I'm fairly certain I had never eaten a fresh cherry until yesterday. I just don't like the artificial cherry flavor, and made the logical, though incorrect, assumption that it was somehow reminiscent of the actual flavor of a cherry.
It isn't, I learned, after buying three huge handfuls of cherries at the market yesterday (for about $1). They're quite outstanding.
I had my first Chinese lesson this evening. For the last two months, I've done everything I could to avoid studying Chinese. With the impending visits of my parents and Cyndi (and everyone else pleasedeargod come visit me) I really should be able to navigate this incomparably confusing country. Perhaps if I'm paying for it ($7/hour), I'll be motivated to give a bit of a fuck about it?
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Monday, June 16, 2008
Stage 1.
Is there anything wrong with maintaining my status as a Stage 1 Culture Shock "sufferer?" If there is, don't tell me.
There is just so much to see in this country--nay, this continent. I don't want to grow apathetic towards it like many of my co-workers have. I didn't move here to begin a new life, per se--I moved her to explore and see things I'll never see again and do things I'll never do again. The "new life" part will just be an additional perk, I suppose.
That said, the weekend was delightful. I got a late start on Saturday, and had some subway and hostel issues, but made it to the Temple of the Earth, Joy City Mall, the temple district (though the temples themselves close quite early), Tienanmen Square, and Japanese dinner.
I met a brilliant Israeli guy at my hostel, and we were travel buddies for Sunday, visiting the Temple of Heaven, the Drum Tower, and the Bell Tower together. Travel buddies make so much sense, as long as they aren't terrible people. Those fleeting friendships are like one-night-stands, only satisfying and not repulsive. The best things about ourselves can be unpacked in the time one spends with the average travel buddy. By the time the shadow of neuroses can be seen, and skeletons start to open the closet door, the two of you are parting ways. How ideal.
Photos should be up. Goodnight.
There is just so much to see in this country--nay, this continent. I don't want to grow apathetic towards it like many of my co-workers have. I didn't move here to begin a new life, per se--I moved her to explore and see things I'll never see again and do things I'll never do again. The "new life" part will just be an additional perk, I suppose.
That said, the weekend was delightful. I got a late start on Saturday, and had some subway and hostel issues, but made it to the Temple of the Earth, Joy City Mall, the temple district (though the temples themselves close quite early), Tienanmen Square, and Japanese dinner.
I met a brilliant Israeli guy at my hostel, and we were travel buddies for Sunday, visiting the Temple of Heaven, the Drum Tower, and the Bell Tower together. Travel buddies make so much sense, as long as they aren't terrible people. Those fleeting friendships are like one-night-stands, only satisfying and not repulsive. The best things about ourselves can be unpacked in the time one spends with the average travel buddy. By the time the shadow of neuroses can be seen, and skeletons start to open the closet door, the two of you are parting ways. How ideal.
Photos should be up. Goodnight.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Remind me:
Why did I leave a city in which I could attend this on a normal Wednesday evening?
Homesickness has started to get more comfortable with me, like a new friend with whom you might only share a drink at first, then a full meal, then expanding to whole weekends spent laying on a couch watching movies in pajamas. I don't miss any one thing in particular (though Berlin has surely been on my mind regularly, as much of my running music is derived from Greg Haus's sets). Just...the life I left behind.
Making friends here has been a moderate challenge; I have honestly, truly gone out of my way to be all sorts of friendly and "hey let's go do this" and all of those things, but often it just doesn't work out. I'm not sure why, and it's certainly not encouraging me to change my curmudgeonly ways.
On the good side of things, I think this month's classes will be a delight. My students are mostly sharp, polite, and in heart with me. The key, it seems, to being a successful foreign teacher is to force your students to fall in love with you. I walk through the halls with ever-changing posses of male students (the females are generally far too shy to escort me anywhere), often eating lunch on their dole (awkward! I make twice as much as your parents!). The Chinese teachers tell me how much my classes adore me, with one noting, "you're the most popular teacher at Compass!" Even the evening class I had last month--the silent, moody group of students who made my internal organs cry--misses me desperately, and "really really really liked" me, according to their Chinese teacher.
Let's face it: my presence at school is little more than a novelty. I and my fellow foreign teachers were hired to be caged birds. We sing our odd melodies, we look pretty and Otherly (and, with one exception, white). We offer these students a taste of what many will never accomplish no matter how hard they study: the chance to become intimate with an English speaker. And that's kind of sick, no?
No, no. It's only sick to me, to us--people who are used to diversity, people who interact with funny-looking and funny-sounding people on a daily basis, people who operate under the pretense of individuality, of uniqueness, of difference-as-the-status-quo. I admire my students for yearning for change, for wanting to experience a life outside of the government-manufactured Chinese ideals, for knowing that they need some other, Other experience to fulfill them. I admire that because I can see that within myself too.
* * * * * *
I don't have to move! How joyous! I am traveling to Beijing this weekend (a day of religious sites on Saturday, followed by perhaps a trip to see The Chairman on Sunday?), and will probably stop by Ikea to collect a few random things (a clock for my bathroom, new curtains for my bedroom, some sheets). I'm really looking forward to visiting the city by myself myself--the other two times were graciously narrated my native and native-ish people. To be able to think, do, plan on my own--what a magnificent treat.
I think I will begin Chinese lessons the week after next. For only 55RMB, I can have a one-hour session with a tutor from a company who will come to my work and teach me. I've delayed learning Chinese for far too long; I should be able to tell the bus driver where I will depart the bus; I should be able to tell the lunch vendor, "please make it more spicy, and use less bing and don't charge me 1RMB extra just because I'm stupid and white."
I think that, if I start actually undertaking some of my plans here, I will maintain the happiness I have had here so far, and keep the home-yearning at bay.
Also, I don't wear deodorant anymore. How exciting! I'm totally "going native."
And on that note...
Homesickness has started to get more comfortable with me, like a new friend with whom you might only share a drink at first, then a full meal, then expanding to whole weekends spent laying on a couch watching movies in pajamas. I don't miss any one thing in particular (though Berlin has surely been on my mind regularly, as much of my running music is derived from Greg Haus's sets). Just...the life I left behind.
Making friends here has been a moderate challenge; I have honestly, truly gone out of my way to be all sorts of friendly and "hey let's go do this" and all of those things, but often it just doesn't work out. I'm not sure why, and it's certainly not encouraging me to change my curmudgeonly ways.
On the good side of things, I think this month's classes will be a delight. My students are mostly sharp, polite, and in heart with me. The key, it seems, to being a successful foreign teacher is to force your students to fall in love with you. I walk through the halls with ever-changing posses of male students (the females are generally far too shy to escort me anywhere), often eating lunch on their dole (awkward! I make twice as much as your parents!). The Chinese teachers tell me how much my classes adore me, with one noting, "you're the most popular teacher at Compass!" Even the evening class I had last month--the silent, moody group of students who made my internal organs cry--misses me desperately, and "really really really liked" me, according to their Chinese teacher.
Let's face it: my presence at school is little more than a novelty. I and my fellow foreign teachers were hired to be caged birds. We sing our odd melodies, we look pretty and Otherly (and, with one exception, white). We offer these students a taste of what many will never accomplish no matter how hard they study: the chance to become intimate with an English speaker. And that's kind of sick, no?
No, no. It's only sick to me, to us--people who are used to diversity, people who interact with funny-looking and funny-sounding people on a daily basis, people who operate under the pretense of individuality, of uniqueness, of difference-as-the-status-quo. I admire my students for yearning for change, for wanting to experience a life outside of the government-manufactured Chinese ideals, for knowing that they need some other, Other experience to fulfill them. I admire that because I can see that within myself too.
I don't have to move! How joyous! I am traveling to Beijing this weekend (a day of religious sites on Saturday, followed by perhaps a trip to see The Chairman on Sunday?), and will probably stop by Ikea to collect a few random things (a clock for my bathroom, new curtains for my bedroom, some sheets). I'm really looking forward to visiting the city by myself myself--the other two times were graciously narrated my native and native-ish people. To be able to think, do, plan on my own--what a magnificent treat.
I think I will begin Chinese lessons the week after next. For only 55RMB, I can have a one-hour session with a tutor from a company who will come to my work and teach me. I've delayed learning Chinese for far too long; I should be able to tell the bus driver where I will depart the bus; I should be able to tell the lunch vendor, "please make it more spicy, and use less bing and don't charge me 1RMB extra just because I'm stupid and white."
I think that, if I start actually undertaking some of my plans here, I will maintain the happiness I have had here so far, and keep the home-yearning at bay.
Also, I don't wear deodorant anymore. How exciting! I'm totally "going native."
And on that note...
Monday, June 9, 2008
The Problem With Blogs:
Generally, when I have nice, happy thing to write about, I'm not interested in preserving them here. Thus, my weekend, which was nice and happy, won't be written about extensively. I went to a party on Friday, where I met some great foreigners and enjoyed myself immensely. Saturday, I went to KTV with some students, and actually participated in karaoke for the first time in my natural life. I'm convinced, however, that Chinese karaoke is programmed for higher voices, so I was less than wonderful. We had lunch and played in a multi-story electronics mall afterwards. Sunday I ran a few errands, ran a few Km, and rested.
Another term begins tomorrow--we'll see how this one goes. The good news is, I have evenings off now. The bad news is, all foreign teachers are hereby responsible for maintaining an 85% attendance rate in our classrooms. What?
Articles you should read:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/08/magazine/08shenzhen-t.html?ref=magazine
http://www.tnr.com/politics/story.html?id=f48c96e1-2745-481d-9357-0be73acfd119
http://www.slate.com/id/2192827/
Another term begins tomorrow--we'll see how this one goes. The good news is, I have evenings off now. The bad news is, all foreign teachers are hereby responsible for maintaining an 85% attendance rate in our classrooms. What?
Articles you should read:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/08/magazine/08shenzhen-t.html?ref=magazine
http://www.tnr.com/politics/story.html?id=f48c96e1-2745-481d-9357-0be73acfd119
http://www.slate.com/id/2192827/
Friday, June 6, 2008
And then.
And then one of my evening students gave me a gift: a travel set of stainless steel chopsticks. And I knew all would be well in the world.
I've just returned from a fantastic, 150Y all-you-care-to-order Japanese feast, and must head to bed to begin the last day of a rubbish school term. Otherwise, we might be able to chat more. Sorry.
I've just returned from a fantastic, 150Y all-you-care-to-order Japanese feast, and must head to bed to begin the last day of a rubbish school term. Otherwise, we might be able to chat more. Sorry.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
First!!!1!!1!!11!
I think I can consider yesterday my first truly decent teaching day, from start to finish. True, most of my students "failed" their written tests with their Chinese teacher (the school has some money-back guarantee wherein, if you fail a class, you get to take it again for free, so many students repeat levels 2, 3, 4 times), but I feel like we had a productive, fun learning day in each of my four classes.
Yes, black tea strawberry yogurt is as delicious as it sounds.
Yes, black tea strawberry yogurt is as delicious as it sounds.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
All is well.
I didn't move, after all--the apartment was low-ceilinged, carpeted, old-applianced, and in a weird part of town. So, I was assertive and said, "I think I'll wait for the apartment I was told I could move into in the first place."
(Now, of course, I'm contemplating staying here, because although Terna's apartment does have a fully functional kitchen, it too is small and in an enormous, funky old building. It's kitschy in ways I appreciate, and is in a good location, but I'm starting to think I've become comfortable here in this apartment. It's large, clean, and mine. I'm devising some techniques for making a kitchen-ish on the back porch.)
I then stuck to my original plan--to travel to Beijing with my teacher friend Vincent. I was running late for the train, and we missed it, but then decided to take a private car, which was only 20 yuan ($3) more for each of us. (Yes--to have someone drive us in a nice car the two-hour, white-knuckle, driving-on-highway-shoulders trip to Beijing, it cost us 60 each--about what, 9 or 10 dollars?) We went out for awhile--I think it was more my idea than his, but he complied. After staying in a way-too-expensive but two-bedroomed hotel room, we departed for the Great Wall.
I wish I had a stretch of time that would allow me to trek across the entirety of the Great Wall, because really, it's quite cool. Being in the mountain-ish-es, climbing up stairs that have been there (although replaced several times) for centuries, enjoying the fresh air and physical exertion and rewarding views--I really felt happy to be there. (Photos are up, but few in number, owing to my dead camera battery.)
I miss my sewing machine.
(Now, of course, I'm contemplating staying here, because although Terna's apartment does have a fully functional kitchen, it too is small and in an enormous, funky old building. It's kitschy in ways I appreciate, and is in a good location, but I'm starting to think I've become comfortable here in this apartment. It's large, clean, and mine. I'm devising some techniques for making a kitchen-ish on the back porch.)
I then stuck to my original plan--to travel to Beijing with my teacher friend Vincent. I was running late for the train, and we missed it, but then decided to take a private car, which was only 20 yuan ($3) more for each of us. (Yes--to have someone drive us in a nice car the two-hour, white-knuckle, driving-on-highway-shoulders trip to Beijing, it cost us 60 each--about what, 9 or 10 dollars?) We went out for awhile--I think it was more my idea than his, but he complied. After staying in a way-too-expensive but two-bedroomed hotel room, we departed for the Great Wall.
I wish I had a stretch of time that would allow me to trek across the entirety of the Great Wall, because really, it's quite cool. Being in the mountain-ish-es, climbing up stairs that have been there (although replaced several times) for centuries, enjoying the fresh air and physical exertion and rewarding views--I really felt happy to be there. (Photos are up, but few in number, owing to my dead camera battery.)
I miss my sewing machine.
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