Simple pleasures

Sometimes we forget about the simple joys in life, and I've found one of the simplest. First, let me set the scene.

China has it's own ways of doing things, for example many people still prefer to poop in a hole in the ground, so in many less westernized cities most of the bathrooms are simply 'squat toilets'.

Now, living in Shanghai I feel privileged to be surrounded by a world of toilet seats, meaning I don't need to stand in a room whose floor is covered in... well, you get the idea. Unfortunately, plumbing in Shanghai isn't always up to snuff. As a result, many toilets, like the ones at my office, cannot accommodate flushed toilet paper; instead a small waist bin sits in the stall next to the toilet and everyone tosses their used paper in there.

Are you ready to hear my simple pleasure? It's walking into the bathroom to discover that the trash can is empty. It means nobody has used the toilet since the cleaning people came, how great is that!!! I imagine this phenomenon is much less common in womens' rooms, but it still isn't that common in the mens'. Unlike in the west, where we can only gauge the cleanliness of the bathroom with our eyes, here in China we have proof of its cleanliness in the emptiness (or fullness) of its trashcan. Believe me, when the trash can is full, I search for a different bathroom. It may be a simple joy to find and empty one, but aren't the simple pleasures the ones which make life great?

The Mystery of China

Following my trip to Nanjing, and in the spirit of 'see it before you leave China', my girlfriend and I traveled to the city of Hangzhou, a small city and lake an hour and a half southwest of Shanghai which was voted the #1 tourist city in China in 2006 (by China). Everyone in China has seen the TV advertisements urging you to visit the city; there is only 1 English speaking channel and they show the ad every commercial break, ending with the comically endearing slogan, "Discover the Mystery of China!" Hangzhou lives up to the hype.

Though the town is lackluster, the West Lake evokes the classical beauty we've come to expect from Chinese scroll paintings. Before I left, I was told that "Hangzhou may be more beautiful when it's cloudy because the mist only adds to the atmosphere." Sceptical as I was of this tidbit, imagine my joy to discover they were correct, and the clouds and rain couldn't spoil my journey.

Most of my day was spent ambling across the miles long causeway across the west side of the lake. At one point we took a short boat cruise to the island in the center, which provided stunning views of the pagodas, hills and bridges in the distance. Any shore provided a fantastic vantage of the green natural beauty of the place, whether it was the bridges on the causeway or the tea house we lunched in. Green and natural as far as you could see.

All this greenery comes as quite a shock after living in Shanghai for a year. Hardened to the dreary existence of grey that permeates the Shanghainese life, escaping to a land of utter green is like opening the door after a tornado whisked you away to Oz. But to focus solely on the natural beauty almost does the people of Hangzhou a disservice: the area itself is clean. Unlike Shanghai where litter is strewn about like peanut shells after a baseball game, the tourist areas of Hangzhou were devoid of debris. Even the air felt cleaner!

All this environmental 'can-do' might explain why Hangzhou has some of the most famous tea in all of China. Having sampled some at the tea house, we proceeded to the National Tea Museum for the rainier section of the afternoon. After getting schooled on the finer points of Chinese tea history (more interesting than you'd think... for example: did you know that before the Song dynasty most tea was crafted into tea cakes, which had to be cooked, not steeped, before drinking and was more soup like than today's teas?), we ended up in the gift shop a few hundred yuan poorer and a few canisters of tea richer. Personally, I didn't care much for the tea when we were at the tea house, but when in Hangzhou, do as the Hangzhouns do.

The trip lasted barely over 24 hours, but I got to see the sites, drink the drinks and eat the eats (Hangzhou is famous for fish and a clay-pot roasted pork dish). My only regret is that I didn't get there sooner!

The Massacre of Nanjing

The Year: 1937. The place: Nanjing, China, home of the government of the Republic of China. 2 years before most history books record the start of WWII, and 4 years before Pearl Harbor was bombed by the Japanese, the Empire of the Rising Sun launched the first attacks of the most gruesome war in history. Technologically and strategically superior to the divided Chinese armies, the Japanese quickly swept through Shanghai and seized the capital Nanjing. What followed was a shocking atrocity - in 6 short weeks, 300,000 citizens of Nanjing were brutally killed.

In Nanjing, I visited the memorial to the massacre, a large, solemn memorial and museum on the burial site of one of the massacres. The massacres are both a sore point for the Chinese people and a rallying cry of nationalistic angst. Many of my students refuse to accept that the Japanese ever apologized for this dark point in history, yet evidence is to the contrary, as the Japanese Prime Minister has done so on numerous occasions. Although it would seem time for the Chinese to let their anger pass, there is no doubt they have reason to grieve the horrific events of 1937.

After seizing the city, the Japanese decreed that many soldiers had likely taken off their uniforms to blend in with the civilians, a claim which the Japanese said gave them license to round up and murder thousands of civilians. One story of a rickshaw-puller explained how Japanese soldiers had set upon him while he was cooking, claiming that he must be a soldier because he had calluses on his hands (no doubt from pulling a heavy rickshaw all day). He was lead into a field with over a hundred other men, who were then shot down en mass by the soldiers. The young rickshaw driver only survived because he was shot in the arm first and fainted, only to awaken later among a pit of bodies. Horrible stories like this were too common in the museum.

Yet the murders are not all. Over 80.000 cases of rape have been reported, concerning women from the age of 12 to 70. Daughters were raped in front of fathers, mothers in front of sons. Brutality of this sort is hard to forgive, but not to be forgotten.

A few things shocked me during my visit. The most notable was that the most staunch defenders of the public, the people who brought sense to the madness and who helped ease the death toll, were mostly German. The leader of the international committee which created a 'safe zone', was a Nazi representative, sent my the 3rd Reich to oversee business interest in the region. The Red Swastika League buried countless bodies, providing decency and preventing outbreaks. How a few years later Germans would become known for their own holocaust, while preserving so many lives in China was unexpected.

Also shocking was the purveyors of brutality. I have studied bits and pieces of WWII, and my impression is that while it takes a nation to be complacent in a holocaust, the killing done by the Nazis was carried out by a select crew of SS officers, specially hardened and warped. Yet in Nanjing, the mode of execution was no gas chamber, but the end of a rifle. And the killings were not carried out by special, hardened madmen, but large, general parts of the Japanese Army. These were the regular soldiers committing unspeakable acts against civilians - had none of them morals?! Was the mindset of the average Japanese so far removed from humanity that it could produce huge squadrons of executioners? I feel the horror of Nanjing lies as much in the scale of the victims as it does in the scale of the criminals.

There is no doubt Japan should be sorry for what it has done, and perhaps it hasn't been enough. China has every right to be upset by the past. But why neither nation seems wiling to find common ground only lays the seeds for more unspeakable disasters.

One Night In Nanjing

"Wait, Dan, you didn't tell us anything about Nanjing!!"

So true. So, what do four expats on holiday in the historic city of Nanjing get up to on a Saturday night? Well, let me tell you from personal experience, it's far worse on a person's body than you might expect. Let me explain:

Me and my three travel buddies (my girlfriend Adrienne, and two other co-workers Cortney and Alison), had just left the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom Museum for a stroll around the restored old part of town near the Confucius temple. The museum gave an awesome PRC slant to this group of rebels (we call it 'The Taiping Rebellion, after all), which disregarded their fanatical, crazy brand of Christianity (the leader claimed to be Jesus's brother) and puritanical laws which would John Carver would protest to, and instead claimed them a sovereign 'kingdom' defending the rights of the poor peasantry in imperialist occupied China. Good stuff.

As I was saying, we'd just left and walked around Fuzimiao (the old town, which as you can see from the lights, was doing it's best to look young and hip). Stopping in an ice cream parlor to get off our feet, we asked the waitress a good place for dinner or drinks. Our conversation was strained, half in English, half in Chinese, but all she kept repeating was "One Nine One Two". So we hopped in a taxi and shouted "Yi Jiu Yi Er" and were whisked away to a giant complex called, well "1912" filled with bars and restaurants. After downing a considerable amount of hot pot, a wonderful dinning experience where they boil a pot of broth on your table then bring you plates full of raw vegetables and meat, which you can cook, season and eat at your leisure, we found a hip bar playing live western music (live Chinese music is called karaoke and is to be avoided). After playing a few hours of a game which involves dice, gambling and bluffing, we decided to turn in so we would be refreshed for our sightseeing the next day and sought out a taxi.

The taxi ride, however led our night astray. We were going home, we were going to sleep, but we were hungry. If you're hungry in China and it's after 11pm, there is unfortunately only one place to go - McDonald's. We informed our driver half way home of his new task, finding a 24-hour McDonald's. After the first 24 hour McDonald's was closed (how can a 24 hour restaurant be closed?!) we arrived at the promised land of quarter pounder goodness. Had we gone home that night we would have only caused our self dietary harm, unfortunately we weren't smart enough to do that: someone proposed a relaxing massage and all agreed. Our fate was sealed.

We eagerly sought a massage parlor, hailing a taxi whose driver delighted us in telling us that she knew of two places. The first place she took us too was covered in bright neon lights outside. We sent an emissary to check out the situation, while the rest of us had waited in the car. The response was something to do with 'men only' and 'shower' - we suspected it was one of the 'for men, by men, in the shower' massage joints. We moved on.

The next place was a hole in the wall, but didn't involve showers and was only 5 bucks for an hour massage. Never mind that it was dodgy and dirty ( just look at the picture!), it seemed perfect. It seemed. Perhaps my massage artists had been woken up by our 1am arrival; perhaps my artist had just broken up with her boyfriend; perhaps my artist had a hatred of westerners; or perhaps she just didn't like me. Whatever the reason, the next hour was reminiscent of what I expect a few minutes in a boxing ring with a kangaroo would feel like. She hammered away, push pressure points, bruising my bones, muscles and self-esteem in the process. It was far from a relaxing massage.

The next morning when we woke, we had a full day of sightseeing planned. Aching, we dragged ourselves around the top tourist sights, imagining how great we could have felt had we just skipped that darn massage. Our last stop on the day was Dr. Sun Yat-Sen's Mausoleum. The first president of the Republic of China after the last dynasty in 1912, he is considered the many to be the father of modern China. He was also a hug advocate of steps.

Taiping Rebellion. McDonald's. Massage. Stairs. Nanjing.

Keep Holy the Holy Day

"Thou shalt eat no leavened bread with it; seven days shalt thou eat unleavened bread therewith, even the bread of affliction; for thou camest forth out of the land of Egypt in haste: that thou mayest remember the day when thou camest forth out of the land of Egypt all the days of thy life." - Deuteronomy 16:3

For millions the world over, this passage has decreed abstinence from leavened bread on Passover. As Jews are not to eat bread, Catholics are not to eat meat on Fridays of Lent. These 'sacrifices' of joy and convenience help millions focus their faith and expand their spirituality. In China, however, it couldn't be easier.

Bread is no longer part of my weekly diet. Now, before all you 'carb-haters' decide to flood to China, it wasn't that I wasn't living carb free; rice and noodles are a near daily occurrence. Aside from the odd treat from the pastry shop or the occasional sandwich from Subway, it's like Passover everyday in China - except the wine sucks so you'd never ever want to drink 4 cups.

As for my personal Catholic dilemma surrounding meat, again it's a breeze! Nobody cooks vegetables like the Chinese - nobody. As a 16 year old, I never would have thought I could be so happy eating half my meals without meat. When my mom came to visit, she was sceptical of the meatless dishes, but after a week of non-stop Chinese she too had seen the light. Eat Vegetables with Glorious Chinese Characteristics! Non- meat is a non issue.

I celebrated my Easter with friends at a decedent western-style buffet at one of Shanghai's swankier hotels. Meat is allowed on Easter, so roast pork and lamb, an array of seafood salads, dim sum, Thai and Indian dishes, not to mention the giant cheese plate (I haven't had brie since I was home in January) and a chocolate fountain graced my plate, er plates. Full and feeling the size of a house I set out with my girlfriend for a weekend in Hangzhou.

Somehow train-rides and Easter go hand in hand in my mind, no doubt a holdover from a children's Easter TV special I watched when I was a kid. The ride was swift and pleasant, this time leading us south of Shanghai towards the stunning natural beauty the lake at Hangzhou provides. I didn't make it to church this year, I tried the English church in Shanghai last Easter and left feeling more than disappointed; it was far more preachy and narrow minded than anyone raised on guest lecturing theologians from the Weston School of Theology could bear. Resolved to not miss out completely on the holiday's religious side this year, I threw on Jesus Christ Superstar and gazed out the window.

With the weather as perfect as it gets now, and the countryside mirroring the springlike atmosphere, bursting forth swaths of yellow rape-seed flowers among the rundown houses, fields of green and misplaced apartment complexes, the train ride the prefect backdrop to an Easter's day.

I can't comment on religion in China, but they say it may soon have more Christians than any other religion in the world. It's encouraging that there are at least a dozen churches in Shanghai. Understandably people are still learning about religion, recovering from the cultural gap which has always existed and the more recent rift in culture sharing between East and West. I've explained more times than I can count that according to dogma, Easter is more important than Christmas, questioning to myself how many Americans are aware of that fact. Perhaps religion can eventually be used to bridge the gaps between the West and China, not widen it. Besides it's easy to be religious in China - we don't eat much meat and bread to begin with!

The Train

To celebrate the long weekend I just had for Qing Ming Festival (that's Tomb Sweeping Day to you), some of my fellow teachers and I took a trip to the city of Nanjing. Nanjing is a pleasant medium sized city, located about 2 hours from Shanghai by train and known by most of the world for one of two reasons: it has twice been the proud capital of China, or because it was the sight of the horrific Nanjing Massacre by the Japanese invaders during World War II. The dreary part of it's history aside, Nanjing was a much calmer, greener and relaxed place than Shanghai - an ideal get away. However before going there was the important 'getting there' hurdle we needed to pass.

Train tickets for non-overnight journeys go on sale 5 days before the travel date. That means that anyone wishing to travel on the Saturday of the long weekend holiday needed to buy their tickets last Tuesday, including us. As Saturday was (1) the first day of a long weekend, and (2) a holiday where families are supposed to travel to the countryside graves of their ancestors in deference, we were rather terrified at the prospect of all of Shanghai trying to book tickets on our train. Arriving at a hotel near work around 12:30, we discovered a 50 minute long line at this ticket station (one of possibly over a hundred around the city). After the nerve-wracking wait (nothing like having your trip ruined because you couldn't buy a ticket), we had tickets in hand for noon, which was the earliest tickets left available! Whats more, we had to return two days later to buy our return trip (thankfully, and strangely, most Chinese people seemed geared towards traveling only 2 of the 3 days they had off). Finally, we had our tickets!

You know the guy who wrote the 1,000 places to see before you die book? Well he left out a big one - you must experience a Chinese railway station on a holiday. I'll agree Shanghai's probably doesn't compare to it's counterparts in India, but it's a sight to behold! Thousands of people streaming through 4 checkpoints to get onto their train sounds chaotic, but it's amazingly organized. After the first ticket check to get into the rail station, there is a baggage examination to make sure nobody is plotting something sinister. Having cleared that you must identify your train 'waiting room', of which there are 10, and you can only board your train from the correct room. They check your ticket getting into the waiting room, where you, well. Finally they'll call your train and a quarter of the people in the waiting area rush the gateway and begin a mad sprint (I kid you not, a wild, fiendishly blind sprint) for the platform and their seat. Settled into your seat, the train eventually pulls away from the station, and everyone with a seat gets a free bottle of water, yup free water. China, what a country!

Arriving in Nanjing results only in more confusion - if you though a throng of people was running around in the daylight of the Shanghai rail station, the underground corridors filled, as far as I could see, with short, little black haired Chinese people (literally, I'm a head taller than them I stood out like a lightning rod). The chaos was acute. You should try it.

Speaking of standing out like a lightning rod, I was the subject of countless photos of strangers this weekend. It seems to happen every time I venture outside of Shanghai. On my last day in Nanjing I noticed a Pizza Hut with a line out the door - for Pizza Hut! I decided I needed to take a picture, but was slightly embarrassed to take it directly, so I tried to look as casual as possible, while snapping photos of every nearby building before zooming in on the Hut. When Adrienne, my girlfriend noticed this, she pointed out my elaborate display was unnecessary, as literally dozens of Chinese had shamelessly and plainly taken my photo this weekend - it seems fair that I can snap one of them. So I did:

Rubs me the wrong way

Chinese parents take very good care of their children. They smother them with tons of attention (it's an entire country of only children), and if the parents are busy the grandparents are more than happy to step in and take over. The little tykes are bundled up in winter until they actually resemble the Maggie Simpson five point star, complete with immobilized arms from all the padding. Chinese children are pampered... except for their rumps.

All children between the age of 1 and 4 are required by government law to wear pants with slits from front to back exposing their butts and bits. Okay, it's not the law, but basically ever kid wears these ridiculous pants. How can the parents do this to their children? First - don't the kids get cold? It seems silly to have them bundled to the 9's then let them run around with their tiny red balls exposed for jack frost to nip away at. Secondly - it must be uncomfortable. As a young male, back in the US, baby butts were a pretty rare thing for me to see, but the butts here look pretty red from rubbing them all day on the floor, sidewalk, etc. It must really hurt. And finally - how unsanitary is it? Letting my kid rub his truly unmentionables over the ground soaked black by dirt and rainwater seems like a terrible idea, but that doesn't stop anyone here. Cold, uncomfortable, unsanitary - not to mention degrading.

But when you're that young you don't know degrading from a busy intersection. Last week in the subway I saw a mother cradling her daughter, pants around the knees, over a trash can so she could pee into the plastic bag below. As horrified as I was I have to admit it wasn't shocking. The week before I saw one of the youngsters from my new favorite noodle place squatting next to the curb outside on a major motorway. It took me a minute or two to realize what was going on - but sure enough after a minute I saw his little brown creation beneath his squat, as he patiently looked around the busy intersection he was in, waiting for mom or dad to ... I have no idea what he was waiting for them to do, but it looked like this wasn't his first time pooping on the street in front of the restaurant (forcing me to think about the cleanliness inside this restaurant, which I try not to do). Unashamed, this split panted boy guarded his handy work until it could be dealt with. These ridiculous pants are worn by those too young to know otherwise.

The best of this story however, might be hearsay. If you go to the zoo in Shanghai, you'll see many animals, and lots of animal dung. You can even see human children's dung, which is visible in the children pooping area - a small concrete park littered with little presents left by the young visitors. I haven't seen it, but I've heard it's true and that's enough for me. Not only are the Chinese loving parents, they save on diapers too!