Out the window

Every morning the first thing I do when I get up is to walk to the windows of my room and, with two hands, throw open my shades in a most dramatic fashion. The sun rushes into my southern facing room (what a luxury!) and I look out upon the city in which I live. Honestly, with shanties and 4 of the twenty tallest buildings in the world within sight, it's a rather astonishing view.

The view unfolds in front of me, growing more and more sophisticated and grand the further into the distance you stare. Directly below me is a small hamlet of old one bedroom houses, full of character and not a place you feel safe walking in after dark. Just beyond is Suzhou Creek, the second biggest river in Shanghai - nothing that'll make you forget the Thames, Seine or Danube, but a river view apartment none the less. Rarely do I see boats on it, and if I do they're barges carrying trash. Thankfully they usually pass by under the cover of night.

Just beyond the river are more small houses, where people live simple lives it would seem, there is a great vegetable and meat market just across the river which I like to visit. The houses here are a little nicer, and a little older I think, but at least when they were built someone cared enough to give them sloping roofs and wingdings of character. The backdrop to this neighborhood is a streaming elevated freeway, common in Shanghai, moving traffic north to south through the heart of the city. The cars, buses and trucks rumble silently in the distance, the only motion in the otherwise fixed and placid cityscape.

Rising behind the highway are the housing buildings, tall for Boston, dwarfed here in Shanghai by other giants. Complex after complex of two or three 30 story buildings, its the presence of these structures that make 1.3 billion people a reality. Dotting the low horizon in every direction as far as you can see, these buildings fill in the depth, they provide the heart of the skyline. Yet when you look at the horizon, you hardly notice them, instead focusing on the uniquely special buildings towering above them.

Bursting upwards from the downtown are a cluster of buildings each with their own character and feel. One looks like a space shuttle landed on top, where as another has bright blue lights and marks the sight of my school. These two buildings would be noteworthy in Boston, landmarks with observation towers, but here they cower beneath some of the worlds tallest buildings, becoming afterthoughts.

Yet in the distance, across the river, appearing no taller than their brothers in the foreground, are the 2nd and 5th tallest buildings in the world. The second tallest building, lovingly called 'the bottle opener' by westerners, just opened officially today. Though soon to be eclipsed by the new building in Dubai (and never taller than one in Taipei), the building towers in the distance marking the farthest thing I can see. I use it to judge the weather and pollution - If I can see it clearly, it must be a sunny day. It's odd to think about how out of place these would be in Boston, then I look down at the shacks in front of my house and realize they might just be out of place here in Shanghai too...

24

There may be no better passage marker for my life than a list of what I've done to celebrate my birthday each year. Always eager to celebrate myself, when I was a child I loathed family vacations which overlapped with my beloved birthday, yet as I grew, and became more and more accustomed to traveling on my birthday it became a rarity to be home.

Since I turned 12 (or as far back as I can remember) I've celebrated birthdays in a wide variety of styles, states and countries. I've seen Saltzburg, Austria and Munich, Germany on my birthday, seven years apart. I've seen the Declaration of Independence and screamed my way down the largest roller coaster in the world, at the time at least. I went for a singular drink with my parents on the eve of my 21st birthday at midnight, and I've had a massive bonfire party on the shores of Lake Yellowstone. I've earned drivers permits and lost championship baseball games - yes, my birthday is my ultimate time marker...

And now I've celebrated it in Shanghai. Saturday night my girlfriend threw a party for me, attended by all of my friends and co-teachers came. We played a few games, watched some of the last events of the Olympics and generally just had a fun time. It seemed more than fitting, given my experiences here in Shanghai, that my party be mostly westerners playing western games watching basketball on the TV. It may have been in Shanghai, but it also felt like it could have been anywhere.

The next day I went out for dinner and rich chocolate cake before walking down the main shopping street here, yet even that felt so western you might not have known you were in China had you done it. I realize this year is a golden chance to explore a new culture, but unlike most of my life, unlike most of the places I've spent my birthday, I'm not in awe of the world around me. I've created a happy existence with my friends and social circles, but when I was given the chance to celebrate however I wanted, I managed to mix almost none of the local culture into my celebration.

Yet I'll always remember this birthday as the one I spent in Shanghai. A representation of my year spent eating noodles and living among sky scrapers, fighting my way on to subways and throwing small Chinese people out of my way at the top of escalators. China is by far the most unique place I've ever lived, so it may be no wonder I've carved out a living environment which mimics back home. Even though I don't eat Chinese food 7 days a week, I know when I leave I'll notice all the little things that make life... different here. And every year when I think back on where I've spent my birthdays, this would seem to be the most outrageous... so far.

EF Idol

Although I thought the phenomenon was just in Japan, apparently China too is crazy about singing karaoke. Dotted around this city are hundreds of small (or large) parlors called KTVs (Karaoke Television). On Friday and Saturday night, Chinese people don't go to bars, they go here to sing. My Chinese roommate Andrew had a birthday a few weeks ago and what do you think he did? Yup, rent out a KTV for a giant singing party.

So last night, when my office hosted the Shanghai Regional Finals of EF Idol, the place was going nuts. EF Idol is just like American Idol, but with our students singing English songs and being judged not just on style and singing ability, but on English pronunciation as well. About three representatives from each school in Shanghai were there, vying for a shot in the nationwide finals in Beijing. Those lucky enough to advance to the finals get an all expenses paid trip to Beijing and a chance to win the grand prize, a trip to somewhere or something.

They built a giant stage and had the seats were packed full with people spilling out the sides in all directions. The girls got all dolled up (and so did the boys) and strut out to sing their favorite love ballad - there naturally was a fight over who could sing the Titanic theme, which is so popular many Chinese medalists considered using at the Olympics instead of the national anthem. Everyone competing is a current student, as were the filler acts which consisted of a comedy routine and belly dancing! Hiring professional lighters and stylists for this televised event, our school took on the vibe of a caberet theatre.

We even had mean judges. Each of the three judges was supposed to focus on a specific area; musical talent, showmanship and English skills. The English judge was a fellow teacher from my school and she was relentless, having declared herself Simon Cowell's second coming the afternoon before the show. The music judge was even harsher, speaking only in Chinese the competitors would be visible crushed after he opened his mouth, so whatever he said it was rarely good. There were some better acts who did however merit praise and were rightfully lauded and sent on their way to Beijing.

On the whole, I'm impressed that EF actually pulled of an honest to goodness, professional-looking, talent competition, even if it was a bit intense - it came with all the screaming, crying and harsh judges comments that the real American Idol has. If only China hadn't already chosen ping-pong for a national sport because competitive singing seems right up their alley.

Liu Xiang

It was a lazy Monday morning and I was sitting in my living room watching the Olympics on TV. The swimming events had dominated morning TV for the past week, but yesterday I saw Michael Phelps and friends grab the final swimming gold medal of the games leaving the morning viewing options rather scant. With nothing to do but be lazy, watching the track and field qualifier races seemed like a fine way to pass the time. Although all the announcers speak Chinese the visual feeds and graphics are the same as NBC uses making it easier to follow the events.

The mens 110m hurdle qualifier, which for Chinese people is the biggest event of the entire games, was the best choice among our slim pickings. Their fastest racer, Liu Xiang, came out of nowhere to win the gold in Athens and become a national hero. I mean his face is everywhere - billboards, taxis, TV, magazines. He sells everything from watches to iced tea, Sports Illustrated to health insurance. I don't even know the president of China's name, but I know his... everyone knows his name.

In the qualifying race before this ledgend was supposed to race, an American sprinter went down with a pulled hamstring. We wondered aloud what would happen if Liu Xiang went down with a similar injury as he warmed up. Still in his tracksuit despite the heat, he stretched himself by jumping a few hurdles when he suddenly seemed to stiffen up before our eyes. Limping into the blocks, we shouted at the TV 'He's hurt! He's Hurt!' Which indeed he was, leaving us to regret having wondering what would happen.

I never expected him to win the gold in Beijing; it's difficult to beat a rival who recently broke a world record you set four years ago. Liu Xiang set the world hurdle record four years ago in Athens, but athletes age quickly and this year a Cuban runner broke the records in his national qualifier race. Besides, Liu Xiang came in third last year at the world championships - his best days seem behind him. Yet he, the country and his countrymen didn't want that, so they pretended he was the favorite.

After the race I saw part of the press conference, it was on every channel the way the 'State of the Union' is on every channel. Though most of the press conference was in Chinese, there were a few statements in English. The one that stood out to me was when they asked the coach if he felt the Chinese people would be understanding that Liu Xiang didn't win. His response was, "There was an internet poll a year ago and over half, about sixty percent of the people said they would understand." If only 60% understand that means that 40% don't understand; and in a country of 1.3 billion people - well, that's a lot of people who don't seem to understand that sometimes you loose at sports.

Most of my students seem good natured enough about it, but none of them want to talk about it. They'll look away and admit that it's a disappointment, but not have much else to say. They were eager to talk about him before, even if they put on a modest face and said he might not win, now that that is certain, nobody wants to talk about it at all.

As a country famous for building up its heroes to legendary proportions using scripts and controls, China might not be emotionally ready for fair and open competition with other country's heroes on the world stage.

Workers of the World Unite!

Last week I indulged my intellectual curiosity at the Chinese Propaganda Poster Art Museum. The small one room museum, located in the basement of an apartment complex, houses over 100 original posters from the 1950's-1970's. Ever the student of history, I was curious to see what form nationalistic propaganda took in our rival country. I remember seeing an exhibit at the Boston Public Library last summer of US propaganda posters during the times of the World Wars, so I was eager to compare.

Every poster was translated into English on a nearby place-card, and larger plaques explained in more detail the history of the country and its relationship to the poster's content and style. Simply by looking at the posters and their time periods the history of the country comes into better focus; when the Cultural Revolution was, when China began to see itself as an international entity, when the cult of Mao began. The museum certainly gives pause at times to consider what the values of the society are and have been.

There were two sections that fascinated me most: those immediately following the revolution, and those of the mid 60's with a more global perspective. The first posters of the museum belittle and criticize the US more so than any other time period. Calling the US 'paper-lions' and portraying the US as a small, long fingered greedy green man with bombs stuffed in his pockets, the Chinese appeared to be trying to humiliate the US more than I remember the German's ever were in American posters I've seen. Always the US was seen in a generals uniform with bombs standing next to England, a fat man with a suit on it. In one poster, titled 'China must surpass England within 15 years', a Chinese workman is hurdling over the year 1972 while a fat Englishman can barely get over the wall. I guess I was struck by the exactness of the timeline - We will pass the UK in 1972. The poster didn't say in what they would pass them, much less how, but just looking at the image I'd have to agree that at least it seemed like a good idea.

The poster's of the mid 60's championed the causes of Communists worldwide. They showed multitudes of races and ethnic groups banding together, waving guns in the air. This is also unique because most of the other posters always showed China as peaceful, with the Western countries being the aggressors. Yet, these posters of the 60's wanted to show that people everywhere were strong, but tied down by autocratic governments. This ideal even stretched to the rival Americans, with posters showing black men picketing under the slogan 'support the US black man in their fight to gain equal rights'. Another, somewhat humorous poster given the politics involved was one urging people to 'Support the US people who oppose the war in Vietnam'. I couldn't believe that these posters, suggesting that Americans was right about something, existed such a closed time period. And for a stronger contrast, I couldn't imagine a similar poster in America regarding the rights of Chinese workers.

It didn't take long to see the entire thing, maybe 40 minutes, then I was on my way with a short book and some postcards. It was the only thing I've seen in China which seemed eager to preserve any memory of that time period, and was most certainly aimed as a westerners attraction for now. Maybe someday the average Chinese person will be able to grapple with this dark period of their history, but not yet. Most of the students I mentioned it to said they knew what the posters would be about, and were eager to change the subject. Personally, it offers one of the best views of history of any museum I've ever been to.

The Games they Play

"How's your week been?"

"Good, Chinese athletes are doing very good in the Olympics."

This is a common response I've heard the past few days; the people of China are happy because the Olympics have so far been successful and China is racking up loads of medals. My first reaction was to scoff at them as bandwagon fans (the greatest insult a true sports fan can levy), because they know nothing of Olympic history; however after pondering how many Americans ambivalent to sports every four years get swept up just as my students have I realized there was no need for the usual superior fan snobbery, especially considering I myself don't care about swimming, weightlifting or track save every Olympics. The masses are happy, so why criticize?

I could watch every event live, but who really wants to watch the 10m mens air pistol semifinals? At my house the TV shows almost every event on at every time, but at work I'm left scouring the Internet for feeds. NBC has its US obligations (not to mention the need to surpass the Great FireWall of China), so I've found myself unable to watch its programing. I have discovered a great web page which shows every event China has an entry in, which is great, but obviously the commentators (all in Chinese) are ridiculously biased - no I can't understand what they're saying, but they seem to shout every time something good happens for China. It means that while I'm writing my blog from work I can flip through the China-Angola basketball game happening now (China had been winning big, but I haven't heard much shouting lately so I don't know whats happening). Not since Atlanta have I been in a similar time zone to the games, which was well before broadband internet afforded us with live viewings, so this is the first time I feel I've ever really watched the games instead of getting after-the-fact scores.

I may not be in Beijing, but that doesn't stop the Olympic spirit. Every day on the giant TV screen (see the picture) they show an hour long 'lunch break special' of Olympic programing. They'll show whatever is live on the TV that hour, which can be hit or miss: one day it was shooting, but the next was the mens team gymnastics final which drew huge crowds and massive cheers. Though it stings to watch the cheers, knowing that my squad, my team just lost, its nice to be caught up in the moment. Plus, I can always cheer for Michael Phelps.

And so it begins...

I don't know if I'll regret not going to Beijing for the Olympics. I tell myself that the crowds, the craziness, will be too much and that I wouldn't be able to see the key sights that I want to see and would grow discouraged. However, after watching the opening ceremonies on TV last night, I can't help but wonder if I've made a mistake and that just being there, breathing in the excitement (it is the cleanest the air has been in Beijing in a decade) would be worth all the hassle. It's too late for me to get to Beijing, but here in Shanghai I'm still smack in the middle of Olympic fever.

I watched the ceremonies at work with my fellow teachers from around the world. Sitting in a class room after work watching the countries march in, cheering for countries we liked and critiquing each countries clothing while sitting among an international field of teachers may be the best way to watch the Olympics. Some of my Chiense co-workers even shed a tear, saying they'll remember this moment forever. We had people from China, Brazil, America, Austria and Australia, the latter two of which were upset that instead countries entering in the traditional alphabetical way, the Chinese method of stroke count to write the name was used, resulting in Australia being 3rd from last. I didn't get to see the entire thing; despite EF sponsoring the Olympics they didn't cancel class so I ended up missing an hour in the middle to teach - I feel it's slightly ironic that by moving closer to Beijing, it ensured that I wouldn't be able to watch as much of it.

With the games underway, I feel a little more relaxed about the China/World Press/Foreigner in China relationships. China, eager to prove they're as secure and technologically advanced as anyone, is unfortunately hindered by their track record and belief that a visible military presence can achieve this aim. The tragic result is that they look typically overbearing and oppressive, not modern and developed. Two nights ago at the main subway station there were police officers forcing everyone with a bag larger than a small purse to pass it through an X-ray machine. Although the lines were massive the system was no more secure as dozens of other entrances were unguarded, serving as an odd example where China can be both oppressive and inefficient at the same time. Plus, with the western media left to chase down stories before the games surrounded by suffocating government controls (not to mention some press who want to pick a fight with a country which manipulates it's news more than Fox News), it's no wonder there have been so many articles which put China in a rightfully questionable light. Now with the games started and sports offering actual stories to cover, hopefully these stories will subside and the spirit of friendly competition can continue - allowing China to relax and stop flexing its terror inducing muscles in response.

The games will be memorable, the opening ceremony and the build-up has seen to that. Now I can only hope that for the most part they are uneventful. China is changing, slowly, but still changing. We can't expect them to become angels overnight when no country every has, but we still must encourage them to make strides of progress. So for the next two weeks I hope the media can put aside how far China still has to go to focus on how much China has already accomplished, which as my presence here will prove is quite a lot.

And you thought the Lion's stunk...

It's a warm August evening as I walk out of work, crossing the street to catch the subway with my co-workers. We're going to the bar for a few drinks, soaking in the evening summer air, cooled from the muggy heat of day into the refreshing warmth of summer nights. Suddenly we stumble upon an invisible assault so odoriferous I can only imagine cartoon flowers wilting. But yet, us happy teachers walk past, walk through, without taking any notice of it. You see, Shanghai is the worst smelling place I've ever lived.

The garbage smells worse here. I don't know how else to explain it. Back home there are small contained parcels of smell, usually dumpsters behind buildings hidden away from public nostrils, but here trash is everywhere, and it wreaks! Winter isn't so bad, but like the hundreds of cockroaches in my old apartment, summer brings out the worst of it! Perhaps it's the humidity, perhaps it's that rotting Chinese food smells worse than rotting Italian, I don't know. Whatever the reason, every street, every day will treat you to the uniquely horrible smells of the city.

I'm uncertain if I can say living here has dampened my sense of smell, but it has certainly shifted the needle of tolerance towards the intolerable. People here don't mention if something smells terrible on the street because it's so commonplace, and so obvious, that it would be like mentioning how hot it is... every thirty seconds. I'm struggling to remember the smells of Boston with it's pizza infused North End or floral scented parks, but I need to because I so desperately want to remember what it's like to enjoy the smells of a city. For now I can only forget the pungent smell of the city I live in.

In a few months the heat will subside and so will the smells, again masking the chink in Shanghai's glossy veneer as a modern city. In a city so superficially modern the sense of smell (along with hearing) is the most neglected. Maybe someday the smell of fried noodles will waft fresh from every corner, but the dream of a smart smelling Shanghai may be too much - after all Chinese food doesn't usually smell that great to begin with.

Rubble in the Streets

Living in my new apartment for about a month now, I have developed a sort of evening routine, especially with respect to dinner. I exit the subway near the restaurants instead of near my house, partly because I'm hungry and partly because exit near my house may be the only stairway without an escalator near it in Shanghai. I usually then grab either Kung Pow chicken or noodles, sometimes Sichuan food, to take back to my apartment so that I can eat my dinner while watching a bootleg movie. This lovely ritual repeated itself most nights, seemingly poised to continue until I left China. Until last night when I discovered a dark street full of rubble... the restaurants were all gone.

When I walked upon the string of restaurants last night, staring down a street usually dark save the punctuation light emitted by the restaurants, I noticed the street was darker than usual, less vibrant. The closer I got I could see the street was filthy, littered in garbage and debris, however that's no different from any other street in China so I pressed on unalarmed until I began to see empty cave after empty cave. The restaurants had deserted me.

The building is perhaps just more than football field long, with perfectly square openings 10 yards wide next to each other. Above each shop is a small window on the second story, but I've no idea where the entrance to the second level would be, I've only seen the front of the building. But walking past the empty shells I noticed that I'd never really looked at the building before at all. Like a luxury garage for an eccentric billionaire, each restaurant could have been an individual garage for a Humvee, or a Cadillac. The building wasn't so old, maybe 30 years, but certainly lacked character with bleach white walls and large, clumsy gates blocking every entrance. I realized the families who ran and owned these restaurants likely lived above them, in those tiny rooms with one window above the shops. Yet I felt like nobody but me would miss this building, these restaurants. Although I strangely felt guilty, as though my last blog post had been a sort of premonition, I didn't feel concerned for the inhabitants.

I had been asking students about what happens to old buildings this week when one explained that she expects her parents house will be torn down soon. I asked if they would be upset, after all the place they had lived for years was being pulled out from under them. She said no, they were offered money or a place in the suburbs, which most people chose then sold for even more money. They expect it will happen, the building is old so they just wait for someone to want to tear it down and build a new one. Nobody seems concerned, so I guess I won't be either.

Buildings, things come and go in China, its just the way it is. Another student explained that Chinese history is cyclical, with one dynasty ebbing away into another, and another, and another. Revolution is part of the culture to some degree, nothing is really made to last.