Arriving in Manila was a relief. Not that the traveling was particularly hard or uncomfortable. In fact, the meal served on the flight from Xiamen to Manila was the best plane-food I’d had in a long time. I always find it strange to come to new places at nighttime. So much of the definition of a city is hidden by the darkness. Of course, cities like Tokyo, Shanghai, Beijing, and even Chengdu can leave quite an impression at night. Glaring lights in the form of mostly incomprehensible symbols leave pulsing images on the back of your eyelids. But none of this was to be found on my first night in Manila. Not only was my trip from the airport to Carey’s largely through residential and military areas, but I landed in the beginning of a typhoon.
That the typhoon was just beginning was not obvious. Once in a taxi, I watched sheets of rain plaster the streets. I was thankful that the taxi driver seemed comfortable driving. He spoke decent English and was happy to talk about the recent flooding, international politics, and the city. The limits of his English stopped him from providing too much depth, but I at least quickly got the impression that the Philippines is far more westernized than China and that they like Americans, particularly Obama.
Carey’s apartment was in a high-rise situated next to some open fields in a developing part of Manila. It reminded me of the high-rises I had seen under construction outside of the city in Chengdu- tall, identical buildings that, at least in their current state, looked out of place. The inside was well decorated and spacious for one person. Many thanks to Carey for letting me sleep there for the night! The greatest thing about Carey’s place was uncensored and fast internet. I could finally access websites and send messages without restriction or trepidation.
To my surprise, I woke up to a high-pitched, continuous howl. Although the typhoon had passed at night, the remnants of the storm included gale force winds. The wind was so powerful that it was blowing through the air conditioner’s exhaust system right above my head. Fortunately, Carey also had a very comfortable leather couch in a quieter part of the apartment. After another catnap, I looked outside to see stopped traffic and motorcyclists battling the wind to stay upright. After a brief wander in the direction of some shops that Michelle had mentioned, I found a bookstore and Krispy Kreme. There was no better way to kill the morning before my trip to Coron than coffee, donuts, and a book.
The afternoon was not destined to run as smoothly. There were significant delays on all flights due to the typhoon. Additionally, the main power was cut at the terminal which caused limited lighting and no air conditioning. Combined with the fact that all passengers with canceled flights were put in lines normally reserved for check-in to reschedule, it was a mess. Thousands of people with luggage, children, more luggage, and more children waited in endless lines. The fact that none of the refrigerators and non-essential water sources (faucets in bathrooms or drinking fountains) were working in the entire airport made a bad situation worse. There was little food available and bottled water seemed to be running out.
Downstairs at the gate was no better. People were forced to sit on the floor and lean against walls as customer service representatives announced delay after delay. The situation came to a focal point when an old man on my flight started shouting at a service rep to the point where she broke down in tears. I was almost motivated enough to get up and explain politely that this poor woman had no control over the flights but, to my complete disbelief, the complaint actually ended up changing the flight schedule. There is hope for belligerent travelers after all! After the showdown between the old Filipino man and the Cebu Pacific representative, which was kindly translated for me by an American fellow, there was a quick announcement that our flight was boarding. Getting out of the oven that the waiting area had become was a huge relief.
The flight itself was uneventful, except that I distinctly remember a sense of excitement as soon as we got in the air. Flying over Manila revealed shanty towns bordering mudflats and small houses packed together covering the landscape with faded pinks, yellows, and greens. These small homes were in stark contrast to the large, white churches that rose up sporadically and overlooked the city. The landing in Busuanga was bumpy and loud. When we got off of the plane, we were greeted by six workers and escorted into a small building housing the only gate. We were only 150 miles southwest of Manila, but it felt like a different country. The ride to the guesthouse only reinforced this feeling. It was on a road that alternated between concrete and dirt and wound through rolling hills. As the sun set, I wondered what awaited me. And I once again approached a new place at night.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
First Step: Frisbee in China
Ultimate is a just in its early stages in China. The natural place to turn to development is the school systems. Because of limited access to these systems as a foreigner, it is essential to get local students interested so that they can organize meetings, practices, and tournaments themselves using foreigners only as a supplement. Two weekends ago, almost 20 intrepid Beijingers composed of foreigners and a few locals set out to Tianjin to help out with a practice that involved two teams and a group of incoming freshmen from the Tianjin sports university.
The group of expats, as most groups of expats tend to be, was one of all ages, vocations, and backgrounds. Aspiring journalists, language learners, lifelong teachers, embassy workers, technology and finance people, and travelers where all represented. The group was jovial and energetic in the morning, although nobody quite knew what to expect. How long was the ride going to be? What was the quality of the fields? How many students would be there? Would we be able to see the sky? Nobody really knew the answer to any of these questions, although Tao, our fearless leader, tried to make up some responses. As most Frisbee related activities that are managed by Chinese students tend to be disorganized with as little information given as possible and a host of last minute changes, some of us were dubious about the little information we had. Nonetheless, expectations where high and we hoped that the blue skies on the highway would last all the way into Tianjin.
The blue skies did last, and after a quick bite to eat we were on the fields for our first round of scrimmages. The fields were decent turf, which in China is a lacking commodity. There were over 40 eager Chinese students with varying levels of ultimate experience ready to play. The expats split into to two teams and the Tianjin students split up into their A team and B team plus freshmen.
My team played the B team with extras first. We won handily because of their predictable offense and lack of throws. Even on the B team, all the players are fast and strong, but their lack of understanding and patience makes it impossible for them to run a consistent offense. Not only do they lack the skills, but they don’t even know what the skills are supposed to be. Instead, they rely on their athleticism to get open and try to play a quick, aggressive game. It is understandable that they play this way, but the lack of coordination between players on the field made it so that players were constantly cutting each other off and not using open cutters.
After the game, we explained the horizontal stack and set up a basic drill to emphasize continuation. The idea being that if they understood how some basic cuts were supposed to work, they could run a more efficient offense that had players working together not against each other. The drill went fairly well, and due to some good translation, I felt that they had a basic understanding of what was supposed to happen. It remains to be seen whether or not those ideas will be sticky.
The next game was against the Tianjin A team. The A team was a more experienced and athletic version of the B team. Although they still don’t have the nearly the conceptual knowledge of a decent college team, most players have been to tournaments and have a year or two of experience. As seems natural, the emphasis for them is aggressive play and quick movement. The athleticism on that team is brutal. These are the equivalent of D-1 athletes in the US, and it shows on the field. Their basic offensive concept is to throw the disc and beat your opponent to space. The result is a fast paced game with lots of give and gos and the occasional deep bomb. It makes sense that this is where their game is, because in the beginning, they didn’t have the throws to play at a higher level. How do you win games when you don’t have long throws but almost every player on your team is faster and fitter than your opponents? Throw passes to space and run like the devil is chasing you. The result of this is that most teams are able to beat Tianjin A by running a zone in no wind. The concept of moving the disc among the handlers while patiently waiting for a breakthrough up field does not exist to them.
Fortunately, our team had the athletes and enough experience to handle Tianjin with out a zone. The game was close and hard fought. I will digress at this point to say that several players on Tianjin have questionable spirit. I think that this stems from the fact that they are very competitive (in terms of skill) athletes, and they are not used to having the responsibility of making their own calls. This is not an across the board problem, but understanding that responsibility and the respect that must go with it is something that should be focused on in future clinics. Experience, in this case, trumped a fitter team, but one can’t help but admire Tianjin A’s work ethic and desire to succeed.
After the game, we taught them zone defense and offense. The idea was that if they were able to practice zone defense, then they would be able to practice zone offense. Having a concept of the defense you are playing against greatly enhances your ability to breakdown that defense. Also, as I mentioned, the solution to an athletic team that moves the disc quickly is a zone, because it forces them to be patient. For offense, we tried to encourage patience with the disc among the handlers, and then fast paced throws once they had made it past the first layer of the zone. Once the first layer of a zone is broken, there is a 4v3 situation favoring the offense. Certainly, it is hard to break through that first layer, especially if you don’t have experience playing against it. Thus, patience has to be exercised at first, and then once you have the numbers advantage, the disc should be moved quickly.
The finale of the day was moving to a grass field to play against the Tianjin Allstars, a combination of Tianjin A, the captain of the B team, and two recent graduates. It was great to get on grass, even if it wasn’t perfectly flat. The grass field was a huge expanse surrounded by construction and completed skyscrapers. The sky was still clear, and we played through sunset until it got far to dark to play. The game was again close, with a narrow defeat handed to Tianjin. As Tao put it aptly, “it is hard to beat a team on their home turf”. Like most Chinese people I’ve met, the Tianjin players showed great pride and determination in what they do. I have no doubt that with some direction they could be a great team by the worldwide standard in the near future.
Although saddened in defeat, the students all expressed their gratitude and everybody ended up having a great day. There were no major injuries and beer and dumplings were enjoyed as a post ultimate celebration. I hope to have the opportunity to play with and help Tianjin again.
Big thanks to the organizers and translators.
One last note, on our ride home we encountered a traffic jam of epic proportions. Cars were shut off and somewhat drunken players wandered around the side of the highway. We thought that perhaps this was caused by construction, an accident, or increased security at the Beijing checkpoint. But no, it was caused by one truck pulling another truck (and I mean a real truck) using a rope system. As we finally drove by, the ropes snapped. Oh China…
The group of expats, as most groups of expats tend to be, was one of all ages, vocations, and backgrounds. Aspiring journalists, language learners, lifelong teachers, embassy workers, technology and finance people, and travelers where all represented. The group was jovial and energetic in the morning, although nobody quite knew what to expect. How long was the ride going to be? What was the quality of the fields? How many students would be there? Would we be able to see the sky? Nobody really knew the answer to any of these questions, although Tao, our fearless leader, tried to make up some responses. As most Frisbee related activities that are managed by Chinese students tend to be disorganized with as little information given as possible and a host of last minute changes, some of us were dubious about the little information we had. Nonetheless, expectations where high and we hoped that the blue skies on the highway would last all the way into Tianjin.
The blue skies did last, and after a quick bite to eat we were on the fields for our first round of scrimmages. The fields were decent turf, which in China is a lacking commodity. There were over 40 eager Chinese students with varying levels of ultimate experience ready to play. The expats split into to two teams and the Tianjin students split up into their A team and B team plus freshmen.
My team played the B team with extras first. We won handily because of their predictable offense and lack of throws. Even on the B team, all the players are fast and strong, but their lack of understanding and patience makes it impossible for them to run a consistent offense. Not only do they lack the skills, but they don’t even know what the skills are supposed to be. Instead, they rely on their athleticism to get open and try to play a quick, aggressive game. It is understandable that they play this way, but the lack of coordination between players on the field made it so that players were constantly cutting each other off and not using open cutters.
After the game, we explained the horizontal stack and set up a basic drill to emphasize continuation. The idea being that if they understood how some basic cuts were supposed to work, they could run a more efficient offense that had players working together not against each other. The drill went fairly well, and due to some good translation, I felt that they had a basic understanding of what was supposed to happen. It remains to be seen whether or not those ideas will be sticky.
The next game was against the Tianjin A team. The A team was a more experienced and athletic version of the B team. Although they still don’t have the nearly the conceptual knowledge of a decent college team, most players have been to tournaments and have a year or two of experience. As seems natural, the emphasis for them is aggressive play and quick movement. The athleticism on that team is brutal. These are the equivalent of D-1 athletes in the US, and it shows on the field. Their basic offensive concept is to throw the disc and beat your opponent to space. The result is a fast paced game with lots of give and gos and the occasional deep bomb. It makes sense that this is where their game is, because in the beginning, they didn’t have the throws to play at a higher level. How do you win games when you don’t have long throws but almost every player on your team is faster and fitter than your opponents? Throw passes to space and run like the devil is chasing you. The result of this is that most teams are able to beat Tianjin A by running a zone in no wind. The concept of moving the disc among the handlers while patiently waiting for a breakthrough up field does not exist to them.
Fortunately, our team had the athletes and enough experience to handle Tianjin with out a zone. The game was close and hard fought. I will digress at this point to say that several players on Tianjin have questionable spirit. I think that this stems from the fact that they are very competitive (in terms of skill) athletes, and they are not used to having the responsibility of making their own calls. This is not an across the board problem, but understanding that responsibility and the respect that must go with it is something that should be focused on in future clinics. Experience, in this case, trumped a fitter team, but one can’t help but admire Tianjin A’s work ethic and desire to succeed.
After the game, we taught them zone defense and offense. The idea was that if they were able to practice zone defense, then they would be able to practice zone offense. Having a concept of the defense you are playing against greatly enhances your ability to breakdown that defense. Also, as I mentioned, the solution to an athletic team that moves the disc quickly is a zone, because it forces them to be patient. For offense, we tried to encourage patience with the disc among the handlers, and then fast paced throws once they had made it past the first layer of the zone. Once the first layer of a zone is broken, there is a 4v3 situation favoring the offense. Certainly, it is hard to break through that first layer, especially if you don’t have experience playing against it. Thus, patience has to be exercised at first, and then once you have the numbers advantage, the disc should be moved quickly.
The finale of the day was moving to a grass field to play against the Tianjin Allstars, a combination of Tianjin A, the captain of the B team, and two recent graduates. It was great to get on grass, even if it wasn’t perfectly flat. The grass field was a huge expanse surrounded by construction and completed skyscrapers. The sky was still clear, and we played through sunset until it got far to dark to play. The game was again close, with a narrow defeat handed to Tianjin. As Tao put it aptly, “it is hard to beat a team on their home turf”. Like most Chinese people I’ve met, the Tianjin players showed great pride and determination in what they do. I have no doubt that with some direction they could be a great team by the worldwide standard in the near future.
Although saddened in defeat, the students all expressed their gratitude and everybody ended up having a great day. There were no major injuries and beer and dumplings were enjoyed as a post ultimate celebration. I hope to have the opportunity to play with and help Tianjin again.
Big thanks to the organizers and translators.
One last note, on our ride home we encountered a traffic jam of epic proportions. Cars were shut off and somewhat drunken players wandered around the side of the highway. We thought that perhaps this was caused by construction, an accident, or increased security at the Beijing checkpoint. But no, it was caused by one truck pulling another truck (and I mean a real truck) using a rope system. As we finally drove by, the ropes snapped. Oh China…
Sunday, September 27, 2009
First Dinner in Beijing
I had my first opportunity to cook dinner in Beijing last night. I was happy to use my new chef's knife, and it did not disappoint. Anyways, lets get to the good stuff.
The main dish:
Brown 6 seasoned chicken drum sticks in sesame oil
Add 3 cloves of garlic to the browning process
Remove garlic and chicken and set on plate
Deglaze pan with 1/2 cup of vinegar (dark somewhat cidery vinegar in this case)
Add 1/2 cup of water (stock would be great here)
Add chicken and garlic
Simmer for 15 minutes, or until you approximate 10 minutes until the chicken is cooked through
Add 3/4 cup celery chopped
Add 1 large tomato seeded and rough chopped
Simmer for 10 minutes
Side dish:
Boil several potatoes in salted water
Remove potatoes after 15 minutes or when you think they are 1/2 cooked
Rough chop potatoes
Place potatoes on a metal tray and add olive oil
Spice with fresh ground black pepper and rosemary
Roast in preheated (375 Fahrenheit) oven for 20 minutes
Comments:
The main dish was solid and will probably show up in the future. The chicken was tender, and the sauce was flavorful. All parties were satisfied. A key to success was the use of whole cloves of garlic which avoided browning and allowed for easy removal and addition.
7 out of 10 frisbees
The side dish was nothing to write home about. Suspected foul-ups include boiling the potatoes too long and roasting them not long enough. A third party contends that the heat distributes unevenly in the oven, but I believe the soggy inner texture and lack of crunch on the outside was due to poor timing. What saved this from a two frisbee ranking was the addition of sauce from the main dish.
3 out of 10 frisbees
The main dish:
Brown 6 seasoned chicken drum sticks in sesame oil
Add 3 cloves of garlic to the browning process
Remove garlic and chicken and set on plate
Deglaze pan with 1/2 cup of vinegar (dark somewhat cidery vinegar in this case)
Add 1/2 cup of water (stock would be great here)
Add chicken and garlic
Simmer for 15 minutes, or until you approximate 10 minutes until the chicken is cooked through
Add 3/4 cup celery chopped
Add 1 large tomato seeded and rough chopped
Simmer for 10 minutes
Side dish:
Boil several potatoes in salted water
Remove potatoes after 15 minutes or when you think they are 1/2 cooked
Rough chop potatoes
Place potatoes on a metal tray and add olive oil
Spice with fresh ground black pepper and rosemary
Roast in preheated (375 Fahrenheit) oven for 20 minutes
Comments:
The main dish was solid and will probably show up in the future. The chicken was tender, and the sauce was flavorful. All parties were satisfied. A key to success was the use of whole cloves of garlic which avoided browning and allowed for easy removal and addition.
7 out of 10 frisbees
The side dish was nothing to write home about. Suspected foul-ups include boiling the potatoes too long and roasting them not long enough. A third party contends that the heat distributes unevenly in the oven, but I believe the soggy inner texture and lack of crunch on the outside was due to poor timing. What saved this from a two frisbee ranking was the addition of sauce from the main dish.
3 out of 10 frisbees
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
An old story courtesy of Roldy of Kunming:
Roldy told me that there when he was a child he and his friends would always try to catch dragonflies. There were three ways to catch dragonflies:
1) Chase after them with nets.
2) Capture a female, tie a string to its tail, stake down the string, catch the males when they come to mate.
3) Capture a male, put mud on it, capture the males when they try to mate with the male (mud confuses them).
He said that often there would be 20 or so Chinese boys with nets chasing after one dragonfly! A scene I can only imagine.
Roldy told me that there when he was a child he and his friends would always try to catch dragonflies. There were three ways to catch dragonflies:
1) Chase after them with nets.
2) Capture a female, tie a string to its tail, stake down the string, catch the males when they come to mate.
3) Capture a male, put mud on it, capture the males when they try to mate with the male (mud confuses them).
He said that often there would be 20 or so Chinese boys with nets chasing after one dragonfly! A scene I can only imagine.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Another busy week in Chengdu, so not too much blogging action.
Two short updates:
Unfortunately, I don't think I'm going to be able to go to Korea to play in the tournament Jeju, because it would cost at least 700$. This makes me very sad. At first we though we were going to get group tickets for 200$, so you can imagine my surprise at the price change. I'll have to visit Ben another time!
Yesterday I was looking out of my apartment window at a major intersection and I saw a police car with lights flashing trying to make a left turn. You might think that this would be no problem, but the Chinese drivers seemed to think otherwise. Not only did they not let the police car turn, but even as he eased into traffic, the entire traffic flow shifted so that they could keep going. Eventually the police car was surrounded by cars on both sides, although he did make it through in the end.
Two short updates:
Unfortunately, I don't think I'm going to be able to go to Korea to play in the tournament Jeju, because it would cost at least 700$. This makes me very sad. At first we though we were going to get group tickets for 200$, so you can imagine my surprise at the price change. I'll have to visit Ben another time!
Yesterday I was looking out of my apartment window at a major intersection and I saw a police car with lights flashing trying to make a left turn. You might think that this would be no problem, but the Chinese drivers seemed to think otherwise. Not only did they not let the police car turn, but even as he eased into traffic, the entire traffic flow shifted so that they could keep going. Eventually the police car was surrounded by cars on both sides, although he did make it through in the end.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Been quite a busy week here in Chengdu. Fortunately, the weather has been great, with temperatures reaching 75. The Chinese people are still wearing multiple layers of sweaters. Perhaps they will catch on at some point. Yuanqiang claims that wearing warmer clothes now will "season" people so that the summer doesn't seem as hot. Who knows whether this is true or not. Maybe they should wear shorts in the fall to prepare for winter (I didn't notice that when I got here). Anyways, I'm looking forward to continued good weather and another weekend with two games of ultimate!
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Yesterday we had another successful round of Chengdu ultimate pick up. It has caught on pretty well; the first participants couldn't wait until next week to get back out on the field. Hopefully we can finagle a couple of the rugby players for next time. Although people are often surprised at how much running is involved, they don't seem to mind getting tired out if they can catch a few frisbees. More random updates as they come.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
The first attempt to play ultimate frisbee in Chengdu was a rousing success. Not only were passes completed and goals scored, but the overall level of play was inspiring. First time players were catching consistently and being patient with the frisbee. Wily veterans were making solid cuts and showing mild restraint with their throws. Most importantly, everybody was involved and had a great time.
Highlights:
Chenyaolong complaining that his arm was tired and he needed to take a five minute rest after ten minutes of warm-up throwing.
Playing six on six!
Only having to pay for half a field at the end.
Getting good representation from both foreigners and locals.
Drinking beer with new found friends and playing frisbee golf on the streets of Chengdu after dinner.
Highlights:
Chenyaolong complaining that his arm was tired and he needed to take a five minute rest after ten minutes of warm-up throwing.
Playing six on six!
Only having to pay for half a field at the end.
Getting good representation from both foreigners and locals.
Drinking beer with new found friends and playing frisbee golf on the streets of Chengdu after dinner.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Mornings
My cell-phone alarm rings for the second time after a ten minute snooze, and I groggily sit up in bed. The air temperature is probably 45 degrees in my apartment, which makes leaving the cocoon of warmth I've spent all night forming a daunting undertaking. With sudden remorse, I'm into my slippers shuffling towards the bathroom to get ready for the day. Hot water from the shower and heat lamps take the edge off of the morning chill and force my brain to start functioning. I try to dry myself off and battle the cold again, this time by putting on damp clothes. True dryness is a feeling that isn't to be found in Chengdu. The idea of hang drying clothes and towels is futile, but it is the way that things are done, and I don't have a dryer anyways.
Butter hits the skillet with a reassuring sizzle. Three eggs are cracked and begin to fry. Fortunately, I've found a pepper grinder and black pepper corns. A dash of salt and breakfast is almost ready. I sit on the couch watching CCTV 5 or CCTV 9. Five is the sports channel, and occasionally has highlights from the NBA, and CCTV 9 is the only English channel on Chinese television. They show a small variety of shows including daily international and business news and shows about modern Chinese culture and ancient Chinese history. The scope is recognizably narrow, although I do give them credit for fairly accurate coverage of international events and some very interesting talk shows where they actively discuss domestic and foreign politics with earnest, vibrant opinions.
Strawberry yogurt and a banana for the road complete the beginning of the day. The elevator is always dirty, and there are all sorts of obstacles to an uneventful trip to the first floor. Men enter and talk loudly on cell phones while smoking cigarettes in a confined space. Their disregard for others is blatant and all encompassing. They walk in the elevator before people leave, regardless of current occupants bumping into women and children, and if there happen to be two of them, the decibel war begins. There appears to be no freight elevator in the building, so movers, janitors, and anybody else carrying large equipment all uses the central four elevators –of which at any given time 2-3 are functional. This explains the smell of garbage and the frequent debris. The bottom floor has a guard and a small counter with three women and a man who seem to be hardly working.
There are three routes that I have taken to work with some regularity. All three include the same first part. Outside my apartment I walk off of the tiled stones that constitute the entrance to my building and onto concrete and dirt in various iterations. At first, I often made the mistake of assuming that just because a path is narrow and poorly paved it is not open to cars, but now I realize that this is not the case.
The first area I cross on my way to work is a parking lot with faded yellow lines that map out 100 or so marginally larger than car sized spaces. Due to the general lack of space, the crossing can be a bit of a madhouse. A Chinese man that often is perched on a chair with a cigarette in hand takes on the air of controlling the situation. With hoots, hollers, and hand gestures, he guides every car into their destined spot. Just to up the ante, there is also a loading dock for a furniture outlet that empties into the back of the parking lot and an entrance to an underground parking garage. Areas in China are often high density in terms of use and management, but this doesn't stop each individual manager from acting as the king of his domain. If you watch the man who runs the parking lot shouting and gesticulating while on standing his chair, to the western eye it seems unnecessary and amusing. But the reality of the situation is that he is indeed very necessary to maintaining order, even if it is just in this one small parking lot.
After the parking lot, I hit the main streets. The first street is lined with specialty shops including junk shops, massage parlors (and more), the typical repeated small convenience stores, wood and carpentry, water delivery, hair salons, and restaurants. Again due to the high density, there is a great deal of repetition in services and stores. I usually jaywalk across this street because it is actually safer than waiting at the stoplight for the walk signal. This is because if I wait for the walk signal I have to deal with taxis and buses making turns. There are three major dangers that I have run into when crossing streets in Chengdu. The first and foremost is the buses. The drivers have no conception of respecting pedestrians or other drivers. They must be paid on a system where they are rewarded for speed or the number of people they pick up because these are the only two objectives that they heed. They also like to drive as fast as possible; even faster than the taxis. The taxis remind me of green shells from Mario Brothers because of their velocity and color. They bounce around the streets at high speeds occupying space as it becomes available. The third and perhaps most sinister threat, is the electric bicycle. Just when there is an opening in traffic large enough to warrant a venture across the street, out of nowhere, an electric bike will come whizzing around the corner at high speed. The only traffic accident that I was involved in occurred on a wet night when just such a vehicle was flying down the street at a dangerous speed. Aichanglin and I had just gotten a walk signal so we were stepping off the curb when our motorized foe saw us and jammed his breaks fishtailing towards us. I was able to step out of the way because I was the closer person and saw him coming early, but Aichanglin was not as lucky, and his arm got clipped by a mirror. Fortunately, it wasn't a serious injury, but the danger was real. Three of the other accidents I have seen involved motorized bikes and cars, which is one of the reasons I am still fearful to bike around the city.
One hundred meters after crossing the first major street, I take a left onto a smaller road that feeds into the back of the hospital. When I don't have time to make breakfast, I often go to a small bakery on this side street for some baked rolls (mianbaos). When first ordering mianbaos I had no idea what was going to be in on the inside, and sometimes I would be delighted by coconut or fruit filling, and other times I would be looking for a trashcan after a bite of pungent, salty bean curd. That's pretty much how things go as a traveler, especially when your language skills aren't up to par (it is notable that most locals speak a dialect unless you ask them to speak mandarin). Fortunately, I have a pretty good idea of what is going on in terms of what's what now, so breakfast out of the house is less of an adventure than it used to be.
When I first walked to work, I would choose to go through West China Hospital. The hospital, like many hospitals, is a bustling place with people from all walks of life. It has over 4000 beds making it the largest hospital in China. By the back gate to the hospital, there is always an old lady whose cart bears a large black cauldron topped with slightly charred sweet potatoes which she sells. After walking through the gate, pale yellow buildings line the concrete path that lead to a central plaza. On most days, I see old men and women with mottled skin and yellow teeth walking by sweeping brooms made of a bamboo shaft with long twigs tightly strung together as the head. On other days, a younger pair of women walks by with a rubber hoses spraying water on the concrete path.
The central plaza of the hospital has guards, tropical looking greenery, the usual supply of Chinese men smoking cigarettes and talking loudly, and doctors and patients. People often stared at me in droves when I walked through this area, and to be honest, in my first few days, I stared right back. Patients of all ages with strange ailments wander the area, and there is always something strange or interesting going on. One day, I saw a large group gathered around two women and a doctor engaged in a shouting match, about what I'll never know. Something that I learned quickly is that Chinese people love a scene, and there are usually enough people around to encircle three or four people deep in a hurry.
The final part of my walk through the hospital area is by the emergency room, which is a scene in of itself. The ER is tucked away in a corner of the hospital grounds, as if the architect wanted to shield the public from the fracas that is a daily occurrence. In this area, I don’t get nearly as many stares, because strange is the norm. Patients come in on foot and in ambulances, which are really nothing more than minivans equipped with flashing lights. The ambulances never seem to be in any type of hurry; maybe this is why most people come in on foot.
After a week of walking through the hospital, I started exploring and found a faster way to get to work. This involves braving a street that I now affectionately call "dirty" street. The reason for the disorganization and frequent trash piles that litter the street is that this street that contains many small, local markets. Not only does this mean a lot of foot traffic, but shopkeepers subscribe to the "if you put trash on the street somebody will eventually remove it" system. Butcher shops consist of chunks of meat hanging from cruel black hooks, and the odd assortment of ground meat and animal parts. One special store has deep brown livers and foamy, pink-white lungs hanging by bloody tracheas. The vegetable stores contain local produce including various greens, mushrooms, and tubers. Sichuan is known for its produce because there is a lot of farmland in the area surrounding the city, and the results are a lush and varied selection. There is also a local fish store with eels, prawns, and fish swimming in overcrowded, blue plastic tubs. An old woman keeps a constant watch on the freshness of the water, emptying and refilling the plastic tubs consistently. This creates a small pond in the street about two thirds of the way down towards the hospital. Small stores that sell baked and smoked meats are located every 30 meters or so. Yellow and brown cooked chickens and ducks accompany pig's feet, ears, and just about everything else.
The final route to work that I discovered, which is now the one that I take with most frequency, is a back alley through a residential area. It is a relatively clean and quite street. Old ladies and small children wander around the alley. The old women usually move a little bit slower than the brightly adorned overly clothed children that they are following. The children usually wear bright reds and blues decorated with puffy animal pictures. One remarkable difference from American children is the large slit in the children's pants allowing for easy public squatting. As I walk down the alley, I often see old men sitting on small stools playing Chinese chess, and sometimes another middle-aged man will be sitting next to them watching, patiently stripping a tangled pile of copper wire.
...
Friends From Work
In the office, communication is often accomplished through QQ, a computer chat program. It is faster than e-mail, and documents or other files can be sent directly through the program at high speed because we all share a network. Most mornings at around 11:00 Aichanglin will inquire via chat what my plans for lunch are. Most days we will either go to the cafeteria, which I don't particularly like, or a dumpling and rice-noodle joint that is literally run out of a parking lot. Usually around 11:30 Aichanglin will walk into my office with a smile on his face. He walks with a noticeable limp because of permanent damage to his nervous system due to disease as a child. But his disability doesn't seem to dampen his spirit or intellectual curiosity. "How's it going?" He'll say with a smile on his face, as what once was a confusing colloquial phrase has now become a source of delight. We often talk at lunch about simple subjects like how our work is going, or what we did the past weekend. We speak a mix of Chinese and English as sometimes one language is more useful than the other to get our point across.
Although most Chinese people who are in higher education institutions have studied English for more than 10 years, their speaking and listening skills are usually very poor. This is because of the nature of their English education. Class sizes are usually large, ranging from 50 to 100 students, leaving little room for individualized language development. Additionally, the classes (not just language classes) are run by having the teachers dictate information to the students. The result, from a language perspective, is students who are great readers with a high level vocabulary but no ability to creatively apply their language skills orally or in writing. There are also very few opportunities to hear and understand native speakers, so although they may be able to understand a Chinese English teacher, they often have trouble with native speakers due to speed and pronunciation differences. The other side of this, as exemplified by Yuanqiang and Aichanglin, the people who have spoken the most English with me, is that their English improves very quickly. They have a great vocabulary to draw on. This is particularly true for students from my center, where part of their job as graduate students is to read and understand a great number of scientific articles written in English. So they actually have plenty of language experience. With a little nurturing and encouragement their skills blossom quickly.
Across the street from our office is the administrative office building for the hospital and a large parking lot for ambulances and security vehicles. Tucked away in a corner of the parking lot is a small outdoor kitchen where Aichanglin, Yuanqiang, and I sometimes get lunch. Lettuce heads sit stacked adjacent to a stove with several large pots constantly boiling. A fat woman with a large smile and a face dampened by constant perspiration wanders around the area taking orders and adding msg, salt, vinegar, spices, lettuce, and dumplings or rice noodles into the bowls and the boiling pots. The main customers are ambulance drivers, local policemen, and hospital workers. The food is salty, spicy, and flavorful, as you would expect from a local eatery in Sichuan. My personal favorite is chaoshou, or a version of dumplings with a ball of meat wrapped in dough, but unlike the dumpling there is excess dough hanging of the center creating dangling flaps. There are also no scallions in the meat, although I don't know whether this is just a local choice, or a widespread difference between chaoshou and normal dumplings. Trying to explain to Aichanglin that to Americans they would both be called dumplings precipitates a funny conversation where I end up trying to explain in Chinese that among the Eskimos they have many more words for snow than we do. Like many conversations we have, despite the fact that there is not a complete exchange of ideas, the point gets across.
Another place that we will commonly go to have lunch is the cafeteria next to the student dorms. The cafeteria is a two floored concrete box structure. The first floor consists of repeated red metal tables bearing worn down coca-cola insignias and a small office where you can buy points to put on an electronic card. The whole floor can seat a couple hundred people. During lunchtime, the students form a sea of bobbing black heads chatting loudly as they form lines to get food. Orange plastic trays and piles of wooden chopsticks are provided. The food is presented in steaming piles behind a plastic wall that encircles half of the cafeteria. Cafeteria workers listen for orders, and shovel some of whichever pile you name --or in my case point-- onto on a plate and ring it up on a machine where you scan your card. The choices are plentiful, although the flavors are for the most part uninspiring.
After lunch in the cafeteria, I'll often go over to Yuanqiang's dorm room to watch a movie or relax. He lives on the third floor of another unassuming concrete box. Three raps on the metal door usually stir a commotion inside consisting of some muffled Chinese that I can't comprehend. Yuanqiang is usually the first to the door as he is closest to the entrance and has quick reactions. He lives with three friends who are all in medical school. The room is as small as is functionally possible with raised beds that literally sit on top of their respective closets and desk areas. Yuanqiang is a straightforward, good guy with interests in basketball, beer, movies, and friends. Unfortunately for him, his nose has been firmly pressed to the grindstone finding and selecting articles for systematic reviews on top of going to classes. I reason that it is not uncommon for him to work 65 hours a week. If you add in watching a couple movies and every single Houston Rockets game, there isn't much time for anything else. The two of Yuanqiang's roommates I've talked with are pretty interesting fellows. Liubin, is the resident video gamer. He is skinny as a stick, and he lives off of packaged noodles (perhaps this is why he looks like one). He is always full of opinions and good natured teasing. His quick wit provides a great partnership with Panfeixu, another roommate who is a rare character indeed. Panfeixu is always curious about things and loves to ask strange questions and perceive strange answers. He is intelligent, and the way that he processes outside stimuli is different from most other Chinese people who just absorb information. He actively and creatively thinks about things, and isn't afraid to say what he is thinking about. The result is some very funny conversations between Liu and Pan as they play off each other's character.
…
That is all for now, hopefully this gives you a little window into what I’m experiencing. Next up is a summary of my trip to Laos and Thailand.
My cell-phone alarm rings for the second time after a ten minute snooze, and I groggily sit up in bed. The air temperature is probably 45 degrees in my apartment, which makes leaving the cocoon of warmth I've spent all night forming a daunting undertaking. With sudden remorse, I'm into my slippers shuffling towards the bathroom to get ready for the day. Hot water from the shower and heat lamps take the edge off of the morning chill and force my brain to start functioning. I try to dry myself off and battle the cold again, this time by putting on damp clothes. True dryness is a feeling that isn't to be found in Chengdu. The idea of hang drying clothes and towels is futile, but it is the way that things are done, and I don't have a dryer anyways.
Butter hits the skillet with a reassuring sizzle. Three eggs are cracked and begin to fry. Fortunately, I've found a pepper grinder and black pepper corns. A dash of salt and breakfast is almost ready. I sit on the couch watching CCTV 5 or CCTV 9. Five is the sports channel, and occasionally has highlights from the NBA, and CCTV 9 is the only English channel on Chinese television. They show a small variety of shows including daily international and business news and shows about modern Chinese culture and ancient Chinese history. The scope is recognizably narrow, although I do give them credit for fairly accurate coverage of international events and some very interesting talk shows where they actively discuss domestic and foreign politics with earnest, vibrant opinions.
Strawberry yogurt and a banana for the road complete the beginning of the day. The elevator is always dirty, and there are all sorts of obstacles to an uneventful trip to the first floor. Men enter and talk loudly on cell phones while smoking cigarettes in a confined space. Their disregard for others is blatant and all encompassing. They walk in the elevator before people leave, regardless of current occupants bumping into women and children, and if there happen to be two of them, the decibel war begins. There appears to be no freight elevator in the building, so movers, janitors, and anybody else carrying large equipment all uses the central four elevators –of which at any given time 2-3 are functional. This explains the smell of garbage and the frequent debris. The bottom floor has a guard and a small counter with three women and a man who seem to be hardly working.
There are three routes that I have taken to work with some regularity. All three include the same first part. Outside my apartment I walk off of the tiled stones that constitute the entrance to my building and onto concrete and dirt in various iterations. At first, I often made the mistake of assuming that just because a path is narrow and poorly paved it is not open to cars, but now I realize that this is not the case.
The first area I cross on my way to work is a parking lot with faded yellow lines that map out 100 or so marginally larger than car sized spaces. Due to the general lack of space, the crossing can be a bit of a madhouse. A Chinese man that often is perched on a chair with a cigarette in hand takes on the air of controlling the situation. With hoots, hollers, and hand gestures, he guides every car into their destined spot. Just to up the ante, there is also a loading dock for a furniture outlet that empties into the back of the parking lot and an entrance to an underground parking garage. Areas in China are often high density in terms of use and management, but this doesn't stop each individual manager from acting as the king of his domain. If you watch the man who runs the parking lot shouting and gesticulating while on standing his chair, to the western eye it seems unnecessary and amusing. But the reality of the situation is that he is indeed very necessary to maintaining order, even if it is just in this one small parking lot.
After the parking lot, I hit the main streets. The first street is lined with specialty shops including junk shops, massage parlors (and more), the typical repeated small convenience stores, wood and carpentry, water delivery, hair salons, and restaurants. Again due to the high density, there is a great deal of repetition in services and stores. I usually jaywalk across this street because it is actually safer than waiting at the stoplight for the walk signal. This is because if I wait for the walk signal I have to deal with taxis and buses making turns. There are three major dangers that I have run into when crossing streets in Chengdu. The first and foremost is the buses. The drivers have no conception of respecting pedestrians or other drivers. They must be paid on a system where they are rewarded for speed or the number of people they pick up because these are the only two objectives that they heed. They also like to drive as fast as possible; even faster than the taxis. The taxis remind me of green shells from Mario Brothers because of their velocity and color. They bounce around the streets at high speeds occupying space as it becomes available. The third and perhaps most sinister threat, is the electric bicycle. Just when there is an opening in traffic large enough to warrant a venture across the street, out of nowhere, an electric bike will come whizzing around the corner at high speed. The only traffic accident that I was involved in occurred on a wet night when just such a vehicle was flying down the street at a dangerous speed. Aichanglin and I had just gotten a walk signal so we were stepping off the curb when our motorized foe saw us and jammed his breaks fishtailing towards us. I was able to step out of the way because I was the closer person and saw him coming early, but Aichanglin was not as lucky, and his arm got clipped by a mirror. Fortunately, it wasn't a serious injury, but the danger was real. Three of the other accidents I have seen involved motorized bikes and cars, which is one of the reasons I am still fearful to bike around the city.
One hundred meters after crossing the first major street, I take a left onto a smaller road that feeds into the back of the hospital. When I don't have time to make breakfast, I often go to a small bakery on this side street for some baked rolls (mianbaos). When first ordering mianbaos I had no idea what was going to be in on the inside, and sometimes I would be delighted by coconut or fruit filling, and other times I would be looking for a trashcan after a bite of pungent, salty bean curd. That's pretty much how things go as a traveler, especially when your language skills aren't up to par (it is notable that most locals speak a dialect unless you ask them to speak mandarin). Fortunately, I have a pretty good idea of what is going on in terms of what's what now, so breakfast out of the house is less of an adventure than it used to be.
When I first walked to work, I would choose to go through West China Hospital. The hospital, like many hospitals, is a bustling place with people from all walks of life. It has over 4000 beds making it the largest hospital in China. By the back gate to the hospital, there is always an old lady whose cart bears a large black cauldron topped with slightly charred sweet potatoes which she sells. After walking through the gate, pale yellow buildings line the concrete path that lead to a central plaza. On most days, I see old men and women with mottled skin and yellow teeth walking by sweeping brooms made of a bamboo shaft with long twigs tightly strung together as the head. On other days, a younger pair of women walks by with a rubber hoses spraying water on the concrete path.
The central plaza of the hospital has guards, tropical looking greenery, the usual supply of Chinese men smoking cigarettes and talking loudly, and doctors and patients. People often stared at me in droves when I walked through this area, and to be honest, in my first few days, I stared right back. Patients of all ages with strange ailments wander the area, and there is always something strange or interesting going on. One day, I saw a large group gathered around two women and a doctor engaged in a shouting match, about what I'll never know. Something that I learned quickly is that Chinese people love a scene, and there are usually enough people around to encircle three or four people deep in a hurry.
The final part of my walk through the hospital area is by the emergency room, which is a scene in of itself. The ER is tucked away in a corner of the hospital grounds, as if the architect wanted to shield the public from the fracas that is a daily occurrence. In this area, I don’t get nearly as many stares, because strange is the norm. Patients come in on foot and in ambulances, which are really nothing more than minivans equipped with flashing lights. The ambulances never seem to be in any type of hurry; maybe this is why most people come in on foot.
After a week of walking through the hospital, I started exploring and found a faster way to get to work. This involves braving a street that I now affectionately call "dirty" street. The reason for the disorganization and frequent trash piles that litter the street is that this street that contains many small, local markets. Not only does this mean a lot of foot traffic, but shopkeepers subscribe to the "if you put trash on the street somebody will eventually remove it" system. Butcher shops consist of chunks of meat hanging from cruel black hooks, and the odd assortment of ground meat and animal parts. One special store has deep brown livers and foamy, pink-white lungs hanging by bloody tracheas. The vegetable stores contain local produce including various greens, mushrooms, and tubers. Sichuan is known for its produce because there is a lot of farmland in the area surrounding the city, and the results are a lush and varied selection. There is also a local fish store with eels, prawns, and fish swimming in overcrowded, blue plastic tubs. An old woman keeps a constant watch on the freshness of the water, emptying and refilling the plastic tubs consistently. This creates a small pond in the street about two thirds of the way down towards the hospital. Small stores that sell baked and smoked meats are located every 30 meters or so. Yellow and brown cooked chickens and ducks accompany pig's feet, ears, and just about everything else.
The final route to work that I discovered, which is now the one that I take with most frequency, is a back alley through a residential area. It is a relatively clean and quite street. Old ladies and small children wander around the alley. The old women usually move a little bit slower than the brightly adorned overly clothed children that they are following. The children usually wear bright reds and blues decorated with puffy animal pictures. One remarkable difference from American children is the large slit in the children's pants allowing for easy public squatting. As I walk down the alley, I often see old men sitting on small stools playing Chinese chess, and sometimes another middle-aged man will be sitting next to them watching, patiently stripping a tangled pile of copper wire.
...
Friends From Work
In the office, communication is often accomplished through QQ, a computer chat program. It is faster than e-mail, and documents or other files can be sent directly through the program at high speed because we all share a network. Most mornings at around 11:00 Aichanglin will inquire via chat what my plans for lunch are. Most days we will either go to the cafeteria, which I don't particularly like, or a dumpling and rice-noodle joint that is literally run out of a parking lot. Usually around 11:30 Aichanglin will walk into my office with a smile on his face. He walks with a noticeable limp because of permanent damage to his nervous system due to disease as a child. But his disability doesn't seem to dampen his spirit or intellectual curiosity. "How's it going?" He'll say with a smile on his face, as what once was a confusing colloquial phrase has now become a source of delight. We often talk at lunch about simple subjects like how our work is going, or what we did the past weekend. We speak a mix of Chinese and English as sometimes one language is more useful than the other to get our point across.
Although most Chinese people who are in higher education institutions have studied English for more than 10 years, their speaking and listening skills are usually very poor. This is because of the nature of their English education. Class sizes are usually large, ranging from 50 to 100 students, leaving little room for individualized language development. Additionally, the classes (not just language classes) are run by having the teachers dictate information to the students. The result, from a language perspective, is students who are great readers with a high level vocabulary but no ability to creatively apply their language skills orally or in writing. There are also very few opportunities to hear and understand native speakers, so although they may be able to understand a Chinese English teacher, they often have trouble with native speakers due to speed and pronunciation differences. The other side of this, as exemplified by Yuanqiang and Aichanglin, the people who have spoken the most English with me, is that their English improves very quickly. They have a great vocabulary to draw on. This is particularly true for students from my center, where part of their job as graduate students is to read and understand a great number of scientific articles written in English. So they actually have plenty of language experience. With a little nurturing and encouragement their skills blossom quickly.
Across the street from our office is the administrative office building for the hospital and a large parking lot for ambulances and security vehicles. Tucked away in a corner of the parking lot is a small outdoor kitchen where Aichanglin, Yuanqiang, and I sometimes get lunch. Lettuce heads sit stacked adjacent to a stove with several large pots constantly boiling. A fat woman with a large smile and a face dampened by constant perspiration wanders around the area taking orders and adding msg, salt, vinegar, spices, lettuce, and dumplings or rice noodles into the bowls and the boiling pots. The main customers are ambulance drivers, local policemen, and hospital workers. The food is salty, spicy, and flavorful, as you would expect from a local eatery in Sichuan. My personal favorite is chaoshou, or a version of dumplings with a ball of meat wrapped in dough, but unlike the dumpling there is excess dough hanging of the center creating dangling flaps. There are also no scallions in the meat, although I don't know whether this is just a local choice, or a widespread difference between chaoshou and normal dumplings. Trying to explain to Aichanglin that to Americans they would both be called dumplings precipitates a funny conversation where I end up trying to explain in Chinese that among the Eskimos they have many more words for snow than we do. Like many conversations we have, despite the fact that there is not a complete exchange of ideas, the point gets across.
Another place that we will commonly go to have lunch is the cafeteria next to the student dorms. The cafeteria is a two floored concrete box structure. The first floor consists of repeated red metal tables bearing worn down coca-cola insignias and a small office where you can buy points to put on an electronic card. The whole floor can seat a couple hundred people. During lunchtime, the students form a sea of bobbing black heads chatting loudly as they form lines to get food. Orange plastic trays and piles of wooden chopsticks are provided. The food is presented in steaming piles behind a plastic wall that encircles half of the cafeteria. Cafeteria workers listen for orders, and shovel some of whichever pile you name --or in my case point-- onto on a plate and ring it up on a machine where you scan your card. The choices are plentiful, although the flavors are for the most part uninspiring.
After lunch in the cafeteria, I'll often go over to Yuanqiang's dorm room to watch a movie or relax. He lives on the third floor of another unassuming concrete box. Three raps on the metal door usually stir a commotion inside consisting of some muffled Chinese that I can't comprehend. Yuanqiang is usually the first to the door as he is closest to the entrance and has quick reactions. He lives with three friends who are all in medical school. The room is as small as is functionally possible with raised beds that literally sit on top of their respective closets and desk areas. Yuanqiang is a straightforward, good guy with interests in basketball, beer, movies, and friends. Unfortunately for him, his nose has been firmly pressed to the grindstone finding and selecting articles for systematic reviews on top of going to classes. I reason that it is not uncommon for him to work 65 hours a week. If you add in watching a couple movies and every single Houston Rockets game, there isn't much time for anything else. The two of Yuanqiang's roommates I've talked with are pretty interesting fellows. Liubin, is the resident video gamer. He is skinny as a stick, and he lives off of packaged noodles (perhaps this is why he looks like one). He is always full of opinions and good natured teasing. His quick wit provides a great partnership with Panfeixu, another roommate who is a rare character indeed. Panfeixu is always curious about things and loves to ask strange questions and perceive strange answers. He is intelligent, and the way that he processes outside stimuli is different from most other Chinese people who just absorb information. He actively and creatively thinks about things, and isn't afraid to say what he is thinking about. The result is some very funny conversations between Liu and Pan as they play off each other's character.
…
That is all for now, hopefully this gives you a little window into what I’m experiencing. Next up is a summary of my trip to Laos and Thailand.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
A Trip to the Park
After a long work week, taking a trip outside of Chengdu seemed like a good idea, and some of the students had suggested we go to some famous gardens outside of the city. After waking up at 8:00 on Saturday to meet the others at 8:30 so that we could have enjoy a long day at the park, I promptly realized that I had left my camera in the office. The office was on the way to the meeting point so I figured that this would not be too much of a problem. To my disappointed surprise both of the elevators in the building were out of service. After running up and down 11 flights of stairs, I had retrieved my camera and was ready for the trip, although I was 10 minutes late to the meeting point. It was worth being late because the trip would include some great photo opportunities, and I no longer felt cold on a chilly morning!
I have to digress for a moment here to note that Chinese people (or at least my friends) are always on time or early. If I was in college and my friends and I had tried to execute a similar plan, there would be no chance of us leaving on time. This is confirmed by leaving late for many Frisbee tournaments after running through the freshman dorms waking people up.
After an inauspicious start, we quickly caught a bus, and after thirty minutes we transferred buses at a central station. The central station was crowded and noisy even at 9 AM on a Saturday. Forty five minutes later we arrived at the gardens only to find that they were temporarily closed due to damage from the Wenchuan earthquake. Although this was disappointing, there were still a bunch of things to see in the area. Before beginning our walking tour we sat down at a restaurant for some tea, fruit, and nuts.
The restaurant was quiet and in the beginning we were the only group there. The surroundings were composed of plants and water systems with old Chinese style roofing covering the stone paths that wandered around the area. I didn’t realize how loud the city of Chengdu was and how pleasant taking a break from car horns, jack hammers, screeching breaks, and the other parts of the cacophony of city noises would be. This was the first time I had felt truly relaxed in a long time.
After our mid-morning snack, we walked around the area. The part of the park that was open was quite scenic. First it started out with a long path lined on both sides with Ginko trees, whose foliage was pale yellow, and red lanterns hanging in the air. At various points on the cement path there were reliefs depicting ancient scenes and figures. At the end of the path there was a large open space with a centrally located sundial (although it was too cloudy to use). After the sundial, we came up to a large building whose structure captured the feelings of an ancient palace, although it is actually used by the local community for gatherings and performances. The architecture followed the theme of ancient China with twin lion stone statues guarding the entrance: two massive red doors adorned with golden knobs.
After exiting the building on the other side, we found an upscale community composed of beautiful old Chinese style buildings. Although a local guard lazily attempted to stop us from entering the area, we circumvented his line of sight in order to view the interior roads of the small community. The buildings were beautiful and peaceful. The roads were open and there were few people walking around. Waterways were effortlessly integrated with the area, as was the theme of old Chinese buildings and architecture. More statues and reliefs covered the walls and guarded ornate entrances and exits to local homes. Behind the homes was a small park with a river and a man-made waterfall.
The feeling was serene although not devoid of energy, with much joking among my Chinese classmates. It felt great to get outside the city and be in a beautiful place reminding me of visiting the ocean when I was in Boston. Being in a foreign country and doing lots of work builds up stress in subtle (or sometimes not so subtle) ways. I felt like layers of stress were falling off of me as I walked around and listened to running water.
After walking around the small community, we returned to the restaurant by the entrance of the park for more tea, snacks, and lunch. Lunch was followed by some simple games and more snacking (I must have eaten a hundred sunflower seeds). By the end of the day, everybody was feeling good, and it was truly a shame to return to the city, but this small vacation, like all vacations, could last only so long.
I have to digress for a moment here to note that Chinese people (or at least my friends) are always on time or early. If I was in college and my friends and I had tried to execute a similar plan, there would be no chance of us leaving on time. This is confirmed by leaving late for many Frisbee tournaments after running through the freshman dorms waking people up.
After an inauspicious start, we quickly caught a bus, and after thirty minutes we transferred buses at a central station. The central station was crowded and noisy even at 9 AM on a Saturday. Forty five minutes later we arrived at the gardens only to find that they were temporarily closed due to damage from the Wenchuan earthquake. Although this was disappointing, there were still a bunch of things to see in the area. Before beginning our walking tour we sat down at a restaurant for some tea, fruit, and nuts.
The restaurant was quiet and in the beginning we were the only group there. The surroundings were composed of plants and water systems with old Chinese style roofing covering the stone paths that wandered around the area. I didn’t realize how loud the city of Chengdu was and how pleasant taking a break from car horns, jack hammers, screeching breaks, and the other parts of the cacophony of city noises would be. This was the first time I had felt truly relaxed in a long time.
After our mid-morning snack, we walked around the area. The part of the park that was open was quite scenic. First it started out with a long path lined on both sides with Ginko trees, whose foliage was pale yellow, and red lanterns hanging in the air. At various points on the cement path there were reliefs depicting ancient scenes and figures. At the end of the path there was a large open space with a centrally located sundial (although it was too cloudy to use). After the sundial, we came up to a large building whose structure captured the feelings of an ancient palace, although it is actually used by the local community for gatherings and performances. The architecture followed the theme of ancient China with twin lion stone statues guarding the entrance: two massive red doors adorned with golden knobs.
After exiting the building on the other side, we found an upscale community composed of beautiful old Chinese style buildings. Although a local guard lazily attempted to stop us from entering the area, we circumvented his line of sight in order to view the interior roads of the small community. The buildings were beautiful and peaceful. The roads were open and there were few people walking around. Waterways were effortlessly integrated with the area, as was the theme of old Chinese buildings and architecture. More statues and reliefs covered the walls and guarded ornate entrances and exits to local homes. Behind the homes was a small park with a river and a man-made waterfall.
The feeling was serene although not devoid of energy, with much joking among my Chinese classmates. It felt great to get outside the city and be in a beautiful place reminding me of visiting the ocean when I was in Boston. Being in a foreign country and doing lots of work builds up stress in subtle (or sometimes not so subtle) ways. I felt like layers of stress were falling off of me as I walked around and listened to running water.
After walking around the small community, we returned to the restaurant by the entrance of the park for more tea, snacks, and lunch. Lunch was followed by some simple games and more snacking (I must have eaten a hundred sunflower seeds). By the end of the day, everybody was feeling good, and it was truly a shame to return to the city, but this small vacation, like all vacations, could last only so long.
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