The World is Polygonal

Shangri-La: Land of the Sky

2010-11-20T20:45:00.000-08:00

This will be my penultimate China post--probably a good thing seeing as I've been away from China for several months now. Finally I can get to talking about Chicago and being a student again. Or maybe not...I still haven't decided yet if I want to blog about something not quite as blog-able as travel.

But anyway on to Shangri-La (the village formerly known as Zhongdian)--quite possibly the greatest tourist gimmick ever pulled off. You take a largely-Tibetan village, located on the edge of the real Tibetan plateau (but not actually in Tibet so it's easy to go to) and you rename after a mystical place in a work of fiction. Voila! The magical place of Shangri-La. Not exactly. It was certainly different. The landscape was eerily bare, the Old Town wonderfully quaint and less-touristy, and the air was very, very thin. Yu Yun, as well of the vast majority of Han tourists there, had trouble breathing. I suppose it was a little easier for having been raised in Appalachia. And maybe my infantile asthma had the odd side-effect of making my lungs more efficient.

I will let the pictures speak for me, but there were some interesting things of note that I learned there. First the famous Shangri-La liquor tastes the exact same as any other Baijiu I've ever tasted. Second, there apparently is no current Dalai Lama, according to the monks I spoke to at the local. monastery. Strange, I could've sworn there was one. Enjoy:

Leb Wohl

Yunnan Pt. 3: Close to the Edge

2010-09-21T20:09:00.000-07:00

On Day 3, we journeyed north towards Shangri-La. On the way we had decided to stop and see the famous Tiger Leaping Gorge before they decided to build a dam there and destroy the whole thing. Originally I had thought that we could hike the length of the Gorge, spending the night in a guesthouse along the path, but soon I realized that A. We had limited time and B. We were not good hikers. So the plan was to stop at the Gorge, take a mini-bus to a scenic point, and then get on our way again to "Poor Man's Tibet."

After weaving through the mountains north of Lijiang, our bus dropped us off in the miserable little town of Qiaotou. The only industry in the town, it seemed, was the "Tourist" (-scam) industry. At this point LP failed us completely: There weren't any buses, the sketchy people told us, because of road work. But we could take a gypsy cab for about 300 RMB. I thought it was a scam at first, but it was obvious that we had no other choice if we wanted to see the damn thing. We paid a driver and then roared off down a gravel road.

Immediately we had to stop and wait for fifteen minutes for them to finish doing something to the road--clearly there was construction, but still 300? But then we were off again passing several other gypsy cabs along the way. Good, at least we weren't the only ones foolish enough to do this.

But we were foolish, or foolhardy at least. It turned out that it cost 300 because it was so ridiculously dangerous. The "road" was in a horrible condition due to the construction, and was littered with construction equipment that our crazy driver had to navigate in our top-heavy vehicle. For most of the journey we had a sheer 100-meter drop to our right. Oh, and we passed several waterfalls to our left. Caution: You May Get Wet.

But despite the danger, it was well worth the trip. The Gorge was stunningly beautiful--much more spectacular than the Three Gorges Area (and cleaner). Opposite us was the massive face of Snow Mountain, the other side of which we had ascended the day before.

We stopped about halfway through at a little "toll" area. You paid some money to the people who controlled that portion of the trail and then you could walk down to the river. While our driver waited up top we climbed down, passing bored-looking Naxi youths selling sports drinks and colas to passers-by. It was a pretty trail that took us through bamboo and through blasted-out rock, but tricky and steep--safety is interpreted much more loosely in China, if you can't already tell.

At the bottom it leveled out and we followed the river up to some rapids. The trail passed into someone else's jurisdiction, so we had to pay more money to walk out onto a boulder in the middle of the river. But still, worth it:

But climbing out of it really sucked.
Leb Wohl.

Yunnan Pt. 2: Playing with Fire

2010-09-21T19:22:00.000-07:00

The night after our ascent up Snow Mountain, we visited Shuhe, another "old village" north of Lijiang, for their annual torch festival in honor of some Dongba deity (Dongba being the traditional Naxi faith). Shuhe was a lot like Lijiang, but smaller and cozier.

In the town square there was a large circle of people dancing around a giant torch. Peddlers sold personal torches of bundled-wood that you could stick flowers into. Yu Yun bought one and personalized it with her own vegetation:

At first I thought we were supposed to wait for the fire to reach the bottom of the central torch, and then light our torches from it, Olympic-style. But each time I though it the thing was going to burst into a bonfire, I was sadly disappointed--the flames just very slowly burned downward like a candle. Regardless of whether we were supposed to wait or not, people began lighting their own and then sharing. It was difficult at first to catch Yun's on fire, but later we discovered we had been going about it all wrong:

After we spent about half and hour appreciating the fact that we were in a tight crowd of people (including many children) playing with fire, we decided to leave. Yun's torch took forever to burn out so we had to douse it in one of the little canals next to the street. I donated the leftover tinder to a group of poor pyromaniacs:

Leb Wohl.

Yunnan Pt. I

2010-09-02T13:45:00.000-07:00

Northwest Yunnan province, a high, mountainous region close to Tibet, would be my last trip this semester. The landscape around Lijiang, the area's biggest city and our first stop, turned out to be not much different than my beloved Appalachia, but it was still the cleanest, most beautiful place I had yet been in China. Yu Yun was amazed by how blue the sky was. Our hostel was nestled in the Lijiang Gu Cheng, or old town, which we explored that evening after we arrived. I had been to several old towns in China, one of which was featured in a well-known action movie.

But in Mission Impossible III Tom Cruise wasn't really running through the streets of Shanghai, but through the little water village of Xitang, and hour and a half away. This is because Shanghai doesn't look that Chinese anymore. Or anywhere in China for that matter. The "old towns" are architecturally authentic but have been so commercialized they are hardly "ancient" anymore. Xitang may have looked exotic on film but that's because most of the denizens (tourists and merchants taking tourists' money) where removed to make it look what like what Americans expect China to look like. Unfortunately this includes Old Town Lijiang as well, though on a much bigger scale. But despite how tourism and capitalism has fundamentally changed old China, new old China, and the Euro-backpackers that infest it, still has a lot of charm in a different sort of way, especially in remote Yunnan where industrial pollution doesn't obscure it. Epcot it ain't.

A very authentically Chinese sight

A outside Lijiang city the old life still holds sway. The fields and roads are sparsely populated, save for the Naxi villagers growing their corn and potatoes. I often saw Naxi women, in their eclectic modern-traditional dress, carrying huge baskets of crops on their backs to a fro. As part of their traditional matriarchal culture, Women were, and to some extent still are, the literal backbone of the Naxi workforce. Mini-buses carting tourists between the area villages often speed by, but it is nothing compared to the thousands of green, honking taxis clogging Changzhou's cement arteries.

Natural beauty also surrounds Lijiang. Though the immediate mountains were not so imposing, Yulong Xueshan (Jade Dragon Snow Mountain) looms, perpetually cloud-covered, in the distance.

Natural Beauty

Yu Yun and I rode horses part of the way up its slope on the second day. Our guides were of course Naxi women, the sames ones who told us how hard-working Naxi women are, from which I inferred how lazy their husbands must then be. (Apparently only in Southwestern China do they openly admit a truth that other world cultures deny). We did not get very far up the mountain. After two hours our guides started leading our horses up a tight, steep path and the animals started to slip on the loose rocks--we had not taken the way up Lonely Planet advised, but had seemed reasonable--but by then it was apparent that we were the only tourists going up that far along this particular route.

Apparently our guides were just waiting for us to tell them when to turn around. Or maybe they were curious just how reckless a dumb foreigner and naive Han Chinese would be in the wilderness. After all, they weren't the ones on horses. To be more specific, one geezer horse that only had one more season before retirement, and a stubborn junvenile that attempted to eat everything green in sight. Not the party you wanted to take up on the "adventurous" side of the mountain, unless perhaps you were the Donners. Eventually Yu Yun decided that we had gone beyond our insurable limit and so we told our guides to turn the horses around--but not before we had gone far up a dangerous path, making it all the more difficult to get back down.

Leb Wohl.

EXPOsed

2010-08-17T10:53:00.000-07:00

The Expo is in Shanghai this year. For those of you who don't know what the Expo is, it's what many call the "World's Fair." If you don't know what that is, well, it's a big exhibition every two years or so where countries and companies show off or "exchange" their advances in culture and technology.

Shanghai got it this year, and won't shut up about it. Like the Olympics, EXPO 201o is a big deal for the Chinese. Unlike the Olympics, nobody else in the world cares about it. I was once asked if foreigners would come to visit Shanghai to visit it, to which I responded "no," unless of course they were expatriates who were living in the vicinity. Which I was, so I went. Twice.

What you do at Expo is simple-- You pay 150 Yuan to wait in line for an hour to enter the site, walk to a pavilion that you want to visit, then you wait in another line for over 2 hot, miserable hours to enter. The really popular ones, such as Germany or Japan, can take up to 4 or 5 hours to get into (we managed them in about 4). From what I heard Saudi Arabia was the longest wait at nearly 8, thought some had clocked 5 or 6. The Chinese Pavilion was open only to special reservations, as were Taiwan and Hong Kong (yes they had their own). Smaller ones like Oman, Israel and Argentina only took a matter of minutes to get into, but also risked sucking, like Slovenia. We had purchased little Expo-passports that you could get stamped at each place, so we attempted two long lines each day, and killed the remaining time at the smaller, quicker pavilions.

Queuing is a western concept which was only recently forced on the Chinese, and believe me they hate it. Despite the country's Buddhist legacy, people here are very impatient. Jumping queues is very common, therefore you have to fight to maintain your position in any line at the train station or dino-park. Line rules were well-enforced at Expo (for once), but people would still push past you for the slightest advantage and fill in any available space. As a social experiment my friends and I fought to maintain about 1.5 meters of difang (space) in front of us while people piled up behind.

Most of pavilions were interesting, though never worth the wait. While the event's theme was "better city, better life," most, like Spain's, were just expensive exhibits of their culture and history presented on massive video screens. Though Spain's did have a freaky, giant animatronic baby that greeted you at the end. I was disappointed (but unsurprised) that Germany's "Balancity" actually followed the prompt and presented a polished but less exciting array of environmentally-friendly and sustainable technology, ending with a giant orb which reacted to the audience's energy. Others, like Israel, emphasized (or pandered perhaps) their positive efforts with China to make the world a better place. The entire exhibit in Japan's Pokemon-shaped building was based around one of the ugliest white birds you have ever seen. Apparently this Ibis went extinct in Japan so they found more in China and imported them. As presented in crystal clear video by Canon. At the end a little Chinese boy then sang a song about it while masked people road around the stage on futuristic Honda scooter-cars. Yu Yun liked it.

But the best pavilion by far was North Korea. Upon entering you were greeted by the rainbows and fountains of a cheap, socialist dream world. It was the kind of thing so over-the-top and fake that you immediately felt like you were livestock in an abattoir being comforted before you reached the rotating knives. There was very little English, but above the TV monitors showing harmonious scenes of opera, soccer, and factory work, was the simple phrase: "paradise of people."

Next to North Korea was Iran, but my Chinese friends didn't want to go in. Apparently the Third World just didn't hold the same absurdist wonder for them.

Leb Wohl.

No Bros

2010-07-24T08:44:00.000-07:00

The train ride back from Xi'an was a delight. We had splurged on "soft sleeper" seats, which had only four beds (as opposed to six) which were bigger and more comfortable. Yu Yun had mistakenly put us different cabins and it turned out that she got the boring one (explained in a moment). She tried to switch with the odd, quiet woman in the bunk above mine, but she didn't want to move.

If she had had any foresight she certainly would have wanted to, because opposite us was a family with two young boys, sharing two bunks with mom and granddad. All evening they were climbing over the bunks, playing under the blankets, jumping from one side to the other, and at certain times escaping into hall with mother and grandpa in hot pursuit. The youngest (about 3) capriciously kept demanding to be moved from the top bunk to the lower one and even sometimes venturing over to mine, but that was only when he wasn't chasing after his brother or looking for ghosts out the window. His "Ge Ge" (older brother) enjoyed playing with him for intervals of about 10 minutes. Then he would get tired and start fighting with him over something, at which point mom would intercede and he would cry about how she loved "Di Di" more than him. It occurred to me that this interplay was something I hadn't seen much of in China, and there's a good reason why.

Because of the one child policy, parents are not supposed to have more than one son. In rural families, if the first child is a girl, then they may have a second child, and there are other exceptions, including a fine for "breaking" the rules. Yu Yun talked with the mother and found out that they were from Jiangsu province, but the oldest was attending school in Beijing (to ensure he learns proper Mandarin) which confirmed that the family was probably pretty well-off. So if they didn't already have connections with the powers that be, they could probably handle the fines. But most of the young people I know, including the students I teach, are only-children, or just have sisters (ewwww, sisters :)) so a big or little brother is an uncommon sight.

I couldn't help but wonder how this changers Chinese society. You might think I am being biased as a (lousy) older brother myself, but I think it's just as critical as any other relationship within the family. Each kind of sibling bond, whether sister-sister, brother-brother, or sister-brother, is important because they help shape our personalities. But what is a society that has few older brothers? Or few younger sisters? Or any siblings at all? I am not going to venture into psychology, but older brothers (at least good ones) provide a male role model for their siblings, just as older sisters serve as female role models. All are siblings are part of our coming-of-age process.

In the US those of us without one kind of sibling-bond can look elsewhere in our family or friends for the kind of reinforcement we need, but what if there aren't any older brothers or sisters at all? In China cousins are typically referred to as brothers or sisters, but cousins usually aren't always around, though extended family is usually close-knit. In most households grandparents take care of the child while the parents work, so a lot of time is spent with grandma or grandpa, but as entertaining as mahjong, knitting, or poker is, sometimes you just want to play with someone your own age, which is something not all Chinese youth have outside of school. Boredom and isolation is a common phenomenon among Chinese youth, especially those from one-child families, who turn to the internet and World of Warcraft for amusement, which lead to problems like this. A brother or sister is an invaluable playmate and confidant you can rely on when you are young.

Now excuse me as I prepare for my sister's rebuttal.
Leb Wohl.

The Sewer at the Center of the World

2010-07-22T07:09:00.000-07:00

The Yangzi is dirty, really dirty. That's what I noticed when I took a cruise on it with 3 of the other teachers. A boat trip through the Three Gorges area is a standard Chinese vacation. If you're like us and like to ride cheap, you get on a small, rusty ferry-like vessel and spend 3 nights sweating profusely in a four-person cabin with a Chinese toilet that produces wonderful smells. The river is completely brown and profuse with garbage. Paradise on earth.

That toilet started a ruckus the moment we saw it. You see, a western toilet had been a selling point for the entire trip, and once realized the lack thereof, the arguments started and our booking agent, "Jimmy" Yin bolted. It turned out we had gotten some bad information from certain parties and Jimmy wasn't really at fault, which I told him when I caught up to get the room key. However, Jimmy did manage to put us at the immediate fore section of the ship, so the 4 biggest people on the boat were occupying the smallest room.

It was nice to wake up that first morning, drenched with sweat because they turned the AC off at 11 and ponder the misery that we had shelled out 5oo Yuan for. That first day, walking up this silly historical-theme-park tourist-trap "ghost mountain" thing, I felt like a human faucet. Gradually I began to adapt to the discomfort. I stole some deck chairs from the "entertainment" deck and we passed the time reading on the foredeck, where there was a breeze...when the ship was moving. Aside from a Korean couple, and a Chinese-American family from San Francisco, we were the only foreigners on the voyage. The Chinese passengers busied themselves doing laundry, playing cards, drinking beer, and eventually stripping to their waist.

This explains a lot.

The cruise took us through some empty, dingy towns and some pretty "meh" tourist attractions. On the third day we reached the gorges. The first was quite astounding, but short, and the second two equally majestic, but more of the same. The real treats were the "Lesser" Gorges, which we reached by taking a smaller boat up another river. The water turned green and blue and the cliffs came closer as the river narrowed. When we stopped at the beginning of the 3rd "Lesser," Sean and I decided to blow 10 Yuan on "smart water" from a "wise spring" up on the cliff face. We later boarded a smaller skiff which took us further up the narrowest part of the gorge while the boatswain sang unintelligible river songs and the tourists took action shots wearing traditional fisherman's garb at the front of the boat.

We reached the dam--the massive monstrosity which supposedly made the Gorges less beautiful--on the last day for a tour which disappointingly did not take us inside the behemoth. It was smaller than I expected.

Leb Wohl.

War On Chinglish

2010-07-17T08:21:00.000-07:00

...if you must

The last few weeks of my faculty class ended up having a lot to do with translation. This was largely due to the head of the Translation Department, Ms. Liao, attending my class, and she kept giving me material on Chinglish (Chinese-English) that she wanted me to lecture on. Eventually I decide to just make translation the last "unit" of the semester.

It turned out to be the most interesting and revelatory theme I had ever taught. The students were a hodgepodge of different levels of English, so they were always difficulty to teach, but Chinglish was one thing they all could understand and enjoy equally. Having them "correct" municipal and commercial signs was an excellent interactive activity, and some of the zanier examples I found online (engrish.com) amused them. The Chinglish lecture I gave at WEB hadn't gone nearly as well, I think because some were ashamed or offended by the topic. In the faculty class Ms. Liao was concerned about the impression incorrect English made to foreigners, but no one took it personally. Apparently businesspeople have a different opinion of it than teachers--perhaps because it brings back bad memories of foreign business partners laughing at signs when they are shown around the city.

I explained to to the class that in my opinion public signs are usually not so crucial that they must be absolutely correct standard English and that in fact, one thing foreigners love about China is Chinglish. We also discussed how correcting the English would destroy part of the meaning. Much Chinglish is created by literally translating the Chinese phrases which traditionally more verbose for poetic effect. For example metaphor and personification are often used, as in "the grass is sleeping." In translating the signs into correct, modern English, something valuable is "lost in translation" (Yes, and I showed that movie too).

Still, I understood that the Chinese don't want to be laughed at, so we tried to think of a compromise that saved both art and face. My solution was to make signs grammatically correct but leave them wonderfully strange. For example, one such sign states: "The grass is growing. Think about step into." The entire wording is strange, but only the second sentence is grammatically incorrect. I would change it to "The grass is growing so please think before stepping on it." Unnecessarily wordy and awkward, but the Chinese-ness is intact. Simply using "Keep off the grass" would lose the cultural value.

The topic went well beyond class. Ms. Liao recruited me for an ongoing project that the department was doing for the local government. Two of the other teachers had already spent a day correcting signage for them. You can read Dan's Wall Street Journal report about it at http://blogs.wsj.com/chinarealtime/2010/06/30/silver-collars-and-no-talls-in-disorder-changing-chinglish/ . Ms. Liao kept bringing me examples and wanted me to confirm that her corrections were sound. Sometimes she had come up with several options and wanted me to pick the best one. Later I realized that some of revisions I was checking were not hers but my colleague's.

The grass is smiling. Please go around.

Then last Monday I accompanied her, some students, a news producer, and a cameraman to Hong Mei Park for what turned out to be the filming of a Changzhou news special. In order to assist the city, students from our school and Nanjing Normal University had teamed up to document more Chinglish signage and discuss the corrections. Apparently I had been assisting the project the entire time and was named one of the "leaders." We went around the park and I explained to the camera what I thought was wrong and needed to be changed about various examples of municipal Chinglish, such as "Challenger on water" (bumper boats) "Lofty mountainsand flowing water," and "Pay attention to safety. Beware of Falling Into Water."

Naturally I was careful not to eliminate the Chinglish entirely. It is my opinion that the signs do not need to be concise or natural-sounding as long as the meaning is reasonably obvious, and most Chinglish does get its point across, if in a very strange way. Of course park signs like "no speeling," which make no sense of all, must be remedied--perhaps by placing another sign next to it that translates the non-word into whatever they were trying to say ("spilling, spelunking, etc.) Many, including embarassed Chinese businessmen, would probably disagree with me, but if they are so serious about eliminating the chuckles then businesses and governments should hire a good translator rather than rely on computer programs that directly translate every word. Of course maybe they did and those translators had a sense of humor like me...and thus Chinglish was created.

But I'll be darned if I help destroy an art form.

Leb Wohl.

The Ascent Part II: The Ascent

2010-07-11T18:34:00.000-07:00

Getting from from the Terracotta Warriors to Huashan wasn't easy. The touts who gave us advice did so with half-truths--we went in the general direction, but the route was never direct. Buses in China rarely take the most convenient route, often going down beat-up dirt roads in obscure villages. Sure, it would make sense if someone actually got off the bus in the little podunk towns, but that almost never happened either. I suspect it was a way to avoid the toll highways.

I was growing impatient, thinking that we had missed the mountain or were going the wrong way, but I was proven wrong again when we arrived in the town at the base. The place reminded me of the town at Angkor--completely tailored to the tourist crowd, like Disney, but uglier. We found the hotel responsible for our room on the mountain. By then it was already 9:30 pm, and we knew the climb would be long. The concierge apparently expressed some skepticism about us going up then, but I was eager to make the climb. We ate some quick dumplings down the road and then set off.

The path started from a gate a little ways above downtown, up a street lined with vendors selling maps and other essential Huashan climbing gear like flashlights, mittens, and commemorative ribbons (explained later). And we we would not be travelling alone. My guidebook had told me that many of the locals enjoyed making the night climb, but I had not expected so many people.

The path was level and well-lit at first, instilling a false sense of ease. Then there was a small incline, then a larger one, and then a larger one. Then we reached the first marker, which congratulated us on having completed Phase 1. That was about 45 minutes after we had begun, and there were at least 5 markers. Eventually the steep inclines turned into steps; Endless steps interspersed by snack and tea stands. And so began the general routine of climbing: Series of steps, exhaustion, tea, series of steps, exhaustion, tea. After the 3rd marker I lost complete track of where we were. Smaller ones along the way told us how far we had come, but I couldn't remember how far we had to go. At first I felt certain we could make it to the hotel room in time and rest for a bit before dawn, but as the hours went by I knew we would be lucky if we made it to the top before the sun came up.

The further we went up, the more crowded the path became as people slowed down to pace themselves and navigate the steeper and more dangerous steps. The whole path was a long staircase now. You could stop on some ledges to rest, but it was hard to stop and start again. The mountain was usually well-it, but often their was only a flimsy chain handrail between you and the sheer drop on your left. And when we came to a dark stretch I found myself using the little gloves I had earlier mocked, crawling on all fours and trying not to die. It reminded me of the Endless Stair you had to take to get into Mordor. At one point we found ourselves wedged in a long vertical crevice during a traffic jam. There was zero space between people and I kept wondering what would happen if someone in front lost their grip on the chain. People shouted "Zou Zou" (Go Go).

Occasionally I could look back and see the lights of the city down behind us. It was more heartening than looking up at the string of lanterns that marked our path. Each time I looked I could swear I saw the peak at the end of the staircase, but ledge after ledge that peak never got closer, probably because what I saw was only a bend or a twist in the side of the mountain, a false hope. Climbers started dropping like flies. Girlfriends complained. Middle-aged men started pulling up there shirts. On one wider landing many had settled down to sleep and some even pitched tents.

Eventually the trees disappeared and we were surrounded by the brightest stars I had ever seen in China. We had reached the North Peak at about 2:3o am. The East Peak, were supposedly the the sunrise would be prettiest, was across the mountain and further up. After a rest we kept hiking, though the way was no longer straight: paths ran off to different sides of the mountain and to other temples and hotels. Several times we followed the wrong group and ran into dead ends. But an hour and a half later we came to a steel staircase a cliff. Up that staircase and a little ways further was the massive rocky protrusion that formed the East Peak. It was then 4 am. We were lucky to get there when we did, since space was limited. We huddled near the single-rope barrier that divided the "safe" area from the side of the mountain, which was a sheer cliff. In the hunt for space several people went beyond the rope, only to squeeze back in when a guard walked along the perimeter every few minutes to enforce "safety regulations."

Dawn was obscured by an annoying layer of cloud, but as it crept up it unveiled the white and green monstrosity that we had ascended. Huashan and the surrounded range were rocky and harsh, but beautiful. I suddenly realized that in any given moment during the entire climb I had no grasp on were I was in relation to were I had been and were I was going. Our altitude was always anywhere between sea level and wherever the heck the mountain ended, if it even did.

Though the last third of the way up I was hovering on the edge of exhaustion, the need to get to the top before dawn keep me from going over. But once the sun had risen and we got our fill of the view, it was time to find our hotel for the 3-hour nap that our schedule then allowed. At that point fatigue hit me and my legs became dead weights for the hike down. Finding the hotel took forever as Yun Yun argued over the phone with the staff about directions. When we did hobble up the final staircase and into the rough-looking inn about 6:30 am, demanding beds immediately, the caretaker gave us a funny look but acquiesced.

After our rest and quick breakfast of instant noodles, we left the dirty lodge and began our descent amidst the throngs of elderly and (you guessed it) western tourists who had waited to take the cable car up. Between the peaks I left the ribbon that I had worn as a headband that had words praising the mountain and good health. Like everyone else who left a ribbon on the mountain (nearly everyone) I made a wish.

The sun had reached the mid-morning mark and we could marvel at the vistas that we had missed in the night. At the same time, being able to see clearly made things a lot more frightening--there were many more drops than I had thought. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves...

Xi'an--The Ascent Part I: Les Liasons Dangereuses

2010-07-03T01:33:00.000-07:00

From: Li Yang, Minister of Provincial State Security, Shaanxi Province

To: Zhang Rui, Director of State Security, Beijing

Sir, I recently received information from secure sources that an American national, PETER WARD YOUNGBLOOD, while vacationing in the province, made contact with PERSONS OF EXTREME INTEREST and KNOWN THREATS to STATE SECURITY and NATIONAL SOVEREIGNTY.

The PATTERN OF EVENTS are as follows:

9:47 AM--Youngblood left a hotel near the South Gate of the Xi'an Old City Wall with his LOVELY COMPANION, a Chinese National.

10:15 AM--Youngblood and Companion arrive at Xi'an train station. They converse with an tour attendant. The Companion complains that they only wish to see certain TOP CHINESE CULTURAL LANDMARKS, more specifically the TERRACOTTA WARRIORS AND HORSES. They board the tour bus. Observers note that they waited impatiently for the tour to leave.

10:49--The tour bus departs. While enroute the tour guide explains the GREAT AND PRAISEWORTHY HISTORY OF XI'AN and SHAANXI. Noteworthy excerpts were about the history of Emperor Qin Shi Huang, FIRST EMPEROR OF UNITED CHINA as well as the dramatic tales of LI SHAN MOUNTAIN, which Youngblood could not understand because his companion could not translate clearly. However, observers agree that when the guide asked the group how long it had taken Jiang Jie Shi (Chiang Kai Shek) to run up the mountain (10 minutes), Youngblood was surprised. Apparently he did not know that Jiang, the LOVED/HATED HERO/ENEMY OF CHINESE DEMOCRACY/SOCIALISM, had once run up this mountain to escape a NOBLE REVOLT by two of his generals who meant to force him to join forces with the GREAT MAO ZE DONG against the IMPERIALIST JAPANESE. Jiang eventually gave up his scheming and made the GREAT PATRIOTIC DECISION to FIGHT TOGETHER HARMONIOUSLY ending 10 years of war and repression.

11:30--Arrival at HUA QING HOT SPRINGS at the base of LI SHAN. Youngblood and Companion take the cable car up with the rest of the group. Upon arrival at the summit, they admire the MAGNIFICENT VISTAS and take pictures.

A Magnificent Vista

11:45--Tour Group begins descent. Youngblood keeps asking where Jiang is. He is unaware that Jiang died in Taiwan PROVINCE in 1975.

12:30--Youngblood and Companion stop at a booth. In they make contact with JIANG JIE SHI. Apparently our intelligence of his passing was in error. A female NATIONALIST soldier produces a uniform (obviously kept hidden until Youngblood's arrival). The meeting is short but his Companion and the NATIONALISTS takes many pictures, obviously for PROPAGANDA PURPOSES. Our operatives mark the location of Jiang's hideout. We attack at 06:00.

The Meeting

13:02--The tour departs the area, enroute to the next stop

13:37--Arrival at one of the ONE THOUSAND GREAT JADE FACTORIES OF SHAANXI. Youngblood and Companion express disinterest in the site. Apparently Youngblood had seen another JADE FACTORY outside BEIJING (OF EQUAL OR GREATER MERIT AND INTEREST I am sure, Mr. Director, please infer no offense directed at your province). Our observers last saw Youngblood and Companion arguing with the tour leader. Then they lost contact. Intel from the tour guide revealed that they had abandoned the tour, which they claimed was too slow, and had caught a taxi to see the Bing Ma Yong (TERRACOTTA ARMY OF WARRIORS AND HORSES).

14:20--Contact reestablished at TERRACOTTA ARMY. Targets wander about the TERRACOTTA ARMY COMMERCIAL VILLAGE and enter at 14:40. Apparently they had received advice that viewing the excavation halls in opposite order (2-3-1) was more favorable.

This office must admit, Director, that this suggestion was sound. Our observers remarked that by starting with the largely-unexcavated, largely-ruined halls in #2 gave them a feeling of what the location looked liked mere days after the site was discovered by a WAYWARD BUT PATRIOTIC FARMER digging a well. #3 contained upright and restored warriors guarding what is thought to be an officers mess hall, an preview of what was to come. #1, the main hall astounds viewers with a full army lined up in formation for war. Youngblood seemed very interested in the ongoing work and excavations, and commented about the difficulty of putting all the pieces back together. Apparently he is unaware of our ARCHEOLOGICAL DILIGENCE AND EFFICIENCY. Our observers had difficulty tracking Youngblood as so many of the visitors to the site looked similar.

Admiring Culture

16:35--The targets pick up their effects (which regretfully had not been searched) at the entrance of the site, and then proceed to the buses. After some argument and discussion with the drivers, they choose one going to the town of Wei Nan. From what we could ascertain their next destination was Hua Shan mountain.

We attempted to track them on their way, but I admit, Director, navigating my GREAT PROVINCE can be difficult. Shaanxi people are Generous AND HARMONIOUS, but not always best-informed on the MOST EXPEDIENT ways to get places. Thus the bus route involved too many complications for successful following.

22:04--We attempt to intercept them in the town of Hua Yin at the base of Hua Shan, but we were too late: Targets had already begun the ASCENT under cover of darkness.

End Report and Leb Wohl.

Xi'an Day 1: "The Ride"

2010-06-30T09:30:00.000-07:00

A friends of mine from work at Web invited me to go with her on a trip to Xi'an, the ancient capital of China, famous for the Terracotta Army. Since it was one the places I really wanted to see and hadn't seen yet, I couldn't say no. We hopped on a dirty night train in Shanghai for what turned out to be a 15 hour trip. Usually getting somewhere is my favorite part of a journey, but the "hard sleeper" (2nd class) cabins on Chinese trains are cramped, small, and hot and the bathrooms ungodly, so I was only too happy to arrive the next day.

Apparently saving money with 2nd class lets you splurge, since Cui Yu Yun, my travelling partner, had booked us rooms at very nice French-art-themed hotel. My room was Matisse. We had arrived late so we quickly left to meet her colleagues in the Muslim quarter for a belated lunch. Her "colleagues" were Xi'an natives who worked for the same bank she did, and they had met on a work trip on Hainan Island (the Florida of China). We had some trouble finding an open restaurant...though it turned out we were just looking for a place to sit down. Wen, her male colleague, then went to find some of the city's famous snack food from the vendors. My favorite were the cold liangpi noodles. Apparently these noodles are all over the country, but in Xi'an they are especially tasty. They are spicy and sesame/peanut-flavored, reminding of the fake Thai food I eat in the US (but better). Another good dish is a pot of literally every single food found in the average Chinese kitchen, the name of which escapes me.

Because Xi'an is so hot, everyone goes out in the evenings, so we were told to go back and take a nap before our excursions. I was eager to see things but acquiesced. Around 5 we went up onto the city walls, the gate of which was very close to our hotel. Xi'an's walls are impressive due to the fact that they are still there. They make a complete circuit around the old city which you can walk or bicycle--we choose the later option, which was quite fun and wise considering the length of the walls. During dull periods we played chicken with opposing bike traffic.

Our next stop was the park which contained the famous "Big Goose" Pagoda, a very old, very different looking tower from the ones I was used to seeing in eastern China. There is a big stretch of water fountains--the kind you can cool off in--right in the middle, and most nights at 9 there is a light-music-water-show. We stayed for it and watched the plumes of water and light dance to traditional Chinese instrumentals. The harmony was interrupted only by the children stepping over the jets to block the water, which left me wishing, just for yuks, that the whole gaggle of bathers would act in concert and stop the entire show.

We wanted to go in the Pagoda, but Yun Yun's colleagues had misinformed us about the time everything closed (this began a pattern of misinformation that would plague us the entire trip). So I didn't get to go in. Instead we wandered around until Yun Yun got Wen to pick us up in his new Chevy. Since Wen only recently got his license we proceeded at about 10 km/h through the wealthy part of Xi'an. He took us to a new artificial rake for some reason, probably because he felt responsible for our evening being cut short and took us to the only thing open.

By then I was ready to get back to Matisse.

End Day 1. Stay tuned for Day 2: "The Ascent"

Jurassic Park

2010-06-18T02:06:00.000-07:00

Whenever I am traveling around Eastern China and mention that I am from Changzhou, most people know it for one thing and one thing only: The China Dinosaur Park or Kong Long Yuan. Embarrassingly it took me months to finally go there.

When I did finally go with a local friend (who had been four times) it was sort of a letdown. The place had been hyped for me for so long that I had high expectations of it--basically everything but real dinosaurs. It didn't help that we went on a rainy day so the normal throngs of Chinese were absent, so there wasn't as much spectacle as I had hoped. Apparently Halloween is a lot different. Really it was just a small scale dinosaur-themed amusement park.

But at least it wasn't one of those lame places that advertise "living dinosaurs" and show you a couple of alligators and komodo dragons cooped up in glass cages and not eating people. In fact I don't think there was a single living animal that I saw. Instead the dinos were mostly cheap animatronics and cartoon characters, but even they were upstaged by the non-reptilian more popular Chinese cartoon figure, the Lazy Sheep. The only factual area was the museum which we used as a shortcut from one end to the other.

Fortunately the rides were actually pretty good, and thanks to more lenient (lax) standards of comfort and safety, they were quite torturous. The best example was a 3D Movie ride which constantly sprayed water in your face and prodded you in the back. There was also a flume ride which was a total knock-off of space mountain, except instead of traveling through the galaxy at the speed of light, you rode slowly down a river through plastic forests and foam volcanoes. Though you do get pretty wet at the end. There weren't any real roller coasters, but the smaller rides were adequately dizzying, and sickening for quite a few. But unlike the easier-to-please Changzhouren, I don't plan on getting a season pass.

Odd Habits of the Chinese Collegiate, pt. III

2010-06-05T03:36:00.001-07:00

1. The Trucker Hat: I have seen girls wearing a wide range of themed trucker hats, such as "Black Rebel," "Chris Brown," and my personal favorite, "Honey Closest." The best ones are furry.

2. The Visor Hat: Standard attire for (mostly) women on electric bicycles, this hat/sunglasses hybrid is basically a visor that can be brought down to become a tinted windshield.

3. The Extended Ball cap: Worn mostly by senior seniors, this is basically a baseball cap with a longer brim.

4. The Sunbrella: Not really headgear, but close enough. Every girl in China is vehemently opposed to the mere possibility of tanning.

Pushing the Envelope

2010-05-29T03:50:00.000-07:00

A usual post would not do the last few weeks justice. I have entered the beginning of the end, yet it seems like things just keep escalating in work and play. At Web, I have had to force myself to try and return to some sense of normalcy. For a time my English Corner presentations were becoming obscure and absurd. First there was my millenarian phase, with powerpoints on End-of-the-World scenarios and Nostradamus. This was naturally parlayed into NCAA Bracketology, only to devolve immediately into Lawnmower Racing. It's typical for Web instructors to put down a vague or nonsensical topic and then settle on something and revise it the day of, but I was actually creating whole lectures on vague and nonsensical topics (Strangely enough, my discussion on "Beating the System" went well, despite not knowing what the "system" was or how to beat it) It had to stop before I tapped my inner-Samuel Beckett and began to fry their brains (and mine). Lately we've been back to talking about housing and food.

My increasingly-abstract topics in EC was probably a reaction (and catharsis) to the outright boredom I was experiencing with the standard Web lesson plans, especially the "Business English" ones. I try and finish the truly-awful ones early, if I even attempt them at all, and try and have discussions with the students. I've had some interesting conversations, but most are repetitive. When I ask them for something they want to discuss, it is either my home or movies.

Fortunately my day job has become more interesting. My college students are talking more and I've been busier with things around campus. The sudden arrival of summer brought more opportunities for sports. I've played Tennis with Steve for several weekends now. Tragically I did not take a picture of his "tennis outfit" on the first day. Now not even the purple socks remain. Usually we end up having to share the courts with the Tennis classes--a gaggle of girls who hit the balls everywhere while the coaches just stand and gossip. My friend Max has more pull with the local powers so when I play with him we get the court to ourselves.

Gettin' it Done

It's also basketball season. I've been playing on our department team, managing not to embarrass myself too much. After years of watching, I'm starting to learn the fundamentals of actually playing the game. Basketball needs a position for someone who just passes the ball, because that is what I am good at--I mean, who needs two point guards? At the same time the student leagues have been playing, and I've had a chance to watch my tutor Shen Yang lead his team: The Foreign Language Institute "Denver Nuggets." They have some good players, especially a point guard who is named "Anthony" according to the back of his uniform.

Mach's gut (and hao bisai)

Freshman Boot Camp

2010-05-20T08:07:00.000-07:00

It's that time of year again--the flowers are in bloom, the smog is not as noticeable, and the familiar twang of "yi, er, san, si" permeates the air. Ahhh...freshman military training.

Military training is required of all college freshman in China. They spend their entire day with their class and a drill instructor, dressed in fatigues and sneakers, learning how to march in formation. They gain important combat skills such as proper arm-swinging, stepping in sync, and singing patriotic songs. So the end result is a well-drilled troop of mostly girls marching and singing "jun zhong ju hua" ("Chrysanthemum in the Army"), followed by a rousing verse of "tuan jie jiu shi ji liang" ("Union is Strength"). A lucky few get to fire actual weapons.

Of course the real reason they have to do this is nationalism. What better why to foster obedience to the state than to have them march in the hot sun for 8 hours 8 days straight with your classmates? Chinese college students take every class with the same group of people. They learn as a unit, they live as a unit, and then they become an actual "unit" of model Chinese citizens.

And of course it is also adorable. I finally managed to find my little Dong Fang freshman on day 2. This is the class that is already incredibly good at speaking in sync, so I knew they would be good at walking in sync. They were all smiles as usual, and according to them they liked their instructor. He, however, was not happy to be there, having commanded plebes for five years already. One of my star pupils seemed very excited about the whole experience--her brother is in the army and she plans on marrying an officer.

I took some pictures, and did a few satirical drills of my own for their amusement.

I love Spring.
Leb Wohl

Job Fair!

2010-05-13T08:12:00.000-07:00

Inexcusably I have waited too long to write about what was a very enlightening episode in China. It was called the "Job Fair for Foreign Professionals." Actually it was the "'Job Fair' for 'Foreign Professionals'" (note the apostrophes).

Like the very well (and comparatively overpaid) livestock we are, a large portion of the foreign teachers in Changzhou were loaded into buses and shipped to Nanjing to fill up the "career event" hosted by Jiangsu Province. When we arrived we met our good friend Max, the most gregarious Chinese student I have ever met. Max lives in Nanjing and stays there when he is not back at school playing tennis (like most Chinese seniors, Max doesn't have classes). Since one of our number decided not to come, Max became "Daniel" and joined us for the fair and subsequent tour.

The fair lasted all of 30 minutes. We went in, heard the last few bits of the opening speeches, got coffee, and then proceeded to walk around the booths. Every participant was given a badge and some literature about the various schools and companies. When I said I wanted this stuff, our waiban, Teddy, questioned its usefulness--Teddy often forgets that its never about use for me when comes to these things, but pure novelty.

Most booths were for a Jiangsu or Shanghai school looking for foreign teachers, such as Yangzhou Lucky Kids Bilingual Art Kindergarten and Jiangsu Animal Husbandry & Veterinary College. All I can say is that I am not working at Jianhu Experimental Junior High School until they are out of the experimental stage. Though the book mentioned some, I did not see any non-school-related companies, though there were some tables for exchange programs looking to hire Chinese nationals. At one I discovered "Kelvin" Li, the CIEE guy who oversaw our orientation in Shanghai (aahhh, memories).

What everyone really came for was the free day-tour of Nanjing. In fact most didn't even know it was a job fair and came dressed for sightseeing, not business. The tour of Nanjing's historical walls and temples was fun, but I had been there before. The massacre museum and memorial--the best (and most overwhelming) site--was not included. Our tour guide's heart was in the right place, but not her English, nor her understanding of the difficulties involved in organization a group of rowdy, sarcastic foreigners. Her staccato tidbits of information about each sight and unrelenting commands were usually met by speedy (and sometimes racist) British or Australian wisecracks. Not to say that the Americans were less rude--we just didn't have the rapier wit.

That night we went out and I forgot my salary card in the ATM again. That is all I am going to say about that night in Nanjing.

Leb Wohl.

New Classes

2010-05-01T01:15:00.000-07:00

I originally started the semester out with only 8 hours of classes--two regular Freshman O.E. and the special class of students who are paying big money to study abroad in England next year (and whose English is god-awful). Feeling like 3 classes would be anti-climactic for my last teaching semester, I introduced an "idea" for a "movie class" to my "boss," "Steve". The department was sold on the idea, but it was clear it would never be a real class, but more of a club (less work for me!). I wrote a brief semi-fictional autobiography and a class description and sent it to Steve along with the most eccentric photographs of myself that I could find.

My first class had a whopping 4 people. I then decided that it might be helpful to actually tell some of my current students about it. The second week had a better showing with a lot of my freshmen attending. I had hoped for some older students. I started with The Searchers, considered one of the best westerns ever made and good introduction to the class (the first film of many introductory film classes). Though it is a pretty straightforward movie, there are several key subtleties in both the plot as well as the artistic composition of the film. For example the most important camera shot in the film is the "doorway" shot, in which a character is framed looking inside a room or house from the outside (or vice versa). It is supposed to represent the barrier between the wilderness and civilization, or between the lone cowboy and the comforts of family life.

Easy, huh?

They seemed to get the plot, though I am not sure they saw too far beyond a typical cowboy story. I tried to get a conversation going about the typical Western themes seen in the film, including racism, but no dice. At least I'm pretty sure I got my points about cinematography across.

The other problem is that it is an old film, which for most Chinese students equals boring. Unless it is full of colors and effects, they tend to lose interest. But many of those kinds of movies have little narrative or artistic value. The problem with those that do is that they are often way above their heads. I have had to find a balance of excitement, relevance, and simplicity. Films that try to say too much to the audience don't work. Blade Runner was too cerebral, Lost in Translation was about right. As long as their is something unique about a film, it works, and usually I concentrate on that one unique thing rather than analyze the whole film from an artist's perspective. For LIT I concentrated solely on the nature of the main character's relationship, including the unheard lines that Bill Murray whispers into Scarlett Johansson's ear.

Unfortunately our discussions about the films are only ever one-sided. I will ask them what they liked about a film, or what they thought was interesting, and they will say it was "funny" or "exciting." Then I will proceed to lecture about the "subtleties" that they may have missed. It's more of a lecture class than I would have wished, but I have never had a problem telling people how I interpret a movie.

Which is the right way to interpret a movie.
Leb Wohl

Easter Madness

2010-04-22T20:24:00.000-07:00

The easiest job in the world has just become easier, since the English department never offers (or forces) as many classes in the Spring. As a result I only have three English classes right now, plus the film class I just created for the heck of it (where I do very little real work). This allows me to concentrate on just 50 students, and the quality of my classes has improved massively and I have also started to come up with better and bolder activities. Certainly some of these have only had limited success. For example, I created a social game where half the class would portray citizens from different English-speaking countries and they would have to find their homeland (assigned to the other half). I attempted to make it organized by creating two concentric circles of students, one of which would rotate. But dealing with freshmen is like herding cats, especially when they are freshmen girls who don't like detaching themselves from their friends with whom they have had a symbiotic relationship since Day 1 of Xuexiao.

But one better idea I had was an Easter egg hunt to celebrate the season. Unfortunately a traditional hunt was out of the question, since there was no feasible way for me to boil enough eggs and then hide them. Instead I decided to combine my "Blindfold Hunt" with an Easter theme. In "Blindfold Hunt" teams of students work together to find an object in an open area. One is blindfolded while the other barks directions. I usually time them and then award a prize to the fastest group.

First of course we had to make the eggs. Plastic ones aren't available so I decided to spend a few kuai and boil about 8 per class. I also had to buy painting supplies. Fortunately the campus store had everything, including these great little paint trays.

With paint involved, I expected some sort of messy disaster (I couldn't find any smocks). Fortunately none of my students ruined their clothes. In fact, they were quite industrious and adept painters, far exceeding my skill--the night before, out some misguided (and exaggerated) sense of patriotism, I had attempted to make an "American Flag" egg which ended up a purple modernist piece. They were very methodical--first tracing their designs, then carefully applying paint and blowing to dry it faster. Of course if I had spent more time with my grandmother as a kid I would probably know how to do these things too. We ended up with some inspired designs:

The hunt was less organized. We tried it at the soccer field. While the class sat near the goal I had everyone place their eggs at random points around the goal box. Then I told the pairs to collect as many as they could (though I forgot the darn baskets). I spent most of the activity yelling at them when they directed in Chinese and making sure they didn't hurt themselves ("Blindfold Hunt" has had its share of near-misses). The problem with the game was that the rest of the class has nothing to do but watch and get bored. But when it became apparent that the eggs could get trodden on, I did volunteers from each painting group "defend" them. Of course I had to explain that defending them did not mean moving them when the hunter was about to find it. One student named "Ankle" decided to scatter theirs in pieces all over the turf in order to prevent discover. Their are always a few "bad eggs" in every group.

Ha ha.
Leb Wohl

Odd Habits of the Chinese Collegiate, pt. II

2010-04-15T19:30:00.000-07:00

1. Calling Fouls. On ME! I may be one the worst basketball players on the planet, but seriously it's called DEFENSE and a little contact never hurt anybody. Maybe if they stopped watching the NBA so much they would know what it was. And Allen Iverson is not a good "favorite basketball player" so please take his picture off your phones.

2. The "shuffle." If on an appropriate surface, Chinese girls will elect to shuffle in short, quick bursts in order to reach their destination at the chalkboard.

3. If you are not completely skinny, you are a "little fat."

I Am Not Just A Pretty Face!

2010-04-07T07:05:00.000-07:00

Though sometimes it seems as if that is what I am here for. The "foreign experts" at Jiang-Jishu are a hot commodity and I am pretty sure this is true throughout most of China. Please consider this telling pattern:

At one of the places that is considered a "bar" in Changzhou, I met this one guy who said his job was basically sitting in a glass cubicle playing solitaire while important customers were paraded past it. The teacher's office at WEB International English (my other job) also has glass walls. Just today a prospect was given a tour which included the "Waijiao" in their little glass cage. Coincidence? Perhaps not. If only there were some analogous situation...like some sort of park or area where visitors can come and watch creatures work and play in enclosed spaces...well, I'll think of it later.

At a college like Jiang-Jishu, which doesn't have that much going for it, it's always considered good business to display the foreigners. I have been on the website's homepage several times now. And as "foreign experts," we get asked to teach and present things that we are totally unqualified for. We are to keep the students entertained.

We also get invited to crazy things. The school and the adjacent hotel I live in always seem to host many odd events like the "Inspection and Quarantine Sub-Level Officials of Southeast Africa Conference (IQSLO-SEAC). Last week the school had the "2010 International Conference on Industry Engineering and Management." Guess who made the whole thing "international:"

This guy Sean, and his three white friends.

Oh and I think some of the Japanese teachers were there too. Basically my "boss" called me and the others asking us to go to some of the lectures. I wouldn't have missed this experience thing for the world, but the promise of a Baijiu-fueled banquet only sweetened the deal. When we got there we realized why we had been asked to go. Another person making it "international" was Dr. Horst, a German with close ties with the College who did a lecture on marketing. It was the one thing I could comprehend that whole morning. Another Chinese lecturer gave a powerpoint in English. However that soon proved useless:

Apparently concepts like group decision-making can be expressed through calculus.

Anyway, as nice as it is to feel important now and then, sometimes I feel a tad exploited as a spectacle, like the poor monkey I see being dragged around on a leash when I go downtown. I suppose it could be worse. I get paid and go to banquets. Monkeys at the zoo don't.

Oh. THAT'S the word I was looking for.

Leb Wohl

Major Wattage

2010-03-26T04:17:00.001-07:00

Happily I am not the only teacher at my school that is still writing blogs from a vacation he had over a month ago. The sad part is that while the others have around 5 weeks of material to slog through, my SE Asian tour lasted a mere 10 days before I had to return home for most of the Spring Festival. Well, here's the second to last of it...

Siem Reap, the Kissimmee, FL of Cambodia, was unlike anyplace I had ever been. Maybe Atlantic City is similar. It bordered on surreality as the love-child of the 1st and 3rd worlds. The day after are arrival we got up bright and early to hit the Ancient City of Angkor. Of course since Angkor is the only reason anyone comes to Siem Reap (or Cambodia) all non-Cambodians within city limits were going there too. After getting our tickets (and making it expressively clear to our Tuk-Tuk driver that we were hiring him for one-way, not the entire day), we were off to see the Mother of all Wats, Angkor. Without any sort of reference or guide, the temple was overwhelming. Bas-reliefs on every wall told some tale related to Buddhism or Hinduism (it had been a center for both religions). It became necessary to backtrack, mooching here and there off tour guides I hadn't paid for. Never before had I been so thankful for knowing German.

This strategy caused me to frequently peel off from my traveling companions, which I think annoyed them. But it was either that or missing out on an explanation of "The Churning of the Sea of Milk" or the Indian epic Ramayana (mah favorite). Most of the stonework was concentrated on the outer corridors of the Wat. As you moved inward you went higher, until you reached the upper courtyard with some nice stupas which were regretfully closed that day.

Outside the Wat I bit the bullet and bought a great $5 book about the whole site and then met up again with Ken and Dan, for a slushee (national drink of Cambodia and Thailand). We took another Tuk Tuk up a long ancient boulevard infested by greedy monkeys and arrived at our next stop--Bayon, another massive, but far less restored, temple. In fact as Ken pointed out, it seemed like if the rebuilders couldn't figure out where a brick went, they just threw it into one of several massive piles on the perimeter.

But the dilapidation and hazards made it feel more rustic and authentic, and so as I walked through the maze-like interior, hopping over each crevasse and pitfall, I couldn't help but hum the theme from Raiders of the Lost Ark. Like Angkor Wat there were some nice statues and bas-reliefs...and a phallic Hindu linga just sitting in one corner.

After that we made our way up to another ancient complex called Angkor Thom. To write about the rest would be repetitive, even though it was all still cool. About an hour was spent conversing with the child-hawkers. We tried talking to them about their country and they tried to sell us T-shirts.

I later doubled back alone to Angkor Wat to look at things I had missed sans guide, the plan being to meet on a hilltop and catch the sunset illuminating the Wat. I tarried too long and had to rush back, hoping on the back of one of the motorcycle-taxis, and then racing up the slope. Apparently everyone else had the same idea we did--the temple on top was packed with people and I had to navigate steep narrow steps that had become bleachers for the onlookers. The sunset was just so-so, but in the dusk light and mist the surrounding plains became incredibly exotic.

And that was my day. Leb Wohl.

Race to Cambodia, part II

2010-03-12T19:18:00.000-08:00

In Chantaburi I decided to quickly have some passport photos made, which would speed things up when we made it to the border.

I made it back to the bus just in time, though the only space left was in the back next to two monks. Of course this excited me a great deal. On the way to Aranyaprathet I attempted to talk with them with little success, though what I could understand was interesting. Both of them were returning from a democratic rally in support of Thaksin, a former prime minister who had recently been deposed. The Thaksin situation is a divisive issue in Thailand, and he may not have been that great a leader, but after being in China encountering real free speech and activism is always refreshing, especially coming from monks.

We made it to Aranyaprathet at about 6:45 pm--cutting it very close--and were shuffled into a city bus that would take us to the border town. About 7:15 now. We got the border town quicker than we expected, but still had to take a Tuk-Tuk to the crossing.

We knew this would be the most perilous stage of our journey, since the driver would no doubt try and take us to the "Cambodian embassy" to for "visas" instead of the border post, which is where we were supposed to go. Though we made it absolutely clear where we wanted him to take us, it was to no avail and once he turned off the main road I felt something was wrong. He pointed us to a small building saying "visa," after which Ken immediately protested with Dan and I soon following suit. Several people came out of the building, motioning for us to come inside. Thanks to our belligerence we soon won out, and the driver just smiled and turned around.

7:30 now. The border area was a dirty, disorganized no-man's land, beset with con men and peddlers. After exiting Thailand, we walked along a boulevard straddled by ugly casinos and other establishments that only became legal when it was impossible to determine whose laws they had to follow. We stopped at the guard post so I could get my visa, which was not difficult, though I had to pay several dollars more than Ken and Dave did. Traveling to the immigration point were several hundred Cambodian migrant workers returning from their days work on the Thai side. They had a special gate to go through, while we were guided towards the foreigners entrance. I was through immigration at 7:45.

Outside immigration it was a complete dystopian circus. There were no buses and policemen, peddlers and children were wandering around offering their transportation services and goods. One cop took my suitcase as if to guide me to a car, but at Ken's thoughtful urging I wrestled it back. The taxis may have looked like gypsy cabs, but the government still got a large share of the fares and the police were in cahoots with the drivers and eager to make their cut. We found a driver to take us to Siem Reap and got out of the cesspool quickly.

On our 2-hour $35 cab ride we finally could sit back and relax. Assuming we had not just been abducted by the Cambodian mob, we had made it through the worst. I took a moment to admire the nothingness that I saw along the highway. Though it was night, you could feel how completely rural the country was. Two days later I would travel the same road in daylight and confirm this. While Thailand had a lively tropical, almost-Caribbean vibe, Cambodia was the exact opposite--it had not been invited to the perpetual S.E. Asian party. It looked felt like a Third-world country, but of course that probably had something to do with the Khmer Rouge.

We were soon in Siem Reap, which reminded me of Gatlinburg or a poor-man's Disney with its complete inauthenticity. It was basically just a tourist town that served Angkor. We went to the closest hotel that looked cheap. We had crossed the finish line at around 10 pm and our 12-hour journey was over. It would be hard for Angkor Wat to top that.

Leb Wohl.

Race to Cambodia, Part 1

2010-02-21T17:58:00.000-08:00

I have a tendency to change plans on a whim, usually because I'm not good at making plans to begin with. I originally only planned on staying in SE Asia for a week, but according to every single backpacker I met, that was ridiculously short. Since my ticket home was flexible, I decided to push my flight back a few days.

Ken and Dan were going to Cambodia to see Angkor Wat, so I decided to tag along (to be honest the opportunity to see the ancient city was why I stayed longer in the first place). The catch was that while they had already gotten their visas, I had not. You could get one at the border, but you had to pay a whole 5 DOLLARS more (with the possibility of extra fees depending on the mood of the border guards)! Absolute extortion. The other problem was that the border closed at 8:30 P.M. and if we didn't get there soon enough we would be stuck for the night in a Thai border town. There were some complications, but we thought we had plenty of time.

We departed beautiful Koh Chang Island (translation: Koh Island Island), early morning Friday at about 8:3o. I was in a low mood since the rain had ruined my plans to enjoy the great beach one last time, but I did get to see some monks begging for alms at each storefront. An employee from each place came out with a ready-made container of food, which was presented and accepted in a very ritualized manner. We loaded up on the taxi-truck and rode up the hills to the ferry. The road was wet and our driver busy texting his buddies. We managed not to run over the Scooterist who laid-down his bike in front of us on a tight turn.

We took the Ferry to the mainland at around 9:30. No one died.

At the other shore we had to take yet another taxi to the nearest bus station in Trat. There we had to wait until nearly noon for the bus to Chantaburi, which according to Ken was the town we needed to go to next. Ken was our leader because he had a guidebook. While we waited I had a Slushee and incredibly spicy Tom Yum soup.

There were very few people on the bus to Chantaburi. On the way I watched what at first appeared to be a pleasant movie about friends white-water rafting in a mountainous place that reminded me of home. Then someone was shot in the eye with an arrow. Everyone else soon decapitated or gutted as well. It was the beginning of a movie called Wrong Turn III. I resolved never to watch the first two. The bus route to Koh Chang Island had had better taste and showed District 13 Ultimatum. I never knew the French could make great action films.

We arrived in Chantaburi a little after 1, ready to catch the bus for the next stage of our journey. But we were informed that the next bus didn't leave until 3. The journey to the next city, which we calculated was over an hour away from the border, took about 4 hours. The border closed at 8:30. Uh Oh.

To be continued.....

Wat to do...wat to do...

2010-02-06T17:12:00.000-08:00

After the frigid close of the semester, I traveled to sunny Thailand with some of the other teachers. That's not entirely true; while our stays did overlap for about a week, we came and went on our own. I have never been that great at coordinating these kinds of trips, so this was perfect for me, since we could plan on the fly and people good go and do their own thing if they wanted.

I spent my first night getting to know Bangkok. When I say "getting to know Bangkok," I mean going to the IMAX theatre and watching Avatar (reeeaaaally big in China btw--might warrant its own blog post). I count that as a "cultural experience" since everybody had to stand up and sing the national anthem to the Thai King.

The next day I went up to the ancient city of Ayutthaya, which happened to be the capital of one of the empires that ruled Thailand at some point. I could reference Wikipedia now, but I am too lazy. Look it up yourself. Anyway, Ayutthaya has a plethora of these things called "Wats." "Wat" is basically Thai for "temple," but the actual temples never seemed to survive being sacked by the Burmese (the cause of all Thai problems). All that remains are these great stone pillars and towers that are called stupas, prangs, or chedis--take your pick, I couldn't tell the difference. You can't go into to most stupas, though some have steep stairs leading to small shrines with little Buddha-images where locals pray and, given all the trash, apparently where Thai delinquents break their curfew.

There were some newer, active "Wats" in Ayutthaya where I encountered something I had not encountered very often in China--observant religion. I think the first thing that clued me in was the fact that everyone had to take their shoes off before going in. I soon found out that this was a general Thai custom that applied most everywhere (with some leniency), so it actually wasn't the great leap of piety that I thought it was. However soon I encountered other "rules" that proved I was right, such as being required to wear pants in temples, frequent monk-sightings, and actual rituals (more on that later). The most telling difference was that Wats weren't just treated like tourist attractions (though the price of admission was steep for foreigners), but real houses of worship.

Going from "godless" China to Thailand, where Theravada Buddhism is the state religion, was a shock. I didn't know what to do with so many temples to choose from. It seemed like home, except instead of Baptist churches on every corner there were Wats. The difference between Thailand and China is that while the various invaders in Thailand destroyed temples, they built new ones (which is why so much of the architecture isn't actually Thai). Even though religion frequently changed based on the ruler, it was still permitted. When the Red Guards destroyed a temple, they put a factory in its place.

Leb Wohl

Back in 1485...

2010-01-04T05:56:00.000-08:00

Assigning my classes weekly journals was a bit quixotic on my part. Many of them tended to be quite boring, usually because they all would write more or less the same paper, just with enough variation to avoid plagiarism (though there was plenty of that). However, this had the unexpected benefit of revealing some interesting patterns and trends amongst my students which gave me some insight into Chinese culture. For example, every one of my students has a humorous father. Either that or "humorous" is the only adjective they could mutually come up with to describe their fathers. Also, many of my girls have grandmothers who resent them simply for being girls and not boys--definitely a real prejudice that still exists.

However, one assignment was especially revealing. I asked them: If they could go back to any point in time, and change one thing, what would they change and why? Many wanted to go back to middle school and high school so they could study harder and not go to such a bad college. Some regretted losing contact with a good friend or being such a poor son or daughter.

But what I had really been hoping for was a social-or politically-related topic, and I got it in the form of a nostalgia for ancient times. Quite a few of my students wanted to go back to one of China's most prosperous dynasties, either Han, Tang, or Ming, and prevent their nations inevitable decline. Many envisioned themselves as an important philosopher or leader who could keep the Chinese state and culture strong in the face of the internal turmoil and outside invaders which ultimately ended the Chinese Golden Age and began a period of stagnation and decline.

I had not expected such an intense case of Vergangenheitsbewaltigung (coming to terms with the past) when I came to China, but it makes absolute sense. Today China is developing at a break-neck pace: expanding cities, damming the Yangtze, and relocating millions to "develop" its remote western provinces. Prosperity is China's gospel, and after reading my student's journals, it finally became obvious why: This is a country obsessed with catching up.

At the beginning of the first millenium, the Mongols conquered China and set-up the Yuan dynasty, beginning a time of foreign rule. In the 14th century some peasants revolted against the weakened Khanate and thus began the great Ming period. But this didn't last long until the Manchus invaded in the 17th century. Then came the Europeans, then the Japanese, and then there was a civil war...you get the picture. China hasn't had much time to develop as a sovereign country and for several centuries had to watch the world pass by while it was exploited by foreigners and ravaged by war. So you can imagine why, after 1949, the communists came up with all these grand, but catastrophic, plans to turn China into a modern state. Fifty-million deaths later the dust has settle and they are finally starting to get the hang of it at an alarming pace.

So, whenever I look out my window and gaze upon the ever-expanding concrete wasteland of towers and roads, and wonder who the heck could possibly find beaty in such a scene, I tell myself that they are racing to get back to the head of the pack after getting stuck in the past. That is no small task with 1.3 billion people, many of whom are uneducated. Things must be done expediently and efficiently. The environment, cultural, relics, traditions, etc. must bow down before progress.

But I wonder, doesn't this defeat the purpose? Everywhere, on television, in movies, and in my student's journals I see a longing for former glory. But when I look outside I do not see the rich, colorful Ming--I see a bad copy of western modernization. I see cheap, grey buildings, tacky flashing neon signs, and factories churning out America's consumer goods. I see cultural relics destroyed and traditions lost. What is the point in reclaiming a legacy when you destroy the legacy to do so? I think the Chinese are starting to realize this, but I hope it isn't to late. Oh, how I wish I could go back to the Ming.

Leb Wohl

Odd Habits of the Chinese Collegiate, Part I

2009-12-20T08:29:00.000-08:00

Over the semester I have begun to notice several unique trends and habits that my students have, so I thought I should start documenting them:

1. Wearing only the frames of eyeglasses. Apparently glass-less glasses are "in" amongst the Chinese hip. I find spectacles make one look very distinguished, so I normally wouldn't be flabbergasted if so many of them didn't wear contacts at the same time. If you dig the nerdy look, then why the dickens couldn't you just leave the lenses in and spare yourself the hassle of sticking a piece of plastic to your cornea?

2. Bringing up the year 2012 in every single assignment or activity. Chinese students are very impressionable. Or they may just have really bad taste in movies. Either way we should probably stop exporting entertainment based on pseudo-science and pseudo-myth over here.

More to come!

Leb Wohl

Jawohl Mein Teacher!--We Mention the War and More

2009-12-12T04:25:00.000-08:00

You know you’re halfway across the world when students idolize a mass-murderer in a midterm project. My students' assignments were to create a political party running for office in a struggling country known as “Petoria” (technically Family Guy coined this name before I did.) It was something I hadn’t tried before and it was a great opportunity to subliminally indoctrinate them with ideas about governments with more than just one political party. I gave them some issues to address in their platforms: environmental and economic decline, poverty, and a war with Belgium.

Most of the parties were pretty ordinary and the solutions they promised airy and vague (yep, they hit the nail right on the head). Some of these had a few good ideas, like raising the retirement age and spreading awareness about the importance of the environment. However, some of them were quite inspired, such as the “Slim Party,” which advocated that girls should lose more weight in order to attract rich husbands, therefore protecting themselves against economic recession. The “Fruit Party” not only solved every single problem with a diet heavier in fruits, but also reduced the nation's risk of cancer.

Then there was the “Hitler Party.” Leave it to my English majors to suggest the policies of a genocidal dictator to solve Petoria’s problems. And they had some good arguments to boot. By emulating Hitler' s militarism, they would continue the war against Belgium in order to boost the economy. Sure, he completely devastated Europe, but not before he brought Germany out of the Depression. “After all,” said one, “the US did the same thing by invading Iraq.” I informed them that though their point was valid, it actually didn’t work in that case. As a means to improve the environment they suggested exporting all pollutants to developing countries. And all traitors would be shot without due process, etc.

Western political correctness doesn’t exist in China—which is why I love it. Of course there are a number of other issues you have to avoid—Tibet, Taiwan, etc.—but National Socialism is not one of them. Despite the fact that these “superfans” of the Führer were being funny, I did try to emphasize just how diabolical the man was. When it comes to World War II and the subject of genocide, Chinese students dwell mostly (and intensely) on Japanese atrocities like the Nanking massacre.

Acts of oppression outside of China are sometimes completely unheard of. None of my students last semester were aware of the Iranian protests. At the same time the catastrophic experiments of Mao and the CCP, like the Cultural Revolution, are usually downplayed using the old 60-40 argument (60% of what he did was good, 40% was bad). Of course when it comes to my students, much of this could just be adolescent indifference (and a little harmless state-controlled media brain-washing). Regardless, sometimes I find myself trying to break the Chinese "bubble" and debate violence and oppression with them in a more international perspective.

Leb Wohl.

I Quit

2009-12-04T07:24:00.000-08:00

I quit this week for about 40 minutes. My juniors had their second to last class on Tuesday, so I decided to do something extra special--I gave them authority. I told them bluntly that I was now a student and that they needed to elect new teachers from their number. It made sense; Of all my classes they were the ones most likely to actually be brave and rise to the challenge (or volunteer their classmates, which is usually what happens). After a few awkward minutes there were two volunteers.

Now just because I let them be teachers did not mean I trusted them entirely. Left to their own devices, who knows what could have happened (if given little more time, I would have tried that approach too.) So, I did give them a sheet listing a few requirements. They had to do a debate and a game, but they could choose which ones.

We managed to have two debates, which went pretty well. First up was the age-old dispute of "love vs. money--which one is the most important?" When it comes to romance, my students are always idealistic, so at first only one person favored money and I had to jump in to even the odds. Some of my more reticent students even got involved and I saw passion that I had not seen before.

I forget what the second one was. I think it was "sex before marriage" or something. By then I was too busy trying to be as naughty as possible, hoping to provoke some disciplinary action from the substitute teachers (and partly out of revenge--though this class was my best-behaved). This involved texting, mock-hitting on my female classmates, and of course, speaking Chinese.

All in all I would say it was a success, even if a bit disorganized. I had fun.

Leb Wohl

Obama Doesn't Use Twitter Either. I Rest My Case.

2009-11-20T02:24:00.000-08:00

My President came to China this past week. It was was a much-anticipated visit. Most Chinese seem to like Obama, even if he slaps tariffs on their tires. He came to Shanghai and spoke to a group of "priveleged" Chinese students (a.k.a the ones allowed to go to a prestigious Chinese school). Nothing revolutionary was said--the students' questions were obviously handpicked by officials--but nothing was censored over the internets or the limited TV coverage it received. Anyone with a computer and connection could hear his well-reasoned remarks on internet freedom and Taiwan--yes, the times are a' changin'.

I decided to use Obama's visit in class. I asked my students to pretend that they were the "priveleged" and to draft questions for the President. Of course I got to be the President. As expected (and to my delight) there were some pointed questions about US-China tensions and Taiwan. I did my best to channel Obama, saying again and again that the US did not seek to undermine Chinese growth (and with a straight face) and was committed to the "One-China" policy; It was very hard to explain that even though we did not consider Taiwan independent, it was still regarded a distinct autonomous province...if that makes any sense whatsoever.

Me: "So...um...basically their are two systems for one China and...er....."

Student: "But Peter, why then does the US give Taiwan weapons?"

Me: "So...uh...your system doesn't invade their system, silly!" Sigh....

I wouldn't regard it as one of my successes. I talked way too much and didn't always allow time for follow-up questions (as if there would be any...) an I'm afraid I may have come across as condescending sometimes. I don't like doing most of the talking, but they rarely leave me any other choice in these discussions. Frankly I don't think I did that great a job explaining the US perspective any better than the Chinese media would. If war breaks out due to my bad ambassadorial skills, please forgive me world.

Oh and might as well while I'm at it: FREE TIBET! (With purchase of another Tibet of equal or greater value).

Leb Wohl

Close Encounters of the Middle-Kingdom Kind

2009-11-16T00:38:00.000-08:00

So, a few weeks ago (late as usual) our class theme was "outer space." One of our "stellar" (pun, get it?) activities was one I called "First Contact." In this activity students took on the role of either a human or extra-terrestrial and created a skit in which humans meet aliens for the first time.

The set up was: "Two friends are camping in the woods. Maybe they are best buds from high school or maybe they are sweethearts (cue giggles from about 30 girls). They are roasting marshmallows (or making out) when suddenly they see bright, descending lights in the sky. They follow the lights to where they land. They walk into a large clearing and before them lies a strange craft. Suddenly a door opens and out of the bright interior light steps a strange creature (or creatures), the likes of which they never could have imagined...."

I had the students brainstorm questions each party would ask the other. Most were about their home planet or the purpose of their visit. Often the aliens had come to take over the earth or save humanity from some kind of cataclysm. Others came to find suitable husbands for their daughters. Often each group would teach the other a custom from their planet, like walking, the concept of money, or inviting them to a dinner of traditional Chinese food.

Without costumes they had to rely on mannerisms and funny voices to display their other-worldliness. One pair spoke in monotonic unison, another student was a robot, so he moved and spoke like a machine (and slowed down when his batteries were drained). Other features were revealed through rather funny dialogue ("Which head do you use?") I also had them draw pictures of themselves on the board. I picked some of the most creative ones to show you.

Leb wohl (and prosper).

My First Chinese Halloween

2009-11-04T00:40:00.000-08:00

I was in Beijing the last weekend visiting a friend. Wanting to celebrate, we found a Halloween party and dressed up in makeshift costumes comprised of sunglasses and Soviet cossack hats. The party was fun...until one tiny incident occurred to ruin the rest of the evening. That story is for another time, but suffice it to say that it put me in a foul mood for Monday.

Halloween in Chinese is "Wan sheng jie." It isn't exactly a popular holiday, but it is one most of my students have heard of. Some of them even went to the local Dinosaur-themed park to celebrate. To celebrate the holiday in class (and get rid of my funk from Beijing) I told them a "ghost story." This one I remembered from my childhood, and it is about a boy who loves a girl who always wears a yellow ribbon around her neck. As the grow old together he keeps asking her about the ribbon and she never gives him a straight answer. It isn't exactly a tale for scaring people around a campfire, but it is still creepy, and that counts. Personally I think it is a great tale, but my students didn't seem to like the somewhat anti-climactic (but absolutely perfect) ending. I won't tell you how it ends, but you can probably guess when you think about it (what "Halloween" image does "neck" conjure up?).

After my tale, I had them write there own ghost stories. Some were absolutely wonderful original (I think) works about vengeful ghosts, spiritual mediums, and creepy collegiate murder mysteries. I gave them the option of translating a traditional Chinese tale into English (in their own words of course). One that was particularly interesting was tale which they called "Rebirth." It was about a mother who gave her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth to her "faceless" daughter so that she could marry her true love. The mother is then reincarnated as her granddaughter, still "faceless" and the mother then gives her sensory organs to the new daughter. And the cycle keeps going on. Not exactly a ghost story, but certainly creepy.

My students do know how to spin a good yarn. Sometimes you just have to force them to do it.

Leb Wohl.

1st Journal Entries Lead to a Lesson on Plagiarism

2009-10-23T07:17:00.000-07:00

Plagiarism is a massive problem in Chinese colleges, but who can blame them? Most Deans and Professors let them get by with it. I hadn't assigned too much written work my first semester so I didn't notice it as much, but when I started assigning "English Journals" in my Changzhou courses the problem became glaringly obvious.

The first topic had been simple and introductory: "Write something unique about where you are from and/or something interesting about your family." Other than peculiar coincidence that everyone's family was "harmonious" and nearly every dad "humourous" (accursed Queen's English), their family stories were mostly original and often touching. These tales ranged from childhood recollections of swimming in the river next to the farm to sad accounts of fathers who must work in the bigger cities--rarely coming home.

However, when many described their hometowns they channeled travel guides instead of their own creativity. Whole paragraphs were ripped from bad online translations of city homepages and other tourist sites. Complex words like "systematic" and "sub-mountain climate" raised red flags. And so do a lot of unnecessarily-specific, even trivial facts, like the exact location of a famous Daoist mountain in relation to downtown Changshu, the main thoroughfares encircling the metropolitan area of Suzhou, or a list of the recognitions Taizhou has received ("Best Hygenic City", "National Comprehensive Economic Strength City", etc.)

Needless to say some of them received poor marks on the assignment and every class this week got an earful about the rampant copying. Even if the perpetrators weren't guilty of outright intellectual theft, they had completely missed that the point of the journal was to express your own thoughts, not borrow those of whoever it is that writes for those Chinese city-websites. But it's hard to teach them what is and what isn't normally acceptable in personal reflective writing, and even harder to justify adherence these principles. Whose to say you can't write anything you want in these kinds of assignments?

Leb Wohl

Microwaves of the Future

2009-10-05T01:14:00.000-07:00

Watching the National Day parade in Beijing on TV, I couldn't help but notice how the anchors kept mentioning the groundbreaking new advances in "information-technology" on each piece of military equipment. This seemed a bit odd at first, but then it hit me--it's to block the enemy's Twitter. Utterly devastating. I think the idea would be funnier if it wasn't so true. Have you noticed how many American politicians are tweeting these days? The military can't be far behind.

Teaching has been an adjustment this semester. Though I've managed to plan things better and achieve a respectable degree of standardization in my lessons, their are new problems here at JTUT. My Oral English classes are bigger here than in Jiaxing. I now have about 30 names to memorize. I've started using naming themes an mnemonics--for instance one class is made up entirely of Tolkien characters--but it only helps a little. Also, having over 30 students demands new techniques for keeping order and the use of Chinese to a minimum.

As usual there are 2 or 3 students that dominate each class discussion, mostly due to their higher confidence and language-ability (each of these traits greatly benefits the other). I try to use star-students like Sunny and Radagast the Brown to encourage the rest of the class without intimidating them. However, it's become clear that some student's are way behind the rest, which creates a conundrum which I am sure many teachers have faced: how do you create a learning environment for every type of student without shortchanging some?

Well, that was stupid.

2009-09-30T04:50:00.000-07:00

So long story short, a tragedy brought me back to NC for about two weeks. A lot occurred during that homecoming, most of which is simply too sensitive to talk about right here. However, one spectacular instance of misfortune is simply too ridiculously stupid not to complain about.

So here goes-- during this time circumstances left me de facto in charge of the Youngblood Family Farm. One day I made the boneheaded move of agreeing to move our great tax deductions, aka the cattle, to a low-lying field next to the river which we endearingly call "the bottoms." Unfortunately neither I nor my reliable help, Bobby and Harris, anticipated the amount of rain we would be getting over the next few days and on Sunday night it rained so much that the river crested and turned "the bottoms" into a new pretty lake.

Thus that morning we discovered the cattle trapped in about 3-4 feet of water. Ok, we made a mistake (#1 of 2), but we were confident we could get them out, we just weren't sure how. We called them, but the stubborn bovines wouldn't move, even though it was perfectly calm, allowing them to wade through it. I''d also like to add that these wusses were the same polled herefords that had, only 2 days earlier, happily rushed into a pond while we were moving them down there in the first place.

But no, we had to go and get them. Now, we didn't want to just wade out there, so another friend brought a boat. But here's where more stupidity ensues. Some tractor repair guys (don't ask me how they came to be there) suggested we ride one of the John Deere tractors out to them. I agreed, even though 4 people could have probably fit on the boat. So I went and got the tractor, which turned out to be tragically undersized (though it was one of our biggest)

I drove the tractor into Bottoms Lake, with the repair guys riding on the back, taking care to not get stuck in the ditches (ironically meant to drain the fields when it rains). We got within about ten meters of the herd, when boom, we hit a sudden deep spot and the engine, now partly submerged, stalled.

So we ended up swimming anyway.

We got them out, but by that point the cattle were the smaller problem--the water was getting rising and soon the tractor would become a freshwater coral reef. The repair guys, feeling just a bit guilty I think, offered the best solution: go get a bigger tractor.

Fortunately, they had one (I'm sure they'd planned this all along). Within a half-hour, they had brought a massive, thrice-as-big Ford, rather dubiously named "Deere Slayer." It took them about 15 minutes to rescue the JD.

Sighhhh....leb wohl

Dispatches from the Quarantine Zone

2009-09-09T20:11:00.000-07:00

I am reporting now from Ground Zero of the Changzhou Swine Flu Epidemic. Sources tell me that 16 students have confirmed cases of H1N1 and that 300 more are being kept in isolation.
Classes have been canceled until next week. For comparison around 100 cases have been reported at Wake Forest University and classes are continuing as usual...Ok, so the Chinese may be a little more paranoid about the flu. Either that or my alma mater's response to a pandemic is about as slow and plodding as their offensive game in football.

I wouldn't exactly call the Chinese reaction to the H1N1 outbreak hyperbolic. There are naturally contributing factors unique to China that lead to a heightened awareness when it comes to disease. First, the student's live in rather squalid 8-person dorm rooms. Second, sanitation tends to be more of a luxury around here.

And this is China--anything disruptive, be it intellectual or biological, is viewed as a potential seed of mass dissent. But I'll admit, when it comes to my health and the health of those around me, I don't mind the extra security. Still, when the authorities go beyond reasonable caution they run the risk of breeding the paranoia and fear they hoped to avoid.

And the fear is certainly there. My students (for the brief time I've had with them) asked me several times if I was afraid of H1N1. I've simply shrugged and downplayed the hysteria as best I could. However, after hearing about the conditions some students are facing in the quarantine location, I've grown a tad more apprehensive. If I caught it they probably wouldn't just let me "chill" in my penthouse apartment for a week.

Leb Wohl (und Gesundheit)

Back in the Orient

2009-09-03T02:32:00.000-07:00

I'm back in China. It hasn't really changed much over the past two months (aside from blocking more websites). Of course I'm at a new school, which means I have new people and places to acquaint myself with AND it means the locals aren't used to me and will stare for the next few weeks. Other than that Changzhou (henceforth called the Cz) isn't that much different from the Jx. Just another relatively unremarkable prefecture-level city. But there is a pretty tall Pagoda in this one. And an H&M.

One interesting feature of my new apartment is that it overlooks (being on the 14th floor) a vast sprawling landscape of apartment blocks and the skeletons of future apartment blocks. Oh, and a Honda dealership. So basically I get a front-row seat to China's impossibly rapid development. In fact, my side of Changzhou is littered with the ruins of half-demolished buildings soon to be replaced by concrete monoliths of progress.

For a low-tier school, Jiangsu Teacher University of Tech. is itself quite impressive. The buildings are quintessentially Chinese--futuristic, but with every angle conformed to the harmony of socialist feng shui. The new library they're building is quite daunting--more like a modernist palace for party higher-ups than a place for reading books (even if said books are are about Marxist-Leninism).

I have already been accosted several times by students and teachers eager to practice English. One of these days I'm going to be cruel and respond in German (then again, my beloved Fremdsprache just so happens to be the second most-popular foreign language at this school) The competitiveness amongst the English majors here is staggering; Yesterday, a very nice junior named Jason was giving me a tour of the campus, when suddenly a senior with naturally better English butted in trying to steal my attention. I felt bad for Jason, and did my best to stear the conversation back to him. Another instance: Today someone at McDonald's (yeah, I ate there, what of it?) sat down at my table, asking me my preference between Amway and Herbalife--apparently he aspires to work for a direct-sales company and needs career advice. Being far from the strangest question I have ever been asked, I simply broke out the ever-handy "Wo bu zhidao." It did not stop there. Later he texted me about three more--Avon, Nuskin, and Mary Kay.

I told him I preferred Mary Kay--I have connections.

Leb Wohl

On the Home Front

2009-08-21T20:06:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I'm not in China now, but I soon will be, and so I figured that I could go ahead and start writing again. Either way a summary of the past seven weeks in Hendersonville seems in order. But it's late and I'm tired to let me just give you the abstract: Family=Madness. Ok now we can move on to more important China-related topics, like Facebook being banned there. The life-blood of Generation...er...Y has been plugged by the Dragon.

Finnnaaallllly!

I mean, you'd have thought they'd never get around to censoring something that should be censored. YouTube? Come on! You call yourself a socialist government and yet you block the greatest proletarian revolution in media? Blogspot? Blogs are just diaries that you want people to read. Nobody really cares about them. But Facebook may be the single most harmful thing on the internet right now. Not only does it make it easier for people to tell you everything you never wanted to know about them, it also allows employers, enemies, ex-girlfriends, and the US Government to find out things about you that normally they would have to pay for. And this says nothing about the complete alienation paradox this whole internet-networking thing creates. We can know everything about someone while never actually conversing--you know, that talking thing where you ask meaningful questions and get sincere responses?

Ok, I promise I'm done ranting for the mom--HOW IN HEAVEN'S NAME CAN SOMEONE CALL THEMSELVES CHRISTIAN AND YET OPPOSE UNIVERSAL HEALTH CARE?!?!

Sorry, I don't know where that came from...probably best to just end it there.

Leb Wohl.

Fast Times in Jiaxing

2009-06-22T04:39:00.000-07:00

Before I move to my planned topic, can I just say what's happening in Iran right now is both amazing and tragic? Because it is. Anyway, over the past few weeks I have determined that Chinese college students can, and often do, have exactly the same kind of fun American college students have way too much of.

Allow me to put this into perspective. Chinese students live by the exam. Tests are a major determinate of ones place in this society. Their test scores are the biggest part of their grade (though not in MY classes) and their grades determine which schools they go to, which determines what kind of jobs they will be given (For the other great determinate "guanxi"please await future posts).

Anyway, this is the time of year in which high schoolers have taken their college entrance exams, subsequently entering a depressive funk or...and here's where the fun comes in... celebrating! Usually through travel or karaoke (In fact I ran into several of the former traveling in Leshan, Sichuan--I assume at least one of them had gotten good news). Fun is a result of success, it is reward, unlike in the West where partying can usually happen on a whim.

Though not usually under quite as much pressure as high schoolers, Chinese college students are also very celebratory, something I witnessed first hand. Two of my classes invited me out for after-term dinners. It was the usual affair with circular tables and those little wheels in the middle upon which the various dishes are rotated. Supposedly the occasions were in my honor, by I suspected that these dinners were a end-of-term tradition for every class unit, which tend to be very tightly-knit

The breakdown of fun is as follows:

It begins with dinner, which already tends to be a little wild. Then comes the beer, which is consumed first via toasts, then more casually without the formality, and then in competitive shots (Please note that binge-drinking does not occur, at least it hasn't around me)

Sometimes it ends there, or sometimes the fun moves to KTV, the staple institution of Chinese karaoke culture. The drinking stopped for us when we got there, and instead we sobered up with flavored drink. Unfortunately this meant everyone was sober when I sang, and so they found out how bad I am at karaoke (but not singing in general--that I'm great at).

While some people sang somewhat-generic Chinese pop (or Backstreet Boys) the rest played this clever card game where the losers had to perform dares with one another. The typical Chinese dare usual involves a romantic theme. Consequently several proposals of marriage were made, one of which was from me.

Leb Wohl

Separation Anxiety

2009-06-16T07:19:00.000-07:00

Classes are over. Exams are finished and grades completed. Already I miss my students. The 16 weeks we spent together was far too short.

Exams were surprisingly good. Once again I was amazed by their creativity. We took class pictures and afterwards all of them wanted individual shots with there cameras. Some of them cried...no they didn't, that was me.

Right now is the stage were I reminisce about our classes. The fun and awkwardness. The successes and epic fails. There is so much I could've done better as a teacher, but hopefully they still learned something. Well, according to the grades all but a few did. No really, thanks to my bad marking system my students have gotten obscenely high grades. Of course that hasn't stopped a few texting me to complain about 90s. But I can't blame them for being perfectionists. After all, I aspire (foolishly) to be one myself.

Enlightenment and Extortion on Putuoshan

2009-06-06T04:44:00.000-07:00

One of the reasons I came to China was to experience a little bit of the religion. This was somewhat of a dubious goal since religion has more or less been marginalized since the Cultural Revolution. As, one of my Chinese friends told me "superstition," rather than the organized religion communist governments tends to oppose, is the opiate of the masses. This could range from typical burial rites on a family plot to various auspicious acts one can do (though certainly not required) to appease various deities providing such services as dream-free sleep, babies, or fortune.

Buddhism, a bastion of religious and philosophical thought, was once mighty in this country, easily fitting in with the two other giants, Daoism and Confucianism. But I would not describe China or many of her people Buddhist (exept Tibetans of course). To put this into perspective I recently went to one of the four "sacred" Buddhist mountains in China--an island of the coast of Zhejiang called Putuoshan. The island is devoted to Guanyin, a Buddhist goddess of mercy. There is an immense statue of her greeting the new arrivals who come on the ferry from Ningbo (which is the only way to get to the island). After paying a steep price for admission to the national park, you enter the land of tour groups and souveniers. Like so much in China, Putuo mountain is a tourist trap and without hostels or simple hole-in-the wall restaurants, it is a considerably expensive one.

But though its original identity has been obscured by commercialism, the island is still Buddhist. There are many monks. In fact I talked with one name Shi quite a bit (with some comprehension). The island and beaches are beautiful, and the temples are impressive and sacred-feeling. And most of the "tourists,"whether they are legitimitely Buddhist or just the superstious kind pay their respects by lighting their incense-burining sticks, bowing in all four directions, kneeling before the statues, and leaving an offering.

So there is a peace to Putuoshan. Yes, the same secularism and commercialism typical of China is evident, but it is still a holy place. Though I am not Buddhist I even felt compelled to bow now and again. My visit gave me renewed hope about finding more of the "spiritual China."

Leb wohl.

The Chinese Box and Going Outside of It

2009-05-31T05:49:00.000-07:00

The Chinese education system does not emphasize creativity. Maybe it's the collective nature of the culture or the post-revolution ideology, but thinking outside of the box is something that is simply not expected. Students simply sit and listen (or don't) while the professor lectures. The chief means employed to measure their understand are exams. At the beginning of the semester I explained how how I expected them to debate and discuss ideas--a lecture class with a mix of the Socratic seminar. Oh how young and foolish I was then!

This doesn't mean my students aren't creative. Far from it in fact. They're just not used to a teacher caring so much about what they think. In fact, they've come up with some pretty radical, and in some instances, highly-unorthodox ideas. For instance, I recently had them play a game in which they transformed five random objects (a coat hanger, a book, a watch, a remote control, and a spare table leg that just happened to be in my room) into some new product with a completely different function. Some responses were typical; The coat hanger became a bow/arrow, the remote was reprogrammed to control human action, and the watch hypnotized people. But some were also pretty inspired: Not only was my watch a necklace, but it was a necklace that helped you lose weight! (The group did not, however, give an adequate explanation of the science behind it) And it was quite amusing to see Thomas Hardy's Return of the Native become an instrument to fix a shaky desk (and a brick for hitting muggers with).

This however does not, does not even compare to one other moment of possible brilliance. Our final "unit" has been "acting" or the closest possible equivalent and in one scene I had bargaining for various objects in a shop. My student "Motumbo" (don't ask), either not content with the naturalism of the previous performances or just trying to get out of a speaking role, decided to portray a singing tree. Whatever the motive it was a refreshing bit of creativity. Knowing that these kids are radical enough to personify vegetation is a great comfort.

Leb Wohl

Die Great Firewall, Die

2009-05-21T05:23:00.000-07:00

Take that Great Firewall! I just pwned you! That is what it feels like to be served up a can of you-know-what. God bless the proxy servers and their freedom-promoting ways! I cannot tell you how upset I was when China started blocking BLOGS of all things. And seriously, who cares what some nut says on their blog? What's next, Twitter? (Oh please, please block Twitter!)

Great Firewall, you lose. That's all I have to say tonight.

Oh and Leb Wohl.

Near-Death by Hong Kong

2009-05-13T06:09:00.000-07:00

This last weekend I went to Hong Kong with my traveling buddies, Amy and Adrienne. On this trip I suffered: exhaustion, sunburn (and probably sun poisoning), intoxication, foot cramps, and an empty wallet. Oh, and I lost my Wake hat.

The verdict: Totally worth it.

Then again, I'm such a nerd, just seeing the IFC buildings from The Dark Knight made it worthwhile (see picture; FYI, Batman jumped and glided from the taller building to the smaller one.) That's not to mention the wonderful view from Victoria peak and refreshingly laid-back social scene. Just the outstanding bars in Soho and Lan Kwai Fong alone make it an expat's paradise.

Of course Hong Kong is a very western city and not really part of China proper. And because of the huge number of Europeans and Americans I dwindled back to "slightly less than average" height. Still it was nice not to be stared at for an entire weekend.

Leb Wohl

Jiaxing--Don't Drink the Water

2009-05-04T08:37:00.000-07:00

I'm a bad journalist. 8th post in 3 months? Yeah, I suck. Anyway, I gave my students their midterms last week. They did debates on environmentalism vs. economic progress. Yes, a loaded issue I know, but it gave me an excuse to show them WALL-E (which half of them had already seen). Man, I love that movie. Well, I loved that movie, but after having seen it 8 times broken into 45 minute installments, it begins to lose its luster.

But like I said they had debates. Some were good, some were "meh." They were more speeches than debates, but what can you do? Also, the arguments tended to repeat. For the pro-environment side it was always "the environment is the basis of everything" and for the opposition it was "how can you protect the environment without money?" Both positions tended to lead into the inevitable circular "chicken-and-egg" debates about "how can you have progress without the environmental resources?" and vice-versa. I did my best to keep things moving.

Still, some we're pretty energetic and every now and then, improvisation occurred! My favorite was when somehow the topic of dinosaurs came up--the quote was "how can you talk about economic progress with the dinosaurs?" I'm still not sure which side brought it up. I love some of these kids. Another good speech came from one student on the pro-environment side. He brought up how bad pollution was in China, especially here in the JX. It killed when he talked about how prettier the people would be with less pollution. He's got his priorities straight.

Leb Wohl

Church in China

2009-04-19T06:03:00.000-07:00

Today I got to go to church for the first time in about three months. I didn't think there would be one in a smaller city like Jiaxing (aside from the vacant, dilapidated French Cathedral), but apparently there are at least three "underground" churches. One of my fellow teachers got me in touch with a girl named Jessie, who took me downtown to her parrish. I felt slightly rebellious; It's ironic that a southern-boy would feel that way going to church. Religion's making its way back to China I think, but it's still not exactly encouraged. I remember reading somewhere that missionaries who went to China were not allowed to proselytize or "evangelize." Then again, in a world with Pat Robertson that's pretty sensible. And besides, the last time I proselytized anything it wasn't religion, but the shot-glasses my Frat made all the pledges sell that Fall. All I really wanted to do was experience a Chinese church and maybe, just maybe, get an extra boost of that vague, esoteric spiritualism which I need now and then.

I honestly first thought that I had walked into a book club. There were Christian books on three cases, and the top shelf of one was dedicated to a hero of mine: Dietrich Bonhoeffer--obviously the "theologian-of-the-month." What I thought was the actual church actually turned out to just be the reception/reading area (hereafter to be called the "narthex"). After a few hellos we went up the narrow staircase to the "sanctuary," were there were many more people. We sat down in school desks piled with liturgical and hymnic texts of some vague, Protestant nature which were of course in Mandarin. Fortunately Jessie had an English-Chinese Bible on hand. Gradually the sanctuary filled up with about 25 or so people.

The service was over an hour long, and involved a lot of singing. Though I had heard some of the music before, I didn't recognize any of the hymns and couldn't really sing along (though I could have sworn I heard my university's alma mater in there somewhere). Fortunately the Chinese for "Jesus" was easy to pick out because it is almost phonetically identical to the English pronuciation. Also I could pick out a "we" here and there as well as the omnipotent "He," "His," and "Him."

There were two preachers (lay I believe) who delivered the liturgy and the sermon, and except for the Apostles Creed, most everything was unintelligible. However, most of the sermon was spent referencing various NT verses (and a few OT messianic references) which I could simultaneously read in translation. Despite this I couldn't figure out what the overarching theme connecting them was. Suffering maybe.

The service ended with a long, but impassioned prayer from an older women, who unexpectedly became incredibly emotional toward the end. In fact despite the language barrier, I could feel a great deal of spiritualism coming from the entire congregation--a spiritualism which has had very little chance for expression.

At the end, sipping on hot water in the narthex, I met a few more of the churchgoers. The usual questions abounded ("From where?" "Teach where?" etc.) and I was invited to come back and teach the children a Bible lesson in English. I'm probably the wrong person to turn to for a Bible lesson, and the Church itself is probably on some watch list, but I'd be glad to come back. After all, it's not "evangelizing" if they're already Christian, right? Right?

Leb wohl.

I Get Asked About the Dollar Bill

2009-04-13T06:11:00.000-07:00

I was minding my own business today, coming through main campus gate after having picked up my brunch, when the most random thing (so far) happened. One of the security guards called me over to the booth. I was shown a $1 bill, one of many that were sitting in front of the two busy officers. He kindly asked me (as kind as naturally-brusque Mandarin can sound) who it was on the banknote. I explained that it was George Washington, and not Abraham Lincoln--who one of them had obviously thought it was. I then pointed to their collection of fives and told them that was old honest Abe.

Having cleared that up I left. For some reason it never occurred to me to ask them why they had the money in the first place. Probably best left a mystery.

The Road to Lake Tai

2009-04-06T19:47:00.000-07:00

It's week 8, which means the semester is almost halfway over. Now there is a scary thought. I finish up my eight-week class tomorrow with an oral exam. They're "interviewing" each other for one of six different jobs. It could be an epic failure, but it should be at least amusing. On a side note, somehow half of my Thursday @ 3:30 class managed to forget their textbooks last week (on one of the few days we were actually using them)--either more evidence of the "collective" culture of China or just my students screwing with me.

This past weekend I visited Suzhou with my usual cohorts, Adrienne and Amy. Since it was the Qingming holidays, it was a 3-day weekend and we made full use of it. Saturday was gray and rainy, so we stuck to downtown area, checking out the various gardens for which the city is famous. We also got to hear some lovely, if unintelligible, operatic storytelling in a cozy little music hall amongst the city's most prominent septagenarians. The evening was capped-off with several margheritas in what could only have been the former cocktail bar of the Queen Elizabeth II.

The real highlight of our trip was the day-long journey to Lake Tai. It turns out that Suzhou is not the city most people go to in order to visit this pond (see "Wuxi") and it was actually quite an effort to get there. After spending 2 hours trying to get on the right bus line, we found ourselves in the scenic town of Wudu, where I decided to pull out the map that by some miracle I had managed not to forget. After finding the proper bus route, and tracing it with my fingers to make sure it did indeed go to das Meer, we set out to find and get on the previously-elusive "502" line.

However, when we did find the stop, it was not the proper 502 that we boarded, but a much smaller jalopy unaffiliated with Suzhou transportation or any of the other "regulatory commissions" which at least guarantee you are not being extorted by the Triad. The shuttle was commanded by a peremptory little woman who barked out our destination ("Dongshan") to everyone at every bus stop we passed. Needless to say it took a while to get there.

After about an hour we arrived at the Dongshan city center, still out of sight of the cool, blue waters we had traveled 3 hours to see. We were immediately assaulted by the local tourist hustlers, whom normally we would awkwardly ignore, but because we were so desperate to see the damned lake, we gave in to one. And that's how we came to be riding in an upscale golf cart around the tip of the peninsula.

Our chauffeur, whom I endearingly named "Chuck," wanted 100 yuan for his services, and to be frank, I think he was worth every jiao. Our first stop was an ancient little village where residents had opened up their centuries-old homes as museums. It was by far the most authenticity I had seen since coming to China. And by "authenticity" I mean not rebuilt two dozen times. As we traveled the narrow streets Chuck followed us around, usually taking a nap at the entrances of each "exhibit." Even if he disappeared he somehow always found us again. Then again, we are white.

After getting our money's worth, we hopped back in the buggy and proceeded to the Zijin Nunnery, a Buddhist temple famous for something or another. It proved a bit anticlimactic after "Museumville." After whacking the temple's bell several times for our own amusement (and profile pictures), we rejoined Chuck.

After a series of heated miscommunications regarding the local tea leaf and purchase thereof, we finally made it back to where we started. Chuck almost left us with one of the menacing black unlicensed cabs, but we avoided a possible scam and got to the bus stop. After saying goodbye to our friendly guide, we hopped on a bus that could have been worse and were on our way back to Suzhou.

And then we did other touristy things that I'm too tired to talk about. Leb Wohl!

I Introduce Basil Fawlty to My Students. Madness Ensues.

2009-03-27T07:49:00.000-07:00

It seemed like a brilliant idea. What better way to improve my students' comprehension than show them an episode of Fawlty Towers, the greatest sitcom ever made? Okay, I admit there are much better ways, but I thought it would be so much fun to introduce them to the neurotic antics of Basil Fawlty, the world's rudest, most paranoid hotel owner, and also his nagging wife and inept Spanish waiter. After all, not only could I enjoy a show that I loved for the 143rd time, I could also sit, back, relax and let John Cleese and his madness do all of the work for 30 minutes.

Physical humor is universal, and Towers is wonderfully slapstick. I chose the most violent pick of the litter, Ep. 4: "The Hotel Inspectors," but it got mixed reviews. They seemed to understand the general plot--Basil trying to figure out who the hotel inspectors were so he could be especially nice to them (as opposed to his usual brusque behavior)--and they enjoyed the constant physical abuse inflicted upon Manuel. Yet so much of the humor lies in the dense, circumlocutious British banter, most of which obviously escaped their grasp.

Because "Inspectors" relied too much on such dialogue (and also because I was tired of watching it), I switched to "The Kipper and the Corpse," my personal favorite. There is plenty of action, and most of the dialogue, though still advanced for their level, is delivered much more slowly and clearly. As expected it got a much better overall response. They laughed quite a bit watching Basil and Manuel carry a dead guest all over the hotel, all the while trying to keep him hidden from the other residents. Some of my brightest students even got a few of the morbid jokes (i.e. "Two dead. Twenty-five to go"). I initially had reservations about this episode because of a short scene where they burst in on a man blowing up a sex doll (the maturity level here is lower than the collegiate norm). Of course when they did see it all of the guys would crack up. I guess some traits are universal.

Now that they've gotten to know the characters, I will have to show them another episode later in the semester. It will come in handy if I get "teachers-block" again.

Leb Wohl!

D-Day +48 (and Some Reflections on Teaching)

2009-03-20T06:48:00.000-07:00

I've been in "the JX" for one and a half months now, and I'm just now starting to get used to it. Maybe that's because I've spent the last two weekends traveling to other places (Nanjing and Hangzhou) or maybe that's because Jiaxing is just that mind-boggling. There are parts to hate, parts to love, parts that are lovely, and parts that are just down right ugly. Thanks to my fellow teachers and a few kind students I have discovered wonderful parks and a few great places to eat (Sichuan cuisine is my nectar and ambrosia). Naturally after just getting into the swing of things, it has suddenly dawned on me that I need to find something else to do next year. *Sigh.* It never fails. Maybe I'll just stay here.

As for teaching...well...some of my students are great, like my Wednesday afternoon class, and some just don't care (and thus sleep). As for the best ones, they are always quite eager to learn--actually, let me rephrase that--they are quite eager to play games, such as "Review Jeopardy" and my own heavily-modified version of "The Dating Game" (don't ask). Chinese students can be quite competitive and we've had some pretty exciting contests. Though still quite shy, they are always quite willing to volunteer their classmates to participate (Ah! The glories of peer pressure!).

Start talking about writing resumes, though, and almost all of my students, even my star pupils, lose interest quite quickly. This is too bad, because there is a great deal that they have yet to learn about the "real world." My students are mostly International Trade majors, and while it's obvious that many of them were shoehorned into that field by the administration and really don't care, they ought to know what kinds of jobs to be looking for and how to apply for them. I mean we can't all be nepotists working at Dad's oil company after graduation, can we?

Oh and another problem. They cheat. A lot. Okay, to be fair we always had dictionaries in German class, but their damned cell phones can do much, much more than that. Those things translate idioms, almost perfectly. I haven't any solid proof but what else can explain how each of my classes came up with the same exact meaning of "bending over backwards" (a nearly-correct "to do one's best")? Then again, if I made them put these lifelines away their response rate would go wayyyyy down.

So I do worry about my students. Some of them have what it takes to be international businesspersons, but most clearly aren't getting the guidance they need and are simply coasting through this thing called "college" via they easiest route, blissfully unaware of what comes next. Hopefully they'll snap out of this carefree revelry by senior year. Otherwise they'll end up teaching their mother tongue in a foreign country.

Leb Wohl

A Guide to (Not) Blending In Abroad

2009-03-08T21:02:00.000-07:00

With a little skill any person can hide him or herself amongst the throngs in Europe. There it's just a matter of losing that arrogant swagger, reverting your fashion sense to 1998 (both earth-tones and gothic themes acceptable), and trying to look even more awkward whenever you dance at the "Discos." Of course the game's up when a word (or, if you're bilingual enough, a sentence) comes out of your mouth, but at least there are ways you can maintain a low-profile whilst doing whatever the hell you went abroad to do. Europe's diversity, at least in most big cities, allows this.

But China is a different situation entirely if you don't look the least bit Asian (like yours truly). Here a Westerner on the sidewalk is less common site which results in countless double-takes, stares, and sometimes even condescension. You'll hear the words lawai (foreigner) about every block or so, and occasionally someone, usually a young guy, will say "hello"--the most trite and common preamble of small-talk ever created. Now, the stares I can understand--within Chinese culture it is not necessarily impolite to do so--but "hello?" Is that seriously the best you can do? Yes, just go ahead and assume every white guy speaks English (though "hello" as pretty universal) and that I haven't already been asked that same damn question by five hundred other smart-asses that very day. Is a "how are you?" every so often just too much to ask for?

Okay, enough venting. The bottom line is that there is no way to get around the fact that if you do not look Chinese and cannot afford any expensive plastic surgery you will always be a foreigner in China. In fact, you must accept that you are American. I mean it! Europeans, Canadians, and Kenyans--guess what! You're all Americans until you've spent three hours explaining to them why you are not. Oh, and what's more, you get to be associated with whatever famous person from a movie or TV show you look the most like. Me, I'm that Scofield guy from Prison Break. Apparently they are not familiar with Justin Timberlake or Brad Pitt.

Of course, there are ways you can cheat the system. I've been here about a month, but I've learned a few tricks of the trade, so if you dislike all of the attention, or just need a little break, I've got a few tips:

1. Cover up any non-Asian feature. This last weekend I traveled in Nanjing with two dark- haired companions and I wore a hat. As a result, the Taxis actually got within about twenty meters before they realized we were probably too much trouble and drove away.

2. Travel under the cover of darkness. Yes, just like Batman...or a possum.

3. Studies show people are less apt to notice that they are being stared at if they are drunk. Consider drinking more often.

4. The key to any good magic trick is misdirection, so travel with someone who looks more foreign than you. If you get stuck point at them shouting "lawai." That should buy you about ten seconds to escape.

Those are just some of the possibilities, but personally I've found it to be more fun just to embrace my unavoidable ostentatiousness. Sure, I'm an exhibit, but to be fair everyone checks everyone out, no matter what part of the world you are in. It's just that westerners tend to be very covert through casual glances while many Chinese are just very blunt, which can be a good thing. Plus, by cultivating my "foreigness" I keep my students interested, at least until that whole mystique wears off (which it is already starting to do). I suppose I'll need some new strategies and incentives for inciting curiosity before they become too jaded. Maybe candy.

Anyway, leb wohl!

The First Musings of a Amateur Futurist

2009-02-25T03:09:00.000-08:00

Hello all! If you are reading this I welcome you to my first blog on this new site. It felt appropriate to start fresh given my new situation. As some of you may know I am now in the wonderful People's Republic of China, a large, vibrant, and incredibly populous country. I was given an ESL teaching position at Jiaxing College in Jiaxing City, about 60 miles outside of Shanghai. Jiaxing is an insignificant town by Chinese standards (no guidebook mentions it), but still about as big as Charlotte, and with many, many more people. Suffice it to say that I am living and working in what could be called "typical China": big, urbanized, and incredibly daunting for a westerner from that paragon of occidental irrelevance known as Hendersonville, NC.

My third (successful) time abroad, though not a piece of cake, has certainly proven to be a more relaxed experience. Homesickness is a non-factor, and compared to Europe, money isn't nearly as much of a problem (the price of living here is very cheap). Better still is this new sense of purpose that I am suddenly feeling. In Jiaxing I am not just studying--spending long hours trying to master a language nobody really needs to learn (no matter how grand a Sprache it is). No, instead I am filling an important niche by teaching college students oral English. I admit that I am not a well-qualified grammarian and, to be frank, I don't believe I speak all that well to begin with. Still, many here are so eager to learn from a native-speaker that you can't help but feel appreciated. Not to mention that this is certainly one of the most helpful things I think I have ever done (though by taking pride in said benevolence, I am probably negating any karmic merit...rats!). Sure, some don't care that much about learning English. In fact, one thing I've been told is that Chinese students never work as hard in college as they do in high school. Fortunately I've found that I'm not half-bad at this thing called "teaching," and even the most indifferent student can't help but stare in wonder at a goofy "lawei" attempting to explain synonyms.

Oh, and I'm also trying to improve my painfully rudimentary Mandarin while I'm here. I have the feeling that in twenty or so years Chinese is going to be the most important language on the planet (outside of English). Don't quote me on that, but it's my feeling. Now try to understand that this place isn't Europe were every other four-year-old has already read and critiqued Wuthering Heights. No, no. Here English is a lingua franca that is only just beginning to catch on amongst the literati and is consequently in very high demand. Now you can imagine the benefits of being both fluent in English and equipped with a good grasp of Mandarin. Well, I suppose we'll just have to see how that pans out. First I've got to study the damned language.

That's enough for today. I don't want to bore what few readers I get. I'll be back in a week.

Leb wohl!