The A-List

9/27/08

I had dinner with the mayor the other night. I should clarify that it wasn’t a personal one-on-one deal, but rather a banquet for all the foreign teachers and businesspersons in LianYunGang. But nevertheless, the mayor was the host. All the foreign teachers from my university were driven to the posh Yuntai Hotel, wherein we proceeded to the banquet room to enjoy our evening with the city’s top tier of public officials. In a party of such elite public servants, there is a list of usual suspects in attendance. This list almost always includes the mayor, the secretary general of the city council, the deputy mayor, and the chief of police.

There was a good number in attendance for the banquet, so it was necessary to divide the guests into separate tables. This arrangement was very similar to a wedding reception or any other type of formal dinner. But I had the fortune of being seated at the table with the top cop, so when it came time for the introductions and toasts at the table, I didn’t miss a beat. The city’s official interpreter was also sitting at our table, so when the introductions were being made by the foreign teachers—in English—the interpreter would translate for the police boss and the other Chinese at the table. It was my turn, so I gave a brief bio for myself (very typical, “Hi I’m Rory and this is my first time in China. I’m teaching at the HuaiHai Institute, blablabla…), but I also made sure to note that I was very impressed by the hospitality in LianYunGang. Not only did I compliment the friendliness of the city, but I took it one step further and complimented the outstanding security of the city. The chief, after receiving the Chinese translation, got a kick out of this and quickly offered to Ganbei (“drain the glass” in Chinese). He would later note, through the interpreter, that LianYunGang is in fact the safest city in all of Jiangsu Province. Good to know. And to be honest, I think this marks the first time that I’ve managed to get on the good side of a cop. Just one of the advantages of being a foreign “expert” I suppose.

A quick note about the Ganbei: it is very common for the host of an event to propose a toast to all individual members at the table, and for each of these toasts he must drink. The drink of choice for the toast is almost always Baijo, which is basically Chinese moonshine. This crystal clear firewater was flowing freely at our banquet, and after the first round of toasts the small shooter glass specially designated for the Baijo was being refilled with alarming frequency. Luckily there was enough foodstuff available to absorb the liquor. And of course, the essential part of any Asian gathering is the tomfoolery of karaoke. Our Japanese colleagues proved to be rock stars in disguise. I’m sure that the plentiful consumption of liquor actually had no influence on the guests’ eagerness to take the microphone. It’s just that popular over here.

I must admit that I’m developing an affinity for the Chinese style of dining, and the banquet style is especially favorable. All the dishes are placed in the center of the table on a Lazy Susan, or a rotating wheel. This allows the guests to simply spin the giant glass plate and voila, their preferred dish is right in front of them. No passing required! I also figured out that the fish plate can be an auspicious portend at the dinner table (there is always at least one type of seafood in these dinners, and given that LianYunGang is a coastal city, the seafood dishes are very popular and quite good). Apparently, the fish’s head and tail determine Ganbei buddies. So if the fish points at you, be prepared to drink with the person at the tail end.

After all the festivities at the banquet came to a close, we were driven back to the university. But this didn’t put an end to my night, oh no not by a long shot. All the Baijo drink fueled a night that could only be characterized as an entirely different kind of wild. I won’t get into the details here; this is a family blog after all. And lord knows what kind of example I would be setting for future expats if they knew the sordid events that unfolded. Ironically enough, all the madness was inspired by a dinner with the chief of police.

Better Luck Tomorrow

9/19/08

So I’ve noticed that these posts are becoming more and more infrequent. But that should be expected; as I become more acclimated to my surroundings, I am less likely to point out the bizarre, fascinating and shocking things that I encounter. The formerly jolting aspects of everyday life here in China are becoming commonplace.

When taking bus rides through LianYunGang’s bustling downtown streets, I casually peer out the window with a bemused grin. Whereas a week ago, I might have been strained from doing double-takes as I watched the herd of bicycles and motor scooters engage in their relentless game of chicken with the buses and other autos on the road. The vehicles on the streets and the pedestrians in every direction weave an invisible tapestry of chaos. At any given moment, the threads can untangle in a snag and there you have it: the inevitable collision. I’ve yet to see one live, but I’ve witnessed the aftermath. For instance, the tow truck hoisting the front axle of a sedan with a shattered windshield—and judging from the glass all over the dash and interior of the car, the object shattering the windshield came from outside.

Yes, it’s always an adventure getting about.

It would be nice staying within the insulated bubble of Huaihai’s campus, but alas, my teaching duties require a bit of commuting. And this is local commuting, mind you. Two of my classes are at the outlying Donggang campus, which is a ten minute bus ride from the main campus. Sweet Jesus, what an uninspiring place. The bus is free, luckily, for teachers and other University personnel, so I’m not being taxed by making the trip. However, the psychological strain is hefty. So far, about fifty percent of my visits to that God-forsaken Donggang campus have been in vain. Twice in one day I made meaningless trips to Donggang, only to discover that the free shuttle bus back to the main campus wouldn’t be running for another two hours. This was frustrating to a point, but it did afford me some valuable time to think.

One of the classes I teach over at Donggang is called Business English. This is a rudimentary introduction of business-type lingo for the younger students. And in this particular class, it’s myself and about one hundred Chinese students. No audio-visual hookup, no listening equipment, no interactive multi-media whatsoever; just a spacious lecture hall and me. So I’ve been jotting down some good standup material to fill the time, but I find that most of these jokes go right over the heads of my students. Keep in mind their English is not that good. I may have to resort to physical comedy. This is not only for the benefit of the students, but for me as well. There’s only so much elementary grammar that you can tolerate in a ninety minute span.

TsingTao Beer: The gateway to passion, dreams & success

Can I just say that I love TsingTao beer? There. I hope someone from the TsingTao brewing co. is reading this blog, because I would gladly do commercials for them. I think that I would be a huge hit as the brewery's token foreigner spokesperson. I have a winning smile, and I enjoy the hell outta this beer. I could even come up with clever slogans for TsingTao beer. The one above is an existing slogan that I saw on one of their cans, but there are endless possibilities.

Here are a few I have been working on:
TsingTao is the beer of champions.
TsingTao beer, why not?
You've worked hard, unwind with a delicious TsingTao brew.
Wrangle your chi into a winning form by drinking TsingTao!
TsingTao, it helps you drain the glass!
See through the wonder of amazement, drink TsingTao.

I plan on visiting the sea tomorrow, so maybe I'll bring along a video camera and film my own commercial for TsingTao. I'll need to find some basic editing software to add music and effects, so I can send a polished final product to the TsingTao brewing co. With any luck I will become the most popular spokesperson in China, and I can retire from the hard-scrabble life of a University teacher.

On gift receiving

9/11/08

Lianyungang

The seventh morbid anniversary of the attacks went by un-announced, un-noticed, and generally un-appreciated here in Lianyungang. Ironically enough, I was receiving gifts on this date.

Yesterday was teacher’s day here in China. I received a text message on my China Mobile phone during class on Wednesday. It was from the foreign teachers’ coordinator in the Foreign Affairs office. A bright and cheerful, “Happy Teacher’s Day!” appeared on my mobile’s screen while I was in the middle of lecture. I paused to confirm this text with my students.

“Hey, is today teacher’s day?” I asked.

“Yes,” they replied.

“Well bully for me!”

The day went by without many other significant texts or events. I did get an unofficial walking tour of Lianyungang’s city center. One of my students (English name Richardson) volunteered his services in showing me the hidden gems of the city. These hard-to-find goldmines included a small grocery store that carried American brand-name products, such as Hershey’s Syrup and Heinz Tomato Ketchup. I was mildly amused by the stockpile of American goods; I was ecstatic upon discovering the cache of Tennessee whiskey, though. Sure enough, Jack Daniels “Old No. 7” was sitting atop one of the shelves, where it was collecting dust and just begging for some thirsty boozehound to take it home, not unlike a sad puppy in the pet shop window. Richardson would later lead me to a DVD shop in town where one can purchase extremely cheap and extremely illegal movies. Alas, the DVD shop was closed and I also passed on the opportunity to give the whiskey a good home, thinking it best to wait until I receive my first paycheck following the mid-autumn festival.

Speaking of the mid-autumn festival, wasn’t I describing some gifts I had just received? My students were kind enough to present me with a gift in appreciation of teacher’s day. You can see the lovely token in the picture there.

The coordinator of the Foreign Affairs office was also in the giving mood, and she supplied all the foreign teachers with “Moon Cakes” in honor of the mid-autumn festival. These “Moon Cakes” are a most valued and exquisite traditional gift during the festival. This is groovy, because I like my sweets just as much as the next man. And honestly, I prefer the treats much more to the other valued and exquisite traditional gift of the mid-autumn festival: stamps.

Donghai, or The Kingdom of the Crystal Hot Springs

9/7/08

Donghai

A satellite county of greater Lianyungang, Donghai has an abundance of riches. One of the primary things that Donghai is rich in: crystal. Those seeking a precious artifact or souvenir from their visit(s) to Jiangsu Province would be well-advised to stop by Donghai.

Let me be clear, by first saying that it was not entirely my idea to visit Donghai. I was coaxed in to visiting by one of my fellow foreign teachers, Karine. It has been a slow process of meeting the other foreign teachers here in Lianyungang (one might think that they’d stand out just as much I do, right?). So naturally, I jumped at Karine’s invitation to take a day-trip out to Donghai to browse the crystal markets and visit one of their many hot springs. The weather is not altogether demanding for us to take a visit to an 82° C hot spring (that’s hot), but I thought the healing powers of a natural spring might at least clear up this obnoxious hacking cough that has been afflicting me. Besides, I wanted an opportunity to socialize with other teachers.

So Karine arranged all the travel details and convinced myself and another foreign teacher, Colm, to join her. Karine is a Quebecois who is deceptively fascinating. A Tai-Chi enthusiast with over 500 skydiving jumps in her young lifetime, she is very low-key about her adventurous lifestyle. She has also spent the last year or so traveling around southeast Asia. Colm proved to be another great resource, as he has been living and working here in China for the last 6 months. Colm, an Irishman from Limerick, has figured out some brilliant coping mechanisms for any whitey that is fresh to the madhouse of China. Colm says that you shouldn’t get anxious when you perceive any ridicule coming from the natives. Rather, he offers, just proceed to insult them in English. This makes any insecure person more self-assured and prepared to deal with heckling. Most often times the locals won’t understand your return volley of barbs, so just go ahead and lay it on thick, Colm suggested.

I digress, apologies. Back to Donghai. We took a 30-minute train over to the satellite town and then proceeded by bus to the hot springs. We were all feeling a bit Hungary upon arrival so we found a swanky hotel restaurant to satisfy our appetites. The meal was good; and then afterwards we went about trying to locate the actual hot springs themselves. After being led to what appeared to be a very normal pool attached to one of the hotel/resorts, we were all starting to believe we’d been duped. As it turns out, I wasn’t the only member of our party who had this mental image of hot springs as some sort of naturalistic oasis tucked into some mountainside, surrounded by natural beauty, etc. So the pool wasn’t what we were expecting, but the staff assured us that it was in fact a natural hot spring. After entering the steaming pool, our doubts were quickly dispelled.

It was very peaceful at first; just us three foreigners lounging in and around the cauldron-like pool. But as the day moved onward and the sun tracked across the sky, more and more Chinese visitors began to arrive at the pool. This was entertaining. It affirmed Karine’s belief that most Chinese are not good swimmers.

After drying off and catching a bus back into the town of Donghai, we grabbed a bite to eat at a small noodle shop with outdoor seating. This was a plus, because the street had a drive-in movie atmosphere. The street came to a T-intersection, and at the end of it was a jumbotron television that played movies for the benefit of pedestrians and diners. After eating, we browsed some of the crystal shops and then caught our train back to Lianyungang proper. The night concluded with a wild taxi ride. Karine, seated in the front seat, actually feared for her life as our driver swerved in and out of lanes to deliver us back to the University with great expedience. Funny, I don’t recall any one of us telling him we were in a hurry. To scare an individual who has jumped out of a moving plane hundreds of times and who was a member of the Canadian national skydiving team takes a very white-knuckle experience. But Colm and I thought it was great fun—having the rear seat view—and he was quick to state his desire to hire this man on as his personal driver.

I'm a Rocket Man

8/29/08

Chicago-O’Hare

Preparing to depart from O’Hare to Shanghai’s Pudong airport, I went to the check-in counter to get my boarding pass and check my bags. I was at Terminal 3, which is the universal check-in point for all American Airlines passengers. The lady at the counter told me my gate.

“Your plane will be leaving from L8.”

“Gee, hope I won’t be late,” I punned in return.

She glanced at her watch and glibly said, “Only 8:40 now, still nearly two hours before take-off. I think you’ll be alright.”

Wow. So I’m not even out of the country yet and already I’m failing to communicate. Granted, people who work at the airport all seem to check their sense of humor at the door. But I thought that ‘L8’ quip was gold. Perhaps I thought wrong.

Later, as I’m waiting by the gate to board the plane, I hear the number one most dreaded noise a traveler can hear: the shrill wailing of an infant child. I look over at the hapless couple that the child belongs to, and they’re exchanging nervous glances. This cannot be good. How long is this flight? 14 hours, oh Christ. I hope they packed some child-strength Ambien in their carry-on luggage, because there might be a mid-flight riot if things carry on in this fashion. Because China ain't the kind of place to fly with a kid, in fact, the flight is long as hell.

Luckily, the child was nary heard from again after take-off. In fact, neither the babe nor his parents were anywhere in sight during the trip. These are large planes, mind you. Large enough so that if you are fortunate and have a seat in the middle section, which is five seats wide and usually under-populated, you can lay across the unoccupied seats and rest in relative comfort.

Yes, it was a marathon flight. Glad that I won’t have to do it again until next year, that’s for certain. I thought I was relatively accustomed to lengthy, trans-continental flights. Given that I had flown across the Atlantic four times collectively over the last four years, I felt confident in my ability to conquer this epic flight. But when you think about it…Okay, so Ireland (that’s right, I flew to Ireland and back just last summer. My parents wouldn’t have any of my insisting that I do it the old-fashioned way and sail across the Atlantic) one-way is only seven hours. And then coming back the flight usually catches a jet stream or some type of wind current phenomenon that reduces the return trip by about an hour. All together that’s thirteen hours in the air, still shy of even one leg of this behemoth journey. All this science I don't understand. But it's just a job, five days a week.

Duo Shou Qian? (How much money?)

9/2/08

Lianyungang, Day 2

Nothing is convenient. The idea of convenience seems foreign. When it comes to the Chinese, convenience and expedience always take a back seat to the economic bottom line. How much does it cost? This is the question.

My living quarters are modern, although they are somewhat cramped. I don’t need space, because I don’t have many material trappings. I have everything I need, fundamentally speaking. I still lack some cooking utensils that would make life more convenient, but until I scrape together more cash to purchase cookware I have to settle for the miscellaneous items I found in the kitchen. I’m also missing some personal grooming effects, namely nail trimmers. You would think that I might have had the presence of mind to pack such a thing along with me; but it must have slipped my mind. Had I known how inconvenient it would prove to buy nail clippers in China, especially when you don’t know the mandarin word for “nail clippers,” I probably would’ve taken more care to pack some with me. Oh well, I suppose I can keep my nails trim by steadily digging a tunnel back to America.

They drive me into town in an old limousine. The black sedan has a peculiar hood ornament. A long, cherry-red fin protrudes from the hood. Apparently this denotes the limousine as an old-fashioned governmental transport. They were used for carrying VIPs. It’s a bit flattering, I suppose. However, riding about in the red-flag limo is one of the only times I feel conspicuous. Perhaps conspicuous isn’t the right term...I’m always conspicuous in this country, it’s true. But when I walk along the crowded streets and pathways of Lianyungang, I feel invisible. There is simply too much going on to notice one awkward American. And I do my best to downplay my greenness. But as soon as I utter a word to any person, there it is: that helpless gaze that returns my imploring looks as I butcher the language and wave my hands about in futility. But I smile nonetheless, even when my attempts at communication fail utterly.

Shanghai, or My Little Corner of the World

8/31/08

Shanghai

A city caught between the traditions of yesterday and the technology, progress and smog of tomorrow. When walking the streets, one must certainly watch their step. Keep your ears perked up as well, because the multitude of vehicles on the street—which frequently and unexpectedly spill over onto the sidewalks—will announce their presence and intentions with a cadence of honks. Different patterns of honks denote different things, such as: passing, turning, overtaking, and a friendly reminder that yes, there is a car bearing down on your puny bike so you’d best be advised to move it! But there is also an encoded system of communication in these honks. Entire dialogues can be played out in a series of honks. For example: One long honk followed by a series of staccato horn taps means, “Hey, haven’t seen you in a while, how are you doing?” The appropriate response is usually three brief horn taps followed by a quick rev of the throttle, otherwise denoting that, “I’m fine but business has been slow and I’m also feeling a bit under the weather…” The dialogue usually concludes by each party peeling out in opposite directions as they wave goodbye to one another. This type of dialogue gets played out pretty often on the street, and there are numerous variations.

If you survive long enough to browse the sidewalk vendors, you feel as if you’re walking through a shopping mall that has been turned outwards. All space is precious, so oftentimes a tiny shop (these are usually no larger than a single room) will overtake a good portion of the sidewalk to display its goods. Along a single stretch of road, you can discover bootleg DVDs, shoes and sandals, knock-off jewelry and watches, grills charring fresh skewers of mysterious meat, fruit stands, massage parlors, beauty salons, and restaurants with outdoor dining. I began to see why the Chinese people might instantly feel at ease in any town in America that has a mall. Despite the language barrier, the Chinese are consumers at heart. This materialistic side of the Chinese is prominently displayed on the streets.

But the city is not all about consumption. Throughout the city of Shanghai, there are neat little parks that are designated as green recreational zones. Citizens can peruse the grounds or kick about the soccer ball on the finely manicured lawns. These green havens are sequestered from the traffic, noise and confusion of the streets by stately stone gates.