Don't eat that!

This is pretty gross. . .so if you're weird about food, maybe you don't want to read this.

As many of you know, I've tried a lot of things I would never have considered in America. Congeled blood, cow stomach, dog, donkey, lamb kidneys, fish eggs, duck feet, chicken hearts, and this list could probably go on. Many times, it's difficult to be sure of what I'm eating. Once I went out to dinner with a group of foreign and Chinese friends. One of my American friends is a strict vegetarian, but at this particular meal she managed to eat some pig intestines. Sometimes a pig intestine looks a bit like a mushroom. It's an easy mistake to make. Take my word for it.

Anyways, my boss at EWAS (the company I work for teaching English) is Canadian. He's been living in China for a few years, and like most foreingers who have lived here for awhile, isn't too intimidated by the food. A few weeks ago he got incredibly ill and went to the hospital. He ended up there for nearly two weeks. Today he told me why. . . .

Street food is very popular food, particularly skewers. You want something, you can probably get it on a stick. They got any type of meat, vegetable, fruit, and stanky smelling tofu available to delight you. Lamb meat is one of the most popular sellers. I've had it many times and it's pretty tasty. But I will probably be avoiding it from now on.

Evidently many of these street vendors and small restaurant owners buy lamb meat from a big warehouse. At this warehouse lamb fat is mixed with cat and rat meat in a big vat. After being mixed together for awhile the cat and rat meat takes on the flavor of the lamb. If that's not gross enough, sometimes these rats have died from disease or poison. If you eat this meat, you can be infected. That's what happened to my boss and it nearly killed him. Seriously.

So I guess I can probably add cat and rat to the list of things I've eaten. Gross. China really needs an FDA.

three letters, rhymes with rex

Last weekend, to relax, I decided to buy all 6 seasons of Sex and the City. You can get pretty much any American TV show on pirated DVD here. Ming is officially addicted to 24 because of it. He's thinking of changing his English name from Jack to Jack Bauer. Anyways, the great thing is, thanks to virtually no copyright laws, I got my Sex for a mere 20RMB ($2.50). The only downfall is that half of the second disc didn't work, but for that price I'm not complaining.

This leads me into the topic of sex, specifically sex in China. I'm not attempting to be Carrie Bradshaw here. I'm just amazed at how different China and America are when it comes to sex. Sometimes I wonder if anyone actually does it here. Besides the humping I endured on the bus that one morning, I was beginning to think that most Chinese don't have a sex drive. But the thing is, it's just repressed. The culture here is extremely conservative-Ming was a bit taken aback just watching Friends. He couldn't believe that TV shows could be allowed to talk about sex so openly. Here, there are no ads with half naked women, no sex scenes on TV, nobody trying to sneek a peak at my boobs. Nothing.

Ming and I went out for lunch today and the restaurant had a stack of magazines. One of them was Men's Health (the Chinese version). I saw the words "Sex Survey" written across the front and had to check out the results. Of course I haven't yet learned the vocabulary needed to attempt to read such an article (does "menage a trois" translate?), but Ming helped me out. I'll just share a couple of the results I found interesting. According to the only 2.3% of the Beijing men and 5.6% of the Beijing women surveyed had sex before the age of 20. It's a bit hard for me to believe, but I guess since high schoolers are busy studying 20 hours a day it's somewhat plausible. The survery also found that 57.3% of men and 77.6% of women have had sex with 5 or less people. Does that seem pretty wholesome to you?

I guess, for me, it's kind of a relief to not have to have sex thrown in my face all the time. But it also seems a bit foolish to pretend it doesn't exist. There is virtually no sex ed in China. I am still trying to convince Ming that you cannot get AIDS from kissing. He is so insistent that people can that I'm starting to question it myself. There are plenty of other examples I could cite, but I'll spare you.

So, that brings me to my final conclusion which is this: There must be an awful lot of frustration here, perhaps that explains the humping on the bus incident.

BJ fashion

my assistant, the red pants are posh

I'm trying to write once a week, even though I'm really busy these days. Despite being busy, my life is quite boring. I did have one traumatic experience this week though. It occured on the bus. . .where else? After all, that's where I spend most of my time. I do believe that I was violated. I didn't think this occured in Chinese society, but I'm afraid I am wrong. I definitely felt a man doing some inappropriate touching. I was a bit stunned and since I'm not sure how to say "back the f*&k off b$#ch!" in Chinese, I just moved away. A couple minutes later, it happened again, and sure enough, the perpetrator was behind me. Being as crowded as it was, it was difficult to make another getaway. Luckily, he got off at the next stop. Moral of the story, I'm now scarred for life.

That's really all I have to say about myself, but I do think it's time I tell you a little bit about Beijing fashion. That is to say, it's non-existent. It's really difficult to even begin to explain it because there's really no style. Don't get me wrong, I'm not much for being trendy. Especially these days. I occasional wear brown shoes with a black shirt and I've even worn the same shirt two (OK, four) times in a row. But, in my defense, I had several co-workers who wore the same clothes for the entire duration of winter. Brand names also start to lose their meaning here, especially when you see a middle aged woman in a Winnie-the-Pooh sweater sporting a knock-off Louis Vitton purse. So let me paint a picture for you. . .

Let's start with the gentlemen. I actually noticed something today (as I was sitting on the bus), almost all men carry a bag. Sometimes it's something like a backpack, brief case, or messanger bag. In America, I would consider all these totally acceptable. But then there are those who carry shopping bags filled with their day-to-day personal items (work papers, books, cell phone, etc), there are also those with fanny packs. I had always hoped I'd never have to see one of those again, but it saddens me to say that even Zhao Ming has one. But that's not the worst of it. Many, many men carry around actual leather purses. Yes, a true man bag at its finest.

Then there are the pink shirts. Lots of men in pink shirts. Don't give me any crap about them being "salmon." It is a pink shirt! Yes, there are those men who can pull it off, my father arguably being one of them. As with women who shave their head, the people who can pull this kind of statement off are few and far between. Why take such a risk if one doesn't have to?

As for the ladies, I don't even know where to begin so I'll just provide one vexing example: In the summer, a lot of women wear ankle tights--with skirts and dresses. First comes the shoe, then the tight, then bare leg, then the dress. If there be tights, there should be no seeing of the bare leg. There really should be no tights to begin with.

The last thing I have to mention are the plethora of t-shirts sporting foreign brands and/or ridiculous English phrases. Usually they make absolutely no sense. Sometimes they do, but you can't help but wonder why a person would wear such a thing. Today I saw a shirt that proclaimed "A Watched Pot Never Boils." One of my personal favorites was a flourescent orange "Versace" shirt that had a sequined Minnie Mouse on it. Others have embarassing sexual innuendos that most (highly conservative) Chinese people wouldn't dare wear had they known the meaning.

I guess the moral of my story is that I can be totally lazy about my appearance and yet mock those around me. I'm really enjoying it.

Survival of the Fittest

Beijing seems to have 4 seasons, although they are a bit unlike Wisconsin's. Here they include: freezing one's ass off, sandstorm, sweating one's ass off, and September. Now, my favorite Beijing season is upon me. Ahh, September. It seemed the temperature dropped about 20 degrees (Fahrenheit, that is) between August 31 and September 1. Well, the change is more than welcome.

In other news, I managed to survive my first week of teaching, just barely. It started much more happily than it ended. On Friday I had to go LO (that's the code name I have created for the school, as I feel there will be a lot of future bad mouthing of it. For my own protection, I will be keeping it's true name confidential). This was the first time teaching at this school. It was not pretty. But let me backtrack a bit. . .

To start off the morning, I had to catch the 419 bus. This bus is mammoth. It's actually the size of two buses stuck together. I naively though that due to the early hour (7am) and the size of the thing, it couldn't possibly be crowded. I was wrong. People are so packed into the bus so tight that it's almost impossible to close the door. I had brought a magazine with me, but there wasn't even enough room to hold it up to my face. About 45 minutes into this hellish ride, I started to panic. I didn't know when my stop was coming and if I wasn't next to the door when it did come, there was no way I'd make it off for that stop, or even the one after it. I began to squeeze my way through the people. There's no need to be polite about it at least. No "sorries" or "excuse me's," just pushing will do. Riding the bus is survival of the fittest at its finest. MIght I also add, that when a seat becomes free, it is quite a scene. I'm surprised it doesn't more often come to blows.

I got off the bus around 8. Seriously considering taking a taxi in the future. I'm sure it's going to come to it. A taxi ride would probably cost me $5-8, which isn't bad by American standards, but the bus only costs a quarter. But really, shouldn't experierences that awful be free?

At LO, I teach 4 half-hour classes. The kids in each class were quite out of control. Several of their teachers were in the room trying to help, but it wasn't very effective. I had children out of there seats and lying sprawled across the floor. One tiny girl started shaking violently when I said "hello" to her (I seriously thought she was epileptic). I asked her teacher if something was wrong with her. "No," she said, "she's just playing around." Okkkkkk. I started the class by playing a game with the kids. It involved me throwing a ball and one child catching it. One little girl voulenteered to play. She wasn't able to catch the ball, and many of her classmates laughed. She went ballistic. She attacked one of her classmates, smacking and hitting. One of her teachers tried stopping her, but then she turned and began punching him. Finally, she ran out of the room. I know what you might be thinking, they're just kids. Kids can be crazy. But you don't understand. These are CHINESE kids. Chinese children are usually so well-behaved. Not this lot of them.

I must have to be positive. I just gotta hang in there for the next. . . 6 months.

Back to School

Well, I'm two days into the new school term. I just started yet another job teaching for a company called EWAS (English with a Smile). They trained me back in April for another job I hold, but now I officially work for them too. That brings me to a total of three jobs, bringing me to a grand total of 29 working hours a week. Not so impressive, but please consider I have to spend half my day trapsing around the city on various forms of public transport.

This week I'm teaching at only one school, Richland. Next week my schedule will fill up a bit more as the new term starts at two other schools. The children at this school are quite adorable and don't seem to be of the pants-pooping variety. All the kids are pre-school aged and are already working quite hard. The first class I teach is of 5/6-year-olds and it is at 5:20 pm. The second class is of 3/4-year-olds and I teach them from 6:15-7pm. I feel sorry that they have to study (a foreign language as annoying as English, at that) so late. But that's life here. The competition is really fierce and even in grade school the kids go to school on weekends. I guess they just instated some sort of law saying grade school kids are not allowed to attend school on Sundays. It's sad they need a law for that.

In the classroom I do have an assistant/translator. She's Chinese and very sweet. Her name is Jennifer. Her English isn't brilliant, but she gets the job done, although I can almost translate everything on my own behalf these days. It's a little difficult having a conversation with her though. For example, I asked her how to say "can" (as in "soda can") in Chinese. I always forget how to say this word and therefore must always order bottles (a word I do know) of things when I rather just have a 12 oz. Life's little dilemmas. Anyways, this simple question turned into a 10 minute discussion in which Jennifer tried to figure out what I was asking.

Jennifer: "A can? I'm sorry, I don't understand."
me: "You know, a can. It's like a bottle, but smaller. Coca-cola comes in it."
Jennifer: "Can? You mean like 'I can speak English,' that can?"
me: "Um, no." (while thinking: If you can speak English, we really wouldn't be having this conversation now, would we?)
Jennifer: "I'm sorry. I do not know. Can? C-A-N?"

This kinda thing pretty much happens on a daily basis. I'm used to struggling to communicate and I really only have myself to blame. I live in China and beyond the basics, I cannot speak Chinese. And let's also put some blame on the complexity of the English language. Here is a language in which 2 words can be written the same but sound different (read, read. live, live). Can be written different, but sound the same (right, write). Can be written the same, sound the same, but have different meanings (can, can). It's all so overwhelming. I think I need to go rest now.

Chengde and random ramblings

left: temple in Chengde
right: Chengde street

I managed to erase my previous blog. I guess I really need to commit the Chinese characters for "delete" to memory.

This past weekend I took at trip up to Chengde, my former home here in China. I haven't been there in nearly 6 months and it's amazing how much has changed in that time period. The rate of change in this country is remarkable. There are high rises were there used to be a dusty soccer field. New businesses everywhere, but they have yet to open a McDonald's, all they have is a KFC.

Here's globalization at it's finest. The breakdown. . .pretty much every city has at least one KFC. I'm sure Beijing must have 50. McDonald's follows second in popularity, but just can't seem to overcome the colonel (strange, as the Chinese find finger-licking a disgusting habit). Next on the list is Pizza Hut. But you know if a city's really made it if it has a Starbucks. Beijing, of course, has plenty. There's one right across the street from my apartment building. You ask: Is it any cheaper in China? No, it is not. I don't know who these Chinese people are who can afford a $4 cup of coffee. If you consider the average wage a Chinese person makes, it probably equates to spending (what feels like) $30 on a cup of coffee.

But I've strayed from my original point. So back to it. . .Chengde. I guess I didn't really appreciate the place while I lived there. I didn't realize how fresh the air is and how uncrowded the streets are. The people seem friendly and I feel really important there. Any foreigner gets a little bit of a celebrity status when living in a small city like Chengde. There are so few foreigners there, some of the Chinese seem to view us as an exotic species of human. In Beijing I'm just another whitey. I don't get stared at. People don't scream "hello" as I walk by. The don't try to take pictures of me on the sly. I'm a nobody.

While I was in Chengde I got to see my good friend, Apple. Laugh if you want to, but considering some of the other English names people pick (Vegetable Bird, Green Lemon, Cobra-just to name a few), Apple isn't all that peculiar. The name has actually grew on me a bit. Anyways, I really feel bad for Apple. She's a super senior at the high school I used to work at. What do I mean by "super senior?" Well, for those of you who have never achieved super senior status, a super senior is anyone who has earned the title of senior for more that one consecutive academic year. Usually this occurs in college, but in China this phenomenon also occurs as early as high school. And it happens to a lot of really smart people, such as my friend.

The problem is that going to university in China comes down to three precious days at the end of your senior year of high school. These three days inspire fear in the hearts of almost all students and their parents. These three days are known as "The National Exam." How you do on this exam determines if and where you will go to University. If the desired results aren't achieved, then the student can choose to repeat his entire senior year over again and take the test again. This is what Apple has decided to do. So for the second year in a row she will spend nearly 14 hours a day, 6 days a week in a small classroom of 70 other students. Then, she'll get to go home and study for a few hours before going to sleep for 4 or 5 hours. Luckily, I was in Chengde on Sunday, the one day students have to rest. So I actually got to see Apple!

I also was able to see mama again. It was a lot more comfortable being in her home than her being in mine. I guess I'm just a crappy hostess. But anyone is more than welcome to come visit me. . .

mama

I just realized I had started a blog back in March. So I'm getting back to it. Partially for your entertainment, partially for my sanity. I must say getting this set up was a bit of a challenge as the entire website is in Chinese, but I perservered. I knew those three months studying Chinese would eventially pay off.

For those of you not up to speed with recent ongoings, I must first let you know that I am living in Beijing, China. I have a lot to say about the place, but I'll save that for a later time. In this lovely, humid, crowded, smoggy place I am living with my boyfriend, Zhao Ming. Yes, as if the name didn't give it away, he is Chinese. And yes, he is actually my fiance (but that word is just too pretentiously French sounding). I currently have two jobs. Job numero uno: teaching 4-year-olds English at a daycare. Very adorable, usually fun. Job numero dos: tutoring a Korean woman English. This job is quite interesting as I certainly don't speak Korean and this woman can't speak much English past "Hello, how are you?" This leaves us communicating in (broken) Chinese.

Now that you are filled it, I can get down to business. The real reason I'm writing this is to get out of my apartment. It's a nice enough place, but currently Ming's mother (mama) is staying with us. We are on Day 3 of her visit and she is leaving tomorrow. But tomorrow just doesn't seem like soon enough.

A part of me feels bad for saying this. I'm giving you the wrong impression. It's not that she isn't a wonderful person. She is a very nice lady. Truly. But having her here puts me face to face with my Americanishness or perhaps with her Chinesishness. I'm not sure, but I'm struggling with a few issues.

First, are all fruit she brought with her from Chengde (her and Ming's hometown, which is about 110 miles northeast of Beijing). She brought three boxes of fruit. The Chinese love to bring fruit when going to visit people, it's almost like a sickness. It's not like they give a few apples just to be polite. They practically bring carts full of the stuff. I mean, how much fruit can on person eat? And I have to try and eat it just to appease her. So today, after being stuffed full from eating lunch, I have to come home to eat apples, pears, grapes, and peaches. I just prefer American traditions. Chocolates, wine, flowers, even a liter of Pepsi would beat this.

The next thing that mystifies me is how I am expected to treat her like an old lady. Ming and I take turns helping her up stairs, holding her hand, and carrying her things. You might be thinking, "Oh, that's just being helpful. It's not because she's old." But you are wrong. Ming told me outright, "Mama is old." What??? She is only 52-years-old, and not only that, she is in good health. I can't imagine treating my 82-year-old grandmother this way, let alone someone my parent's age. But I guess that's just one of the many things that seperates Americans from the Chinese. We like our independence. Also, no one wants to be old in America. Not much good comes out of getting old. But the Chinese, they embrace it. They look up to the elderly, they help the elderly. If children address an old woman they don't know, they will call her "nainai" (grandmother). If a woman is slightly older than me it is wise to call her "jiejie" (older sister), but if she is younger I should call her "meimei" (little sister). This obsession with age and position is a little exhausting for me.

The final thing I will mention (all though I could keep going) was our trip to T.G.I.Fridays restaurant. Yes, they have two of them in Beijing. They are identical to the American version minus the customers and waitstaff who are, of course, predominently Chinese. Mama has never in her 52 years has eaten at an American style restaurant. I don't think she's ever even eaten an American meal, not even the ever-so-popular KFC. She didn't know the rules. Using a fork and knife was the first obstacle. She did pretty well though. Next came the Bahama Mama. I ordered her this fruity drink so she could try some juiced down American liquor. This sweet drink was to her liking though, as she dumped a packet of sugar into it. She also dipped her brocolli in ketchup. But who am I to judge? If she thought it tasted good, I wasn't going to stop her. This was all pretty cute, until the hacking and spitting started. It's no big thing to do this kind of thing in public, I even do it now and then. I think it's the air quality here or something (at least that's my excuse). Anyways, this would be fine anyplace else, but you really can't spit on the floor at T.G.I.Fridays. I told her to do it in a napkin, which the Chinese think is revolting.

Sometimes it's amazing to me that I've been her nearly a year and a half. I thought I'd changed. Accepted these little "cultural differences." I guess you can take the girl out of America, but you can't take America out of the girl.

5 days and counting

After over a year of saying I'd do it. . .I've jumped on the bandwagon. I'm starting a blog. Am I a loser?

Less than a week and I will be leaving the good ol' U.S. of A. As of now, I'm in Sheboygan with my very drunk friend Amy who insists on talking to me in Spanish. I do not speak Spanish, so this is a bit of a problem for me.

Anyways, tonight I went to a very hip Sheboygan pub called Mannings with Amy and Adam Gerard. Honestly, I'm not sure if "hip" and "Sheboygan" can ever go together in the same sentence. But, in any case, it was a good time. I had several vodka cranberries and played a very educational game of "Never have I ever. . ."

Since my life in America is generally not that exciting, I'm going to stop here. I will be back with some fantastic tales from the People's Republic of China. . .until then, ciao.