Japan

Japan is geographically China’s nearest rival. The two nations practice similar religions, eats similar food and have stolen large parts of their culture from each other. They have a history of warfare. And China hates Japan.

It seems that there is no equivalent saying in Chinese as “to err is human; to forgive is divine.” This passionate dislike for Japan stems from feelings left over from World War II. Japan’s ‘Rape of Nanjing’ remains one of the worst genocides on record; in addition to 300,000 men, women and children slaughtered, the Japanese enacted human testing and committed widespread rape. Confronted with the stark reality of the past it’s understandable that there may be some lingering resentment among the Chinese people, but doesn’t time heal all wounds? Not in China.

The Chinese government continues to use this event as a rallying cry for nationalism. TV shows, movies, and pop-culture all reflect the mindset, setting the Japanese of WWII as the face of evil, much like the Nazi’s are used in western culture. The difference between the portrayal of the Nazis and the Japanese is that the west separates modern Germany from the Nazis, whereas the Chinese view the Japanese as the same people, forgetting the government is completely different and 60 years has elapsed. Most people in China weren’t even alive when this happened, but they still manage to hate.

Last week I asked my students what would happen if WW III started. One student promptly announced to the class that he would “invade Japan and pay them back for what they did to Nanjing.” Shocked as I was, I was further horrified by the other students laughing and nodding approval. These students of mine are the best educated, the smartest, among the brightest and richest people Shanghai can offer. If they can’t understand the need to forgive and move on, how can we expect anyone in China to?

I'm in China! This is Nuts!

I have been in China for 102 days as of today, but it wasn't until last week I became aware of this change in me. Although 'The Middle Kingdom' is changing faster than any country on earth, it doesn't move this quickly, so the change must be in me. What is this change? The novelty of China has worn off and my mind is more often filled with thoughts of work and social plans than wonder at my surroundings.

This is a far cry from saying I'm not enjoying myself, or that I'm not amazed by new developments. The stark contrast to my life back home has faded, as I find myself preoccupied with mundane thoughts of work and play, not an extroverted examination of my surroundings. Less and less often I find myself looking at something and saying "I'm in China! This is Nuts!" Admittedly this really means I'm beginning to appreciate and ponder the subtler aspects of life in China, but those types of observations don't smack you in the face every morning.

In honesty, I still am stymied by the subways - nothing gets me going in the morning like dropping my shoulders and bowling ball rolling through the stunned and waiting masses. The cultural attitude towards things (like Japan) baffle me. The acceptance of the vice-like grip of the government on the media coupled with the people benevolently accepting it as good shocks and horrifies me. That bars will spend an entire evening giving away free micro-brewed beer (as they did last night) is gleefully beyond my reasoning, not that I didn't enjoy it! There is still so much to wonder about, it just takes longer to realize what I'm supposed to wonder at.

Learning the language and becoming more familiar with the students will allow me to see deeper into China than I have been up to now. Though my life of busy routine is rather settled for the moment, the slow build up of knowledge is beginning to allow me to finally peak beneath the skin of this massive and terrifying country.

Spring!

Spring arrived in Shanghai about 3 weeks ago. I’ve officially packed my winter jackets and hats away until December. The days are now warm (60’s) and the nights still chilly, all with the occasional rain. Every morning I’m woken by the soft chirping of birds and synthesized Mozart from the nearby school (I could do without the music to tell the truth, but it’s better than the bell which it replaced). Best of all, it is the season of light jackets. They tell me it lasts shorter than the blink of an eye, so I'd better enjoy it while I can.

Perhaps only owning one light jacket (the ubiquitous green and white Old Navy track jacket) should be a sign to me that I don’t need that many, but currently I’m up to four. Though they may all be discarded promptly upon my return to the Land of Media Freedom, for now they’re prefect.

With prefect weather to waste a an hour licking an ice cream cone while lying on the grass in the sun of the park next to my work, lunch breaks have never been so good. Sunny places are hard to find in Shanghai, let alone sunny places with grass, but with People Square next to my office I can take a daily walk through the green gardens until it becomes too hot. Plus thats where they sell the cheap Ice Cream.

However, I noticed a rather curious event while returning from my ice-cream-munching break – all the Chinese people were in the shade behind the trees, hiding from the sun! Apparently over the summer they will all don sun umbrellas to hide from the deadly UV rays. Everything I’ve heard was that the Chinese people hide from the sun as to not become ‘dark’, but I’d never seen any evidence before! The sad truth is that ‘darkness’ is too often equated with ‘savagery’ in China. This helps explain the Chinese love of things American and European, and needless disdain for other developing and 3rd world countries.

The bliss of today’s weather cannot last; from now on it will only get hotter and hotter, until one day I will declare to you from a sweat-drenched keyboard that summer has arrived and even the fires of Hades are cooler than a Shanghai summer. I guess I won’t need so many jackets.

Dumplings

You know nothing about dumplings. Please accept that fact, it will be easier to understand what I'm about to tell you, because it wasn't easy for me to swallow my first time either. Americans know about as much about dumplings as we do about brain surgery. This is your crash coarse.

"Why do westerners always eat dumplings? It's like going to America and eating sandwiches at every meal." One of my Chinese co-workers said that to me my first month in Shanghai. But when you think about it, there are so many kinds of sandwiches. Beyond even the simple ham, turkey, tuna salad a sandwich connoisseur needs to decide baguette, pocket, wrap, roll, bagel before thinking about toasted or not, white vs. wheat and what condiments to add. The choices for sandwiches are seemingly endless. The same is true of dumplings.

Dumplings come in all shapes, sizes and tastes. Some dumplings are large, the size of your fist, where as some are small, just bigger across than a quarter. First you need to choose how your dumpling will be cooked: steamed, fried or boiled. Then you will certainly need to choose a filling - pork, vegetable, chicken, black bean, etc. Even just saying vegetable is too limiting because you can choose between bok choi and spinach. Of course from here the choices spin out of control in a tree like fashion, with choices to be made at every branch. Northern style or southern style? Served in a soup, or served on a plate? Should you dip them in vinegar, or vinegar with chili spice in it? I've even discovered dessert dumplings. The choices are limitless, and because my foreign little brain can't distinguish between them, I lump them all together and call them all dumplings - ordering is difficult because each type of dumpling has a different name, so there is no miracle phrase to remember.

The north is the best place for 'true' dumplings. Nearer to Russia and the great wheat fields, I can attest that northern places like Harbin have the best boiled dumplings (which is the cooking method Chinese think of when we say dumpling). As you get to the south, the dumplings become more often steamed or fried (but all 3 types are served widely all over China). Shanghai has its own special version of dumplings - xiao long bao, they're delicious.

Having slowed my dumping eating rate, I still have failed to master the names of all the delicious treats. I continue to find new dumpling restaurants and sort out new flavor combinations. Surprisingly, dumplings can be exceptionally healthy when boiled or steamed because there is no oil used in cooking them - the fried dumplings are a delicious heart attacking waiting to happen.

So there you have it, the many shapes and sizes of dumplings. If you come to Shanghai, you can experience for yourself the many tastes these morsels have to offer. In the meantime, I encourage to contemplate, when you're next eating a sandwich, that you're holding the dumplings cultural cousin. And as rare as dumplings are in Boston, sandwiches are in Shanghai. What I'd give for a steak and cheese sandwich right now...

What good would it do?

With riots in Tibet citizens around the world wonder what is happening. But are the citizens of China?

My students are well educated, well informed and well off, so they have some idea of what is happening in Tibet. Most are hesitant to talk about it, perhaps skirting the subject if it comes up, but they know something is happening - something bad. The teachers were all warned on our first day to not talk about two things - religion and politics. None of us bring Tibet up with our students, not now at least.

The China I live in is as modern as anywhere I've ever lived. Cultivated, fortunate and prosperous Shanghai shows no outwards signs of oppression. I haven't seen any protests, then again, I didn't see many in Boston after college either. As a westerner, my safety and status are secure, leaving me only to contemplate how the current situation can be acceptable. How can the people here accept everything they hear, or better yet, accept what they don't hear?

We’re not in a vacuum. I read CNN.com everyday for my news; why bother with the Chinese newspapers? They’re state run. Being closer to the problem doesn’t give me more insight, though I also don’t feel like I’m getting less than the observer back home in Boston due to censorship. The only insight I can say is that both the government’s and freedom fighter’s news reports are lies. Nobody is honest in China.

Yet the pinch of the government is felt in by westerners in Shanghai none the less. Understandably my roommate and co-worker who had separate trips planned to Tibet next month, for business and pleasure were denied the extended visa foreigners need. Less understandably, blocking YouTube spiked my interest in the entire problem. Not that I’d even planned on watching YouTube this week, the idea that it is somehow dangerous because it is harboring video of Tibetan riots, protests or whatever you see fit to call them, seems ludicrous. YouTube is no more capable of inciting violence than airing last weeks SNL sketch.

I see no anger in Shanghai among the people, at least no visible anger. When I asked some of my most progressive students why nobody did anything they responded, “What good would it do? Speaking out won’t change anything, so it’s better to say nothing.” The government has seemingly succeeded beyond simply quelling the desire to protest in most of the country, the country has stopped the populous from discussing it at all. Whether out of fear or self benefit, the subject of government mistakes is swept under the rug.

Somehow it makes me proud to be an American.

Contrast

The skyscraper above the posh Plaza 66 shopping center in Shanghai is the 44th tallest building in the world – it’s taller than any building in Boson or London, but in Shanghai, it looks a little like just another skyscraper. Less than three blocks from this luxury linchpin lay a stretch of two story tall brick and shingle buildings with no insulation, no central heat or air conditioning and no more than a single room serving as bed/living room and kitchen in one on each floor of these two family houses. Nowhere I have ever been has had a bigger divide between the haves and the have-nots, and nowhere has it been as obvious.

Sometimes I wander through the old town, ambling down narrow alleyways while life bustles around me; rich or poor, life never stops bustling in Shanghai. House doors are always open to let fresh air in, no matter how cold or warm, letting passer-bys sneak a peak into their world. With furtive glances I see a bed, a stove, perhaps a TV; everything they own seems visible from the street. Laundry strung across the passage high overhead blocks the smog-filled sunlight from ever touching down. It’s a life I cannot empathize with, and with some guilt accept that I am glad I never will.

Coming home from work each day, I emerge from the subway and pass the trendy import supermarket, Burberry and Rolex stores and a Pizza Hut, where a pizza costs more than most farmers make in a week. Old men push three-wheeled bicycles loaded with wares or garbage, or both, as sleek imported sports cars zip past. How the vehicles share the road, let alone Shanghai, without much further thought from either owner would strike me as curious, unique, shockingly different, were it not in Shanghai.

With full weight thrown on the throttle, China wants to race forward, has raced forward, but what that means to the poor, or even to the millions upon millions of people born without a silver spoon seems still undecided. The neighborhoods I have seen have been filled with the most fortunate poor in all the country, living in the downtown of the richest city in the land. I cannot say if they are even poor, but when I compare them to the glitz and the glamour of the shopping and the skyscrapers I wonder if they see the progress, if they see any of it as progress.

At the Fabric Martket

It would seem I haven’t had much time to update my blog while contacting my landlord to fix my internet and electricity, studying Chinese and sorting through the barrage of work recently assigned to me. The only real free time I’ve had of late not spent watching ‘Band of Brothers’ was this weekend, when I had pause to wander the city at my leisure. Of course by wander the city that can only mean one thing – buying shirts at the fabric market!

The fabric market is next to the hotel I stayed in my first 2 weeks in Shanghai, clear on the other side of town from where I live now. Thankfully, since I moved out in January a new subway line has been built to that part of town, yes things move pretty fast in Shanghai. The market is 3 stories high, each story containing 75-or-so small alcoves occupied by tailors and dressmakers. That’s almost 250 nearly identical stores to choose, that’s indecision city. Admittedly there are about 5 categories of shops, each specializing in their own thing: shirts, suits, women’s clothing, winter jackets and ‘traditional clothing’. They can make anything you want, as long as you are willing to come back a second time when they make it wrong the first.

The problem with shopping there is I have no concept of fabrics; none. I struggle to look at a design on a spool and extrapolate it out to an entire shirt, which thankfully hasn’t landed me in ugly-shirt land yet, but it might soon. The other problem I’ve discovered is that because these aren’t your daddies Eddie Bauer ‘wrinkle free’ fabrics, they require ironing which is something I have little experience in (my claim to fame was I once ironed a shirt for my one night out in Vegas). Theoretically a savvy shopper would know which fabrics will require less ironing than others, but I am very far from savvy. Despite these pitfalls, Shanghai is a great place to ‘invent’ your own personal fashion.

I bought 3 shirts and 2 pants last week, I pick them up tomorrow and I am excited. With summer looming and my meager shirt collection staring mostly winter favorites a new wardrobe was sorely needed. The best part is, even if I chose a bad pattern, or it doesn’t fit, I can always have another one made, such is the nature of the fabric market.

Don't Wake the Pool

After five summers in my youth spent working at a swimming pool, I have a pretty good idea how they are supposed to run. Perhaps it is because of this knowledge that I am stupefied by my new watering hole. Having joined the pool on the 7th floor of the mall next to my office, I can enjoy the rewards of physical activity between my Chinese and English lessons, but this daily release of tension itself doubles as a cause of stress.

The pool is 25m long, 1.45m deep, and has absolutely no demarcations to specify swimming lanes - in short it’s a giant open pool; no lane lines, no stripes on the bottom of the pool, nothing to guide anybody. Swimmers are free to choose their own path across the pool and, believe me, they do. Most of the swimmers choose the breaststroke, which enables them to see everything around them, but for crawl-lovers like me, we’re out of luck. Adopting the same mentality that most Chinese have on the sidewalks, I hurtle myself up and down the pool, with little regard for myself or others. Though you might think this is cruel, be warned that the other swimmers offer no more mercy than I. It’s a shark-eat-shark pool out there.

This bewildering pool, while providing nearly as much stress as exercise, also affords me time to think. It was while swimming and thinking about how poorly the Chinese build pools that it struck me – “what if they knew exactly what they were doing?” What if they had built a perfect pool and everyone but me knew how to swim in it without crashing into one another and I was the obnoxious foreigner who didn’t know the rules? Maybe the Chinese did know what they were doing after all. I thought about all of this as I stormed ahead, forcing a fellow swimmer to dodge into my thunderous wake.

United We Stand

Armed with shopping malls, sky scrapers, subways and high speed trains, China is westernizing itself like a country deprived of culture for 50 years. The hustle and bustle of the 1.3 billion people who live here creates a constant hum, each day striving and coming closer to a world those of us from America are far more familiar with. But they forgot one thing – a place to sit down.

In Shanghai’s museums and shopping malls one will find elegant staircases, escalators upon escalators, spotless clean floors, and seasonal decorations, but there is not a seat to be had. Sunday I went to the great Shanghai Museum, but quickly became tired and wished to sit while admiring the ancient sculptures. Alas, there wasn’t a single seat in the gallery, so I resolved to sit in the foyer, an impressive enough space to sit, but again there were no seats! No seats in the entire museum!! The same experience happened a few weeks ago when I was visiting a high class shopping mall. Sure they had Louis Vuitton and Gucci stores, but all I wanted was a bench!

I will confess that there are enough seats outside in parks, but sometimes you just want to sit inside. While I was shocked and disappointed at the museum’s seating capacity, it was at the mall that I learned the true meaning of ‘shop ‘til you drop’.