I've moved into a new apartment, yes, but I'm also moving the
blog. It's been two weeks now that I've had to have a friend
put up my posts due to, er, the government's dislike of Blogger.
You can find me now on Typepad:
Monday, June 18, 2007
Thursday, June 14, 2007
I went for a walk this morning, and passed three
women wearing matching cowboy hats. I was curious
what store in was gettin'down like that.
Confident enough in my Chinese now, I stopped them
to ask where they bought the hats. They were
visiting from , they told me, and they had
bought them in Lijiang. I asked how Lijiang was and
they told me, "Very nice," and started showing me
some photos on their digital camera. Then one of
them put her hat on my head and said, "Wo song gei
ni." I give you this as a gift. I tried to turn it
down, but they insisted, and proceeded to pose with
me for photographs. Every time I leave home without
a camera, I end up regretting it. This was one of
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
My friend Emily invited me to dinner with her family this weekend. I expected to meet her parents, and maybe two or three or other relatives. Instead, when we showed up at a hotel on Dongfeng Dong Lu, and went up to a meeting room on the second floor, I found that I was part of the Li family party of 20. What follows are the three lessons I learned at my big fat Chinese dinner.
We all loitered around the room until someone started the move toward the humongous round table that we all would share. There was a bit of awkwardness and confusion as Emily’s father tried to create a seating chart on the spot. I was first told to sit at one seat, then another. At one point, there were a couple of hands gripping my forearm, yanking me to the left and right; I guess they were just trying to politely usher me to the right place.
I was eventually seated on the complete opposite side of the table from where Mr. Li had first sent me. “These seats are for important people,” said Emily, sitting to my right. To her right was her cousin, the guest of honor; he had just completed the college entrance exam. To my left were that same cousin’s paternal grandparents, his nainai and yieyie. So there we were, the most important people in the room—the scholar, the revered grandparents, and yours truly, along with the one person at the table who spoke enough English to converse with me. Lesson learned: People are always watching me.
Nainai and Me
We ate family-style, of course, sharing two dozen different dishes on a giant spinning glass platform on the table. Whatever dish passed, I would politely put a serving on my plate. But I never seemed to take enough to satisfy Nainai. She just kept heaping it all on: noodles, spicy vegetables, baozi (Chinese steamed buns), sautéed squash, sweet bread with a spicy spread (surprisingly delicious), grilled fish, some watermelon, ginger and celery salad.
As the meal went on, I got a little more bold, and started responding to Nainai’s attempts to stuff me by asking her “Ni ne?” (And you?) and spooning food onto her plate, which made her laugh a great, shoulder-shrugging, belly laugh.
She did all of this with a really beautiful smile on her face, which you can see in the above photo. That’s her 6-year-old granddaughter with us. I’m proud to say that my Chinese was good enough to tease the little girl about her missing teeth.
Lesson learned: grandmothers everywhere are the same, all worried that young people are starving, even when confronted with evidence to the contrary.
Over the course of the meal, I was given some explanation for everyone at the table (how they were related, what they did, where they were from), but I didn’t understand most of it and forgot the rest. I did get to meet everyone, though, since there’s apparently a custom of getting up and going around to various parts of the table to toast the people sitting there. The closest thing I can think of in American culture is the way the bride and groom mingle with each table at a wedding reception. But in this case, everyone is involved, giving it a more chaotic feeling.
We each had three glasses at our place: a tall skinny one for orange juice, a glass for white wine and a tiny one, with probably a quarter-ounce capacity. Early on, one of the men filled my tiny glass with baijiu, a strong white liquor that’s got little taste aside from, well, white liquor. When he raised his glass to toast to my health and success, and finished his in one swig, I did the same. This, of course, led to my glass being refilled again for the next toast, and again for the one after that. The stuff is strong and so is its taste. My face heated up, my throat stung and my stomach rumbled. I loved the meal, but the baijiu-binge was a bit much.
Lesson learned: It’s polite to mirror your foreign hosts, but if you do so too enthusiastically before you know what you’re getting into, you might end up binging on baijiu.
One More Time With the Manager
When it came time to leave, there was talk of karaoke. As much as I enjoyed everyone’s company, I was happy to say I had other plans. It’s taken me all of one trip to Kunming’s very popular KTV to determine that I will always try to duck out when karaoke comes up. Being locked up in a dark room with a bunch of my friends singing badly is not my idea of a fun evening, or even a harmlessly mundane one.
I went around saying my goodbyes and thank yous. One member of our group was actually the hotel’s manager. I said goodbye to him one time in the lobby, shaking his hand, giving a little bow and sincerely thanking him. I said goodbye again on the steps outside of the hotel. When I told Emily that I was going to catch the bus, she whispered to me, “One more time with the manager.” I made a big loop around a van parked outside to reach where he was standing, so I could say goodbye and thank you one more time.
Lesson learned: Thank the host excessively.
Li Qing Rong
I have been asked a couple of times if there’s anything I crave from home. Although I sometimes wish it were easier to find a juicy cheeseburger or a tall man here, in general the answer is still no.
But on a hot day, walking around the heavily polluted Green Lake or Dianchi Lake, sweating in the afternoon sun, there is one thing that I do seriously, painfully crave: fresh, clean water to swim in. One of my favorite indulgences is to jump in a cool river, lake or ocean on a hot summer day. There are few crueler jokes the world plays than to dangle people in front of bodies of water that they cannot swim in or drink.
Of course, I’ve lived in New York City for five years, so the feeling is not entirely new to me. I’ve felt it while running along the Hudson River or playing softball at Randall’s Island. But in the U.S., at least I know where to find clean natural water. Last summer, I remember swimming in a river in Northern Michigan, spending a splendid weekend at a friend’s cottage on a Massachusetts lake, and of course taking trips most weekends to Long Beach on Long Island. When I traveled to Israel last December, my friends laughed at me as I swam in every body of water that we passed: the Mediterranean, Sea of Galilee, Dead Sea and Jordan River.
In China, I have not been so lucky. Green Lake and Dianchi Lake (which used to be one lake until the government decided to fill them in for the sake of urban development) look like split pea soup. They are full of algal blooms, which are basically just mad overgrowth of algae. I’m not a marine biologist, but I believe that these can be caused in part by certain types of human pollution in the water, which provide nutrients to certain algae, which then over-produce and dominate the environment. Some algal blooms are toxic, killing anything that feeds on them. Others do damage by blocking out the sunlight and thus starving organisms below the surface.
Thanks to this and other forms of pollution, people wanting to enjoy the lakes are reduced to rolling over the water in giant bubbles (see above photo) or paddling through the muck on a rented boat, and hoping not to tip.
Dianchi Lake used to supply Kunming’s drinking water. Those days are over. In fact, most people here buy their drinking water by the jug. I asked my roommate yesterday how much the 5-gallon jugs cost and she told me 8 kuai, or about one U.S. dollar. Not bad, I remarked.
She frowned. “Yeah, but if the tap water was clean, it wouldn’t cost us anything.”
Monday, June 11, 2007
I was walking through town with one of Keats' teachers, Eric, when he
asked me this question, gesturing to an advertisement that featured
the eight-foot-long head of a smiling, bespectacled white dude with a
"No, I do not know Mark," I answered.
"He is very famous Canadian in . He's really great," Eric said.
In the ad, Mark was shilling a pocket-sized electronic translator. I
asked about his last name, but Eric said he didn't know it. With a
name like Mark in , I guess you don't really need a surname.
I continued to see Mark's big head around town, usually plastered on
the windows of bookshops. One day I watched the morning news on CCTV,
and at 9:15 Mark (Chinese name Da Shan, or "Big Mountain." I'm not
kidding) came on, dressed in a silver silk traditional Chinese shirt.
An animated version of Mark flashed across the screen, introducing his
program, "Communicate in Chinese." I've watched it a couple of times
since, and it pretty much goes like this: He introduces a scenario,
which is then dramatized by Chinese and foreign actors, of the
exceedingly amateur variety. Subtitles show both the characters and
the English translation. Mark checks in to explain the translation and
grammar, and help us build our vocabulary.
The program is delightfully cheesy, but it's also pretty helpful in
teaching simple Chinese phrases. And thanks to Mark's strong Canadian
accent and the hokey expressions of the dramatizers, I stay amused for
the segment's 15 minutes. It's also one of those curious examples of a
Westerner who is unknown to the Western world, but is a rock star in
. I imagine Mark's high school buddies trying to figure out what
ever happened to "that guy Mark," and all the while he's a celebrity
to the 1.3 billion people living here.
In any event, Mark's expectations for me are quite high. Today, after
a short lesson in which a white guy gets directions to the foreign
language bookstore, Mark signed off with this cheerful thought: "We
hope that after watching our program today, you'll be able to get
around with relative ease." Eh?
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Old Chinese people really know how to pass a day in the
park. You've seen them in the U.S., doing tai chi in
the morning, but here they take it a little further. All
of the big parks here have created attractions that you
can pay to enjoy—boat rides, bike rentals, cable cars,
small roller coasters. And they sell snacks and drinks.
But the local people prefer to bring their own
entertainment and food. They sing Chinese opera, dance,
fly kites, play cards. Couples play badminton on open
lawns. Tired workers string hammocks between willow trees
and nap away Sunday afternoons. They bring jugs of tea
and thermoses of soup. Last weekend I saw someone at the
park with a toaster oven.
There seems to be a bit of a generational divide when it
comes to park activities. I asked my 24-year-old tutor
her thoughts on the beautiful Green Lake Park here in town,
and she said, "It is mostly for the old people, practicing
their Jingju (opera)," before conceding that the park is
beautiful. Young people do go to the parks, but mostly to
canoodle with their boyfriend or girlfriend on the tree-
lined lanes that wind past lotus blossom-filled water. All
well and good, but it's the old people, as far as I can
tell, that are really having a great time.
To see more photos of Chinese people enjoying parks, check
out my Flickr account, username rauch22. Most of my recent
photos are park shots.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Kunming fruit is amazing; stalls all over town sell bananas, apples, pears, peaches, lychees, papaya and on and on. The king of fruit here, in my eyes, is the shuzu: A little bit smaller than a tennis ball, with a little green hat and a sturdy purple skin, it looks like a round, miniature eggplant. To crack the thick skin you give it a little squeeze, much the same way you squeeze the sides of a plastic container to free a baby plant for re-potting. The white fruit inside is divided into five sections, easy to share with a friend or to enjoy alone. Its taste is a little bit tangy and a little bit sweet, and you can eat the juicy fruit without making a sticky mess. With its durable packaging, ease of opening and perfect taste, this is the fruit that I’ve been looking for all my life.
Fresh lychees are a surprise to me, too. In the US, I’d had lychee martinis with candied fruit in them, but didn’t particularly like the flavor or texture. But I’d never known the pleasure of prying the scaly skin from a fresh nut to find a sweet treat inside. And nature’s presentation of them is genius; the knobby pods come in bunches with long stems; they look like bouquets from a Dr. Seuss book.
The mangos here are also amazing. I’m sure one of you in California or Israel will claim to have the best mangoes, but the ones here are hard to beat. They often grow to about eight inches long, and have a great meat-to-pit ratio. I have yet to choose an over- or under-ripe mango in Kunming.
It’s so good to know that the world has all of these flavors and eating experiences left for me to try. Last night I had my first local home-cooked meal. My roommate’s friend made us a dinner with more than a half-dozen dishes: ham in the local style (a fatty, flavorful meat that looks a lot like bacon), lima beans cooked in a sweet and savory marinade, potatoes with “string beans” (a local version; a completely different plant than I am used to), spicy beef, something that my roommate only told me was “like chicken,” a soup with bok choi and tofu/pork balls that looked a lot like matzo balls, a salty cured meat dish, and a ginger and celery salad. It was the best meal I’ve had here, and I didn’t mind the hospitable tradition of inviting the guest to finish off most of the dishes.
All this and I’m losing weight here! Four kilos down after five weeks, and I now fit into a pair of jeans I bought at a too-small size before leaving New York.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
You might have heard about this morning's quake in southwest China. It was in my province, but not close enough to be felt in Kunming. The epicenter was near a city that's recently been renamed Pu'er, in honor of the famous tea that comes from there (it's quite good and found all over Kunming). According to Xinhua's current count, there's 3 dead, 290 injured, 120,000 evacuated.
Although Kunming didn't have an earthquake, someone had a small personal disaster outside my building. Several pieces of granite fell off the building's cheaply made facade, landing on a parked car several meters below. It put a huge dent in the roof, and even caused it to crack. This happened in the middle of the afternoon. Last night when I was returning home late, the area where the car had been parked had been cordoned off and two police officers were stationed nearby, apparently to keep people from walking in the danger zone. When I left home this morning, no improvements had been made to the building's facade, but the cops, cones and caution tape were gone. A curious case of attempting to look really concerned, but actually doing nothing of substance about the problem.
Friday, June 1, 2007
That was the title of Lesson 6 of my Chinese class. It means, "Let's go swimming, okay?" As it turns out, I've gotten to do a lot of youyong here. At Tuodong Sports Center, five minutes from the school, there's an Olympic-sized tank that I go to almost every day (that's it in the photo). It's pretty busy, but with eight lanes, there almost always seems to be enough room. Weekend afternoons are the only problem; the pool is full of kids and adults acting like kids, floating around, playing Marco Polo, and generally making it hard to swim laps.
The really great news is, I'm fast here! Everyone swims breaststroke with the urgency of a Sunday-afternoon-drive , so I look like an Olympian. As long as I avoid doing butterfly, I might be able to convice them that I actually know how to swim. I don't know how Team China will do in the pool in 08, but I am willing to bet their best swimming event will be the breaststroke.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Yep, it's that easy to pick me out in the crowd here. Kunming's foreigner community (the word expat is not really used here) is anywhere from tiny to huge, depending on whom you ask. I see other foreigners every day, but it's not uncommon for me to be the only one at a restaurant, on the bus, or at the grocery store. And I'm not exactly someone you'd mistake from behind for a Chinese.
I've gotten used to stares and comments. People will say "laowai" or "waiguoren" when I pass; mostly, I think they assume I don't know what they're saying. Schoolboys and grown men (never women) will test out their "Hello," on me. I like to answer in kind, but use American slang, something like: "What up, little homey." Sometimes I hardly notice; sometimes I am amused; sometimes I'm annoyed. It can be a good opportunity to study people. Normally, I'd feel awkward looking directly at a stranger on the street for more than two seconds. But with them all up in my grill, I feel free to stare back and get a good look at their face. Sometimes I respond a little aggressively; a woman or man looks me up and down, and I lock eyes with them, with an almost expressionless look that says, "I see you looking at me." (My tendency to do this seems to double when I'm on my way home from a workout. Somewhere in there is a study on testosterone and aggression waiting to never be conducted).
On the bus one recent morning, I was the entertainment for a little girl who was riding with her father. He smiled at me and said "Hello" in English. Then he tapped her shoulder and said, "Kan (look)," gesturing back toward me. She turned around to stare at me. "Ni hao," I said. When I failed to do anything interesting, beyond being laowai, they moved to a more entertaining seat at the front of the double-decker bus. The next thing that Dad pointed out to her was a giant papier mache elephant erected on the sidewalk in honor of the Chinese special olympics.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
When I wake up in the morning, the NBA Playoffs are on. Since I'm a student, and soon-to-be student/freelancer, I can watch Pistons-Cavs or Spurs-Jazz while enjoying a Chinese pastry from the shop across the street and glancing at my textbook. Time zones, I love you.
Curiously, there are very few commercials aired with NBA games here. I promise to get to the bottom of this; they seem to pick up in the second half. It might be the time of day that the games are on, a licensing issue, I'm not sure. Whatever it is, the ads for beer and financial services are mostly replaced with playoff highlight reels, set to the track of a Pharoahe Monche song. The commentary, of course, is in Chinese. I don't miss Dick Stockton or Marv Albert, and I get to work on my Chinese oral comprehension. NBA Action in China is Faaaantastic.
One of the many reasons that I decided to come to Kunming, rather than head straight for Beijing, was its reputation for better air quality than other large Chinese cities. I was mostly trusting rumor, because I had trouble tracking down a good source of information to confirm.
Today I found this site, which sheds a little light.
A quick look at the numbers for April 2007 show that Kunming averaged a pollution index of 68.5, with a high of 92. For the same month, Beijing averaged 93.7, with a peak of 190. Both cities' primary pollutant is particulate matter, but Kunming has some days where the primary pollutant is sulfur dioxide. I don't know much about this, but I sulfur dioxide is used in the production of bleaching agents, paper and pulp, flotation agents and heat transferring agents, according to pollution information site Scorecard.org
I don't know a good way to compare this to New York, but I can say that we do see blue skies pretty regularly here. And the streets in many parts of town are cleaner than NY's.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
First, some housekeeping notes:
1. "Laowai" is Chinese for foreigner, literally "old foreigner." I don't know why.
2. The photo is not of myself, my teacher, or the Chinese language. I took it on a daytrip this weekend to Black Dragon Pond, about 20-30 minutes from here.
3. I wanted to write really eloquent posts about learning Chinese, as it's been so interesting, but I've decided to prioritize frequency over polish. I apologize in advance for their mediocrity (am I already acquiring a Chinese sense of modesty?? I didn't think it was possible).
Okay, with all of that said, here's my first post about learning Chinese. And the big news is: I'm learning to read and write. Before coming here, I thought I would just learn to speak and understand. I'd talked to Americans who had learned Mandarin for business, and they all told me they were illiterate in Chinese. It was just too hard to learn the characters, they said.
It's possible to learn to speak Chinese without really learning to read and write the language. That's because it's been phoneticized; there are a couple of systems, but by far the dominant system used for this today is the pinyin alphabet. So it is possible, and not uncommon, for anyone accustomed to the Roman alphabet to learn Chinese without understanding Chinese characters. I don't know too much about this yet, so if you want to know more, I suggest you visit www.pinyin.info and read up.
My first day of class, we opened the book, and there was the first lesson, in pinyin, Chinese characters and English. I was too jetlagged to broach the subject of adjusting my course to eliminate the characters, so we proceeded with the textbook’s prescribed lesson structure.
Much time in my first few lessons was dedicated to learning to correctly pronounce the syllables that are the phonic building blocks of the language. Just knowing proper pronunciation of the Roman alphabet is insufficient, as the pinyin rarely sounds how you would expect. Learning the subtle differences between sh, ch, zh and j, as well as the proper tones for everything, takes practice and time. I felt like a complete moron repeating hundreds of syllables after my teacher, and getting most of them wrong. I also got sore from using new mouth muscles.
Every day, my teacher shows me how to write about 25 new characters, and we read a dialogue and do exercises that use them. My second day in class, she opened by saying to me: "We learned 20 characters yesterday. Can you write them on the board." I most certainly could not. Every time you learn a new character, you are learning the character's appearance, the order of the strokes to write it in (important-- more on that later), the pinyin spelling, the correct tone to pronounce it in, and when and how you can use it. For one- and two-stroke characters that look exactly like what they denote such as yi (one) and ren (person), this is relatively easy. But it gets harder for words like rongyi (ironically, the word for easy, which is a 10-stroke, 2-character word) or duanlian, a 12-stroke, 2-character word for physical exercise. Add to this the genetic blip that is my failure to inherit the visual art gene that the rest of my family has in abundance, and you have one struggling laowai.
Despite my struggles, I'm fully on board now with learning to write and read as well as speak. There are several reasons. For one, I find the meanings of the characters fascinating (more on this in another post). For another, I am a writer in my own language. How can I learn a new language and be illiterate? Seems like that might be hypocritical. Also, I think if I'm going to learn characters, the time is now. It would be much harder to change my mind later and try to go back and learn to write. And as I travel around China, I may not be able to understand the many dialects, but if I can read, I should be able to get by. Finally, it should improve my overall understanding of the language and contribute to my ability to speak and understand.
So I'm still basically an illiterate laowai, but I don't plan to stay this way.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Keats School has done a pretty good job of keeping us fed and entertained. My first night here, the school treated the students to a delicious dinner featuring local dishes. Then about two weeks ago, Xue Feng, who runs the school, made us dumplings. At first, there were only five of us sitting at the table, and I didn't think anyone else was coming. Xue started bringing out plate after plate of hot, scrumptious vegetable dumplings. My mother raised me to be a polite guest, and polite guests do what they can not just to finish what's put on their plate, but to eat as much as they can of whatever their gracious host has prepared. I proceeded to eat about 30 dumplings, just to be polite. Of course, after twenty minutes, half a dozen other people showed up. There was still enough for everyone, which is good because that means I'll still be invited to school dinners.
Last week, we all went to a crazy restaurant down the street from here, that serves a variety show with dinner. Everything was in Chinese, but you don't need a translation for flamboyant costumes, exuberant dances or performers putting flaming torches down their pants, against a fake "pastoral Yunnan" background. Good times were had by all, and again, I misjudged how much food would be coming out and ate entirely too much of the first course.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Saturday was the end of China's National Handicapped Games, held here. It was hard to find games, but I made it to Blind Soccer and shot some crummy video with my digital camera. These kids are amazing! The game is played on a smaller pitch, maybe half the size of a full field. The players all wear blindfolds because some of them have a little bit of sight. The goalies can see. All of the players yell "Wei! Wei!" all the time so that their teammates know where they are. The ball makes a rattling sound when it moves, and there is someone behind the goal constantly hitting it with a stick so that the goal makes a ringing sound and the players can find it. The field is bounded by a blue wall to help the players feel their way around.
Friday, May 18, 2007
"Let's go up there," I said.
"Oh, you don't want to go up there. That's just a ping pong club," Emily said. What?!? That is exactly what I wanted! We went upstairs, to find probably about a dozen tables in a dingy, high-ceilinged room. At the near end, there was a bar and a table with a few people sitting around playing cards; at the far end, there were old guys playing ping pong so hard they had taken their shirts off. New York Athletic Club, watch out.
Alvin and I rented two paddles and a bright-orange ball, 5 yuan for half an hour. He was pretty good (as an Indonesian-Chinese guy, he should be), and proceeded to destroy me. I handed my paddle to Emily. If you have any doubt that ping pong is a sport, you need to watch how the Chinese play. They keep focused on the ball, volley, volley, volley—and then with a really angry look on their face ZING! shoot one right past you. It is awesome.
After about 60 minutes, they told us our half hour was up. We left the place at 11:00 and games were still going on. On the way out to the street, I noticed that there was another entrance to our right. If we'd taken that direction, I would have found the Speakeasy club I expected. I'm so happy we made wrong turn.
*****Having a little trouble posting photos. I've got some good ones for this, though.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Sometimes in this city, I feel like I've landed in some kind of sports heaven. Over the past two weeks, I've discovered, one-by-one, great things this city has for athletes.
It started with the sporting goods stores. It is as if someone took all of the Starbucks and bodegas in New York, and transplanted them in Kunming, except that due to the climate here (good weather all year round, sun most days from 9 a.m. to 8 p.m.), they all grew up to be sporting goods stores. Some of these stores are three stories high, with bright lights and big displays of bags, balls and gear. In some places, small shop after small shop lines the street. This one specializes in badminton, that one in boxing, and another in skateboarding. There also are a fair number of hiking/outdoors shops, where you can pick up basics such as jackets, sleeping bags, shoes and water bottles. They sell some global brands like Marmot and Columbia, but the local brands also seem of decent quality.
I asked a Chinese friend, Harvey, about the shops. Why were there so many? "Because they are profitable," he answered. "Really?" I replied. I'm no expert in retail space usage, but it seemed to me that whenever I was in one of these stores, I had at least 300 square feet and three employees to myself. And based on what I've gleaned about local salaries, young Kunming can't afford to buy very many sneakers at 600 yuan a pair. And while I like the prices, I have yet to make a purchase in one of these stores myself; nor have I seen the backpackers who come through Kunming loading up on this stuff. Harvey thought for a minute and revised his explanation: "Maybe the government wants to encourage people to be active." This seems to me a more plausible explanation. I have heard that as China has become more prosperous and has imported Western food as well as some Western habits, the country has become fatter. According to one book I'm reading, the number of overweight teenagers tripled in China in the nineties.
In 1995, the state started the Nationwide Physical Fitness Program, encouraging people to engage in sports activities often, learn more ways of keeping fit and get regular health exams. In 2001, China launched a sports lottery for the purpose of funding new facilities in small and medium-sized cities. The goal is to have 40 percent of the population getting regular exercise by 2010. Is it working? According to the state's most recent study (done in 2001), life expectancy has increased and children in rural areas are healthier. But in Kunming, the sporting goods stores still don't seem to be attracting big crowds. But many people do bike to work (this I believe far predates the national program), which should give them a leg up on most suburban Americans.
I expect my time in Kunming to include some travel throughout Yunnan and other parts of Asia. Heading west should get easier as progress proceeds on the Stillwell Road connecting China and India: http://gokunming.com/en/blog/date.php?date=2007-04-23
Anyhow, the real point of this post is to say that I'm going to let my hair grow until I get around to going to Burma. A couple of pounds of hair should be able to pay my rent for a few months:
http://www.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/asiapcf/05/13/myanmar.hair.ap/index.html As you can see from the photo, I've got some growing to do.
p.s. Sorry about putting in the whole URLs. My Blogger managing page is still in Mandarin, and I can't figure a lot of things out, including how to create links. Also, I should be able to continue posting; I just can't view the blog. I also can't view your comments, so if you have something to say to me that you'd like me to hear before my next trip out of here, e-mail me at email@example.com.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Thursday, May 10, 2007
We all carry little notebooks to jot down words and phrases and their meaning, intending to study them later. Mine includes the Chinese for things like "Have a drink," "Water polo," "Where is the bathroom?" Emily's and Harvey's (Harvey is a young Chinese guy studying to work in IT) notebooks have phrases like "Are you down with that?" "Let's scoot," and "Blimey goff!" Harvey starts his list of English phrases each day at #1, and on a recent day had written down more than 30 phrases. We were all walking around the city last night, and stopped every two minutes for him to record something that he'd heard. It would be annoying if his dedication wasn't so darn impressive.
Alot of people here are working very hard to learn English. Emily, as I mentioned earlier, hangs around the pub to work on hers. She told me yesterday that there is an annual English competition for Chinese students. It includes reading and oral comprehension, delivered in numerous different accents. Last time the contest was held (which I believe was just months ago), Emily placed third. There will be another competition in July. Stay tuned to find out how she does.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Sunday, May 6, 2007
I've recieved a lot of questions about friends here. I have already met some great people. Of course, most of them won't be around long. I think you can figure out who is who in the photos, which were all taken in the restaurant/pub outside the school. I have most of my meals there; the menu is extensive, food is good and the price is right (about 20 RMB for a meal; 30 if I have a pint).
Brendan is a British actuary, on his first vacation in a few years. He arrived one day before me and has been studying like mad, in the classroom eight hours a day. He leaves Wednesday to galavant around Yunnan, something I intend to do a lot of before leaving Kunming. He is really funny, and not shy at all about trying out his Chinese.
Alvin is a 19-year-old Indonesian with Chinese parents. He's just completed community college in Seattle, and will be studying business at Cal State Fullerton in the fall. His parents sent him here to study Chinese. He's very outgoing, especially with the fuyuan, or waitresses, wherever we go.
Claudia is a New Yorker who relocated to Shanghai six months ago. She's in the jewelry business. Without knowing it, Claudia saved me from the panic I felt in my first 24 hours here. She's smart and adventurous and ambitious. On her last night here, we discovered that we were both born in the year of the goat, and we were both born in Belgium. That plus New York plus the fact we both wound up here, definitely made me feel that we were meant to meet. She reminds me a lot of my friend Donna--someone who is discerning and knows what she wants, but is open to new experiences and people. Claudia has left already, to tour Yunnan and then return to Shanghai. But I'm sure I haven't seen the last of her.
Emily grew up here in Kunming. She hangs around the restaurant, Ao Ma, downstairs, to practice English with the Westerners who come by. Her English is good and improving, and she's helped all of us with our Chinese. She is a 21-year-old medical student. Yesterday Alvin, Brendan and I went to her home. She played the guzheng (http://www.philmultic.com/guzheng/) for us (traditional Chinese instrument); it sounded like a kung fu movie. She is also the captain of her school's volleyball team.
Finally, the young girl in the photo is Helen. Her parents sent her to sit down with us to practice her English.
Saturday, May 5, 2007
Lest you think that I'm roughing it here in Kunming, I am walking distance from two huge Wal-Mart-like stores. One actually is a Wal-Mart. You'd recognize the big smiley faces and the big price tag signs, but you would be surprised to find a huge produce section with live fish, and a service that will help you send a letter to the president.
The other store is called Carrefour, and I was there one recent morning to pick up school supplies. There were lines of shoppers snaking all over the second floor. My first thought was that I didn't need pens and paper bad enough to wait in this checkout line. But then I looked at their baskets, which were all empty. I followed the line to its end; it turned out there was a blowout sale on. . . EGGS! People were losing their minds loading up with eggs. If you look in the foreground of the above photo, you can see some people getting their eggs; in the background you'll see everyone else waiting. They had to wait in one line to get the eggs, another line to have them weighed and still another to check out of the store; people waited very patiently and the process seemed to be running pretty smoothly.
My first thought was, "How funny and Chinese." But then I realized I've seen New Yorkers wait for hours for a deal—Shakespeare in the Park, free cone day at Ben & Jerry's, preschool admissions. I have a feeling if Fairway was selling eggs at 10 cents a dozen, it would look a lot like Kunming Carrefour, except maybe more chaotic.
Friday, May 4, 2007
Shane Battier wreaked havoc on my fantasy basketball team this year. After a string of dreadful games, I dropped the former Duke star (that should have been my clue) in favor of Denver's Nene. Well, it turns out that being the 28th-highest scoring guard in the NBA (and Yao's teammate, I guess) is enough for a major shoe contract in China. Battier is the spokesperson for Peak basketball shoes, a surprisingly ugly brand given the Chinese love of trendy sneakers. He and Dirk Nowitzki are the only two NBA players with big posters in Sunshine Sports of the City, the awesome sporting goods store next to my school.
Incidentally, with the playoffs going on, I've been asking some people here about their interest in the NBA. So far they (like me) are ga-ga over Steve Nash. And when I bring up the Pistons, they just want to talk about former Ben Wallace, who of course is a Bull now. Now those guys could sell some shoes here.
Today, one of the teachers in my school helped me open an account at Bank of China. It was about a 15 minute walk from the school, in a massive building with lions outside that were about two stories high. Outside are hustlers asking, "Change money? change money?" Can you imagine Citibank putting up with that in New York?
The teacher, Eric, is from Harbin. Without him I would have been helpless; although the teller spoke English, the forms are all in Chinese. The teller informed me that there was a 40 yuan minimum to open an account—that's about $5 U.S. Eric assumed that's what I would be putting it in and put that amount down on the form. I was very grateful for his help, but it was a very awkward moment when I corrected him and wrote down the amount I wanted to deposit; it was very modest by out standards, but it was four times his monthly salary.
On our walk back from the bank, Eric informed me that very few Chinese have bank accounts. They are paid for their work in cash, and have no savings; it's the government's job to take care of them in their retirement or if they are disabled or sick.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
I woke Thursday morning and decided to go for a walk and find some breakfast. I had a very optimistic hope of finding that some expat had opened a French pastry shop, and I would enjoy a croissant and cafe au lait. I'm not always that bright. Anyway, about five minutes from my school is the city center. As you can see from this photo, it's a big, modern city with skyscrapers. There were a lot of people out, and I especially liked these old folks playing badminton:
And this week is the May Day holiday, or Wu Yi, so there were a lot of shows and dances going on:
I never found the pastry shop. Instead I had an icre cream cone for breakfast, 4 scoops for 3 yuan, or about forty cents.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Representatives from the school met me as promised. My teacher and the woman who runs the school were waiting with a big sign with my name. I was very glad to see them, but they were appalled at my luggage--three checked bags, including two that were approaching the 70 lb. (32 kg) weight limit. I tried to explain that I had to bring all the shoes that I could, as well as lots of different drugstore/medical supplies, but I don't know if it made much sense to them.
The school is on a pretty busy street with lots of stores. There are a few bars and restaurants nearby that cater to a Western clientele, but so far that clientele seems a little old. I am really looking forward to finding the crowd that runs this Web site: gokunming.com (sorry for not putting it in as a link, but Blogger thinks that because I'm in China, I want all my site directions in Chinese. I will figure it out later).
Last night, after 2 hours to set up my room and go out and buy some necessities, I went to dinner with the other students and teachers. I was guiltily relieved to meet a woman named Claudia from New York. She's in the jewelry business and based in Shanghai, and will unfortunately only be here until Sunday, but she's shared some important information with me, and helped me decipher the school's often confusing communications.
Anyhow, the dinner was delicious—we ate family style and enjoyed a lot of local dishes, some of which were really quite good. However, I enthusiastically tried the pig's lung, only to quickly discover that it was, er, really not my style. After dinner, I went and shared a drink with Claudia and her Chinese teacher, who we're trying to give a good American name. Some cruel person has been calling him Larry; we are leaning toward Lance, which I know is odd, but it suits him.
Today I have class at 1:30 p.m. before then, I guess I will walk around town and buy a cell phone. Also, pictures coming soon.
Friday, April 20, 2007
When I initially got serious about going to China, I thought I'd head straight to Beijing, and try to get work turning Engrish into English. But a journalist contact suggested a different route, the one which I'm now taking.
I'm heading to Kunming, the capital of Yunnan province (the light blue area). It's a "small" city of about 3.7 million or 4.9 million, depending on whether you trust Wikipedia or my travel guide from the Chinese government. Kunming is known for its laid-back attitude, good climate and (relatively) clean air. Its nickname is "The Garden City" or "The Spring City," because of its climate. The cost of living is said to be one of the lowest for a Chinese city.
The city is surroundeed on three sides by mountains, so I expect to do some hiking. To the south is a large lake. Its elevation is 6,200 feet, about 1,000 feet higher than Denver.
The "plan" is to stay in Kunming for somewhere between a few months and several months, studying Mandarin and traveling and freelancing some stories. In a year or less, I expect to be in Beijing.
I am not going to China for any of these reasons:
1. To find Audrey Raines
2. To find out if I can eat Jell-O with chopsticks
3. To become a soap opera star (ok, maybe this is a goal of mine. But I'm embarrassed about it)
4. To coach the Chinese water polo team
5. To lose 20 pounds.
6. To meet the brains behind The Bodies Exhibition
7. Because I've always wanted to be exotic, and I've recently decided that being a fashion zero in New York doesn't count.
8. To kidnap baby pandas for American zoos
9. To see what a traffic jam with bicycles instead of cars looks like
10. Tired of seeing white guys on my money—bring on Mao!
11. To find shoes in my size
12. To see if the accuracy rate of fortune cookies is higher there
13. I heard there was an underpopulation problem
14. To launch a Chinese Elvis impersonator convention
I'll be living and studying here for the month of May. Kunming has lots of options for studying Mandarin, including two universities. I tried researching and contacting the universities, but they were extremely hard to get through to and their Web sites were dauntingly spare.
Then I stumbled on Keats School. Sometimes you have to judge a book by its cover because you have nothing else to go on. That's what I did here. It looks comfy and cozy, and the site was full of photos of happy westerners on their China adventure. Just the easy start I was looking for. I was especially encouraged by sentences like this on their site:
If you choose to come here to study, you would be a member of the family. Don't worry about the foreign, strange country and totally different language. We will provide total care for your academic and living conditions. . . You will feel warm in the school. At your birthday day, you will receive the present from the school.When you get sick, the school will send you to hospital.. . .once you enroll with Kuming Keats School you will have no other worries or concerns. Too bad I won't be there on my birthday.
They're also turning out to be very helpful and professional. When I e-mail, I always hear back within 24 hours. They shared contact information with me for two former students so I could do a little background checking, and helped with my visa. They will pick me up at the airport in Kunming, and are also letting me stay a few extra days before my course starts.
I'll be living in a dorm room, with my own (Western) bathroom andin-room internet access. My study will be one-on-one, eight hours a day. After a month, my Chinese should be better than my French.