The longer I am home, the more I will have processed my trip: Stay tuned for blogs summing up different aspects of my semester, telling about getting re-adjusted, and discussing issues that I didn't feel comfortable bringing up while under the watch of the government!
I'm home, but it's not the end.
11 August 2008
The Flight Home
I flew from Beijing at 4 p.m. on Sunday, August 10th. Because of the time difference, I arrived in Chicago at 4 p.m. on Sunday, August 10th. Pretty cool.
In fact, it was not just "pretty cool," it was very cold. For some reason, the flight attendants wanted the plane to be under 65 degrees. They give passengers those blankets, but many- myself included- were curled up in the fetal position to keep warm. It was that cold. I couldn't feel my toes.
Because of the frigid temperature, I didn't sleep at all.
I flew from Chicago to Columbus and arrived at nine in the evening. When I got home my family and I talked and looked through some of the gifts I brought home. By the time I went to bed, I had been awake for 32 hours straight.
This turned out to be a good situation because I went to bed around midnight, woke up at eight, and had a normal first-day home without any jet lag whatsoever.
In fact, it was not just "pretty cool," it was very cold. For some reason, the flight attendants wanted the plane to be under 65 degrees. They give passengers those blankets, but many- myself included- were curled up in the fetal position to keep warm. It was that cold. I couldn't feel my toes.
Because of the frigid temperature, I didn't sleep at all.
I flew from Chicago to Columbus and arrived at nine in the evening. When I got home my family and I talked and looked through some of the gifts I brought home. By the time I went to bed, I had been awake for 32 hours straight.
This turned out to be a good situation because I went to bed around midnight, woke up at eight, and had a normal first-day home without any jet lag whatsoever.
Beijing
The only word that I can think of to describe Beijing during the Olympics is: facade.
Honestly, my least favorite part of my entire trip to China was Beijing the past few days. I remember what it was like when I flew in in February, and almost everything was unrecognizable.
Small shops and street vendors had been closed down, and I wonder what those people do now for a living. Everyone was attempting to speak English and it was awkward. It was too crowded to see anything in the city. The city looked pristine and fake.
Also, the air was bad. I know they say they cleaned it up, and I believe they did. But I lived in Lanzhou, "one of the most polluted cities in China" for five months with no problems. In Beijing I had difficulty breathing and I coughed often. I still have my cough.
It was neat to be in Beijing during the Olympics. It was an exciting atmosphere. I got to see the cycling street race which was a great opportunity.
But I didn't get to talk to any locals, except friends that I already knew who live in Beijing, and I didn't get to experience what Beijing is actually like.
I prefer small Chinese cities to large ones.
Honestly, my least favorite part of my entire trip to China was Beijing the past few days. I remember what it was like when I flew in in February, and almost everything was unrecognizable.
Small shops and street vendors had been closed down, and I wonder what those people do now for a living. Everyone was attempting to speak English and it was awkward. It was too crowded to see anything in the city. The city looked pristine and fake.
Also, the air was bad. I know they say they cleaned it up, and I believe they did. But I lived in Lanzhou, "one of the most polluted cities in China" for five months with no problems. In Beijing I had difficulty breathing and I coughed often. I still have my cough.
It was neat to be in Beijing during the Olympics. It was an exciting atmosphere. I got to see the cycling street race which was a great opportunity.
But I didn't get to talk to any locals, except friends that I already knew who live in Beijing, and I didn't get to experience what Beijing is actually like.
I prefer small Chinese cities to large ones.
03 August 2008
Why So Many Posts at Once? Here's Why...
I'm not allowed online at public internet cafes anymore because I'm not Chinese.
True story.
While traveling alone, I never get bored because I can always write. I have been writing a lot, mostly in my journal. And I have written all the blogs I just recently posted.
I was able to post them because I happened to meet a nice couple here in the city if Dandong, and they invited me into their home. They do not care that I am not Chinese, in fact, it is one reason they like me, so they have graciously permitted me to use their computer.
I am beginning to realize how free America truly is.
True story.
While traveling alone, I never get bored because I can always write. I have been writing a lot, mostly in my journal. And I have written all the blogs I just recently posted.
I was able to post them because I happened to meet a nice couple here in the city if Dandong, and they invited me into their home. They do not care that I am not Chinese, in fact, it is one reason they like me, so they have graciously permitted me to use their computer.
I am beginning to realize how free America truly is.
Trains
I spend an excessive amount of time on trains. It’s getting ridiculous. I’ve tried to break up my traveling, going from nearby city to nearby city so that I’m not on a train for more than 24 hours at a time.
When I have a long distance to cover overnight, I try to get a sleeper car, but sometimes there aren’t any. Surprisingly, spending the night on a hard seat surrounded by the 134 other people in the car isn’t quite as bad as expected. Maybe I’m just an optimist.
Ok, it’s pretty bad, but not unbearable. For some unknown reason (er… check out one of my previous posts called “Coal”) Chinese people won’t open the windows on the trains. So not only does it get a little toasty, the smell is overwhelming. And the bathroom on the train doesn’t make things smell any better, either.
The worst part about trains, other than grime and foul odors, is getting bored. I try to alternate between reading, listening to music, writing, talking to children, and avoiding talking to creepy old men. Chinese children are great to talk to. And they’re so cute. The creepy old men are just creepy and old and have never seen a foreigner before so they ask me strange questions. Real examples:
“What language is spoken in America?” I just thought everyone knew.
“Are there fields in America?” How do you think the population gets fed?
“At what age do girls get married in America?” Everyone gets married at exactly the same age… not.
But trains are part of what I love so much about China. The Chinese rail system really brings out the true nature and character of the people.
On the train, strangers talk and laugh together. They share their food and trade seats so families can sit together.
But trains definitely bring out the bad side as well. Many Chinese people don’t understand the concept of waiting in line. I always get pushed and shoved and stepped on. I’ve been knocked over on several occasions. And no one apologizes. This is all just waiting for the train to arrive. Actually getting on the train can be worse.
On my way from Hohhot to Baotou, the aisles were filled with people who didn’t have seats. At every stop, more people would get on than would get off. Upon arriving at Baotou, I grabbed my bag and tried to get off the train. But twenty or more people were trying to get on. And it was like a mosh pit.
I just started pushing people and asking them to let me off. Then the train attendants tried to help me get off by pushing other people and then by pulling me. Nothing worked. Finally, I just started yelling, “Let me get off the train! You’re all crazy!” I’m not sure if the people getting on were alarmed simply by a foreign girl calling them insane, or if they were shocked that I was speaking Chinese. There was a lot of exclaiming going on.
And they thought I was Russian. Do Russians yell a lot?
When I have a long distance to cover overnight, I try to get a sleeper car, but sometimes there aren’t any. Surprisingly, spending the night on a hard seat surrounded by the 134 other people in the car isn’t quite as bad as expected. Maybe I’m just an optimist.
Ok, it’s pretty bad, but not unbearable. For some unknown reason (er… check out one of my previous posts called “Coal”) Chinese people won’t open the windows on the trains. So not only does it get a little toasty, the smell is overwhelming. And the bathroom on the train doesn’t make things smell any better, either.
The worst part about trains, other than grime and foul odors, is getting bored. I try to alternate between reading, listening to music, writing, talking to children, and avoiding talking to creepy old men. Chinese children are great to talk to. And they’re so cute. The creepy old men are just creepy and old and have never seen a foreigner before so they ask me strange questions. Real examples:
“What language is spoken in America?” I just thought everyone knew.
“Are there fields in America?” How do you think the population gets fed?
“At what age do girls get married in America?” Everyone gets married at exactly the same age… not.
But trains are part of what I love so much about China. The Chinese rail system really brings out the true nature and character of the people.
On the train, strangers talk and laugh together. They share their food and trade seats so families can sit together.
But trains definitely bring out the bad side as well. Many Chinese people don’t understand the concept of waiting in line. I always get pushed and shoved and stepped on. I’ve been knocked over on several occasions. And no one apologizes. This is all just waiting for the train to arrive. Actually getting on the train can be worse.
On my way from Hohhot to Baotou, the aisles were filled with people who didn’t have seats. At every stop, more people would get on than would get off. Upon arriving at Baotou, I grabbed my bag and tried to get off the train. But twenty or more people were trying to get on. And it was like a mosh pit.
I just started pushing people and asking them to let me off. Then the train attendants tried to help me get off by pushing other people and then by pulling me. Nothing worked. Finally, I just started yelling, “Let me get off the train! You’re all crazy!” I’m not sure if the people getting on were alarmed simply by a foreign girl calling them insane, or if they were shocked that I was speaking Chinese. There was a lot of exclaiming going on.
And they thought I was Russian. Do Russians yell a lot?
The Magic Slope
Just outside of the city of Shenyang is a “magic slope” which, as you could probably guess, is not magic. But of course, I had to go check it out.
Everyone I talked to about it in Shenyang described it as an anti-gravity hill in which you effortlessly go up, but going down you must work as if you were going up. I was picturing a road on a grassy hill, but was bracing myself for another Chinese-ified tourist attraction.
As I neared the entrance gate to the magic slope, I was pleased to note that I was in a hilly, grassy region that smelled like summer in Ohio. But actually at the magic slope I found a flat track only about 20 meters long. They had bicycles to use, but the first time through the track I walked.
I didn’t notice anything.
On the bike, half of the way I had to pedal, the last half it felt like I was rolling down a hill. Not only did I not have to pedal, I was gaining speed.
So I guess it was pretty cool, but it was not a slope whatsoever. And I never for a second imagined it to be magic.
Everyone I talked to about it in Shenyang described it as an anti-gravity hill in which you effortlessly go up, but going down you must work as if you were going up. I was picturing a road on a grassy hill, but was bracing myself for another Chinese-ified tourist attraction.
As I neared the entrance gate to the magic slope, I was pleased to note that I was in a hilly, grassy region that smelled like summer in Ohio. But actually at the magic slope I found a flat track only about 20 meters long. They had bicycles to use, but the first time through the track I walked.
I didn’t notice anything.
On the bike, half of the way I had to pedal, the last half it felt like I was rolling down a hill. Not only did I not have to pedal, I was gaining speed.
So I guess it was pretty cool, but it was not a slope whatsoever. And I never for a second imagined it to be magic.
Mongolia
This week, for the first time, I successfully made a joke in Chinese.
With my Chinese friends, if I ever say something I think is funny, I have to explain in English why I said it. And by then, it’s definitely not funny anymore.
So, what I said definitely isn’t funny in English, but I can’t say “I told a joke” and not tell it. I’m not expecting you to laugh.
I was in a taxi and my driver was pretty cool. We talked about why I’m in China and what I like about it here. I told him that I really liked traveling in Inner Mongolia.
I asked him to clarify the Chinese names of Inner Mongolia, a province in China, and the actual country of Mongolia. The name for Inner Mongolia is like “Mongolia inside of China” and Mongolia is “Mongolia outside of China.”
When he said this, I smiled and he asked why.
Of course Mongolia is outside of China! Why not “USA outside of China” “England outside of China” “Saudi Arabia outside of China?” (Much more concise in Chinese.)
I think the driver laughed for a good minute or so.
I’m still laughing because China thinks it owns everything, including Mongolia, Genghis Khan, Mount Everest, Kazakhstan, the color red, and North Korea.
With my Chinese friends, if I ever say something I think is funny, I have to explain in English why I said it. And by then, it’s definitely not funny anymore.
So, what I said definitely isn’t funny in English, but I can’t say “I told a joke” and not tell it. I’m not expecting you to laugh.
I was in a taxi and my driver was pretty cool. We talked about why I’m in China and what I like about it here. I told him that I really liked traveling in Inner Mongolia.
I asked him to clarify the Chinese names of Inner Mongolia, a province in China, and the actual country of Mongolia. The name for Inner Mongolia is like “Mongolia inside of China” and Mongolia is “Mongolia outside of China.”
When he said this, I smiled and he asked why.
Of course Mongolia is outside of China! Why not “USA outside of China” “England outside of China” “Saudi Arabia outside of China?” (Much more concise in Chinese.)
I think the driver laughed for a good minute or so.
I’m still laughing because China thinks it owns everything, including Mongolia, Genghis Khan, Mount Everest, Kazakhstan, the color red, and North Korea.
My Chinese Dress
I’ve been meaning to buy a qi pao or Chinese dress for a while now. I’ve been looking around at different silks, and until today I hadn’t found exactly what I was looking for.
I found a black silk with subtle red dragons on it. The effect is maroon.
The dressmaker fitted me for the dress. She was taking measurements and I was standing in my underwear in front of a mirror with several Chinese women watching. And then an anorexic Chinese girl came in to get fitted too.
Beside her, I felt fat but good about it.
I found a black silk with subtle red dragons on it. The effect is maroon.
The dressmaker fitted me for the dress. She was taking measurements and I was standing in my underwear in front of a mirror with several Chinese women watching. And then an anorexic Chinese girl came in to get fitted too.
Beside her, I felt fat but good about it.
The Dreaded Phrase
A few months ago, I learned a Chinese phrase that I really liked. It’s jia you and it’s used kind of like how we use “let’s go” or “go, fight, win.”
I like the phrase because of what it actually means. Jia means to add. You means oil. And the idea is “add oil to the fire.” Like… keep on going, keep on burning. Get it?
And, interestingly, the word for gas station is jia you zhan with zhan meaning a stop or a stand.
But because of the Olympics, I never stop hearing jia you. It’s getting exceptionally annoying. No one says anything else. In English, we have several phrases to convey this same idea. In Chinese, they only use one. And they use it often.
I don’t want to hear it again… so much so that I’m not proofreading this post because I can’t bear to even see the words again.
I like the phrase because of what it actually means. Jia means to add. You means oil. And the idea is “add oil to the fire.” Like… keep on going, keep on burning. Get it?
And, interestingly, the word for gas station is jia you zhan with zhan meaning a stop or a stand.
But because of the Olympics, I never stop hearing jia you. It’s getting exceptionally annoying. No one says anything else. In English, we have several phrases to convey this same idea. In Chinese, they only use one. And they use it often.
I don’t want to hear it again… so much so that I’m not proofreading this post because I can’t bear to even see the words again.
Jeans
Do you have something that you can’t let go of and you don’t quite know why?
That sounds like a deep, philosophical question, but I’m just referring to my jeans.
I’m trying to travel as light as I can. I keep throwing things away. Last week I left behind my sweat shirt. It’s summer, even though it gets a little chilly up north. I’m doing fine with just three shirts to wear. Tomorrow it will be two. Socks and underwear? They’re washable, so why need so many?
I don’t need my jeans. It’s really hot, so I’m wearing shorts. But I can’t throw out my jeans.
They even have holes in them. One big hole in the crotch and two small holes by the butt pockets. The legs are frayed and gross.
But they have traveled with me around China for six months and I love them. They are coming back to America with me, no matter how much room they take up in my bag (a lot).
It’s kind of like how I’m possessive of my train tickets. When I got here, I thought it would be cool to keep all of my train tickets. I was thinking, “All four of them.” But now that I have almost 20, what’s the point? One time I was getting off the train and the attendant took my ticket. It upset me. I have so many, but I can’t throw them away. I just can’t. They took me all the places that I’ve been to with my jeans.
That sounds like a deep, philosophical question, but I’m just referring to my jeans.
I’m trying to travel as light as I can. I keep throwing things away. Last week I left behind my sweat shirt. It’s summer, even though it gets a little chilly up north. I’m doing fine with just three shirts to wear. Tomorrow it will be two. Socks and underwear? They’re washable, so why need so many?
I don’t need my jeans. It’s really hot, so I’m wearing shorts. But I can’t throw out my jeans.
They even have holes in them. One big hole in the crotch and two small holes by the butt pockets. The legs are frayed and gross.
But they have traveled with me around China for six months and I love them. They are coming back to America with me, no matter how much room they take up in my bag (a lot).
It’s kind of like how I’m possessive of my train tickets. When I got here, I thought it would be cool to keep all of my train tickets. I was thinking, “All four of them.” But now that I have almost 20, what’s the point? One time I was getting off the train and the attendant took my ticket. It upset me. I have so many, but I can’t throw them away. I just can’t. They took me all the places that I’ve been to with my jeans.
Hotels
I arrived in Tongliao by train at 4:30 a.m. on July 31st. I found a run-of-the-mill, cheap hotel near the train station and immediately took a nap in my room. I woke up, did some laundry in the sink of the community bathroom, checked to see if there was a shower (none), hung up my clothes to dry in my room, and went out to discover what Tongliao was all about.
I came back to my room in the afternoon to grab a few things. I checked my drying clothes, and that’s when I noticed the cockroaches coming out from the door frame.
Alarming? Not to me anymore. I’m used to this. It’s just a normal Chinese budget hotel.
I came back to my room at night. As I was brushing my teeth, several people were trying to wash large planks of some sort in the sink next to mine. They stared at me because I’m a foreigner, but they were the ones washing two-by-fours in a little sink, not me.
Luckily, it was hot in my room so I didn’t have to use the unwashed comforter provided for me. In fact, I even wanted the fan blowing on me (there was a fan!!!). After I got in bed, I realized there was no light switch in the room.
It was in the hallway.
I woke up in the middle of the night. Half a minute later, I heard several loud Chinese men yelling in the hall. And I noticed my fan was not working. The power had gone out.
In the morning, I used the light of my cell phone to make my way to my door. Out in the hallway, I hit the light switch. I had forgotten about there being no electricity.
So, I used my cell phone to get ready and to pack up my bag. I took a train to Shenyang and arrived that afternoon. I splurged and spent Y40 on a hotel with a shower. A community shower. But it was worth it.
I came back to my room in the afternoon to grab a few things. I checked my drying clothes, and that’s when I noticed the cockroaches coming out from the door frame.
Alarming? Not to me anymore. I’m used to this. It’s just a normal Chinese budget hotel.
I came back to my room at night. As I was brushing my teeth, several people were trying to wash large planks of some sort in the sink next to mine. They stared at me because I’m a foreigner, but they were the ones washing two-by-fours in a little sink, not me.
Luckily, it was hot in my room so I didn’t have to use the unwashed comforter provided for me. In fact, I even wanted the fan blowing on me (there was a fan!!!). After I got in bed, I realized there was no light switch in the room.
It was in the hallway.
I woke up in the middle of the night. Half a minute later, I heard several loud Chinese men yelling in the hall. And I noticed my fan was not working. The power had gone out.
In the morning, I used the light of my cell phone to make my way to my door. Out in the hallway, I hit the light switch. I had forgotten about there being no electricity.
So, I used my cell phone to get ready and to pack up my bag. I took a train to Shenyang and arrived that afternoon. I splurged and spent Y40 on a hotel with a shower. A community shower. But it was worth it.
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