Hello... it's been a few weeks since I posted anything here. I've been on somewhat of a diet, considering I ran out of cash the last week of March and shut down all spending, didn't eat a whole lot, and just worked. However, this time of reflection allowed me a unique perspective on the welcoming nature of the Chinese people.
Several friends I have met not only showed great concern over the fact that I had no money, but also offered to take me out to dinner. Very kind. Little did I know custom has it that dinner guests are treated like royalty. It is mandatory that the host of a meal ensures that all guests are provided with more than enough food. Several times when friends took me out to dinner, I was asked if I liked a certain dish and surprised to find it delivered to my place setting within minutes. Unfortunately, I didn't realize that saying you like something automatically means that you're going to be served it.
It took me several tries to develop a polite system of kindly thanking my host but delicately informing him that I was full and that one main course was more than enough. Several meals of mine ended up being two or three plates with plenty of leftovers, which I personally was not happy about. I'm not a big fan of leaving behind extra food, which I know will be promptly thrown away afterwards.
Nevertheless, I'm slowly getting the hang of Chinese food, and I managed to snag a restaurant menu, which I will soon devoutly study. My diet as of now consists of fruit juices, fruit, eggs, rice or pasta, and dumplings. I want to mix it up a little bit there and be able to order vegetable dishes and whatever other scrumptious things I'm missing out on. I know there are several. When I go to restaurants I'm always astounded by the delicious looking dishes that other people are ordering.
Today was payday! I am finally wealthy again. And damn wealthy at that. I make about 5x the average salary here, so I'm pretty well off. I have a few things that are on my list of stuff to buy, and I'll be getting to that shortly. More immediately, I need to talk to my bank (ICBC, the biggest bank in the world) to find out how to ship cash back to the States. I've got a lot of debt to pay off there. I briefly considered defaulting on it, but figured that sustaining a reasonable credit rating in the States might be worthwhile for the time being.
Well, I'm off to teach English Corner now. Aston runs weekly seminar-style classes on Wednesday and Friday nights where we host a class for whoever wants to come, even non-Aston students. When we do marketing at various primary schools in the area we give out free passes to these classes, and Aston students can attend them for free. This week we've done a seminar on eating at a restaurant, where by the end the kids should (theoretically) be able to sit down at a restaurant and say "I would like a...". When it comes time to roleplay, Chinese kids love playing the chef most. I have no idea why.
Cheers!
Friday, April 10, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
BAO ZI!!!!!!!
If you have ever seen Kung Fu Panda, then you probably love the movie. If you have seen it and you don't love it, please stop reading this post and I do not want to talk to you ever.
But, if you have... you will be familiar with dumplings being small round lumps of fresh meaty goodness. That pandas are obsessed with. Well now that I have lived in China for a month, I am also obsessed with them. Once I set my eyes on them, I immediately thought "KUNG FU PANDA!!!" and initially referred to them as Kung Fu Panda dumplings. But, much to my liking, this delicious little treat is about as popular as hamburgers in the States. They are everywhere. It is heavenly. They come in all different shapes and sizes, but the best ones look EXACTLY like the ones on Kung Fu Panda.
They are called "bao zi", which is pronounced "ba-ow TZ-eh", and also sometimes "jiao zi" depending on the shape and contents. There will be plenty of pictures of them soon on the Facebook albums.
In other news, I completed my fourth week of China-living and my third week of teaching and am well on my way to PAYDAY - April 10. I still haven't experienced much of the night life here, half because there isn't a LOT of night life, and half because I'm on a tight budget until I get my paycheck. My paycheck is also known as a "wad of cash", which is delivered to me in RMB 100 bills. Baller. I'm not quite sure what to do with this yet, but I do need to buy some clothes - since I only have four long-sleeve shirts and five tees, and all of my tees have become very baggy since I haven't been to a gym since February and I don't have a dryer so my clothes don't get re-shrunk after washing.
BUT I did find a gym. And it's not too small. The first gym I went to visit was about the size of a walk-in closet, and had maybe six machines in a small 2nd floor room. The room was painted black and there wasn't any natural light, just multi-colored florescents and loud techno music. Very weak. Not even basement-esque. More like a small private room at an 80s disco club. The other gym is at an athletic club with a track, pool and tennis courts. Natural light, mirrored walls, all your basic weights - enough to get it done. Everything is in kilograms though, so I have to do the conversion in my head - not too hard since 1 kg = 2.2 lbs - but every time I lift in kilos it throws off my natural sense of mass and weight. I lift 10 kilos and it feels like I'm lifting 15 pounds, then I lift 60 kilos and it feels like I'm lifting 160 lbs. Or maybe I've just lost that much strength from not doing anything? Perplexing. I'm making a spreadsheet with what I could lift when I left the States, and then using that to build a routine in KGs. Hopefully it works.
Either way, being physically active again is a major plus. It makes me feel more productive, more powerful strength-wise (not influentially) and more energetic. I also need to start making progress on Project Learn Chinese, also known as Project Leach. Maybe that's a bad name for the project. I just came up with it so ... it's a work in progress.
Hm... what else... last night I went to KTV... again. Unfortunately, I was dragged into it because two of my co-workers had their birthdays. Damn I hate it so much. I like the social aspect but the singing part sucks. If the songs had the actual vocal track also included, then I'd be a huge fan. I could match pitch, and it would sound much better. Without the vocal track, my pitch is way off half the time, and most of the time I can't even remember what the notes are anyways so I don't sing. I tried to sing A Beautiful Day by U2... it didn't work very well. I sang Come Together - much better. Also better for my range. Another downfall: the music selection is weak. I think I said it before, but I'll say it again. There are very few good songs. The Chinese haven't even heard of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Blasphemy.
On that note. I'm off. This was a very haphazard shpeel. Next time I'll try to implement more structure. C-ya!
But, if you have... you will be familiar with dumplings being small round lumps of fresh meaty goodness. That pandas are obsessed with. Well now that I have lived in China for a month, I am also obsessed with them. Once I set my eyes on them, I immediately thought "KUNG FU PANDA!!!" and initially referred to them as Kung Fu Panda dumplings. But, much to my liking, this delicious little treat is about as popular as hamburgers in the States. They are everywhere. It is heavenly. They come in all different shapes and sizes, but the best ones look EXACTLY like the ones on Kung Fu Panda.
They are called "bao zi", which is pronounced "ba-ow TZ-eh", and also sometimes "jiao zi" depending on the shape and contents. There will be plenty of pictures of them soon on the Facebook albums.
In other news, I completed my fourth week of China-living and my third week of teaching and am well on my way to PAYDAY - April 10. I still haven't experienced much of the night life here, half because there isn't a LOT of night life, and half because I'm on a tight budget until I get my paycheck. My paycheck is also known as a "wad of cash", which is delivered to me in RMB 100 bills. Baller. I'm not quite sure what to do with this yet, but I do need to buy some clothes - since I only have four long-sleeve shirts and five tees, and all of my tees have become very baggy since I haven't been to a gym since February and I don't have a dryer so my clothes don't get re-shrunk after washing.
BUT I did find a gym. And it's not too small. The first gym I went to visit was about the size of a walk-in closet, and had maybe six machines in a small 2nd floor room. The room was painted black and there wasn't any natural light, just multi-colored florescents and loud techno music. Very weak. Not even basement-esque. More like a small private room at an 80s disco club. The other gym is at an athletic club with a track, pool and tennis courts. Natural light, mirrored walls, all your basic weights - enough to get it done. Everything is in kilograms though, so I have to do the conversion in my head - not too hard since 1 kg = 2.2 lbs - but every time I lift in kilos it throws off my natural sense of mass and weight. I lift 10 kilos and it feels like I'm lifting 15 pounds, then I lift 60 kilos and it feels like I'm lifting 160 lbs. Or maybe I've just lost that much strength from not doing anything? Perplexing. I'm making a spreadsheet with what I could lift when I left the States, and then using that to build a routine in KGs. Hopefully it works.
Either way, being physically active again is a major plus. It makes me feel more productive, more powerful strength-wise (not influentially) and more energetic. I also need to start making progress on Project Learn Chinese, also known as Project Leach. Maybe that's a bad name for the project. I just came up with it so ... it's a work in progress.
Hm... what else... last night I went to KTV... again. Unfortunately, I was dragged into it because two of my co-workers had their birthdays. Damn I hate it so much. I like the social aspect but the singing part sucks. If the songs had the actual vocal track also included, then I'd be a huge fan. I could match pitch, and it would sound much better. Without the vocal track, my pitch is way off half the time, and most of the time I can't even remember what the notes are anyways so I don't sing. I tried to sing A Beautiful Day by U2... it didn't work very well. I sang Come Together - much better. Also better for my range. Another downfall: the music selection is weak. I think I said it before, but I'll say it again. There are very few good songs. The Chinese haven't even heard of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Blasphemy.
On that note. I'm off. This was a very haphazard shpeel. Next time I'll try to implement more structure. C-ya!
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Big decisions...
Before I start this one I thought I'd introduce everyone I work with. The Hefei Aston franchise has a grand total of 12.5 employees. It's run by an apparently fairly popular businesswoman / entrepreneur, Vivian, who is in her late 30s or early 40s and is well connected in Hefei. She has an office to herself which she works out of most days. Brenda, the Chinese teaching manager, is in charge of four Chinese teachers (CTs) who help the English teachers run the show. The four Chinese teachers are Jackal, Jasmine, Alice and Monica.
The way it works: classes are all two hours long, so the CT is in the classroom for the full two hours while the Foreign teacher (FT) teachers for a half hour in the lowest levels, an hour in the middle levels, and an hour and a half in the highest levels. This way the school can run up to eight classes at a time (at the lowest levels) and still have the FTs participate in each of them. On Sundays during the afternoon block of classes I have 3 in a row - an hour of C7 (a mid-level class), and then two half hour sessions of C1 (a low level class). Each class is taught by a different CT, but I visit each one to make sure pronunciation is sharp and grammar is correct. Also to legitimate the whole English language course idea.
There are two front desk assistants, Daisy and Tina, who help students and their parents to do paperwork and scheduling. They also do general office filing and organization. There are also two guys who do marketing and branding, Tony and Edison. These two also take care of the foreign teachers' in terms of housing, billing and other lifestyle necessities (shopping, getting around, cell phones, cable and internet, etc.). There's an accountant who comes in a couple days a week to handle the billing and financial side. Finally there's the two English teachers - me and Craig Nel, a South African bloke, also 6'6". We're kind of a big deal in Hefei - when we walk around together people just stop and point and say "Hen gao de...". "So tall...".
The school's on the 3rd floor of the Ping An building. Ping An is a giant life insurance company that has offices on every other floor of our building. It's very central and easy to get to.
So today Brenda surprised when I came into the school with a contract to sign. But she also asked I sign a year-long contract. Mostly because it's easier for the school and for Aston to not have to go and find then train another foreign teacher, but also because I'm pretty much the shit. I pondered on it for a while. I don't like long term commitment, so I was hesitant to lock down my entire year. But I thought it'd be a great opportunity to keep me in China at a very open, relaxed job that is fun and pays decently. I have a lot of time to travel and see the country, and plenty of time to practice the language.
My biggest goal for this entire experience was to pick up Chinese. In six months, I was aware that'd be difficult to do; but in a year fluency will be much easier to approach. I also get a contract completion bonus on the year long contract that is 4x bigger than the 6 month contract and way more vacation days - big positives. Finally I negotiated terms that allow me to tutor English privately - big plus. I can rake in some cash on the side there. As long as I don't try to market my English language tutoring services in competition with Aston, I'm in the clear.
It's looking good! For a few hours I was sweating it out. Like I said, I hate commitment. Probably what did it the most was seeing what the Federal Reserve did in the US today (bought a bunch of government debt and threw another $1 trillion on to the US national debt). For real. It's not a good sign for the US. This is a travel blog though, so I won't get into it.
Cheers!
The way it works: classes are all two hours long, so the CT is in the classroom for the full two hours while the Foreign teacher (FT) teachers for a half hour in the lowest levels, an hour in the middle levels, and an hour and a half in the highest levels. This way the school can run up to eight classes at a time (at the lowest levels) and still have the FTs participate in each of them. On Sundays during the afternoon block of classes I have 3 in a row - an hour of C7 (a mid-level class), and then two half hour sessions of C1 (a low level class). Each class is taught by a different CT, but I visit each one to make sure pronunciation is sharp and grammar is correct. Also to legitimate the whole English language course idea.
There are two front desk assistants, Daisy and Tina, who help students and their parents to do paperwork and scheduling. They also do general office filing and organization. There are also two guys who do marketing and branding, Tony and Edison. These two also take care of the foreign teachers' in terms of housing, billing and other lifestyle necessities (shopping, getting around, cell phones, cable and internet, etc.). There's an accountant who comes in a couple days a week to handle the billing and financial side. Finally there's the two English teachers - me and Craig Nel, a South African bloke, also 6'6". We're kind of a big deal in Hefei - when we walk around together people just stop and point and say "Hen gao de...". "So tall...".
The school's on the 3rd floor of the Ping An building. Ping An is a giant life insurance company that has offices on every other floor of our building. It's very central and easy to get to.
So today Brenda surprised when I came into the school with a contract to sign. But she also asked I sign a year-long contract. Mostly because it's easier for the school and for Aston to not have to go and find then train another foreign teacher, but also because I'm pretty much the shit. I pondered on it for a while. I don't like long term commitment, so I was hesitant to lock down my entire year. But I thought it'd be a great opportunity to keep me in China at a very open, relaxed job that is fun and pays decently. I have a lot of time to travel and see the country, and plenty of time to practice the language.
My biggest goal for this entire experience was to pick up Chinese. In six months, I was aware that'd be difficult to do; but in a year fluency will be much easier to approach. I also get a contract completion bonus on the year long contract that is 4x bigger than the 6 month contract and way more vacation days - big positives. Finally I negotiated terms that allow me to tutor English privately - big plus. I can rake in some cash on the side there. As long as I don't try to market my English language tutoring services in competition with Aston, I'm in the clear.
It's looking good! For a few hours I was sweating it out. Like I said, I hate commitment. Probably what did it the most was seeing what the Federal Reserve did in the US today (bought a bunch of government debt and threw another $1 trillion on to the US national debt). For real. It's not a good sign for the US. This is a travel blog though, so I won't get into it.
Cheers!
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Jinan again...
Day 17 – Well, I’ve managed four entries so far, so I’m averaging one every four days. If that’s not satisfying for any of you, then please feel free to complain. Or you can stew in frustration. That’s about all I can do for you right now. I might try to write more often if your complaint is entertainingly witty enough.
I’m back in Jinan at the moment. I discovered last week that in order to reclaim my passport, I had to do return to Jinan to visit the police station there and fill out some more paperwork. Great. I hopped on the train Monday afternoon at around 1430h and voila, I was in Jinan by… 4 AM.
The Chinese railway system only operates one train between Jinan and Hefei a day. While the cities are only about six hours apart – maybe the distance from Washington, DC, to Boston – the train is a sleeper train. It creeps along at a breakneck 40 miles per hour on average, while making frequent stops at what seems like every station between the two cities. In total, the trip takes 12 hours. Both times prior I’ve had a top bunk sleeper, which means that I’m on the third highest bunk in an open cabin that sleeps six. The top bunks have maybe three feet of room between the bunk and the car’s ceiling. I don’t fit. I have to wedge my body in strange ways to free myself from its confines. Luckily, this trip, I have the bottom bunk, which is far more spacious. I get a table and have a window next to me. My feet also dangle out into the aisle, so I have yet to decide whether this is an improvement or a retrograde.
Jinan was fun again. The first time I was training, so the celebrations were kept under control, for the most part. Most of the other teachers-in-training weren’t up for a rage or a shitshow and just went out socially. This was fine by me, but it didn’t make for many good stories. Only a few little chuckles.
This time I got in at 430 AM and was not surprised to have nobody waiting for me. Someone was rumored to be picking me up and escorting me to the hotel I’d stay at, but nobody was there. I walked around a bit and got harassed by taxi drivers looking for business. At first I thought that one had been sent to pick me up, but I quickly realized he was just soliciting. I was on my way to check into the hotel next to the train station, a very nice marble-floored joint with a spacious chandelier-decorated lobby, when Tom Honeycutt, the deputy regional director, showed up to save me. Or to save my wallet from the pounding it would have taken at this palace. We considered hitting up the bars, but decided that at 5 AM, it would be a little too late, and that KTV wasn’t really an option (thankfully).
I got to the hotel, the Super 8, and was about to check in when… Tom forgot his passport, so we couldn’t check in yet. We hopped back in a cab and swung by his apartment to grab the documents, then dropped by the hotel again. When we showed up, two other youngish Chinese guys were trying to check in. One was a little bruised, as if he’d been in a fight, and was clearly tripping hard on heavy drugs. His eyes were swollen and red and his face was flushed. The hotel staff quarantined me in the lobby while they took the elevator up, then let me take the elevator up alone, safely. Odd. And sketch. Oh well. The room was nice. I got internet. But I immediately passed out.
I woke around 11 and cleaned up, then headed over to Aston 1, where I’d meet Megan, my Chinese contact who’s helping me acquire my residency permit (the document I came to submit for). I grabbed some lunch with her assistant, Lucy, and then hung around while some other foreign teachers showed up, who were on similar missions as I. Blah blah blah… I got the documents sorted out and I get my passport next week. Great.
Fortunately, I was able to complete all these shenanigans in less than a day, so I am Hefei-bound this evening at 0017 on the sleeper. Right now it’s about 6 PM and I’m chillin’ in the Jinan Station Hotel’s lobby, the marble-floored place, where they have a bartendress who is treating me very well and keeping my thirst quenched with Tsingtao. I’ll be playing Warcraft (an old hobby I’ve picked up again in my free time), reading this week’s Economist, and studying Chinese until midnight. Probably just playing Warcraft.
That’s all for now, folks. 再见!
I’m back in Jinan at the moment. I discovered last week that in order to reclaim my passport, I had to do return to Jinan to visit the police station there and fill out some more paperwork. Great. I hopped on the train Monday afternoon at around 1430h and voila, I was in Jinan by… 4 AM.
The Chinese railway system only operates one train between Jinan and Hefei a day. While the cities are only about six hours apart – maybe the distance from Washington, DC, to Boston – the train is a sleeper train. It creeps along at a breakneck 40 miles per hour on average, while making frequent stops at what seems like every station between the two cities. In total, the trip takes 12 hours. Both times prior I’ve had a top bunk sleeper, which means that I’m on the third highest bunk in an open cabin that sleeps six. The top bunks have maybe three feet of room between the bunk and the car’s ceiling. I don’t fit. I have to wedge my body in strange ways to free myself from its confines. Luckily, this trip, I have the bottom bunk, which is far more spacious. I get a table and have a window next to me. My feet also dangle out into the aisle, so I have yet to decide whether this is an improvement or a retrograde.
Jinan was fun again. The first time I was training, so the celebrations were kept under control, for the most part. Most of the other teachers-in-training weren’t up for a rage or a shitshow and just went out socially. This was fine by me, but it didn’t make for many good stories. Only a few little chuckles.
This time I got in at 430 AM and was not surprised to have nobody waiting for me. Someone was rumored to be picking me up and escorting me to the hotel I’d stay at, but nobody was there. I walked around a bit and got harassed by taxi drivers looking for business. At first I thought that one had been sent to pick me up, but I quickly realized he was just soliciting. I was on my way to check into the hotel next to the train station, a very nice marble-floored joint with a spacious chandelier-decorated lobby, when Tom Honeycutt, the deputy regional director, showed up to save me. Or to save my wallet from the pounding it would have taken at this palace. We considered hitting up the bars, but decided that at 5 AM, it would be a little too late, and that KTV wasn’t really an option (thankfully).
I got to the hotel, the Super 8, and was about to check in when… Tom forgot his passport, so we couldn’t check in yet. We hopped back in a cab and swung by his apartment to grab the documents, then dropped by the hotel again. When we showed up, two other youngish Chinese guys were trying to check in. One was a little bruised, as if he’d been in a fight, and was clearly tripping hard on heavy drugs. His eyes were swollen and red and his face was flushed. The hotel staff quarantined me in the lobby while they took the elevator up, then let me take the elevator up alone, safely. Odd. And sketch. Oh well. The room was nice. I got internet. But I immediately passed out.
I woke around 11 and cleaned up, then headed over to Aston 1, where I’d meet Megan, my Chinese contact who’s helping me acquire my residency permit (the document I came to submit for). I grabbed some lunch with her assistant, Lucy, and then hung around while some other foreign teachers showed up, who were on similar missions as I. Blah blah blah… I got the documents sorted out and I get my passport next week. Great.
Fortunately, I was able to complete all these shenanigans in less than a day, so I am Hefei-bound this evening at 0017 on the sleeper. Right now it’s about 6 PM and I’m chillin’ in the Jinan Station Hotel’s lobby, the marble-floored place, where they have a bartendress who is treating me very well and keeping my thirst quenched with Tsingtao. I’ll be playing Warcraft (an old hobby I’ve picked up again in my free time), reading this week’s Economist, and studying Chinese until midnight. Probably just playing Warcraft.
That’s all for now, folks. 再见!
Friday, March 13, 2009
First Classes
After a week of training, preparing, marketing, promotional stuff and more preparing, I had my first weekend of classes. Since most Chinese students attend public schools where they spend their weekdays, Aston (the English language school that I teach at) hosts the majority of its classes on weekends. Here I was, up at 7:30 on a Saturday. Ouch.
My first class was at 8:30 - a bunch of 10 and 11 year olds. They were crazy. I'd planned to do a bunch of stuff with them, but when I stepped in the room and started teaching English, the lesson just sort of developed by itself and I ended up not needing the plan at all. The kids asked questions about English words, and that developed into entirely new discussions and mini-lessons within the lesson. An hour seemed to flash by and then I was back in the staff office needing a nap.
After last night, the first class was a breeze. On Friday night Aston hosts an English Corner, a kind of open class where the teachers *try* to control a throng of students from a variety of levels. This past week we'd done a ton of promotional work at local primary schools and it seemed like everybody we invited came. And brought their friend. And their sister. And their brother. Between two English teachers we had about 80 kids. One of the Chinese English teachers had to take some of the kids and host an ad hoc class where they ended up playing darts. We just got two new dart boards, and the Chinese English teachers are obsessed with darts. They are magnetic, and thus safe. Relatively.
So, the class was insane. We tried to run a game about drawing body parts. Keeping it clean of course. After reviewing parts of the body I wanted the class to line up and draw a person on the board. I would say a body part, and they would draw it then pass the market to the next kid in line. It got out of control pretty fast. Some of the kids lost interest and went and sat down. The more outgoing ones stood at the front and yelled in Chinese what I was saying in English. Blatant cheating. The boys' drawing ended up looking like a superhero troll with spiked hair. The girls' drawing ended up looking like a buck-toothed bird. So much for that one.
Class adjourned fifteen minutes early and I heaved a huge sigh of relief. I tried to clean up while three of the little girl students begged me to give them piggy cards. Piggy cards are little 2x3 cards with pigs on them in different colors. The teachers give them out as rewards and the kids can claim prizes from a display case at the front of the school when they have enough. Collecting piggy cards is a students sole purpose at Aston. Learning English is a by product. That is a massive overstatement, but piggy cards do drive them wild.
These girls tried to pry them out of my hands, and when I put them in my pocket they tried to dig them out or take whatever was in my pockets and ransom the things back to me for piggy cards. I ran away to the staff office and locked myself in. It was a blast.
Ok, now I have 5 more classes today, and I'm damn hungry. I've got to fill up so I've the energy to take on hoards of little Chinamen.
'till next time...
My first class was at 8:30 - a bunch of 10 and 11 year olds. They were crazy. I'd planned to do a bunch of stuff with them, but when I stepped in the room and started teaching English, the lesson just sort of developed by itself and I ended up not needing the plan at all. The kids asked questions about English words, and that developed into entirely new discussions and mini-lessons within the lesson. An hour seemed to flash by and then I was back in the staff office needing a nap.
After last night, the first class was a breeze. On Friday night Aston hosts an English Corner, a kind of open class where the teachers *try* to control a throng of students from a variety of levels. This past week we'd done a ton of promotional work at local primary schools and it seemed like everybody we invited came. And brought their friend. And their sister. And their brother. Between two English teachers we had about 80 kids. One of the Chinese English teachers had to take some of the kids and host an ad hoc class where they ended up playing darts. We just got two new dart boards, and the Chinese English teachers are obsessed with darts. They are magnetic, and thus safe. Relatively.
So, the class was insane. We tried to run a game about drawing body parts. Keeping it clean of course. After reviewing parts of the body I wanted the class to line up and draw a person on the board. I would say a body part, and they would draw it then pass the market to the next kid in line. It got out of control pretty fast. Some of the kids lost interest and went and sat down. The more outgoing ones stood at the front and yelled in Chinese what I was saying in English. Blatant cheating. The boys' drawing ended up looking like a superhero troll with spiked hair. The girls' drawing ended up looking like a buck-toothed bird. So much for that one.
Class adjourned fifteen minutes early and I heaved a huge sigh of relief. I tried to clean up while three of the little girl students begged me to give them piggy cards. Piggy cards are little 2x3 cards with pigs on them in different colors. The teachers give them out as rewards and the kids can claim prizes from a display case at the front of the school when they have enough. Collecting piggy cards is a students sole purpose at Aston. Learning English is a by product. That is a massive overstatement, but piggy cards do drive them wild.
These girls tried to pry them out of my hands, and when I put them in my pocket they tried to dig them out or take whatever was in my pockets and ransom the things back to me for piggy cards. I ran away to the staff office and locked myself in. It was a blast.
Ok, now I have 5 more classes today, and I'm damn hungry. I've got to fill up so I've the energy to take on hoards of little Chinamen.
'till next time...
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Karaoke Adventures
This should have been posted last Thursday, March 5th.
Note: If you’ve experienced karaoke in China before, then this will surely bore you. I’m talking about pure Chinese karaoke – the kind that you find in Asia (not in U.S. Asian-style restaurants, they are completely different).
So I went with my manager and co-teacher Craig, a South African who’s been working in Hefei here for quite some time now, to meet up with some of his friends from a competing English school called English First. These two guys, Jon and Gavin, had brought some of their students along -- 5 girls – and so we all proceeded to KTV.
KTV is a Chinese karaoke. It’s not precisely a restaurant, as there is not a kitchen. It’s not a bar – there is no proper bar with a bartender or barstools. It’s not really a club or disco – there’s no dance floor and loud music doesn’t play throughout the entire place. It’s more of a movie theater, in that there are individual theater-like rooms. When you walk in you visit a ticket-counter where you buy a room for a certain amount of hours. There’s a concession store where you can buy snacks, like fruit or vegetable plates, popcorn, chips or other munchies; and drinks, like soda, water, beer or liquor.
Here’s the crazy part.
You go into this theater-like room, about the size of a good-sized bedroom, that you’ve bought for X amount of hours and there’s a big flatscreen TV on one wall and a couch around the rest of the room. There’s a coffee table, too, that the couch winds around. In one corner there’s a little touch-screen monitor that’s kind of like a jukebox. You can choose songs from a huge library, both Asian and Western artists. I’ve never heard of any of the Asian artists, and for the most part the Western artists are all very pop-like. I’m talking about ‘90s Brittany Spears (pre-breakdown), Michael Jackson, Rihanna, Backstreet Boys, 98 Degrees, Hanson… chart-topping songs. Ones that you probably hear on the super-pop radio stations that teenage girls would probably go to see live in concert so they can take pictures of them on their cell phones and scream really loud.
This is a family event, too. On weekends, “the thing” to do is sing karaoke. In the States, you’d go see a film, maybe go out to dinner. With friends you’d go to a club, maybe drink a ton of alcohol or take a bunch of drugs depending on your social circle. Here you go sing. That’s it. Everybody in the family participates.
For me, it was hilarious. The difference between cultures was blatant. The westerners all needed to be at least 6 drinks deep before we actually began to get into it. So, in the meantime, the Chinese students crooned away. The Westerners in the party all picked either goofy rap songs, rock or oldies – the kind of songs you’d sing to at a proper house party. The Chinese students picked these really soft, love songs that all pretty much had the same idea: “I just broke up with my girlfriend. I want to be with you forever. Let’s be in love. You’re my only one.” Nothing to do with sex, drugs, partying, violence. Just straight up monogamous love. Like holding hands love. Like let’s have a picnic and watch the sunset love.
So we’d pretty much be switching between songs like the Chili Peppers’ “Hump De Bump” and “My Heart in Your Hands” by some Chinese lady.
To top it off, the Chinese take their karaoke seriously. They’re damn good singers. All of them. This is a nation of potential pop stars. You could run an American idol here and you’d have to weed through several million top grade vocalists in order to produce a winner. And the top several million would all be platinum-album caliber. You’d have to go pretty far down the line in order to come across some hack who you could have your judges make fun of enough to generate the first-month interest that has become the main reason people watch American idol.
Here we are, me, Craig and these other guys – hammered – singing the goofiest American and British pop songs or raunchy rock n’ roll and oldies rock, while these innocent Chinese students croon love ballads.
In the end it was a bunch of fun. Great experience. Probably not going to do it again. Ever. And I earned a sore throat that’s now turned into a full blown sinus infection. Lovin’ it.
Peace.
Note: If you’ve experienced karaoke in China before, then this will surely bore you. I’m talking about pure Chinese karaoke – the kind that you find in Asia (not in U.S. Asian-style restaurants, they are completely different).
So I went with my manager and co-teacher Craig, a South African who’s been working in Hefei here for quite some time now, to meet up with some of his friends from a competing English school called English First. These two guys, Jon and Gavin, had brought some of their students along -- 5 girls – and so we all proceeded to KTV.
KTV is a Chinese karaoke. It’s not precisely a restaurant, as there is not a kitchen. It’s not a bar – there is no proper bar with a bartender or barstools. It’s not really a club or disco – there’s no dance floor and loud music doesn’t play throughout the entire place. It’s more of a movie theater, in that there are individual theater-like rooms. When you walk in you visit a ticket-counter where you buy a room for a certain amount of hours. There’s a concession store where you can buy snacks, like fruit or vegetable plates, popcorn, chips or other munchies; and drinks, like soda, water, beer or liquor.
Here’s the crazy part.
You go into this theater-like room, about the size of a good-sized bedroom, that you’ve bought for X amount of hours and there’s a big flatscreen TV on one wall and a couch around the rest of the room. There’s a coffee table, too, that the couch winds around. In one corner there’s a little touch-screen monitor that’s kind of like a jukebox. You can choose songs from a huge library, both Asian and Western artists. I’ve never heard of any of the Asian artists, and for the most part the Western artists are all very pop-like. I’m talking about ‘90s Brittany Spears (pre-breakdown), Michael Jackson, Rihanna, Backstreet Boys, 98 Degrees, Hanson… chart-topping songs. Ones that you probably hear on the super-pop radio stations that teenage girls would probably go to see live in concert so they can take pictures of them on their cell phones and scream really loud.
This is a family event, too. On weekends, “the thing” to do is sing karaoke. In the States, you’d go see a film, maybe go out to dinner. With friends you’d go to a club, maybe drink a ton of alcohol or take a bunch of drugs depending on your social circle. Here you go sing. That’s it. Everybody in the family participates.
For me, it was hilarious. The difference between cultures was blatant. The westerners all needed to be at least 6 drinks deep before we actually began to get into it. So, in the meantime, the Chinese students crooned away. The Westerners in the party all picked either goofy rap songs, rock or oldies – the kind of songs you’d sing to at a proper house party. The Chinese students picked these really soft, love songs that all pretty much had the same idea: “I just broke up with my girlfriend. I want to be with you forever. Let’s be in love. You’re my only one.” Nothing to do with sex, drugs, partying, violence. Just straight up monogamous love. Like holding hands love. Like let’s have a picnic and watch the sunset love.
So we’d pretty much be switching between songs like the Chili Peppers’ “Hump De Bump” and “My Heart in Your Hands” by some Chinese lady.
To top it off, the Chinese take their karaoke seriously. They’re damn good singers. All of them. This is a nation of potential pop stars. You could run an American idol here and you’d have to weed through several million top grade vocalists in order to produce a winner. And the top several million would all be platinum-album caliber. You’d have to go pretty far down the line in order to come across some hack who you could have your judges make fun of enough to generate the first-month interest that has become the main reason people watch American idol.
Here we are, me, Craig and these other guys – hammered – singing the goofiest American and British pop songs or raunchy rock n’ roll and oldies rock, while these innocent Chinese students croon love ballads.
In the end it was a bunch of fun. Great experience. Probably not going to do it again. Ever. And I earned a sore throat that’s now turned into a full blown sinus infection. Lovin’ it.
Peace.
The Arrival
Ok... this is old, and should have been posted on March 1st, but I didn't have internet. Deal.
What a fucking trip… it took me along time to figure out exactly how long I’ve been traveling for, given the complication of the international date line and my occasional absence of mind. The flight from LAX to Beijing International was roughly 11 hours, but I when I crossed the IDL I jumped ahead a day, so after leaving LAX on Thursday night at 0040, I hopped out of the plane at 0540 Beijing time, or 1140 PST. My internal clock promptly stopped dead, had a stroke and then went into a coma.
Walking through any airport in the wee hours of the morning is like being in a dream. There’s this humongous feat of architecture that is startlingly empty and devoid of life, save the passengers of the plane you’ve landed on. You all stumble off the redeye with your internal clock in a coma and wander aimlessly after one another through brightly lit, yet eerily empty halls towards customs. The sentries there are half-asleep half-robot, and usher you through with little more than a grunt to accompany the thunk of the passport stamp. Then you and your fellow travelers groggily stand around waiting for your luggage to emerge from the depths of the airport before stumbling off towards wherever you may go.
Luckily I slept the entire flight over, and managed to avoid babies – the bane of any airplane-goer’s existence. As the flight was 11 hours, I was awake enough after 9ish hours of sleep to catch the last in-flight movie, which was Kung Fu Panda. Hell yes. Unfortunately, it got cut off right before the final battle because we had to land. Damn. However, I did meet this nice older couple who’s teaching English in Qingdao – they invited me to visit sometime. That really doesn’t make up for missing the final battle.
At Beijing International, I took the rail link to center city and then to the metro station closest to Beijing South Railway Station, where I’d catch the train to Jinan to meet with the people from Aston (the school I’m teaching for). I grabbed a cab to cover that last leg from the station to South. Taking the train In, I was struck by how bland the landscape was. As it was winter, the trees were leaf-less, but there was no undergrowth, no shrubs, no smaller plants, and hardly any firs. The trees along the rail link were clearly cultivated by the government, as they were planted in precise rows following the tracks and alongside the highways, with small moats of dirt around the bases presumably to collect water. Especially around the airport, however, there was hardly anything planted at all. Some low shrubbery decorated the immediate proximity of the terminal, but farther out the fields had been plowed clean and were bare dirt. The effects of pollution were blatant, and although I’ve read and heard of the poor air quality here, experiencing it first hand was literally awesome.
The sunrise was dull and grayed, and the sun rose as a red ember that dissipated into the smog overhead. As I sat in South and looked upwards through the magnificent building’s skylit roof, I could see blue sky, but later as I raced southwards towards Jinan, the sky became gray and visibility actually shrank the further I fell from the capitol. By the time I’d reached Jinan, it was later in the afternoon around 6, and visibility was less than a mile. Buildings rose like monoliths, indistinct through the gloom. When I first left the airport by rail link I immediately felt the difference in air quality. It tasted dusty, like an old attic, and it left a tickle in the back of my throat. When I left the hotel in Jinan to hit up the supermarket for some eats, the smell of rust permeated the air, sprinkled with ash and topped with dust.
The redemption: the food. I ate at the hotel’s small diner, where they served me some amazing concoction that is clearly what Kung Po chicken is spun off of. I’m still not sure what kind of meat-like substance is digesting in my tummy right now, but it was damn good in whatever amazing sauce the chef cooked up, combined with mushrooms and green peppers. With rice, of course.
Second redemption: when I took a shower, a square of mirror directly above the sink at regular-person eye level or chest level for me, didn’t fog up. I have no idea what kind of magic the Chinese put in their bathroom mirrors, but this is sweet. I don’t really use a mirror for much, but still – sweet.
Back to the story: I meet my contact, Annie, the HR officer for Aston in Jinan, at Jinan train station, and we hop in a taxi after struggling to find one that will take us the distance we need to go. Apparently Aston Jinan is quite a hike from center city, and this hotel I’m staying at definitely is. We get to the hotel after some tenacious taxi driving – see below – and a brief interlude of being lost, I check into my room and… somebody had already been put in it. So I got a new room. Then Annie left me with specific directions to get to Aston on Monday and peaced.
Warning: in the words of Mr. Greg Sherman, “Never drive in China.” Please. Just don’t do it. Westerners’ sense of the rules of the road do not apply in China. Here, you can go wherever you want. Lines and lights are merely suggestions. For both pedestrians and drivers. I can’t recall seeing a single officer of the law enforcing any kind of rules of the road, let alone being present. Now, don’t’ get me wrong, the Chinese aren’t bad drivers. They manage very skillfully to not get in accidents, as they have a very good idea of the size of their cars and how to use both the brake and horn. But the disorder is ridiculous! To this moment, I have no idea how I was not in at least sixteen accidents. Somehow the bus, bike, man or other car narrowly avoided hitting or being hit by my taxi. I will never drive here. Ever.
I am now going to bed. I am thoroughly exhausted, and I sorely miss my internal clock. I hope that given sufficient sleep, it emerges from its coma. Luckily I have all day tomorrow to tend to it.
Biggest regret so far: not bringing new books to read. I have a list of fifteen or sixteen books I want to get to in the next few months, but I brought NONE OF THEM. Instead, I have three Chinese language books and a Chinese-English dictionary. At least I’ll be productive in my language learning. Blah.
What a fucking trip… it took me along time to figure out exactly how long I’ve been traveling for, given the complication of the international date line and my occasional absence of mind. The flight from LAX to Beijing International was roughly 11 hours, but I when I crossed the IDL I jumped ahead a day, so after leaving LAX on Thursday night at 0040, I hopped out of the plane at 0540 Beijing time, or 1140 PST. My internal clock promptly stopped dead, had a stroke and then went into a coma.
Walking through any airport in the wee hours of the morning is like being in a dream. There’s this humongous feat of architecture that is startlingly empty and devoid of life, save the passengers of the plane you’ve landed on. You all stumble off the redeye with your internal clock in a coma and wander aimlessly after one another through brightly lit, yet eerily empty halls towards customs. The sentries there are half-asleep half-robot, and usher you through with little more than a grunt to accompany the thunk of the passport stamp. Then you and your fellow travelers groggily stand around waiting for your luggage to emerge from the depths of the airport before stumbling off towards wherever you may go.
Luckily I slept the entire flight over, and managed to avoid babies – the bane of any airplane-goer’s existence. As the flight was 11 hours, I was awake enough after 9ish hours of sleep to catch the last in-flight movie, which was Kung Fu Panda. Hell yes. Unfortunately, it got cut off right before the final battle because we had to land. Damn. However, I did meet this nice older couple who’s teaching English in Qingdao – they invited me to visit sometime. That really doesn’t make up for missing the final battle.
At Beijing International, I took the rail link to center city and then to the metro station closest to Beijing South Railway Station, where I’d catch the train to Jinan to meet with the people from Aston (the school I’m teaching for). I grabbed a cab to cover that last leg from the station to South. Taking the train In, I was struck by how bland the landscape was. As it was winter, the trees were leaf-less, but there was no undergrowth, no shrubs, no smaller plants, and hardly any firs. The trees along the rail link were clearly cultivated by the government, as they were planted in precise rows following the tracks and alongside the highways, with small moats of dirt around the bases presumably to collect water. Especially around the airport, however, there was hardly anything planted at all. Some low shrubbery decorated the immediate proximity of the terminal, but farther out the fields had been plowed clean and were bare dirt. The effects of pollution were blatant, and although I’ve read and heard of the poor air quality here, experiencing it first hand was literally awesome.
The sunrise was dull and grayed, and the sun rose as a red ember that dissipated into the smog overhead. As I sat in South and looked upwards through the magnificent building’s skylit roof, I could see blue sky, but later as I raced southwards towards Jinan, the sky became gray and visibility actually shrank the further I fell from the capitol. By the time I’d reached Jinan, it was later in the afternoon around 6, and visibility was less than a mile. Buildings rose like monoliths, indistinct through the gloom. When I first left the airport by rail link I immediately felt the difference in air quality. It tasted dusty, like an old attic, and it left a tickle in the back of my throat. When I left the hotel in Jinan to hit up the supermarket for some eats, the smell of rust permeated the air, sprinkled with ash and topped with dust.
The redemption: the food. I ate at the hotel’s small diner, where they served me some amazing concoction that is clearly what Kung Po chicken is spun off of. I’m still not sure what kind of meat-like substance is digesting in my tummy right now, but it was damn good in whatever amazing sauce the chef cooked up, combined with mushrooms and green peppers. With rice, of course.
Second redemption: when I took a shower, a square of mirror directly above the sink at regular-person eye level or chest level for me, didn’t fog up. I have no idea what kind of magic the Chinese put in their bathroom mirrors, but this is sweet. I don’t really use a mirror for much, but still – sweet.
Back to the story: I meet my contact, Annie, the HR officer for Aston in Jinan, at Jinan train station, and we hop in a taxi after struggling to find one that will take us the distance we need to go. Apparently Aston Jinan is quite a hike from center city, and this hotel I’m staying at definitely is. We get to the hotel after some tenacious taxi driving – see below – and a brief interlude of being lost, I check into my room and… somebody had already been put in it. So I got a new room. Then Annie left me with specific directions to get to Aston on Monday and peaced.
Warning: in the words of Mr. Greg Sherman, “Never drive in China.” Please. Just don’t do it. Westerners’ sense of the rules of the road do not apply in China. Here, you can go wherever you want. Lines and lights are merely suggestions. For both pedestrians and drivers. I can’t recall seeing a single officer of the law enforcing any kind of rules of the road, let alone being present. Now, don’t’ get me wrong, the Chinese aren’t bad drivers. They manage very skillfully to not get in accidents, as they have a very good idea of the size of their cars and how to use both the brake and horn. But the disorder is ridiculous! To this moment, I have no idea how I was not in at least sixteen accidents. Somehow the bus, bike, man or other car narrowly avoided hitting or being hit by my taxi. I will never drive here. Ever.
I am now going to bed. I am thoroughly exhausted, and I sorely miss my internal clock. I hope that given sufficient sleep, it emerges from its coma. Luckily I have all day tomorrow to tend to it.
Biggest regret so far: not bringing new books to read. I have a list of fifteen or sixteen books I want to get to in the next few months, but I brought NONE OF THEM. Instead, I have three Chinese language books and a Chinese-English dictionary. At least I’ll be productive in my language learning. Blah.
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