The laowai returns! At last!

Lyndsey’s Strange but True Sightings:

1. If you go to a Coldstone in China, you can get black sesame or red bean flavored ice cream.
   
2. Something that’s increasingly popular in China is the 书巴,or literally “book bar.” These cafes and bars have a very “literary” feel to them and almost appear to be libraries. The walls are lined with bookshelves, and usually members of the café can rent books as if it were an actual library. Overall, they’re very popular with business people, and you’ll often see people working there with their laptops and conducting interviews.
   
3. The Chinese do not flush toilet paper down the toilet. Instead, it’s discarded in a nearby wastebasket. My Chinese teacher discovered this fact when we had a class discussion concerning the differences between American and Chinese habits. She was quite shocked when she found out we flush our paper. In fact, at first she didn’t even believe us. 
   

You don’t have to say it. I’ve been a horrible, negligent blogger. I know, I know. I’ll spare you the excuses of being busy, of having tests and presentations, and of a lack of initiative. MOVING ON…How about I give an update to the things I’ve been up to lately?

Life has taken on a fairly regular pattern here in Beijing. Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday I have Chinese class, which as you know lasts for four hours each day. In a large class of about 10-15 students, the lessons from the text are presented in a general fashion. It usually lasts about an hour and a half, followed by a short break and then our small class. The small class has just six students, lasts for a little under three hours, and so is far more personal. We go over each sentence structure in detail, coming up with examples and speaking on the spot. Usually there is also some form of large, group activity at the end that lets us all participate. For example, when our text’s theme turned to law terms, we had to create a mock court case and conduct the trial in Chinese. Tuesday and Thursdays are my favorite days because that’s when I can go to history class. So far we’ve covered the end of the Qing, the efforts of Sun Yatsen, the policies of Chiang Kaishek, the Chinese Civil War and WWII, and now the rise of the CCP and Mao Zedong, making for a good stopping point to prepare for our midterms next week. I really can’t say enough about my teacher, Jeremiah. My friends know that when they can’t find me, the first place they should look is probably Jeremiah’s office. During his office hours I set up camp in a chair and just talk about anything and everything. Sometimes it’s related to what we’ve been discussing in class, but since we traveled to Yunan together, we’ve become friends instead of just student and teacher. This means more often than not our discussions are purely random and completely off topic. Finally, there’s my Wednesday film class.  We’ve finished learning film terminology and the history of film development in China, which was capstoned by a visit to Beijing’s Chinese Film Museum. This is the same museum I visited last semester with my homestay, and is by far worth a second trip. It’s an excellent museum, and one that is far underappreciated in China. Our class homework so far has been watching specific films, and now that we have more of a background of film in China, we should soon begin analyzing them in detail.

Outside of class, my time is governed by three activities: my tutor, the gym, and my kung fu club. I’ll admit that at first I dreaded seeing my tutor four hours every week. Last semester’s tutor, Meng Chun, was very laid back and often we’d just spend our time chatting rather than doing any specific lesson. Ding Ying, on the other hand, is far more disciplined and down to business. Great, I thought, I got stuck with the hard ass. What I thought was going to be a semester of private hell has actually turned to be a blessing in disguise. Ding Ying is so nice, very patient, and her attention to detail has let me gain a much better understanding of Chinese grammar and sentence structures. She lets me discover exactly how to use them, when a sentence is correct, but awkward and presented in a manner that a native speaker would never use, and familiarizes me with some of the finer points of Chinese grammar that I would never be taught in class. Usually, lessons are as follows:

* Ding Ying and I are nonchalantly going over my homework or text, commenting on errors. Suddenly the tide turns and I interrupt my tutor.”

“Ding Ying, what is this? *points to a character* How on earth do I use it?”

*The character I point to ends up being an EXTREMELY vague and hard to understand Chinese grammar structure that often has no English equivalent. Ding Ying realizes the gravity of the situation.  Her eyes get wide and her face pales after I blind sight her yet again with another serious question and force her to launch off into a full-on lecture. Once the lecture concludes…*

“So, do you understand?”

“Nope. Not a bit.”

*Ding Ying hangs her head and starts over. Mid-way through, she looks at me. My eyes are glazed, and I’m staring at her with a stupid smile on my face, my cue for saying, “The laowai does not follow.” Ding Ying sighs, scratches out the notes and illustrations she had been writing, and dummies down the lesson another 5 notches.*

“How about now? Understand?”

*Erm…I think so. Well, a bit anyway. How about we do some examples?”

“Ok!”

*I come up with an example, a sentence that attempts to use the grammar point we’ve been covering correctly.*

“Is it right?”

“…no…”

*Attempt #2 at an example*

“Is it right?”

“…er, no.”

*Attempt #3*

“How about now?”

“Still not right.”

*Ding Ying elaborates more on the grammar, gives her own example or two, and I attempt yet again*

“How about now?”

“Yes! Well, sort of…”

“…”

“It’s just…well, it’s technically correct, but we would never say it like that. We’d say it like this *insert massively better sentence here*.”

“…oh.”

“But you’re getting closer! Try again.”

*By now, it’s attempt #55*

“…anything?”

“Yea! * smiles and strikes an Asian victory pose* YOU FINALLY GOT IT!!! *applause*”

“All right! Now what about THIS grammar point?”

*Ding Ying sighs, hangs her head, and starts the process over yet again*

Besides seeing my tutor, I’ve been frequenting a gym on the other side of campus. The machines are high-quality, although it pains me to sometimes see them being used. No offense intended, but a lot of the Chinese I see at the gym simply do not know how to work out. Really, it’s almost funny to watch. They use the machines incorrectly or sort of miss the point entirely. Case in point: it is extremely hard to get a treadmill because they’re often being used. But how are they used? Are the users running, jogging, or speed walking? Oh no. They’re practically strolling, sauntering along as the treadmill moves at a snail’s pace. Often, they’re not even wearing the right clothes. I cringe at the frequency I see female college students wearing mini skirts and sometimes even high heels walking on the treadmills. Even the machines aren’t free of abuse, and often their Chinese users are sporting the ultimate gym apparel: jeans. I want to laugh and hang my head in frustration at the same time. Another amusing pastime is to see exactly how much people lift on weight machines. Sometimes it’s fun to see a Chinese woman use the machine after I get off. Often she strains at the machine, looks down and sees how much I lifted, and shoots me a look that says, “What the-?! Woman, are you a gorilla?!” and reduces the machine to about three times its original weight. Sometimes even funnier is when a man gets on after me. Pretending not to watch, I look over at he strains at the weights, does a handful of moves before leaning back and slyly so as to not lose face, reduces the weight by a brick or two. My cardio is often the gym’s spin class. I mount a stationary bike and, as the instructor mounts the stage, the room turns into a disco bar. The lights dim, red and blue strobe lights flicker on and off, and techno music pumps and pounds through the air. After screaming a rally call of “JIAOYOU (Let’s go!)!!!” The instructor pedals like mad, waving his or her arms in the air in a calorie-burning victory dance, and we struggle and huff to keep up.

Kung Fu club is drastically more low-key. Our instructor, Xiao Xie, is only a little older than I am and is both a professional kung fu master and a college student. He began training at Shaolin when he was just a boy and throughout his adolescence spent his time in a professional martial arts troupe. He toured all over the world, and although he studied English in England he never learned how to read or write it. He also never studied mathematics or science until recently because he was always occupied with kung fu and developing his own variation of the Shaolin style. Lessons consist of learning a series of movements in a long processional routine rather than actually sparring against other students. Not the most practical of hobbies, but interesting nonetheless.

My life is pretty structured balancing these three activities and class work besides, but I do squeeze in the time to go off and have some adventures. I’ll highlight some of the most interesting so far:

My roommate, four friends, and I went to Nanshan, a ski resort just outside of Beijing. Some bar friends I had made last semester organized the trip and invited me to come along with anyone else I chose to bring. So, I assembled a small group and away we went. It was my roommate’s first time skiing, and we had a good time teaching her. We were all very proud of her when she finally mastered the bunny hill and could go down its entire length without falling. Between lessons and her practicing, we entertained ourselves on the snowboarding slope. The path was riddled with jumps, hills, boxes, and pipes that proved to be an adventure for all of us. I was the only one among them with skis, so it proved to be very challenging for me. However, I can say happily that by the end of the day I could ski over a box and got the hang of one jump. It took a long time for all of us, and no one was particularly experienced or good. Caitlin was wise enough to bring a video camera with us, and there’s some fantastic mocumentary footage of us all biting it and having some truly spectacular crash landings into the snow. Actually, I’m surprised we didn’t get hurt. The snow wasn’t the best powder to be sure, and much of it was actually ice. One of my bar buddies actually ended up dislocating his shoulder after a slip on the ice. After a good swig of whisky and a good yank to the arm, though, he was fine.

I also introduced my roomie to another American pastime: bowling. There’s a bowling ally about 30 minutes walking distance away, and some friends invited us to go. Of course I brought Sharon, my roommate, along and we had a ton of fun. I was truly pitiful and had the most consistent record out of all of them: almost straight zeros across the board. Hey, there are no gutter rails in China so give me a break. In my defense, when I returned a second time for our RA’s birthday, I improved drastically.

Another night when a large group of us went out for the night, I took a group of Chinese roommates to a nearby jazz bar.  I thought it would be a great experience since it’s actually very hard to find something that truly portrays and represents American culture. America is such a hodge-podge of different ethnic traditions and other cultures that we really don’t have one of our own. We really don’t have an “American” cuisine (don’t you dare point to McDonalds or KFC), we don’t really have an iconic architectural style, and a lot of our music has spread internationally, making it hard to call it “American.” Jazz, on the other hand, grew from the south and moved to Chicago, giving it home-grown, traditional American roots. What a perfect thing to show to Chinese friends! For many of the roommates, it was their first encounter with jazz, which made for an interesting experience all the way around. I introduced the history a bit (thank you, Culver, for my History of Rock ‘n Roll class), and we all sat back and enjoyed the music.

On the subject of music, a lot of my free time is spent in the hunt for good and, ideally, free live music. My quest has taken me to all kinds of bars and cafes, from the mildly shwanky to the pleasantly seedy.  One of my new favorite places to go is Jiangjinjiu, a Mongolian bar located in one of my favorite places in Beijing, the Drum and Bell Tower square. Sometimes the phrase “live, local bands” can be deceiving since the term “local” can be applied to a group of foreigners who’ve stayed in Beijing for a long time and decided to form a band. While their music isn’t necessarily bad, it isn’t what I’d call “local.” What I want is genuine Chinese music, which is what Jiangjinjiu offers. It caters to Chinese bands, especially those formed by ethnic groups. I’ve gone and heard Mongolian rock music, and Ugyhur rock music is also frequently offered. If not to listen to music, I love frequenting the Drum and Bell Tower area. It’s located in a hutong residential complex, meaning that the neighborhood, in addition to having the ancient Ming Drum and Bell towers, is full of history. However, it has yet to reach a heavy tourist attraction status, meaning I’m free to wander around without smacking into a herd of Americans or Europeans. I like talking to the loitering tour guides or chat or play hackysack (I suck at it) with the rickshaw drivers. There’s also a great tea store, Tea Talk, and the owner is one of my favorite people in Beijing. She likes to be called Lucy and she is very passionate about tea. Her shop is small, but full of love. She only sells tea she herself approves of and likes to drink; every teapot she sells is one she’s selected based on her own tastes. Overall, the store is distinctly “hers” and you feel it the moment you walk in. The first time I stopped by she invited me to sit down, chat, and drink tea, which I readily accepted. I’ve since been back a couple of times to visit her and repeat the experience. There’s no pressure to buy anything; we just sit down and talk and she teaches me the art of preparing and drinking tea. I love making friends with her, practicing my Chinese, and indulging in my favorite beverage, tea.

My search for music took me this week to an avant garde music festival in the D-22 Bar. Now, when I heard “avant garde,” I was picturing something resembling indie music, or perhaps some off-the-charts folk rock, or something Bob Dylan-esque. After listening to two hours of people screaming at each other, making mosquito noises into microphones, blasting white noise sounds, banging drums and pots, and having vocal seizurs on flutes, I realized I clearly had the wrong idea. Avant garde does not equal indie. Now, I do think sound art can be fascinating and, if you appreciate it fully, I’m sure it can create a series of fascinating visual images in your head. However, like a fine appreciation for red wines or aged blue cheese, it’s going to take a while for your palate to develop. Mine is still at ground zero. So, I checked the festival off as something nifty but best not repeated anytime soon. Besides the cultural enrichment, I also met a new friend, a Chinese college student studying in a nearby university, and bought an awesome poster and some great CDs of Chinese rock bands. Totally worth it.

Other festivals have been keeping me occupied as well. I went off and saw a snippet of the Beijing International Film Week and got to meet the head of the event, an American NYU graduate. He was an interesting person to talk to and I got to hear about his plans for making the equivalent of a Beijing Sundance Festival and his take on censorship on film.

For the past week or two, I’ve also been frequenting a literary festival conducted through a popular and aptly named book bar, The Book Worm. I got to hear a panel discussion on China’s relationship with the Internet, sat in on a book talk from a Chinese author who, as a girl, worked in a Communist factory and later participated in the Tiananmen Square incident, listened to the first westerner to specialize in Sichuan cooking and her lecture on culinary arts in China, and discussed the differences and difficulties facing Chinese and Western films with the leader of the soon to be arriving Edinburgh Film Festival.

And in case you were wondering, usually my company for events such as these is the infamous Me, Myself, and I. I do invite others to join, but usually I hear (a) it’s not their cup of tea or (b) they are swamped with work and can’t afford to go. Well, for me it’s (a) ABSOLUTELY POSITIVELY my cup of tea and (b) even though I’m drowning in work, too, I go anyway. I take my work with me so that I’m still productive, but don’t miss out on a fantastic opportunity. The avant garde music festival? As my ears were assaulted with wailing and banging, I was reviewing vocab flashcards. How’s that for Chinese training? As for when I went to listen to a Chinese jazz-funk band? I was doing my history readings at the same time. With the exception of essay writing, which I unfortunately have to do now L, I don’t ever let my work get in the way.

And on a separate note, I did some reflection on my progress her in China. This is what I discovered.

• This summer when I started studying Chinese, I could only say something along the lines of, “Books influence movies.” Now, in Chinese, mind you, I can say, “American directors’ habit of adapting famous novels into movies indicates that literature has a increasingly profound influence on 20^th century filmmaking.” 
  
• My English is starting to get a little worse for the wear. Several times I’ve forgotten English words and a couple of times I’ve heard, “Wow, Chinese has totally f@#$ed up your English grammar.” 
  
• I now know more Chinese history and Chinese current events that American ones. 
• At the music festival, I saw a woman standing in line. I knew exactly what artist boutique she had bought her bag at, and I knew that the stuffed lama plush she was carrying was a reference to the Youtube censorship criticism video, “The Grass-Mud Horse.” Go to this cite to find out what I’m talking about: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/12/world/asia/12beast.html?_r=3&hp. 

Not meaning to toot my own horn there, but I just thought it was an interesting development. Well, I’ll update about the Yunan trip another time. It’s too big of a subject to write about here.