aha.

take that, cybercensors! We invested in a new toy that gets us around internet restrictions so now I can actually access this blog baby instead of emailing tidbits out into the ether. Pardon the delay while I figure out how to use all these gadgets; it may be ugly around here while I freshen up and get my face on.

resuscitation

finals, visitors, travels, visitor, start of semester, excuses, excuses.

We're already a quarter of the way into second semester. My freshman class has shaken the dust off their atrophied English skills since vacation and my 9 sophomores have solidified their hatred of the language. I have one writing class with them, which I really enjoy thanks to the writing textbook Jeff & Claire left behind for me to use, and my other five classes are all Listening & Speaking, four times per week with the freshmen and once with the sophs. (I should have two writing classes with the sophomores but they hate it, and usually me, and I don't love them, so I dropped one and am waiting to see how long it'll be until someone "important" confronts my liberties with the schedule.)

Everyone came back to school with new shoes, new coats and freshly sculpted anime hair: curled, swooped, frizzed, straightened, black, purple, or "blonde," which, properly translated, is "orange." The magic of having a foreign teacher has worn off for most of the students, except the ones who aren't actually in my classes, and only see me in the dingy hallway of the writing class building, grabbing their friends' attention to stare and giggle or call out, "Hallooo! Nice-tew-mete-yooh!"

Spring is at winter's back door with fickle temperatures and mostly gray skies sagging with showers, but Megan was lucky to get 68 degrees on her birthday a couple weeks ago. Simon and I came to her class to play shark pit and "the circle game" (that's what I'm calling it anyway) outside, which was a lot more fun than when we repeated the event the following week with my class, who, true to form, cheated. The freshmen boys are bedazzled by my new and awesome iPod; Jack pointed and said, "How much," and Martin held out his hand and demanded, "Give to me." Jack had the same question-as-statement last semester of my running shoes that I brought in for show and tell (hard to believe, but I do teach college and not kindergarten) which was followed by Martin's charming show of his pack of cigarettes, and tell, "I like smoking. That's all." Boys.

Hopefully we'll have some committed spring temperatures by next weekend for Easter/Qingming Festival aka Tomb Sweeping Day (interesting coincidence) when we get Monday off (and don't have to make it up!). Some of us are thinking of getting a bus down to Hangzhou, the lovely city near Shanghai where Megan and I started our winter vacation travels. Loreta's stipulation is a church and Tim's is beer, and thanks to Google (.com.hk, mind you) we know Hangzhou has both. All I need to do is figure out exactly how much I overspent by on our travels -oops- and see if I have the funds to go.

mango melee

Last summer while visiting Renee and her homeland we went to the annual Mango Melee in celebration of this wondrous fruit. My love of the mango developed in Voi, where the Sisters plucked them off their trees and served them for dessert, and then my dear island roommate taught me how to properly peel and cut my own (Pick 'n' Save purchased) mahngoes (how Beth says it in Latin American hangover). Well, lucky for us, it is mango melee somewhere in this part of the world because the supermarket bins are bursting with them.

In the fall when we last had mangoes we attempted the oh-so-delectable Thai dessert of mango and sticky rice, but we never quite perfected it before winter settled in on the produce section. Now we have mangoes again, and between devouring them at every meal and snacktime, we've cooked up coconut sticky rice twice in the past week. Tonight, we perfected it, and let me tell you, it's a DIVINE trio. If you have the means, you must rush out to the nearest Thai restaurant and get some for yourself. Or buy your ticket, come over here, and I'll make it.

hiatus

as Megan and Maria Carlota would say, "obviopo..." because clearly this on-again-off-again blog has been switched off lately.

The parents have blown through China and settled back in their spot of the world after whirling around it, and Megan and I are exploring the Southwest corner before school starts again in two weeks.

The nutshell: Beijing is as awesome as fabled, Xi'an is filthy, but the Warriors (and Muslim Quarter) are worth the trip, traveling around Spring Festival is chaotic, Shanghai is still super cool and Yunnan fare is best.

More to come when the dust settles in Huai'an, around the 27th.

"digital disobedience"

I'm trying to keep up with the Google vs. Communism battle that erupted last week. This NY Times article discusses the many ways people in China, in acts of "digital disobedience", penetrate the Great Firewall. If Megan and I had realized what a nuisance internet censorship was going to be, we would have followed Dad's advice and downloaded VPN software before we left home. (Cue Tech King's "Told you so.")

Honestly, I hardly thought about what would be blocked and how that would affect my cyber life. It's kind of nice to not have the Facebook temptation, and Youku has everything I've wanted to look for on YouTube -- and more because of its flagrant copyright violations. Fine, Hulu, you won't let me stream The Office because I don't have a US IP address? I'll just watch it with Chinese subtitles. Now that I've learned what and how the Chinese do, it's a lot easier to fulfill my internet needs, and for those sites that don't have Chinese substitutes, I've gotten used to living without them. (So Facebook, you can stop emailing me requests to return to your world. It ain't happenin' right now.)

The above picture (that hopefully shows up on this PRC blocked blog of mine) is what turns up if you attempt to access any of the restricted sites. For this particular result, I searched for "falun gong", and as Michael J. Horowitz says in the previously mentioned Times article, "China goes more nuclear at the mention of Falun Gong than any other two words in the whole dictionary." haha.. There's no way the "page is taking too long to respond" because this pops up immediately after hitting the 'Enter' key. Does anyone actually believe that or does everyone online here know what's going on?

I have my doubts that they do, given the facts that my students don't know what happened at Tian'an'men, or that most of the West has less than fond feelings for Mao, let alone why. Another Times article quotes a Peking University professor on what's happening with Google: "If this process goes on, more and more people are going to realize that their freedom of information is being infringed upon, and this could bring changes down the line."

I would say I'm happy to have ringside seats for this debate and the potential down-the-line-changes, but given that all of this is unfolding where it is, heavily shrouded, I'm more in the dark in the middle of it than out.

glasses for cool

At first I thought the Chinese just had poor eyesight. The majority of our students wear glasses, most of the cashiers at the supermarket, most of the people on the street, young and old: wearing glasses. With the younger people, the "nerd" variety is especially popular. Then Megan noticed many of these pairs of glasses did not have lenses. The next day in class I studied the kids with specs and realized that most of them were indeed lens-less. A fashion phenomenon!

A few weeks later Vence was sporting some (with lenses) and I asked if they were real. "No, they're just.." he took them off and turned them over, "they're just for cool."

We needed some.

The Shanghai People's Square metro station delivered. 

Mine fit the "nerd" criteria but they're not right for my face, so I'm on the lookout for a replacement pair.

Side note: My little architect likes the design of this building because of its sleek, modern interpretation of the traditional pagoda. 

all aboard!

The journey begins! Mom and Pop Kelly left KC yesterday at 2pm and should be landing in London in about five hours. I hope the camera batteries are well charged so we can see every bit of their first hemisphere's offerings. They're taking two weeks to get to Beijing, and after this flight to London, it's trains the whole way! I'm highly envious. As this "let's visit the kids" trip turned into an anniversary celebration, Megan observed that their tour 'round the world is just like Dad buying Mom some commemorative bling. Mom said she thinks she'll prefer the train trip. I'm hoping their butts and morales hold out long enough to deliver them to the PRC in good spirits.

Dad has intricately planned out what to do at each stop along the way: coffee here, Belgian chocolates there (and maybe a gift box to go?), homestays in Moscow and St. Petersburg, and then back to Moscow to board the Trans Siberian. While crossing Russia (anyone else wonder what Siberia looks like in January?) the train has a Russian-style dining car, then for the couple days in Mongolia it gets switched out for a Mongolian dining car, and the last day through China will provide a chopsticks primer before they disembark at our rendezvous point.

Now that we're in our last days of class/exams, I'm getting really excited to see (the parents obviously, but also,) what the Chinese consider the center of the world: Beijing. True to form, I'm most excited about the food there. I recently learned that each province has an official restaurant and hotel for their government officials to stay at while oiling the bureaucratic wheels in the hub of the machine. The restaurants fly in staff and ingredients from their provinces and are open to anyone. I'm trying to figure out which provinces we won't physically get to, but whose cuisine we should try out. If our dining plans aren't as intricately plotted as the rest of the trip, Megan and I will get a big F- as research assistants. So far the list only consists of a couple of these province restaurants and a Xinjiang spot (the westernmost province/home of the Uighurs).

Simultaneously descending on Beijing is Loreta and her friend/student Casper, and the Valder party: Jeff and Claire, their two friends coming over from Nebraska, and our beloved Vence. No one's really looking forward to the January temperatures, but the company should keep us all preoccupied with more important things. Can't wait!

"maybe communism with chinese characteristics is just the nastiest form of capitalism you've ever seen in your life."

--- my astute traveling companion, standing outside a "holy" temple on a "holy" mountain, amid the cacophony of hawkers, noise-makers, hawkers hawking noise-makers and other frenzied sounds of oversupply and needless demand.

party in the usa

Since I have my freshmen class four times a week, I regularly play them English-language songs on Mondays, which I have cleverly dubbed "Music Monday". I play the song while they look at the lyrics, some of which I have blanked out so they have to listen for what the words are. Just this week I realized I could greatly enhance Music Monday by showing them music videos downloaded with some unnamed downloading client (because as of now, we shadily are not allowed internet access in the classrooms...). iTunes' top downloads list tells me that some song called "Party in the USA" is quite the hit back home, so I searched for it and downloaded a live performance.

And that's how I learned about this pole incident which looks to have been a real flurry in the media that I thankfully missed before we left.

Here I thought Miley Cyrus would be a nice window to American culture as a solid representation of current American pop music. What a tragedy that she really is a current icon of American pop! She is not such a nice window to American culture for these Chinese students. There's no way I could show this to my class of 20 year-olds: Megan and I drew out the lyrics for "The 12 Days of Christmas" and the boys couldn't even be mature about her stick figure drawing of 9 ladies dancing. Plus, I don't want to show it to them, which is really the sad thing, that what's "popular" in my country would embarrass me as a cultural ambassador to my students.

At least they now know who U2 is. Can you believe Bono was unknown in a corner of the world?

new year's in shanghai

New Year's Eve isn't such a big deal here since the Chinese New Year is what everyone looks forward to (happening this year on Feb. 14, ushering in the year of the tiger), but we made it our own big deal by going to Shanghai with Jeff and Claire since we all had New Year's Day off of school. I moved my Thursday afternoon class to Wednesday so we could head out earlier, and made it to the hostel by 8pm. Jeff and Claire had gotten in earlier in the afternoon so we hopped on the metro and met them at People's Square, which was filled with thousands of, you might guess, people. And that's probably not an exaggeration since the population of the city is somewhere around 19million.

A friend of a friend of theirs, who is a Shanghai native but went to college in the U.S., met us all and took us over to the Bund, right next to the Huangpu River. My camera promptly announced it had no battery life left, so I'll have to get the pictures from Jeff before I can post any, but we had a great view of the Oriental Pearl Tower across the river. The lights on the Tower turned into a countdown, so Megan joined in with "shi! jiu! ba! qi!" and I tried to recall them but only chimed in at three/"san!" I forgot that no one else would be shouting "Hap-py New Year!" after we got to "one!" but did it anyway and smooched my date on the cheek. A spectacular fireworks show ensued and it felt really cool to be standing there at the start of 2010.

Surprisingly, the area wasn't so mobbed with people as I expected, but it got a little scary when everyone decided to turn around and head back down the street. They just move, which means plowing through with no concern for whatever other humans are in your path. A man wrapped his arms around his wife and propelled them through the crowd by using her as one of those log things people in medieval times used to knock down castle doors (what are those things called? logs?). It's very easy to see how it's not uncommon for people to die in stampedes in this country. (Schools have waves of dismissal times so there's not a horde of kids trampling each other while racing out to mommy's mo-ped.)

I asked my class who their New Year's kisses were going to be and the ones that understood gasped, blushed, and cried, "No one!" At 19 and 20, most of them still think the opposite sex has cooties I'm pretty sure. One girl said she would be in bed by midnight so I took that to mean they don't much care about seeing the clock change.

The rest of the weekend was sort of a bust: Megan had forgotten her passport here in Huai'an, the bank below the hostel started jack-hammering my eardrums at 7:30 ("We must finish for the Expo!"), and the Shanghai friend took us to the tallest building in the city, which also has the tallest prices of anything in China I've seen. It cost 150RMB (over $20) to go up to the top, and we were pretty cash strapped slash not that into it, so it was a futile, time-suck field trip. However, the bathrooms in the lobby of the tallest building had heated toilet seats, which somehow made it semi-worth the trek.

thank you, Shanghai's Swiss Chamber of Commerce, for the tiger picture: swisscham.org

shèng dàn kuài lè!

Merry Christmas!

Friday the 18th, Megan and I had a Christmas party for our students. Megan had to regulate which classes she invited since she has over 300 students (freshmen got denied) and I invited all three of my classes, knowing the one that hates me wouldn't show up :)   Luckily, the CET exams (China's national English test) were being given over that weekend so we lost a lot of attendance to test prep and had probably 70 students trickle through our tiny apartment. Let me amend that and say 70 girls showed up, because not a single male student came over. What-ever, boys!

We purchased Santa hats for the occasion (see picture) but over the course of the evening and following week, ended up with a total of 7, including one with white braids (a Mrs. Santa hat) as they were bestowed upon us with the Christmas wishes from various students.

This other picture is some of my freshmen (my favorite class).

"everything's cheap in china"

-- Loreta's observation upon hearing about this awesomely horrendous Chinglish

This sign is hanging above a row of lockers at Times Extra, the large supermarket in downtown Huai'an. You can't bring in other shopping bags or parcels, so lockers are provided to stow those items while you shop. These are the bilingual instructions for operating the locker system.

bus 22

I know I owe this thing some updates, but here's a snapshot of a bus ride home from school one night last week...

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday I have my freshmen class from 4 until 5:40, the last period of the day. It gets dark midway through, and now that we're getting closer to winter, this class period is more and more miserable. (No heat in the classrooms, no heat on the buses, s-p-o-i-l-e-d American alert.) Last Monday was particularly miserable, with a steady assault of sleet pelting down on all of us waiting for the bus back into town. At least four #22 buses passed in the opposite direction, and three #23 buses passed going in my direction in the 40 minutes I had to stand waiting for the #22 to go home. When it FINALLY careened towards the shivering crowd, all much more patient/used to Chinese inconsistency than I, we clambered on to the tune of club music pumping throughout the bus. A group of men stood smoking near the front, shouting at the driver/d.j. to turn it up. A couple stops later, the smokers got off and were replaced by a man toting propane - wonderful. I had another spoiled American attack: is this legal? Are we going to explode? Should I get off and wait for the next one? and decided I'd just be Chinese about it and sit back and let it happen.

The sleet's still pelting, the music's still pumping, the bus gets fuller at every stop. Enter a glossy-eyed trio stinking of baijou, and this has turned into the strangest bus ride of my entire life. (Actually, just the strangest of my Chinese life, because the one in Milwaukee when the two guys started beating each other with umbrellas is still probably the strangest, and all the #30 rides with The Maniac were up there too.)

going to grandma's

What do Sheboygan, Thiensville and HuangJi all have in common? Grandmas!

Our new friend whose English name is Karvin took us to his hometown in the country, just 45 minutes outside Huai'an. We hopped on a bus that dumped us off on the side of the highway, we crossed over, walked down a dirt road and tucked behind a line of trees was this small village where he grew up. (His parents have since moved to the city nearby, but his grandparents still live in the house he grew up in.)

pic 1: tea
pics 2&3: grandma and grandpa putting on a dumpling show
pic 4: the road to the highway

I don't know how old Karvin's grandparents are but they are SPRY. Grandma was bustling around, hacking at weeds in the garden; Grandpa was raking the rice drying in the courtyard. Two endorsements for the Chinese wellness philosophy.

Shortly after we arrived, I went to the back to use the outhouse, passed the geese-looking things in one pen, and stomped up the path to scare the chickens away. I pushed on the door (marked with chalk as the "women"'s side) and through the hole at the bottom of the door at my feet comes bursting and flapping madly a big fat CHICKEN. I screamed of course, and had to fetch Megan to accompany me for the next attempt. Just when you think you can hack rustic your spoiled, city, bird-hating tendencies have to give you away.

The next day we caught the bus into the city of Hongze, near the "fourth-largest fresh water lake in China", where Karvin's parents and other relatives live. We had lunch at his grandpa's brother's house. This great-uncle was a captain in the People's Liberation Army ---- so, on October 1, China celebrated 60 years of the PRC, and this man helped bring it about. Pretty cool. And he's a great cook to boot.

the Eight-Day Holiday

Before the break I told my freshmen their homework was to write me a postcard about their holiday. Well, Megan and I now know that postcards don't seem to exist in China, so I got a smattering of "Happy Birthday" cards, notebook paper, and construction paper.

Most of the girls did the assignment but only one out of the 10 boys did. His humble notebook paper was the loveliest writing I've seen from any of my students in any of my classes:

This holiday I thought I would go to some beautiful places to tour. Such as Beijing, Hangzhou or Yangzhou. But to my surprise, my parents told me that I couldn't go to any place just the hometown. And I must go with them to see my grandma. This year, my grandma is 93 years old. My grandma said she missed me everyday. She want me to see her. So in Three October, this day is very special in China. This day is the Midautumn Festival. Every people out of home all want to come back to see their spouses.

On the bus, I was not happy, because I want to tour. I looked out from the windshield. Leaf and grass turn yellow. I want to cry. I understand that my grandma is too old and she want to see her son, daughter and everyone in this family. Every old people want to have a happy time at the last time in their lives.

Ten minutes late, we get down from the bus. There is nothing in the field. It's bleak and desolate. Then I saw my grandma was sitting under the tree. She saw us and stand up. She smiled very happy just like a child. She is older than I thought. I thought I haven't seen her in two years. Because I was busy with my study in the past. Now I have time to see her. But I want to tour instead of seeing her. I feeled ashamed now. I want to say "Grandma, I love you."

Tai Shan

What transpired after that first blog post from Tai'an could be its own entire blog site but I'll condense in order to avoid the pain of a total recap. ["shan" means mountain: the town is Tai'an and the mountain is Mount Tai = Tai Shan]

We proceeded up the mountain for our midnight "hike" which consisted of trudging up some 7,000 stone steps. 7,000 steep stone steps not made for size 9 American feet. No more than 3/4 of my foot could rest on each stair. We definitely underestimated the arduousness of climbing stairs straight up the side of what we thought was a puny mountain. We also had to navigate the horde of humans accompanying us on this midnight journey. For sharing space with an immense number of other bodies, the Chinese have barely a vague notion of crowd control. The "walk right" concept does not exist. So we're heaving our way up the stairs and people are spread all the way across the 20-foot wide stairway, stopping right in the middle of a chunk of steps without warning to catch their breath, or plopping down for a rest, or deciding it's too much and turning around and walking right down the middle into the stream of people still making their way up.

So not only were we sharing our hike with "a mountain of people, a sea of persons" as the Chinese expression goes, but none of these persons seemed to care that we were walking all over one of the "holiest" mountains in the country. There were vendors at regular intervals hawking flashlights, army overcoats, snacks, shoes, noisemakers, and anything else you needed or didn't. Some climbers broadcasted their cell phone MP3 files for motivation or shouted up and down at each other. A sign at the entrance reminded people: "Please don't fling rubbish everywhere," but no one seemed to have read it or cared if they did. Rubbish was indeed being flung everywhere.

When we made it to the top 4 hours later, sweaty but now freezing, we hunkered down in an overheated restaurant, after buying an overpriced cup of hot tea, to wait for the sun to come up. A little before five, everyone started bustling around and Megan and I took our long legs through the wandering mess and up more stairs to an eastern-facing rock. The summit was lined with cameras and their owners, who were more interested in capturing and talking about the moment than experiencing it.

Light slowly infiltrated the horizon and when the actual orb showed itself, the rim of people cheered and cameras snapped feverishly.

We started our descent, which was more painful on the legs than the ascent had been. We couldn't stop moving or else our legs shook uncontrollably.

Two hours later we made it to the bottom, not envious of all those just beginning their day in the now hot sun. We were desperate for good food and sound sleep and were looking forward to heading home. What happened with the rest of the day created one of the top five worst days of my life. All I'll say is we started our way back to Huai'an at 10am and we didn't actually leave that Tai'an hell hole until 6:30pm, arriving back at 12, making it the second midnight we had seen without any sleep in between.

trip to Nanjing

ka fei: YUM!

Nanjing is a very pretty city. It used to be the capital of China at
one point, and is also the capital of our province. In the late 20s
the Japanese attacked Nanjing and tortured and killed several hundred
thousand Chinese. The Chinese will not let anyone forget about this,
which of course continues to taint the average Chinese person's
opinions of Japan/ese 80 years later.

This third picture was taken at an enormous memorial site dedicated to
Communist martyrs.

downtown huai'an

Decked out for National Day. Can you spot Wal-Mart in the distance? Far left.

We had many discussions on the attractiveness of the Chinese lantern.
Some are charming and tasteful. Others, like these, look like
jellyfish. Not so charming.

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These pictures were sent with Picasa, from Google.
Try it out here: http://picasa.google.com/

ditched

Megan's first piece that she left on the side of the road after the rust, the unidentified clunking noise and the flat tire got to be too much. What do you want for $14? This picture was taken a few days after she left it -- still standing there, all alone. It was so bad no one wanted to steal it.

It has since been replaced by a sleek, operable black number called "Feng Huang" -- phoenix.

freedom

having a bike makes life so wonderful

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These pictures were sent with Picasa, from Google.
Try it out here: http://picasa.google.com/