The Saturday after our 4th of July, the program’s planned trip was to the Summer Palace, a beautiful park on the outside of the city proper. Having been there that week already with my friend Bill (visiting from the US), I decided to take the opportunity venture out on my own, and started out from my dorm walking southeast, in the vague direction of the center of Beijing, with nothing but my iPod, a map, and a bottle of iced tea as my companions.
I set out thinking that my first destination would be Tiananmen square, and I might take the bus from there to another site, but I quickly decided that walking was going to be my only method of transportation that day. Walking along Fuxingmen Dajie, the street that the subway runs parallel to, might be slower, but it made for a much more interesting trip in several ways.
First, seeing the buildings, museums, and monuments along the way put a face to the names that cover subway maps and populate guidebooks. Seeing how they’re laid out, too, gives you a feel for how the streets and buildings of Beijing are organized, and how one district differs from another. You also notice some things that aren’t printed in guidebooks, such as how the biggest buildings along Fuxingmen aren’t banks or government buildings, but chemical companies like Cosco and Sinochem.
Second, walking also provides you with access to places that aren’t as frequently visited by tourists. A handy barometer of this is how many strange looks you get from the locals (although I guess that could also just be me). You also get to see plenty of entertaining non-landmark constructions, such as this bridge covered in physics equations (which I think was part of a series, as it was followed by one with a musical score). [picture missing]
Finally, walking is especially valuable because it lets you travel without knowing where you’re going. After reaching Tiananmen square about three hours after I started, I meandered South, then further East, passing through closed-down shopping districts, collapsed houses in Hutongs, the Beijing train station, and what appeared to be a large gated forest. At one point, I ventured down a dirt road with a large crowd of people, thinking I might find a market or something else of interest. After walking for about 10 minutes, the crowd dispersed, and I found myself surrounded by China Post trucks and bins of packages – as far as I could determine, I was in the middle of a postage sorting facility, and the crowd of people had been non-uniformed postal employees returning to work. I walked back out the way I came (noting a security checkpoint with an evidently lazy guard that I hadn’t seen on the way in), and headed out to the Chaoyang business district (of the CCTV building and China World Trade Center fame). By the end of the day, I had wandered for about 8 hours from the West Third Ring Road (my dorm) to the East Fourth Ring Road (past Chaoyang). At that point, I gave in to my blistered right foot and took a cab back to the dorm where I immediately fell asleep, even more tired than after the previous night’s escape from the flooded subway.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
Independence Day in China
Given today’s date and the topic of this post, it’s pretty obvious that I have been delinquent in posting. For those of you following along at home, I’m sorry – I’ll try to make it up by a series of posts in the next few days about all of the antics that have kept me out of the tea bar and its lovely, almost-consistent internet access. Unfortunately, most of these posts will probably be picture-free - I've written them all and already delayed posting for a few days, but am giving up on trying to upload photos for all of them.
First up is a harrowing tale full of patriotism, hamburgers, and man’s struggle with nature. The week that ended in the 4th of July was our third full week in China, and coincided with a diminishing appreciation for the constant fare of dumplings, tea, and miscellaneous meat-covered-in-oil-and-pepper-over-rice-based-starch dishes. Up to that point, I had been pretty good about not eating any American-style food, with the exception of a trip to the local KFC for some ice cream (yes, Ellen, this is a shout-out to you on my blog). So for the 4th, the usual gang of friends and I decided to try something both novel and traditional, and made our way to Grandma’s Kitchen, a restaurant that serves such all-American selections as hamburgers, mashed potatoes with gravy, apple pie, and even Budweiser. The breakfast menu even contained a Denver Skillet, a sight that only confirmed the high regard with which people from all over the world view my wonderful home city.
With options like those, it’s hard to blame us for going a little overboard. We ordered five appetizers - onion rings, mozzarella sticks, a quesadilla (American enough, right?), chicken fingers, and French fries – after which everyone ordered themselves a beer, a milkshake, and a hamburger (with the exception of the one among us who doesn’t eat beef. The rest of us got bacon burgers to make up for it, though). It was delicious. As representatives of America - and despite it being the 4th of July, we were the only Americans in the restaurant - it was only fitting that we played the part of the overeating, English-speaking, money-spending foreigners. And spend money we did: the meal for the five of us was about 580 kuai – still less than USD $20 per person, but far more than the 50 kuai we’ve spent for a five-person meal around campus.
When we left the restaurant after dinner, the extra weight and sloth imparted by the largesse of our American spending worked against us immediately. While we had been eating on the fifth floor of an enclosed mall, the rain outside had been putting China’s drainage systems (a recurring theme in this blog, evidently) to the test. The streets and sidewalks were flooded, and while we spent about 20 minutes trying to hail a taxi, everyone else pouring out from the then-closing mall was trying to do the same . We took the subway instead, but when we tried changing trains we were forced out of the station, which had flooded. Standing in the midst of the hundred-plus people locked out of the station, we realized that we were going to have no more luck with finding taxis than at the mall, and began an hour-long walking-and-bus-hopping waterlogged trip back to our dorm. We made it back just barely by midnight – wet but content from our holiday excursion.
First up is a harrowing tale full of patriotism, hamburgers, and man’s struggle with nature. The week that ended in the 4th of July was our third full week in China, and coincided with a diminishing appreciation for the constant fare of dumplings, tea, and miscellaneous meat-covered-in-oil-and-pepper-over-rice-based-starch dishes. Up to that point, I had been pretty good about not eating any American-style food, with the exception of a trip to the local KFC for some ice cream (yes, Ellen, this is a shout-out to you on my blog). So for the 4th, the usual gang of friends and I decided to try something both novel and traditional, and made our way to Grandma’s Kitchen, a restaurant that serves such all-American selections as hamburgers, mashed potatoes with gravy, apple pie, and even Budweiser. The breakfast menu even contained a Denver Skillet, a sight that only confirmed the high regard with which people from all over the world view my wonderful home city.
With options like those, it’s hard to blame us for going a little overboard. We ordered five appetizers - onion rings, mozzarella sticks, a quesadilla (American enough, right?), chicken fingers, and French fries – after which everyone ordered themselves a beer, a milkshake, and a hamburger (with the exception of the one among us who doesn’t eat beef. The rest of us got bacon burgers to make up for it, though). It was delicious. As representatives of America - and despite it being the 4th of July, we were the only Americans in the restaurant - it was only fitting that we played the part of the overeating, English-speaking, money-spending foreigners. And spend money we did: the meal for the five of us was about 580 kuai – still less than USD $20 per person, but far more than the 50 kuai we’ve spent for a five-person meal around campus.
When we left the restaurant after dinner, the extra weight and sloth imparted by the largesse of our American spending worked against us immediately. While we had been eating on the fifth floor of an enclosed mall, the rain outside had been putting China’s drainage systems (a recurring theme in this blog, evidently) to the test. The streets and sidewalks were flooded, and while we spent about 20 minutes trying to hail a taxi, everyone else pouring out from the then-closing mall was trying to do the same . We took the subway instead, but when we tried changing trains we were forced out of the station, which had flooded. Standing in the midst of the hundred-plus people locked out of the station, we realized that we were going to have no more luck with finding taxis than at the mall, and began an hour-long walking-and-bus-hopping waterlogged trip back to our dorm. We made it back just barely by midnight – wet but content from our holiday excursion.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
"This Cheng is Pretty Chang"
This past Friday, we set out for Simatai to see the Great Wall (长城, or “Chang Cheng” in Chinese, meaning “long wall”). True to its name, the wall was pretty long – but almost as long as the Great Wall itself was the ride to Simatai. I had previously only encountered Beijing-style traffic, where cars careen around corners, pedestrians and bicyclists scatter, and everyone depends on horns more than traffic lights. The traffic outside of Beijing is the same – but at speeds of over 60 miles an hour, and livestock instead of pedestrians. After the third or fourth time our 80-seater bus screeched around a blind mountainside turn in the wrong lane only to find a van of pigs approaching in the other direction, we all learned to go back to our iPods and ignore the possibility that our deaths would be even more ignominious than Emperor Chongzhen’s.
We arrived intact at Simatai in the late afternoon, and had a chance to briefly climb a section of the wall before it closed
(evidently, the Great Wall closes around 6 PM). The section of the wall at Simatai has two parts divided by a river – I only hiked the longer half, which had 12 watchtowers interspersed with long sections of varying steepness. Friday evening we got to the first tower, which was a good vantage point to see almost all of the section across the river.
Saturday morning, we started out at 3:30 so we could see the sunrise (a large group of teachers and students started out at 3:00, but a couple of friends and I wanted a quieter approach). The Great Wall at Simatai, according to the Lonely Planet guidebook, is one of the steepest around Beijing – some parts approached an 80% grade, with nearly vertical staircases. This made for some interesting architecture, but we also found ourselves stopping from time to time to curse the ancient Ming builders (one question that remains: why would you build a wall on the top of a mountain, one of nature’s best defenses? Do the extra 15 feet of rock on top of the several thousand already in place really make crossing that much more difficult?). We paused at the fifth or sixth tower to rest
and watch the sunrise, which was easier said than done given all of the mist. In contrast to Beijing’s pollution, though, the mist moved quickly across the wall, alternately covering and exposing wide swaths of the old stonework and masking every other trace of human construction in the thick green mountaintop vegetation.
Simatai is remarkably well preserved, and also one of the few sections to retain the Great Wall’s original Ming Dynasty features. One such feature is irrigation - spigots line the wall, and gutters direct the flow of water away from the walkable areas. I took a picture, in case I ever run into the architect of our constantly-flooding dorm. Drainage, it seems, is a long-lost art.
We arrived intact at Simatai in the late afternoon, and had a chance to briefly climb a section of the wall before it closed
(evidently, the Great Wall closes around 6 PM). The section of the wall at Simatai has two parts divided by a river – I only hiked the longer half, which had 12 watchtowers interspersed with long sections of varying steepness. Friday evening we got to the first tower, which was a good vantage point to see almost all of the section across the river.Saturday morning, we started out at 3:30 so we could see the sunrise (a large group of teachers and students started out at 3:00, but a couple of friends and I wanted a quieter approach). The Great Wall at Simatai, according to the Lonely Planet guidebook, is one of the steepest around Beijing – some parts approached an 80% grade, with nearly vertical staircases. This made for some interesting architecture, but we also found ourselves stopping from time to time to curse the ancient Ming builders (one question that remains: why would you build a wall on the top of a mountain, one of nature’s best defenses? Do the extra 15 feet of rock on top of the several thousand already in place really make crossing that much more difficult?). We paused at the fifth or sixth tower to rest
and watch the sunrise, which was easier said than done given all of the mist. In contrast to Beijing’s pollution, though, the mist moved quickly across the wall, alternately covering and exposing wide swaths of the old stonework and masking every other trace of human construction in the thick green mountaintop vegetation.Simatai is remarkably well preserved, and also one of the few sections to retain the Great Wall’s original Ming Dynasty features. One such feature is irrigation - spigots line the wall, and gutters direct the flow of water away from the walkable areas. I took a picture, in case I ever run into the architect of our constantly-flooding dorm. Drainage, it seems, is a long-lost art.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
"From Coffee to Human Rights"
Cultural experience in China isn’t unidirectional – there’s learning China’s views on China, learning China’s views on America, getting asked about America’s views on China, and getting asked about America’s views on America. Only two weeks in, there have been a lot of entertaining, scary, or strange examples of Chinese impressions of America, so I think these might be a theme of some future posts. But for now, an example from our textbook lessons.
Today’s lesson was about how much Americans like lawsuits. It starts with the often-ridiculed example of the McDonald’s too-hot coffee lawsuit. Americans, says the dialogue, will sue over everything “from coffee to human rights.” Despite the ridiculousness of the dialogue on face, it actually offers a pretty good explanation: we like a society with the rule of law as opposed to one-man rule, and that we think a country with the rule of law has to have lawsuits. So, it continues, business as a lawyer is good – you have to have a lawyer to write a will, to get a divorce, to buy or sell a house, to sue a driver if you get in a car accident, etc. Especially because of all the intellectual property rights issues in modern society, so says the lesson, lawyers are getting lots of business.
This, from what I’ve encountered so far, is a somewhat standard (if benign) format for a Chinese interpretation of American society. There are some valid points that Americans could probably take to heart (we are lawsuit happy, although we probably already knew that), some oversimplifications (does every car accident involve a lawsuit?) and some ironies (“…especially with all those intellectual property cases…”). At the end, as often happens, there’s a reference to the reform policies in China in the late 1970s followed by a statement about China’s modernization – in this case, China’s modernization is leading to more Chinese people using lawsuits as a means of conflict resolution. This format is also popular for some of the passages we’ve read on China’s domestic issues: traditional China - > strange America - > China is modernizing, which is sometimes good and sometimes bad. Admittedly, though, most of the “domestic issues” we’ve covered at school have to do with dating and relationships, going to school, and finding a job – all in all, somewhat safe territory. Since getting to China, in conversations with a couple people I’ve ventured off into less safe territory, but that deserves at least a full post to itself…stay tuned.
Today’s lesson was about how much Americans like lawsuits. It starts with the often-ridiculed example of the McDonald’s too-hot coffee lawsuit. Americans, says the dialogue, will sue over everything “from coffee to human rights.” Despite the ridiculousness of the dialogue on face, it actually offers a pretty good explanation: we like a society with the rule of law as opposed to one-man rule, and that we think a country with the rule of law has to have lawsuits. So, it continues, business as a lawyer is good – you have to have a lawyer to write a will, to get a divorce, to buy or sell a house, to sue a driver if you get in a car accident, etc. Especially because of all the intellectual property rights issues in modern society, so says the lesson, lawyers are getting lots of business.
This, from what I’ve encountered so far, is a somewhat standard (if benign) format for a Chinese interpretation of American society. There are some valid points that Americans could probably take to heart (we are lawsuit happy, although we probably already knew that), some oversimplifications (does every car accident involve a lawsuit?) and some ironies (“…especially with all those intellectual property cases…”). At the end, as often happens, there’s a reference to the reform policies in China in the late 1970s followed by a statement about China’s modernization – in this case, China’s modernization is leading to more Chinese people using lawsuits as a means of conflict resolution. This format is also popular for some of the passages we’ve read on China’s domestic issues: traditional China - > strange America - > China is modernizing, which is sometimes good and sometimes bad. Admittedly, though, most of the “domestic issues” we’ve covered at school have to do with dating and relationships, going to school, and finding a job – all in all, somewhat safe territory. Since getting to China, in conversations with a couple people I’ve ventured off into less safe territory, but that deserves at least a full post to itself…stay tuned.
The Mandatory Food Post
You can’t go to China without writing a post about the food, so I figured I’d get it out of the way early. To preempt a few questions: no, I haven’t eaten dog (I think), and so far nothing has made me sick. The basic underlying comment is that everything is ridiculously cheap, and delicious. There’s a jiaozi (dumpling) stand about two blocks from the dorm that sells three large dumplings for one Yuan, meaning you can get a decent lunch (six jiaozi) for less than $0.30. The dine-in restaurants, too, fall somewhere in the range between the gumball machines in American restaurant lobbies and bottled water at Starbucks (usually about $0.50 - $2.00 for a meal). For an upscale experience where you’ll be waited upon by multiple uniformed waiters and waitresses, the total approaches American fast food prices of $4.00-$6.00 per person per meal.
At one such upscale restaurant by campus, we had our first big language mix-up of the program (this one was also entirely my fault). Five of us went to a large hot-pot restaurant, where you ordered a kind of
broth and then selected meats and vegetables that would cook in the broth at your table. One of us went to the bathroom while we all decided what to order. I made the unfortunate choice of trying to order, indicating that we wanted the duck broth (“Nutritive Duck,” as the English on the menu put it). The waiter said “hot,” which we confirmed was alright, and then he said “four.” Thinking that he was indicating the number of people we had eating, I said “five,” so our bathroom-going friend wouldn’t be left out from the dinner. He nodded, and left.
The other restaurants have been much better experiences. The waiters (fuwuyuan) have the unnerving custom of waiting for you at your table as you decide what you want to order, which pressures you in two ways. The first is wanting not to seem like a dumb foreigner in front of the native, knowledgeable Chinese person – but I abandoned that quickly after I realized it was impossible. The second, which still affects me, is that you want to order as quickly as possible so you don’t have a waiter breathing down your neck. What seems like very attentive, personal service when you first order soon devolves into the chaos of the local Chinese restaurant. After taking your order, making you pay (many restaurants charge up front), and bringing your food, the fuwuyuan don’t have the American custom of checking in from time to time to see how things are. So, if you want to order another dish or ask for the check if you didn’t pay up front, you have to follow the Chinese custom: looking around and shouting “FUWUYUAN!” until someone comes. Usually it’s not much of a hassle, but it sometimes feels unseemly to my dainty American sensibilities.
At one such upscale restaurant by campus, we had our first big language mix-up of the program (this one was also entirely my fault). Five of us went to a large hot-pot restaurant, where you ordered a kind of
broth and then selected meats and vegetables that would cook in the broth at your table. One of us went to the bathroom while we all decided what to order. I made the unfortunate choice of trying to order, indicating that we wanted the duck broth (“Nutritive Duck,” as the English on the menu put it). The waiter said “hot,” which we confirmed was alright, and then he said “four.” Thinking that he was indicating the number of people we had eating, I said “five,” so our bathroom-going friend wouldn’t be left out from the dinner. He nodded, and left.When we got the food, it turned out to be nearly inedible. As we established afterwards, “four” was actually the degree of hotness of the food….on a scale from one to five. So my “five” indicated to the waiter that we wanted as spicy a dish as they could provide, and he was happy to oblige us. And despite individual bowls of heat-mitigating peanut sauce and beer bottles that approached a liter in size, we were unable to cool our palates enough to actually eat much of the food. Another advantage of the cheap food, though, is that if a meal ends up being a minor disaster, you haven’t lost much money as a result.
The other restaurants have been much better experiences. The waiters (fuwuyuan) have the unnerving custom of waiting for you at your table as you decide what you want to order, which pressures you in two ways. The first is wanting not to seem like a dumb foreigner in front of the native, knowledgeable Chinese person – but I abandoned that quickly after I realized it was impossible. The second, which still affects me, is that you want to order as quickly as possible so you don’t have a waiter breathing down your neck. What seems like very attentive, personal service when you first order soon devolves into the chaos of the local Chinese restaurant. After taking your order, making you pay (many restaurants charge up front), and bringing your food, the fuwuyuan don’t have the American custom of checking in from time to time to see how things are. So, if you want to order another dish or ask for the check if you didn’t pay up front, you have to follow the Chinese custom: looking around and shouting “FUWUYUAN!” until someone comes. Usually it’s not much of a hassle, but it sometimes feels unseemly to my dainty American sensibilities.
"In America, I Sleep on the Floor"
Arriving at the Duke program’s dorms, I wasn’t sure how much I could expect from our facilities in the post-communist-but-pre-effective-building-code country that is contemporary China. Having spent the previous month sleeping on my basement floor during our house renovations, though, I figured as long as I got a mattress it probably would be a step up (sorry, mom and dad – I still love you more than Hu Jintao). The airport had raised my hopes, as I landed in the much publicized new international terminal, probably nicer and more modern than any airport terminal I’ve seen in the U.S. But seeing as the government doesn’t often bulldoze houses and hire expensive British architects for student dorms (even during the Olympic summer), I knew it wouldn’t be quite so nice.
Having spent a few days in them, I’m pretty content. They’re air conditioned, which is great. They’re roomy, which is nice. There are beds, which is more than you can sometimes say for America. But the computer in the room, as far as I can tell, doesn’t have a functioning operating system. The TV displays only its logo. The refrigerator didn’t work for a few days and my roommate and I decided to use it as room temperature storage, only for it to one day decide to turn itself on. The shower is not separated from the rest of the bathroom, and when you run it the bathroom fills with water. I've heard the floor-shower is pretty standard in China, but the other ones that we've encountered have all had a sloped floor for the drain. The overflowing water is actually a theme of the building. The dorm itself is two towers connected by two bridges on the 10th floor, and a large auditorium in the center. The center pavilion with the auditorium is level, with no
gradient or drainage, and as such becomes a pool in the rain (it has rained more than half of the days since I've arrived). As a result, you can't use the second story entrance during the rain, when it's roped off for safety. Like the TV, refrigerator, and bathroom, it seems to have been built somewhat cheaply and quickly, with functionality as an afterthought.
These aren’t big problems, though. We have laptops, so the computer isn’t important. We have enough work that we probably shouldn’t watch TV anyway. And my roommate bought a squeegee, which allows us to corral the water back into the drain after showering. The big problem is the internet. I expected to encounter speed problems and censorship, but haven’t had difficulties with either so far. The difficulty has just been getting connected. In a building with Ethernet ports in every room and wireless throughout, the server just seems to randomly ignore passwords and sever connections, meaning that I haven’t been able to consistently access the internet for any length of time. Some other students have been able to get it to work, but the employees in the computer office here don’t seem interested in helping at all. It seems that the apathy of technical support is a cross-cultural phenomenon.
Having spent a few days in them, I’m pretty content. They’re air conditioned, which is great. They’re roomy, which is nice. There are beds, which is more than you can sometimes say for America. But the computer in the room, as far as I can tell, doesn’t have a functioning operating system. The TV displays only its logo. The refrigerator didn’t work for a few days and my roommate and I decided to use it as room temperature storage, only for it to one day decide to turn itself on. The shower is not separated from the rest of the bathroom, and when you run it the bathroom fills with water. I've heard the floor-shower is pretty standard in China, but the other ones that we've encountered have all had a sloped floor for the drain. The overflowing water is actually a theme of the building. The dorm itself is two towers connected by two bridges on the 10th floor, and a large auditorium in the center. The center pavilion with the auditorium is level, with no
gradient or drainage, and as such becomes a pool in the rain (it has rained more than half of the days since I've arrived). As a result, you can't use the second story entrance during the rain, when it's roped off for safety. Like the TV, refrigerator, and bathroom, it seems to have been built somewhat cheaply and quickly, with functionality as an afterthought.These aren’t big problems, though. We have laptops, so the computer isn’t important. We have enough work that we probably shouldn’t watch TV anyway. And my roommate bought a squeegee, which allows us to corral the water back into the drain after showering. The big problem is the internet. I expected to encounter speed problems and censorship, but haven’t had difficulties with either so far. The difficulty has just been getting connected. In a building with Ethernet ports in every room and wireless throughout, the server just seems to randomly ignore passwords and sever connections, meaning that I haven’t been able to consistently access the internet for any length of time. Some other students have been able to get it to work, but the employees in the computer office here don’t seem interested in helping at all. It seems that the apathy of technical support is a cross-cultural phenomenon.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Pre-Departure
Pre-Departure
Spending a summer in China is a process that begins well before you arrive. In addition to learning about the more mundane logistical arrangements necessary to travel (plane tickets, visa, etc), once you’ve gone public with your decision to visit the PRC, you get to hear the many ways your friends, family, and occasional strangers view America’s favorite rising superpower.
Reactions generally fall into two camps: “Wow, China!” and “Wow. China?” Variants on the theme also include “You’re so lucky to be going during the Olympic Summer!” and “Why would anyone want to go this summer? The Olympics are going to be there…” People tend to bring up the same topics – the Olympics, the earthquake, the pollution, the language – but cast them in completely different light, with varying levels of spin. Given the predominance of China-related stories in international news, it’s not surprising that people are opinionated. Part of the positive spectrum of reactions is probably due to people being polite and encouraging (thanks, by the way), but my guess is that it also indicates the level of media bias that suffuses US coverage of Chinese affairs. We’ll see what I say when I’ve spent some time there.
In the time between finishing school in May and leaving in mid-June, I’ve also had the chance to collect a lot of advice. The Light Fellowship and DSIC have been really helpful by providing handbooks, faqs, and a Lonely Planet: China to cover just about any concern you could have. The advice ranges from the helpful-but-scary – “don’t bring white clothing, as the pollution will turn it grey within days” – to the mildly ironic – “don’t pack too many toiletries, as China has everything you need except deodorant, dental floss, chap stick, skin lotions or skin creams, sun screen, bug repellent, cold/sinus/allergy medications, and antibiotic ointment.” Of course, consulting multiple sources also leaves you with the Catch-22s of traveling advice: food stands on the street are unhygienic gastrointestinal disasters (say the handbooks) or “authentic” and “gourmet” (says the Lonely Planet). Ultimately, I think I’ll choose something in between the “eat nothing” and “eat everything” strategies.
So, while there’s an abundance of information out there on China, nothing is going to help me sort it out as well as some on-the-ground experience – which is pretty much the rationale for studying abroad in the first place. And welcome to the first real post of the blog! Here’s where I plan to post entertaining experiences, give general updates, and escape the language pledge from time to time to make sure I can still use English when I get back to the states. Maybe in the next 8 weeks I’ll develop some opinions and impressions of my own that will be confusing and contradictory for friends, family, and strangers down the road.
Spending a summer in China is a process that begins well before you arrive. In addition to learning about the more mundane logistical arrangements necessary to travel (plane tickets, visa, etc), once you’ve gone public with your decision to visit the PRC, you get to hear the many ways your friends, family, and occasional strangers view America’s favorite rising superpower.
Reactions generally fall into two camps: “Wow, China!” and “Wow. China?” Variants on the theme also include “You’re so lucky to be going during the Olympic Summer!” and “Why would anyone want to go this summer? The Olympics are going to be there…” People tend to bring up the same topics – the Olympics, the earthquake, the pollution, the language – but cast them in completely different light, with varying levels of spin. Given the predominance of China-related stories in international news, it’s not surprising that people are opinionated. Part of the positive spectrum of reactions is probably due to people being polite and encouraging (thanks, by the way), but my guess is that it also indicates the level of media bias that suffuses US coverage of Chinese affairs. We’ll see what I say when I’ve spent some time there.
In the time between finishing school in May and leaving in mid-June, I’ve also had the chance to collect a lot of advice. The Light Fellowship and DSIC have been really helpful by providing handbooks, faqs, and a Lonely Planet: China to cover just about any concern you could have. The advice ranges from the helpful-but-scary – “don’t bring white clothing, as the pollution will turn it grey within days” – to the mildly ironic – “don’t pack too many toiletries, as China has everything you need except deodorant, dental floss, chap stick, skin lotions or skin creams, sun screen, bug repellent, cold/sinus/allergy medications, and antibiotic ointment.” Of course, consulting multiple sources also leaves you with the Catch-22s of traveling advice: food stands on the street are unhygienic gastrointestinal disasters (say the handbooks) or “authentic” and “gourmet” (says the Lonely Planet). Ultimately, I think I’ll choose something in between the “eat nothing” and “eat everything” strategies.
So, while there’s an abundance of information out there on China, nothing is going to help me sort it out as well as some on-the-ground experience – which is pretty much the rationale for studying abroad in the first place. And welcome to the first real post of the blog! Here’s where I plan to post entertaining experiences, give general updates, and escape the language pledge from time to time to make sure I can still use English when I get back to the states. Maybe in the next 8 weeks I’ll develop some opinions and impressions of my own that will be confusing and contradictory for friends, family, and strangers down the road.
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