So I must apologize that I haven’t posted in three weeks now either. Let’s just say that between an intense end-of-the-semester workload, Thanksgiving plans, and more, I’ve had trouble finding time to sleep, let alone blog! That said, I officially have all of seven precious days left in China. Even though I should probably be studying for my finals this week, I’d rather be blogging since I finally thought up a way to share snippets from the past seven months with you.
6:45 am: Hit snooze for the first time. 6:50 am: Hit snooze again, knock my alarm clock off of the table in the process. 6:53 am: Finally mumble and grumble out of bed, make myself a small cup of instant coffee in the blue plastic Nescafe mug that came free with my box of the instant stuff (it’s hard to find real coffee in China). Sit at my desk (the one on the left) and sip on coffee as I scurry to write out my characters for my daily dictation at 8, and maybe distract myself by checking email and reading a New York Times article or two. 7:35 am: Throw on some clothes, brush my teeth, and grab books for the day! 7:50 am: Arrive in my classroom, read the blackboard full of characters as practice for my dictation. 8:00 am: Dictation.
Despite the scarily large amount of studying that I sometimes have to do (okay, maybe I really do know that desk a little too well…), nightlife and having fun has still been a significant part of my study abroad experience. For a friend’s birthday over the summer, we went to Houhai, which is one in a series of small lakes in central Beijing. Houhai’s known for being a bit touristy (see above: boats you can rent for a spin around the lake), and can be almost a little gaudy at times, with plush sofas lining the streets, bright lights flashing everywhere, music blaring, and bartenders on the street heckling each foreigner who passes by to come take a seat and have a cold drink. But amidst the overwhelming sights and sounds of bars and clubs jousting to attract foreigners, there are some treasures tucked away. Houhai has an excellent Jazz club, situated on the second floor of a creaky wooden building overlooking the whole lake, not to mention a delicious Vietnamese restaurant. There was also the time that a friend sweet-talked her way out of paying the door fee at a club; four of us got in free and danced for a good two hours to our hearts’ content. Oh, Houhai, in all your outlandish splendor, I will miss you!
There’s an old Chinese proverb that says, “he who has not been to the Great Wall is not a true man.” Guess I can affirm my manliness now (jokes jokes!) hehe. Despite its sexism, the essence of that quotation is very true, which is that the Great Wall has become an indispensable symbol of China and a must-see for all tourists. Even though this summer, when the picture was taken, it was actually my second time on the Mutianyu section of the Great Wall, this time was new and different. First of all, along with my classmates and teachers, I braved the somewhat rugged path from the base of the mountain (if you can call it that…) all the way up to the wall itself (instead of taking the chairlift like before), which exhausted our legs just in time for the steep steps of the wall. I also skipped the toboggan ride on the way down, which I experienced the first time (yeah, I know, right? Who knew the Great Wall had a toboggan?) Secondly, it was the Fourth of July. If I hadn’t been busy climbing one of China’s most amazing feats of architecture and display of human power, I probably would have been busy moping about the hot air balloon rides, dunk tank, burgers, apple pie, ice cream, and of course, fireworks, that I was missing at home. But as much as there’s nothing that can replace the experience of spending the 4th at home with family and friends, how many people get to say they’ve spent the 4th of July on the Great Wall of China?!?
Even though the above photo is not of the greatest quality, I included it because it represents one of my favorite stories from my travels with ACC. While in Datong, a city northwest of Beijing, some friends and I were walking home from dinner back to our hotel when we came across these three boys playing in the dirt street. They’d discovered that the half-finished sewer in the neighborhood had a great, loud echo, and were talking to each other by speaking into the sewer. When one of my friends smiled and said hi, the little boy, observing her clearly non-Chinese appearance, asked aloud, “How come you can speak Chinese?” My friend, using her funny bone, replied, “How come YOU can?!” “Because I’m Chinese!” came the quick reply. The boys scampered off to continue their sewer-echo experiments, and we continued our walk home. Though it was a brief encounter, it wasn’t exactly a rare one, in the sense that many Chinese are surprised to hear a bunch of Americans constantly speaking Mandarin to each other. Just last weekend while shopping in Hongqiao market, more than one vendor commented #1: on how good our Chinese was (which they often state and then use as later evidence that they are not trying to trick you…sometimes they do actually give you lower prices if you speak the language! But sometimes they still want to cheat you out of a bargain) and #2: how strange it was that we non-Chinese were speaking Mandarin to each other. For me, that’s one of the biggest things that I can anticipate about the reverse-culture shock I’ll face at home: language shock!
Beijing’s avant-garde district, 798, has become another essential treasure of the city. On my third visit this summer, I went to see Yan Pei-Ming’s “Landscape of Childhood,” an experiential art exhibit displayed this August at UCCA (http://www.ucca.org.cn). A former compound of military factory buildings, Dashanzi (798’s more formal name) has been transformed into a haven for China’s modern artists. Strolling through 798, one encounters many a gallery, art bookstore, souvenir shop, hip sidewalk cafe, artist’s studio, and giant plastic red dinosaur in a cage. Wait, come again? No, that’s right, the dino is one of my favorite parts of the interesting walks through 798 that I’ve taken. I’m not sure if he’s a permanent part of the landscape, but he fits right into the surreal mood, making you wonder whether you’re really in Beijing any more, or where the heck you are, for that matter. Another aspect I love about 798 is that just by glancing around at various artists’ work, it is clear that each makes a different statement about his view on life, and through their work, these artists represent Chinese opinions that refuse to be suppressed by the government. I always find 798 so thought-provoking in part because of the sometimes on-purpose, sometimes inadvertent commentaries on the Chinese government.
Heading to Yunnan Province for vacation over the summer was a great reminder to me that though Beijing has many wonderful sights and secrets, there’s so much more to China than just Beijing! I took these two pictures on a bike ride through the countryside. We had no map, no plan, just bikes, and time. We biked all through a village in the town of Dali, witnessing a rice-paddy in the process of being harvested, and naturally, a cow strolling the lanes with his owner. Dali’s weather was also a stark contrast from the Beijing pollution; the juxtaposition of the spring green rice paddies against the clear blue and white of the puffy cloud-filled sky was almost too good to be true. The moderate temperature and refreshing breeze let us escape from sweltering Beijing afternoons and helped us survive our bike ride.
I had heard before just how important gaokao (China’s college entrance examination) is to determining a student’s fate, but I don’t think gaokao‘s significance ever struck me quite as hard as when I visited Confucius Temple this fall and saw the innumerable red plaques, each of which represented a parent’s wish on behalf of their child for success when taking the gaokao (see this great article in the NYTimes about it! http://www.nytimes.com/2009/06/13/world/asia/13exam.html). Coming from a culture where extracurricular activities, “balance,” and “commitment” are repeatedly stressed by college admissions officers, in some ways, even after witnessing my host family’s daughter begin her preparation for gaokao as a sophomore in high school, it is still hard for me to fathom one test consuming my life and determining my fate. That just makes me admire all the more the many Chinese college students who still see college as a privilege, and not a right. In the US, I’ve often been told, “College is the best time in your life! Enjoy it!” After seven months away from Georgetown spent relishing a whole different kind of experience, I doubt I’ll have much trouble this spring carrying out those words of advice to the fullest.
Part 2 to come soon!
