It is officially quarantine time here in Weinan.
The school frantically sent us a message at 8:30 last Wednesday morning: "Sorry to bother you this early, there is an emergence (sic), the school identified one case of flu last night, it is a student from biology department, so we need to talk about this, are you free this morning?"
So we scrambled over to the waiban's office and learned that the night before, school officials were called together for an emergency meeting at 10 p.m. because there were now 15 cases of swine flu in Weinan. Eight cases had been identified at the Railway University in another part of town and one here. "It is a very serious situation."
We knew China was taking H1N1 (the swine flu) seriously when they monitored everyone's temperatures who walked through the Beijing airport and asked us to provide contact information in case anyone on the plane sitting near us had been infected. We even heard stories of people who received daily calls asking if they were alright.
We knew the school was beginning to take H1N1 seriously when they handed us thermometers a month ago and asked us to monitor our temperatures daily, informing school officials if it topped 38 C (100.4 F). Now, they want to be notified if our temperature crosses 37.5 C (99.5). They also began checking IDs at the school gates to limit access. Several schools in Xi'an had already implemented full-blown quarantines, not allowing anyone off-campus, so we crossed our fingers that this wouldn't spread to Weinan.
Now that an infected student on campus has been found, the game has changed.
So the new rules: "Students will not be allowed to leave campus unless they have very urgent business and a note from the dean."
Teachers will be allowed to leave campus, but are be strongly urged not to do so unless absolutely necessary. "
You'd think that someone had died, not just gotten a case of the flu, but the fallout in China after their failure to stop the spread of bird flu a few years ago had them kicking precautionary measures into overdrive here.
Thankfully they only FORBADE us from going to two places: the two big, crowded supermarkets where we do most of our grocery shopping.
"You should avoid crowded areas," we were told. "Also, it is better if you cook at home rather than going to restaurants."
Unfortunately, there was a problem: We are about to leave for Beijing, since Ruth's parents were about to board their flight to visit us only a few hours after we were notified of the quarantine. It's a bit difficult to avoid crowded places in a city of some 17 million people.
"Maybe you should wear a mask."
"Do you know where we can buy one?" I asked, thinking that probably the now off-limits supermarkets might be our best bet. The school gave us several for the trip.
We did just come back from a few days in Beijing with Ruth's parents (we took them to the Great Wall, where the leaves were turning orange and yellow, the Temple of Heaven, Tiananmen, the Hutongs an acrobat show and our favorite Chinese Mexican restaurant: Pete's Tex-Mex). Now we're wondering just how much off-campus exploration of China they're going to be allowed to do. When we first arrived from the train station, the guard asked to see our IDs. We probably were only allowed to enter because of our foreignness. I was able to leave campus yesterday to buy some groceries at a smaller nearby store, but it'll be a shame for them to come to China and not be able to go anywhere or eat Chinese food. What happens when we take them to Xi'an this weekend? Not quite sure.
We'll see. So far, I've only seen a handful of students and a few teachers walking around campus wearing protective masks.
Then again, this afternoon, one of the workers in the English department stopped Ruth, asking if she taught a particular class. "The roommate of one of the students in your class has H1N1, so all of your students will be required to wear masks when they are in the dormitory and while they are in the classroom so that nobody else gets sick."
Rumors among students are swirling that perhaps as many as 100 students aren't allowed to leave their rooms and that at least three are symptomatic. Students, many of whom live nearby and go home every weekend, are already getting stir-crazy. At least one has admitted to burrowing through a tiny hole in the fence so she can see her boyfriend off campus.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
Being Eaten by a Lion...and other things that surprise me
The other day I bought eggs at the grocery store. Usually they come about 15 in a plastic bag, and they are still covered with poop and dirt and feathers. This time when I took them out of the bag to wash them, the eggs were all clean. I didn’t see a single bit of poop on anyone of them. My natural response was suspicion. “This can’t be right. What is wrong with these eggs?”
Then I began thinking about how my natural responses to things are becoming a little bit strange. Why would I be suspicious about eggs just because they happen to be clean?
The past few days I have noticed several other unusual things that surprise me. For example…
*Today I went to shut the door in my classroom and thought something seemed strange. Then I realized it was because the door actually had a doorknob.
*I got through my entire lesson plan for the first time this semester.
*I went to a website the other day and it wasn’t blocked.
*80% of my students didn’t copy their homework from the internet.
*The good cooking smell in the hallway tonight was actually coming from my apartment (the benefits of the crockpot).
In other news, my parents will be coming in just a few days! They will be here visiting for about two and a half weeks. While here, I am making them come to/teach my classes, give culture lectures, clean the apartment (oops, haven’t told them that yet). Actually, we have been doing lots of cleaning getting ready for them to come. I always forget how big our office is when the floor isn’t covered with stacks of papers. It’s like a new room.
Anyway, we’ll probably be pretty busy while they’re here and might not be doing a bunch of blogging. Unless I make them write a blog. That’s actually a great idea…guest bloggers. I should look into that.
About that lion...the random pictures which are appearing in every post are due to the fact that blogger is one of the 10,000,000,031 websites that are blocked. Flickr, strangely, surprisingly, is not blocked, so we are able to upload blogs by posting them with a picture. So we upload the blog in Flickr, it then goes to Blogspot, which then imports it to Facebook. My how we do get around. Seriously though, this blocking thing is driving me crazy. The special holiday is over – give us back our webpages!
Then I began thinking about how my natural responses to things are becoming a little bit strange. Why would I be suspicious about eggs just because they happen to be clean?
The past few days I have noticed several other unusual things that surprise me. For example…
*Today I went to shut the door in my classroom and thought something seemed strange. Then I realized it was because the door actually had a doorknob.
*I got through my entire lesson plan for the first time this semester.
*I went to a website the other day and it wasn’t blocked.
*80% of my students didn’t copy their homework from the internet.
*The good cooking smell in the hallway tonight was actually coming from my apartment (the benefits of the crockpot).
In other news, my parents will be coming in just a few days! They will be here visiting for about two and a half weeks. While here, I am making them come to/teach my classes, give culture lectures, clean the apartment (oops, haven’t told them that yet). Actually, we have been doing lots of cleaning getting ready for them to come. I always forget how big our office is when the floor isn’t covered with stacks of papers. It’s like a new room.
Anyway, we’ll probably be pretty busy while they’re here and might not be doing a bunch of blogging. Unless I make them write a blog. That’s actually a great idea…guest bloggers. I should look into that.
About that lion...the random pictures which are appearing in every post are due to the fact that blogger is one of the 10,000,000,031 websites that are blocked. Flickr, strangely, surprisingly, is not blocked, so we are able to upload blogs by posting them with a picture. So we upload the blog in Flickr, it then goes to Blogspot, which then imports it to Facebook. My how we do get around. Seriously though, this blocking thing is driving me crazy. The special holiday is over – give us back our webpages!
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
The Up and Down
(or, Who Says Mood Swings are Just for Teenagers?)
By Ruth
Everybody has bad days, but when you live in China and have a bad day, you can call it a “Bad China Day” and conveniently blame everything on China. Sometimes it deserves it. Sometimes it is just a handy scapegoat.
Prologue
I’m pretty sure this is breaking “blog length etiquette” rules all over the place, but since I haven’t really been blogging much recently, I felt the need to get it all out all my recent thoughts in one long monologue. For ease of reading, I decided to divide it into chapters.
Chapter 1: Test
The other day we had to take a test for the school or for the country or something. It was an evaluation for “foreign experts” working in China involving a basic knowledge test, a psychological test, and a writing test. Evaluating foreigners isn’t such a bad idea (have you seen some of the foreigners they let over here? Yikes…) It’s just the methods that were somewhat…lacking.
The psychological questions were...confusing. Some of the wording wasn’t exactly the clearest. For example:
- Do you agree that the up-and-down is not the real life, but trivial daily life is real?
- When you describe one thing, what would you like to do?
- What do you think about the idea that the actively taking is better than passively receiving?
The “basic knowledge test” asked some basic questions. It also asked some things like,
- Who is the current president of the United States? (Obama was not one of the answer choices, so I chose George W. Bush)
- When did the UN reach the agreement titled Declaration of the United Nations Conference on Human Environment?
- Who is the current prime minister of China? (Unfortunately…it doesn’t have a prime minister. It does have a premiere, sometimes incorrectly referred to as prime minister)
- Which skin color is most common among Chinese people? (…and the correct answer is apparently “yellow”)
- 0.0495×2500+49.5×2.4+51×4.95=?
It was pretty funny overall, but the other night when I was taking this test, I was not in a funny mood. So by the time I finished, I was pretty ticked off about having to spend my time on something that seemed so useless. My complaints automatically went from small scale (stupid test) to large anger encompassing the entire country. “This is such a stupid country! The whole thing is ridiculous. It’s all so stupid. All 1.3 billion people. Why do I live here? ”
Chapter 2: Class
Which is funny, because mere hours earlier I was in class, watching my students discuss a question and thinking, “I love my students. They’re so cute and fun. I love teaching. It’s so great that we get to be here and do this.”
And the next day, after the previous night's test anger had passed, I was back in class looking adoringly at my students. This week’s lesson was fun to teach. The topic was dating, and student love to talk about anything like that. 95.7% of them are hopeless romantics. I returned from class thinking happy thoughts about my sweet little students…until I started grading their homework.
They had watched an English movie, read an English book, or listened to English music and written a review about it. Most of them wrote good reviews, but some of them were too good, far too good. It was the difference between writing like this:
“They have a dream that one day to go to South American 'wonderland waterfall' adventure. But until Ellie died, this dream didn’t also can achieve.”
and writing like this:
“But this is 1970’s Afghanistan and Hassan is merely a low-caste servant who is jeered at on the street.”
So I looked them up on Google, and sure enough, there they were. No more happy thoughts of innocent students. I was already drawing up the plans for a scathing lecture that would leave them all feeling small and ashamed. Suddenly every student was a lazy, dishonest plagiarizer.
At least until I went back to class today and my student said, “Ruth, I think you are very humorous this year. You make us laugh all the time.” And I thought, “My students are so cute. They think I’m funny. I am pretty funny, aren’t I? I just love my students.”
Chapter 3: Headache
A few hours after the “you’re so funny” comment, the headache which had been lingering around all day came out in full force. As did the train horns, bus horns, car alarms, screaming children and every other possible noisemaker in a one mile radius. China is a noisy place. I guess that’s what happens when you squeeze a thousand people into a few acres next to thee railroad tracks and a highway, and several hundred of those people are children, and anyone who drives a motor vehicle believes that the coolest part is the horn.
Whenever I have a headache, it seems like everyone goes into noise-making overdrive. So I lay in bed with a hot rice sock on my neck and a frozen bag of corn on my forehead mentally strangling the world’s horn-manufacturers.
Unfortunately, headaches wait for no man (or would it be, time waits for no headaches?) and I had to go do a culture lecture. At the culture lecture,
1. The students laughed at me. I’m so funny! :)
2. The computer locked up. Why do computers hate me? :(
3. My little freshmen waved excitedly and smiled adoringly at me. :)
4. My former student told me I should study harder to learn more Chinese (which is totally true, I just didn’t want to hear it). :(
5. My headache receded. :)
6. My student told me I looked tired. True, but generally that’s like when someone says you look sick. It’s not a compliment. :(
7. Christina told me I looked like Rory, the early years (when she was smart and not slutty). :)
Epilogue: The Moral
As I review the last 48 hours, I find that apparently I do believe “the up-and-down” is the real life. The past few weeks have held even more ups and downs, ones more significant and not quite as funny.
A month ago I decided to memorize Psalm 16, particularly because I wanted to remember a few verses in the middle:
“You have assigned me my portion and my cup:
You have made my lot secure.
The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places:
Surely I have a delightful inheritance.”
These past few weeks I have been thinking about those verses a lot. There have been times when I’ve thought, “It totally makes sense! All is pleasant and delightful!” There have been other times when I’ve had to say, “Really? Really? Surely this is not what You were talking about.”
But today as I was lying in bed willing my headache away, all of a sudden it made sense and I thought, it is true. It's really true. The ups and the downs are like variations on the earth’s surface. Mountains blend into hills which turn into valleys. Oceans end and deserts begin. But far beneath it all, the same core stands firm and unchanging.
I’m not always happy about where I am or the events that happen in life. Sometimes I’d like to choose my own “boundary lines,” thank you very much because these ones aren’t looking so good. But sometimes I realize that I’m just looking at the surface of the land. What’s underneath, what doesn’t change, really is that pleasant place, the delightful inheritance.
So…the moral(s) of the story?
#1: Stupid, Chinglishy tests can teach you something.
#2: Feelings change every week, day, hour, and/or minute.
#3: Far underneath, there lies a truth that never changes.
By Ruth
Everybody has bad days, but when you live in China and have a bad day, you can call it a “Bad China Day” and conveniently blame everything on China. Sometimes it deserves it. Sometimes it is just a handy scapegoat.
Prologue
I’m pretty sure this is breaking “blog length etiquette” rules all over the place, but since I haven’t really been blogging much recently, I felt the need to get it all out all my recent thoughts in one long monologue. For ease of reading, I decided to divide it into chapters.
Chapter 1: Test
The other day we had to take a test for the school or for the country or something. It was an evaluation for “foreign experts” working in China involving a basic knowledge test, a psychological test, and a writing test. Evaluating foreigners isn’t such a bad idea (have you seen some of the foreigners they let over here? Yikes…) It’s just the methods that were somewhat…lacking.
The psychological questions were...confusing. Some of the wording wasn’t exactly the clearest. For example:
- Do you agree that the up-and-down is not the real life, but trivial daily life is real?
- When you describe one thing, what would you like to do?
- What do you think about the idea that the actively taking is better than passively receiving?
The “basic knowledge test” asked some basic questions. It also asked some things like,
- Who is the current president of the United States? (Obama was not one of the answer choices, so I chose George W. Bush)
- When did the UN reach the agreement titled Declaration of the United Nations Conference on Human Environment?
- Who is the current prime minister of China? (Unfortunately…it doesn’t have a prime minister. It does have a premiere, sometimes incorrectly referred to as prime minister)
- Which skin color is most common among Chinese people? (…and the correct answer is apparently “yellow”)
- 0.0495×2500+49.5×2.4+51×4.95=?
It was pretty funny overall, but the other night when I was taking this test, I was not in a funny mood. So by the time I finished, I was pretty ticked off about having to spend my time on something that seemed so useless. My complaints automatically went from small scale (stupid test) to large anger encompassing the entire country. “This is such a stupid country! The whole thing is ridiculous. It’s all so stupid. All 1.3 billion people. Why do I live here? ”
Chapter 2: Class
Which is funny, because mere hours earlier I was in class, watching my students discuss a question and thinking, “I love my students. They’re so cute and fun. I love teaching. It’s so great that we get to be here and do this.”
And the next day, after the previous night's test anger had passed, I was back in class looking adoringly at my students. This week’s lesson was fun to teach. The topic was dating, and student love to talk about anything like that. 95.7% of them are hopeless romantics. I returned from class thinking happy thoughts about my sweet little students…until I started grading their homework.
They had watched an English movie, read an English book, or listened to English music and written a review about it. Most of them wrote good reviews, but some of them were too good, far too good. It was the difference between writing like this:
“They have a dream that one day to go to South American 'wonderland waterfall' adventure. But until Ellie died, this dream didn’t also can achieve.”
and writing like this:
“But this is 1970’s Afghanistan and Hassan is merely a low-caste servant who is jeered at on the street.”
So I looked them up on Google, and sure enough, there they were. No more happy thoughts of innocent students. I was already drawing up the plans for a scathing lecture that would leave them all feeling small and ashamed. Suddenly every student was a lazy, dishonest plagiarizer.
At least until I went back to class today and my student said, “Ruth, I think you are very humorous this year. You make us laugh all the time.” And I thought, “My students are so cute. They think I’m funny. I am pretty funny, aren’t I? I just love my students.”
Chapter 3: Headache
A few hours after the “you’re so funny” comment, the headache which had been lingering around all day came out in full force. As did the train horns, bus horns, car alarms, screaming children and every other possible noisemaker in a one mile radius. China is a noisy place. I guess that’s what happens when you squeeze a thousand people into a few acres next to thee railroad tracks and a highway, and several hundred of those people are children, and anyone who drives a motor vehicle believes that the coolest part is the horn.
Whenever I have a headache, it seems like everyone goes into noise-making overdrive. So I lay in bed with a hot rice sock on my neck and a frozen bag of corn on my forehead mentally strangling the world’s horn-manufacturers.
Unfortunately, headaches wait for no man (or would it be, time waits for no headaches?) and I had to go do a culture lecture. At the culture lecture,
1. The students laughed at me. I’m so funny! :)
2. The computer locked up. Why do computers hate me? :(
3. My little freshmen waved excitedly and smiled adoringly at me. :)
4. My former student told me I should study harder to learn more Chinese (which is totally true, I just didn’t want to hear it). :(
5. My headache receded. :)
6. My student told me I looked tired. True, but generally that’s like when someone says you look sick. It’s not a compliment. :(
7. Christina told me I looked like Rory, the early years (when she was smart and not slutty). :)
Epilogue: The Moral
As I review the last 48 hours, I find that apparently I do believe “the up-and-down” is the real life. The past few weeks have held even more ups and downs, ones more significant and not quite as funny.
A month ago I decided to memorize Psalm 16, particularly because I wanted to remember a few verses in the middle:
“You have assigned me my portion and my cup:
You have made my lot secure.
The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places:
Surely I have a delightful inheritance.”
These past few weeks I have been thinking about those verses a lot. There have been times when I’ve thought, “It totally makes sense! All is pleasant and delightful!” There have been other times when I’ve had to say, “Really? Really? Surely this is not what You were talking about.”
But today as I was lying in bed willing my headache away, all of a sudden it made sense and I thought, it is true. It's really true. The ups and the downs are like variations on the earth’s surface. Mountains blend into hills which turn into valleys. Oceans end and deserts begin. But far beneath it all, the same core stands firm and unchanging.
I’m not always happy about where I am or the events that happen in life. Sometimes I’d like to choose my own “boundary lines,” thank you very much because these ones aren’t looking so good. But sometimes I realize that I’m just looking at the surface of the land. What’s underneath, what doesn’t change, really is that pleasant place, the delightful inheritance.
So…the moral(s) of the story?
#1: Stupid, Chinglishy tests can teach you something.
#2: Feelings change every week, day, hour, and/or minute.
#3: Far underneath, there lies a truth that never changes.
Monday, October 5, 2009
60 Years of China
by Ruth
(photo by Kevin)
October the first was an important day for China. It was the 60th anniversary of the People’s Republic of China. Each year the country has a week long holiday to celebrate National Day. Every ten years, a big military parade is held in Beijing. But this year’s holiday was a really-really-really big deal.
To make sure there were no troubles or disruptions during the national holiday, Beijing instituted security measures than were even firmer than during the Olympics. They also blocked about 15,000 new websites in the weeks leading up to the day. Facebook is long gone, blogger has also fallen by the wayside (so we are uploading blogs via flickr), and we haven’t even been able to find a proxy site to break us through the barriers. We’re still holding out hope that once the national day hype backs down, we’ll regain some more access.
Anyway, on the morning of October 1st, a big military parade was held in Beijing. Only the top leaders and elite of the elite were invited to attend, but the whole country followed along on TV. We invited some students who stayed here during the holiday over to watch it with us. They were excited and brimming with pride about being Chinese. Sometimes I have to envy their patriotic zeal. Being Chinese seems to be one of the most central aspects of their identity.
In the evening of National Day, another big performance/gala was held in Beijing. It involved 60,000 performers singing and dancing and waving things in the air (all perfectly synchronized of course). It also included twice as many fireworks as the Olympics. The performance lasted for 1 hour and 40 minutes, and fireworks were going off for at least 75% of that time. It was all quite impressive.
I could say more, and perhaps Kevin will later, but for now I will just leave you with two recommended sights. I really should have put these at the beginning because they are more interesting than the blog.
A fellow foreigner in China posted some links, and I wanted to pass them onto you. They are both really interesting.
1. (http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2009/10/china_celebrates_60_years.html) First is a series of pictures from the military parade.
2. (http://vimeo.com/6853452) Second is an interesting video – a combination of time lapse and slow motion that condenses the parade into 3 minutes 42 seconds.
(photo by Kevin)
October the first was an important day for China. It was the 60th anniversary of the People’s Republic of China. Each year the country has a week long holiday to celebrate National Day. Every ten years, a big military parade is held in Beijing. But this year’s holiday was a really-really-really big deal.
To make sure there were no troubles or disruptions during the national holiday, Beijing instituted security measures than were even firmer than during the Olympics. They also blocked about 15,000 new websites in the weeks leading up to the day. Facebook is long gone, blogger has also fallen by the wayside (so we are uploading blogs via flickr), and we haven’t even been able to find a proxy site to break us through the barriers. We’re still holding out hope that once the national day hype backs down, we’ll regain some more access.
Anyway, on the morning of October 1st, a big military parade was held in Beijing. Only the top leaders and elite of the elite were invited to attend, but the whole country followed along on TV. We invited some students who stayed here during the holiday over to watch it with us. They were excited and brimming with pride about being Chinese. Sometimes I have to envy their patriotic zeal. Being Chinese seems to be one of the most central aspects of their identity.
In the evening of National Day, another big performance/gala was held in Beijing. It involved 60,000 performers singing and dancing and waving things in the air (all perfectly synchronized of course). It also included twice as many fireworks as the Olympics. The performance lasted for 1 hour and 40 minutes, and fireworks were going off for at least 75% of that time. It was all quite impressive.
I could say more, and perhaps Kevin will later, but for now I will just leave you with two recommended sights. I really should have put these at the beginning because they are more interesting than the blog.
A fellow foreigner in China posted some links, and I wanted to pass them onto you. They are both really interesting.
1. (http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2009/10/china_celebrates_60_years.html) First is a series of pictures from the military parade.
2. (http://vimeo.com/6853452) Second is an interesting video – a combination of time lapse and slow motion that condenses the parade into 3 minutes 42 seconds.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Nationalistic Patriotic People's Singing Extravaganza
Sept. 23, 2009 (it's been a crazy week, so I didn't have a chance to finish this till now, but since today is THE National Day, Oct. 1, now's as good a time as any)
By Kevin
It was finally here: the much-anticipated singing competition. After weeks of listening to choirs from each of some 20 departments at the school, including staff, office workers and cafeteria workers, rehearse a half-dozen patriotic "revolutionary" songs dating back to the founding of modern China (the PRC), it was show time.
We weren't sure until now where the competition would be held, but we followed the sound and sauntered out to the square on campus a few minutes after we'd been told it would start: at 2 p.m. (No city or school in China would be complete without a giant concrete square modeled somewhat after the large one in the capital where untold numbers of major events have occurred in the last 60 years has) The steps in front of the central teaching building made a natural stage for choirs. Thousands of students sat in the square. Some were dutifully watching the performances, which had already begun. Most were huddled underneath umbrellas chatting with friends. Though the temperature was in the 80s, many still wore long sleeves, so umbrellas, or as we've taken to calling them, "sunbrellas" were necessary to help the students keep their skin white. Generally Chinese people have a polar opposite reaction to sunny days from Americans. American women sunbathe, often admiring the darker tones of other cultures. Chinese girls do everything they can to be as pale as they can, admiring the whiteness of our skin.
But I digress. As we looked for the students, teachers and leaders from the English department, who we've heard practicing for hours on end for the last few weeks, we found out that they were inside the building getting dressed and doing their makeup. Yes, even though few students wear makeup, both guys and girls made sure to apply the most gaudy stage makeup they could imagine.
As I walked into the building, and unfamiliar student approached. "Can I ask you a question?" he asked, nervously. I assumed he wanted to know how to improve his spoken English or one of the other standard questions Chinese students need to know about us. "Can I borrow your shoes."
I figured I heard him wrong. "My shoes?" I asked, sizing him up. He was taller than an average Chinese student, but I still had several inches on him. "Won't they be a little bit big on you?"
"It doesn't matter," he said. "My leader said I must wear black shoes, but we only have 15 minutes until we will sing."
I put my foot next to his. My size 13 foot dwarfed his size 9. But he insisted that the size difference wouldn't matter. "I will still need shoes to wear, though," I explained. "Let's go to my house and I can exchange shoes with you there."
"I think we'd better run," he said. "I don't have much time."
On the way to the apartment, in between hard breaths, he explained that he was a "fresh student" (Chinglish for "freshman," which I'd guessed -- all the freshmen wear the same white shirt with yellow and blue fringe) and that his English name was Darren.
At the apartment, Darren slipped his feet into my shoes. There was a good inch to spare behind his heel. We couldn't run back to the staging area because the shoes were too loose. He walked with his knees bent, trying to keep his feet from slipping out of clown shoes. I remembered how big my Dad's shoes felt whenever I tried them on as a child. I tried to imagine how he felt, walking in the shoes of a foreigner to sing patriotic Chinese songs.
When he made it back, the math department was waiting, they were second in line to sing. He endured several minutes of ridicule from his friends, who seemed to tease him about his shoes. I wonder what he told them. Undoubtedly I was now his best friend.
After he sang, he came back, slipped back into his white shoes and thanked me profusely for helping him. Around this time Ruth and Christina came back from going to see the English department teachers and students putting on their makeup. They'd learned that the English department would be the 17th group to perform. We were on group number five and it was now more than an hour into the program. We decided we'd kill the time in the comforts of our apartments, then return just before the English department performed. There's only so many times a foreigner can handle hearing the same half-dozen revolutionary marches sung over and over again, even if the arrangements are (slightly) different.
Around 4:30 p.m., our students and colleagues were finally in the staging area, anxiously awaiting their chance to do the motherland proud and show off their patriotic zeal. I thought about how many millions of college students were likely doing the same thing today or sometime in the coming week. They proudly took the stage and sung with all their might. After they exited to the other side of the stage, we hurried to find them, so we could congratulate them on a job well done. By the time we found them, the last group, the Art department (which includes not only painters and sculptors, but also musicians and singers), took the stage and blew everyone else away.
Thankfully, the English department wasn't competing against them.
"Can you understand what they are singing?" asked Connor, a former student who is now a junior. Nope. He seemed confused by our appearance. "They are patriotic songs about the motherland."
"I figured as much. China is celebrating it's 60th anniversary. It's a big deal."
"Why did you come?" he asked.
I thought it seemed obvious. This was a huge outdoor competition with a mass of thousands of students. The school "strongly encouraged" us to move classes in order to accommodate students who might want to watch. Music had been blaring on loudspeakers all day long. We couldn't avoid it if we tried. But I kept those explanations to myself and went with the still truthful, but more diplomatic, approach: "We wanted to come," I said. "We've been hearing students and teachers practice for a long time. We knew that the singing would be excellent and we wanted to support our students."
Before long, prizes were announced. First prize for the non-educational portion: the cafeteria workers. My mind flashed to Saturday Night Live skits with Chris Farley dancing to Adam Sandler's song about "Lunch Lady Land." Clearly I wasn't as mentally caught up in the patriotic fervor of the students around me.
I asked why Connor wasn't singing, since almost all of the other boys in the department were on stage. "I wish I could have been there," he said.
"I went to the first practice, but I had the runs for more than a week," he explained, using a bit of slang he'd recently picked up. "I couldn't stand there for two hours to practice."
I listened to the awards and noticed a couple that were familiar: "Wai jiao" (foreigner), so I was able to anticipate the student's translation. "We won," exclaimed one student, grinning. "First prize for the English department."
Another student, who had sung with the group, said he hoped this meant that the English Department would treat them to dinner. "So far, the department has given us a notebook for participating," he said, sensing a tinge of disappointment.
As we left, a reporter from the local newspaper grinned and asked us to pose for a few photos, handing his camera to a student to snap his memento of his fortunate rendezvous foreigners at a patriotic Chinese singing competition. Who knows if or when the photo might show up in print.
By Kevin
It was finally here: the much-anticipated singing competition. After weeks of listening to choirs from each of some 20 departments at the school, including staff, office workers and cafeteria workers, rehearse a half-dozen patriotic "revolutionary" songs dating back to the founding of modern China (the PRC), it was show time.
We weren't sure until now where the competition would be held, but we followed the sound and sauntered out to the square on campus a few minutes after we'd been told it would start: at 2 p.m. (No city or school in China would be complete without a giant concrete square modeled somewhat after the large one in the capital where untold numbers of major events have occurred in the last 60 years has) The steps in front of the central teaching building made a natural stage for choirs. Thousands of students sat in the square. Some were dutifully watching the performances, which had already begun. Most were huddled underneath umbrellas chatting with friends. Though the temperature was in the 80s, many still wore long sleeves, so umbrellas, or as we've taken to calling them, "sunbrellas" were necessary to help the students keep their skin white. Generally Chinese people have a polar opposite reaction to sunny days from Americans. American women sunbathe, often admiring the darker tones of other cultures. Chinese girls do everything they can to be as pale as they can, admiring the whiteness of our skin.
But I digress. As we looked for the students, teachers and leaders from the English department, who we've heard practicing for hours on end for the last few weeks, we found out that they were inside the building getting dressed and doing their makeup. Yes, even though few students wear makeup, both guys and girls made sure to apply the most gaudy stage makeup they could imagine.
As I walked into the building, and unfamiliar student approached. "Can I ask you a question?" he asked, nervously. I assumed he wanted to know how to improve his spoken English or one of the other standard questions Chinese students need to know about us. "Can I borrow your shoes."
I figured I heard him wrong. "My shoes?" I asked, sizing him up. He was taller than an average Chinese student, but I still had several inches on him. "Won't they be a little bit big on you?"
"It doesn't matter," he said. "My leader said I must wear black shoes, but we only have 15 minutes until we will sing."
I put my foot next to his. My size 13 foot dwarfed his size 9. But he insisted that the size difference wouldn't matter. "I will still need shoes to wear, though," I explained. "Let's go to my house and I can exchange shoes with you there."
"I think we'd better run," he said. "I don't have much time."
On the way to the apartment, in between hard breaths, he explained that he was a "fresh student" (Chinglish for "freshman," which I'd guessed -- all the freshmen wear the same white shirt with yellow and blue fringe) and that his English name was Darren.
At the apartment, Darren slipped his feet into my shoes. There was a good inch to spare behind his heel. We couldn't run back to the staging area because the shoes were too loose. He walked with his knees bent, trying to keep his feet from slipping out of clown shoes. I remembered how big my Dad's shoes felt whenever I tried them on as a child. I tried to imagine how he felt, walking in the shoes of a foreigner to sing patriotic Chinese songs.
When he made it back, the math department was waiting, they were second in line to sing. He endured several minutes of ridicule from his friends, who seemed to tease him about his shoes. I wonder what he told them. Undoubtedly I was now his best friend.
After he sang, he came back, slipped back into his white shoes and thanked me profusely for helping him. Around this time Ruth and Christina came back from going to see the English department teachers and students putting on their makeup. They'd learned that the English department would be the 17th group to perform. We were on group number five and it was now more than an hour into the program. We decided we'd kill the time in the comforts of our apartments, then return just before the English department performed. There's only so many times a foreigner can handle hearing the same half-dozen revolutionary marches sung over and over again, even if the arrangements are (slightly) different.
Around 4:30 p.m., our students and colleagues were finally in the staging area, anxiously awaiting their chance to do the motherland proud and show off their patriotic zeal. I thought about how many millions of college students were likely doing the same thing today or sometime in the coming week. They proudly took the stage and sung with all their might. After they exited to the other side of the stage, we hurried to find them, so we could congratulate them on a job well done. By the time we found them, the last group, the Art department (which includes not only painters and sculptors, but also musicians and singers), took the stage and blew everyone else away.
Thankfully, the English department wasn't competing against them.
"Can you understand what they are singing?" asked Connor, a former student who is now a junior. Nope. He seemed confused by our appearance. "They are patriotic songs about the motherland."
"I figured as much. China is celebrating it's 60th anniversary. It's a big deal."
"Why did you come?" he asked.
I thought it seemed obvious. This was a huge outdoor competition with a mass of thousands of students. The school "strongly encouraged" us to move classes in order to accommodate students who might want to watch. Music had been blaring on loudspeakers all day long. We couldn't avoid it if we tried. But I kept those explanations to myself and went with the still truthful, but more diplomatic, approach: "We wanted to come," I said. "We've been hearing students and teachers practice for a long time. We knew that the singing would be excellent and we wanted to support our students."
Before long, prizes were announced. First prize for the non-educational portion: the cafeteria workers. My mind flashed to Saturday Night Live skits with Chris Farley dancing to Adam Sandler's song about "Lunch Lady Land." Clearly I wasn't as mentally caught up in the patriotic fervor of the students around me.
I asked why Connor wasn't singing, since almost all of the other boys in the department were on stage. "I wish I could have been there," he said.
"I went to the first practice, but I had the runs for more than a week," he explained, using a bit of slang he'd recently picked up. "I couldn't stand there for two hours to practice."
I listened to the awards and noticed a couple that were familiar: "Wai jiao" (foreigner), so I was able to anticipate the student's translation. "We won," exclaimed one student, grinning. "First prize for the English department."
Another student, who had sung with the group, said he hoped this meant that the English Department would treat them to dinner. "So far, the department has given us a notebook for participating," he said, sensing a tinge of disappointment.
As we left, a reporter from the local newspaper grinned and asked us to pose for a few photos, handing his camera to a student to snap his memento of his fortunate rendezvous foreigners at a patriotic Chinese singing competition. Who knows if or when the photo might show up in print.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
"If you aren't confused, you aren't paying attention"
One of our company leaders, who has lived in China for over 20 years, has several mottos for understanding life in China/Chinese society. One of them is, “If you aren’t confused, you aren’t paying attention.” Our lives seem to often demonstrate this point. Take this afternoon, for example...
2:30pm - Kevin and I go to teach our phonetics classes (they are in multi-media computer classrooms). I arrive to find my classroom unlocked but empty. I have no idea where they are, and since I have only met them once, I don’t have any phone numbers yet. Meanwhile, Kevin arrives at his classroom to find my students instead of his students in his classroom (it takes a while to realize this, however, since we’ve only met these freshmen once).
2:35pm – I call my teammate Kelly who also teaches my student and has fortunately gotten their phone numbers already. I find out the student monitor’s number and try to give him a call. Meanwhile, Kevin realizes my students are in his classroom and goes searching for his students.
2:36pm – I call Kelly back since I can’t get a hold of the monitor and ask for another student phone number. I call the student but he can’t understand anything I’m saying. At the same time, Kevin shows up at my door saying he has found my class, and he will send them down.
2:40pm – My students arrive in my classroom. I have no idea why they went to the other classroom, but we can finally get started. Kevin finds his students and brings them to the right classroom.
2:45pm – Kevin can’t get the computers in his classroom to work. He goes to the office to enlist some help. The help (the poor people from the office who deal with all our problems) was unable to help. The Office Man told Kevin he would find another classroom for him, but then disappeared. Kevin ran to find Office Man while his students waited in the hallway.
2:55pm - After running up and down the stairs several times, Kevin was able to find Office Man who unlocks a new classroom for them. Kevin finally starts class.
3:10pm – I am doing individual pre-tests with my students while the others watch a movie. Everything was going smoothly until 20 minutes into the movie when the students’ computer monitors all inexplicably stop working. I try the only things I know how to do – reopen the program and reboot the power. These have no effect so I send a student up to the office for help.
3:15pm – I tell the waiting students to talk about something random and try to continue my individual testing. Office Man comes down and does something with the computers and the power. He leaves before we realize it still doesn’t work.
3:20pm – I send the student back up to the office, but he finds no one there. They are apparently now all in a meeting. They cannot fix it until after the class. I tell my students to do some random activities from the book while I try to finish up the tests.
3:55pm – After about five more interruptions which I won’t detail, I finish up the tests and try to finish up the class. I’ve gotten pretty accustomed to unexpected problems and confusions, but I am still feeling rather frazzled.
4:10pm – As my next class of students enter the classroom, I go back up to the office to request more help. Another office man comes down and he and another random person try to do some different things on the computer. Finally they decide that these computers cannot be fixed right now, so we all move to another classroom.
4:20pm – Meanwhile, Kelly has arrived to teach her Oral English class only her students aren’t there. For some reason, the students thought they would have Kevin’s phonetics class today instead. They show up at Kevin’s classroom and are confused and a little bit offended that Kevin won’t teach them now. He tells them they are supposed to be meeting Kelly instead.
4:30pm - Kelly and her class are reunited. Kevin and his next class find each other. My new classroom computers work well with no problems. We are all happy though still deeply confused.
Fortunately, my second class got to actually see the movie (Wild Hearts Can’t be Broken) and they loved it. Perhaps even more than I do. They laughed at funny moments. They clapped at triumphant moments. I heard sniffling during the sad parts. They clasped their hands and leaned forward during suspenseful moments. They sighed contentedly during the romantic parts. I love showing movies to Chinese students.
If you would believe it, this story was actually even more complex in real life, but I left out some of the other complications because I figured you'd already be confused enough. Chaos is often a normal part of life in China, but not usually quite so much for quite so many people all at the same time. As the Chinese would say, "Aiii Yaaaa!"
2:30pm - Kevin and I go to teach our phonetics classes (they are in multi-media computer classrooms). I arrive to find my classroom unlocked but empty. I have no idea where they are, and since I have only met them once, I don’t have any phone numbers yet. Meanwhile, Kevin arrives at his classroom to find my students instead of his students in his classroom (it takes a while to realize this, however, since we’ve only met these freshmen once).
2:35pm – I call my teammate Kelly who also teaches my student and has fortunately gotten their phone numbers already. I find out the student monitor’s number and try to give him a call. Meanwhile, Kevin realizes my students are in his classroom and goes searching for his students.
2:36pm – I call Kelly back since I can’t get a hold of the monitor and ask for another student phone number. I call the student but he can’t understand anything I’m saying. At the same time, Kevin shows up at my door saying he has found my class, and he will send them down.
2:40pm – My students arrive in my classroom. I have no idea why they went to the other classroom, but we can finally get started. Kevin finds his students and brings them to the right classroom.
2:45pm – Kevin can’t get the computers in his classroom to work. He goes to the office to enlist some help. The help (the poor people from the office who deal with all our problems) was unable to help. The Office Man told Kevin he would find another classroom for him, but then disappeared. Kevin ran to find Office Man while his students waited in the hallway.
2:55pm - After running up and down the stairs several times, Kevin was able to find Office Man who unlocks a new classroom for them. Kevin finally starts class.
3:10pm – I am doing individual pre-tests with my students while the others watch a movie. Everything was going smoothly until 20 minutes into the movie when the students’ computer monitors all inexplicably stop working. I try the only things I know how to do – reopen the program and reboot the power. These have no effect so I send a student up to the office for help.
3:15pm – I tell the waiting students to talk about something random and try to continue my individual testing. Office Man comes down and does something with the computers and the power. He leaves before we realize it still doesn’t work.
3:20pm – I send the student back up to the office, but he finds no one there. They are apparently now all in a meeting. They cannot fix it until after the class. I tell my students to do some random activities from the book while I try to finish up the tests.
3:55pm – After about five more interruptions which I won’t detail, I finish up the tests and try to finish up the class. I’ve gotten pretty accustomed to unexpected problems and confusions, but I am still feeling rather frazzled.
4:10pm – As my next class of students enter the classroom, I go back up to the office to request more help. Another office man comes down and he and another random person try to do some different things on the computer. Finally they decide that these computers cannot be fixed right now, so we all move to another classroom.
4:20pm – Meanwhile, Kelly has arrived to teach her Oral English class only her students aren’t there. For some reason, the students thought they would have Kevin’s phonetics class today instead. They show up at Kevin’s classroom and are confused and a little bit offended that Kevin won’t teach them now. He tells them they are supposed to be meeting Kelly instead.
4:30pm - Kelly and her class are reunited. Kevin and his next class find each other. My new classroom computers work well with no problems. We are all happy though still deeply confused.
Fortunately, my second class got to actually see the movie (Wild Hearts Can’t be Broken) and they loved it. Perhaps even more than I do. They laughed at funny moments. They clapped at triumphant moments. I heard sniffling during the sad parts. They clasped their hands and leaned forward during suspenseful moments. They sighed contentedly during the romantic parts. I love showing movies to Chinese students.
If you would believe it, this story was actually even more complex in real life, but I left out some of the other complications because I figured you'd already be confused enough. Chaos is often a normal part of life in China, but not usually quite so much for quite so many people all at the same time. As the Chinese would say, "Aiii Yaaaa!"
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The (Constant) Sound of Music
by Ruth
Everywhere I go these days, I hear singing. It’s not just my blissful state or unrelenting optimism (I have finally admitted that I am indeed a pessimist). There is actual singing going on every which away I turn.
We are just about a week away from China’s big 60th anniversary. Sure, this country has been around for thousands of years, but it is also 60 years old in the sense of being the People’s Republic of China. So it’s a really big deal. I would say it’s like 4th of July on steroids, but that really doesn’t begin to describe it. We just don’t do celebration on the large scale that China does.
We have been hearing about the grandiose celebrations that will be happening in Beijing. They are supposed to top the Olympics, and that was quite a presentation. There will probably be fireworks being shot off every minute of the day in every city across China. Our school is doing its part to participate as all the students are bursting with patriotic pride. And also, bursting with song.
For the past two weeks as we have walked around campus, we keep encountering groups of 30-50 students and teachers practicing songs outside various classroom buildings. Often there are several groups practicing on different parts of campus. We hear it from our apartments, in our classrooms, and everywhere we go. The first week it was mesmerizing. The second week it was interesting. Now, I'll be honest, it's getting a little tiring.
Tomorrow will be the big performance, so today the groups have been in mega-overdrive. All day long, they have been gathering to practice on the front steps of the main classroom building, this time complete with microphones, large speakers, and costumes. When I walked to class at 7:30am, hundreds of people were already congregating. My classes were carried out with the benefit of constant background music…if it can be called “background” music when you have to yell over it. When I finished with class at 4:15, hundreds of people were still gathered around while various groups loudly practiced their songs. Even during the rest period, the sacred after lunch rest period which is usually the quietest time of the day, the groups were practicing their singing. Now, at 11pm at night the speakers are still blasting out their music. It sounds like I have music going in the next room. Good thing I’ve got earplugs. Who knows when this will end.
So tomorrow will be the big performance, and I’m not quite sure what it will be like. Or rather, I’m pretty sure what it will sound like since I’ve been hearing it for weeks. But I’m not sure how long it will last. Apparently each department is performing. There are 20 departments. So I think we’re looking at hours…and hours. We were strongly encouraged to move our classes to different times because it's a big deal. I think it will be interesting. For all the practicing, they are bound to be good!
Everywhere I go these days, I hear singing. It’s not just my blissful state or unrelenting optimism (I have finally admitted that I am indeed a pessimist). There is actual singing going on every which away I turn.
We are just about a week away from China’s big 60th anniversary. Sure, this country has been around for thousands of years, but it is also 60 years old in the sense of being the People’s Republic of China. So it’s a really big deal. I would say it’s like 4th of July on steroids, but that really doesn’t begin to describe it. We just don’t do celebration on the large scale that China does.
We have been hearing about the grandiose celebrations that will be happening in Beijing. They are supposed to top the Olympics, and that was quite a presentation. There will probably be fireworks being shot off every minute of the day in every city across China. Our school is doing its part to participate as all the students are bursting with patriotic pride. And also, bursting with song.
For the past two weeks as we have walked around campus, we keep encountering groups of 30-50 students and teachers practicing songs outside various classroom buildings. Often there are several groups practicing on different parts of campus. We hear it from our apartments, in our classrooms, and everywhere we go. The first week it was mesmerizing. The second week it was interesting. Now, I'll be honest, it's getting a little tiring.
Tomorrow will be the big performance, so today the groups have been in mega-overdrive. All day long, they have been gathering to practice on the front steps of the main classroom building, this time complete with microphones, large speakers, and costumes. When I walked to class at 7:30am, hundreds of people were already congregating. My classes were carried out with the benefit of constant background music…if it can be called “background” music when you have to yell over it. When I finished with class at 4:15, hundreds of people were still gathered around while various groups loudly practiced their songs. Even during the rest period, the sacred after lunch rest period which is usually the quietest time of the day, the groups were practicing their singing. Now, at 11pm at night the speakers are still blasting out their music. It sounds like I have music going in the next room. Good thing I’ve got earplugs. Who knows when this will end.
So tomorrow will be the big performance, and I’m not quite sure what it will be like. Or rather, I’m pretty sure what it will sound like since I’ve been hearing it for weeks. But I’m not sure how long it will last. Apparently each department is performing. There are 20 departments. So I think we’re looking at hours…and hours. We were strongly encouraged to move our classes to different times because it's a big deal. I think it will be interesting. For all the practicing, they are bound to be good!
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Bye-bye Facebook, Facebook goodbye...
Dear Friends,
Effective last week we have entered a post-Facebook world. The little people who sit in little cubicles in some little city blocking websites all day have finally been effective. We searched through several different methods of worming our way around the block, but the programs that once working for us have now been terminated, at least at our school.
And so, we are forced to end our Facebook relationship. Maybe I shouldn’t say it’s the end of the relationship but rather that we’re “taking a break.” It’s possible that one day (say, after the big upcoming anniversary), Facebook will all of a sudden become available again. Until that time, let me explain the operating procedures for those of you who have forgotten how communication ever happened before Facebook.
What we can do:
1. We can still post notes (because actually they are just imported blog posts).
2. We can still read comments made on our notes (because they are emailed to us).
3. We can read private facebook messages (which are also emailed to us).
What we can’t do:
1. Reply to private facebook messages (unless you are so kind as to give us your actual email address)
2. Read comments left on our walls or perhaps other random places.
3. Look at all the nice pictures you posted.
4. Post our own pictures (unless maybe if they are part of the blog).
5. Update you about what we are doing five times a day.
6. Read your updates about which cereal you chose to eat, how much you hate traffic, and what kind of toothpaste you use (I think we’ll survive anyway).
7. Read your updates about important life events which you no longer tell people about because you posted it on Facebook.
What you should do:
1. Still leave comments on our notes, because we do like comments.
2. Tell us your email address so we still have some method of contact.
3. Remember your poor Facebook-less friends and TELL us when something important happens in your life.
4. Don’t forget we exist.
Thank you for your patience and understanding as we all attempt to adapt ourselves to these more archaic forms of communication.
Sincerely,
Mr. and Mrs. Ruvin
Effective last week we have entered a post-Facebook world. The little people who sit in little cubicles in some little city blocking websites all day have finally been effective. We searched through several different methods of worming our way around the block, but the programs that once working for us have now been terminated, at least at our school.
And so, we are forced to end our Facebook relationship. Maybe I shouldn’t say it’s the end of the relationship but rather that we’re “taking a break.” It’s possible that one day (say, after the big upcoming anniversary), Facebook will all of a sudden become available again. Until that time, let me explain the operating procedures for those of you who have forgotten how communication ever happened before Facebook.
What we can do:
1. We can still post notes (because actually they are just imported blog posts).
2. We can still read comments made on our notes (because they are emailed to us).
3. We can read private facebook messages (which are also emailed to us).
What we can’t do:
1. Reply to private facebook messages (unless you are so kind as to give us your actual email address)
2. Read comments left on our walls or perhaps other random places.
3. Look at all the nice pictures you posted.
4. Post our own pictures (unless maybe if they are part of the blog).
5. Update you about what we are doing five times a day.
6. Read your updates about which cereal you chose to eat, how much you hate traffic, and what kind of toothpaste you use (I think we’ll survive anyway).
7. Read your updates about important life events which you no longer tell people about because you posted it on Facebook.
What you should do:
1. Still leave comments on our notes, because we do like comments.
2. Tell us your email address so we still have some method of contact.
3. Remember your poor Facebook-less friends and TELL us when something important happens in your life.
4. Don’t forget we exist.
Thank you for your patience and understanding as we all attempt to adapt ourselves to these more archaic forms of communication.
Sincerely,
Mr. and Mrs. Ruvin
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
When is it OK to lie?
by Kevin
"We will have to be sneaky," Brian told us when we went to visit him in Lanzhou, Gansu, the next province to the west of ours. "I don't want my boss to find out that you came."
Sometimes it's hard for us to completely grasp the ethical issues Chinese people face dealing with foreigners. Usually a Chinese person would be glad to parade around a foreigner in a town that is rarely, if ever, visited by foreigners. They would gain a lot of face for being the person responsible for bringing a white face into town. But, our relationship runs deep enough that exploiting us wasn't on Brian's mind.
But still, it's complicated.
Last Spring, just after he had started the job teaching English at a small tutoring school in a tiny three-street town outside of Lanzhou called Hai Shi Wan, he asked his boss if he could have a day off so he could come to visit his foreign teacher if I came to visit. It would be my first chance to see him since leaving Tonghua more than two years ago. His boss said he would give him the time on one condition: he wanted to either photograph us and use us to advertise for his school or he wanted us to do a lecture for his students. Since our company prohibits us from doing outside work, I was hesitant. Before I could reply, Brian said, "I told him that I don't think you can do it." His boss didn't understand why we would say no. After all, the nature of guangxi in China means going out of your way to help friends and colleagues. His boss thought that if Brian has a strong relationship with some foreigners, he should be both willing and able to leverage that relationship to help his new relationship with his boss. "I would rather not do those things," I told him. "But I will do whatever you need me to do. If it helps you with your new job, I understand."
Unfortunately issues with getting a visa renewed (it took more than a month) meant that we had to postpone our trip until this fall. In the ensuing months, Brian decided that he doesn't want to work there for much longer (another story, which I'll try to get to soon).
So when we came, he made a difficult decision: he lied to his boss, saying that he needed the day off so he could go into Lanzhou to attend a friend's wedding. That meant we would have to lay low in the town. "If my boss finds out, he will be very angry."
As we checked into our hotel for the night, I was doubtful that it would be possible to keep quiet the arrival of "Wai guo ren" (the word for foreigners is literally "outside people"). The receptionist seemed genuinely shocked when we arrived. Even though the 2-star hotel, owned by the State Grid Corporation of China (the national power company), is the only one in town approved to the government to house foreigners, apparently they haven't had many. She nervously smiled and called her manager to ask for the proper procedures for checking us in. Since they didn't have a copy machine on hand, they took our passports so they could make photocopies, promising to return them before we left the next morning. I wondered when, or, more specifically, if foreigners have stayed at the hotel before.
So when we walked through the small town, which has maybe 20 or 30,000 people and covers about five blocks on three main streets, we took a small back road. Keeping news of foreigners coming to town quiet was going to be difficult. The key was going out of the way to make sure if his boss did get wind of foreigners coming, nobody would connect us to Brian.
Everywhere we went in town, people stared intently at us. Most welcomingly shouted "hello," but many others had suspicion plastered on their faces.
When we got to our hotel room, the door was open. I figured a cleaning lady was getting it ready for us. Instead, a young girl was sitting in the room watching TV, shocked to be disturbed by foreigners. Undoubtedly, she was the daughter of someone working at the hotel who had picked a free room to watch some TV. It wasn't difficult to see why the hotel had two stars. It smelled like a mixture of cigarette smoke and standing water and there was a large water stain on the carpet next to the bathroom. The bathroom door was so ajar that it didn't come close to closing. The bed was also only slightly softer than a piece of plywood. Ruth curled the blanket underneath her to provide a semblance of padding. After sleeping horribly on the noisy, smoke-filled train the night before, we slept like babies for about 11 hours while Brian went to work Friday night and Saturday morning.
When his boss unexpectedly called for a meeting with parents that afternoon, we hid out in the small bachelor's pad Brian shares with two other teachers, who were also sworn to secrecy. We watched our first game of snooker (a billiards-like game) on CCTV 5 and marveled at the sparse decor. They had four beds, a few seats, a coffeetable and a TV stand holding a small TV, but that was about the extent of the furniture. No mattresses on the beds. Although two of them were softened by half-inch mattress pads, the only padding on the third bed was a layer of cardboard.
The closest we got to the "Frontier Study School" was when we drove past it in the city's peculiar three-wheeled taxis, which Brian mocked as "Huge Road Mice." Brian couldn't risk us getting any closer.
When we left, Brian escorted us onto our train and we said our goodbyes. We got situated and noticed that the train was slowly beginning to creep forward. Brian hurried toward the exit, certain that he would be able to leave. I looked out the window hoping to wave goodbye one last time. But he didn't materialize. Then suddenly, laughing, Brian plopped down into the seat across from me. "The conductor wouldn't let me get off."
He pulled the printed train schedule from his pocket and searched to see if there would be a train he could take him back that night or early enough the next morning that he could teach his class. No. Laughing, he began calling his boss and coworkers to try and reschedule his class, telling them that he'd gotten stuck on a train seeing off some "friends." "I am embarrassed," he said. "Now whenever you think of your trip here, you will think about this. At least I will have a funny story to tell my students."
I tried to slip some money into his pocket to pay for his unexpected expenses, but he swatted my hand away.
The bright side was we got a few more hours with him, since we had an hour to wait in Lanzhou before catching our overnight train back to Weinan. Throughout the train ride, an exuberant woman attempted to sell us a variety of toys. When she realized that our Chinese was limited, she asked Brian if he would help her translate.
Brian again lied to protect us. "I don't know them," he said.
She didn't believe him.
"I saw you talking to them in English," she said. "Just help me translate into English."
"I don't speak English," he said.
"I won't leave until I sell something to the foreigners," she told him in Chinese, occasionally throwing out the few English phrases she could remember: "Hello." "Pleased to meet you."
After a good 10 minutes of bantering, during which a car full of passengers watched, she finally walked away.
When she approached again later, she again attempted to get us to buy something. Sitting down, she asked another man to teach her what to say in English so she could make the sale.
She hid out in a seat near us, waiting to catch Brian speaking to us in English so she could convince him to help her make the sale.
Finally, as we were exiting the train, Brian told us to make sure we had all our things. As we were walking away, he turned around while I forced some money into his pocket to pay for his unexpected expenses.
"I knew it," she said. "They were together."
We couldn't stop laughing. Brian said, "Now I have two stories to tell my students."
"We will have to be sneaky," Brian told us when we went to visit him in Lanzhou, Gansu, the next province to the west of ours. "I don't want my boss to find out that you came."
Sometimes it's hard for us to completely grasp the ethical issues Chinese people face dealing with foreigners. Usually a Chinese person would be glad to parade around a foreigner in a town that is rarely, if ever, visited by foreigners. They would gain a lot of face for being the person responsible for bringing a white face into town. But, our relationship runs deep enough that exploiting us wasn't on Brian's mind.
But still, it's complicated.
Last Spring, just after he had started the job teaching English at a small tutoring school in a tiny three-street town outside of Lanzhou called Hai Shi Wan, he asked his boss if he could have a day off so he could come to visit his foreign teacher if I came to visit. It would be my first chance to see him since leaving Tonghua more than two years ago. His boss said he would give him the time on one condition: he wanted to either photograph us and use us to advertise for his school or he wanted us to do a lecture for his students. Since our company prohibits us from doing outside work, I was hesitant. Before I could reply, Brian said, "I told him that I don't think you can do it." His boss didn't understand why we would say no. After all, the nature of guangxi in China means going out of your way to help friends and colleagues. His boss thought that if Brian has a strong relationship with some foreigners, he should be both willing and able to leverage that relationship to help his new relationship with his boss. "I would rather not do those things," I told him. "But I will do whatever you need me to do. If it helps you with your new job, I understand."
Unfortunately issues with getting a visa renewed (it took more than a month) meant that we had to postpone our trip until this fall. In the ensuing months, Brian decided that he doesn't want to work there for much longer (another story, which I'll try to get to soon).
So when we came, he made a difficult decision: he lied to his boss, saying that he needed the day off so he could go into Lanzhou to attend a friend's wedding. That meant we would have to lay low in the town. "If my boss finds out, he will be very angry."
As we checked into our hotel for the night, I was doubtful that it would be possible to keep quiet the arrival of "Wai guo ren" (the word for foreigners is literally "outside people"). The receptionist seemed genuinely shocked when we arrived. Even though the 2-star hotel, owned by the State Grid Corporation of China (the national power company), is the only one in town approved to the government to house foreigners, apparently they haven't had many. She nervously smiled and called her manager to ask for the proper procedures for checking us in. Since they didn't have a copy machine on hand, they took our passports so they could make photocopies, promising to return them before we left the next morning. I wondered when, or, more specifically, if foreigners have stayed at the hotel before.
So when we walked through the small town, which has maybe 20 or 30,000 people and covers about five blocks on three main streets, we took a small back road. Keeping news of foreigners coming to town quiet was going to be difficult. The key was going out of the way to make sure if his boss did get wind of foreigners coming, nobody would connect us to Brian.
Everywhere we went in town, people stared intently at us. Most welcomingly shouted "hello," but many others had suspicion plastered on their faces.
When we got to our hotel room, the door was open. I figured a cleaning lady was getting it ready for us. Instead, a young girl was sitting in the room watching TV, shocked to be disturbed by foreigners. Undoubtedly, she was the daughter of someone working at the hotel who had picked a free room to watch some TV. It wasn't difficult to see why the hotel had two stars. It smelled like a mixture of cigarette smoke and standing water and there was a large water stain on the carpet next to the bathroom. The bathroom door was so ajar that it didn't come close to closing. The bed was also only slightly softer than a piece of plywood. Ruth curled the blanket underneath her to provide a semblance of padding. After sleeping horribly on the noisy, smoke-filled train the night before, we slept like babies for about 11 hours while Brian went to work Friday night and Saturday morning.
When his boss unexpectedly called for a meeting with parents that afternoon, we hid out in the small bachelor's pad Brian shares with two other teachers, who were also sworn to secrecy. We watched our first game of snooker (a billiards-like game) on CCTV 5 and marveled at the sparse decor. They had four beds, a few seats, a coffeetable and a TV stand holding a small TV, but that was about the extent of the furniture. No mattresses on the beds. Although two of them were softened by half-inch mattress pads, the only padding on the third bed was a layer of cardboard.
The closest we got to the "Frontier Study School" was when we drove past it in the city's peculiar three-wheeled taxis, which Brian mocked as "Huge Road Mice." Brian couldn't risk us getting any closer.
When we left, Brian escorted us onto our train and we said our goodbyes. We got situated and noticed that the train was slowly beginning to creep forward. Brian hurried toward the exit, certain that he would be able to leave. I looked out the window hoping to wave goodbye one last time. But he didn't materialize. Then suddenly, laughing, Brian plopped down into the seat across from me. "The conductor wouldn't let me get off."
He pulled the printed train schedule from his pocket and searched to see if there would be a train he could take him back that night or early enough the next morning that he could teach his class. No. Laughing, he began calling his boss and coworkers to try and reschedule his class, telling them that he'd gotten stuck on a train seeing off some "friends." "I am embarrassed," he said. "Now whenever you think of your trip here, you will think about this. At least I will have a funny story to tell my students."
I tried to slip some money into his pocket to pay for his unexpected expenses, but he swatted my hand away.
The bright side was we got a few more hours with him, since we had an hour to wait in Lanzhou before catching our overnight train back to Weinan. Throughout the train ride, an exuberant woman attempted to sell us a variety of toys. When she realized that our Chinese was limited, she asked Brian if he would help her translate.
Brian again lied to protect us. "I don't know them," he said.
She didn't believe him.
"I saw you talking to them in English," she said. "Just help me translate into English."
"I don't speak English," he said.
"I won't leave until I sell something to the foreigners," she told him in Chinese, occasionally throwing out the few English phrases she could remember: "Hello." "Pleased to meet you."
After a good 10 minutes of bantering, during which a car full of passengers watched, she finally walked away.
When she approached again later, she again attempted to get us to buy something. Sitting down, she asked another man to teach her what to say in English so she could make the sale.
She hid out in a seat near us, waiting to catch Brian speaking to us in English so she could convince him to help her make the sale.
Finally, as we were exiting the train, Brian told us to make sure we had all our things. As we were walking away, he turned around while I forced some money into his pocket to pay for his unexpected expenses.
"I knew it," she said. "They were together."
We couldn't stop laughing. Brian said, "Now I have two stories to tell my students."
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Freshmen
by Ruth
The freshmen have arrived. This has been evidenced by:
- Huge banners, balloons, and blow-up welcoming arches
- Lost looking kids wandering around with suitcases
- All day announcements and music blared through the loudspeakers (alternating between quiet elevator-type music, loud, patriotic marches, and high-pitched operas)
- A special 2.5 hour welcoming program of speeches and performances
- Thousands of kids walking around in matching wind-suits and now…
- Thousands of kids broken into class groups, standing in line, turning, and marching together
- The leaders counting off “yi, er, san, si” followed by “YI, ER, SAN, SI” from the students
Unlike in America, the freshmen arrive two weeks after the older students. They have a short orientation and then go through military training before classes. Military training is when they stand in lines and shout out numbers. After a while, they will add marching and turning to the regimen. They do this all day long (with of course the lunch/nap break in the middle, because it would be inhumane to not allow a mid-day nap). It seems like it would be pretty boring, but some of the students say they have fond memories from that time. I guess in all the time that they are standing around doing nothing, they talk to their classmates and start getting to know each other.
We thought the freshmen would have two weeks of military training, but now it appears that they will start classes next week, which means that we will need to start teaching them next week. Kevin and I are teaching half sophomores and half freshmen, so this first couple of weeks we’ve had significantly less to do. I guess we should figure out what we're going to teach these little freshmen. Darn it…now we actually have to work. What a drag.
The freshmen have arrived. This has been evidenced by:
- Huge banners, balloons, and blow-up welcoming arches
- Lost looking kids wandering around with suitcases
- All day announcements and music blared through the loudspeakers (alternating between quiet elevator-type music, loud, patriotic marches, and high-pitched operas)
- A special 2.5 hour welcoming program of speeches and performances
- Thousands of kids walking around in matching wind-suits and now…
- Thousands of kids broken into class groups, standing in line, turning, and marching together
- The leaders counting off “yi, er, san, si” followed by “YI, ER, SAN, SI” from the students
Unlike in America, the freshmen arrive two weeks after the older students. They have a short orientation and then go through military training before classes. Military training is when they stand in lines and shout out numbers. After a while, they will add marching and turning to the regimen. They do this all day long (with of course the lunch/nap break in the middle, because it would be inhumane to not allow a mid-day nap). It seems like it would be pretty boring, but some of the students say they have fond memories from that time. I guess in all the time that they are standing around doing nothing, they talk to their classmates and start getting to know each other.
We thought the freshmen would have two weeks of military training, but now it appears that they will start classes next week, which means that we will need to start teaching them next week. Kevin and I are teaching half sophomores and half freshmen, so this first couple of weeks we’ve had significantly less to do. I guess we should figure out what we're going to teach these little freshmen. Darn it…now we actually have to work. What a drag.
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