再见
share on:facebook
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Welp, See Ya Later
It's the last day of my ten weeks in Beijing and my gut tells me I should be hard at work on some kind of wrap up post. Maybe I'll feel more inclined to reflect later, but for now this pretty much sums it up.
share on:facebook
share on:facebook
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Like Clockwork
One week to the day and the street vendors are back -- as if it never happened.
As I suspected, it turns out United States National Security Advisor Tom Donilon was here chatting up near-future Chinese President Xi Jinping. Sounds like they agreed to keep agreeing on a bunch of agreed upon things for as long as agreement continues to be agreeable, or until -- god forbid -- poor Chinese people start trying to make a living by selling cheap food from carts on the sidewalk. With respect to the meetings, the article says "further details were not released," but those carts better have been the freaking centerpiece of discussion because we the people of Xing Fu San Cun bus stop were about ready to -- ahem -- form a more perfect union by the end of last week, if you know what I mean.
Yes, that's a US Constitution joke, and yes, it's also a complete exaggeration. I still think I'm the only person who noticed or cared that any of this was going on. As if to underscore the point, when I asked my friend at the mi zhou cart about his absence last week, he replied, "Jingcha... bu yong shuo," which literally means, "Police... no use to say/to speak." The phrase bu yong is commonly used to mean "no need," as in bu yong xie, "no need to thank," or more plainly "you're welcome/no problem." So as far as I can tell, this man's attitude toward the police cutting into his livelihood for a week was not indignant in the slightest, but rather apathetic. It seemed he was more pestered by the prospect of having to explain his situation to me than he was fearful of the repercussions of speaking. Anyway there's probably a really compelling political conversation to be had there, but personally I'm just glad he's back, and I told him as much today.
再见
share on:facebook
As I suspected, it turns out United States National Security Advisor Tom Donilon was here chatting up near-future Chinese President Xi Jinping. Sounds like they agreed to keep agreeing on a bunch of agreed upon things for as long as agreement continues to be agreeable, or until -- god forbid -- poor Chinese people start trying to make a living by selling cheap food from carts on the sidewalk. With respect to the meetings, the article says "further details were not released," but those carts better have been the freaking centerpiece of discussion because we the people of Xing Fu San Cun bus stop were about ready to -- ahem -- form a more perfect union by the end of last week, if you know what I mean.
Yes, that's a US Constitution joke, and yes, it's also a complete exaggeration. I still think I'm the only person who noticed or cared that any of this was going on. As if to underscore the point, when I asked my friend at the mi zhou cart about his absence last week, he replied, "Jingcha... bu yong shuo," which literally means, "Police... no use to say/to speak." The phrase bu yong is commonly used to mean "no need," as in bu yong xie, "no need to thank," or more plainly "you're welcome/no problem." So as far as I can tell, this man's attitude toward the police cutting into his livelihood for a week was not indignant in the slightest, but rather apathetic. It seemed he was more pestered by the prospect of having to explain his situation to me than he was fearful of the repercussions of speaking. Anyway there's probably a really compelling political conversation to be had there, but personally I'm just glad he's back, and I told him as much today.
再见
share on:facebook
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Disappearing Street Vendors
Yesterday, the cart that normally sells mi zhou (breakfast rice porridge) to commuters waiting for the morning bus didn't show up. At first I thought it must have been a fluke, like a holiday I didn't know about or custom I didn't understand or something. But then today it didn't show up either. And that's when I realized it wasn't the only one missing. All along my walk to work the street vendors were missing -- the jian bing guy outside my apartment, the couple near my office that sells eggs and some kind of ham thing I would never buy, the woman who usually doesn't have dou jiang but accosts me whenever she does because I bothered her about it every day for a week when I first got here -- all gone for two days in a row and I felt like I was the only person who noticed. I debated asking someone about it for awhile before deciding I probably wouldn't understand the answer in Chinese, but it didn't make much sense in English either.
Apparently none of the carts are legal, so the government can decide to get rid of them at any time. They usually don't do this since people love breakfast and cart owners love money, but when gearing up for an important diplomatic visit or similar event, any potential eyesore could find itself on the chopping block. The city sees street vendors as relics of an undeveloped economy, and ultimately seeks to push all consumption into modern department stores and supermarkets, which explains why the once open-air Silk Market was leveled and consolidated into a single, multi-floor, air-conditioned quasi-mall in 2005.
The disconnect is that no one wins here. In taking informal vendors off the streets, Beijing loses a host of morning food options, a profitable job market for entrepreneurs who can't afford permanent storefronts, and -- above all else -- a little piece of its character. Having been shocked by a number of things one finds on the city sidewalk, it strikes me as odd that food carts would be the focus of any municipal clean-up effort. Where are the campaigns against public spitting? Or littering? Or letting your dog (and sometimes even young child) defecate on the pavement between passing pedestrians? I just don't understand.
All is not lost, however. My Chinese colleague assures me the vendors will be back tomorrow. At this point I'm not sure if that makes me happy or just more frustrated.
再见
share on:facebook
Apparently none of the carts are legal, so the government can decide to get rid of them at any time. They usually don't do this since people love breakfast and cart owners love money, but when gearing up for an important diplomatic visit or similar event, any potential eyesore could find itself on the chopping block. The city sees street vendors as relics of an undeveloped economy, and ultimately seeks to push all consumption into modern department stores and supermarkets, which explains why the once open-air Silk Market was leveled and consolidated into a single, multi-floor, air-conditioned quasi-mall in 2005.
The disconnect is that no one wins here. In taking informal vendors off the streets, Beijing loses a host of morning food options, a profitable job market for entrepreneurs who can't afford permanent storefronts, and -- above all else -- a little piece of its character. Having been shocked by a number of things one finds on the city sidewalk, it strikes me as odd that food carts would be the focus of any municipal clean-up effort. Where are the campaigns against public spitting? Or littering? Or letting your dog (and sometimes even young child) defecate on the pavement between passing pedestrians? I just don't understand.
All is not lost, however. My Chinese colleague assures me the vendors will be back tomorrow. At this point I'm not sure if that makes me happy or just more frustrated.
再见
share on:facebook
Monday, July 23, 2012
Adult Playgounds
You've got to be kidding me...
In keeping with a recent trend of outlandish attempts to curb obesity, the New York City government has announced the installation of several "adult playgrounds" (sounds dirty) in select public spaces across the five boroughs -- sets of no-frills municipal gym equipment intended to promote exercise. The article shamelessly admits the idea for these parks was inspired in part by a 2002 trip to Beijing, where parks like these are commonplace. I find this hilarious, because these playgrounds are a regular subject of foreigner derision -- the kind of what-the-heck-China? talking point you can always bring up at a party when conversation runs dry.
Why, you ask? First of all, the machinery at these playgrounds is an embarrassment to scientific knowledge of the human body, seemingly conceived with total disregard for the concept of ergonomic design. Using them probably does more harm than good -- or at least it certainly feels that way. One machine, which looks like a low-budget version of Tony Little's Gazelle Edge (of infomercial infamy), pushes up uncomfortably on the knees as the legs swing past the lowest point in their arc. Similar problems are encountered on the no-resistance cycling machine. It's hard to believe the exercise one gets from these is healthy or effective. My faith in American ingenuity tells me to believe that whatever they build in New York will be superior, but I still find humor in the fact that these machines were the primary inspiration for the idea.
The second baffling aspect of the NYC initiative is that anyone believes the motions one performs on these machines can even remotely be defined as exercise. Most of the people who hang out at Beijing's adult playgrounds are retirees -- a group of people who think slapping their thighs or swinging their arms while walking constitute a workout. The machines that don't hurt to use are entirely worthless. One consists of a giant vertical steering wheel with a rotating knob that you're supposed to hold with both hands as you spin in circles. I guess it stretches out the arms... My favorite one to watch asks you to hold on to a stationary handrail as you wiggle from side-to-side on a small pivoting disk.
Again, I don't expect the New York parks to imitate these machines exactly. I'm sure for some the idea of just having a simple pull-up bar to use is enough motivation to break an otherwise sedentary cycle. And for what it's worth, the Beijing parks do succeed in making exercise (however broadly defined) into a social experience. So I'm not entirely bashing the idea. I just can't believe Beijing's laughable excuses for outdoor gyms were the inspiration.
再见
share on:facebook
In keeping with a recent trend of outlandish attempts to curb obesity, the New York City government has announced the installation of several "adult playgrounds" (sounds dirty) in select public spaces across the five boroughs -- sets of no-frills municipal gym equipment intended to promote exercise. The article shamelessly admits the idea for these parks was inspired in part by a 2002 trip to Beijing, where parks like these are commonplace. I find this hilarious, because these playgrounds are a regular subject of foreigner derision -- the kind of what-the-heck-China? talking point you can always bring up at a party when conversation runs dry.
Why, you ask? First of all, the machinery at these playgrounds is an embarrassment to scientific knowledge of the human body, seemingly conceived with total disregard for the concept of ergonomic design. Using them probably does more harm than good -- or at least it certainly feels that way. One machine, which looks like a low-budget version of Tony Little's Gazelle Edge (of infomercial infamy), pushes up uncomfortably on the knees as the legs swing past the lowest point in their arc. Similar problems are encountered on the no-resistance cycling machine. It's hard to believe the exercise one gets from these is healthy or effective. My faith in American ingenuity tells me to believe that whatever they build in New York will be superior, but I still find humor in the fact that these machines were the primary inspiration for the idea.
The second baffling aspect of the NYC initiative is that anyone believes the motions one performs on these machines can even remotely be defined as exercise. Most of the people who hang out at Beijing's adult playgrounds are retirees -- a group of people who think slapping their thighs or swinging their arms while walking constitute a workout. The machines that don't hurt to use are entirely worthless. One consists of a giant vertical steering wheel with a rotating knob that you're supposed to hold with both hands as you spin in circles. I guess it stretches out the arms... My favorite one to watch asks you to hold on to a stationary handrail as you wiggle from side-to-side on a small pivoting disk.
Again, I don't expect the New York parks to imitate these machines exactly. I'm sure for some the idea of just having a simple pull-up bar to use is enough motivation to break an otherwise sedentary cycle. And for what it's worth, the Beijing parks do succeed in making exercise (however broadly defined) into a social experience. So I'm not entirely bashing the idea. I just can't believe Beijing's laughable excuses for outdoor gyms were the inspiration.
再见
share on:facebook
Jiankou
This weekend, a friend and I decided to make the trek out to Jiankou, one of the "wild" sections of the Great Wall famous for its scenic beauty and perilous inclines. To get there from Beijing, we got on express bus no. 916 from the Dongzhimen terminal to Huairou Nandajie, where we hired a driver to take us up through the mountains to Xizhazi Village. Xizhazi lies at the base of the Great Wall approach trail, in a narrow valley hidden in the shadow of some of the steepest mountains I've ever seen. The trip up should have been breathtaking scene after breathtaking scene. Unfortunately, it was pouring.
By the time we arrived at Xizhazi, which took about three hours in total, we were dead-set on hiking no matter what. Jiankou is far enough away that we weren't going to let anything stand between us and the wall once we got there. We took advantage of the long car ride to convince each other that neither of us would mind winding up completely wet by the end of the day. In retrospect, this was probably a great idea, because when we returned to our hostel later in the evening we were soaked to the bone.
Luckily, the staff at Zhao Shi Shan Zhuang were incredibly hospitable. Actually, "staff" is probably the wrong word. The hostel is essentially a farmer's house, which he runs with his wife (and possibly help from one other couple, although it was really difficult to figure out who was a guest there and who was just a local neighbor helping out). Lao Zhao's, as it is also called, is particularly popular among Jiankou photographers -- so popular, in fact, that all the rooms are decorated with Great Wall photos taken by guests. On a clear day, its front porch offers a panoramic view of the wall as it winds its way along the mountainous peaks. Mrs. Zhao -- an extremely kind and patient woman who keeps the hostel running on a day-to-day basis -- fed us, answered all of our questions, made us ponchos out of trash bags, and even drove us back down to the bus stop in the morning when the usual shuttle never came. I would highly recommend this place to anyone. Here are a couple good pictures I took in the morning when the skies cleared:
The approach trail was a steep, overgrown dirt path that took an hour to summit at a moderate pace. The tree cover was dense, which offered a reprieve in the pouring rain but also made it impossible to see how far we'd come or how far we'd yet to go before actually reaching the wall. Toward the end, we were so concentrated on the monotonous thump of our increasingly heavy shoes in the mud that we might have walked right into it if it weren't for a well-timed and much needed water break. And there it was, towering some 25 feet above us as we stood at the top of the ridge. It took a few more minutes to find a way up. At last, the hard part was over.
Well, sort of. When they say a section of the wall is "wild," they really mean in hasn't been touched in hundreds of years. So instead of a paved path along the top like you'd find at Mutianyu or Badaling, there's just dirt and trees. And instead of stairs at the inclines, there are just crumbling stones that you have to climb up on all fours. Parts of the wall have collapsed or are otherwise un-walkable. These require you to climb down and walk around via trails at the base. The fog made it difficult to see the surrounding mountains and pieces of the wall, but we did randomly happen upon one really cool tower before turning around and trying the other way. Again, the rain complicated everything. It took another hour-and-a-half to climb down, and we were so tired by the time we got back to Lao Zhao's that we went right to bed. Of course the next day, it was as clear and beautiful as ever. This was frustrating, but we did manage to get some good pictures before heading home.
All in all, Jiankou was a great adventure. I would totally do it again, if only to stay at Lao Zhao's for one more night and to see the parts of the wall the rain stole from me. As an aside, I just want to say that reading blog posts about similar trips was crucial in planning to make this happen. But even with the wealth of personal accounts available on the web, getting there and back was tough, even with half-way decent Mandarin. That said, if you are reading this because you've stumbled upon it in a Google search for Jiankou, please leave a comment and I'll do what I can to help you figure out the best way to get there. Hiking the Great Wall is a great experience, and perhaps the most memorable tourist trap Beijing has to offer.
再见
share on:facebook
By the time we arrived at Xizhazi, which took about three hours in total, we were dead-set on hiking no matter what. Jiankou is far enough away that we weren't going to let anything stand between us and the wall once we got there. We took advantage of the long car ride to convince each other that neither of us would mind winding up completely wet by the end of the day. In retrospect, this was probably a great idea, because when we returned to our hostel later in the evening we were soaked to the bone.
Luckily, the staff at Zhao Shi Shan Zhuang were incredibly hospitable. Actually, "staff" is probably the wrong word. The hostel is essentially a farmer's house, which he runs with his wife (and possibly help from one other couple, although it was really difficult to figure out who was a guest there and who was just a local neighbor helping out). Lao Zhao's, as it is also called, is particularly popular among Jiankou photographers -- so popular, in fact, that all the rooms are decorated with Great Wall photos taken by guests. On a clear day, its front porch offers a panoramic view of the wall as it winds its way along the mountainous peaks. Mrs. Zhao -- an extremely kind and patient woman who keeps the hostel running on a day-to-day basis -- fed us, answered all of our questions, made us ponchos out of trash bags, and even drove us back down to the bus stop in the morning when the usual shuttle never came. I would highly recommend this place to anyone. Here are a couple good pictures I took in the morning when the skies cleared:
View from Zhao Shi Shan Zhuang. You can just make out the wall in the distance along the ridge.
Another view of the wall from Lao Zhao's.
The approach trail was a steep, overgrown dirt path that took an hour to summit at a moderate pace. The tree cover was dense, which offered a reprieve in the pouring rain but also made it impossible to see how far we'd come or how far we'd yet to go before actually reaching the wall. Toward the end, we were so concentrated on the monotonous thump of our increasingly heavy shoes in the mud that we might have walked right into it if it weren't for a well-timed and much needed water break. And there it was, towering some 25 feet above us as we stood at the top of the ridge. It took a few more minutes to find a way up. At last, the hard part was over.
Walk long enough and you literally bump into it.
Well, sort of. When they say a section of the wall is "wild," they really mean in hasn't been touched in hundreds of years. So instead of a paved path along the top like you'd find at Mutianyu or Badaling, there's just dirt and trees. And instead of stairs at the inclines, there are just crumbling stones that you have to climb up on all fours. Parts of the wall have collapsed or are otherwise un-walkable. These require you to climb down and walk around via trails at the base. The fog made it difficult to see the surrounding mountains and pieces of the wall, but we did randomly happen upon one really cool tower before turning around and trying the other way. Again, the rain complicated everything. It took another hour-and-a-half to climb down, and we were so tired by the time we got back to Lao Zhao's that we went right to bed. Of course the next day, it was as clear and beautiful as ever. This was frustrating, but we did manage to get some good pictures before heading home.
"Stairs."
Tower interior.
Sunrise over Xizhazi Village.
All in all, Jiankou was a great adventure. I would totally do it again, if only to stay at Lao Zhao's for one more night and to see the parts of the wall the rain stole from me. As an aside, I just want to say that reading blog posts about similar trips was crucial in planning to make this happen. But even with the wealth of personal accounts available on the web, getting there and back was tough, even with half-way decent Mandarin. That said, if you are reading this because you've stumbled upon it in a Google search for Jiankou, please leave a comment and I'll do what I can to help you figure out the best way to get there. Hiking the Great Wall is a great experience, and perhaps the most memorable tourist trap Beijing has to offer.
再见
share on:facebook
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Drum and Bell Towers
It finally stopped raining today. Of course, to look outside you'd never know it from a count of all the umbrellas people are still carrying. In China, tan skin is associated with farming and other low class professions, so on sunny days many women carry decorative parasols -- an odd custom, but not much different from 18th century America or Great Britain. Even today, many consider an overdone fake tan trashy.
share on:facebook
Anyway the only reason I bring it up the parasols is because I had to squeeze by hundreds of them on my walk to the Drum and Bell Towers, which I found exceedingly frustrating. I really didn't want to go to any more touristy places this time around, but because I keep ending up in the area for one reason or another (which is literally called Drum Hall), I figured I might as well see what all the fuss is about.
The museum aspect of the towers is disappointing. There is almost nothing you can't learn about these places from Wikipedia. In fact I probably could have stayed home and written a completely convincing yet utterly fake account of my trip. On the other hand, the buildings themselves are really cool to experience first hand. For 30 kuai, you can purchase a ticket to climb up the steep stairs (why did it take humanity so long to invent the staircase with reasonable grade?) to the top of each tower for a panoramic view of the city. On a clear day like today, this alone is probably worth it. The other bonus is that there is a live drum show every hour at the Drum Tower, which I happened to arrive just in time for, a short but awesome demonstration of the power of large-scale low frequency percussion.
The museum aspect of the towers is disappointing. There is almost nothing you can't learn about these places from Wikipedia. In fact I probably could have stayed home and written a completely convincing yet utterly fake account of my trip. On the other hand, the buildings themselves are really cool to experience first hand. For 30 kuai, you can purchase a ticket to climb up the steep stairs (why did it take humanity so long to invent the staircase with reasonable grade?) to the top of each tower for a panoramic view of the city. On a clear day like today, this alone is probably worth it. The other bonus is that there is a live drum show every hour at the Drum Tower, which I happened to arrive just in time for, a short but awesome demonstration of the power of large-scale low frequency percussion.
The towers face each other across a long and narrow plaza. Standing directly in between the two, one develops a sincere appreciation for the timekeeping function these buildings once served. According to one of the plaques at the top of the Bell Tower, these things used to go off five times throughout the night to indicate the hour. A series of bells at 7:00pm announced the closure of the city gate, followed by another at 9:00, 11:00, 1:00, and 3:00. Knowing the time is important to me, and if I didn't have a watch or a cell phone I suppose I'd be okay with a similar system, but after 11:00 I think I'd rather sleep than know exactly how long it's been since the last cacophony that jolted me awake. I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm glad they're no longer in use.
So now I've officially officially seen all the historical tourist sites in Beijing. Phew, please no more.
再见
So now I've officially officially seen all the historical tourist sites in Beijing. Phew, please no more.
再见
share on:facebook
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
A Dearth of Posts and Sky
It's been a long, busy, smoggy week, and I've been relatively uninspired. It's possible that my view from the tenth floor makes the gray look bleaker than it really is, but knowing that doesn't dull the effect much. Not seeing the sun or the sky for a while really is depressing. We've also had some crazy torrential downpours over the past few days, complete with crackling thunder and lightning arcs you can see for miles, but nothing seems to take the haze away. I guess I lucked out the first three weeks on the weather front. Yeah puns!
On Saturday it started pouring while I was on the subway, so that when I finally got off I was caught totally unprepared in the wildest deluge I've ever seen. Because Beijing is totally flat, everything floods when it rains. Sure there are sewers, but even they have limitations, and I suspect the roads aren't all angled for maximum effect. Needless to say, there were huge puddles everywhere. To make matters worse, I happened to be crossing under a bridge, where the rainwater is funneled down through a long PVC pipe before blasting out onto unsuspecting passersby.
I've always very much enjoyed summer thunderstorms. I like watching the dark clouds roll in and feeling the wind pick up as they come. There's something about that ominous display of Mother Nature's power that connects you to the Earth. Here there is no wind, and there is no watching. It's gray, then it pours, then it's gray again, and all the while you wonder if the rain is cleansing the city or making it dirtier.
I think about this a lot, because the story of the weather in Beijing is the story of a powerful government's attempts to solve some monumental issues in a controversial way. Cloud seeding is a $100 million dollar a year industry in China, and the government is only planning to increase spending throughout the next decade. Why do they do it? A lot of reasons. Sometimes it's to clean pollution out of the air. Other times, it's to combat months of drought. Occasionally, they overdo it, and damages from excess snow cost $650 million to repair. I'm honestly not sure whether cloud seeding is good or bad for the environment, but there are clearly a lot of differing opinions on the matter. If nothing else, it's certainly proof that the Chinese government has never heard the phrase, "Pick your battles." And so, when it's smoggy for days on end here and then we have more rain than the sewer system can support, I have to wonder...
再见
share on:facebook
On Saturday it started pouring while I was on the subway, so that when I finally got off I was caught totally unprepared in the wildest deluge I've ever seen. Because Beijing is totally flat, everything floods when it rains. Sure there are sewers, but even they have limitations, and I suspect the roads aren't all angled for maximum effect. Needless to say, there were huge puddles everywhere. To make matters worse, I happened to be crossing under a bridge, where the rainwater is funneled down through a long PVC pipe before blasting out onto unsuspecting passersby.
I've always very much enjoyed summer thunderstorms. I like watching the dark clouds roll in and feeling the wind pick up as they come. There's something about that ominous display of Mother Nature's power that connects you to the Earth. Here there is no wind, and there is no watching. It's gray, then it pours, then it's gray again, and all the while you wonder if the rain is cleansing the city or making it dirtier.
I think about this a lot, because the story of the weather in Beijing is the story of a powerful government's attempts to solve some monumental issues in a controversial way. Cloud seeding is a $100 million dollar a year industry in China, and the government is only planning to increase spending throughout the next decade. Why do they do it? A lot of reasons. Sometimes it's to clean pollution out of the air. Other times, it's to combat months of drought. Occasionally, they overdo it, and damages from excess snow cost $650 million to repair. I'm honestly not sure whether cloud seeding is good or bad for the environment, but there are clearly a lot of differing opinions on the matter. If nothing else, it's certainly proof that the Chinese government has never heard the phrase, "Pick your battles." And so, when it's smoggy for days on end here and then we have more rain than the sewer system can support, I have to wonder...
再见
share on:facebook
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Hedgehog
Hedgehog is probably China's most famous punk rock band. Since they got their start in 2005, they've recorded seven albums (mostly in English), toured the US, and been hailed as one of "The Beijing Bands You Should Already Know About" by City Weekend, so I guess I should already have known about them.
.JPG)
But I didn't, and in fact it wasn't until minutes before I left for their latest album release party -- at the recommendation of some friends -- that I even bothered to look them up. Luckily, they were awesome. I'm always more likely to enjoy a good band if I hear them live first, but these guys just really understood performance: the set was well tuned to the crowd, there was an appropriately earned stage dive by the guitarist, and the lulls between songs were filled with carefully orchestrated interludes, not to mention the fact that their drummer -- a tiny Chinese girl -- was incredibly active and exciting to watch.
More importantly, Beijing has an indie rock scene! Sure it's 20-30 years behind the times (the Chinese invented rock in the 80s and punk in the… well now I guess), but the pieces are all there -- the high-energy, head-banging, fight-the-system spirit is alive and well in the city's underground music venues. One of the opening bands (both were pretty terrible) actually played a song called "Big Brother is Watching You," which I thought was going to be a heavy-handed, anti-government, political piece when they announced it, only to find that the entire refrain was delivered with a winky sort of vibe that had "but we don't actually believe that" written all over it. Then again, maybe that's part of the game…
In any case, it was fun to be able to get out and experience some modern culture. Now that I've seen pretty much every ancient historical relic Beijing has to offer, I'm really looking to see and do more of what Chinese people my age actually do. Live music is something I'd been wanting to check out for a while, but it's really hard to figure out which bands are going to rock and which bands are going to be duds because a lot of them don't exist in the typical music-sharing locales like Myspace and Spotify. But if a group as well known as Hedgehog can't even attract two decent openers, the odds of picking a winner on another random night at Yugongyishan probably aren't great. Hopefully my friends and I will catch wind of another biggish name playing there before the summer's out.
再见
share on:facebook
Friday, June 15, 2012
Old Guy on a Little Bike
Saw this guy:
.JPG)
on my walk home. I had to walk kind of awkwardly fast to catch up with him, but it wasn't that bad because he was going so slow. I also don't think he noticed because he was very clearly too busy loving life. Stuff like this makes me smile.
Optionally, enjoy the title of this post to the tune of this Chris Farley classic.
再见
share on:facebook
.JPG)
Optionally, enjoy the title of this post to the tune of this Chris Farley classic.
再见
share on:facebook
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Hutong
Tuesday evening I was invited to a send-off dinner for an HBA friend and five or six others at a hutong in Gulou. Since my circa 1999 Chinese Nokia cellphone doesn't have internet (and only barely has texting), I scribbled down the directions manually and queued up a rough image of the journey on my Ipod before leaving the safety bubble of my apartment's wireless router and hopping onto a city bus in rush hour traffic. In my haste, I neglected to anticipate the beauty of the place I was headed.
The hutong is an intimate space -- especially at sunset. Its narrow alleyways hum to the tune of bustling commuters on electric bikes, navigating labyrinthes of earth-tone walls just high enough to define boundaries without hogging attention from the occasional willow tree. Rows of shops, restaurants, and fruit stands empty onto open squares full of picnic tables and hanging lanterns. Old men in sweaty wife-beaters play cards over dinners of beer and cigarettes. Children play in the streets. Somewhere there is music. The neighborhood feels alive.
Say what you want about living in Beijing -- they've completely nailed the concept of community. Hutongs like Gulou were grown organically by the placement of one siheyuan (courtyard house) next to another, a building scheme that has prioritized interconnectedness. The atmosphere in a hutong is rich with tradition and timelessness, at odds with what Beijing is rapidly becoming. In comparison, the touristy international district where I live feels sterile and effete. If my apartment weren't already paid for and within walking distance of my office, I would absolutely find a way to live in Gulou.
The home itself was incredible. Many of the old houses in Gulou have undergone careful renovations to bring them into the modern era while retaining crucial elements of their original architecture. This one had its courtyard capped with a glass skylight and converted into an open living room, which made for an elegant dining locale. Our meal was delicious, and the mini-HBA reunion much appreciated. All in all, a great night that will become an even greater memory.
再见
share on:facebook
The hutong is an intimate space -- especially at sunset. Its narrow alleyways hum to the tune of bustling commuters on electric bikes, navigating labyrinthes of earth-tone walls just high enough to define boundaries without hogging attention from the occasional willow tree. Rows of shops, restaurants, and fruit stands empty onto open squares full of picnic tables and hanging lanterns. Old men in sweaty wife-beaters play cards over dinners of beer and cigarettes. Children play in the streets. Somewhere there is music. The neighborhood feels alive.
Say what you want about living in Beijing -- they've completely nailed the concept of community. Hutongs like Gulou were grown organically by the placement of one siheyuan (courtyard house) next to another, a building scheme that has prioritized interconnectedness. The atmosphere in a hutong is rich with tradition and timelessness, at odds with what Beijing is rapidly becoming. In comparison, the touristy international district where I live feels sterile and effete. If my apartment weren't already paid for and within walking distance of my office, I would absolutely find a way to live in Gulou.
The home itself was incredible. Many of the old houses in Gulou have undergone careful renovations to bring them into the modern era while retaining crucial elements of their original architecture. This one had its courtyard capped with a glass skylight and converted into an open living room, which made for an elegant dining locale. Our meal was delicious, and the mini-HBA reunion much appreciated. All in all, a great night that will become an even greater memory.
再见
share on:facebook
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Unrecycling
Botched English translations are one of my top five favorite things about China. Having a working knowledge of the language only makes them funnier. Here's a great one I had heard about, but finally saw in person today:
To be fair, public signage is probably one of the toughest things to translate. Chinese has a whole sub-vocabulary of highly formal, concatenated expressions for exactly these kinds of applications, so it's not surprising that there are so many mishaps. But this one's not even that bad. Other highlights so far include:
share on:facebook
To be fair, public signage is probably one of the toughest things to translate. Chinese has a whole sub-vocabulary of highly formal, concatenated expressions for exactly these kinds of applications, so it's not surprising that there are so many mishaps. But this one's not even that bad. Other highlights so far include:
- A girl with a hot pink windbreaker that has "TONICHT" printed in black across the shoulders.
- A two-year-old boy with a t-shirt that says, "Violators will be shot. Survivors."
- And a waiter with a t-shirt that reads, "Car park permit holders only. Eccess charce SSO," which I can only imagine is a serious misreading of "$50."
Then there are these really simple shirts -- which I think could be really popular in the US, by the way -- that just have a bunch of random English words printed on the front, left-justified. I wrote about my favorite one, "Passion Because South Africa People Style," last time I was here, but I must have seen eight or nine different ones just this week that I keep forgetting to write down.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not claiming I could do any better in Mandarin, and I'm sure Chinese people have just as much fun with our t-shirts that to them just say, "bravery" or "enlightenment," but a solid Chinglish line is always good for a laugh, and really quite comforting when you start to feel like the language is impossible to learn.
再见
再见
share on:facebook
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Pollutics
After a huge thunderstorm last night, the Beijing skies are bright and clear this morning for the first time since I've been here. A quick look at the US Embassy's hourly air quality report (Twitter: @BeijingAir) reveals that this is actually the safest the air has been in weeks, and I'm probably taking on quite a bit of risk by running outside here. The Beijing air quality is regularly so poisonous, in fact, that the Chinese government has asked the embassy to stop reporting it, claiming the US is meddling in Chinese internal affairs and is therefore in violation of the Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations. Okay China. Read more about it here.
share on:facebook
Beijing skyline viewed from my window yesterday morning. EPA rating: Very Unhealthy.
.JPG)
Same view, same time, today. EPA rating: Good.
.JPG)
If I had the technology, I'd report it, too.
再见
share on:facebook
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Parks are Always Awesome
Today I walked to Chaoyang Park, which is a lot farther from my apartment than it looks on a map. And it's enormous -- Wikipedia tells me it's the biggest park in all of Beijing with over 280 hectares of land. I was really just looking to get outside and find a nice place to sit and read, so I was caught pretty off-guard by what I found.
Chaoyang Park is wild -- like if you put Coney Island in Central Park and filled in the extra space with the flora and fauna of southern coastal New Jersey. Apparently it used to be the grounds of the Prince's Palace back when China had princes, but -- unlike the Forbidden City, which formerly housed the Emperor -- the park retains almost none of its royal history today. Instead one finds a rather eclectic collection of amusements: a section of roller coasters and zip lines, a "beach theme park," a cherry tree orchard, soccer fields and basketball courts, the Chaoyang Art Planning museum (what?), some deliberately cartoonish statues of Mozart and Beethoven, a big lake with paddle-boats for rent, and this delightfully out-of-place ladybug bathroom facility:
And I didn't even come close to seeing it all. The park caters mainly to families with small children and is open every day of the year, but there's a good chance it's open at night, too, because everyone seemed to be setting up camping tents for some reason. It's funny that I wouldn't think twice if someone told me they were just for protection from the sun -- parasols are as much a part of Chinese fashion as purses are. They also apparently host a ton of music festivals here in the fall when it's not so wretchedly hot. I guess these guys are busy rehearsing already.
Overall I'd say I'm glad I went. Although the park wasn't exactly what I'd expected, and I didn't end up reading at all because there was so much to see, it was definitely one of those uniquely Chinese experiences that any foreigner who comes here should gladly shell out five kuai to enjoy.
But I suggest taking the bus.
再见
share on:facebook
Chaoyang Park is wild -- like if you put Coney Island in Central Park and filled in the extra space with the flora and fauna of southern coastal New Jersey. Apparently it used to be the grounds of the Prince's Palace back when China had princes, but -- unlike the Forbidden City, which formerly housed the Emperor -- the park retains almost none of its royal history today. Instead one finds a rather eclectic collection of amusements: a section of roller coasters and zip lines, a "beach theme park," a cherry tree orchard, soccer fields and basketball courts, the Chaoyang Art Planning museum (what?), some deliberately cartoonish statues of Mozart and Beethoven, a big lake with paddle-boats for rent, and this delightfully out-of-place ladybug bathroom facility:
And I didn't even come close to seeing it all. The park caters mainly to families with small children and is open every day of the year, but there's a good chance it's open at night, too, because everyone seemed to be setting up camping tents for some reason. It's funny that I wouldn't think twice if someone told me they were just for protection from the sun -- parasols are as much a part of Chinese fashion as purses are. They also apparently host a ton of music festivals here in the fall when it's not so wretchedly hot. I guess these guys are busy rehearsing already.
Overall I'd say I'm glad I went. Although the park wasn't exactly what I'd expected, and I didn't end up reading at all because there was so much to see, it was definitely one of those uniquely Chinese experiences that any foreigner who comes here should gladly shell out five kuai to enjoy.
But I suggest taking the bus.
再见
share on:facebook
Friday, June 8, 2012
China Folk's
My office is a mile east of my apartment, so my commute always takes me straight into a low-hanging sun. I don't mind though, because the walk is always exceedingly interesting. For example, this morning I found these people:
.JPG)
share on:facebook
.JPG)
standing in formation outside a restaurant near my apartment called "China Folk's," which got me thinking for a while about whether "folk" can ever be singular and if we even need the word "folks." I've seen these folk(s) before in the mornings lounging on the sidewalk, but today they were receiving instructions (or reprimand -- hard to say) from a man wearing one of these:
Not kidding. The angle's not great because my prolonged presence brought on a number of strange looks and I eventually had to leave, but oh well. I'll try to get a better one when this inevitably happens again. Also, on the same walk every morning there is a group of old ladies that practice that choreographed fan karate stuff, which I desperately want video of. But yeah, my walk to work is rife with intrigue.
再见
再见
share on:facebook
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Work
Work is fun. Most of the stuff they have me doing is research-based, so I spend the majority of my time looking up various companies and their competitors and compiling reports about what they do. It's only been two and a half days, so I'm hardly an expert, but I guess I understand now why everyone says finance has nothing to do with economics.
share on:facebook
It's amazing how different this place can seem when you're not here for a language program. At HBA, between the readings, discussion topics, touristy weekend excursions, and zhongwen zhuozi, China was as much our full-time job as the place we were living. Whether by the deliberate effort of the program or by our own choosing, it was as if the goal of our stay was to maximize culture shock: eat this authentic food, shop at that sketchy market, try to experience Beijing the way the average Beijinger does. There was pressure to experiment, explore, and push yourself to avoid the comforts of home. Total immersion.
Now that immersion is not my focus, I don't feel an ounce of regret when I stop at Starbucks on the way to work or think twice about my decision to shop at an expat grocery store and buy almost exclusively products I could find at home. I'm no longer studying this place. I live here and I will conduct myself as such.
Case in point, yesterday for lunch, the whole office went out for a buffalo chicken and pulled pork sandwich special at a nearby pub. I was ready to go wherever the more experienced guys decided, but more than a little surprised when no one even considered getting Chinese food. Today, we had Indian buffet. Same thing, not a single mention of Chinese. Tomorrow I'm sure we'll have Mediterranean or burgers or pizza or whatever else normal people at a normal American office would have. Of course, life here still retains its undeniably Chinese flavor -- yesterday's chicken was about as tender as the service, which is to say not very -- but it's becoming increasingly apparent to me that for the average expat, that flavor is little more than a sour aftertaste.
再见
share on:facebook
Sunday, June 3, 2012
This Webpage is Not Available
Okay two posts in a row because I'm getting a lot of questions about this:
Big Google news for Chinese users today! Google.com.hk will now warn users when their search results are censored by the Chinese government. You can read more about it here.
I had to try this out for myself, so I disconnected my VPN and ran as many free-thinking, freedom-loving, cover-up-uncovering searches I could think of that would yield blocked results. At first, I couldn't even get to google.com.hk. Then there were a few minutes where I could get through, but even queries for the most inane keywords returned error messages. I eventually got Google to give me errors for censored topics like "Tiananmen 1989," but not for things like "toys." The error messages all look like this:
which is standard browser jargon for "you can't see this in China." As for alerts from Google, I haven't seen any yet, but I'll keep checking. A closer read of the NY Times article seems to suggest the alerts might not work in mainland China, but I really don't understand much about what's blocked and what isn't, nor have I been keeping up with Google's ongoing censorship battle with the Chinese government. Google.com.hk works without errors or alerts when I'm connected to the VPN. I guess I'll try again later if I'm not arrested first for what I've been googling. Grandma, if you're reading this, that was a joke.
再见
share on:facebook
Big Google news for Chinese users today! Google.com.hk will now warn users when their search results are censored by the Chinese government. You can read more about it here.
I had to try this out for myself, so I disconnected my VPN and ran as many free-thinking, freedom-loving, cover-up-uncovering searches I could think of that would yield blocked results. At first, I couldn't even get to google.com.hk. Then there were a few minutes where I could get through, but even queries for the most inane keywords returned error messages. I eventually got Google to give me errors for censored topics like "Tiananmen 1989," but not for things like "toys." The error messages all look like this:
which is standard browser jargon for "you can't see this in China." As for alerts from Google, I haven't seen any yet, but I'll keep checking. A closer read of the NY Times article seems to suggest the alerts might not work in mainland China, but I really don't understand much about what's blocked and what isn't, nor have I been keeping up with Google's ongoing censorship battle with the Chinese government. Google.com.hk works without errors or alerts when I'm connected to the VPN. I guess I'll try again later if I'm not arrested first for what I've been googling. Grandma, if you're reading this, that was a joke.
再见
share on:facebook
More Settling and Exploring
An interesting weekend. I spent nearly all of Saturday in a jetlag-induced coma and, to my surprise, woke up at 3:00 this morning unable to get back to sleep. Realizing it was going to be a long day, I got to work finishing the unpacking I never really started when I arrived.
By 6:00 am, it was light enough to go for a run. I found a nice path that runs alongside a river near my apartment and followed it for a few miles until it intersects with Chaoyang Park. It only costs five yuan to get in (less than a dollar US), but I didn't have any cash on me so I turned around and came back. Early hours in quiet settings like the river path here are truly magical, when the smog can be mistaken for morning mist and the only people awake are retirees gossiping, fishing, or practicing tai chi. Something about scenes like these feels out of place in time, and I often find myself wondering what these people -- who've lived through so much change -- think of my presence here. Am I a welcome stranger? An interruption of their morning routine? Or am I just another ripple in the tumultuous tide of the city's constant reinvention?
Speaking of which, I've been pretty disappointed by the lack of extreme change I was promised I'd notice upon my return. Usually, when I tell people I study Chinese / have been to China / am planning on going back, I get one of two responses. Either the person I'm talking to has never been to China and wants to tell me about how many jobs I'm going to get or what a great skill it is to know Chinese nowadays, the economy, blah blah blah, or they've been before and want to tell me about how "unrecognizable" it's been each time they go back, "Even from one year to the next!" Okay, so some things have changed. This big fancy club we used to go to outside the Worker's Stadium called Vicks is now either closed or under renovation. Construction on a "time-keeping museum" in the Gulou hutong area, which hadn't started when I left two years ago, is now almost complete. The shopping mall at Sanlitun Village has a few more stores than it used to. But nothing revolutionary.
The latter was actually quite a welcome change in that it gave me something to do today. I spent the morning in a Starbucks reading Catching Fire, then perused the shops, taking stock of what I have nearby. The mall hosts a number of American stores -- McDonald's, Puma, Levi's, Adidas, Starbucks, Cold Stone -- alongside some creatively-named Chinese ones. My favorites are Hi Panda, Cake Bus, and Bla Bla Bra, which I think is funny because it's not very easy to say even if English is your native tongue. I'm happy to know I have all this right around the corner from where I live, and that the local movie theatre plays movies in both English and Chinese.
Anyway, I'm already not feeling well, and I can't tell if it's the exhaustion or the surprisingly tasteless blackberry-looking fruit I bought from a street vendor earlier, so I'm going to try to sleep it off because tomorrow is my first day on the job. These few days of rest have been crucial, but I'm really excited to finally be doing something.
再见
share on:facebook
By 6:00 am, it was light enough to go for a run. I found a nice path that runs alongside a river near my apartment and followed it for a few miles until it intersects with Chaoyang Park. It only costs five yuan to get in (less than a dollar US), but I didn't have any cash on me so I turned around and came back. Early hours in quiet settings like the river path here are truly magical, when the smog can be mistaken for morning mist and the only people awake are retirees gossiping, fishing, or practicing tai chi. Something about scenes like these feels out of place in time, and I often find myself wondering what these people -- who've lived through so much change -- think of my presence here. Am I a welcome stranger? An interruption of their morning routine? Or am I just another ripple in the tumultuous tide of the city's constant reinvention?
Speaking of which, I've been pretty disappointed by the lack of extreme change I was promised I'd notice upon my return. Usually, when I tell people I study Chinese / have been to China / am planning on going back, I get one of two responses. Either the person I'm talking to has never been to China and wants to tell me about how many jobs I'm going to get or what a great skill it is to know Chinese nowadays, the economy, blah blah blah, or they've been before and want to tell me about how "unrecognizable" it's been each time they go back, "Even from one year to the next!" Okay, so some things have changed. This big fancy club we used to go to outside the Worker's Stadium called Vicks is now either closed or under renovation. Construction on a "time-keeping museum" in the Gulou hutong area, which hadn't started when I left two years ago, is now almost complete. The shopping mall at Sanlitun Village has a few more stores than it used to. But nothing revolutionary.
The latter was actually quite a welcome change in that it gave me something to do today. I spent the morning in a Starbucks reading Catching Fire, then perused the shops, taking stock of what I have nearby. The mall hosts a number of American stores -- McDonald's, Puma, Levi's, Adidas, Starbucks, Cold Stone -- alongside some creatively-named Chinese ones. My favorites are Hi Panda, Cake Bus, and Bla Bla Bra, which I think is funny because it's not very easy to say even if English is your native tongue. I'm happy to know I have all this right around the corner from where I live, and that the local movie theatre plays movies in both English and Chinese.
Anyway, I'm already not feeling well, and I can't tell if it's the exhaustion or the surprisingly tasteless blackberry-looking fruit I bought from a street vendor earlier, so I'm going to try to sleep it off because tomorrow is my first day on the job. These few days of rest have been crucial, but I'm really excited to finally be doing something.
再见
share on:facebook
Friday, June 1, 2012
Getting Settled
My journey here was a no brainer. I slept like a rock on both my flights, waking only for a short layover in Zurich. The woman who is coordinating my stay sent a driver to pick me up at the airport, which was great because when I walked off the plane I had no idea whether I was coming or going. We met up at what will become my office, then drove about ten minutes to my apartment.
Apartment is a funny word. The building I live in is called Gangwan Guoji or Harbour International, and was clearly designed to be a hotel. In fact, my coordinator tells me, some of the rooms here are rented out hotel style. Others are converted office spaces and longer-term rentals like mine. Peering into some of the other rooms on my floor as I walk by, I have no idea what goes on here, except that it looks and feels like a hotel, smoking optional.
My room is simple but homey -- desk, couch, TV, microwave, large fridge, bathroom, A/C, inexplicably enormous bed, and one shop-vac sized device I've never seen before but whose insides purport to be a washing machine. Floor-to-ceiling windows on the north side open onto a balcony that could fit as many people as a packed elevator. It's unclear whether I'll ever feel brave enough to weather the smog and actually use it, but I appreciate its existence. After a mid-morning nap to test out the bed and soothe my aching jetlag, I've decided I'm going to like it here.
My Chinese is all over the place. I fluctuate rather frequently between fluid speech and "...what?" regardless of a conversation's level of complexity. (I was killing it at the bank until the clerk wouldn't accept one of my five dollar bills because of a little tear at the crease or something else I couldn't really understand, at which point I just kept repeating, "It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter," until she gave up on me and took the bill. Win.) Because I learned so much of what I know in an immersive setting, I have trouble thinking analytically about the language. I find myself feeling things out a lot of the time, rather than calculating well-translated responses, but I'm getting by and warming back up to it. Every once in awhile I remember a word, phrase, or character I thought I'd forgotten, which is reassuring.
Luckily I live in the embassy district, in perhaps the most international part of the city. Two years ago, this is where we would always have to come to do anything fun. Now that I'm right in the middle of everything, I'm grateful to have been forced to experience a less entertaining section of Beijing. I feel totally confident hopping on the bus or subway to get around, and plan to go back and revisit Wudaokou at some point, but for now I'm still trying to get oriented around here. One of my friends from Yale invited me to his improv comedy show tonight, which should be a fun thing to check out if I make it past eight o'clock without falling asleep. More on everything later. It's good to be back.
再见
share on:facebook
Apartment is a funny word. The building I live in is called Gangwan Guoji or Harbour International, and was clearly designed to be a hotel. In fact, my coordinator tells me, some of the rooms here are rented out hotel style. Others are converted office spaces and longer-term rentals like mine. Peering into some of the other rooms on my floor as I walk by, I have no idea what goes on here, except that it looks and feels like a hotel, smoking optional.
My room is simple but homey -- desk, couch, TV, microwave, large fridge, bathroom, A/C, inexplicably enormous bed, and one shop-vac sized device I've never seen before but whose insides purport to be a washing machine. Floor-to-ceiling windows on the north side open onto a balcony that could fit as many people as a packed elevator. It's unclear whether I'll ever feel brave enough to weather the smog and actually use it, but I appreciate its existence. After a mid-morning nap to test out the bed and soothe my aching jetlag, I've decided I'm going to like it here.
My Chinese is all over the place. I fluctuate rather frequently between fluid speech and "...what?" regardless of a conversation's level of complexity. (I was killing it at the bank until the clerk wouldn't accept one of my five dollar bills because of a little tear at the crease or something else I couldn't really understand, at which point I just kept repeating, "It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter," until she gave up on me and took the bill. Win.) Because I learned so much of what I know in an immersive setting, I have trouble thinking analytically about the language. I find myself feeling things out a lot of the time, rather than calculating well-translated responses, but I'm getting by and warming back up to it. Every once in awhile I remember a word, phrase, or character I thought I'd forgotten, which is reassuring.
Luckily I live in the embassy district, in perhaps the most international part of the city. Two years ago, this is where we would always have to come to do anything fun. Now that I'm right in the middle of everything, I'm grateful to have been forced to experience a less entertaining section of Beijing. I feel totally confident hopping on the bus or subway to get around, and plan to go back and revisit Wudaokou at some point, but for now I'm still trying to get oriented around here. One of my friends from Yale invited me to his improv comedy show tonight, which should be a fun thing to check out if I make it past eight o'clock without falling asleep. More on everything later. It's good to be back.
再见
share on:facebook
Monday, May 28, 2012
There and Back Again
After a year and a half of no posts, I'm finally headed back to Beijing. My flight isn't for another week, but because I am feeling bored and particularly nostalgic I have decided to revive my old blog. Many thanks to those who kept track of my personal-growth-through-rambling-idiocy last time around, and an even bigger thank you to the Light Fellowship staff for forcing me to record my adventures in the first place. I was incredibly honored and a little confused to find that after all this time my blog still gets more than one view per month, until I realized that Light applicants are more or less obligated to read through former fellows' accounts of their experiences before applying. And then if their parents are anything like mine, I'm sure they get excited, too, and want to get their hands on anything the Light Fellowship website has to offer. To all those current and future Light Fellows who may happen upon this blog, I hope you find it helpful, and I apologize that the content of my posts this summer will not be about what it's like to attend HBA.
I am not returning to China to study the language. I took another semester of upper-level Mandarin in the fall of my sophomore year before succumbing to the feeling that non-immersive study of a foreign language is simply not worth the time. I was still putting in the hours necessary to memorize characters and prepare for tests, but without a single opportunity to practice what I'd learned, my retention plummeted and I felt my progress slow to a crawl. A lot of my peers who'd attended immersion programs shared that feeling, and within a semester or two most had put their Mandarin studies on hold.
share on:facebook
I am not returning to China to study the language. I took another semester of upper-level Mandarin in the fall of my sophomore year before succumbing to the feeling that non-immersive study of a foreign language is simply not worth the time. I was still putting in the hours necessary to memorize characters and prepare for tests, but without a single opportunity to practice what I'd learned, my retention plummeted and I felt my progress slow to a crawl. A lot of my peers who'd attended immersion programs shared that feeling, and within a semester or two most had put their Mandarin studies on hold.
Instead, I'm going to be interning for a small, American-owned merchant banking firm called JFP Holdings. I don't know that much about what I'll actually be doing on a day-to-day basis, but I do know the company works with both American and Chinese clients, and for that reason I'm really excited to be contributing in some small way to the fabled economic exchange between the two countries. I'll write more about the details of my position when I know them, but for now I don't want to speculate too much.
The most obnoxious part of gearing up for another trip to Beijing has been the reactions I get from people who can't understand why I would want to spend a summer alone and half way around the world. No matter how hard I try to explain it, many simply can't overcome their entrenched understanding of China as the most alien of places, and it's easy to see why: American children digging on the beach know of China first and foremost as the place they'd reach if they journeyed through the center of the Earth. Academics, pundits, and professors make it a point to emphasize the differences between East and West in nearly every facet of life. The 2008 Olympic Games brought this kind of talk to the forefront of the public consciousness, to the extent that tropes about China's economic progress have become hackneyed and meaningless.
It's easy to write a blog that panders to this type of audience, especially during your first experience in a foreign place. But now that I'm heading back for round two, my goal will be to share a story that paints China the way I see it: as just another place to visit, explore, or work. My hope is that anyone who follows my blog this summer will walk away from the experience as I have, with a slightly more open mind.
再见
share on:facebook
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)