I was shocked to hear a 7.9 earthquake hit my Chinese “hometown.” It actually looked like it hit somewhere near Jiuzhaigou, but Chengdu’s close enough. You wouldn’t be able to tell though that Chengdu is located in an earthquake-prone place. I don’t know if the seismographs there record weekly occurrences of earthquakes like in Japan, but it is in one of those hotspots – it’s at the foot of the Himalayas for crying out loud.

It really doesn’t surprise me though that so much damage resulted from the quake. I’m really sad about the tens of thousands of people who are dead or missing, but again, it really didn’t surprise me when I heard the stats.

Basically all of the modern buildings in China are made of concrete. When I was looking for an apartment, I was told by my Chinese friends to look for something that was at the most a few years old, because, by rule of thumb, a five-year-old building was considered old due to the material it was made from. I have absolutely no background in construction, but I’m certain the concrete used for most buildings is not the best as it begins to crumble around five years after the structure is built. It is not uncommon to see these “older” buildings being torn down with only a field of rubble remaining of the structures; perhaps the Chinese have lost their ability to build things that last.

Obviously the Sichuanese were unprepared for such a violent earthquake and unfortunately the death toll is climbing. I’m sorry that they were hit so hard, and I hope for many stories of miracles.

If you pray, please pray for the people of Sichuan.

Okay, so I am home again. I am one day off from my one year anniversary of when I hopped on the plane to China, and I will celebrate it at the dentist.

I know there is a large gap from the last time I wrote, but I have been touring around China and West Coast US for the past six weeks or so, not to mention the week before all the touring I was reeling from the shock of getting bit by a dog during my last week in Chengdu. There was a huge hoopla over that dogbite, and yes, I had to get the rabies shots; the immuno-globulin twice, actually, but that's a long story that I'll type up and post later as an account in case this thing goes legal... including pictures!

Anyway, my sinuses are trying to clear up after being stuffed for the past 10 months or so, my cat loves me again, and I'm now waiting in happy anticipation of finally eating a juicy US steak.

Bon appetit a moi!

7. Racial social hierarchy

From what I can tell, this is the hierarchy of the society, without taking into account other factors such as age and whatnot:

a. Chinese men
b. Beautiful Chinese women
c. Ugly Chinese women
d. Koreans (both South and North)
e. Laowai
f. Tied: Heiren and Chinese ethnic minorities
g. Japanese

In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s based on race and appearance. I have no idea where to place South Americans, Middle Easterners, and other Asians, but I think they can fit anywhere between e and f. I don’t know where to put the peoples of the American First Nations (i.e. – Indians) either, but apparently they’re not very interesting to the Chinese.

The factor of money is also thrown in. Here’s the explanation of the list:

a. – c.: Yes, the Chinese take the top of the list, headed by Chinese men. Yes, “ugly” Chinese women are at the bottom of the Chinese portion of the hierarchy, since of course the most important people are Chinese and Chinese people are “the best” no matter what they look like. Looks are still extremely important, however. A woman’s appearance is so important here that it’s become one of the factors of achieving success at work, or even getting work. Though traditional Chinese would be scandalized by the concept of plastic surgery because of the notion that your ancestors gave you your face and thus even wishing a permanent change to your appearance would be disrespecting them, many parents are now saving money for their daughters to get plastic surgery so they’d find work and get promoted quickly. I have actually seen more plastic surgery clinics here than anywhere in the US.

d.: Historically, Koreans and Chinese have been pretty close, with mainly the Koreans paying tribute to the Chinese as China was the most important force in Asia for a long time. Perhaps the current relationship is not too different. It does seem though that the Chinese consider the Koreans as Not-Quite-Chinese, which places them at right under the Chinese in the hierarchy. Many Westerners would wonder why I haven’t placed the Japanese somewhere along the same ranking as the Koreans, but you’ll figure out the mystery soon enough.

e.: Laowai (老外), by the way, is a very colloquial term for “foreigner.” It rhymes with “OW! Why?!?” You would actually hear this word more than the greeting “Ni hao.” In fact it might as well be a greeting (or warning?) because they actually say this at you (not "to" you). This term is so colloquial, I’m just short of thinking it as a racial slur, as it applies to any foreigner of European descent, so in some ways it can easily equate to “cracker.” There doesn’t seem to be any political correctness at all in China, just political politeness; they don’t use the term in the news or on diplomatic ventures though it is obviously not taboo to say in public. It is assumed that if you are a Laowai, especially an American Laowai, you have a lot of money to throw around, which apparently makes you a very good friend to have.

f.: There are two terms that I’d consider worse than “Laowai.” One translates to “foreign devil,” which I’ve been called by a five-year-old girl at a museum (and no, she was not chastised by her parents for saying it), and the other is the term they reserve for anyone of African descent: Heiren (黑人; said like, “Hey, wren!”). This term literally means “black person,” but it is also used to describe someone who would commit a felony, which is without a doubt a negative connotation. The are very few things I can say regarding what China is like for a “Heiren” since my experience has been that of a Laowai, but if I’m often on the brink of losing my patience being a Laowai, I’d definitely lose it if I were a Heiren; it’s been known that random Chinese would pinch a “Heiren” to see if the “black” would come off. I also place Chinese ethnic minorities at the same rank, since according to the Chinese the only good values the minorities have to offer to the rest of the world are pretty girls and dancing (Note: There aren't really any Han Chinese traditional dances; or at least none that women would perform -- yeah, a history of one thousand years or so of foot-binding can definitely wreak havoc on traditional performing arts).

g.: And finally, the Japanese. Remember World War II? Ever heard of the Rape of Nanking? Yes, the Chinese still hate the Japanese for that, among other events during the Japanese occupation, and they fan that fire with each generation. Westerners usually don’t understand this since it seems to be Western nature to forgive (which is good) and then totally forget (which is bad) things that have happened in the past; if we actually understood this point-of-view, I’m thinking many of us would have a different perspective of the Middle East as I think even Western diplomats to the Middle East are thinking of that region with a Western point-of-view, but then that is neither here nor there… The funny (if anything can be humorous about this issue) thing about the anti-Japanese sentiment, is that the Chinese really don’t mind buying Japanese goods and sending their kids to Japanese universities, and Chinese kids accept the Japanese as “bad but okay” based on their liking for Japanese video games, anime shows, and manga comics.

6. Staring

The Chinese, or at least those outside of downtown Beijing where they’re used to seeing foreigners, are always watching people who are obviously foreigners, for whatever reason. I think for the most part it is curiosity.

They are probably the most curious people I have ever met, though they make very quick judgments about all Americans or all westerners from the behavior, dress, eating habits, etc of just one person. Their curiosity is very obvious too, as they take no pains to hide it.

I can’t shop without eyes taking quick inventory of what’s in my basket. Sometimes I’ve even inspired people to buy whatever I’m buying. I’ve also been stalked while shopping. Sometimes at Carrefour, Trustmart, or Wal-mart I'd be about to hand over my cash or card to the cashier when the customers behind me would try to figure out what's in my wallet... which may not necessarily be the good type of curiosity... Don't worry, I haven't had anything lifted off me yet.

As a mere passer-by on the street, I’ve become the topic of a number of conversations. And trust me, you’d know even without any proficiency in Chinese when they’re talking about you.

I have nearly caused other people serious injuries just by taking a package with me from A to B, waiting for traffic lights to change, or walking down the street. Some really curious passers-by would slow whatever they're driving to watch me as I go about my business, and they almost smack into something or someone. It’s a lot like that scene in Memoirs of a Geisha (except this is of course Memoirs of a Laowai). I’ve nearly gotten injured myself by gawking bicyclists whose steering tried to follow their eyes. Trying to refrain from yelling (or worse) at someone who just stops short of maiming you really does build your character.

I’ve been stared at while I’m eating in Chinese restaurants (as opposed to the western style restaurants here), though part of that is because I’m left-handed and supposedly everybody in China is right-handed. Or at least (so far) they are taught to be right-handed.

The staring actually has been an annoyance to me from day one, and there has not been a day when I haven't noticed it. I try to be understanding in thinking that they’re not used to seeing people with such drastic physical differences from theirs.

Most of the time though, I, as well as other Laowai, wish they’d just drop it and go on with life, especially as there are, even with more than 1.3 billion Chinese in the world, plenty of Laowai-looking people elsewhere on the globe.

5. Traffic

This one will probably be very hard to get across, at least when you’re trying to limit the length of the explanation… so I’ll just put it into guidelines:

1) Representations of written traffic laws like crosswalks, crosswalk lights, and bike-lanes, are just suggestions, street decorations (they do like to have a lot of blinking lights around), or perhaps just for the benefit of visiting foreigners.

2) Even when you’re walking across an empty, deserted parking lot, some bike rider coming from behind you will choose to speed up and cut you off rather than going behind you as they change direction. Same situation with motorists vs. pedestrians in the same setting, though there's no hope in knocking them out of their cars if you lose your temper. After you’ve had many such close encounters, you may feel there’s no point in clipping your toenails anymore as these people will do it for you if you wear your sandals.

3) Only the people in the front seat of cars seem to have seatbelts. The people sitting in the back of any vehicle, especially taxis, should reconnect with their Maker.

4) Though in the US they teach you to look left, right, and left again before crossing the street, in China you would be standing at a crosswalk all day appearing to any observers like you’re at a tennis match as cars seem to materialize out of nowhere.

5) 90% of all vehicles will not slow down for you when you’re walking down the street, waiting at a crosswalk to cross the street, or already walking across the street.

6) When the crosswalk lights tell you that you can cross the street, it’s a lie; vehicles making turns will still have the right of way to mow you down. In other words, the light doesn’t tell you when it’s safe to cross the street, it only tells you when it’s safest.

7) Vehicles use every paved surface to get where they need to be. This includes bike lanes, opposing traffic lanes, and sidewalks.

8) There are two main sounds you hear besides basic traffic noises: incessant honking and very poorly kept brakes.

9) Unless you hadn’t noticed, pedestrians are at the bottom of the food chain.

10) Chinese traffic may inspire within you a type of road rage that is very rare in the US: pedestrian road rage.

11) If you ever find yourself suddenly involved in some type of traffic accident, especially if it wasn't your fault, pick up whatever appendages you've lost and run (or limp) quickly away. Otherwise, you may spend hours at a police station enjoying a flood of the "victim's" relatives chewing you out in rapid and incomprehensible Chinese, and then you'd have to pay for this "entertainment".

In other words, roads in China might seem like a video game in which motorists or bicyclists try to come as close as possible to pinging off as many pedestrians as they can.

Other pedestrians, as well as their not-quite-dogs and babies, can cause traffic problems too, but more on that will be coming up.

3. Spitting / Hacking

Basically every man and old lady can whip up a loogie that even a camel would envy. Keep your ears sharp as they inadvertently warn you of an impending loogie as they noisily form it in their throats. Be sure to move away as quickly as possible; you do not want to be caught between the loogie and the pavement.

Speaking of ground surfaces, do not set anything you want to keep clean onto the floor of any building in China, even hospitals, grocery stores, most restaurants, and some libraries; spitting goes on indoors here too. This also includes trains and any other form of transportation.


4. Human Smokestacks

As if China didn’t already have air quality problems, human smokestacks (most men) make it worse by smoking everywhere without considering other people; I’ve seen men light up and smoke around pregnant women and infants.

By the way, as for any non-smoking male that comes to China, your masculinity comes into question if / when some Chinese men find out you don’t share their (disgusting) habit. As for any foreign female smokers that come to China, you be wild women; but then, they assume that of you anyway since you’re from the West, which is apparently full of Britneys.

For the past week or two, we've all been getting irritated by a really strong feeling of culture shock. The ironic thing is that it's hitting most of us just a couple of weeks before we're free to go home. We will all have many stories regarding this topic, and to give you an idea of the contributing factors to the frustration and culture shock of many an American ex-pat to China, I'll be briefly discussing each one at the rate of a couple per day.

You might not believe some of what I describe as some of it may just be wierd and beyond comprehension. Other things may seem tolerable, but trust me, the tolerance definitely wears off within a year.

Anyway, let the wierdness begin...


1. Line-Cutting and Swarming

Case 1: The “line” becomes less discernible towards the front as a quarter of the country and their fifth cousin rush to the front of the “line” to talk to the airline agent, shouting questions and delaying the rest of the people waiting in “line” by 15 minutes… each. The others elbow their way to the front, so the line you're in really doesn’t look like a line; it’s a mob.

Solution: Don’t fight the system; flow with it – elbow your way to the front too. Elbow pads should then be put on your list for what to bring with you to China. You also may consider bringing a helmet. Just for grins.

Case 2: Somebody cuts in front of you as you wait for someone to finish cleaning out the ATM of all its cash, giving you a covert side-glance in the hope that 1) you didn’t notice; or 2) you, the foreigner, wouldn’t speak enough Chinese to inform them to move it to the back of the line.

Solution: Depending on the circumstances, either suck it up, play it passive-aggressive as you steal your own spot back, or tell them you’ve waited long enough and that their presence is requested at the back of the line.


2. Chinese-Friending

Definition: The act of initiating the befriending process, commonly used by many (though not all) young Chinese when it comes to meeting their foreign counterparts. An express version of friendship, it would take you from first base straight to third, friendship-wise. Common experiences consist of:

1) Upon the exchange of cell numbers, you are “friends.”
2) You cannot possibly be just an acquaintance, as since you’ve met, you were obviously “destined” to become friends.
3) You will have a lot of surprises as you realize your Chinese “friend” actually has many expectations of you after you’ve failed to meet them.
4) You receive numerous determined phone calls from your “friend” especially when you don’t answer the phone. Said “friend” will let the phone ring for about three minutes, hang up, and then try again half a minute later.
5) You will be invited to many mystery excursions, some of which may require having your picture taken numerous times.
6) You may or may not need to sing John Denver’s “Country Roads.”
7) A couple of weeks into the “friendship” you start receiving text messages saying “I miss you!” from some person you hardly remember.
8) You will become the stereotype for all Americans in the eyes of your “friend.”

Solution: If you want to stop the insanity, either change your phone number or change your phone’s ring settings to mute.

Do you know what happens when you go to bed somewhat close to dawn, a couple of days in a row? Yeah. You feel like you belong in a different time zone. It’d probably be an advantage to me, considering my new sleeping schedule is somewhat closer to west coast US time than Beijing time and I’ll have to adjust soon enough anyway. At the very least I hope it’ll help make the jet lag situation easier when I step back onto American soil.

No, I didn’t do this on purpose. I’ve been “driving the night train” as the Chinese would say (开 夜 车), working out my problems online when the internet is at its fastest, which actually has made me quite productive, especially in terms of figuring out the current 90 pound gorilla in my life – academics.

I’ve figured out that my major is not very student-friendly, especially as the department doesn’t provide helpful resources and credits don’t seem to transfer like they should. You’re not given any information about future classes, not even required classes. They have this really stupid requirement of doing a research paper on China while physically at the UW with a UW China studies professor, which renders the research on China I’ve been doing for the past year and a half pointless even though I’ve actually been doing the research in China for the past year.

It’s also a major that wouldn’t do anyone any good until you get at least a masters in it, and since I’m having so much trouble with the bachelors, I really don’t want to pursue the masters. In fact, I’ve begun to not want to pursue the bachelors either, though I’ll keep plodding on if it turns out I’ll have only a couple of classes left to complete it when I get back to the US. I am tired of seeing my hard work go to waste.

Until a couple of weeks ago I was very concerned about how my credits earned here in China will transfer, but, as stated in the past few posts, I decided it would be wise to major in something I could use – linguistics. I’d still graduate within a year, which is interesting considering I’ve been majoring in China studies for the past four years. Spend four years studying one subject and then graduating year switch to a different major that will actually take me just one year to complete? So funny-sad.

I’ve already acted upon this “major” decision (sorry about the pun) by signing up for correspondence courses in linguistics, which I will start in mid-July.

Hmm... with ideas like this, I ought to fool around with my circadian rhythm more often...

I accidentally skipped Five, also known as the Circus Monkey Week, but I can just summarize it like this: nix on the China studies major, yea to the linguistics major and honors with a minor in history; try for minor in anthropology / archaeology. Added a Russian class to my schedule in place of all the China studies classes I dropped. Gotta fill the void, y'know.

Considered studying abroad again for Spring 08 (Jerusalem, Israel; Cairo, Egypt; Galway, Ireland; Ioannina, Greece) or even Summer 08 (all over Greece; Corsica, France) depending on when I can start my career, but I have to take a certain course in the spring, and the summer programs look somewhat expensive.


And now, Four.


* No archaeology trip to Jiuzhaigou, but will go to Hailuogou Glacier for a daytrip instead.

* Our cruise on the Yangzi is a definite!

* After doing even more research, it's possible that I'd have one or two more classes left for the China studies major, which means it'd be a pretty stupid time to drop it. I'll just wait until all the credits transfer from my study abroad before I pull the plug, but regardless I'll be starting on my BA in linguistics.

Every so often someone, usually the same person every time, wants the foreign students to do something in front of a sizable group of Chinese students. I’m not sure why, except that we’ve often gotten the feeling that we just might be somewhat like a team of dancing monkeys forced to perform to this person’s tune. Not that she’s trying to be controlling, it’s just that she, as other Chinese do, loves to watch people perform, and since most of us have no interest in karaoke, she decides we ought to do presentations. The problem is these presentations usually have NO POINT to them and are generally a waste of time.

We’ve just had “a waste of time” so I’ll discuss it shortly and in keeping with the theme of this blog entry.

And I am totally serious about foreign students somewhat being treated like dancing monkeys… except we’re never given bananas.

So, here’s the typical circus program:

4 weeks prior: The clowns (various people) start spreading the rumor of an impending performance (presentation). These clowns might as well be mimes for all the information they have on the performance, which is less than helpful to the really busy monkeys. The monkeys actually hope the rumors would just go away and that they’d be left alone, because they really, really want to retire from the dancing monkey scene.

3 weeks prior: Rumors are somewhat officially confirmed, though the monkeys are at first not given a clear idea as to what kind of performance (presentation) they’re supposed to give, and for whom they’re giving the performance.

2.5 weeks prior: The monkeys are given clearer information. The monkeys were each told to be able to give 20 minute performances expressing life as the circus (research) and the circus as life (life in China). There are two problems with this performance; first, the target spectators (Chinese students who will be going to study in the US this September) have already seen one part of the performance at least once, while the other part of the performance is just purposeless considering the monkeys would only be performing the circus for circus-folk.

2 weeks prior: After ALL the monkeys have each had their own “But I don’t wanna dance anymore!!” fits in their private cages, they decide together to at least do something the spectators won’t have seen before and would be more useful: an instructional about the zoo and the foreign circus (guide to UW and places to go in the US).

1 week prior: The monkeys, who are in contact with the spectators of their upcoming performance, start getting concerned when they hear the spectators say they know nothing about this performance even though the monkeys were told it would be a mandatory event for these spectators; the performances would be geared towards them.

The day of: The monkeys meet someplace to ride in a clown car to their performance ring, and realize that the expected spectators had just that morning received word about the performance. These spectators had performances of their own to attend to, so all but two couldn’t go to the performances these monkeys had had to prepare especially for them. Instead, the monkeys were to perform in front of spectators that were only interested in the foreign circus but were not going to go to the zoo, so 5 out of 6 performances (UW registration process and classes, area around UW, UW academic resources, FAQ on studying at the UW, UW extracurricular activities) the monkeys were going to perform would not mean anything to the spectators. The assistant ringleader (the organizer of the event) arrives, and the monkeys express their displeasure on the way to the performance ring. The assistant ringleader’s defense is the state of general miscommunication, even though the shindig was her dog and pony (and monkey) show so she should have advertised accordingly. She had actually advertised to everyone else BUT the intended audience. She in fact had told quite a few of the intended spectators that they could go off on vacation; perhaps she forgot the date of the performances, because, hey, circus-folk don’t use daily planners or appointment books.

The minute of: Instead of an audience of about 20 spectators, the monkeys find themselves dancing in front of 200 or more, and each monkey was probably photographed and videotaped more times during that performance than they were at their first birthday party.




And believe it or not, the above is somewhat usual here…

So we’ll be making DVDs of our presentations to hand out to our friends that inadvertently missed this event that had been aimed to benefit them.

Six more weeks.

Things are moving pretty fast now, and though I'll be in China for about another month after the six weeks are over, my obligation to remain in China will be over. Not to mention in six weeks, part of home, in a way, will be coming to me while I'm still here!

Speaking of which, the details of my tour with Mom around China are almost complete.

Lately though I've been going over some details of what my next (and last) year at the U will be like. My plans have mutated several times (as per usual), so here's what I've got as of today:

Continue China studies BA?: Yes

Degree situation:
Major: Double BA degree (not double major, mind you; I'd get two diplomas shipped to me at graduation) in linguistics and China studies

Minor: History

Do Honors Linguistics?: Do I seem insane? Wait, don't answer that...

Online summer courses?: Yes:
Intro to Logic
Intro to Linguistics

Classes - Autumn Quarter:
History of Chinese Literature
Beginning Modern Hebrew
Chinese History: Up to 1276 AD

Courses yet to be added to schedule:
Phonetics
Syntax I


Next week will probably be an entirely different story...

In about two months the time I’m obligated to stay in China will end. My research project will end at the same time. Last but not least, my days as an undergrad will (hopefully, finally) end this upcoming autumn quarter.

I am already thinking ahead into the summer and next quarter. I’m very much ready right now to leave China for home, though I know the trip around China with Mom that will extend my stay in China by a month is going to be awesome. I’m just looking forward to returning to my home, my family, and my car.

The time is actually going by pretty fast as all of the events are quickly being checked off on my checklist. I’ve just returned from a May Break trip to Qingdao after the fieldtrip to Xi’an, so the next few major events are taking mid-terms, spending a week at Jiuzhaigou National Park on an archaeological dig, and then lastly, finals.

At some point I’ll probably type up a paper regarding my year-long project. I don’t want to have to do it when I get home to the US, as by then I know I’ll be mentally done with this year and prepared for the next stuff. That is, preparing for graduation.

I’m very much hoping to graduate from university this autumn, so I’m willing to go full throttle to get my degree as soon as I possibly can. If it were possible to take care of all the miscellaneous credits within the month of August, I would have found a way, but I’m fine with the idea of graduating in December, or March at the latest.

Lately I’ve decided it’d be a good idea to minor in something in addition to my major in China Studies. I’ve thought about a minor in archaeology, but according to the quarter schedule, that just can’t happen, so I’ll minor in history since I’ve had to take quite a few history courses anyway for my major. I have mixed feelings about a history minor, because although I do love history, I despise writing papers on it, and the history profs at UW have a thing for making their students write rather lengthy papers on things that sometimes make you wonder if they want their students to BS in their papers. They often try to make you form an opinion about events that you’ve barely scratched the surface of, which makes me distinctly uncomfortable making absolute statements about stuff that I don’t have complete information on.

For instance, I was assigned to write a paper in my Celtic history class about what the Celts were like. First of all, writing about the Celts gets you in hot water anyway because you’re writing on a subject that doesn’t even have a definite, explainable identity. Second, we were only allowed to use Julius Caesar’s account of the Celts, even though the prof warned us that sources coming from outside of the Celtic cultures were not very dependable as the Greek and Romans had this tendency to write about “barbarian” peoples with the inherent message that it is definitely better to be Greek / Roman – i.e. “civilized” – so they probably only stuck to discussing negative and extreme stuff. The prof also warned us that each Celtic group was unique and changes over time, which means certain details Caesar said about the “Celts” could only be honestly applied to the exact group of people he met up with.

I had the toughest time writing that paper as I was trying to pick out the facts from Caesar’s observations, and I get so embarrassed when I reread that paper because it seemed something a high-schooler would write; it ended up so basic. I just don’t like forming opinions off someone else’s opinions (which is also why sometimes I have problems with the news media) when what I want are facts. When given anything but facts, what you’re writing “academically” is just plain hearsay.

And then there are the profs that just don’t like the opinion you present in your paper, and ultimately grade your opinion rather than the way you’ve defended it.

Finally there’s the problem of reading material that consists of either dry, dry, dry material or the prof’s own works (or both…). I soon backed out of a course after I read the reading list, which was composed of only works the prof wrote, co-wrote, or was quoted regularly.

Anyway, I’m thinking of taking a couple of summer history courses online, which seems to be a safe enough option. I was thinking of modern Japanese history and the history of the Pacific Northwest. I will need a break from anything regarding China, especially since autumn will present another bout of researching China, and that’s all I’ve pretty much been doing for the past year.

I’m not sure if I’ll be happy to graduate just because I’ll finally have my bachelor’s or I’ll finally be able to stop studying China. I suppose I have been experiencing some senioritis as I’ve heard about other people getting tired of their majors at some point in their last year, but I have seriously wondered if I majored in the wrong subject.

What I probably should have done was minor in China Studies and major in linguistics, as I feel the need to stop learning Chinese and start learning another language. Linguistics majors at UW can apparently take at least two foreign languages up through the second year, and one of them has to be a non-Indo-European language. Including all the foreign language I took back in high school and all the instruction I’ve had in Chinese, this probably would’ve been better and easier to deal with; I’m wondering if I can do something about it even now at this late date.

But for now, I’ll just set my mind on taking the courses I need to take for my actual major: some topic in Chinese art, history of Chinese literature, and the history of China up until 1276 AD.

On the other hand though, I just couldn’t help throwing in another different language – modern Hebrew.

My transcript is going to look very interesting when I graduate…

So yes, I went to the Qingdao Starbucks again. This time I stayed to enjoy my coffee before heading back to the hostel. I got about five or ten minutes into whatever I was watching on my iPod before a couple of the baristas came around and stopped at my table. One offered a free sampling of espresso; the other offered a discussion. In my experience, baristas at Starbucks in China offer plenty of both, especially if they recognize you as a return customer that seems like a proficient English-speaker.

The barista that came to talk with me spoke excellent English, and occasionally paused for breath or waited for my much abbreviated input into the conversation (sometimes I’m not sure which) as he hit on a number of topics in rapid succession. I still don’t remember all of the topics as they didn’t string together like a normal conversation would, but I do remember the conversation began with Seattle.

And then, among other topics, it progressed to China, Chinese, my Chinese, his English, the Beijing Olympics, the NBA (I think), and eventually to some actor in the show Prison Break. After being in China for ten months it still astonishes me that the kids here watch American TV and seem to know more than I do about these shows, as was the case with this barista. I had never even seen Prison Break. I didn’t even know the main actor’s name, though I knew he had been arrested or something recently.

Anyway, the garrulous barista began to introduce the subject of the main actor’s pedigree. By this time my sample of espresso was cold, but I drank it anyway. I have no idea what his source was for this, but the barista was in total awe that the actor was “eight parts,” as in his most recent ancestors hailed from eight nationalities.

In my American head, I laughed: “Only eight?” Of course, the previous comment came from a member of a population that is often surprised that the only ways in which the American population could possibly be homogeneous are 1) we’re all human; and 2) we’re (almost) all heterogeneous.

I was about to comment on this following something I told him about my own mixed heritage (which would make a really pretty pie chart) when the probable cause of my amnesia regarding the rest of this conversation flew out of the barista’s mouth and stunned the section of my brain that interprets the meaning of words, especially a phrase I never expected to hear in China. That part of the conversation proceeded like this:

BARISTA: Blah blah blah eight parts, and he’s part French!

ME: Blah blah blah and many western European countries --

BARISTA (interrupts): Then you must be French because you’re hot! (BARISTA blushes and runs very quickly away.)

ME (soliloquizes): Did he just say what I think he said? (Pause) Yeah, he’s been watching too much American TV…

Exeunt ALL.

So I decided on going to Qingdao by myself after all. I was the only foreigner on board the train, and I was pretending I didn’t know a word of Chinese because sometimes it’s smart to appear stupid. The only problem I’d more than likely encounter on the trains would be thieves, but I found that the other Chinese in my compartment were as leery of thieves as I was.

To their delight, I shared a compartment with a mother and her seven-year old daughter. Though I think it is fun to help the kids with their English, and it’s cute to watch them muster the courage to try to speak to me, it’s actually not such a pleasant thing to be someone’s English coach for forty hours straight. And, honestly, after nine months of getting far too much attention by just looking American, I just don’t care for being singled out like that.

But whether or not I appreciate it, I really had no choice to be involved in somebody’s plans as there’s really nowhere to go or hide on a train. At least not indefinitely.

I heard the mother telling her daughter that she ought to try saying hello to me, but the kid’s shyness afforded me some time to figure out how I could avoid the interaction. Then a discussion ensued between parent and child regarding the need to practice English. At the very moment I heard that discussion begin, I decided I seriously needed to finish (hide behind, really) Don Quixote.

Because of my almost super-human peripheral vision, I had a very clear view of them as they finished their conversation and looked up at me, watching… waiting… Yes, waiting for that moment the conveniently placed English-speaking laowai would look up from her book and would not have anything else to hide behind.

What they didn’t realize is that the resident laowai is a clever and stubborn laowai who had already been in China for nine months and lately has not enjoyed being stalked for her English proficiency. You bet I continued reading, and I was prepared to wait them out no matter how long it’d take; I still had over 250 pages of small print left to read, and I have a very hardy bladder.

When I did have to get up for a bathroom-run, it was amazing getting down from my bunk as everyone in the compartment stopped whatever they were doing just to figure out what I was going to do. Whether it was mid-snooze or mid-sentence, life halted as soon as I put my foot on the ladder to come down from that bunk. It was so obvious that if I had been in a very impatient mood I would’ve had to stifle myself from saying, “I’m going to use the bathroom; any objections? And, trust me, I won’t need any help.”

I’m surprised no one offered to help in whatever “mystery” I was about to involve myself in as many Chinese seem to think that foreigners, especially young female ones, are always lost, perpetually in need of assistance, and cannot speak a word of Chinese. One guy I came across on the train was flabbergasted when I asked him in Chinese where the hot water was as I was looking to “cook” my convenience noodles.

I managed to get by through the first day without becoming someone’s English-speaking guinea pig, but I lost the battle on the second. It was totally unavoidable as the kid in my compartment and the more gregarious, boisterous friend she met onboard yelled “hello” at me as I was putting on my shoes on my way to the squatty. I responded politely to their greetings and then dashed away to do my business.

I knew the need for using the squatty would be my only weakness…

When I emerged from the squatty, I found the two kids and their mothers had followed me to the galley / latrine area and had waited at the door for me to come out. I had suddenly found myself standing before a human barricade that would not let me pass until I had sufficiently tested the kids’ English.

If you think that’s bad, I know of this one laowai family that had to sneak out of their neighborhood under the cover of night because of rabid hunters for English teachers; the last straw had been when they were hijacked, kidnapped, and coerced into saying they’ll teach the neighborhood kids English.

Such is the life of the laowai.

3 Word Answers: MUST USE 3 WORDS.
Not as easy as you might think…

1. Where is your cell phone?
on the table

2. Boyfriend/girlfriend?
not while student

3. Hair?
thick and lethal

4. Your mother?
visit me soon =D

5. Your father?
can’t visit me =(

6. Your favorite item?
"Livy", my iPod

7. Your dream last night?
hide the cat

8. Water’s the best?
in the heat

9. Your dream boy / girl?
like Christian Bale

10. The room you are in?
is a restaurant

12. Your fear?
missing returning flight

13. What do you want to be in 10 years?
leader among leaders

14. Who did you hang out with last night?
"Livy", my iPod

15. What you’re not?
an Olympic athlete

16. Are you in love?
what you think?

17. One of your wish list items?
Sparkly Chinese shoes

18. what time is it?
just after lunch

20. What are you wearing?
sandals, jeans, tee

22. Your favorite book?
Cervantes’ Don Quixote

23. The last thing you ate?
Grilled chicken sandwich

24. Your life?
busy and breathless

25. Your mood?
please cancel class

26. Your friends?
far and away

27. What are you thinking about right now?
three months hence

28. Your car:
I miss it

29. What are you doing at this moment?
talking to Mom

30. Your summer?
dramatic life changes

31. Your relationship status?
boyfriendless until graduation

32. What is on your TV screen?
perhaps mosquito guts

33. When is the last time you laughed?
I always laugh

34. Last time you cried?
Yesterday – Virginia Tech

35. School?
In an hour

I'm beginning to feel like I'm at that point on a roller coaster where you're slowly climbing up to the crest of what you know is going to be a very steep, fast drop. Quite a number of things are coming up, and though the previous abrupt drops, spins, and turns (wacky virus, temporarily busted ear drums, water damage, roommate gone ape, moving out of apartment, etc) were crazy enough, this one is going to be The Plunge.

Beginning today, which I've just realized is almost exactly 3 months before Mom comes and we start our tour around China and 4 months before my feet touch Yankee soil again, things will come quite rapidly.

Today my classmates and I will fly to Xi'an for a five-day tour for our Chinese archaeology class. I'll talk more about the experience later.

Gotta jet now.

Nope, I haven’t dropped off the planet – I haven’t been able to work on blog / photoblog entries for awhile now because a lot of things have been going on. I had been thinking about doing a few separate entries for what has been going on lately, but instead I’ll spare you all the nitty gritty details in favor of an overview of recent events, which might just make for a long entry anyway.

I’ll take care of the non-controversial stuff first…

* I’m apparently taking just over twice the amount of credits needed for my university’s definition of a full-time student. Uni says 12, I’m taking 25.

* I’ve been informed that my week-long Chinese archaeology fieldtrip to Xi’an (terra cotta warriors, tomb of the first emperor of China) will probably take place the week of April 15.

* For Golden Week (China’s “Labor Day Week” May 1 – 7) I think I’ll go to Xinjiang Province with other people in my group. I had wanted to go to Qingdao for the Cherry Blossom Festival, but it appears I was the only one interested in Qingdao, and I’m not sure how safe it would be for an obviously foreign chickadee to ride the overnight trainride alone.

* For two or three weeks in June, I might help out some profs / grad students from my uni with their research at Jiuzhaigou, one of my favorite places in China. I’d try to help out in the archaeology portion of the research, but before I commit I’d like to see if I can get some sort of school credit for it. Especially since I’d be missing a LOT of school for it.

* Though I’ll probably have just one or two quarters left at the U by the time I get back, I’d like to try to add archaeology as a minor. Another reason I want to get credit for the Jiuzhaigou project, if I decide to do it. The prof I talked to about it didn’t really answer my question about the credit, though, so it might be a no.


Some of you might know by now that I have moved out of the apartment and into the dorms on campus. I freely admit that making my project partner into my project partner was a mistake. Also, moving in with my roommate (same person) in particular was a mistake. Even moving into an apartment was a mistake.

As you can tell, I’ve spent quite a bit of time kicking myself while I’ve been trying to take care of these problems, as they’ve rolled in one right after another and the compiled details would probably rival War and Peace in length. Instead, I’ll share the “Dick and Jane” version of events since I got back to Chengdu in February.

I come home. Roommate is in Korea. I find water damage in library. I wait for roommate to come home. Roommate comes home, I show her damage. Roommate is surprised. Roommate calls landlord. Landlord does not come.

Later…

I hear someone in the shower. But I see roommate at hallway mirror painting her face. I ask, roommate says her friend comes to help with water damage. The boy comes out of the shower. I look at him. He looks at the floor. He walks quickly to roommate’s room.

Roommate’s “friend” takes more showers. Let’s call him Water Boy. I have a razor. Razor is not where I put it. I think myself paranoid. Water Boy does not look old enough to shave. I take shower again. Razor has moved. I stop using razor. I leave razor alone.

Water Boy takes another shower. I take mine later. Razor has moved again. My eyes open wide. I hide razor.

I go to school. I come back. Water Boy is on couch watching TV. Roommate is not in the apartment. Water Boy is by himself in our apartment. I have no reason to trust Water Boy. My bedroom door does not have a lock. I am very pissed off.

I think about helping Water Boy out of the apartment with a very hot Irish-Apache-German-Blackfoot temper combined with second-hand police training. I leave him alone instead. For his own protection and to prevent international incident.

Water Boy takes another shower. I take mine later. Razor is not hidden. Razor is out in front of God and everybody. It was time for a silent scream. I think, “That FREAK has been using my razor!!!!!”

I finish shower. I consider I do not know Water Boy’s name, but he has used my razor. Water Boy adds “Get a blood test” to the list of things to do when I return to America. I do not like Water Boy.

I tell Mom and Dad about Water Boy and the razor. They think sharing is not a good thing. Mom and Dad say, “Get out.”

I tell them, “Rent money!”

They say, “Get out.”

I say, “But if I talk to –“

They say, “Get out.”

I ask, “Can we pray about this?”

They pray. I pray. Our friends pray.

Everyone says, “Get out!”

Program TA emails me. She says roommate / project partner does not turn in any work. No work at all. She asks if the work I turn in is the roommate’s too. It is good for the roommate that she is not present.

Water Boy spends every night at the apartment. He also spends everyday at the apartment. He takes a lot of showers. I wonder if he actually has a home or if he is a hobo gigolo.

Soon, neighbors from downstairs say they have water damage too. They bring the landlord. Landlord thinks water comes from the washing machine. I show them the water damage. Landlord seems to know about the water damage. Landlord just looks sadly at the water damage.

Next day I go to school. I visit Matt’s class. Some boys like to gossip. Matt likes to gossip. He confirms roommate has a boyfriend. Water Boy is the boyfriend. Matt says Water Boy is giving roommate a puppy. Matt says he told roommate that getting a puppy is something to be discussed with a roommate.

I wait for roommate to talk with me about the puppy. Roommate does not talk with me about the puppy.

One night, roommate decides to blast tv and music when I am going to bed. She did not tell me she was going to have a party. I come out of my room to knock on her door. The door opens. I see roommate, Deborah, and a puppy. I am not happy. Roommate asks me if I had wanted to sleep. I yell.

Days later, more people come to look at the water damage. Days after that, more people come to look at the damage. They all think looking at the damage will remove it.

After, I meet roommate at Starbucks to talk. I tell her she behaves like she does not have a roommate. I tell her she needs to communicate. She acts like she does not know what I am talking about. I tell her that as her roommate I should have been the first to know that she is bringing a puppy into the apartment. She makes excuses. I tell her there’s no excuse. I tell her she needs to tell me when she brings people over so that I would know. Common courtesy is not very common. She makes more excuses. I tell her she has at least five ways of communicating with me. She has nothing left to say.

I tell her that since we have different lifestyles I must move out. I do not tell her about Water Boy and the razor. If she cares about dating a freak, she will find out soon enough.

Shortly after that, I get a room in dorm. Every night I share it with about a dozen mosquitoes. Everyday I go back to the apartment to get more things. Water Boy acts like he belongs there.

In the apartment, I take pictures of the water damage. As I take a picture, I notice mold is my roommate’s new roommate. It is black. Black mold is not good mold.

The End

When we got to Beijing it was cold. Laura and I separated at the subway because our hotels were in opposite directions, and I was going to be alone in Beijing for a couple of days until my friend from the States came.

There was a sense of comforting familiarity though when I emerged onto the street from my stop. There was also this acute sense that Beijing was going to be different from anything I had experienced the previous six months.

I felt like I got on the train in Shanghai and ended up in Seattle as the first thing I saw of Beijing was a Starbucks. I actually laughed out loud. And then I saw a McDonalds. And then a Subway.

Oh yes, very different.

I decided to stop off at the Starbucks before I went any further. I mean, why not? It was 7:30AM and I wanted breakfast. Not to mention I just had to sit down somewhere to figure out exactly how to get to my hostel as I had an address but no directions, and I wasn’t going to stay outside and freeze while trying to figure out my bearings.

My first task of the day though was to figure out where on that six-lane highway I could cross to get to that Starbucks. I walked to where some people on bicycles were waiting to cross, and though the crossing light only had the shape of a bicycle instead of a pedestrian, I waited with them to cross the street. Then some crossing guard waved at me and motioned to some underground bunker-type structure and I at last understood, though I wondered why I couldn’t just cross the street.

The underground bunker-type structure truly was the entry point to an underground path underneath the highway that leads to the other side of the street. I had read something about Beijing’s underground city where the government built underground structures to protect the people in air attacks and whatever else. I’m not sure when exactly during the Cold War they were built, but they’re still in use as literally underground markets and ways to cross the highway without the chance of getting run over by crazy taxi drivers or people on scooters talking on their cell phones.

After I bought my usual mocha at the Starbucks and asked the baristas for direction, I set off down the road to find the hostel. About 20 minutes or so later I realize I had been walking in the wrong direction as the name of the street changed to something else. I’ll just shorten the length of this blog entry by saying I did a lot more wandering after that because I like to figure stuff out on my own, but sometimes navigation in Chinese cities is impossible so I resorted to calling the hostel to pick me up.

The hostel, called BP Hostel, was the complete opposite of Le Tour Shanghai. While Le Tour was warm and comfortable, BP left me cold. Le Tour bathrooms and whatnot were cleaned very regularly at least once a day, but BP lived up to China’s notorious tendency of having fancy exteriors and (sometimes literally) crappy interiors. At Le Tour I was given my own key for my room, but at BP I had to nag the people at the front desk to let me into my own room when I’d come back to the hostel.

The plus side of staying at the BP was that though I was only paying the equivalent of about $6 USD for one bed in a three-bed room and the women’s community showers / toilets were deplorable, I didn’t have to share these spaces with anyone else; the hostel was that empty. The only other guests that I remember seeing were a couple of American boys who occupied the room across the hall from mine and played really annoying music.

In spite of the fireworks going off (in preparation for Chinese New Year), it was actually pretty quiet, but I just didn’t feel at home at the BP.

It may come to some surprise for many foreigners, but China is quite large with the major cities quite widespread; not every large city is near Beijing! Chengdu, for instance, is over six hundred miles from Beijing, with 3 hour flights or one-day train rides linking the two cities together. Shanghai is also pretty far from Beijing, more than 500 miles or so, so we definitely had to travel to Beijing either in a plane or on a train.

When in China, when possible, take the train. Trains are still a popular form of transportation here since most people don’t own a car (a fact that is swiftly changing) and many people cannot afford plane tickets, so trains are plentiful, routes crisscross the country like spider webs, and tickets are fairly cheap (by American standards) even for first class. It’s also a good way to see the country as scenery goes past your window.

The train Laura and I boarded the Bombardier to get to Beijing from Shanghai was probably one of the most comfortable China has to offer. It was one of the “Z” trains, “Z” short for “fastest” in Chinese (zui kuai) as these trains go directly to your destination without stopping, and so we got to Beijing in twelve comfortable yet fast hours.

We got tickets for the best class as the cheaper ones had been bought up. When Laura had returned to the hostel from buying the tickets to Beijing, she sounded disappointed that we didn’t get the same class as before – the hard sleeper. She broke the news to me as if I was going to be disappointed myself, but I had absolutely no problem with getting the soft sleeper as the hard sleepers were hard (as if you didn’t see that one coming), noisy, and crowded.

The soft sleeper on the other hand, actually had a sliding door that you could close if you want to, especially to keep in the air produced via your compartment’s climate control. We had free dinner and snacks, and the bunks were pretty soft.

The advantage that I love most about the trains is that much of the journey is at night, so the train doubles as a form of transportation and a hotel as you sleep some of the journey away. For awhile though on the way to Beijing, I couldn’t sleep out of curiosity of the places we were going past – Suzhou, Nanjing, the Yangzi, the Yellow River…

Soon enough though, I feel asleep in transit and then woke up in Beijing.

My time in Shanghai basically consisted of sticking around the hostel. Le Tour Shanghai Hostel is probably one of my favorite places in Shanghai now, partly because I hadn't been anywhere else besides the hospital, an ATM, and a Pizza Hut while I was in Shanghai.

I was quite comfortable there, or at least as comfortable as I could be while sick. And boy, was I sick. It wasn't pneumonia or anything, just a really nasty virus. As I mentioned before, my symptoms read like the label on a bottle of Nyquil, except I don't remember seeing "perforated eardrums" on that list.

Basically I felt sick the day I left Chengdu, and I think it worsened on the train ride out to Shanghai. The morning we got to Shanghai I was a little woozy, partially from the weight of all the liquid that had collected in my sinuses and partially from a feeling of dehydration.

The minute Laura and I got to our room at Le Tour I announced that I was going to nap for awhile because I was tired and had a headache. Laura decided to go for a walk. Hours later I woke up to a fever and a plugged up left ear that soon became very painful. Of course during what felt like my inner ear tearing itself apart, my little imaginative mind made me think of Star Trek II in the scene when Pavel Chekov was doing that famous scream as little buggies were entering his ears. I definitely had great empathy then for poor Chekov.

At some point I was able to fall back asleep though my ear still hurt like nothing else, until Laura came back from wherever and said, "HEY! Time to get up! Let's go do something!"

This, by the way, was the second time on the trip I wanted to gag someone with a snotty kleenex. The first time was actually on the train when someone was snoring in our compartment when I was already having trouble with insomnia, a headache, and a perpetually runny nose. I actually had a clear shot of the guy, who was snoring with his mouth open, from where I was trying to sleep. I just happened to have my used kleenex in my hand when he started snoring, and in my acute frustration I was so tempted to just toss it into his mouth like a basketball, but instead I just blew my nose again and tried for the umpteenth time to go to sleep.

Fortunately for Laura I again rejected this impulse. In fact, I had to reject a lot of impulses during that week as it seemed difficult for Laura to believe that I wasn't feeling very well though the hostel workers were able to tell just by looking at me that I was ill.

She could've either been thinking I ought to just suck it up and go sight-seeing or she expected whatever it was to go away very quickly, but every morning she'd get up and talk about what she was thinking that we should do that day. And every morning I still felt too ill.

Of course you can probably tell I'm not very nice or patient when I'm sick. Usually I prefer being left alone to heal and to sleep, so it was to my great irritation that Laura would come in and, after seeing I was conscious, would prattle on about the minute details of her day. I really don't blame her since she didn't have anyone else to talk to, so I'd clamp my mouth shut from saying something I probably would've regretted and let her talk it out.

The day my right ear picked up where my left ear left off in the pain department, I responded to her usual daily planning with, "Look, if this keeps up, the only place I will be going to is a hospital." Her response was, "So, you think it's that bad?"

I just don't think she understood until it became evident that stuff was coming out of my ears and was told by family members to definitely go see a doctor.

I felt better within a couple of days after beginning my medication, but not to the extent that I was ready to walk for hours all over Shanghai. So, I stayed at the hostel, watched movies and whatnot, met people, etc. It was then that I realized the hostel had a cat, and as I miss my cat and the hostel cat liked the warmth of my coat, we befriended each other.

I tell you, you meet the oddest and most interesting people at hostels. While I was outside with the cat on my lap, a young French guy came directly to me. I looked up and noticed he was looking at me with a rather hard glare. I was wondering if somehow I had offended him, which was a surprising thought since we had never interacted and I don't think sitting down with a cat on your lap would offend anyone.

And then he spoke.

"Bonjour."

"Bonjour," I answered.

"Hello."

"Hi."

Then he went into the kitchen behind me, shuffled around a bit, and then came back out with a bag of the Chinese version of vanilla cookies.

"Take some." He was quite to the point. I thanked him and took one. He shook the bag at me to emphasize the next thing he said.

"These will be in the kitchen; take some." And then he left.

The next (and last) time we traded greetings, he actually smiled.

And I still don't know what all that was about.

I have other examples, but you get the idea of the mix of people you can find at cheaper places to sleep. I don't mean to imply anything negative about the aforementioned Frenchman or anyone else I encountered, just that hostels attract people from a wide range of backgrounds because in some cases they offer more fun, interpersonal experiences than a large, fancy hotel would.

Anyway, that's what I did in Shanghai.