… Chongqing! We are pleased to announce that we will be teaching in one of the biggest up-and-coming cities in China. Separated into it's own municipality from Sichuan in 1997, Chongqing municipality has over 30 million residents. The city itself houses only about 10 million, and we will be living near the center of it. Apparently our "Peace Corps experience" will include a 5th floor, 3 bedroom, 2 story apartment with 2 bathrooms (and a bathtub). This is why Peace Corps China is sometimes referred to as "Posh Corps." I would like to point out however, that this is also one of a handful of Peace Corps China sites where we will be issued a household air filter as a matter of course (can't wait to breathe in that filtered apartment air!). We will also be living in one of China's so-called "three furnaces" which as you could guess, means the summers will be unbearably hot. Consider: we find Chengdu unbearably hot and humid as it is, but there are people visiting here to escape the heat of Chongqing.
Nonetheless, we are pretty excited to finally have a form with which to mould our future plans. We will be working at Chongqing University of Science and Technology where have been told we will be teaching mostly male students. Also many of our students will be majoring in petroleum-related fields. I am hoping the "green curriculum" we have been given by the Peace Corps will be well received. We'll have a much better idea about all this after our site visit next week. In the meantime, we're trying to get our heads around this next phase and preparing ourselves for another stint in one of the mega-urban centers of Asia. Ni Hao Chongqing!
The air has felt like a furnace the past two days. We realized it was hot when our host family finally turned on their air conditioner for the first time this season (we've been using the one in our room daily for weeks). Today reached up to 35 degrees Celsius (95 F) with more than 85% humidity. To top it off, last night the power went out at about 2 am because of the power drain from all the air conditioners. We woke up soaked in sweat, feeling the heavy air in our faces. It didn't come back on until about 5 am. The demand simply overloaded the system. Since today has been even hotter, I imagine it could likely happen again tonight. The experience has made me reflect on China's power supply, the growing middle class demand for modern conveniences in China, and how people in the US take such things (modern appliances and an ample power supply) for granted.
Even though our host family is doing very well by Chinese standards, they live without many of the power sucking appliances that we consider everyday parts of life in the US: an oven, a clothes dryer, a dishwasher, a microwave, and a toaster oven for example. Their kitchen consists of a two-burner gas stove (with the ever-present large wok and a steamer on top), a rice cooker, and a small refrigerator (what we would probably consider college dorm size). Their gas stove has an impressive hood with an ingenious oil capture system, where all the oil collects in a funnel shaped clear jar hanging in the center. They have probably four air conditioners in the house, but the only one that has seen any use before yesterday is the one in our bedroom. Other than that, they have cell phones (blackberry-style), a flat screen TV mounted on the wall in the living room, and an oscillating fan near the TV that gets daily use. They also have a small older generation laptop computer, but as far as I can tell, they never use it since their blackberries cover all their connection and information needs. Compared with most American families, I estimate that these folks typically use about ¼ of the household energy (and much less in the countryside where many people don't have even the basics). Of course that's a figure that I just completely pulled out of the air, since we don't have a reliable internet connection to look up any statistics. I think this lifestyle is something to think about when we hear news stories about China surpassing the US in energy use, and the use of coal power and other environmentally damaging methods of power production. They are not eating up more and more power in order to live a luxurious lifestyle. They just want what many in the US would consider less than basic. Even though they are relatively minimalist when it comes to household energy use, the sheer numbers of people here and the energy shortage means that a neighborhood of people choosing to use an air conditioner only on one of the hottest, most unbearable nights of the year causes a power outage. The US has less than a quarter of the people, and until recently, used more energy. It's a realization that I am certainly going to be carrying home with me, and one that is going to shape my energy use decisions for the rest of my time here.
July 31, 2010
Last Thursday, Richy and I had our last round of Japanese encephalitis, rabies, and hepatitis shots, and gave our last bit of input into the process that will decide where we will be serving for the next two years. We will get the final answer on Thursday, August 5th. The fact that our fate is being decided this week gives me anxious jitters, but I also know that worrying about it is pointless because all we can do is learn to love our site when we get there, wherever it may be.
We finished up model school yesterday, so we can go back to our major focus of learning to speak Chinese next week. I didn't think I'd be looking forward to the four hour language blocks again, but here I am, daydreaming about the grammar structures I might know by next weekend. My vocabulary has been steadily growing each day, and I've been able to grasp some Chinese grammar without mangling it too much, but the 2nd and 4th tones still seem to disappear when I string together a sentence. I am also having trouble with the ji, xi, qi, ri, and re initials. All these issues can only be solved by painstaking repetition and correction, and like a child learning to play the violin, no one really wants to hear it until you know what you're doing. All my grammar and vocabulary won't matter a whit if I can't pronounce it in a way that the average Chinese person can understand.
Studying Chinese wouldn't nearly be as much fun if it weren't for the awesome group of ladies that serve as our Language-Culture Facilitators (LCFs) aka: our Chinese teachers. One of my favorites is Hu Laoshi (Miss Hu), who leaves me these gems of encouraging advice in my Trainee Assessment Packet: "You're very great! You speak well and you participation in classroom. You do all things very well, so just still do it! Only more practice the pronunciation on "r" and 2nd tones in a sentence." Quite possibly the most motivating part is that her English is so much better than my Chinese. I especially love the voices she does in class when she acts out the dialogues. Her "man-at-the-hotel-desk" impersonation is pure comic genius.
I am also anxiously looking forward to Monday's qipao shopping trip. Our LCFs are going to take us out to order traditional Chinese dresses to wear to our swearing in ceremony at the end of August. After today's trip to the Sichuan museum I was fantasizing about my qipao while gazing at antique silk brocade. I am sure there will be nothing even remotely like it in my price range, but it does serve to remind me of why traditional Chinese clothing has such an allure in the first place. Richy wants to see if he can get a Sun Yatsen suit (also known by Westerners as a "Mao suit") for a reasonable sum. Of course the term "reasonable sum" is relative here, where we're probably looking at 200 kuai for a decent tailored outfit, which while translating into only $30, could also translate into 100 between class beverages, 40 spicy lunches, 50 cross-town bus rides, or if you prefer, four and a half days of our Peace Corps China living allowance.
This last weekend served to acquaint us with the realities of Chinese transportation methods. On Saturday our LCF (Language and Culture Facilitators) scheduled us for a little "field trip." This outing began by being handed a piece of paper with no instructions. Instead the paper had several questions such as "What bus gets you to the train station? Do you have to transfer any buses to get there? Where is the entrance and the exit to the train station?" I hadn't realized this would be that kind of outing. We were then told, "Go to the train station." When we asked "How?" our LCFs just shrugged, told us to answer the questions and shooed us away. Once I realized that we were really being set off on our own, I jumped at the opportunity to be treated like an adult. However, after the first Chinese person looked at us like we were crazy for wanting to take a bus and suggested a taxi, we knew we were not in for an enjoyable Saturday afternoon on the town.
4 kuai (about 75 cents), two buses, a short walk and about an hour later we were confronted with the chaos that is a Chinese transit hub. Hundreds, if not thousands ofpeople were milling about, (some seemingly camped out) and while cabs, bicycles, and busses swirled around. We still had more questions to answer, so we set out to navigate the crowds and make educated guesses about the content of the train timetables. Our classmate Lindsey made the statement, "I hope never to come here again." A statement, which, while I wholeheartedly agree, I cringe to repeat aloud myself since the future undoubtedly holds countless more trips here.
After a hearty meal of dumplings and a well earned room temperature beer near the station, we set out to find a cab that could take us back to the campus. Once we saw the taxi line however, our plans drifted back to the bus. Thanks to traffic on the ring road, the trip back took about two hours, with standing room only. The highlight was when at 4 ½ foot tall Chinese woman sidled up next to me and began fanning her heavily made up face, whapping me in the boob with each pass. It was a small price to pay for the cool breeze she shared with my right armpit.
Field trip lessons learned:
-Always take a cab to and from the train station if possible.
-Personal space really is an illusion in China.
-A beer before a long, crowded city bus ride on a humid day makes life slightly more bearable.
The second Chinese bus installment of our weekend was voluntary, and thankfully featured coach buses that took us to the city of Leshan, which is the home of the largest Buddha statue in the world (ever since the Taliban did us the favor of blowing up the biggest ones in Afghanistan).The bus ride there took 2 hours, and included air conditioning as well as seatbelts (a true luxury in this sea of wild driving habits). When we arrived, we fended off a gang of aggressive cab drivers, and instead opted for a cheap public tour bus that advertised taking us in the direction of the big Buddha. Unfortunately we didn't realize that the bus was taking us to the East Gate of the park, which would cost us about twice as much as if we had made it to the South Gate. Either way, it was probably better that we ended up at the East Gate because we got to see several other sites including the world's largest reclining Buddha. The South Gate approach also would have been disappointing because the paths down to the base of the Buddha were closed because of flooding and torrential rain (but happily these factors also meant that there were no crowds to contend with). The Buddha was actually originally built because a monk got the idea that turning a huge rock face above the river into a Buddha would have a calming effect on the river. Of course since tons of rocks were removed from the cliffs and dropped to the bottom of the river, the Buddha did indeed have a calming effect on the river.
On the way back, we found more traffic, and got to spend three hours on the bus instead of two. Our weekend Chinese bus grand total came to 8 hours. I wonder how long it will be until we can break this prestigious record…
Big Buddha lesson learned:
-Torrential rain can restore personal space in public spaces.
Ever had a "Strange Taste Horsebean?" I now can say that I have (and yes, that is the actual translation on the package). How about blueberry flavored potato chips? Richy just had a bag for lunch. Curry flavored yak jerky? Not too different from what I would imagine curry flavored beef jerky would taste like. Every class break is an opportunity to expand our pre-packaged culinary horizons. It helps that we are surrounded by several other curious westerners, so we don't have to shell out the whopping 70 cent price tag to get a taste (we are, after all living on about $7/day). On the slightly less strange and more delicious side, we have also discovered aloe flavored yogurt, pineapple soft serve, crispy sesame ball snacks, and fresh cucumber flavored potato chips (with a slightly tingly menthol-ish after taste). The wonderful thing about the convenience stores on campus is that they hold all manner of curiosities, and we can choose at our pace how much variety we are willing to partake in.
When something mysteriously shows up on the host family table, however, the whole social pressure component comes into play. We want to be gracious guests and polite, and we honestly really do enjoy the vast majority of food that appears on the table. At the same time, we don't want to pretend to like things we hate, so we hopefully won't be fed them again. It's a fine balance to maintain. A few nights ago our host family dared us to try duck neck as an evening snack. It tasted a lot like smoked fish with a lot more bones. Luckily our Chinese vocabulary includes "so-so" and "not horrible." The next day, a dish of slightly strange looking meat showed up on the table with the normal dinner dishes, and I decided to take a small bite before asking what it was so my experience wouldn't be altered by any prejudice. It was a little too chewy to be enjoyable for my tastes and Richy later found out it was pig cheek. At least I know I tried it with a pure mind and didn't decide beforehand that I didn't like it. So far, our host family seems pretty knowledgeable about what foreigners find frightening on the dinner (and breakfast) table. I have heard stories about rabbit heads, duck blood and other such delicacies and I am glad they haven't been wasted on us. For breakfast we are usually served a boiled egg, some deliciously fluffy pork or vegetable filled dumplings, and a hot bowl of thick, purplish rice (and bean?) porridge. The porridge is actually quite good, filling, and seems quite healthy, but I am afraid it might be turning my guts into concrete. I am currently seeking ways to enhance my school day diet with caffeinated beverages, prunes, and any other fast moving vittles I can get my hands on.
Here we are at the beginning of another week in the People's Republic of China. I feel like I am finally getting used to the pace of the language classes, getting to know the people in our training group a little better and learning to function within our new daily routine. Having our breakfast and dinner prepared for us each day still feels strange, and I find myself with extra energy in the evenings which would normally be put to use on cooking and cleaning. Now I make flashcards, go over homework, and try to get as much reading done as I can before I fall asleep. We get authentic practice with our Chinese during the lunch hour, asking prices of dishes and ordering lunch and snacks at the shopping area near the school's south gate. We also make small conversation over the dinner table, alternately in broken Chinese and broken English, since our English-fluent jie-jie is out of town for a while. I imagine if we were doing our own shopping and such that our Chinese would get a little more practical use, but there is something about this sheltered environment that makes it seem more comfortable to try new phrases and grammatical structures knowing that we will still eat and not get ripped off in the process.
I didn't write about it at the time, but I have been going over in my mind the things we learned at our whole group sessions last Friday at Sichuan University, especially regarding the "diarrhea dialogue." This might give the folks back home an idea about what kind of education regarding health and safety we're getting here, rest assured – they are leaving no stone unturned. A wholly unappetizing topic, it seems to be foremost in my mind every time I've taken a drink or bite since. Not that I have had any particularly challenging issues in this area, especially after learning the official definition of diarrhea (at least by Peace Corps standards) is four loose bowel movements or more in a day (and try not to call the medical office until you have more than eight). What really struck me was the vast array of methods one could come to acquire this affliction. There is simply adjusting to new foods and levels of spiciness (luckily I had been working myself up to it with the trips to Lucky Strike and extra spiciness wherever applicable), medications, stress, medical conditions, viral infections, bacterial infections, toxins, and of course parasites! Thankfully the methods of avoidance are ones that Richy and I have discovered (sometimes the hard way) through our travels: eat only hot foods, see your street food get prepared, don't eat at empty restaurants, wash hands, wash and peel fruits and vegetables, don't drink the water, avoidance of too cheap bottled water, and trying to consume as many bland foods as possible when that icky gut feeling starts coming on (I hope those of you who plan to visit us here are taking heed). It is comforting to know that when (not if) it hits, the Peace Corps has provided us with several packets of balanced oral rehydration salts, and a handy recipe for making our own in case we run out or happen to have left home without it.
July 18th, 2010
Another week of training has passed and although exhausted, I am content that this experience is adequately preparing us for service. Hours and hours a day of language training is beginning to sink in, as I discovered today logging into my lingt.com account, I was able to identify several more terms that eluded me just last week! I still most look forward to our Thursday sessions at Sichuan University (despite getting up at 5:30 to catch the bus at 7:20 that got us there 45 minutes early), which have proven to provide the most practical survival tips and reassure me that all those lessons we learned the hard way in Korea were valid. This week we covered how to avoid unwanted attention and preserving personal space by throwing elbows and making ugly noises and gestures, and how to avoid getting so drunk at Chinese social functions that you can make it home with out needing stitches (now who would need that kind of information?).
Our host family invited us to join them in the evenings this week watching a television show called "Chinese Bridge." Think American Idol meets It's a Small World meets China. In this show, more than 100 foreigners try to show off their skills in Chinese language, singing, and other pop arts while basically making complete fools of themselves, all while dressed in "traditional" attire. For example, the woman from Egypt was dressed in a glitzy Cleopatra outfit, while the Korean woman danced around in her hanbok and several others were wearing kilts, lederhosen and other rarely seen European ensembles. The prize for winning the competition is apparently a round trip plane ticket home and back to China, and a scholarship to continue their Chinese studies. It's quite entertaining, especially since their Chinese performances are generally easy for me to understand, but there is also something unsettling about the way these people are so willing to make themselves into ethnic caricatures for the Chinese audience. Then again, this is probably a function of reality television programming everywhere, although I can't really imagine Americans watching a show where foreigners compete to show how well they speak English.
