Two entries in one day? Preposterous!
Well, it has to do with several things. One, I spent the evening with several of my fellow teachers, who are now in awe of my heredity-gifted drinking prowess. Their hard rice wine here is roughly the strength of Jack Daniel's, yet much easier to drink thanks to the flavor.
Apparently they can't wait to go ganbei-ing with me again.
Which is awesome.
Two, I have continued ruminating very heavily on thoughts that have recently been brought to the fore, though they have certainly haunted me my whole life.
A little background, and I'll do it as best I can in the Cliff's notes version. Around the age of 12, I realized something wasn't quite right. The way people were, where they found their satisfaction. I couldn't see it. I couldn't share it. This led me, for many years, to believe I was somehow defective.
This overbearing feeling drove me to apathy in many pursuits, including school and the corporate jobs of my early 20s. Some of the people around me (mostly the older ones, mostly the authority figures in my life) were unsympathetic. Things are as they should be, they'd say. You need to decide what you want to do. You need to focus on your future. Money, they'd say. You don't understand because you don't have a family.
Well, I wanted to understand, I did. I wanted to see how these things could drive them to such lengths. I wanted to feel as they did, to find fulfillment in the basest of endeavors, to be so happy doing something that seemed to matter so little. I just couldn't.
This is not to say in any way that I looked down on these people. I looked up to them, in fact. But I believe, now, that I had glimpsed the machine at such a young age, I could not succumb to my life as dutiful cog without asking some questions.
Of course, I never asked those questions. No. I tried to fight them, all the while bitching and moaning about how unfulfilling it all was.
Go through a little personal hardship, and I end up retreating to China, not to lick any wounds, but instead to pry them open, to finger them until I figure out what makes the nerves sing.
And this brings us to now, where, thanks to some interesting conversations with a very good friend--conversations we, oddly enough, might not have had if I were close-by as before--my mind has been set aflame once more by question and possibility.
Like I said, when I was young, and for many years after, I thought I was defective.
Well, it is not me.
The way we are, and the way we live. Even if you consider yourself good, many things are wrong. And it's not that anyone is to blame. It's the system we're born into, the machine we're made to operate.
Without going into too much detail, our behavior and entire socio-economic culture are a vestige of an antiquated way of life, the remnant of old customs needed to survive among peoples divided. But we need not be divided. Not anymore.
In a world where we can speak from half the globe away in an instant, where we can be connected to anyone through an apparatus smaller than a dictionary, why be divided, by anything? It is foolishness.
How much time and effort have we wasted, earning money to feed ourselves, spending it and earning it over again, going nowhere? How many years have we lost, years that we were developing weapons to ruin each other when we could have been pushing further into space?
We made the moon in the 60s.
I have two words for you:
Rotary phone.
How far could we be, then, if we weren't en...? Well, I won't say it. Yet.
This is merely a dance across the surface waters of my mental delving, but it is plenty for now, and plenty off topic. These lines of thought are better explored over hard liquor amidst the din of some seedy bar.
But being here sure is a good place to think, what with not being able to effectively read or speak!
Anyway, here, and I hope it works. This is my best attempt at a visual image for the brokenness of what we feel is right. And yes, I know it seems harmless enough. But see, that's the best trick of all.
At first glance, it made me sad to see them tied down. But then I laughed. Long. Hard. Because, I realized, I'm just like them.
A primate on a long leash.
Except one day... one fine day... I'm gonna rip the damn thing off my neck.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
The First Lesson
Well, introductions are over. The second week of classes has arrived, and I had better do my best to try and teach these poor students something (aside from what a poor teacher I am).
Actually, thus far, the first lesson has come off rather well. And I could not be more surprised.
Last week, I had difficulty getting the students to ask me questions using Who, What, When, Where, Why, and How. Understandably, I was a little concerned going into week 2. So it was that, late on Sunday night, I found myself sweating it out over a notebook, rubbing oily palm on stubbly face, trying to devise a plan to teach them parts of speech.
Noun. He. She. It. Desk. Student. Me. You. I.
Verb. Is. Am. Are. Was. Run. Jump. Swim.
Adverb. Very. So. Quickly. Fast.
Adjective. Strong. Good. Fast.
I drew this on the board and ran through it slowly and methodically. Using the sentence, He is very strong, I did the best I could to illustrate how the various parts of speech work. To my delight, they actually seemed to get it!
Some classes were better than others. A few got the distinction between active and passive voice. Others understood This/These and That/Those, and how they can operate as (pro)nouns, adjectives or adverbs. It helped that Chinese has a direct translation for every different singular form of This and That.
Zhege - This (pronoun) i.e. What is this?
Zhe - This (adjective) i.e. Who is this student?
Zheme - This (adverb) i.e. I can jump this high.
They almost universally understood the concept of Near and Far, thanks to me running around the classroom and flailing my hands like an idiot, and how it relates to This and That, in basic terms.
Last and most fun, two classes actually managed to understand prepositions, which is fascinating considering the differences between Chinese and English in that grammatical regard.
When each class seemed to have digested about as much as they were going to take in without getting bored and unruly, I wiped the whole board clean, divided them into two teams, and started making them play mad libs.
Only one class out of the six I've taught so far has had any trouble with it. But some pretty weird thoughts have come up.
Why (verb) you (verb) (prep) (noun)?
Became
Why do you jump to him?
Anyway. It'll be interesting to see if it stays successful throughout the week. And even if it does, I have no idea where I can go with the plan next week...
I guess that'll come to me.
Here's a picture of my blackboard the first week, where I let them try to give me a Chinese name. The first one is some sort of egg breakfast food. I don't know (or want to know) the rest.
They've ended up giving me a name I probably don't deserve, but I feel compelled to humor them because I guess it's a pretty high honor. The Shui Hu Zhuan (Outlaws of the Marsh) is one of the four great classical Chinese novels. Written in the early 14th century by Shi Nai'an and Luo Guanzhong, it details the exploits of a band of outlaws in the Liangshan Marsh in the late 12th century, during the Song dynasty. (Thanks, wikipedia).
I had actually read most of it in college because it's the basis for a series of video games I used to play, Suikoden. That, and I was taking an awesome Chinese Lit course at the time. I was planning to read it again here, and word must have gotten around with the students that I was talking about it.
Here, they all know the book. Think Shakespeare. Hamlet. Only, they don't sigh when you talk about it. So it's like somebody went back in time and had Shakespeare write about Batman. That's not how I view it, of course--I can't read the original Chinese prose. But that's the only way I can understand a bunch of 12 and 13 year old kids revering this ancient work.
At any rate, the name they gave me. I have a couple of characters I like from this book above others:
Lu Zhishen, called the Tatooed Monk, a giant ex-military man turned monk who metes out vigilante justice as he sees fit (with an 80 pound!!! staff) and gets rip-roaring drunk at every opportunity.
Li Kui, called the Black Whirlwind, a fiercely loyal whirling dervish of death who wields twin axes and uses them to answer every problem without ever thinking of a better solution.
Of course, you can see that these are both vastly flawed, but basically good men, as I myself am. As most of us are, if we're being honest.
But they did not name me after one of them.
They did not name me after any of the 107 very fallible, very morally ambiguous heroes they might have chosen from this 100-chapter, 2000 page masterwork.
Instead they chose the one character in the whole damn thing who is pure of heart and mind.
The leader of the 108 bandits and undisputed hero of the story, Song Jiang.
The Opportune Rain.
Known for benevolence.
Pheonix-eyed, and swarthy (which I am decidedly NOT).
Needless to say, that one left me scratching my head. Feeling humbled. And welcomed.
Here is a picture of me at the English corner, where I was so named. It seems like a good photo to stick next to "mobbed" in the dictionary.
Actually, thus far, the first lesson has come off rather well. And I could not be more surprised.
Last week, I had difficulty getting the students to ask me questions using Who, What, When, Where, Why, and How. Understandably, I was a little concerned going into week 2. So it was that, late on Sunday night, I found myself sweating it out over a notebook, rubbing oily palm on stubbly face, trying to devise a plan to teach them parts of speech.
Noun. He. She. It. Desk. Student. Me. You. I.
Verb. Is. Am. Are. Was. Run. Jump. Swim.
Adverb. Very. So. Quickly. Fast.
Adjective. Strong. Good. Fast.
I drew this on the board and ran through it slowly and methodically. Using the sentence, He is very strong, I did the best I could to illustrate how the various parts of speech work. To my delight, they actually seemed to get it!
Some classes were better than others. A few got the distinction between active and passive voice. Others understood This/These and That/Those, and how they can operate as (pro)nouns, adjectives or adverbs. It helped that Chinese has a direct translation for every different singular form of This and That.
Zhege - This (pronoun) i.e. What is this?
Zhe - This (adjective) i.e. Who is this student?
Zheme - This (adverb) i.e. I can jump this high.
They almost universally understood the concept of Near and Far, thanks to me running around the classroom and flailing my hands like an idiot, and how it relates to This and That, in basic terms.
Last and most fun, two classes actually managed to understand prepositions, which is fascinating considering the differences between Chinese and English in that grammatical regard.
When each class seemed to have digested about as much as they were going to take in without getting bored and unruly, I wiped the whole board clean, divided them into two teams, and started making them play mad libs.
Only one class out of the six I've taught so far has had any trouble with it. But some pretty weird thoughts have come up.
Why (verb) you (verb) (prep) (noun)?
Became
Why do you jump to him?
Anyway. It'll be interesting to see if it stays successful throughout the week. And even if it does, I have no idea where I can go with the plan next week...
I guess that'll come to me.
Here's a picture of my blackboard the first week, where I let them try to give me a Chinese name. The first one is some sort of egg breakfast food. I don't know (or want to know) the rest.
They've ended up giving me a name I probably don't deserve, but I feel compelled to humor them because I guess it's a pretty high honor. The Shui Hu Zhuan (Outlaws of the Marsh) is one of the four great classical Chinese novels. Written in the early 14th century by Shi Nai'an and Luo Guanzhong, it details the exploits of a band of outlaws in the Liangshan Marsh in the late 12th century, during the Song dynasty. (Thanks, wikipedia).
I had actually read most of it in college because it's the basis for a series of video games I used to play, Suikoden. That, and I was taking an awesome Chinese Lit course at the time. I was planning to read it again here, and word must have gotten around with the students that I was talking about it.
Here, they all know the book. Think Shakespeare. Hamlet. Only, they don't sigh when you talk about it. So it's like somebody went back in time and had Shakespeare write about Batman. That's not how I view it, of course--I can't read the original Chinese prose. But that's the only way I can understand a bunch of 12 and 13 year old kids revering this ancient work.
At any rate, the name they gave me. I have a couple of characters I like from this book above others:
Lu Zhishen, called the Tatooed Monk, a giant ex-military man turned monk who metes out vigilante justice as he sees fit (with an 80 pound!!! staff) and gets rip-roaring drunk at every opportunity.
Li Kui, called the Black Whirlwind, a fiercely loyal whirling dervish of death who wields twin axes and uses them to answer every problem without ever thinking of a better solution.
Of course, you can see that these are both vastly flawed, but basically good men, as I myself am. As most of us are, if we're being honest.
But they did not name me after one of them.
They did not name me after any of the 107 very fallible, very morally ambiguous heroes they might have chosen from this 100-chapter, 2000 page masterwork.
Instead they chose the one character in the whole damn thing who is pure of heart and mind.
The leader of the 108 bandits and undisputed hero of the story, Song Jiang.
The Opportune Rain.
Known for benevolence.
Pheonix-eyed, and swarthy (which I am decidedly NOT).
Needless to say, that one left me scratching my head. Feeling humbled. And welcomed.
Here is a picture of me at the English corner, where I was so named. It seems like a good photo to stick next to "mobbed" in the dictionary.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Idyll's End, Idyll's Origin
I decided to take a brief break from tinkering with my old story to gather a few thoughts about the one that will begin in a day's time. After all, I've done nothing but traipse around like a carefree tourist for the past week since my arrival.
Now comes the living part. The working part. The beginnings of relationships that will need to last me a year, or more, if I so choose.
My experiences with my students so far have been slim. A lunch here, a pickup basketball game there. I can only hope I'll be of some use to them, because I aim to milk all can from my time here.
I still have yet to meet any foreigners here in Anqing aside from my roommate. I have had decent conversations at random with a few Chinese students at Anqing Normal College, but aside from them all the English is broken at best. Which is fine, because I'm trying to learn another language anyway. Now, if I can just find a Chinese English speaker who wants to improve as much as I want to learn, perhaps we can strike up a tit for tat deal, or some such.
Of all my preconceptions going into the trip(most of which I did my best to discard at the sage advice of one Dr. Holland), only one has held any sort of truth, and it had nothing to do with the Chinese. I still feel at complete peace with this decision, this journey, and this strange, yet somehow welcoming place. God has put in me a kind of strength I've never known, I guess, because historically I don't hold up so well in situations like this.
Leaving home for college. I was a worthless wreck.
Moving to DC. Fine enough, on the outside... but it was a damn ordeal compared to this.
I have no explanation for this, except that experience has certainly hardened me somewhat, and I am gripped with, and somehow comforted by, my profound need to be here. I still don't understand that last part, but I'm sure I'll get there.
Anyway. That was a rambling one. Once classes start back I'm sure I'll find my way over to the local college, where I'm almost certain I'll find more English speakers, perhaps even a few native. Maybe, then, at last, one of them can direct me to a nice low key place to sit and have a beer that isn't a brothel.
Don't ask.
Ahem. Yes, well I've figured out how to order food at least, so I'll survive. I go into any restaurant and say, wo yao niurou, or wo xuyaou niurou, if I'm desperate (I want/need beef). And let's not forget the pi jiu (beer). I just repeat it over and over until someone gets me. Not the most cultured thing, but hey, I've only been here a week. Give it time.
Now, I'm going to sleep, because I played 2 hours of pickup basketball and walked 7 miles to see the fountain in People's Park at night, only to find that it wasn't working.
10 to 1 I feel like I got beaten with a baseball bat when I wake up.
Now comes the living part. The working part. The beginnings of relationships that will need to last me a year, or more, if I so choose.
My experiences with my students so far have been slim. A lunch here, a pickup basketball game there. I can only hope I'll be of some use to them, because I aim to milk all can from my time here.
I still have yet to meet any foreigners here in Anqing aside from my roommate. I have had decent conversations at random with a few Chinese students at Anqing Normal College, but aside from them all the English is broken at best. Which is fine, because I'm trying to learn another language anyway. Now, if I can just find a Chinese English speaker who wants to improve as much as I want to learn, perhaps we can strike up a tit for tat deal, or some such.
Of all my preconceptions going into the trip(most of which I did my best to discard at the sage advice of one Dr. Holland), only one has held any sort of truth, and it had nothing to do with the Chinese. I still feel at complete peace with this decision, this journey, and this strange, yet somehow welcoming place. God has put in me a kind of strength I've never known, I guess, because historically I don't hold up so well in situations like this.
Leaving home for college. I was a worthless wreck.
Moving to DC. Fine enough, on the outside... but it was a damn ordeal compared to this.
I have no explanation for this, except that experience has certainly hardened me somewhat, and I am gripped with, and somehow comforted by, my profound need to be here. I still don't understand that last part, but I'm sure I'll get there.
Anyway. That was a rambling one. Once classes start back I'm sure I'll find my way over to the local college, where I'm almost certain I'll find more English speakers, perhaps even a few native. Maybe, then, at last, one of them can direct me to a nice low key place to sit and have a beer that isn't a brothel.
Don't ask.
Ahem. Yes, well I've figured out how to order food at least, so I'll survive. I go into any restaurant and say, wo yao niurou, or wo xuyaou niurou, if I'm desperate (I want/need beef). And let's not forget the pi jiu (beer). I just repeat it over and over until someone gets me. Not the most cultured thing, but hey, I've only been here a week. Give it time.
Now, I'm going to sleep, because I played 2 hours of pickup basketball and walked 7 miles to see the fountain in People's Park at night, only to find that it wasn't working.
10 to 1 I feel like I got beaten with a baseball bat when I wake up.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Rumblin', Stumblin', Bumblin'...
Fear, huh? What scares you? What scares any of us? The unknown, that's the obvious answer. But the unknown is a pale fear next to the fear you clutch tight to your breast, the fear you know much too well.
Wasn't that profound? Shut up. I know. Well, enough, then. My fear today happened to be one of those lesser ones. I didn't know my apartment from the hole in the street two blocks down, and I didn't know downtown Anqing from downtown Detroit, except I had suddenly been rendered shockingly illiterate (and I felt reasonably safe). For those of you who are illiterate, you'll know what I'm talking about. And it's simply amazing that you're here now, eyes passing over lines and lines of funny white shapes, uncomprehending.
How frustrating.
How infuriating.
This is something like the way I felt walking about this backwater village of six million people that is so deep in China (about 300 miles inland from Shanghai) it has taken no pains whatsoever to accommodate the potential foreign guest. And let's not forget I can't understand anyone, either. So, this sets the stage for what should undoubtedly be an awful experience, correct?
It was awesome. Best 9 hours I've ever spent, hands down. I walked all over the place, clueless and alone, snapping photos and making up stupid names for things that surely had better ones. I smiled and waved at anyone who passed, regardless of whether they scowled or smiled back. A stuttered hello and a self-conscious giggle was about the best I could hope for, but hey, it's a start.
Anyway, here are the fruits of my galavanting:
Awesome Tower.
Silver Thing.
People's Park.
KFC.
That KFC, by the way, being the most sickeningly enormous fast food restaurant I've ever seen... except for the McDonalds a block down the street.
All right. Have a good one at work, my friends. I've already lived this day long enough. I'll leave the rest to you.
Wasn't that profound? Shut up. I know. Well, enough, then. My fear today happened to be one of those lesser ones. I didn't know my apartment from the hole in the street two blocks down, and I didn't know downtown Anqing from downtown Detroit, except I had suddenly been rendered shockingly illiterate (and I felt reasonably safe). For those of you who are illiterate, you'll know what I'm talking about. And it's simply amazing that you're here now, eyes passing over lines and lines of funny white shapes, uncomprehending.
How frustrating.
How infuriating.
This is something like the way I felt walking about this backwater village of six million people that is so deep in China (about 300 miles inland from Shanghai) it has taken no pains whatsoever to accommodate the potential foreign guest. And let's not forget I can't understand anyone, either. So, this sets the stage for what should undoubtedly be an awful experience, correct?
It was awesome. Best 9 hours I've ever spent, hands down. I walked all over the place, clueless and alone, snapping photos and making up stupid names for things that surely had better ones. I smiled and waved at anyone who passed, regardless of whether they scowled or smiled back. A stuttered hello and a self-conscious giggle was about the best I could hope for, but hey, it's a start.
Anyway, here are the fruits of my galavanting:
Awesome Tower.
Silver Thing.
People's Park.
KFC.
That KFC, by the way, being the most sickeningly enormous fast food restaurant I've ever seen... except for the McDonalds a block down the street.
All right. Have a good one at work, my friends. I've already lived this day long enough. I'll leave the rest to you.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Biting into the Meat
Well, I don't get to do that this week.
At least not figuratively.
I won't begin teaching until the week after next, as I've arrived just in time to enjoy the National Holiday. Turns out I have the next week off to celebrate the 1949 founding of the People's Republic of China following a rout of the Nationalists, who have since fled to Taiwan. That being said, I'm trying to figure out how to get out of town.
Not that this city isn't new enough or strange enough. I just don't know how many opportunities I'm really going to get to run around China like an idiot tourist, and I want to make sure I get it done to my satisfaction.
So maybe Shanghai, to meet up with one of the two people I sort of know here.
More on that later.
For now... here's a look at the school (where I have yet to work) and some students (who I have yet to teach).
And of course, here is my beautiful... alley? Street?
Well then. It's 1:30 in the afternoon, on a Sunday. I was able to check all of Saturday's football scores without trouble. My internet works, I am settled, and all is well. I have everything I need in my Indiana Jones-ish man purse, including certain gear for those... special contingencies. And I'm wearing sunglasses.
Hit it.
At least not figuratively.
I won't begin teaching until the week after next, as I've arrived just in time to enjoy the National Holiday. Turns out I have the next week off to celebrate the 1949 founding of the People's Republic of China following a rout of the Nationalists, who have since fled to Taiwan. That being said, I'm trying to figure out how to get out of town.
Not that this city isn't new enough or strange enough. I just don't know how many opportunities I'm really going to get to run around China like an idiot tourist, and I want to make sure I get it done to my satisfaction.
So maybe Shanghai, to meet up with one of the two people I sort of know here.
More on that later.
For now... here's a look at the school (where I have yet to work) and some students (who I have yet to teach).
And of course, here is my beautiful... alley? Street?
Well then. It's 1:30 in the afternoon, on a Sunday. I was able to check all of Saturday's football scores without trouble. My internet works, I am settled, and all is well. I have everything I need in my Indiana Jones-ish man purse, including certain gear for those... special contingencies. And I'm wearing sunglasses.
Hit it.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Departures and Arrivals
September 26, 2008.
The long wait is finally done. Three weeks, two days, and an especially taxing 72 hours past due, near as I can make it, I am beginning to settle myself in Anqing.
An-ching.
Doi-boo-chee. Bah. These pronunciations will take some getting used to.
My boon companions for the flights over were more than anyone could ask for, and more than I deserved. We shared easy laughter and fought down each other’s curdling nerves as well as could be expected. I was sad to part from them, but seeing them again will be something to look forward to. I hope their trips to their schools were smooth as mine.
I will miss them, though. Funny to think that, of people you can’t even claim to know. But I know I will, because for now, they are my first, best, and only friends in this place.
My first experience alone was an unsettling one. I was every bit the hapless mark of a foreigner as soon as I stepped into the airport. Some “kind” folks came to help me get everything sorted with the airline… (and yes, please note that when you look like a helpless boob, the “kind” folks are probably trying to swindle you out of something)… so when they were taking my baggage, one of them, the lady, led me away suspiciously and said, “You pay, bags too heavy.”
It was true enough. I knew it, expected it. And they had been helpful. So, “How much?” I said. That was when “1000” crept out of her mouth.
Now, first, that’s in RMB, so it’s about 150 bucks, which would not be such an outlandish baggage charge in the US. After all, I was about double the acceptable weight. But I can smell a fish as well as the next guy. I got the tell when they saw the shadow that must have passed over my face.
“You have 1000?” The other one asked. I was saved by a bit of dumb luck here, as I so often am. I had separated my remaining RMB into two pockets, about half in each. I had about 750. So I said, “No.” It never hurts when you’re able to tell the truth.
“Well, how much,” the lady asked, looking perturbed beyond words. And she had seemed so nice…
“About 400,” I said apologetically. The woman openly scowled. The man was nicer. "400 fine,” he said after a long moment of thought. So I fished it out.
Turned out I had 440 in the pocket I… turned out. The woman grabbed at my two remaining 20’s before I realized what she was doing. I held on to one. She wore a look that would have burned a hole in me if she were Superman. But she wasn’t. I gave her a shrug and turned toward security. Ok, so maybe there was a little evil in my eye.
Not the best first impression, to be sure, but better were on the way. I boarded the flight, and the rest was without incident (although it seems worthwhile to note that bumping into each other and cutting in line is apparently acceptable crowd behavior in China… meaning I’m going to like it here. A lot.). One of the Chinese teachers from my school was there waiting for me—Joanna. Very nice, with a decent command of English, enough so that I got a neat little Mandarin lesson on the two hour ride to Anqing from Hefei. The mountains just outside Anqing, by the way, are pretty damn breathtaking.
When I arrived, we went straight to the apartment. It’s a loft, down a back alley, up six flights of stairs. No view to speak of, but then I’ve never been too particular about living space. I got to unpack and take a nap, and that seemed swell to me after all that other garbage.
Some time later, I met my roommate, an older Canadian gentleman named Remy who I have yet to form an opinion of. I could have one already, of course. It just wouldn’t be a fair one. Anyway, he seems nice enough so far.
As Remy—hereafter, Ray—and I were talking, two others came into the apartment. Colin and another older Chinese man whose name I didn’t catch… although it was never thrown. They took me to eat while Ray refused.
They asked me what I wanted, to which I said, “Food.” I think this was confusing. Well, as ever, I wanted a burger, or at least a sandwich. So I lied, saying, “I’m adventurous. You pick and we’ll see if I like it.” They seemed to approve of this attitude, judging from the smiles and boisterous sing-song speak that I have, as yet, no hope of understanding.
We went about 50 feet into a strange little place with no dining room, just an anteroom with a flight of stairs. The tables were all scattered about in rooms laid out in the stories above. We climbed a couple flights and settled into a private room.
They asked me what I wanted, again, but I just waved it off. Eventually the server began bringing in all manner of strange meat and vegetable dishes. Frog, pork-hoof soup… pretty standard, really. As Colin and I were discussing (in his rather remarkably good English) the merits of American television, Prison Break in particular, the other man began chirruping excitedly. Colin then informed me that he wanted to know if I would have a beer. Seriously, you have to ask at this point? Did I ever.
So we had beer. This was one of the best things I have ever been a part of. The server brought absolutely enormous bottles of beer, more than 40 oz. I believe, though they were measured in mL. The older Chinese man began gesturing wildly as he spoke, and then poured some of the beer into a double-sized shot glass near his dish. And I had thought it was for water.
We spent roughly the next fifteen minutes doing double shots of beer for various toasts that I couldn’t understand. The man would stand, smile, pick up his glass, say something cheerful, pound the glass back to the table and throw it back. Of course I joined in with unabashed enthusiasm. Apparently it is poor etiquette if you don’t finish your whole drink on a toast. Colin rarely finished his, and he would nod his head deferentially to both of us afterwards. As it should be. Soon enough the beers were gone, and I found myself liking China quite a bit.
I ate some of most everything brought to table. It was good, not great. My hosts kept complaining about this or that, seemingly fearful that I would be offended. They were very vocal in their displeasure to the restaurant staff, which kept me amused most of the meal. Before long it was done, and time for me to adjourn to my bed to get some much needed rest.
So here I sit, typing this as I prepare to sleep. Hoping I haven’t just committed intestinal suicide (intesticide?) by eating adventurously. Praying for the dog I saw as I walked back from dinner. Missing friends, old and new. And smiling.
The long wait is finally done. Three weeks, two days, and an especially taxing 72 hours past due, near as I can make it, I am beginning to settle myself in Anqing.
An-ching.
Doi-boo-chee. Bah. These pronunciations will take some getting used to.
My boon companions for the flights over were more than anyone could ask for, and more than I deserved. We shared easy laughter and fought down each other’s curdling nerves as well as could be expected. I was sad to part from them, but seeing them again will be something to look forward to. I hope their trips to their schools were smooth as mine.
I will miss them, though. Funny to think that, of people you can’t even claim to know. But I know I will, because for now, they are my first, best, and only friends in this place.
My first experience alone was an unsettling one. I was every bit the hapless mark of a foreigner as soon as I stepped into the airport. Some “kind” folks came to help me get everything sorted with the airline… (and yes, please note that when you look like a helpless boob, the “kind” folks are probably trying to swindle you out of something)… so when they were taking my baggage, one of them, the lady, led me away suspiciously and said, “You pay, bags too heavy.”
It was true enough. I knew it, expected it. And they had been helpful. So, “How much?” I said. That was when “1000” crept out of her mouth.
Now, first, that’s in RMB, so it’s about 150 bucks, which would not be such an outlandish baggage charge in the US. After all, I was about double the acceptable weight. But I can smell a fish as well as the next guy. I got the tell when they saw the shadow that must have passed over my face.
“You have 1000?” The other one asked. I was saved by a bit of dumb luck here, as I so often am. I had separated my remaining RMB into two pockets, about half in each. I had about 750. So I said, “No.” It never hurts when you’re able to tell the truth.
“Well, how much,” the lady asked, looking perturbed beyond words. And she had seemed so nice…
“About 400,” I said apologetically. The woman openly scowled. The man was nicer. "400 fine,” he said after a long moment of thought. So I fished it out.
Turned out I had 440 in the pocket I… turned out. The woman grabbed at my two remaining 20’s before I realized what she was doing. I held on to one. She wore a look that would have burned a hole in me if she were Superman. But she wasn’t. I gave her a shrug and turned toward security. Ok, so maybe there was a little evil in my eye.
Not the best first impression, to be sure, but better were on the way. I boarded the flight, and the rest was without incident (although it seems worthwhile to note that bumping into each other and cutting in line is apparently acceptable crowd behavior in China… meaning I’m going to like it here. A lot.). One of the Chinese teachers from my school was there waiting for me—Joanna. Very nice, with a decent command of English, enough so that I got a neat little Mandarin lesson on the two hour ride to Anqing from Hefei. The mountains just outside Anqing, by the way, are pretty damn breathtaking.
When I arrived, we went straight to the apartment. It’s a loft, down a back alley, up six flights of stairs. No view to speak of, but then I’ve never been too particular about living space. I got to unpack and take a nap, and that seemed swell to me after all that other garbage.
Some time later, I met my roommate, an older Canadian gentleman named Remy who I have yet to form an opinion of. I could have one already, of course. It just wouldn’t be a fair one. Anyway, he seems nice enough so far.
As Remy—hereafter, Ray—and I were talking, two others came into the apartment. Colin and another older Chinese man whose name I didn’t catch… although it was never thrown. They took me to eat while Ray refused.
They asked me what I wanted, to which I said, “Food.” I think this was confusing. Well, as ever, I wanted a burger, or at least a sandwich. So I lied, saying, “I’m adventurous. You pick and we’ll see if I like it.” They seemed to approve of this attitude, judging from the smiles and boisterous sing-song speak that I have, as yet, no hope of understanding.
We went about 50 feet into a strange little place with no dining room, just an anteroom with a flight of stairs. The tables were all scattered about in rooms laid out in the stories above. We climbed a couple flights and settled into a private room.
They asked me what I wanted, again, but I just waved it off. Eventually the server began bringing in all manner of strange meat and vegetable dishes. Frog, pork-hoof soup… pretty standard, really. As Colin and I were discussing (in his rather remarkably good English) the merits of American television, Prison Break in particular, the other man began chirruping excitedly. Colin then informed me that he wanted to know if I would have a beer. Seriously, you have to ask at this point? Did I ever.
So we had beer. This was one of the best things I have ever been a part of. The server brought absolutely enormous bottles of beer, more than 40 oz. I believe, though they were measured in mL. The older Chinese man began gesturing wildly as he spoke, and then poured some of the beer into a double-sized shot glass near his dish. And I had thought it was for water.
We spent roughly the next fifteen minutes doing double shots of beer for various toasts that I couldn’t understand. The man would stand, smile, pick up his glass, say something cheerful, pound the glass back to the table and throw it back. Of course I joined in with unabashed enthusiasm. Apparently it is poor etiquette if you don’t finish your whole drink on a toast. Colin rarely finished his, and he would nod his head deferentially to both of us afterwards. As it should be. Soon enough the beers were gone, and I found myself liking China quite a bit.
I ate some of most everything brought to table. It was good, not great. My hosts kept complaining about this or that, seemingly fearful that I would be offended. They were very vocal in their displeasure to the restaurant staff, which kept me amused most of the meal. Before long it was done, and time for me to adjourn to my bed to get some much needed rest.
So here I sit, typing this as I prepare to sleep. Hoping I haven’t just committed intestinal suicide (intesticide?) by eating adventurously. Praying for the dog I saw as I walked back from dinner. Missing friends, old and new. And smiling.
Friday, September 12, 2008
On the Eve of Leaving
As I come to the end of another year of life and the beginning of a new one—a new, exciting, and decidedly different one than has come before in my brief human experience—it strikes me as appropriate to pay homage to what came and went in the last twelve months. Things comfortable and valued were lost, perhaps forever. Things amazing and unprecedented were experienced. Things thought gone emerged anew, recalling days gone by with hope for days ahead.
Perhaps a list is in order.
-I saw the end of an era in life, as my closest friends and I have scattered to the winds in pursuit of… well, that is the question, now isn’t it?
-I shared bread and wine—too much wine—with three on their wedding days. Pity I was never once worthy of the tuxedos they asked me to wear.
-I completed a coherent narrative in novel form and dabbled with the beginnings of half-a-dozen others. Perhaps one of them will be worth reading someday. That comes later.
-I shared my father’s first Redskins game in person, which they actually managed to win.
-I visited.
-I saw.
-I witnessed in person perhaps the greatest achievement in athletics I will ever see, unless the achievers manage to top it themselves. Curry for three! Go Wildcats, always.
-I willfully tore myself from five years of comfort and memory and confidence and care, and can only pray it was worth the cost.
-I golfed.
-I spent too much money.
-I earned very little.
-I saw death, and wept.
-I was shocked by the mistakes of my elders. Old and wise never seemed so far apart.
-I remembered myself.
-I understood.
-I met God, again.
-I saw movies, and mourned the loss of an iconic performer. How ‘bout a magic trick?
-I saw others return to where they once belonged. Tip of the fedora, Dr. Jones.
-I procrastinated. And procrastinated. I wasted more time than I care to believe.
-I feared.
-Then I realized I was alive. It’s really not so simple as that. Thanks, Ray Bradbury, for Dandelion Wine.
Not so much, really, for a year. I'll do better next time.
At this point, it seems prudent to point out that Metallica has just released their new record, Death Magnetic. What does this have to do with anything, you ask? Well, Metallica certainly isn’t for everyone’s musical tastes; that’s no kind of secret. But they happen to be just right for mine. In some ways, having the record come out now seems a very happy coincidence, especially considering the content.
At long last, the musicians have finally managed to reconcile their past with their present. They have stared down their demons and come back stronger for it. Now, I’m not trying to read too much into this—well, Lord knows I’ve already read too much into everything, some of which I’m too ashamed to throw out here—but the journey they’ve just completed is not wholly unlike the journey I aim to take.
Rather than ramble further, I’ll honor the artistic achievement of my betters and drop a few apropos lines of James Hetfield’s verse (OK, don’t overanalyze the depth here—you know who you are):
How could he know this new dawn's light
Would change his life forever?
Set sail to sea but pulled off course
By the light of golden treasure
Was he the one causing pain
With his careless dreaming?
Been afraid
Always afraid
Of the things he's feeling
He could just be gone
He would just sail on
How can I be lost?
If I've got nowhere to go?
Searched the seas of gold
How come it's got so cold?
How can I be lost
In remembrance I relive
How can I blame you
When it's me I can't forgive?
…All right. With that out of the way, I’m free to give you some really terrible verse of my own to further scar those refined palates.
The path ahead lies veiled and twisting
Darkened by shade’s grasp
The light above illuminates
But only what is past
I tremble, sweat, for what encroaches
Yet I will move on still
I leave behind what’s left of me
Like serpent’s slough unfilled
Now moon has risen, high above
Through dark, like me, alone
As I go to lose myself
To find my love of home
Well, if anyone’s unlucky enough to be reading this far down the page, I do have one thing left to say.
The next time I talk to any of you, it will be from the other side of Earth, so I hope the coming year takes good care of you, and that you take good care of yourselves.
See you whenever it is that I make it back to this side of the rock.
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