First off, an addendum to the previous post:
Regarding the series of hospital adventures last weekend, I wanted to mention that while Hospital 304 was not the most comfortable of locations, the second and third hospitals we visited were clean and luxurious. More than anything else, it demonstrated the existence of a class system in what is supposed to be a classless system. The Chinese follow a Communist philosophy, in which all things are supposed to be equal for all people, whether it be access to food or access to medical care. What the experience last weekend showed me was that money can buy you better conditions wherever you go - even in China. Just being an American helps you climb the social ladders, because if you are an American, you are automatically assumed to be made of money. It is hard to live with the idea that to an everyday Chinese person, Hospital 304, which would be the equivalent of the USC medical clinic in Los Angeles, is the definition of a hospital; yet, there too exist "International hospitals" and spa resort-type hospitals that exceed the conditions that celebrity patients are offered at Cedars Sinai. Has the Communist system led to a complacent acceptance of low quality facilities? Or are the communists evolving into capitalists?
That aside, this weekend we've managed to survive yet another Chinese adventure. You might think it involves climbing the Great Wall, and though that was an adventure in and of itself, it was not our most entertaining. The real adventure this weekend happened after we returned from one of the Seven Wonders of the World and involves the one thing you know that your mom will always be able to do better than you will - laundry. Now, this is no small feat in the land where spin cycles are dysfunctional and dryers shred your clothing. There have been many horror stories of innocent students, often with much practiced laundry skills, suffering at the hands of these seemingly ferocious, but essential mechanical boxes. Lucky for us, there is a laundry service on campus that we may use. But again, this is not quite like the ones in the States. Thankfully, they washed our clothes for us (for only 5 kuai, I might add, which is less than the amount I pay for one load of a washing machine back at Yale), but they for some reason left the drying up to us. So let's picture this: three girls walking a block from the laundromat of sorts back to the dorms, their arms full of sopping wet clothing, and...it's raining. It was quite the sight, to say the least. Now, my bedroom looks like a second hand thrift shop with shirts, shorts, pants, sweatshirts, and towels hanging from the curtain railing, cabinet doors, bathroom racks, and chairs. Oh yes, and the TV is covered in socks. Lots of white socks. We aren't quite sure when the clothes will dry, or if they ever will for that matter, but at least they're clean. Well, at least until the mildew settles in.
Now we can move onto ChangCheng, or the Great Wall - the more touristy adventure of the weekend. All of us students packed into two coaches for the three hours from Beijing to Simatai. Simatai is one of the less traveled parts of the Great Wall, and one of the oldest. It is not as well preserved as some of the more picturesque segments of the Great Wall, but don't fret, at least it was the steepest. We arrived at around 5 pm on Friday evening, settling into a beautiful little hotel on the base of the mountain that bordered a small river. Asleep by 10:30, we were up again by 3am to begin our hike up the mountain to the Great Wall. I don't know how the Chinese guards those thousands of years ago managed to run from tower to tower, because I couldn't even run from one to the next, let alone from Tower 1 to Tower 12. Every time we would arrive at one tower, we would carefully turn the corner, shyly looking upward, fearing of the amount of stairs that would greet us yet again. Without fail, every time we peeked across, there were at least 100 steps (just picture a neverending series of the Santa Monica/Malibu stairs), some of which were entirely vertical, one step level with my feet, and the next with my waist. It was more of a climb than a leisurely walk, but we finally made it to the twelfth tower, which is the end point of this particular section. Beyond it lies a poorly preserved segment of the wall, which has been closed off "due to multiple deaths". Though some people dared to cross the boundary, I had had my share of adventure for one day - and a brush with death didn't seem too appealing after climbing what seemed like Mt Everest. Although we had set out at 3am to catch the sunrise from the top, sadly, we didn't get to see any of it since the fog covered most of it up, but nevertheless, it was sort of this surreal experience. We were literally sitting amongst the clouds on one of the most ancient and fascinating physical structures the world has seen, and while I was probably more sweaty and sleep deprived than anything else at that point, I felt as if I had conquered THE massive wall. I know it's a little cheesy, but I couldn't help but picture myself looking up at the Wall from the base of the mountain as if I was an infantryman of an invading army. From that viewpoint, the Wall is intimidating, austere and punishing. It makes the Han Empire - China - seem almost like this majestic, impervious bloc. But from the top, it feels like you're on the top of the world. And yes, someone did bring back the famous Leo "King of World" moment from Titanic. I don't think anyone could resist doing so.
During this little excursion of ours, too, I noticed an interesting twist in many of my and other Chinese students' language patterns. Technically, we're not supposed to be speaking English at all while we're here, but finding that very hard to maintain, most of our English has devolved into a sort of Chinglish, in which Chinese words are substituted into English grammar constructions. For instance, a typical sentence may sound like "Wow, her Zhongwen today was hen hao", meaning: her Chinese today was very good. Or maybe, "I need to go to Wu Mei to mai some mianbao"; read: I need to go to Wu Mart to buy some bread. It's actually quite amusing, and I think most of us are fearing that the habits will stick, making certain Chinese phrases permanent fixtures in our everyday speech. So if I slip up and say, or write, something in "Zhongwen", bare with me, I'm stuck in Chinglish.
Another very important fixture of this weekend was the purchase of my new digital camera. While I didn't bargain as well as I think I could have (I cut the price in half, but it was still a little steep for my newfound bargaining mentality), I now have a working camera, which is the most important part. While it's sad to leave my old camera behind (after all, we've been through so much together), this also means that I will actually have pictures of my trip to China, which, hopefully, I will be able to upload at some point too - if the Internet ever runs faster than a 1996 modem connection.
That's all for now. I have to return to the daily grind of character memorization before tomorrow's class. More to come soon.
Signing off,
Tess
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
304
While modern skyscrapers and neon lights fill popular Beijing tourist spots such as Chaoyang, Sanlituanr, and Houhai, the city has retained aspects that bring you crashing back down to reality. Journalists, economists, politicians, and the like continuously remind us that China is experiencing unparalleled economic growth, but just as you begin to fawn over the seemingly unending display of modernization, you are suddenly jolted out of your reverie by the realization that China, despite all the buzz, is still a developing country. A very close friend of mine (and fellow Bulldog) contracted a serious illness last weekend, which forced her to stay in various hospitals over the course of five days. While the picture of a hospital in my mind doesn't exactly look like a carbon copy of Grey's Anatomy's Seattle Grace, it's still sterile, hygienic, and somewhat comfortable. Though we pay a fortune for medical care in the States, when we need intensive medical treatment, we can expect to be surrounded by a number of basic creature comforts, including clean sheets, a television, a couch on which visitors may sit or nap, and walls without mold or peeling paint. It is very humbling to discover that these are not universal expectations. It was not the image we were confronted with upon entering Hospital 304 here. For fear of finding myself in an even more uncomfortable location, I will refrain from writing a more detailed critique of our experience there, but I will say this: being in Hospital 304 made me realize that behind all the flashing lights still lies a China trying to catch up with its reputation.
In other news, despite the resultant exhaustion from a week of traveling between campus and nearby (or not so nearby) hospitals, the lessons we learned in class this week offered a welcome practicality. No longer are we learning about Mr. Wang's stint in the water commune, or how taichi has transformed a pudgy Little Zhang into a handsome young man, but rather how to express yourself if you're sick (which was quite ironic, given the weekend's events, that it was assigned for Monday), how to exchange money at the bank, talk to a taxi driver, and...bargain. Oh yes, I have finally been exposed to the wonderful world of Chinese bargaining, and while our "language practicum" assignment this week, which sent us out into the real world to practice our bargaining skills, initially frightened me beyond comprehension, shopping in Beijing was perhaps the best three hours of my week. In Chinese, to bargain is 讲价, or jiang-jia, and with each purchase, a remarkable sense of achievement seems to delude you into buying more and more things. It's like you're high on shopping, because you actually seem to think that you're the one making a profit off of the shopkeepers instead of the reverse. I'm convinced that it must be a shrewd sales tactic for vendors: make these foolish 外国人 (wai-guo-ren, or foreigners) think that they're actually getting a good deal and they'll keep spending...
I don't know if I was ripped off in the end, but still, getting ripped off in China means paying maybe $1 more for something than you would have if you were a native Beijinger. My proudest moment was getting two hair straighteners for my friend and me (girly, I know, but I wanted one). A single straightener was initially priced at 58 yuan, and I was able to whittle the price down to 65 yuan for two. I also bargained a fake Coach purse down from 150 yuan to 60 yuan, a ring from 35 yuan to 15 yuan, and a necklace from 35 yuan to 10 yuan. I would go on, but I'm slightly embarrassed as to how many purchases I actually made.
Now, it's a Thursday night, meaning I'm doing everything possible to postpone studying for the plethora of examinations that await me tomorrow morning. I turned on the TV in our room, hoping that an episode of Sex and the City or Grey's Anatomy would miraculously appear. I had no such luck in that department, but I did happen to discover a channel airing the 1980s sitcom Growing Pains - in Chinese. Not quite what I was looking for, but close enough. The funny thing is that I think I watched the show so many times growing up that, even in Chinese, I was actually able to get the gist of what the episode was all about. See, mom and dad, I told you watching all that TV growing up would benefit me in the end. Wanting to find an American show, I guess, was in a way a sign of my own "growing pains" as I adjust to rarely hearing spoken English outside of the dorms and not having American pop culture factoids lambast me every time I turn on the television. But somehow, it is refreshing to know that though these "growing pains" seem ever present, they are at least accompanied by some actual growth.
That's all for now. We're off to 长城 (Changcheng = Great Wall) tomorrow. Hopefully the trip there will present some equally entertaining stories for you all...
再见！
-Tess
In other news, despite the resultant exhaustion from a week of traveling between campus and nearby (or not so nearby) hospitals, the lessons we learned in class this week offered a welcome practicality. No longer are we learning about Mr. Wang's stint in the water commune, or how taichi has transformed a pudgy Little Zhang into a handsome young man, but rather how to express yourself if you're sick (which was quite ironic, given the weekend's events, that it was assigned for Monday), how to exchange money at the bank, talk to a taxi driver, and...bargain. Oh yes, I have finally been exposed to the wonderful world of Chinese bargaining, and while our "language practicum" assignment this week, which sent us out into the real world to practice our bargaining skills, initially frightened me beyond comprehension, shopping in Beijing was perhaps the best three hours of my week. In Chinese, to bargain is 讲价, or jiang-jia, and with each purchase, a remarkable sense of achievement seems to delude you into buying more and more things. It's like you're high on shopping, because you actually seem to think that you're the one making a profit off of the shopkeepers instead of the reverse. I'm convinced that it must be a shrewd sales tactic for vendors: make these foolish 外国人 (wai-guo-ren, or foreigners) think that they're actually getting a good deal and they'll keep spending...
I don't know if I was ripped off in the end, but still, getting ripped off in China means paying maybe $1 more for something than you would have if you were a native Beijinger. My proudest moment was getting two hair straighteners for my friend and me (girly, I know, but I wanted one). A single straightener was initially priced at 58 yuan, and I was able to whittle the price down to 65 yuan for two. I also bargained a fake Coach purse down from 150 yuan to 60 yuan, a ring from 35 yuan to 15 yuan, and a necklace from 35 yuan to 10 yuan. I would go on, but I'm slightly embarrassed as to how many purchases I actually made.
Now, it's a Thursday night, meaning I'm doing everything possible to postpone studying for the plethora of examinations that await me tomorrow morning. I turned on the TV in our room, hoping that an episode of Sex and the City or Grey's Anatomy would miraculously appear. I had no such luck in that department, but I did happen to discover a channel airing the 1980s sitcom Growing Pains - in Chinese. Not quite what I was looking for, but close enough. The funny thing is that I think I watched the show so many times growing up that, even in Chinese, I was actually able to get the gist of what the episode was all about. See, mom and dad, I told you watching all that TV growing up would benefit me in the end. Wanting to find an American show, I guess, was in a way a sign of my own "growing pains" as I adjust to rarely hearing spoken English outside of the dorms and not having American pop culture factoids lambast me every time I turn on the television. But somehow, it is refreshing to know that though these "growing pains" seem ever present, they are at least accompanied by some actual growth.
That's all for now. We're off to 长城 (Changcheng = Great Wall) tomorrow. Hopefully the trip there will present some equally entertaining stories for you all...
再见！
-Tess
Friday, June 20, 2008
Small World, Small Beijing
So another few discoveries for your enjoyment:
In China, almost all the "trendy" clothing people wear here has some sort of writing on the front or back. However, all of it is in English, furnishing us westerners with a very amusing past time. I finally got to be on the other side of the fence after all of those times my friends and I got henna tattoos, shirts, or jewelry with Chinese characters without having any clue what they meant. So far, my favorites have been: the "I'm too sexy for my cat" tee and the "Dark, scary barn...safe in here" shirt a woman wore at Wu Mart yesterday. Hopefully, these "Chinglish" tees can be a running theme throughout my blog as time goes one. I'll keep you posted.
In other news, a few of us ventured out for our first real Peking duck experience this week. Picture a four floor building, the sole purpose of which is to prepare hundreds of Peking duck (probably for unsuspecting tourists like ourselves) embellished with scenic Chinese paintings and traditionally clad waitresses. It is apparently one of the best known duck restaurants in Beijing, and for three whole ducks, pancakes, a beef dish, a chicken dish, two vegetable dishes, and tea, we all made it out with a $15 tab each. I'm not complaining.
Here is where the title of this post comes in. Friday night a group of us ventured out into the Sanlituanr bar district on the east side of Beijing to celebrate the end of what has been a pretty strenuous week of classes and exams (given the fact that it's summer anyways). There are two streets filled completely with bars and dance clubs, and after arbitrarily choosing which one to enter, not only do I run into one Yalie, but three! According to previous Light fellows, apparently this is a frequent Beijing occurrence, but I'm still having a hard time believing that I ran into more people I knew at one bar in Beijing than I did the entire four weeks back in Los Angeles.
I am proud to say that I have also made my best purchase here yet this week: a peeler! As some of you have read, for the past week or so the only food items that I had been consistently eating are Ritz crackers and yogurt. Actually, it may have been later that I discovered yogurt here, but we have finally tiptoed into what we've been told is the risky realm of fruit consumption. Missing what I'm sure is a wonderful summer fruit season in the States, ripe with fresh peaches, nectarines, apricots, grapes, strawberries, and cherries, it has been very sad not having the same access to fruit as I am accustomed to over the summers. Fortunately, Wu Mart came to the rescue yet again with beautiful ripe bananas, oranges, and watermelon. But what about the fruit with skins, you ask? Well, technically we're not allowed to eat the skin for fear of contracting some virulent stomach virus, which is where this wonderful tool comes into our lives. Normally, I find it a tedious task peeling cucumbers, carrots, potatoes, or what have you while home, but here it is a blessing, even a luxury. Now we are free to eat apples and pears, and I even risked eating an entire peach skin and all (only after a thorough wash, of course), and I'm still here to tell the tale. I am also proud to announce that the Duke program students have also discovered the jiaozi stand! Jiaozi are Chinese dumplings, nearly identical to Korean gyozi, or potstickers, and as my friend Jess said, I think they put some sort of addictive substance in them because we are constantly craving them. Although, if you ask my family, I think I've always been known to eat my fair share of dumplings. So, there is hope yet. Not to fear, though, I still have a bag of Ritz crackers in my desk drawer for emergencies.
Speaking of shopping, as you know, with the Olympics around the corner, China has launched a huge "Green China" campaign to reduce pollution and begin to remedy the notorious Beijing smog. In addition to TV commercials and banners, however, the Chinese government has implemented a law that requires you, as a consumer, to pay 1 kuai (what would be ~30 cents in the US) for every plastic shopping bag you use. If you forget to bring your own shopping bag, you're out of luck, unless you have a third or fourth arm hiding somewhere.
This new policy, so simple in its nature, is incredibly influential in practice. It affects nearly every individual (and that's 1 billion people we're talking about), no doubt achieving its ultimate goal. It makes me ask myself, if Communist China can begin to "think green", what is stopping the US?
All this aside, though, my habits haven't changed much since I've been here. A funny incident happened last night as two of my friends and I rushed back from Wu Mart. With a shopping bag in each hand, the three of us entered the lobby elevator, and knowing my luck in particular, what did we find when the doors closed? Only a huge, flying, Chinese bug! I told you it was just my luck. Now just picture three white American girls with six shopping bags running around in an elevator as it lifted us from the first to the tenth floor (ironically, it was probably the only time we have traveled that distance without stopping on another floor at least once), trying to escape the wrath of what I am pretty sure was a harmless insect. Some habits die hard.
One final closing note: I was browsing through the New York Times the other day on what is becoming an ever faster Internet connection, and I came across this article titled Prisoner of Normalcy. I sort of adopted it as my new anti-slogan. The fact that I have been able to travel halfway, if not all the way across the world to study in this culturally rich and fascinating place has allowed me to escape this idea of "normal" and begin to morph my life into something rich and interesting in and of itself. I think that too often we allow ourselves to assume the fetal position in our comfortable little nooks at home, afraid of getting thrown out of our homeostatic state. Crossing boundaries and exposing yourself to new ideas and experiences is what gives life meaning, and that is how I have begun to regard my time here. It's a time to challenge myself mentally, physically, and emotionally, and to keep evading the ever seductive state of "normalcy."
That's all for now. Until next time, 再见！
-Tess
In China, almost all the "trendy" clothing people wear here has some sort of writing on the front or back. However, all of it is in English, furnishing us westerners with a very amusing past time. I finally got to be on the other side of the fence after all of those times my friends and I got henna tattoos, shirts, or jewelry with Chinese characters without having any clue what they meant. So far, my favorites have been: the "I'm too sexy for my cat" tee and the "Dark, scary barn...safe in here" shirt a woman wore at Wu Mart yesterday. Hopefully, these "Chinglish" tees can be a running theme throughout my blog as time goes one. I'll keep you posted.
In other news, a few of us ventured out for our first real Peking duck experience this week. Picture a four floor building, the sole purpose of which is to prepare hundreds of Peking duck (probably for unsuspecting tourists like ourselves) embellished with scenic Chinese paintings and traditionally clad waitresses. It is apparently one of the best known duck restaurants in Beijing, and for three whole ducks, pancakes, a beef dish, a chicken dish, two vegetable dishes, and tea, we all made it out with a $15 tab each. I'm not complaining.
Here is where the title of this post comes in. Friday night a group of us ventured out into the Sanlituanr bar district on the east side of Beijing to celebrate the end of what has been a pretty strenuous week of classes and exams (given the fact that it's summer anyways). There are two streets filled completely with bars and dance clubs, and after arbitrarily choosing which one to enter, not only do I run into one Yalie, but three! According to previous Light fellows, apparently this is a frequent Beijing occurrence, but I'm still having a hard time believing that I ran into more people I knew at one bar in Beijing than I did the entire four weeks back in Los Angeles.
I am proud to say that I have also made my best purchase here yet this week: a peeler! As some of you have read, for the past week or so the only food items that I had been consistently eating are Ritz crackers and yogurt. Actually, it may have been later that I discovered yogurt here, but we have finally tiptoed into what we've been told is the risky realm of fruit consumption. Missing what I'm sure is a wonderful summer fruit season in the States, ripe with fresh peaches, nectarines, apricots, grapes, strawberries, and cherries, it has been very sad not having the same access to fruit as I am accustomed to over the summers. Fortunately, Wu Mart came to the rescue yet again with beautiful ripe bananas, oranges, and watermelon. But what about the fruit with skins, you ask? Well, technically we're not allowed to eat the skin for fear of contracting some virulent stomach virus, which is where this wonderful tool comes into our lives. Normally, I find it a tedious task peeling cucumbers, carrots, potatoes, or what have you while home, but here it is a blessing, even a luxury. Now we are free to eat apples and pears, and I even risked eating an entire peach skin and all (only after a thorough wash, of course), and I'm still here to tell the tale. I am also proud to announce that the Duke program students have also discovered the jiaozi stand! Jiaozi are Chinese dumplings, nearly identical to Korean gyozi, or potstickers, and as my friend Jess said, I think they put some sort of addictive substance in them because we are constantly craving them. Although, if you ask my family, I think I've always been known to eat my fair share of dumplings. So, there is hope yet. Not to fear, though, I still have a bag of Ritz crackers in my desk drawer for emergencies.
Speaking of shopping, as you know, with the Olympics around the corner, China has launched a huge "Green China" campaign to reduce pollution and begin to remedy the notorious Beijing smog. In addition to TV commercials and banners, however, the Chinese government has implemented a law that requires you, as a consumer, to pay 1 kuai (what would be ~30 cents in the US) for every plastic shopping bag you use. If you forget to bring your own shopping bag, you're out of luck, unless you have a third or fourth arm hiding somewhere.
This new policy, so simple in its nature, is incredibly influential in practice. It affects nearly every individual (and that's 1 billion people we're talking about), no doubt achieving its ultimate goal. It makes me ask myself, if Communist China can begin to "think green", what is stopping the US?
All this aside, though, my habits haven't changed much since I've been here. A funny incident happened last night as two of my friends and I rushed back from Wu Mart. With a shopping bag in each hand, the three of us entered the lobby elevator, and knowing my luck in particular, what did we find when the doors closed? Only a huge, flying, Chinese bug! I told you it was just my luck. Now just picture three white American girls with six shopping bags running around in an elevator as it lifted us from the first to the tenth floor (ironically, it was probably the only time we have traveled that distance without stopping on another floor at least once), trying to escape the wrath of what I am pretty sure was a harmless insect. Some habits die hard.
One final closing note: I was browsing through the New York Times the other day on what is becoming an ever faster Internet connection, and I came across this article titled Prisoner of Normalcy. I sort of adopted it as my new anti-slogan. The fact that I have been able to travel halfway, if not all the way across the world to study in this culturally rich and fascinating place has allowed me to escape this idea of "normal" and begin to morph my life into something rich and interesting in and of itself. I think that too often we allow ourselves to assume the fetal position in our comfortable little nooks at home, afraid of getting thrown out of our homeostatic state. Crossing boundaries and exposing yourself to new ideas and experiences is what gives life meaning, and that is how I have begun to regard my time here. It's a time to challenge myself mentally, physically, and emotionally, and to keep evading the ever seductive state of "normalcy."
That's all for now. Until next time, 再见！
-Tess
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
From LAX to PEK and then some...
Hello!!
It has taken me five days to be able to access this blog site (China's notorious firewall as promised prevented me from even loading the page on what is an unbelievably slow Internet connection), but thanks to the Light Fellowship office and GLadder, a very helpful plug-in, I'm finally back in action.
After arriving at the dorms from the airport on Friday, I was greeted by a TV screen playing the Lakers game. Now, I thought this would be a wonderful "Welcome to China!" present, only to watch the Lakers fail miserably. And as I sit here typing now, I am watching the Lakers lose by 30 points in what will most likely be the Celtics championship winning game. It's too devastating to watch.
On a more descriptive note, I'm staying in a double on the 10th floor of Capital Normal University, which is on Beijing's Third Ring Road. It's not a very warm place, since all of the universities in China were moved to the outskirts of town during the cultural revolution to curtail protesting students from influencing other Beijing citizens in the city's center. However, we have been able to find some diamonds in the rough. There's a great noodle place down the road (when in China, you get used to eating lots of noodles) and a Sichuan cuisine restaurant farther down (although there has been one case of someone getting food poisoning from there, but for me so far so good.
Wu Mart, though, is perhaps the find of our time here. What seems like a small convenient store from the street morphs into a huge Costo-like market that sells everything from pots and pans to fresh fruit to Ritz crackers. We haven't been able to use the campus cafeteria yet, so Ritz crackers and yogurt have become staples of my daily diet. All the American snacks you could hope for are also found in China: Oreos, goldfish, Chips Ahoy, Nature's Valley, Extra gum, and Pringles. Maybe they're not the healthiest choices, but they definitely keep the hunger pangs at bay.
Our second night here, my roommate and I ventured out to KFC of all places. I've never been to KFC in the states, but if it's anything like the KFC here, I'll probably steer clear. I think I'll stick to the Chinese food.
I have managed one trip into the center of Beijing so far. One particular sight struck me the most: amidst the lights, Olympics posters, street venders, and rickshaws were a few teenagers probably around my age playing a familiar game in a building front. While at Yale last semester, a few of my friends (you know who you are) developed a game in which they tried to throw a ball through the openings in the stonework above the Farnam entryways. Having the ball pass through the biggest opening was Level 1, the second largest was Level 2, and so on. In China, these teenagers were playing this same game which we all tried so hard to perfect back at Yale, except with a basketball rather than a baseball. It was definitely a moment of cross-cultural understanding.
My roommate and I had another cultural experience last night. It seems as though every night the university is turning off either our water or our electricity from 11 pm to 4 am. Last night, it was water, and as the two of us were studying in our rooms, we realized that our water was about to run out. I ran to the bathroom to brush my teeth, and by the time my roommate was midway through brushing hers, the water stream started to grow weaker and weaker, until it would just spit out random gushes of water every other twenty seconds. We realized the toilet, the shower, and the sink were all done for the night, and suddenly our nightly routine was no longer as punctual and habitual as usual.
So I know this post has been a book's length, but it's easy to take for granted all of the things we have in the states that don't come so easily to people in China. My language partner (a Chinese university student that helps us with our language study) came up to my dorm room yesterday, a dorm room that I thought was pretty small given the spacious accommodations I was used to at Yale, and what is just a room for my roommate and me is the same size as a room for her and seven other girls. I'm used to fast wireless Internet, drinkable tap water (for the most part), relatively clear air, and a working laundry room, and yet while it was initially so hard to imagine life here without all of those things, it's slowly starting to seem like more and more of a possibility. I appreciate all the things I am lucky enough to have, and as cheesy as that sounds, it's true. After all, I have to find something to make me happy after this terrible Lakers loss.
Final score: 131 - 92
Now off to class. Until later, 再见! (Zai jian = goodbye)
-Tess
It has taken me five days to be able to access this blog site (China's notorious firewall as promised prevented me from even loading the page on what is an unbelievably slow Internet connection), but thanks to the Light Fellowship office and GLadder, a very helpful plug-in, I'm finally back in action.
After arriving at the dorms from the airport on Friday, I was greeted by a TV screen playing the Lakers game. Now, I thought this would be a wonderful "Welcome to China!" present, only to watch the Lakers fail miserably. And as I sit here typing now, I am watching the Lakers lose by 30 points in what will most likely be the Celtics championship winning game. It's too devastating to watch.
On a more descriptive note, I'm staying in a double on the 10th floor of Capital Normal University, which is on Beijing's Third Ring Road. It's not a very warm place, since all of the universities in China were moved to the outskirts of town during the cultural revolution to curtail protesting students from influencing other Beijing citizens in the city's center. However, we have been able to find some diamonds in the rough. There's a great noodle place down the road (when in China, you get used to eating lots of noodles) and a Sichuan cuisine restaurant farther down (although there has been one case of someone getting food poisoning from there, but for me so far so good.
Wu Mart, though, is perhaps the find of our time here. What seems like a small convenient store from the street morphs into a huge Costo-like market that sells everything from pots and pans to fresh fruit to Ritz crackers. We haven't been able to use the campus cafeteria yet, so Ritz crackers and yogurt have become staples of my daily diet. All the American snacks you could hope for are also found in China: Oreos, goldfish, Chips Ahoy, Nature's Valley, Extra gum, and Pringles. Maybe they're not the healthiest choices, but they definitely keep the hunger pangs at bay.
Our second night here, my roommate and I ventured out to KFC of all places. I've never been to KFC in the states, but if it's anything like the KFC here, I'll probably steer clear. I think I'll stick to the Chinese food.
I have managed one trip into the center of Beijing so far. One particular sight struck me the most: amidst the lights, Olympics posters, street venders, and rickshaws were a few teenagers probably around my age playing a familiar game in a building front. While at Yale last semester, a few of my friends (you know who you are) developed a game in which they tried to throw a ball through the openings in the stonework above the Farnam entryways. Having the ball pass through the biggest opening was Level 1, the second largest was Level 2, and so on. In China, these teenagers were playing this same game which we all tried so hard to perfect back at Yale, except with a basketball rather than a baseball. It was definitely a moment of cross-cultural understanding.
My roommate and I had another cultural experience last night. It seems as though every night the university is turning off either our water or our electricity from 11 pm to 4 am. Last night, it was water, and as the two of us were studying in our rooms, we realized that our water was about to run out. I ran to the bathroom to brush my teeth, and by the time my roommate was midway through brushing hers, the water stream started to grow weaker and weaker, until it would just spit out random gushes of water every other twenty seconds. We realized the toilet, the shower, and the sink were all done for the night, and suddenly our nightly routine was no longer as punctual and habitual as usual.
So I know this post has been a book's length, but it's easy to take for granted all of the things we have in the states that don't come so easily to people in China. My language partner (a Chinese university student that helps us with our language study) came up to my dorm room yesterday, a dorm room that I thought was pretty small given the spacious accommodations I was used to at Yale, and what is just a room for my roommate and me is the same size as a room for her and seven other girls. I'm used to fast wireless Internet, drinkable tap water (for the most part), relatively clear air, and a working laundry room, and yet while it was initially so hard to imagine life here without all of those things, it's slowly starting to seem like more and more of a possibility. I appreciate all the things I am lucky enough to have, and as cheesy as that sounds, it's true. After all, I have to find something to make me happy after this terrible Lakers loss.
Final score: 131 - 92
Now off to class. Until later, 再见! (Zai jian = goodbye)
-Tess
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