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.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Observations
The floor is dirty
During my first few weeks in Chengdu I would often put my bag on the ground at work or a restaurant, and this would immediately illicit complaints from my friends as they would run over and pick up my bag to put it on a chair. Even the surfaces of the tables that we were going to eat on were not considered clean, in fact much the opposite. When I would put a piece of paper on the table there would be a general outcry from the locals seated beside me. The reasons for these respective definitions of dirty surfaces became clear to me on several occasions. The floor is always considered dirty because it is considered completely normal to spit on the floor if you are in a restaurant or cafeteria. In addition to this, spitting small pieces of bone or spilling food on the floor is also acceptable. But what really takes the cake on this matter is that launching snot from your nose towards the ground is not a big deal. One day I was eating lunch and I saw a girl with an exceptionally long strand of snot dripping from her nose towards the floor. With a casual flick of her head she broke the strand and down onto the ground it went. My friend Yuanqiang noticed me gawking at this entire proceeding and said “ta ganmao”, meaning she has the flu or a cold. Although this was a completely satisfactory explanation of the situation for him, at the time I was still quite taken aback. The reason that the tabletops are considered unclean is quite simple and has to do with the many bones in the various meats that are eaten. Because of these small bones, you have to spit them out or else suffer dire consequences. Of course the logical place to spit them out is on the tabletops. In between meals, the pieces of food are removed by servers, but they don’t do a particularly good job, and there is no use of soap or water.
Time for a shower
Most people who work in my office are graduate students and they still live in dorms instead of apartments off campus. This is due to the usual reasons such as safety, convenience, and price. One of the results of this is that they live in a small room with four other people. They have a small balcony and a bathroom adjoining the balcony. Although there is a shower in the bathroom, there is no hot water, and with current temperatures flirting with freezing at nighttime you would have to be a hero to take a shower there. The solution to this lack of bathing equipment is twofold. The first is that every night one of the four roommates goes to retrieve hot water from outside the dormitory. This hot water is used to wash the feet. Not only do feet get pungent if you don’t wash them, but according to traditional Chinese medicine they contain an important part of the nervous system. These two reasons lead my friends to wash their feet every night. As for showers, they head to the shower house at most once a week. One of my friends was laughing about how he hadn’t gone in two weeks because he didn’t have enough time. I mentioned that maybe his girlfriend might find this to not be so funny, but he said that she controlled everything in his life, except when he took showers. I guess you have to hang on to what you can in some relationships.
Meat
Although I was raised in a family where I was routinely allowed to steal small amounts of raw beef and egg from meatballs before they became meatballs, the standards of what needs to be refrigerated and for how long are still pretty different here. Every day in the morning I walk by women with a large bowl of raw pork with some spices diligently making dumplings to be cooked later that day, the only issue is that dumplings that are going to be cooked at dinner are made early in the morning, and they aren’t refrigerated in between. Additionally, butchers leave meat out unrefrigerated all day, and I don’t know what they do with it at night. I don’t think that their practices are necessarily unsanitary; it is more that there are different standards here than in America. So far I’ve only gotten sick once. Hopefully it will stay that way.
Being an American
An obvious and interesting part of travel is the conception that other people have of your culture and how you choose to portray that culture. Being an American is like carrying the AK-47 of cultural firepower. If you bury it in the sand for 30 years it still fires. The evidence of American influence is everywhere, from the most popular sport (basketball) to the most popular clothing and accessories. That is not to say that China doesn’t have its own incredibly potent culture, but the meshing of America, globalization, and old Chinese culture is merging into an entirely different beast. Despite the great firewall of China, almost all students have found a way around this using proxy servers, and combined with access via other media avenues such as television (which, although edited, still has a lot of international content) the outside world is making its way into China.
Being an American leads to some very funny questions. Because of the sources for their conception of Americans, people often say things like “so in America, do you ever eat vegetables or only meat?” This is because in movies and television, the meat eating, beer drinking American is alive and well. The concept of a heterogeneous American culture seems completely foreign to most people here. When I try to explain that culture varies widely across the United States, despite such variations in China, people have a hard time accepting it. This is because Kobe Bryant and Michael Scofield represent America in China(the show prison break is incredibly popular over here). The same thing could be said about China and Jet Li and Jackie Chan in America, but at least they both speak English and they were both very popular in China before coming to the US. Here you have not only certain specific representation of America by stars that have acclaim in China, but you also have those stars being translated as apposed to speaking in the native tongue.
The result is a strange mix of western and eastern culture that China seems to be. Kobe Bryant, while certainly very popular in America, is not the most popular NBA player and far from the most popular athlete, but in China he is a megastar. The same thing goes for Prison Break, a show that started out with some promise, but then was less than exciting in subsequent seasons, is widely popular here. This idea penetrates to the most basic parts of daily life. Chinese fashion is an odd imitation of western fashionable dress incorporating western ideas but then giving them a strange remix. A good example of what is going on is that my good friend Liu wears shoes with an anarchy symbol on them. I asked if he knew what that meant, and he had no idea, he just liked the shoes. Basically, it seems as if the people of China have taken western culture and then completely reinterpreted it. Some parts stay the same, but some are completely changed in the translation process. I don’t know nearly enough about Chinese culture to say why they interpret things the way that they do, but it is a fascinating process to observe and be a part of.
As a tall, white man I command quite a bit of attention while walking down the street. Although at first this was overwhelming, I’ve become pretty relaxed with the idea that everybody is going to be looking at me all the time. I have to thank Ticht Nat Han for his indirect help dealing with this situation. Ticht Nat Han says, among other things, that there is a great power in smiling at people and that most often when you smile at somebody they smile back. I’ve found that this is a great way to handle people staring at me. Instead of being uncomfortable and purposefully averting my eyes, I try to look back at people and give them a friendly smile. Although I obviously don’t stop and look at every single person (I’d never make it work!), I’ve found that spreading a few smiles every day has paid off in terms of returned smiles. And frankly, it puts me a in a better mood and allows me to deal with sticking out.
English is difficult
I always was told that English was a very difficult language to master as a second language. I was certainly aware of the complexities concerning grammar and mechanics, but editing English papers written by people for whom English is a second language and trying to communicate with Chinese people in English has taken my respect for the nuance and depth of the language to a higher level. Most people in China have been studying English for upwards of 10 years, but their spoken English is usually timid at best. This has a lot to do with their education system, but I’ll address that at another time (and probably place). To summarize in brief, although most highly educated Chinese people possess an immense English vocabulary, they have very little functional English, either written or spoken, and their ear and pronunciation is untrained. This has lead to some early struggles in communication, although people usually pick things up quite quickly because their foundation is excellent. Written English is a similar story with misused vocabulary and punctuation abound. Getting people to understand basic rules is challenging, but I try to apply patience, because my grasp of the written language was slow (and still is in some ways) in developing.
As an editor, it is hard to draw a line in terms of how much I should change. I get papers from highly respected individuals and centers from across the nation that are written in a repetitive and simplistic style, and it is hard to decide how much editing I am allowed to do. Reading their paper and starting from scratch sometimes seems like it would easier (and more fun) than fixing several mistakes in every sentence. I suppose this is something that I’ll just have to keep an eye on as my editing skills improve. It is an interesting juxtaposition, because obviously these touted intellectuals don’t want their papers to be redundant and childish, but I don’t know if they want me rewriting their articles.
I hope that heat returns to those who lost it in the ice storm soon!
During my first few weeks in Chengdu I would often put my bag on the ground at work or a restaurant, and this would immediately illicit complaints from my friends as they would run over and pick up my bag to put it on a chair. Even the surfaces of the tables that we were going to eat on were not considered clean, in fact much the opposite. When I would put a piece of paper on the table there would be a general outcry from the locals seated beside me. The reasons for these respective definitions of dirty surfaces became clear to me on several occasions. The floor is always considered dirty because it is considered completely normal to spit on the floor if you are in a restaurant or cafeteria. In addition to this, spitting small pieces of bone or spilling food on the floor is also acceptable. But what really takes the cake on this matter is that launching snot from your nose towards the ground is not a big deal. One day I was eating lunch and I saw a girl with an exceptionally long strand of snot dripping from her nose towards the floor. With a casual flick of her head she broke the strand and down onto the ground it went. My friend Yuanqiang noticed me gawking at this entire proceeding and said “ta ganmao”, meaning she has the flu or a cold. Although this was a completely satisfactory explanation of the situation for him, at the time I was still quite taken aback. The reason that the tabletops are considered unclean is quite simple and has to do with the many bones in the various meats that are eaten. Because of these small bones, you have to spit them out or else suffer dire consequences. Of course the logical place to spit them out is on the tabletops. In between meals, the pieces of food are removed by servers, but they don’t do a particularly good job, and there is no use of soap or water.
Time for a shower
Most people who work in my office are graduate students and they still live in dorms instead of apartments off campus. This is due to the usual reasons such as safety, convenience, and price. One of the results of this is that they live in a small room with four other people. They have a small balcony and a bathroom adjoining the balcony. Although there is a shower in the bathroom, there is no hot water, and with current temperatures flirting with freezing at nighttime you would have to be a hero to take a shower there. The solution to this lack of bathing equipment is twofold. The first is that every night one of the four roommates goes to retrieve hot water from outside the dormitory. This hot water is used to wash the feet. Not only do feet get pungent if you don’t wash them, but according to traditional Chinese medicine they contain an important part of the nervous system. These two reasons lead my friends to wash their feet every night. As for showers, they head to the shower house at most once a week. One of my friends was laughing about how he hadn’t gone in two weeks because he didn’t have enough time. I mentioned that maybe his girlfriend might find this to not be so funny, but he said that she controlled everything in his life, except when he took showers. I guess you have to hang on to what you can in some relationships.
Meat
Although I was raised in a family where I was routinely allowed to steal small amounts of raw beef and egg from meatballs before they became meatballs, the standards of what needs to be refrigerated and for how long are still pretty different here. Every day in the morning I walk by women with a large bowl of raw pork with some spices diligently making dumplings to be cooked later that day, the only issue is that dumplings that are going to be cooked at dinner are made early in the morning, and they aren’t refrigerated in between. Additionally, butchers leave meat out unrefrigerated all day, and I don’t know what they do with it at night. I don’t think that their practices are necessarily unsanitary; it is more that there are different standards here than in America. So far I’ve only gotten sick once. Hopefully it will stay that way.
Being an American
An obvious and interesting part of travel is the conception that other people have of your culture and how you choose to portray that culture. Being an American is like carrying the AK-47 of cultural firepower. If you bury it in the sand for 30 years it still fires. The evidence of American influence is everywhere, from the most popular sport (basketball) to the most popular clothing and accessories. That is not to say that China doesn’t have its own incredibly potent culture, but the meshing of America, globalization, and old Chinese culture is merging into an entirely different beast. Despite the great firewall of China, almost all students have found a way around this using proxy servers, and combined with access via other media avenues such as television (which, although edited, still has a lot of international content) the outside world is making its way into China.
Being an American leads to some very funny questions. Because of the sources for their conception of Americans, people often say things like “so in America, do you ever eat vegetables or only meat?” This is because in movies and television, the meat eating, beer drinking American is alive and well. The concept of a heterogeneous American culture seems completely foreign to most people here. When I try to explain that culture varies widely across the United States, despite such variations in China, people have a hard time accepting it. This is because Kobe Bryant and Michael Scofield represent America in China(the show prison break is incredibly popular over here). The same thing could be said about China and Jet Li and Jackie Chan in America, but at least they both speak English and they were both very popular in China before coming to the US. Here you have not only certain specific representation of America by stars that have acclaim in China, but you also have those stars being translated as apposed to speaking in the native tongue.
The result is a strange mix of western and eastern culture that China seems to be. Kobe Bryant, while certainly very popular in America, is not the most popular NBA player and far from the most popular athlete, but in China he is a megastar. The same thing goes for Prison Break, a show that started out with some promise, but then was less than exciting in subsequent seasons, is widely popular here. This idea penetrates to the most basic parts of daily life. Chinese fashion is an odd imitation of western fashionable dress incorporating western ideas but then giving them a strange remix. A good example of what is going on is that my good friend Liu wears shoes with an anarchy symbol on them. I asked if he knew what that meant, and he had no idea, he just liked the shoes. Basically, it seems as if the people of China have taken western culture and then completely reinterpreted it. Some parts stay the same, but some are completely changed in the translation process. I don’t know nearly enough about Chinese culture to say why they interpret things the way that they do, but it is a fascinating process to observe and be a part of.
As a tall, white man I command quite a bit of attention while walking down the street. Although at first this was overwhelming, I’ve become pretty relaxed with the idea that everybody is going to be looking at me all the time. I have to thank Ticht Nat Han for his indirect help dealing with this situation. Ticht Nat Han says, among other things, that there is a great power in smiling at people and that most often when you smile at somebody they smile back. I’ve found that this is a great way to handle people staring at me. Instead of being uncomfortable and purposefully averting my eyes, I try to look back at people and give them a friendly smile. Although I obviously don’t stop and look at every single person (I’d never make it work!), I’ve found that spreading a few smiles every day has paid off in terms of returned smiles. And frankly, it puts me a in a better mood and allows me to deal with sticking out.
English is difficult
I always was told that English was a very difficult language to master as a second language. I was certainly aware of the complexities concerning grammar and mechanics, but editing English papers written by people for whom English is a second language and trying to communicate with Chinese people in English has taken my respect for the nuance and depth of the language to a higher level. Most people in China have been studying English for upwards of 10 years, but their spoken English is usually timid at best. This has a lot to do with their education system, but I’ll address that at another time (and probably place). To summarize in brief, although most highly educated Chinese people possess an immense English vocabulary, they have very little functional English, either written or spoken, and their ear and pronunciation is untrained. This has lead to some early struggles in communication, although people usually pick things up quite quickly because their foundation is excellent. Written English is a similar story with misused vocabulary and punctuation abound. Getting people to understand basic rules is challenging, but I try to apply patience, because my grasp of the written language was slow (and still is in some ways) in developing.
As an editor, it is hard to draw a line in terms of how much I should change. I get papers from highly respected individuals and centers from across the nation that are written in a repetitive and simplistic style, and it is hard to decide how much editing I am allowed to do. Reading their paper and starting from scratch sometimes seems like it would easier (and more fun) than fixing several mistakes in every sentence. I suppose this is something that I’ll just have to keep an eye on as my editing skills improve. It is an interesting juxtaposition, because obviously these touted intellectuals don’t want their papers to be redundant and childish, but I don’t know if they want me rewriting their articles.
I hope that heat returns to those who lost it in the ice storm soon!
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