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| Manzhouli at twilight |
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| A huge, festive umbrella in the middle of nowhere |
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| traditional chinese palace in front of a new high rise in Hailaier |
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Inner-Mongolia pictures
"We kill the sheep and eat the sheep" - recollections from Inner-Mongolia
When one thinks of Inner-Mongolia, it is not unlike thinking of Siberia, as being a distant, mysterious barren wasteland. Even though I am only 10 hours away from Siberia, and 24 hours away from Inner-Mongolia by train, both of these places seem so far removed from my reality that when it was suggested that I go to inner-mongolia, my first reaction was to say that i didn't have enough time to travel there, as I only had 8 days.
Upon reflection, a train schedule and a map, I realized that it was absolutely a possibility, and tempted by the luxurious accomadations of sleeping in a yurt, eating yak meat and maybe herding some sheep, I decided to go.
Upon reflection, a train schedule and a map, I realized that it was absolutely a possibility, and tempted by the luxurious accomadations of sleeping in a yurt, eating yak meat and maybe herding some sheep, I decided to go.
Accompanied by my likewise - adventurous friend, Caroline- we decided to venture to Manzhouli, a town that sits on the border of China, Russia and Mongolia. At first, we had planned to just get on a train and go, but unfortunately, our Chinese tutor, Emily, found us a travel agent to book the trip for us. Neither one of us had very strong objections to it, so we agreed to it.
But before that, we had the 24-hour long train to inner-Mongolia before us- everyone warned us against it- but we loved every moment, it was just us, our books, two bags of groceries and one huge bag of an entire day's worth of meals from McDonalds for two people. Intermittently, another girl in our travel group, a deaf Chinese girl, would come to check in on us. This was always a long ordeal, as we would have to write our conversations to her- in Chinese characters- which, we thought speaking in Chinese was hard? writing a chinese conversation= much worse.
Getting off the train in Manzhouli, we faced a two-pronged problem which we had not foreseen- 1) we were traveling with two deaf Chinese people- so we couldn't communicate with them except by writing solely in characters- so our conversations were limited, to say the least- though Caroline valiantly and successfully struggled through a conversation about American colleges. 2) in terms of shopping and restaurants, everyone spoke Russian.
Basically, our Chinese was useless to us (except in relation to our tour guide/hotel employees that we later argued with). and my Russian? rusty to say the least- I could read-but I found that I had forgotten most of my food vocabulary. and thats how I became an enigma to the good people of Manzhouli. I look Russian, speak a little Russian- but within a few seconds have to switch back to Chinese- in all fairness, it's been 3 years since I was in Russia- so I confused Chinese and Russians alike, as they tried to figure out how a Russian girl could not speak Russian.
Getting off the train in Manzhouli, we faced a two-pronged problem which we had not foreseen- 1) we were traveling with two deaf Chinese people- so we couldn't communicate with them except by writing solely in characters- so our conversations were limited, to say the least- though Caroline valiantly and successfully struggled through a conversation about American colleges. 2) in terms of shopping and restaurants, everyone spoke Russian.
Basically, our Chinese was useless to us (except in relation to our tour guide/hotel employees that we later argued with). and my Russian? rusty to say the least- I could read-but I found that I had forgotten most of my food vocabulary. and thats how I became an enigma to the good people of Manzhouli. I look Russian, speak a little Russian- but within a few seconds have to switch back to Chinese- in all fairness, it's been 3 years since I was in Russia- so I confused Chinese and Russians alike, as they tried to figure out how a Russian girl could not speak Russian.
Now, inner- mongolia is beautiful- full of cows, goats, greens and blues- all of things i've been starved to see since I've been in China. Stepping into Manzhouli was like stepping into technicolor- and a little like stepping into Russia. Full of vivid yellow, gold and red hues, the city had all the curves, steeples and austere authority of traditional Russian architecture- it contrasted sharply with the slate gray, modern rigidity of the buildings and dull blue of Dalian's sea. I do love Dalian, but Manzhouli was a whole other world. we had fun- we went shopping- ate and just walked around the city, which is charming and european- more so than Dalian or even Haerbin.
Now, the first day, we went on a horse-ride, then to see various, awful, Chinese-style tourist traps. Finally, at the last tourist trap, I was frustrated and asked the woman what we were going to do the next day- at which time, she informed me that we were going to "kill the sheep, and eat the sheep." To enforce my understanding, she repeatedly and forcefully mimed guillotining the sheep. This didn't sound like fun to me. It seemed to me that since we had joined this tour group, they were always miming the death of some animal- at lunch they had happily demonstrated how to break the backs of the dead fish laying before us (that was our lunch). Caroline agreed with me, and so we made a pact to to go rogue on our trip the next day- to disappear and do something that did not involve sheep having to die.
The next morning, we woke up to an ordeal. The people in our travel group wouldn't let us go. We told them we weren't coming with them that day- didn't ask for our money back or anything- but b/c it was a matter of losing face, they all tried to force us to go, but we wouldn't capitulate- we didn't want to kill sheep. It was a 1.5 hour argument in Chinese that ended up with us storming off after they tried to take our passports.
The rest of our trip was relaxing, uneventful and wonderful.
Lesson of the Story:
Chinese tour trips: are the absolute worst and should be avoided unless you want to practice your chinese by arguing
Inner-Mongolia= wonderfulness
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Chinese New Year Fireworks for Breakfast
Bang! Bang! Bangbangbangbangbang! This morning I was awoken from my peaceful slumber by what sounded like a military artillery outside of my apartment complex. Confused, I ran to my window to see only a wall of thick smoke- and the sound of gunshots filled the air. In my sleepy disorientation, there was only one explanation:
"North Korea is attacking us!" I exclaimed. It then took me a moment or so to figure out why that statement sounded so ridiculous...
.... it was Chinese New Year, a fact that I slipped my mind for the first few moments of being awake. Oh, Chinese New Year- the month-long festival in which fire crackers are set off on seemingly every corner of every street of every city in China. From early in the morning until very late at night, one is in a constant state of wariness, never knowing if the fireworks will be set off before, behind or under them
That, along with my double-strength jet lag ( the product of being home for 10 days- not enough time to adjust to US time, and then returning to China and having to readjust to Chinese time)- has made certain that I have not slept a full night since the beginning of February.
"North Korea is attacking us!" I exclaimed. It then took me a moment or so to figure out why that statement sounded so ridiculous...
.... it was Chinese New Year, a fact that I slipped my mind for the first few moments of being awake. Oh, Chinese New Year- the month-long festival in which fire crackers are set off on seemingly every corner of every street of every city in China. From early in the morning until very late at night, one is in a constant state of wariness, never knowing if the fireworks will be set off before, behind or under them
That, along with my double-strength jet lag ( the product of being home for 10 days- not enough time to adjust to US time, and then returning to China and having to readjust to Chinese time)- has made certain that I have not slept a full night since the beginning of February.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Counter Culture Shock amid Snowmageddon 2010
Counter-Culture Shock amid Snowmageddon 2010
For Chinese New Years, all sane foreigners have only two options: leave the country or stay at home- because traveling within China when most of the population is also in transit would be akin to swimming in honey-slow, suffocating and sticky. I decided to return to the US for my ten day vacation.
Counter Culture Shock Countdown:
1) The snowplow fail When the few inches of snow descended upon Dalian, I scoffed at their subpar snow removal, fondly reminiscing about the efficient and skilled snowplow/salting trucks that roamed the streets and highways of Pennsylvania.
However, I arrived in the US during the "Snowmageddon." While I was not surprised at DC's snow incompetence- since every year they are surprised by snow- I was somewhat bitter at being trapped in Chicago overnight- then arriving to Pittsburgh in a state of emergency- streets unplowed, electricity cut, etc etc. Though I will say that, as always, my town was perfectly plowed and functioning as normal.
2) The mullet - so, when I was in China, I was very wary of all hairstylists- because Chinese hairstylists are used to chinese hair- thick and straight- not fine, curly hair, such as mine. For this reason, I only allowed them to trim my hair. When I went back to America, I went to a hair salon and received a mullet. straight up MacGyver- style. Maybe not quite as dramatic. But bad enough that I invested a great amount of money in hairbands.
3) small yippy dogs- in China, if one owns a dog, it's a small dog. I have stated several times that I prefer large dogs, and that I would only own medium to large dogs. Hence, imagine my surprise when I returned home to find Daisy: the smallest, yippiest, most adorable dog in the world. Daisy might, on a good day, be the size of small handbag. Small dogs = not so bad at all
For Chinese New Years, all sane foreigners have only two options: leave the country or stay at home- because traveling within China when most of the population is also in transit would be akin to swimming in honey-slow, suffocating and sticky. I decided to return to the US for my ten day vacation.
Counter Culture Shock Countdown:
1) The snowplow fail When the few inches of snow descended upon Dalian, I scoffed at their subpar snow removal, fondly reminiscing about the efficient and skilled snowplow/salting trucks that roamed the streets and highways of Pennsylvania.
However, I arrived in the US during the "Snowmageddon." While I was not surprised at DC's snow incompetence- since every year they are surprised by snow- I was somewhat bitter at being trapped in Chicago overnight- then arriving to Pittsburgh in a state of emergency- streets unplowed, electricity cut, etc etc. Though I will say that, as always, my town was perfectly plowed and functioning as normal.
2) The mullet - so, when I was in China, I was very wary of all hairstylists- because Chinese hairstylists are used to chinese hair- thick and straight- not fine, curly hair, such as mine. For this reason, I only allowed them to trim my hair. When I went back to America, I went to a hair salon and received a mullet. straight up MacGyver- style. Maybe not quite as dramatic. But bad enough that I invested a great amount of money in hairbands.
3) small yippy dogs- in China, if one owns a dog, it's a small dog. I have stated several times that I prefer large dogs, and that I would only own medium to large dogs. Hence, imagine my surprise when I returned home to find Daisy: the smallest, yippiest, most adorable dog in the world. Daisy might, on a good day, be the size of small handbag. Small dogs = not so bad at all
Monday, December 7, 2009
Swine flu and Chinese hospitals: Not an ideal combination
For the past several months, I've watched the Chinese people panic over "the swine." I laughed as they became OCD in taking our temperatures on a daily basis, mocked as we were ominously warned about N1H1 via verbal and written announcements, and rolled my eyes in contempt when my coworkers and classmates started wearing face masks.
Turns out? Swine flu? Not fun. Swine flu with asthmatic complications? stressful. Swine flu with complications in China? Horrific. A few months ago, I wrote about the terrible chinese hospitals and how I hoped I would never have to be in one. I really shouldn't tempt fate.
I had swine flu for two weeks, in which I was unable to do anything except be miserable, take the sugar pills that the Chinese refer to as medicine and get IVs. I couldn't go to the university- my professor called me to tell me I was very sick, I shouldn't come to class, and I should be in the hospital- so I missed two whole weeks of class. I was afraid to see anyone- I managed to infect at least seven people and made them ill as well.
When I finally emerged from the swine flu- 10 pounds lighter, dehydrated, with hands that were bruised purple from the multiple IVs I was coerced into getting and the voice of a dying cat- I emerged with the knowledge that Chinese medicine is pretty much worthless and their whole theory of medicine is based on the premise that hot water and heat heals all, which is most likely derived from the Chinese people's hatred of cold water, ice and all cold things.
Turns out? Swine flu? Not fun. Swine flu with asthmatic complications? stressful. Swine flu with complications in China? Horrific. A few months ago, I wrote about the terrible chinese hospitals and how I hoped I would never have to be in one. I really shouldn't tempt fate.
I had swine flu for two weeks, in which I was unable to do anything except be miserable, take the sugar pills that the Chinese refer to as medicine and get IVs. I couldn't go to the university- my professor called me to tell me I was very sick, I shouldn't come to class, and I should be in the hospital- so I missed two whole weeks of class. I was afraid to see anyone- I managed to infect at least seven people and made them ill as well.
When I finally emerged from the swine flu- 10 pounds lighter, dehydrated, with hands that were bruised purple from the multiple IVs I was coerced into getting and the voice of a dying cat- I emerged with the knowledge that Chinese medicine is pretty much worthless and their whole theory of medicine is based on the premise that hot water and heat heals all, which is most likely derived from the Chinese people's hatred of cold water, ice and all cold things.
In which I became a cautionary tale of future maid of honors at Chinese wedding dinners
Su-Mai-En! Su-Mai-En!! As the banquet hal full of chinese people chanted my (Chinese) name, I started to sincerely reconsider the wisedom of my choice to be Maid of Honor at a Chinese wedding dinner.
My ordeal started two weeks before, when a friend of mine asked me to be maid of honor at her Chinese wedding dinner. Knowing as I did that her wedding involved a donkey parade, jumping over a lit oven and ridiculous Qing-era clothing, I decided that, as maid of honor, I would try to do an american style toast, so some part of her wedding would have a familiar element to her.
Chinese wedding dinners are an example of what happens when cultural traditions and etiquette, originally made to make life more pleasant, becomes an odious process that serves to confuse and exasperate everyone involved.
The Chinese wedding dinners involve "red envelopes" in which the people who are invited must come and are obligated to give a certain amount of money to the bride and groom- if they fail to do this, they lose face. It's a tacky, antiquated tradition that often puts chinese people into a catch-22 postion, since they have to come to the wedding dinner and they must give a certain amount of money, which is at least 200 rmb, which is, for most chinese people, a substantial percentage of their monthly paycheck. So they can't not go- they would lose face, but at the same time they can't go, because they can't afford the money.
Anyway- because of this catch 22 situation, the chinese teachers in my school were placed in a cultural conundrum, that resulted in two weeks of wavering between all the CTs not going, all the CTs going, and only some of the CTs going. I decided to organize an american-style gift- in which all of the CTs going would pay a certain amount of money for one large gift. This seemingly easy idea caused me much stress as we had to get through all of their "face issues" - and resulted in me dragging an enormous, cast iron "hanging arch" lamp through the labyrinth that is the Dalian IKEA, after my friend decided that since he had carried another, much lighter lamp before, since I changed my mind, I would have to carry this lamp myself. The frantic IKEA trip culminated with the two of us getting into a ridiculous, yet heated argument over the importance of wrapping paper and ribbon for a wedding present.
So, cut to the next day: I discovered that, as a Chinese maid of honor, besides giving a speech, I had to follow around the bride, holding a tray full of cigarettes and candies to give to all the men at the dinner. I thus became the most sullen maid of honor as the sexist symbolism of the entire tradition was far too wretched for me to stomach gracefully. Luckily, as the bride was an American, wearing four inch heels, a blue ballgown and a fur shawl, she was with me in the opinion that this was awful.
Finally, I was able to sit down with all of my coworkers, leaving the bride and groom at the mercy of Chinese wedding dinner games and the malevolent guests who enforce them. Or at least, that is how I'll try to remember the evening. In reality, The groom announced that he had written a love song for his beautiful bride, and that, " The guests would like the maid of honor, Su-Mai-En, to dance to the song."
Have you ever thought that you are in the midst of a nightmare? I have before. The difference between this time and the other times is that this time? I didn't wake up. As the third round of "Su-Mai-En!! Su-Mai-En!" started up, I realized that, short of bolting for freedom , I was going to have to dance.
As the groom started singing, acapella, a song that went along the lines of, " Alicia, I love you, love you, love you. Alicia, I love you!" I awkwardly hopped, tap danced and twirled around, doing at best, an interpretive dance, and at worst, my impersontion of a chicken, while 100 chinese strangers cheered (or jeered) and laughed. I was a scene from bad '90s era teen movie.
My only consolation was that at least, besides my coworkers and my friend, no one I knew would ever see this. Even this small consolation was taken from me when I was finally allowed to leave the stage, and I discovered that my Judas of a friend had filmed the entire, mortifying ordeal- from my attempt to escape, slithering my way under the table at the beginning, to the end, when I attacked the groom, wrenching the microphone out of his hand.
wicked Chinese wedding dinner guests: 3,000,000,000
Meghan (aka Su-Mai-En): - dignity
My ordeal started two weeks before, when a friend of mine asked me to be maid of honor at her Chinese wedding dinner. Knowing as I did that her wedding involved a donkey parade, jumping over a lit oven and ridiculous Qing-era clothing, I decided that, as maid of honor, I would try to do an american style toast, so some part of her wedding would have a familiar element to her.
Chinese wedding dinners are an example of what happens when cultural traditions and etiquette, originally made to make life more pleasant, becomes an odious process that serves to confuse and exasperate everyone involved.
The Chinese wedding dinners involve "red envelopes" in which the people who are invited must come and are obligated to give a certain amount of money to the bride and groom- if they fail to do this, they lose face. It's a tacky, antiquated tradition that often puts chinese people into a catch-22 postion, since they have to come to the wedding dinner and they must give a certain amount of money, which is at least 200 rmb, which is, for most chinese people, a substantial percentage of their monthly paycheck. So they can't not go- they would lose face, but at the same time they can't go, because they can't afford the money.
Anyway- because of this catch 22 situation, the chinese teachers in my school were placed in a cultural conundrum, that resulted in two weeks of wavering between all the CTs not going, all the CTs going, and only some of the CTs going. I decided to organize an american-style gift- in which all of the CTs going would pay a certain amount of money for one large gift. This seemingly easy idea caused me much stress as we had to get through all of their "face issues" - and resulted in me dragging an enormous, cast iron "hanging arch" lamp through the labyrinth that is the Dalian IKEA, after my friend decided that since he had carried another, much lighter lamp before, since I changed my mind, I would have to carry this lamp myself. The frantic IKEA trip culminated with the two of us getting into a ridiculous, yet heated argument over the importance of wrapping paper and ribbon for a wedding present.
So, cut to the next day: I discovered that, as a Chinese maid of honor, besides giving a speech, I had to follow around the bride, holding a tray full of cigarettes and candies to give to all the men at the dinner. I thus became the most sullen maid of honor as the sexist symbolism of the entire tradition was far too wretched for me to stomach gracefully. Luckily, as the bride was an American, wearing four inch heels, a blue ballgown and a fur shawl, she was with me in the opinion that this was awful.
Finally, I was able to sit down with all of my coworkers, leaving the bride and groom at the mercy of Chinese wedding dinner games and the malevolent guests who enforce them. Or at least, that is how I'll try to remember the evening. In reality, The groom announced that he had written a love song for his beautiful bride, and that, " The guests would like the maid of honor, Su-Mai-En, to dance to the song."
Have you ever thought that you are in the midst of a nightmare? I have before. The difference between this time and the other times is that this time? I didn't wake up. As the third round of "Su-Mai-En!! Su-Mai-En!" started up, I realized that, short of bolting for freedom , I was going to have to dance.
As the groom started singing, acapella, a song that went along the lines of, " Alicia, I love you, love you, love you. Alicia, I love you!" I awkwardly hopped, tap danced and twirled around, doing at best, an interpretive dance, and at worst, my impersontion of a chicken, while 100 chinese strangers cheered (or jeered) and laughed. I was a scene from bad '90s era teen movie.
My only consolation was that at least, besides my coworkers and my friend, no one I knew would ever see this. Even this small consolation was taken from me when I was finally allowed to leave the stage, and I discovered that my Judas of a friend had filmed the entire, mortifying ordeal- from my attempt to escape, slithering my way under the table at the beginning, to the end, when I attacked the groom, wrenching the microphone out of his hand.
wicked Chinese wedding dinner guests: 3,000,000,000
Meghan (aka Su-Mai-En): - dignity
Sunday, October 4, 2009
MSG coffee? delightfully delicious
Being illiterate in the language of the country that one is residing in can be very complicated- it presents one with issues that one wasn't prepared for- a verbal language barrier can be broken through with miming, body language and a handy dictionary. Characters that one can't even begin to recognize or identify provide a wall even more impermeable than the Berlin Wall in terms of comprehension.
This makes shopping an ordeal since I've gotten here, since I often have no real idea of what i'm buying. Characters aside, grocery shopping is difficult because much of what is sold in China is unrecognizable to me- the products that are used for cleaning, beauty etc. deal with issues that never concern westerners (i.e. skin whiteners)
For example, I was confused as to why my hair spray, which I bought in the hair care area of carrefour, smelled like icy hot. I discovered that my hair spray was in reality mosquito repellent. I bought a bag of white crystals that I thought was sugar, only to discover that I had added 3 tablespoons of MSG to my coffee instead of sugar.
Thus, shopping has turned into a mindtwister, requiring a skill of logical deduction that sometimes eludes me, as I search for the package for indications as to its contents, and try to judge what it might be, based on its location in the store floor plan. Even my electronic translator is not that helpful, as the characters can be tricky to identify. Today was no different, as I returned home to find that three separate items were not what I had believed them to be.
Shopping? quite the ordeal
This makes shopping an ordeal since I've gotten here, since I often have no real idea of what i'm buying. Characters aside, grocery shopping is difficult because much of what is sold in China is unrecognizable to me- the products that are used for cleaning, beauty etc. deal with issues that never concern westerners (i.e. skin whiteners)
For example, I was confused as to why my hair spray, which I bought in the hair care area of carrefour, smelled like icy hot. I discovered that my hair spray was in reality mosquito repellent. I bought a bag of white crystals that I thought was sugar, only to discover that I had added 3 tablespoons of MSG to my coffee instead of sugar.
Thus, shopping has turned into a mindtwister, requiring a skill of logical deduction that sometimes eludes me, as I search for the package for indications as to its contents, and try to judge what it might be, based on its location in the store floor plan. Even my electronic translator is not that helpful, as the characters can be tricky to identify. Today was no different, as I returned home to find that three separate items were not what I had believed them to be.
Shopping? quite the ordeal
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