The Holidays

You in the States may think the season is over, but here we're just getting started. I still have some pictures of past holidays, so I'm going to run through those, and you still have all the hoopla of Chinese New Year to look forward to. As do I. There are no pictures of Halloween, since it was really nothing special (putting on a cape was enough effort, especially given my limited wardrobe). Thanksgiving involved a meal way across town, and across the Yangtze River, at a foreign restaurant called Cafe Brussels. Owned by a large, bearded European, the place specializes in fine Western cuisine and boasts a rather impressive beer selection, including a couple of in-house micro-brews. It's expensive, but they were offering a special Thanksgiving menu, so we made the trip. We had a pretty tasty pumpkin soup to start, and things ended with a passable apple pie. I'm not sure whether the main course was actually turkey, but it was accompanied by so much gravy and mashed potatoes that it didn't really matter. It's hard to tell, but I'm pictured with a knife, attempting to carve the crepe-paper turkey that we, for some reason, had on hand.

Christmas, in contrast, was not quite as low-key as Thanksgiving, as it's one Western holiday that is widely celebrated in China. (Unlike my Christmas lesson, which was mostly candy and songs, I had to give most of my classes a pretty long-winded explanation of the history of Thanksgiving.) Once again, we got dressed up to go across town for a nice meal together, only to discover that everyone else in the city had plans of their own. The streets were flooded with people on Christmas Eve. During the one-hour-plus cab ride, the driver was trying to explain to me in basic Chinese that everyone would be out for the holiday. "Ping An Ye," he called it. Interestingly enough, the Chinese give apples to each other for good luck, since the word for apple sounds a little like the word for Christmas Eve. That, and they're red. Red is always good in China.

We numbered at least a dozen, the biggest group in the restaurant. Next to us stood an 8-year-old girl playing one of those ancient Chinese zithers for our enjoyment. I have to say, she was damn good, playing with the kind of precision that makes you wonder how many hours a day she's pushed to practice. The mood was festive, though, and everyone got a Santa hat. As you can see, I was no exception. And as for the dinner, it didn't disappoint. A perfectly cooked piece of tenderloin and a pint of decent beer were a hell of a lot better than the standard fare of fried rice and dumplings. Though, in keeping with Jewish tradition, I probably did have some Chinese food sometime that day.

The meal ended with a raffle, in which I won a free bottle of Delirium Noël (photo stolen), a surprisingly savory (and expensive) Belgian ale. So, that was cool. But it wasn't the only surprise of the night. When it came time to pay, we were charged only for drinks and told that the rest had been taken care of. With such a large group, the bill would've been come out to a few thousand yuan--a month's salary for the average foreign teacher--but it seems our meal was comped. After that, we headed out to the bar for a drink. Then we found that the bar had been closed by order of the local police. (Apparently, they had exceeded their capacity, and everyone was told to leave. They reopened about an hour later.) So, as you can tell, Christmas is a time for celebration here, but it has nothing to do with Jesus, Santa, or even the giving of gifts (although you can still see Santa's cherubic face posted in a few small restaurants, staring at you while you eat). It's mostly an excuse to have fun and do some shopping. Students tell me that stores participate not only to make money, but also because, as they put it, it's seen as fashionable.

I woke up Christmas morning at about 7 am and had class from 8 to 12. I wasn't too happy about it. But my students did give me a cake, for some reason. It was quite large and fruity and said, "Merry Christmas, Kevin." When I asked if they wanted to help me eat it, they said, "Oh, no, it is for you, teacher." So, I lugged it back to my apartment and took a nap. Don't worry, other students gave me apples, so my diet remains balanced.

Villa Pictures, Part 2

"Xin Nian Kuai Le"

You guessed it. The first post of 2010 begins appropriately with "Happy New Year" in Chinese. I really wanted to get as much mileage as I could out of the phrase, since I made sure to learn it but won't get another opportunity to use it for at least a year. The first couple of times I heard it, I thought people were saying "qu nian kuai le," which I then repeated to a few Chinese before actually thinking about it and realizing I was wishing everyone a "happy last year." Though not a very good example, this is a reminder of a particular feature of the Chinese language that gives so many people trouble, that a lot of words sound very similar, especially in certain dialects. In most of southern China, it's hard to hear the difference between four and ten. But the really interesting quirk is that even the exact same syllable, spoken with a different inflection, will have many vastly different meanings. We have this kind of thing in English, where emphasis totally changes the meaning of a word, but spoken Chinese is rife with it. Here's a well-known Chinese tongue twister:

妈妈骑马,马慢,妈妈骂马
"mā mā qí mǎ, mǎ màn, mā mā mà mǎ."
Mother rides a horse; the horse is slow; mother scolds the horse.

Anyway, I really didn't want this to turn into a language lesson, so, on to other things. I have a lot of pictures I've been meaning to post. I think I'll start with some stolen pictures of that trip to the villa I mentioned so long ago. Firstly, living in the building with me are several other foreigners around my age, including a guy from northern England, a girl from the London area, and a Welshman. The girl, Jemima, befriended one of her students, who then invited all of us to a function at a brand new gated community just south of the city. Now, we didn't really know what we would be doing there, but we did know that the only reason we were invited was because we were white. This was fine with us.

1. The girls riding in the van. 2. Looking at scale models.

Upon arrival, we were taken to what I think was the clubhouse for the golf course, and then to the indoor/outdoor driving range, which was totally surreal, because I had no idea there was a golf course anywhere near here. Imagine a row of AstroTurf mats with really well-furnished living rooms directly adjacent, and that's the range. In between hitting balls, we sipped coffee and tea from cups and saucers, smiling wide for the benefit of the camera crew following close behind. It was weird.

1. (L to R): Jemima, Rob, and I on the range. 2. (R to L): Jem, Rob, Wil, Jessi, and I.

Since I was the only one who even remotely knew how to hit a golf ball, I was asked to play a hole with the owner of the entire villa. I then found that this actually meant playing a hole by myself while the owner, caddy, cameraman, and coterie of foreigners looked on. Being a little nervous, I made bogey. The really important thing, though, is that I didn't embarrass myself. Then we took a ride around the neighborhood in a golf cart piloted by Jemima, who had to be reminded that they drive on the right side in China.

1. Exterior. 2. Wil in the dining room. 3. Cori in the kitchen. 4. Jessi in the bedroom.

I don't know much about architecture, but to give you a sense of the style, the place was called Napa Valley, and it came complete with palm trees and "American-style" interiors. Now, in America, these would be some damn nice homes. But in a city like Wuhan, they were so far out of reach for everyone here as to seem absurd. And things only got stranger as we were escorted through one of the models to the backyard pool/grilling area. Then, we were handed a lot of meat, vegetables, and spices and told to have a barbecue for ourselves. So we did. And it was good.

1. Wil poolside. 2. Wil at the grill (plus Rob). 3. Preparing potatoes. 4. About to eat.

(Not pictured: Steffi, Jemima's student.)

After many a free beer and kabob, it was time to leave. At that point it was dark and pretty chilly outside. With the help of Jemima's student, we thanked the big-wig Chinese businessman, whose exact background still remains a mystery to us, and piled in the van. I still don't know exactly what to make of it all, just that it was one of the strangest and most enjoyable days I've had in Wuhan, and there's a pretty good chance I was on a local TV channel afterward, hitting a chip shot.

The Beginning of the End Times

A couple of weeks ago, I awoke on a Sunday morning to what I thought was the sound of artillery shells raining down on the roof above. Irritated, I lay in bed and thought to myself. More of the mandatory military training that all freshmen go through? A few well-armed cops with no accountability and too much time on their hands? The first strike in China’s full-scale war against foreigners? I went into the bathroom and pulled up the shade.

What I found was a cloud of smoke and fireworks that more closely resembled a hail of anti-aircraft fire than anything you’d see on the fourth of July. Just a bunch of guys hanging out on the adjacent rooftop, setting these things off pretty regularly for at least a good half hour. That’s cool, I didn’t want to sleep in or anything. After so much time in China, I’m used to the sound of fireworks going off in the distance at really random intervals, but this was practically happening in my bedroom on the morning of an utterly insignificant Sunday. And then, like a belated air-raid siren signaling the attack, this really awful rhythmic dance music began to blare outside. Where it came from I’ll never know—it just seemed to be everywhere at once. Weird stuff like this happens here sometimes, but it’s usually more off-putting than it is infuriating.

Not long after that, it snowed in Wuhan. This must be the beginning of the end times, because it rarely snows here, and never in November. Nonetheless, it was awesome. It didn’t pile up like it does in the Midwest, but it stuck enough to blanket the campus and bewilder the locals. You’ll be glad to know that the Chinese handled it the same way they do most meteorological phenomena—they pulled out their umbrellas. Rain would obviously elicit that response, but so, too, does sunshine, since they desperately want to keep from getting tan. And now, apparently, snow is reason enough to duck and cover. I don’t mean to sound smarmy, though, since it’s understandable that, living in a climate such as this, you wouldn’t necessarily prepare yourself for snow. Seeing everything nicely frosted for the first time, I went ahead and took a few pictures.

There have been other days like that over the past month or two, days when small, random things come along and break up the work week. Like anywhere, it’s easy to fall into routines in China. When you find a good restaurant with dishes you know (and know how to order), you want to go back. When you find a grocery store with things like bacon and cheddar, you’re pretty willing to make the trip. We sometimes have to remind ourselves that we should be trying new things. And we do. But it can be difficult going from one place to another, trying to find familiar characters on a Chinese menu, and occasionally repeating to a puzzled waitress, “bu yao hua sheng” (“no peanuts”). Anything within walking distance is preferable, what with all the gridlock. I swear, rush hour lasts from the morning commute to dinnertime. Luckily, there’s a small village of street vendors near my apartment that are both cheap and very easy to deal with. It’s a great go-to food option, especially in the winter months.

Things I’ve managed to do off-campus recently: all-night karaoke, a Halloween costume contest, a three-course Thanksgiving dinner, a few games of urban bowling, a free hole of golf at a posh, Western-style villa, a trip to the Provincial Museum, and the occasional late-night McDonald’s run. I’ll try to elaborate on at least a couple of these in future posts. For now, I just want to give you a better sense of daily life. At the moment, I’m cleaning and waiting for laundry to dry, which is thrilling, I know. This morning, we made pancakes, and tomorrow I probably won’t do much after I teach class. I have a lot of free time after classes. But I end up wasting it somehow and wishing I had longer weekends instead. It’s harder to travel when you work five days a week. I’m not complaining here, just saying I might rather have only two or three really long days of teaching, as many of the others do. Traveling often makes for a good blog entry, so when I do find some time, you’ll definitely hear about it.

Take That, Censorship

Welcome to the first post of the new school year here in China. This is also the first post since the government started blocking all access to this particular blogging website. I toyed with the idea of starting a new one, but this one is so old and familiar--like a well-worn hoodie--that I opted instead for the software that lets me get around all the Internet filtering. Which is, I think, pretty cool.

I'm two months into my second year, and until now, I haven't really been thinking about home very much, except when I'm waxing nostalgic about Chicago to my students. Going back for the summer was definitely the right choice. But after I got here, I guess I unconsciously blocked out most of it, in an effort to readjust to life in China. This is my first real attempt at updating anyone in the U.S. on how things are going.

The new job is going well. The Zhongnan University of Economics and Law campus is right on the southern edge of South Lake, so there's some decent scenery. The school's actual name is 中南财经政法大学 ("Zhōng Nán Cái Jīng Zhèng Fǎ Dà Xué"), which is a real mouthful, even for the natives. I'm teaching Oral English again this year. It's pretty much the same job as last year, but with several more hours and a little more money. My schedule is more intense than that of most foreign teachers here, but compared to a real job, it's really not bad. Obviously, morning classes aren't my favorite, and the various ailments (respiratory, intestinal, etc.) that I and others have battled certainly don't help, but I feel like I might be starting to maybe figure out how to teach Chinese students effectively. At the very least, I hope to help them pass their tests and find steady work in an increasingly competitive job market. In any case, they gave me a sweet apartment.

Check out these pictures of varying quality and luminosity:

The Living Room

The Hand Chair I just boughtThe Kitchen

The OfficeThe Bookcase (full of shelves and a few books)The Front BalconyThe Spare Room
The Rear BalconyThe GuestroomThe Bedroom
The Master BathroomThe Guest Bathroom (a.k.a "the Squatter")
The FridgeThe WasherThe DryerThe Hallway and Cathedral Ceiling
(another perspective shot)

Now, I fully acknowledge that someone with my qualifications and work ethic has no business living here. These are just the apartments they give to the foreign teachers., regardless of age, background, etc. It's one example of a sometimes troubling practice of rewarding people simply for being white. And, sure, it's a seventh-floor walk-up, but I really don't mind the climb.

If only I could figure out how to decorate the place.

There's much more to tell you about what I've been up to, things you'd find more stimulating than what's included above, but for now I'll have to leave you with a picture of a friend, Croatian Ivan, cooking meat over a fire by the lake.