The rains came down
Here I was the other day, moping about a misbehaving DVD player when I passed by some folks with real problems. Notice the photo posted on the right, the one showing the little garden plots on the banks of a stream. This shot was taken in the dry season. Well, now we've started the rainy season. We had a number of downpours last week, including a day or two of what seemed like constant rain. Well, a lot of that water, naturally found its way to the streams. So last Friday morn, I grabbed my umbrella and headed to the store. As I walked down the road adjacent to the stream I saw a woman down on the banks scooping up piles of sand and tossing them up onto the retaining wall. It didn't register at the time, but on the way back I noticed others placing rocks and sandbags in the stream. The creek rose and the plots were inundated. The folks who were gardening there had to do something to protect their garden--like deepening the channel or protecting the sand bank. It was just another reminder for me of how insulated a life I have always led. Flooding for me has only meant that my food has to be shipped from somewhere else. For the folks I passed the other day, it's hard work in a cold downpour and possibly no veggies for the table. I'm truly in a different world.
Yawn!
I should write something. I really should. It's hard to believe that living here would become routine, but there you go. Maybe I'm not just adventurous enough. Oh, well. I guess I need to learn the art of documenting the trivial. (More than I already do, I mean.)
I did attempt to fix a couple of drawers today. Way back
when I said that the furniture the college provided us was pretty good. For the most part, my assessment has been correct, but there seems to be a slight problem with the drawers here. They all have a tendency to fall off their tracks. Or in the case of my repair, the tracks fall off of the dares. I went out and picked up some screws and attempted to screw the tracks onto the drawer. This is how I discovered that the side boards on these drawers are fairly poor quality wood. I don't know what the National Lumber Association would call it, but I've tagged the stuff as "really thick cardboard". My attempts to drive a screw into this stuff resulted in the screw driving in about halfway and then splitting the "wood" and pushing the other half away. Oh, well. It fixed the drawer for the day. The next time it goes kaput I may have to break down and call Thad.
Be a Pepper
I have no silliness of my own to report, seeing how I have become quite boring in the past weeks, but there were some shenanigans afoot in the expatriate community yesterday which I can share with y'all.
The scenario is like this: when you move away from home, the things you leave behind become all the more precious. So if you get a chance to enjoy one of those things again, it's a big treat. Food items, especially, can be a big delight. Out here in the sticks of Yunnan, us Americans have a two tier sort of exile. There are many things from America that we cannot get here, but
some of those items one can get in Kunming, the provincial capital. So every trip to Kunming usually includes a shopping expedition to stock up on our favorite comfort foods. Of course, there are a couple of imported items that are available out here and occasionally a new item gets added to the list. Such an event is a pleasant surprise.
Anyway, the prank: One of the Americans in town, Pete, felt an urge to play
Candid Camera with his colleague, Marty. Marty loves Dr.Pepper, a soda that one can get in Kunming, but not out here. Unfortunately for Marty, the last time he was in Kunming, the store that imports Dr. Pepper was out. He had to return home empty handed. Pete, nice guy that he was, arranged to have a colleague buy some Dr. Pepper when she passed through Kunming recently. But Pete is a rascal, too, and didn't tell Marty. Instead, he set up a scam with a local grocery store. A number of the foreigners patronize the store and it stocks many imported items. Pete arranged with the owner to place the cans of Dr. Pepper in the cooler with the other sodas. Marty and Pete and their families were having dinner in a small restaurant a few doors down. This place doesn't have an extensive drink menu, so they often head over to the grocery store to fetch drinks. Pete asked Marty to go buy some and Marty went. He went to the cooler, saw the cans and, of course, grabbed them all. I'm told that it's all on tape, as Pete hid a couple of video cameras in the store--at least one in the cooler. Marty was quite delighted, but the scam started to unravel almost immediately. The store owner, of course, only charged Marty for the other sodas so the bill was too low. Eventually Pete fessed up. Hopefully Marty hadn't got his hopes raised too high. At least he did get a few cans of his favorite soda. Can't complain about that.
Best M-Day Present Ever
I know it's odd for a man to rave about a Mother's Day present, but rave I must. It was an ingenious plan, hatched by another mother. As the holiday approached, my kids dutifully made up their Mother's Day gifts. Ga Dai had cooked up a little musical number and Siu Wan had made up a little card/wall hanging. They were both quite nice. However, their plans were altered a bit the day before the event. A new expatriate family has rolled into town with three kids, the oldest being the same age as Siu Wan. We met them a couple weeks back and have started doing the playdate thing. Anyway, they had invited our girls over on Saturday morning. Yau Neih and the girls went over and Yau Neih chatted for a while. Then she came home to collect me and do the grocery shopping. Then plan was to meet up again for lunch, after which we would collect our kids. Apparently when Yau Neih left, Roxie--the other mom--sprung her idea on the girls: bake up a batch of chocolate chip cookies to give for Mother's Day. A nice gift for a woman who a) likes chocolate, b) has no oven of her own, and c) likes chocolate. (It's a
perfect gift if d) the chocolate loving woman is nice enough to share food presents with her family. But I digress...) What made it nicer was that it was totally unexpected. So Roxie gets my hero of the month award. I'd give her a cookie but, uh, they're all gone.
The question is, do we need to reciprocate for Father's Day? How long does it take to brew beer, anyway?
Yes, we have no bananas
One of the irritating things about homeschooling the kids here in China is when a project in the curriculum assumes that you live in the U.S. I mean, it's not their fault or anything--one can't expect them to cover every contingency. But it's irritating nonetheless.
The challenge this week was to buy a banana for a science experiment. The idea was to peel the banana, plop it in a jar and hope that some fruit flies will choose to stop for a bite. Then you cover the top with a nylon or something and watch the amazing lifestyle of fruit flies. Easy enough, I guess. Except that out here you don't have fruit stocked year 'round the way it is in the States. (Actually, I'm just assuming that one can buy bananas year 'round in the States. I rarely have done the main shopping back home and we avoid buying bananas if at all possible.) Out here in Yunnan, it's more back to nature. When the produce ripens, it's for sale. Once it rots or sells out, you're out of luck.
Anyway, the other day we set out to the store and I have banana on the top of my shopping list. Should be no problem, I thought, since I had been seeing bananas for a few weeks. Of course, when we get to the store, there's nary a banana in sight. Watermelons are spilling over into the aisles, but bananas? Pfft. I wasn't too worried at this development, as this particular market is not real strong in the produce department. We simply bought the rest of the items on the list and then the ladies headed home while I went out on a banana quest. I chose the second closest farmers' market since that was closer to another spot where fruit vendors gathered. As I trekked over hill and dale, I kept an eye out for any individual vendor who might be hawking their wares on the curb. I saw a number, naturally, but none of them were offering bananas. As I walked, the possibility that bananas were gone for the season crossed my mind. Another thought that hit me was that I probably could substitute an apple or some other fruit and I was really hiking across town for nothing. But I was already committed, so I figured to at least peek at the market before giving up.
When I got to the market, I was in luck. There was one vendor alongside the sidewalk with a basket of bananas. They looked pretty sorry, but then I figured the flies wouldn't be too finicky. I asked how much and I think she said five
mao. Now when I had my handful of language lessons back in the States, I was told that the currency of the People's Republic of China is the
yuan and the
jiao. (ten
jiao make one
yuan) They even have that written on the older bills. When I got to China, however, everybody's calling them
kuai and
mao. Very frustrating. But I digress. As I was saying, the vendor lady said five
mao. So I grabbed this little, half black banana that's sitting in the back of the basket. The lady, however, grabs a bunch of bananas and hands them to me. I indicate that I only want the single banana, so she then holds up a single finger. I smile and pull open the wallet. Since I don't trust my language ability, I start to pull out a
kuai note and ask her if she said one
yuan. I don't know what possessed me to do that--maybe I want to err on the side of generosity or something. Anyway, she says "no" and starts to indicate that I don't have to pay her. Folks here tend to prefer losing a
kuai or two rather than to have to make change. Anyway, I did not want to cheat her out of her penny, so I quickly pulled out a
mao note and handed it to her. She took it and then started to pull a good banana out of the bunch in her hand. The one I had taken, after all, was a very sorry looking piece of fruit. I had nowhere near the language I'd need to explain that I was shopping for bugs, so I just refused the offer, indicated that I wanted the banana in my hand, and then quickly skedaddled, I'm sure that I left her with the impression that Americans are just plain nuts and can eat anything.
Telecommuting
I just got a letter from a former co-worker yesterday, telling the latest news from my old job. Another co-worker of ours has recently moved down to Oregon and apparently my former boss said that she could help out part time via the 'net. Hmmm, I wonder if I could swing a deal like that? I could see it now: I download some carton or another--the Simplified Chinese version, of course. I do the prep work, print out a laser print and go find one of the students. Then I can ask them, "Hey, read this. Does this sound stupid or what?"
(Of course, if I
were to work online with my current set-up, the company would have to go back to using PageMaker....)
Imperialism
Thinking about the previous post, I suppose I should mention something that's been on my mind on and off since January. As you probably know, we Americans are notoriously monolingual. It seems like every school system in the world is better at imparting a second language to their people than the U.S. Now up 'til January, I never thought much about that. I'd just 'fess up to being stupid and mumble something about trying to learn Spanish. As to the rest of my countryfolk, I would just accept the criticism that we are too self centered and should endeavor to be more multi-lingual.
Anyway, January rolls around and Yau Neih goes to her conference in Thailand. One of the presenters there talks about this language issue and pointed out the obvious reason behind this situation: Americans aren't bilingual because we don't
have to be. We're the big superpower. We control a big chunk of global wealth and might. The reason why many people study English is so that they can speak the language of the Empire and get a piece of the pie. For us Americans, the language is ours practically by birthright.
Now while this epiphany made me feel good that my people weren't necessarily selfish or stupid, it also made me feel a bit guilty. I mean, I just want to be plain folks. I don't want to be some swaggering global aristocrat, throwing my money and power around. But, like the presenter also pointed out, I can't help it. Yau Neih got a good job here primarily because she happened to be a native speaker of English. She never put in the extra work of learning it as did the national English teachers here. It's kind of ridiculous, really, that we can come halfway around the world and work in a foreign country teaching their students without having to learn their language. But we've got what they want.
Another point made by the presenter that Yau Neih passed onto me was that "even though we ride into town on the imperial chariot, we can get out and walk." The big example the presenter used was to endeavor to learn the local language and culture. I guess I would add having a proper attitude. Being born American wasn't due to any inherent worthiness on our part. We were just born at a time when America was important. Maybe 100 years from now things will have changed and my great-grandchildren will be sweating their Mandarin exams. Or Spanish. Or Tamil. Or maybe even Samburu. (Okay, Samburu is a long shot. But I just love saying the word. Sam-BOO-rhu.)
A good essay would have a conclusion right about now. But this, of course, isn't a good essay. (Siu Wan would point out that a good essay wouldn't have sentences that start with conjunctions, for one thing.) I'm still trying to figure out exactly how to do the "get out and walk" thing. I'll probably do that right up until I go home. And then I'll start pondering about how I should be living back in the States. (For example, do I let my Chinese studies follow my Spanish into history? Or do I try to keep a connection?) So many questions. Ah, well. Even a citizen of the empire has to muddle along sometimes.
Names will never hurt me
Ah, I think I must have left my muse in Kunming or something. That, or I'm watching too much TV, which of course strangles the imagination. Anyway, I have nothing to write save for a little comment on names. Back in September, I wrote about Yau Neih starting classes and
bestowing English names on most of her students. I was a bit uneasy with it, I recall. I said something like:
...when I think about the whole naming process, I'm of two minds. On one hand, it seems a tad degrading to have to surrender one's name to the conventions of a college program. Especially since the name is handed out by a teacher who may have just met you. On the other hand, I can see how it might be fun to get into the whole course of study and establish oneself with another identity.
Well, just today Yau Neih tried to liven up a boring exercise for the class. Instead of just having students diagram the sentence, or whatever they did, she would have someone come up to the board, do the task, and then pick someone else to do the next one. She said that they could use their fellow students' English names or real ones. Surprisingly, most everyone used the English monikers. This prompted Yau Neih to ask them about how often they used their English names with one another. Quite a lot apparently. They mentioned using them in conversation and even when cheering each other on in basketball games. While it's not a universal practice--there was one time when I was socializing with the faculty here and they didn't even know each others' English names--it was a bit surprising that those names picked up off a xeroxed list would take root like they did. It's almost scary, what affect the teacher's actions will have on their students. I'm kind of glad it's her and not me doing the job. Then again, I suppose it's nice to have a legacy....
Photo op
(Would it be ethical to change the date on this post to last week, when I said I'd post this? Didn't think so.)
Like I mentioned before, during our trip to Kunming, we took a corporate outing to the zoo. There isn't many people in our "corporation", so we all fit in two vans. (called
mien bao che or "bread cars", since they're shaped like a loaf of bread) I had read bad things about zoos here in China, so I never would have chosen this activity myself. But since our boss had already scoped it out, I figured it would be all right. We trucked on up to the north end of town up into some foothills.
The zoo looked pretty good--all nice and new. The animal pens seemed a bit smaller than the zoos back in the States, but then, the last zoo I went to is the Brookfield Zoo, which is a pretty major operation. The first stop we made was amongst the lions and tigers. There was a wooden deck built up between four separate yards, and from there you can look down upon the animals. For ten
kuai one can buy a piece of meat attached to a pole via a string and feed the animals. We found this same setup at the wolf and bear pens in other spots of the park. At first it seemed like a neat idea--the ability to interact with the animals safely. But then I saw some folks teasing the animals with the meat and had to revise my opinion.
After the tigers we ventured over to the small animal cages. Monkeys, apes, lemurs and an exotic animal called a raccoon. (Our Minnesotan co-worker got a big kick out of that.) As we neared the end of that area, we saw a man with a trained monkey. He was letting a boy hold it while his mother (I thought) took some pictures. Then I realized that the photographer was actually a park employee. Anyway, I enjoyed watching the kid's photo session, but then the man walked over to me. He grabbed my hand and plopped the monk on it. I then spent a couple of minutes making various poses with the monk. I slipped the camera to Ga Dai, so she could take some shots. Once I was done, Yau Neih got roped into getting the monkey treatment. I started to take some shots, but then was scolded by the monkey trainer. Apparently any souvenir shots need to be purchased from the official shutterbug. Partly out of guilt I ended up springing 20
kuai for two monkey shots. I also kept the pix Ga Dai and I shot, rationalizing that they didn't
ask us if we wanted a monkey on our head.
We found the whole photo scam thing going on throughout the park. It seemed like we were lucky to get the cheap one. If you wanted to be photographed atop an elephant or a camel, you were charged 10
kuai for the privilege of taking your own photo. If you wanted the services of a park photographer, the price jumped up to 20. There were also other feeding opportunities--1
kuai would get you a banana for the elephants or a bag of seed for the peacocks. All in all, they provided many opportunities for one to divest his or her self of one's money. Gee, just like home.
The rest of the morning was pretty much like home as well. We hopped a tram which drove us through the area for grazing animals. It had stops for the elephant and the bird shows and then, surprisingly, ended. We had to hoof our way back to the front gate. (There was a sort of roller coaster type car on a track that ran down the hill, but it wasn't running.) It was a slight challenge to get back because the provided map was not bilingual. Just about all of the signs were, however. I figure that they either had used up their translation budget or got sick of coddling the monolingual
mei guo ren. But I suppose you can't blame them. I mean, we did opt for the cheapest monkey shots after all.
For the birds
There are many times when life back in the States seems like a distant dream. (Or is life here the dream? Funny, I don't feel like a butterfly.) Then there's the moments when my distant home makes itself felt. This happened the other day and, in fact, it
was my home that was causing the problem.
A number of years ago we realized the American dream and purchased our own mortgage. It came with a little blue house that was originally built in 1925. The house is what I would term a fixer-upper. I had a nice list of things that should be fixed or improved as the years wore on. Well, the years wore on and some of the things on the list did get fixed and/or improved. But there were also things on the list that weren't so bad. We learned to live without the improvements. So then 2005 rolls around and we want to go to China and rent our house. Suddenly my to do list became much more important. The repainting that I had been thinking about became my ongoing chore. The shower that we had learned to live without suddenly became a needed improvement. It was kind of ironic that our house became much nicer just as we were about to leave it.
But while I made great strides on my to do list last summer, I didn't finish all of it. Some things which one day might be improved were left as is, and I'm sure that I forgot to make a couple of repairs. My conviction stems from an e-mail we received the other day. Our rental agent sent a mail stating that birds had nested in the vent pipe over our stove. Oops. That was one of those items on my original to-do list. Our house has seen a number of remodeling jobs over the years--some done quite well, others not so. One of the latter was the addition of a fan above the stove. The person who put it in ran the vent pipe over to the south end of the house, punched an irregular hole into the wall and simply stuck the twisted pipe out of the hole. The guy who inspected the place before we bought it had recommended that we put a vent covering over it, to keep the wind out. After buying the house I eventually scrambled up onto the roof and investigated the project. Because of the bent pipe, I couldn't just slap a vent cover on it. I'd have to mend the hole and bang the pipe back into shape. Anyway, since it was a more challenging fix, I put it off and off again. Then, a few years back, a group of pigeons decided they liked our bird feeder, and took up residence on our roof. They would often sit on the roof of our back porch and their coos would resonate down into our kitchen. 'Twas annoying, but it was one of those things that was relatively easy to adapt to.
Anyway, when the great home improvement rush of 2005 came, fixing the vent pipe was one of those things that just slipped my mind. (I hope it was the
only thing that slipped my mind....) So the pipe stayed uncovered as we packed up and headed out and our tenants finally signed the lease and moved in. Receiving the mail from our rental agent was both amusing and embarrassing. We hadn't intended to stick the tenants with piped in birdsong, but there you go. Our agent said that he assumed we wanted them to go ahead and fix the problem. (which he estimated would cost around $85) We told him to go ahead, but that it needed to be fixed was not the obvious assumption for us anymore. But try explaining that one... Anyhoo, if nothing else, at least this China venture has forced us to spruce up the ol' homestead.
