First Week of Classes

The program I am in is extremely good about maintaining small class sizes.  Suffice to say, (because there are only fourteen of us in the program, speaking at various levels) if I do not attend my Chinese 100 class for a day, the teacher has to mark down 50% absence. As a result, my fellow beginner in Chinese and I attend class in the teacher’s office. 

The language class is rather rigorous, during which we are given a list of about 50-60 new words/characters each day to practice our pronunciation. Although we are not required to memorize each word, we have to recite a paragraph that takes up about half a page, written in Chinese characters each morning before taking a short quiz to practice listening and writing skills.

Beside from a 9-credit language class, I am enrolled in two other classes: Sociology and Contemporary Chinese Film.  The teachers have impressive resumes, as my Sociology professor has been all around the world and edited the speech given at the 2008 Olympics by the Chinese president, and the Film professor contributed greatly to the production of “Farewell My Concubine.”

I am eager to learn, but am realizing how little time I have during the day to dedicate to studying.

As someone who worked as a custodian for three summers of my life, I’ve noticed that almost all the university buildings I’ve seen require a paint job and many outdoor pipes have rust marks.  I find it interesting that while the teachers are superb, the school lacks the aesthetics of a good school in the US.  

Taking this and the fact that some of the best bao zi (a common breakfast food) in Beijing comes from a small vender that sells right along the street, I’ve come to the conclusion that in China, functionality and quality come far before aesthetics. I am very fond of this philosophy, and find it refreshing from the American attitude that if a restaurant isn’t immaculate, the food must be disgusting, and that the prettiest and largest schools must provide the best education.

Throughout the week, because there is no set meal plan for students here, the group often assembles (usually subgroups of the original fourteen in the program) to walk to a meal. Traveling to a restaurant takes at least fifteen minutes to walk one way.

The food at the school’s cafeteria is much closer by, cheap, and decent; however, food that is advertised in a way that cater to Americans (such as milkshakes) differ greatly anywhere you go from the expected American counterpart which they are designed to mimic.

Though I’m enjoying everything else during my studying in Beijing, I experienced something that I will never forget.  Honestly, this is probably something I shouldn’t be putting online, but I believe writing will provide me some form of catharsis.

I can recall the event as if it were etched into my very brain.  I was waiting patiently in line at the university cafeteria’s ice cream stand, unsuspecting of what was to come.  I had placed a simple order, requesting a milkshake; however, the event that unfolded before my eyes and what it yielded were horrendous.

Witnessing the making of this “milkshake”, I observed a less-than-generous portion of soft ice cream being squirted into the serving container.  Immediately following, the drink was taken to a back room (out of sight, but certainly not out of mind), and was bastardized in some fashion, presumably puréed with some kind of diluted milk substitute. I was handed something that no decent business owner should dare serve a customer after promising a milkshake. 

As a self-proclaimed connoisseur of vanilla milkshakes, I was terribly distraught when I discovered that the “shake” did not qualify as being a milkshake at all, as it seemed as liquid as water.  Indeed, it was devoid of ALL desirable viscosity.  The end product was a beverage [note, a beverage, not a milkshake].  My day was ruined.

Because I had to consume such a beverage with the widest straw imaginable (approximately 1.5 cm in diameter), my mood did not improve.  Admittedly, it still tasted good, but it WAS NOT a milkshake. If I were in the states, I would have reported this station to the Better Business Bureau for false advertising.  Ever since, I have promised myself and my country only to purchase milkshakes from McDonalds while in China.

Overall, a good week. 

Orientation (August 22 – 26)

Please forgive the length of this post, there’s a lot to be learned from one week of being in a foreign country.

Only four of the fourteen students in our group knew someone in the program before arriving, and as a result, everyone has been extremely friendly and outgoing in getting to know each other. Because everything is new or at least different here in some degree from what we were comfortable with a week ago, most of us are comfortable making fun of ourselves and are receptive to jokes.  Topics such as lackluster chopstick skills, the inability to identify what one is eating, and varying levels of language skills provide sufficient material to poke fun at each other and the unknown. I’m not saying we laugh every minute, but the other students here are great and fun to be around.

Concerning the orientation process itself, we’ve had several meetings (none dry or boring) informing us about the area, the culture, and how to react during certain situations.

We were warned about less serious topics such as frequent spitting –the pleasant sound of hocking up sputum is a constant reminder that you’re in China– and the infamous squatting toilets, which I am convinced have greatly benefited Chinese society because the people here are much more flexible in the states. (Yes, I noticed; I’m in a physical therapy program and feel inclined to take note.  Fun fact: virtually, if not literally, all buildings, subways, and the like are not handicap accessible.)

On a more serious note, we were warned that there are key cultural disparities that may make us uncomfortable.

For example, if we see man hitting a woman with a closed fist in public, we are advised not to approach the couple.  At first, the thought of ignoring something like this appalled me because my initial reaction would have been to flip out on the male aggressor. However, things were put into perspective.  If a man hits a woman in a public area, making a scene in public, this man doesn’t care that the public sees his unsavory behavior because he knows there will be no ramifications on his end (possibly even if higher authorities get involved).  I’m not suggesting all abusive people are in the mafia, but we are advised not to interact with individuals who think they are above the law because frankly, they might be.  

Moreover, we were warned that people might misconstrue kindness as an attempt for personal gain because the concept of the Good Samaritan does not really exist here; the Good Samaritan would likely be questioned for his or her intention instead of applauded.

Throughout these meetings, we were warned to be wary of theft, violence and general prejudice against Americans, attempts to swindle money (beware of escorts to teashops), and more. Though valuable insights, I believe that if one were to take all precautions to avoid these scenarios, one would not be able to experience the city because one would have locked oneself in a safe. 

That being said, the director told us some personal accounts about the topics mentioned above that gave the suggestions a lot more credence in my mind. 

Overall, the meetings were enjoyable and informative, but I was personally displeased that, despite preparing us sufficiently for living in Beijing, no z-day contingency plans were discussed.

Outside of the meetings, we had little downtime, and either saw some of the sights, such as Tiananmen Square, or ate.  The food here is AWESOME, but differs from American conceptions of Chinese food.  Dumplings are supposed to be eaten with vinegar and spices, not just soy sauce.  Moreover, I do not think I’ve had anything with plain soy sauce.

Everything here is either spiced (not necessarily spicy), or included in some kind of sauce.  Many people have called true Chinese food greasy, and though I do not think this is the case, if the food is, the grease situation is no worse than in the states. [Traveler’s suggestion: bring Imodium or something like it. It took me a full week to adjust to the local bacterial flora.]

Multiple plates of food for larger groups are often presented on a lazy Susan, and each individual is to remove small portions from the communal dishes onto their own smaller plate.  Note there are no serving utensils so everyone’s chopsticks go from plate to mouth to plate. This fact, in conjunction with the fact that drinking the tap water will even make the locals ill, puts China on a different level of sanitation as the US. 

I’m not suggesting it is unsafe or very unclean here, but people who are overly sensitive about exchanging prokaryotes would be disgusted by the unabashed spew of coughs, semi-concealed sneezes, and non-existent personal space on subways. 

Smog masks are not uncommon on the streets on hazardous smog days (yes, some days are “hazardous” according to the US embassy, which presents a far less optimistic view on air pollution than the Chinese websites).

Other than exploring food, and learning about sanitation, we went on a few excursions.

After a lunch outing, our group of students ended up on a playground (cause why not?).  The playgrounds are slightly different, and significantly less forgiving to those who fall (mainly because right beneath the monkey bars is the same stone as on the sidewalks). There was a child playing on a jungle gym who challenged me to some kind of game.  How he challenged me, I don’t know because, again, I don’t speak the language, but his message was clear. Indeed, playing on monkey bars transcends language.

Toward the end of orientation on the weekend, we went to Tiananmen Square, and acted as both observers and spectacle. Honestly, people were staring at us.  Whenever we were making jokes and goofing off (admittedly making a bit of noise from laughter), people took pictures. At times families would ask if their child could be in a picture with us, and we would graciously, if not eagerly, pose with the child.

Some of the people taking pictures likely came from rural areas and wanted to see the same sights we did, and simply did not expect to see foreigners as interested in their history as themselves.  Moreover, conceptions of what constitutes being rude (let alone politically incorrect behavior if it exists at all in China) are just different around the world.  

These kinds of situations are only as awkward as you allow them to be.  And considering one of the students shouted, “We love China!” in Mandarin as a man was (presumably) videotaping us for his home movie recalling his vacation, I say we took it in stride. 

On a more serious note, [I cannot think of a clever transition so this will have to do] I miss certain people back home like crazy.

To quote my girlfriend, “I don’t want to wish my life away, but I want this time to go by fast.”  I thoroughly enjoy being in Beijing, and the people I have met are great (which is something that really would make or break any trip, especially one where you’re charting a completely unfamiliar land).  While I’m here, I wish to take full advantage of this great opportunity; however, I will most certainly be ready to go home when the time comes. 

Arrival and First Impressions

This post is coming several days late because my program’s orientation has occupied almost all of my time…  The following is about my first day in China.

I engaged in my first dialogue in Chinese on the plane with a couple sitting next to me.  They spoke broken English –while my Chinese can hardly qualify as broken.  We discussed where we were from, where we were going, whether we liked the food and drink provided on the plane.  They were quite eager to teach me new words.  I also mimicked the couple as much as possible in mannerism, such as eating, to try to assimilate as smoothly as possible.

Because I am far from competent in the language, this 17-hour encounter gave me much hope.  Both on the plane and in other settings, I’ve found that strangers are much friendlier than Americans assume.  Making a little effort to speak the local language goes a long way with some locals (not all). 

Two haikus I came up with on the plane (yes, I know haikus are Japanese, not Chinese but I know naught about Chinese poetry):

                        A timeless shuttle

                        Allowing for reflection

                        Anticipates fun

                        Kindness from strangers

                        Deracinated worries

                        Hope ever-present

The airport that we arrived in was HUGE. It even had an amusement-parkesque shuttle that travelled along a track, transporting us to our luggage at the other end.  All of the signs were in both Chinese and English, so finding my way wasn’t hard, and because we were later received by the program director in the airport, no part of my travels was difficult.  Everyone I’ve met has been so incredibly friendly and eager for what’s in store.  

Up through this point, I've experienced no signs of culture shock.

After everyone arrived, we all got on a bus to go to the university.  I would have described the bus driver as crazy because he honked his horn at everything (mostly to inform others of his location as he frequently switched lanes…I think), but this was just the harbinger of what was to be expected within the denser parts of Beijing.  

Despite the driving, and later being completely surrounded by a language I don’t understand, I really had no worries because I was with other students (though most all other students had a better grasp on the language).

However, the experience of being in a foreign place hit me when I was alone in my room for the first time.  My roommate arrived later that night after most of the other students. In the meanwhile, my room, though providing all the essential comforts and more (save a bed that has no give in the slightest), felt more like a hotel. 

Being alone, not being surrounded by the unknown, was the scariest part for me.  I felt stuck in this place, a place that felt nothing like a home.  I have been able to travel easily between my home college and school, and previously referred to my college dorm as “home” unintentionally within about a week of living there.  But this felt completely different.  

I was stuck in an abstract experience that simply suspended me from what I was missing back home; I was worried that this trip would not be worth the time I was not spending with the people I care about back home.  It felt almost as if I was being forced to wait out a long sentence before I could enjoy my life again. 

The fact that I didn’t have internet at the time really didn’t help my situation because it reinforced the notion of being cut off from what I am comfortable with.  I was trapped in purgatory.

Later that evening I was able to access to the internet and contact my loved ones.  In addition, after my roommate arrived, my purgatory felt much more like a college dorm.  I felt less isolated.  However, I was still resenting having to wait for the time when I knew the trip would be worth it. 

Pre-Departure Thoughts

Today is Friday the 17th, and I leave for China on the 21st.

About eight or nine months ago, I found out that I had the potential to study abroad. Realizing that I'll be paying school loans for forever and a half, I came to the conclusion that if I didn't go now, I would be too poor to afford such a venture for the foreseeable future.

I have found that when I tell someone for the first time that I'm going to be studying abroad in China, the potential facial expressions of the listener are various and sundry (ranging from widened eyes portraying "you nuts?!?" to slight head rotations and raised eyebrows signifying "that's interesting"); however, about 67% of the immediate oral responses include some variation of the same phrase: "do you speak the language?"

To these people (and I apologize if you were one of them because I may seem to lack tact in the face of something that should logically scare me), I often responded, "[lol]...no."

I am willing to accept that I am under-prepared or unprepared for this, but due to some backwards way of thinking, I believe that this thought has itself prepared me; I don't know what I'm getting into so I will be more ready to adapt.

Those around me tend to be more worried than I about rational anxieties like language barriers.  What really concerns me is the return home, when I find out whether all my classes are lined up for me to continue into the graduate portion of the physical therapy program I am enrolled. (Concerns that really shouldn't exist because my academic adviser is the man and we worked out all potential problems before I left)

Maybe the possible ramifications of living in a country without knowing the primary language just hasn't hit me yet, or maybe the difficulties of living in China (including, but not limited to, language barriers) will be far more difficult than anything I have fathomed at present.  I know it will be difficult, but I don't know to what extent. I try not to worry about things I cannot control, though I cannot decide if this is a healthy attitude or rationalized ignorance.

I am trying to strike a balance between being mentally prepared, and not freaking out about how unprepared I am for this adventure.

I once considered studying abroad in Scotland instead of China, debating within myself whether it would be wiser to travel to a country with English as it's primary language.  My conclusion:  it would most certainly have been wiser, and a whole lot easier, but I've always had interests with roots in China.

Marital arts have likely been the only consistent interest I've had for over a decade, and through it I have become very fond of Buddhist philosophy. In high school I purchased a book on Shaolin kung fu, but found the chapters discussing Buddhist philosophy far more interesting.  I don't mean to create impractical goals for myself (considering the language barrier), but I sincerely hope to investigate martial arts during my stay.

I acknowledge that I have to be very careful with any of my expectations for traveling to China.  I know little to nothing about it, and cannot hope to grasp its complex culture within a short four-month stay.

Once desiring a change of pace, afraid of feeling stuck in a school that was starting to lose its novelty, I hope I haven't gone to too much of an extreme.  I will be staying at a university designed for foreigners with about thirteen other Americans in my program, but cannot escape the feeling that I will be immersed in the unknown. I think I like the thought.

I cannot imagine a more interesting [note: interesting does not imply good or even pleasant] experience than to be forced to learn new things in everything I do.

Even if this trip is going to be the least enjoyable endeavor I will engage in for the rest of my life, it will be worth it because I know I would otherwise regret not going, regret not learning, regret not trying.

I figure I'm in for quite the adventure.