Thanksgiving

Oh dear, I am dreadfully behind.  To all of you back home: I am sorry.  There is much to tell and I will get you those stories soon. First and foremost, though, is Thanksgiving.

       As Thanksgiving neared, I had very low expectations.  I thought we were going to have a small, low key meal in one of our dorms eating Peking duck and a small medley of traditional western dishes.  And indeed, up to the night before, that was the plan.  Penny got a package from her lovely husband, who we are ever so in his debt for all the delicious things he continually sends, which included stuffing, cranberry sauce (doesn’t exist in China), a gravy packet, and other delicious things.  I went to Chengdu the night before to buy things for a pumpkin pie, sweet potato casserole, turkey legs, and dinner rolls.  I was out shopping when I got a text from Luke.  It said: “The school is buying us 2 turkeys.”  (Which we could only find at the high end grocery store for 600 RMB)  In shock, I called around and finally found out that the school had gotten wind that Thanksgiving is a big day for Westerners and they wanted to help us do it right.  They bought us 2 twenty pound turkeys and had reserved the kitchen at the fanciest hotel restaurant in Pengshan for Luke and I to cook it in.  Ok, this was getting more and more epic.  (During this game of phone tag and details emerging, Luke was at the teacher’s dance, which you will hear about soon).  So, I bought things for baking and drinking (Jim Beam and Rogue microbrew beer are what we splurge on for the holiday here) and slept in the hostel that night.  That night I shared a room with a Japanese couple who was travelling and only spoke Chinese.  I consider it a huge success that I talked to them for 45 minutes about their travels and my life in only broken Chinese.  Getting better every day! 

       The next day I got up very early and took the commuter bus to school and taught my last class of the week.  We drew turkey hands and talked about Thanksgiving food.  Then began the cooking.  We soon found out that the turkeys were cooked already for us and the hotel kitchen was no longer an option.  So, we needed an oven.  We soon learned, though, that we had use of the entire teacher dining hall kitchen and foods.  AND, that they had bought us 10 pounds of bacon and 10 pounds of pasta, 2 large jars of Mayo, and 6 ketchup bottles.  And expected us to cook with all of them.  Hahahahaha.  Perfectly Chinese, and so, so sweet.  It was soon sorted out that we could use the oven at the bakery below us, so Luke got to work making pumpkin pie (out of the steamed pumpkin from lunch—only slow cooked for us!) and I went down to make dinner rolls.  Emily (one of the foreign affairs officers) came with me and helped knead dough and make rolls.  The bakery found it quite interesting to see the foreigner go and gathered around to watch.  After the rolls went into the oven, they offered me a job!  And a Chinese bakery looks much the same on the inside as an American one, except that they lack soap at the sink, and I am discovering that this is a universal trend in China.  For a people so obsessed with cleanliness, I’m baffled at why they don’t use soap.

Emily at the bakery

       When the rolls came out looking delicious and perfect, we gathered around and tried one.  “HHHHHHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm” I immediately said.  They were perfectly American rolls.  And delicious.  We gave one to the bakers and as soon as they bit into it their eyes narrowed and they looked thoughtful. They said a string of Chinese to Emily, who looked horrified, and after some prodding said that they didn’t like them.  “Too bland and dense.  They said you did something wrong.”  Needless to say, they retracted their job offer and I do not work as a teacher and baker now, just teacher. 

Luke mashing some taters

       The rest of the afternoon was a blur of traditional Thanksgiving cooking stress.  We got the pie baked, got the sweet potato casserole baked nearly all the way, but it wasn’t perfect to me, made pasta sauce with ketchup, and Luke made deviled eggs and got the monster kitchen staff cooking 4 pieces of bacon at a time in their huge woks.  Incredible thing to see.  And all the while two other women were busy cooking an entire Chinese feast to compliment this.  In between trips to the oven, I snuck some glimpses into our KTV room (yes, we had Thanksgiving dinner in a KTV lounge) and was astounded.  It looked very regal.  I quickly discovered that the turkeys still had their heads and 22 pounds must have been the live weight—these were scrawny turkeys.  BUT, one must remember that turkeys at all are a rarity in China and scrawny or not, we had turkey for Thanksgiving in China!

       Dinner was indeed regal.  The Chairman of the Board for Jinjiang College, the man who donated 10 million USD to start the school, was our host.  He couldn’t speak a word of English, but from Dr. Zou’s translating, I liked him a lot.  We also ate with the International office staff, the old president, the stand-in president for when the president is away (does this make him the vice president?), and others who I forget.  All dinner long our wine glasses were never empty and near the end we got to open the Hennessy XO cognac, which was a first for me.  All I can say is that its expensive for a reason and I wish I had more.  Dinner was perfect and we ate more than we should, only after going around and saying what we were thankful for.  And Luke declared the tradition official: from now on, bacon for every Thanksgiving.  And maybe XO if we can afford it.  My favorite, as always, was the stuffing.  And the turkey, albeit a Chinese cooked turkey, was great. 

The Vice-President, Dr. Zhou, and the Chairman

       We ended Thanksgiving like all good Chinese parties: with KTV.  We sang with the Chairman, who has a pretty good voice, and opened the very fancy bottle of whiskey that was given to us along with the 2 bottles of XO.  Turns out it was Chivas Regal Royal Salute whiskey, was in a blue bottle, looked very, very royal and tasted more so.  The chairman left, the high ups left, our foreign office left, and some friends came.  We lost track of time as the cognac disappeared, the blue bottle emptied, and more and more songs became within our range of singing.  Finally the cognac disappeared and it was 2 am.  Then the whiskey was finished around 2:30-3 (not so sure) and we realized that the poor women who run the KTV place was waiting for us to go.  As we were packing up, we came across a box of wine, a box of beer, and a box of Sprite.  In the heat of the moment, Sam rushed out with the box of wine in her arms and Alex in tow with the Sprite and beer. 

       The last detail of the night was the phone call I got from Robin when she and her mom went home at around midnight.  “She struck again!” was all I could get out of Robin before she hung up to run back to KTV.  On Halloween, I got back to my room at night and found a freshly carved jack-o-lantern at my door.  It was an incredibly perfect jack-o-lantern for a Chinese person; round pumpkin with the traditional crooked smile and triangle eyes.  No note accompanied the pumpkin, just the implication of a secret admirer.  I laughed it off and could not figure out who did such a thing (especially since we had bought Pengshan out of pumpkins).  And now on Thanksgiving, Robin rushes back into KTV at midnight with a wrapped package and a note attached to a turkey-on-a-swing figurine.  The note read “To: Matthew   Happy Thanksgiving!!  And, did you like the Jack-O-Lantern?  From: Ann”  The note was pinned on with an earring that was a clock.  The present was three metal license plates that had The Beatles Abbey Road album cover, The Rolling Stones cover, and Linkin Park cover on them.  And some sticky putty to put them up in my room.  It was very sweet and now I had a clue: look for the Ann with one clock earring on around campus, because I don’t have an Ann in any of my classes. 

       Thanksgiving in China proved to be rather epic, complete with Turkeys cooked Sichuan style and still had their heads on, a feast of American Thanksgiving food and Chinese food fit for an army (the prawns were ENORMOUS!), eating with the Chairman of the Board for our college, KTV for 5 hours, and very nice liquor.  Luke put it eloquently when he texted me the next morning, saying “the consensus from the head of the third floor: I personally drank my salary in alcohol last night.”  We found out while it might not be quite accurate, it is a great way to remember Thanksgiving in China.  The Chairman said the sweet potato casserole was absolutely “perfect” and asked that if he donated more money to the school if I would run a western kitchen on the third floor.  High praise, but no word on it now, a month later.  That’s probably for the best.  And so, Thanksgiving 2011 in China, three traditions were born: karaoke, bacon, and Hennessy.  I think only the bacon is sustainable, but only time will tell.  

Robin didn't leave a crumb

a new chinese poem

A new poem taught to Luke and I today by Li Jian:

美女， 美女，我愛你
就像老鼠愛大米

Mei nu, mei nu, wo ai ni,
jiu xiang lao shu ai da mi




Translation:

Beautiful girl, beautiful girl, I love you,
Just like a mouse loves rice.

He told us to tell all the female teachers at the dance tonight this poem.

A mob, a mountain, and many busses

We were recently gifted with our first visitor to our home here in Pengshan- Momma Alice and her daughter (and our friend from Crested Butte) Whitney.  They came on a Wednesday, got the whirlwind tour from the college which seemed to last 36 hours straight, (I’ve noticed that planning your entire visit without consulting you is a reoccurring Chinese theme) after which we got to spend some time with them.  We decided a short trip to downtown Pengshan was necessary, so we hopped into a cab and got out at Pungzu Square.  Waiting for us was an enormous group of 3^rd graders.  They were all lined up at the entrance with the teachers trying to hold them in an orderly group, which was working until they saw us.  It was cute; Alice took some photos; and we walked past them after lots of “hello” and waves.  Continuing into the square after seeing them waiting to go in was our first mistake.

       We walked to the big statue of Pungzu himself overlooking Pengshan, the man who has been claimed to have lived 800 years (I am ever dubious, but my classes seem split 50/50 as to if it’s the truth).  We were enjoying the view of the river when we heard the cries and growing roar of 300 3^rd graders running up the stairs toward us.  Our second mistake was not running right then and there.

      

       Please understand, at first it was fun and kind of sweet.  They gathered around us (probably the first foreigners they have ever seen) and asked where we were from, what were our names, and so on.  Imagine: each of us an island surrounded by a sea of Chinese 3^rd graders that surged and crashed, but never ebbed.  It was like a high tide coming in when you are at the base of a cliff.  But it was ok, manageable, until I made the third and fatal mistake. 

       And it was an innocent mistake.  Believe me, I had no ill intentions.  One kid just asked how to spell my name.  So I wrote it for him on a piece of paper with his pen and handed it back.  Honest mistake, right?  Suddenly, floating eyes on the ocean’s surface widened as one singular thought rippled throughout the mass:

The foreigner is giving autographs!

       Suddenly I was confronted with more pens than I could count and papers being shoved in my face.  I got about 20 off, thinking this was really funny and also realizing I have a completely illegible signature.  I looked over and saw the phenomenon spreading to Luke’s, Alice’s, and Whitney’s oceans.  But it quickly got out of hand.  Kids got nasty--pushing each other out of the way, yelling when I didn’t grab their paper, grabbing other’s signatures.  So we all bailed at the same time.  Pushing my way out and holding my hands up the way I imagine Brad Pit does walking out of a press conference, I battled the surging tide and swam for freedom.  One kid got in front of me with a set expression on his face and began body checking me when I pushed past him.  It seemed to capture the desperation of the situation- this tiny 3^rd grader trying to hold me back, the 6ft tall American, for more autographs.  He wasn’t successful.

       We escaped to our favorite yogurt shop, feeling completely overwhelmed.  This had never happened before to us, any of us.  Glad to have escaped with our lives, we laughed at the thought that we had just created a black market at the school for the few autographs they got from the foreigners in Pungzu Square.

The next day we set out on a three day journey west into the Tibetan Plateau.  As has become our tradition, we started it with baotzi in a bag after sunrise.  

 

       We had an hour long ride into Chengdu, after which we got onto a public bus and for 105 RMB, drove for 18 hours into the mountains.  When asking around about this bus, we got a wide range of answers for how long it would take to get to Gong Ga Shan, our destination.  Gilbert said 3.  Dr. Zou said 8.  A map I had said 7.  And other fell in between.  So, when the bus stopped at a little shop on the side of the road after 3.5 hours, we were hopeful we were almost there.  Nope, just a Chinese noodle break.  By now, Luke and I have become connoisseurs of dried ramen noodle bowls. After that stop, however, the scenery began to draw me away from my book.  We drove up tall and steep canyons, zigzagged up switchbacks which were just mind blowing (so sharp and numerous) as they went up the mountain like a ladder, and finally through an enormous tunnel that was 难以想象(nan yi xiang xiang; you can’t imagine), taking us through a mountain.  What we saw on the other side seemed to make the entire bus gasp.  We had entered the DaDu River drainage and were now in the Himalayan Plateau.  The valley dropped nearly vertically from the road as we wound our way down (more switchbacks), but what was amazed me most was the lack of smog.  It wasn’t clear, there were clouds, but they were clouds.  You could see under them.  It was beautiful; I felt as if I had come home.

       I sat next to a young woman from Shanghai travelling to the glacier on her own.  We talked most of the ride, me learning some Chinese and her learning some English.  I am constantly amazed with how much a smile, patience, a little Chinese, and a desire to learn will make you friends here in China.  Also, I’m impressed with how friendly most people are.  She shared her French truffles with me, which was one of the best things I have had here.  Thinking about them now makes my mouth water.  With such good company and scenery to look at, the 8 hours flew by.  And it was 8 hours, by the way.  We arrived in Moxi after driving up a narrow valley from the DaDu River.  Saw this bridge along the way, which was one of the craziest we’ve seen yet.  I have been surprised with the crazy bridges that I see linking people’s homes across the river to the road, some being straight from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, but this was the best so far.

 

       Moxi had a small quiet feel to it.  I immediately liked it.  Our crew getting off the bus.  Notice Luke, as ever, looking up Chinese words on his magic device.

 

       After some exploring and walking around, we found a hotel that we bargained down a bit to 100 RMB a night with 2 beds.  It was very comfortable and had a this great view of the mountains out the window:

       We found a small restaurant that did the most amazing thing when we walked in.  They gestured for us to follow them into the kitchen, where they proudly showed us all the vegetables and meats they had to cook with.  It all looked delicious and their excitement about food won me over instantly.  We had some of the best eggplant and fried rice of China there in that little family restaurant in the mountains of Moxi.  They gave us yak butter tea, which Luke finished but I couldn’t.  It felt like drinking butter, which would take me some getting used to.  I thought of my dad’s stories of eating sticks of butter on the Iditarod.  The host of the family looked our age or younger, but when Momma Alice asked (which apparently isn’t rude) he turned out to be 29.  The Chinese do age well.  We sat around a fire we found later on the street and watched rabbit, goat, chicken, and sheep being roasted.  It was great to sit next to a fire.  Seeing the stars again kept me staring outside in the shadow between two street lights late that night.  This will never get old, I thought.

Saturday morning

 

       Saturday was dedicated to seeing the glacier and the park, Hai Luo Gou.  Despite getting up at 7:00, we were late by Chinese standards and had to fight the crowd to buy entrance tickets and board the busses going up the valley.  This feels more like a mosh pit than a line and involves a great deal of pushing, getting your arm through and letting your body follow, and yelling in Chinese.  I’m not a fan.  When one man was particularly rude, I learned that “ni mei you li mao” means “you have no manners”.  But we eventually got on the bus and drove the breath-taking hour up the valley and to the base camp village.  It was an incredible day- completely clear in all directions, with crisp air of autumn but warm from so much sun.  Declining the 150 RMB cable car ride up, we took the 2 km hiking trail to the glacier “tongue”.

 

       It was paradise for me, walking through the forest surrounded by all the smells and sounds. AND, the trees were HUGE for Chinese trees (because most have been cut down).  I walked with my head straight up for a good bit of the walk. Cresting a rise, we reached the incredible view of the glacier and the tallest mountain outside of Tibet in China: Mt. GongGa.  We took plenty of photos.  

 

We walked over with glacier, drinking ice melt, exploring the cracks and fins, throwing snowballs (the first of this season), soaking up the sun, and most of all, staring in awe at a mountain 24,000 feet tall (the tallest I’ve ever seen).  We were extremely lucky, for we heard that the mountain is usually veiled in clouds.  We walked back and found that China has a deciduous conifer, just like the Western Larches and Tamaracks of the West (I was the most excited about this find). 

Deciduous conifer!

 

       More bussing followed to get back to Moxi and our hotel beds.  A great day, but it ended with us learning that the bus station was sold out of tickets to Chengdu for tomorrow.  Our host said that she would have a driver in the morning for us and would have it all worked out.  We slept soundly, and warmly (it was very chilly at night, which felt welcoming), that night.

       Sunday was an epic.  We got in a taxi-looking car at 7:30 and drove down the valley and along the DaDu for awhile.  Then we stopped next to another guy parked on the road and they talked very fast for a long time.  The driver turned to Luke and spoke very fast again.  Luke’s guess was that this guy would take us to Chengdu.  But would he drive us to Chengdu?  No, he would take us to Chengdu.  We didn’t get anywhere, so our driver drove us to a parking lot with busses pulling into it and this other driver followed us.  A bus would pull up to this building, everyone would get out and be greeted by people in hospital coats, and everyone would go inside.  This was not a bus station.  Now we were worried that we were going to be stuck somewhere and not know how to get back to Chengdu.  Eventually, we were led to one of the busses, asked to pay the new guy 100 RMB each, and were allowed to get on the empty bus.  The drivers left.  Were we ever confused and a little worried.  Thankfully, everyone got back on shortly and one gentleman was from Malaysia and spoke really good English.  Turns out we were now part of a tour that ended in Chengdu!  This tour involved stopping at a jewelry store and a meat market where we got to sample a hoard of dried and cooked meats, including yak.  I learned how to use toothpicks as chopsticks.  A few turns down the tasting lines and lunch was finished.  We got back on the bus and we were stopped by the police along the side of the road.  The driver got into a long “discussion” with the police man, after which he came into the bus and removed one seat form the back row.  Everyone looked confused by this maneuver.  But after the police had the seat, we were free to go.  Luke’s best guess was that the bus permit allowed for one seat less than the bus had.  Oh, China. 

       The morning car ride and the tour prolonged an 8 hour bus ride into a 12 hour bumpy, lurching, and heaving ordeal, but I got some major reading done.  I am so glad to have a Kindle (so far the best survival tool for traveling).  When we entered the tunnel through the mountain, we left the clear skies and snow capped peaks of the Himalayas behind.  When we came out, we re-entered the smoggy void of the Sichuan basin.  I was less than excited to go back, but rejuvenated.  Seeing GongGa Shan felt like I was completing something begun when we first got here.  It was GongGa that drew Luke’s and my gaze from Emei Shan that morning we watched the sunrise our first week here.  Then it was so far away and distant, yet so immense and alluring. And now we had walked around a little of its base and marveled as we stared up, still influenced by its immensity.  I can’t wait to go back west and see more of the mountains out there.  I read on some blogs that there are treks around the mountain, as well as pack animal treks from KangDing to Moxi……..

Thanks for reading!

Unexpected Expectations

The time has arrived to talk about tests in China.  I’ve put off both the experience and the writing of the encounter long enough, but Chinese tests found me with a vengeance. 

The tale starts 2 weeks into the semester, in a meeting with the Dean of the English Department.  I had been teaching 3 classes called “New Concepts English 2,” a class filled with art majors who, after the first week of classes, appeared to have almost no English skills whatsoever.  In our meeting, the Dean (Professor Shu) stressed that these kids were to be judged to a lower standard than the English major students.  “As long as they follow you,” were his exact words.  In other words, if they come to class, they pass.  “No tests,” he said.  Just spend class time getting them to speak and improve their conversational English abilities.  Leaving that meeting, I felt hope for the first time in a stressful, troubled time. 

The weeks that followed got better and better.  I devoted less class time to book work and more time to fun activities that got everyone speaking.  Everyone was improving, including Jack Wang in the back of class 10(2) who couldn’t say his Chinese or English name on the fist day of class because he was riddled with fear of talking to the ‘foreigner’.  I began to enjoy teaching them.  The middle of the semester approached and I decided that since I didn’t have to give them a test, I would have everyone do reader’s theater plays for the class.   We spent 2 classes practicing, in which I would look around and everyone was talking English to each other.  The Chinese classroom was filled with English.  I think this was the first time this had ever happened for these students.  The third class was spent performing and nearly everyone came, which was a surprise from classes averaging 85% attendance.  The plays were a huge hit and everyone did great.  It was an exercise worth repeating and some students even surprised me.  Tim, who had been quiet, distracted, and uninterested all semester, traded his minor part for a the major role of Calvin, and on the final day gave a comical performance Robin Williams would have been impressed with. 

But at the end of all three classes, someone or a group of students always came up and asked if there would be a test next week.  “Of course not!” was my reply, “That was the test.” Relieved, they left for an easy weekend and I felt content making kids talk English and have fun at the same time.  Then came Monday, Halloween.  We talked about costumes and candy and Jack-O-Lanterns; Luke’s class came to trick-or-treat, as well as Robin, dressed as a jelly fish; we ended the class with watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer “Halloween episode,” complete with Chinese subtitles; I dressed up as Eminem.  It was a fun class.  Halfway through Buffy, a student from both classes came up to me and in a whisper, asked if we had a test that night.  I laughed, paused the movie, and told everyone in the class that, “NO!!!!  Of course we don’t have a test tonight!  Relax and enjoy the movie!”  They were all relieved.  And remember, when my second class on Monday asked the same question during Buffy, I replied the same way, stopping the movie to stress that there was no test. 

I left class a little confused.  How could a rumor have spread that there was a test?  I went to the English department to investigate.  Hannie, the assistant with the best English, looked just as confused as I was when I asked her.  “A test?  Of course they have a test tonight!  Its middle term!”  Huh?  Many emotions ran through me at that moment, but mostly I felt bad about telling my students that they didn’t have to go to this test that I, their teacher, didn’t know about.  “No one told you?” Hannie asked.  “No, of course not,” was my reply, noting that this was not the first time unexpected expectations were demanded from us.  Hannie told me the room numbers each class had to be in at 7:30 that night for the test.  And asked me to tell Luke that his class was cancelled that night so his students could take this test (the first time he heard about it too).  All I had to do was go to a fancy dinner with the president of the college at the nicest restaurant in Pengshan. 

Which, by the way, was awesome.  Some of the best food I’ve had so far.  Seafood dumplings rocked my world, a rich and creamy (which is rare here) yellow soup was delicious, blackened fatty pork (yay to not being vegetarian), mushrooms, grape wine (yes!), fried beans, roasted peanuts, amazing duck, multiple fish, and more.  My taste buds thoroughly enjoyed themselves. 

But throughout the car ride and the dinner, I was dealing with calls and messages from students, all wanting to know why they suddenly had a test and wondering where they should go.  Then I found out that one of the rooms Hannie told me was wrong, but they eventually found the right one.  It sucked, it was stressful, and most of all, I felt bad for misleading my students.  Everyone but one made it to the test and the next day when I saw them around, they all said it was an ok test.  Whew.

Then on Wednesday, I stopped by Hannie’s office again and she dug through the recently appeared mountain of folders and handed me two yellow envelopes that were very thick.  “What are these?” I asked.  “These are your tests,” she said.  “Grade them and get them back to me on Friday.”  ＂什么?” was my reply (WHAT?).  “Can you do that?” she asked, as I opened one and looked at a 60 question multiple choice answer card and a one page essay per student.  “No way,” was my reply.  “Monday at the earliest.”  We left it at that, me being asked to grade 150 exams that I had never seen, knew about until yesterday, or had any say in deciding, in 5 days.  Welcome to China I muttered as I left a little angry.

I think I took the test that night.  Out of 60 multiple choice questions, 3 were answered wrong on the answer sheet, 2 don’t have a right answer due to typos, and 6 have multiple right answers.  Some of the questions also don’t make any sense.  Such as, “Mr. Scott cannot get a telephone for his garage.  ______ he has just bought twelve pigeons.”  The answer was “That’s way.”  (This one was the one that made me the most baffled)  Another had the right answer, other, as both option A and D.  Out of 60 questions, 11 I can’t in my right mind count as grade-able questions. 

The last part of the test was an essay.  “Write a self-introduction of 100 words.”  Some students clearly didn’t know what a self-introduction was.  Most of these were absolute gems.  The honesty and creativity shines on some of the pages and I was really moved by some of the students.  I’ll post some of these next.  But others, the ones who had no idea, just rewrote the reading comprehension essays from the test.  On one hand, I empathize with their strategy.  When you don’t know what’s being asked of you, just write something, anything.  On the other hand, they didn’t write anything about themselves.  In the end, if there were at least 5 sentences about yourself, you got full credit.  I still don’t know what to do about the others. 

But now I’m ahead of myself.  It’s Thursday afternoon and I have a mess of a test and a pile of essays that I’m suffused to grade in 4 days, with not a hint of how to do so.  I went back to Hannie and asked her what I’m supposed to grade.  “Oh, you can use this machine to grade the answer sheets and you give the students a number between 1 and 20 for the essay.”  Ok, then how do I use this machine, was my first question.  “Oh you can’t, its broken.  But it will be fixed on Monday.”  “But these need to be done by Monday.”  “Oh, then get them to us as soon as you can.”  (Ugggghhh. So, as soon as the machine is ready?).  My second question was what do I decide to grade the essay on.  “Just give them a number about how good it is.”  Ok…….

I read through them all on Friday and found 5 that were identical.  This made me really sad, but I expected it.  What astounded me was that one kid in a different class in a different testing room, copied Jenny’s paper, which was the paper 3 other boys copied in her class.  Troubled, I spent class yesterday and today going over the answers, explaining why some are right and others not.  And why some were bad questions.  When I got to the introduction, I read them a brief on of myself and we talked about things you can talk about.  And then I offered them a rare opportunity: if you cheated, I will let you write another intro, like what we just talked about in class.  Be it copier or copied, if you rewrite it I’ll grade that one.  If you don’t, you’ll get a 0.  I hope they understood and take the opportunity.  Jenny looked crushed in class. 

I went in yesterday to grade the answer sheets.  “The machine is still broken.  It will get fixed tonight,” was Hannie’s answer.  I went back today, “Still broken.”  I talked with Professor Shu just now, and I asked him about the expectations of this class and why are they being tested when he said they weren’t going to be.  His answer revealed to me just how good Chinese people are at skirting the true answer.  He talked for a long time about how these students need to be judged to a lower level, how their English can’t be expected to be very good, how what matters is that they follow me, and that they try hard.  But I’m still confused why they have to take a test at the end.  Its just the Chinese way I guess.  In response to grading: “If they came to class and they tried hard, give them a pass.”  Translation: if they came to class at all, pass them regardless of their score of the test.  So why are they taking the test at all?

I’m baffled.

Another oddity of the Chinese schooling mentality has become evident these last few weeks.  Alex, another American teacher who was here last year, said that the English department asked him to give 4 students, who were seniors last year but failed their English class and therefore can’t graduate, another final exam so they can pass the class they failed and graduate.  Note: these were not students of his last year.  They had another teacher who either failed them because they didn’t come to class, didn’t pass the final exam, or didn’t show up to the exam at all.  Alex refused to give them an exam and so they asked another English teacher, Michael, to do so.  He said yes.  And another student came up to Alex today, asking him to give him a final as well so he could pass the class he failed last year.  Apparently exam scores are interchangeable here.

This philosophy bothers me at the foundation of my morals on education.  I have gone to schools that at their core teach accountability.  If you don’t do well or don’t do it at all, you pay the price, both through grades and what you miss out on yourself.  This system here lacks any student accountability.  If you fail an exam, you can take it again.  If you don’t show up, you can take it again.  If you fail the make-up, you can take it again.  If you fail the make-up of the make-up?  Take it again until you pass.  Failure never seems to be an option.  It appears that once you are here, you are guaranteed to graduate, as long as you take a test sometime, anytime, just as long as you take a test. 

China, how you baffle me so

Fashion in a Chinese University

If you were to visit a Chinese University for one day, the most immediate difference you would notice is how everyone dresses.  However, if you were particularly observant, you might hear something else before you noticed this.  You might hear a 'click, click click click' as you walked through the gate, and that would be your first indicator you were stepping into a new world of fashion. 

Here in a Chinese University, students dress up for each day of class.  And I don't mean put on some make-up and a hair tie that matches your shirt.  No, this is the equivalent to dressing for a secretary job at Glamour Magazine (sorry, I watched Devil Wears Prada recently) or a Friday night at the bars in LA.  Today I counted the number of high heels girls were wearing on the way to class vs regular shoes-- about 40 %, maybe 38%.  I was surrounded by 'click, click, click, clicks' as I strolled silently through the crowd.  And these high heels range from thigh-high platform Uugs, polished metal pointed heels, platform and heeled Dansko's, full-calf leather lace-ups heels, slip-on furry pointed heels, black heels with sparkles on the toe, black heels with sparkles on the heel, thigh high fuzzy platform boots with zippers in the back, to name a few.  The shoe fashion stems from how short everyone is, but the range of glam solely dedicated to foot apparel astounds me.  And bewilders me.

And that is only for the feet.  This morning I saw jackets with fur on the cuffs, jackets with fur on the hood, jackets with fur on the zipper, fur vests, trim business jackets, jeans with more holes than jeans, shirts with sparkles, hairbands that matched their owner's shirt and jeans and shoes, short leather jackets, long flowing leather jackets.  And that was just this morning. 

If you were to visit a Chinese college for a day, you would be struck, like me, by nearly everyone's fashion.  (Be it for the positive or the negative, I'll leave it up to you)  When I tell students here about American students going to class in their pajamas, they are horrified.  Horrified in the same way as if I told them that students went to class naked; you just don't do that. 

This collective demand for fashion humors me, provides endless amusement and amazement as I walk to and from class, but most disappointingly, is slowly starting to diffuse into me.  I mean, who in their right mind would ever go to class in their PJ's?

A morning in Jinjiang

A snip-it from a typical morning here in Jinjiang college:

Every morning I wake up at about 7:15, give or take a few minutes depending on how much work is left before class at 8:50 (which is 3 days of the week).  On clear days this involves a sunrise out the window; on days like this morning it just involves a grey glowing sky.  Contacts in, turn on the hot water heater in the water dispenser (the one with the jug on top like you see in doctor waiting rooms- you can't drink the tap water here), and awaken the Chinese Windows operating system PC from slumber, and then sip instant coffee and read news for half an hour and finish powerpoint slides for class.  Its funny to read the news in the morning- everything happened while you were asleep.  This only adds to the feeling of complete disconnect from foreign events.  

Finally, before classes, I almost always go to the student dining hall for breakfast.  I think Luke and I are the only teachers, both foreign and local, who eat there in the morning.  Almost every morning involves a few baotzi (steamed buns filled with pork and cabbage) and a differing combination of: pita-ish bread with pork inside that's fried in scrambled egg (delicious), baked sesame paste pastry, fried sesame paste pastry, bean paste steamed bun, hard boiled egg, or fried piece of bread that is delicious dipping into your hot soy milk (I discovered this this morning).  And every morning we have a cup of hot soy milk.  Its a good breakfast and really cheap- about 4 RMB each morning (75 cents USD). 

My laugh always seems to echo throughout the dining hall and create a hushed silence as if I just broke a plate.  Absent are the days of ruckus Jewett Dining Hall shenanigans.  If I threw a grape in THIS dining hall, I think I might be expelled.  Even outside of the classroom and with friends, the students have a quiet composure.  I think they are becoming more accustomed to us being there- maybe one day they'll start sitting with us.

Happy Halloween!

Sunshine, beaches, and frisbee

First off, there is a new Chinese oddity on campus that I must tell you about with great vexation.  Along the sidewalks between the student dorms on campus, there are grass clumps growing in the ground.  Not turf lawn that we're accustomed to in the US, but what appears to be stunted bunch grass planted in neat rows all along the sidewalk.  They powerwash this grass, but that didn't alarm me too much.  However, when Luke and I got back last night, we noticed that all the grass had been dug up and stacked in piles along the buildings (new grass or old, I am not sure), and workers were tilling the dry soil with hoes.  OK, time for new grass.  But why would they stack the old grass like that?  They couldn't be planning to replant it, could they?  "No way," I said.  Well, this morning, they proved me wrong.  Right now, workers are outside and split into three groups: one tills the soil, one replants the grass, and one trims the roots of the grass before the other group replants it!!!!!  This, I simply do not understand.  Completely baffled.  Luke thinks its new grass; I am sticking with the old grass for the story's sake.  I asked my class why they are doing this and they all said, "so someone can have a job.  Its a waste of money.  No reason whatsoever.  It doesn't make better grass."  As Stuart is so fond of saying, "This wouldn't happen in America!"  

5 days ago Luke and I left for Hong Kong on a dual purpose mission: leave the country to reset our visa (Hong Kong counts as international despite the fact that they are part of China) and to play in the Pan-Asian Ultimate tournament.  An epic trip began in an epic way.  We left Thursday afternoon amid class drama for me resulting in my class monitor (the student leader) being fired from his position (he was always late and slept through class) and went to Chengdu.  First we went to a recording studio in response to an ad I saw in the Chengdu classifieds looking for foreign models and voice recordings.  We went in and were handed a script detailing a company.  The tech played a recording of their most popular voice and in thoroughly intimidated us- he sounded like Paul Harvey.  Just the voice I would want to hire.  But into a sound booth with an expensive looking microphone and off we read.  It was hilarious.  Here's Luke reading:

       Jeffery said he’d call us if anyone was interested.  Then we were off back to downtown where we met with a girl Luke had met on the train from Kunming named Wu Tong and her friend and co-worker Christina.  Turned out that it was definitely a double date, a surprise, and after a very delicious dinner (the best eggplant dish in China so far) they somehow paid for it.  We are learning that Chinese people are very good at sneaking the bill by you.  But it was very fun and interesting talking to two people working in the international shipping industry.  It takes between a month to two months for a cargo ship to get to America from China!  We spent the night in a hostel for 35 RMB (remember this figure, it will be important later) and spent the night drinking beers and playing with our new smart phones.  In a talk with the bartender and a guy from Switzerland, they asked me if I slept with my students.  Taken aback, I said of course not.  That’s not allowed and definitely a terrible idea.  They were both confused and the bartender said that she just graduated from Sichuan University in Chengdu and that many of her foreign professors, who were “old and fat” dated their students regularly.  It was “gross,” in her eyes.  Exactly, I told her.  “But you are young a good looking,” she said.  “Its ok if you do.”  I think we all left the conversation a little baffled.  I see why foreigners get a bad rep sometimes.  But fear not, I am not convinced- its still a terrible idea. 

       We woke up before the rest of the city and the hostel office keeper the next morning to catch our flight to HK.  Success in every way and we were on the plane in no time.  I did not expect any food on the flight, and was I ever surprised when the flight attendants announced that breakfast would be served shortly.  Huh?  And there it was: an omelet with bacon and sausage, croissant and butter, fruit, orange juice, and brewed coffee.  It was absolutely delicious and I savored every bite.  And a few coffee refills.  Dragon Air: I am your faithful and dedicated flyer.

       Off the plane and I entered my 6^th country.  Through customs easily, I got a new stamp on the passport:

       We exchanged money at the airport, which 1USD = about 8HKD, making them slightly cheaper than RMB.  Then we took a train into Hong Kong city.  The light was blinding as we exited the station and I realized that 1) the sky was blue and the sun glorious and 2) there was the ocean.  Is this paradise, I thought?  Honk Kong is a series of islands on the coast of mainland China renown for its deep channels between islands- perfect for an international shipping port.  But what struck me right away was how much green space there was in one of the world’s busiest cities.  For most of the train ride we were looking at green hill/mountain sides with little or no development.  There are small towns/cities besides Hong Kong, but everything is condensed into a tight city plan and at the border, the cities simply end.  Only power lines and cable cars cut across the open spaces.  This distinct edge was also due to the steepness of the hills, I admit, but the effect was appealing.  Equally appealing was again, the ocean and the sunshine.  Glorious.

       We first traveled to the hostel to drop off our bags and check in before we headed out to explore downtown.  Our bus ride zig-zagged through downtown, Luke and I craning our necks out the window the entire time, looking up at all the odd and tall buildings.  Hong Kong is simply crazy.  Instead of sidewalks, almost all of pedestrian traffic is on elevated walkways (“tubes”) that have exit signs in them for which street or shop you can get off at.  Walking through them makes you feel like you are in the Death Star.  But from the road, it makes the city feel devoid of pedestrians as you drive through.  From the beginning, Hong Kong feels very modern.

       What happened next is not worth the space to write or your eyes to read.  In short, we spent our entire afternoon arguing with the hostel manager over our rooms and how damn expensive they were.  Friday night was to be 200 HKD a bed (about 180 RMB) and Saturday 700 HKD.  In short, all of my money.  So, we ended up with a tiny room-in-an-apartment-on-the-12^th-floor with two mattresses for 150 HKD each (whew) from someone else and Luke and I camped for free on the beach with teammates on an island away from downtown.  For that, our souls and wallets were grateful.  However, this took 6 hours to decide and we fasted for the whole ordeal.  And missed wandering Hong Kong.  But we celebrated with waffles, which turns out are popular HK street food drenched in butter and peanut butter (you don’t understand how heavenly delicious this is until you’ve been in Pengshan for 2 months), cheddar cheese, and a baguette.  All eaten in the park as the sun set.  That was nice.

       The odd thing about Hong Kong is that its famous as a shopping city.  Low taxes for goods make it THE destination for shoppers of high end brands because they are cheaper than anywhere else.  But that’s just material products.  And that’s all HK is famous commercially for.  Its too small and mountainous to grow any food, and this key fact escaped me until I got to HK and went food shopping.  All food is wicked expensive, because it is all imported.  The waffles were the cheapest thing we could find to eat on the street and they were 10 HKD.  A cheap meal averaged 60 HKD, which pales to the 6 RMB noodles we have been spoiled with in Sichuan.  With that in mind, we ate mostly tournament food.

       And finally, to the tournament.  Friday night was the captain’s meeting and tournament introductions night at the bar.  It was great being around Frisbee people again; despite the fact I knew absolutely no one but Luke, I felt surrounded by friends and had a great time meeting many people.  Luke was excited to note that no one was taller than him.  I immediately remembered why I loved this sport so much, and we hadn’t even played yet.  The evening digressed to drinking cheap beers on the sidewalk by the bar bought from either 7-11 (!!!!), which were equidistant at 75 yards away to either side- who needs that many 7-11’s?  What was hilarious was that one guy in the group named Derek, was constantly approached by Asian women who demanded, not asked, pictures with him.  And this was a constant stream of women all night.  What’s with this guy? Luke and I wondered.  Turns out he is the biggest movie star in the Philippines, and he plays Frisbee.  The guy is chiseled out of marble by the way.  I was impressed with his humility and grace- I would have lost it early into the night.  But he smiled all night long.  A taxi ride and an elevator ride to the 12^th floor later, Luke and I were sleeping with 3 other guys in a 2 person hostel room and dreaming of Frisbee.

       Saturday was game day.  The fields were on the other side of the island, but fear not, they drilled a tunnel through the mountain so you can drive there quickly.  It was a hot day and we played four games, winning the first 11-1, the second 11-7, losing the third 9-10, and winning the last at 10-9.  We lost to the Philippine team, the movie star team, and Derek was a really fun guy to guard.  The last game was one of my favorites.  We were down 8-9 and on offense.  I was on the point, we scored, and then were on defense.  Game point (soft cap had been called at 8-9) and I played again.  We got the D and then scored for the win.  It was awesome.  I saw Luke, we chest bumped, and my calf cramped in mid-air.  Nothing left on the field!  Both days of the tournament though, you could not drink enough water.  It was hot, but being back in the Ultimate community made me smile from ear to ear all day.  I can’t say I played great, especially after I got dazed by a kick to the head, but I had fun.  It was really fun to play with the Shanghai team- some great players and some great individuals all around.  The tournament was a plush one by American standards- chicken and vegetables with rice lunch (actual lunch food!!!) seemingly endless beer that was way better than Snow and Tsing Tao, a disc and a jersey.  After our fourth game we rushed off to catch the ferry to our camping island for swimming in the ocean before the tournament party. 

       This became quite the adventure.  We ran onto the ferry that we thought was the right one.  We cheered as it took off as soon as we jumped on, drank beers on the deck as the sun set and we motored through Hong Kong and enjoyed the views.  An hour later, Alia, our guide, said, “huh, this isn’t our island,” just as the boat was nearing the dock.  A nearby local informed her that was the case.  We were two islands away from our island.  And no ferries for awhile to the right one.  And a private charter was going to be 300 HK to get us there.  So, we ran across the island to the beach, swam in the ocean for 7 minutes with the stars above (hadn’t seen them in a long time) and the lights of Honk Kong on the horizon.  It was beautiful.  Then we ran back to the ferry and took it back to Hong Kong proper.  Ha ha.

       The tournament party was on the 29^th floor of a hotel in downtown HK in a fancy bar.  We did not fit in, but the place was booked just for us.  Again, the tourney was plush with an all-you-can-stuff-yourself spread of Calamari, French fries, mushroom risotto, shrimp, salad, pizza, and chocolate deserts.  I ate until I was uncomfortable and I loved it.  And happily drank some free GT’s.  The view of downtown and the ocean front was unreal, as was the bar show the bartender put on at 10:30, but that wasn’t appropriate.  You’ll have to ask me for that story.  We all passed out on the ferry ride back and crawled into our tents for sleep. 

       We started Sunday the best way possible- with a swim in the ocean.  Just awesome and beautiful.  More sleep on the ferry and we had 3 more games to play at the Aberdeen Sports Complex on Hong Kong Island.  Sunday was a struggle- the team didn’t play like we could have played, due either to lingering dehydration or lack of sleep from the last two nights.  We lost both the first and second game and won the fun, beer drinking last game.  I definitely didn’t play as well as I wanted, but still had a blast.  More delicious lunch food and lots of beer provided by the tournament, as well as fun sideline games.  My favorite was “fantasy Frisbee,” in which each point you pick a player as your fantasy team mate.  If they score or throw the score or D, you get a point.  If they mess up, minus a point.  This carried into the finals and was really fun.  As soon as Taiwan won the tournament, we packed up, said goodbye to our new friends, and headed back to the beach.  That was enough of the big city, time for more ocean.  We had burgers on the way and I was thankful I’m not a vegetarian in China.  Meat is just too good after Frisbee.

       Our friend and fan Jessica from Shanghai training came to both days of games and came back for the beach party Sunday night.  We swam in the ocean filled with phosphorescence, under the stars with ship’s lights out on the horizon.  Little slivers of silver flashed through the night as tiny fish jumped around us.  It was a really magical place.  The contrast of Hong Kong really struck me; how you can go from downtown in this Death Star feeling bustling metropolis and 30 minutes later on a ferry, you are at a sparsely inhabited island with a beautiful beach all to yourself.  I’m surprised to say that I like Hong Kong!  After swimming, I tried to make friends with the grazing water buffalo by our tents with no success, so we just watched them for awhile, thinking about how awesome that place was.  Jess took the ferry back to HK and we slept away our last night in HK. 

       Monday morning was started the same way as Sunday- a swim in the ocean.  Back in Pengshan now, I miss everything about the ocean.  The sound of the surf, the saltiness of the water, the scenic view, and the freedom of swimming.  I don’t dare swim in the river here.  We soaked up the last rays of the sun and went back to the tents to pack up.  Walking up the beach, head down, I suddenly heard, “MATT CAMERON??!!??”  And lo and behold, there is Julia Nelson from Whitman in a camp worker’s polo shirt.  Wow.  Excited hugs, amazed looks, and many laughs.  You see Whitties everywhere.  We couldn’t linger, so after goodbyes, we walked up the road to a restaurant to order breakfast.  The waitress was speaking Cantonese and everyone was confused, but Luke asked if she spoke Mandarin and when she replied “yes” in Mandarin, I was surprised with how relieved I was.  In 3 months, this baffling language has actually become familiar and I was so happy to hear it.  Ha!  We had baotzi and rice wrapped in a leaf- both delicious.  And from there we took a taxi to HK airport, which was built up out of the ocean because there is no ground flat enough in the area for an airport (crazy, huh?), and whizzed through customs back to China.  We were both wiped out after the taxi ride, airplane ride (China Air this time, which sucks compared to Dragon Air), and two bus rides back to school, and fell asleep early Monday night.  Walking back to school, we both shook our heads, amazed that this had all happened in only four days.  Many new friends made and we hope to see them at more tournaments in Asia to come.  We sure have enough invitations to keep us busy for the rest of the year, but the most appealing is to visit Derek in the Phillipeans.  Wikipedia says he collects cars……  And he did invite us to play and stay with him…..

       Thanks for reading!  Miss you all back in the states