In the spotlight again
Been a busy week and a long day, but I really should write something. About the only thing of interest, however, was tonight's English corner. Friday evening is Yau Neih's "music corner" where she teaches English songs and dances. Well, yesterday we get word that someone (I think the local TV station) wanted to videotape the proceedings. Oy. Yau Neih didn't announce this in any of her classes--she didn't know if folks would be intimidated and avoid the corner or on the other hand feel obliged to show up and give their teacher face. It wasn't going to be
Candid Camera or anything, so they could always leave when they saw the camera. Anyway, we were kind of curious what would happen.
So around six twenty I head over to the English Resource Room (or library, if you will) to fetch the stools. You see, the corner is held in the lobby of the new classroom building. People need someplace to sit, so we need to bring some plastic stools to accommodate folks. I have somehow designated myself official stool shlepper. Sometimes I run into students who offer to help, other times I handle it all myself. Anyway, tonight I scored some helpers on the way to the resource room. As we were heading up the stairs, one asked me if I had heard that they were going to be interviewing the students at English corner. I said that I had heard about being videotaped, but was unsure about interviews.
When we got back to the lobby, other students were tacking up the song sheets (big sheets of poster paper with lyrics written upon them) and a dude with a video camera was catching cutaway shots of the lyrics. The student turn out was pretty good, including about seven male students. Now we knew that there was some faculty/administration pressure to attend since we usually don't get any guys attending. Anyway, Yau Neih gets started and things pretty much go as normal, save for the videographer going around shooting footage. When the dancing started, six of the guys were brave enough to join in. (One sat and talked to our neighbor Michael.) This proved to be somewhat interesting. I have taken to sitting out the dance segment of the program since some of the dances require switching partners and a couple of the female students have been intimidated by me. I didn't know if it's my gender or if my dandruff shampoo isn't working. Anyway, I was wondering if the male students would cause a similar disruption. What I didn't figure on was the boys having a similar reaction as the skittish girls. One guy was absolutely adamant about not switching over to a female partner. I can't recall the last time I've seen a deeper shade of red on someone's face. But in the end, the dancers managed to cope with the slightly disruptive element and have a good time.
In the end, the corner ran almost normally. A couple of students were pulled out of the crowd and briefly interviewed. We, too, were tapped to say a few words on camera. (I was given the instructions to "say something about America, or China, or your hometown.") We were told that we would be told when the segment would air on TV, but that's what they told us about the
tea shoot. Apparently that aired a week or so ago without our knowledge. Anyway, so ended the latest installment in our Chinese television career. I wonder if I have to start paying dues to SAG and AFTRA?
Say what?
I'm sure you've all seen it portrayed--the stereotypical American tourist confronting the language barrier. They try to speak to someone in English and when that person doesn't understand, the tourist says the same thing, only louder. Or maybe they try to speak slower and exaggerate their pronunciation. Or add an -o to the end of every noun, as if that would suddenly impart understanding to the other person. Well, I got a taste of the other side of that yesterday.
A couple of workmen came over to fix our screen door. the kids were playing near it, stumbled and broke it. We called Thad and he sent the maintenance guys over to take a look. Now when the maintenance guys come over it really rubs my lack of language ability in my face. They come across as real friendly, but I can barely say a few words to them. So anyway, a couple of the guys came over and measured the doorframe. When they finished, they tried to ask me something. I listened, caught nothing and shook my head. They asked again. I managed to catch one word--
ming tien, tomorrow. But one word does not communication make. I confirmed
ming tien, then tried to listen to hear some numbers. I know my numbers in Chinese, but sometimes I can't pick them out of the flow of the conversation. Finally one guy asked for a piece of paper. He started
writing his question down. I suppose that's not too foolish, since many people can read more than they can hear or say. In my case, however, I think I can read less Chinese than I can speak. I looked at the paper for some numbers, but was likewise frustrated.
Finally, I decided to give in and call Thad. He was available and actually said he'd come over to the flat. (I didn't want him to go to
that much trouble, but that's Chinese service for you.) So we stood around waiting for him to arrive. One workman went out for a smoke or something, the other just stood around with me. He took a notice of Becky's schoolwork--she was writing a final draft of her report on the Makah and Nez Perce. He seemed to be impressed by her work, but then he's always seemed to like her. After a bit Thad finally arrived, and in less than a minute he took care of the situation. A guy would be coming tomorrow at 11 o'clock to install a new door. With that bit of business complete, everybody took their leave and the girls and I went back to lessons.
A bit later I looked at the paper the workman had written for me. Sure enough, knowing what to look for, I could make out the "11" he wrote. Before I had just assumed that they were part of the character that followed it. So let that be a lesson to you the next time you're dealing with someone with limited language ability: speak slowly and write neatly. It may save you time in the long run.
Is nothing sacred?
I forget if I've mentioned the ongoing construction effort here. Basically, when we arrived here, our windows overlooked rice paddies and other plots of farming heading up to Qi Shan. (Or "Flag Mountain", if you prefer English.) For most of those fields, however, this harvest was to be their last. A few months ago the construction started, and now we're looking out over bulldozers, dump trucks and a rapidly rising building across the river. (I should see if I can do a before and after shot.) And yesterday came the final insult--they started dismantling the outhouse on the edge of the field! Is nothing sacred?
Anyway, I can't say that we've really welcomed the change. (Overall, not just the outhouse.) For me it brings back memories of my own lost childhood. I grew up in a suburb that was in the process of urbanization--an old depot town that was becoming a bedroom community. There were still plenty of empty fields to play in and you didn't have to travel too far to see a field of corn growing. It was even nicer at my grandparents' place. They had an acre of two or land, as did their next door neighbor. There was a small housing development and an industrial park in sight, but for the most part it was nice, wide open space. Well, that changed over the years, the end coming in the mid-eighties when my grandparents and neighbor sold their properties and the two homes gave way to dozens of townhouses. Today I suppose most folks would consider it a pleasant looking neighborhood. For me, however, it will always be ugly as I can see what used to be through the eyes of memory. Anyway, now it's deja vu all over again. I look out at the barren ground and miss the fields or the grazing livestock.
Of course, it really is none of my business, nor would I necessarily want to stop the process. Some of the new construction will be housing for the college and many people will be getting a nicer place in which to live. Still, I have to wonder if anyone here will be looking out at the new campus twenty years from now and lamenting the loss of the landscape of their childhood.
Yeah, I'm the taxed man
In a more prosaic note, I've ventured into the realm of electronic filing. While I love my computer and have been using Quicken since the mid-90s, I have never attempted to file my taxes electronically. I know it's cooler and faster and all that, but I have just stubbornly clung to the practice of filling out paper forms with a sharp pencil and good eraser. Until this year, of course. This year, the thought of having all my financial forms mailed over to China has forced me to give electronic filing a try. Actually, I cheated a bit. I downloaded tax forms and printed them out so I could do my rough draft with paper and pencil. But once I get everything together, I should be able to log on and do it all via the web. Of course, it's far from a smooth process. First, all my paperwork has been sent to our U.S. mailing address. So my sister-in-law--the saint who is really suffering the most for our venture since she has to get all our junk mail--has to e-mail me the figures from our various tax forms. That took a few days, since I had to inform her what info I needed. Then, the second problem was the site itself. I started the process today and had to go dig up the kids' social security numbers. When I finally found them and attempted to enter the info, the website asked me to log in again. Obviously they log me off if my connection sits idle for a minute or so. I suppose that's really a good thing, but I miss the paper 1040 form which patiently waited for me to sort through my paperwork. The final problem is that I'm not used to e-filing. I knew I needed the income figures from my W-2, I didn't stop to think that I'd need such info as my (former) employer's ID number. So, off goes another e-mail to Yau Neih's sis. And I have to log off, since they take you through a step by step process. I can't jump ahead and enter my interest income or anything like that. Ah, well, as long as I get this done by April 15, I suppose I shouldn't complain.
Things that go blorr-oop in the night
If you've ever traveled overseas, or maybe read about traveling overseas, you know that one of the mantras is, "Don't drink the water." Of course, I use the phrase "travel overseas" figuartively. This holds true if you travel overland, too. Wherever and however you travel, don't drink the water. Don't even think about drinking the water. In fact, it might be best if you can avoid even looking at the water. This refers, of course, to water from the tap or any other source that hasn't been professionally packaged with a nice label. So, for those of us who are overseas, if we get thirsty, we get professionally packaged, nicely labeled water. In our case, we buy a nice five gallon jug that sits atop a handy-dandy water dispenser complete with a water heater that we were told to turn off when we went to bed. (They never told us to turn it on, so now we just have room temperature water.) We usually buy about one jug a week, and in fact, they just brought a new jug in the other day. Therein lies the tale....
The way our water dispenser works is that the jug sits upside down and when you open the tap, the water runs out of the spout. Since nature abhors a vacuum, the water is replaced by air, which has to sneak up past the water to get to the top bunk of the jug. The air must find this annoying, because it always makes a big "Blorr-OOP!" sound when it heads up to the top. Or at least it used to. With this latest water jug, rather than heading to the top en masse, the air slowly travels in a bunch of smaller bubbles. The classic "Blorr-OOP!" has been replaced by a sound that sounds vaguely gastronomic. Now we have to wonder if they've redesigned the jugs or if we've just received one that is possessed. This has the potential to be very distressing.
And, yes, it has been a slow week. Why do you ask?
Nertz again!
Once again, I'm having trouble accessing
Flickr. (The
first time was back in December.) I was hoping it would magically clear up again, but the problem's been running a couple of days now.
Yahoo is also misbehaving, but it has a
Chinese version which I can stumble through. It's kind of interesting how much I've come to rely on the internet. A few years back, if
SCN went down and I was bereft of e-mail for a while, it was no big deal. Anyway, I suppose I should be slow to panic. One nice feature about the 'net is that there usually are workarounds. (For instance, I could always sign up for the Chinese knockoff of Flickr,
Bababian.)
Gloablization
Yay! I just checked my ClustrMap and discovered that this site has been visited by people from all six habitable continents. Thank you, whomever you are in Brazil. (And, of course, all the rest of you who actually visit and
read this junk.) ;-)
But at night it's a different world
We managed to go out dancing last night and saw an unusual sight. There was a woman dancing outside of the circle and dancing quite well. She was totally ignoring the "official" moves and just doing her own thing. Most of the folks hanging on the outskirts are either clumsily trying to learn the steps everyone else is doing or are under six years of age.
But that's not what I wanted to write about. What I wanted to mention is our own breaking of the status quo last weekend. We've fallen into a dreadful rut. We usually eat supper and then, if we don't have English corner, a Chinese lesson or go dancing, we all sit around the apartment and vegetate. It's a bad habit, born from the need to squeeze four showers into the evening window of hot water. But last Sunday, however, we did something different. We had heard, months ago now, that there was another group of street dancers over on the east side of town by the Well Supermarket. Yau Neih had been thinking about taking an evening walk to seek them out some night and when we weren't able to do our grocery shopping that morning, we decided to do an evening shop at the Well.
After dinner we grabbed the backpack and headed down the old familiar trail. The first surprise came as we walked past the park where we usually go dancing. We saw our group and the attendant spectators as we walked past on the opposite side of the street. But then, also in the park, we saw
another circle in progress. Amazing what goes on right around the corner when you're not paying attention. Now there was an alternate dance circle going on back when our group was dancing at the crossroads, but that seemed to be a bunch of guys doing either a very ethnic or very drunken dance. This one seemed to be a bit more sedate. Anyway, we had shopping to do and decided not to cross the street and investigate further.
The last block before the supermarket is one lined with small shops. At night, however, the sidewalk is transformed to a food court as small barbecue stands set up. We made our way through them, resisting the temptation to get a stick of roasted
man tao. We got to the corner of Shi Ji and Nan Tian and, sure enough, there was a circle of dancers on the sidewalk, kitty corner from the supermarket. We crossed over and watched them for a few numbers. The group was about half the size of our group, though they were playing the same songs. They also sported I.D. tags, which didn't look quite as cool as ours. (It's hard to top
faux leather.) The odd thing was that we saw yet
another group down the street. Between songs, we could hear that this latest group was also playing the same music. We ambled over and found that their circle was quite small, maybe thirty people at most. This group weren't tagged and didn't seem to have anyone leading the dancing. We had to wonder if they had splintered off from the other group, refusing to buy name tags.
Well, after a while we decided that we really should buy our groceries. We took care of business and headed home, swinging by the park. We stopped to watch the second circle that we had seen earlier. This group also was dancing sans tags. There was a group of five women dancing in the middle and a group of thirty or forty dancing in an outer circle. None of the songs we heard were familiar, though the steps were pretty much the same used by the other three groups. Anyway, after a few numbers, we headed home, wondering what the story was behind all these groups. We also learned a lesson: that if we stay indoors after dark, we miss a whole 'nother side of life here.
Let them eat snake
We had a new dining experience today. It stemmed from Yau Neih's latest teaching technique. Concerned that maybe she was being too easy on her students, she asked them how challenged they were by her class. To her relief, only three of them thought things were easy. In order to up the ante for those three, Yau Neih offered them some intense English practice by accompanying us on various jaunts out in the community and serving as translators for us. (Quite a scam, eh?) Anyway, this morning we made our initial outing as Gail and Whitney tagged along on our morning rounds. For the most part it wasn't entertaining, at least until lunchtime.
Since we were out until the noon hour, we naturally offered to buy the kids lunch. As we were riding the bus, we started talking about places to eat in town, and Gail mentioned that she found a place to get "snake". Both she and Whitney claimed it was really good and I guess Yau Neih and I were feeling adventurous. (Our children had stayed home, which might have had something to do with it.) We went to the entrance of a local park, where a handful of food vendors had set up their carts. The students handled the ordering, from two different vendors. We bought bowls of noodle soup from one and slurped away while the other worked on making up our snake snack. I had polished off about two-thirds of my bowl when the "snake" arrived. It looked like a burrito--a huge rice noodle wrapped around all sorts of stuff. We chomped down and found it rather tasty. It was a tad on the spicy side, even though the kids had got us the easy on the peppers,
lao wai special. As we worked on our meal, Yau Neih and I noticed a distinct lack of meat. She queried Gail as to the construction of our serpentine delicacy and it turned out that "snake" was actually a stick of dough fried in snake oil, smothered in sauce and veggies and wrapped in the aforementioned rice noodle. Oh, well. Burritos aren't made out of little burros, either. We shrugged and finished our meal--enjoying the taste, but slightly disappointed that it wasn't as exotic as we thought.
But one question remained. As we walked back to campus, we asked the girls if they ever actually ate snake meat. They just looked at us and said, "Eeww!"
Browsing the stacks
One nice thing about life here is that it's rather slow compared to the States. One bad thing about evenings here is that it's rather slow compared to the States. Once the sun goes down and I take my shower, I have to figure out how to kill a couple of hours. That was rarely a problem back home. I had books and videos and a TV and a computer and the Internet. If I was really at a loss, I also had a pile of deskwork that needed attention. Here, all of the above options are limited. I've had to branch out a bit and actually have gone through a few fads in the past couple of months. I spent a couple of weeks attacking the logic puzzle book I brought. I spent a couple evenings dusting off the cards and playing solitaire. On the 'net I've read through the archives of
Sluggy Freelance and spent time wandering through the
Internet Movie Database. I've just come off a
Flickr jag, and this week I've become obsessed with
LibraryThing.
I first heard about
LibraryThing via
Slumberland in a
post back in January. I followed the link and thought it an interesting site. I didn't think it was for me, though. It's all about the books in one's possession, and a good portion of my reading is books borrowed from the public library. I was weaned from the desire to amass a huge personal library when I had to shlepp all my stuff from Chicago to Seattle. Besides, almost all of the books I do have are back in a warehouse in Kent. What fun could it be to catalog my kids' books?
Anyway, I went on with life, but the seed had been planted. A few days ago I was bored and clicked on the
LibraryThing link again. I poked around a bit more. I forget the details now, but I do recall being impressed that someone besides myself actually owned a copy of
The Tsaddik Of The Seven Wonders. Anyway, I decided to give the site a test drive, opening an account and adding a couple of books that I remember owning. As I played around with adding tags and reviews and seeing what kind of connections my books made with other books and readers, my inner geek was awakened. So to date I've managed to add about 60 books to
my catalog. (Technically, "our" catalog, since it
is fun to catalog the kids' books.) Some books are from memory, some are books we have on hand here. Unfortunately, I went a bit wild logging in our
For Better or For Worse and
Calvin and Hobbes collections. People will think that we're a bunch of jokers.
A mystery revealed
It's tempting to think that after living here for six months I've got everything figured out. Of course, that just ain't so. Every now and then I get those moments when some new aspect about the way things work is revealed. The latest happened last night, after English corner. The corners have resumed this past week and the students seem a bit more chatty than they were back before the break. One girl bent my ear for awhile and was mentioning that she had eight hours of classes on that particular day. (And was indeed heading off for the final couple of hours.) She ticked off all the classes she had to sit through on Wednesdays and one thing she mentioned was "Tourist English". That was one that didn't make it on the foreign teachers' docket, so I wasn't aware that it even existed. But now that I know of it, it sheds some light on an odd habit of many of the students here.
When talking with the English students, you start to hear patterns in their speech. From phrases such as "In my opinion..." to topics of conversation. One topic that has cropped up repeatedly is the students' hometowns. Almost invariably a student will get around to telling you that they are from such-and-such a town and tell you that a) it is very beautiful, b) the food is delicious and c) the people are very friendly. Many will end up by saying, "Welcome to my hometown." Now I had always assumed that folks around here just naturally took pride in their hometowns. Now I suspect that these kids are just practicing the phrases they've been taught in their Tourist English class. Ah, well, giving the kids' opportunities to practice is why I go to English corner. (one reason, anyway)
Something about the women
I've been informed that today is International Women's Day. So I'd like to offer my best regards to all you international women out there. Have a good time!
Good to the last drop
We had our evening hijacked last night in the interest of promoting tea. Late in the afternoon there was a knock on our door. Our next door neighbor, Michael, said that Thad had invited us all to "drink tea" with him, if we were available. While the timing was awkward--we were just preparing dinner--we had nothing vital planned for the evening and decided to accept the invitation. Visions of a unique cultural experience danced in our head. About ten minutes later, Michael was back, having confirmed our plans. Apparently after accepting, Thad revealed a new twist. A friend of his was going to be videotaping us as we drank tea.
After dinner, around 7:30, we gathered out in front of our building. Michael and Joan were nicely dressed, as befits their station. None of us had bothered to change. That was okay for Yau Neih, who was still dressed for work. The girls and I, however, were definitely dressed American casual. Oh, well. Anyway, Thad and a van soon show up. We were introduced to a gent who was alternately referred to as "The Director" and "The Host" throughout the evening. I don't think that we were ever given his real name. (Of course, it is possible that I missed it.) We piled into the van and headed off down the road. I was still thinking exotic cultural experience and wondered where in town this tea house was located. Alas, we showed up at the old, familiar L. Road Grand Hotel. We walked up to the second floor and were ushered into a room just off the restaurant. It seemed less a traditional gathering place and more like a modern conference room. Oh, it did have fancy, living room style furniture. But the glass cabinets all showcased blocks of tea. I was reminded of a Starbucks with its displays of products for sale.
So we sat down and chatted while we were served tea. A young woman did the honors, following a definite ritual in rinsing the cups and mixing and pouring the tea. It was quite beautiful and elegant, though she was wearing modern clothing rather than some traditional Chinese garb. Thad had explained that the director was making a documentary about this local tea company which manufactured Pu'er tea--a local delicacy. He quizzed us about our experience with Chinese tea culture, which was pretty much nil for the lot of us. We tended to think of our teas as coming from India, though for my part, I really had no clue as to the actual origins of the tea I consumed. All I knew was "Lipton" or "Bigelow" or "Tazo", depending on where I was imbibing. I couldn't tell you if the tea itself was grown in China or New Jersey. Our host also tried to make some connection between Chinese tea and the Boston Tea Party, which again, none of us could confirm or deny. To us Yanks, the Boston Tea Party was all about taxes. What was actually dumped into the harbor was really unimportant.
Well, the tea itself
was quite good. The first batch was very smooth and didn't leave a bitter aftertaste like most of the black teas I've drunk. Michael and Joan were very good at describing the taste--"earthy" was one phrase they used. Yau Neih, Thad and I were a bit more limited in our ability to explain it. They brewed up a second batch of tea that was an older vintage. That was also good, though it had a stronger aftertaste. That was the tea which I would have described as "earthy". Ga Dai described it as "warehouse". Fortunately by this time, the director was busy setting up for his shoot.
Finally, we were ushered into the next room where we were seated at a dining table. Our classy glass tea cups were replaced with more prosaic porcelain cups with the L. Road Hotel logo emblazoned on the side. The tea also seemed to be of a more standard variety. I don't know if they had brought out the cheap stuff or if my taste buds had been burnt to the point of not being able to detect the nuances of flavor. Anyway we were seated and then they started rearranging us. They moved Siu Wan off to the side to start out with. They said they wanted to shoot the adults first, though I suspect that she didn't fit in with the "foreign" ambiance they were trying to achieve. We sat and drank and chatted while they shot from this angle and that. The camera lights would go on and off as they were taping and we tried hard not to watch what they were doing. Soon they started zooming in on particular people, which allowed the rest of us to stop drinking. Nothing wrong with the tea, it was just that I had had my fill. I was reminded of the tales I heard about filming beer or ice cream commercials where the crew would get sick of smelling the stuff. Not that we ever reached that point. Finally, they had got all their shots (even some of Siu Wan, who they pulled back to the table) and we moved back to the first room.
There commenced the interview part of the shoot. They set up the camera by one of the chairs and, one by one, we were ushered over for our time in the spotlight. Joan was interviewed first and was asked, predictably, about her experience with Chinese tea. Of course, she responded that she thought her tea came from India. They tried a few historical questions about the East India Tea Company and the Boston Tea Party. When they mentioned the latter, Yau Neih and the girls burst out laughing. (I
think I was able to suppress a chuckle, but couldn't swear that my reaction was inaudible.) Michael was next up and he was asked similar questions. He was also asked if he was aware that Queen Elizabeth II had received a pack of Pu'er tea when she had visited Kunming in the late '80s. Of course, he had no idea how she had enjoyed the tea, though he assumed she found it quite satisfying. He also elicited laughter when he mentioned that the Pu'er tea we had tasted might taste good with milk, as the British like to drink their tea.
My turn was next and I had to be scolded for not looking at the camera. I totally confused Thad when answering the question of what kind of tea I drank. I started mentioning all the varieties of flavorings like mint, herbal and chai spice. Such a concept might have been a tad sacrilegious, because my interview was quickly finished. I do have to admit, though, that I look far less classy than Michael or Joan. My appearance was more appropriate for a beer commercial--a cheap beer at that. Next Yau Neih had her turn and also received the short version of the interview. She confirmed the point that I made that tea is not a major part of the American experience. She was spared, however, the Boston Tea Party query which continued to inspire giggles each time it was asked. The final interviewee was Ga Dai, who became nervous as all get out. Afterwards, however, she exclaimed that she loved being on camera. We'll definitely have to get her in a drama class when we get back to the States.
Well, after the last interview we were politely thanked and ushered back to the van. As a thank you we were each given a box of the Pu'er tea. 'Twas quite a fancy package--I feel almost unworthy to drink it. Supposedly this documentary will be airing on local TV sometime next month. I suspect I may end up on the cutting room floor. Oh, well, that's showbiz.
Happy days are here again
Life has returned to "normal" with a vengeance! On Monday of last week the trickle of returning students became a steady stream and the cafeteria reopened for business. On Tuesday afternoon, Yau Neih received her class schedule for the term. She immediately conferred with Joan and Michael to readjust it. (Thad definitely spoils his foreign teachers.) She then spent the rest of the day preparing for classes. Her first class was at 8:00 am on Wednesday morning. But while these are all joyous events, the true highlight of the week came Thursday morning. The Pancake Lady returned! I was so happy I bought four pancakes; one for each of us. Of course, Yau Neih wanted pork buns from the Pork 'n' Taters Lady, so I had to eat two pancakes. I'll be back to size in no time. ;)
