Pearl Tower

There are few things in Shanghai that elicit more opinions than the Pearl Tower. More Chinese seem to dislike it - but there is no denying it is a memorable building. A recent piece of architecture - it has become the symbol of the new China. Towering 365 meters above the rest of the city - it truly is a sight to behold. A few of my friends and I had a chance to tour the tower a few days ago - and had quite an experience. The pictures below show the view we had - a 360 panoramic view of Shanghai - but the true experience was in the elevator on the way down. Leaving the third pearl - a mere 15oo feet above the ground - we were jammed into a small elevator with about 20 other people. The elevator operator calmly pushed the button to go down - and the whole elevator jumped, as the cable slipped slightly. Needless to say, the look on everyone's face was wide eyed shock as I, for a brief second, contemplated what the last few seconds of my life were going to be like - standing torso to torso, face to face with a Chinese man. The elevator operator maintained her cool - and without a look of strain on her countenance, she opened the elevator door and motioned two people off - and we finished our ride down to the ground without further incident.

There is also a great Chinglish sign in these pictures - this is the sign by the main entrance to the Pearl Tower - a place that everyone passes - so a crowd of waigouren(foreigners) had gathered to read the sign, all of us with bemused looks on our faces.

Chinese Weddings

Yesterday I wandered around a part of Shanghai called Lujiazui. Lujiazui is the embodiment of the new Shanghai. It is the financial center of Shanghai - and home to most of the really tall buildings. It also contains a large central park with trees and grass(a rarity in the heart of Shanghai) and an idyllic pond with lilies and flowers petals floating on the surface. A very surreal place - surrounded by some of the world's tallest buildings. It is a point of interest because this park is very popular for weddings and wedding photos. As I wandered around the park yesterday - maybe 5 acres in total area - I came across EIGHT different Chinese bridal parties.

As with most things in Shanghai - you might notice a Western influence in the wedding attire.

Life as an Expat

I wanted to share a beautiful letter that one of my friends and colleagues in China has written about herself that I think describes exactly what life as an expat is like. She and her husband have been in China for several years - and love the international life. They are both originally from Oklahoma - and her letters captures exactly what it is that is so frustrating, yet fascinating, about living overseas.

I've become more than a case of a missing identity. Gone are the days of crazed youth. Not that I ever had any, any to speak of that is. Growing up like most American teens in the 70's, I didn't miss much. Lots of TV, some junk food, bunches of dates, lucky guys with cars, losing my virginity to one of them - a guy in a car. Marrying relatively early, having a kid, getting divorced, and sorting out a rather fear-led life gave me the same lens to view the world as most people in the USA.

However, in my 30s I began to depart from normality. I earned a Masters Degree at age 39, married my best friend, sent my son off to college, and began traveling the world. Since then, the focus of my life seems a bit distorted to those back home. Now, I live in an exotic city on the other side of the world. At age 50, I ride my bike, rain or shine, everywhere. I meet exciting and fun people who rotate yearly out of my life. I SKYPE close family, use email to communicate with dozens of friends, and live in a lovely furnished home that I could never afford in America.

What do I give up for this kind of life? Not much, in my estimation, but a whole lot to some of those who grew up with and around me. Too much for those who still live within hollering distance of friends and family - those who have grown so close that glue between the sole and the shoe is no longer necessary. Their camera shots all come out the same, unchanged, a little time worn, smaller in scope, and typical in setting. Another year, another birthday party, another loss, it is all the same to them, yet it keeps rolling forward: without me.

Here is where I feel the distance. I could never blame them. I could never say they ostracize me, make me feel like and outsider, make me want to stay away. We go home to visit, our two-point-five weeks of alloted time once a year. We make the journey back into their worlds. They view us from afar, wondering what foreign fungus has attached it self to our external features, asking just enough questions to verify our strange speech, or to recoil from our unsolicited ideas.

One question for them remains the same: when are y'all coming home? This question arises every year in the midst of short conversations flavored with home-grown foods and sugar filled iced-tea, hovering around comments like: "I don't know why ya'll want to live over there in that God-forsaken country," or "Why, I couldn't live where human rights are violated every day by hard-nosed politicians." And, yet, they do.

I've ceased trying to respond with any kind of logic. It will always remain far from their scope or frame of reference. In fact, it ceases to bother me if they fail to make the connection, or try to see how attractive life in a foreign country might be to an expat American. I've come to accept the world as a very large place, with dozens of colors of skin, hundreds of nationalities, millions of viewpoints. I am one sole fish in an ever-shrinking ocean of cultural identity.

One of these days, I fully expect I won't be recognizable to my own kind. I will blend in with the masses because I feel at home with them. I will go my own way because I like being anonymous, an expat living large in a beautiful world. Even now, they might wonder where I've gone, but it seems too far away from them to squint and comprehend. In many ways, I've become unidentifiable, complex and strange. I live half way around the world with those people - those they don't know. They can't identify with them. Next, they'll begin to ask, what I've become.

Mr. Held?

As a teacher, one of the hardest parts of my job is getting separation. Separation from the school, my colleagues and especially the students. Spending 10-12 hours a day, five days a week at the school means I cherish those moments during the weekend when I can breathe, relax and give my energy to someone who needs it - namely - me!

In America - one of the safest places to seek refuge when going out on the town was a bar. Even if students would sneak in - if they saw you they would quickly disappear so as not to alert the bar staff to their underage presence.

As with most things in China - its much different here - particularly in that regard. Last night, myself and five of my teacher friends went out to a bar in Shanghai. Now Shanghai is one of the largest cities in the world, with over 20 million people and countless bars - so I felt pretty confident that I could enjoy a drink and some good conversation at this place while remaining anonymous.

However - about 20 minutes after we arrived, as we were sitting on two couches enjoying beers and talking - I heard a voice behind me say, "Mr. Held - is that you?"

I didn't immediately recognize the voice - but it didn't matter. Only a few people in this world call me Mr. Held, and I really did not want to see any of them at the moment. Unfortunately - that was not the case. I turned - and standing in front of me was a group of 8 students from my sophomore math class. Suffice to say - it was awkward. My friends and I were staring at my 15 and 16 year old students, most of whom had a drink in hand, a few of whom were smoking. A couple lines of small talk and they scattered to the far corners of the bar - but my night was over. I finished my drink swiftly and we headed out to another location as quickly as we could - knowing nothing really good could come from lounging in the same bar as my students. My decision was confirmed as I was passing through the door and I heard, "Wait - Mr. Held - do a shot with us!"

The students can be brazen like this because there is no enforcement of the minimum drinking age in China - so a good number of kids start drinking when they enter high school as freshmen. I guess you know you are in a different country when instead of offering the teacher an apple, the student orders an appletini.

American Football.... China Style

I love football - and when I moved over here I thought I might be without it. Luckily that is not the case - but I've had to get creative. 

Mid Autumn Festival

Yesterday(in China - 12 hours ahead) - September 14th - was the second biggest holiday on the Chinese calendar. Its a celebration called the Mid Autumn Festival and it falls on the 15th day of the 8th lunar month(The Chinese use two calendars - one Gregorian - like the USA, the other based on the moon cycles). Mid Autumn Festival is between the middle and end of September on the Gregorian Calendar.

The Chinese celebrate by getting together with family, watching the full moon and eating mooncakes. The legend has it that a beautiful woman named Chang'e once ate some medicine that made her immortal(and like a girl after Ralph Cramden's heart - she flew to the moon where she now resides). 

The grocery stores in China are stocked with both mooncakes and pictures of Chang'e. The mooncakes are normally filled with fruit or beans - and I ate several yesterday in celebration. The taste is not something I really appreciated - but the Chinese really like them. The mooncakes come in beautiful, ornately designed boxes that make the purchase worth it in spite of the taste of the mooncakes.

It was weird for me to be surrounded by people who were celebrating and excited about something that did not resonate with me. I felt the entire day like I had wandered into a stranger's birthday party. I saw the happy faces and I could relate to their holiday cheer - yet to me it was just another day with no special meaning. Very strange...

Christmas in September?

Most Chinese people neither celebrate or acknowledge any of American holidays. Even one that we share in name (New Year's) is vastly different in the two countries - Chinese New Year is celebrated in February and its a week long celebration. 

One holiday that is shared -in a rather strange way-  is Christmas. I doubt many Chinese celebrate it - since its based on a religion that isn't part of China's history. That doesn't mean China isn't full of Christmas spirit. Most kid rides that you can find in shopping malls and grocery stores play some peppy little tunes that will be very recognizable to the western ear. So while I hear "Jingle Bells" and think of Christmas trees and stockings - a generation of Chinese will hear it and think of... the mall.

A Thousand Words

If a picture is worth a thousand - then how much is a video worth? Last night while out in the Hanqiao section of Shanghai - amongst the glittering skyscrapers and busy Chinese traffic - a man on a bike with hundreds of pieces recyclable styrofoam strapped to its frame rode past. This is a perfect example of China today - stuck in between a cosmopolitan rebirth and deep traditional cultural roots. Its also just a funny image...

The Muffin Joke

There are two muffins sitting in an oven. One muffin turns to the other and says, "Man - its really hot in here." The second muffin goes, "AHHH - a talking muffin!"

I've told that joke for years now to all of my classes and without fail it is greeted with groans and rolled eyes - until yesterday, that is. 

In my Algebra II class this year there is a very earnest and hardworking student named Jun. Jun is also extremely high strung. Yesterday, to begin class, I started to tell my muffin joke. I happened to be standing right next to Jun when I was telling the joke. As I got to the part with "AHHH" in it - Jun turns, screams at the top of his lungs, and almost falls out of his chair. The look on his face is that of complete and utter terror. He was so scared that it scared me for a second - and then the entire class burst into laughter. As soon as Jun realized what he had done - he started laughing as well. His reaction startled me so much it took a few seconds for my heart to stop racing. I tried to continue teaching - but it took about 5 minutes for the classroom to return to normal. Needless to say - that may have been the funniest joke I've every told - and it had nothing to do with me.

This isn't on any brochures

China is a land that wants to perpetuate an image of beauty and success. You see this in the way the Chinese spend money on fancy clothing, or the way the Chinese handled the national anthem at the Olympics - foisting a much prettier, more ideal Chinese girl in front of the global audience. I can't blame them - America is the same way - but there are literally tens of millions of Chinese that you don't see on the TV- or in the tourism brochures. These men, women and children are part of the largest migration of mankind that has ever existed - at least that is what I've been told. They head toward the east coast and cities such as Shanghai searching for prosperity - not unlike the early immigrants arriving in New York's harbors at the turn of the century - all looking for a better life. I got an intimate look at this side of China last week - as a family of four "moved" into the vacant lot behind my apartment. For a week they lived amongst the rubble of a demolished building - spending their day picking out pieces of metal and aluminum cans to sell to the highest bidder. They left yesterday - but it will be a while before I forget them. They made a point to smile and say "Ni hao" every time I passed - seemingly oblivious to the conditions surrounding them. That is what I will remember most - the smiles and good cheer - and that is what I am beginning to feel is the true spirit of China.