Thoughts I've Been Eating

(The title is based off the expression “food for thought,” isn’t that so clever?!? …I really ought to keep thoughts like that in my head if I want actually anyone to read these posts…)  Anyway, these are a bunch of random thoughts I’ve had over the past week or so:

I reside in an international dorm, and often hear several languages on my way to class.  I found something rather interesting, though not necessarily out of the ordinary: international students from different countries often speak together in English.  This made me feel somewhat better about the fact that I am very likely never to be fluent in any other language. Moreover, it made me think that the world is so much smaller than I thought. 

Random factoid: my language partner is studying English, Japanese, and Spanish.  I received sufficient kicks from helping her with her Spanish homework.

To go on a brief tangent on the language barrier since I haven’t written about it seriously in a while, I would like to say that things here really aren’t that bad.  I’ve been learning Chinese for about two months now, and can walk into any restaurant and can order food rather easily.  Of course, if I am in anything other than a dumpling restaurant, I’ll require a menu.  Pointing and nodding are universally understood.   It’s been rather humorous seeing new words in each day’s lesson that are actually applicable. On more than one occasion, I’ve flipped to a page and found the English equivalent to a word I’ve heard over fifty times in restaurants or other places in Beijing.

[Insert your own transition here]

Ever since my trip to Qinghai, I find myself considering the outrageous differences in costs of living between certain different parts of the world.  For example, I was told that the workers at the monastery in Qinghai that we spent two hours helping in construction were only paid 18 kuai each day (about $3 US). 

An average meal in Beijing (or at least on my budget) is about 15 to 20 kuai, but if one wanted to buy a pizza, composed of imported ingredients like cheese, one would have to pay between 70 and 160 on a single pie depending on the size and number of toppings.  Now I understand why in so many countries’ histories have rural people flooded cities: for a chance to make a decent living.  The income inequality disgusts me (and there’s probably a similar problem in the States).   

Not going to lie, the first meal I want when I return to Pittsburgh is a Milano’s buffalo chicken pizza. It costs $20 (US) which, I admit, is terribly expensive, but I’ve been craving this pizza like a pregnant woman; however, this makes me feel horrible/makes me put things in perspective because it costs approximately 128 kuai, which is more than I spend on food in two days in Beijing.  

I do believe I have learned a lot from this trip, but I want my buffalo chicken pizza…

Back to a Routine

In my last post I mentioned that I was going to talk more in depth concerning certain subjects; however, I intend to save a more deep and critical analysis of my observations for a time when I’m no longer in the country (I’m not worried about censors, but the topics I wish to write about are still sensitive).

Now that I’ve fully recovered from that vile assault on my immune system, life is returning back to its normal self in China.  I am again attending classes by day, and prepping for more classes by night. Truly, a thrilling cycle…though admittedly I have had some leisure time, and enjoy the routine since I haven’t had a consistent schedule in quite some time.

I’ve tried to keep up with my rereading of the Hobbit so I’ll be finished before the movie comes out.  I cannot express how much I enjoy leisure time, though it will soon disappear entirely once I start working on my Capstone project.  

As a physical therapy student, I figured I ought at least to attempt to learn something related to health sciences while on this trip.  I intend on working on a research paper discussing acupuncture and how it can be used as an alternative form of treatment for certain diseases or disabilities. Although I haven’t selected which diseases or disabilities to focus on, I am certain of the topic.  Now I just have to do research and write an abstract before the due date sneaks up on me…

After our return from Qinghai, many of the students have become eager in preparing for our next extended vacation.  We are given a period of about a week and a half at the end of this month for independent travel.

Although I want to travel to Shanghai and Hong Kong at some point or another with other students in this program, I intend on spending my independent travel period staying in the dorm and writing.  This sounds like a hoot and a half, I know, but I have always wanted to write a book, but have always been too busy to just dedicate several days to just sitting down and writing. [If you want to know more about the book I want to write, too bad, you’ll just have to wait till it’s published. In summary, I want to write an epic commensurate to, but different from, the Lord of the Rings, and have been formulating ideas for said book(s) over the past five or so years.]

Some of my friends are traveling to Thailand. I would like to have accompanied them, or to travel to see a friend of mine who is studying abroad in Japan this semester, but I lack the funds for either.  Donations are welcome and appreciated, and hell, I’d even write you a big’ol thank you note online to commemorate your philanthropy.

We went to the Forbidden City this past weekend.  Although this was the number one spectacle on my list before coming to China, once we arrived, I noticed it was somewhat similar to the rest of all of China’s other architecture.  There were some galleries that we could have seen, but our tickets only allowed us in certain areas.  I would say the best part of seeing the Forbidden City was seeing it from a height, as the buildings look alike in all of the courtyards.  It was still impressive due to its size, and had a nice garden in the middle.

The highlight of the trip occurred while we were walking out to our bus right outside the main entrance.  A man carrying a black trash bag was trying to sell us mysterious wares. He started off saying the statues he was selling were 180 kuai, but as soon as I told him I only had 20 in my pocket, he dropped his price immediately. I could not have found a better deal.  Spoiler alert: older brother of mine, this is where I got your present lol.  I honestly suspect the goods were stolen and he was trying to get rid of them as fast as possible, however, I’m not complaining because I purchased something for a pretty decent price.

On a more personal note, last week I was suffering from homesickness, but seemed to have temporarily filled the void for the time being with American food (no mother, not with ethanol), and by watching episodes of the kids’ show Avatar the Last Airbender.  

Trip to Qinghai

Curse the loathsome prokaryotes who try the limits of my immune system! Only after several days of torment has my body been able to accept sustenance without almost immediately trying to expel it in the most unpleasant ways.  This quasi-metaphoric end was the final impression left upon me from my 9-day adventure to Qinghai.  I shall begin, naturally, from the beginning…

[On a side note: my geography is terrible, so please bear with me if there are any mistakes or confusing logistical portions to this tale]

Although this was the first time I’ve ever used Chinese trains for transportation, the trip began as all others in China start: in overcrowded, less-than-admirable conditions.  This mode in particular required our group of 14 separate among a few rooms, each containing two pairs of triple-stacked bunks.  At first, I lamented the thought of a 17-hour train ride because I was by myself with some of the locals on the top bunk, but after a nap and reunion with friends in an all-student room, I honestly had a good time (and was especially fond of the shrink-wrapped fruits purchasable a la cart).

Upon arrival at the city of Lanzhou (not yet in Qinghai province), our first impressions were foreboding, as the train unloaded next to a freight train, which had military vehicles as cargo. This in addition to a light rain and clouds elicited an ominous 1960’s feel.

We soon met up with our two awesome tour guides, who accompanied us for the remainder of the trip. One was from Shangri-La who went by the name Yak and oft demonstrated his Yak Dance in times of awkward pauses in conversation or when he wished to display his merriment. The other was Sonam, a famous writer (though I didn’t find this out till about halfway through the trip) who frequently told blatant but joking lies to see who would believe him. We then partook on a three-hour bus ride to Xiahe, Gansu (province?), during which we were given a Tibetan number as a name for convenience.

During the bus ride, we witnessed the most beautiful, rolling mountains of rural China that bore no trees.  Many were used for agriculture, which I have dubbed the Soy Mountains, where one could tell the farmers were taking advantage of all the available land.  I was immediately enthralled by this beautiful scenery upon waking from a nap.  The sectioning of the mountains resembled the layers of a cake, and barer, smaller hills looked like dollops of cookie batter… I must have been hungry…

To spare you the grueling detail of a daily account, I shall provide you a summary of the interesting, dangerous, and awesome things that we did (and if my notes are in proper order, these are also somewhat chronological).

I rode a horse for the first time, receiving some instruction from a man I did not share a common language with, who later thought me competent enough to manage on my own along a trail for about 40 minutes. The horse was a stubborn bastard, but we managed, and at times, I think he took offense to me swearing at him under my breath for disobeying my will.

We consumed anything and everything that is yak (excluding the tour guide), including, but not limited to, yak butter, yak meat, yak milk, yak eggs –more likely quail or chicken, but when everything else on the table was yak-related, one could only assume– yak tea, yak tendon, and yak yogurt, which I will honestly miss.

From visiting numerous monasteries, we were introduced to the basic concepts of Tibetan medicine and Tibetan Buddhism.  Not going to lie, I was almost hoping for an existential crisis in one of the monasteries where I would have met a monk from a past life, but Tibetan Buddhism (I may not be entirely correct) seems to lend heavily from polytheistic Hinduism and I was not as fond of it as I had thought I would have been.

When leaving one of the temples, we saw a monk on a skateboard while eating an ice cream cone…I was thoroughly impressed.

In Lanzhou, a couple of friends and I walked through the less-touristy portions of the growing town to see the construction.  There is so much trash in China that it makes me sad, and causes me to think that there is little to no hope of recovering on a local (town) level.

We stopped at a man’s house during lunch in between our travel to the next hotel.  I intend to elaborate more fully in the following post, but to introduce the subject, he and his family are a minority group within China called nomads that are losing their way of life because of “conservational efforts” to protect the unused land they occupy.  They will soon lose their ability to live where they have for generations, and although I am rather fond of the environment, these nomads do absolutely no harm to it, and I believe the government should be focusing their efforts elsewhere.  I almost broke down on the bus once we left because I could not have imagined what to do to get unstuck from such a terrible situation.  This was the turning point of the trip where I know I’ve learned from my experiences; the trip did not necessarily change me, but without it, I would not be as aware of my feelings on such subjects as I am now.

Visiting a local school (observing a class equivalent to juniors in high school), we saw and learned how hard Chinese schoolchildren have to work in order to get into a half-decent college. We were welcomed into the class of 42 with loud clapping, and were applauded after each of us introduced ourselves. It was funny to hear the students make comments of admiration or surprise when they heard that two of our students come from Washington DC.

Before meeting the class, we met with the two American teachers who worked at the school, who explained that this school (though having chipped paint on the walls and concrete floors), was one of the best and most rigorous boarding schools, hand-selecting all of its students.  During class, we broke up into groups and just had conversations with the students. They were all extremely friendly and most were eager to practice English. Of the students in my group, one wanted to be a teacher, a translator (they have to study Tibetan, Chinese, and English), and a doctor.  

This was likely my favorite part of the trip.  I don’t know how the subject came up, but we were asked to sing a song for them, and thus attempted a Disney song or two, and “Somewhere over the Rainbow.”  When it was their turn, a girl was voluntold (more prompted than volunteered) to sing. She sang one of the most beautiful songs I have ever heard, choosing a traditional Tibetan song.  At one point during our stay, our tour guide Sonam gave a motivational speech to the students. One student was translating it for me into English (as he told it in Tibetan), and explained that Sonam is a famous Tibetan writer. I had no idea at the time, and felt extremely humbled when one of the students asked if he was our tour guide or teacher.

We visited a Tonka master, a monk who specialized in crafting Tonka, or Tibetan Buddhist, paintings, often employing gold or other metals in the paint.  After having tea with the master and learning about how he made the paintings, we were taken to the gallery. The paintings ranged between about $100 and $10,000 US…Sonam took us to his friend’s house in a nearby town. Though his friend was not a monk, he also made Tonkas, and sold us his for less than half the price. On a side note, the Buddhist monk Tonka master wore a very nice gold watch…

In Gharong village, we broke up into groups and stayed with local families. Although our groups contained students of various levels of Chinese, the family only spoke Tibetan.  In an attempt to communicate in some way shape or form, I began to compile a dictionary of words we figured out (though whether or not we actually interpreted the correct meaning is up for debate). 

After meeting for tea, we were off to help in the construction of a local monastery.  Some students painted, others helped lay stones for outside flooring, and another group (myself included) helped build the exterior walls by hauling water, rocks, and concrete/mortar over two hours.

It was a rather interesting endeavor considering not all of the workers spoke Chinese, and even if they did, many of their words were nigh unrecognizable due to their accents.

Afterwards, we climbed a rather large mountain, where I tested my vocals (which were suffering by now from a cough from the beginning of the trip) in relative but appreciated isolation.

We returned for the best dinner I’ve had in China: the softest noodles in a wonderfully spiced soup/sauce with fresh vegetables. Although we did not speak the language, I’d like to think that we conveyed to the mother how much we appreciated the delicious food.  We stayed the night in the house, and despite it lacking most commodities of the present century, there was electricity and a faucet for cleaning. I will never forget the hospitality.

The remainder of the trip was mostly uneventful, involving either traveling or eating –which yielded unpleasant ramifications for me…The night before we got on a 27-hour train ride back to Beijing, I spent a relatively relaxing night in hospital to regain fluids that would otherwise refuse to remain in my system.

On the return trip, we stayed on a similar train, though the carts on this one sold bird appendages instead of fruit.  Because I slept for about 18 hours, the trip wasn’t that painful, but it certainly was not as fun as the trip up.

This 9-day excursion was insightful into rural China, especially how different Beijing (and it’s people) is(are) from the rest of China.  [I would come up with a more profound concluding statement but it’s dinner time and I’ve finally regained a semblance of an appetite. Moreover, although I believe I learned a lot, these kinds of experiences are not easily summarized…thus I won’t try lol.]

Gaining Experience

I apologize for the large gap in time between this post and the last, but I have been busier than ever –I’m now teaching three- and four-year olds kung fu on the weekends, but more on that later.

Fun Fact: I have spotted no squirrels in China. This bothers me a little because, without them, I am unable to determine the intensity of the coming winter from the bushiness of their tails, and I only brought two pairs of long pants.

Concerning shopping for clothes, I have been to two huge markets, each containing likely hundreds of 15x15ft [no, I haven’t figured out meters yet] outlets, forming a labyrinth of often disorganized clothing dispensaries.

Certain markets require one to haggle, lest one pays $121 dollars for a shirt.  Fortunately, with a little complementing, sneering in disgust, and benefitting from an accidently misspelled cashmere tag, the price was dropped to $11, though at one point a small group of people stopped their shopping to enjoy the spectacle.  Not bad for a thermal cashmier shirt.  Granted, I was called friend, a bully, a foolish person, and handsome, respectively, by the same merchant.

Whilst exploring the Nan Luo Gu Xiang Hutong, the remnants of ancient Beijing one-story buildings (coincidently also forming a labyrinth) via rickshaw ride, a merchant came up next to our group on his bike and proceeded to try to sell us souvenirs. I was so impressed that I had to try to bargain for a gourd flute. In the process of trying to negotiate in a language that I have the smallest grasp on, the rickshaw driver began laughing after overhearing my negotiating phrases such as, “I am a poor student,” and “really?!? That’s the price?”

Most merchants speak at least some English, though on some occasions one has to drag it out of them because they don’t always like revealing that they can understand one’s conversation with one’s friend about how nice a certain shirt is.

Beggars often reside outside malls and almost all tourist spots.

I have heard rumors of beggar’s guilds, in which cripples are “employed.” I’ve heard that the individuals are forced out on the streets to collect money and are abused to give any profits to the organization (naturally going to the extorters at the top).  Although I feel terrible about seeing so many people on the streets, I have seen beggars use their crippled children (particularly those with unfortunate physical deformities), and small, whimpering puppies as props to bait walkers by.

Although I keep these things in mind, I almost started crying after having to step over a beggar along a narrow passage in order to stick with my group on an excursion.  I do not give money, but I will give food to children if I can.

On a more positive note [please forgive the poor transition], on the Friday before last, our program was offered kung fu classes on Fridays, and naturally I had to go.  After meeting the instructor and telling him that I have been pursuing martial arts for many years, he mentioned the possibility of me teaching kung fu to young kids.  With the support of my peers (shout out to the girls in my program who think I’m good with kids, and who convinced the instructor I’d be a good choice), he offered me a job.

A week later, I received a call to assist him in a promotional campaign so that I would have enough children for my own classes.

The promotional campaign took place on a playground (my domain), during which I met the instructor’s wife, his brother, and a friend of theirs, all of which I would be working with (though only the primary instructor and his wife understand English).  Finally, I have actual Chinese connections!

At the playground, we asked kids if they wanted to try punching a bag, taught them how to punch and kick properly, and when enough of them gathered, proceeded to teach them the beginning of the Crane form in order to impress their parents.  We had enough people sign up for me to have my own class.

I will discuss more on the subject later, but I have a test to study for tomorrow. And almost immediately after, we (the students in the same program as I) are traveling to Qing Hai until the 30^th.

Oh, and the instructor is a former SHAOLIN MONK.  I know a Shaolin Monk!!!! Things are turning out to be a lot more interesting than I could have hoped. 

Finally Noticing a Difference

Despite not having experienced significant culture shock, I seem to be becoming more confused by Chinese culture as I go (presumably, because it is revealing its more nuanced aspects in smaller doses).  

When one walk down the street, it is not uncommon to see women carrying umbrellas and others wearing face-whitening makeup.  I assumed this style of fashion, supposed to convey that one is not a laborer, was outdated.  Although some locals have told me it is going out of style, I can’t travel more than four-hundred meters beyond the campus gates without seeing an umbrella or a paled face (which tend to be inconsistently whiter compared to the skin tone of the arms or neck).

Another interesting trend I’ve noticed is the occurrence of select males (in particularly, overweight males) wearing their shirts rolled up to reveal their stomachs.

So many double takes…

Again, I assumed something like this to be an outdated display of affluence, but have concluded that I simply do not understand this alternate standard of beauty.  Of course, there are styles similar to western attire, but anything truly western is rare (…I think…I’m the farthest one can get from a fashion expert, living within my comfort zone of earth tones).  

Moreover, I’m not saying the women here seek out beer bellies and that albinism is valued as genetic perfection, but I figure there must be a reason why certain styles have not yet gone extinct.

There are a few other key differences between Beijing culture and what I’ve become accustomed to in the US.  Two subjects, the absence of tipping in restaurants and the apparent lack of concern from lawsuits, are nuances in Chinese society that I think make China very much different from the US.

First, in a Chinese restaurant, the food is usually paid for before it arrives, and one is not required to tip for the service.  As a result, food arrives whenever it is ready, varying from person to person. This, however, is considered rather unacceptable in the US, where it is considered polite for the individuals who receive their food first to wait for the staff to deliver the remaining meals to the first’s compatriots.

When rearing children [and yes, as a college student, I am more than qualified to speak with pretentious authority on any subject], one is suggested to discipline the child immediately after an unacceptable event occurs. Similarly, I want the waiters to know that I’ve been more than slightly irked for having to wait over twenty minutes for my food after everyone else received theirs, instead of simply opting to go somewhere else in the future.

Moreover, because the diner has paid for the service of the meal before the meal’s conclusion, the staff is not obligated to wait for the diners to stop chatting before ushering in the next set of consumer. Although this has only occurred in one not-so-fancy restaurant, I was still taken aback.

Second, concerning the insufficient influence of lawyers on Chinese society, businesses, construction crews, and drivers seem not to care about the repercussions of potential accident.  I get the impression there is absolutely no fear of lawsuits, which differs so greatly from the US, where lawsuits act as a larger impetus than government mandates when it comes to handicap accessibility.

I have yet to find one business that does not have at least one step or something in the way that would hinder a wheelchair.

(I have touched on handicap inaccessibility and traffic before but) another example of the lack of precautions seen in the US is in the traffic situation.  The simplest way to explain said situation is to call it a cluster f!@# of pedestrians, bikes, carts, cars, and buses.  

Safety hinges solely on the dexterity of the individual.  Personally I go by the rule that, if the locals are walking (even when cars are edging to plow them over), it’s smarter to stick with the pack instead of playing Frogger alone when you have the right of way.

Although they do not really regard a red light as a necessary stop, a driver won’t hit multiple people because that might actually smudge the paint or mark up the windshield.

I am gradually discovering cultural nuances, such as those pertaining to tipping and the commonality of lawsuits, which actually have a significant impact on society.  I am reminded of the lyrics from Say Hey by Michael Franti & Spearhead: “…Hey, I’ll be gone today, but I’ll be back or around the way.  Seems like everywhere I go, the more I see, the less I know…”

I find it fun to try to figure this stuff out, and have seen (not read) several books dedicated to unraveling the Chinese enigma from a western perspective. I know that it would take no less than a lifetime to fully comprehend and feel at home in both cultures.

Before I forget, I should write something about my academics because –though hard for me to conceptualize on the weekends– this is not a vacation.  

My main academic focus has been on my weekly fourteen hours of Chinese 100, where my one classmate and I have been exposed to about 450 new words in Chinese script. Although we are not required to memorize all of them, we are going to be given our first test tomorrow, and I hope that I do alright considering I have retained enough to recognize about half of them.

I guess I ought to stop procrastinating by blogging… 

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.