我是美国人

As of two weeks ago, it’s been it’s been a year since I moved to China. From studying abroad in college, I was prepared for an important role I had to play as an expat: to talk about, if not take responsibility for, Americans and the stuff they do. 

The only time I find myself getting defensive, however, is during conversations about culture. I have no impulse to automatically defend the American political maneuverings of the last ten years. I usually nod along when people talk about Iraq as a mistake, or outwardly laugh at the “get your socialist hands off my medicare” crowd. At the same time, it takes a lot not to roll my eyes when I hear, “You can’t trust anything the American media says.”

Then, there’s the most annoying sentence, ever: Americans don’t have a culture.

This is when I get defensive. It’s nowhere near an exhaustive list, nor is it ordered in any particularly way, but I can’t help think of things that are great and culturally American. 

1. Road-trips. It could be to the neighboring city or clear across the country, but the open road has shaped the lives of more than a couple American icons and teenage summers. 

2. Thanksgiving. Just our excuse for bringing together people who love each other enough to publicly point out each others’ flaws. 

3. Halloween. I realized how special it was after I explained the holiday to my class of five-year olds. They were astounded adults could be duped into the practice (trust me, it’s nearly impossible to leave a kid speechless, but I did it). 

4. Neighborly strangers. I miss being stuck at an intersection because of a “No, you go... No, you go.... ” exchange with the car across from you; or, seeing people in line at the cash register pooling their change for a kid who came up short buying a soda; or, the woman driving you from the thrift store to your new apartment in North Park with the table she saw you unable to fit in your 99’ Civic. 

5. Garage sales. It’s where I got all my reading material in the early FOB days. 

Sure, it’s a hodgepodge of many cultural legacies, not-so-distant historical events and improvisation, but American culture isn’t bland. 


*BTW, the pic in the post is of the USA Pavilion at the Shanghai Int'l Expo.

China's SAR

While standing with a group of people on the corner waiting to cross the street, I realized, “I’m waiting... This definitely isn’t China.” I had the same realization while looking the wrong way before crossing the street, logging on Facebook on my phone, being stopped by Indian guys on every corner asking if I want to buy a Rolex, buying really good beer, drinking great coffee, and of course, watching orderly traffic. 

Hong Kong is definitely not mainland China. I had to catch the four hour flight to the SAR (HK) in July for visa reasons.

Another thought that crossed my mind was, “It’s just so damn pretty.” I think Shanghai is a beautiful city during the day and night, but Hong Kong is probably the most aesthetically pleasing city I’ve ever seen. One of the things that made up for Seoul’s lack of a confluent city center was seeing green mountains between buildings. Hong Kong, however, one-ups Seoul. 

The single greatest benefit is that the city is literally on the water and you can see small lush green islands scattered off the harbor. The city itself has quite a few iconic buildings and isn’t afraid to stray from the safe silver/grey/white color scheme. The only irksome thing I encountered was that the romanization of street signs isn’t standardized (I’m looking at you too Korea).

Of shoes, writing and scorpions

In college foreign language classes, learning lists of vocabulary words was a piece of cake. Learning Chinese has taught me why. I learn fastest through associations and the ones drawn in my mind for French words usually happened subconsciously.

Several months into living in China, I still mimicked sounds in hopes I was speaking any language. Even after training my ears to Chinese phonetics (thank you pinyin), it’s still incredibly difficult to remember words individually. I hear a word, identify the tone, place the meaning. Five minutes later: nothing. After failing at flash cards, I resorted to learning new vocabulary in sentences and... it sticks! (Which sounds a bit counter-intuitive, no?)

I understand even better why Chinese sounds so repetitive to westerners, because it is. Most people know that, in Chinese, the tone of each word changes its meaning (so why diversify phonetic sounds if tones serve the same purpose?). What many don’t realize is that tones are assigned to syllables, not words. So, changing the tone of one syllable in a multi-syllable word will change the meaning. Take:

     xiézi 鞋子 = shoe

     xiězì 写字 = write

     xiēzi 蝎子 = scorpion

Also, notice each “xie” character is different. Almost a fifth of our planet communicates like this.

Before I dissuade anyone from attempting Chinese, I have to say that the learning process really is just like with any other language: The more you learn, the faster you learn. After a semester of Spanish you stop ‘rounding’ your vowels so you make a solid “o” and not “oh”. A semester of French will teach you that pronouncing the American “r” in Français sounds silly. Seven months in, tones just make sense and learning Chinese words individually is becoming a subconscious process. 

One of my favorite things about Chinese is the way it weaves complexity and simplicity. Although the grammar is relatively uncomplicated (like, no conjugating!), it still manages to greatly reduce room for confusion. Just like other languages, you learn a grammar rule, think it’s annoying and unnecessary, then a couple months later find it indispensable. 

Most importantly, it’s a language to experience. When Chinese begins to grow daunting and dread starts to set in, it’s nothing a simple conversation on the subway or finding yourself understanding a newspaper headline can’t fix. 

Beautification

Wujiang Road is a traditional Chinese street around the corner from where I live in Shanghai. It’s packed with private shops, restaurants and stands, making and selling every kind of noodles, barbecue and my favorite fried dumplings. My most frequent visits were to a guy who set up a makeshift stand selling juice, soft drinks and beer (at 50 cents per liter!). Within a one block radius, there are three Starbucks’, a couple McDonalds’, a Krispy Kremes, Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf, and another McDonalds under construction. One more block down you’ll find Louis Vitton and Marks & Spencer stores. Wujiang is the perfect 100 meter stretch of local businesses and food offering a taste of pre-commercialized China in tastefully antiquated buildings.

Or, it was.

On my way to the apartment from the airport, after my U.S. visit in February, I noticed a metal wall closing off the street and looming cranes behind it. In an earlier post, I mentioned Shanghai was undergoing major reconstructions for the International Expo, which is going to start in May. The railway station was renovated, streets and sidewalks repaved, traffic cops appeared on every corner (directing pedestrians of all things), street sweepers multiplied, and Wujiang Lu was torn down. The Shanghaiist translated an article from a Chinese newspaper, saying the road will receive a “facelift” to become a “fashion street.” 

In these moments, I really miss America’s tedious bureaucracy of approvals, from environmental committees to neighborhood councils (this wouldn’t fly in North Park). 

Update about me:

Before visiting the States last month, I said goodbye to Suzhou for good. I’m staying in Shanghai right now working part-time jobs as a teacher while I wait for my papers to be processed by my new employer, Hainan Airlines. Soon, I’ll relocate to Haikou for training, then to Beijing to work as a flight attendant. I’m still in the background checks part of the process, but so far so good. 

Both of these photographs were taken from the same spot in opposite directions, one looking towards the already commercialized part of Wujiang and one towards why I'm sad.

Best of's

This week I finished my first semester as an educator. Now that the year-end “best of” mania has died down, I’ll make my own list for great interactions with students this semester.

The first three come from vocabulary quizzes. The underlined word is the one they’re supposed to use in a sentence:

Fiction books make teenagers crazy. (The sentence preceding this one was: Twilight is my favorite novel.)

His behavior shows he is a typical Chinese.

In my opinion, losing weight is not right if you aren’t fat.

Me: What can you personally do to help reduce CO2 emissions?

10th grader: I can go to the forest and live in a small house.

Me: What do you do with a toothbrush and toothpaste?

2nd grader: Swim.

Me: What did you have for lunch?

2nd grader: For lunch, I had water, milk and jelly.

Me: What did you have for dinner?

2nd grader: For dinner, I had lunch, fish and meat.

2nd grader: When I catch a cold, I drink some doctor. (Combination of: ‘drink more water’, ‘take some medicine’ and ‘see the doctor’.)

2nd grader: Supercali-fergilicious...fjkdekodfij... cious. (Trying to say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious) 

And these are only the quotes I was compelled to write down when they happened.

Mexican Dinner

I'm not sure what the inspiration was (likely homesickness), but we decided to have a Mexican dinner in Shanghai at Janette's house. I initially made the video to show my family what my corner of the world looks like and it didn't turn out half bad, so I hope you like it. Here's a recap of the weekend.

Knock on wood

    If there was ever going to be a day for the government to deport me, it may be today. Although, knock on wood, I’ll say it’s unlikely. As my friends and family found out this summer that I’m on my way to China, the overwhelming majority of the feedback consisted of cautionary tales and suggestions. Their concerns didn’t surround my health, diet, living accommodations or urban crime woes. Cue O Fortuna, Uncle Mao is out to get you (and this time, it’s personal). My dad went as far as to say, “You just don’t know communism.” Meaning, you’d be afraid if you knew better.

“You’re saying the government is lying to us, right?” is the semi-question from a student that made me think the sentence with which this blog post opens. A colleague asked me to speak to his class about the western tenets of journalism, covering objectivism, advocacy journalism, media conglomerates, state versus corporate ownership, etc. 

I finished a comment on the political implications of public accessibility to only one news source and heard someone murmuring the translation in Chinese to his classmates. I tuned in and in the absence of my voice, he spoke louder. Of his last couple sentences, I deciphered, “...... China.... Chinese government... China.”

That’s not what I said. I talked about how indiscriminate criticism by a variety of organizations, from NPR to the New York Times to NBC, all contributed to giving the news credibility. There was no mention of China. 

I asked, “What was the last thing you said?”

“You’re saying the government is lying to us, right?” he said with a ‘Who, me?’ expression.

I was irked. I didn't state the implications as facts, like he had relayed. 

“No,” I said. “I’m asking, how can you know one way or the other?”

“We can trust the government.”

“Why do you trust the government? Isn’t trust earned?”

“We can trust them.”

I felt the sting of regret after my next question, “Because you want to or because you have to?”

The feeling was temporary because the entire class intervened chorally, “Have to,” ending the conversation.

This encounter evidences the one comment I want to tell people about China right now: It is no Soviet Union.

Sure, when President Barack Obama visited last week, activists and bloggers were detained for the duration of his stay. The judicial system is corrupt and harsh. Local Party politics is the best business next to religion. Worse, the Great Firewall has prevented me from watching all those darned kitten-laden youtube videos that evidently merit an iPhone app. 

Meanwhile, due to China’s investment in infrastructure, American cities are going to look old and run down by comparison in a couple years. They’re fairing better than any other country against the Great Recession. Higher education is becoming increasingly accessible. Also, China’s clean energy program is giving Nor-Cal a run for its money.

However unconstrained the government’s power may be, unlike the USSR, pure paranoia isn’t used to substantiate public policy.

The ‘why do you trust the government’ conversation provokes hostilities, making it difficult to have. Various events from the Alien and Sedition Act to the creation of Gitmo nourish my skepticism, but my Chinese counterparts here don’t have a reserve of comparable examples. Tiananmen Square is not a buzz word for violently quelled student-led pro-democracy movement. Stating or implying it makes you an accuser.

Most importantly, though, my time here so far has been lovely. My students, in their uninhibited excitements, are lovely. The older folks who gather in groups of up to 40 on street corners and parking lots for their morning tai chi and evening dance routines are lovely. The ritual gatherings with my friends/urban family are lovely. Learning Chinese has been excruciating. In that department, I ain’t getting no love. 

Halloween. Polly, moi, Ale, Lizly and Janette in Suzhou

*Btw: After the rant in my previous post, I thought this particularly ironic.

Sociacommarxism

Uncomfortable silences aren’t new to my classrooms.     

     "That's right. In which other countries is Chinese spoken?"

     "Singapore."

     "Good, where else?"

     "Hong Kong," a student says.

     "Hong Kong is part of China," another one adds quickly.

     "Taiwan," someone says without raising their hand.

     Before I can validate the answer, it happens, "Taiwan is part of China."

     Deep uncomfortable silence. I fight back a smile.

     The students at Suzhou International Foreign Language School are not your typical Chinese kids. By nature of being a private school, their parents are well off, many of them owners of the Chinese factories we often generalize about (and I don't mean that rhetorically).

     So we start with a few soft pitches to the class: What's a good work to leisure time ratio? What profession would or wouldn't you like to have? Then I evoke a couple literal head scratches across the room. Do men and women have equal job opportunities? In three out of four of my high school classes, there were voices to repudiate the knee-jerk "yes's!"

     Should people be allowed to form workers' unions? Everyone seemed indifferent to the concept. Should they be allowed to strike? "No, because factories can close," echoed as the first answer each time, then silence.

     This time, I was the one who found the subsequent silence irksome, almost bewildering. Momentarily glancing at the Chinese teachers conducting my evaluation, I trudged on. Why do workers strike? Okay, why do they want more money? To get rich? Who depends on the worker? What kind of expenditures do families have (especially ones who work in factories)?

     So I'm in Marxist China, admittedly at a privileged institution, trying to provoke one of my commie students into defending the notion that workers should have the right to negotiate fair wages. I have ideas about what makes China communist, but it sure as hell is not the redistribution of wealth.

Happy 60th birthday People's Republic of China.

Questionable signage...

I expected to find these sorts of signs here, but that didn't diminish their noteworthiness.

Suzhou International Foreign Language School. Naturally, my school's acronym is SIFYLS

.... uh, silence

For the fourth time I shouted, “Where is the soap?” to an unresponsive crowd of 40 second graders, trying not to watch the spectacle that sidetracked my usually trigger-happy students. To my left, the homeroom teacher was dragging (and I mean dragging), a typically inattentive kid towards the door. “The soap is near the.....” The little guy was clawing the air, meanwhile slipping out of his shirt to escape. She lets go. I saw him break into a sprint in the direction of his seat and as he got there, I watched him mull over another dilemma: Uh, what now? He turns towards the back of the class, then realizes he’s trapped. With one Vader stare from the teacher, the poor kid crashes on the floor behind his desk. “Correct, the soap is near the T.V.” He got his chair back ten minutes later. 

Several days earlier, my tenth graders gave me an uncomfortable silence in class that I should probably start getting used to. It’s not easy coming up with discussion topics in a country where anything remotely political draws artificially blank stares. 


Science, I thought, would provoke appropriate yet thoughtful conversations. Would you eat genetically modified vegetables? Meat? Do you think computers will think on their own one day? Do you think couples should be able to choose the sex of their baby? Complete yet faint consensus to answer the last question, no. Why not, I ask. “No, because boys and girls are the same,” a bright female student says firmly and pointedly. Everyone’s eyes become fixed on one location and their stares transfixed. Within a third of a second I realize: oh shit, the one child policy, male preference, its social consequences, disproportionate male-female population..... shit.

Uncomfortable classroom situations haven’t deterred me from getting another teaching gig in Shanghai. I took the job because the pay is not bad and I get to commute to Shanghai on the weekends, though there’s a catch. I will be teaching English to kindergartners.

The People’s Republic of China is celebrating its 60th birthday, so I’ll be in Shanghai for a while taking advantage of a week long holiday. 


I’ll put up another post in a couple days of English grammatical curiosities and atrocities I’ve captured so far in China. Some are ‘laugh so hard you pee a little’ funny.

Let there be light.

Holding a pair of socks in my hand, I asked a woman at the market in Shanghai how much she wanted for them. 75 yuan(¥), nearly 11 dollars. Politely smiling, I replaced the socks exactly where I picked them up and started walking away. She grabbed my arm, how much am I willing to pay for them? Well, considering they’re tiny pieces of cloth I wear around my feet, no more than ¥5, I said. After two more attempts to walk away, I finally paid ¥20 for four pairs.

Polly and I took the 40 minute ride on the bullet train to Shanghai on Friday evening, in time to catch dinner with her sister and Lizly. (Polly, Lizly and I are neighbors and teach for the same school). I can’t fathom the electricity bills of cities in China, at least of the ones I’ve been to, considering the intensity of the pyrotechnic designs on every window of every building and skyscraper, including the outlines of highways and overpasses. In the meantime, there are tens of thousands of people around at any given moment. We arrived during rush hour, so the subway stations looked like an over-boiling pot of water with people constantly coming to the top and the subway cars bursting at the seams.

We went out Friday and Saturday night to various well-known places. I didn’t realize how accustomed I had become to Suzhou’s nightlife, which is populated mostly by Chinese but gives you ample opportunity to spot and mingle with foreigners. Most of the places I visited in Shanghai consisted of an overwhelmingly expat crowds. There is no question as to whether I enjoyed myself, but there was a different dynamic. Running into other foreigners when you’re out is fun, but I find places frequented by large groups of westerners to be a little tense. The prospect of moving to Shanghai is very appealing. Although, I don’t know if the issue of homogenous expat crowds will prevent me from doing so, or prove to be a temporary deterrence. Considering Shanghai’s close proximity to Suzhou, I’m sure there will be many more visits.

Shanghai is getting a little crazier right now because the International Expo is going take place there next year. Just as in preparations for the Beijing Olympics, half of the city is being renovated, because one can never have too many rainbow-hued lights adorning one’s manmade structures.

*Btw, the last three pics are from Suzhou. And click on any of the photos to get amazing resolution.

**We also took a ride on a bike-taxi in Shanghai... here's a quick video.

Nǐ hǎo Suzhou

I can only blame the belated creation of this blog on how good the dumplings (пельеми) and chǎo miàn are (‘chow mein’). It certainly feels like I’ve lived here more than two weeks. I was given my own furnished apartment, rice cooker and chop sticks included, on the top floor of the staff building on school grounds. Driving through Shanghai, construction cranes are scattered about the city and on the horizon as far as the eye can see. While on a bridge, I counted 28 cranes, all building structures with at least 15 floors. Suzhou, where I live, is aesthetically pleasing because although it seems just as much under construction as Shanghai, the development shares the city with large patches of green trees. Initially, the humidity was unbearable but it’s already acquiescing to fall.

Classes started just after that weekend. I teach about 20 lessons a week, 2nd graders and 10th graders. And yes, WTF is the deal with how spaced out those are? I had no say in choosing my classes, but así es la vida. Before I arrived, some told me Chinese kids may not be as rambunctious because, supposedly, they take their schooling far more seriously than Western kids: bullshit. Many are bright, but I have the spawn of Satan in at least five of my classes. The most remarkable difference I noticed is that the high school students are not nearly as awkward as those back home.

I always look forward to teaching my 10th graders because they affectionately poke fun at each other during class. Some take their English names more seriously than others. One girl’s name is Phantom and several boys insisted their names were Potato, Loofy and Big.

The 2nd graders, on the other hand, are responsible for my insomnia and sudden weight loss. Exaggerations aside, 90% of the time they’re lovely children who quarrel over hugging me and holding my hand, but when it’s a bad lesson, it’s awful. Luckily, it’s only happened a couple times, and it occurred right after lunch when they’re aching to take a “nappy-nap,” or during the last period, when they’d been in their 8th hour of learning that day.

As for my Mandarin, I have a tendency to learn verbs more quickly than nouns, so shopping, especially looking for a particular item, is a Las Vegas show production. I went hunting for an electric tea kettle and found myself staring at a selection in an electronics store. An employee started talking to me (ahem, at me) in Mandarin and my instincts produced: Nǐ yǒu (point at kettle) um...... (point at the price tag) xià? Translation: You have (point at kettle) um.... (point at the price tag) low? That was early in the game. I’ve since found a language buddy, a Chinese teacher, with whom I exchange English tips for Mandarin lessons. Earlier today I was able to explain to the taxi driver who everybody was in the car and how we know each other.

I’ll try to keep these entries short (the future ones will be shorter) because I know these things become taxing to follow. The internet in my building is down right now and most likely will not be up for another two weeks, so returning a messages may take a couple days.

Que esten bien. До побачення :)