W.A.T.C.H.

Drainage

2010-06-08T17:09:00.003+08:00

Head For The Hills! Shanghai Is Sinking!

The reports are in: Shanghai residents should roll up their pant legs and grab a pair of stilts while they still can. Shanghai is (ironically) on the way down while the financial capital of China is eyeing its greatest rise in more than half a century.

Due to the topography of Shanghai’s marshy base, the dense metropolis is having a harder time than ever to manage the perilous situation on the ground—or rather, underground.

Groundwater wells are commonly used in Shanghai and dozens of other cities across China as a resource for potable water. With chronic bouts of dryness and a rapidly spreading arid zone, ground water seemed the only dependable short-term fix for water shortages. Now the ill-advised practice is taking noticeable tolls.

The effects of drainage are perhaps most evident in Shanghai, one of the most prolific cities in China. And while developers have been eager to build with an almost reckless zeal, the more historic sites that form the cultural core of old Shanghai are most at risk. The land around the HuangPu River, known commonly as The Bund, stands even with the river even before peak water levels of the summertime.

Little do tourists and residents realize, but when they stroll along the site-seeing promenade erected during the 1990s, they’re actually standing on the city’s best flood defense strategy! The promenade serves two purposes: to allow visitors a chance to snap the perfect shot of Shanghai’s ever-changing skyline, but more importantly it keeps the water of the HaungPu River at bay and off the 8-lane road that lies just a few meters away.

Nobody is recommending a resurgence of the ill-fated aquacar fad of the 1950s; but sooner than we know, the use of amphibious vehicles could be common practice in Shanghai. It’s difficult to determine just how much the city has sunk in the last 100 years or so; official measurements weren’t taken until the 1920s when sinking first became noticeable. All the same, we can take a guess as to what the future holds in store. According to official projections, the water levels of the HuangPu could rise up to 27 inches by 2050.

“What can we do to stop it?” one resident wonders. For starters, the city has made the switch to river water to meet its clean water needs. This should relieve the strain put on the empty wells underneath China’s financial capital. In addition, engineers have been working to replenish the ground wells. They aim to pump in 5.2 billion gallons per year in an effort to slow the sinking and save vulnerable riverfront establishments.

Even with the impressive catalog of engineering marvels Shanghai has unveiled in recent years, this problem may prove too daunting. With an urban population of more than 13 million people, Shanghai is one of the world’s most densely populated cities. And after decades of overworking the instable ground below, who knows how much longer Shanghai can stay afloat?

It’s a problem that demands our attention. So next time you stroll down the street, keeping your head held high in typical Shanghai fashion, it may be more out of necessity than that classic sense of Shanghai pride.

Metro ink

2009-09-20T23:11:00.001+08:00

Aug 28th

Nanjing

When I think about my reasons for brazenly rejecting an escort from Shanghai’s international airport to my new residence in Nanjing, they don’t seem so sound anymore. At least, that was the repentant notion that I adopted after spending the better part of 24 hours in airports, train stations, or some other vestibule that was designed to shuttle me toward my eventual terminus. Just like the wind; Traveling blows!
So, in the grand scheme of things, I’ve become more resigned to follow through on my goal of only taking 2 very selective holidays during this new chapter of China. I should save myself a bunch of grief and a little bit of money as well.
During one of my constant train rides from the last day or so, I was a passenger aboard a comprehensive and state of the art metro system. This metro system belonged to Shanghai, and brother it’s something. It’s clean; it’s timely; it’s quiet and comfortable. In short, it may very well be the antithesis of Chicago’s beleaguered public transit system. Not to downplay the inherent charm of my hometown’s bucket of bolts CTA, but it doesn’t really measure up to the standards being set by modern transit systems all across the world.
On Shanghai’s metro, I spotted a young Chinese man amidst the commuters. He was outfitted in (what I imagine to be) contemporary 21st century fashionable urban garb; and he also sported a tattoo on his left forearm. What caught my eye in this particular young man’s appearance was not the style of his clothing, nor was it his physical demeanor (he seemed adequately sedate among the other doleful passengers). Rather what caused my eyes to linger on him a bit longer than the other myriad distractions was this forearm tattoo. It was written in English. It read “Love You” and it was written in a looping, lazy script. The two words were so close together that it looked more like LoveYou—one word. I can’t fathom the intentions and motivations of this young man when he got that ink seared into the flesh of his lower left forearm. I couldn’t help but think of every hapless person that deems it necessary to get some obscure Chinese character emblazoned onto his or her hide. Most often these people make the choice based on aesthetics alone because, quite frankly, they have no idea what their choice in Chinese characters actually means.

Dragonfly Island, or Liandao

2009-09-20T22:55:00.000+08:00

Note: this is an archive piece retrieved from my last days in Lianyungang
June 21st

Yesterday a Chinese friend and I went to Xugou in order to soak up some rays on the beach. I should make it clear that I was the only one interested in a) exposure to the sun and b) contact with the water. Generally those are two elements akin to Kryptonite where the Chinese are concerned…those and sitting on dirty surfaces.
The beach we went to was located on Liandao Island. Liandao is a remote offshoot of the Xugou seashore. It offers fantastic vistas and an escape from the perpetual smog of the mainland. There were an inordinate amount of dragonflies buzzing about that afternoon—which has moved me to dub Liandao “Dragonfly Island” for future references.
Swimming in some waters off Dragonfly Island can be hazardous. Not due to any natural peril, because after all the beaches are quite serene in their own right. Dangers arise in the form of manmade devices. The very same cove at Sumawan Beach that is ideal for bathers/swimmers is used to give thrill rides on assorted watercrafts. Jetskis and motorboats are zipping about and crashing through the swimmers’ area at an almost constant rate. The jackassery and swashbuckling attitude of the jetski dudes is especially irritating and perilous. They’ll zip through a crowd of swimmers without a second thought as to who they may crush asunder or leave crippled from the neck down.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s a beautiful beach in an absolutely fantastic setting. But swimmers beware! At any moment you could be mowed down or left in the wake of some reckless jock that’s showboating for the couple of ladies on the shore.

Tracking the wind, I'm chasing the gale

2009-05-14T13:28:00.004+08:00

It goes without saying that people the world over have their own foibles and funny habits. I've noticed that Chinese people are in no short supply of idiosyncracies. For instance, Chinese people really enjoy walking backwards.
Whenever I'm taking a much-needed respite in the wide open landscape of Lianyungang, I can peek a single Chinese person or in some cases a pair of Chinese persons walking backwards. I thought it peculiar at first, no question. Then I thought that maybe I could relate this odd sight to some extreme weather conditions. Say for example if the wind was blowing up a heavy gale and one wanted to shield their facial orifices from the onslaught of air. But there seems to be no excuse for walking backwards on a perfectly nice, calm and sunny day. I've been told that the Chinese believe the backward walking is good for health. Hm.
I went for a run the other night at the university's track. It was late, maybe around 10:30 or so. I expected to see a few couples sitting on the soccer field in tender moonlit embraces, but I was not prepared for the mob of people that I came across. Did I mention that this was a Friday night? Well, it most certainly was past 10 pm on a Friday (I had my own reasons for engaging in rigorous cardio at this hour) and I think I nearly stumbled over half the student body on the track and adjoining playground. I thought to myself: this is what college would be like if teetotalism was more popular than the current exploits that are in vogue on western campuses. And of course, many of the people on the track got a glimpse of my face, flush from the effort of running, as I lapped them. These were the people walking around the track in reverse. Perhaps they thought I was some kind of monster apparition of the night.

The Watcher

2009-05-05T00:01:00.003+08:00

Being a movie-lover can be maddening and blissful here in China. DVDs are so handily obtained, but at the same time a game of roulette takes place: will the film quality be a shoddy substitute or have I got my hands on the real deal? It can be exhilarating. To purchase movies with the mystery of authenticity looming gives the blind spender a surge of adrenaline; and beyond that there’s a carefree blissfulness to the whole affair.
Upon entering my favorite local DVD shop (which I visit at least once a week without fail), I anticipate walking out with at least one new movie in hand. In comparison to the rental craze that fixates most American viewers, the rate of purchasing here must seem rapid and even a little irresponsible.
Take into account the relative price of a new movie out here (9 RMB for a quality copy, 5-6 RMB for a mediocre transfer, and you can even get entire TV series or collections of films for a nominal fee), and it really doesn’t amount to much more than keeping up with your weekly or bi-weekly movie rentals back home. And let’s not even address the gauging that occurs at the cinemas back home (although I’ve always maintained that visiting a theater is an experience altogether worthy of a higher price—but $10 per go is really going too far isn’t it?).
I anticipate returning home with at least 5 kg of added bulk from DVDs alone. And, for the record, I haven’t been completely footloose or numbskulled when buying these cheap little treasures. I generally select films of good caliber that retain at least some replay value. So in that way, I’m really stocking up for good and all…until another format comes along and blows away the fragile and gleaming discs that I covet so ferociously. In vain, let me offer my plea to the unrelenting wheel of technology to stop, or at least pause graciously, so as to allow me ample time to take in all the movies my heart desires.

What makes these gardens grow? Part II

2009-04-21T12:45:00.009+08:00

Inside the Humble Administrator's Garden, one can be fooled into thinking that heaven had touched down to earth in this precise location. This sprawling garden occupies 5 hectares. There are ample vistas to intoxicate the senses, there are numerous pavillions to offer shade and pleasant views, and there are oversized goldfish meandering about in the miniature lakes. There is literally poetry everywhere in this garden. A poem will be written onto the pillar of a pavillion, and somehow these displays are utterly tasteful and not obtrusive in the least. Perhaps I--being a foreigner--can gloss over these poems with ease due to my illiteracy in Chinese characters. But for native speakers, they must afford an additional source of inspiration in this eden-esque garden.

I said that this oversized garden was heavenly in character, but then there are the crowds. The Humble Administrator's Garden is the largest and most spectacular garden in all of Suzhou, so it always draws a crowd. And a substantial crowd at that. The highest concentration of foreigners I've encountered since Beijing was in Suzhou, mostly within the walls of this fantastic garden. It is true that people come from all over the world to see this garden. And for me, this only reaffirms the notion that the greenest thumbs on earth are often yellow.

What makes these gardens grow? Part I

2009-04-21T12:19:00.005+08:00

Suzhou is a city that is renowned for it's gardens. There are various gardens to visit, nearly every one of them offering magnificent scenery and endless pleasant perspectives. So many impressive gardens can be found here that, by comparison, the so-called "Garden State" of New Jersey is made to look even worse; needless to say the film Garden State is still a piece of crap.

Anyway, Suzhou was the latest city in Jiangsu Province that I visited. I arrived by way of Wuxi--the city dubbed "Little Shanghai," although only the "Little" portion of this moniker is appropriate. I took a fast train to reach Suzhou. This train from Wuxi put me in Suzhou in a mere twenty minutes. The same train is capable of running from Nanjing to Shanghai in just one hour. I'm considering this train route as a possible grand finale tour of southern Jiangsu Province (Nanjing-Wuxi-Suzhou-Shanghai-United States).

Focusing on Suzhou now, the place is also quite famous for canals. In fact, the canals are so prevelant that any walking, driving, cycling, or rickshaw route must accomodate for the numerous bridges and waterways. The canals are so much a part of daily life that they can even prove to be the ultimate end of one's life. I draw on example here, for my friends Colm and Rachael had arrived in Suzhou one night ahead of me and they saw a grim sight in one of the canals upon arrival. They had just finished booking accomodations in a hostel in old Suzhou when they came across a crowd gathered by a nearby canal. They followed the curious eyes of the crowd to see a boat in the canal, and the drivers of the boat were in the process of pulling up a body from the water. I don't want to begin to speculate on the morbid circumstances of this unfortunate fellow's demise, but there are numerous ways to end up in one of the canals. The bridges are so many and the safety measures so few that any careless individual could easily lose their footing and fall into the water.

Casual leave of absence

2009-04-04T14:52:00.003+08:00

This one comes direct from a student in one of my business english classes. Enjoy.

Dear Teacher:
I would like to know if I can ask for a casual leave of absence for the classes. Because I have a stomach. So I want you can permit it. Thank you very much!

Your student: Angela
April 3rd 2009

Future Captains of Industry, or leaders of the not-so-free world

2009-03-31T23:11:00.006+08:00

I believe it's time to share the titles of the faux companies I've formulated in my "business english" courses. I've waited long enough, there's no excuse for denying you readers any longer. Here are some of my favorites:

Funzo Toy Company

Cyberdyne Computer Systems

Metropolis Clothing Ltd.

Flash Mobile Corporation

Bullitt Car Dealership

SOMA Pharmaceutical Group

Madison Hotels

Eldorado Travel Agency

Mercury Mobile

Zaphod Toy Co.

Skynet Computers

Red River Real Estate

Note: I used to seriously lament teaching this business english course. It involves a lugubrious commute from the main campus to a satellite campus of less-than-stellar students. Lo and behold these students aren't even english majors; rather, they study a subject which is entirely different but somehow one or two english language courses are compulsory for their degree. That's where I enter the picture.

In making the course (which I teach four times a week) tolerable, the names were the least I could do. This faux company premise for the course was also a measure to put responsibility on the students' shoulders. They run their own companies, in theory, and I must evaluate their progress over the course of sixteen weeks. Many of the groups tried to submit their own chinglish names for the company, but I vetoed this effort. There is no doubt that my cheeky efforts at pop culture and sci-fi references are lost on these students, but I can at least hope that one day a student may feel compelled to use google and discover the meaning behind their seemingly abstract company name.

If you go carryin' pictures of Chairman Mao...

2009-03-14T16:40:00.004+08:00

Sometimes I think it might be fun to have a Party membership. I am referring to the one and only Party here in the land of Great Walls, Great food and Great (read: massive amounts of) people: the People's Communist party.

Allow me to illustrate my latest infatuation with this bureaucratic privilege. Last weekend my friend and colleague Colm was invited by a Chinese friend to a meal. He eagerly accepted the invitation because this friend of his owns a drum shop in town and is generous in allowing Colm time to bang the drums all day (when the spirit moves him). Colm probably believed that, by accepting this invitation to a meal, eventually he could have a drum session later on; but the following series of events didn't conform to this modest expectation.

Soon enough, Colm was spirited away to the neighboring province.

It began with Colm's drummer friend introducing him to his cousin, or brother, or in-law, or something of the sort. As it turns out, this relation of the drummer man was a certified Party member and his spouse was even a policewoman. Colm was a bit skeptical until he was shown the badge to back it up. Party members are given considerable privilege. Take for example the conduct on the roadways out here in China. Not that there are many rules to begin with, but those who can flash a fancy laminated ID proving their affiliation to Beijing can further ignore the scant rules of the road. This means taking liberties behind the wheel that no sensible, educated, or cautious western driver would ever conceive. When someone raises a fuss, the ID is produced and all concerns are assuaged. The odious conduct of the Party member behind the wheel is instead greeted with smiles and cheery waves.

After a time in the backseat of such a raucous road trip to the province just North of Jiangsu, Colm arrived at a gig with his new friends. He had a chance to bang out a few tunes, it was bliss. But night had already descended and Colm still hadn't eaten anything, and he was in another province altogether. Of course he didn't have to worry, because his new Party-affiliated chums briskly walked into a five star hotel with Colm in tow and told the front desk what was what. Colm was put up—free of charge—in a luxurious suite for the night and there were no questions asked; no bills to be settled; nary an eyebrow was raised in protest.

I'm taking some liberties in imagining the swift manner with which this bureaucratic bigwig handled all these hurdles. But that's half the fun anyhow.

Everybody's talkin' at me...

2009-02-28T22:54:00.005+08:00

2/28/09
LianYunGang

I've got another advertisement in the works. And, like my would-be commercial for TsingTao Beer, this ad is specifically geared for audiences in China. Even more specifically, it is designed for audiences here in LYG.
Any foreigner who sets foot in China for more than ten minutes is bound to be harangued by incessant catcalls of "Hello!" everywhere that they go. English speakers tend to reserve this word for greetings or hilarious exclamations (like "Hello Doctor!"). But for a lot of Chinese people this single word encompasses the whole of their English vocabulary, so they like to use it whenever a foreigner is in sight. You'll hear it a lot over here, often enough that you just tend to ignore it after a while.

I had been thinking that the general population could benefit from a new, exciting catchphrase to holler at any foreigners that they see. Is this an effort to reclaim the traditional and ubiquitous greeting of Western culture? Is this a heroic campaign to save 'Hello' from overuse? Maybe yes, maybe no, maybe I just have too much free time on my hands.

Anyway, the efficacy of such a revolutionary new phrase was demonstrated to me in class this past week. Half of my students don't know my name or can't pronounce it, so often times I'm referred to as 'Teacher' in the classroom. This is okay; I don't mind it really. But because I don't readily identify with the title, I sometimes fail to hear students' beckoning in the classroom. Whether my students think of me as deaf or aloof, I'm not quite sure. But I am sure that a jarring—yet familiar—address won't fail to get my attention. I was monitoring some in-class activities on Friday and all of a sudden I heard someone say, "Hey man!" I whirled round to see one of my students looking in my direction. She was wearing a slight grin, knowing that her abrupt and casual utterance had definitely caught my ear.

This is a pretty handy example of a catchphrase with potential out here. But I was hoping for something new, something fresh. I've been out of the loop back home for 6 months now. What are people saying to each other? Is 'What's up' still in vogue? Feel free to leave any comments that you think might help guide me to that one brilliant phrase. The sooner your suggestions come in the better, because I'm trying to come up with a script for the commercial by next weekend.

NOTE: I would like to dedicate this post to my grandfather, Ken, who turned 79 this week. Best wishes Ken and Happy Birthday!

Rolling Thunder, Memory Lane

2009-02-22T00:33:00.004+08:00

2/21/09

LianYunGang

I went bowling last night. Prior to last night, I can't recall the last time I rolled. I've got some vague ideas as to where I might have bowled last, but the outcome of the game escapes me. Whatever the results may have been in bygone bowling matches, last night's results will serve as a pleasant benchmark for games to come. I managed—perhaps for the first time in my bowling career—to place first in two consecutive games. Given the international company assembled for last night's ceremonious rolling, I suppose I could call myself the reigning international champion at the HuaiHai Institute of Technology. Perhaps the next step is to survey all the Chinese teachers here and see if they can present a suitable challenge to the throne.
Needless to say, my bowling prospects here in China are shaping out much better than my basketball hopes, or hoop dreams.

Interestingly enough, I believe my last visit to a bowling alley was in Iowa City—the one and only Colonial Lanes. The indelible charms of Iowa have become much more than a memory now. With the start of a new term here at the university a new foreign teacher has arrived: direct from Dubuque, Iowa. And sure enough, she is a fellow Hawkeye. As if it isn't coincidence enough that a fellow alumnus has strolled in from the wintry fields of the Hawkeye state, can you guess what her major was? You might have guessed that she was an English major, much the same as I was. If this was in fact your guess, congratulations, you were right. How fortunate these Chinese students are! They now have two wordsmiths from the storied University of Iowa to dole out tasty nuggets from a collective braintrust and infuse their eager minds with a sample of world-class education. Because what are we Hawkeyes if not world-class? The proof is here in this city and many others across the globe.

Cities & the Sky

2009-02-12T18:10:00.004+08:00

Picture yourself in the urban canopy jungle. You are lost in the great concrete reef. You're drowning in the ocean of asphalt. This is transit. This is Shanghai.

Picture the sky in numerous lanes, divided judiciously amongst the taxis, coaches and coupes. Picture the orderly march of axles 200 ft in the air. Can you hear the rubber rolling along, at 50 km/h, over your head? If you can, you're a native of Shanghai.

The true Skyway is here. A massive engineering marvel, Shanghai's ‘High Road’ is the epitome of unsightly urbanization. To relieve traffic problems, the city decided to build itself a bypass above the ground. The bypass is dramatically thrust into the sky. The High Road of Shanghai exists in the lower atmosphere of our planet, no doubt about that; but it dominates the celestial heaven of a local's imagination.

Seen from above, Shanghai must look like the grey mausoleum of some huge octopus. The High Road snakes throughout the metropolis, coiling and bunching like so many tentacles. The High Road casts the underdwellers in shadow, thereby reserving the privilege of direct sunlight for motorists.

Shanghai Nights

2009-02-12T18:00:00.006+08:00

During the TaiPing Rebellion, ca. the 1860s, there was one infamous foreign commander among the ranks of the Qing Dynasty's Imperial Army. His name was Ward, and he was such a capable fighter and officer that many of his contemporaries say that he would've made a fine General during the American Civil War. The only thing that prevented his possible ascension through the American military machine was the fact that he was in China during America's war.
Instead of fighting in the States, Ward was commanding a ragtag group of rowdy foreigners—mercenaries is the appropriate term, half of them too drunk to fight on any given day—during one of Imperial China's civil wars. The ones that could stand and fight for the unpopular Qing government were paid handsomely. Ward would recruit the roughnecks for the foreign fighting legion from the seediest locales in Shanghai, frequently picking up unruly characters from the docks or the brothels.
In this current era that discourages the virtues of brazen recklessness, thirst for adventure, and appetite for destruction, Ward would find himself out of place. Even Ward's former base of operations, Shanghai, is a very different place in the world of today. Shanghai is commercial as they come, the principle industry being commerce. And, given the amount of consumers in Shanghai, business is good. This is civilization at its utmost, isn't it? Mmm, not quite right. Perhaps it fails to capture the most idyllic goals of humanity. What then can be said of this lifestyle in Shanghai? Life stretched to the max? Certainly. This awesome scale is one of the most distinguishing characteristics of Shanghai.

One can still find the sort of characters that would've been willing volunteers in Ward's rough-and-tumble regiments though. But, to contrast the darker nature of this city of transients, there is also a posh side to this urban populous. There is a passivity as well. I might even go so far as to say there is an apolitical, anonymous, and apathetic feeling to this city.

Albeit, on a man's worst night in modern Shanghai he can envision himself cut out for Ward's crew. He is able to immerse himself so deeply in depravity and apathy that risking life and limb for an unpopular imperial regime seems like a good scheme. It's a shot at respectability even. Ah, we're a far cry from the days of fortune and glory, that's for certain. But villains abound nonetheless.

Cities & Memory

2009-01-18T00:26:00.008+08:00

"When a man rides a long time through wild regions he feels the desire for a city."
-Invisible Cities, Italo Calvino

Nanjing is cool and it has been for a really long time. Intermittently the site of the capitol during the last seven hundred years, Nanjing exists today as a cultural and historical epicenter for all of China. One of the few cities around where a visitor can tour ancient tombs; wander aimlessly through luscious natural parks and botanic gardens; gain knowledge at state-of-the-art museums; see bands perform in all languages in the lively nightclub district; drop by some of the best universities in China and mingle with the students who are eager to sharpen their English skills, not to mention peruse the foreign book stores and many coffee shops; spend money at high-end stores or the local trinket shops. It's all happening in Nanjing.

In older times Nanjing established itself as a magnet for intellectuals. They would flock to this city to pass tests of higher learning. It remains the terminus for academic pilgrims (of Chinese background) due to the prestigious national exams that are still administered in Nanjing. The purposes of my visit were solely aimed towards escaping the academic world.

I chose Nanjing as the destination for my self-appointed vacation. Little did I know that a legitimate holiday period was declared for the whole faculty shortly after I left my university. Nonetheless, after exams were over and all my paperwork was turned in I felt that I was owed some personal time. So personal time I took!

Nanjing, as mentioned before, is really cool. And conveniently enough, it's located just four hours south of my city. This made the preparation significantly easier and I already felt familiar with this city, to some degree, because all the students, insofar as they're able, remark about their trips to Nanjing in either praising or depressing tones (mind you they wind up there more for exams than holiday). But no self-respecting person in Nanjing—no matter how brief their stay—will neglect a visit to at least one of the many attractive lights in this chandelier city.

I rented a bicycle on my second day to allow for flexibility and freedom of movement. I had become wary of the public transportation system after the first twenty-four hours (constantly waiting for buses, trains and taxis is no fun). After politely asking one of the staff members at the hostel, “where might I rent a bicycle?” they gestured towards a bike that was nestled in the cobwebs underneath the stairwell. For a small fee, I'd have the privilege of dusting off this master of the road, this rickety and rusty cruiser, and pedaling off into the crisp January air. I hesitated at first. Then I began to wonder how easy it would be to find another bicycle rental business open in January. Needless to say, I didn't waste time pursuing alternative means of bike rental, for I had much to see.

After planning a route that would take me to some irresistible destinations, I set off. About two minutes into my ride, I quickly became savvy to the challenges inherent to traversing this bustling capitol city via bicycle. Crossing the modest city of LianYunGang by bike seems like a tricycle ride up and down your driveway in comparison with Nanjing. It was a white-knuckle thrill ride; it was hair-raising; it could be called eyeball-peeling; at times it was throw-your-head-back-and-laugh-like-a-madman fun!

So that was the ebb and flow of it. Ride around; walk around; get lost; take photos. That was the story, for the first forty-eight hours anyway.

Weather Report

2009-01-18T00:20:00.004+08:00

There have been some mildly interesting weather phenomena while I've been living here in China. I've already expounded upon the mildness of the winter (a conclusion that I admit now was a bit premature), but there is something else interesting about the air over (t)here. Photographic evidence has been accruing steadily. There is a pattern emerging. It seems each time I travel throughout China, I'm accompanied by a heavy layer of fog. Whether the fog and I are along for the same ride or merely crossing paths is still undetermined. But there is a noticeable trend of my arrival in any new city here in China (and this includes my first setting foot in this country, in Shanghai) coinciding with the arrival of a dense fog. And what's more remarkable is that each time I leave a city, I'm chased out of town by blue skies. Such was the case in Nanjing.

When I arrived it was in the pissings of rain; not an ideal atmosphere for bitter-cold January. The next three days passed with little sunshine and even less visibility. For all I knew, Nanjing's skyline could have been as modest and underwhelming as the profile of my home base, LianYunGang. But sure enough, when I left town on Saturday morning, I could see for miles in each direction the winking faces of the steel and glass monoliths that populate Nanjing. Nanjing is as modern and high-tech as they come, but you're still able to find the pleasant touch of nature.

I spent a whole day getting lost around the hillocks and valleys of the Purple Mountain. And this natural preserve is a mere twenty minutes out of town by bike. Along with the city's friendly and green-thumbed neighbor, the streets of Nanjing are amiable and open. I've made brief mention of the diversity that can be found throughout the city, but that list didn't account for the hidden treasures. Nanjing is home to the only authentic Mexican restaurant I've seen in China. Now I haven't been everywhere, but I'm pretty comfortable in saying that a real Mexican place, complete with live guitar, plucking out the cascading and racing notes of latin music, is in very short supply in China. Yes, the excellent guitar can play a game of pick-up soccer with your ears, and in the meantime you can enjoy the most pleasant un-invited dinner guest, the plucky chocolate lab that comes by to collect the leftovers.

Not in the mood for a margarita with your burrito? Then why not catch a taxi over to Finnegan's Wake, an authentic Irish pub and also the best place for good craic in Nanjing. Choose one of the forty different blends of Scotch or go with the standard Guinness. Either way, you can't lose.

300,000

2009-01-18T00:15:00.004+08:00

300,000. The estimated total number of casualties from the Japanese invasion of Nanjing. Among that number not only the soldiers are counted, but the innocent as well. The invaders took depravity to a whole new level; they invented new kinds of wickedness. The Nanjing Massacre Museum was one of my first stops in the city. In tandem with the overcast weather, the visit cast a pall over the trip. As much as anyone could linger on the astonishing and agonizing past of Nanjing, circa the winter of 1937-38, the winter of Nan-King's discontent, I found instead a new feeling. After the overwhelming story of the massacre, I was inspired by how the city of Nanjing is very much alive today. The city has taken great measures to preserve the memory of the crime that befell it, and rightly it should. But you needn't go far beyond the gray slate walls of the memorial to see a city bathed in ethereal glow; a place resonating with life.

Discovering the true meaning of Christmas

2008-12-20T16:11:00.006+08:00

The true meaning of Christmas, while being a hyper-cliché in Western cultures, is genuinely foreign to the Chinese people. I can say this with titanium-grade certainty because these words are being proffered by one seriously disillusioned Santa Claus.

Allow me to zoom out a bit and provide you, the weary holiday reader, some context. My Chinese friend Amy (a super-classy lady that runs her own juvenile English school here in LianYunGang and who’s also dating another foreign teacher here at the HuaiHai Institute of Technology) asked for foreign volunteers to come to a Christmas party at a local Kindergarten. “The more the better,” Amy said. And while I weighed the invitation, I was forced to consider the zealous generosity that Amy had shown to me and the other foreign teachers since I’ve been here. Also, I realized that my attendance at this party, while being a nice favor to Amy on the one hand, might make this Christmas more memorable for the children. Because—at the end of the day—you do it for the children.

Now, to make one thing perfectly clear: I don’t work with children on a daily basis. Some of my colleagues here in China have prior experience outside of the University setting; they’ve taught young’uns at home or abroad. My CV is relatively thin when it comes to early education, though. I suppose the psychology of dealing with the younger crowd is much more straightforward. I can wrap my head around that—no problem.

But the thing that a naïve University teacher fails to realize is this: the kids aren’t the problem; it’s the parents. I’ll get to this point in a moment.

Back to the so-called party. I was joined by Phil, Amy’s boyfriend and a colleague of mine at the University. We met Amy as she was closing up her school on Thursday night. En route to the party, Amy asked me if I would like to be Santa Claus. “Well, Amy…,” I said, “that’s a very enticing offer. But I’m not not exactly what you would call ‘jolly,’ nor do I have the…(cough, gesture towards my stomach) appropriate physique.” I was confident that Phil would be filling out the big red suit anyhow. He had agreed beforehand—I was witness to this. But then Amy informed me that she had extra Santa outfits. Phil’s eyes lit up when he heard this. “Now listen Rory,” Phil started in his heavy Dublin accent, “if I’m gonna be makin’ an arse outta meself yer gonna be there beside me. No two ways about it.” Ah shit.

I could feel my stomach churn in anticipation for one of the most humiliating ordeals of the year, let alone the decade. I was soon to discover that the absolute chaos of the situation would override any concerns I had about looking silly.

After arriving at the school I was led to a small closet, and Amy introduced me to the school’s headmaster. She gave me sparse instructions. “If the kids hand you a red or green ticket, then you give them a present from the bag,” she said. Pretty straight forward. When I exited the small utility closet that the school had set aside as “Santa’s Workshop,” wherein I donned the suit and loaded up Santa’s bag full of toys, the throng of people outside was enough to derail even the most stalwart of Ol’ Saint Nicks. I can’t tell you the exact number of kids that attend this Kindergarten; but judging by the amount of people crowding the halls and shoving past one another, I would estimate that anywhere between 500 and 50,000 kids attend this school.

Very soon I was caught up in the whirlwind of a commercially-driven farce of a holiday celebration; this was complete with a weak and unenthusiastic facsimile of Father Christmas, who was doling out cheap gifts to an un-appreciative crowd of youngsters. Sound familiar? Believe it or not, this happens in China too.

I was quickly surrounded on all sides by clamoring children, and if I failed to immediately take their tickets and exchange them for a gift then the parents wouldn’t hesitate to intervene. Like I said before, they’re by far the worst. I was besieged by pushy and insistent parents, some of them having the gall to tug on my sleeves and pry their hands into the bag. I had to lay down some Santa boundaries. I looked round for Phil in the hopes that we could make a united front. He was being swept in the other direction by the crowd, and I soon lost sight of him. On my own and faced with the mob, I tried to maintain a steady pace of gift dispensing and cheer spreading. I did my best rendition of the voice; I waved to the kids; I pretended to ignore the unintelligible shouts coming from parents who were apparently unsatisfied with the gift that I had given their child. There were moments where I very nearly lost my composure. I distinctly remember saying, more than once, to a sea of completely deaf ears that, “Hey! It’s about giving, not taking!”

And then after another hand tried to force its way into my bag, “Cut that out! That’s not Christmas, dammit!”

All in all, I believe that I was made to be less of a fool than some of these parents. Perhaps the school should’ve equipped their would-be Santas with riot gear instead of polyester bags filled with cheap plastic toys. But as fervent as I was in imposing the cheery and charitable spirit of the holidays, sometimes quite forcefully, the Chinese still understand very little about Christmas, Santa Claus, and the whole scene really. What mattered most for the school, in the end, was having a white face behind that fake white beard.

Trying as it was for me, my Welsh friend Michael had a worse time of it…somehow. He showed up a bit later on, and in a courageous act of selflessness he donned a Santa suit to provide some late-inning relief. He was bright as a supernova at first, throwing himself into the role with aplomb and cheer to spare. But then he made a fatal mistake when he knelt down to hand out gifts to some forlorn-looking tots. The resulting scramble for the open bag nearly trampled seven kids and knocked over a fully-articulated Christmas tree. It was a sad moment for Santa impersonators everywhere.

Future Perfect

2008-12-11T16:29:00.006+08:00

Greetings from the world of tomorrow!

This city doesn’t fit the profile for the clean and sterile utopia of Huxley’s[1] imagination. I’d say it more closely resembles the decaying and crumbling not-so-distant future of Caurón[2] or Scott[3]. In all fairness though, for every site of baffling urban decay there is a shiny new façade to draw the eyes of the skeptic visitor. Honestly, I think these flashy new steel and glass monoliths are part of a thin veneer to cover up…well I’m still not exactly sure what there is to hide. All the remnants of a truly ancient culture are eroding in the face of unrelenting progress.

However, in the spirit of tomorrow there are several fascinating devices and customs that have developed in this not-so-distant landscape of the future. These have started to appear more and more as the mercury has dipped (A brief aside about the weather: when I first arrived in China the temperature was hot but not intolerable. Now, nearly midway through December, I walk outside and I think that it could be any month in the late fall or winter. There aren’t nearly as many of the weather hazards that I’ve grown accustomed to during my life in the Midwest USA). That being said, I find that the Chinese are far less tolerant of the cold than Midwesterners of good stock. Many of these aforementioned devices in the world of tomorrow are related to the declining temperature.

I’ve noticed that the locals have an affinity for keeping their forearms warm. In some instances, this desire to protect the forearm is entirely logical and necessary. Take for example some nifty forearm-guards that I’ve seen on the motorcycles and bicycles. These fur-lined mittens will cover the handlebars of any bike, and from there they extend to cover the arm well past the wrist. These make sense to me; I can appreciate the ingenuity and necessity behind such an invention. But then there is another incarnate of the Chinese desire to keep the forearm toasty; and unfortunately, I see very little logic or reason behind this accessory. The forearm smock, or extra sleeve, is the confounding piece of apparel that I’ve discovered. What drives people—outside of food services—to wear a pair of these hideous sleeves? I cannot say. But I see students wearing them sometimes; and I must admit that when I see someone wearing these pointless sleeves outside their winter coats, I feel genuine contempt for that person. They may have done nothing to offend me outside of wearing these obnoxious sleeves, but that’s all it takes.

In other news, my Welsh friend Michael was back in the hospital last week. Michael has, by his own admission, pissed away his health for the better part of the last ten years. He’s only twenty-four, but twice in the last month he’s had to go to the hospital to treat air pockets in his lungs. These uncomfortable ailments stem from his regular smoking habit since age twelve. I make no judgments about Wales based on my one Welsh friend, but it’s fair to say it’s a different world where smoking is picked up by twelve year olds. Anyway, the hospitals are a real comic experience. In the one location of this futuristic world where one would expect to see a clean and sterile environment, quite the opposite is true. Any Ding, Zhou, or Wang from the street can bring in his oversized fruit cart or motorized tricycle. They’ll wheel their buggy right into the lift, bring it up to the floor where their relative is being treated, and carry on as if this isn’t an egregious encroachment on everything medical. The hospital staff will just work around these obstructions. Nobody bats an eye, even though untold bacteria are being carted in with these mechanical beasts of burden. I suppose it’s more sanitary than allowing the donkey-driven cart into the hospital ward, but it’s still a curiosity. And of course smoking goes un-checked by the nurses and doctors, even in the respiratory ward.

So those of you reading this yesterday, do your best to protect your future. It is not perfect.

[1] Aldous Huxley, author of Brave New World and Island

[2] Alfonso Caurón, director of Childrend of Men (2006)

[3] Ridley Scott, director of Blade Runner (1982)

Nothing is written!

2008-12-03T22:21:00.003+08:00

Good grief, has it really been this long since I’ve updated this register of raucous China-related revelries? Well, dear Reader, please accept my earnest apologies. You must understand, gentle Reader, that the final exam season is upon us here at the HuaiHai Institute of Technology. And while this time of the academic calendar heralds the approach of the long-awaited winter holiday, this season also carries with it a lot of work.

One of the tasks set to teachers is writing final exams. In a fashion that follows suit with the school’s laissez faire approach to classes, attendance, and well..pretty much everything else, the guidelines for concocting these exams are rather vague. In essence, the teachers are expected to create something more or less similar to the previous year’s exam. Copies of the old exams are distributed, but these are to be viewed merely as suggestions. It would be well-advised to adopt a format similar to the previous exam, but when it comes to content alls fair. At least, that’s the impression I got. The nitty-gritty details of the exam process are more intricate and confusing than this general overview I’ve provided. But you, fair Reader, needn’t concern yourself with the big plastic hassle; just appreciate the fact that I’ve been given a considerable amount of leeway when it comes to drafting these climactic quizzes.

Here’s a sample of some exam questions I’ve come up with so far:

1) Common purposes of communicating include

a) Entertainment, wealth, and desire.

b) Survival, co-operation, and personal needs.

c) Disinformation, stealth, and clandestine activities.

d) Extortion, racketeering, and organized crime.

2) Based on in-class lecture, three cultural values that are common in the U.S. are

a) Low fuel prices, high wages, and extended vacations.

b) Fast food, hard work, and television.

c) Independence, hard work, and convenience.

d) Life, liberty, and the pursuit of celebrity status.

3) Which of the following can be defined as a cultural response?

a) Sleeping when you are tired.

b) Saying “God bless you” when someone sneezes.

c) Sneezing.

d) Giving birth.

(think you know the answers? Test your knowledge! Leave answers in the ‘comments’ section of this blog)

All these sample questions came from the exam that I’ve written for my fourth-year students. These fourth-years are at the end of the road here at HHIT, and they’re set to be released into the wide world like a pack of voracious smelling hounds ready to sniff out decent work wherever it might be available. But the sad truth here in China is that good work is just as scarce for the recent graduate as it is back home in the States. I can only hope that the rigorous instruction that I’ve provided over the last four months will serve them well in the future.

Illinois Keane and the Temple of Hoops

2008-11-20T22:28:00.006+08:00

11/20/08

HuaiHai Institute of Technology

Today I had the pleasure of teaching some second-year students the intricacies of the sentence. I expounded on the endless joys and functions of this fundamental mode of communication. My students now have far more knowledge about the sentence than they could ever hope to put into good use. Sometimes this job is just too much fun…

In my free time I’ve been lending two paddle-sized hands to the woeful Foreign Language Teachers’ basketball squad. Throw in a couple of size thirteen galoshes and nearly two meters of raw American power, and you’ve got one totally revamped basketball squad. I was counting on my natural advantages (impressive frame, athleticism, youth, toughness, etc.) to at least intimidate the other teams in this interdepartmental hoops league. But I think my nationality only served to stoke the competitive fire of the other teams. Remember Beijing? The U.S. handed China an embarrassing loss in the gold medal game. I know the Chinese certainly remember that one.

And I was pretty much running out there alone. I mentioned that youth was one natural advantage that I had working for me. Of course, I’m not that young anymore—the shin splints alone had me walking like John Wayne the day after our first game. In comparison with the other guys out there, I was by far the youngest. It wouldn’t be presumptuous for me to say that I was the most concerned with fitness either. Some of my teammates liked to warm up their lungs before the games with a couple top-grade Chinese cigarettes. Lord only knows what kind of horrors they allow in their smokes over here. That issue aside, I was usually the only one playing defense, grabbing rebounds, passing the ball, hustling, caring at all about keeping the score close, desperately wanting to save face for my country…maybe this last point is saying enough.

I never really felt the competitive drive pump so furiously through my veins as I did when playing ball against these jokers. This is a huge cultural difference between the U.S. and China. Whenever my team missed an open shot or failed to crash the boards I found myself tasting bitter disappointment rising in the back of my throat. Or maybe that was acid reflux? I may have discovered the inherent competition that comes from an American upbringing; and along with that I found an insatiable thirst for victory. It’s safe to say that I haven’t discovered a peaceful center in the tradition of Buddhism or Taoism. But at least I’ve grown more tolerant of chili peppers since being here.

Nightclub Roulette

2008-11-09T23:32:00.005+08:00

11/8/08

This city has relatively unpredictable nightlife. It seems that everyone in this modestly-sized[*] metropolis will call or text one another on the happening nights. There must be some mutual consent among the locals that business will be slow the next day; because it seems like the only explanation for such sporadic coordination of club-going is the work of a very organized local network.

For instance, the clubs here in LianYunGang may be packed to the gills on a Tuesday night. I mean queues going out the door. Whereas a Saturday night trip to the club might very well turn out to be a bust. Maybe it has something to do with the presence/absence of entertaining live acts in the clubs. Some random nights of the week will feature kung fu masters doing feats of strength, singing dwarves that balance fire on their chins, or outrageous transvestites in full drag. This is no shit.

But then, other times are just plain un-cool. I would liken these experiences to being in the fan section of a Montreal Expos game (of course I mean when the Expos were still around). And you know what’s even stranger? Some of the crowds on Friday nights are akin to the number of die-hard fans at a Washington Nationals game. Wow, I should lay off that beleaguered MLB franchise. After all, if the team formerly known as the Devil Rays can reverse their fortunes anyone can.

Speaking of fortunes, I was having a conversation with a couple of my students the other day and they were asking questions about astrology. You know, the Daily Horoscope, “today is an 8,” etc. I explained to them that some people do put faith in this notion that the constellation that you were born under—Leo, Gemini, Cancer, Sagittarius, et al—in some way influences your fortune for better or for worse. My students were quick to pick up on that belief, but they were especially focused on the aspects of astrology that pertain to personality. They were very quick to accept the idea of pre-determined character traits for the separate signs of astrology.

It should come as no surprise, I guess. I’m sure there are many similarities to this perpetual zodiac of western culture and the perennial zodiac of Chinese culture. People born during the year of the dragon act a certain way, and people born during year of the tiger act a particular way, and so on and so forth.

However, being the academic authority figure[†] in the discussion, I had to act as the voice of reason. I think they mistook my stance—which was of course a complete dismissal of the zodiac symbols—as a bit cynical. But given the results of the 2008 election, cynicism is definitely out of style. Now is the time for hope. And I’ve been dutifully spreading the message of hope to all of my classes. Except for my class last Friday; I canceled that one because it was raining. And it was all the way over in Donggang. And I would’ve had to take a taxi to get there. My chances of hailing a vacant taxi on a rainy day were as minuscule as the average attendance for Nationals home games. Oh geez, there I go again.

[*] A modest city in China, such as LianYunGang, has about 5 million residents

[†] Not only an authority on the English language, but also the acting authority on western culture as well

The Undiscovered Country

2008-10-28T11:12:00.002+08:00

10/22/08

LianYunGang Airport

Bound for travel yet again. I took up an enticing offer to hit the road. The whole journey was arranged by the office of foreign affairs at the HuaiHai Institute. For a mere 700 RMB I could join in the fun. On tap for this trip: a visit to Putuo Mountain (one of four holy Buddhist mtns in China) and a trip to HangZhou as well. I never would’ve had the conviction to visit these places on my own; I’m convinced that much is true.

As usual, though, I accepted the invite without hesitation knowing full well that all the details had been sorted out already. This trip was difficult to turn down, considering the circumstances. We had a four-day weekend due to some sports events on campus. The university cancelled classes on Thursday and Friday of that week to allow students to fully participate in the sports competitions. As a matter of fact, I was invited to participate in the competitions as well.

The foreign languages department came to me for help in bolstering their (apparently) lackluster hopes in winning any of the events. They asked for my assistance with the 100-meter relay. I was flattered by their offer, so I accepted. But the offer for the trip was soon to follow the sports recruitment, so I reneged on my verbal commitment to the school and left town instead. In the aftermath of double-booking myself and subsequently abandoning the school, I did feel a little twinge of guilt.

For whatever reason, I had allowed the flattering offer from the athletically beleaguered foreign lang. department to boost my ego. I actually started to believe that I could deliver victory for our team. Probably an illusion, I’m sure. But I had been spending some time running on the school’s track lately; and based on what I saw, there weren’t many top-tier runners around. So as part of the illusion and my over-inflated ego, I had this vision in my head of me and my teammates hoisting the 1^st place trophy over our heads. Then we would go out on the town to celebrate (which I probably would’ve done regardless of the outcome).

But as it turns out, the opportunity to assert dominance on the track had passed. Perhaps it was for the best. The unrealized dream of victory is a much more satisfying state-of-mind than the crushing disappointment found in actual defeat. In a rational analysis of my chances to deliver victory, the chances were slim. So I’ll be content to hold on to the pleasant illusion instead.

The Road Warrior

2008-10-16T10:39:00.002+08:00

10/16/08

I’ve been invited to join a biker gang. The gang, which uses the handle of “The Wolverines,” consists of the younger ex-pat teachers here in LianYunGang. I should be clear in stating that there are no actual motorcycles in this gang; in fact the most powerful bike in the gang would be an electronic scooter. But since I bought a bicycle earlier this week, I’m now eligible to ride with the big boys. Besides, I can always use a playing card on the rear spokes to make it sound like I’m tearing up the asphalt on a motorcycle.

Speaking of hopeless attempts at being cool, I felt particularly awesome last night. Not only because I was in the company of a particularly gorgeous Chinese lady (who wants to be my friend merely because I speak English; can you believe it? I don’t have to be charming or funny, I can just open my mouth and I’m guaranteed to have the company of beautiful women); mostly I felt awesome because I gave her a lift on the bicycle in hilarious fashion. My bicycle, like most here in China, is equipped with a carrying rack that sits over the rear wheel. This is convenient for carrying things like books or packages, but also for carrying lightweight people. Back home I never had a bike with one of these rear carrier racks, so I never explored the charming possibilities of taxiing girls and other friends on the back while I pedaled.

So there I was, pedaling my bike while transporting a very attractive cargo and I was just waiting for the opening verses of “Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head,” ala Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid. But instead I settled for the very satisfying mental image of the whole scene. It was truly one of those situations where you wish a camera was handy. Oh well, but that doesn’t mean my eyes will soon be turning red. Because I’m free, nothing’s worrying me…

Beijing

2008-10-07T10:51:00.004+08:00

10/4/08

Notes from Beijing

1) If you’re looking at the prospect of a 13 hour train ride, always be dubious of the ticket that cost a mere 100 RMB. For that price, the journey is guaranteed to be an uncomfortable ordeal. Think about it: a ticket that was purchased for 100 Chinese RMB amounts to 14 USD. If you break down that price over a timetable, you’re looking at roughly $1/hr in traveling fees. Very economic, no doubt about that. But that $14 will only secure you a hard seat in an over-crowded, over-booked trunk carriage. Good luck getting comfortable, or keeping your sanity for that matter. In the end, it’s best to throw down the extra 100 RMB to purchase the sleeper carriage.

2) After the obligatory visit to the Great Wall, Colm and I set out for the obligatory taste of Beijing roast duck. Our circuitous search for an ideal restaurant didn’t want for results; nearly every corner in Beijing has a roast duck restaurant. However, we were being somewhat particular in our search. We ignored the places that looked incredibly upscale, and we also avoided joints that had a queue out the door. Eventually our time and budget constraints forced us to concede defeat—for that night anyhow—and settle on a small restaurant that didn’t have roast duck on the menu.

At dinner, I couldn’t help but remark to Colm that the Great Wall hike was still surreal in my mind. Eventually the reality would set in, given the hefty amount of photo evidence and the physical toll of the 10K hike. But at that moment in the restaurant, I was more consumed by my hunger and a pressing need to visit sights that remained unseen. It was as if I couldn’t even take a breath and realize, “Hey wow, I just walked for 10 kilometers on a man-made object that’s visible from the moon.” I was more or less frustrated with my inability to live in the present. The only immediate thought that I was able to truly comprehend was the glib realization that our vegetables were slightly overcooked.

3) Beijing exists as a city of contrasts. It is simultaneously a clean city and a filthy city. At once it is awe-inspiring and under-whelming; celebrated yet disdained; enthralling but terribly frustrating. These contradictions are bound to exist in any large city. For every Yin there is the inevitable Yang. Of course this fits well with the Chinese principle of symmetry; but beyond that Beijing seems to follow the blueprint for all large cities. From the center point the city expands outward in concentric circles. At every point along that circle, there exists a counterpoint within the city’s walls. Maybe across the invisible radius of that circle, maybe one meter to the east or west.

The city is home to many things, but it is impossible to live there. Beijing is one moment the city of your dreams, but then it is also the place of nightmares.

The A-List

2008-09-27T17:29:00.001+08:00

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

2008-09-19T20:37:00.002+08:00

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

2008-09-14T15:46:00.002+08:00

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

2008-09-11T19:02:00.004+08:00

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

2008-09-07T12:22:00.005+08:00

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

2008-09-04T10:28:00.003+08:00

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?)

2008-09-03T15:23:00.001+08:00

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

2008-09-03T14:49:00.002+08:00

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.