Monday, August 31, 2009
This is my last blog from China. Duo is picking me up in less than an hour and we’ll go to lunch with Ying’s parents, then on to the airport. My flight leaves Beijing at 4:10 PM and after flying over the North Pole, it lands at Chicago’s O’Hare at 4:13 PM--the magic of jet travel (and a 12-hour time difference.) A couple of hours to clear customs, and on to Boston and a mother-and-child reunion. (Jen is picking me up...)
It is far too early for me to have any perspective on my summer in Beijing, but here are two things I do know.
If I were to spend any longer here, I would immediately sign up for both spoken & written Mandarin lessons. It seems rude to others and terribly limiting to me to live somewhere and be so ignorant of the language. Unlike a country that uses the Roman alphabet, I can’t even look words up in a dictionary. My brain has a hard time comprehending that characters are not letters, and I desperately want to “sound things out.” I do try to speak the language, but the tones aren’t the only difficult part of Chinese. There are many sounds that are crucial for understanding but are hard to make (differentiating between “ts” and “dz” for instance.) So I learn sentences that Duo has given me to memorize, like “Ni hao, jing tian wo YOW chewuh meiguo. Xie xie” (Hello, today I am going to America. Thank you.) And the people to whom I am being polite and grateful just nod & smile at me, unaware that I am speaking Chinese. I cannot tell you how many times Ii have said to a taxi driver, “Maliandao” (the name of my street) and then say, “Maliandao? Maliandao? Ah! Maliandao!” and I can’t even hear how their pronunciation is different from mine.
I will never travel again without a book of piano music with me. Now, this has been a rule of mine for years--a rule I often (usually) disobey. I am not a pianist--I play at the piano. But it is a source of great comfort and relaxation to me, and when I am stressed, lonely, or tired, a few hours at the keyboard does wonders. The sad thing is that I have nothing memorized. I can play only the beginnings of Für Elise, Aragonaise, Solfeggietto, even Happy Farmer, dammit. So when I do chance upon a piano and I long to tickle the ivories for a while, I end up more frustrated than before, not more relaxed. Carrying music with me solves that. I ran into pianos twice here in Beijing, once at BCBUU and another at the home of an ex-pat friend. Luckily, many evenings upon returning from wherever I had been, I was happy to hear a piano being played here at 15 Maliandao, by a pianist of varying abilities. I finally realized that a piano teacher must have an apartment on the first floor, for nothing else could explain that one night she could play a complicated Chopin Étude and the next night stumble through keyboard exercises. I longed to meet her. But, having no Chinese so I could ask the doorman about her, I never did.
It has been clear to me that I would need to get another suitcase to get home, for I have bought so many, many things. (I do have a HUGE one at home, which I could have brought, with the larger one I did bring inside it--I got it the first time I was in China, just for bringing back all the loot I had purchased on that trip. I chose not to do so, reasoning that I had already purchased all the trinkets and souvenirs I needed. What I forgot was that many things have changed in the eight years since I’ve been here. I have four grandchildren! Friends have kids! Silk is inexpensive and I’ve used up what I bought before! Chinese tea is still different from/better than American tea!)
Ying and Duo convinced me, though, to be Chinese about this situation: don’t spend money/flight weight allowance on luggage! Use a cardboard box! So yesterday Duo and Kongwe (Ying’s brother-in-law) came over and packed me up. My belongings aren’t all that heavy (how much do panda bears, silk, and tea weigh after all?) but they sure do take up space. So now I’ll check the big suitcase and the cardboard box, and carry on my knitting bag and small suitcase. Whew.
Saturday night, Amelia, her friend Hope, and I went to a Hot Pot restaurant for supper. I had already decided that I would take no more pictures--couldn’t bear the thought--so I didn’t bring my camera. Foolish me. This restaurant, Hai Di Lao, is so popular and lines are so long that the owners provide entertainment for diners waiting the (sometimes) two hours for their turn at a table. Besides snacks, cards, & Chinese chess, they offer manicures and foot rubs while you wait. And the food! The side-by-side hot pots contained a mild broth and a spicy Sichuan one. Yum. I tried everything except the tripe--never have gotten used to eating cow’s stomach lining, although my parents used to love it. As an extra treat, one of the courses was handmade noodles--a talented young mein-guy (mein, as in chow mein or lo mein) came & tossed and flipped the dough around, rather like those ribbon twirlers we all saw at the opening ceremonies to last year’s Olympics.
Yikes! I guess this is it: look at the time! What a summer. Can’t wait to see you.
Thanks for reading--
Love,
Chris
Monday, August 31, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Saturday, August 29
Tuesday night after my massage I decided to take myself out to supper at “Jackpot,” a neighborhood cafe which has, like all Beijing restaurants, a photo-illustrated menu. I figured I couldn’t go wrong because I could point and choose. So I ordered Rice Dish #322, Chicken Curry, and Vegetable Dish #731, Green vegetable in garlic sauce. The server smiled, nodded, and left with my order written in Chinese on her notepad. A minute later, she came back and pointed to the vegetable choice again. I pointed to the words, “Chinese green vegetable in garlic sauce” and she left. She came back a minute later and pointed to the words and picture on the menu. This time I shrugged my shoulders and pointed to the picture, Chinese green vegetables, and to the word “garlic.” She nodded and left. A minute later another young woman came back with the menu and pointed to the veggie page. I pointed to the picture and the words and she left, nodding. Another minute later, a young man brought me Chinese green vegetable in garlic sauce--delicious. I used my chopsticks to pick them up one at a time and sort of suck them in, the way Chinese people do.
Then my main dish came: a mound of white rice on a platter next to a bowl of what looked liked beef stew. I was starved, so I took a beef short rib out of the bowl and started to eat it, even though I figured it was someone else’s order because it sure as hell wasn’t chicken curry. The waitress came by and I smiled and pointed to the menu, “Chicken Curry,” and I pointed to my food, clearly not chicken curry. Actually, according to the picture, the curry came in one bowl and was yellow with chunks of chicken. On the menu underneath the curry was a picture of beef in a bowl like mine with a mound of rice on a platter like mine. I pointed to my food and then to the picture of the beef, and said, “I ordered chicken (pointing to the picture) and you brought me beef (pointing first to my food and then to the picture.” The server shook her head and said, “Chicken.” I said, “Yes, I ordered chicken, but you brought me beef.” She went and got her supervisor (the one who had double checked that I wanted Chinese green vegetables). The supervisor looked at my food and said, “Chicken.” I said, “It’s not chicken, it’s beef.” She said, “Chicken,” and pointed to her knuckles. I said, “Beef,” and pointed to the menu. I gave up, though, and ate. They charged me 32Y, the price for the beef, and not 28Y, the price for the chicken. Did you know b-e-e-f spells “chik-uhn”?
Yesterday was my last day teaching. I seem to have fallen in love with these kids, too--these shy Chinese students who were so unwilling to even try to speak English that first day last week. Each of them presented a speech--in front of the class--about a famous site in or near Beijing. Some of the speeches were only two sentences long, but they all talked, in English, to the whole class. I was very, very proud of them and told them so. Then we watched Pearl Harbor. (We spent a lot of time this week watching movies--Mulan, Good Will Hunting, Dream Girls, Notting Hill in addition to yesterday’s. Because the kids, when they did speak, tended to speak in two-words phrases, we ran through all the planned lessons very quickly. I did many of Kacie’s and my American Culture presentations--Urban/Rural in America and China, Families in America, Teenagers and Money--but again, with no questions and limited discussion, it was easy to run through plans. Reminds me of the first class I ever taught--7th graders in South Carolina--we read & discussed The Adventures of Tom Sawyer in a week. I had no idea what to ask or how to get the kids talking...)
Anyway, at the end of Pearl Harbor, I (along with all the girls in the class) was quietly sobbing (okay, it’s a sappy, melodramatic movie, but it is a tear-jerker). I knew I had to say something, so I stood up and said, “I’m crying not only because it’s the end of the movie, but because I have to say good-bye, and you’re my last class in China...” So the kids said nice things to me (“Come again, Teacher, ” “Don’t go, Teacher!”) and many of the girls wanted their pictures taken with me. I was really thinking, “This is the last class I will ever teach...I am not a teacher any more...” but I decided that thought was melodramatic. Once a teacher, always a teacher, and my wise Finnish grandmother said, “Never say never: it’s a very long time.”
Thanks for reading.
Love,
Chris
Then my main dish came: a mound of white rice on a platter next to a bowl of what looked liked beef stew. I was starved, so I took a beef short rib out of the bowl and started to eat it, even though I figured it was someone else’s order because it sure as hell wasn’t chicken curry. The waitress came by and I smiled and pointed to the menu, “Chicken Curry,” and I pointed to my food, clearly not chicken curry. Actually, according to the picture, the curry came in one bowl and was yellow with chunks of chicken. On the menu underneath the curry was a picture of beef in a bowl like mine with a mound of rice on a platter like mine. I pointed to my food and then to the picture of the beef, and said, “I ordered chicken (pointing to the picture) and you brought me beef (pointing first to my food and then to the picture.” The server shook her head and said, “Chicken.” I said, “Yes, I ordered chicken, but you brought me beef.” She went and got her supervisor (the one who had double checked that I wanted Chinese green vegetables). The supervisor looked at my food and said, “Chicken.” I said, “It’s not chicken, it’s beef.” She said, “Chicken,” and pointed to her knuckles. I said, “Beef,” and pointed to the menu. I gave up, though, and ate. They charged me 32Y, the price for the beef, and not 28Y, the price for the chicken. Did you know b-e-e-f spells “chik-uhn”?
Yesterday was my last day teaching. I seem to have fallen in love with these kids, too--these shy Chinese students who were so unwilling to even try to speak English that first day last week. Each of them presented a speech--in front of the class--about a famous site in or near Beijing. Some of the speeches were only two sentences long, but they all talked, in English, to the whole class. I was very, very proud of them and told them so. Then we watched Pearl Harbor. (We spent a lot of time this week watching movies--Mulan, Good Will Hunting, Dream Girls, Notting Hill in addition to yesterday’s. Because the kids, when they did speak, tended to speak in two-words phrases, we ran through all the planned lessons very quickly. I did many of Kacie’s and my American Culture presentations--Urban/Rural in America and China, Families in America, Teenagers and Money--but again, with no questions and limited discussion, it was easy to run through plans. Reminds me of the first class I ever taught--7th graders in South Carolina--we read & discussed The Adventures of Tom Sawyer in a week. I had no idea what to ask or how to get the kids talking...)
Anyway, at the end of Pearl Harbor, I (along with all the girls in the class) was quietly sobbing (okay, it’s a sappy, melodramatic movie, but it is a tear-jerker). I knew I had to say something, so I stood up and said, “I’m crying not only because it’s the end of the movie, but because I have to say good-bye, and you’re my last class in China...” So the kids said nice things to me (“Come again, Teacher, ” “Don’t go, Teacher!”) and many of the girls wanted their pictures taken with me. I was really thinking, “This is the last class I will ever teach...I am not a teacher any more...” but I decided that thought was melodramatic. Once a teacher, always a teacher, and my wise Finnish grandmother said, “Never say never: it’s a very long time.”
Thanks for reading.
Love,
Chris
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Tuesday, August 25
You know I’ve been having daily massages to relieve the tension in my neck and shoulders--long-standing discomfort, caused by years of computer-gazing, scrunching my shoulders up in a perpetual “Who knows?” gesture, not going to yoga classes, casting teachers’ dirty looks, and a general unwillingness to let go of anything. Dr. Wang (#0001 says his number tag--people don’t wear nametags here in China) said it would take seven days to work out all the bunches of contracted nerve tissue. Well, in an hour I get #7 and I don’t think there’s going to be a new, serene, pliable me. Dammit. Just the same old me with somewhat fewer knots in my neck.
I thrilled myself, Dr. Wang, and the receptionist last night because when I signed out, I didn’t sign Chris Howe as I have been, but, * Hao Si Ting, my Chinese name. I showed my students this morning that I can write it, and they all cheered. I am in total sympathy with all 3, 4, & 5 year olds who are learning to print their names and who recognize word or two on street signs. Like them, as we drive along, I point and call out the words I know, no matter who’s talking or where we might be in a conversation. “Jong” (middle), I’ll cry, or “Da” (big) or “Tian!” (Heaven). My friends are very patient with me and I get many indulgent smiles and murmurs of encouragement. Makes me very happy. Of course, I am particularly gleeful when I see anything having to do with “Hao Si Ting,” but that is very rare (except for “si”, silk, which does appear on many shop signs!)
My new (last) class. This will give you an idea of how dear they are: the students in Session 2, last week--all 64 of them--scored between 120 and 130 out of 150 on the English Entrance Exam. The kids this week all scored between 30 & 40. The class actually started while I was still teaching Session 2, so another teacher began the class. When I met with him the day before I took over, all he said (rapidly, in a growly-voiced Australian accent) was “Low, very, very low.”
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I have found with every one of the four classes so far that the kids do not want to speak English at first. They are used to being called on, not volunteering, so they never raise their hands. They do not want to make a mistake in front of anyone. Some of them do absolutely nothing, but I’m used to that! (Yesterday we were talking about school, and my question had been, “What subject did you like the best in high school?” One wiseass kid said, “I disliked every subject.” He even expanded on his idea: “I did not enjoy any class.” When I asked the kids to draw cartoons and write a two-line dialog underneath it, he left his blank. He has been late, but hasn’t missed a class. (I think I’ve had him as a student before, in the States...)
So very slowly, these “low, very, very low” kids are talking in more complete sentences, they are repeating “th” and “th” and “z-z-z” with me, and they have learned all the words to “This Land is Your Land.” I do feel as if I’m doing a lame one-woman comedy routine in front of an insensate audience at times, but that’s not a new feeling, either. Some of the kids are very pleasant (I can’t believe their scores were really as low as I’m told they were, and I think of all the kids I know who just test poorly.) Today’s movie was “Good Will Hunting,” which they really loved. One young man and I had a pleasant conversation about it--he told me he feels the movie helped him think clearly about what is important in life. That’s a pretty good comment from anyone, not only from a new English-language learner.
Last Friday Duo didn’t pick me up. His parents had visited him the night before and inadvertently locked his door on the outside when they left. Apparently he couldn’t unlock it from the inside, and so he couldn’t get to me. Ying got mad at him for failing to report to work on time (I had to take a cab across Beijing and was a little late for my first class with this group) and she told me I couldn’t call him all weekend, until he saw the errors of his ways and took his job more seriously. I obeyed her orders, but I must say, when he picked me up again, I was delighted! I missed him and his wry sense of humor!
Skype is amazing. If you haven’t used it yet, you really should try it--even with someone in your own town. You download a free program and then you can video conference with anybody, anywhere, who also has Skype. I have frequent visits with my daughters and grandchildren, and one of the highlights for Lila, Ben, and Sam seems to be visiting with my fish. The kids (I mean, the fish) always love it when the kids (I mean, the grandchildren) visit, for it means an extra sprinkle or two of food and lots of attention. They wiggle their little fishy bodies over to my tipped-over MacBook camera and open their little mouths, talking with the (human) kids. You can tell it is seriously time for me to get home to my cats, can’t you?
Oh, just a quick word about Saturday’s performance of the Peking Opera. I saw two scenes--one was a story of a Princess trying to get to her lover, rowed across a river by a trickster old man. It as full of the fabulous costumes and squeals and yowls and loud banging music that I associate with Chinese Opera. The second scene was from a Monkey King tale--this time the clever little beast fought off all 18 of Buddha’s guardians, so there was lots of swordplay and forward rolls and running and leaping and jumping. Most enjoyable. Truth to tell, I could easily go to many more of these performances. I love everything about them! Amelia was, as always, great company and afterwards she brought me to a great little Chinese dumpling (jiaozi) restaurant where we ate three different kinds of dumplings and drank Beijing fresh plum juice! What a great time!
Yikes, it’s time to go. Thanks so much for reading.
Love,
Chris
I thrilled myself, Dr. Wang, and the receptionist last night because when I signed out, I didn’t sign Chris Howe as I have been, but, * Hao Si Ting, my Chinese name. I showed my students this morning that I can write it, and they all cheered. I am in total sympathy with all 3, 4, & 5 year olds who are learning to print their names and who recognize word or two on street signs. Like them, as we drive along, I point and call out the words I know, no matter who’s talking or where we might be in a conversation. “Jong” (middle), I’ll cry, or “Da” (big) or “Tian!” (Heaven). My friends are very patient with me and I get many indulgent smiles and murmurs of encouragement. Makes me very happy. Of course, I am particularly gleeful when I see anything having to do with “Hao Si Ting,” but that is very rare (except for “si”, silk, which does appear on many shop signs!)
My new (last) class. This will give you an idea of how dear they are: the students in Session 2, last week--all 64 of them--scored between 120 and 130 out of 150 on the English Entrance Exam. The kids this week all scored between 30 & 40. The class actually started while I was still teaching Session 2, so another teacher began the class. When I met with him the day before I took over, all he said (rapidly, in a growly-voiced Australian accent) was “Low, very, very low.”
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I have found with every one of the four classes so far that the kids do not want to speak English at first. They are used to being called on, not volunteering, so they never raise their hands. They do not want to make a mistake in front of anyone. Some of them do absolutely nothing, but I’m used to that! (Yesterday we were talking about school, and my question had been, “What subject did you like the best in high school?” One wiseass kid said, “I disliked every subject.” He even expanded on his idea: “I did not enjoy any class.” When I asked the kids to draw cartoons and write a two-line dialog underneath it, he left his blank. He has been late, but hasn’t missed a class. (I think I’ve had him as a student before, in the States...)
So very slowly, these “low, very, very low” kids are talking in more complete sentences, they are repeating “th” and “th” and “z-z-z” with me, and they have learned all the words to “This Land is Your Land.” I do feel as if I’m doing a lame one-woman comedy routine in front of an insensate audience at times, but that’s not a new feeling, either. Some of the kids are very pleasant (I can’t believe their scores were really as low as I’m told they were, and I think of all the kids I know who just test poorly.) Today’s movie was “Good Will Hunting,” which they really loved. One young man and I had a pleasant conversation about it--he told me he feels the movie helped him think clearly about what is important in life. That’s a pretty good comment from anyone, not only from a new English-language learner.
Last Friday Duo didn’t pick me up. His parents had visited him the night before and inadvertently locked his door on the outside when they left. Apparently he couldn’t unlock it from the inside, and so he couldn’t get to me. Ying got mad at him for failing to report to work on time (I had to take a cab across Beijing and was a little late for my first class with this group) and she told me I couldn’t call him all weekend, until he saw the errors of his ways and took his job more seriously. I obeyed her orders, but I must say, when he picked me up again, I was delighted! I missed him and his wry sense of humor!
Skype is amazing. If you haven’t used it yet, you really should try it--even with someone in your own town. You download a free program and then you can video conference with anybody, anywhere, who also has Skype. I have frequent visits with my daughters and grandchildren, and one of the highlights for Lila, Ben, and Sam seems to be visiting with my fish. The kids (I mean, the fish) always love it when the kids (I mean, the grandchildren) visit, for it means an extra sprinkle or two of food and lots of attention. They wiggle their little fishy bodies over to my tipped-over MacBook camera and open their little mouths, talking with the (human) kids. You can tell it is seriously time for me to get home to my cats, can’t you?
Oh, just a quick word about Saturday’s performance of the Peking Opera. I saw two scenes--one was a story of a Princess trying to get to her lover, rowed across a river by a trickster old man. It as full of the fabulous costumes and squeals and yowls and loud banging music that I associate with Chinese Opera. The second scene was from a Monkey King tale--this time the clever little beast fought off all 18 of Buddha’s guardians, so there was lots of swordplay and forward rolls and running and leaping and jumping. Most enjoyable. Truth to tell, I could easily go to many more of these performances. I love everything about them! Amelia was, as always, great company and afterwards she brought me to a great little Chinese dumpling (jiaozi) restaurant where we ate three different kinds of dumplings and drank Beijing fresh plum juice! What a great time!
Yikes, it’s time to go. Thanks so much for reading.
Love,
Chris
Monday, August 24, 2009
Saturday, August 22, 2009
I’ve been frustrated in my attempts to upload dozens more pictures. I wrote to Kodak Gallery and asked them why this batch won’t upload and, at the suggestion of Juan, their live chat consultant, I rebooted, reinstalled and retried. Nothing worked. Yesterday I complained to Ying about my problem, and she told me that there had been an underwater earthquake somewhere that has disrupted one of the major fiberoptic cables connecting the US and China. She said she hadn’t been able to get Hotmail and her husband Kongli back in Dedham, MA couldn’t get any of his usual China sites. So in two days, I’ve uploaded six pictures and feel pretty proud of that! I have invited people to view them and will let you know when I have the rest of them snuggled onto the Gallery.
After final presentations for Session 2 (more about that later) Duo, Jiao (Jamie) and I went went to Houhai, a great hutong (old neighborhood) near the Beijing Academy for Dramatic Arts which is, as you can guess, a pretty artsy-fartsy area of the city. Both D and J lamented how touristy it’s become, and there certainly were many Westerners there, but I enjoyed visiting the many small shops--filled not only with souvenirs for tourists, but also interesting artwork of unusual colors and designs. It was here that Jiao had got the gorgeous earrings she gave me at the end of Session 1. I wanted to get a couple more pairs as gifts. Alas, when we got to the spot where the store had been, it wasn’t any more--just a shell of a place, with wrecking tools lying around. This happens a lot around here. On the corner of my street was a breakfast shop until yesterday morning, now it’s been knocked down but the breakfast shop has reappeared further up the road
A man about my age at KFC the other day said, in English, “Where are you from?” “America,” I replied. He gave me a blank stare & big, vacant, smile. “The United States,” I said. Blank stare & big smile. “Wo shi meiguoren,” I said. Big smile & “Ah, American!” He understood my Chinese! Almost a first. I still can’t pronounce my name correctly. It’s “Hao Si Ting”, Hao is a last name that doesn’t mean anything except that it’s a last name, “Si” is “silk” and “ting” means “elegant pavilion,” but together, they mean something like “elegant silk lady.” It’s a lovely name I’m told. But I have to show people the little card with my name written in Chinese for them to understand it. There are so damn many ways to pronounce every syllable--it’s not just that there are four tones, but there are dozens of homophones with the same tone, and context means so much. So often, people have no idea what I’m saying, even though I have practiced and practiced the “si” with the tongue on the roof of the mouth and lips pursed...
A man with a baby in my parking lot said to me, in Russian, “I don’t speak English, but I do speak Russian.”. I said, in English, “Sorry, I don’t speak Russian, but I do recognize you are speaking it!.” We smiled and I said, “Ke ai,” (cute baby, in Chinese.)
I’m getting a neck & shoulders massage every day for seven days to try to get rid of this persistent knot. I think what will really get rid of the knot is to get home...
Today was going to be a trip to the Jietai Temple, about 30 km from Beijing, where Ying and I were going to have a serene morning, looking at the giant Buddhas and meditating in some of the sacred spaces. But she called this morning and said we were going to Beihai Park instead, a favorite inner city spot near the Forbidden City with its own temples, pagodas, and many Beijinger families. When we were almost there, she said, “Oh, by the way, we are meeting a student from the International Training Center (of Beijing Union U.) who hadn’t been able to take the first course and wants a chance to speak with an American teacher.” Turns out there was supposed to be another student, too...Ying couldn’t find a parking place, so I met the young man and we walked around the park together while Ying circled the park twice. Then we went to lunch. Tommy is a pleasant young man, about to begin his Ph.D. studies in Finance. But it was another working day and not the meditative morning I had been looking forward to.
This afternoon, after my massage (which isn’t all that much fun, as you can imagine), I’ll meet dear Amelia for dumplings and then on to the Peking Opera. I’m not sure which show we’re going to, but this is going to be more of the real thing that the snippet I got last night at the LaoShe Tea House (which was tons of fun!--Logan, one of the professors from the first group of students at BCBUU, brought me there. It was built in 1988 and has attracted lots of attention--it’s like a 19th C teahouse, with a show that is a revue of Chinese entertainment--some traditional music, a comic, a magician, an acrobat, some dancers, a scene from Peking Opera, and some handsome flying kung fu artists.)
I want to tell you a little about final presentations of first year students in our second summer session. There were, as I think I told you, 64 kids enrolled in the class. Only 57 actually showed up. We had to choose the 30 that would be allowed to take their college classes in English. Before Kacie left, we had determined that the kids would do a 3-5 minute speech (with illustration, either Powerpoint or poster) on one of the following: family, vacation, food, or hobby. Ten kids didn’t even show up for the final. Of the ones who did, most gave very good speeches, all used powerpoint.
A few notables: the best of all was a young woman who talked about her hobby--chess. She learned when she was six and has been in numerous competitions. She had pictures of herself from her very first match to the present. She also talked about being one of a 100 that a world master played simultaneously (he won all the matches) and she showed a slide of Kasparov playing Deep Blue. She was lively, entertaining, and informative--as good as it gets!
One that was funny but also very sad was a girl who talked about her family. She showed her family tree, and said off the bat, “You will see that my mother is fat. (She wasn’t at all by my standards!) When she was pregnant with me, my father wanted a healthy baby, so he made her eat many eggs. She gained a lot of weight and has been fat since then. You will see that my father looks like a monkey. Everyone says he looks like a monkey, don’t you think he does? You notice that there are no pictures for my grandparents on my father’s side. That’s because they wanted a boy and when I was born they would not admit I was their grandchild. They still do not. So I have no grandparents on my father’s side.”
You know how I hate it when I don’t pronounce Chinese correctly and the kids laugh at me? Okay, okay, so I called a kid “Donkey...” Well, this is to show you my self-restraint: A third young woman gave her talk on her family’s vacation to Inner Mongolia. She had absolutely gorgeous slides of lakes and grasslands and a happy family. In one, she is sitting on the grass with a foal. She said, “And here I am with a whore.” (And I am thinking, it’s okay, it’s just one little word.) And then she says, “And here is my father on a whore. He loves to ride whores on vacation.” And I had to lower my head and cover my mouth because I had a coughing fit.That’s it for now.
Thanks for reading.
Love,Chris
After final presentations for Session 2 (more about that later) Duo, Jiao (Jamie) and I went went to Houhai, a great hutong (old neighborhood) near the Beijing Academy for Dramatic Arts which is, as you can guess, a pretty artsy-fartsy area of the city. Both D and J lamented how touristy it’s become, and there certainly were many Westerners there, but I enjoyed visiting the many small shops--filled not only with souvenirs for tourists, but also interesting artwork of unusual colors and designs. It was here that Jiao had got the gorgeous earrings she gave me at the end of Session 1. I wanted to get a couple more pairs as gifts. Alas, when we got to the spot where the store had been, it wasn’t any more--just a shell of a place, with wrecking tools lying around. This happens a lot around here. On the corner of my street was a breakfast shop until yesterday morning, now it’s been knocked down but the breakfast shop has reappeared further up the road
A man about my age at KFC the other day said, in English, “Where are you from?” “America,” I replied. He gave me a blank stare & big, vacant, smile. “The United States,” I said. Blank stare & big smile. “Wo shi meiguoren,” I said. Big smile & “Ah, American!” He understood my Chinese! Almost a first. I still can’t pronounce my name correctly. It’s “Hao Si Ting”, Hao is a last name that doesn’t mean anything except that it’s a last name, “Si” is “silk” and “ting” means “elegant pavilion,” but together, they mean something like “elegant silk lady.” It’s a lovely name I’m told. But I have to show people the little card with my name written in Chinese for them to understand it. There are so damn many ways to pronounce every syllable--it’s not just that there are four tones, but there are dozens of homophones with the same tone, and context means so much. So often, people have no idea what I’m saying, even though I have practiced and practiced the “si” with the tongue on the roof of the mouth and lips pursed...
A man with a baby in my parking lot said to me, in Russian, “I don’t speak English, but I do speak Russian.”. I said, in English, “Sorry, I don’t speak Russian, but I do recognize you are speaking it!.” We smiled and I said, “Ke ai,” (cute baby, in Chinese.)
I’m getting a neck & shoulders massage every day for seven days to try to get rid of this persistent knot. I think what will really get rid of the knot is to get home...
Today was going to be a trip to the Jietai Temple, about 30 km from Beijing, where Ying and I were going to have a serene morning, looking at the giant Buddhas and meditating in some of the sacred spaces. But she called this morning and said we were going to Beihai Park instead, a favorite inner city spot near the Forbidden City with its own temples, pagodas, and many Beijinger families. When we were almost there, she said, “Oh, by the way, we are meeting a student from the International Training Center (of Beijing Union U.) who hadn’t been able to take the first course and wants a chance to speak with an American teacher.” Turns out there was supposed to be another student, too...Ying couldn’t find a parking place, so I met the young man and we walked around the park together while Ying circled the park twice. Then we went to lunch. Tommy is a pleasant young man, about to begin his Ph.D. studies in Finance. But it was another working day and not the meditative morning I had been looking forward to.
This afternoon, after my massage (which isn’t all that much fun, as you can imagine), I’ll meet dear Amelia for dumplings and then on to the Peking Opera. I’m not sure which show we’re going to, but this is going to be more of the real thing that the snippet I got last night at the LaoShe Tea House (which was tons of fun!--Logan, one of the professors from the first group of students at BCBUU, brought me there. It was built in 1988 and has attracted lots of attention--it’s like a 19th C teahouse, with a show that is a revue of Chinese entertainment--some traditional music, a comic, a magician, an acrobat, some dancers, a scene from Peking Opera, and some handsome flying kung fu artists.)
I want to tell you a little about final presentations of first year students in our second summer session. There were, as I think I told you, 64 kids enrolled in the class. Only 57 actually showed up. We had to choose the 30 that would be allowed to take their college classes in English. Before Kacie left, we had determined that the kids would do a 3-5 minute speech (with illustration, either Powerpoint or poster) on one of the following: family, vacation, food, or hobby. Ten kids didn’t even show up for the final. Of the ones who did, most gave very good speeches, all used powerpoint.
A few notables: the best of all was a young woman who talked about her hobby--chess. She learned when she was six and has been in numerous competitions. She had pictures of herself from her very first match to the present. She also talked about being one of a 100 that a world master played simultaneously (he won all the matches) and she showed a slide of Kasparov playing Deep Blue. She was lively, entertaining, and informative--as good as it gets!
One that was funny but also very sad was a girl who talked about her family. She showed her family tree, and said off the bat, “You will see that my mother is fat. (She wasn’t at all by my standards!) When she was pregnant with me, my father wanted a healthy baby, so he made her eat many eggs. She gained a lot of weight and has been fat since then. You will see that my father looks like a monkey. Everyone says he looks like a monkey, don’t you think he does? You notice that there are no pictures for my grandparents on my father’s side. That’s because they wanted a boy and when I was born they would not admit I was their grandchild. They still do not. So I have no grandparents on my father’s side.”
You know how I hate it when I don’t pronounce Chinese correctly and the kids laugh at me? Okay, okay, so I called a kid “Donkey...” Well, this is to show you my self-restraint: A third young woman gave her talk on her family’s vacation to Inner Mongolia. She had absolutely gorgeous slides of lakes and grasslands and a happy family. In one, she is sitting on the grass with a foal. She said, “And here I am with a whore.” (And I am thinking, it’s okay, it’s just one little word.) And then she says, “And here is my father on a whore. He loves to ride whores on vacation.” And I had to lower my head and cover my mouth because I had a coughing fit.That’s it for now.
Thanks for reading.
Love,Chris
Monday, August 17, 2009
Monday, August 17
Monday, August 17
It happened today: before class, I was talking with a student who spells his last name “Lv” and I was asking if that was a typo. “No,” he said, “It is spelled El-wee in Pinyin.” “But,” I said, “Vee is not a vowel in English.” So he explains: “L-u spells loo, and my last name is lue, so to distinguish the sounds, we spell it L-V (el-wee).” So I say, “Oh, you mean ‘Lü” and he blushes and the two boys next to him start howling and howling with laughter. I say, “Did I say it wrong.” “No...” they stammer, “just say “Lü.” So I say it again and again peals of laughter. Finally, one of them said, “You’re calling him DONKEY!” This is Chinese for you. Lü (falling tone) means “last name.” Lü (questioning tone--which I was using because I was asking if I was pronouncing the word right) means DONKEY. It does not, I would like to clarify, mean “ASS” with all the American connotations--I asked. But it was werry werry funny to hear Teacher call Fei a DONKEY!
I asked why they don’t use the umlaut instead of a VEE, which IS NOT A VOWEL IN ENGLISH. “We do not have that symbol on our keyboard,” one of the kids explained.
Ying and Duo arrived around 10 AM pick Kacie up and get her to the airport in time to have her heavy luggage weighed and board her flight back to Boston. She had bought an extra suitcase and was still hoping she could get onto the plane with more than two carry-ons. She and Duo had a very funny story about buying that super-sized suitcase. They went to a regular store, not one of the tourist markets, and the clerk was a tiny, tiny woman who was intent upon making a sale. (Neither Duo nor Kacie could get beyond this point in the story before they were doubled over with laughter, tears running down their cheeks.) The pint-sized salesperson managed to pull the one Kacie eventually bought down from an upper shelf and then started kicking it, jumping on it, and heaving around the showroom to demonstrate its sturdiness. Kacie said even if it hadn’t been the right one for her, she would have paid the 300Y ($43) for the show.
So Kacie is on her way to America, and I will finish up the teaching responsibilities: three more days with this group of 60 and then six days (four teaching hours a day) with the last group, 20 sophomores. Boy, BCBUU is getting a lot of instructional time out of us! Ah well, here I am, supported in Beijing! The lesson planning is done, which is good. I am enjoying my foot and oil massages, which I feel are well earned.
I tried on my Dragon Lady qi pao today (black background with ecru stylized dragons.) Kath says, “So, Mum, there are realistic dragons?” Some of you might call the traditional Chinese dress (usually worn by very thin young Asian women) a “cheongsam,” but that’s if you speak Cantonese. The tailor will adjust some of the seams, add the frogs (butterflies) and, oh, make me another one...I couldn’t resist and chose some great blue and white silk for a shorter, less formal dress. Tea, anyone?
Going to Peking Opera twice this week (watch Farewell, My Concubine again if you forget what it’s like...screeching, banging, fabulous masks & costumes, acrobatics--I love it!) Once with Logan, from the first session’s Professors’ class, and then with Amelia Chung, my “niece” here in Beijing (she’s my sister Mary’s son Michael’s wife Jeanie’s first cousin.) Dear Amelia and I are also going to her favorite Chinese comfort food restaurant (dumplings), too--can’t wait!
Logan, an earnest and delightful young man, is headed to the University of Minnesota on August 24 for four months in the Twin Cities area. The college sends him but not his wife, and no other teachers from BCBUU are going. Do you know anyone who lives there? I would love to put him in touch with a friendly American who could show him where the supermarket is and advise him on buying a winter hat. The only person I know from Minneapolis is Mary Richards--wait, wait--that was a TV show and it was over 30 years ago. Drat.
More on Chinese: Duo tells me that the unbearably hot, humid weather we’ve been having (100+ temperature, so humid that if you step outside, instantly your hair is wet and your clothes stick to your body) is called “Autumn Tiger.” According to the traditional Chinese calendar, fall starts on August 7...And another fabulous one: “rainbow” in Mandarin is “seven-colored bridge.” Isn’t that one just lovely?
And in English. I think I told you that when we were doing the demo classes at the middle school intensive program last weekend, we found that many of the kids couldn’t give reasons for what they said, nor could they expand their answers. Most of them answered all questions: “I like to (read, play ball, play the piano, go to the beach) because it is interesting.” When we asked why something was interesting, they would stare blankly at us. So using the word “interesting” has become anathema. I am learning how often I use it--almost as often as “wonderful,” it seems. A student makes a comment and I say, “Interesting....” or explains an answer and I say, “Interesting....” Ying now sits in the back of the lecture hall, counting for me and giggling when my count gets interestingly HIGH. [Editor's note: Did this paragraph make anyone else think of Bugs Bunny as a beautician? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dLdKU4JCYqg.]
The last part of today’s class was most INTERESTING! I am trying to get through the major points of our lessons, provide numerous opportunities for student discussion and debate, and answer students’ questions. I had fifteen minutes today to explain 1) why many Americans go to church, 2) what (who) God is, and 3) why there are so many different churches. So I did my best to sum up 5000 years of Western Civ in a quarter of an hour. Hmm, didn’t David Sedaris write an essay about this once?
Thanks for reading!
Love,
Chris
Thursday, August 13, 2009
August 13, 2009
I was stressing out big time before the start of this second session of teaching. The night before the class was to start, we still didn’t know the expectations the college had for us, except that out of the 50 enrollees (yes, 50), we were to select the 30 who would be permitted to go forward with the All-English business program. How we were to do that, what our hours were to be, what BCBUU’s expectations of us would be--none of that was clear.
Everything turned out all right--we met with the Director of the English Program just as we arrived Tuesday morning. We got the scoop on the college’s expectations and we got a schedule: we have a couple of eight-hour days of teaching, and the other days rotate between 8-11:30 and 1:30-5:00. We entered the HUGE (seats 360) lecture hall on to find 57 students waiting for us. Whew. Luckily they were mostly seated in the first eight or nine rows, so we were able to hear and be heard. Kacie and I began, using parts of the lessons we had prepared for the first session and adding, subtracting, revising as we went.
College teaching is done these days by Powerpoint, in case I’ve not mentioned that before. (All the nursing classes at Riv were done so--90% adaptations of the textbook companies’ powerpoints. We have been developing our own.) Kacie gave the students an assignment the first night--an activity well-known to teachers the world over as a getting-to-know-you/first week of school gambit--bring in a bag with three items that reveal what kind of person you are, and be ready to explain them (in English) to the other students at your table. She had a little brown bag and demonstrated with a seashell (from Australia) because she likes to travel, a tie-dyed headband (she wears it to rock concerts), and a photo of herself and her best friend.
So yesterday we got to class and discovered that most of the students had brought some kind of bag--a plastic shopping bag or a tote of some kind--with items ranging from team photos to kitschy Great Wall souvenirs. A few were digging things out of their backpacks, feigning preparation. I walked up on one young man (the one who always wants to answer every question, ignoring the other 56 in the class) who was holding up a pocket package of tissue (toilet paper is not provided in many public facilities in China) & was explaining to his seat mates that this item is very important to him because sometimes he needs to...wipe.
Big sigh. I guess kids are the same world over. And teachers’ dirty looks work as well, too. I said nothing and moved on to another table.
All of this explains the origin of my wicked sore neck and shoulders. I seem to hold tension in my muscles instead of screaming and stomping my feet as I really want to do. So by Tuesday, my muscles were caterwauling and I was treading lightly, fearing jolts of sharp pain would knock me over on the street. (This is not a new phenomenon, but at home I regularly see my dear friends Emma--massage therapist--and Deb--acupuncturist--who keep the replacement of living tissue with spikes of steel at bay.) So at Ying’s recommendation, I gave up my thrice-weekly foot massage for a visit to a real Chinese massage doctor. Some of my ex-pat friends have been telling me that they visit one regularly, and the most important thing to know going in is the word “Tong!”--”PAIN!”
Wow. During just the initial assessment, this guy (Dr. Wang) found points on my neck, shoulders, and spine for acupressure/massage that I didn’t know existed. He spoke only a few words in English, but Ying had come with me for the first few minutes while he did his evaluation and he talked to her. He could help, but I would need to come back a few times. I agreed to do anything. She left, and he did his work, speaking a few words of English now and then: “Madam, forgive me for asking, but how old are you?” I told him my age and that I am a teacher. (“Wo shi laoshi” is one of my few Mandarin phrases that people can comprehend when I say it.) He said, “You are tired, very tired” and I thought, “No shit.” I did want him to say something like, “But for a 61-year old exhausted retired American teacher working at one last teaching gig as a way to live & work in China for the summer and seeking employment as a registered nurse, you have an amazingly resilient body which will be restored to perfect health and youthful vitality after a few Chinese miracle treatments.” He didn’t.
Dr. Wang did jab and poke and roll and squeeze and start to loosen up some of the muscles (steel to concrete is the image.) I had another appointment the next day. Same procedure, but at the end the doctor said, “Oil massage.” I’ll go for anything, so made the appointment for Thursday afternoon. Another man did this, which included oil in quantities I thought were used only for--the only thing I can compare it to is how very buttery & slippery I remember my hands getting when I was in third grade at a taffy-pulling party. I mean, I was sliding around on the paper sheet, wearing my paper shorty p.j.’s as the guy used not only a quart of oil, but also heated jade stones (the size of baked potatoes) wherever he was about to massage. I’ve never had a massage by a man before and thought I would hate it and be nervous, but he was discreet and his hands and that heat really did relax those muscles. He didn’t speak any English so there was no chatter, and I kept my eyes shut--I actually fell asleep at one point. By the time I left, I had no pain anywhere. I felt rubbery. I have another appointment in five days. An hour’s appointment with the doc was 100Y ($14) and the 1.5 hour massage was 150.(Remember, the average school teacher earns 3000Y/$438 per month.)
One more thing to talk about: a concert at China National Center for the Performing Arts, an astonishing new facility next to Tiananmen Square on Chang’an Avenue. The architecture is ultramodern--an egg-shaped, moat-surrounded dome with no visible entrances (they are underground--you walk under the moat) and three extraordinary performance spaces. Ying’s dad had secured tickets for Kacie and me to a concert of the Hong Kong Diocesan School Boys’ Choir (part of a choral festival going on). What a treat! Those 72 adolescent boys were incredibly cool (and preppy: I loved it) in their charcoal trousers, striped ties, and blue blazers. Their singing--pieces ranging from Cantique de Jean Racine (one of my most beloved favorites) to Soldiers’ Vehicles, a clanging Socialist-realism interpretation of China facing the world, to Alexander’s Ragtime Band. I was beside myself with joy. Aside from the gorgeous architecture, amazing musicianship, delightful musical selections, how cool was it to have the explanations in both Mandarin and British-accented English? I was smiling mightily as we were leaving, and a distinguished-looking man caught my eye. “Enjoy the performance?” he asked, and I said “It was absolutely delightful.” “I am the Headmaster,” he replied, bursting with pride. I congratulated & thanked him. For more about the building, check out its official web site: http://www.chncpa.org/n457779/n457899/index.html.
Saturday night is Kacie’s going-away party. (She leaves Monday morning, and I will finish teaching this second session alone. I also will do the third group (only 20) by myself, but am not worried about that.) The party will be at a famous Beijing night spot “Tango,” a Karaoke palace. I will be the only one there over...40 (Ying’s parents were invited, but declined, citing their age, even though they are younger than I am!) The party won’t be wild--half of the guests are as abstemious as I am--but I still very well might slip out after the first hour and head towards a rendezvous with some of my contemporaneous ex-pat friends.
I guess that’s it for now. Thanks for reading!
Love,
Chris
Everything turned out all right--we met with the Director of the English Program just as we arrived Tuesday morning. We got the scoop on the college’s expectations and we got a schedule: we have a couple of eight-hour days of teaching, and the other days rotate between 8-11:30 and 1:30-5:00. We entered the HUGE (seats 360) lecture hall on to find 57 students waiting for us. Whew. Luckily they were mostly seated in the first eight or nine rows, so we were able to hear and be heard. Kacie and I began, using parts of the lessons we had prepared for the first session and adding, subtracting, revising as we went.
College teaching is done these days by Powerpoint, in case I’ve not mentioned that before. (All the nursing classes at Riv were done so--90% adaptations of the textbook companies’ powerpoints. We have been developing our own.) Kacie gave the students an assignment the first night--an activity well-known to teachers the world over as a getting-to-know-you/first week of school gambit--bring in a bag with three items that reveal what kind of person you are, and be ready to explain them (in English) to the other students at your table. She had a little brown bag and demonstrated with a seashell (from Australia) because she likes to travel, a tie-dyed headband (she wears it to rock concerts), and a photo of herself and her best friend.
So yesterday we got to class and discovered that most of the students had brought some kind of bag--a plastic shopping bag or a tote of some kind--with items ranging from team photos to kitschy Great Wall souvenirs. A few were digging things out of their backpacks, feigning preparation. I walked up on one young man (the one who always wants to answer every question, ignoring the other 56 in the class) who was holding up a pocket package of tissue (toilet paper is not provided in many public facilities in China) & was explaining to his seat mates that this item is very important to him because sometimes he needs to...wipe.
Big sigh. I guess kids are the same world over. And teachers’ dirty looks work as well, too. I said nothing and moved on to another table.
All of this explains the origin of my wicked sore neck and shoulders. I seem to hold tension in my muscles instead of screaming and stomping my feet as I really want to do. So by Tuesday, my muscles were caterwauling and I was treading lightly, fearing jolts of sharp pain would knock me over on the street. (This is not a new phenomenon, but at home I regularly see my dear friends Emma--massage therapist--and Deb--acupuncturist--who keep the replacement of living tissue with spikes of steel at bay.) So at Ying’s recommendation, I gave up my thrice-weekly foot massage for a visit to a real Chinese massage doctor. Some of my ex-pat friends have been telling me that they visit one regularly, and the most important thing to know going in is the word “Tong!”--”PAIN!”
Wow. During just the initial assessment, this guy (Dr. Wang) found points on my neck, shoulders, and spine for acupressure/massage that I didn’t know existed. He spoke only a few words in English, but Ying had come with me for the first few minutes while he did his evaluation and he talked to her. He could help, but I would need to come back a few times. I agreed to do anything. She left, and he did his work, speaking a few words of English now and then: “Madam, forgive me for asking, but how old are you?” I told him my age and that I am a teacher. (“Wo shi laoshi” is one of my few Mandarin phrases that people can comprehend when I say it.) He said, “You are tired, very tired” and I thought, “No shit.” I did want him to say something like, “But for a 61-year old exhausted retired American teacher working at one last teaching gig as a way to live & work in China for the summer and seeking employment as a registered nurse, you have an amazingly resilient body which will be restored to perfect health and youthful vitality after a few Chinese miracle treatments.” He didn’t.
Dr. Wang did jab and poke and roll and squeeze and start to loosen up some of the muscles (steel to concrete is the image.) I had another appointment the next day. Same procedure, but at the end the doctor said, “Oil massage.” I’ll go for anything, so made the appointment for Thursday afternoon. Another man did this, which included oil in quantities I thought were used only for--the only thing I can compare it to is how very buttery & slippery I remember my hands getting when I was in third grade at a taffy-pulling party. I mean, I was sliding around on the paper sheet, wearing my paper shorty p.j.’s as the guy used not only a quart of oil, but also heated jade stones (the size of baked potatoes) wherever he was about to massage. I’ve never had a massage by a man before and thought I would hate it and be nervous, but he was discreet and his hands and that heat really did relax those muscles. He didn’t speak any English so there was no chatter, and I kept my eyes shut--I actually fell asleep at one point. By the time I left, I had no pain anywhere. I felt rubbery. I have another appointment in five days. An hour’s appointment with the doc was 100Y ($14) and the 1.5 hour massage was 150.(Remember, the average school teacher earns 3000Y/$438 per month.)
One more thing to talk about: a concert at China National Center for the Performing Arts, an astonishing new facility next to Tiananmen Square on Chang’an Avenue. The architecture is ultramodern--an egg-shaped, moat-surrounded dome with no visible entrances (they are underground--you walk under the moat) and three extraordinary performance spaces. Ying’s dad had secured tickets for Kacie and me to a concert of the Hong Kong Diocesan School Boys’ Choir (part of a choral festival going on). What a treat! Those 72 adolescent boys were incredibly cool (and preppy: I loved it) in their charcoal trousers, striped ties, and blue blazers. Their singing--pieces ranging from Cantique de Jean Racine (one of my most beloved favorites) to Soldiers’ Vehicles, a clanging Socialist-realism interpretation of China facing the world, to Alexander’s Ragtime Band. I was beside myself with joy. Aside from the gorgeous architecture, amazing musicianship, delightful musical selections, how cool was it to have the explanations in both Mandarin and British-accented English? I was smiling mightily as we were leaving, and a distinguished-looking man caught my eye. “Enjoy the performance?” he asked, and I said “It was absolutely delightful.” “I am the Headmaster,” he replied, bursting with pride. I congratulated & thanked him. For more about the building, check out its official web site: http://www.chncpa.org/n457779/n457899/index.html.
Saturday night is Kacie’s going-away party. (She leaves Monday morning, and I will finish teaching this second session alone. I also will do the third group (only 20) by myself, but am not worried about that.) The party will be at a famous Beijing night spot “Tango,” a Karaoke palace. I will be the only one there over...40 (Ying’s parents were invited, but declined, citing their age, even though they are younger than I am!) The party won’t be wild--half of the guests are as abstemious as I am--but I still very well might slip out after the first hour and head towards a rendezvous with some of my contemporaneous ex-pat friends.
I guess that’s it for now. Thanks for reading!
Love,
Chris
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Sunday, August 9
It’s been so long since I’ve written anything for my blog--I see why the discipline of a daily journal is important--it’s easy to forget the details that make stories alive and personal. So I’ll start with today--it’s Sunday night Beijing time, Sunday morning East Coast time.
Kacie and I finished our four demonstration lessons, “Conversational English with an American Teacher,” at a Beijing intensive school today. This whole thing had started out as the two of us doing one demo lesson together for 25 kids at this special vacation school but ended up with each of us doing four classes--200 students in all. The mother of one of our students from BCBUU (Business College of Beijing Union University) teaches at this place and had arranged our visits. Ying has been so good to us this summer, we wanted to do this for her--a chance for her to expand Boston Ivy (that’s the name of our program here this summer) into another venue.
The lessons went well and the kids seemed to enjoy themselves, but Ying has decided that she probably won’t form a partnership with this outfit, “Zhenxingxuexiao,” which is a school that runs on weekends during the school year and for two-week sessions during vacations. It specializes in giving kids ages 10-13 an extra boost in English, math, and science--intensive studying to boost their chances of doing well on the crucial exams these kids have to pass in order to continue their education at good schools. Chinese parents are very intent on doing anything possible to help their kids get ahead--remember, the examination system in China is thousands of years old--and performing remarkably is the path to success in life. Chinese kids are typically in school from 7:30 AM--5:30 PM (later when they get to high school) starting in first grade, and many attend these extra schools on weekends and during vacations.
Kids don’t play with other kids after school and on weekends. Their socializing happens at school or not at all. They have, as you have figured out, very little “free time” for in addition to all this schooling, many also take music lessons and swimming or another sport on the weekends and practice each day!
Anyway, the philosophy of Boston Ivy is that the way to become truly proficient (therefore, doing very well on the examinations) in English is to become comfortable with the language--e.g., to converse with native speakers (us!), to speak naturally, to expand ideas. The philosophy of Zhenxingxuexiao and many of the other intensive programs is that the way to do well on the English exams is to drill, do grammar exercises, and memorize answers that are sufficient if not proficient. (For instance, I had many students tell me, “I like to play football (swim, do kung fu) because it helps me lose weight” and “I like to play piano (draw pictures, play computer games) because it is interesting.” If I asked, “Why do you want to lose weight?” or “What makes it interesting?”, they would have absolutely no idea what I had asked.
The man who started Zhenxingxuexiao is my “first elder brother”. That’s at least what we decided: his name is Hao Shi Lio--his last name “Hao” is the same as mine. He is 72, making him older than my three siblings, hence he is my “first elder brother-- “da ge.” (I am everyone’s “mei mei”--littlest sister.)
Shi Lio (his first name) retired from a public school principalship when he was 60 (as is usual) and immediately started this weekend/vacation intensive academy, using whatever available school building he could rent and hiring former or present school teachers as his faculty. His business is immensely successful, and he reminded me in his smooth and thoroughly professional demeanor of William Cooper, head of Wolfeboro Camp School--a NH summer program where I taught 20 years ago--which has a similar academic purpose. My elder brother rides his bicycle to work each day, a partial explanation for why he looks like a 50-year old and moves like an athlete. Like many other principals I’ve known, his smile and affability can turn in a second if he spots an errant student. I would not want to be chastised by my first elder brother. I told him (all this through translators) that my grandfather Carlton Howe had been a school principal, too (I was thinking of Grandfather Howe’s reputation as the sternest of disciplinarians--perhaps that’s where my famed “teacher’s dirty look” came from) and that pleased Hao Shi Lio and made him sure that we really are related in some seventh-cousinly way...
Of course both yesterday and today, we of Boston Ivy (not just Kacie and me, but our entourage--Ying, Duo, & Kongli’s brother Kongwe) and some of the faculty of the school were treated to fabulous noontime feasts. Many, many courses, of course. Yesterday’s included Peking Duck (my fourth such banquet since I’ve been here...I have a few more to go, which is fine as long as they are at least a week apart...duck is very rich, you know, and it is always preceded by a dozen or so other dishes, such as yesterday’s steamed and garnished freshwater fish). I’ve determined to be brave and urbane at these feasts, trying all the dishes and not making up my mind because of unusual appearance or unfamiliarity. So yesterday I took a chopstickful of clear little 1” things I thought were tiny steamed rice noodles and started to pop them into my mouth when I noticed their little eyes. They were actually some kind of plankton-like eely fish which I just put on my plate instead of into my mouth. I did eat some of the wasabi sprouts and impressed everyone because I thought they were great, not too hot because of the horseradish sauce.
Have I mentioned that the usual way to eat at these banquets is to pluck off a pinch of the food from the serving dish as it goes by on the lazy susan? Everyone does that--plates are used only occasionally, sometimes not at all, even though everyone has a little one (bread & butter size) at their place. At today’s banquet, I forgot myself and did the American buffet thing, plopping one item after another onto my dishlet. As one interesting dish--a stringy cabbagy-looking thing--came by, I grabbed it with my chopsticks and plunked it onto my plate. Duo and Ying both laughed and said, “It is very hot” and I said, “I can take it,” but they giggled a bit
more. Lijiao, who was sitting next to me, said, “Do you know that you have chosen a bird’s foot?” I hadn’t known, but upon looking at it, I did make out the shape. I couldn’t eat it, even though I did try. I am not sophisticated. I am a rural American baby.
Another new dish I did try today was stinky soup. It was a greyish dishwater color and I didn’t have a chance not to try it--Lijiao’s mother served up a bowlful for me and placed it in front of me. I thought it was going to be a coconut soup, which I’ve had before, but Ying told me it was a Beijing specialty, a favorite of people in her city. Just before I lifted a spoonful to my mouth, she said, “Don’t worry about the smell--it really tastes delicious.” (These are the people who love to eat durian, remember--a fruit which you can only believe if you actually try it.) The soup did smell like sewage, but I had already suffered the bird foot debacle at this meal and was not going to exhibit my infant behaviors again. I murmured something about being delighted to get to taste such a treat, and put a spoonful in my mouth. I have never tasted dishwater, actually, but this did remind me of a dishrag that wasn’t rinsed thoroughly before you wadded it up three days ago during the most humid part of July and now you have to decide if it’s worth saving.
I have written nothing about visiting Pang Liu village again--the wonderful, tiny little rural community I first saw 10 years ago; nor about the 8000 terra-cotta warriors of China’s first Emperor Qin Shi Huangdi (astonishing); or our lousy guide Cheng “Cool” in Xi’an who couldn’t think of anything else to show us in this ancient capital--home of more dynasties than any other city in China--on Thursday afternoon, so Kacie and I went to Starbucks and wrote postcards for two hours. I haven’t mentioned the man who snored in our cabin all night long on our 12-hour train ride back to Beijing (not a husband and therefore unpunchable); nor did I tell you about choosing material (black silk with ecru stylized dragons in a toile-like pattern) for my qi pao (traditional Chinese dress).
But I will tell you about two adorable little girls we saw walking with their
mother (I guess) and grandmother (I figure) at one of the urban malls in Xi’an.
As you can see, these two were absolutely adorable--holding hands & stopping to stare/smile at Kacie and me as we were headed for the local Muslim bazaar to buy souvenirs. Their matching dresses and crocs were perfect, and I thought, “How lucky these kids are to have a mother who takes such good care of them” and I wondered if I had ever dressed Jen & Kath in matching dresses like this (I don’t think I did, although they had some coordinated outfits...)
When Kacie and I returned an hour later from our (successful) bargain hunting, we saw the girls and their grandmother again. This time they were huddled up on the pavement, leaning again the corner of a building, all sound asleep. Why? What is their story? Why hadn’t they walked a little further to sit on a nearby park bench? Where had the mother gone? Why were they on the filthy sidewalk instead of at home for a nap? Had they eaten?
If I haven’t invited you to see all my pictures at the Kodak Gallery, please send me an e-mail (chow6569@gmail.com) and I will do so. If you want to comment or ask questions about my blog, please e-mail me--I can’t access it from here.
Thanks for reading!
Love,
Chris
Kacie and I finished our four demonstration lessons, “Conversational English with an American Teacher,” at a Beijing intensive school today. This whole thing had started out as the two of us doing one demo lesson together for 25 kids at this special vacation school but ended up with each of us doing four classes--200 students in all. The mother of one of our students from BCBUU (Business College of Beijing Union University) teaches at this place and had arranged our visits. Ying has been so good to us this summer, we wanted to do this for her--a chance for her to expand Boston Ivy (that’s the name of our program here this summer) into another venue.
The lessons went well and the kids seemed to enjoy themselves, but Ying has decided that she probably won’t form a partnership with this outfit, “Zhenxingxuexiao,” which is a school that runs on weekends during the school year and for two-week sessions during vacations. It specializes in giving kids ages 10-13 an extra boost in English, math, and science--intensive studying to boost their chances of doing well on the crucial exams these kids have to pass in order to continue their education at good schools. Chinese parents are very intent on doing anything possible to help their kids get ahead--remember, the examination system in China is thousands of years old--and performing remarkably is the path to success in life. Chinese kids are typically in school from 7:30 AM--5:30 PM (later when they get to high school) starting in first grade, and many attend these extra schools on weekends and during vacations.
Kids don’t play with other kids after school and on weekends. Their socializing happens at school or not at all. They have, as you have figured out, very little “free time” for in addition to all this schooling, many also take music lessons and swimming or another sport on the weekends and practice each day!
Anyway, the philosophy of Boston Ivy is that the way to become truly proficient (therefore, doing very well on the examinations) in English is to become comfortable with the language--e.g., to converse with native speakers (us!), to speak naturally, to expand ideas. The philosophy of Zhenxingxuexiao and many of the other intensive programs is that the way to do well on the English exams is to drill, do grammar exercises, and memorize answers that are sufficient if not proficient. (For instance, I had many students tell me, “I like to play football (swim, do kung fu) because it helps me lose weight” and “I like to play piano (draw pictures, play computer games) because it is interesting.” If I asked, “Why do you want to lose weight?” or “What makes it interesting?”, they would have absolutely no idea what I had asked.
The man who started Zhenxingxuexiao is my “first elder brother”. That’s at least what we decided: his name is Hao Shi Lio--his last name “Hao” is the same as mine. He is 72, making him older than my three siblings, hence he is my “first elder brother-- “da ge.” (I am everyone’s “mei mei”--littlest sister.)
Shi Lio (his first name) retired from a public school principalship when he was 60 (as is usual) and immediately started this weekend/vacation intensive academy, using whatever available school building he could rent and hiring former or present school teachers as his faculty. His business is immensely successful, and he reminded me in his smooth and thoroughly professional demeanor of William Cooper, head of Wolfeboro Camp School--a NH summer program where I taught 20 years ago--which has a similar academic purpose. My elder brother rides his bicycle to work each day, a partial explanation for why he looks like a 50-year old and moves like an athlete. Like many other principals I’ve known, his smile and affability can turn in a second if he spots an errant student. I would not want to be chastised by my first elder brother. I told him (all this through translators) that my grandfather Carlton Howe had been a school principal, too (I was thinking of Grandfather Howe’s reputation as the sternest of disciplinarians--perhaps that’s where my famed “teacher’s dirty look” came from) and that pleased Hao Shi Lio and made him sure that we really are related in some seventh-cousinly way...
Of course both yesterday and today, we of Boston Ivy (not just Kacie and me, but our entourage--Ying, Duo, & Kongli’s brother Kongwe) and some of the faculty of the school were treated to fabulous noontime feasts. Many, many courses, of course. Yesterday’s included Peking Duck (my fourth such banquet since I’ve been here...I have a few more to go, which is fine as long as they are at least a week apart...duck is very rich, you know, and it is always preceded by a dozen or so other dishes, such as yesterday’s steamed and garnished freshwater fish). I’ve determined to be brave and urbane at these feasts, trying all the dishes and not making up my mind because of unusual appearance or unfamiliarity. So yesterday I took a chopstickful of clear little 1” things I thought were tiny steamed rice noodles and started to pop them into my mouth when I noticed their little eyes. They were actually some kind of plankton-like eely fish which I just put on my plate instead of into my mouth. I did eat some of the wasabi sprouts and impressed everyone because I thought they were great, not too hot because of the horseradish sauce.
Have I mentioned that the usual way to eat at these banquets is to pluck off a pinch of the food from the serving dish as it goes by on the lazy susan? Everyone does that--plates are used only occasionally, sometimes not at all, even though everyone has a little one (bread & butter size) at their place. At today’s banquet, I forgot myself and did the American buffet thing, plopping one item after another onto my dishlet. As one interesting dish--a stringy cabbagy-looking thing--came by, I grabbed it with my chopsticks and plunked it onto my plate. Duo and Ying both laughed and said, “It is very hot” and I said, “I can take it,” but they giggled a bit
more. Lijiao, who was sitting next to me, said, “Do you know that you have chosen a bird’s foot?” I hadn’t known, but upon looking at it, I did make out the shape. I couldn’t eat it, even though I did try. I am not sophisticated. I am a rural American baby.Another new dish I did try today was stinky soup. It was a greyish dishwater color and I didn’t have a chance not to try it--Lijiao’s mother served up a bowlful for me and placed it in front of me. I thought it was going to be a coconut soup, which I’ve had before, but Ying told me it was a Beijing specialty, a favorite of people in her city. Just before I lifted a spoonful to my mouth, she said, “Don’t worry about the smell--it really tastes delicious.” (These are the people who love to eat durian, remember--a fruit which you can only believe if you actually try it.) The soup did smell like sewage, but I had already suffered the bird foot debacle at this meal and was not going to exhibit my infant behaviors again. I murmured something about being delighted to get to taste such a treat, and put a spoonful in my mouth. I have never tasted dishwater, actually, but this did remind me of a dishrag that wasn’t rinsed thoroughly before you wadded it up three days ago during the most humid part of July and now you have to decide if it’s worth saving.
I have written nothing about visiting Pang Liu village again--the wonderful, tiny little rural community I first saw 10 years ago; nor about the 8000 terra-cotta warriors of China’s first Emperor Qin Shi Huangdi (astonishing); or our lousy guide Cheng “Cool” in Xi’an who couldn’t think of anything else to show us in this ancient capital--home of more dynasties than any other city in China--on Thursday afternoon, so Kacie and I went to Starbucks and wrote postcards for two hours. I haven’t mentioned the man who snored in our cabin all night long on our 12-hour train ride back to Beijing (not a husband and therefore unpunchable); nor did I tell you about choosing material (black silk with ecru stylized dragons in a toile-like pattern) for my qi pao (traditional Chinese dress).
But I will tell you about two adorable little girls we saw walking with their
mother (I guess) and grandmother (I figure) at one of the urban malls in Xi’an.As you can see, these two were absolutely adorable--holding hands & stopping to stare/smile at Kacie and me as we were headed for the local Muslim bazaar to buy souvenirs. Their matching dresses and crocs were perfect, and I thought, “How lucky these kids are to have a mother who takes such good care of them” and I wondered if I had ever dressed Jen & Kath in matching dresses like this (I don’t think I did, although they had some coordinated outfits...)
When Kacie and I returned an hour later from our (successful) bargain hunting, we saw the girls and their grandmother again. This time they were huddled up on the pavement, leaning again the corner of a building, all sound asleep. Why? What is their story? Why hadn’t they walked a little further to sit on a nearby park bench? Where had the mother gone? Why were they on the filthy sidewalk instead of at home for a nap? Had they eaten?
If I haven’t invited you to see all my pictures at the Kodak Gallery, please send me an e-mail (chow6569@gmail.com) and I will do so. If you want to comment or ask questions about my blog, please e-mail me--I can’t access it from here.
Thanks for reading!
Love,
Chris
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Monday, August 3
What a busy few days it’s been. Saturday we didn’t do much during the early part of the day. I felt a cold coming on (which was averted!) and Kacie was very sad because her cousin, who has been very ill with cancer, had died the night before. She spent the day beginning to mourn his loss--thank God for Skype and international phone cards, for she was able to “be with” her family.
I stayed in bed until noon and finished The Help, by Kathryn Sackett...an interesting book about the Civil Rights movement in the ‘60’s that I didn’t want to put down. (Since I’ve been here, I’ve also read American Shaolin by Matthew Polly, Case Histories by Kate Atkinson, The End of Overeating by David Kessler, and Shanghai Girls, by Lisa See. Thank you, Phil--the Kindle is amazing!) Now I’ve started David Eggers’ story about Valentino Achak Deng, What is the What, but you might notice it’s not quite in the same vein as the others. I’m not sure I can read it--so sad, so terrifying--about a lost boy of Sudan.
Late Saturday afternoon, I went to the Beijing Gold Store to check out buying some earrings and chains for my St. Margaret’s cross and my RN. I couldn’t find any earrings I like (the ones I really want are Italian gold...) but did find a couple of chains. Was all set to slap them onto my Visa, but they wouldn’t take it without my passport (Ying and Kongli had told me I don’t have to carry that around, can use a photocopy and lock the real one up.) Hah. I tried to get the money out of the ATM, but my Chinese daily withdrawal limit is lower than my American, so I couldn’t do that, either. Hmpf. The interesting thing about gold jewelry in China is that most of it is 24K. My 14K cross & RN looked dumb on that really yellow gold, so I had settled on 18K.
Saturday night we went out for supper with Duo, Leon, & Ying--Japanese noodles--and then we gals got our nails done. What a hoot--decorating the polished nails is quite the thing here, so now I have little flowers on both fingers and toes (remember Holiday Nails, J&K?) Kacie has never had a mani/pedi before in her life, and is delighted with her decorated digits. Ying has flowers on her fingers and diamonds on the tips of her toes! We were at a pretty ordinary, middle-class mall (not the Sanlitun of Abercrombie & an Apple Store!) and there were lots of families. Near our nail parlor was a swimming pool where kids were floating around in little boats, and of course, next to that was a pool almost as big with goldenfish (koi).
Sunday was a great day. I had met some ex-pat friends of a friend a couple of weeks ago, so I called them and we decided to get together. I knew I had to do something on my own--being attended to constantly isn’t my style--so I figured out which subway to take, and took it in to the center of town! Although there is very little advertising in the Beijing subways I did see a poster for--you guessed it--Cats--which is coming to town in September. On the train itself there are no ads, but there is TV! I got off at the right stop, and crossed one street (always an adventure) and walked down another, and met my friends exactly where they said they would be! It was fabulous--speaking English with other folks my age (or close to!) and eating a Chinese dinner with them. I made a serious mistake, though. I just didn’t realize how hot the peppers in a Szechwan meal can be and I put one in my mouth.
I thought I had stopped breathing. I coughed and coughed. I couldn’t speak except to rasp out, “Excuse me...” and I staggered to the bathroom where I coughed even more and breathed fire and wiped my eyes and sucked in air, trying to persuade my throat that it was still alive. When I got back to the table, pale and shaken, one of the guys said, “Pepper, eh?” “Yeah.”
After lunch Sue, who has lived & worked as an art historian in Beijing on and off since graduating from college in GB in the ‘60’s, invited me to go to Liulichang with her. That’s Culture Street, a place I had been with Primary Source ten years ago, and was eager to return to. Sue told me it had been “tarted up a bit” for the Olympics last year, but was still filled with fascinating shops which sold original paintings & calligraphy, art supplies, and books. We stayed longer than I had before, walking from one end to the other. She wanted to buy a piece she had been visiting--a relatively inexpensive horizontal contemporary work to go over the couch in her sitting room. Alas, not only was the work gone, but so was that particular shop. We did find a fabulous, carved inkstone that was going for 1,358,00 Y ($198,798.00) but she said it was a bit out of her pay grade.
I joined the Boston Ivy folks (have I mentioned that “Boston Ivy” is the name of the venture Ying and Kongli are launching this summer with our teaching at Business College of Beijing Union University?) later and we all went with Kacie to get her haircut at a spiffy Chinese salon. There was one person to wash her hair, and the haircutter, and a third to help the cutter hold her hair as he blew it dry. It looks very elegant.
Then Kacie and I went to dinner. Jasen, one of the professors we had in our Conversational English class at BCBUU, had invited us earlier in the week to his house in the Northwest part of the city. He lives in a fabulous three-bedroom apartment with his wife Tina, an accountant, their son, Jimmy (who speaks English!), and his parents, who left the countryside and moved here to take care of the baby when he was born four years ago. Again, we were treated to an unbelievable meal--three kinds of green vegetables, a whole fish, soup, potatoes, chicken, rice. Jasen’s parents speak no English at all, but his dad kept offering toasts with that infamous white Chinese wine. Both Kacie and I stuck to peach juice, but did toast him back. The table conversation was fascinating and included our discussing many different aspects of American and Chinese life (“Are the cities safe in America,” the older man asked a few times. We told him usually, if you know where not to go...) They were impressed with my age, my mother’s age, my Aunt Amy’s age, & the number of grandchildren I have. Little Jimmy did some screaming (at the table) and jumping (on the couch) a few times and was never corrected or chastised, just cuddled and smiled at. He is the center of their world!
After the meal, we played Mahjong! I was in a total fog the whole time, with Jasen advising me on my every move. Tina helped Kacie, and they won the first hand. I won the second, and Jasen’s mother won the last two. Grandfather (who is 55) didn’t win any. He accepted his losses in good grace. We used playing cards as money to pay our gambling debts, not cash.
Then Jasen, Tina, Kacie, and I went to the neighborhood park. It is absolutely gorgeous! Huge wide brick-laid paths and many large gathering areas. There were a couple of men (Hui minority--Muslims) who were singing and playing away (electronic keyboard with bass & drums included), a crowd watching. There were men flying kites with lights attached (one let me fly his--I almost brought it down. He said to me the same thing Liu Laoshi had said when he gave me the Tai Chi lesson--relax, relax, easy does it...breathe from the belly.)
We got home late and were going to sleep in this morning (Monday) but, darn it, I woke up at 5:30 and never did fall asleep again. Read. Looked through pictures. Made my bed. Swept the floor. You know. Then Duo called--it was 9:45 and time to go to the Zoo. Kacie wasn’t even up yet. We had sort of hoped we wouldn’t have to go today--it was predicted to be 95° and we knew there would be the large crowds we had been meeting at every other public place recently. But off we went.
The Beijing Zoo! When I was a little girl, I had a (toy) panda bear. I loved that black and white bear. Now I find out that the Chinese name for panda, Daxiongmao, means Giant Bear Cat (or Cat-bear if you say maoxiong.) That explains it, doesn’t it: Cats--me--kitties--pandas: it all goes together.
Some readers might remember my reaction to visiting Disneyland. Well, I had the same reaction to being at the Beijing Zoo: I couldn’t talk because I was busy controlling my sobs. Beijing Zoo! Not just one little pair of on-loan, goodwill pandas! Dozens of pandas, hundreds of pandas, millions and billions and trillions of pandas! Pandas here and pandas there, pandas, pandas, everywhere! Here there really was a feast of panda bears. They are HUGE but they look cuddly. They look happy as they chew on those bamboo leaves. They look up at you with leafy bamboo twigs hanging out of their little mouths. I couldn’t stand it. I was jumping-up-and-down happy.
(Before I tell you anything else, I have to state my concerns. There were no guards that I saw, and visitors were throwing things into the cages. Things like food, water, and even trash (plastic bottles) to stir the animals into action. Some of the beasts had just old-fashioned concrete cages and were alone (“Maybe they would fight each other?” asked Delfino [Li Xing] when I expressed that concern.), although most had access to an outdoor area. The zoo grounds were immaculate, and there were countless sweepers cleaning up litter and bag ladies going through the trash and collecting empty plastic bottles. There were soft drink sellers, souvenir vendors, and ticket takers, but no one was telling the tourists not to bother the animals. I was just wondering if maybe I do have some German blood, longing for some respect for the posted rules as I was, when Kacie came to me and voiced my own concerns. I had a hard time not chastising people, like the father who was encouraging his little son to push popcorn for the squirrel monkeys through the space between glass panels. But I held my tongue. I am a visitor in this country...I am a visitor to this country. Ask me about how people stand in line and wait for service at a counter...remember: breathe from the belly...)
Okay, the other animals. There were lions and tigers and bears. There were many many kinds of monkeys. There were zebras (ban ma: striped horses) and giraffes (chang jing lu: long-necked goats) and snakes and Chinese alligators and marmosets and ibises and cranes and elephants and kangaroos. But you know what was the best, besides the pandas? None of the three kids who were with us had ever been to a zoo before. They had never seen any of these animals except in books or on TV. When we saw the gazelles and gnus, Delfino said, “It doesn’t really look like in the cartoons, does it?” Kacie and I were hot, sweaty, and oh-so-tired by 1:00 but we stayed for two more hours: these young adults were running on the paths from one exhibit area to another, poring over the map and chatting away. When we hinted that we were exhausted, Jinglin said, “But if we leave now, we will miss so much!” and so we stayed.
Thanks for reading.
Love, Chris
I stayed in bed until noon and finished The Help, by Kathryn Sackett...an interesting book about the Civil Rights movement in the ‘60’s that I didn’t want to put down. (Since I’ve been here, I’ve also read American Shaolin by Matthew Polly, Case Histories by Kate Atkinson, The End of Overeating by David Kessler, and Shanghai Girls, by Lisa See. Thank you, Phil--the Kindle is amazing!) Now I’ve started David Eggers’ story about Valentino Achak Deng, What is the What, but you might notice it’s not quite in the same vein as the others. I’m not sure I can read it--so sad, so terrifying--about a lost boy of Sudan.
Late Saturday afternoon, I went to the Beijing Gold Store to check out buying some earrings and chains for my St. Margaret’s cross and my RN. I couldn’t find any earrings I like (the ones I really want are Italian gold...) but did find a couple of chains. Was all set to slap them onto my Visa, but they wouldn’t take it without my passport (Ying and Kongli had told me I don’t have to carry that around, can use a photocopy and lock the real one up.) Hah. I tried to get the money out of the ATM, but my Chinese daily withdrawal limit is lower than my American, so I couldn’t do that, either. Hmpf. The interesting thing about gold jewelry in China is that most of it is 24K. My 14K cross & RN looked dumb on that really yellow gold, so I had settled on 18K.
Saturday night we went out for supper with Duo, Leon, & Ying--Japanese noodles--and then we gals got our nails done. What a hoot--decorating the polished nails is quite the thing here, so now I have little flowers on both fingers and toes (remember Holiday Nails, J&K?) Kacie has never had a mani/pedi before in her life, and is delighted with her decorated digits. Ying has flowers on her fingers and diamonds on the tips of her toes! We were at a pretty ordinary, middle-class mall (not the Sanlitun of Abercrombie & an Apple Store!) and there were lots of families. Near our nail parlor was a swimming pool where kids were floating around in little boats, and of course, next to that was a pool almost as big with goldenfish (koi).
Sunday was a great day. I had met some ex-pat friends of a friend a couple of weeks ago, so I called them and we decided to get together. I knew I had to do something on my own--being attended to constantly isn’t my style--so I figured out which subway to take, and took it in to the center of town! Although there is very little advertising in the Beijing subways I did see a poster for--you guessed it--Cats--which is coming to town in September. On the train itself there are no ads, but there is TV! I got off at the right stop, and crossed one street (always an adventure) and walked down another, and met my friends exactly where they said they would be! It was fabulous--speaking English with other folks my age (or close to!) and eating a Chinese dinner with them. I made a serious mistake, though. I just didn’t realize how hot the peppers in a Szechwan meal can be and I put one in my mouth.
I thought I had stopped breathing. I coughed and coughed. I couldn’t speak except to rasp out, “Excuse me...” and I staggered to the bathroom where I coughed even more and breathed fire and wiped my eyes and sucked in air, trying to persuade my throat that it was still alive. When I got back to the table, pale and shaken, one of the guys said, “Pepper, eh?” “Yeah.”
After lunch Sue, who has lived & worked as an art historian in Beijing on and off since graduating from college in GB in the ‘60’s, invited me to go to Liulichang with her. That’s Culture Street, a place I had been with Primary Source ten years ago, and was eager to return to. Sue told me it had been “tarted up a bit” for the Olympics last year, but was still filled with fascinating shops which sold original paintings & calligraphy, art supplies, and books. We stayed longer than I had before, walking from one end to the other. She wanted to buy a piece she had been visiting--a relatively inexpensive horizontal contemporary work to go over the couch in her sitting room. Alas, not only was the work gone, but so was that particular shop. We did find a fabulous, carved inkstone that was going for 1,358,00 Y ($198,798.00) but she said it was a bit out of her pay grade.
I joined the Boston Ivy folks (have I mentioned that “Boston Ivy” is the name of the venture Ying and Kongli are launching this summer with our teaching at Business College of Beijing Union University?) later and we all went with Kacie to get her haircut at a spiffy Chinese salon. There was one person to wash her hair, and the haircutter, and a third to help the cutter hold her hair as he blew it dry. It looks very elegant.
Then Kacie and I went to dinner. Jasen, one of the professors we had in our Conversational English class at BCBUU, had invited us earlier in the week to his house in the Northwest part of the city. He lives in a fabulous three-bedroom apartment with his wife Tina, an accountant, their son, Jimmy (who speaks English!), and his parents, who left the countryside and moved here to take care of the baby when he was born four years ago. Again, we were treated to an unbelievable meal--three kinds of green vegetables, a whole fish, soup, potatoes, chicken, rice. Jasen’s parents speak no English at all, but his dad kept offering toasts with that infamous white Chinese wine. Both Kacie and I stuck to peach juice, but did toast him back. The table conversation was fascinating and included our discussing many different aspects of American and Chinese life (“Are the cities safe in America,” the older man asked a few times. We told him usually, if you know where not to go...) They were impressed with my age, my mother’s age, my Aunt Amy’s age, & the number of grandchildren I have. Little Jimmy did some screaming (at the table) and jumping (on the couch) a few times and was never corrected or chastised, just cuddled and smiled at. He is the center of their world!
After the meal, we played Mahjong! I was in a total fog the whole time, with Jasen advising me on my every move. Tina helped Kacie, and they won the first hand. I won the second, and Jasen’s mother won the last two. Grandfather (who is 55) didn’t win any. He accepted his losses in good grace. We used playing cards as money to pay our gambling debts, not cash.
Then Jasen, Tina, Kacie, and I went to the neighborhood park. It is absolutely gorgeous! Huge wide brick-laid paths and many large gathering areas. There were a couple of men (Hui minority--Muslims) who were singing and playing away (electronic keyboard with bass & drums included), a crowd watching. There were men flying kites with lights attached (one let me fly his--I almost brought it down. He said to me the same thing Liu Laoshi had said when he gave me the Tai Chi lesson--relax, relax, easy does it...breathe from the belly.)
We got home late and were going to sleep in this morning (Monday) but, darn it, I woke up at 5:30 and never did fall asleep again. Read. Looked through pictures. Made my bed. Swept the floor. You know. Then Duo called--it was 9:45 and time to go to the Zoo. Kacie wasn’t even up yet. We had sort of hoped we wouldn’t have to go today--it was predicted to be 95° and we knew there would be the large crowds we had been meeting at every other public place recently. But off we went.
The Beijing Zoo! When I was a little girl, I had a (toy) panda bear. I loved that black and white bear. Now I find out that the Chinese name for panda, Daxiongmao, means Giant Bear Cat (or Cat-bear if you say maoxiong.) That explains it, doesn’t it: Cats--me--kitties--pandas: it all goes together.
Some readers might remember my reaction to visiting Disneyland. Well, I had the same reaction to being at the Beijing Zoo: I couldn’t talk because I was busy controlling my sobs. Beijing Zoo! Not just one little pair of on-loan, goodwill pandas! Dozens of pandas, hundreds of pandas, millions and billions and trillions of pandas! Pandas here and pandas there, pandas, pandas, everywhere! Here there really was a feast of panda bears. They are HUGE but they look cuddly. They look happy as they chew on those bamboo leaves. They look up at you with leafy bamboo twigs hanging out of their little mouths. I couldn’t stand it. I was jumping-up-and-down happy.
(Before I tell you anything else, I have to state my concerns. There were no guards that I saw, and visitors were throwing things into the cages. Things like food, water, and even trash (plastic bottles) to stir the animals into action. Some of the beasts had just old-fashioned concrete cages and were alone (“Maybe they would fight each other?” asked Delfino [Li Xing] when I expressed that concern.), although most had access to an outdoor area. The zoo grounds were immaculate, and there were countless sweepers cleaning up litter and bag ladies going through the trash and collecting empty plastic bottles. There were soft drink sellers, souvenir vendors, and ticket takers, but no one was telling the tourists not to bother the animals. I was just wondering if maybe I do have some German blood, longing for some respect for the posted rules as I was, when Kacie came to me and voiced my own concerns. I had a hard time not chastising people, like the father who was encouraging his little son to push popcorn for the squirrel monkeys through the space between glass panels. But I held my tongue. I am a visitor in this country...I am a visitor to this country. Ask me about how people stand in line and wait for service at a counter...remember: breathe from the belly...)
Okay, the other animals. There were lions and tigers and bears. There were many many kinds of monkeys. There were zebras (ban ma: striped horses) and giraffes (chang jing lu: long-necked goats) and snakes and Chinese alligators and marmosets and ibises and cranes and elephants and kangaroos. But you know what was the best, besides the pandas? None of the three kids who were with us had ever been to a zoo before. They had never seen any of these animals except in books or on TV. When we saw the gazelles and gnus, Delfino said, “It doesn’t really look like in the cartoons, does it?” Kacie and I were hot, sweaty, and oh-so-tired by 1:00 but we stayed for two more hours: these young adults were running on the paths from one exhibit area to another, poring over the map and chatting away. When we hinted that we were exhausted, Jinglin said, “But if we leave now, we will miss so much!” and so we stayed.
Thanks for reading.
Love, Chris
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Saturday, August 1
Today we’re supposed to go see the pandas with some students (even though yesterday was the last day of class for the first session), but both Kacie and I would rather laze around. Don’t know if we’ll be able to do so, though. We realized last night that this Saturday at the Beijing zoo would be like last weekend at the Summer Palace and Great Wall--filled with vacationing families. It might be so crowded we won’t be able to get close enough to the Pandas to make a differences in their lives. We’ll see what happens.
As I said, yesterday was the last day of the first session of school, and like any good American teachers, we had a party. First we showed a movie, “Fa Mulan,” the Disney cartoon about the ancient Chinese heroine Mulan, who takes her father’s place in the army and saves China from Mongol invasion. We wanted to see how the Chinese reacted to this Americanization of one of their favorite legends.
Watching movies in class is not part of Chinese education (incidentally, we have learned that most high school students are in school six days a week, from 7:30 AM-9:30 PM! After regular classes end around 4:00, they have study and special classes, like exam preparation!) but all the students, both the professors and young adults, seemed to appreciate the film. They laughed and laughed at some of the obvious Disney gags, appreciated the Eddy Murphy character, Mooshu, even though they might not have gotten the American jokes and puns. Afterwards we had a discussion about the movie, and every one of them thought it was well done and a fair representation to show American kids.
The inaccuracies of the movie that students pointed out were interesting: there would not be a dragon guarding the house, but rather a lion; the Emperor at that time would not wear yellow, but rather black; Chinese dragons do not have legs. They appreciated the imaginations involved in fleshing out the Fa Mulan legend, which basically says a woman who took her father’s place in the army saved China from Mongol invasion. Disney made the Mongols bridge the Great Wall, which did not happen until later, and also made the Emperor live in the Forbidden City, an anachronism since it wasn’t built until the Ming Dynasty (1000 years after the story took place.) Every one of us, Americans and Chinese alike, gasped when Mulan gave the Emperor a hug: one would never hug an Emperor, for goodness’ sake, even if one is a convention-defying Disney heroine.
After the movie, we had another American tradition: a pizza party. Pizza Hut delivered a dozen pizzas, many of the toppings familiar to us--mushrooms, veggies, sausage. The veggie one included corn, which was unusual, and then there were some I’ve never seen before: a bamboo-shoot pizza, for instance. There were also dozens of small ketchup packets with the order: the Chinese like to spread it on top. The crust was sweeter than we have, but other than that, it was good.
Then the fun began: dancing. Kacie, bless her heart, is a confident extravert and was our leader. We told the students that most Americans love to dance and that there are many dances that we do at gatherings like Red Sox games and weddings. So we started out with “YMCA” by the Village People. Everybody danced--we were in the school corridor because the classrooms ar crowded with computer tables, and there is no air-conditioning there and sporadic lighting. But what a great time! Everyone loved making the Y-M-C-A’s and singing along with the chorus.
After that we all learned the Chicken Dance. Yes, the Chicken Dance. Seeing all the sophisticated professors and shy adolescents flapping their arms and wiggling on down was fabulous! More laughter, more fun. Then, the Electric Slide, which everyone learned as easily as the first two. Finally, we had a Promenade--a chance for couples to strut their stuff as they dance down the aisle made by two lines of dancers facing each other. I had found Zhi jian, our shyest pupil (12 years old) in the classroom, the only one who had chosen not to dance. Not knowing that the Promenade was going to be next, I persuaded him to come into the hall and dance one dance with me--”No one will have to see you,” I said, “you can just stand next to me.” Hah! When we came out the door, there we were at the head of the line, our turn to sashay down the aisle. He did it, and everyone applauded and cheered!
Kacie and I were overwhelmed with gifts. Amazingly thoughtful presents like Chinese paper cut-outs, chopsticks, earrings, bookmarks, even books and DVDs. How generous and thoughtful everyone was.
We went outside for a group picture--the President of the Business College joined us--and Kongli announced that Boston Ivy Education (that’s the name of this venture) would return next year, and that Kacie and I have been invited back to teach again. Many students said they would return and bring friends. There were lots and lots of tears and hugs. Amazing how close you can get in just two weeks. I realized it was more like summer camp than a school session, for we did so much together.
(I, incidentally, was grateful for Kongli’s remark but have told Ying and Kongli that I cannot return for seven weeks again! I will be well launched on my new career in nursing by next summer, and I find it difficult being away from family for so long! It would be great if I could figure a way to return for a couple of weeks...maybe with some family in tow...)
After the final good-byes, we came back to the apartment where we were going to shower and get ready for our evening out with Amelia, (my niece-in-law Jeanie Mah’s first cousin.) We both fell asleep for a couple of hours! Dancing in 90° humid weather takes the starch out, as they say...
As we were talking to catch a cab downtown, we met quite a few grandparents and babies in our parking lot/courtyard. We stopped to speak with them, saying mostly “Ke ai” (cute baby!) until one of the young English-speaking mothers came up and our conversation became more involved. Everyone is so friendly and pleasant: they wanted to know how long we will be living here and seemed glad to hear that we’ll be around all summer!
We met Amelia in front of the Beijing Art Museum, near Wangfujing (the main shopping street/site of the night food market, some global upscale stores & a million tourist shops.) We went down a couple of side streets and alleys and landed at Liu’s, an incredible small restaurant specializing in Beijing food. While we were waiting for our Peking Duck (mm-mm), Amelia ordered delightful dishes. The salad had lotus root, there were scrambled eggs with chives, little light pancakes with garlic sauce, and fungus with chrysanthemum petals. We got to see the duck roasted on the open fire near us, and the pancakes that came with it were the lightest we’ve had yet.
After dinner, we walked to Wangfujing and the night market. I’d been there ten years ago--the intersection is almost unrecognizable for the buildings around have either been knocked down and replaced or given entirely new facades--glamorous, thoroughly Western--but the food carts remain the same. They all sell fast food of one kind or another--drinks in hollowed-out coconuts (which are reused), kabobs of incredible variety. Besides the usual lamb, fruit, and veggie ones, there are carts that specialize in things most of us would consider inedible and truly revolting. Centipedes, beetles, snakes, mountain oysters, and yes, sheep’s penis (looks like a pig’s penis, those of you who have been hog farmers will note--twisted like a screw...)
We’re supposed to go to the Zoo today--a trip I’ve been looking forward to because of all the pandas. But Kacie and I were talking last night and wondering if it’s going to be a repeat of last weekend--thousands and thousands and thousands of tourists (it is Chinese school vacation and parents do take their kids to the Famous Sites). We’re wondering if maybe we could defer the trip to a week day, but we have students coming...guess we’ll have to see. I’m actually hoping for rain--it’s very cloudy now--for that would decide the matter.
With much love and gratitude that you’re reading--
Chris
As I said, yesterday was the last day of the first session of school, and like any good American teachers, we had a party. First we showed a movie, “Fa Mulan,” the Disney cartoon about the ancient Chinese heroine Mulan, who takes her father’s place in the army and saves China from Mongol invasion. We wanted to see how the Chinese reacted to this Americanization of one of their favorite legends.
Watching movies in class is not part of Chinese education (incidentally, we have learned that most high school students are in school six days a week, from 7:30 AM-9:30 PM! After regular classes end around 4:00, they have study and special classes, like exam preparation!) but all the students, both the professors and young adults, seemed to appreciate the film. They laughed and laughed at some of the obvious Disney gags, appreciated the Eddy Murphy character, Mooshu, even though they might not have gotten the American jokes and puns. Afterwards we had a discussion about the movie, and every one of them thought it was well done and a fair representation to show American kids.
The inaccuracies of the movie that students pointed out were interesting: there would not be a dragon guarding the house, but rather a lion; the Emperor at that time would not wear yellow, but rather black; Chinese dragons do not have legs. They appreciated the imaginations involved in fleshing out the Fa Mulan legend, which basically says a woman who took her father’s place in the army saved China from Mongol invasion. Disney made the Mongols bridge the Great Wall, which did not happen until later, and also made the Emperor live in the Forbidden City, an anachronism since it wasn’t built until the Ming Dynasty (1000 years after the story took place.) Every one of us, Americans and Chinese alike, gasped when Mulan gave the Emperor a hug: one would never hug an Emperor, for goodness’ sake, even if one is a convention-defying Disney heroine.
After the movie, we had another American tradition: a pizza party. Pizza Hut delivered a dozen pizzas, many of the toppings familiar to us--mushrooms, veggies, sausage. The veggie one included corn, which was unusual, and then there were some I’ve never seen before: a bamboo-shoot pizza, for instance. There were also dozens of small ketchup packets with the order: the Chinese like to spread it on top. The crust was sweeter than we have, but other than that, it was good.
Then the fun began: dancing. Kacie, bless her heart, is a confident extravert and was our leader. We told the students that most Americans love to dance and that there are many dances that we do at gatherings like Red Sox games and weddings. So we started out with “YMCA” by the Village People. Everybody danced--we were in the school corridor because the classrooms ar crowded with computer tables, and there is no air-conditioning there and sporadic lighting. But what a great time! Everyone loved making the Y-M-C-A’s and singing along with the chorus.
After that we all learned the Chicken Dance. Yes, the Chicken Dance. Seeing all the sophisticated professors and shy adolescents flapping their arms and wiggling on down was fabulous! More laughter, more fun. Then, the Electric Slide, which everyone learned as easily as the first two. Finally, we had a Promenade--a chance for couples to strut their stuff as they dance down the aisle made by two lines of dancers facing each other. I had found Zhi jian, our shyest pupil (12 years old) in the classroom, the only one who had chosen not to dance. Not knowing that the Promenade was going to be next, I persuaded him to come into the hall and dance one dance with me--”No one will have to see you,” I said, “you can just stand next to me.” Hah! When we came out the door, there we were at the head of the line, our turn to sashay down the aisle. He did it, and everyone applauded and cheered!
Kacie and I were overwhelmed with gifts. Amazingly thoughtful presents like Chinese paper cut-outs, chopsticks, earrings, bookmarks, even books and DVDs. How generous and thoughtful everyone was.
We went outside for a group picture--the President of the Business College joined us--and Kongli announced that Boston Ivy Education (that’s the name of this venture) would return next year, and that Kacie and I have been invited back to teach again. Many students said they would return and bring friends. There were lots and lots of tears and hugs. Amazing how close you can get in just two weeks. I realized it was more like summer camp than a school session, for we did so much together.
(I, incidentally, was grateful for Kongli’s remark but have told Ying and Kongli that I cannot return for seven weeks again! I will be well launched on my new career in nursing by next summer, and I find it difficult being away from family for so long! It would be great if I could figure a way to return for a couple of weeks...maybe with some family in tow...)
After the final good-byes, we came back to the apartment where we were going to shower and get ready for our evening out with Amelia, (my niece-in-law Jeanie Mah’s first cousin.) We both fell asleep for a couple of hours! Dancing in 90° humid weather takes the starch out, as they say...
As we were talking to catch a cab downtown, we met quite a few grandparents and babies in our parking lot/courtyard. We stopped to speak with them, saying mostly “Ke ai” (cute baby!) until one of the young English-speaking mothers came up and our conversation became more involved. Everyone is so friendly and pleasant: they wanted to know how long we will be living here and seemed glad to hear that we’ll be around all summer!
We met Amelia in front of the Beijing Art Museum, near Wangfujing (the main shopping street/site of the night food market, some global upscale stores & a million tourist shops.) We went down a couple of side streets and alleys and landed at Liu’s, an incredible small restaurant specializing in Beijing food. While we were waiting for our Peking Duck (mm-mm), Amelia ordered delightful dishes. The salad had lotus root, there were scrambled eggs with chives, little light pancakes with garlic sauce, and fungus with chrysanthemum petals. We got to see the duck roasted on the open fire near us, and the pancakes that came with it were the lightest we’ve had yet.
After dinner, we walked to Wangfujing and the night market. I’d been there ten years ago--the intersection is almost unrecognizable for the buildings around have either been knocked down and replaced or given entirely new facades--glamorous, thoroughly Western--but the food carts remain the same. They all sell fast food of one kind or another--drinks in hollowed-out coconuts (which are reused), kabobs of incredible variety. Besides the usual lamb, fruit, and veggie ones, there are carts that specialize in things most of us would consider inedible and truly revolting. Centipedes, beetles, snakes, mountain oysters, and yes, sheep’s penis (looks like a pig’s penis, those of you who have been hog farmers will note--twisted like a screw...)
We’re supposed to go to the Zoo today--a trip I’ve been looking forward to because of all the pandas. But Kacie and I were talking last night and wondering if it’s going to be a repeat of last weekend--thousands and thousands and thousands of tourists (it is Chinese school vacation and parents do take their kids to the Famous Sites). We’re wondering if maybe we could defer the trip to a week day, but we have students coming...guess we’ll have to see. I’m actually hoping for rain--it’s very cloudy now--for that would decide the matter.
With much love and gratitude that you’re reading--
Chris
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