Brief account of ridiculous things that happened today:
Russian guys stealing my cotton candy, and the sad fact that I was so inebriated and frustrated that I yelled certain not nice things at them, even though it was more of a flirtish act. Lucy berated me for it.
Stalking four really really cute Australian guys to two different bars, and finally being persuaded by Lucy to settle for a 50 RMB cosmo in a club called "Sex in da City."
Walking around Houhai in nearly two complete circles, while lamenting the lack of available men to hit on.
Being propositioned as we were leaving by three Turkish men. I caught the eye of one of them, who promptly stopped and asked us in the most deplorable English I'd ever heard if we would "walk with we". And I had to confess that we really couldn't, as we had to go. And they were like 40. But it was amusing.
We're so doing this again, except with more people, and less indecision. And longer dresses. =)
2008年8月16日星期六
2008年8月14日星期四
8.14. for freedom and liberty!
These few days, several things that have happened close to home, several months ago, and a few thousand miles away all collided in my mind, creating a crescendo-like epiphany. It doesn't sound very epiphany-like when I say it, but money is everything. And I realized it anew because of two American boys at the Olympic beach volleyball stadium, the Sichuan earthquake, and the Slow Food Movement.
A few months ago, at school, the Resident Masters of Shoreland Hall held a dinner with three women from the Slow Food Movement, which promotes "slow food," a concept that tries to unite city life with supporting local farmers, organic food, and heritage foods like heirloom tomatoes. Caroline, who is in the year above me, was one of the most avid talkers, and raised a point that the speakers really had a hard time dealing with. The goal of Slow Food seems to be to make a political statement and impact with one's diet and lifestyle, but it's not a message that can be accessible to everyone. It costs even too much for lower class families to go to local markets, and Caroline brought up this issue because it disturbed her that a local farmer-friendly and environmentally aware message that basically breathed good intentions with every word couldn't be practiced by everyone, especially impoverished people living on the south side of Chicago. Aside from the reactions of the speakers being very interesting, because I think they were very used to people supporting their ideas, and not at all familiar with UChicago students who asked UChicago questions... it was an interesting thing to think about, because if you follow her line of thinking, if people living in Chicago can't afford this, then something like the Slow Food Movement is nothing less than the product of a luxurious (in comparison with the rest of the world) lifestyle.
What confirmed my belief of this was an article in the NYTimes that I read last week. It was an article from fairly long ago, but the headline ran something like this: "China Presses Hush Money on Grieving Parents." For people who have been under a rock for the past three months, the earthquake that hit Sichuan Province in May was most devastating for parents. Many schools collapsed, not because of the strength of the earthquake but because they were intrinsically structurally weak. Many nearby cities were unscathed, because they were built better, and many parents, whose only children died in the earthquake, took their case to the government in order to combat what they saw as a long string of corruption and embezzlement that indirectly led to the death of their children. The NYTimes article was about how the Chinese government had begun, as the Olympics were beginning, a campaign to pressure these parents to stop their political activism by offering them large amounts of money in return for pledging their silence. How much money is a child worth? The Chinese government has offered, according to the article, around $8,800, with a per-parent pension of $5,600. Put it together, and you have over $20,000 USD. Translated into RMB, that is far more money than poor farmers from Sichuan Province can hope to see in their lifetime. And for some, evidently, enough to pay for the death of their only child.
It's an interesting phenomenon, and certainly tragical, cynical, shameful, and a whole boatload of other adjectives, but what does it really mean? As the NYTimes said, "Most parents, the government assumes, ultimately put profit before principle." Even a principle as important as a child, which is at the heart of the Chinese family, possibly the most important unit in Chinese culture. But why? Because of the fact that Chinese people are poor. Because we don't have money. Only those who have money can afford to put principle before profit. The day that China becomes rich enough to care about something other than making sure its people are fed, that's when these abstract ideals will really begin to live. And how we can begin to make sure that a country is rich enough not to care about being rich is a whole other discussion, and a discussion that anyone who wants to take a hand in changing China should have, but what's also interesting are the moral implications.
It's a sad and cynical kind of realization, but recognizing what is right and what is true and what is just is not a moral kind of duty as it is preached in American education. Father, I cannot tell a lie. I cut down the cherry tree. Truth, justice, right and wrong and all those capitalized virtues are luxuries, to be enjoyed and worshiped and pursued when your stomach is full. You can choose between liberty or death, and become a hero in history textbooks, but as many people have found out, living without the promise of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness is not only possible - it is more than tolerable. And to be frank, the airs that Americans put on about the fact that there have been martyrs like Patrick Henry is absolutely insufferable. The fact that you are in pursuit of the aesthetic life says nothing about you, ninety nine times out of a hundred. You're no one special. You're just lucky as hell to be born with the money and the circumstances, because the life of the mind is not one that most people on earth can afford to live. But it's taken for granted, more often than not, and so means less than if it hadn't been given to these people who have it. It doesn't say anything about other people, either, who have chosen loss of liberty over death. Merely that the lack of liberty, justice, truth, and all those ideals doesn't make a life not worth living, and just the same, the possession of those abstract values doesn't automatically make a life the richest and happiest it can be.
Speaking of people who are willing to sacrifice everything, Lucy and I went to Chaoyang Park to watch beach volleyball prelims, which was exciting as all hell. There were four or five matches during the evening session, and the first two matches were between the US and Germany, and Australia and Georgia. We chatted freely and brought some souvenirs as we made our way towards the stadium. About three hundred meters away from the entrance, there was a stand selling flags, and many people who crowded around it. Lucy asked if there were any small USA flags (about a foot by a half), which would have cost around 25 RMB, but they shook their heads, and only displayed a large one, about six or so feet by four feet, which cost 100 RMB. Two American boys had been walking behind us. They resembled perfectly normal slightly jock-ish American college boys, and they also stopped, and inquired to the same effect. Then they looked at each other.
"100 RMB?" A furrowed brow, as though to say, "That's expensive."
"We did just get a free 100 RMB, though..." The other boy interjected.
"And it's for freedom and liberty!"
"Yeah, definitely."
At this point, I really couldn't resist opening my mouth. "You can bargain with them, you know?" And at that, one of the salespeople shook her head and said, "No discount." As the boys exchanged another glance at each other, I couldn't stop myself from saying again, "100 RMB is far too much for that." That flag had also probably been manufactured by underage children for less than 5 RMB, but I didn't say that. I'm too polite for something like that, you know.
"Oh, no, it's never too much." One of the boys laughed.
"For freedom and liberty!" The 100 RMB bill was handed over. Lucy and I exchanged pained glances. The boys waved their flag and left. And there you have it. For freedom and liberty.
Q.E.D.
A few months ago, at school, the Resident Masters of Shoreland Hall held a dinner with three women from the Slow Food Movement, which promotes "slow food," a concept that tries to unite city life with supporting local farmers, organic food, and heritage foods like heirloom tomatoes. Caroline, who is in the year above me, was one of the most avid talkers, and raised a point that the speakers really had a hard time dealing with. The goal of Slow Food seems to be to make a political statement and impact with one's diet and lifestyle, but it's not a message that can be accessible to everyone. It costs even too much for lower class families to go to local markets, and Caroline brought up this issue because it disturbed her that a local farmer-friendly and environmentally aware message that basically breathed good intentions with every word couldn't be practiced by everyone, especially impoverished people living on the south side of Chicago. Aside from the reactions of the speakers being very interesting, because I think they were very used to people supporting their ideas, and not at all familiar with UChicago students who asked UChicago questions... it was an interesting thing to think about, because if you follow her line of thinking, if people living in Chicago can't afford this, then something like the Slow Food Movement is nothing less than the product of a luxurious (in comparison with the rest of the world) lifestyle.
What confirmed my belief of this was an article in the NYTimes that I read last week. It was an article from fairly long ago, but the headline ran something like this: "China Presses Hush Money on Grieving Parents." For people who have been under a rock for the past three months, the earthquake that hit Sichuan Province in May was most devastating for parents. Many schools collapsed, not because of the strength of the earthquake but because they were intrinsically structurally weak. Many nearby cities were unscathed, because they were built better, and many parents, whose only children died in the earthquake, took their case to the government in order to combat what they saw as a long string of corruption and embezzlement that indirectly led to the death of their children. The NYTimes article was about how the Chinese government had begun, as the Olympics were beginning, a campaign to pressure these parents to stop their political activism by offering them large amounts of money in return for pledging their silence. How much money is a child worth? The Chinese government has offered, according to the article, around $8,800, with a per-parent pension of $5,600. Put it together, and you have over $20,000 USD. Translated into RMB, that is far more money than poor farmers from Sichuan Province can hope to see in their lifetime. And for some, evidently, enough to pay for the death of their only child.
It's an interesting phenomenon, and certainly tragical, cynical, shameful, and a whole boatload of other adjectives, but what does it really mean? As the NYTimes said, "Most parents, the government assumes, ultimately put profit before principle." Even a principle as important as a child, which is at the heart of the Chinese family, possibly the most important unit in Chinese culture. But why? Because of the fact that Chinese people are poor. Because we don't have money. Only those who have money can afford to put principle before profit. The day that China becomes rich enough to care about something other than making sure its people are fed, that's when these abstract ideals will really begin to live. And how we can begin to make sure that a country is rich enough not to care about being rich is a whole other discussion, and a discussion that anyone who wants to take a hand in changing China should have, but what's also interesting are the moral implications.
It's a sad and cynical kind of realization, but recognizing what is right and what is true and what is just is not a moral kind of duty as it is preached in American education. Father, I cannot tell a lie. I cut down the cherry tree. Truth, justice, right and wrong and all those capitalized virtues are luxuries, to be enjoyed and worshiped and pursued when your stomach is full. You can choose between liberty or death, and become a hero in history textbooks, but as many people have found out, living without the promise of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness is not only possible - it is more than tolerable. And to be frank, the airs that Americans put on about the fact that there have been martyrs like Patrick Henry is absolutely insufferable. The fact that you are in pursuit of the aesthetic life says nothing about you, ninety nine times out of a hundred. You're no one special. You're just lucky as hell to be born with the money and the circumstances, because the life of the mind is not one that most people on earth can afford to live. But it's taken for granted, more often than not, and so means less than if it hadn't been given to these people who have it. It doesn't say anything about other people, either, who have chosen loss of liberty over death. Merely that the lack of liberty, justice, truth, and all those ideals doesn't make a life not worth living, and just the same, the possession of those abstract values doesn't automatically make a life the richest and happiest it can be.
Speaking of people who are willing to sacrifice everything, Lucy and I went to Chaoyang Park to watch beach volleyball prelims, which was exciting as all hell. There were four or five matches during the evening session, and the first two matches were between the US and Germany, and Australia and Georgia. We chatted freely and brought some souvenirs as we made our way towards the stadium. About three hundred meters away from the entrance, there was a stand selling flags, and many people who crowded around it. Lucy asked if there were any small USA flags (about a foot by a half), which would have cost around 25 RMB, but they shook their heads, and only displayed a large one, about six or so feet by four feet, which cost 100 RMB. Two American boys had been walking behind us. They resembled perfectly normal slightly jock-ish American college boys, and they also stopped, and inquired to the same effect. Then they looked at each other.
"100 RMB?" A furrowed brow, as though to say, "That's expensive."
"We did just get a free 100 RMB, though..." The other boy interjected.
"And it's for freedom and liberty!"
"Yeah, definitely."
At this point, I really couldn't resist opening my mouth. "You can bargain with them, you know?" And at that, one of the salespeople shook her head and said, "No discount." As the boys exchanged another glance at each other, I couldn't stop myself from saying again, "100 RMB is far too much for that." That flag had also probably been manufactured by underage children for less than 5 RMB, but I didn't say that. I'm too polite for something like that, you know.
"Oh, no, it's never too much." One of the boys laughed.
"For freedom and liberty!" The 100 RMB bill was handed over. Lucy and I exchanged pained glances. The boys waved their flag and left. And there you have it. For freedom and liberty.
Q.E.D.
2008年8月10日星期日
8.11. a tale of two lolcats
Anneke: hey you
Connie: o hai
Connie: is anneke
Anneke: anneke? yes
Connie: dis iz lolcat connie
Anneke: o hai
Connie: wat up
Anneke: how is u
Connie: i is okey
Anneke: o gud.you is crush by olimpic?
Connie: o i is ruly ecksited
Anneke: can go to events?
Connie: u kno tmrow i is go see beech vollieballz
Anneke: o mai
Connie: i has ticketz!!!
Anneke: xsiting!
Connie: i knows is awesum
Connie: wat u doing in de uk
Connie: bet is not as kewl as olimpics
Anneke: i go home soon!
Anneke: is not kewl. is rain
Connie: o is rain her 2
Anneke: is yuk
Anneke: yukyukyuk
Connie: rain is liek mak me sleepi
Anneke: mm sleep iz gud. i not sleep so gud.
Anneke: 2 much drinkins.
me: aw when youz go home?
Anneke: toosdai
Anneke: o soon!
Connie: ah u kno lisa leave 4 china toosdai
Connie: meybee u see her at airpurt
Anneke: we tawked bout it
Anneke: no intersekt
Anneke: :(
Connie: aw dis iz sad
Connie: kay but i is go to bed nows
Connie: u kno is near to 2 a.m. heres
Connie: i has work =(
Anneke: yez is gud
Anneke: wuz going to ask
Anneke: sai, connie, y u wake?
Anneke: u sleep gud naow.
Connie: i is watch china baysketbullz ownedz by kobe
Connie: wuz kind uf sad
Anneke: oh deer.
Anneke: that ruf.
Connie: indied
Conniei go slep now
Anneke: okai i let u
Connie: u take carez
Anneke: u too
Connie: no drink so muchs
Connieis bad 4 livah
Anneke: have gud time in chyna
Anneke: agree.
Connie: yah
Connie nite-nite
Anneke: nite!!
Connie: o hai
Connie: is anneke
Anneke: anneke? yes
Connie: dis iz lolcat connie
Anneke: o hai
Connie: wat up
Anneke: how is u
Connie: i is okey
Anneke: o gud.you is crush by olimpic?
Connie: o i is ruly ecksited
Anneke: can go to events?
Connie: u kno tmrow i is go see beech vollieballz
Anneke: o mai
Connie: i has ticketz!!!
Anneke: xsiting!
Connie: i knows is awesum
Connie: wat u doing in de uk
Connie: bet is not as kewl as olimpics
Anneke: i go home soon!
Anneke: is not kewl. is rain
Connie: o is rain her 2
Anneke: is yuk
Anneke: yukyukyuk
Connie: rain is liek mak me sleepi
Anneke: mm sleep iz gud. i not sleep so gud.
Anneke: 2 much drinkins.
me: aw when youz go home?
Anneke: toosdai
Anneke: o soon!
Connie: ah u kno lisa leave 4 china toosdai
Connie: meybee u see her at airpurt
Anneke: we tawked bout it
Anneke: no intersekt
Anneke: :(
Connie: aw dis iz sad
Connie: kay but i is go to bed nows
Connie: u kno is near to 2 a.m. heres
Connie: i has work =(
Anneke: yez is gud
Anneke: wuz going to ask
Anneke: sai, connie, y u wake?
Anneke: u sleep gud naow.
Connie: i is watch china baysketbullz ownedz by kobe
Connie: wuz kind uf sad
Anneke: oh deer.
Anneke: that ruf.
Connie: indied
Conniei go slep now
Anneke: okai i let u
Connie: u take carez
Anneke: u too
Connie: no drink so muchs
Connieis bad 4 livah
Anneke: have gud time in chyna
Anneke: agree.
Connie: yah
Connie nite-nite
Anneke: nite!!
8.11. wo kao!
Amazing. Several things that have me lawling out loud...
1. YouTube video "Cat Vs. Candle." Exactly what it sounds like. Also, YouTube video of "I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change" in Chinese! It's really awesome... I really like this glimpse of Chinese musical theatre.
2. The following conversation:
connie: I was going to invite you to something
connie: but now I'm afraid you won't want to go
lucy: what?
connie: beach volleyball, next Monday at 6 p.m.
lucy: what?
lucy: where? with whom?
connie: lol i'm afraid we won't be playing
connie: but spectating =)
lucy: okay where?
connie: wherever they hold the beach volleyball competition
lucy: what?
connie: hahahahaha
connie: LUCY
lucy: wait, is this for the olympics?
connie: YES
connie: hahahahhaa
connie: LUCY
YES.
Two tickets for August 11th, 2008 18:00, 朝阳公园沙滩排球场. Bitchez. I'm so pumped for actually seeing the Olympics, and beach volleyball too! CANNOT WAIT.
3. At summer camp, a few campers asked me about my childhood in China, and I told them about my best friend from kindergarten, Ma Li Chen, and how we were best friends because we lived across the street from each other, and had the same last name, and were in the same grade... and the night before I left for America, she cried a lot, and gave me presents. And we never saw each other again.
Until like, maybe this Tuesday. But definitely this next Sunday.
Because one of those campers (those sneaky little children) asked me for her information, and asked one of her college-age friends, who was tutoring her, to find my best friend. AND LO AND BEHOLD: she was found. She called me today, and we talked a little excitedly. And then we talked online tonight, and it was really incredibly awesome to be able to find her. We have each other's cellphone numbers now, and also exchanged QQ numbers. And I'm so glad we've found each other again. I will definitely write home about this... and hopefully we're having dinner Tuesday but if not, we're definitely going to go to her grandmother's house at Beishida, which is her childhood home, and across the street from where I used to live! Talk about a stroll down memory lane...
Finally, this week, everything has been falling into place - I have so much to look forward to here, and it's grounding me in China, in the Chinese mindset, in the here and now. And I have not felt this good for a very long time.
Thank goodness, is all I have to say.
1. YouTube video "Cat Vs. Candle." Exactly what it sounds like. Also, YouTube video of "I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change" in Chinese! It's really awesome... I really like this glimpse of Chinese musical theatre.
2. The following conversation:
connie: I was going to invite you to something
connie: but now I'm afraid you won't want to go
lucy: what?
connie: beach volleyball, next Monday at 6 p.m.
lucy: what?
lucy: where? with whom?
connie: lol i'm afraid we won't be playing
connie: but spectating =)
lucy: okay where?
connie: wherever they hold the beach volleyball competition
lucy: what?
connie: hahahahaha
connie: LUCY
lucy: wait, is this for the olympics?
connie: YES
connie: hahahahhaa
connie: LUCY
YES.
Two tickets for August 11th, 2008 18:00, 朝阳公园沙滩排球场. Bitchez. I'm so pumped for actually seeing the Olympics, and beach volleyball too! CANNOT WAIT.
3. At summer camp, a few campers asked me about my childhood in China, and I told them about my best friend from kindergarten, Ma Li Chen, and how we were best friends because we lived across the street from each other, and had the same last name, and were in the same grade... and the night before I left for America, she cried a lot, and gave me presents. And we never saw each other again.
Until like, maybe this Tuesday. But definitely this next Sunday.
Because one of those campers (those sneaky little children) asked me for her information, and asked one of her college-age friends, who was tutoring her, to find my best friend. AND LO AND BEHOLD: she was found. She called me today, and we talked a little excitedly. And then we talked online tonight, and it was really incredibly awesome to be able to find her. We have each other's cellphone numbers now, and also exchanged QQ numbers. And I'm so glad we've found each other again. I will definitely write home about this... and hopefully we're having dinner Tuesday but if not, we're definitely going to go to her grandmother's house at Beishida, which is her childhood home, and across the street from where I used to live! Talk about a stroll down memory lane...
Finally, this week, everything has been falling into place - I have so much to look forward to here, and it's grounding me in China, in the Chinese mindset, in the here and now. And I have not felt this good for a very long time.
Thank goodness, is all I have to say.
2008年8月8日星期五
8.8. the bird's nest
No matter what people have said, no matter what they are saying - this is happening right now, and it's exciting as hell. The debate and excitement building up to this moment today was so amusing. People were debating at work about who would be the last torchbearer. One person piped up and said it would probably not be a person, volunteering the outlandish theory that it would be a panda. Amidst the laughter, someone joked that it'd be two men in a huge panda costume, finally revealed to be Hu Jintao and Zhu Rongji.
The imagination on these kids these days, honestly.
It's amazing, though, seriously, the amount of excitement in the Nest. Even the opening skits and programmes seemed like a never-ending parade of wonders upon wonders, with astonishing patterns and panoramas. I have to say I'm a little disappointed I'll never get to make good on my promise, to stand outside on ChangAn Avenue with sign that says "70 人民币／小时 翻译", "10 USD/HOUR TRANSLATION", and "6.5 EURO/HEURE TRADUISER". Although I'm really tempted. There's still time, and I could just do it for like one day...
(Don't look at me like that, it's a REASONABLE FEE for translation. Only I feel like a pure idiot because I recently had an opportunity to practice my French, and it's lacking, to say the least.)
The Olympics, in conclusion, are kind of exciting.
The imagination on these kids these days, honestly.
It's amazing, though, seriously, the amount of excitement in the Nest. Even the opening skits and programmes seemed like a never-ending parade of wonders upon wonders, with astonishing patterns and panoramas. I have to say I'm a little disappointed I'll never get to make good on my promise, to stand outside on ChangAn Avenue with sign that says "70 人民币／小时 翻译", "10 USD/HOUR TRANSLATION", and "6.5 EURO/HEURE TRADUISER". Although I'm really tempted. There's still time, and I could just do it for like one day...
(Don't look at me like that, it's a REASONABLE FEE for translation. Only I feel like a pure idiot because I recently had an opportunity to practice my French, and it's lacking, to say the least.)
The Olympics, in conclusion, are kind of exciting.
2008年8月7日星期四
8.7. we're all a part of something bigger
It was one of the last Java Jives of the year, in the Library at Ida Noyes. During a song that we were both sitting out, Link sat down next to me, took a drink of water, and said,
"So have I asked you what you're doing for the summer yet?"
I laughed, and shrugged. "You probably have - I've been talking to a lot of people about it. I'm going to be in Beijing this whole summer." His eyes suddenly lit up.
"Wait, did I tell you that I'm going to be there?" "... No! You definitely didn't ask me, in that case!"
It was one of the more exciting realizations that we could go swing dancing together. Which I was glad about - a summer without swing dancing was something I hadn't experienced since sophomore year of high school. And a friend to go dancing with was even cooler. So naturally, after I got back from summer camp, high up on my list was heading to swing dancing with Link. We met up at Wangfujing, and got dinner at the food court in the Oriental Plaza before heading to the CD Jazz Café. We almost overshot it, and then I saw it out of the corner of my eye.
It was overall, a very interesting time. The first thing you have to wonder about is what they were thinking when they named the place. CD Jazz Café? Just say it out loud.
I mean, imagine telling a friend, "Hey, I'm heading out to that CD Jazz Café tonight!" That'll get a double-take.
We had intended to get there early and take a lesson, and then leave before the dancing was over because the subway closes wicked early in Beijing. Like, we're talking 11:30 p.m., in a city of a bajillion people? Anyway, we were in luck because the lesson happened to be free that night, and Link and I both practiced leading. Which was awesome. The dance itself wasn't all that stimulating - there were only a few people who did lindy hop really well, and Link and I liked dancing with each other better. After a while, we got beers from the American-Italian restaurant next door, and sat watching Adam's birthday dance - fun because he can both lead and follow! We ended up leaving early to take the subway home, but we'll probably go dancing again when I get back to Beijing next week.
The lesson in itself was quite interesting, because it wasn't East Coast, but lindy hop.
The one-hour beginner lindy hop lesson is an art form of sorts, I think. How do you concisely and clearly set the basics for the most intricate and interesting form of swing dancing in just an hour? To master the eight-step pattern and understand the push-and-pull dynamic of the swingout takes good connection, a basic understanding of rhythm, close attention, but also, a lot of time. So I was very interested in seeing how Adam, who was conducting the lesson, intended to teach lindy hop to a roomful of beginners in an hour.
Turns out that he didn't teach the lindy swingout as much as the lindy circle. He started off by gradually easing people into the step-step-triple-step rhythm, and then put the footwork into the lindy circle. Beginning with the back step, and then a triple-step, step-step, triple-step, back step. By the end of the lesson, people were pretty at ease with turning gradually. As Link found out while we were dancing, however, switching to the basic swing-out, which is the base for nearly all the turns, twists, etc. one can throw into lindy hop, ended up being a problem, as they hadn't encountered the steps of the eight-beat pattern. Le sigh. And I didn't agree with Adam on a few points of lindy hop doctrine - I gave Link an exasperated look when Adam briefly addressed the hand connection. He said that when the follow's hand drops, so should the lead's. Which is completely wrong, says me and science. In closed position during the swing-out, or the lindy circle, the lead's hand is slightly cupped upwards, towards the lead's body. The follow's hand rests on it, and the lead's hand bears the weight of the follow's hand, so that when the lead's hand falls away, so does the follow's, because the latter hand is resting on the former. So does it make sense that if the hand on top is removed, the hand on the bottom drops as well? Physics, the last time I checked, disagrees. And something that irked me a little more - yes, there are three points of connection, between the lead's right half and the follow's left half, but he barely mentioned the hand connection between the lead's left hand and the follow's right hand. Just because that connection is prone to be misused, when the lead is a beginner, doesn't mean it should be simply disregarded.
Following and leading lindy hop are like two parts of a conversation - a good lead is like a good speaker, who knows how to articulate just what he wants through his movements, and makes his mind clear to the follow. Similarly, a good follow is like a good listener, who picks up on any and all hints in the body language of the lead. And when the conversation goes well, so does the dance. So the lead must be aware at all times of what he's saying, and what it means to the follow, since the follow relies on all signals from the lead, regardless of where their connections are, to make a decision on what move to make next. If an important connection like the hand is neglected, it's like not knowing the vocabulary for an entire body of knowledge. If you don't know how to talk, then how are you going to tell someone what you need them to do? This metaphor is also useful for explaining why some of the best leads I've danced with, like Heather, are also follows, or started out as follows. They're simply more attuned to what body signals stand out to a follow. They know how to speak because they also know how to listen. It's hard to switch from listening to speaking, and even more so from speaking to listening. But experience in one area helps you in the other. I think that leading and following are both interesting, and I prefer following because it's what I'm used to, and because you can experience a variety of styles. But when I lead, it puts into practice all the things I've learned from being a follow. Similarly, when leads try following, they see themselves from a follow's point of view, and all the things that they do right and that they do wrong become clearer to them, translated by their own reactions to those actions as follows. They're both as interesting, and neither is superior or inferior to the other. They simply take very different mindsets to accomplish, and some people are just naturally suited to be better speakers than listeners, or better listeners than speakers.
I'm going to say that taking a year of sosc with Richard kind of warped my mind, because I can't help but think that this theory about swing dancing based around this conversation metaphor is somewhat Hegelian, and bears a certain resemblance to the master-slave dialectic. There's the self-identification by negation of everything else - I am a lead, not a follow. And then the moment of reflection, that through the other person, you can better define yourself. And finally, the dialectic comes full circle, because the lead does not make the whole dance, nor is the follow's contribution any smaller and insignificant. The union of the two becomes something greater than their sum, as swing dancing requires both a good lead and good follow to reach its full potential, just as a good speaker and a good listener, together, make a great conversation.
Yeah, I've taken too much sosc, basically, and I'm making Hegel roll in his grave with that perversion of the dialectic. But I think I've also had a taste of that mythical Hegel nirvana Richard has referred to before, when everything seems to fit into the Hegelian framework and make so much sense. Basically, "it's so true!!"
One last detail about that evening - I ended up taking a bus from the CD Jazz Café (haha) to Wangfujing, and from there, the 1 line subway home. While I was standing at the Wangfujing station, waiting for the train, a group of obviously American college students came in, and one of them acted quite annoying, by yelling out loud to the subway station in English something about New York City, which I took to be frustration over the early hours that the Beijing subway keeps, in comparison to New York City's sleepless public transportation system. Which I understood, but it still made me want to punch him, and tell him that it was this kind of d-bag behavior that so endeared Americans to foreigners.
On the train, one of them stood close to me, with his back facing me, and after a few stops, I was pleasantly surprised to note that it had the Catullus backpack quote - "non videmus manticae quod in tergo est" (which may be wrong) and a quote from Ovid as well. A good Latin t-shirt never goes amiss, as JCL makes the whole world kin, so after a bit of deliberation, I tapped his shoulder, and asked him where his t-shirt was from. When he heard me speaking English, his face lit up like a kid on Christmas Eve. It turns out that his name was Nathan, and he went to Bates, which made him sort of a fellow New Englander, and we had a very fun and interesting conversation about Latin and Chinese and languages in general. He seemed surprised to learn that I was only going to be a junior, because he thought I was a grad student or something.* I promised to friend him on Facebook before he got off at Gongzhufen, and took a cab home after I arrived at Wukesong. Overall, it was a very exciting day.
*To which I'd just like to say - for the next ten years, I'm okay with being mistaken for being older, but once I move past thirty, I'd like to be mistaken for being younger. That'd be nice.
"So have I asked you what you're doing for the summer yet?"
I laughed, and shrugged. "You probably have - I've been talking to a lot of people about it. I'm going to be in Beijing this whole summer." His eyes suddenly lit up.
"Wait, did I tell you that I'm going to be there?" "... No! You definitely didn't ask me, in that case!"
It was one of the more exciting realizations that we could go swing dancing together. Which I was glad about - a summer without swing dancing was something I hadn't experienced since sophomore year of high school. And a friend to go dancing with was even cooler. So naturally, after I got back from summer camp, high up on my list was heading to swing dancing with Link. We met up at Wangfujing, and got dinner at the food court in the Oriental Plaza before heading to the CD Jazz Café. We almost overshot it, and then I saw it out of the corner of my eye.
It was overall, a very interesting time. The first thing you have to wonder about is what they were thinking when they named the place. CD Jazz Café? Just say it out loud.
I mean, imagine telling a friend, "Hey, I'm heading out to that CD Jazz Café tonight!" That'll get a double-take.
We had intended to get there early and take a lesson, and then leave before the dancing was over because the subway closes wicked early in Beijing. Like, we're talking 11:30 p.m., in a city of a bajillion people? Anyway, we were in luck because the lesson happened to be free that night, and Link and I both practiced leading. Which was awesome. The dance itself wasn't all that stimulating - there were only a few people who did lindy hop really well, and Link and I liked dancing with each other better. After a while, we got beers from the American-Italian restaurant next door, and sat watching Adam's birthday dance - fun because he can both lead and follow! We ended up leaving early to take the subway home, but we'll probably go dancing again when I get back to Beijing next week.
The lesson in itself was quite interesting, because it wasn't East Coast, but lindy hop.
The one-hour beginner lindy hop lesson is an art form of sorts, I think. How do you concisely and clearly set the basics for the most intricate and interesting form of swing dancing in just an hour? To master the eight-step pattern and understand the push-and-pull dynamic of the swingout takes good connection, a basic understanding of rhythm, close attention, but also, a lot of time. So I was very interested in seeing how Adam, who was conducting the lesson, intended to teach lindy hop to a roomful of beginners in an hour.
Turns out that he didn't teach the lindy swingout as much as the lindy circle. He started off by gradually easing people into the step-step-triple-step rhythm, and then put the footwork into the lindy circle. Beginning with the back step, and then a triple-step, step-step, triple-step, back step. By the end of the lesson, people were pretty at ease with turning gradually. As Link found out while we were dancing, however, switching to the basic swing-out, which is the base for nearly all the turns, twists, etc. one can throw into lindy hop, ended up being a problem, as they hadn't encountered the steps of the eight-beat pattern. Le sigh. And I didn't agree with Adam on a few points of lindy hop doctrine - I gave Link an exasperated look when Adam briefly addressed the hand connection. He said that when the follow's hand drops, so should the lead's. Which is completely wrong, says me and science. In closed position during the swing-out, or the lindy circle, the lead's hand is slightly cupped upwards, towards the lead's body. The follow's hand rests on it, and the lead's hand bears the weight of the follow's hand, so that when the lead's hand falls away, so does the follow's, because the latter hand is resting on the former. So does it make sense that if the hand on top is removed, the hand on the bottom drops as well? Physics, the last time I checked, disagrees. And something that irked me a little more - yes, there are three points of connection, between the lead's right half and the follow's left half, but he barely mentioned the hand connection between the lead's left hand and the follow's right hand. Just because that connection is prone to be misused, when the lead is a beginner, doesn't mean it should be simply disregarded.
Following and leading lindy hop are like two parts of a conversation - a good lead is like a good speaker, who knows how to articulate just what he wants through his movements, and makes his mind clear to the follow. Similarly, a good follow is like a good listener, who picks up on any and all hints in the body language of the lead. And when the conversation goes well, so does the dance. So the lead must be aware at all times of what he's saying, and what it means to the follow, since the follow relies on all signals from the lead, regardless of where their connections are, to make a decision on what move to make next. If an important connection like the hand is neglected, it's like not knowing the vocabulary for an entire body of knowledge. If you don't know how to talk, then how are you going to tell someone what you need them to do? This metaphor is also useful for explaining why some of the best leads I've danced with, like Heather, are also follows, or started out as follows. They're simply more attuned to what body signals stand out to a follow. They know how to speak because they also know how to listen. It's hard to switch from listening to speaking, and even more so from speaking to listening. But experience in one area helps you in the other. I think that leading and following are both interesting, and I prefer following because it's what I'm used to, and because you can experience a variety of styles. But when I lead, it puts into practice all the things I've learned from being a follow. Similarly, when leads try following, they see themselves from a follow's point of view, and all the things that they do right and that they do wrong become clearer to them, translated by their own reactions to those actions as follows. They're both as interesting, and neither is superior or inferior to the other. They simply take very different mindsets to accomplish, and some people are just naturally suited to be better speakers than listeners, or better listeners than speakers.
I'm going to say that taking a year of sosc with Richard kind of warped my mind, because I can't help but think that this theory about swing dancing based around this conversation metaphor is somewhat Hegelian, and bears a certain resemblance to the master-slave dialectic. There's the self-identification by negation of everything else - I am a lead, not a follow. And then the moment of reflection, that through the other person, you can better define yourself. And finally, the dialectic comes full circle, because the lead does not make the whole dance, nor is the follow's contribution any smaller and insignificant. The union of the two becomes something greater than their sum, as swing dancing requires both a good lead and good follow to reach its full potential, just as a good speaker and a good listener, together, make a great conversation.
Yeah, I've taken too much sosc, basically, and I'm making Hegel roll in his grave with that perversion of the dialectic. But I think I've also had a taste of that mythical Hegel nirvana Richard has referred to before, when everything seems to fit into the Hegelian framework and make so much sense. Basically, "it's so true!!"
One last detail about that evening - I ended up taking a bus from the CD Jazz Café (haha) to Wangfujing, and from there, the 1 line subway home. While I was standing at the Wangfujing station, waiting for the train, a group of obviously American college students came in, and one of them acted quite annoying, by yelling out loud to the subway station in English something about New York City, which I took to be frustration over the early hours that the Beijing subway keeps, in comparison to New York City's sleepless public transportation system. Which I understood, but it still made me want to punch him, and tell him that it was this kind of d-bag behavior that so endeared Americans to foreigners.
On the train, one of them stood close to me, with his back facing me, and after a few stops, I was pleasantly surprised to note that it had the Catullus backpack quote - "non videmus manticae quod in tergo est" (which may be wrong) and a quote from Ovid as well. A good Latin t-shirt never goes amiss, as JCL makes the whole world kin, so after a bit of deliberation, I tapped his shoulder, and asked him where his t-shirt was from. When he heard me speaking English, his face lit up like a kid on Christmas Eve. It turns out that his name was Nathan, and he went to Bates, which made him sort of a fellow New Englander, and we had a very fun and interesting conversation about Latin and Chinese and languages in general. He seemed surprised to learn that I was only going to be a junior, because he thought I was a grad student or something.* I promised to friend him on Facebook before he got off at Gongzhufen, and took a cab home after I arrived at Wukesong. Overall, it was a very exciting day.
*To which I'd just like to say - for the next ten years, I'm okay with being mistaken for being older, but once I move past thirty, I'd like to be mistaken for being younger. That'd be nice.
2008年8月4日星期一
8.4. connie and chris's excellent adventure
(There was only that one title for this entry, honest.)
Originally written the week of July 23rd.
When I bid goodbye to everyone at Shoreland on June 13th, it was a very messy affair. Packing took the longest time, and I had to have everything else sent off to Sarah's apartment, and then to see various people and say goodbye. Chris was making pot brownies (oh, that Chris), but came up and helped me get a public key, and along with Katie, Sarah and Lauren, made sure I got all my luggage downstairs in one piece, and into the taxi. I could never have made it to the airport on time without them. What bricks! Every last one of them! I love all of them, honestly. (And am chagrined that Katie hasn't uploaded those photos yet!) I left them waving in front of the Shoreland, and hadn't the faintest expectation to see any of them before January.
Chris was one of the ones I hadn't heard from at all this summer, but I assumed he was busy being crazy with the summer weather, and enjoying his time at home. And then out of the blue, last week, I got an e-mail, whose subject line was "Lunch?"
Turns out Chris's father is a lawyer for Northwest Airlines (for now, I hear they're merging with Delta), and thus can fly whenever he pleases. Business class, no less. (Ridiculously awesome, seriously.) Last year, they went to Japan, and this year, China was on the menu. I was excited to be able to talk to him, though, and made plans for lunch at Xidan.
It was once again a blessing that we managed to find each other, because there were several "Beijing 2008" signs, and I arrived nearly half an hour late because my parents called. Also, my cellphone ran out of battery, which proved the beginning of a long adventure. We actually bumped into each other within five minutes of me getting there, which was nice. And then we immediately embarked on a trip to find lunch. First, we had egg crepe sandwiches - I have no better way to translate 煎饼. It's like a crepe with egg on it, and then crispy fried dough wrapped with scallions and bean paste. It's kind of delicious, and one of my main goals in coming back to China this summer was to eat it. Then we also got tea drinks, and walked around one of the markets, pointing out Engrish on the shirts. Which was awesome. Then we did a roundabout trip and found a place that had honeyed chicken wing kebabs, which were delicious. I approve heartily. We each had three, and gossiped about how bad apparently pot brownies can be. And then we went to another market, had cold noodles, and I took several pictures of Chris enjoying typical Beijing fare. Finally, we brought strawberry egg tarts at KFC (which were marvelously hot and flaky and everything a pastry should be), and watched some "High School Musical" at the bottom of the Xidan Bookstore.
The adventure started after we finished our meal of cold noodles, and figured out that my cellphone had officially died, without any hope of revival. But Chris had to call his father and meet him at Beihai Park. Thus the chase begins... When we found a mall, we went inside, and actually discovered a machine which recharged cellphones - it had a few dozen different charge plugs sticking out of it, and we were about to be delighted out of our wits when we were told it out of order. Fabulous. The guy at the mall heard us out and pointed us towards somewhere he promised had a public telephone. All lies. Then we found a cellphone place where they persuaded us to buy a $30 phone card which would work with any public telephone, and could call internationally, they promised. They directed us to a hotel around the corner, whose lobby had two public telephones. This was true, but the telephones and the card were retarded. So concurred the lobby waiters who tried to help us make sense out of the machine, which refused to dial more than 3 digits of Chris's dad's Blackberry number. Hmm. Next, they pointed us to a place inside the hotel, where a nice woman tried to get their normal phone to call Chris's dad, but it would simply not cooperate. She said we could try using the computer if it was necessary, and after two minutes (which cost 4 RMB, ridiculous), Chris and I concluded that it was horribly futile.
By this time, we were just... man, I laugh so hard every time I remember how many twists and turns we went through. Finally, I went back to the public telephones and called my mom's friend Xiao Ying, to conduct some business I would have anyway - which was that I'd taken the job in August that my dad suggested, and she didn't need to call and negotiate the one that my mom suggested. And after we had concluded that business, I mentioned that my friend Chris and I were horribly at odds for a way to call his dad as my cellphone had died. As Xiao Ying had spent a few years in America, she offered to call his dad's number and tell him to call his son at the number of the public telephone we were at. After I hung up with her, she called once to make sure she could call into the public telephone. Then we spent five agonizing minutes waiting for his dad (hopefully) to call, laughing and shaking our heads because it was all positively ridiculous. And then it finally rang.
"Hello? Hi, Dad!" The relief was absolutely palpable in Chris's voice, and we grinned at each other.
His dad agreed to meet us at the Xidan subway stop, in a little while, and Chris and I celebrated being able to call an American cellphone in Beijing after an hour of running around like two chickens with their heads cut off by getting aforementioned strawberry egg tarts at KFC. They tasted very good.
That was Chris's and my excellent adventure in Beijing. It was funny, but insanely stressful at the time being, of course. =) Ever after, I have laughed insanely at the thought of Chris's father answering a call from a strange woman who told him in accented English to call his son at a random number. It almost sounds like a scam, really. But somehow, it all worked out, his dad didn't think (or at least he didn't say out loud) that I was a dumbass because my phone wouldn't charge, and father and son were reunited once more. It's a good story. One could almost write a musical about it.
Originally written the week of July 23rd.
When I bid goodbye to everyone at Shoreland on June 13th, it was a very messy affair. Packing took the longest time, and I had to have everything else sent off to Sarah's apartment, and then to see various people and say goodbye. Chris was making pot brownies (oh, that Chris), but came up and helped me get a public key, and along with Katie, Sarah and Lauren, made sure I got all my luggage downstairs in one piece, and into the taxi. I could never have made it to the airport on time without them. What bricks! Every last one of them! I love all of them, honestly. (And am chagrined that Katie hasn't uploaded those photos yet!) I left them waving in front of the Shoreland, and hadn't the faintest expectation to see any of them before January.
Chris was one of the ones I hadn't heard from at all this summer, but I assumed he was busy being crazy with the summer weather, and enjoying his time at home. And then out of the blue, last week, I got an e-mail, whose subject line was "Lunch?"
Turns out Chris's father is a lawyer for Northwest Airlines (for now, I hear they're merging with Delta), and thus can fly whenever he pleases. Business class, no less. (Ridiculously awesome, seriously.) Last year, they went to Japan, and this year, China was on the menu. I was excited to be able to talk to him, though, and made plans for lunch at Xidan.
It was once again a blessing that we managed to find each other, because there were several "Beijing 2008" signs, and I arrived nearly half an hour late because my parents called. Also, my cellphone ran out of battery, which proved the beginning of a long adventure. We actually bumped into each other within five minutes of me getting there, which was nice. And then we immediately embarked on a trip to find lunch. First, we had egg crepe sandwiches - I have no better way to translate 煎饼. It's like a crepe with egg on it, and then crispy fried dough wrapped with scallions and bean paste. It's kind of delicious, and one of my main goals in coming back to China this summer was to eat it. Then we also got tea drinks, and walked around one of the markets, pointing out Engrish on the shirts. Which was awesome. Then we did a roundabout trip and found a place that had honeyed chicken wing kebabs, which were delicious. I approve heartily. We each had three, and gossiped about how bad apparently pot brownies can be. And then we went to another market, had cold noodles, and I took several pictures of Chris enjoying typical Beijing fare. Finally, we brought strawberry egg tarts at KFC (which were marvelously hot and flaky and everything a pastry should be), and watched some "High School Musical" at the bottom of the Xidan Bookstore.
The adventure started after we finished our meal of cold noodles, and figured out that my cellphone had officially died, without any hope of revival. But Chris had to call his father and meet him at Beihai Park. Thus the chase begins... When we found a mall, we went inside, and actually discovered a machine which recharged cellphones - it had a few dozen different charge plugs sticking out of it, and we were about to be delighted out of our wits when we were told it out of order. Fabulous. The guy at the mall heard us out and pointed us towards somewhere he promised had a public telephone. All lies. Then we found a cellphone place where they persuaded us to buy a $30 phone card which would work with any public telephone, and could call internationally, they promised. They directed us to a hotel around the corner, whose lobby had two public telephones. This was true, but the telephones and the card were retarded. So concurred the lobby waiters who tried to help us make sense out of the machine, which refused to dial more than 3 digits of Chris's dad's Blackberry number. Hmm. Next, they pointed us to a place inside the hotel, where a nice woman tried to get their normal phone to call Chris's dad, but it would simply not cooperate. She said we could try using the computer if it was necessary, and after two minutes (which cost 4 RMB, ridiculous), Chris and I concluded that it was horribly futile.
By this time, we were just... man, I laugh so hard every time I remember how many twists and turns we went through. Finally, I went back to the public telephones and called my mom's friend Xiao Ying, to conduct some business I would have anyway - which was that I'd taken the job in August that my dad suggested, and she didn't need to call and negotiate the one that my mom suggested. And after we had concluded that business, I mentioned that my friend Chris and I were horribly at odds for a way to call his dad as my cellphone had died. As Xiao Ying had spent a few years in America, she offered to call his dad's number and tell him to call his son at the number of the public telephone we were at. After I hung up with her, she called once to make sure she could call into the public telephone. Then we spent five agonizing minutes waiting for his dad (hopefully) to call, laughing and shaking our heads because it was all positively ridiculous. And then it finally rang.
"Hello? Hi, Dad!" The relief was absolutely palpable in Chris's voice, and we grinned at each other.
His dad agreed to meet us at the Xidan subway stop, in a little while, and Chris and I celebrated being able to call an American cellphone in Beijing after an hour of running around like two chickens with their heads cut off by getting aforementioned strawberry egg tarts at KFC. They tasted very good.
That was Chris's and my excellent adventure in Beijing. It was funny, but insanely stressful at the time being, of course. =) Ever after, I have laughed insanely at the thought of Chris's father answering a call from a strange woman who told him in accented English to call his son at a random number. It almost sounds like a scam, really. But somehow, it all worked out, his dad didn't think (or at least he didn't say out loud) that I was a dumbass because my phone wouldn't charge, and father and son were reunited once more. It's a good story. One could almost write a musical about it.
2008年8月2日星期六
8.3. exile to jilin
Originally written the week of July 23rd.
Just when I thought I was beginning to get the grasp of Mandarin, in the form of the Beijing dialect, I've been unceremoniously dumped somewhere else. Figures, doesn't it? On Wednesday, my cousin saw me onto the train at the Beijing station headed for Jilin Province, and the provincial city of Liuhe, where my third aunt on my father's side lives.
I arrived early Thursday morning, after a restless night of tossing and turning on the bottom bunk. It was a nice train journey, whereupon I made headway into my German text, brought with Lucy at Xidan, finished another chapter in "The Second Sex", and did more knitting, among other things. Then woke up at 5 a.m. Unpleasant, that. But I got to sleep away the morning, after I arrived at my third aunt's. She has three grown-up children, who all have kids of their own. Her youngest son had a daughter, after the last time I visited, and now she is a six-year old sprite, who likes to tickle her cousin.
Oh, and they call me aunt. I FEEL SO OLD.
I felt relatively young for most of the time at summer camp, though. And since I haven't recounted it at all, I'll write about it in bits. The reason why I felt so young at summer camp was that the kids and my co-workers, most of them, were of a comparable age. There were nine of us counsellors in total, and about 49 squirmy, disobedient, bright and spoiled kids to watch over. The counsellor-in-chief, Wang Laoshi, has got to be one of my favorite people that I've met this summer. He's 30, although I think he looks a little older, and the first time I saw him, he freaked me out because he looked so serious. And he is quite serious, a lot of the time, with high expectations, and he looks at you sternly and doesn't hesitate to yell at you if you're not doing your job. But once he relaxes, into non-professional mode, he makes the wackiest jokes, puts on accents and airs, makes us tell stories, and chain-smokes like there's no tomorrow.
His nickname for me can also be loosely translated as, "Miss Tummy Ma" because while I was stretching, my shirt revealed too much of my stomach. I mean, this guy is ridiculous. And hence why I love him. He also drinks a lot, but that story comes later. To put it plainly, this guy's philosophy is work hard, play hard.
The other counsellors, of which there are 7, were mostly Beida or Tsinghua students, both undergrads and grad students. The only one who wasn't was Aiqi, whom I adore! Her nickname is Xiao Ou, because her last name is Ou, and she was one of the assistant counsellors, like me. The two of us were basically in charge of helping out Wang Laoshi whenever we could, and so we shared a room, a walkie-talkie, and it's a good thing we really took to each other. Aiqi is from Guangdong Province, and hence has the cutest Cantonese accent when she speaks Mandarin. Once, when she was too sleepy while I was trying to wake her up, she told me to go away in Cantonese, and then when she realized, we both laughed so hard. (What's also funny is that when I get woken up from a nap, I tend to speak English. Surprise!) We spent a lot of time together, from walking to the web café in town to upload photos to the school website, and buying medicine for the kids who were coming down with heat stroke and some bad colds, and generally, running around and doing errands for Wang Laoshi. Aiqi has cute curly hair, and a Nivea deodorant spray that she used on me a few times, making me yelp because it was so cold. It was nice-smelling, though, and before we went to bed, we would always gossip a little about the co-counsellors and what mood Wang Laoshi was in today, and how the kids were being insufferable, generally. It was so nice to have someone to confide in. Before I leave China, she's coming back to Beijing, so we'll have to get dinner or something. I will miss her dearly!
The other six counsellors were each in charge of a group of the students, and they were pretty good chums too. There were four girls and two boys. We all became pretty good friends over the course of the two-week camp, but I think the most interesting moment came while the kids were in one classroom doing a lesson, and I had just woken up from a nap in the room where all the counsellors were chilling. Luo Cheng is a smart, and funny grad student in chemistry from Tsinghua, and he is a devout Party member. While I was sleeping, he had embarked on a fairly thorough discussion of democracy and Marxist studies from a Western point of view with Zhu Linhua, and Li Yan, who both attended Beida. Li Yan is older, though, than all of us, and is currently doing the last year of an Int'l Relations degree at Tsinghua. I woke up in time to briefly contributed to the discussion, which was extraordinarily interesting. I love well-educated and well-spoken people who have completely opposite viewpoints from me, and Luo Cheng was just that - hearing him and the other two girls debate the relative merits of democracy and the value that Marxist theory has in modern Western political philosophy was incredibly stimulating. In Chinese, no less. I was able to add a bit to the conversation, considering that sosc, for all of last year, basically confronted the question of democracy as well as Marxist studies. And I kind of squeed in happiness when Li Yan agreed with my summation that like everything, democracy was imperfect in practice, and cited a well-known aphorism about democracy being the best possible choice of a field of bad choices. I think it was good that we didn't completely get into a discussion of communism, because I am far too uneducated about these things, not to mention how to say commodity fetishism in Chinese.
And of course, all of us bonded over the lack of sleep, the long meetings, everyone being equally yelled at by Wang Laoshi, and how unmanageable the kids were. I miss all of them a good deal, but Wang Laoshi has promised to treat us all to dinner at his house and a viewing of "Kung-Fu Panda" in Chinese the next time we see all of each other, before I go back to the States. Score.
Just when I thought I was beginning to get the grasp of Mandarin, in the form of the Beijing dialect, I've been unceremoniously dumped somewhere else. Figures, doesn't it? On Wednesday, my cousin saw me onto the train at the Beijing station headed for Jilin Province, and the provincial city of Liuhe, where my third aunt on my father's side lives.
I arrived early Thursday morning, after a restless night of tossing and turning on the bottom bunk. It was a nice train journey, whereupon I made headway into my German text, brought with Lucy at Xidan, finished another chapter in "The Second Sex", and did more knitting, among other things. Then woke up at 5 a.m. Unpleasant, that. But I got to sleep away the morning, after I arrived at my third aunt's. She has three grown-up children, who all have kids of their own. Her youngest son had a daughter, after the last time I visited, and now she is a six-year old sprite, who likes to tickle her cousin.
Oh, and they call me aunt. I FEEL SO OLD.
I felt relatively young for most of the time at summer camp, though. And since I haven't recounted it at all, I'll write about it in bits. The reason why I felt so young at summer camp was that the kids and my co-workers, most of them, were of a comparable age. There were nine of us counsellors in total, and about 49 squirmy, disobedient, bright and spoiled kids to watch over. The counsellor-in-chief, Wang Laoshi, has got to be one of my favorite people that I've met this summer. He's 30, although I think he looks a little older, and the first time I saw him, he freaked me out because he looked so serious. And he is quite serious, a lot of the time, with high expectations, and he looks at you sternly and doesn't hesitate to yell at you if you're not doing your job. But once he relaxes, into non-professional mode, he makes the wackiest jokes, puts on accents and airs, makes us tell stories, and chain-smokes like there's no tomorrow.
His nickname for me can also be loosely translated as, "Miss Tummy Ma" because while I was stretching, my shirt revealed too much of my stomach. I mean, this guy is ridiculous. And hence why I love him. He also drinks a lot, but that story comes later. To put it plainly, this guy's philosophy is work hard, play hard.
The other counsellors, of which there are 7, were mostly Beida or Tsinghua students, both undergrads and grad students. The only one who wasn't was Aiqi, whom I adore! Her nickname is Xiao Ou, because her last name is Ou, and she was one of the assistant counsellors, like me. The two of us were basically in charge of helping out Wang Laoshi whenever we could, and so we shared a room, a walkie-talkie, and it's a good thing we really took to each other. Aiqi is from Guangdong Province, and hence has the cutest Cantonese accent when she speaks Mandarin. Once, when she was too sleepy while I was trying to wake her up, she told me to go away in Cantonese, and then when she realized, we both laughed so hard. (What's also funny is that when I get woken up from a nap, I tend to speak English. Surprise!) We spent a lot of time together, from walking to the web café in town to upload photos to the school website, and buying medicine for the kids who were coming down with heat stroke and some bad colds, and generally, running around and doing errands for Wang Laoshi. Aiqi has cute curly hair, and a Nivea deodorant spray that she used on me a few times, making me yelp because it was so cold. It was nice-smelling, though, and before we went to bed, we would always gossip a little about the co-counsellors and what mood Wang Laoshi was in today, and how the kids were being insufferable, generally. It was so nice to have someone to confide in. Before I leave China, she's coming back to Beijing, so we'll have to get dinner or something. I will miss her dearly!
The other six counsellors were each in charge of a group of the students, and they were pretty good chums too. There were four girls and two boys. We all became pretty good friends over the course of the two-week camp, but I think the most interesting moment came while the kids were in one classroom doing a lesson, and I had just woken up from a nap in the room where all the counsellors were chilling. Luo Cheng is a smart, and funny grad student in chemistry from Tsinghua, and he is a devout Party member. While I was sleeping, he had embarked on a fairly thorough discussion of democracy and Marxist studies from a Western point of view with Zhu Linhua, and Li Yan, who both attended Beida. Li Yan is older, though, than all of us, and is currently doing the last year of an Int'l Relations degree at Tsinghua. I woke up in time to briefly contributed to the discussion, which was extraordinarily interesting. I love well-educated and well-spoken people who have completely opposite viewpoints from me, and Luo Cheng was just that - hearing him and the other two girls debate the relative merits of democracy and the value that Marxist theory has in modern Western political philosophy was incredibly stimulating. In Chinese, no less. I was able to add a bit to the conversation, considering that sosc, for all of last year, basically confronted the question of democracy as well as Marxist studies. And I kind of squeed in happiness when Li Yan agreed with my summation that like everything, democracy was imperfect in practice, and cited a well-known aphorism about democracy being the best possible choice of a field of bad choices. I think it was good that we didn't completely get into a discussion of communism, because I am far too uneducated about these things, not to mention how to say commodity fetishism in Chinese.
And of course, all of us bonded over the lack of sleep, the long meetings, everyone being equally yelled at by Wang Laoshi, and how unmanageable the kids were. I miss all of them a good deal, but Wang Laoshi has promised to treat us all to dinner at his house and a viewing of "Kung-Fu Panda" in Chinese the next time we see all of each other, before I go back to the States. Score.
2008年8月1日星期五
8.1. the third pitcher was a mistake. or rather, msitake.
Okay so July was a busy month, and updates will be coming shortly, but basically, I was away from Internet access for three weeks of it, so the blame is not all on me, and full-looking pretty and thoughtful updates (containing Hegel!) are forthcoming - as in, they are written, and only need to be posted, so don't fret, all those three readers I have.
I just want to note, before going to sleep tonight, that having a third pitcher of Qingdao at Wudaokou was a BAD idea. Because Lucy and Sam had gone for the first and second pitchers, each 35 RMB, and me going for a third was the only way to even things out. But that meant we also had to drink three pitchers, which made me more than tipsy, and my bladder more than content. It was a miracle which affirmed for me the existence of some mythical presence (or just my own force of will) that I made it home all the way to Aunt's house to fall down in the bathroom, crying out of sheer gratefulness that I could finally let my bladder go.
Next time, I'm just going to give them a third of 70 RMB so we don't have to get a third pitcher and not only drink our livers into oblivion, but also our bladders. Fortunately, the subway was so crowded at 10:30 p.m. that it didn't matter how much beer we'd consumed. And I'm so glad we're going to Shanghai, the three of us. It'll be such a good adventure! =) Exciting. Anyway. To sleep. I am about to die, basically.
I just want to note, before going to sleep tonight, that having a third pitcher of Qingdao at Wudaokou was a BAD idea. Because Lucy and Sam had gone for the first and second pitchers, each 35 RMB, and me going for a third was the only way to even things out. But that meant we also had to drink three pitchers, which made me more than tipsy, and my bladder more than content. It was a miracle which affirmed for me the existence of some mythical presence (or just my own force of will) that I made it home all the way to Aunt's house to fall down in the bathroom, crying out of sheer gratefulness that I could finally let my bladder go.
Next time, I'm just going to give them a third of 70 RMB so we don't have to get a third pitcher and not only drink our livers into oblivion, but also our bladders. Fortunately, the subway was so crowded at 10:30 p.m. that it didn't matter how much beer we'd consumed. And I'm so glad we're going to Shanghai, the three of us. It'll be such a good adventure! =) Exciting. Anyway. To sleep. I am about to die, basically.
2008年6月29日星期日
6.30. 我爱紫色和号 (boom de yada)
So, a comment on linguistic phenomena: let's take the word "okay."One would acknowledged that its shortened form "OK"is more or less universally understood as a form of expressing agreement. The word "okay" in English is more or less an iamb, with its two syllables being short-long, the stress on the 'kay' part. Thus, it is natural for the word "okay" in English to have evolved into forms such as "kay" and "K", thus leading to the occurence of "Kthxbai."
What has completely baffled me is the metamorphosis of "okay" into "Ou le" in Chinese. Whereas in English, we've taken the "kay" part of the word "okay" as an abbreviation, the "o" portion has been used in Chinese, with the particle "了" tacked on at the end. This particle is mostly used to signify finality, and the past tense, and is difficult to translate non-idiomatically into Chinese. They do use it in the same context... For example, negotiating what restaurant to take one's younger cousin to... (this following exchange is for entertainment purposes only and not to be taken seriously)
"你这个傻逼，怎能带我妹子去那个酒吧呢？" (You dumbass, how can we take my cousin to that bar?!)
"好好好，那就去你鸡巴提的那个地儿。"(All right, all right！ Then we'll go to the spot you fucking suggested.)
"就这样，七点去，啊？哦了。" (It's settled. Seven o'clock, all right? Ou le!)
So... on Saturday, my cousin had his soccer match, to which I brought Lucy and Sam. It was basically pretty awesome to see them again. UChicago'10 takes on the world! ... in the form of Beijing. My cousin had wanted to see if Sam would possibly play for their team, but he's a size 13 in America, which translates to a 46 in China, and my cousin's eyes just about jumped out of his head when he heard that. They'd have a hard enough time finding flip-flops that fit him, let alone cleats. And so Sam sat with us and gossiped about Princeton in Beijing. It was awesome. Afterwards, we got dinner at a place close to my cousin's girlfriend's store, and embarked on the summer-long search for a ridiculous Chinese shirt for Sam. It had to be... incredibly fobby, cheap, and preferably full of Engrish. We took a break from the exhausting search to have a drink at a bar - Lucy treated us to a Heinekin, a strawberry margarita, and she had a mai tai herself. It was exciting!
Yesterday, we got up early, and my cousin drove me to my paternal aunt's house. When I'm in China, I usually stay with my mother's side, who all live in Beijing. I was closer to them as a child, too, but my dad has the bigger family. He's the youngest and only boy in a family of five. Of his four older sisters, three are still living, but I probably, all combined, have about 10 cousins on my dad's side, and a lot of second cousins too. Because of the age difference, my oldest cousin happens to be about 3 years younger than my dad... and her daughter is about 25 and has to call me aunt. (lulz) This aunt is First Aunt, and she has three sons, two of whom I hung out with yesterday. Feifei, her youngest, is probably my favorite cousin: I remember him from when I was younger, but when I got here yesterday, I found an energetic 35-year old (yesterday was his birthday!), who still worked with computers, knew all about Linux and Dan Brown, and had read "Ender's Game." I don't deserve such awesome relatives, I really don't. He taught me mah-jong, which I played with my aunt and her second son and his wife. (They have an adorable seven-year old girl nicknamed Qingqing who studies English, and winked at me all through dinner.) We played for a really long time, during which I won twice - hooray - and then went to dinner. It was an extraordinarily fancy restaurant, but while eating a scallop, Qingqing found a piece of thread in it.
It was the opportunity of a lifetime. Literally. My cousin's wife called in the waiter, who called in the manager, and she put up the biggest but quiet and firm fuss about how this had been found. The manager tried to assuage her with a promise of a free entree, or several other things, but refused to give them more than a 12% discount. She drew out her claws, then. When the cowed manager promised to go talk to her boss, and slunk out of the room, my extended family all just about died laughing. My cousin's wife is a pretty petite woman, but she was persistent and shameless. It was the beginning of an epic evening. Throughout the rest of the night, my cousin's wife just stuck tight to her guns, and told her that they could take one of two choices: give them a 50% discount on the whole meal, or write up a guarantee, signed and stamped, that if anything happened to her daughter, they would undertake all responsibility. I was sitting in the corner, feeling very out of place, but Feifei assured me that I could simply regard it as a grand farce, a play. As well as a crash course in international relations, considering what my major was. The woman ended up coming back in, and trying to actually say that they'd sign such an agreement, but obviously, what my family wanted was a steeper discount on the meal. Both of my cousins joined the battle, and made it very clear that their mood had been completely ruined, because of the piece of thread, and the remote possibility that a child had come into danger thanks to their shoddy kitchen management. And laughed fit to kill when the woman left, and assured me that it wasn't about the money -Feifei's wife could get it reimbursed by her company- but more about the power struggle, and the right to strut out of there victorious. Though I felt mortified for the restaurant management, my cousins reassured me that there were no hard feelings on either side. It was all a part of the manager's job, to keep us happy. It was an eye-opener, that was for sure. When Feifei's wife finally walked back from getting the check, she informed us that they'd scored a 25% discount, and a $100 giftcard good for future visits for my cousin's wife. Cheers were had all around, and we enjoyed Feifei's birthday cake. I do have some crazy photos from when his wife smeared icing on his face. My relatives are too cool, seriously.
I was having such a good time here that I decided to spend the night, and had a great talk with Feifei. He gave me advice on networking in the future, especially if I intend to go into academia, and talked about how important it was to understand the library system at school. It held a lot more than books, that I could mine for helpful information. It was good to talk to someone other than my parents about my future, and what would be the next appropriate steps - Feifei also thinks I should try to go to graduate school in Europe, Germany specifically, because he studied in Heidelberg for a time, and broadening my international experiences would immensely benefit my future career. Before I went to bed, because I was sleeping in the same room as my aunt, we also had a brief talk about my dad - she's 70 and getting a little dotty, but it was nice to discuss how to deal with my dad's temper. (There were immense amounts of dirt and gossip thrown around at dinner about how my parents got together, which was vastly interesting because obviously, I'd never heard about it. But it was all hilarious.)
And now I'm waiting around until Feifei can drive me back to Wukesong, and my uncle's house, so I can do more work on my Tsinghua presentations - seriously, I gotta get cracking or... well, or die of embarrassment. Future plans for the next few days include visiting my maternal aunts, who have dogs and cats up the wazoo, and poking in on Peking University where Lucy has a connection with an econ professor. Holla at them guanxi, that's what I say.
All y'all back in the States, do leave me a note or two. I miss the Point, reading books in Harvard Square, hanging out with people and singing Andrew Bird... and everything in between. Beijing is awesome, but it's not home, so please send something my way to make me less homesick.
What has completely baffled me is the metamorphosis of "okay" into "Ou le" in Chinese. Whereas in English, we've taken the "kay" part of the word "okay" as an abbreviation, the "o" portion has been used in Chinese, with the particle "了" tacked on at the end. This particle is mostly used to signify finality, and the past tense, and is difficult to translate non-idiomatically into Chinese. They do use it in the same context... For example, negotiating what restaurant to take one's younger cousin to... (this following exchange is for entertainment purposes only and not to be taken seriously)
"你这个傻逼，怎能带我妹子去那个酒吧呢？" (You dumbass, how can we take my cousin to that bar?!)
"好好好，那就去你鸡巴提的那个地儿。"(All right, all right！ Then we'll go to the spot you fucking suggested.)
"就这样，七点去，啊？哦了。" (It's settled. Seven o'clock, all right? Ou le!)
So... on Saturday, my cousin had his soccer match, to which I brought Lucy and Sam. It was basically pretty awesome to see them again. UChicago'10 takes on the world! ... in the form of Beijing. My cousin had wanted to see if Sam would possibly play for their team, but he's a size 13 in America, which translates to a 46 in China, and my cousin's eyes just about jumped out of his head when he heard that. They'd have a hard enough time finding flip-flops that fit him, let alone cleats. And so Sam sat with us and gossiped about Princeton in Beijing. It was awesome. Afterwards, we got dinner at a place close to my cousin's girlfriend's store, and embarked on the summer-long search for a ridiculous Chinese shirt for Sam. It had to be... incredibly fobby, cheap, and preferably full of Engrish. We took a break from the exhausting search to have a drink at a bar - Lucy treated us to a Heinekin, a strawberry margarita, and she had a mai tai herself. It was exciting!
Yesterday, we got up early, and my cousin drove me to my paternal aunt's house. When I'm in China, I usually stay with my mother's side, who all live in Beijing. I was closer to them as a child, too, but my dad has the bigger family. He's the youngest and only boy in a family of five. Of his four older sisters, three are still living, but I probably, all combined, have about 10 cousins on my dad's side, and a lot of second cousins too. Because of the age difference, my oldest cousin happens to be about 3 years younger than my dad... and her daughter is about 25 and has to call me aunt. (lulz) This aunt is First Aunt, and she has three sons, two of whom I hung out with yesterday. Feifei, her youngest, is probably my favorite cousin: I remember him from when I was younger, but when I got here yesterday, I found an energetic 35-year old (yesterday was his birthday!), who still worked with computers, knew all about Linux and Dan Brown, and had read "Ender's Game." I don't deserve such awesome relatives, I really don't. He taught me mah-jong, which I played with my aunt and her second son and his wife. (They have an adorable seven-year old girl nicknamed Qingqing who studies English, and winked at me all through dinner.) We played for a really long time, during which I won twice - hooray - and then went to dinner. It was an extraordinarily fancy restaurant, but while eating a scallop, Qingqing found a piece of thread in it.
It was the opportunity of a lifetime. Literally. My cousin's wife called in the waiter, who called in the manager, and she put up the biggest but quiet and firm fuss about how this had been found. The manager tried to assuage her with a promise of a free entree, or several other things, but refused to give them more than a 12% discount. She drew out her claws, then. When the cowed manager promised to go talk to her boss, and slunk out of the room, my extended family all just about died laughing. My cousin's wife is a pretty petite woman, but she was persistent and shameless. It was the beginning of an epic evening. Throughout the rest of the night, my cousin's wife just stuck tight to her guns, and told her that they could take one of two choices: give them a 50% discount on the whole meal, or write up a guarantee, signed and stamped, that if anything happened to her daughter, they would undertake all responsibility. I was sitting in the corner, feeling very out of place, but Feifei assured me that I could simply regard it as a grand farce, a play. As well as a crash course in international relations, considering what my major was. The woman ended up coming back in, and trying to actually say that they'd sign such an agreement, but obviously, what my family wanted was a steeper discount on the meal. Both of my cousins joined the battle, and made it very clear that their mood had been completely ruined, because of the piece of thread, and the remote possibility that a child had come into danger thanks to their shoddy kitchen management. And laughed fit to kill when the woman left, and assured me that it wasn't about the money -Feifei's wife could get it reimbursed by her company- but more about the power struggle, and the right to strut out of there victorious. Though I felt mortified for the restaurant management, my cousins reassured me that there were no hard feelings on either side. It was all a part of the manager's job, to keep us happy. It was an eye-opener, that was for sure. When Feifei's wife finally walked back from getting the check, she informed us that they'd scored a 25% discount, and a $100 giftcard good for future visits for my cousin's wife. Cheers were had all around, and we enjoyed Feifei's birthday cake. I do have some crazy photos from when his wife smeared icing on his face. My relatives are too cool, seriously.
I was having such a good time here that I decided to spend the night, and had a great talk with Feifei. He gave me advice on networking in the future, especially if I intend to go into academia, and talked about how important it was to understand the library system at school. It held a lot more than books, that I could mine for helpful information. It was good to talk to someone other than my parents about my future, and what would be the next appropriate steps - Feifei also thinks I should try to go to graduate school in Europe, Germany specifically, because he studied in Heidelberg for a time, and broadening my international experiences would immensely benefit my future career. Before I went to bed, because I was sleeping in the same room as my aunt, we also had a brief talk about my dad - she's 70 and getting a little dotty, but it was nice to discuss how to deal with my dad's temper. (There were immense amounts of dirt and gossip thrown around at dinner about how my parents got together, which was vastly interesting because obviously, I'd never heard about it. But it was all hilarious.)
And now I'm waiting around until Feifei can drive me back to Wukesong, and my uncle's house, so I can do more work on my Tsinghua presentations - seriously, I gotta get cracking or... well, or die of embarrassment. Future plans for the next few days include visiting my maternal aunts, who have dogs and cats up the wazoo, and poking in on Peking University where Lucy has a connection with an econ professor. Holla at them guanxi, that's what I say.
All y'all back in the States, do leave me a note or two. I miss the Point, reading books in Harvard Square, hanging out with people and singing Andrew Bird... and everything in between. Beijing is awesome, but it's not home, so please send something my way to make me less homesick.
2008年6月27日星期五
6.27. '180? please.' 'okay, fine, then what's your lowest price?'
China feels a little less like a dream now, but there are still tinges and moments when I feel like I'm floating somewhere I don't belong.
I'm not sure why this disconnected feeling actually happens... but I think it has something to do with how I look at all of this and think, "This could have been my life. I could have been here, living through all of this, buying these things every day, breathing this air, sleeping and waking and marrying someone like this. How weird is that?!" And trying to comprehend the possibility of this alternate reality is definitely a mental trial, but more than it being difficult to understand, it creates an instinctively panicky feeling at the bottom of my stomach.
The thought that I could have never been to Boston. Never gone to BLS, UChicago. Never met any of my friends. Read Harry Potter fanfiction. Been to Prince Edward Island. Learned lindy hop with Alex. Met Alex. Things like that kind of turn my stomach. Maybe. I don't know. Life is full of a lot of close calls, and living in Beijing now is like living in that alternate universe that could've been mine, so easily. Maybe that's why I'm so scared here. How much I love my life in Boston and Chicago as opposed to this existence.
It's not actually been such a bad boat, I have to say. We did go swing dancing, which was actually kind of nice... though they're quite an insular bunch. I don't know. I felt like a lao wai that time. I'll wait until Link gets back to Beijing, and ask him to take me around. ^_^ W00t. Anyway, yesterday, Lucy and I met up and went to YongAnLi, which was huge. And met up with Eg, who knows Emily! And Lucy helped me bargain down a watch, a cellphone battery, two handbags, and a hairclip, all for pretty much 250 RMB. For all of you playing at home, that's about 40 USD. Which is awesome. W00t. Then I went back to XiZhiMen, where my cousin called me and told me to take a cab to some hot pot place. I arrived at the restaurant to find a table of raucous young men - a few of which I recognized as being my cousin's friends from when we were younger. It was funny to sit and listen to them, call out each other for toasts, and yelling and swearing, and calling for more beer. One of them, who had brought a new girlfriend, was leaving on a trip tomorrow, and he kept pleading off drinking beer because he had a plane to catch.
"If I drink too fucking much, then I can't get up tomorrow!" He shook his head and laughed. My cousin didn't miss a beat.
"Wait, what? Did you just say you can't get it up? What can't you get up, huh?" The table exploded in laughter.
I hid my smile behind a glass of green tea, and put some more lamb meat in the pot. It was a very amusing time, to see them go to the bathroom together, and come back, with my cousin cursing.
"You can't fucking pee together with this asshole, I swear," he said as he sat down. "His aim's so goddamned horrible I swear my calves are wet." Much hooting and laughing.
My cousin is a drama queen, basically. But a funny one. There were about ten or so of them, and only four or five women, all girlfriends... and then me. A few of them asked me eager questions about America, and what I was doing here, and stories about my cousin. My cousin lovingly recounted an instance where my mother had given him a royal spanking...
The scene: Connie was 5, and my cousin, Ning-Ning, about 12 or so, with his friend Hu Chen, were with me at my grandfather's house. While everyone was finishing up lunch in the kitchen, we were sitting in my grandfather's bedroom. They were discussing something, and I was curious, but my cousin had told me to ask my mom about it. So I, being completely naïve, had marched into the kitchen and tugged at my mother, who absent-mindedly turned towards me.
"Mama, Ning-Ning told me to ask you what licking a popsicle means."
Dead silence in the kitchen, full of my adult maternal relatives. I really wish that I'd remembered this, but I was only 5, after all. And then my mother stormed into the bedroom, spanked him, yelled at him, and basically ripped my cousin a new one.
Some things never change.
My cousin has a horrible temper, and a bad habit of yelling at people. Isn't too polite. Definitely lazy. Spends everyone's money but his own, but that's because he doesn't have any. But aside from bullying me when I was a little girl, he's a nice guy - always very generous, loyal, and protective. Though he can be a tard, he's not a bad guy, and I do like him when he makes sense. Anyway.
I sat through two hours of dinner, of listening to swears, toasts, through the haze of beer and cigarette smoke. I've been here for about four days now, and I can tell you he's pretty much a pack-a-day kind of guy. *shakes head* His girlfriend is kind of a sweet girl, though, and I like her. We went shopping this afternoon for some clothing. I brought a few awesome skirts, and two great shirts: one of which is below. W00t.
You can't see all of it, but it's basically a gray tee, with a black cat on it who is entangling itself in an orange ball of thread. A speech bubble from the cat says, "Fffffffffhhhhhh!!!"
I love it, because... when was the last time you heard a cat say "Ffffffffhhhhhh!!!" ? It's ridiculous, which is a pretty good representation of Beijing. <3
Tomorrow, some proper work on my presentation for Tsinghua, and my cousin's soccer game. Hopefully, also, meeting up with Lucy, Eg (from yesterday) and Sam Berkowitz, that sexy bastard, and having dinner. It'll be like UChicago'10. W00t.
I'm not sure why this disconnected feeling actually happens... but I think it has something to do with how I look at all of this and think, "This could have been my life. I could have been here, living through all of this, buying these things every day, breathing this air, sleeping and waking and marrying someone like this. How weird is that?!" And trying to comprehend the possibility of this alternate reality is definitely a mental trial, but more than it being difficult to understand, it creates an instinctively panicky feeling at the bottom of my stomach.
The thought that I could have never been to Boston. Never gone to BLS, UChicago. Never met any of my friends. Read Harry Potter fanfiction. Been to Prince Edward Island. Learned lindy hop with Alex. Met Alex. Things like that kind of turn my stomach. Maybe. I don't know. Life is full of a lot of close calls, and living in Beijing now is like living in that alternate universe that could've been mine, so easily. Maybe that's why I'm so scared here. How much I love my life in Boston and Chicago as opposed to this existence.
It's not actually been such a bad boat, I have to say. We did go swing dancing, which was actually kind of nice... though they're quite an insular bunch. I don't know. I felt like a lao wai that time. I'll wait until Link gets back to Beijing, and ask him to take me around. ^_^ W00t. Anyway, yesterday, Lucy and I met up and went to YongAnLi, which was huge. And met up with Eg, who knows Emily! And Lucy helped me bargain down a watch, a cellphone battery, two handbags, and a hairclip, all for pretty much 250 RMB. For all of you playing at home, that's about 40 USD. Which is awesome. W00t. Then I went back to XiZhiMen, where my cousin called me and told me to take a cab to some hot pot place. I arrived at the restaurant to find a table of raucous young men - a few of which I recognized as being my cousin's friends from when we were younger. It was funny to sit and listen to them, call out each other for toasts, and yelling and swearing, and calling for more beer. One of them, who had brought a new girlfriend, was leaving on a trip tomorrow, and he kept pleading off drinking beer because he had a plane to catch.
"If I drink too fucking much, then I can't get up tomorrow!" He shook his head and laughed. My cousin didn't miss a beat.
"Wait, what? Did you just say you can't get it up? What can't you get up, huh?" The table exploded in laughter.
I hid my smile behind a glass of green tea, and put some more lamb meat in the pot. It was a very amusing time, to see them go to the bathroom together, and come back, with my cousin cursing.
"You can't fucking pee together with this asshole, I swear," he said as he sat down. "His aim's so goddamned horrible I swear my calves are wet." Much hooting and laughing.
My cousin is a drama queen, basically. But a funny one. There were about ten or so of them, and only four or five women, all girlfriends... and then me. A few of them asked me eager questions about America, and what I was doing here, and stories about my cousin. My cousin lovingly recounted an instance where my mother had given him a royal spanking...
The scene: Connie was 5, and my cousin, Ning-Ning, about 12 or so, with his friend Hu Chen, were with me at my grandfather's house. While everyone was finishing up lunch in the kitchen, we were sitting in my grandfather's bedroom. They were discussing something, and I was curious, but my cousin had told me to ask my mom about it. So I, being completely naïve, had marched into the kitchen and tugged at my mother, who absent-mindedly turned towards me.
"Mama, Ning-Ning told me to ask you what licking a popsicle means."
Dead silence in the kitchen, full of my adult maternal relatives. I really wish that I'd remembered this, but I was only 5, after all. And then my mother stormed into the bedroom, spanked him, yelled at him, and basically ripped my cousin a new one.
Some things never change.
My cousin has a horrible temper, and a bad habit of yelling at people. Isn't too polite. Definitely lazy. Spends everyone's money but his own, but that's because he doesn't have any. But aside from bullying me when I was a little girl, he's a nice guy - always very generous, loyal, and protective. Though he can be a tard, he's not a bad guy, and I do like him when he makes sense. Anyway.
I sat through two hours of dinner, of listening to swears, toasts, through the haze of beer and cigarette smoke. I've been here for about four days now, and I can tell you he's pretty much a pack-a-day kind of guy. *shakes head* His girlfriend is kind of a sweet girl, though, and I like her. We went shopping this afternoon for some clothing. I brought a few awesome skirts, and two great shirts: one of which is below. W00t.
You can't see all of it, but it's basically a gray tee, with a black cat on it who is entangling itself in an orange ball of thread. A speech bubble from the cat says, "Fffffffffhhhhhh!!!"
I love it, because... when was the last time you heard a cat say "Ffffffffhhhhhh!!!" ? It's ridiculous, which is a pretty good representation of Beijing. <3
Tomorrow, some proper work on my presentation for Tsinghua, and my cousin's soccer game. Hopefully, also, meeting up with Lucy, Eg (from yesterday) and Sam Berkowitz, that sexy bastard, and having dinner. It'll be like UChicago'10. W00t.
2008年6月25日星期三
6.25. 'my style of dancing is too fast for this song'
I'm too asdfjkl tired to actually write this entry. Right this minute, I'm waiting for my cousin to get out of the shower so I can just go and brush my teeth and go to sleep, because this shit is ridiculous. Today was not the most satisfactory of days... I lost two hours to rereading "The Blue Castle," had a semi-confidence losing meeting with the people at Tsinghua, and ate too freaking much seafood. And to boot, didn't have the most exciting of first swing dance nights in Beijing.
I mean, the guy was not intentionally rude, or purposefully stupid, but "my style of dancing is too fast for this song" is probably the lamest excuse you can pull for not dancing to a particular song. It happened to be "Beyond the Sea" too, which isn't like "Fever"-slow, so I don't know what this guy was yammering about. He made it sound like a 50 bpm song. Goddamn. Also, it's just a horrible dancing habit, to pigeonhole yourself into a particular "type" of dance, or something. You can have a favorite, but as a lead, you can't eschew slower songs. He didn't even dance lindy, which, I don't know, if it's the only dance you do, you might not be too into the slow songs, yeah. But it just left a slightly bad taste in my mouth. You should always extend your range, I think, and learn more, and dance with more styles. Lindy hop, Charleston, East Coast, West Coast, Balboa... there's so much to learn, and it was just that it was a quiet kind of evening, where four couples on the floor was the most you'd see. And I miss Chicago. A lot.
Okay, enough whining for one evening. Maybe tomorrow I'll be in a better mood, and actually remember that today was kinda nice. For now, beeeeed.
I mean, the guy was not intentionally rude, or purposefully stupid, but "my style of dancing is too fast for this song" is probably the lamest excuse you can pull for not dancing to a particular song. It happened to be "Beyond the Sea" too, which isn't like "Fever"-slow, so I don't know what this guy was yammering about. He made it sound like a 50 bpm song. Goddamn. Also, it's just a horrible dancing habit, to pigeonhole yourself into a particular "type" of dance, or something. You can have a favorite, but as a lead, you can't eschew slower songs. He didn't even dance lindy, which, I don't know, if it's the only dance you do, you might not be too into the slow songs, yeah. But it just left a slightly bad taste in my mouth. You should always extend your range, I think, and learn more, and dance with more styles. Lindy hop, Charleston, East Coast, West Coast, Balboa... there's so much to learn, and it was just that it was a quiet kind of evening, where four couples on the floor was the most you'd see. And I miss Chicago. A lot.
Okay, enough whining for one evening. Maybe tomorrow I'll be in a better mood, and actually remember that today was kinda nice. For now, beeeeed.
2008年6月24日星期二
6.25. why can't I breathe whenever I... set foot in this country?
Liz Phair was playing over the loudspeakers at the dim sum eatery we went to last night.
It was kind of surreal listening to "Why Can't I" while looking at my cousin's girlfriend across the table, eating her "fengzhua," which for all of you keeping score at home, basically means chicken feet. But I mean, there're a lot of surreal things here. Beijing still seems like a huge dream sometimes. It shouldn't be. I was born here, and I spent seven years here before I was shipped off to the other side of the Pacific and made to learn that "one cat, two cat" is not actually grammatically correct. But really. It's like a dream.
I woke up at the crack of dawn this morning, so yeah, I fooled around online, learned that LJ was not to be mine for several months (I don't know how I'm going to survive, honestly. Like... it's like disappearing from Facebook for a month! But only a month because Facebook deprivation for a month = LJ deprivation for three, pretty much), and despaired. I also wrote a long-ass e-mail to my parents in Chinese that at least my mom was happy about, which meant yay. My cousin and his girlfriend got me out of here around 9:30 or so, and we drove to their workplace, which is a small boutique that sells fake Louis Vuitton, Chanel and Gucci, along with the frivolous sort of clothing that is both the hallmark of Beijing girls (sizes 0 and under, thank you very much) and the bane of my mother's existence. In other words, it's a normal boutique in Beijing, and my cousin kindly offered to get me a free bag, but my taste is just really too simple for what Beijing fashion is like... Lucy and I dissected this idea this afternoon, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
After hanging around their store a little, I called up Lucy, who lives in Changping, and we made a date at Wangfujing, which is one of Beijing's big shopping intersections. And when we say shopping, we mean pretty much all kinds of shopping - from United Colors of Benetton to Burberry to the kind of place where you can bargain a notebook from 28 RMB down to 10. My cousin drove me there, and it was awesome to actually find Lucy because we had arranged to meet in front of XinTianDi, one of the malls there, which actually had multiple entrances! It should've been harder to find her, in retrospect, but my eyes are good. We ran around the mall and the bookstore at Wangfujing for two hours, gabbing in English and interspersed bits of Chinese. Sometimes because we felt like it, sometimes because we were too excited to speak in Chinese. And got weird looks from a lot of people.
The debate of the hour: Beijing fashion. Basically, we were being judged all the time... to give you a picture... Lucy was wearing a brown tanktop, and khaki shorts, with a sequined-ish golden purse and flip-flops. I was wearing flip-flops, a green tanktop from GAP, and a flowery patterned brown and white skirt from Wet Seal, and carrying a small black tote from the Seminary Co-op. If you were in America, you wouldn't take a second look at us. In one of the most crowded shopping districts of Beijing, we stood out (if you bothered to look at us) like a sore thumb. First of all, no one did their hair like me - and I mean no one. Lucy at least had hers half permed and curly, which was the same for about half the girls we saw. Secondly, we were just dressed too plainly. Most of the girls who went by were dressed up - something shiny, or flowery, or sequined, or bright pink or yellow or green. Or something. They also had huge rhinestone clips in their hair, and were thin as sticks. Lucy and I, who both are about 5'8'' and 5'6'' respectively, and more or less under 150 pounds, were the fattest chicks around. No lie. The most interesting thing about China is that ordinary girls who walk around on the street actually LOOK LIKE the models in the advertisements. Srsly. And we also wore flip-flops, which are a definitely dress *down*. Since I'm also kind of tall for an Asian girl (and Lucy DEFINITELY is), we also didn't need to wear high heels, which they were also all wearing. *fume* Just because I don't want to kill my feet all day... basically, we were way too dressed down for Beijing. One guy told us we definitely looked like we weren't from around there. I'd like to have asked him exactly where we looked like we came from. But I'm not sure if it's just a commentary on Americans, who are just used to having all the money in the world and dressing like they earn minimum wage. It's difficult to strike a balance between the perfect FOB in America, and the stereotypical ABC in China. (See glossary!) After all, I'm just not the kind of girl who goes around with silver lame purses and teetering high heels. I like cardigans, and flats, and bookish totebags. And looking 40, as Anneke would say.
The highlight of our trip was probably running through the bookstore at Wangfujing, and kicking up a storm in the foreign language section. I was hunting for some sort of German-English dictionary, and Lucy a French-English one, both of us for our civ programs in autumn quarter (I'm in Vienna, she's in Paris). We found some hilarious English-French-Chinese ones, which were cute, and also the foreign import section, which was amazing. They had such a good collection of English classics, right off the bat. Shakespeare and the Western Canon. Pretty much. More than once, we exclaimed, "We can do our civ booklist shopping here!" There was also an excellent bestseller section, with two whole shelves for Haruki Murakami, a good section on entrepeneurship, etc., and of course, small paperbacks, the domain of Michael Crichton and LaVyrle Spencer. Some of the books were more expensive in RMB (it's about a little less than 7 RMB to the dollar right now), but some were a lot cheaper. Like a paperback of "Anne of Green Gables" for 20 RMB? You can't get that for USD3! Really. Our favorite, however, was the travel section. Lonely Planet had a great selection, from Myanmar (Burma) to Venice to Chicago (!), but the most puzzling thing was the conspicuous lack of China. We had to ask a salesperson, and he admitted that it actually wasn't allowed to be imported. And then we laughed like crazy, and I swore to find out once I was back in the States exactly what kind of sensitive dirt Lonely Planet had on the Chinese government. It was also cool because our salesperson was an adorable guy who asked us where we were from, and we had a few nice exchanges. I think that Lucy and I may also pick up a present for Richard - perhaps a Chinese translation of Kant's "Critique of Pure Reason"? Or Hegel? He does follow you everywhere.
Afterwards, we picked up a lamb kebab each while strolling along one of the smaller side roads, filled with vendors who were selling the cheap stuff you can even get in Chinatown in Chicago. (P.S. They have... like, scorpion kebabs. And cicada kebabs. But the scorpions were still writhing on the sticks. It was really really disturbing. I didn't like to look at them, let alone imagine eating them. Gawd.) And Lucy helped me bargain this notebook down to 10 RMB. (Yes, that's slightly over a dollar, folks.) It's really cute, with a soft blue embroidered cover, and I'm thinking of buying more for presents back home. If you buy a ton, too, it's easier to bargain down. Which is good 'cause I suck at it. I'm just too nice, and you can smell the foreigner on me from a mile away in those circumstances. Part of the key to bargaining is to pretend you don't really want something, and I am so bad at lying it should be illegal. Ugh.
We parted ways, after promising to pull together some UChicago'10 party at KTV (hello, karaoke!) and possibly traveling to Shanghai during August to see Lisa (and maybe even with Sam. Whoa.), and my cousin drove me home. We had a pretty good dinner, cooked by my aunt, and I sat and watched a bit of a TV drama involving killing monks. (Man, Buddhism is not entirely a pacifist religion, no matter what they want you to believe.) And now I'm really freaking tired, but I can't go to sleep until at least 10 p.m., because I'll wake up at 6 again tomorrow if I'm not careful.
At least we brought a cell phone number during the day, and my cousin's girlfriend has an old one I can use for the summer. Whee. I will be phone-ed very soon, and can send it out to people, and bother them. Excellentatious. I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep writing these wicked long posts, but I see and feel so much and have so much to say that Chinese doesn't give me the capability to express.
As Lucy commented today, "I haven't talked so much in a long time that my throat hurts." I feel like I've said a lot too. Here's to becoming as loquacious in Chinese this summer as I am in English. Or perhaps even more, since I can pick up more swears from my cousin. One can only hope.
(Glossary: FOB means Fresh Off the Boat, indicating a large degree of naivety about American culture, where as ABC means American-Born-Chinese, or someone who looks like they should speak with a proper Beijing accent, but is really American at the core. I'm definitely not the former, but I'm not sure how far from the latter I am at times.)
It was kind of surreal listening to "Why Can't I" while looking at my cousin's girlfriend across the table, eating her "fengzhua," which for all of you keeping score at home, basically means chicken feet. But I mean, there're a lot of surreal things here. Beijing still seems like a huge dream sometimes. It shouldn't be. I was born here, and I spent seven years here before I was shipped off to the other side of the Pacific and made to learn that "one cat, two cat" is not actually grammatically correct. But really. It's like a dream.
I woke up at the crack of dawn this morning, so yeah, I fooled around online, learned that LJ was not to be mine for several months (I don't know how I'm going to survive, honestly. Like... it's like disappearing from Facebook for a month! But only a month because Facebook deprivation for a month = LJ deprivation for three, pretty much), and despaired. I also wrote a long-ass e-mail to my parents in Chinese that at least my mom was happy about, which meant yay. My cousin and his girlfriend got me out of here around 9:30 or so, and we drove to their workplace, which is a small boutique that sells fake Louis Vuitton, Chanel and Gucci, along with the frivolous sort of clothing that is both the hallmark of Beijing girls (sizes 0 and under, thank you very much) and the bane of my mother's existence. In other words, it's a normal boutique in Beijing, and my cousin kindly offered to get me a free bag, but my taste is just really too simple for what Beijing fashion is like... Lucy and I dissected this idea this afternoon, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
After hanging around their store a little, I called up Lucy, who lives in Changping, and we made a date at Wangfujing, which is one of Beijing's big shopping intersections. And when we say shopping, we mean pretty much all kinds of shopping - from United Colors of Benetton to Burberry to the kind of place where you can bargain a notebook from 28 RMB down to 10. My cousin drove me there, and it was awesome to actually find Lucy because we had arranged to meet in front of XinTianDi, one of the malls there, which actually had multiple entrances! It should've been harder to find her, in retrospect, but my eyes are good. We ran around the mall and the bookstore at Wangfujing for two hours, gabbing in English and interspersed bits of Chinese. Sometimes because we felt like it, sometimes because we were too excited to speak in Chinese. And got weird looks from a lot of people.
The debate of the hour: Beijing fashion. Basically, we were being judged all the time... to give you a picture... Lucy was wearing a brown tanktop, and khaki shorts, with a sequined-ish golden purse and flip-flops. I was wearing flip-flops, a green tanktop from GAP, and a flowery patterned brown and white skirt from Wet Seal, and carrying a small black tote from the Seminary Co-op. If you were in America, you wouldn't take a second look at us. In one of the most crowded shopping districts of Beijing, we stood out (if you bothered to look at us) like a sore thumb. First of all, no one did their hair like me - and I mean no one. Lucy at least had hers half permed and curly, which was the same for about half the girls we saw. Secondly, we were just dressed too plainly. Most of the girls who went by were dressed up - something shiny, or flowery, or sequined, or bright pink or yellow or green. Or something. They also had huge rhinestone clips in their hair, and were thin as sticks. Lucy and I, who both are about 5'8'' and 5'6'' respectively, and more or less under 150 pounds, were the fattest chicks around. No lie. The most interesting thing about China is that ordinary girls who walk around on the street actually LOOK LIKE the models in the advertisements. Srsly. And we also wore flip-flops, which are a definitely dress *down*. Since I'm also kind of tall for an Asian girl (and Lucy DEFINITELY is), we also didn't need to wear high heels, which they were also all wearing. *fume* Just because I don't want to kill my feet all day... basically, we were way too dressed down for Beijing. One guy told us we definitely looked like we weren't from around there. I'd like to have asked him exactly where we looked like we came from. But I'm not sure if it's just a commentary on Americans, who are just used to having all the money in the world and dressing like they earn minimum wage. It's difficult to strike a balance between the perfect FOB in America, and the stereotypical ABC in China. (See glossary!) After all, I'm just not the kind of girl who goes around with silver lame purses and teetering high heels. I like cardigans, and flats, and bookish totebags. And looking 40, as Anneke would say.
The highlight of our trip was probably running through the bookstore at Wangfujing, and kicking up a storm in the foreign language section. I was hunting for some sort of German-English dictionary, and Lucy a French-English one, both of us for our civ programs in autumn quarter (I'm in Vienna, she's in Paris). We found some hilarious English-French-Chinese ones, which were cute, and also the foreign import section, which was amazing. They had such a good collection of English classics, right off the bat. Shakespeare and the Western Canon. Pretty much. More than once, we exclaimed, "We can do our civ booklist shopping here!" There was also an excellent bestseller section, with two whole shelves for Haruki Murakami, a good section on entrepeneurship, etc., and of course, small paperbacks, the domain of Michael Crichton and LaVyrle Spencer. Some of the books were more expensive in RMB (it's about a little less than 7 RMB to the dollar right now), but some were a lot cheaper. Like a paperback of "Anne of Green Gables" for 20 RMB? You can't get that for USD3! Really. Our favorite, however, was the travel section. Lonely Planet had a great selection, from Myanmar (Burma) to Venice to Chicago (!), but the most puzzling thing was the conspicuous lack of China. We had to ask a salesperson, and he admitted that it actually wasn't allowed to be imported. And then we laughed like crazy, and I swore to find out once I was back in the States exactly what kind of sensitive dirt Lonely Planet had on the Chinese government. It was also cool because our salesperson was an adorable guy who asked us where we were from, and we had a few nice exchanges. I think that Lucy and I may also pick up a present for Richard - perhaps a Chinese translation of Kant's "Critique of Pure Reason"? Or Hegel? He does follow you everywhere.
Afterwards, we picked up a lamb kebab each while strolling along one of the smaller side roads, filled with vendors who were selling the cheap stuff you can even get in Chinatown in Chicago. (P.S. They have... like, scorpion kebabs. And cicada kebabs. But the scorpions were still writhing on the sticks. It was really really disturbing. I didn't like to look at them, let alone imagine eating them. Gawd.) And Lucy helped me bargain this notebook down to 10 RMB. (Yes, that's slightly over a dollar, folks.) It's really cute, with a soft blue embroidered cover, and I'm thinking of buying more for presents back home. If you buy a ton, too, it's easier to bargain down. Which is good 'cause I suck at it. I'm just too nice, and you can smell the foreigner on me from a mile away in those circumstances. Part of the key to bargaining is to pretend you don't really want something, and I am so bad at lying it should be illegal. Ugh.
We parted ways, after promising to pull together some UChicago'10 party at KTV (hello, karaoke!) and possibly traveling to Shanghai during August to see Lisa (and maybe even with Sam. Whoa.), and my cousin drove me home. We had a pretty good dinner, cooked by my aunt, and I sat and watched a bit of a TV drama involving killing monks. (Man, Buddhism is not entirely a pacifist religion, no matter what they want you to believe.) And now I'm really freaking tired, but I can't go to sleep until at least 10 p.m., because I'll wake up at 6 again tomorrow if I'm not careful.
At least we brought a cell phone number during the day, and my cousin's girlfriend has an old one I can use for the summer. Whee. I will be phone-ed very soon, and can send it out to people, and bother them. Excellentatious. I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep writing these wicked long posts, but I see and feel so much and have so much to say that Chinese doesn't give me the capability to express.
As Lucy commented today, "I haven't talked so much in a long time that my throat hurts." I feel like I've said a lot too. Here's to becoming as loquacious in Chinese this summer as I am in English. Or perhaps even more, since I can pick up more swears from my cousin. One can only hope.
(Glossary: FOB means Fresh Off the Boat, indicating a large degree of naivety about American culture, where as ABC means American-Born-Chinese, or someone who looks like they should speak with a proper Beijing accent, but is really American at the core. I'm definitely not the former, but I'm not sure how far from the latter I am at times.)
2008年6月23日星期一
6.24. can you BELIEVE what they've done?!
The Great Firewall of China strikes again.
They blocked my damn LJ. ASDFJKL.
In other news, it's barely 7 a.m. and I've already been wide awake for about an hour. My body feels like it might need a little more sleep, but my mind's rearing to go. Last night, my cousin picked me up from the airport, and it was a whirlwind ride through the evening haze of Beijing, and then some evening dim sum that tastes quintessentially Chinese (I haven't had rice porridge like that since my grandmother was still alive). And finally to home, where I took a shower, and kind of crashed. I've only slept for about 5 and a half hours, though...
There is so much to be done in the next few days. First off, though, a cellphone must be procured, and then everything else... giving people presents, calling other people, arranging visits, working on my PowerPoints for teaching the kids at summer camp... I'm so frustrated that I can't update my LJ - this means I'll be essentially out of touch with everyone on my friendslist! Aaaaaaaaraugh. Yes. We'll work something out or something will... yeah, whatever. *deep sigh*
Now to see if there can be breakfast procured, and unpacking done. And a whole summer. This feels like something like a dream, but that plane ride to Tokyo-Narita can only be described as a nightmare... so life is life. Surprise.
They blocked my damn LJ. ASDFJKL.
In other news, it's barely 7 a.m. and I've already been wide awake for about an hour. My body feels like it might need a little more sleep, but my mind's rearing to go. Last night, my cousin picked me up from the airport, and it was a whirlwind ride through the evening haze of Beijing, and then some evening dim sum that tastes quintessentially Chinese (I haven't had rice porridge like that since my grandmother was still alive). And finally to home, where I took a shower, and kind of crashed. I've only slept for about 5 and a half hours, though...
There is so much to be done in the next few days. First off, though, a cellphone must be procured, and then everything else... giving people presents, calling other people, arranging visits, working on my PowerPoints for teaching the kids at summer camp... I'm so frustrated that I can't update my LJ - this means I'll be essentially out of touch with everyone on my friendslist! Aaaaaaaaraugh. Yes. We'll work something out or something will... yeah, whatever. *deep sigh*
Now to see if there can be breakfast procured, and unpacking done. And a whole summer. This feels like something like a dream, but that plane ride to Tokyo-Narita can only be described as a nightmare... so life is life. Surprise.
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