Harbin's Ice City

Karen and I decided to spend the past few days(including Christmas Day!) in the winter wonderland known as Harbin, China. Harbin is located next to next to Siberia in the extreme northeastern part of China. Its famous in China as being home to an ice city. Since the temperatures in Harbin average 3-4 F during the winter months, ice sculptors from all over the world have made Harbin one of the few places in the world where their art form is viable for long stretches of time. Starting in December, the ice city opens up in the outskirts of Harbin. Building replicas of famous Chinese landmarks, such as the Great Wall, the ice city is beautifully and spectacularly lit by LED's placed inside the ice blocks that create the structures. Walking around the ice city is a surreal experience...truly breathtaking.

Beijing

Winter break started on December 18th and Karen and I decided to head north to the Chinese capital of Beijing. I had been to Beijing before, but this would be Karen 1st time. While in Beijing, we planned on heading to the Great Wall of China, as well to the Forbidden City. Along the way we were open to new adventures, such as eating the Chinese speciality Peking duck, or walking down the food streets along the famous Wangfujing Street, where anything and everything under the sun is available to eat.

Chinese baby with oversized jacket!

Eating Scorpion on Wangfujing Street!

The Grocery Store

This entry is pretty self explanatory...except for the pajamas...I still don't get it...

The Commute

This blog entry proves once and for all that I will go to great lengths to provide you with the most compelling and interesting content from my life in China. Enjoy!

(I had to split it up because it was such a large file...)

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

The Post Office

This past week I had to go to the post office in my neighborhood to send a package home. I have been to the post office quite a few times since I've been in China, but decided to document this visit. The package I was sending was actually for one of my colleagues who can't speak Chinese, and who hadn't been to the post office before. She was sending scarves and some food back home. Its interesting, and you can see from the video, everything was OK to send home except this small package of shrunk wrapped chicken feet(a Chinese specialty...). They removed the chicken feet and allowed me to send other food items, such as a chocolate bar. Its also interesting to watch the Chinese write...you can see a man putting an address on a box, and I marvel at how quickly they move through the strokes of their written language. I still can't read or write Chinese, and with over 10000 separate characters(kind of like our letters)I don't know how anyone ever does. It has been shown that it takes Chinese schoolchildren almost an extra year to two years to reach the same level of written fluency as western culture...and this is mainly attributable to the difficulty of the written language.

Huangshan

Huangshan, or Yellow Mountain, is one of the most photographed places in the world. When you think of a classic China shot, with a mysterious mist of fog rising up the sides of a mountain, you are thinking of Huangshan. Karen and I had a chance to visit this iconic tourist site, and we were welcomed with almost picture perfect weather. We arrived Friday night, and stayed in a hostel at the base of the mountain. Our room had a small heater, but it wasn't nearly enough, as Karen and I shivered our way through the night, as winter had descended on this part of south central China, and flaunted its power during the weekend by keeping the temperatures in the 20's. On Saturday morning, we arose around 7 am, and walked around the streets of Huangshan(also the name of the town at the base of the mountain.) Once we found a place that sold our Chinese favorite, a breakfast "burrito" that the locals all love, we headed to the base of the mountain. We were spending the night in a hotel at the top of the mountain, and they were doing renovations to the hotel. The only way to get stuff from the bottom of the mountain to the top is to carry it. Who gets that job? Chinese migrant workers...earning less than 2000 US dollars a year, they start their day at 6 am and carry something up the mountain, which entails a strenuous 3 hour hike up the side of the mountain. They then carry something back down to the bottom of the mountain, get to eat lunch, and begin the same process again. Twice a day. 6 days a week. We can't really complain, can we?
Karen and I also got to see the most famous sunrise in China, coming over the peak of Huangshan, early on Sunday morning. We were surrounded by hundreds of Chinese tourist, who had come to Huangshan to see the same things we have, and I am sure, with the same sense of awe.

Date Night

Last night, Karen and I had what seemed like a real, bonafide American style date. We love going to the movies, but living in the countryside of China, getting to a movie theater has been hard. Recently, however, a giant shopping complex opened up within five minutes of where we live, and with it, a brand new sparkling movie theater. Karen and I have been wanting to go for the past month, but it was only this week that they started showing movies in English. Our English choices for movie night were 2012 or Twilight. Since Karen loved the book, we decided that we would see Twilight, and I would earn some major boyfriend points to be cashed in at some later date. It was interesting, the ticket said had the time of 7:05, and we wondered if they would show any previews of coming attractions: they showed one, a Chinese movie, and at 7:05 on the dot, our movie started.
We had a great time, it was nice to see a movie in a theater in English, I had only seen one movie in the last two years, and in addition, for the equivalent of 10 US dollars, we got to sit in the VIP section, replete with reclining chairs and ample leg room. Not a bad way to spend a night...even if we were among vampires!

After work....

A Minute out my Bedroom Window

This video is exactly that...from 7:50 am to 7:51 am on Saturday, November 7th, this was a glimpse of life in my part of Shanghai.

A walk through the park....

Last weekend, Karen and I took a walk through one of the largest public parks in Shanghai. We came across two very interesting parts of the park...one is called "Marriage Corner"(at least that's what I call it) and the other is English Corner.

The Fabric Market

Chinese "Traffic" Jam

I bought an electric scooter a few months ago for my commute to work. I never could have guessed how much I've fallen in love with riding it. Its top speed is about 35 mph, which is enough to feel the wind in my hair, but the thing about it is that its opened up the part of Shanghai where I live to exploration. I feel like the Chris Colombus of electric scooters as I zoom down the main road in front of my house, with factories and high rises everywhere, and after a few turns here and there, finding myself standing on a small path in the middle of rice fields, as farmers expertly and urgently tend to the rice.
My commute is more fun as well as I now look forward to scooting to work. My school is about a 40 minute walk from my house, now with my scooter its a five minute ride. I take a shortcut to work everyday, I discovered an alley that takes me past a small creek and through a traditional Chinese town. Its very relaxing...and usually easy to nagivigate, except for one day last week, when a car tried to drive down the path meant for scooters and pedestrians. This happens often, as Chinese don't think anything of driving on a bike path, if it cuts a few minutes off their drive. Check out what happened to this unfortunate driver....

Hong Kong

I just recently got back from a trip to Hong Kong with my girlfriend Karen. I really had no expectations of Hong Kong, I didn't know much about it before the trip other than it was more Westernized than mainland China. We spent a week there, and now I can say with confidence that it is my favorite Asian city. Built on several small islands that are in a river delta in southern China, it reminded both Karen and me of San Fransisco. Where China's mainland is flat, Hong Kong is extremely hilly. The most famous island is called Hong Kong island, and it is considered Asia's Manhattan. Tall buildings everywhere, people in suits walking on the sidewalks, it has an air of importance, as well as an elegant, if not manufactured, beauty. The other major island is called Kowloon. This is where Karen and I stayed. If Hong Kong island is the stately beauty queen, with her hair done perfectly and whose every photograph is magazine quality, then Kowloon is the loud, brash, funny girl who grows on you after spending a few days alone. Kowloon is a more authentically Asian section of Hong Kong. We stayed along Nathan Road, which happens to be the shopping metropolis of Hong Kong, similar to the Magnificent Mile in Chicago. The western flavor of Hong Kong is readily apparent on Nathan Road, we were within walking distance of both an Outback Steakhouse and a TGIFridays, as well as a movie theater. (We saw a movie called District Nine - our most western date since we've been in Asia.) Up further along Nathan Road, Kowloon changes - the clean buildings begin to grow older and dirtier, and the sidewalks louder. Where before the shops were major brands from the West, now Kowloon becomes truly Asian. A left turn puts you in a goldfish market - where every store sells fish of all kinds. The bird market is this way as well, an entire street filled with the songs of birds, living in cages, waiting to be bought as pets. This is the part of Hong Kong that gives it life, gives it a flavor. While we were in Hong Kong, we also had a chance to go to an amusement park, called Ocean Park. Hong Kong also has a Disneyland, Disney Hong Kong, but strangely, Ocean Park has a better reputation than Disneyland. At Ocean Park, which was fantastic, we had a chance to spend some more time with pandas. The panda we saw was named An An...and as you can see, is as cute as a panda can be. Interestingly though, when we arrived, An An was sleeping. A group of people were gathered around for a few minutes, watching An An sleep, and then suddenly An An started to rise and stretch. People were lost in the cuteness at this point. "Awwww, look how cute!" Little kids were jumping up and clapping, a man kissed his wife, old men, heretofore unable to walk, rose to their feet for the first time in ages, inspired by the cuteness. The cuteness continued as the panda walked up the small hill, next to a tree. Everyone stood transfixed, as the cuteness had become a paralyzing thing, everyone with baited breath waiting to see what the panda does next. As the panda stood next to the tree, a little girl yells out, "Look, mommy, the pandas tail is moving!" The man kissed his wife again, kids clapping, old men banging their canes against the ground...so profound was the cuteness of the panda....and then it happened. The tail lifted, and we all watched in horror as the panda left a trail of "cuteness" along the ground, as bamboo apparently moves through the system very quickly. The little kids, mesmerized by the cuteness just moments before, begin crying, traumatized, and now, probably, in need of years of therapy. The man slaps his wife, the wife in return slaps him back. Old men stop banging their canes, turn and slink out, muttering under their breath. The panda, the cuteness gone, mosies on back to his original spot, lays down and falls back asleep. What was so cute to the crowd was the panda bathroom run, akin to a stumbling, 3 am in the dark out of bed stub your toe trip to the toilet. Not as cute as we thought....

Say what?

First of all, its nice to be able to finally update my blog from China. My blog has been blocked for the last five months, but yesterday I was able to purchase a computer program that allows me to check out webpages such as Facebook and Youtube, which the Chinese government is currently blocking. But they can't block me anymore!!

Near my house in Shanghai a new restaurant is going up. Based on the name, I am not sure what to expect...

Fudge and Salami

The line for the plane to China stretches like the famous Great Wall in the country we are about to make our home in for the next year. People stand in line at the airport check in line, staring blankly into space, a yawn here, a scratch there. As we made our way towards the baggage check we passed the same people four different times – the little girl with pigtails and toothy grin, the young couple that couldn’t keep their hands off each other, a young Frenchman with a surfboard neatly bagged up, heading to Hawaii for a surf competition. Each of these lives intersected with ours, for a brief moment in time, before diverging once more bound to follow the path each of our lives take us on. Why is this line so long, and so slow I wondered? Finally, we made it to the front, and were going to hand our bag to the United representative who needed another cup of coffee this particular morning as his lethargic greeting “Hi, thank you for flying United” left quite a lot to be desired. Karen and I had a total of seven bags, we were planning on checking five of them, and carrying on two. As we placed the first bag upon the scale, the check -in person glanced at the weight reading in bright green letters (59 lbs) and declared that I would need to pay a $200 fee for an overweight bag. He told me that we needed to get that bag under 50 pounds, so the process began.... I opened that bag and out came shoes, books, clothes,etc....all under the impatient eyes of the people in line behind us. Talk about pressure...most of our possessions came out of one bag and into another, as we frantically tried to get every bag under 50 pounds. When we finally transferred everything in a way that seemed to lighten each bag to under the correct weight we held our collective breath as each bag went on the scale...46...48...42....49...39...45 and finally, 48. We just made it, and with our flight leaving in an hour and a half, the rush was on to get through the carry-on check point. As our carry-on bags went through the x-ray machine, I saw the man behind the scan calling over another checker. They were looking anxiously at whatever was on the screen with a look of curiousity tinged with worry. As my bag came through, they threw it to the end of the rollers, and a woman with gloves on came over and told me she was going to open my bag. She asked me if there was anything in the bag that could have set off the alarm, and I racked my brain but couldn't think of anything. As the bag was opened, and the items emptied, it was a strange collection of items. One of Karen's high heels, moved into this bag during the frantic bag switch earlier, came out first. Then assorted items, and finally, a box of fudge. I finally realized that was what set off the detector...fudge. The woman with the gloves took out some sort of wand and waved it around the box, and cautiously opened it. It hadn't dawned on me, but the fudge must look like some sort of explosive under the x-ray. She laughed as she realized what it was, and actually allowed me to keep it, after eating a piece. At the same time this was going on, at the belt next to us, another couple was going through the same process, only to find that a bag of salami was the potential security risk. Fudge and salami...next time you are waiting in a line at the airport, remember fudge and salami.

What's that?

A few months ago, I had locked myself out of my classroom and needed to get a security guard at my school to open the door. It was early in the morning, and I was still recovering from the evil sound of my alarm clock earlier in the morning. My brain wasn't quite working at its full capability. The security guard arrived with the key a few minutes later and began to say something to me in Chinese. Still in my early morning stupor, I told him I didn't understand. He then began to speak LOUDER. Once that didn't work, he took his left hand out, and began to write Chinese characters with his right hand pointer finger. I still told him I didn't understand. Exasperated, he unlocked my door and walked away.
Two things struck me...first, when I didn't understand what he was saying, he spoke louder. Its funny to me because apparently thats a universal reaction in communication when the other person is having trouble understanding. I'll just say the same thing louder, and then they will get it.
Also, most Western people who learn Chinese learn it orally, and not the written language, as it requires memorizing over 10000 characters and learning how to write them properly. Its a headache most Westerners avoid like the plague. Or bad street meat.
So that fact that the security guard thought I would know the much more difficult written language, even though I clearly didn't know the oral language, struck me as incredibly hopeful and optimistic. I honestly felt bad that I didn't know the written language, as I felt I let him down.

My family...

This post isn't about China. Its about something much more entertaining...my family. The following is a conversation recently overheard in my family's house. Now, in my mom's defense, my sister is getting married this week, so you could chalk up the following exchange up to pre-wedding stress, but if you are in the know, if you have spent time with me and my family, you would know the truth. The following conversation isn't an anomaly, its par for the course.

Sis: Adam, have you seen my glasses?
Me: Yeah...I thought I saw them in a bowl thing in the bathroom.

Amanda goes to the bathroom. 30 seconds later...

Sis: I don't see them.
Me: Look in anything shaped like a bowl.
Sis: I still don't see them.

I go into the bathroom.

Me: Here - I thought I saw them in this thing(I grab a cup that is sitting on the sink.)
I don't see them. Guess not.
Sis: Thanks a lot!

Sis: Mom - have you seen my glasses?
Mom: No.


Sis spends next 15 minutes frantically running around the house looking for her glasses. What I hear next, while surprising, is again, nothing unusual.

Mom: Did you find them yet?
Sis: No - did you see them anywhere?
Mom: I thought I saw them over there. (Mom points to a table)

Sis looks...

Sis: Those are your glasses!
Mom: No - these are my glasses. (At this point, mom takes a pair of glasses off her head)
Sis: Oh my God Mom! Those are MY glasses. Thanks for bending them like that!
Mom: Are you sure? I think these are mine. Oh wait, mine are over there. (Realizing her glasses were on the table she pointed to just seconds before.)

That's it....that is my family life in a nutshell.

The Most Interesting Day Ever

I have always been the person that has been able to either a) be personally involved in a predicament that leaves people shaking their heads in disbelief OR b) helping someone else get involved in a similar predicament. As an example of the former, my parents could probably recall a dozen stories from my childhood, such as the time I managed to get a raisin stuck so far into my ear that I had to get a doctor to remove it. (I was 4 - so its understandable - I was probably doing one of my first science experiments.) Or the time in 6th grade when I managed to give myself a concussion by holding my breath in the school bathroom. (Again - maybe an example of scientific curiousity trumping common sense?)

These events have gotten less and less common as I've gotten older and more mature(relatively).

I did, however, manage, through events both in and out of my control, to orchestrate one of the more interesting days in someone else's life. The someone else is someone very special to me, which made the events that unfolded even harder to swallow, although I think we are able to laugh about them now. At least a little bit...right, Karen?

Let me set the scene. My girlfriend and I parted ways(geographically, not romantically) at the beginning of August 2008, with me moving to China and her staying in Chicago. We vowed to stay in touch daily, and thanks to Skype, pretty much met our goal. Karen also planned to come to Shanghai in November to visit, which meant that we had over 100 days between face to face meetings. It was the first time I had tried a long distance relationship, which might have been good for me, because I didn't have much success at short distance relationships. Anyways, when Karen arrived in November, we had to make up for lost time.

Since she had spent three years of her life, albeit as a child, living in Singapore, in my mind I thought she would be able to handle the drastic culture difference China presents to a first time visitor. She arrived at the airport, we had the obligatory long hug/kiss, and we jumped in a taxi back to my place. My house in Shanghai, by Chinese standards, is in the country. This means it is VERY Chinese. No Western amenities to be found, and no other white people to found either. Karen arrived, threw her bags down and after a fifteen minute chat, we decided to go grab some food. I thought it would be a nice surprise to take Karen to the small, local restaurant I had been frequenting to introduce her to the owners, who had become friends of mine, and also to give her a little bit of my neighborhood's Chinese flavor. Since it was a dark, chilly night, we decided to forgo the 5 minute walk and jumped into a tuk-tuk. If you don't know what a tuk tuk is, at least as they are constructed in Shanghai, imagine this: You take a bicycle, and with a few pieces of wire and/or duct tape, attach a small wagon to the back of it. If could also manage to fit a couple of supports in the wagon, you would be able to build a small canopy to protect yourself from the elements. Sit in the wagon, and allow someone to pedal you around wherever you want for a small fee. The tuk tuks in Shanghai are a little more advanced than this, but I cannot vouch for the quality of their construction. There are times where you question whether the next bump you hit will send you off in a different direction than the person riding the bike. The thing is, everyone rides in them, so its easy to convince yourself that they are safe. And they usually are...except for this night. As we rode along a back alley, filled with potholes and pieces of debris, Karen and I were getting a rather bumpy, but normal experience for a tuk tuk ride. As the alley opened up onto the main road which we had to cross to get to the restaurant, our overzealous driver did something dangerous, even by China's nonexistent driving standards, he shot right out in front of oncoming traffic. I had been conditioned to such, umm, unorthodox driving during my 4 months in China, but Karen had no experience to draw upon. She let out a small shriek as he pulled out, apparently oblivious to the oncoming cars in BOTH directions. While this is normal for driving in China, what happened next wasn't. As we were halfway across the road, we heard tires screaming as a car was applying its brakes. Since Karen and I were in the back of the tuk tuk and covered by the canopy, we couldn't see the cars in either direction. It made the experience about ten times scarier - and we then see a car run into the bicycle at the front of the tuk tuk. I had been in China for four months, and ridden in a tuk tuk quite a bit, but I had never seen an accident until now. The car was probably going about 10 miles an hour, fast enough to slam into the driver and knock the bike loose from the tuk tuk. Karen is hyperventilating at this point, and we are now standing in the middle of the road, with our tuk tuk driver on the ground, his bike in shambles next to him, and traffic piling up in either direction. As I look around, and a crowd begins to gather, I realize we have two options. We can stand around and wait for the police, and with stories of foreigners being blamed for accidents and being extorted for money, this didn't seem like a good option. After a quick check to make sure the tuk tuk driver was OK - he was fine, up on his feet and saying loud Chinese words to the driver of the car - we briskly continued across the street, and with a quick left and then a right, had disappeared around the corner and were heading to the restaurant. It took both of us a few minutes to calm down once we reached the restaurant, but after assuring Karen that it was OK to leave the scene, and that accidents like that are exceedingly rare(which I doubted, but felt compelled to say anyways), she seemed to accept it for what it was, a freakish and scary accident, but nothing more. As our dinner progressed, we began to draw a crowd at the restaurant. This, I told Karen, was to be expected. The owners told me that I was the only non-Chnese person to ever eat at their restaurant, and often people would sit at the table next to me and stare or offer me a cigarette while I was eating. I knew then, that a table with two laowai, especially one with striking features like Karen has, with blonde hair and blue eyes, would attract quite a crowd. Truthfully, I enjoy the attention. It gives me a chance to surprise the person when I say something in Chinese, and then I can practice my nascent Chinese skills for a few minutes. Tonight, as the patrons in the restaurant stared at us as we ate, I noticed a man dressed in a uniform approach the table. I quickly realized that he was a police officer, and my heart skipped a beat. As he was approaching, Karen and I shared a quick glance that said it all - "Oh, ****!" We thought the cops had hunted us down, and maybe we would be escorted to the Chinese police station for some "questioning." I thought to myself that this is how international incidents begin. Before any of my fears could be realized, the police officer said something to Karen. I didn't understand most of it, but I knew he said "chopstick" and he was motioning to the waitress to come over to the table. As the waitress approached, I saw that she had a fork in her hand. The cop preceded to take the chopsticks OUT of Karen's hands and gave her a fork. Apparently he was displeased with the way she was using the chopsticks, or maybe he thought that she looked like she couldn't possibly understand how to use such a complicated utensil. Karen protested and said that she was fine and would like to continue using the chopsticks, but the cop stood resolute for a while longer, holding the fork out as if telling Karen that she had no choice but to use it. When he finally left, I smiled at Karen and said, "Welcome to China!"
After dinner we headed to the local grocery store to pick up a few items, and we both talked, naively, of how the night couldn't get anymore interesting. We were wrong.
Upon arriving at the grocery store, Karen noticed a small child riding in a coin operated ride. Chinese babies are impossible to look at just once. They are like the Lay's chips of babies, you can't just look once, because they are so cute! Karen was mesmerized by this Chinese baby in this ride, so we stood and watched for a few seconds. As we were standing there, I noticed a Chinese man and woman quickly approaching us. Before we could say a word, the man had thrust his newborn baby in front of him, offering him to Karen. At first we were both flabbergasted, and then I realized he wanted his baby to have a picture with Karen. Again, her features are very striking, even more so in China, so I imagine the father is thinking, "Its baby's first picture with a white person!" I look at Karen and see this stunned look on her face, as she tentatively holds the baby with a look of shock on her face, and I can barely contain myself, I want to burst out laughing. The father takes a few pictures, tries to position his newborn's fingers into a peace sign, fails at that, snaps a few more pictures, and finally, mercifully from Karen's perspective, takes the baby back into his arms. As the Chinese family walks away, waving at us, total strangers who they chose to hand over their baby, Karen looks at me and asks, "Is this a normal day?" I put my arm around her and with a smile tell her, "No, its usually much worse than this."

Parents are all the same...

So my Chinese friends, Candance and her boyfriend, Luke, had me over for a a goodbye dinner a few weeks ago. As we ate chicken feet, bamboo shoots and river snail, the conversation turned to wasting food. I related to them that as children, many Americans are told to eat all of their food because, "There are starving children in China who would like to eat that food that you are about to throw away." My friends started to laugh. I asked them what was funny. Luke told me, "In China, most children are told that they have to finish their food because there are starving children in AMERICA that could eat the food." I was dumbfounded by this revelation - but Candance verified that she was also told the same thing by her parents. So I guess this proves one things conclusively - parents in any culture will say whatever it takes to get their kids to clean their plates!

Zhuliugan

That title of this blog could also be considered a new "magic" word for Western visitors to China. What does it mean? Zhu is the Chinese word for "pig", and liugan means "flu". I was first introduced to this word on the streets of my local community around the beginning of May as an intrepid young man, upon seeing me walking down the sidewalk, came up and asked me "You mei you zhuliugan." This is a Chinese way of asking a question and it literally means "Have not have swine flu" but is the common(and might I say simple) way of asking a question in Chinese. The man wanted to know if I had swine flu. At the time I didn't know what zhuliugan was, so I replied "Meiyou" (meaning I don't have whatever it was) and continued walking. It wasn't until the next day that I found out what zhuliugan meant, and as the week went on I found out how serious the Chinese government is taking the task of preventing its spread. All visitors from America are subject to a health check at the airport and can be quarantined at a local hotel for up to a week if they are suspected of having zhuliugan. This has actually changed my travel plans, as my girlfriend and I are leaving a week earlier to head back to China in case we get quarantined. Yikes!
Zhuliugan has had one positive aspect in my life. As a white guy walking down busy streets in China, it sometimes feels like walking along a boardwalk at a beach, where the workers try to reel you in like a fish. Salesmen and women are constantly approaching you and in broken English asking if you "Want buy watchie?" or "Want massagie?" It can be annoying, and often the hawker will follow you down the street, even if the look on your face makes it clear that you aren't interested in either his product or his company. Well - I finally found an effective way to rid myself quickly of these enthusiastic, but bothersome touts. For the last month, whenever one would approach me, I would cough, rub my stomach as if in pain, and as they begin their pitch I would say, "Wo you zhuliugan." translated as "I have swine flu." I know its not politcally correct, and at times felt guilt for using it, but it really worked. As soon as I said zhuliugan, they would peel off their oncoming path, with a look of discomfort on their face, almost as if repelled by a magnet or invisible force field. I could then continue my walk, without unwanted company, a smile on my face, and the thought "Adam - 1, China - 0"

The Joys of Censorship

This is my first blog in over a month. Lest you think me a blogospheric slacker, let me tell you it is simply not true. I am a slacker in some areas of my life, but my blogs month long silence was not self imposed, but rather a matter of censorship. Beginning around May 15th, several sites(Twitter, Blogspot, and others) were no longer accessible in China. If you typed in the website, you received the familiar error message "Website cannot be found." The truth is that the Chinese goverenment, on the eve of the 20th anniversary of Tianmen Square(June 4th was the most famous day, the day of the tank, but Tianmen Square and the protests in 1989 actually lasted for 6 weeks starting at the end of April), launched a prempitive strike against any possible organized protest attempts. So....that meant any websites that could be used to organize a large group of people, such as Twitter, were not accessible from China. Even using a proxy, a website that allows you to sneak around such internet blockades, I was unsuccessful in updating my blog. How is it then that I am updating my blog today, you might be asking? Last night I arrived back in America for a few weeks! Home sweet home - it will be a short stay, but my baby sister is getting married, so I will be heading to Pittsburgh for all the festivities surrounding the wedding, before flying back to Shanghai for year number 2.

Lost in Translation

A few months ago I was dining in a local Chinese restaurant. It was small, hot, crowded, but the food was delicious. As always, I was the center of attention, being a laowai in a local restaurant. When it came time for me to order, I tried to use my usual broken Chinese. I ordered a glass of water and had been craving Shanghai's famous dumplings, known in China as baozi(bowed-za). These are usually filled with vegetables, and can be found on the sides of the street everywhere you go in Shanghai. Also famous in China are meat filled dumplings, known as jiaozi(gee-owed-za). So in my mind, I wanted baozi, but confusing the similar pronunciations between the two types of dumplings, I asked for biaozi(bee-owed-za). The waitress looked surprised at first, and after I repeated it, started blushing and backing away. I asked a third time and she walked away from the table. When she returned, I realized I wasn't getting anywhere, and with the incorrect pronunciation stuck in my head, I decided I would have to do without dumplings tonight, so I moved on to another dish. After leaving the restaurant, I ran through the scenario and couldn't figure out what I had done to embarrass the waitress. Was I staring too much? I had no idea...

The next day, I ran the situation past my Chinese friend. After telling the story, she burst out laughing. "Adam, do you know what you asked for?" "Biaozi is the Chinese word for a female dog, and its used in a derogatory way." It then dawned on me what the waitress thought I was saying! If you are younger than 18, then DO NOT READ THIS NEXT SENTENCE. Biaozi means....I hope you are not reading this, young cousins of mine.....bitch! Did she think I was calling her that name? I hope not..but I wonder now if my food had a "special" ingredient in it...

Baozi Jiaozi Biaozi

Some first impression...

Koreans, Chinese, Taiwanese....even after spending the past 9 months in Asia, I struggle to pick out any distinguishing physical features that separate the Asian population. They really all look similar to me. While this is a known phenomenon in America, including one of my top 5 "Office" episodes when Michael "marks" his Asian date so he can tell which one she is, I thought after spending 9 months in China my ability to discern individual identities would have improved, but....no.

Well, I got a taste of my own "medicine" last week. Since my school is located out in what the Shanghai call the "countryside", but really more like an industrial zone, "laowai", or white skinned foreigners are few and far between. Last week, during lunch, I decided to wander around the neighborhood near my school in search of a good restaurant. I found a small restaurant tucked away between two larger entities, and I made my way in. It was clear from the stares I received as I walked in that this was not a place that was used to having foreigners. As I sat down and ordered my fried rice I saw what everyone in the restaurant had their attention focused on - the Houston Rockets, and Chinese hero, Yao Ming, were taking on the Huren (or Lakers) in an NBA game. The game was live in China, at 11 am, because of the 12 hour time difference, and was clearly a very big deal. The Chinese are very proud of Yao - and almost everyone I ask lists the Houston Rockets as their favorite NBA team. Anyways - the fried rice was excellent, and I left and finished my day. At 5 pm, after finishing basketball practice, I decided to head back to the restaurant for dinner. The only difference was this time I was wearing basketball shorts and a T-shirt, not the dress shirt and pants I had on before. As I entered the restaurant I saw some of the same faces as before, this was a family run operation and it was clear the husband and wife were in charge. After sitting down, the husband approached me and took my order. It was at this time that I asked him if I was the first "laowai" to ever come to his restaurant. He smiled and shook his head no. He told me that I was the second laowai to eat at his restaurant. When was the first one, I asked. He looked at me and said that earlier today, around lunch, they had their first laowai. He then asked me whether the person at lunch was a friend of mine. I am sure the look on my face was priceless -  I responded to the man by telling him that it was me that ate at his restaurant earlier today. He slowly shook his head in disagreement. "No, it wasn't you, it was someone else." he replied. Now I was completely confused. Did another teacher from my school wander over to the restaurant earlier today? I asked the man to describe the person who came into his restaurant today, thinking if it was one of my friends I would recognize the description. He said he had a white dress shirt and black pants. It was the exact same outfit that I had worn earlier in the day! I told the man that I had been wearing that earlier in the day. He leaned in close and took a good look at my face and then exhaled a burst of laughter. "Ah - yes. It was you!" He told me that the fact that I had different clothes on made it hard for him to remember me. He profusely apologized - and ironically asked me to invite my friends next time I came. I couldn't help but smile as I thought to myself, "Would he be able to tell who I was if I brought my friends with me?"

Bicycles

I don't think I've ever seen as much weird stuff in large quantities being hauled behind a bike as I have in China. Check these out:

What's in a name?

Its something most of us(really, none of us) have much control over. Yet is one of the most important things we own. Our name. How many us of wish we could have had control over the moment our parents named us. Imagine living life as Warren Peace, or maybe, ala Bart Simpson, Amanda Huginkiss.

The reason this is a relevant topic is because all across China young Chinese people are choosing English names. All across Shanghai I have seen countless names that have made me stop and scratch my head. I have included pictures below. Apparently they have seen a movie or read a book and found a word that they really liked and taken that on as their English name, without a true understanding of what the word means. 

Since I ride the bus and subway quite often, speak a little bit of Chinese and am clearly a Westerner, I have been asked to give English names to about ten children that I have met while riding on the transportation. I think I have given most of the girls my sister's name(Amanda) or my Mom's(Cathy) and my father's name(Doug) to several boys. It is a lot of pressure to decide on someone's name! I do feel that this is preparing me for the day when I have to name my own flesh and blood. I just hope I don't succumb to the pressure and name my kid Iwana B.

 

3...2...1....Eggplant!!

The Chinese love to take pictures. They especially(almost exclusively) take pictures that include themselves, with the ubiquitous peace sign. As I have seen countless groups of Chinese posing for pictures, I have observed an interesting countdown that the photographer gives. He or she will countdown in Chinese, "San, er, yi...qiezi!" I have asked my Chinese friends about this word, qiezi. Apparently, over the years, the Chinese have seen Westerners take enough pictures, and have heard the familar, "Cheese!" Either they thought the Westerners were saying "qiezi"(Chee-ed-za), which sounds alot like cheese, or they more likely just substituted their own similar sounding word. Either way, Chinese everywhere finish a photographic countdown with a word that means "eggplant." Which is more likely to elicit a smile, a vegetable or a dairy product? The debate rages on...

The Squat

If Major League Baseball ever has a shortage of catchers, they need to look no further than the country of China. One of the more enduring images in my mind's eye when I picture China, is a group of Chinese men, in a relaxing conversation for them, sitting in a position that my western friends and I call the "Squat." It looks rather easy at first glance. I have tried it countless times, and the muscles in my legs are not pliable enough to allow me into this position. The key is keeping your heels on the ground. And most Chinese men smoke while they are in the squatting position. I have seen few women in the position, apparently squatting is a male dominated "sport" - which also must give points for difficulty, as often the men will sit on a post or a ledge. Try it...and let me know if you can do it!

Korean Academy

I teach at an international school in Shanghai, and a large percentage of the students are from Asian countries other than China. Of my Asian students, a large number of them are from Korea. I am teaching Algebra II, and it has become clear that there is a divide in my class. The students from Korea regularly score at the top of class with grades in the high range. Below them, the rest of the class. This part of the class consists of students from the US, Canada, Europe and the Scandanavian countries. I've done my best to mitigate this difference, often pairing a Korean student with a non-Korean student. This works to a certain extent, but most of my Korean students don't speak English very well, and so are either unwilling or ineffective in expressing their ideas.

Why do they do so well? In the latest TIMMS(Trends in International Mathematics and Science Study) results, Korean 8th graders, who finished second overall, scored a 597 on a standardized math test with an average score of 500. American students scored a 508 and were in 8th place.

Part of the reason for the Korean success is something called Korean academy. Korean students begin attending academy in grade 3. My Korean students, after attending my school from 7:30 am until 3 pm, head to another round of classes taught in Korean, by Korean teachers, with Korean classmates. This is Korean Academy. From 4 pm to 8 pm these students study math, science and English. They have an unrelenting schedule. Most of my Korean students attend academy 6 days a week, and Saturday's academy is an all day affair. They have a day off on Sunday. I once asked one of my Korean students, Jenny, if she slept all day on Sunday since it was her only day off each week. She looked at me strangely and said, "I can't sleep on Sunday, because that's the day I study."

So as I wonder what the tradeoff is for "all work, no play", I look around my class on any given day and see my Korean students spending their free time diligently working on some assignment, while a majority of my Western students spend their free time talking, laughing or surfing the net. While I contemplate what the long term implications are for these two subsets of teenagers, and to extrapolate, the respective countries, I know how much I cherish my quintessentially American youth and wonder if it would be worth giving that up for 89 points on a test.

Musak

Normally, when wandering around shopping malls, the musak that is playing softly in the background is almost instinctively ignored, as if the human brain has the capability to discern "music" from "musak" and is able, when confronted with the latter, to selectively tune it out. China is no different - the shopping malls here have musak, and quite often it is Western music, especially Britney Spears and the ilk. This past weekend, however, I got quite a different taste of the musak. While doing a little grocery shopping, the local department store had some rap musak going over its speakers. It was very loud,  and while I'm not sure who the artist was, maybe Akon, maybe not, I definitely noticed it. It wasn't the quality of the musak that stood out to my ears, but the lyrics. As the rapper was doing his thing, he continually dropped F-Bombs, and used very "colorful" language to describe certain parts of the male and female anatomy. As I stood there in the middle of the noodle aisle with a stunned look on my face, I looked to my fellow Chinese shoppers for some confirmation. I mean, if this was playing over the loudspeakers in an American store, people would be either laughing or getting angry. My fellow Chinese shoppers were more interested in looking at the packages of noodles, and had no noticeable response to this situation. My first reaction was to wonder how they could be so unaffected by this, and then I realized, they have NO idea what this guy was singing about. Ha! I laughed at myself and pictured the Chinese worker, who at the beginning of the day was assigned the task of picking out the musak for the day, and he stumbled across the Akon album, realized it was English music, and happily stuck in the CD player on repeat. It made me think of the classic tree falling in the woods paradox - that is, if someone says a swear word but no one understands it, is it still a swear word?

XLIII

After last week, I have come to the conclusion that the Super Bowl is best consumed while on American soil. Not that I have much to complain about, mind you. My team won its NFL record 6th Super Bowl, and the game was incredible, but...

For one thing - I had to watch the game at 7 am on Monday morning. Since it was a work day, I had to take a personal day from work, which kind of stinks, but I couldn't miss THIS game. Also, since the bar I was at had an international feed, they didn't show the commercials. I was kind of bummed, sometimes they are better than the game. 

The place I watched the game was a large sports bar in Shanghai, one of several such Western style bars that cater to foreigners like myself. There were quite a few people watching the game, I assumed they were all missing work like me. I met and/or counted about 20 Steelers fans and 3 Cardinals fans, so I felt like I was watching it at a bar in Pittsburgh. I even had the chance to teach a small Chinese boy that was there with his father how to wave a Terrible Towel. 

I have to say that hearing the American national anthem sung , while in a foreign country, was a special experience for me. Its something that I took for granted living in America for 31 years, but hearing that song caused patriotic emotion to come bubbling up that I haven't felt in quite a while.

By the way, the Chinese refer to football as mei shi gan lan qiu, which translates to "American style olive shaped ball". Ha! Doesn't quite have the same ring, does it?

Mmmm...Sounds Tasty

There is a local restaurant near my house that is known as one of the nicest restaurants in my section of Shanghai. It has a great decor, tasty food and even has a full color menu. I've eaten there several times, and am impressed by its overall quality. Restaurants of this pedigree in China will often have their menus translated into English, which shows that Westerners are expected to eat there, providing more proof of the quality of the restaurant. Well - judge for yourself if they've done a good job on the translations of their food...

1) Wonderful Gentleman Smoke Smokes Duck the Dried Meat meat     

2) Pulls out the freshwater mussel to puncture the body likely

 

3) Daily family activity yellow cooks in a covered vessel the fries eel                             

4) Sheet iron rabbit meat string

5) Loving mother fragrant crisp stomach  

6) One hangs the roast chicken

The Wedding

Two weeks ago I was invited to attend a Chinese wedding by one of my Chinese coworkers. I was excited for the chance to see an eastern wedding and happily accepted the invitation. The wedding was yesterday and will no doubt be one of the most memorable experiences of my life. Where to begin? My friend, Caroline, who was visiting Shanghai for a few days, and I headed to the wedding very early in the morning and were greeted at the train station by Holly, my Chinese coworker, and her 92 old grandmother. Her grandmother had raised Holly from the age of 4 months old. Holly's father, an intellectual during the time of the cultural revolution, was sent to prison around the time Holly was born, and so Holly moved to Shanghai to live with her grandmother. Holly's grandmother, who adopted Holly when she herself was 60 years old, had lost her husband when she was 21 years old. He was shot by Japanese soldiers while working in a rice field. By Chinese custom during that time, she was not allowed to remarry. So from the age of 21 she has lived alone, yet maintains one of the most joyful and hopeful outlooks of anyone I've ever met. Holly is so devoted to her that she has moved in with her grandmother to help her with tasks and to keep her company. This familial devotion is common in China - and made me question what I will do when my own parents need aid in their day to day lives. 

The wedding was taking place in a small town two hours north of Shanghai. Its name is Changzhou. When arriving in Changzhou, we were escorted to the bride and groom's apartment, which was purchased by the bride's family, and waited to see the bride and groom as they arrived pre-wedding. Once the bridal car pulled into the apartment complex, it was serenaded by a loud and smoky fireworks show.

Once the soon to be bride and groom made their way up the stairs into the apartment, a social mixer of sorts broke out. Members of both families were there and drinks and food were offered to us by almost everyone there. It soon became clear that we were more than just your average guests, that it was a big deal for us to be there. This fact didn't completely dawn on me until we were ushered into the couple's bedroom and told to sit on their wedding bed to take photos with them. It sure felt odd to me, I think I managed to mask my discomfort pretty well in the pictures, but both Caroline and I felt very strange. After the mixer at the couple's house, we where whisked away in a car to the location of the actual wedding. This was to be held in the nicest hotel in all of Changzhou, as the bride's family was wealthy and could afford the best for their daughter. The wedding was surprisingly western...except for one difference. Since most Chinese are non-Christians, pastors are not necessary for the ceremony. The person performing the wedding duties was a beautiful young Chinese girl in a dazzling evening gown. This made it feel more like a game show than a wedding. Once the ceremonies were over, the groom had to CARRY the bride around to every table in the room. By the end, he was red faced and out of breath, and I can't say I blame him. 

Caroline and I sat at a table with Holly, her grandmother and several uncles and aunts. As the dinner wore on, being the only foreigners, we increasingly became the center of attention. Soon, men were coming over to me and offering, more like challenging, me to drink shots with them. I obliged out of a need not to upset any social morays, and soon was downing shot after shot, initiated by the salute, "Gan Bei", a Chinese version of "Cheers" except you must drink to the bottom of the glass. 

Dizzy after finishing these drinks, we left the hotel and headed to a tomb of sorts for Holly's family. It was a building that housed the records of Holly's family dating back over 300 years, longer the the United States has existed. The family payed their respects to their ancestors with incense and bows, and we left to head to a post wedding feast. Midway through the feast, we were interrupted by a large explosion. Out on the street in front of the house, a ceremonial fireworks show had started to usher in good luck or scare away evil spirits. I know one thing, I can't speak for the evil spirits, but I was pretty frightened!

Midnight

Major holidays are usually ushered in by some major event. Thanksgiving has the Macy's parade, New Year's has the dropping of the ball and so on. What I witnessed on Monday night, the first night of the Chinese New Year was one of the most stunning events I have seen during my 32+ years on this Earth. When the Chinese usher in a New Year, they USHER...

Once the Chinese have purchased their fireworks, they are not afraid to use them. Around 7 pm on Sunday night, I began to hear booms reverberating across the suburb where I live. As it got closer to midnight, the frequency and intensity of the explosions got greater and greater... I can only imagine this is what it sounds like in a war zone. 

Now think about this...China doesn't have times zones, so it was midnight across China at the exact time...so this event was replayed across the country in countless villages, towns and cities. Can you imagine being an airplane and flying across China around this time?

These were fireworks being let off BETWEEN the buildings of the high rise complex where I live! Can you imagine this happening in America??

The Year of the Cow - Part 2

This Sunday I had the opportunity to spend time with my Chinese friends on the day before the Chinese New Year. I was invited to eat lunch with my friend Maggie, and her boyfriend at his grandparents house. Chinese New Year is all about family getting together and enjoying the company, and I was told it was a big honor to have a laowai(general name that Chinese call Westerners) spending time with their family. Upon arriving at the grandparents house, I was first surprised how simple the living conditions were. The house was concrete, with several large rooms, and few windows. My first thought was that it must be extremely cold in that house. Upon my arrival I was greeted with smiles and handshakes by all the family. I was offered a cigarette by Maggie's boyfriend's father, which I smoked with him. Its considered a loss of face, and therefore a social faux pas, to turn down the offer of a gift, such as a cigarette, from someone in China. I have smoked about 6 cigarettes in the past few months, as it is a common practice for a Chinese male to offer one to someone upon meeting them. During the dinner, which included traditional Chinese food such as pig face and chicken feet, everyone was interested in observing how I reacted to their food. I gamely smiled as I chomped on the bony chicken foot and the spongelike pig face, and my hosts (I sat between Maggie and her boyfriend, who I called Jeff) continued to heap food upon my plate. After dinner, I had a chance to give a hongbao(red envelope with money inside) to Maggie's (shy) niece. 

 

Later in the day, I went to my friend Vicki's house for a New Year's Eve dinner. The juxtaposition of the two families and their living conditions were somewhat startling. Vicki and her husband are members of the rapidly expanding Chinese middle class. They live in a very nice apartment, with a large TV(a source of pride) and enjoy many Western amenities. At the dinner, I had turtle for the first time, a delicacy that was especially prepared for the New Year's dinner. Vicki and her husband have a young son, who is one of the cutest babies I've ever met.

The Year of the Cow - Part 1

So its time to say goodbye to the rat...as in the year of the Rat. On January 26th, the New Year begins in China - and so begins the year of the Ox(Cow). Today(Friday) the air was ripe with a palpable sense of excitement, as most of the Chinese natives that I work with are planning on going back to their hometowns and their families. This time of the year is called the Spring festival, and is considered the most important holiday in China - similar to Christmas in America. I will have a chance to observe several traditions up close over the next couple of days as I will be spending some time with my Chinese friends. 

There are lanterns everywhere - an ubiquitous symbol of the impending holiday, and Gongxi Facai(Good luck and be prosperous) is heard quite often. Also common are the hongbao(red envelopes)that usually contain money(only even numbered amounts, odd numbered amounts are for funerals) and are given from an older to a younger person. 888 is a typical amount given - as the number eight is particularly lucky.