Mission: Don't get Shanghaied

Food of the People

2010-07-05T16:21:00.000-07:00

As a lover of food, and a lover of travel, I am of the opinion that generally the best food is 'the food of the people'. And by that, I mean the food that is ubiquitous, fresh, and inexpensive. This ideal has rarely failed me in my quest for international gastronomic sustenance (with Vietnamese Pho being the most glaring exception - don't get it on the street). We all know 'wanna be like the local' creed: Find the Italian's pizza joint in Rome, the Nepalese streetcart samosa, the Chinese restaurant with all the smiling Chinese inside. And usually that place isn't inside hotels or swank restaurants; its the street side stalls, the no frills restaurants, the 'dives' that you always see, smell and, depending on who you are, think either "gosh that smells great" or "everyone who eats there gets sick, its a fact". You can bet I'm in the former category - I love the food of the people.

As I mentioned, the food of the people is cheap and no frills, which is why I'm so fascinated by New York's culinary scene. If 'the food of the people' is usually served from streetcarts, then New York, as you may know, is one amazingly diverse place. Having gradually evolved culinarily from the dirty hot dog and salty pretzel capital of the world (not to be confused with Bavaria, the sausage and awesome capital of the world), New York now finds itself blessed with streetcarts as diverse as the summer is hot. Next to my office is a Jamaican cart, selling jerk, stewed, and curried chicken with beans, rice and fried plantains. Not your style? What about southern BBQ at a cart 2 blocks over? Or Mexican? Not feeling well, try some spicy chicken ramen, from one of 3 ramen carts nearby. Or go to the organic fresh cart for a vegetable and mozzarella crepe. I could go on endlessly, Indian curry, Korean bbq, Chinese dumplings, German schnitzel and don't even try to count the number of gyro carts there are. And the selections aren't just limited to entrees - there is even a Belgian waffle cart. Of course this is in addition to the myriad of sushi and pizza places the city already boasts of.

All the carts have their own personality. Some return to the same place every day, staking a claim to their turf. Others rotate, in a different location around the city each day, requiring you to cross reference the day of the week, the time and a tidal chart for the Mediterranean, just to be sure your food will be there when you are. There is even a yearly event, The Vendies, where the top street carts come together to be judged, with a champion being crowned "best in the city".

With all this diversity in street food, I can't help but marvel at what it means for the diversity of the city. The immigrant story rings true, "with the people come their food". And most of their food has been embedded and put on the street, making it "our food". What luck to live in a city with a diversity of people and culinary traditions to service whatever craving I could have. It's a far cry from the old hot dog and pretzel days for this city. Well, unless you go to the Bavarian cart because there, yup, you can get an awesome sausage.

Another Tick on the Great Restaurant List

2010-06-26T22:04:00.000-07:00

So far I haven't written much about food in New York. Well, really, I haven't written much about anything in New York, but it's time to start. It there is one thing I love, its food. Now, working in New York allows me to eat plenty of food every day for lunch, but if I'm going to start with New York Food, I feel I should start at the top. This past week I went out with my work group to Peter Luger's Steak House - one of the finest steak houses in the city.

Located in Brooklyn under the shadow of the Willamsburgh, Peter Luger is a New York institution. Famous for great steak and bad service, they've been rated Zagat's best steakhouse in New York for who knows how many years. This place is a notorious haunt for the Wall St. types, in part because it isn't easy to get to. The interior has that startlingly plane decor you find in places not trying to obscure its food - white walls, wood floors, plain white linen and dozens of plane, yet beautiful, chandeliers. This place is all about the food.

And the food is terrific. Going out with my high-earning co-workers, or at least co-workers who earn more than I, afforded us the opportunity to order practically half the menu. Admittedly, steak is the word, the star, the alpha and omega, but Luger's other offerings aren't slouches either. The shrimp in the shrimp cocktail are massive, the cream spinach is... well it was the only vegetable on the table and was probably 50% butter, so needless to say it was delicious. And I can see some people shaking their heads thinking that's disgraceful, one measly pseudo-vegetable in a rich red-meat meal, but I didn't go to New York's premiere steakhouse to eat salad, so hesh-up.

I could tell you the steak was sublime -a massive plate of meat cooked perfectly medium rare and served family style with its own juices drizzled over the top - but I'd rather mention the shockingly good bacon. Thickly cut and bursting with flavor, it was so good I forgot it cost $3 a strip while I ate it.

Make no mistake, this meal wasn't cheap. In fact, it was the most expensive meal I've ever eaten, tipping the scales at just under $100. Yet, when I compare the taste of the food, the quality of the wine and the experience of it all, I can't help but feel it was worth it. Another tick mark in the great restaurant list.

Would I go again? Maybe - but probably just as an excuse to cross over the Williamsburgh bridge again. Man, what a view!

Where the action is

2010-06-16T18:57:00.000-07:00

I've been searching for things to do in New York City. The usual tourist haunts abound, but one can really only 'see the sights' so many times before they will want to take a more active role. I've scoured webpages; I've taken surveys; I've searched books. In the city that never sleeps, there must be things for a guy like me: a history, culture loving traveler who is trying to save a buck.

Initially I was perpetually disappointed, thwarted by the same old haunts appearing again and again - Time Square, Radio City, Broadway (which are great, but which I'm also fortunate enough to pass every day on my way to the office).

The museums are world class, but the costs prohibit dropping in casually. Then again, many have 'pay what you want' hours or days. These specials allow the viewing public to choose their fare, be it $1 to $1000. Of course any visitor who pays less than full fare must deal with the blank stares of confusment from the ticket sellers, who play dumb until you confess that you 'only want to pay $5, even though the museum suggests $20."

What I was looking for was things like I know about in Boston. Things like the Scooperbowl, a charity event where there are dozens of ice cream brands competing to give you the most ice cream they can! Or the Walk for Hunger. Or even visiting Wilson Farm in the fall for a fresh Apple Cider Doughnut. Nobody I spoke with in New York could tell me about events like this. A few said Christmas time was special, but that seems to go without saying. Of course Christmas is special. I've been searching for special events throughout the year.

Today after work I walked down 6th Ave, which led me to Bryant Park and a free jazz concert, when it hit me - New York must have so many special things going on it's hard to keep track. There isn't any one or two big events each weekend everyone goes to, there are hundreds of smaller ones I just need to find. Signs in Bryant Park alone advertised Movies in the Park, jazz concerts, morning Tai Chi lessons and fencing. And just last week I stumbled across a street food festival in Times Square. Advertised events might be harder to find here, but all I'll need to do is walk around and I'm bound to find something. Besides, I should be out walking around, not poking about the internet looking up where to go... in fact, why are we both still here? I'm going out, you should too!

A Nice Spot

2010-05-16T16:38:00.003-07:00

History book after history book extols the many splendid virtues, benefits, and wonderment of New York's geography. These books tell us that when Henry Hudson came upon his most famous discovery, the fields were green, the forests lush, and fawns played lutes softly beside bubbling brooks. Most agree that the deep harbor enable the location to be a shipping magnet, before the sturdy, accessible bedrock beneath Manhattan allowed the rise of great towers to support the cities primary interest: business. I have yet to see a book which didn't credit New York's fame and good fortune to it's unique geography.

Or for a more personal view, you could talk to any of the millions people who commute into the city each day. Like candles to a flame, tourists to a gift store or Dan to a brownie sundae, cities and towns have sprung up around New York, each pulling the tentacles of New York Metropolitan transportation further and further out. Aside from commutes terminating in New York, another shared aspect of many of these cities is proximity to the sea. Perhaps you're a fan of casino's or want to still claim to be a New Englander (despite rooting for the Yankees). Well, we've got oceanfront property in Port Chester to Stamford to Norwalk. Or if the TV shows have you wearing your hair big and rockin' out to Bon Jovi, New Jersey has ample shoreline for you too. Then again, you might be a New York purist, and prefer to live and work in the same state, so Long Island, with miles of soft sand beaches could be your choice. With so much oceanfront property in the region, New York benefits again.

But I'm really here to bring up the geographic benefit I've been seeing lately; it's smack-dab in the middle of the Eastern Seaboard. Being poor, as young travelers should be, I find myself gravitating to travel by bus. It's cheap and easy, plus they have wireless Internet now so I can write dibble like this for you while moving at 65... ugh, traffic, make that 20 miles per hour. Whatever the speed, it's relatively simple to get wherever I want to go, quickly and cheaply. Last weekend I returned to Boston. This weekend I swung through Washington, DC. Pretty much any major city on the Eastern Seaboard is accessible within a few hours on the bus. How had I never realized how much better it would be to live in the middle, instead of at the end? Aside from being the destination for other travelers, it seems to be a great departure point for it's own people!

I tell you I'd be positively giddy with excitement about this discovery, except that all this time on the bus has zapped most of my energy. Plus we have a long way to go before we reach Manhattan, all those cities up and down the East coast have brought traffic to a crawl. I think I'll relax and read my book about how great the New York Harbor is. Or maybe I'll gaze out the window at the passing sea. Just kidding... the Jersey turnpike goes nowhere near it's beautiful ocean.

Bouncing Back

2010-05-04T17:55:00.000-07:00

I'm not predisposed to like New York. Let's face it; down in my heart, cultivated since birth, there is a deeply embedded bias against the city because it is home to a certain baseball team. As a result, fair or not, accurate or not, I've used that starting excuse to draft a mental tableau of ills that plague the city. Sure, maturity, personal experience and Big Papi have helped dissuade these irrational perceptions, but I'll confess that just a mere year ago I was saying, "there's no way I'd live in New York. It's too... big/dirty/dingy/self-centered/full of Yankee fans. Yet, here I am.

Off the bat, I'm pleased to report that most of my remaining prejudices have proven false as George Washington's teeth. In fact, my first weeks there have left me deeply impressed with numerous things, including it's resilience.

New York has seen terrorism, and I haven't. To be honest, I've always felt pretty secure because: (a) nobody is going to attack suburban Lexington because it's not an economic center, (b) nobody would dare attack Shanghai, let alone know how, and (c) nobody would attack Boston when New York is a more appealing target.

Then, one week into my New York Experiment, someone puts a car bomb in Times Square. Thankfully, we were spared disaster, but that doesn't alter the fact that 7 blocks from my office sat a terrifying weapon of destruction.

48 hours later, I walked through the area on my way home from work. I expected thin crowds, an aura of hesitancy, the unease of vigilance, people looking over their shoulders. There was none of that. The place was packed with tourists and suits. Nobody looked concerned, nobody looked upset. It was business as usual for all the bag sellers, professional sign holders and street cart hawkers. Taxis, buses and subways ran on time. The city seemed to have moved on from the attempt. What struck me even more was that week at work, it wasn't the hot button topic of conversation. People had other things to talk about - the Dow and Cinco de Mayo festivities.

Compare that to Boston, where a few years back the evening commute was disrupted when light-bright signs, in a guerrilla marketing campaign for the TV show Aqua Teen Hunger Force, were mistaken for possible explosives. Not only did the city come to a near screeching halt, but everyone was talking about it for days to come. I know the news is making a much bigger deal of the Times Square attempted bomb, and rightfully so, but I personally saw more public interest in Boston about a night-light attack, than in New York after a bomb scare.

I can't help but marvel at the contrast, and at New York's ability to bounce back. It's like the city, known for it's cynicism, is wrapped in a blanket of optimism about these things, focusing on the positives (the heroes of the day, nobody getting hurt) and glossing-over the obvious negatives (there was a bomb in Times Square). The city has seen much worse. I don't know what the city felt, what it went through, how it recovered, how it bonded in the fall of 2001, and I don't see how I could. I never properly realized exactly how important, how galvanizing those months were for the city. The result is a city far stronger, far more prepared, far more resilient than I expected. The type of city that can come back from after loosing the first 3 games of the playoffs to win the last 4... or something like that,

A New Begining

2010-05-03T19:20:00.000-07:00

I'm starting up my blog again. Writing helps me process my world, allows me to see it, gives me cause to examine it. When I'm writing my blog the mundane becomes exciting; sights my mind would gloss over become fascinating vignettes. Life is more interesting when you contemplate it.

I no longer live in Shanghai, and I'm no longer traveling. I have started a job in New York City, while living a bit further outside the city in New Jersey. This can never be as foreign as Shanghai, and because of that perhaps my revival will be a bit of a boar, and certainly a blog about New York life is far, far from a new idea, but I hope this blog will be amusing, if nothing else.

When I speak of my impressions of Shanghai, I always talk about "Dan's Shanghai", which was different from everyone else's Shanghai. I went to my restaurants, my parts of the city. I did things I thought were interesting, and had a fascinating job to boot! But make no mistake, "Dan's Shanghai" and the Shanghai of my students would have likely seemed very, very different.

In that light, I hope to write about "Dan's New York". I'll confess I expect it to be riddled with information about commuting from central Jersey, eating from street carts around my office and the changing of the seasons. It may be mundane, it may be boring, but it'll be my life, and as I slow down to study it, it might become my New York.

The Safety of Thailand

2009-07-31T23:13:00.000-07:00

Before and during my trip, I would receive emails and warnings from my parents, cautioning me about the dangers of travel in Thailand because of the 'riots and unrest'. I could scarcely keep myself from laughing sometimes, not because of mom and dad's concern, which was touching, but at what they were concerned with. Thailand was far and away the safest country we visited on our trip; they're even democratic! (contrary to rumors, I did not say, 'smells like freedom', when I crossed the boarder into Thailand). Of course I'm not naive enough to believe that simply being democratic makes a country safer, just ask any of my friends who've been mugged in D.C. It's just that when the other countries I visited were... let's just say 'fast and loose' with laws, Thailand comes out smelling like roses.

Not getting a warning about Cambodia was simply amusing because it was far and away the most dangerous. It's desperately poor country, rife with corruption, and they are still reeling from a genocide more resent than our Vietnam War, but generally these days it doesn't make the news much, so it's trouble aren't on peoples minds.

How bad is it there? One night when we were on the beach in Shianoukville we went to the bars on the beach for drinks. Suddenly, around midnight, the music shut off. We were very confused, because all day there had been people passing out fliers on the beach promoting a party at the bar, drumming up interest and such, but here they were killing the music at midnight. When it didn't turn back on after a bit we walked up the bar and struck up a conversation with the westerners who worked at the bar. It seems that starting 2 nights before the police had come to every bar on the beach at midnight and ordered the music turned off, throwing bottles at one bar and waving their pistol in the air at the next. Nobody wanted to offend the bottle throwing, pistol waving policemen, so the music stayed silent for another half hour. By then someone had enough whisky courage to turn the music back on, abit very low. Within a few minutes a shadowy policeman appeared on the sand, calling over the manager, carrying his AK47 rifle strapped to his back. The music turned off, everyone went home. Nobody argues with a policeman with a rifle.

It's this story I reflect upon when I think of dangers in South East Asia. My boat accidents and motorcycle fall were either self inflicted or due to lax standards, but the potential for an unhinged cop to wave a deadly weapon at a bar for playing music too loud brings uncertainty to a higher level. I never felt unsafe in that way in Thailand, which is why I'm always so amused by my warning over peaceful Thai protests, when there were much bigger, scarier fish in the sea.

Why I avoid boats

2009-07-31T06:21:00.000-07:00

I promised you 5, and somehow I'm guessing traveling internationally with swine flu about doesn't count (besides, it would seem to be hitting the US much harder than Thailand anyway). Allow me to quickly breeze through the two least exciting near death moments, because frankly they weren't that close...

The first was on the Thai island of Ko Tao, where the idiots running our snorkeling tour parked the boat at high tide, but then found themselves beached when we tried to leave at low tide. Myself and the other members of the top deck had to suddenly rush to one side of the boat and throw our weight about, because as they gunned the motor it caused the boat to pitch so far that tipping over and capsizing was a very legitimate possibility. We lived, eventually the boat got unstuck, and aside from about 3 really terrifying seconds, this is a pretty terrible story.

The other snoozer of a catastrophe was returning from Ko Tao back to the mainland. Do you remember those stories about ferries in Thailand sinking to the bottom of the ocean with all the tourists aboard? Well, we were scheduled to go on exactly that type of easily sunk ferry - in the middle of a rainstorm at that. We lucked out because we had prepurchased train tickets, so when our sinkable boat was going to get us to the train late, they transferred us to the high speed catamaran. Relieved not to be in the boat with the 50/50 shot of sinking, I can't tell you how elated we were to be in the sturdy, new and totally enclosed fast boat. Yes we did suffer from seasickness, but when the boat drops over 15 foot waves, I guess thats what you expect. I'll take a little seasickness over sinking anyday.

That's 4, there is only one left, and thankfully it's better than the last two. I could see your eyes glazing over in the last two stories as you thought, "Dan, this isn't 'near death', you lame-o. This is maybe a little scary, but don't sell these as near death." And I think I agreed with you. Thankfully, the last one is a doozie. What could possibly have put me so close to the brink of existence? A Mekong River Cruise!!

Alright, cruise is the wrong word. Due to circumstances we needed to get from the Laos/Thai boarder to the city of Luang Prabang quickly. The options were (a) 14 hour bus ride through windy mountain roads, (b) a 2 day boat trip down the river, or (c) a one day boat trip down the river. Option (a) was bad because Adrienne gets motion sick and we would have arrived at 2 in the morning. Option (b) was bad because, like I said, we needed to get there quickly. This left option (c), which was bad because, well let me quote the Lonely Planet Guide: "Fastboats are not the safest transport south, and fatalities are not uncommon. When we passed there was even talk of banning foreigners from these boats." Oh yeah, and it had been raining all morning. We chose (c).

Imagine a long, fast wooden boat with a giant prop motor sitting on the back. All the luggage is piled in the front of the boat, under a few blue tarps to keep them dry, while the 8 passengers are arranged 2 by 2. They sit on the bottom of the boat, with their arms clutching their knees, because there is no space to spread out, not even to sit cross-legged. All of them are wearing life vests and helmets (as if that would save them in a crash). Now imagine the driver whizzing them along at speeds of near 50 mph. This was our boat.

As dangerous as that sounds, it gets worse - the river was terrifying. I've been whitewater rafting, even gone on some class 4 rapids, but I've never seen a river with real whirlpools. The currents in this river were going every which way, all at once, which meant our little boat got pushed around, bouncing over depressions and sinkholes. Yet as any raft guide will tell you, it isn't the currents that kill you, it's the rocks that make the currents (at least that's what I think the guides should say...). Scattered along the entire 5 hour trip were scores of large, jagged rocks sticking up everywhere! We would weave in and out, dodging them along with the driftwood and trees dislodged by the heavy rain. We even stopped to help another small boat like us file out a chink in it's propeller because they'd struck a rock! It goes without saying that any actual collision with these rocks, traveling at those speeds would have been certain death, helmet or no.

Thankfully we made it. We even had entertainment! On our boat was an Englishman who lives in Thailand, but was taking a month of vacation with his friend. He had decided they would take the fastboat down river, but to muster the courage after reading the Lonely Planet bit, he began to relieve the contents from a bottle of rice whiskey. Having finished a full 12 oz bottle before boarding the boat, it came as no surprise when he refused to wear his helmet, went swimming with his passport in his pocket, and fell in. Twice. Had we gone the way of the Dodo, at least we would have died laughing. Thankfully, we didn't.

Falling off the bar

2009-07-30T03:47:00.000-07:00

I promised 5 near death experiences. The truth is none of the rest are nearly as exciting; in fact 3 of them involved boats. The helplessness of a person on a boat is nearly equal to that of a person on a airplane, however boating accidents are way more common. Sure I can swim, hell I used to be a lifeguard, but when the seas can swallow a winabago and not even burp even Michael Phelps new suit couldn't save him. Thankfully these are called 'near death experiences'.

The first boating accident occured in Cambodia, off the coastline of Shianoukville. We'd chosen a windy, windy day to go out snorkelling (which we couldn't do, because it was windy), on a beautiful river boat. The problem with a 'river boat' on ocean swells is... it's prone to tip over!!! Mercifully, it didn't, but the boat was rocking so hard 'Pearl Jam' would have been jealous. The bartender told us "don't worry, but for your safety you should hold onto the bar so you don't tip off your stool." And it would have been good advice had not three waves later the bar litterly lifted off, broke in two and sent me hurtling to the floor in a cumble of glass, dishes and bar stools. Meanwhile, the boat chose not to stop pitching, making removal from the rubble rather difficult. In the end I escaped with only a small piece of glass caught in my foot (removed by a nurse who happened to be aborad). I had escaped a near death experience!

I should have taken the hint and stayed off boats for the rest of the trip, but I didn't. I got on boats again and again and again...

5 Near Death Experiences

2009-07-29T00:46:00.000-07:00

I've been remiss. Let me start with an email from my brother:

Hey hermano

you break your fingers in that moto accident? cant write email? im glad to hear you are well, even if it is only through what mom and dad tell me.

just cuz you are in an OECD country you think you dont have to make blog posts anymore? you aren't on a honeymoon or anything, i expect intelligent analysis of foreign cultures, comic retellings of common day activities and exquisite exposés on ethnic gastronomy.

sorry for the accusational tone above, i hope you are having a good time, and im just curious as to what my big bro bro is up to.

have you put any shrimp on the barbie? had a fosters? gotten in a boxing fight with a kangaroo? found nemo?

Toodles,

Nick

ps new yorker and atlantic monthly both have all their content available online. hours of high brow entertainment and education. if ya know you need a rest from seeing the world and just want to read about it instead.

Nick, you are right, I haven't fulfilled my duty as blogwritter these past many weeks. I hope that it isn't too late to change that. I vow to write a new post in my blog every day (or nearly every day) for the next 10 days! And more beyond that! I'll write about Asia! I'll write about Australia!! I'll try to provide pictures!

I suppose the first thing I need to address is my brothers reference to a moto accident. It is true that indeed I did have an itsy bitsy motorbike accident, but as I said to my parents - no broken bones and I survived, which is the important thing, right?

The story of the accident isn't super interesting. I was in Laos, having left Adrienne behind in the city of Luang Prabang, while I ventured on to Phonsavan for a day. We were only sepereated for about 60 hours and only because Adrienne didn't relish the idea of the extra 9 hours on the bus my side-jaunt would take. In short, the accident happened while I was alone!

Phonsovan is famous for 2 things: (1) it was the most heavily bombed provence in Laos during the Vietnam War [and Laos has been the most heavily bombed country on earth, thanks to the 'secret war' the US waged contiuously as its efforts in Vietnam], and (2) it is home to 'The Plain of Jars', which was what really enticed me. To sum up 'Da Jars' in brief: A field full of mysterious stone jars, older than Christ and origionally created for unknown purposes - a veritable asian Stonehendge. Bombs and Old stuff; that's how I travel.

Obviously I needed to get onto a motorbike inorder to crash it - so upon arriving I met a fellow traveler (who happened to own and ride a motorcycle back home in England) who convinced me to skip the lame tour groups and ride a bike and see everything on my own. The next morning we set out for a 30 mile ride out to see a cave which had been bombed out, killing everyone inside over 30 years ago. The ride out was beautiful, the cave somber and the return trip disasterous. We agreed upon leaving the cave to meet back in town for lunch at 'the indian restaurant'. About 5 minutes down the road the experienced rider sped on ahead and left me behind. Not 3 minutes later than rounding a turn did I come in too fast, panic, break incorrectly (with the hand break, not the superior footbreak) and skid out into a pile of gravel.

Surprised and relieved to still be alive, I quickly concluded nothing hurt that much, but the discompashionate cars which drove pass annoyed me. Would nobody stop of a crashed motorcyclist? Someone did - the owner of my hotel who was driving the tour group I'd shunned in favor of a motorcycle trip. He hopped out, helped me up, checked out me and my bike - I assured him I was fine but was more concerned for the bike [breaking them is terribly expensive]. After satisfying his concerns, the hotel owner drove on and I gingerly hopped back on my bike to drive back to town.

I was lucky. Very, Very Lucky. I had some scrapes on my knees, which looked worse than they were thanks to the blood they poured onto my pants. My left elbow got it worst, which the next day I went to the hospital to have cleanned professionally. And the bike landed on my foot giving me a limp for a few days, but nothing serious, nothing long lasting, nothing unlucky.

But I still hadn't seen my jars. After returning to town, I cleaned myself up with my first aid kit, had a rest then met up with my travel buddy to head out to see 'Da Jars'. We got to two of the 3 sights (the best two, by rumor) and were awed by the idea. To be honest they don't blow you away like Stonehendge, but jars aren't as exciting as precariously balanced rocks; that's just a reality. It was still cool and to prove I made it there:

So, in retrospect perhaps I shouldn't have gotten a motorcycle, or at least I shouldn't have driven so fast. But as they say in South East Asia: "You haven't done South East Asia until you've had 5 near death experiences." That's one, stay tuned for the rest of the list!

Sweat and Malaria Tablets

2009-06-12T08:36:00.000-07:00

I haven't written. I know, I know, what good is a blog if you don't write, and how will anyone know I'm alive if I don't feed the blog, but the internet isn't exactly the most reliable thing when you travel, at least not in South East Asia. Things here run differently to back home, as you might have guessed. For one, heat is a given. I encourage you to find a clip of Robin Williams in "Good Morning Vietnam" doing the weather report - "Hot today, hot yesterday, hot tomorrow", but I'm pretty sure he uses more profanity, being Robin Williams and all. But somehow I don't think you'll be satisfied with a simple paragraph telling you that the jungle is hot. No, you want more:

1) We're terrified of mosquitos. They're invisible biters and cary nasties with them. We take a malaria pill each night after dinner (if you want to know how well they work at preventing malaria, ask my brother). Adrienne's makes her photosensitive, which doesn't mean that she turns green and produces energy (which is what I thought it meant, she asured me that was photosynthetic), but means she get sunburned easily. I already slop so much sunscreen on there is no way to tell if mine is as well. Yet we're not afraid of malaria (hell, malaria is curable, just ask my brother). We're quaking in our sandles about Dengue Feaver: uncurable and absolutly miserable! We were at a swanky bar in Saigon and they had a cocktail called "The Dengue Cure", so we had to order it. On a tangent, the bartender was a friend of ours who had won best mixologist in Shanghai last year, a city of many classy bars... this was a delicious drink! But back to the serious matter at hand - I am relieved that I come from a place with next to no infectious disease inherent in our mosquitos.

2) Vietnam is a forgiving country. You'd expect them to be rather upset with the USA for fighting them, occupying them and causing thousands of birth defects as a result of chemical warfare (agent orange). Yet they're just not that angry. In the north there wasn't much fighting (lots of bombing, but not hand to hand fighting), so they were rather realxed about the whole thing. In the south it was more intense, especially around Saigon, where there was fighting and American troops. But people like my motorbike driver, who was from the south, was very philosophical about the war. He told us, "My father went to the war against the Americans but was very unlucky, he didn't come back." Those are not the words of an angry bitter soul.

The only time I felt any animocity towards my country was at the Chu Chi Tunnels - the tunnels outside Saigon the VietCong faught their war from. They were amazing to see, and unbelivable, considering they lived, ate and slept in these tiny little subterranian tunnels. Before we went in the tunnels they showed a propoganda film from the 70's about local men and women who'd killed lots of Americans and what heroes they were. It was odd to sit in a room and watch a video explaining how great it was to kill an American.

Other than that incident though, Vietnam seems to have mostly moved on from the war. That isn't to say some people aren't angry or effected, but the unused bunkers dotting the country side seem to have blended into the landscape and history of the country, not like a black eye, but like another story in Vietnams long history.

3) At the tunnels we got to fire M16s. They were loud, they were awesome!

4) The Temples of Ankor Wat are one of the 5 most amazing man made things I've ever seen. They're older than almost any church in Europe, bigger than any church in Europe and can be covered in elaborate carvings. I mean, some of these awesome temples are older than England... that's old!!!

Don't Tell My Mom

2009-05-25T07:26:00.001-07:00

Please don't tell my mom; it's not the type of thing she's want to hear. My dad maybe could handle it, but mother's don't like to know these things. Yes, I did it because it seemed fun, and No I didn't get hurt, so there shouldn't be any problem. No harm, no foul, right? Still, don't tell my mom that we skipped out on our bus ticket from Hue to Hoi An and hired motorbikes to drive us 100 miles down the coast.

Our drivers, Nho and Ty (Easyrider), were just supposed to drive us around the old tombs and city of Hue during our 5 hour bus layover. We were just supposed to get back on the bus and ride to Hoi An that afternoon, but the more we rode, the more fun we had, the more they talked up riding down on the bikes and after a while it seemed like a darn fun idea. So we did.

Of course riding a motorbike through the windey highways of Vietnam, past the rice paddies and mountinous jungle isn't the safest way to travel, but there just isn't a better way to see the country. They took us to a mountain waterfall with a swiming hole below to relax at. They took us over the seaside mountain pass outfitted with a US bunker from the war, as the green hills which looked on raced to the blue Pacific below. They took us along the miles and miles of beach, past the resorts, restaurants and men lounging on plastic chairs. They took us off the tour bus and into the real Vietnam, bringing us local snacks (gelatinous rice steamed in bannana leaf with shrimp) and local restaurants. It you ever come to Vietnam, please hire a motorbike.

But please, don't tell my mom. These kinds of things tend to worry mothers, so please don't tell mine.

Life on the Road

2009-05-22T03:31:00.000-07:00

I'd like to say I'm jet-setting around Asia, but that's not quite true. I'm more of 'slow bussing around Asia.' It's been a busy week, traveling from the foothills of the Himilayas to the Gulf of Tonkin and the Pacific Ocean. Adrienne and I are adjusting to life on the road still, with each day presenting new challanges and new adventures.

Leaving China left me with the problems of traveling in a unique country [Vietnam] without the requisite bag of tricks I'd developed in China. Adrienne has told me I need to smile and say, 'no thank you', to street people, instead of just ignoring them like in China. Also, I've found the Vietnamese slightly less punctual as the Chinese. Plus there are more scams.... much more.

Talking to people makes you wonder why you'd come to a country where almost everyone has their own scam story on either a bus, travel agent, taxi or xe om (motorcycle taxi). The scams are all the same, from extortion to overpricing, to bait-and-switch to outright theft. I sit on edge waiting for my crack at this seedy underside of Vietnam, suspecting everyone of harboring an inner swindler. Not the most enjoyable way to travel, but as time passes my feeling has been dissapating. Hopefully it won't be my lingering memory of this country.

Aside from that I've been taking a lot of busses. Overnight sleeper busses where instead of seats there are proper bunk-beds, like in a first class airplane but much more cramped (up to 40 bed on a bus!). The roads suffer more than the buses, as we traveled 7 hours from the tiny village of YuanYang to the Vietnamese boarder, travling the entire way benath the completed but unused highway - Vietnam hasn't built it's side at the boarder yet, so China forbids travel on it's half. In addition to the Chinese government's urban transportation policy, descending and climbing the hills near the Sino-Vietnamese border on the tiny windey roads can also be cause for nausea. Or at least it was for an old gradma 3 rows behind me, yacking into a bag as we climbed the hills to the village of YuanYang. I just put on my iPod and rubbed Tigerbalm under my nose to cover the sound and smell....

The decent from the mountains of Lijiang, through the rice village of YuanYang, the rainy hills of Sapa and down to the metropolitan hub of Hanoi has been a dizzying display of minority villages, fantastic panaramas and lots of rain. The best thing I've seen in the past week was Halong bay - an oceanic playground of hundreds limestone cliff islands shooting up from the green-blue water below. It's an experience to kayak through a small cave into a hidden lagoon surrounded by towering green cliffs on all sides.

I'm catching a bus down the coast in 10 minutes to Hue and Hoi An. Beach here I come!

Chinese Sunscreen

2009-05-09T08:43:00.000-07:00

We often use the word 'Chinese' to describe something with uniquely Chinese characteristics, which celebrates the heritage of the country, like 'Chinese Food' or 'Chinese Martial Arts'. However, sometimes the word is used to designate something of low quality, 'Chinese quality' for example (or just look at all the fuss the PRC kicked up over Guns and Roses latest album - 'Chinese Democracy'). We'll I am afraid I need to rail on 'Chinese Sunscreen'. The quality is low.

Adrienne and I arrived in the remote western tourist city of LiJiang this week, expecting to see timeless Chinese Streets (used in the first meaning), and breathtaking scenery. On our first full day we saddled up on some bicycles and headed out of town, being sure to slop on some sunscreen before we left. Adrienne and I both have a bottle of sunscreen, but Adrienne's is from the 'Cancer Prevention Center of Australia', mine is from China. Choosing to rub the Australian stuff on our faces and necks, we set out on a very sunny bike ride to a small, rather decidedly uninteresting and unworthy-of-the-hype town nearby. As we paused for lunch we realized how red our arms were becoming and pulled out my Chinese sunscreen to remedy the problem before the burn was absolute.

The sunscreen did nothing. It might as well have been water. In no way, shape, or form did it prevent a single UV ray from our sun from reaching our skin; in short if we'd have been from KFC we'd have been served extra crispy. Thanks Chinese Sunscreen.

Not to fear, we made the best of it, setting off on a 2 day hike of Tiger Leaping Gorge the next morning, burned as can be, but happy to be traveling. The hike was strenuous at times (900m elevation gain), but to see the 5500m tall mountains sweep down nearly 4000m to the bottom of the gorge was unforgettable. To put it in perspective, the distance from the bottom of the valley to the top is almost as great as the distance from sea level to the tallest mountain in Europe. We might have been red from Chinese sunscreen, but I've no complaints about the Chinese mountains.

To the road...

2009-05-05T07:17:00.000-07:00

As I write this I am less than 12 hours from getting on a plane out of Shanghai without knowing when or if I will return to this city. It's been a fascinating interesting experience, you might even call it life changing. The past two weeks have been understandably busy, scurrying around to ship off all my things and say goodbye to friends before I leave. This end, like most, is bittersweet; As excited as I am to travel, and as excited as I am to leave, departing a place where friends have been made and an enjoyable life lived always has a twinge of sadness. Because I've been busy I haven't been able to write everything I wanted to write in here the past few weeks, so I'm going to hit you with some quick hit paragraphs about Shanghai.

This city can be beautiful. Who knew?! At the City Urban Planning Museum they showed a map of the downtown and had all the parks and streets lined with trees and flowers highlighted in green, which stunningly displayed how much of this city has greenery if you care to see it. Now that the usual grey has abated for the past two weeks and the sky is blue, everything seems greener and more natural.

And Shanghai isn't taking this beautification lying down either, hoards or workers and public works projects are making this drab grey city more and more vibrant by the day. A block from my house an old decayed street was redone with more trees, more flowers and a new paint job that took the street from depressing to leisurely in a few weeks. Elsewhere in the city paint on the old grey block houses gives them a lighter presence, casting the mind back not to the communist era, but before that when Shanghai was really coming into its own. Perhaps in a few years the city will complete its transformation, which I no doubt will return to see.

The Shanghainese can learn, and learn fast. The World Expo is coming and Shanghai needs to be ready for it's big debut. As a result there have been posters, fliers, people with microphones urging pedestrians on the escalator to... Stand on the Right, Walk on the Left. You may recall I railed against the Chinese inability to grasp this concept, which I suspected at the time was because nobody had ever told them to. Turns out I was right, and all they needed was a massive government campaign to tell the people what to do and think, and compliance has been exceedingly swift! Westernization here they come!

Unfortunately the Expo brings other problems for the expats living in Shanghai. The government here has already unrolled a campaign of advertisements which will run nearly 24/7 on every available viewing screen proclaiming this upcoming expo as the seminal pinnacle of human creation for all of history. I'm not kidding, May 1 marked the '365 days until' point and the ads ratcheted up from boiling to straight vaporization. Thankfully I'm leaving and I'll never need to gaze into the happy eyes of the large 'toothpaste-looking' mascot ever again. The rest of the expats remaining behind in Shanghai will no doubt have reoccurring nightmares about this creature and will need psychiatric care... Good luck to you all.

On an unrelated topic, I've realized China does a pretty good job at recycling. I don't know how accurate my last statement is, but my personal experience in the past week while trying to throw out all the junk I didn't want left me realizing how much other people in Shanghai wanted my junk! Now, I've experienced the strange bottle recycling phenomenon before. Every city has recycling and every city has can and bottle people, but rarely are these can and bottle people seemingly homeowners with leisure time to play majong. Whenever I try to bring my empty bottles to the trash cove in my building complex, I make it halfway there before some old man comes running up to me to take the bottles from me, which wouldn't surprise me half as much if he hadn't been relaxing in our guarded compound playing majong with his buddies. I don't even know where the recycling place is near my house, but he does and I know how to find him, which is all that matters. Also, as I was Cleaning my room, I had loads to throw away, the useless junk I'd collected but had no intention of paying good money to send home, every trip I made to the dumpster full of bags had been seized by curious collectors before I returned with the next load 5 minutes later. Somewhere in Shanghai people are enjoying baggy sweaters, extra reading lamps and broken suitcases and I hope they enjoy them. Here's to you, Shanghai's secret recyelers!

Finally, as a last ditch 'Tourist in Shanghai' moment, I saw the Chinese Acrobats Show on Sunday night. Between the lady who balanced 20 water glasses on her chin before climbing a latter in high heels and the gentlemen who flipped off see-saws onto waiting chairs 30 feet above, I was most impressed by the one man who juggled a porcelain pot the size of a mid sized TV on his head. He would toss this massive pot in the air, catch it on his head, then tossed it from lip to lip on his head, all without dropping the thing which would have caused a massive headache, had it not crushed him completely. Nothing like a little good old fashioned tourist razzle dazzle.

And so, for the next 4+ months I expect nothing less than the usual tourist razzle dazzle. This isn't the end of the blog. Although I can't get Shanghaied in Shanghai anymore, I can still write about everything I see in South East Asia and beyond. I'll write soon.

Simple pleasures

2009-04-25T02:46:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-21T07:42:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-20T02:59:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-16T03:52:00.000-07:00

"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

2009-04-14T00:50:00.000-07:00

"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

2009-04-07T02:08:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-06T08:42:00.000-07:00

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!

While it lasts

2009-03-28T03:50:00.000-07:00

There is an old adage in Shanghai - "You should go outside and enjoy Spring, both weekends". Well, Spring is here in Shanghai and I'm trying to take full advantage of it. The weather is generally either hot or cold and always wet, except for a few magical weeks every year in the spring. The humidity is manageable and the sun shines and life is good. I love spring in Shanghai.

This is a sharp contrast to spring in Boston. In Boston I grumble for months on end about how much nicer it would be if summer would hurry and come; winter holds on, dumping snow well past it's expiration date while reminders of how great summer can be (baseball, sunshine, the odd warm day) only torment me as goals just out of reach. Spring is my least favorite season back home.

But in Shanghai it's lovely. I'm taking a trip next weekend to a nearby city, and this weekend I intend to go out and peruse some of the prettier parks in the city. The trees are all in bloom and the parks are bursting into a luscious green. I spent part of my Wednesday morning sitting atop the MoCA museum in the out door cafe, sipping fresh mango juice, overlooking People's Park, gazing at the sky scrappers beyond and recalling how I've only seen such a beautiful, well lit contrast of public greenery and private buildings of enterprise in only a handful of cities (New York, Hong Kong, Tokyo... and Boston), which I revere as the most fantastically wonderful cities on earth. I respect Shanghai, but that is quite noble company in my opinion.

So for now all is good. Shanghai is sunny and warm, the heat isn't oppressive, it's great. Somewhere birds are singing; Somewhere children shout.

Urban Bamboo Forest

2009-03-27T09:54:00.000-07:00

For all the environmental flack China gets from the rest of the word, there is at least one resource the Chinese use creatively and efficiently - Bamboo. As a renewable resource, which can renew itself in a few days during the rainy season, bamboo makes for a wonderfully useful plant. Aside from appearing in numerous dishes (pork fried with oyster sauce and bamboo shoots is one of my favorite dishes), bamboo is widely utilized in construction, even in Shanghai. Rare is the ingredient which can be used to build the restaurant, then be used in that restaurants food.

It was yesterday, while I was on my way to fetch some of my favorite fried pork dish, that I happened to walk down a street near my office which seemed to have been overrun by a growth of bamboo. Every facade on the entire street was being re-done and the workmen were busy assembling scaffolding made from bamboo shoots. Ten meter long shoots were being tied together with extra long twist-ties. The scaffolding only stretched 3 stories high, but when erected on both sides of a narrow street for the entire block, it begins to feel rather encompassing. On each story of the scaffolding the floor was made of woven bamboo mats covering support shoots. And although the thought of twist ties holding together hundreds of pounds of bamboo balanced above my head was nerve wracking, the workers didn't seem to mind as at least a dozen bounded around on different levels, securing more shoots and ties.

It's not the first time I've seen construction in Shanghai using bamboo scaffolding. In fact it is so common in Shanghai I have more confidence in it than I do in the rusted metal poles which are used on occasion for taller structures (the awesome sky scrappers get proper professional scaffolding - we don't want those falling down). I have no idea what they do with the bamboo after it's used for construction. Perhaps they eat it.

The Passport

2009-03-25T02:46:00.000-07:00

If I were forced to choose a theme song, The Beachboys I Get Around might not be a bad choice. I have been blessed with the resources, education, family and desire not only to create, but to feed my wanderlust. If you haven't heard, I'm living in China now, but didn't always. I was fortunate enough to spend a year studying in London, running over Europe on my off days; and I've been privileged to see much of my fair country with both friends and family. And future travel plans aren't in short supply either, as I have made plans to leave my teaching gig here in Shanghai to depart on a 5 month bonanza vacation. Is it crazy to quit a job and blow so much money on travel during the worst economic crisis of my or my parents lifetime? Probably. Will I regret it? Probably not.

Americans, however are not expected to venture far from our shores. I say this because if you compare your US passport to those of most other globalized countries you'll quickly discover that we have significantly less pages in our passports than they do. We have more than enough room for stamps, but when countries decided to take up a full page with a visa, then a second with a residence permit (then another with a second residence permit), the pages start to disappear all too quickly (lookin' at you China...). In short, if you travel enough you're gonna need more pages added to your passport.

When I realized this fact last fall, I began to look into what steps I would need to fulfill to get these bonus pages. On the internet the prospect looked bleak, as I was only going to be home for a month over Christmas and the State Department said it would take up to 6 weeks to return it to me by mail, unless I expedited the work (at the cost of $60) and they'd have it back to me in 2 weeks - there was no 'in person' option. I had reluctantly resigned myself to spending 400 Kung-Pow Chickens on upgrading my travel papers when I learned of an alternative: the US Consulate in Shanghai.

Apparently adding pages isn't difficult. Less than half an hour after I arrived at the consulate, I was walking out with 24 fresh new pages in my little blue book, and I didn't even have to pay a dime! Covered with background landscape scenes from around the US, they were just stuck right in the middle of my old passport. Talk about expedited - 30 minutes and FREE! Needless to say I was excited, so I celebrated by throwing on some Beachboys and heading out for some Kung-Pow. It's amazing how bureaucratic rigmarole we go through for passports sometimes, and how easy they really can be to make and update.

Camping in Shanghai

2009-03-19T05:22:00.000-07:00

Things age faster in Shanghai. You know the old saying, "A 10 year old airplane is younger than a 1 year old computer"? Well a 10 year old building in Shanghai is older than a 20 year old building in Boston, or is that 30 year old building in Boston? It's hard to tell, but things here weren't built to last - and it shows.

I loose power in my apartment every 2 hours, and it doesn't even matter if anything is plugged in or turned on, it just goes off. Turning it back on isn't hard; I just need to walk to the circuit breaker and flick the switch back to on, but that's not the point. Everynight I go to bed knowing that shortly after I fall asleep my heater will switch off and I'll wake up shivering sometime early in the morning. I've drawn on my camping experience to prepare for the night, but this isn't Yellowstone, it's Shanghai! I'd point to this being a faulty switch, which I'm sure it is, but the curious part is that this is the 2nd (out of 3) apartments in which this has happened to me here. How hard is it to build circuit fuses that don't fall to the off position merely from the suggestion of gravity? Apparently hard enough.

In my office we've had the opposite problem: sweltering heat. The weather outside isn't that nice, still light jacket weather, but the office is t-shirt and shorts weather. The building administrator refuses to turn on the air conditioning until the outside temperature reaches a designated number, which it hasn't. Our classrooms, stuffed with 25 students turn into small ovens and we all bake, which unfortunately doesn't seem to be a huge concern to my bosses (and the teachers' office, which is hotter is even further from their minds). It seems unfair: I either freeze at home or melt at the office with no means of regulating the surrounding temperature - just like camping!

Everybody is Irish (if they want to be)

2009-03-17T09:36:00.000-07:00

Today marks my second St. Patrick's day here in Shanghai, and it simply pales in comparison to the festivities in Boston. If you went to school in Boston you KNEW when St. Patrick's day was because it was one of the biggest festivals of the year: Christmas, Your Birthday, St. Patrick's Day. Let's face it, there are a few finite rules to celebrating the holiday, which if obeyed will resulted in an awesome time had by all. 1) Everyone wears green. 2) Everyone claims to be part Irish (no exceptions). 3) Eat something Irish - an Irish fry-up or corned beef. 4) Drink good Irish beer. That's it. 4 Simple rules which, if followed, allow everyone to share in this special holiday. Yes, yes, I'm sure it's nothing like how the holiday is celebrated in Ireland (I imagine that none of the 4 rules actually apply) - but the beauty of St. Patrick's day is that its such an international festival. It's about inclusiveness and togetherness - We're all Irish Today.

I'm intrigued, especially on this most inclusive of holidays, by an advertisement for the 2010 World Expo in Shanghai that airs everyday on the subway. Staring the incalculably creepy mascot Hairbo - who resembles the old Crest toothpaste mascot if he had been on happy drugs - the ad opens with this animated creature sways and waves from the hills of Tibet, while young children and women in traditional Tibetan dress excitedly run up and wave along side it. Next Hairbo appears in Xinjiang, the Muslim northwest province of China, amidst Persian looking girls in long flowing dresses dancing to rhythmic drums amids grape vines and feast filled tables. Finally, Hairbo is a giant, standing tall aside the skyscrapers of Hong Kong, peeking and waiving from behind the buildings, bridges and peaks of the stunningly beautiful city. All three places Hairbo promotes the World Expo are gorgeous - and I wonder if all 3 would rather consider themselves separate from China.

It seems strange to me that someone (the government?) is trying to create buzz and excitement over the expo in the same way it was created for the Olympics. For the Olympics, China's status as host to the world spurred patriotism and excitement, but how can it work again when the fact is that the expo won't generate half the buzz the Olympics did. I'd even go so far as to doubt the people of Tibet and Xinjiang know there still IS a world expo (did you?), let alone that it will be in China. Why do the advertisements for the expo revolve around fringe elements of Chinese society?

In light of St. Patrick's Day, when everyone is happy to call themselves Irish, this ad crashes headlong into a mental divide I cannot seem to bridge. The people of China, never mind it's government, will fight vehemently that these societies are part of China and that they always have been, yet at the same time they slight them at every chance they get, blaming them for all the crime and making it difficult to create upward mobility or move to cities. Maybe I'd feel better about it if my students didn't tell me Tibet is a dangerous place, or that most of the crime in Shanghai is from migrant Xinjiangnese, but as it is these 'Chinese citizens' seem to be disregarded as second class and only trumpeted when images of national unity are desired. No matter how great China claims to be, or how inclusive it tells it's people it is, I don't know of a holiday where people claim to be Chinese. Go Ireland.

A joke

2009-03-09T23:51:00.000-07:00

In an effort to alleviate growing international criticism, the CCP decided to implement a new media relations strategy. For this purpose the government recruited the top young party members who had just recently received degrees in communications and political relations from top western universities to train the older members. One of these recruits, Li, was sent to work with old time party member Wong and his aid.

"Alright", Li said, "I'm going to ask a question and I want you to respond like I was a member of the media. What do you say to the allegations that China is among the worlds leading polluters?"

"How Dare You Insinuate that China is Responsible for Global Pollution! You must be banished to Xinjiang! No one will ever hear of you again! You worthless pig!", shouted party member Wong.

"No, No, remember we're working with the new media relations guidelines, you need to be more understanding", Li interjected. "Let's try it again. What do you say to the allegations that China is among the worlds leading polluters?"

This time Wong responded, "We understand that pollution is a concern for all growing and globalized countries. The government is issuing new regulations and working with companies to curb the impact China has on the global environment."

"That's great! We'll continue the training tomorrow", Li said as he left the room.

Turning to his aid, Wong asked what he thought of the training.

His aid responded, "It's good, but we'll have to send him to Xinjiang, he knows about the pollution."

Tina's eggs are ready

2009-03-06T01:17:00.000-08:00

If you've felt that I've been remiss in writing over the past few weeks, you are most certainly correct. My online time, and much of my life has become centered around farming. "Farming?", say surprised that anything can grow beneath Shanghai's rainbow of greys. Yes, online farming.

Recently a Chinese co-worker introduced a social website with a farming application to our office. Having spread like wildfire through the teachers' office, you're more likely to hear us discussing eggplants and pumpkins than exclamations and punctuation. Frankly, we're all obsessed.

The game is straight forward enough. You plant seeds in your plots of land, which then take somewhere around 24 hours to 'grow' before they are ready for harvest. You then need to harvest and sell your plants before anyone else can steal them. The interaction comes from being able to steal from each others vegetables if they're slow to harvest them, or put weeds and bugs in their crops to diminish their crops quality. The more money you have, and the more points you accumulate allow you to expand your farming empire, buying more land and even a cow for milk and a chicken for eggs.

Most of the past two weeks all office talk has centered around this game. What's the best crop to grow at different levels? Should you use the expensive fertilizer (which makes your plants grow faster) or the cheap stuff? Whose crops are ready to be stolen? Alliances have been built and trampled, but the general rule is if someone's crops are ready to be harvested and they're off teaching class... tell everyone else in the office so they can steal their crops.

I'd write more but I need to harvest my eggplants before anyone steals any.

What a way to go!

2009-03-02T22:46:00.000-08:00

As I've said, I didn't go anywhere over spring festival, instead choosing to relax and readjust to China by cooking and stuffing myself on home-made delicacies. My girlfriend and I took turns alternating as head chef each night, while the other usually arranged the side dish or something. One of our dishes we had planned to make was a succulent stew of chicken, olives and tomatoes. The problem is that much like Christmas, rather than going out to eat at a restaurant, everyone cooks for the festival. This meant that there was no chicken breast left on the shelves of Carrefour and we were forced to improvise.

Selecting to instead purchase a whole chicken, which we could quarter on our own, we thought we could save money and still have our chicken dinner. What we were slow to realize is that... they like to use more parts of the chicken than we do!

As we cut the chicken free of it's packaging the first glaring difference lay across the cutting board. It still had it's head. We had expected this and it had been made clear that severing the chicken's head from its body was a mans task, and that I would need to do it. Wishing I had a black robe and a guillotine (which would have made it much easier) I had to settle for a beer to calm my nerves before severance could be served. Then with one big whack (followed by a lot of smaller whacks and some sawing...) the head came free and was immediately bagged and placed in the trash. We had won, I cut off the monsters head!!

The second fear was that the bird would have all of its innards, a thought which almost lead me to despair before I realized that the bird wasn't stuffed with its organs (they're too valuable and are sold separately), but instead was stuffed with it's own feet. That's right, after they killed and shaved the chicken they shoved his feet up his butt. What a way to go! Removing the feet proved far easier, and after some discussion about saving them for a future broth, they joined the head in the bottom of the bin.

The dish turned out great. The chicken's dignity, not so much.

Whistle Power

2009-02-24T06:22:00.000-08:00

As the world economic crises thickens, countries around the globe are searching for ways to get people off the street and into jobs. Like the United States, China has launched it's own initiative to provide work for the excess of 20 million men, women and children recently laid off from factories and other jobs. One solution the government had was to put crossing guards, armed with whistles, at ever intersection between my house and the subway with express intentions to piss me off.

I appreciate that these men have jobs, and congratulations to the government for providing for them. It's just that... well, I can't stand them. Stationed 4 to an intersection, these reflective-vest-wearing state employees were given whistles and instructions not to let anyone set foot off the curb if they don't have a green walk signal. Why is the government targeting a crackdown on the ever dangerous jay-walking when none of the vehicles seem concerned for the rules makes me wonder if the police are treating the paper cut because the knife wound looked too daunting.

Or maybe I'm just bitter. These men have no tact, manners or soul. Last week, having absent mindedly taken 2 steps off the curb while waiting for the light to change, the nearest whistle bearer came running over, whistle shrieking at full tilt until he was 5 feet away and continued to lay on the noise until I'd retreated the yard back to the curb. Not to be cliche, but I've never seen so little power go to someone's head. The overreaction to the offense seems vastly disproportional, but then again... isn't China known for over reactions and power going to peoples heads?

Not that I wish these people didn't have jobs, nor am I unhappy that China is at least trying to enforce a rule - for a change, and nor is my life vastly effected by this change (I now patiently wait on the curb and watch in astonishment at the vast number of startled offenders whistled off the crosswalk). What dismays me is the attitude of these men. My story above isn't an isolated experience, I've witnessed dozens of others befall the same screeching fate in the past few days. But in a country better known for authoritarianism than humanitarianism, perhaps it isn't surprising that pedestrians are treated like misbehaving dogs.

Paper Plates

2009-02-23T00:52:00.000-08:00

In an effort to keep western traditions and to ensure human interaction, my girlfriend and her roommate threw a brunch this past weekend at their apartment; I was to be employed as official egg maker (a task which I feel I satisfactorily completed). This brunch, attended by about 15 people ranging from the age of 2 to 30 something (a married couple brought their child), was a veritable smorgasbord of food - eggs and bacon, waffles, Dunkin Donuts, home-made hummus and vegetables, chips and salsa, pate and sushi. If that isn't an international spread, I don't know what is. Enjoyable as the brunch was (with the cleaning up was not so much), the more humerus incident happened the night before.

We had ventured to the Carrefour near my girlfriends apartment to buy supplies - eggs, bacon, utensils, etc. After securing all the edible needs, we proceeded to hunt around the bottom level of the store for the paper goods, including paper plates which were curiously hidden from us. After 5 minutes of hunting on our own near the disposable silverware, paper cups and bowls, we got smart and asked one of the workers where we could find paper plates. Her response: "We don't have any because there isn't an event [or holiday] this month, come back next month."

The sheer Chinese-ness of the response is beautiful. While completely illogical (what do you mean no events? My brunch isn't an event?), it has a screwball grain of thought behind it (most people wouldn't be buying them, so you shouldn't either). How a store which carries over 30 varieties and brands of green tee (they have a green tea isle, where no black, herbal or medicinal tea is sold), can not carry any paper plates is still a mystery to me. But then again, so still is most of the culture here.

Of Birds and Men

2009-02-14T02:25:00.000-08:00

In the past two days I saw two interesting bird events. Something as simple as the relationship between men and birds can seem so different in different cultures, and I don't just mean the dishes we put them in. Birds here usually are for eating, but sometimes, just sometimes for pleasure.

I saw a collection of white pigeons in the park the other day. While this may not seem like a revolutionary observation, the more I think about it the more interesting it becomes. Pigeons of any sort are rare in Shanghai. I tend to think they're all eaten by the locals (hence the number of pigeon dishes in the restaurants) but I have no proof. Instead, these birds are clearly government sanctioned, complete with ankle tags and a seed-selling vendor nearby: These are show birds, which may explain why they're white. Most pigeons I've seen are a mix of black and grey, with the occasionally albino thrown in, but this group was all white. I guess they just looked cleaner, I can't think of any other reason. It also mystifies me because when I show my students pictures of doves they always call them pigeons. I can't help but wonder about the unique pack of strange white pigeons in a city devoid of free birds.

But this pales in comparison to what I saw yesterday - a man walking his bird. The man carried a cage alongside him, while his small black bird flew in a zig zag patter across the path in front of him, pausing each time to make sure his master was still with him. This bird, untethered as far as I could see, flew alongside his master up the path and onto the steps to their apartment. At this point, the man bent over, opened the cage door and the bird hopped inside. I couldn't scarcely believe it. I've heard of birds with loyalty to their masters, and seen it in movies, but to see a bird act like a dog was a totally new experience. I love it.

A word on Hope

2009-02-12T02:12:00.000-08:00

Hope. A word we've heard more of this year than we have in long time. President Obama has given us a cause to hope again, yet the feeling still seems generally foreign and forgotten. It's an emotion our society doesn't speak about in earnest much these days, preferring to retreat to the scepticism and pessimism instilled in us from abundant heartbreak in our past. This pessimism inflicts our thoughts - we don't trust the kindness of strangers on the street, and our dreams for the future - we all still hope the world gets better, but are far from certain that it will. Honest to goodness Hope is in short supply.

The other emotions get more face time; joy for example sees its fair share. And although joy would seem to be the opposite side of the coin from hope, hope realized if you will, I've seen much more joy than childlike hope in the past decade - at weddings, graduations, parties and whatnot. So where is the hope?

We have holidays for love (Valentine's Day), holidays for fright (Halloween). We have holidays for luck (St. Patrick's Day), for patriotism (Independence Day), and even holidays for reasons we don't really remember (Cinco de Mayo). Christmas was once a day, a season, of hope, but now it's shed that image to mean more in some ways, less in others. But I wouldn't say Christmas is a time we're filled with hope. New Year's could be a day of hope, but generally we chose to look back, not forward. So why isn't there a holiday of hope? I say there is. And it's today.

If there ever were a day which represented hope - unchecked, wild and delirious hope it is today: Pitchers and Catchers Report to Spring Training. Hope Abounds.

The Dissapearing Man

2009-02-07T02:31:00.000-08:00

China is different. I'm not the same either, but China's different. And not from when I left in December, at least not as far as I can tell, but I finally deduce a difference. The loudspeakers men are gone.

When I first came to China there was a humorous (if unnerving) phenomenon where men would ride bicycles in slow motion through residential areas and around housing complexes with loudspeakers blaring a man's voice shouting in Chinese. For a long time I had no idea why this was or what it was for. I suspected it was communist propaganda being spilled constantly onto the minds of the unsuspecting citizens. The information saturation was complete and total, and even more invasive than I could have imagined. Fortunately, this wasn't the case. The truth is the men are advertising their interest in purchasing old refrigerators, air conditioners, appliances, etc. Not nearly as exciting or juicy as propaganda, but much more sensible.

But now these men are gone. Was a law passed banning this activity? Is the economy hurting that bad? Did they buy each and every old appliance in the city already? I don't know and probably never will. All I know is the men with the loudspeakers (the men who let me imagination run wild), are gone.

Where have all the dumplings gone?

2009-02-05T01:26:00.000-08:00

Anyone who asked me what I was looking forward to back in China while I was home got pretty much one of two responses - my girlfriend and the food. I've blogged here numerous times about my love of meals - noodles, dumplings, Peking Duck. Which is why the reverse-reverse-culture shock is so terrible now - I cannot find good food!

Over the holidays at home restaurants close, some might even be closed for a week, heaven forbid! It's a fact of life we can all accept. But what happens in China is both shocking and terrifying - restaurants close for a month!

Since I arrived the week before the Spring Festival, all my favorite little dodgy restaurants - the ones I was looking forward to most, have been closed. That means were going on 3 weeks now of no greasy kung-pow chicken, no authentic sweet-n-sour pork, even Noodles is still closed (on an unrelated note, I've moved back into the neighborhood where Noodles the restaurant is located, so joy and delectable noodles will soon rain upon me eventually, just not yet). How torturous is it to look forward to something so simple, so ubiquitous as food from cheap dodgy restaurants in China, only to have it snatched away by the great Spring Festival?

I understand they're family restaurants, and that everyone has returned to the countryside to be with their families. I understand that this long trip can only be taken once a year, so why not make it count. I understand all this, but as a sad little westerner in Shanghai, I miss the food!

Mae day

2009-01-31T01:40:00.000-08:00

A slow week at work, with most of the staff and students still on holiday, leaves ample time for students and teachers to get into more detailed discussions than normal. Not that the regular "where are you from?", "what do you think of Shanghai?", "can you speak any Chinese?" discussions aren't fun, but yesterday I had an exceptionally rare candid conversation with a couple of students. One in particular, we'll call her Mae to protect her identity (and because I forget her real name), astounded me with insight both new and old to me, but rarely discussed within the walls of EF.

Or first exceptional topic was philosophy, which is a pretty incredible thing to discuss with a group of Chinese. We were comparing the two 'fathers' of Eastern and Western philosophy: Socrates and Confucius. It was noted that Confucius is a fan of order and respect to elders, leading to students, sons and citizens asking less critical questions of their superiors, where as Socrates seemingly encourages systematic revolt in some students. At this point Mae chimed in that Confucius was one of many Chinese philosophers, but because his views supported the existence of whichever government held power, he had always been touted as the best. This insightful haymaker was followed by her rightfully calling Confucius a misogynist (in so many words). I was a little shocked, but honored to be present, for a student letting slip such candid opinions, especially because I can't help but agree with them.

The next topic was one which I felt slightly more uncomfortable about: Guns in America. Students often ask this, expecting reality to bear out their wild imaginations of gun crazed Americans waving firearms in the air as they race to be first in the supermarket check out line. I try as delicately as I can to dissuade this notion from my students minds (although my inner regionalism leads me to believe it may be true somewhere in Houston). After covering this initial base yesterday, the students asked about the gun laws and why they aren't changed, and I explained the lines of though (guns are dangerous vs. guns are for protection/protected by the constitution) as well as the politics surrounding them - ie the NRA. This was when Mae again chimed in with a though which seemed impossibly radical being made among a small group of Chinese and their American teacher. She said she though guns were good for people because if people had guns, they had the power, not the government. She proceeded to express her opinion that people in China have no real power, that the government holds it all, but if people were able to arm themselves they would be prepared to disagree with the government when the time came. She said this is why democracy in America works, because the people have the power. I don't know if I'd never thought of it that way before, or if Mae saying it just caught me off guard, but it hit me like a revelation.

The conversation was lengthy, and we certainly did discuss the mundane topics of the day - the meaning of toddler for example, but any conversation with a few wonderfully insightful ideas is a good conversation. It was memorable and surprising perhaps because they seemed such western ideas coming from such a Chinese woman, or perhaps because I'm not used to hearing this kind of talk coming from my students, but I think it struck such a chord because I agreed with Mae.

The Pastime

2009-01-30T01:30:00.000-08:00

Much like anywhere, holidays are a time when people can relax with their families. In Boston, we huddle around the fireplace, in Australia they head to the beach, but in China they head to the park, which is where I went this week.

The park was jam packed with what seemed to me was half the city, but in reality was probably a just a fraction of the folks in the surrounding apartment towers. As I strolled through the park I came across people doing all sorts of recreation: from thrill rides to bumper boats, from old ladies doing tai chi to a rowdy crew singing Italian opera to the accompaniment of an accordion. My two favorite groups were the Chinese who'd learned African Tribal drumming, and were out burning a dance beat and the hoards of wanna be seamen who'd rented one of the motorized boats in the lake, and accidentally turned it into impromptu bumper boats - thank goodness for slow speeds and flimsy rubber bumpers. Truly everyone who was anyone was out and about, relaxing in the unseasonably warm day.

Yet nothing was as captivating as those engaged in one of China's favorite pastimes - kite flying. In a scene straight out of The Kite Runner, I sat and counted upwards of 25 kites in the air, with another half dozen in the stages of launching. Trying to figure out who on the ground controlled which sailing vessel proved to be impossibly fun. Some of the fliers were near professionals, with expensive bicycle-wheel-like apparatuses to pull and slacken their lines with. The best managed to put their kites so high in the sky they seemed little more than dark flecks on the rare blue sky. Most of the people, however, were armatures content simply to raise their kites to reasonable levels.

Yet observing the scene was remarkable because it was not static like I imagine it would be. Like any good scene, there was humor in the children running wildly to hopelessly raise their kite as they meanwhile tangled their short strands in the lines of far more advanced fliers, whose kites were indistinguishably off in the distance. Yet tangles did happen, and when adults tangled, watching them maneuver on foot to steer their kites out of danger, discussing with other fliers the best direction to go to avoid entrapment, the scene took on a social level I've never considered kite flying to have. Needless to say, I'm rather eager to get a kite and fly one myself now.

Perhaps we don't fly kites on our major holidays. We don't even go outside for our biggest ones unless you count the shiveringly dangerous game of tackle football many play on Thanksgiving. Yet it was unmistakably familiar to walk around that park - families with families, doing simple things that give them joy.

The War of the Ox

2009-01-29T07:04:00.000-08:00

Sunday night at the stroke of midnight, Shanghai ushered in the new year a month later than the rest of us. The Chinese year of the Rat was over, hello year of the Ox. It should come as no surprise that littered around Shanghai's financial districts were honorary giant golden bulls resembling the one flexing on Wall St. Rumor has it there is no Chinese year of the bear. This most important holiday is celebrated a far cry from pretty trees and carols about silent nights, with the locals instead opting to throw a firework show to end all firework shows.

First, imagine the best firework show you've ever seen. Most of you, being from Boston, would muse that the Boston Pops accompanying the millions of dollars of pyrotechnics on the Esplanade would be your pick. That show was a highly condoled burst of explosives choreographed by professionals, detonated almost a quarter of a mile from where you stood, leaning out from underneath a tree to get a better look. In Shanghai, a city of 17 million people, everyone lights off a box of their very own fireworks... in their own backyard.

These fireworks are no humble sparklers. Some, designed for noise, look like someone stole a role of bullets while Rambo wasn't looking and wrapped them in red paper before lighting it. Others, designed to fly into the sky and explode into pretty colors (the one's we're used to), come in 1'x1' boxes, armable by a small battery driven fuse in the corner. Somehow, either brilliantly simple or mindlessly stupid, these baby war toys have been made accessible to the masses.

And people do not seek clear areas, or at least what in the west would constitute a clear area. No, the Chinese are more than content to set them off on the walkway between apartment buildings, with sparks splattering the windows of residents on floors 8-20, with the noise echoing between the complex walls, as a gunshot through a canyon. Standing inside the bedroom, watching awestruck as fireworks exploded beneath me, a dread fascination to view the experience from the balcony gripped me. As I opened the door, I was hit by a wall of noise, a crushing physical blow of sound waves to my body; I hesitated. It was like stepping into war. Between the bursting shells in the sky and the ground being littered with the rat-tat-tat of the noise makers, the only thing to do besides stare in awe and cover my ears was to be thankful I was in China, and not someplace else.

Eventually the mayhem died away, visibility was reduced from miles to meters by smoke, families retreated inside. The government gives all employees 3 days off work, but only the first and last are big firework nights. Technically fireworks aren't legal inside the ring road, but that doesn't seem to stop too many people. I've talked to other expats who've been here for new years past, and they seemed to agree it's been bigger (making it harder to sleep) in years past. Perhaps the reduction in firework boom corresponds to economic boom, but if my past week has been any indication, China still has plenty of boom to go around.

Home for the Holidays

2009-01-23T19:32:00.000-08:00

Today marks my last working day before the start of the Spring Festival holiday, better known as Chinese New Years. The school has mostly emptied out, as most people have travel outside Shanghai to visit their relatives. The city is perhaps more crowded than ever, with people filling the malls and storefronts to bask in Shanghai's new old-fashioned recreational activity - shopping. I wasn't in Shanghai for the new years last year, but in sleepy Yangshuo. This year I expect to be treated to a shockingly loud (and dangerously close) firework show, the likes of which I've never seen before. It should be a memorable week.

Nothing makes people seem more human and similar than discussing important holidays. Having just spent Christmas back home with my family, I now realize just how similar all nations traditions are. People visit family. People eat traditional food (the Chinese eat dumplings and spring rolls instead of turkey and gravy). And people give children gifts (or as they do here in China, red envelopes full of money). Things are pretty similar.

One thing America has, which is rather special, is two major holidays: Christmas and Thanksgiving. Many American families will spend Christmas at the husband's family and Thanksgiving at the wife's, or vice versa. The Chinese and most of the rest of the world, however, are stuck with one major holiday to split between all branches of the family. The closest solution the Chinese have to this problem is a longer holiday, hoping that the two sides live close enough to each other to allow a visit to both. I get the feeling from my students some would rather visit neither...

So as I prepare to hunker down for what I expect to be the loudest holiday I've ever celebrated (the Chinese invented fireworks and don't want you to forget it), I can't help but smile and relax knowing that this is just how we would celebrate it back home... just that Christmas doesn't have fireworks. Maybe this should change.

Heart of Shanghai

2009-01-22T03:02:00.000-08:00

Just like any box office smash hit, I've returned to China for a second tour of duty. My stint at home was a wonderful mental rest, allowing me to recharge, reboot and generally mellow out about all those stressful 'China-related' things. It's much easier to approach this year than last, as I now have not only a social structure on which to hang my hat, but a level of mental preparation with which to deal with any potential cultural divides.

My United flight, complete with a stop over in San Francisco, felt a little like my own personal version of Joseph Conrad's book (without me killing Marlon Brando at the end). We were first served Chicken Teriyaki, followed a few hours later by pot noodles - the meals became more and more asian, less and less western. When I ventured to the bathroom, I made a humorous discovery which I'd never noticed before. On either side of the toilet, presumably on almost every style of aircraft, there are two small platforms. They're too small to be tables or anything, and they are located on either side of the walls cramped in next to the toilet. What are they? They're footholds for Asians who refuse to use western toilets like westerners do by sitting down. Instead, an squat toilet fan can hoist themselves onto these footholds above the toilet and do their business in their own traditional way. I even confirmed it when I arrived here... next time you're on a plane, check it out in the bathroom.

After arriving I have had 2 days to adjust to the culture, but more importantly to jet lag, before I start teaching on Friday. For some reason I always believe I'm better than the jet lag, that it doesn't effect me, or that I can tough it out. However, as my 1 hour nap stretched into it's 4th hour, I realized jet lag has complete control over me. Thank goodness the cultural adjustment is easier the second time around.

Christmas

2009-01-05T22:18:00.000-08:00

The Chinese have managed to absorb most western holidays into their culture in some way or another, so that Christmas music and decorations were everywhere in December should come as no surprise. The curious thing about the way China adapts western traditions, especially religious traditions, is that they choose to pluck the superficial aspects, and leave the significance and meaning out of the holidays. The result is that Christmas, an already over commercialized holiday in the US becomes even more commercial driven in China.

Decorations line the stores, fake trees tower above commercial squares and Christmas carols echo through the coffee shops and malls - it's undoubtedly Christmas. Yet this is a country where religion is slightly more than frowned upon, so the songs lack the meaning behind some of our favorite carols. Sure they play 'Silent Night' on muzzak, but lyrics concerning the birth of Christ are most definitely not allowed. The effect of this unholy mandate was the music in my office was a repeating list of "Santa Clause is coming to Town", "Last Christmas", and "Jingle Bells". For someone who loves Christmas music, it was a tough month.

And just like home, Christmas sales were everywhere. I asked my students if they went out shopping and they all said 'you bet'. I asked them who they were buying gifts for and they said, "no gifts, just buying for ourselves." Pressing the issue, my students confessed to me that Christmas is not a time of giving in China, but merely a time of discount self indulgence. Amazingly my students don't buy gifts to give, but rather use Christmas sales to buy things for themselves.

China does Christmas, and they do it big, but just like spicy tofu, it's missing the meat. They try, they play carols, they decorate trees, they string up lights, but in the end the maybe it doesn't feel enough like Christmas because it isn't home.

Home

2009-01-04T20:48:00.000-08:00

I came home for Christmas. Lasting a year in China was my original goal, and upon its completion I was permitted to return home to visit friends and family for one month. I'm going back to Shanghai soon, but sitting at home, having finished a make up Thanksgiving Dinner my mom prepared in honor of the one I missed, I'm slowly forgetting what China is like. It's nice.

People ask me constantly, "Do you have reverse culture shock?" I thought I would. I don't. Lexington has been the place I called home for my entire life, no matter if I lived in London, Sommerville or Shanghai. Plus everything makes sense now - things are just a little more difficult in China, but here they're a little bit easier. I don't know if its just because of the language, my familiarity with the culture or if America just is more efficient, but I feel like a yoke of hassle has been lifted from my back and the constant preparation required to fulfil mundane tasks has slipped by the wayside. In short, I live a life of complete relaxation.

The Disks that Fly

2008-12-13T02:13:00.000-08:00

Frisbee exists in Shanghai! Spurred on by my brother I went in search of an ultimate frisbee league to join in Shanghai and, lo', there was one! For most of the past 4 months I've spent my Monday nights at the Shanghai Workers Stadium chasing disks with a largely expat community of frisbee lovers.

We had a 10 week long season, with 4 teams in the league. Apparently we had a championship game, which my team won but I wasn't there for due to travel plans. It was just great to get out and run around and have fun. The players ranged from newbies learning the organized game for the first time to experts recently imported from top American university teams. The atmosphere was fun, yet competitive. Occasionally there'd be brushes and arguments, as frisbee players are wont to do, but the comradory of the team and the thrill of competition made up for any hard feelings anyone had. Basically everyone had fun.

The best players travel internationally to competitions all over South East Asia. Apparently Shanghai is a hotbed for good ultimate talent, along with Singapore and Manila. The teams meet regularly at tournaments throughout the year in those three cities, as well as Bangkok (when the airport isn't closed by protesters), Vietnam and Taiwan. It seems like a good fun rivalry.

I'm well pleased to have discovered these like minded individuals here. Although I foresee any lasting bonds and friends, simply having a temporary link to something from home, something so familiar, was nice for a while. I hope to play again next spring when the weather warms up.

Karma Police

2008-12-13T01:58:00.001-08:00

Maybe it was because I don't shy from contact coming off the subway, maybe it was because I make too much fun of my workmate Peter. Maybe it was because I didn't donate enough money to the Sichuan Earthquake Relief Fund, or because I deserve to be on Santa's naughty list for all the crap I've complained about in China this year. Whatever the reason, the Karma Police caught up to me this past week - for the first time in the 51 weeks I've been here I caught food poisoning.

I love street food, it is after all the best way I can tell to get inside the soul of a city. I eat it everywhere, and not just in the US: , churros in Spain, pasties in the UK, samosas in Nepal, sushi in Japan, tacos in Mexico, maple syrup in Canada. And here in Shanghai we have treats from dumplings to fried noodles, or the two demons that tag teamed my hardened stomach: a fried bread roll stuffed with veggies, bbq pork and sauces and Japanese squid balls. Oh don't get me wrong, these are delicious - squid balls can change your life - but caveat emptor!

I've never been food sick before, and don't see the need to go into details, but I'll let on that it was unpleasant. I've watched others around me here get sick and somehow thought my iron stomach was tougher, stronger, better than others - it's not. Sure it can do serious damage when it comes to a burrito and Krispe Kream count, but this is a whole different animal. Nobody can avoid food poisoning. In fact there's been an outbreak here - 4 of our foreign teachers have gone down in the past 2 weeks with a case.

But I do have some good news to report: I'm back healthy, pushing, shoving and making fun of Peter.

Sorry for the delay

2008-12-06T02:23:00.000-08:00

I've been busy lately. After sitting around here for 11 months I have finally developed a social life, and am not afraid to use it. The sad side of that is that I have less time to blog it seems, but the recent gap has been unacceptable. I haven't been idle. I went to my first ever massage, I made numerous trips to the fake and fabric markets, stocking up for my triumphant returns home. I've gotten into the Christmas spirit - drinking festive drinks and singing festive tunes. I've watched more bootleg movies than you can shake a stick at. This all might seem mundane (it sounds rather mundane to me, I mean, compared to blogging about far off lands children marvel about it sure does), but the point is that I'm having fun and rather enjoying myself most of the time.

After a year here I'm surprised to discover a few things are still the same:

1) The food is still awesome, maybe even better. I know more places to go for good cheap food, so my repertoire of restaurants is even better than ever. Everything from western home cookin' to local street food I wouldn't trust a guests stomach with is just steps from my house, my office or both. I am trying to learn how to cook some of it, because some of it doesn't exist in Boston. Some of it wouldn't pass health code, some of it might be too preparation involved - but that doesn't mean it isn't delicious and still foreign.

2) I love getting off the subway. Maybe I'm a bad person, but when I alight the subway into a throbbing mass of impatient locals I delight in lowering the boom, thrusting the hoards back and plowing my way to freedom, much like a secret service member protecting the President. It's been 11 months, and after the initial shock and chagrin, it's become a joy. I'm pretty sure I'm a bad person.

3) It changes fast here. Dunkin' Dounuts just opened down the street from us. Another subway line is opening soon. We got a Best Buy here too! Maybe its a sad sign, that everywhere in the world is starting to look similar - but I won't complain on Wednesday when Coldstone is passing out free ice cream to celebrate its anniversary.

4) They love western traditions, like Christmas. The stores are flooded with Christmas decorations, maybe not like back home, but they at least try to make it feel like Christmas. Even my office has gotten into the swing of things, replacing the incessant jazz music with a little Christmas jazz music. It makes it easier to live in a country I still don't get.

5) I need to get out. I've never been anywhere for a solid year before, and what a place to choose to spend a solid year. It's been memorable, mostly enjoyable, so enjoyable I've found a reason to go back in January, but for now.... I need a break... before I actually hurt someone getting off the subway.

A Cut Below

2008-11-20T00:28:00.000-08:00

Chinese Haircuts Stink. I've come to the conclusion that, for various reasons, Chinese barbers/hairdressers/men scissors cannot cut my hair well. I've now had perhaps 5 haircuts here, and a grand total of 1 was half decent. Did I write months ago extolling the virtues of cheap and wonderful haircuts in China? I was mistaken and take it all back - they are a disaster.

My hair is, superficially, rather similar to that of an average Chinese person. Though mine is brown to their black, both are perfectly straight and straw-like. The difference is that my hair is finer than double parking, where as Chinese people have big, thick strands on their heads. Anyone who quickly looked, or even ran a finger through would likely not notice any difference, but start cutting it and, lo the difference appears. Barbers, thinning my hair as they would for a local with similar hair, leave my scalp exposed, my head cold, and my pride wounded. It's not their fault, per say, because they've likely never cut westerners hair before, but that's not consolation when I'm half-bald and shivering in the cold November air.

Tragic as this may seem, I shall soldier on. I plan to enlist the help of a local Chinese teacher to escribe instructions on a paper for me to pass to my next barber. If they follow the instructions I may leave unscathed. If they don't... it'll grow back and I'll be out all of a buck and a half... plus every hair cut comes with a free massage, so I'll have that going for me.

A City of Cities

2008-11-15T01:57:00.001-08:00

A visit to Tokyo is like a visit to a gazillion destinations in one; Tokyo is that diverse. There are the parts of the city where the bright lights shine over the highest of high end fashion (or a few miles away where they shine equally bright over sleazy bars). There are peaceful temples inside luscious parks surrounded by towering sky scrappers. Tokyo has diversity.

I took a day trip up into the mountains north of Tokyo to a town called Nikko (not Mt. Fuji, but 1500 feet above the sea leveled city). This sleepy hamlet is home to magnificent fall scenery as well as a 17th century temple with elaborate decorations. My trip was a joy and an ordeal all at once. It was a joy because, unlike monotonously grey Shanghai, the fall colors were in full bloom worthy to stand beside Walden Pond on Columbus Day. It was an ordeal because suddenly in the mountains, I hadn't prepared for the cold fall air and was shivering for most of the day. Yet I didn't seem to mind, as the stunning temples off-set by the even more stunning natural beauty of the place made the 2 hour train ride worth it (its amazing to stare at some of the finest artistic work man has produced, only to be more struck by the simple change in color of the tree behind it). Tokyo has seasons.

At night I would choose a shopping district and simply wander around, gawking at the billboards, the shops, the people (mostly because they were walking in an orderly fashion and not shoving). The most impressive city sight I saw, indeed one of the most amazing sights I've ever seen, was a place called Shibuya Crossing. This traffic intersection, made famous by Lost in Translation, if it isn't the most crowded pedestrian intersection in the world, it must be darn close. Pictures don't do it justice, I shall have to load a video for you. Tokyo has people.

Matched by few cities in this world, Tokyo is one of the worlds most amazing. Feeling almost like a conglomerate of smaller cities (which indeed, geographically it actually is), Tokyo has more faces than anyone can ever know. And I don't mean that in that there are levels of detritus a fixed to a beautiful core, but that there are a multitude of living viable cultures oozing from Tokyo's heart. I had wanted to go to Tokyo because within the next year I hope to have visited many of Asia's most famous cities and I didn't want to leave it shining emerald, its rising sun if you will, out.

Somewhere.. across the sea.... of Japan!

2008-11-12T23:51:00.000-08:00

... and that was Tokyo! I'm fresh back from a 6 day schlomp to (depending on which list you look at), the most populous city in the world. My word it was nice to be back in civilization! The streets were clean (eerily clean actually), the public transit civilized and the prices fixed (so there was no need to put the bargaining skills I've learned to the test). Yes, it was a glorious 6 days spent shivering in the cold, cloudy Japanese metropolis that 20 years ago we thought was about to rule the world. I [heart] Tokyo.

Getting off the plane there were some things that were instantly evident.

1) It was clean. Like, you could eat off the dirt in the city parks clean. I spent my time wondering if all western countries were this clean, or that simply being anywhere outside of China resulted in such a shock to the system that everything LOOKED super clean. I've confided with others and have come to the conclusion that Japan may be the cleanest country I've ever heard of. In the Starbucks (which I frequented... they don't serve Chi Tea Lattes in China, but they do in Japan!), after you finish your drink they ask you to put your plastic lid in one receptacle and the paper cup in another so that they can recycle both. It's best to utilize this waste bin too, because there aren't any on the streets. Seriously, I walked for kilometers on end at times and never came across a single public bin. Yet the city is immaculately clean...

2) The Japanese love bathrooms. Never have I felt as spoiled for clean, free, public bathrooms in my life. They were everywhere; in the subway stations, in the malls, on the side of the road, anywhere! The thought merely had to cross your mind before you could see your urinary salvation. And what bathrooms they were!!! The Japanese have taken the toilet and turned it into an art form. From the moment I stood dumbfounded at the airport bathroom door, I knew they were special there. The seats are not only heated (oh so nice after walking in the brisk, wet, autumn air), but you have the option for water-spray cleaning and air-burst drying (which was too much for me to handle and I quickly stopped my one experiment with the contraption). The attention to detail on these machines, and no where else would I label toilets a machine, clearly demonstrated in what high regard the Japanese hold 'going'.

3) People cared about how they looked; fashion matters. Even in Shanghai, the 'fashionable city' of China, people don't look so good. 90%+ of the men are wearing business suits. It's remarkable, because after a while I began to look closer at these men, the samurai of the 21st century, realizing that although they didn't all have good fashion know how, their shoes wouldn't match their pants, and their tie had no business with the shirt they were wearing, because they were in a suit - they still looked good. This may explain why in my two days back in Shanghai I've worn a suit to the office by choice each day... The women meanwhile utilize all the shopping venues the city has at their disposal, which is many. Everyone looks stylish. I was wearing jeans and a grey top and felt very, very under dressed walking down the street in many parts of town. It's something I feel every city might consider aspiring to... good looking citizens.

4) The food is good. Japanese food is really, really good. Between the sushi, ramen noodles, tepanakki and squid balls (which are delicious, trust me), Japan is an eaters paradise. True you can't get a meal for less than 6 bucks, which when your a poor traveler coming from China is a lot of money, but that doesn't diminish the quality. I raise my chi latte (my drink of choice in Japan) to your cooking, Iron Chef.

Without question there is nowhere like Tokyo. It doesn't feel fair to compare it to my current home, Shanghai, in a face off of eastern cultures, because Tokyo wins so easily, its like if the Brazilian National Soccer team squared off against the Greater Boston All Scholastic team. Tokyo is great in so many places and so many ways, but in the end I found one word sums up the city better than any other: Livable.

Halloween

2008-10-31T04:00:00.000-07:00

Another year, another Halloween, one of the great silly social holidays of the calendar year (up there with St. Patrick's Day, Valentine's Day and New Years). Perhaps not surprisingly this is an almost entirely American holiday (the British and Australian teachers all throw their hands up and claim not to have celebrated it back home). Understandably, it has been very slow to take hold here in China - red and orange rarely look good together.

Many of our students are curious about the holiday. We've gotten every sort of question ranging from trick-or-treating to costume choices to jack-0-lanterns. Only one subject seems not to interest the students, more out of genuine fright on the behalf of many, and that is the subject of ghost stories. More of our students than I would have guessed believe in ghosts, so stories about spirits make them especially scared.

If you're wondering, I'll be going tonight as a 'local Chinese person'. I have a pair of thick black glasses, with the lenses popped out, a tight 'I [heart] China' T-shirt and a pair of black high-top Converse All-Stars. I'm expecting it to be a hit, and yes, that's pretty standard Shanghainese wear. Happy Halloween!

Gone with the Schwinn

2008-10-30T02:17:00.000-07:00

Mentioning China will conjure images of bicycles not seen since 1950's Italy, floods upon floods of pedal powered vehicles lined up in massive public squares. Even 8 years ago when I came there were street lanes devoted exclusively to these dusty, rusty, two-wheeled devices. Today these lanes still exist, but the steady flow of bicycles has ceased. As China modernizes no one has the time or energy to pedal their way through life, opting instead for bigger, newer, faster and decidedly less quaint means of transport.

The ratio of mopeds and scooters to bikes must be near one to one. I'd bet there are still more bikes, but the darn mopeds zip in and out of traffic, take up so much more space and make so much more noise they're darn hard to ignore. Speeding along the edges of roads, where the pedestrians cling to the safety of the nearby sidewalk, these speed demons announce their approach by blasting a loud, and often shrill horn, not just once, but repeatedly and in rapid secession until they've passed. It doesn't matter if you see them coming and choose to step off the road, they still honk just to be sure you weren't thinking of stepping back too soon. This noise and ever present danger make the scooters much more visible, and annoying, than the bikes will ever be.

The dwindling number of pollution free bikes, coupled with the growing number of scooters and automobiles (1000 new cars hit Chinese roads every day, how's that for a statistic!), might make an environmentalist white and provide easy fodder for any China basher, but the story isn't that simple I'm afraid. The public transportation system here in Shanghai is already more developed than any city in America save perhaps New York and Chicago, and they're in the process of building 10 brand new subway lines. Without a doubt the creation of affordable public transportation has eased China's bike ways, putting more people on trains and less on their own two wheels. Besides, China still has less cars per person than America does. Although I agree it is sad to see a traditional and environmental form of transportation fall by the wayside, we can't expect people to forgo comforts that most of the western world refuses to forgo as well.

As iconic as the bike is in China, it's best days are behind it. China's world is growing too much and too fast for the little thing to keep up. They'll never disappear, what with special bike lanes and stop lights just for them, but they'll never be what they were again. A very small minority of westerners have adopted the bike culture into their daily lives here in China, but personally I was too darn scared of biking with the crazy Chinese motorists nearby, which is a sentiment I imagine many young Chinese might agree with. So if you come to China, don't expect fields of bicycles to greet you - expect Honda scooters and Volkswagen taxis.

Beijing Opera, er, Rock the Vote!

2008-10-24T22:46:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I took a morning trip down to the US consulate in Shanghai to drop off my absentee ballot for (free!) FedEx delivery to the Lexington Town Clerk's office. I can't say the line was short (took me a forty five minutes because I was in with the citizens who had real problems), but if the US government is going to pick up the tab to express my vote home, why not let 'em? Most of the other Americans in the office have either already voted, or are still awaiting their ballots to send back home, but I wouldn't call our office a buzz of political excitement.

Although there is a strong liberal leaning in the office, complete with widespread watching of 'The Daily Show', my school will not be voting exclusively for Obama. Somehow a republican managed to get a passport, much less a visa, and is teaching in my school in China. As you might imagine, in a country known for sudden disappearances of political dissidents, he keeps his conservative beliefs muzzled.

In fact, aside from the occasional jib here and there, it would be a little difficult to tell the political leaning of our office. I attribute it to the general gag order placed on us teachers over anything vaguely political in our class rooms spilling over into the teachers office. Half our teaching team is native Chinese and, although they are all extremely open minded people, nobody wants to overly state any positions which a co-worker may find offensive.

Still the students are curious, with open elections being so foreign to them. Sure they claim they have elections just like us, but the reality and the impact of the two elections is so different, its like rice and potatoes. While US elections discuss issues and generate smear campaigns with massive public and private funding going to generate ads to inform every individual, Chinese elections focus on promises like, "increasing harmony, development and well being" but failing to mention any sort of specifics on how they plan to do this. It's not an election year here in China (it rarely is), so I can't comment on any first hand knowledge, but judging from my students knowledge and involvement in politics, I struggle to believe they are ever qualified to make informed and knowledgeable decisions which can effect any sort of predictable change.

In the end, I almost wonder if the students are more interested in American politics than their own. They are, after all, allowed to be critical of American politicians, and disagree with positions (who could disagree with, "increasing harmony and well being?"). This, however has mirrored a lot of what I've seen in China: a greater curiosity in western culture than their own. This may explain why I passed seven (7! I counted!) Starbucks on the one and a half mile walk from the consulate to my office. The world will eagerly watch over the next few years to see if the fascination with all things western extend to the political arena as well.

Quomolongma

2008-10-19T20:52:00.000-07:00

The list of geological features in this world that we expect every man, woman and child on this planet to have heard of is quite short: the Sahara Desert, the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, the Grand Canyon and for good measure we'll add the Amazon to that list. Mt. Everest, or Qomolongma as the Tibetans say, is also on that list, as the tallest mountain in the world. I saw it.

I recall as a child looking at a 3-D topographic map of the world, running my fingers of the tiny orange and yellow bumps that denoted mountain ranges in the US and Europe. On the other side of the map was a block of white, the only block of white on the whole map really, which represented the Himalayas, and everyone knew the name of the biggest bump. Mount Everest, and the entire Himalayas have existed in my mind as something I know exists, but had always seemed more like a scientific fact than a real place you could actually see. Yet if you're willing to ride along the bumpy, dusty, unpaved roads over the mountain passes of central Tibet, it just sits there, waiting to be seen.

Approached from Tibet (which is much easier than approaching from Nepal), the mountain lies at the end of a long canyon, at the far end of a large nature preserve, at the far end of the world. Not noticeably higher than other mountains in the region, nor vastly prettier (they're all snow capped mountains, so what more do you want?), Mount Everest somehow awes the viewer, commanding any onlooker to contemplate his or her place in the world. Perhaps knowing it was the tallest mountain influenced my thinking, but thousands of years before I had arrived the Tibetans had given it a name meaning "Goddess of the Earth", so I don't think I'm the first person to stand at a loss for words for this mountain.

I could tell you about the monastery at the foot of the great hill, or the tents we stayed in that night, but compared to staring at one of the things on 'the list', staring at a thing completely stationary for hours on end, none of the other things are all that memorable. The only movement is in the clouds, which blow on and off the summit at an alarming rage. When we summited a mountain pass where we should have been able to see the mountain from, but we greeted with heavy cloud cover, my heart sank. Then, after 2 hours driving closer and closer, we rounded a bend to discover the great mound staring back at us, surrounded by baby blue sky. The rest of the day involved the mountain playing peek-a-boo with us until, after an exhausting mile and a half stroll, darkness claimed the mountain back.

If all my pictures look pretty much the same, its because they are. I've found when I'm unable to capture the beauty or awe of a location in a single picture, I'll try to make up for it with a greater quantity of pictures, which explains why I have about 70 near identical pictures of this great pile of rocks.

I guess the most surprising thing I found was how easy it was to get there, to the big white bump on the map. In some ways it feels like checking off something on a to do list (perhaps because this was indeed an item they came up with in the movie "The Bucket List"). No matter how or why you get there, it's an impressive mountain to see.

At a close, I wanted to mention that my Red Sox were just eliminated from the playoffs in game 7 by the Tampa Bay Rays. I'd been coming in early, listening to the games online, but today when my parents called on Skype, offering to point their laptop at the TV so I could watch the game, I was thrilled and privileged to see at least one baseball game this year live. Chatting with my parents as the game went on (lamenting that Pedroia didn't bunt in the 8th), it was as close an experience as you can have to watching the game with family while still being separated by most of the Northern Hemisphere. The Sox lost and their season is done, but at least they went out fighting.

Senseless Beauty

2008-10-18T19:15:00.000-07:00

Tibet, the roof of the world, has a landscape that might not seem out of place on the moon. It's a hauntingly beautiful place, filled with spectacles of wondrous beauty, but also a place which seems so lifeless that it lacks the usual call of the wild - for someone who loves camping, I was surprised to find myself more than content to rumble along the dirt roads in the back of a Land Rover. Yet despite being a less than ideal place to plant your rhododendron, the landscape is awe inspiring. In business they say, "do one thing and do it well". Tibet's landscape does three: Lakes, Mountains, People.

Leaving Lhasa on the scenic rout our tour was ushered past two of the most beautiful lakes I've ever laid eyes on. Climbing over our first mountain pass, we were greeted with a view on the other side of Yamdrok Lake, one of Tibet's four holy lakes. Sitting on a yak at the top of the pass, looking down over the lake, I realized the lake is more blue than any other water I've ever seen. A deep turquoise blue, the water changes colors as the sun and clouds play on it. Continuing along we came across another lake, this time a man-made lake, built up by the hydroelectric dam downstream. Usually I'm opposed to the formation of dams, but this lake's color can only be described as stunning. I'm worried people won't believe my pictures aren't photo shopped when I show them. We walked up (getting rather breathless from the altitude) a little hill on an outcropping which separates the lake into two halves. I could have spent hours there, watching the clouds move across the water beneath me. I don't know why the lakes are that color, likely bacteria, or minerals or old Tibetean magic, but whatever the reason I don't really want to know. Tibet might not be a land rich in natural colors, but I'm happy to remember the color it does have, a stunningly vibrant blue.

But what Tibet is known for, as the roof of the world, is it's mountains: the incomparable Himalayas. As an American, I'm not used to measuring height in meters, plus 8000 meters (or 8840 meters - the height of Everest). This, coupled with standing atop mountain passes at 5000 meters, make it very hard to contemplate just how high these mountains are. But yet looking at these mountains, covered in snow, rising above the rocky, brown fields, they command a respect, exuding a prestige, which somehow reminds all who look upon them that these mountains are so much higher than any of their brethren around the world. These mountains are not kind, soft or cuddly. Starting above the treeline they seem to rise more sharply, more purposefully than other mountains - the creation of the violent collision between India and China (is there a metaphor there?). If we could attribute Tibet's beauty to one thing, it is these mountains, stretching closer to the heavens than anything else on earth.

Then again, Tibet is one of the joyful places in the world where humans have had a positive effect on the landscape - sometimes. Without fail, at the most beautiful locations throughout the region people have distributed and strung brightly colored prayer flags. As the foreground to the breathtaking scenery, the prayer flags inject much needed color into the otherwise plain (perhaps even at times bleak) landscape. The little houses with whitewashed walls still smack of authenticity and simplicity, seemingly oblivious to the skyscrapers which dominate the rest of China. Ruins even litter the landscape, remains of forts, buildings and structures occupied by nomads and lords of bygone eras. My guide never could pinpoint the exact date of these ancient looking structures, perhaps which made them all the more mystifying in my mind. Yet, let me not proclaim all the actions of humans in Tibet beneficial. I often saw garbage and debris littering the yards of the quaint little houses. Over time, the prayer flags fade, looking more like rubbish than holy instruments. Yamdrok Lake is slowly being drained for hydroelectric power. Can Tibet preserve it's beauty under China's 'modernize or else' watch? I can only hope.

I've never been anywhere like Tibet before. The vegetation is sparse, the land nearly unlivable, the air thin and the winters cold, but that doesn't stop it from holding a magical feeling over its visitors. The sky is blue, just like it's water, and the mountains are always covered in snow. Perhaps better suited for a Salvidor Dali painting than this earth, Tibet's beauty is steadfastly unique.

Sinocize

2008-10-18T03:18:00.000-07:00

Tibet is part of China. Regardless of whether you think that's right or fair, it's true and it's not changing anytime soon. We can be outraged at the way China treats the area, and we can be outraged by the way it came into China's possession, but in the end its as unrealistic to protest to free Tibet as it is to protest to free the Seminoles - its a little late and its not going to change anything. Instead I think we're better off learning about the topic, something I found is strangely easier to do in China than I thought.

The first thing everyone needs to understand in America is that we've all been brainwashed. It's true. We like to think that with our free speech and open information we all have the ability to hold unbiased opinions, and while I agree we are more disposed to holding unbiased opinions, we far too often don't. As much as I hate to admit it, when it comes to China there is a western media bias. Now it certainly isn't as bad as the Chinese media's bias, and most of the terrible things they report about China are true, but there is also a distinct lack of respect given to any positive strides China takes which in my book is the equivalent of Fox's 1990's 'it bleeds it leads' approach. Its possible for us to breakthrough this mindset, but only if we're aware of it.

We also need to examine what state Tibet was in before the Chinese invaded. Tibet was a strict religious state with controlling systems similar to that of feudal Europe. In short; lots of people were slaves. I didn't know this until I came to China, but it's true. The US seems to loath religious states (except for Israel), so our love affair with this one certainly seems odd and out of place. The fact that slaves did exist in Tibet in 1950 is not only shocking, but justifies how China can look at itself as a liberator of the region.

Nor has China idly been sitting by, letting Tibet rot. The Chinese have built airports, train lines, roads (although if you saw the road running to the Nepalese boarder, you might think they need to step up their efforts). They've built tunnels and bridges and provided much of the region with electricity. I have no doubt without Chinese help Tibet wouldn't be anywhere near as advanced as it is today.

But this is not to say that China is some sort of savior in Tibet. The Cultural Revolution was especially hard on Tibet, as countless statues and artifacts were destroyed in an attempt to smash the religious fascination that grips the region. More recently, these influx of developments have been seen as an affront to Tibetan culture, with hydroelectric dams being built on the most holy lakes and sweeping boulevards laid down through the center of old cities. The Chinese even built a giant square with a horrendously ugly monument to the people directly across from the Potala Palace, stamping an unmistakable 'this is China' claim in the neighborhood.

The advances of business have largely been profitable to mainland Chinese, transplants from other provinces, creating a class like division among the people. Instead of benefiting the local Tibetans, most of the new business and development has been targeted at boosting the economic standing of the migrant Chinese to the region. Understandably there is disgust between the two populations of Tibet, and neither side is innocent. Many of the Chinese immigrants were poor laborers from other parts of the country looking for a better life, but that doesn't stop Tibetans from occasionally violently causing damage to property and lives, aggression which is naturally confronted with brute (and often excessive) force from the Chinese government.

Walking the streets of the old town of Tibet, patrols of soldiers armed with riot gear and automatic weapons pass like clockwork every 3 minutes. It seems an inordinate amount of 'peace keepers' with an inordinate supply of weaponry for an area not at war. If you look at the bottom left of this picture, you'll see the gentlemen I'm referring to. The soldiers look young, no older than 20 years old, standing among hoards of unarmed civilians while they tote machine guns and riot batons. It feels uncomfortably wrong.

China isn't going to leave Tibet. Hoping otherwise seems to be a silly expectation. What we can hope for is that China can treat Tibet, and the Tibetan Culture with the respect it deserves. That means developing Tibetan businesses, not desecrating holy sites and removing soldiers from the streets. Oh, and being able to take a little criticism and protests without going postal on us might help.

A Palace fit for a King

2008-10-16T19:49:00.000-07:00

Perched on a rocky upcraging in the middle of the city, standing as a constant reminder of Tibet's culture and, to many, it's struggles, is the Potala Palace (not to be confused with the Polenta Palace, a great northern Italian restaurant on 5th and Main). The building holds itself 13 stories high, but resting on the only rocky upwelling in the otherwise flat river valley the palace appears to be a 30, which for a building largely erected in the 1600's makes it the original skyscraper. Inside, the building houses a stunning collection of Buddhas, Mandalas and countless reliquaries stocked with dazzling delights. My visit was a glimpse into one of the fascinating times when a society rallied around a common cause during a time of prosperity to create something lasting and beautiful.

The most impressive part of the compound, the Red Palace, was constructed to house the numerous relics, tombs and texts of the Dali Lamas. The centerpiece of the structure is a grand meeting hall, where the Dali Lama could meet with a large collection of monks. Interestingly, most of these large halls were much darker than I expected, lit only from above on perhaps two sides, as there were no windows at ground level.

Other rooms house hundreds of small statues, donated by the people of Tibet for hundreds of years. The immense wealth of the Dali Lama and his government (most of the statues in the Palace were carted away by the Chinese when they invaded in 1949, only a fraction of the original treasure remains), was almost exclusively donated by the people of Tibet as a means of resolving family disputes. Rather than giving a precious stone or sculpture to one son instead of another, Tibetans would give any precious artifacts to the temples and monasteries when they died. As an added bonus if someone prayed to Buddha using the statue you gave, some of the prayers would rub off on you too!

Yet the finest display of the accumulated wealth was in the burial stupas (tombs) of the 5th-9th Dali Lamas. These tombs, roughly contemporary to Napoleon's in Europe (the earliest, biggest and most impressive was constructed about 1690), are the most elaborate funerary structures I've ever seen. Towers of gilded gold covered in rare and precious stones stand upon golden lion-like demons, housing the remains of these holy men. Truly wondrous burial monuments are rare in this world, but this palace holds some of them. The picture here isn't from the Potala Palace, because photography is forbidden, but is instead the stupa of the 10th Panchen Lama in the Tashilhunpo Monastary in Shigatse.

Across from the Red Palace is the White Palace, or the living quarter of the Dali Lama. Though only a small portion is open for viewing, visitors are afforded the chance to see the reception room, where the Dali Lama would receive visitors and confer with is officials. The room is splashed with colors everywhere, from the paintings on the support beams to the brightly colored prayer cushions to the bright yellow hat which sits waiting for the Dali Lama's return. The crowds shuffle through the room, pushing ever onward (as the Chinese are wont to do) without offering the faculty to look around and admire the incredible detail and beauty the room bestows. It is one of the rare rooms we stand in knowing full well that important events in history were decided at our feet.

The palace is a beautiful place, its white and red walls towering above the city. It is market by a combination of history, which surrounds every room, and intense relevance evidenced by the pilgrims who still bring yak butter to fill the candles in the chapels with on their pilgrimage to Lhasa. From the first time I'd ever seen it on TV, watching a documentary of the far off wonders of the world, I was fascinated by the awesome aura that seemed to be emitted by the building, which I now feel fortunate enough to have seen first hand.

You must be Jokhang

2008-10-15T01:29:00.000-07:00

Lhasa is divided into two main sections - the Chinese half and the Tibetan half. At the center of the Tibetan half is the Jokhang Temple, the most holy site in all the land. Encircling this temple is the Barkhor, or the pilgrimage path traveled by hundreds of devout Tibetans each and every day. Finally, radiating out in a maze of alleyways is the old town of Lhasa. When walking these streets, I rediscovered a strange feeling that rarely found anywhere else in China (no it wasn't just the shock of seeing scores of roaming soldier brigades armed with riot gear and machine guns strolling through the neighborhood). I felt like I was somewhere that had an old storied culture.

With sturdy buildings, looking like they expect to be there for years, uniformly whitewashed and towering above the narrow streets lined with shops, stalls, pilgrims and tourists, the city felt like it had a purpose. Bustling with vendors (and soldiers) the streets were a maze of goodies, giving way from tourist wares to practical items the further the distance from the Jokhang Temple. I saw dozens of watches soaking in basins of water - to prove they're water proof. I saw giant wedges of yak butter, waiting for the devout pilgrims to purchase a chunk to offer in the temple. I saw the people of Tibet encircling and prostrating before the temple, waiving thier prayer wheels and purifying their sins. Eastern Lhasa is a city full of life, a city caught between Capitalism and Buddhism, which is why it is so fascinating.

The two simple pleasures I enjoyed most in Lhasa were the tea houses and the pool tables. Scattered throughout the old town like pebbles thrown in a lake, the tea houses were little more than dark empty rooms filled with benches and a TV. The seats nearly all faced the screen, and for 1RMB you could get a glass of sweet milk tea, a much better price than Starbucks, but the wireless internet was a bit spotty in some of the shops (I'm kidding some of them didn't even have lights). Most eyes were glued to the terribly old kung-fu movies they showed; one tea house was showing what must have been Jackie Chan's first film, another an even stranger movie about kung-fu fighting underwater pigs. Of course the movies were in Chinese and without any sort of English subtitle, so I can only guess what they were talking about. But the clear indication from every one of these tea houses i visited (i perused no less than 3 of them during my time there), was that a westerner coming into their humble shop was not an everyday occurrence, yet again nothing they hadn't seen before. Perhaps having dodgy milk tea in an dirty cafe in Lhasa wasn't the best idea for my stomach, but the place had character, which is all you need to tell me.

The other simple joy in Lhasa were the pool tables outside the Sera Monastery. If you've ever seen the debating monks on TV, this is the place they do it (though sadly not so much anymore after the government crackdown on the number of monks in Lhasa after last March's events). Yet humorously enough perched outside this temple is a string of pool tables under a summer's party tent. After consulting that the price was fair - 1RMB/game, or the cost of a cup of tea, we decided to play a few games in the afternoon sun in front of the holy monastery. Alas I believe the monks had to prepare for prayers, and I somehow doubt they'd have been pool players anyway. The tables might not have been perfect, and the direction of the ball off the bumpers was anything but predictable, but we muddled through to win a grand time. I highly encourage outdoor pool and wonder why it hasn't been exported back to the US.

Lhasa, at least the old half, is a charming city. As the religious center of one of the most religious countries, regions, whatever you will, it exudes a cohesion of purpose that few other cities in the world can match. Though I certainly fear, like most great cultural landmarks, that the old town will be come more Disneyland than Holy Land, but for now, thanks to the unending river of pilgrims to the Barkhor, the city's culture lives on.

Rome of the East

2008-10-14T02:04:00.000-07:00

Lhasa is kind of like Rome, but for Tibetan Buddhists - the city eats, sleeps and breathes its religion. Although not the sight of any great religious events, Lhasa is beyond question the home to the holy sights and centralized institutions that fuel religion in the region. In Tibetan Buddhism (refereed to simply as 'Buddhism' from here on, I can't be bothered to keep writing it out) there are three main types of holy structures - monasteries, temples and palaces. Although Lhasa houses 2 of perhaps the 3 most important monasteries in the country, it's the other buildings that set it apart: the Potala Palace, imperial home of the Dali Lama, and the Joakin Temple, the most holy site in all of Tibet.

The monasteries, founded in the 14th century under the 2nd Dali Lama, house the monks and are the center of religious teaching for the region. Monks come to learn from greater monks, study the holy scriptures and then return to their outlying villages to guild others and practice Buddhism. Most of the red-robed men seen running through the streets and buildings of the monasteries are not yet monks - a monk must meditate in singular silence for 3 years, 3 months and 3 days (or about 3 years, 3 months, 2 days and 23 1/2 hours longer than I'd make it), before they are ordained as full monks.

As far as I learned, Buddhist teachings can cover broad ideas of life, yet are quite simple in many ways. When praying, a person is not to pray for individuals, such as an ailing relative, but rather for the survival of all living things because all souls are equal and shouldn't be rank ordered. I find this idea extremely noble and amazingly worldly, yet extremely difficult to fulfill when I attempted to practice it - inevitably I found my mind relapsing to thoughts of friends and loved ones. Other beliefs come off as easier to understand. When praying, a Buddhist will often, with hands steeped, touch their forehead, lips and chest before kneeling (or prostrating) to bow. This is to purify the mind, words and body; ideas that are echoed in the holy items found in all temples: praying to statues for the body, scriptures for the words and mandalas (circular sand artwork is an example of these) for the mind. I find, coming from a Christian background, that the desire to purify mind, body and speech can easily be translatable to most religions.

Fortunately for me, my guide Jimmy, was born and raised a Tibetan Buddhist. He carries a locket with his masters picture around his neck. He doesn't eat meat (it involves killing souls) and he didn't want to lie to us (he told us not to buy anything at the store the tour went to because it was a bad value). He was the perfect guide to teach me all about the fascinating religion. After learning at his feet for a few days, I can understand why it's allure entices many minds, both western and eastern, to study and practice it.

2 for 1

2008-10-10T23:41:00.000-07:00

And I'm back from my 10 day trek through the Himalayas! I never thought I'd be so excited to be returning to mainland China, but after any long, tiring vacation I guess we all want to go home, or at least somewhere relaxing and familiar. A bonus I completely overlooked about my trip was that by visiting both Tibet and Nepal, it was like 2 vacations in one - the countries are very different geologically, culturally and socially.

The biggest shocker was how different the landscapes of the two countries looked. In the fall Tibet's valleys, which can be lush and green, are broad swaths of golden barley hay, harvested into piles, while at higher elevations omnipresent dust dominates all it touches (which is everything). I've seen Tibet described as a 'surreally beautiful place', and I couldn't agree more - its mountains are beautiful and majestic, supported by brightly colored prayer flags of the Buddhist Tibetan people, but aside from those awe-inspiring towers of rock and snow - the landscape is bleak and desolate.

Nepal, meanwhile, is greener than the Saudi flag. Seriously, after you pass out of the mountains and descend on the windward side of the great Himalayas, the landscape is bathed in green plants of every sort and type, it's a legitimate rainforest. This greenery, heightened by Tibet's sheer lack of living plants, is a refreshing relief after the dusty dirt roads of the mountain passes.

The cultures of the two countries are different too. Tibet, although independent for many years, has received Chinese influence for much of its existence (including it's introduction to Buddhism in part). Nepal, meanwhile has been influenced by India and Great Britain as an extension. The difference is obvious in building style, personal appearance and even signage - most of which are in English in Kathmandu, where as its much more mixed in Lhasa.

Even though they touch, these two countries have been largely separate for most of their existence, even today there is only one long dusty dirt road that connects the two countries. They grew up differently and, unexpectedly at least to me, remain very different to this day.

Up, Up, and Arrive

2008-09-27T22:35:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow morning I leave for a 10 day tour through Tibet. I'll fly into Lhasa, travel westward across the Tibetan Plateau to Mt. Everest before crossing into Nepal, from where I will return home out of Kathmandu. If the altitude sickness doesn't get me, maybe the cumulative 24+ hours I'm going to spend in a jeep will, but none of that matters if the scenery is what I'm hoping for. So tomorrow I fly to Lhasa, and you know what they say about flying into Lhasa? It's the only airport in the world where you fly up to land.

My students have had very mixed reactions when I say I'm going to Tibet. Some of them become jealous and excited, wanting to travel there themselves. Most remain quiet, reactionless, either unsure of where I'm going (in Chinese it's called XiZang), or tellingly silent about their concerns, which are vocalized by the final group. These students are concerned, telling me to be safe, warning me that people might try to shoot me. At first I was baffled, thinking there isn't much crime in Tibet. But then I realized they meant the protesters and the riots which happened last spring. In the interest of diplomacy I didn't tell them I'm more worried about the Chinese Government than the Buddist monks, that one of the most dangerous thing I could do would be to take a simple picture of a protester - and this on a trip where I'll be passing through the worlds largest mountains. So I simply thanked the students for their cares and advice, assuring them that I wasn't worried about the Tibetan people, displaying a cavalier confidence my students evidently didn't match.

More concerned about the weather than either the natives or the authorities, I'll be flying a little further than I would on a flight from Boston to Denver, and into a province three times the size of Texas. It's the heart of the Himalayas, so I plan find out just how these mountains stack up to this world's other mountain ranges. What better place to do that than from the monastery at Everest Base Camp where I will be staying for a night. My bags (and camera) are packed, I'm ready to go and I'm so excited.

What's 700 billion among friends?

2008-09-27T03:14:00.000-07:00

If you think the US stock market has taken a hit... just take a look at China's; now this is a 'house of cards' economy. Down about 50% from last year, the Chinese stock market has not been kind to its investors, but just as many Americans are unsure of how and why we got into this economic crises, most Chinese people are even more bewildered.

China, claiming only a partial capitalist economy, isn't the best place to learn about all investment options we're used to in the west. Most of my students understand that something bad is happening with the world economy, and somehow America is to blame, but without knowing the specifics of why or how.

This isn't to say my students aren't effected, because they are. It's easy to tell which students have money in the stock market these days - they're usually the well dressed, sad looking men with the glazed look in their eyes. I had a student last week, when we were doing a lesson on cause and effect say (in dead seriousness), "I lost 700,000RMB ($100,000) this month as a result of the stock market going down." I was thrilled (because he used the correct grammar), but horrified because that's more money than I'd make here in 5 years! My students understand that this effects them, even if explaining what a sub-prime mortgage is would take half a days work.

But they understand 'the government is giving money'. I don't know how they feel about this, because they always say it with a smile, as if it were a good thing. They might be thinking that the US government will finally ride in on a white horse to save the world economy, or then again they might be thinking that this just proves that our unbridled laissez faire economics are a failure, and that China's pseudo-capitalism is better. Whichever it is, I can almost assure you that most are more worried about how this effects them individually, rather than the economic fall out throughout China, let alone the rest of the world.

Not being an economic super-strategist (I'm an English teacher for crying out loud!), I can't say I have a full grasp on the entirety of the situation. I can make my fair share of speculations, most of them ill-informed to simply wrong. So for now, I guess I can just be happy that all the money I lost this month in China was at the travel agent.

Cool Fuzz

2008-09-24T22:55:00.000-07:00

Goose-stepping goons, eager to haul prisoners off to bottomless dungeons, is what i usually think of when I think of Chinese Police. Of course this idea isn't helped by my knowledge of China's last 50 years of history and knowing that the Chinese police force, like many around the world, doesn't draw on the best and the brightest, but more of a brotherhood of would be thugs who turned better, but maybe not so far as good. This notion is one I try very hard to dissuade, because I've had nothing but (a limited) number of positive interactions with these men and women in blue.

One night, after the 'Roller Disco' - a night of roller skating, dancing, socializing and an open bar (all for about 20 bucks), we found ourselves out late further on the outskirts of the city than we normally do and a little more short on cash than we'd normally like. We weren't in a bad part of the city, far from it, but after an exhausting night of fun, we were a little wary of trekking around to find a 24 hour ATM to stock up on cash before our taxi ride home. We decided to ask the cops outside the disco where the nearest ATM was, and to our surprise they told us to hop in the back of the cab and we'd take them there. So, there I was with my two fellow discoers, riding in the back of a Shanghai cop car, being driven to an ATM by two really friendly police officers. The cynic out there might say they wanted to take us somewhere far from the city and shake us down for money, but that wasn't the case. They dropped us off at the ATM and only left once we'd returned outside and thanked them and had flagged a taxi. I can't imagine an officer in the US being so kind to some foreigners leaving a club.

So I try to be positive about the Chinese police. The most annoying thing I've noticed is that they always ride around with their lights flashing, always! Occasionally I'll hear about a foreigner who was assaulted by an off duty cop, then forced to pay reparations, and students will sometimes mention that the cops are not to be trusted, but my few experiences have been much more positive than others it seems. Life is certainly more relaxed when you can believe the police are on your side.

Children in the Forest of Knees

2008-09-23T04:06:00.000-07:00

Perhaps due to the tight-knit family units, or perhaps due to their claim on a fifth of the world's population, I see lots of children of divers ages here in Shanghai. Unlike my 4 years at BC, where the sight of children was both shocking and exciting, I've found China to be full of the lil' folk. They stumble about with their mother's and nannies (aiees) through the shops and subways, getting in everyone's way - which is the same as every Chinese person, so the kids here must learn quick! In fact, the kids here are so good at getting in other people's way that they wont even acknowledge that they do!

Too many times I've been walking along, minding my surroundings (not on subway attack mode) when a child will blindly stumble from behind is parents into my path. These children, as all children are, are unpredictable, so I'll stop and stand patiently while the little tike decides which way he wants to walk around me. What's surprising is watching the child's thought process as he tries to reunite with his parents.

He will never look up; he will never make eye contact or acknowledge me as a human being. I am a pair of legs, which usually must be touched on the knee for a short but noticeable second long examination. After a the short review, and after the child has determined I am not his mother, father or aiee, the child begins to look around and through my legs, searching for his caretakers. Being only 2 seconds beyond him, and no doubt waiting for him to stop messing around with the goofy looking foreigner, his parents are soon spotted and the family is reunited.

This isn't the reaction I'm used to, nor was this the reaction I received from children in Hong Kong, who were more likely to look up surprised, sheepish and curious, as western children are known to do. The children of China are different though, somehow either more sure of themselves or less curious about others. I don't think I'll ever know what to make of it.

The last bit about children, that didn't strike me until I landed in Hong Kong is... that there is only ever one. Sure you see teenagers roaming together and collegiate types storming the malls, but parents with families of two are nearly invisible. They're there, the one child rule doesn't effect nearly 1/4 of the Chinese population, but they're mostly the rural minorities out in the countryside. Here in Shanghai we take it one child at a time - one child very uninterested in whose legs he just crashed into.

Mecca... for shopping... for women

2008-09-20T03:16:00.000-07:00

Far and away the most common question I received when I told people last week I was heading to Hong Kong was, "Are you going to go shopping?" Well, seeing as I was traveling with a little lady, there most certainly was shopping time budgeted, even if I was pretty sure I wouldn't be doing much of the shopping. Hong Kong may be a little island of western products amid the sea of Chinese imitations, but the real stars of Hong Kong (the things cheaper than on the mainland) are the cosmetics, shoes and electronics - two of which I had zero interest in, and I lacked the cash for the third.

In the end we 'budgeted' our third and final day for shopping - a whole day just for shopping would seem like enough! Yet once we factored meals, our flight time, sleeping in after two exhausting days and a quick 20 minutes spent viewing sky scrappers, our shopping time was reduced to a matter of hours, much to the chagrin of my girlfriend.

We trekked uptown in Kowloon to find what is apparently 'the market' for shopping, bypassing two or three other street markets (which admittedly didn't look as good). It was about two solid blocks of shops lining the streets with another row of shops actually sitting in the street the entire way. They sold most any knickknack you could imagine they'd sell - shoes, bags, clothing, pots 'n' pans, children's toys, ipod covers, and kitchen mops.

In the end we bought a little of everything, just because that's what you do in Hong Kong. We made sure to buy our skincare products there, because everything in the mainland is chock full of whitening agents (it's rumored the Chinese first thought Casper was a deity... just kidding). Us westerners prefer the tanned look, so to be safe we need to buy everything we put on our faces outside of Chinese China. But even with our shopping bonanza of an afternoon, I still don't get credit for leaving enough time for shopping.

Where there is money, there is shopping; and in Hong Kong there's both.

Into the Wild

2008-09-18T02:36:00.002-07:00

Though Hong Kong has a skyline and harbor (3rd busiest in the world) to compete with anywhere, what sets it apart for me is that nature creeps right up to its doorstep. Towering above every sky scrapper was a mountain of unbroken greenery. It's impressive enough that over 70% percent of Hong Kong to be wilderness, but it's another thing altogether when you realize that so much of it is accessible for hiking, picnicking and relaxing. In my three days there I managed to stumble out into it twice, a pretty good average considering I've seen 'nature' once in the 9 months I've lived in Shanghai. I'd say its just a day trip away, but it isn't even that far.

Our first day we took a 30 minute ferry ride (worth it for the view of the skyline alone) to Lamma Island, a small fishing island on the backside of the main harbor. Costing $4 round trip, I can't imagine a cheaper escape anywhere in America. We arrived at a small village on one side of the island, resembling the type you'd find on Martha's Vineyard or any other small vacation island, complete with funky little shops and oceanfront restaurants. After walking through this little town, we abandoned our plan to trek the 90 minutes or so through the jungle to the other village, instead choosing to walk the 15 or so minutes to a nearby beach, soaking our feet in the warm tropical water, and basking in the warmth of the sun as it set behind the power plant at the far end of the island (I never said Hong Kong was perfect). Given the price, the journey, and the absolute feeling of being outside of a city, I'd recommend anyone who ever visits Hong Kong take a day trip here - or even an afternoon trip.

The next morning we signed up for one of the Hong Kong Tourist Bureau guided tours - a 5 hour jaunt into the New Territories towards the Chinese boarder. For many visitors the highlight is seeing the Chinese boarder, while they wonder what rights they would be sacrificing if they crossed it. For two old, China-hands, we knowingly yawned and tried not to fall asleep in the middle of our 2nd exhausting day of touring. We had gone as far away from the city of Hong Kong as we could, and were beginning to gaze upon Shenzen, the boarder city of China when we were treated to the most inspiring bit of nature I saw all weekend.

The tour led us to a steep, green tropical valley, stopping along one of the many scenic parks in the back country of Hong Kong. The sight was called Bridal Falls and was home to a small, but very pretty waterfall. The water was trickling it's way down the valley to the giant reservoir basin at the bottom, scenic as any small waterfall I'd seen in Yellowstone. Little, natural, tropical waterfalls exist in Hong Kong.

Proximity to nature isn't something I've ever come to expect from cities. Maybe my friends in Portland or Seattle might have a different take on things, but for a city of its size (Hong Kong is home to more people than Massachusetts) having such unspoiled natural wonders so close is a wonder to me. I don't know if its suitable for whitewater kayaking or overnight mountain backpacking, but I can't help but appreciate a city, especially a city in China now, which takes such good care of its environment.

Its a vertical thing

2008-09-18T02:36:00.001-07:00

The best way to describe the architecture in Hong Kong is to say this: The longer you look at it, the better it becomes. Hong Kong has so many wonderful buildings, the tend to get lost among one another, with only a few standing out bold (or high) enough to make you notice them. In fact they are building the worlds soon to be 3rd tallest building in the world, but it won't even make a dent on the skyline because its across the harbor in Kowloon. More so than any other city on earth, this is an architecture lover's dream.

We were lucky enough to take a ferry out of the city by daylight, only to return by night when the buildings were all the more stunning. During the day the buildings blend together, almost like Chinese people pushing in line to be viewed first. In daylight the tallest ones, IFC2 and the Bank of China building, stand out, but for the most part they all resemble one another, housing the millions of people who live there, or housing their offices. Then at night, the contrast between average and stupendous is set off, and the skyline reveals its true colors.

The buildings of the city work like a team, or perhaps a dance company to create such a stunning skyline. There are the superstars, the buildings stretching taller, with more lights and more elaborate edifices. There are the primadonnas, nothing special except for the intense neon signs affixed to their roof, drawing your eye and proclaiming the buildings existence. But what makes the skyline, like any skyline, are the role-players, the buildings who create the bulk and mass of structure, shortening the space between water and clouds.

New York's skyline might be more impressive for sheer bulk, and Shanghai's has more tall buildings, but as a unit, for both modernity, fullness and sheer beauty, I'm beginning to think Hong Kong has stolen my heart. While I can post a few simple pictures, it simply cannot do justice to the feeling of sailing past these buildings at night on a boat in one of the worlds busiest harbors.

In Defense of Shanghai

2008-09-18T02:36:00.000-07:00

After telling Adrienne that I had written a terribly one sided blog about how much better Hong Kong is than Shanghai, she insisted that I wasn't being fair and needed to point out the benefits of Shanghai. She made some good points, so as an addendum, I would like to state the argument for Shanghai.

1. It's more exotic. Shanghai isn't western. It might want to be; it might feel more like it than the middle of Sichuan Provence, but at its sole its totally foreign to anyone coming from America. When I came to China I wanted to be somewhere different, and this place definitely is. Hong Kong was filled with Body Shops, Outback Steak Houses and even 7-11s (complete with Slurpee machines), whereas the occasional Subway or Burger King is as western as Shanghai gets (although an Applebee's just opened last month apparently). While Hong Kong is a magnificent city, its too western for a person searching for another world.

2. Shanghai is cheaper; the entire mainland is. Even though for the first time in history the RMB surpassed the HK$ in value two months ago, China is still way cheaper. The entirety of our 3 day weekend to Hong Kong cost about as much as a 10 day trip to Beijing. I can eat delicious food here until I'm so stuffed it hurts for about a bunch and a half, but in Hong Kong it would cost about 5 dollars to be content, far from belly-busting full.

3. Rooms are normal sized in Shanghai, unlike Hong Kong where its considered a luxury if you can't touch both walls of your apartment at the same time. Seriously, property is so scarce in Hong Kong that most families live in apartments smaller than the two SUV's many American families own, yet still pay more for it than the average American home. Both cities have thier fair share of old run down buildings, but in Shanghai you can walk around the bed in one.

There you have it, the three best reasons to choose Shanghai over Hong Kong. Well, those and that EF doesn't employee teachers in Hong Kong, so I didn't really have a choice. Both are dynamic, exciting and growing cities - the twin business giants of China someday to be vying for the top economic spot in the country. Someday. But for now the economic clout, and just like most other comparisons, favors Hong Kong.

The Throwdown

2008-09-17T02:58:00.000-07:00

At the end of our first day in Hong Kong, my girlfriend Adrienne asked me, "So which would you rather live in, Hong Kong or Shanghai?" Saddly, I didn't even have to think about it - "Hong Kong".

The amazing thing about Hong Kong, which despite being 2/5 the size of Shanghai, is that it feels bussier, while remaning cleaner and more civil. There isn't garbage on the streets; there just isn't. It doesn't smell; garbage bins don't overflow with stench next to the road. There might be tall towers every where, but sunlight (real sunlight!) reaches the ground between them instead of being filtered by smog. It looks like a movie set - I occasionally expected to walk around the corner and discover that the building in front of me had actually been a facade; that the street wasn't 'really' a street and that I'd really just wandered onto film shoot.

But that's not the only reason I'd prefer Hong Kong, its party because the location oozes natural beauty. The mountains, the ocean, the foliage all work together to form a location that, had there not been a major world metropolis there, would have made a perfect location to shoot Pirates of the Caribbean. Yet the city being there doesn't completely destroy or mask its natural beauty; a short ferry ride or bus trip lets you out on tropical beaches or river valleys. Unlike most cities where nature is a destination, in Hong Kong it's simply a district of the city.

The urban districts of Hong Kong do have their splendor too. Unlike Shanghai's collection of space-craft-on-building sky scrappers, the skyline of Hong Kong, superior to every city aside from New York, is lined with admirable architecture, new and hip, creative yet functional. At night the buildings dot the night sky, standing on the water's edge, guarding the passage up Victoria Peak. If ever there was a city to be proud of its buildings, it would be Hong Kong.

In the end, however, it might just be the people. They act with respect not just for the space they inhabit, but also the people who inhabit it with them. I had been looking forward to riding the subway in Hong Kong for quite some time, not because it's so fast, clean and efficient, which it is, but because I was looking forward to exciting the trains without needing to shove my way through a stack of people. You see, in Hong Kong people patiently wait beside the doors for people to exit before boarding the subway; its a tradition unheard of on the mainland. Stepping into Hong Kong after 9 months in Shanghai is like coming back from a camping trip and simply enjoying the simple comforts that make life easy.

It seems both fitting and unfair to compare the two cities. Hong Kong, whose rich and international history was preserved by the British for the past 100 years, has much more international feel than Shanghai, a city closed off to foreigners for nearly half of that time period. Hong Kong feels like the world class city Shanghai wants to be, with people from all over the world coming to enjoy themselves and admire the city. Someday, after Shanghai has a little time to catch up economically, developmentally and emotionally we can have a closer comparison of the two cities, but for now... its Hong Kong in a romp.

Fragarant Harbor

2008-09-16T05:53:00.000-07:00

China celebrated its equivalent of Labor Day this past weekend: the Mid-Autumn Festival. I didn't completely understand how the 'mid'-autumn festival marked the start of autumn, but I wasn't one to ever question a three day weekend. I'm more the type to hope a plane to Hong Kong for 3 non-stop days of out of this world (or out of this developing world) adventure.

I just want to start by saying that I'm in love with Hong Kong. I'm in love because it is a world class city, teaming with the nuances of life; because it has great buildings, but also has great wilderness, because it is clean and civilized - because it makes sense.

In all my travels, I don't think I've ever seen a city with such breathtaking contrasts. The ocean is gobbled up by city, which sweeps up green slopes to peaks high above. Outfitted with water, mountains and green life, its no wonder people concerned with Fung Shui decided to build a city here.

Hong Kong isn't just one city, it is really a series of islands and peninsulas, separated by mountains and water from each other. In fact, over 70% of Hong Kong's land is still wilderness, and even more of its footprint is the ocean. Those green hills that divide the villages of 50 story high rises seem like pure wilderness, but they're not. Hong Kong has developed an intricate systems of parks for itself, allowing its inhabitants to escape the pressure of city life amid beaches, streams and natural greenery.

Having seemingly survived the handover back to the mainland with no real ill effects, its easy to understand why China has done so little to change it. Why would they want to?

Growing Up

2008-09-12T03:52:00.000-07:00

Cultural behavior is formed in countless ways, that is to say, we can never fully understand the effect on the psyche of different stimuli. We cannot eliminate variables to run proper tests, which is why we speculate, guess and conjecture (hence the respected scientific status of Anthropology). I like to wonder about an often overlooked environmental influence; I wonder about how the view from your window effects your outlook on life.

I've heard from my friends who grew up in Montana that they could never live in a place without mountains. They claim they are reassuring, comforting. Friends who grew up by the sea claim the same thing. I can't help but wonder what growing up next to something so big, something which dwarfs all human beings equally and completely, does to a person's mind. While I doubt that it increases religious beliefs, I feel like it must impart the feeling that we are all just smaller pieces of a larger world, that there is something (society, humanity, a deity) bigger than ourselves. I have no proof, and I wouldn't dare speculate that people who spent their childhood surfing or hiking are better people, but I can't help but wonder if there is an effect.

Which is why I'm fascinated by how a young Chinese person is influenced by the scores of apartment buildings, one after another, fading into the horizon. Knowing that each window of each building is a family, I feel a person would certainly have an understanding of a bigger society, but is it the same reaction as a child of the sea? I fear that it would cause people to be less humane, showing no empathy for others because they are simply aware that there are too many to realistically show empathy for. Does the skyline create socially conscious and aware individuals, or does it create self-centered, greedy me-first types?

As it is the Chinese are not prone to these philosophical wonderings, so I struggle to locate answers when I ask direct questions, and the culture is still distant enough from me that personal investigations reveal all too little.

Not that I'm one to throw stones, I'll admit I've never considered the mental effects the suburbs make on impressionable youths. But gathering how positively the landscape has effected some of my friends, I can't help but wonder if the cityscapes of China have that same positive effect.

Sweet Mother of Pearly Off Whites

2008-09-11T00:17:00.001-07:00

Americans owe everyone in the UK a big apology - their teeth are really not that bad. The stereotypes of the snarl-toothed Brit are simply fictitious imaginations of bygone days. The reality of the matter is nobody has terrible teeth like the Chinese have terrible teeth.

When I broach the subject of 'dental insurance' with my students, they look at me quizzical wondering what it is. After explaining its like medical insurance but for your teeth, they shrug and say, 'oh, we don't have that'. Some students try to protest they don't have it because its covered under medical insurance, thus proving how superior Chinese health care is, grinning a proud smile which seems to be traveling in 8 different directions. There aren't really any dentists offices here, just hospitals where they'll have a look at your teeth. Plus, I don't think I've seen a kid with braces in 9 months.

I wonder how much pain my students can be in on a regular basis. It isn't uncommon for a students teeth to wander this way and that in their mouth. Others will have disturbing darkish spots above some teeth, which I can only imagine hurt like crazy, especially when twisting their mouths into odd shapes to pronounce English syllables. I had one girl in class yesterday with such a spot that, seemingly unprovoked, began to bleed in the middle of class. This isn't written to be disgusting, but to give a more accurate picture of the dire situation of teeth here.

I'm not saying that everyone has terrible teeth. Many of our students and all of my Chinese co-workers have exemplary teeth, cleaner, whiter and straighter than my own. They do, after all, have tooth paste here, though I dare not use it... if the tooth paste they export has poison I hate to think what the domestic products have in them. No, I brought a years supply of toothpaste with me when I came, deodorant too, but that's a different story.

I guess what I'm saying is, lay off England, alright? When I studied in London, one of my flatmates was studying to be a dentist, when I discovered that (A) dental care in England is quite good, and (B) the British have no idea we mock their teeth. So I ask you to redirect all of your bad-teeth stereotypes to China, because it might not be as bad as the other health problems China has been causing (SARS, Bird Flu), but I still don't want this epidemic to spread!

Yo quiero un burrito

2008-09-06T00:12:00.000-07:00

I have found heaven in Shanghai and it is called New York City Deli. After scouring the internet for the best Mexican restaurant in Shanghai, the search ended with most every website agreeing that this was the place for burritos. Due to who knows why, they only sell the salsa lovin' food from Friday afternoon through Sunday night, so its weekends only for this delicious lunch treat. Fortunately they deliver free to our office...

Last weekend was the first experiment and the reaction was both simple and universal (even among those who didn't order but simply gazed upon greatness)... "Woah my gosh!! Real Burritos in Shanghai?!?!!!" These beauties were the size of a Nalgene bottle, filled with all the trimmings: sour cream, salsa, rice, beans and delectable carnitas. Perhaps it's because I'm on the soy saucy side of the world, perhaps because I've inhaled too much pollution, but I wanna say that this was more satisfying (and most definitely bigger) than my beloved Anna's.

This discovery may seem unimportant to most readers, sitting only a short drive away from delicious fajitas, tacos and quesedillas, but to someone eating fried noodles and boiled pork the past 9 months the taste of authentic Americanized Mexican food is worth writing home about. I've found I can find nearly any important style of food here - Italian, French, American, Indian, Thai, Chinese (go figure) - in Shanghai except Mexican, so rectifying that unsightly fact is a major cour in our culinary playbook. We repeated this tradition this Saturday, and again it induced an office of once lively, hardworking people into sitting around staring blankly at YouTube in the clutches of an unrelenting food coma.

On a side note, the more Mandarin I learn, not that I'm learning much, the more I forget the Spanish I spent 7 years learning in school. I was never very good, pretty much all I could ever muster was how much I love eating ham (jamon!), but the fact that it is disappearing is sad. With so many of my fellow teachers from the UK and Australia, plus the heavy emphasis on learning Chinese, there is nobody here to speak Spanish with, let alone anyone who understand the quick slang phrases which have permeated English. When I get home, I can only hope it hasn't all left me. Que Lastimo!

Above the Muck

2008-09-03T01:35:00.000-07:00

Ever since my second month here in Shanghai I have belonged to the gym next to my office. Stored away on the top floor of a mall overlooking Peoples' Square, the gym is packed with exercise equipment of all types and even has a pool, dangling precariously over the food court on the floor below (I'd hate to think of all the soggy noddles if the ceiling ever gave way). Though I sometimes swim, I find the headaches of managing the Chinese willy-nilly sense of direction too much to bear underwater, which is why I find myself running on my treadmill (yes, I always run on the same one) more and more often. Not to mention, it has a view too.

Directly in front of me, at the base of the Shanghai Urban Planning Museum stands 'Haribo', the small, blue mascot of the 2010 World Expo in Shanghai - he kind of looks like he's made of toothpaste. Shanghai is using the Expo as an excuse to catapult itself into the 21st century, and this little guy is the face of it. To his right runs an official looking boulevard, lined with Chinese flags hanging from every lamp post. The regional government building is at the end of the street, which is why this street offers more pomp than the others. Across the decorated street is the Shanghai Museum, home to more Chinese antiquities than you can shake a stick at. A perfect circle, with odd, vertical loops rising above its entrances, the museum sits like a paperweight in the middle of a park.

As the park's of Peoples' Square fade into the backdrop of skyscrapers, a few holes between the buildings reveal glimpses of the elevated highway system. Here in the heart of the city there are 3 elevated highways stacked one atop the next, with the surface streets running beneath it all. Up close, they are grotesque structures, cleaner than Boston's old central artery, but offering a similar cave like feel beneath. Yet at a distance the traffic glides this way and that, a peaceful diversion to exercise at hand.

Then there are the buildings, with even more oddly shaped hats than the ones I can see from my bedroom. A few of my former roommates were architects, and they told me that the Chinese architectural mindset is to create a standard, mundane building from the ground up, but at the end build the top few floors as crazy, unique or experimental as possible, just to prove that they're good enough to do it. This helps explain the salad fork on top of one building, an oversizes cellphone on top of another, and a Star Wars transport ship on yet another. One of my favorite pastimes is to figure out what it looks like landed on top of the building (and you can't say UFO because it always looks like a UFO).

Finally, rising above it all are 3 buildings so tall, they wouldn't belong in Boston. One of them, though among the 50 tallest buildings on earth, is hardly noticed or mentioned when Shanghai skyscrapers are discussed, because its more famous for the luxury brand mall beneath it, than the tower above. Plus, its name, Plaza 66, sounds more like a cheap Chinese food court than a world class building. Yet that would seem to epitomize China's current image problem, its great things are being overlooked as blase, while the grotesque things are those that catch your eye.

The gym that makes the exercise possible, as running in the streets has too many problems: space, pollution, grimy muck in the streets. I feel that, given the choice of running in muck or looking at the impressive skyline, there is no question I embrace China's recent advancements. It's just that sometimes the muck coming out of China is harder to ignore.

Out the window

2008-08-29T02:04:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-27T01:12:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-22T23:37:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-21T02:54:00.000-07:00

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!

2008-08-16T00:05:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-14T00:01:00.000-07:00

"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...

2008-08-09T02:41:00.001-07:00

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...

2008-08-07T05:59:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-02T00:13:00.000-07:00

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.

Built to Last

2008-07-30T23:59:00.000-07:00

A simple motto, used countless times on American TV commercials, 'built to last' is a phrase that somehow doesn't apply here in China any more. So focused on growth and development, the quality of the growth seems secondary sometimes to the speed and appearance of growth. Things age quickly in China.

It seems strange that in this country famous for a Great Wall built around 2000 years ago durability has become passe. The technology, the buildings, the cars, nothing is made with thoughts of longevity. A thirty year old building in America is newer than a five year old building in Shanghai. It's not that people don't maintain things, there is a service army bigger than a military regiment, but rather that they don't construct for the future - they construct for the now. Everywhere I go I feel like I'm in a cheap imitation of a building in China, until I realize that I am in a building in China and most are simply cheaply made, everything is superficial.

I was told that people in the country care more for durability than city folk, which I'm sure must be true. Fashion becomes a low priority when winter's warmth factors into the equation, just look at the hoodies, jeans and boots of Boston for example. In the country quality matters because people are poor and things need to last. In the country the great leap forward, the real one with tangible economic benefit, hasn't quite reached everyone yet.

In the city, though, the lure of modernization dazzles everyone's eyes. The scores of buildings are nothing more than plaster over cement blocks - no wood, no insulation, no central heating. Someday these buildings will all be too old to support people, to support themselves, and they will need to come down. Will we one day hear of great turnover in Shanghai's skyline? Unlikely, and I don't mean to suggest these buildings will topple on their own, rather they will slowly and slowly sink back to being crowded, unkept lodgings for the underprivileged. Yet the images of the rescue workers in Sichuan after the earthquake bending the rebar of collapsed grade schools with their bare hands serves as a hollow reminder of the worst that can happen from cutting corners.

I can't help but wonder what happens when everything gets old. Will it the city become a tragic tale of boom developments, like so many ghost towns in Alaska? Or will the city continue to grow, to adapt and learn to build lasting structures? I can't help they figure it out soon, because soon there won't be enough land anymore anyway.

Worth the Burn

2008-07-29T02:26:00.000-07:00

The President has Camp David, Nero had his fiddle and I have Mandarin City. I have found the only my first, and as of yet only, peaceful retreat in Shanghai. Located miles from any subway stop in the western part of the city, this expat haven is as close to heaven as I've seen in Shanghai. For a few yuan I can spend a day relaxing book in hand and sunglasses on at the side of a large crystal clear pool.

The western part of Shanghai is where all the 'wealthy' foreigners live with their nannies and business-paid housing and private drivers. This is a foreigners' Shanghai I'll never see, aside from beautiful Monday afternoons at their pool, which is open to the public. The apartment buildings are lined with faux-Greek statues and assorted Cherubs with baroque styling growing like vines up the sides. There are restaurants and hotels, security and gates - for all purposes it feels like someone picked up a gated community in Arizona, moved it halfway around the world and dropped it there just the same as it had been. Normally I live in mortal fear of the synthetic worlds of these gated communities, but after 7 months of anything but calculated ease and aesthetics it's more than a welcome diversion.

A large rounded pool, not designed for laps but big enough to do so, surrounded by sun umbrellas and lounge chairs on a sunny day makes you forget all the noise and dirt located just a few miles away. The pool bar serves cheap fried food and drinks all day, so there is no need to leave. Every time I think about why the place seems so wonderful I arrive at nothing earth shattering that we don't have back home, but maybe that's just it... there is nothing we don't have back home there! My trip there this weekend was one of the few times I entered a place where I could forget I was in China. In a country so crowded, so noisy, so constantly in flux, it's rare to find a peaceful place without boarding a plane. I even got a sunburn. It's my first in China and I don't even mind, it's just another reminder of home.

Home Cookin'

2008-07-23T23:39:00.000-07:00

Recently, after months of enjoying the most authentic Chinese food anyone could ever ask for, I have begun to strike back against the all ethnic diet and return to the bountiful goodness of western food. This revolution was started by a few visits to a few trendy western style restaurants that have cropped up in Shanghai. Using my weekends to relax and revert back to familiar norms, I have surrounded myself with like minded friends who also enjoy the subtle delicacies we used to enjoy at home.

As westerners become more prevalent in Shanghai, so do these restaurants, specializing in delicious and authentic Italian, Greek and French food. I finally found authentic pizza, large Mediterranean style salads (made from fresh, clean vegetables) and most importantly a restaurant so devoted to serving the best chocolate, it would be famous even in Switzerland. I cannot lie, ordering an iced chocolate drink there will make you swear its the greatest thing you've ever tasted until you try the chocolate cake and forget your dinky milkshake.

Its simply a relief to find food that I am not only familiar with when I order, but really enjoy. Chinese food is great, but just like sunny days leave sunburns there can be too much of a good thing.

Western Peace

2008-07-22T00:54:00.000-07:00

Xi'an, or Western Peace as it translates into English, may be the most historical city in all of China outside Beijing. Home to numerous dynasties, the city wall still encompasses the old city (except for the part where the modern government decided to knock it down to build the train station, a decision they now regret and are rebuilding the wall). The city embraces its history and holds more ties to the past than any other city I've visited in China so far.

Biking around the wall with my family was the non-terracotta warrior highlight of Xi'an. The weather was too hot to bike, but thankfully being that high up allowed a slight breeze to sweep some of the dry plateau heat away. The roofs of the city, though thoroughly modern I'm sure, aimed to feel old, and coupled with the red lanterns hanging from every lamp post I couldn't help but laugh thinking of what the grunt workers who built this fortification would say if they knew it was now used for foreign tourists to bike along.

At night, just outside the south gate, we encountered a community dancing festival. I'll never explain it correctly, except saying it was magical, as anyone could join in a group, snaking line dance complete with drums, and cymbals. The leaders carried and danced with umbrellas in the humid evening air and anyone and everyone (I even saw some other foreigners in the lines) snaked along, do-si-doing and having a great time. Though none of us joined in, we sat mesmerized for the better part of an hour watching the people of Xi'an have a swinging night out.

Among the other key sights were the museum, stocked with fascinating bronzes and other art from yesteryear, the Buddhist Pagoda and the Bell Tower, which we stayed near. The pagoda is apparently famously leaning, some compare it to that in Pisa, but the former's solid brick facade lacks the delicate beauty beauty of the later's delicate marble archways. The museum's bronze collection impressed me more than the collection of our famed Shanghai Museum, yet overall is no match for Shanghai's variety. The Bell Tower, and cousin Drum Tower, were beautiful central points to the city. Set on an axis with views down sweeping boulevards to each of the four gates, the Bell Tower is the heart of the city, oozing more cultural history than anything in Shanghai.

A beautiful city, a historical city, Xi'an is a city which cares for itself better than most cities I've seen in China. Blessed with a central location in China, it's witnessed more historical activity than most cities, but despite its history and population (of 8 million) it doesn't feel big. Perhaps it's because I live in Shanghai now, but perhaps it's because it, like my hometown, is proud of its history.

Self Appointed 8th Wonder of the World

2008-07-18T02:24:00.000-07:00

The second half of my family's visit to China consisted of a visit to the ancient city of Xi'an. Most famous for the presence of the Terracotta Warriors, Xi'an was also the capital city for numerous empires. Still completely enclosed by ancient walls, the city has a much older much more 'Chinese' feel than Shanghai. And it's really hot.

The Terracotta Warriors are no doubt impressive, yet their self billing as 'the 8th wonder of the world' seems a bit much. Seemingly located inside an airplane hanger, the excavations are going slow and there is still much work to be done at the sight, so now only a few hundred of the thousand of soldiers have been restored. Once they finish the restoration of all the solders, the sight will be truly remarkable, but for now they have only uncovered about one end zone worth of a football field of statues.

The warrior pits contain different types of soldiers, ranging from foot soldiers to generals, archers to charioteers. Formerly standing in regimental rows, the shattered remains of fire and pillage have reduced the findings to fragments of clay which must be painstakingly restored. Like most classical art they were at one point dazzlingly colored, but almost all the color has come off.

We got to meet one of the men who rediscovered the warriors in the 1970's. I felt sad for him, as this simple farmer is now chained to a desk and forced to sign books for tourists like my mom and dad. I hope the government compensates him fairly, because I doubt he had much choice in the matter.

One humorous rumor I heard from a tour guide friend here in Shanghai is that the entire sight is fake. In 1972, after China had destroyed all its cultural relics, the government realized it might have gone too far and decided to cook up an archaeological sight. Easier to do when the country has been sealed off to foreigners and all the craftsmen of the country have been locked up. I don't believe its true, but its a funny thought.

There is no doubt the warriors are impressive, if only because there are so many and they are so old. Once the restoration is finished it will only become more impressive, perhaps earning its self given nickname.

Escalating the Situation

2008-07-15T01:34:00.000-07:00

It's been months since I complained about the way people walk here. Perhaps I accepted that in a country of over 1.2 Billion it's difficult to move quickly. To be honest, I forget what solitude feels like... But the worse part about it all is there is no efficiency in people's step here. Never has a nation of so many failed to unite their brain power to collectively walk in an organized fashion. What we have is a mess of meandering Shanghainese.

The people of China grew up with their own mathematical and philosophical traditions, so it's possible that they never learned that 'the shortest distance between two points is a straight line.' I'm beginning to believe this is the case because I have yet to find a Chinese grandma who would pass the walk-the-line sobriety test. The zig-zag wandering all over the place is even more impressive given how many people there are packed onto the walkways - its a wonder there aren't dangerous collisions. I think there may be a natural gene or perhaps a microchip inserted into all Chinese people that allows them to sense when an urgently late foreigner is coming up from behind so they can step in front of him. If this is 'the Chinese way', just think how fast their economy could grow if they didn't waste time meandering back and forth!

One saving grace here is that in Shanghai I have no need to climb stairs for there are escalators everywhere! A quick escalator fact, in Chinese the word for 'escalator' and 'elevator' are the same, which translates directly to 'electric stairs'. There isn't anywhere I go that I need to climb stairs, its just sometimes faster than waiting in line for the escalators... yes, waiting in line. You see the Chinese have terrible escalator manners. I know what you're thinking, "Dan, so they stand on the left side, people do that here too." But its much worse than just that.

In China they do stand on the right, left, middle wherever, but it's when they get off that the real mind boggling happens. They stop. Chinese people take two steps off the escalator then stop and look around as if they didn't know where to go. The 30 second ride they just took wasn't long enough for them to collect their thoughts and plan their next move, so they stopped at the base of the escalator. Nobody says anything to them, as they stand their blinking with a deer in the headlights look. How do they not realize they're blocking up the exit? Do they realize it's a safety hazard? I doubt it, with 1.2 Billion countrymen, thinking about other peoples space doesn't really register much.

Someday I will return to the land of tranquil solitude and home of the straight walkers, but until then I'll have to learn to dart in and out of holes like a running back. The only advantage I have is the gift of vision... at least I can see over the crowds of zig-zaggers.

The Family

2008-07-09T23:00:00.000-07:00

Last month I had what will likely be my only visitors here in China - my loving family, or most of it. My mom, dad and sister made the trek halfway around the world to see me and experience the mysteries China had to offer. My sister spent a little longer in Shanghai than my parents, staying a few days before and a week or so after them at my apartment, while my parents stayed at a nearby hotel and took a short trip to Hong Kong. I had a great time showing them around my city before I relinquished tour guide duties and we all went to Xi'an for a few more wonderful days.

I really enjoyed seeing my parents reacting and remembering things I'd mentioned in emails and phone conversations while I showed them Shanghai. It may have rained the entire time, but transportation wasn't an issue as my mom discovered a taxi ride from one end of the city to the other costs no more than $4. Needless to say after an initial trip down the MagLev train and the subway, we used taxi's exclusively for the rest of their trip. My dad may have been most enamored with the food. The food isn't quite what we all are used to when we think of Chinese food, but at every meal my dad was like a kid in a candy store, making sure we left no food to waste. I brought them to noodle shops from all over China to dumpling restaurants and Cantonese style food, and my dad loved all of it - plus he could feed the family and get rounds of giant beer for everyone and it would cost less than $8.

Restaurants also provided the best chance for me to showcase my Chinese skills. My parents were appropriately awed by my pitifully few phrases which allowed me to steer taxis and order the 3 dishes I know the names of.

The best part naturally was just seeing them. I know they had a drastically different experience than the one they had 8 years ago in Beijing because this is not only a different city, but the last 8 years in China have been revolutionary (a positive Chinese revolution for a change!). My goal as tour guide was to show them a China not seen on tour groups, the small little dive restaurants that serve the best food, the back alley's with the giant markets. Hopefully they enjoyed their visit to Shanghai as much as I did.

Old Folks in the Park

2008-07-09T00:10:00.000-07:00

As my grandfather has attested to me throughout my life, keeping your mind and body healthy is essential to living a long, happy life. Which is why I support people of all ages exercising, even and especially the elderly. I hope to one day join the ranks of 'old folks', so rest assured I try to study and learn from my elders in all matters, including exercise. What I found in China however, may be a group of teachers I should better avoid.

When you think of older Chinese men and women I bet you imagine them waking up early and heading to the park for some Tai Chi. I'm sure many due, but none that I have seen. Instead the elder statesmen of the Middle Kingdom choose far more unique ways of exercising. My walk the other morning left me extremely puzzled about the exercise habits of the ageing Chinese.

I cannot list or remember all the 'characters' I saw on my walk through the park, but I can remember some of the highlights. There was the old man walking and clapping loudly in front and behind his body with each step. Then there was the stranger man walking backwards while clapping behind his back. The idea behind this sort of exercise is to work not only the body, but different parts of the mind (like the part that helps you walk backwards). While I fully support going for a walk (it's what I plan to do when I get up there), I question if this, uh, extra mental exertion really adds to the work out.

My old apartment had a little gym outside, the kind you might see on a school playground, but instead for adults. Every Saturday morning I would be woken to the sounds of old men grunting. Its not that they were working too hard, but that they felt the grunting helped them work out better. I watched them sometimes and the tasks weren't strenuous; they didn't require grunting. Yet I woke up to a small Asian Monica Seles every morning.

Each culture has its own sports for the old. In America we encourage walking, swimming and golf. In China its grunting and clapping. Perhaps we are not so different after all.

Early Morning

2008-07-07T23:37:00.000-07:00

Sometimes great things come from addictions, like when Franciscan monks liked to drink and eat bread too much and we ended up with sourdough. Or like on Saturday night when I stayed up until five in the morning watching 'The Office' (I couldn't stop, it was terrifying). Once I turned my computer off and though of getting some shut-eye I noticed how fantastic the sunrise was behind me over the city. The summer days are too hot to walk around during, but early morning was a perfect temperature for an adventurous stroll.

I strolled out of my apartment and over a bridge just as the city was waking up, or so I thought, but the city wasn't getting up, it had never slept. An army, literally dozens of uniformed blue city service workers were finishing their shifts. Biking along dragging their brooms, they had cleaned this filthy city, or at least tried to make a dent, during the late hours when the rest of us slept. I was surprised to see so much activity at such an early hour, even more impressive considering they were finishing their work.

As I continued to walk along I was surprised by how many stores were opened by five thirty. Not many percentage-wise, but impressive none the less. I found a produce market just opening, bags and bags of vegetables being unloaded into piles for their owners to claim and display. The fish sellers were just adding ice to empty pools of water, waiting for their fish and the butchers were getting a start on cutting up the animals.

The thought I couldn't escape on my walk was this isn't Europe, and there would be no fresh croissant for me. I tried a succulent smelling Chinese cart breakfast, but Chinese breakfasts remain utterly disappointing to me. In fact they're pretty gross. But perhaps that difference is what makes the experience really educational, a reminder that this isn't a culture I know, a reminder that despite living here for half a year I still know very little about the culture.

By the time I returned home, the buses were crowded and the men sleeping on the carts had woken and begun working on moving rubble around in an abandoned lot. It was six and I could tell the heat was coming, so I finally went to bed.

Born on the 4th of July

2008-07-06T23:58:00.000-07:00

Once every 7 or so years the stars and stripes align and the 4th of July falls on a Friday, leaving workers everywhere relieved to not need to worry about work the next day. For reasons I don't completely understand, the government of Shanghai doesn't recognise Independence Day, so everyone here had to work. However we were determined to make the most of it after work, and we certainly celebrated with a bang.

The great Chinese invention, fireworks, are banned within the city limits of Shanghai during the year. This came as a shocker to us all, but we were forewarned and had time to prepare a contingency - set them off and run if the cops come. With great difficulty some of my co-workers managed to procure a stash of fireworks and some sparklers for the kiddies.

A group of about 10 of us, mostly American, but with an Australian, Austrian, Brazilian and Brit mixed in, set off after work to celebrate the blessings of liberty with the most fitting tribute we could muster: McDonald's, Budweiser and Fireworks. Just like everyone back home we had burgers, beer and lit things on fire - and what's more American than that? After eating and drinking on the steps of the famed Shanghai Museum, we ducked around the side of the museum to set off a small pyrotechnic display to the Tom Petty, John Mellencamp and the National Anthem. We didn't even have to run, just enjoy the brightly colored fountains of flame. To tell the truth, I had a ton of fun and we didn't get arrested. That makes for yet another great 4th of July.

Business

2008-07-02T05:56:00.000-07:00

At work there are two types of classes I teach: workshops and face to face lessons, both of which have their advantages and disadvantages. All told, I teach 25 hours per week, or five lessons per day, with the other 4 hours devoted to lunch, placement tests and surfing the Internet. Admittedly a chuck of that time is supposed to be for talking to students in a casual setting (not like office hours at university, more like 2 friends hanging out), but teachers aren't required to, just encouraged and after a while repeating the same simple conversations grows tiresome and I seek refuge in the teachers lounge.

The face to face lessons are set in a small room and contain anywhere between 1 and 4 students of equal ability. The general idea is for the students to really have a chance to talk and converse with a native English speaker. We have a power point presentation with slides to direct the topics, usually teaching grammar, vocabulary or language. These lessons can be tedious if the students don't talk, but great if the student's ability and willingness are high. Of course when there are only 4 people booked, there is the chance that nobody shows up at all, which is the best.

The workshop classes are anywhere between 1 and 25 students, and can be of any mix of levels. The lessons focus on academic subjects (like grammar), cultural subjects, or business subjects. I usually teach the business lessons, partly because of the schedule and partly because somehow I have more business experience than almost anyone else at my office. Though the students clearly prefer the cultural lessons to my business ones (who doesn't like talking about birthday parties, and who does like talking about stock options?). Fortunately these lessons are usually very successful and I enjoy teaching them because its almost like putting on a show. The students sit and listen and interact with each other when I tell them too, but I also get to prance around in front of them, telling stupid jokes which they actually laugh at! Nothing like an eager captive audience.

The lessons and power points are all written by 'the people upstairs' or something like that. They actually let me write one once, which went alright. They don't let us change them, so the content stays the same everywhere in China, or so they say. I guess it makes life easier, not needing to 'really' prepare, just needing to read the lesson plan and present accordingly, but sometimes it would be nice to be given a little more leeway when it comes to teaching. All and all, I have enjoyed teaching and though I doubt it will be my life's profession, I would like to return to it at some point when I'm older.

Haircut

2008-06-26T01:24:00.000-07:00

It doesn't matter where you go in this world, it seems a haircut will cost you about a 10 spot of the local currency. That means 10 bucks in America (outside the north east), 10 pounds in London and 10 RMB in China. Yup, I get my haircuts for about a dollar-twenty five. As you can imagine they're not the finest haircuts I've ever had, but when you look at it like an experience it becomes well worth the money.

First they wash your hair, which may sound mundane, but instead of just throwing in some shampoo and rinsing it out and being done with it, they slowly, carefully massage your head, scraping away excess shampoo with their hands and throwing it in the trash! When the massage is finished (this takes about 10 minutes) they wash out your hair in the reclining sink. Upon returning to the chair, you're greeted by a neck, back and arm massage. Before they even touch a hair on your head you feel looser than a leaf in November. Finally they cut your hair, no small feat considering hand motions are the exclusive form of communication usually. To top it off they give another rinse to your hair before styling it for your big night out!

There are drawbacks - part of the massage is sticking a quetip up your ear to clean the wax out. I usually refuse this part, it's freaky and dangerous. They also don't really give great haircuts. They're alright, but they always thin my hair out too much. Chinese hair is very thick; my hair is thin and fine, so when they thin it out I look like I'm going suddenly bald. But, for less than a buck and a half, what can I expect?

The apartment

2008-06-24T06:06:00.000-07:00

People may debate what are the 'basic necessities' in life, but unless you live out of a van or a Toyota Corolla, everyone agrees that a place to live is pretty important. Having a clean, safe, 'home' to return to at the end of a long day can make all the difference, especially when you're in a strange place (and Shanghai still counts as a strange place). With my current lease expiring at the end of the month, and due to various reasons, I've decided I need to move away from the neighborhood I've grown to love (yup, I'm moving away from Noodles), if only to save myself from the impending mosquito onslaught everyone has promised will strike Shanghai in mid-July.

Moving is not new to me. Since I left for college 6 years ago, I've called as many as 9 different places 'home', which means I've grown rather adept at moving. But this may have been the closest I've ever come to being homeless... as in failing to find a new place to live before being kicked out on the street.

The last apartment I looked at sounded perfect. Sounded. 28th floor, private room, private bathroom, 2 subway stops from work and right between the main 'going out' part of Shanghai and the more atmospheric 'old town'. The reality was a narrow windowless-hallway of a room with a twin bed, and somewhere on the other side of the flat was a squat toilet I could call my very own. Throw in the fact I needed to crawl through a window to get to the sink to brush my teeth and the current tenant said they were moving cuz they don't trust the landlord and you have the single worst apartment I've ever seen.

Thankfully my new landlord will not give me any problems; I work with him. I'll get my own room with a fantastic view of the downtown. Plus, the new room will cut my commute in half. I'll have to learn a whole new neighborhood, but I look at it as an exciting opportunity, almost like moving to a new city! But the best part might be that I won't have to sleep in the streets.

La Cucaracha

2008-06-20T04:26:00.001-07:00

I'm moving out of my apartment at the end of the month. It won't be a moment too soon. I know cockroaches weren't a biblical plague, but believe me, Moses might have wanted to re-think it (frogs aren't that scary). My apartment is crawling with these little guys, and its starting to really piss me off.

Being on the ground floor, it makes us especially susceptible to these guys walking up the drains into our house. They scamper and scatter, running from the light and any approaching person, but not fast enough to be invisible, not even fast enough to avoid potential squashing (I wield the New Balance of Death). But if I kill them, it creates a gross mess which I don't want to clean up. The result is I don't kill them, which naturally means they'll never disappear, but I don't think it would make a difference anyway, these things can survive the nuclear holocaust, I think they'll survive the New Balance holocaust.

Nothing is more depressing than watching TV and having to pause the movie to wave a pillow at the door to your room, dissuading the eager 2 inch cockroach from sticking his antenna any closer. If I wasn't leaving, maybe I'd have the energy to do something, maybe I'd try to spray Raid on the drains at night, but the fact of the matter is I am leaving. And I'm going to live way up in a high rise where I can ignore the 11th plague of Shanghai.

Celtics

2008-06-18T02:37:00.001-07:00

Still waking up and a little groggy, I turned on my TV this morning to be delightfully surprised to see my Boston Celtics crushing the hated LA Lakers by 30 points. After the initial joy of realizing my team was going to win the NBA championship, I could only wish I'd woken up earlier to see more of the butt-whoopin'. Plus, this was certainly a better way to show up to work than after the Super Bowl. As the game was winding down and I was preparing for a days worth of work (watching sports in the morning is weird), I did the only logical thing I could think of... I wore all green to work today to celebrate.

China loves basketball, so all the finals games were part of morning TV on the network sports channel. True, the announcers were speaking Chinese, but 'blow-out' is the same in all languages. Over the past two weeks not a day has gone by that I didn't see a Lakers or Celtics jersey here, but we all know China's favorite team is the Rockets (I've heard Houston referred to as Yao Ming's City before). But its nice to be able to celebrate something, which unlike the last two sports championships, my students can understand and relate to.

All and all I wonder if I chose the wrong year to come to China. I mean, between the Red Sox, Patriots and Celtics, this may have been the greatest year Boston sports will ever know. I can take comfort in the fact that I saw the Red Sox win (in person) and watched the Patriots right up until the end (when it got sad). But this would have been my first NBA title since I was 2. Guess they'll have to do it again next year when I can be a little closer to home... that is, if I am.

As an extra bonus, today marks exactly 6 months in China for me. Its the midway point, or you could say its all downhill from here. Perhaps I'll have more thoughts on that later for you, but for now I'll treat you to an Oscar worthy picture montage of my time in China so far... enjoy

The Parent's Visit

2008-06-15T22:27:00.000-07:00

Nothing like a visit from Mom and Dad (and Sis) to use as an excuse for a vacation. I'm fresh of a week long holiday (courtesy of Mom and Dad) to all important sights in Shanghai and Xi'an. After 4 days of playing tour guide in Shanghai, I was afforded the chance to relax myself on a 3 day guided tour of Xi'an. Most importantly, however, was getting to see my family whom I haven't seen in nearly 6 months.

In Shanghai I was charged with showing them all the sights, without allowing anyone to drop dead from exhaustion. Though our days were long and full of sightseeing, the ubiquitous $3 cab ride to anywhere in the city eased our minds and feet. We zigged to Chinese Gardens, zagged back to towering skyscrapers, then zigged again to buy tailor made jackets at the fabric market. In between all this, I took my family to as many 'authentic' restaurants as I could, a fact that became more obvious when we had 'tourist' dinners arranged for us in Xi'an. Between the Hot Pot King, steamed dumplings, fancy Cantonese restaurants and a trip to the sacred Noodles, my family feasted and conversed, catching up without the use of the Internet for a change.

In Xi'an our lives were made simple by the wise decision to pre-hire a tour. Our guide met us at the airport, drove us to our hotel, then picked us up for dinner and all the sight seeing every day. Rather wonderful really, as many of the sights were outside of town and separated from each other. Clearly the highlight of the city was the terracotta warrior sight: football fields filled with statues (or rather pieces of statues, all were broken and most still need to be reassembled). Yet every silver lining has a dark cloud, and our dark cloud was a dearth of authentic food provided in the restaurants we were taken too. Having feasted in back-alley cafes in Shanghai, the shock of blander than boiled celery, middle-American, pseudo-Chinese food was a bit of a disappointment. However I wouldn't have traded the guided tour for anything; I could only stretch the illusion that I can speak Chinese so far before its apparent (A) we're eating the same thing at every meal, or (B) we get some really funky part of the body nobody wants to eat. Thankfully it never came to that, so the illusion remains intact. Nothing like parents marveling at an underdeveloped skill to boost your self confidence. Thanks for coming Mom and Dad.

Earthquake

2008-05-23T23:28:00.000-07:00

It’s been nearly two weeks since the massive earthquake hit China, and the country is still appropriately in mourning. Much like America, China is quick to band together for nationalistic causes, and this is no exception; however unlike the blind irrational fervor raised over the Olympic torch protests, I have nothing but admiration for China’s response to this disaster.

I was at work Monday May 12, when the quake struck, but despite being over 1000 miles from the epicenter, the building I was in shook enough to cause the evacuation of our entire school for close to an hour. Personally, I didn’t feel anything, nor did any of our students, but other people in Shanghai in taller buildings said they felt an unexplained queasiness. Other than a brief inconvenience, Shanghai was unaffected.

In the week following the news covered the disaster exclusively, revealing more graphic images than I would expect. In fact, the Chinese seem to revel in these graphic images, as we have a wall of photographs from the disaster sight in our school. The aim is to raise money through fundraising, but pictures of hands reaching out from underneath piles of cement seems unfit for a school.

The following Monday thru Wednesday was declared the three national days of mourning. Concerts were cancelled and every TV station showed the same feed of news and memorial services. At my school we observed the three minutes of silence in memorial one week after the earthquake, and students still are eager to discuss the quake, yet sad when the subject is broached. To my knowledge, none of my students had families affected, and those with families nearby said nothing much happened to them, thankfully.
Yet as you may have seen in the western media, China’s response has been tremendous. Charity is new to China, so in addition to the cold efficient military, there is now the more human touch of giving and unity throughout China. Perhaps a sign of better things to come, the Chinese people are eager to help out. I can’t help but be encouraged by this generosity and I can’t help but enjoy admiring China’s response to this devastation.

Tsingtao

2008-05-22T05:19:00.000-07:00

It’s been a little while, but not much has changed really. Life in Shanghai, much like life everywhere can fall into being routine, but that routine can also be a busy one.

The most expensive endeavor of my trip to Qingdao, as well as the most famous factory in the city, is the Tsingtao beer brewery on Beer St. The brewery is much like other breweries I’ve been to, they tell you about themselves, they tell you about their history, they tell you about how to make beer, and then they give you some. All and all, it’s a pretty good way to pass an afternoon.

Typically I do not enjoy Tsingtao beer; it’s a pilsner in the true German style (they occupied the city from 1900-1915). However I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the beer in Qingdao on tap is much better than the skuzzy bottles they have in Shanghai. Plus the beer was cheap.

At lunch before the brewery we were seated at a table with 2 other Chinese gentlemen who spoke very little English. We quickly struck up a relationship as they insisted that the bottles we were getting were inferior to their large pitchers. We took them up on their challenge for the second round and indeed the liter plus pitchers (which cost less than a dollar, oh and were bigger than the one pictured above) were superior to the green bottles. These men, pleased with their ability of persuasion, proceeded to toast us with ‘gambe’ regularly with us for the rest of the meal. When toasting in Chinese, the word ‘gambe’ translates literally to ‘finish it’ – and with us trying not to be rude, you can imagine the result. After our very cultural lunch we stumbled to the brewery.