Friday, October 31, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Not want, thank you.
The Chinese aren’t known for their planning skills, so when I found out at 4:00 pm on Friday, October 18th that I would have a surprise five day weekend, I wasn’t that shocked. Expecting the unexpected is something you quickly become accustomed to in China. My site-mate, Kelly, and I decided to make good use of this gift and take a trip. Only twelve hours after learning about our long weekend, Kelly and I got off a train in Guilin, while the city was still covered in the darkness of night.
Guilin, and our ultimate destination of Yangshuo, are located in the Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region, only eight hours south-west of the Hunan Province. These cities are known to backpackers and tourists as beautiful areas to see China’s famous karst landscape. Karst topography is created when, over millions of years, the ground water dissolves a majority of the bedrock (often limestone), forming mountain-like towers from the harder stone that remains. Unlike most of the other cities I’ve visited, these towns were both flooded with not only thousands of Chinese tourists, but also foreign visitors of all ages. I must admit that it took a while for me to get used to seeing non-Asians at every turn.
Due to the abundance of both Chinese and foreign tourists, many locals are able to make a living selling their wares on the streets. They aren’t shy about approaching travelers to pressure them to take a look at their gourd flutes, DVDs, bracelets, scarves, or whatever else they might have to pawn off. One quickly tires of saying”不要,谢谢” (Bù yào, Xièxie), which literally translates as “not want, thank you”. It’s not just goods though. Coercion also comes from people who would like you to take on a bamboo boat cruise on the Li River, to the Super Water Buddha Cave, or be your guide for the day. Chinese fan? 不要,谢谢. Knock-off North Face jacket? 不要,谢谢. Weird profile cut-out that makes me look like I have a huge bump on my head? 不要,谢谢. Ear cleaning? 不要,谢谢. Osama Bin Laden T-shirt? 不要,谢谢. Taxi ride? 不要,谢谢. I don’t think I’m the first person to become mildly annoyed with then number of times I was forced to say “不要,谢谢” during a visit to Yangshuo. It can be become a little overwhelming and I began to think that these people didn’t see a person, but rather a dollar sign (or a yuan sign) when they looked at me.
While eating lunch with our bicycle tour guide, Daniel, my outlook took a 180˚ turn. I was feeling a little irritated that Kelly and I were tricked into/ forced to buy him lunch at a rather expensive restaurant, when I asked Daniel if he was married. He said he was and that he had a six year old son. He later added that his son lives in a village about 8 km from the town of Yangshuo with his parents, while he and his wife rent a room in the town. Work was hard to come by in the small village and so Daniel and his wife decided it would be better for their family if they sought employment in Yangshuo. There just isn’t time for them to ride their bikes back and forth between the town and the village everyday and there’s no one in the town who is able to watch over the little boy. Daniel and his wife work everyday, trying to find tourists who would like a bicycle tour guide, unable to see their son for months at a time. Then, in the off season when there are fewer tourists, they move back to the village and try to find employment picking fruit. Their lives are neither certain, nor easy.
There I was, feeling sorry for myself because I had to spend an extra ¥10 ($1.50) on this tour guide’s lunch after I already paid him for his guide services. And there he was, fighting every day to make a living, to stay alive, and to give his son the best life he can. Could I be more of a jerk? The least I could do for this very kind man was to buy him a nice lunch and not mentally whine about it.
Lunch with Daniel gave me an entirely new perspective on my need to say 不要,谢谢 time and time again. I’m still not going to buy everything offered to me. Not by a long shot. However, I am going to think not about how it can become irritating to be approached by local vendors, but rather about the person behind the goods and services, that person’s family, and their well-being while saying, “不要,谢谢.”
Guilin, and our ultimate destination of Yangshuo, are located in the Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region, only eight hours south-west of the Hunan Province. These cities are known to backpackers and tourists as beautiful areas to see China’s famous karst landscape. Karst topography is created when, over millions of years, the ground water dissolves a majority of the bedrock (often limestone), forming mountain-like towers from the harder stone that remains. Unlike most of the other cities I’ve visited, these towns were both flooded with not only thousands of Chinese tourists, but also foreign visitors of all ages. I must admit that it took a while for me to get used to seeing non-Asians at every turn.
Due to the abundance of both Chinese and foreign tourists, many locals are able to make a living selling their wares on the streets. They aren’t shy about approaching travelers to pressure them to take a look at their gourd flutes, DVDs, bracelets, scarves, or whatever else they might have to pawn off. One quickly tires of saying”不要,谢谢” (Bù yào, Xièxie), which literally translates as “not want, thank you”. It’s not just goods though. Coercion also comes from people who would like you to take on a bamboo boat cruise on the Li River, to the Super Water Buddha Cave, or be your guide for the day. Chinese fan? 不要,谢谢. Knock-off North Face jacket? 不要,谢谢. Weird profile cut-out that makes me look like I have a huge bump on my head? 不要,谢谢. Ear cleaning? 不要,谢谢. Osama Bin Laden T-shirt? 不要,谢谢. Taxi ride? 不要,谢谢. I don’t think I’m the first person to become mildly annoyed with then number of times I was forced to say “不要,谢谢” during a visit to Yangshuo. It can be become a little overwhelming and I began to think that these people didn’t see a person, but rather a dollar sign (or a yuan sign) when they looked at me.
While eating lunch with our bicycle tour guide, Daniel, my outlook took a 180˚ turn. I was feeling a little irritated that Kelly and I were tricked into/ forced to buy him lunch at a rather expensive restaurant, when I asked Daniel if he was married. He said he was and that he had a six year old son. He later added that his son lives in a village about 8 km from the town of Yangshuo with his parents, while he and his wife rent a room in the town. Work was hard to come by in the small village and so Daniel and his wife decided it would be better for their family if they sought employment in Yangshuo. There just isn’t time for them to ride their bikes back and forth between the town and the village everyday and there’s no one in the town who is able to watch over the little boy. Daniel and his wife work everyday, trying to find tourists who would like a bicycle tour guide, unable to see their son for months at a time. Then, in the off season when there are fewer tourists, they move back to the village and try to find employment picking fruit. Their lives are neither certain, nor easy.
There I was, feeling sorry for myself because I had to spend an extra ¥10 ($1.50) on this tour guide’s lunch after I already paid him for his guide services. And there he was, fighting every day to make a living, to stay alive, and to give his son the best life he can. Could I be more of a jerk? The least I could do for this very kind man was to buy him a nice lunch and not mentally whine about it.
Lunch with Daniel gave me an entirely new perspective on my need to say 不要,谢谢 time and time again. I’m still not going to buy everything offered to me. Not by a long shot. However, I am going to think not about how it can become irritating to be approached by local vendors, but rather about the person behind the goods and services, that person’s family, and their well-being while saying, “不要,谢谢.”
***
If you’d like to see photos of my trip, please follow these links: Yangshuo and Long Ji Rice Terraces and Guilin. (Thanks to Kelly for providing all the photos. My camera is currently out of commission and will be for the next few weeks or so. I’m trying to get it repaired here in Zhuzhou, but it’s proving to be more difficult that one might have thought. In the end, I may just end up having to buy a new one. Whatever happens, there will be pictures!)
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Poor dogs
In addition to the 12 classes I teach weekly, I also lead two “English Corners.” These classes are made up of the best four students in each class (as chosen by their Chinese English teachers). Although there has been a room assignment problem during every single English Corner and getting things started has never been easy, these have quickly become some of my favorite class periods. I love working with a smaller number of students (32 in each class) at a higher level. The students are far more driven to learn English and a majority are very lively and participate. I’m able to have the students do more interesting activities in class and get them up out of their seats.
Because the Chinese school system focuses on the one “right” answer to every problem, there is little room for creativity and students tend to struggle when I ask them to come up with something on their own. It has become my personal goal to allow (and, in some cases, teach) the students in these smaller classes to be more creative. In order to get them talking and get their creative juices flowing, we made up stories as a group last week. I started the students off with a prompt like, “yesterday my mother moved to the moon,” and had them make up the rest of the story, one sentence at a time. They came up with some pretty interesting ideas. Surprisingly, eating hair and talking bugs was an integral part of the plot in both classes. It must be a Chinese thing.
Building off the activity from last week, I had them come up with a stories in small groups this week. The prompt was, “yesterday my mom bought me a dog,” and after 10 minutes to prepare, I had the students share their stories with the whole class. Here is one example. I left their mistakes to give you an idea of the level that the best students are working at.
You may think it’s not much of a story, but I can’t express how pleased I was when they shared that story with the class. I’m happy when they stay on task and speak English, so I guess it doesn’t take much to thrill me. Here’s a second example.
The dog that was eaten in the last story was not a hot dog, but an actual dog. Another story featured a dog name Alice that was consumed by the student’s father. In fact, the dogs in four out of the five stories became dinner before the story was finished.
While it is common to eat dogs in China, it is uncommon to eat animals that were formerly pets. The dogs that become dinner are raised on farms for their meat and are available for purchase at the market. According to many of my Chinese friends, dog meat warms you in the winter and is enjoyed by most girls. Although I am worried about staying warm this winter, I don’t think I’m going to try that specific method.
The stories just prove that apparently I need to think more closely about the animals I choose for my story prompts, if I don’t want to the animals to dinner at the end. Actually, I’m not exactly sure what animal would be safe choice. Maybe giant pandas...
Because the Chinese school system focuses on the one “right” answer to every problem, there is little room for creativity and students tend to struggle when I ask them to come up with something on their own. It has become my personal goal to allow (and, in some cases, teach) the students in these smaller classes to be more creative. In order to get them talking and get their creative juices flowing, we made up stories as a group last week. I started the students off with a prompt like, “yesterday my mother moved to the moon,” and had them make up the rest of the story, one sentence at a time. They came up with some pretty interesting ideas. Surprisingly, eating hair and talking bugs was an integral part of the plot in both classes. It must be a Chinese thing.
Building off the activity from last week, I had them come up with a stories in small groups this week. The prompt was, “yesterday my mom bought me a dog,” and after 10 minutes to prepare, I had the students share their stories with the whole class. Here is one example. I left their mistakes to give you an idea of the level that the best students are working at.
I have a small dog, it’s white. Yestoday we going to naterpark [nature park], The naterpark have many animal. It’s very happy, I’m happy, too!
-written by Shuke, Ford, Anita, and Andy.
You may think it’s not much of a story, but I can’t express how pleased I was when they shared that story with the class. I’m happy when they stay on task and speak English, so I guess it doesn’t take much to thrill me. Here’s a second example.
If I have a little dog. I will playing game with it! and I will give it name. It name is “Mike Jackson hot dog.” Last, I will eating this dog. The dog is very healg [tasty].
-written by Tom Brown, Roy, Harry, Jake, and Tom.
The dog that was eaten in the last story was not a hot dog, but an actual dog. Another story featured a dog name Alice that was consumed by the student’s father. In fact, the dogs in four out of the five stories became dinner before the story was finished.
While it is common to eat dogs in China, it is uncommon to eat animals that were formerly pets. The dogs that become dinner are raised on farms for their meat and are available for purchase at the market. According to many of my Chinese friends, dog meat warms you in the winter and is enjoyed by most girls. Although I am worried about staying warm this winter, I don’t think I’m going to try that specific method.
The stories just prove that apparently I need to think more closely about the animals I choose for my story prompts, if I don’t want to the animals to dinner at the end. Actually, I’m not exactly sure what animal would be safe choice. Maybe giant pandas...
Friday, October 17, 2008
Fireworks!
I think that it is common knowledge that I love fireworks. During the week before and after the 4th of July I can be found driving vast distances to see a good fireworks show. I love the flash of color followed by the sharp sound. While I can remember covering my ears from the boom of sound as a child, I can’t remember being afraid of a quality fireworks display. Being that fireworks were invented in China during the 12th century, I expected that the Chinese would share my love of exploding pyrotechnic stars. I was, however, enormously mistaken. The Chinese don’t merely love fireworks, they are obsessed with them.
During the 12th century fireworks were used by the Chinese people to ward of evil spirits. I have to say that I’ve become a believer. How else would you explain the complete lack of evil spirits in China today? I mean, if I was an evil spirit I would definitely get out of here. The number of fireworks set off every single day is unbelievable. I’ve been in China for about 80 days and I think I can count the number of fireworks-less days I’d had since then on one hand. The Chinese use fireworks to celebrate a birth, a death, a wedding, a holiday, and the grand-opening of a new place of business. I am personally convinced that fireworks also mark the availability of oranges at the market, Tuesdays, and the successful crossing of the street by elderly women. With all these things to celebrate, hearing fireworks is not at all uncommon.
Because the Chinese have so many events to celebrate and many more fireworks to shoot off, they are unable to discriminate on the time of day that they set them off. In the US we generally prefer to view a fireworks display in the dark or, at the very least, dusk. The Chinese do not have this luxury. Darkness does not cover the land long enough. Perhaps for this reason they choose to set off fireworks at any time of day. Today, for example, I was lucky enough to hear a firework display at 6:00am, 7:30am, and 10:45am. You might be wondering how fireworks can be properly seen in the daylight. The answer is simple; they can’t. You are just able to hear loud blasts, which the first few times made me wonder if the city was under attack. In fact, while traveling I met two Israelis who said: “This morning we were awoken by fireworks. Being from Jerusalem, we thought it was gun fire and immediately ducked for cover.”
Personally, I think I’m suffering from fireworks overload and can feel my love of exploding chemicals dying within me, which saddens me greatly. I only hope I’ll be able to recover once I return to the US.
During the 12th century fireworks were used by the Chinese people to ward of evil spirits. I have to say that I’ve become a believer. How else would you explain the complete lack of evil spirits in China today? I mean, if I was an evil spirit I would definitely get out of here. The number of fireworks set off every single day is unbelievable. I’ve been in China for about 80 days and I think I can count the number of fireworks-less days I’d had since then on one hand. The Chinese use fireworks to celebrate a birth, a death, a wedding, a holiday, and the grand-opening of a new place of business. I am personally convinced that fireworks also mark the availability of oranges at the market, Tuesdays, and the successful crossing of the street by elderly women. With all these things to celebrate, hearing fireworks is not at all uncommon.
Because the Chinese have so many events to celebrate and many more fireworks to shoot off, they are unable to discriminate on the time of day that they set them off. In the US we generally prefer to view a fireworks display in the dark or, at the very least, dusk. The Chinese do not have this luxury. Darkness does not cover the land long enough. Perhaps for this reason they choose to set off fireworks at any time of day. Today, for example, I was lucky enough to hear a firework display at 6:00am, 7:30am, and 10:45am. You might be wondering how fireworks can be properly seen in the daylight. The answer is simple; they can’t. You are just able to hear loud blasts, which the first few times made me wonder if the city was under attack. In fact, while traveling I met two Israelis who said: “This morning we were awoken by fireworks. Being from Jerusalem, we thought it was gun fire and immediately ducked for cover.”
Personally, I think I’m suffering from fireworks overload and can feel my love of exploding chemicals dying within me, which saddens me greatly. I only hope I’ll be able to recover once I return to the US.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
A picture's worth a thousand words, so I guess these are worth 52,000.
If you'd like a few visuals of my trip to Sichuan, check out this link. Enjoy!
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Game
« game: (adj) Informal. having the required spirit or will (often followed by for or an infinitive): Who's game for a hike through the woods? »
If I could offer one piece of advice to those considering traveling to or living in China, it would be to take a moment and seriously evaluate your level of game. Let me preface my explaination by saying that this suggestion is mainly directed at people who want to get off the beaten track. You can always do what some like to call “China-light” and not need a terrible amount of game. Although I’ve never been, I know that Beijing, Shanghai, Hong Kong, and Xi’an are amazing cities and I can’t wait to visit them myself. But for those of you wanting to travel to the heart of China, to visit cities that the Chinese themselves visit, and to get a glimpse into real Chinese life, genuine game is an absolute necessity.
Take for example my recent trip to the Sichuan province during what the Chinese call Golden Week. Just the process of getting tickets required game. Because the Chinese are not familiar with the concepts of pre-planning and roundtrip tickets, just making it to Chengdu and back was not certain for some time. The headmaster at one of my friend’s school purchased outbound tickets for the both of us, ensuring our safe and rested arrival. As we setout on a 25 hour train ride that Sunday, however, we had absolutely no guarantee that we wouldn’t be hitchhiking our way back to Hunan. Golden Week is the most traveled of all Chinese holidays, thus not making it home was actually a valid fear. Luckily we got tickets with the help of another friend and things worked out beautifully. Without game, however, I don’t think I would have ever gotten on the train.
Only two days later my travel companion, Caroline, and I found ourselves in another situation that required us either to be totally game or die. Ok, so die is an exaggeration, but game was essential to our sanity. We arrived at Mount Emei, one of the four holiest mountains to Chinese Buddhists, around 6:00 pm with the hope of spending the night in one of the mountain’s many monasteries. We very quickly discovered that there were far more people than there were beds and that night was falling quickly. Due to the fact that the monasteries close at dark, we were in a race against time, as well as thousands of fellow travelers. We proceeded to run around, asking everyone we could where the nearest monastery was located. We finally found the Baoguo Monastery and practically sprinted to the “Accommodations” desk. My heart sank when I heard the monk say those famous two Chinese words, “mei yo” or “don’t have.” It looked like we would be sleeping in the forest. I told him that we were willing to sleep on the floor, but still the answer was “no.” Luckily for us, a monk who spoke a bit of English happened to be walking past and was called over by the monks behind the desk. The second monk told us that there was another option. He proceeded to describe what sounded an awful lot like a Buddhist homeless shelter. I said, perhaps too hastily, that we would take it, while Caroline was less sure. The monk offered to take us to look at the room. It turned out to be just fine and we decided to take it. In the end it was more than fine. We met some really interesting travelers who were in the same situation that we were. One, a Tibetan man, shared with us what it is like to live in modern China as a member of the Tibetan minority. And I can’t help but think that I never would have had the opportunity to talk with him had Caroline and I not been game. Game was incredibly important that night and the following days. I’m honestly not sure what we would have done without it. I’m so glad that I was able to spend my Golden Week traveling with someone who is not only super game, but also a wonderful friend. I’m quite confident we’ll need our game as we travel around Southeast Asia during Spring Festival in a few months, but more on that later.
I have plenty more examples of how important game is in China: sitting on the floor of a bus for over 4 hours, being pushed around by Chinese tourists in a line to see a giant Buddha for another 4 hours, and almost having to sleep in tents on the roof of a hostel after making a reservation for a bed. Rather than go into all of that, I need to highlight that Caroline and I don’t have a monopoly on game. Many of you are game too. You just need to find situations to act on it. Come to China and such situations will throw themselves at your feet.
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