avant-garde_chauvintist

Pacified

avant-garde_chauvintist — Wed, 3 Sep 2008 01:26:00 GMT

After about 23 years of never venturing more west than Houston and a year of unsuccessful attempts while in the Far East, I've finally touched the Pacific Ocean.

That body of water with a gentler name has been eluding me while I've traveled around its rim through circumstances. In China, it was the Yellow Sea. In Thailand, although I was on the Pacific side of the country, it was the Gulf of Thailand. In Vietnam, I watched the sun rise over the South China Sea, not the Pacific Ocean. And after being convinced by Hagen in Vancouver that I shouldn't risk it and sticking my toe in the frigid ocean, we almost immediately found a sign reading "English Bay".

But finally. Today, I realized that the body of water lying west of San Francisco was labeled "Pacific Ocean" on my map. Further, the beach that it crashes into continuously is called "Ocean Beach". I was excited.

I hopped on a bus and headed down to have my first glimpse of that ridiculously large collection of water molecules.

It was dirty.

Apparently, the sand of the Pacific is not white, it's mud. The water was freezing, as should be expected, leading most beach goers to forego the activity altogether; there were hardly any people. I walked for a little while, but I got a little chilly and hungry. So I ambled up the hilly sand-mud to catch the next bus back to the city.

But now I've been..."Pacified". I can no longer say I've never touched the Pacific. And I don't think I could have picked a more beautiful city, maybe not beach, but city to do it in.

Train rides in the Western world

avant-garde_chauvintist — Thu, 28 Aug 2008 00:15:00 GMT

I decided that I'd endured so many endless and disgusting train rides in China that I could easily handle a train experience Stateside. I've done it before -- from New Orleans to Chicago. And it was amazing.

So I bought a ticket the day before I planned to leave Vancouver, proved my American-ness, and got on a train headed back to the States.

It was pretty full, but that only means that all the seats were filled not that people were standing in the aisles, smoking in my face. That, in itself, was a pleasant change.

However, Chinese trains are almost never late. They, in fact, are often early or on time. But this train...for whatever reason...was not. When I bought my ticket, the arrival time was 5:30pm. When I got on the train, the arrival time was 5:50pm. And by the end of the trip, increasing by increments of about 10 minutes, the arrival time was 6:45pm. Poor Rhiannon was waiting at the train station for an hour and a half for me.

Portland turned out to be a pretty generic city. I kept looking for Gus Van Sant's idea of it, but with the clean and orderly streets and traffic and very few people on the street, it just looked like any city in America. And that was not at all interesting.

But I had fun seeing Rhiannon and enjoying her new city with her. We definitely had a lot of catching up to do, and I'm glad we got the opportunity.

At the end of my stay, before I purchased a ticket for form of transportation to San Francisco, Rhiannon decided she wanted to drive there with me. So we convinced her boyfriend and left Portland promptly, driving through that West Coast city at sunset and arriving in the next at sunrise.

The last days of Canada

avant-garde_chauvintist — Wed, 27 Aug 2008 00:06:00 GMT

A couple of days into my trip in Canada, my couchsurfing host told me he was taking a trip with some friends to Whistler, B.C. It's a few hours away, and it's the main site for the 2010 Winter Olympics. I figured I'd make it a world tour of recent Olympic cities and tag along.

I'm not exactly sure why a trip to the mountains was necessary. We arrived in the afternoon, checked into a hotel, and had dinner. Then, we went to the liquor store and stocked up. Then, we drank. Then, we went to a bar (where I watched the men's basketball team almost lose to Spain???). Then, we went to sleep. Then, we woke up and got breakfast. Then, we drove back.

I don't think I need to point out that all of those things could have been accomplished in Vancouver...but whatever.

The next day my friend Hagen arrived from Norway, way too jetlagged to be interested in much fun. But it was definitely nice to see him and catch up. We spent the next few days just walking around and seeing things.

One day, after searching for a cell phone for hours on end, we decided to take the advice of the fifth tourist agency that we went in and take a ferry ride to a little island near Vancouver. In order to do this, we had to take the subway. In order to take the subway, one is supposed to purchase a ticket. In order to purchase a ticket, one should be able to find a ticket counter.

However, two native English speakers in a country that also speaks English natively (for the most part) couldn't figure it out. Eventually, we just got on the train and decided we'd plead ignorance if something happened. But nothing did. We didn't pay because we simply couldn't figure out how. And it was amazing to me that the two of us managed to get around Beijing together, but we couldn't figure out Vancouver.

Re-entry procedures

avant-garde_chauvintist — Fri, 22 Aug 2008 01:02:00 GMT

Most of the people on my flight were Chinese, Chinese-American, or Chinese-Canadian. They spoke English, but they had the look of the billions of people that surrounded me for the past year. I was comfortable.

As soon as I entered the Vancouver Airport, however, I realized that everyone here is a foreigner. Completely accustomed to staring at the foreigners as they pass, I didn't know which direction to look in or who to stare at.

Further, I could understand! I could listen to conversations and understand (and be annoyed by their meaningless babble). I could read every single sign (and know that I was going in the right direction). I could understand the bus maps and timetables (and yet I still wasn't sure I was on the right one).

In other words, I endured, for several hours, a complete sensory overload. It was like being in a Wal-Mart in the middle of Times Square at rush hour. It was like Mardi Gras happening during the day after Thanksgiving sales. It was like being in a world where everything makes perfect sense, but still not being able to understand. It was, in a few words, reverse culture shock in it's early stages.

Traditional characters

avant-garde_chauvintist — Thu, 21 Aug 2008 00:47:00 GMT

Macau and Hong Kong are so European. In Macau, the Portuguese influence hasn't evaporated over the years. In fact, they're pretty proud of it. In Hong Kong, there are more rules posted everywhere than in New York or even London. But the English influence is brutally evident.

My stopover at these two islands was like taking a baby step toward real life. So much different from every single part of Asia I've already visited, but not quite exactly how life is at home.

In Macau, I did so much more touristy stuff than I have anywhere else. And I blame that squarely on a French girl named George. She was simultaneously surfing with the same girl that I was in Macau. And she was enthusiastic and energenic, even in the 100 degree weather. She dragged me around the autonomous pennisula right up until the time I was supposed to catch a ferry to Hong Kong.

I arrived at about 7pm, just in time to see the famous skyline light up. It was beautiful, but they are far too proud of it. The only pictures I have from my trip to the island are of the skyline (to be uploaded shortly). I was annoyed at myself in Hong Kong.

Mostly because I didn't like the city as a tourist. I felt the need to walk fast and look directly ahead. I never once had the desire to take out my camera. I could live there. It's basically just another big city. But being a tourist there...was just uncomfortable.

Next stop: Macau (day 43)

avant-garde_chauvintist — Sat, 16 Aug 2008 09:21:00 GMT

Tonight is my last night in Southeast Asia. I'll be heading back to China (but to the unrestricted portion) for a few nights before finally making it back to the great continent of North America. I can taste it. And I can't wait to taste it. I've decided my first meal in Canada will be a sandwich. A real sandwich with real cold cuts and real condiments. It's been far, far too long.

Vietnam was a pleasant excursion, as all these countries have been. But it was tinged with the horrors of the past, as all these countries have been. I realized about halfway through my trip that there are many, many things to depress one in this part of the world apart from alcohol (if you consider the fact that it is officially labeled a depressant).

From the Killing Fields to the Vietnam War Museums, they have many things to look back on with cringes and hateful stares. But, somehow, they don't.

I haven't felt the need to lie about my nationality one single time. And when I respond with "The United States," I always get smiles and tales of how they have family that live Stateside. I even met a man who has family that lives in New Orleans.

In my part of the world, people are stopped in airports for having the wrong nationality. But here no one is suspicious or questioning. No one has a shred of disgust in their eyes when they hear my accent. Everyone is just smiling and happy.

And it's not for lack of knowledge. They sure know what's happened to their country at the hands of mine. They have an entire museum devoted to it, and they have the tunnels that the Viet Cong used on proud display for tourists to try to squeeze through (I skipped that excursion mostly because I've seen enough depressing but fascinating stuff). But I guess they figure what's done is done. They don't hate the Chinese for what they did either.

I think there's a lot to learn from these laid back, lackidaisical, almost happy-go-lucky people. They even give directions without asking for money! There are a lot of countries that could learn from that...

A couple of days and observations on the city

avant-garde_chauvintist — Thu, 14 Aug 2008 06:54:00 GMT

I'm rediscovering that being in all these countries, while easier than China, is still very difficult without speaking the language. But it's fun. Especially when it comes to eating.

Vietnamese food is amazing. It's fresh and flavorful and just wonderful. If and when I go into restaurants that don't have English menus (which is most of the restaurants around my couch surfing host's apartment), I just have to point to something and hope it works out. It has every single time. Regardless of whether I know what I'm eating, I enjoy every single morsel.

And sometimes the wonderful-ness just happens to be hysterical.

Ryan and I were walking around the other day and got hungry. We wandered into a random restaurant and, surprise, they didn't speak English or have an English menu. After pointing to something random in the menu, we had to order drinks.

All the Western drinks are usually written in English (Sprite, Coke, Fanta, etc.). I ordered a "Miranda" thinking it was orange soda. Root beer pleasantly surprised me.

Ryan just pointed to something written in Vietnamese. The first word was one I've learned. It means beef.

"You mean I just ordered a beef drink?!"

"I don't know what the hell you just ordered."

Two minutes later, the girl came out with Red Bull. We both died laughing.

The first real day in the city

avant-garde_chauvintist — Mon, 11 Aug 2008 09:45:00 GMT

I was woken up around 5:30am by Ryan, one of the other couch surfers, because he'd lost his bag. In a complete sleep smog, I told him to look around. It had to be there somewhere. Soon, Jiten, the other surfer, was awake and realizing his bag was also mising. I checked my stuff. Everything was perfect.

Our hosts were awake shortly calling the police. The apartment is four stories. It has a front gate that's about 12 ft high. The windows were open, but they only open about 9 inches. Somehow, someone scaled the fence and came in through the window while three people were sleeping in the room. Two backpacks, an iPod, and a jump drive were stolen while we slept.

How my things remained untouched, I have no idea. But I'm certainly not complaining. We spent the morning (mourning?) trying to work out what happened and what to do. When everyone left in the pouring rain for the police station (they refused to come to the apartment), I decided to go to the War Remnants Museum. It wasn't as if I was ruining a perfect, beautiful day, so it seemed appropriate.

It was as intense as anyone could expect. Much less anti-American than I ever expected though.

It's mostly pictures and captured American guns and tanks. The pictures...

Anything anyone's seen in newspapers or in Life Magazine are certainly real enough, but these pictures were that to the nth degree.

They have a room devoted soley to photographers who died during the War. Most of them were American. Most of the pictures were from their last rolls of film before they died. The film that was still in their cameras when they were recovered from their mangled and dying bodies.

They also had a room of countries who were against the War. Almost half of it was pictures of protests in the States including quotes from Martin Luther King, Jr. and pictures of the Kent State massacre.

I left shortly before I started sobbing.

HCMC again...so far...

avant-garde_chauvintist — Sun, 10 Aug 2008 09:41:00 GMT

Another early arrival. I had coffee, and when a decent time came, I called a friend I'd made in the city. I knew that I wasn't meeting my couch host until evening, so I figured having a good conversation all day wasn't a bad idea.

Around 6pm, I was siting in a park waiting for Charlie, my host, to meet me. Suddenly, I see a familiar face. In a random park in Vietnam, I ran into Khya D'Aquilla.

We ended up having a great diner talking about my time in China and his in Japan. I'm still a little in shock that I ran into a friend on the other side of the world.

Nha Trang -- August 6-10

avant-garde_chauvintist — Wed, 6 Aug 2008 09:36:00 GMT

I arrived in Nha Trang at about 6am. I'd gotten a map from a tourist bureau in HCMC, so I had a pretty good idea where I was in the city. I'd also gotten a reccommendation for a place to stay from some people I met. Who needs the Lonely Planet?!

It took me about two hours to find the place (apparently I need the Lonely Planet...). An all night bus ride and a two hour search with my backpack in the heat left me pretty tired. I took a nap.

The rest of my time in Nha Trang was similar. Which is exactly what I wanted. I laid on the beach, took lots of naps, and ate lots of food. I made friends with some people in my guesthouse and had dinner with them. I found myself playing Ring of Fire with a bunch of British people on the beach and watching the sunrise over the coast of Vietnmam.

It was perfect. Relaxing and fun. I returned to HCMC in much the same fashion as I left.

One night in Ho Chi Minh City

avant-garde_chauvintist — Mon, 4 Aug 2008 09:30:00 GMT

I arrived in some random part of HCMC around 1pm. Motorbike drivers were everywhere wanting to take me somewhere. I went straight into a hotel, asked for a map, and my location on that map. Then, I found an ATM. Absolutely famished, I went to the first place with pho on the menu. I settled in to study the map and get some energy.

With the map and handy highlighted street, I realized I was only one block from the backpacker district. Much like Khao San Road in Bangkok, there are guesthouses and restaurants everywhere. I found a place for $3, met a Chinese girl, and went for a walk.

Still hungry, I decided to abuse the indelible mark of the French by eating at a cafe. In the middle of a cup of coffee, I realized I was absolutely exhausted. I went back to take a nap.

I was woken by some English and Irish accents. Two other girl solo travelers were chatting about...traveling. I joined in. We decided to get dinner and drinks together.

A decent Vietnamese meal was followed by a Vietnamese rum and coke.

At a random bar in HCMC, I was stopped by a guy on the way to the bathroom by a guy I'd met in Cambodia. I then realized that I knew three different people in the bar from different parts of my travels.

I went to bed shortly after catching up.

Final thoughts on Cambodia

avant-garde_chauvintist — Mon, 4 Aug 2008 09:25:00 GMT

I'm a little disappointed in myself for the way I treated Cambodia. It was slightly frightening. I was offered drugs more times than I can count.

"Excuse me? Want to smoke? Opium?"

But it was also beautiful. In a very sad way. I don't really know what to make of it.

The temples were amazing, but they were temples. I feel like I've been traveling for so long now that it takes something outrageous to awe me. And that, by itself, is depressing.

I arrived in Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon to everyone who lives here) today for one night before I exploring the beaches of Vietnam. I'll finally get that tan I've been craving and have the opportunity to just chill out (as if I haven't been doing that...).

So far the most amazing thing about Vietnam is the motorcycles. Really vespa-style scooters. But they are EVERYWHERE in very large numbers. Oh, and they really do wear those conical hats all the time.

Siem Reap, Cambodia,

avant-garde_chauvintist — Wed, 30 Jul 2008 06:18:00 GMT

I've stayed in Siem Reap longer than planned because I'm more comfortable than I thought. But that's only because I'm not really seeing Cambodia. I'm kind of scared of it. Luckily, I've made a friend.

Brendan from Ireland has been my travel buddy around Siem Reap. We walked around town and went to the temples together. We just bought train tickets to Phnom Penh together. It's been nice having a friend around. And he's jut as lazy as I am about seeing overrated and overpriced touristy stuff. In fact, I think his favorite word in English is lazy.

My impression of Cambodia so far is extreme poverty. The children are beautiful, but they will curse you out in English in a heartbeat if you don't want to buy their water. Other than that, the people seem to be very nice. They speak much better English in SE Asia than in China. They aren't trying too hard to be white. And they are generally lazy and having a good time. I guess that's sort of why I got trapped here.

Tomorrow I'm off to Phnom Penh and museums about the Khmer Rouge. Perhaps my opinion will change...

Onward

avant-garde_chauvintist — Sat, 26 Jul 2008 09:14:00 GMT

Because my Vietnamese visa doesn't allow me into the country until August 1 and because everyone says a week in Cambodia is more than enough, I have been chillin' in Bangkok for two weeks now. By chillin' I mean doing almost nothing.

It's been amazing.

I'm glad I had a little time to just be me. I only wish it could have been on the beach as was originally planned. I've recified that, however, by changing my plans to include a couple beaches in Vietnam. Unlike Cambodia, everyone I've met says it's definitely worth it to spend more than a week in Vietnam. And so that's what I've decided to do.

But before that begins, a few last thoughts on Thailand.

I changed my mind. I could definitely enjoy this place for a longer period of time than just traveling. I'm not sure what kind of work I would do here besides teaching English (which I'm not sure I want to sing into again), but I could live here and get used to the chili for awhile.

I realized that my laziness prevented me from seeing some of the most amazing things in the world. So Thailand definitely warrants at least another visit. All that said, I couldn't be happier with the way I've spent the last two weeks. I've learned a little more about what makes this place tick, but I'm not sure I understand it wholly (or really ever will).

It's much different from China. In almost every way. It's much more Western and English-speaking. But it's still holding tightly to its own culture. If there's one thing that's made an impression on me (besides the transexuals; side note: I had a very pleasant conversation with two last night) it's the college girl uniforms.

Students wear uniforms here. The high school girls wear very big dark blue skirts with light blue button down tops. The elementary girls wear shorts with button down shirts with scalloped collars and this little scarf thing. The uniforms the boys wear are almost indistinguishable from the regular clothes.

But the college girls...a tight black mini skirt with tight translucent white button down shirts with big silver buttons. They're allowed to wear whatever shoes they want. Perhaps this is what that French guy meant about the sexiness of Thai ladies.

Oh the people

avant-garde_chauvintist — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 06:51:00 GMT

There is this street in Bangkok called Khao San Road. It's very famous. In fact, when I told people about my coming to Thailand, to Bangkok, most often I was asked if I would be staying around Khao San Road.

In the movie "The Beach", Leonardo DiCaprio's character stays on Khao San Road. In reality, nearly every backpacker in Southeast Asia stays on Khao San Road.

It means uncooked rice, and it used to be a market. It still is a market, but one where everyone (EVERYONE) speaks English and the only rice served is cooked and overpriced.

Khao San Road is at once exhilirating and depressing. Firstly, it's wildly encouraging to see so many people like yourself. Everyone is carrying a huge backpack. Everyone is unkempt to a certain degree. Everyone is from other parts of the world.

Secondly, there are so many different kinds of people lurking around that when you really start looking, you find things that might remind you of a David Lynch movie (that creepy underbelly that he is so good at exposing). A list:

1. The Vietnam Vet -- There are many, many middle aged men here. Most people think that they served in Vietnam and never made it home. Or made it home, but didn't like it or couldn't cope with it anymore and came back. Regardless, they are graying and dredlocked and barefoot and usually with a Thai girl.

2. The Asian Wannabe -- Every variety of backpacker exists here. The common thread being only the backpack. There are those who are trying very hard to come to the center of their Asian-ness. So they wear the local clothes, attempt to speak the local language, and carry no camera, no shoes, and no sense of being ridiculed.

3. The last category I will try to generalize is the most common. Nearly every five feet on Khao San Road is a place where you can get your hair braided (a la Jamaica) or dredlocked (a la Jamaica) (they play a lot of Jamaican music here too...). And so many people are walking around looking oh-so-obvious with their freshly braided or dredlocked hair, wearing a tribal printed t-shirt (that they bought at the shop next to the hair braiding place), and flip flops made of leather (that they bought on the beach).

In essence, on Khao San Road, everyone is judging everyone else. There are very few actual locals because most of them are trying to make a buck or two off of you (either through trinkets or sex). There is very little that is authentically Thai (if that even exists anymore). And there is very little that feels good about wandering around Khao San Road.

It has it's reputation for a reason. No money, no honey...

If you want to have a sex change, go to Thailand

avant-garde_chauvintist — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 01:36:00 GMT

I started an entry about a week ago that got lost in cyberspace. Here I will try to recreate it, but I'm not sure it was have the same effect. Mostly because the other was tinged with a heavy layer of first stage culture shock (which I was happily enjoying), and I'm pretty sure I'm on to another stage at this point.

Thailand has a lot to offer to the right person. I'm not sure I'm that person. I don't ever see myself coming back.

Firstly, I LOVE Thai food, but it has to be the spiciest food in the world. It's absolutely absurd. I've always fancied myself a pretty tolerant person of the spicy, but I'm struggling...even with Pad Thai (which, by the way, real Thai people don't really eat and is, of course, NOTHING like the Pad Thai we eat at home; it's more like Ramen noodles without the soup). I read an article that explained that Thai food is so spicy because of the hot weather. Like most hot weather places, the people adopted the practice of adding pepper to their foods to perserve them in the heat. I just can't figure out why they started adding SO MUCH pepper to the foods.

Secondly, I'm one of the biggest fans of gays. But I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around the gay culture in Thailand. Because they aren't just gay, but...girls. For some reaon (there is one - hold on), there are an OUTRAGEOUS number of transexuals in Thailand. Again, I did the research. Apparently the accepting and nonjudging culture of Buddhism, which they all are, doesn't allow them to stop the practice or consider it taboo. It's the same reason (and I admit that this is a horrible comparison) that they have so many stray dogs. They don't want to do away with them for the sake of karma. They call them ladyboys, and I've seen them doing everything, but most commonly walking around the bar street in short skirts. The worst part is that most of them...don't look like girls at all.

Thirdly, what I thought would be the best, most relaxing, most pleasurable, longest, part of my vacation turned out to be quite the opposite. I left Bangkok for the beach last Friday. I arrived in the middle of a national holiday (one that I was told about but didn't even consider would ruin my plans). The island I went to is uninhabited, so no couch surfing was to be had. In fact, it's just guest houses and restaurants. Anyway, I arrived and promptly learned that everything was full...I'd met a Spanish guy in the taxi (which was really just a truck bed), and I ran into him doing the exact same thing I was doing (going from place to place without any luck). We decided to team up. We walked for about two hours before we realized we had to get some food. After eating, we were resolved to get a tent and spend the night in the "national park". As we were forlornly walking to the tent rental place, a man asked if we needed a room. We quickly accepted.

The next day was spent on the beach, where I got seriously sunburned. That was basically the end of my island vacation. I didn't want to make it worse by sitting in the sun, so I decided to cut it short and come back to Bangkok early. It was twice as expensive to spend one night there as it is in the city, and there really is nothing to do except lay on the beach and eat, so I figured it didn't make sense to stay.

I'm back in Bangkok until Sunday or so. I'm going to head to Cambodia then.

Another arrival

avant-garde_chauvintist — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 03:33:00 GMT

Bangkok this time. My flight was about four hours, so I tried to catch up on the sleep that I'd missed by "sleeping" in the airport the night before. It worked alright.

I arrived and bought a Thai sim card for my cell phone. However, my cell phone has decided to be the opposite of working these days. Meaning, it doesn't freaking work. So I couldn't turn it on. I was running around looking for an outlet so that I could charge it.

I noticed this guy was watching me. But pretty much everyone was watching me because I looked like a crazy person. When I finally found an outlet and was just standing there, he came to talk to me.

First in French.

"I'm sorry; I don't speak French."

"Are you Aussie?"

"No, I'm from the United States."

He then proceeded to tell me all about Thailand. He lives here. He felt it imperative, apparently, to tell me that I would like Thailand because girls aren't afraid to be sexy here...

I've already mentioned how I feel about people that I don't know telling me that I'll like something.

I'm not even sure what he based this on. My unwashed and completely dishevled hair? My well-worn and stretched out David Bowie t-shirt? My huge backpack? Whatever the reason, he thinks me and my sexiness will get along with Thailand just fine.

So far it's true. My host is a lovely, adorable, Thai girl. She's tiny (I have about six inches and 50 pounds on her), but so so sweet. We had a great time yesterday looking around the city for awhile. Today, I think we're going to a temple (which are completely different from Chinese temples and completely...magical). I hope to upload pictures soon...

The last few hours

avant-garde_chauvintist — Sun, 13 Jul 2008 13:27:00 GMT

I arrived in Shanghai this morning at 8:15 for my last 24-hours on Chinese soil.

It feels appropriate. Like I've come full circle. I'm leaving the same port that I arrived in 17 days short of one year ago. Twenty-five days short of the Olympics. It happens in 11.5 hours.

After I arrived, I headed to the H&M of Shanghai. I easily remembered how to get there from the last time I was in Shanghai (for my birthday). It wasn't open, though. Too early. I walked around looking for an ATM and a some breakfast.

I found the breakfast, but not the ATM. I headed back to H&M to get a swimsuit. I decided I needed a little splurge before I hit the beaches of Thailand.

I searched the first floor. I search the second floor. I FINALLY found a selection of swimsuits on the THIRD floor of the store. I choose a few that were cute and went to the fitting room.

I argued with the manager about the store rules of H&M (He was insisting that I couldn't try on swim suits. I pointed out the hygentic plastic. I told him I've been to H&Ms all over the world and I know this is not a company rule [sort of true]. I told him that it wasn't a Chinese rule either. Eventually he gave up. I didn't even have to yell.)

I bought the choosen one and went to meet some friends. One of my couch surfers is in Shanghai right now because she's going to Europe this summer. She's taking a few days rest before crossing the continent. We had lunch and spent the day tooling around the city.

A very pleasant final day in China. On the way to the airport, I recognized the first things I ever saw in China. I remembered looking for the upturned eaves so stereotypical of Asian architecture. I remember finding only apartment complexes that looked so similar to The Venue.

It was like picking up the little bits of popcorn that I'd strewn about so I could find my way home. It certainly won't be a direct route, but I've made my peace with China.

Until next time, Zhong Guo, I'll be thinking of you...

One week in (day 7)

avant-garde_chauvintist — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 13:20:00 GMT

Tonight, I had conflicted interests. I spent the day wandering around a lovely restored part of town called Ping Jiang (Peace River) and the Couple's Garden (a classical Chinese garden). It started to rain, so I planted myself in a coffee shop for hours reading an on-hand book about Vietnamese history and drinking a rather unimpressive iced mocha.

When I realized I was hungry, I set out in the rain to find a famous pedestrian street that had been eluding me. I randomly turned down the right street and found it almost instantly. And here's where my dilemma found me.

I wanted a cheap dinner -- four kuai, noodles, fried. I wanted a nice atmosphere -- dim lighting, soft talking, moody music. I wanted a martini -- dirty, vodka.

These are three things that mix as well as Chinese and Japanese. A fear of heights and flights. High culture and pop culture.

Eventually, I let my desires favor my wallet and went for the cheap Chinese. I guess I only have a few more days to enjoy it. And I'll have plenty of opportunities to enjoy over-priced, adult, vodka based beverages...

More musings...

avant-garde_chauvintist — Wed, 9 Jul 2008 13:13:00 GMT

In the U.S., I've often thought that employers try to stretch their employees too thin. Instead of being a cashier, one becomes a cashier/floor cleaner/shelf straightener/item getter/item putter away/problem solver/customer greeter. There is always another task to do, another procedure to learn, another reason to work harder and stay later.

In China, they have a ridiculously massive amount of extra people. Since I arrived, I wondered about the people doing seemingly pointless jobs or just doing nothing in a uniform.

Today, in Suzhou, the last city I will visit in China, I finally realized the beauty and horror of it all.

American and other foreign companies are no different in their use of the large population. Where one or two American employees might work, there are usually five or six Chinese ones.

Today, sitting in a coffee shop, there were four people visible at any moment. I was the only customer. One was just standing. One seemed to be the manager. Two were taking orders. I was the only customer. Two people took my order.

From time to time, two or three more appeared. They were cleaning, mopping, or doing other odd jobs.

I usedto work in a coffee shop that had its moments of business. There was never, ever more than two people working doing all of the aforementioned tasks. Knowing that it wasn't nearly too much work (I often read while at work), I can't imagine why a similar and less busy store in China should need so many employees. Even though it definitely would have been nice at closing time.

I can only imagine (with that horrific realization face) that paying five or six people in China is equivalent to paying one or two in the United States.

Yay globalization...

To Suzhou! (day 4)

avant-garde_chauvintist — Wed, 9 Jul 2008 13:06:00 GMT

I'm impressed. Not only did Susan show me much more than I'd ever intended to see in her city, but she insisted on paying for most of it. I'm at a complete loss as to WHY? If I'd paid for all my couch surfers, I wouldn't be on this trip. In fact, more often than not, my surfers would pay for ME as a way of paying me back for hosting. But I couldn't convince her that her way didn't make any sense.

The city was wonderful, but often it made me feel strange. It's a much bigger city, but in a lot of ways, it's exactly like Dongyang, the first city I lived in. Every little thing that reminded me of that town made me feel exactly like I felt during my first month in China.

Especially the smell.

I'd completely forgotten what China smelled like to the unaccustomed nose. It must be stronger here. Each and every time I caught a whiff of "China" (decaying chicken bones mixed with spoiled milk, dog shit, and a little watermelon) I got an ache in my stomach wondering, "Did I do the right thing?"

I'm sure it's just the link between memory and scent (thank you four-year-old Axe commercial), but it was so intense that those long resolved musings about my decision to move to China separated from my content like the silt from the river water of my fifth grade 4-H project.

All in all, Nanjing was a very interesting place to visit. I think I saw more there than I did in Beijing...And I highly doubt I'll see that much of a city on the rest of my trip.

But a huge thanks to Susan (and her parents) for truly being GREAT hosts!

Memorial Hall of the Nanjing Massacre

avant-garde_chauvintist — Sun, 6 Jul 2008 12:50:00 GMT

Susan, my couch host, doesn't really know much history about her hometown. In fact, she doesn't even know as much as I learned from reading the Lonely Planet.

"Ask a boy. Boys are good at history," she said.

I guess the talents of the genders vary across the continents...

Not only does she not know much history, but she doesn't really seem interested in learning it. Nanjing was the capital of China several times. The most recent was under the Republic of China led by Sun Yat Sen (Sun Zhong Shan in Chinese). He led the Kuomingtang (Guomingtang), which was the enemy and chief rival of the Communists. Eventually, Mao's cunning smile and the idea of no poverty overtook the Nationalists (while somehow maintaining the idea of Nationalism). Mao is the hero and Sun Yat Sen was help hostage in the Chinese embassy in London (where he'd sought refuge).

BUT! There is a huge mausoleum for him in Nanjing. It's much, much MUCH bigger than that of Mao in Tiananmen. It has 392 steps to climb (one for each MILLION people that were in China at the time). And it's got a wonderful blue Chinese style roof on several little buildings that make up the complex. Best of all, it has the Nationalist flag in a mosaic on the ceiling.

Susan just smiled when I asked why this exists if he didn't win. Either she didn't understand or didn't care.

She didn't come along today when I visited the Memorial Site of the Nanjing Massacre. I tried to ask her about it several times. I mentioned a movie about it. I mentioned another museum I've been to that was about it. Eventually, she just looked me straight in the face and said, "I don't want to know everything about it. It was a terrible time in history."

I sort of let it drop, but not before responding with something along the lines of if we don't remember it, we're bound to repeat it.

That was basically the theme of the museum today. Each little plaque said something like, "...lest we forget."

It was not very neutral. Almost every plaque also mentioned something aobut the "awful Japanese". It's no wonder the Chinese young folk readily admit to hating the Japanese. I can easily see how an exhibit like that (with actual skeletons displayed) can lead to intense feelings. And potentiallyy skinhead subcultures.

One thing the museum neglected to mention that the L. P. talks about in some detail was how it started. A weak China was invaded by a much stronger Japan. Nanjing was the capital at the time surrounded by a city wall. The government officials left, but not before saying that it was better for the people to stay and fight. And then LOCKING THE CITY GATES. Essentially, they locked their own people into a prison of torture and murder.

And all the blame gets placed on the Japanese.

I'm not defending it. Killing 300,000 people is outrageous under any circumstances, but you don't see any memorials for the people who died duringthe Great Leap Forward (which some estimate to be upwards of 30 million), and they did that to themselves.

Nanjing (day 1)

avant-garde_chauvintist — Sat, 5 Jul 2008 09:50:00 GMT

With the opportunity to write far sooner than I ever thought, I'm taking advantage.

I arrived in the Southern Capital (that literally what the characters Nan Jing translate to) at 4am. I mentioned earlier that I managed to screw up my train ticket after purchasing a string of successful ones. Anyway, the screwed up ticket was for an amazing train because I arrived a full hour and a half before scheduled. I decided to make the best of it.

I immediately got in line to try to purchase my second to last ticket in China. Either I learned a hearty lesson from my last debacle or the Nanjing accent agrees with me because this one went off without a hitch.

I'm headed for Suzhou on Wednesday. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

After the ticket was purchased, I went to a nearby 24 hour McDonald's and waited for it to become 5am so I could buy some breakfast. Turns out they had no intention of making breakfast, and I had to point out the signs everywhere that said breakfast started at 5am. They made me my damn breakfast.

As I was eating, I noticed a park with a lake and a cityscape and a sun rise happening about a 100 yards from the McDonald's. I　downed the rest of my coffee, and went for it.

It was absolutely beautiful. The sun was rising facing the buildings, so the reflection was on the water and there were people fishing and there was a college girl who spoke English. She started a very pleasant conversation with me.

Around 6am, I decided to go see about the bus situation. I got on, messaged my couch host, and enjoyed the 20 minute ride to the other side of town. Immediately upon entering her house, she and her parents started planning the day. It was about 6:30am.

We were out the door by 7am. I did a whirlwind tour of the city of Nanjing today, in a way I very much didn't plan to do. She took me to things I had read about but decided not to see. She didn't get hungry until about 3pm, so that's when we ate lunch. I was/am very grateful for her hospitality, but I decided to do this trip alone for a reason. And being dragged around a ragingly hot city without food all day does not fit into that reason.

We've decided to sleep in tomorrow (much needed as I've been officially awake since 4am, and unofficially awake since about midnight because I was worried I'd miss the stop). And hopefully we won't attempt to do so much in such hot weather again. She's a lovely girl, but she wants me to see every damn thing in the city in four days. I'm not sure how to explain that not only do I not want that, but I don't think it's enjoyable AT ALL.

To be continued...

And so it ends...

avant-garde_chauvintist — Thu, 3 Jul 2008 14:05:00 GMT

This is the last time I’ll be writing from Beijing. I would like to sum it up concisely and neatly, but that’s pretty much impossible. Instead, I’m just going to list the things I’ll miss and the things I won’t. Hopefully, this will be entertaining instead of depressing.

Things I’ll miss:	Things I won’t miss:
The people I’ve met here (especially Mario, Case, Ilan, and all my couch surfers) My students Learning something new in a foreign language everyday PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION Living in a huge city DVDs Chinese food (I think this is a given) Being a millionaire (while only working 15 hours a week) Hosting couch surfers Being able to travel for pennies	Not seeing my family or friends back home Teaching The language barrier Packed public transportation Seeing people pick their noses in public/having a reason to pick my own nose in public (i.e. the pollution) Censorship Shops only having clothes in children’s sizes

I guess the good outweigh the bad.

But I’m excited to go home.

Even if I’m taking the long way around.

Happy 4th of July.

Building 6 Apartment 303

avant-garde_chauvintist — Wed, 2 Jul 2008 03:08:00 GMT

This is the official last time I'll be writing from my lent Lenovo computer that runs Windows 2000.

Everything is packed and most of it is already moved to Ilan's for my last couple days in Beijing. I have to donate some clothes, eat lunch, and officially check out of my apartment. Once that is done, I'll never again reside in Building 6. I'll never again fall asleep watching a movie in apartment 303. I'll never again tell a taxi driver "Bei Jing Gong Ye Da Xue" and wait for him to repeat it with the correct tones.

Last night in my apartment

avant-garde_chauvintist — Tue, 1 Jul 2008 10:37:00 GMT

Today, my last day in my apartment, I woke up after noon. I almost immediately started cleaning.

I picked up my carpets and swept. I washed some dishes and started the process of cleaning out my fridge. I threw away a lot of stuff. I gave my left over oil and sauces to Kiri. I washed clothes.

I only have a few more things to do (including more cleaning) before I'm ready to check out.

My last night in this area of town, I decided to go to my new favorite Chinese restaurant. I found this place and started frequenting it because my old favorite, like many things in Beijing, underwent a rennovation for the Olympics. When it reopened, it was more expensive and less delicious. I stopped going.

The new place knows me like the old place did. They deal with my lack of Chinese with a smile. They remember things I've ordered so that I can order them again. I usually stick to a few basics that I know how to pronounce or know the number of on the menu.

Tonight, I decided I wanted something new. The person at the table next to me had a dish that looked delicious. I asked, and he pointed it out on the picture-less menu.

I ordered it.

I thought it was strips of beef with bamboo shoots and cucumbers. Turns out it was strips of liver with some vegetable I'm not familiar with and cucumbers. I wasn't really in the mood for a liver dinner tonight, so I ate the rice and cucumbers and called it a night.

I stopped on the way home at a bakery because I wanted to treat myself to something sweet after the interesting adventure at dinner. I got the Chinese version of black forest cake and enjoyed it thoroughly.

With my DVDs safely mailed back to the States, I'm down to watching videos I have on my computer. So that's what I have planned for my last night. A bottle of water, several downloaded videos care of a couch surfer, and a little more cleaning and packing.

Should be a good one.

Train tickets

avant-garde_chauvintist — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 05:05:00 GMT

The one thing I was sure I could do in Chinese was buy train tickets. I've done it countless times now (mostly in Chinese), and I've never once gotten the wrong ticket.

Today, I attempted to purchase my third to last train ticket in China. I went to a window armed with the train I wanted and my minimal Chinese skills. They pointed to the "English-speaking window." I thought, "Dammit, I can do this in Chinese!" And insisted that they help me.

They couldn't. When they realized I wasn't leaving, they just said, "Meiyou," and moved on. Meiyou is perhaps the most over used word in Chinese. It means simply, "Don't have."

So I marched over to the English window, and attempted to do my business. But the guy...big surprise...didn't speak English. Except, "Sorry. No English." So I did my Chinese thing. It worked. Sort of.

He found the right city, he found the right day. But the military time threw both of us off and instead of getting a ticket leaving at midnight, he gave me one leaving at noon.

When I realized this, I went back to ask for a night ticket. He couldn't tell me what I needed to know, so, FINALLY, he called over someone who can speak English. He explained that I had to be refunded before I could buy a new ticket.

So I went to a third counter, a fourth line, to sort out this situation.

Without even saying a word, the man took my ticket and refunded it. But he didn't give me all my money. Turns out, they keep 20% of the price of the ticket. I was not at all happy about this, so I asked for my ridiculous and wrong ticket back.

He had to call someone on his cell to figure out how to do it, but he gave it back to me. And near tears, I left.

I'm leaving Beijing a full 12 hours before I'd intended. I think that's what upset me more than the inconvenience.

And, again, I've disproven my ability to do anything in Chinese.

Russian food and more goodbyes

avant-garde_chauvintist — Sat, 28 Jun 2008 13:00:00 GMT

Tonight was Mario's last night in Beijing. He flies out tomorrow for Los Angeles.

We decided on Russian food and one last night in Sanlitun. So we ate stuffed cabbage and chicken kiev with huge beers, went to Nanjie for Y10 gin and tonics, and then went to Shooter's for a little dancing action.

We had a blast, but the whole night was tinged with the color of "Mario is leaving tomorrow". It was pretty sad.

After we'd all worked off our dinners dancing to YMCA, Linkin Park, and southern rap, we went to a DVD store for a last chance for Mario to buy buy buy. I was ready to go to bed, but I wasn't leaving until it was over. I wasn't saying goodbye before it was necessary.

My last date with Agent Cooper

avant-garde_chauvintist — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 06:56:00 GMT

Today, I finished that enigma of a TV series, Twin Peaks. Kara and I watched until our eyes nearly bled and learned the conclusion of my recent obsession.

It satisfied in an eerie way. But the ending of the show wasn't as sad as knowing I don't really have a reason to bother Kara anymore. We probably won't see each other before I leave. Another goodbye...

Errands...oh the errands

avant-garde_chauvintist — Thu, 26 Jun 2008 12:13:00 GMT

Because I didn’t do anything in the way of moving out yesterday, I decided to devote today to those tasks.

Last night, after dinner, I bought the “Sex and the City” movie and spent the entire night watching and re-watching it. Not because it’s that good, but because I was so excited to finally get to see it.

I’d turned off my phone to save battery. I ended up sleeping until 11am (later than I’ve slept in recent memory because of the routine of waking up at 9am every morning). When I turned on my phone, I was shocked to see how late my internal clock and the neighbors had allowed me to sleep.

I watch the movie again, and started on my day. I got another box from the post office (my life in China is now compactly packed into two rather small China Post boxes), I paid my water bill (the last time I’ll have to do one of those difficult yet mundane tasks of living in China), and I bought a few things I need for my trip.

Only a few more things to do in my barren apartment before I’ll be able to move out. It’s weird to live in a place with nothing on the walls and nothing on the shelves.

Twin Peaks

avant-garde_chauvintist — Wed, 25 Jun 2008 12:07:00 GMT

Today, I forwent doing all kinds of errands necessary for the moving out process in order to finish the cult classic.

I went to Kara’s this morning around 11am, and we watched about six hours of “Twin Peaks”, but we still didn’t finish it. It’s getting interesting, but sort of lame simultaneously. I can’t wait to see what happens.

After the marathon, I met Mario for dinner. I heard all about his exploits in Hong Kong and Macau and did the first round of goodbyes before he leaves on Sunday. Hopefully, I’ll see him again before he leaves…

Carlos

avant-garde_chauvintist — Tue, 24 Jun 2008 09:02:00 GMT

Carlos is one of my best students. His English is pretty good. His concentration is awful. His desire to pay attention in class is minimal. But his creativity…is astounding for a Chinese student.

He often thinks of things that other students can’t imagine even after he’s said it. It was always a joy to have his ideas mixing with the generic ones in class.

When he came to class.

Carlos decided early in the semester that I’d picked on him for no reason, and didn’t come to the majority of classes this semester as a result. How do I know this? He told me during the final.

My only rule for the final was that they show up on time. I allowed them to sign up in the order they wanted to come, but told them that if they weren’t there when their time came they got a zero on the final. It was very simple.

Carlos showed up late. He missed his exam resulting in a zero on the final. He showed up just after I gave my last final expecting to take his. I told him no.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to give him is final. It was that he’d basically ignored the fact that he had my class all semester, and managed to be one of two students who showed up late for the final. I decided that he needed to learn this lesson the hard way.

Chinese students have very little independence. Everything is done for them (the picking of classes, the arranging of schedules). And because they don’t have to do anything for themselves, it is very evident in class (they often forget their books, they don’t do their assignments unless reminded a hundred times, they can’t show up on time).

He and I went round and round for about a half hour. He trying to make excuses, me telling him that he’d made some bad decisions and there was nothing I could do for him. Eventually, the apologetic young man gave up, decided to learn his lesson my way, and left.

I felt disgusting. I knew I’d done the right thing, but I still didn’t like the feeling of it. I went home and checked his grades. I’d given him a zero for participation for all the classes he’d missed. I decided to amend that to a 25%, and he ended up passing the course with a 52%. I sent him an email saying that he ended up passing the class, but I hoped he still learned his lesson.

His very enthusiastic response thanked me and said he had learned something from the experience.

I only hope it’s true.

Rainy day

avant-garde_chauvintist — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 12:23:00 GMT

Today I gave my first round of finals for the last time. I didn't have anything to do until 1pm, so I slept in and generally enjoyed my morning alone.

I went a little early to get my stuff together, but students were already there.

"We've been here for a long time. We are READY!"

So I began early, and finished early as a result.

However, a random artificial rainstorm was gracing the city. Umbrella-less (or so I thought), I waited a few minutes, but it wasn't letting up. So I decided to take of my flip flops, gather up my white skirt (eek!), and start the 10 minute walk back.

About half-way home, I ran into two of my students who'd just taken my exam. I don't know what they were doing, but they immediately covered me with their umbrellas and offered to walk me home. I insisted that it wasn't necessary, but they insisted it wasn't.

So Andy walked me back to my apartment whereby we had pleasant, but slightly stunted conversation.

A few minutes later, the storm let up, so I decided to get something to drink. I searched out my umbrella (which was in my backpack afterall...) and set out.

I didn't open my umbrella because it wasn't raining. As I left my complex, lightning struck. The thunder clapped before I could realize what happened. It struck the building right next to where I was standing. I noticed the birds fly away right before it happened and saw a purple spark. But I didn't realize what was going on until I was startled by the thunder. It boomed immediately.

So, finals, umbrella walking, and nearly getting struck by lightning sums up my day.

Goodbye parties

avant-garde_chauvintist — Fri, 20 Jun 2008 13:47:00 GMT

It began yesterday. Case invited a few friends for martinis at a pretty fancy bar in Beijing. It was his last Thursday in Beijing, and he wanted to take advantage of the two for one special. The goodbye lasted as long as four martinis, and led to a very difficult morning on Friday.

Today, Stacey had a goodbye dinner/drinks get-together at several hot spots in Beijing. It lasted as long as, like, six pizzas, a mojito, and several new friends.

Suddenly, Beijing has become a spinning top, spreading its current foreign residents across the globe. Everyone is moving on to better or different things. Everyone wants to say goodbye in style.

My wallet is hurting as much as my heart.

Tomorrow, I'll add another one to my list. This one for me. My co-workers and I are going out to eat as a last dinner before I leave Beijing University of Technology.

Early mornings

avant-garde_chauvintist — Thu, 19 Jun 2008 04:13:00 GMT

I’ve been sleeping with the doors and windows open to let in the breeze lately. I don’t really want to buy more electricity credit before I leave, and my air conditioner doesn’t really work that well anyway.

So any sounds that the people living around my apartment make at all hours of the night just drift right in. This includes construction starting at 6am, babies crying…all the time, and badminton games to begin the mornings.

Today, I awoke to a loud conversation. I was sleepy, so I just tried to ignore it for awhile. Soon, I was wondering if these people were actually in my apartment. It was so loud. If it hadn’t been 6am leading me to believe I was delusional in my sleepy state, I might have gotten up to see if they actually WERE in my apartment.

Turns out there are new tenants in my complex. They live below me, but leave their door open frequently. Contributing to the “babies and loud conversations in my apartment in the middle of the night” syndrome that has been plaguing me. Luckily, taking naps in the middle of the day is really acceptable (and everyone, EVERYONE participates). So I’ve started participating too.

Hot pot

avant-garde_chauvintist — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 04:12:00 GMT

I was craving hot pot for some reason. I hadn’t had it since I was in Sichuan, and I didn’t have anyone to eat dinner with. So I went to the grocery store and searched out the thinly sliced bits of dead sheep and the seasonings. I bought some vegetables and came home to experiment.

Weirdly, the directions were written in English. They were Chinglish, but understandable. So I boiled the oil, put in the seasoning, and waiting for the meat and veggies to be wonderfully greasy and seasoned.

It was actually really good. If I could manage to bring some of the seasoning home, I would to share. Because everyone should experience the spicy-ness of Sichuan. Don't worry; I will never bring pig brains home.

Visas visas visas

avant-garde_chauvintist — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 04:12:00 GMT

Another trip to Cambodian embassy today. This one was much more pleasant. I went between my classes. So I arrived a little early. I sat on the curb waiting for the clock to strike two. As soon as it happened, I waltzed into the visa office and the man handed over my visa (he remembered me). I checked it and left to catch the bus home. It took maybe two seconds. And now all my visas for this summer are in my passport ready to be verified!

Singing out loud

avant-garde_chauvintist — Mon, 16 Jun 2008 04:10:00 GMT

My song presentations proved another thing about my students. In addition to having really bad taste in music, they also can’t resist singing if they know the words.

Almost all of the songs were really, really old American or British pop songs. So, of course, everyone in the world knows the words.

A fair share of the presentations became sing-a-longs. One student decided to spice his terrible presentation up by actually singing the song he picked.

But the most amusing of all was the last presentation in one of my classes. The student chose that song by the Jamaican guy about a girl being so beautiful he wants to commit “suiciiiiide suiciiiiide”. The entire class started singing the song, aided by the lyrics that were on the projector. I chuckled as I graded.

My students have discovered facebook

avant-garde_chauvintist — Sat, 14 Jun 2008 15:00:00 GMT

It’s been almost a year. And during this year, I’ve only been bothered by my students through email and through random text message (whereby I wonder how they got my phone number).

But today. Today I got an email saying “Lee Meng” has added you as a friend on facebook.

WHO?!

I checked and it turns out it’s Christine. One of my students who I only know by her English name. I added her.

About 10 minutes later I received another similar email from facebook. Another of my students who’d discovered facebook.

Weird…

Visa schmisas

avant-garde_chauvintist — Thu, 12 Jun 2008 14:58:00 GMT

I went to the Cambodian Embassy today. And it was quite an adventure.

One of my students helped me find the address online because I couldn’t figure out the Chinese after many, many hours of fighting with online “type in Chinese” programs.

But it turns out that the directions he gave me were very, very, very wrong. I walked around for THREE HOURS before texting a friend (an Irish friend) who gave me very, very right directions leading me to the embassy in about 10 minutes.

Once I found the embassy, the guard wouldn’t let me in. He said it was closed for holiday. I fought with him in terrible Chinglish for about three minutes before a nice lady walked by, heard the situation, and asked if I needed help. Utterly grateful, I accepted.

Even this Chinese lady who spoke amazing English couldn’t make the guard understand that the embassy WASN’T closed. He made me wait beyond the borders of the embassy. But still in site of it. I decided that since it was only 3:15 and it didn’t actually close until 4, I would wait. After a half hour, I tried to call a friend to get the phone number to resolve this situation, but no one was available for random internet searching.

I continued to wait.

Finally, someone from inside the embassy came out to collect the mail. I screamed, “NI HAO!” He responded by gesturing to the visa office that I’d been trying to get in for 45 minutes. Without even acknowledging that the guard was still…guarding me, I walked in.

The man there was sort of baffled when I told him that the guard wouldn’t let me in. Forty-five minutes of waiting had me sort of frazzled and near tears. The visa man was a little baffled by that as well.

I filled out the paperwork, paid for my visa, and thanked the man for being very nice. He just sort of chuckled. When I left, I sort of glanced at the stupid guard who was watching me as if I were white flowy skirt wearing bomb-maker.

During this ordeal, all I could think of was how much I look like a terrorist…

Music

avant-garde_chauvintist — Thu, 12 Jun 2008 12:56:00 GMT

The lesson on “Imagine” in my text book led to an idea for my final quiz. I ran it by Mario and Ilan to make sure I wasn’t insane. With a confirmation that it didn’t seem to hard, I plunged into it, really excited about the idea.

One of my favorite assignments in university was reading the lyrics to a song as poetry and explaining my interpretation to my class. I really started to love poetry from that class. And I realized that the reason I can appreciate good music is mostly based on the lyrics.

So I figured my students might benefit from this assignment as well. I gave them instructions and hoped it would go well.

It didn’t.

After five or so people “explained” their songs by saying things like, “I like it because it makes me feel relax.” And, “This song is about love.” I got a little frustrated. Even when I pointed out lyrics that could mean something completely different from what they were saying, they refused to even think about it.

Contributing to my frustration and not helping my mood was the fact that Chinese people have AWFUL taste in English music. I heard so many Backstreet Boys-esque songs (and a few Backstreet Boys ones) that I was ready to re-enter junior high or throw up. They picked songs that were almost exclusively about…love. But they couldn’t (or wouldn’t) explain what aspect of love the song was trying to whine about.

I think my advice from kindergarten teachers was ill-advised.

Spaghetti

avant-garde_chauvintist — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 12:55:00 GMT

Mario is leaving soon, so he decided to go to a few more places in China before his visa expires. We made plans to have dinner and watch a movie on his last official night living in Beijing.

But these plans didn’t work out because of naps and phone issues and general plan-making mayhem. So I decided to have a bottle of wine for dinner (one of my couch surfers left it as a gift).

About two glasses in, I decided that I wanted some pasta to go with it. So I went to the store and bought some tomatoes and decided to wing some Prego style spaghetti sauce and rigatoni.

It turned out to be delicious. I was a little drunk, and I think my taste for Western food is definitely more relaxed than it used to be. And I used a wok to cook the sauce. But I enjoyed it.

Tuesday

avant-garde_chauvintist — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 12:54:00 GMT

I had a completely boring day. Class. We were doing the activities in the book. For some reason, the last activity was basically explicating “Imagine” by John Lennon. Chinese people LOVE The Beatles, so I figured they’d enjoy this assignment. But they didn’t really seem to get it wholly.

Then, I waited around for hours for my couch surfer to come home. He wanted to take me to dinner and discuss Chinese communism with me. But he didn’t call or show up until far after I’d gotten hungry. So I ate.

He eventually showed up all worried because he messed up his visa and had to leave the country before his flight. This worry didn’t surprise me given the current visa climate of China. I’m not really sure how his situation turned out.

Bei Hai Park

avant-garde_chauvintist — Mon, 9 Jun 2008 12:52:00 GMT

One of the last things I still hadn’t done in Beijing but desperately wanted to do was Bei Hai Gong Yuan (North Lake Park). I was waiting for pleasant weather, and accompaniment (it’s hard to get motivated to see touristy things without someone to meet there).

My couch surfer, knowing that I didn't have to work today, said, “Hey is there anything you want to do in the city?”

I rapidly responded with Bei Hai Park. And so we went.

We only had a few hours because he was leaving, so we got on a bus to try to find the way. It turns out – big surprise here, kids – it’s huge. I only really wanted to see one thing, the Nine Dragon Screen. It’s a mosaic of nine dragons that’s meant for protection. It ended up being on the complete opposite side of the park. So we did a whirlwind tour of most of the park before arriving at the Nine Dragon Screen and lingering there for a little while.

It was hot and crowded. But it was definitely worth it. The screen is beautiful. The dragons are coming out of the wall and all painted in bright colors.

I guess, like most things, the most interesting (and frustrating) part was watching all the Chinese people take pictures in front of it. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to seeing many, many people posing with their mouths open and peace signs prominent in front of elderly tourist sites.

Dragon Boat Festival

avant-garde_chauvintist — Sun, 8 Jun 2008 11:57:00 GMT

No class tomorrow in celebration of the Dragon Boat Festival. Several different articles on wikipedia yielded no real understanding of why this is celebrated. However, a day of rest is always appreciated.

The actual festival is today. In its ultimate benevolence, the Chinese government decided that a festival falling on a weekend wasn't fair and conceded to allow work and school to be canceled on Monday as well.

There are rice dumplings associated with them. They are made of gluttinous rice wrapped in bamboo leaves. They're meant to be a dessert. I had no interest in eating them.

In fact, I had no real interest in doing anything today. So I didn't. Apart from being awoken at 9 am because of the necessary Chinese holiday fireworks, my task was accomplished beautifully.

ps -- My couch surfer is Polish. With an insatiable appetite. On a late-night run to the 24 hour McDonald's, he told me that not only is Witkowski undeniably Polish, but it's also a name of nobility. Hmmm....

Beijing Film Festival

avant-garde_chauvintist — Sat, 7 Jun 2008 01:59:00 GMT

Tonight, Mario, Bo, my couch surfer, Frank, and I went to the Beijing Film Festival. It was much antipated. It was also interesting that such an event presented itself in a city like Beijing in a country like China.

Most of the films were foreign (with Chinese subtitles), so there were lots of different things to see. Only one movie really caught my eye in a week of films shown three a night.

It's called "Mardi Gras: Made in China." I think my interest in this needs no explanation. It is a documentary. The premise: the journey of Mardi Gras beads from Fuzhou, China, to New Orleans, Louisiana, for festival season.

They interviewed workers in the factory, the owner of the factory, revelers on Bourbon Street, and the owner of Accent Annex. All of it was interesting and semi-eye-opening. It wasn't the best documentary I've ever seen, and the director kind of lost his way in the middle, but I enjoyed it regardless.

The most interesting part, however, was the reactions of the factory workers to pictures of people at Mardi Gras. For the most part, these young girls had absolutely no idea why they were making cheap necklaces. They know they have to make a certain amount. They know their boss is means. But where they end up...is a mystery.

So the director enlightened them. With pictures of boobs. They started laughing wildly. They admitted to being embarrassed by the pictures. They wondered aloud why people would do such things for jewelery they consider "ugly".

There were some skewed facts. For instance, the workers were told that the beads are sold for $1-$20 a pair. It was a big point in the movie. The workers were astounded that they get paid Y500 a month, and the beads sell for about Y100 EACH.

But I just scoffed at this, knowing they cost that much per GROSS.

Even still, most of them wind up in the trash, and the cost is still much more than these people are getting paid. But the shock value was much, much more than it should be.

One last interesting thing. They interviewed a lady throughout who was a definitely New Orleans lady. From Bourbon Street to Esplanade (and I think a little West Bank, too). She seems a little dense. She was completely obsessed with Mardi Gras. But in the end...she was surprisingly enlightened. She agreed to be interviewed without knowning what the documentary was about. When they asked her what the cost of people from other countries was to contribute to her fun, she said, "You mean like the people in China who make them?" Again, she didn't know what the documentary was about.

She then said, "I guess some might be made in the America, but all the little papers say Made in China. The glass ones used to be made in Czechoslovakia."

They then asked if she wanted to know what the documentary was about. She said she had a music box when she was a child that played beautiful music. She got curious and opened up the back, but was disappointed to learn that it was only a metal rod with knicks in it that created the sounds. "It's kind of like rubbing the dust off of butterfly wings. Because it won't be able to fly anymore."

A shift in perspective

avant-garde_chauvintist — Fri, 6 Jun 2008 07:45:00 GMT

Kevin, formerly my favorite student, has turned into a shit head. He doesn't do his work, he comes to class and reads model airplane manuels, and he occasionally just skips class altogether.

Today, I confronted him. I asked him what was up.

"I feel that this class is not useful."

We talked some more. I explained that this class is necessary for his degree, that I didn't pick the book but have to follow it, that his English isn't perfect and he should try to use the class as practice. I also tried to explain that there are students in the class that can't keep up with the class now, and if I tried to move faster, it would be a disaster.

Chinese people have this quality of directness that's hard to explain. Especially when speaking with a limited English vocabulary. I've had more than one student refuse to do their homework because, "it's not useful." I don't know what to do when they say that. Because when I convince them that they HAVE to do it, they rarely get 100% correct. This still does not convince them that it is, in fact, useful.

I'm glad my time teaching is running out. I will miss the city. I will miss some of my students. But I will not miss people who I formerly considered my best students tell me to my face that my class is useless.

And so it begins...

avant-garde_chauvintist — Thu, 5 Jun 2008 02:39:00 GMT

A morning of packing, drinking coffee, and saying goodbye to one of the best friends I've found in China has me looking leaving straight in the face.

I have less than a month left before I will no longer have to deal with the subway at rush hour. Before I'll no longer wonder what the man on his cell phone is yelling about. Before I'll no longer have to use hand signals for numbers.

I've allowed Beijing to become a part of me. For almost a year, I've struggled daily with mundane things. I've traveled to places I can't pronounce. I've laughed with my students at jokes that would not be funny anywhere else.

It's almost time to say goodbye. I don't know if I'd ever be ready. Just like I didn't know if I'd be ready to say hello. Ni hao.

Is it ok to cry?

Kari

avant-garde_chauvintist — Wed, 4 Jun 2008 22:36:00 GMT

I met her in Dalian. She had just moved to China. A 20-year-old with the bright eyes of someone who'd just finished her first year of college. Incredibly enthusiastic about teaching. A lover of children.

We became friends instantly. Many conversations transpired over complaints, surprises, desires, and expectations.

I stayed with her on my return visits to Dalian to get my visa straightened out. I went to visit her when she lived in Xi'An. She came to Beijing for the October holiday, for the Spring Festival holiday, and to say goodbye.

She's never lived closer to me than a couple hundred kilometers, but we've always called each other when things got a little difficult. We've shared teaching advice, teaching horrors, and general good times stories. We've experienced China together while living on different sides of the country.

She came to Beijing for a few days before her flight back to Oregon. More good times. More memories. More eggplant meals.

She just left for her 14 hour flight back to the States. And while we never really lived together, we've shared this time together. She understands what it was like to work for Frank. She understands what it was like to be a teacher with no experience. She understands. She knows.

Goodbye, Kari. I'll see you soon :)

Three extra bodies

avant-garde_chauvintist — Tue, 3 Jun 2008 01:19:00 GMT

Tonight. Three extra people will call my apartment home. It's entirely circumstantial. Let me explain.

I agreed to have a couch surfer. Kari came to Beijing to say goodbye. One of her friends from high school came to Beijing to see her and say goodbye.

Eva, from Guangzhou, messaged me awhile back looking to couch surf for the first time. She's a student in the States, but she came home for the summer. She decided to come to Beijing again while she was back in China. I agreed enthusiastically that I should be her first couch surfing experience.

Kari, of course, was staying with me. Without question, she always has a place in my heart and room in my home. Her friend is just in town for the night and needed a place to crash. I figured one night of people sleeping in every spare corner was acceptable and agreed to the ridiculous situation.

I had an ulterior motive. I had my mom's computer with me because mine crashed right before I left for China. Kari is from Portland, Oregon. I'm going to be visiting Rhiannon in Portland. Without a clue how to otherwise get my computer home, I'd planned on asking Kari to bring it with her and meet Rhiannon in the city. I figured if I buttered her up by letting Matt, her friend, stay over, it was more likely that she'd be willing to tote the four pound piece of machinery over the ocean for me. I'm scheming, I know.

The night turned out to be very pleasant. Walks through Wangfujing and Tian'An Men. Dinner and drinks in Sanlitun. A very cheap cab ride back to my apartment. We watched videos on Youtube and made beds out of the floor. An overall great experience that makes me miss having roommates.