probably because of the frustration they cause, and my brain somehow plugs the missing piece in. Interesting.

It’s funny; people here compliment me all the time on my Chinese, but it’s almost always when Chinese isn’t necessary. If I’m just chatting with the shop clerk as I browse, inevitably they’ll tell me, ‘Oh, your Chinese is so good! How long have you lived in Shanghai?” But if I have to ask a question or someone’s trying to tell me something semi-important and my Chinese isn’t quite up to the task, it’s irritation at the dumb waiguoren who can’t speak properly or understand simple things. Their impatience is completely understandable, of course. And knowing this makes me even more frustrated. Ah well. More motivation to keep plugging away.

Tea

Daniel and I have been enjoying Shanghai. I will go to the university here on Tuesday to meet with the students who are going to help me with my research. Until then, we are free to explore. Since I spent 5 weeks here last summer, I know the city fairly well and can get us around without too many problems. The other night, I took Daniel to a Thai restaurant that’s close to where we stayed last summer. He wasn’t a big fan of my green curry, but he enjoyed the satay he’d chosen. The street where the restaurant is located turns into a huge party on weekend nights, and I thought it might be fun for Daniel to see, but since it was still early after we’d finished dinner we headed farther down the street for a much more low-key bar. (There’s no drinking age in China.) We sat and enjoyed the quiet for a little while, watching as the bar girls primped and chatted, getting ready for the evening rush that would come later.

After an hour or so it was starting to get dark, and we decided to walk up the street a ways. Before we came to the club/bar section, we passed a tea house set back from the street through a nicely-lit bamboo grove. I looked at Daniel. “Please?” “You’re kidding.” “Oh come on, it will be an experience.” He sighed. “Whatever.” So in we went. The tea house was much bigger than it looked from the outside, stretching back for three or four rooms. The hostess settled us in one of the middle rooms. We were the only westerners there—unusual for this area of Shanghai, but maybe not so unusual for a tea house, I don’t know. The waiter brought us a menu, and waited while I flipped through it. I asked Daniel what he wanted. “I don’t like tea.” “Well, lets see, they have the fresh fruit shaved ice thingies that we’ve seen other places.” “Alright, get me a strawberry one.” I had decided on oolong tea. I told the waiter what we wanted, but he said they weren’t serving the fresh-fruit shaved ice thingies. I asked about another fresh fruit frozen thingy, in a different section of the menu. He called another server over. After about a five minute discussion between me and the two servers (the servers trying to explain that if we ordered from a certain part of the menu we could get fruit and other snacks from the buffet in the other room) I explained that we were not hungry and could we please just get tea and an ice thingy. “OK.” I wasn’t sure why that was so difficult, but I’m grateful that the servers were so patient with me.

Daniel’s mango ice thingy came, and then my tea, a tea pot and two tiny cups—one tall and slender and the other shorter and wider, sitting on a small wooden box with slits in the top. Another server came by to prepare the tea for me. First, she poured hot water over the teapot. She rinsed the tea leaves in the pot, pouring the tea over the cups again and then pouring it out, then refilling the teapot, and finally pouring tea into the slender cup, setting the wider cup on top, and flipping them with a flourish. She set it in front of me and left. The tea smelled delightful and tasted even better. The atmosphere was also nice with white lanterns hung from the ceiling and Chinese patrons relaxing at the other tables. Daniel was still a little irritated that I’d picked a tea house instead of a bar, but he graciously allowed me to enjoy my tea. He did remark that the dainty little cup was too hoity-toity for his taste.

We decided not to go back down the street and took the subway back to the hotel instead. The next day, we hopped back on the subway to go to the Shanghai Museum. We were wandering through the People’s Park to get from the subway to the museum, and looking for a place to grab some lunch, when we heard “Hello!” Daniel sighed. I turned around and said hello, and we stopped to chat with the two guys. They were college students from Xinjiang Province, way out in China’s northwest, and it was their first time in Shanghai. They asked us where we were going. We told them we were planning to visit the museum, but were looking for some lunch first. They told us they were going to a tea exhibition in a nearby mall; apparently a group from Fujian province comes to Shanghai every 3 years to hold this exhibition, and some of the guys’ friends had recommended it to them. I looked at Daniel. “Do you want another tea experience?” He sighed. “Sure, why not.” We followed the guys, chatting about football and Xinjiang and how life in Shanghai is so busy.

The tea ceremony was delightful. Even Daniel was impressed! We sampled six kinds of tea, a young woman preparing it for us and explaining special features of each tea and the proper etiquette for drinking it, and the guys translating whatever I couldn’t translate for Daniel. All of us really liked the oolong tea. The fruit-flower tea was another favorite, and the red tea with lychee flavor was also really good. The last tea was an “art tea,” not one of the traditional kinds, but really beautiful. It was a large ball, maybe an inch across, and the young woman explained that it was a flower on the inside, covered by jasmine leaves on the outside. She put it into a champagne glass, and poured hot water over it. We watched as the leaves opened, and a blossom emerged, forming a petal bridge in the water with a smaller colored petal in the center. It was beautiful.

A couple of us bought some tea, and then we exchanged email addresses with the guys. They headed off to wander the park some more, with plans to meet up with friends that night to watch the World Cup game between England and Paraguay. Daniel and I were going to go to the museum, but it was 4:30 and the guys thought it closed at 5. Since the museum is big and really deserves a couple of hours, Daniel and I headed off to get lunch dinner.

Pictures

Some pictures.

Baby Bottom

***Post by Daniel***

A really funny thing happened to me today. We were in the Yuyan market in the old part of the city, and I was walking across this bridge that crosses a big pond. A
lady holding a child and a camera approached me. (Before today no one had
asked to take my picture, but I have seen a couple sneak it. I tend to be a
real fun attraction here.) She says something to me in Chinese, and I think
that she wants me to take a picture of her and her kid so I nod my head up
and down to signify that I would do it. Now before I continue, let me tell
you about a Chinese "culture shock" if you will. In China until you are potty trained, you have a big slit in the crotch of your pants so when you need to go, you just squat and have at it. These kids pee everywhere. The first time I saw it this kid had dropped his pants in the middle of a busy street. I was astounded. So anyway, this lady, who I am expecting to hand me a camera, hands me her baby. I am like, "What the heck is going on". Then she motions me to the right and takes my picture with the kid, who I am holding in my arm like any other kid I would hold. As I give the baby back I remember this "culture shock" and sure enough, I had been resting
it's rear on my arm. Makes you feel real good for the rest of the day, let me tell you. Not to mention the fact that Jean Anne, who realized what was going on after a second or two, also got a picture with the baby and me, right before she started hysterically laughing at me. It was pretty funny, I will be the first one to admit that, but the constant laughter for the rest of the day was a constant reminder of the baby rear on my arm. I guess it all worked out for the better. I mean everyone got a picture with the giant "Waiguoren" (Foreigner) and the Chinese baby and I think everyone was entertained. While I was at the market, I did manage to get a good portion of my shopping gift shopping done, so I guess it wasn't all that bad. Do you
think any American would let some random Chinese dude hold their baby while
they took a picture???? Go figure.

Time, Trains, and Agriculture

It’s 10:30 in the morning here, and Daniel’s still asleep. We have internet access in our hotel room at this hotel, so he’s been staying up late talking to his buddies back home. I guess I can’t blame him too much; he asked me the other day, “do you realize you’re the only person I’ve talked to in over 2 weeks?!” I should admit, too, that I only got up 45 minutes ago. It’s been absolutely wonderful the past three weeks not having a cell phone or an alarm clock, and having enough time to get everything done. After this last semester at school, getting this much sleep feels sinful.

One of the nicest parts about this kind of trip is that we have more than enough time to see all the sights and can take a leisurely pace with it all. I’ve read 4 books since we’ve been here—5 if you count the travel guide book, which I’ve read most of in planning our grand tour of the country. It’s been wonderful. I’ve also enjoyed just wandering around the neighborhoods we’ve stayed in in Yangzhou and Shanghai. The things I enjoy most about China are not the temples and museums and other tourist sites, although those are nice, and I’m happy that I have the opportunity to see them. My favorite things, though, are eating at the hole-in-the-wall noodle shop, or playing peek-a-boo with the 4 year old in the train station, or pausing to watch a vendor make dumplings on the side of the street, or chatting with someone who stops to ask me where I’m from. Even successfully arranging hotel reservations and train tickets or ordering food at the restaurant can give me a thrill, because I’ve handled all of that in a foreign language.

Train trips have been especially fun. I love watching the countryside pass by, although I wonder if “countryside” is the right term; there is no empty space anywhere that I can see. Grain field is next to rice field, maybe divided by a strip of land where fruit trees have been planted. The fields run right up to the train tracks. Small burial markers are sometimes on little plots of land in between the fields, usually white tile with red sloping roofs, about 3 feet tall, maybe. Occasionally I’d see an ox grazing on the side of a canal, or sitting in the corner of a field that had already been plowed. This scenery would be interrupted occasionally by a small town center with 2-3 story apartment buildings and some businesses, but some of these areas looked like they did not have paved roads. No wasted space though. Maybe we’ll see some of that when we go out west.

On our trip from Yangzhou to Suzhou I tried to figure out some of the planting cycle. It’s time to harvest one of the grains (wheat, maybe?); we passed farms in each stage of the process, I think. In some places, the people were cutting the crop with scythes and bundling it into piles, where it was left to dry I think, or maybe just left while the people took a break. In other areas, the piles had either been taken to a concrete floor or put on a tarp, and people were beating the piles with a long pole that had a paddle which flopped back and forth on the end. After it was beaten, the grain was sifted from the rest of the plant in big shallow baskets. The chaff was then burned in the field. (Daniel and I had wondered why it was so smoky at times in Yangzhou—this was the reason, I think.) I kind of wish I’d paid more attention to farming practices at home, so I’d have something to compare this with. Everything is labor-intensive here, I guess because there are so many people and people need jobs, and it’s cheaper than buying expensive machinery.

Rice is another big crop in this area. As near as I can tell, the rice is planted in a muddy field, and then after a certain period of time, moved to a field under a foot or so of water. During our train ride, many people were busy in the fields planting the shoots in the water fields. I wonder if it’s possible to just flood the original field…it looked like a lot of work had been invested in the irrigation ponds and creeks and such. Bet it’s not too much fun to spend a couple of days wading through a giant puddle, bending over to stick plants in the mud.

Suzhou and the Hard-Seat Train

I have to say I felt a little sad to leave Yangzhou; I really enjoyed our two weeks there. I am happy to be halfway through with my research though. Daniel and I went to Suzhou on Saturday, hoping to meet up with one of my Sewanee classmates, but it turns out he was in Shanghai for the weekend, so we missed each other. Ridiculous coincidence and poor planning. Anyway, we arrived in Suzhou (which is about an hour from Shanghai by train) Saturday evening. We set out for a restaurant close to the hotel that the travel book recommended; it was pretty easy to find, as it had "Lonely Planet" (the name of the guide book) pasted all over the front. Nooo, not touristy at all... But turns out Chinese people eat there too, and the food was good, so I didn't mind about the Lonely Planet thing. After dinner, we headed to the night market (also a guidebook suggestion) and wandered around for awhile. Suzhou is bigger than Yangzhou and has more historical and cultural spots (a.k.a. tourist attractions), and consequently, more waiguoren. It’s smoggy, but other than that a nice little city.

Sunday morning we went to the Garden of the Master of the Nets. No idea why it’s named that. Our group last summer went to this garden, and I had spent probably 45 minutes looking at watercolor paintings in a side wing—they were awesome. By China standards, they were expensive, however, and I didn’t buy one. And for an entire year I’ve wished I did buy one. So I finally paid a return visit, and bought a watercolor painting. It’s delightful. And Daniel was quite (unexpectedly) patient with my indecisiveness as I tried to choose which one I like the most.

After we finished with the Garden of the Master of the Nets, we wandered the surrounding streets, browsing through antique shops, silk shops, cigar shops, etc. (bet you can guess which one of us went in which kind of stores…) then back to the hotel to collect the luggage and head for the train station. As we got closer to the station in the taxi, I was getting more and more nervous. See, on Saturday when we arrived in Suzhou, I had left the luggage with Daniel and gone to the ticket office at the train station to get tickets to Shanghai for the next day. After a huge—albeit surprisingly orderly—line, it was my turn at the window.

Me: Two tickets for tomorrow afternoon to Shanghai.
Ticket woman: (irritated glance at the waiguoren who didn’t just book the tickets with the much-less-busy people at the hotel and accept the service charge) What time?
Me: Uh, after 2 p.m.
Ticket woman: The 2 p.m. train. 20 $RMB.
Me: (thinking that didn’t sound like enough money) Uh, I’d like soft-seat please.
Ticket woman: (thinking, get the heck out of my line, stupid waiguoren) Don’t have those. Only hard seats.
Me: (thinking, I give up.) Ok.
**Meeting up with Daniel** Me: Uh, got some bad news.

Trains in China have 4 classes of tickets: soft sleeper—the most luxurious and most expensive, with 4 bunks per enclosed cabin; hard sleeper—pretty nice, 6 bunks per open cabin; soft seat—nice for short distances, comparable to business class on a plane; and hard seat—cheap transportation for the masses. They usually overbook seats, so not everyone gets to sit down. No air-con or other niceties. Before Sunday, I’d only ever traveled soft seat, and was a little anxious about our upcoming hard seat adventure. I wasn’t worried about standing up or no air-con, as the trip from Suzhou to Shanghai is 45 minutes to an hour; mostly I was concerned because both Daniel and I have pretty big, and pretty heavy, suitcases. I mean, we did a pretty good job of packing economically, but when you’re going to a foreign country for 2 months there are just some things you think you really should pack. Plus there’s no way we could buy clothes here to fit us, unless we had them made.

Adventure it was; we were the only two white people in the waiting hall of well over 500 people. But I have to say, it was not bad at all. Certainly not as bad I thought it might be, and probably could have been. Other people had way more baggage than we did, usually in big plastic bags or cardboard boxes tied with plastic, sometimes 2 hung on each end of a long wooden pole. The weather was cool and some of the windows opened, so it wasn’t even hot. I was a little annoyed that the service-people with instant noodles and maps came through with their carts—the car was way too crowded for a cart full of instant noodles, and every time they came by the older gentleman standing in the aisle ended up either in my lap or the lap of the guy across the aisle. But it was typical China people-contact; no one got upset, you just did what had to be done to let the instant noodle cart past.

While our hard-seat adventure ended up just being cheap transportation, the hotel in Shanghai has supplied any adventure we missed. Half of the lobby, and the entire street in front of the hotel, like the 2 streets on either end of that street, are under construction. No roads, just mud, concrete bits, and a couple of construction trucks. There is a sidewalk, though, allowing the bikes and motorcycles to zip along happily. Our room isn’t bad, but coupled with the fact that it’s going to be a really long walk through a construction zone to get to the subway station, I think we’re going to need to find a new hotel. Job number one for tomorrow.

Daniel’s Wisdoms
1) "Egg Roll" and "Meat ball" are apparently very close in Chinese. Just eat noodles.
2) Don’t ride your mo-ped on un-finished roads, you might crash. (as witnessed by me, but I helped the Chinese girl out)
3) Smog kills, and it makes your snot black. Now I know the reason for the white masks!!
4) Sometimes not speaking Chinese is a blessing, like when hotel hawkers attack you outside of the train station.
5) If you want to get to know the Chinese people well travel hard-seat on the train. Otherwise, soft-seat is the way to go. (Actually is wasn’t as bad as I had expected.)

Email from Robert

(Just thought I'd share. Being a waiguoren here is frustrating at times, but it's kind of fun that people want to get to know you just because you are one.)

hello,this is Robert.The Noon's day is coming.Wish you happy.The Noon's Day spring an ancient patroic Qu yuan.He gave the Empior Chu good advices about devoloping the country,but none was accepted by some bad government officials.He didnit want to join in this interest unit and seek his honest and character.At last,he drowned himself in the Niluo River.In honour of him,people named that day Noon's day,and will package some Zongzi (a food ).how are you now ? I saw some bits by the mosquitoes in your legs.Be careful about the attack of the small flying insects! Warning!Wish you happy.

yours sincerely
ROBERT


(I had forgotten about this holiday; when I came to China the first time, I arrived a day or so after this holiday, and host family still had some zongzi that they shared with me. Kind of fun.)

A Walk in the Park

Yesterday after dinner I had about an hour before I had to meet an interviewee on the main campus, so I went wandering in the park across the street. This is the kind of thing that I love doing in China; I feel like it's "real" in some way that the gardens, temples, and other tourist stops are not--these are average people, enjoying their evening in the neighborhood park. To get to the park, you cross the street by the west gate of the main campus, walk past a couple of internet bars and a restaurant, and hang a left. When you first walk in, there's an outdoor roller skating rink set down in a large pit, and pool tables and a kiddie playground on the other side. I wandered around the outside of this area, mostly watching the kids. I crossed the arching stone bridge--57 steps to get over a canal about 15 feet across--and walked into the main part of the park. To my right was a marble floor, where I imagine the old people come in the mornings to do their exercises. I took the path to the left, over a footbridge and between two pools of algae-green water. I wandered slowly, following the meandering paths through the trees, bushes, and other plants that made the park quite pleasant. Passed a pagoda where old men were gathered advising and cheering on the participants of an intense-looking game of Chinese chess. In a clearing a little ways down the path, other old people were practicing their "qigong," or breathing exercises. Throughout the parks, young couples sat cuddling on benches or walking the stone paths slowly with fingers entwined. There is not much privacy in this country, I think. On the lake, a man in a motorboat is rounding up the last of the rented boats to tie them up for the night. Some of the boats are shaped like battleships, with fake guns on the front; some are shaped like animals, some are plain orange and blue paddleboats. I continue down the lake-side path, pausing to watch two children play on another open marble-floored area. The little girl has a white gauze and wire flower, and is using it to direct her younger playmate in a jumping game. An older man, their grandpa maybe, sees me watching and gives me a grin. Down the path a ways, a little boy hangs onto his mom's hand, gleefully swinging a plastic bag with a goldfish. A man in a suit walks the path, cigarette in hand and cell phone pressed to his ear. He seems kind of out of place in the park tonight. I pass a man on a bench with his shoes off, rubbing his feet; he turns to watch me as I pass--no smile, but no hostility, just curiosity I think. What's the waiguoren doing here? A little ways further, a man sits selling goldfish from a rock-pond. I wonder if he takes them home at night in a big bucket, or whether they just stay in the pond. Around that corner by the back gate, and the man on the bench turns to look at me again. Crazy waiguoren, just wandering around by herself. Up ahead, women sit at a small table, folding wire and stretching gauze around it, tacking it in place with florist tape to make flowers. Two young boys, still in their school uniforms with the red handkerchiefs tied around their necks, chatter as they walk along with arms linked. Ahead, two older women are taking their evening walk, arms linked like the little boys'. A mom watches her small daughter, pretty in a white dress with blue flowers and bright green shoes. The girl climbs the uneven stone steps up to the pagoda; "be careful now, come on back down" says mom. I stop to take a picture of something or another, and they walk on. When I catch up to them again, the mom is saying, "because she is not from our China." She catches my smile, and explains that the girl wanted to know why I was a "waiguoren." I laugh, and ask how old she is. "She's four. Your Chinese is quite good!" I laugh again; oh how I wish my Chinese was "quite good." I take the path to the left, back around the first marble-floor area. A family is there now, the dad trying to hit a badminton birdie back and forth with his son, not entirely unsuccessfully, but bad enough as to amuse the mom and the other people sitting around the marble area. Occasionally as I wander, I hear "waiguoren" or "laowai" (both meaning foreigner), and if I turn and smile, "ting de dong!" (she understands!) and usually a smile or laughter. I walk back over the marble bridge, this time passing a man and a woman on a bench, the man with his arm in a huge plaster cast, supported by a cloth slung around his shoulder. Maybe to impress his wife or girlfriend, the man offers a "hallooo" as I pass. That cast cannot be comfortable. I smile and offer a "hello" in return. The wife/girlfriend seems suitably impressed I guess. Ten minutes to get to my interview. I walk back by the skating rink, past a group of guys who snicker at some joke, probably having to do with the waiguoren. Ah well. It's been a lovely evening.