圣诞节快乐！

Teddy Bear Christmas tree from the Xizhimen Mall.

Although they have been randomly sighted all over Beijing all month, Christmas decorations appeared suddenly at school on the 24th, the day before our designated "Winter Solstice Holiday". Plastic trees were stood as sentries on all three floors of our campus and boxes of ornaments were left nearby so that we all had the chance to do a little decorating as we rushed between classes.

The teachers didn't really know what to do with the garlands, so they just kind of tossed them on to the trees in lumps.

There was even a wreath and a Santa stocking posted on the bulletin board. What kind of treats do you think can be found in Santa's brain?

(Jessica, who has a strong dislike of being in photographs, is extremely good at getting me to pose for very ridiculous ones.)

Christmas Eve was spent with sushi and a rock and roll show but most of Christmas Day was eaten up by homework and preparation for a speech I gave later in the week. I did take a couple of hours off to wander around the city, hoping I would find some amusing expressions of Beijingers' cheerily ambivalent attitude towards Christmas, or at least some babies in Santa hats. Nothing doing (note to China: Vietnam is SO ahead of you. Get some Santa hats on your babies, and pronto!). At least I was able to get something for everyone on my list at the Xidan bookstore:

And I did find this adorable child while wandering around Tiananmen:
I didn't really take any other pictures. Not only because I figured you had all seen enough iconic images of the giant Mao portrait at the gate to the Forbidden City, but because the lately the air has been so absolutely disgusting, that everything looks gray and dusty and the light is all weirdly refracted.

Here's a little comparison shot of central Beijing from thebeijinger.com:

According to the accompanying post, on a good day in Beijing the Air Pollution Index is between 50 and 150. Numbers over 300 trigger emergency health warnings and recommendations to just plain avoid going outdoors. Yesterday, we hit 421.

There is also a good article on the topic that was just posted on the New York Times website.

So that was Christmas. The 4th one I've spent outside of North America and undeniably the least exciting one yet. It did have its moments though, most notably the receipt of a large box of rad presents on Christmas Eve and attendance at a party hosted by the owners of these shoes:

NERDING OUT ON LANGUAGE (Part 1)

I've always been a huge fan of etymologies, but in English they are sometimes rather hard to track down. Why something is spelled a certain way and what its Latin root might have to do with that or to say about that is rarely apparent (though for the curious and diligent, there are great rewards to be reaped in discovering, via the OED, that 'science' derives from the same root as 'shit'). There is plenty of obscurity in Chinese when it comes to the original meanings and forms of characters, but there are also lots of compelling and often amusing etymologies built right in.

In English we have the term "to butter up", the meaning of which seems metaphorically intuitive and obvious to a native speaker but really, what the hell does an oily preparation have to do with achieving some alternate motive through flattery? Can anyone think of a good reason?

In class this week, I had to try to explain the similar Chinese term 拍马屁 (pai ma pi), or to "pat horse buttocks", to a classmate, who is perpetually doing exactly this in order to get at the delicious cougar snacks he knows I have stored in my locker. "Perhaps your neighbor has a new horse", I told him, "and you want something from him, or maybe just to build good relations with him, so when you see his new horse you pat the horse butt and say: "this horse is very attractive" or something like that. You do this because you have another goal in mind" (incredibly, in Chinese, this probably sounded even more ridiculous).

Another of my favorite Chinese phrases (set expressions called chengyu) came up this week in our readings. Although it simply means "not enough to go around", the Chinese term is so much better. How much do I wish that somewhere out there, some nouveau riche Chinese "Socialist" is surveying his party and saying aloud "gosh, I thought I bought enough cocaine and hookers, but it looks like I've got a real 'monks-many-porridge-few' (粥少僧多) situation on my hands?

Answer: a lot.

THE COUGAR DOMINATION PLEDGE DRIVE or, STARTS WITH AN 'R' AND ENDS WITH AN 'ECIPROCATION'*

The Official Pledge Drive mascot, an 11-day old South China tiger cub.

This tiger cub is cute, isn't it? Those watery eyes, that snuggly fur, and those adorably outsized paws, along with that little touch of sadness that just makes the cuteness all the more powerful. He is so cute, in fact, that although I have this newspaper image of him on my desk (ripped from the pages of the China Daily), I can't stop looking at the photograph of that picture that I have posted on the screen in front of me. Then again, I'm a little lonely these days.

School has been keeping me phenomenally busy, but not enough to make me forget that I haven't been hugged in more than 3 months, or that I lack companions with whom to watch all the pirated DVDs I've collected, to enjoy music with, or to battle the human oceans of Beijing. I'm also just about to have the loneliest holiday season EVER. It isn't that there aren't good people around, its just that the best people are in time zones far away from my own and I miss them so.

This is where you come in. I need mail. Desperately. I love to write postcards and letters, but I've been putting so much time into ye' old blog that I haven't been doing so much of that. However, considering the mail I have put out into the world in my lifetime, I think I merit a little something in return. I'm tired of looking into an empty mailbox, or carting up Jessica's twice weekly missives from her well-trained friends. I'm sick of half-heartedly sifting through the mail pile at school, knowing that nothing is for me (mostly I know this because I haven't given anyone my school address, but still - poor me!). Some of you have been extremely good, others could do much better. I'm not going to name and shame, but you know who are you. Thank you to all those who have written or sent goodies. I am so grateful (and responses are forthcoming)! To the rest, now is the time.

Below is my school address. If you e-mail me, I will happily provide my home address, but it seems a little foolhardy just to put it on the interwebs. Besides, if you send stuff to school all the other kids are going to think I am way popular:

China
Beijing 100084
Tsinghua University
Wen Bei Lou, 502
Inter-University Program

中国
北京100084
清华大学
文北楼502

(the Latin-script should be sufficient, but if you know Chinese, or feel like cutting, pasting, and printing, the Chinese-script will probably speed your mail along)

If you don't have the time to make real mail, send an e-mail (though I will probably take a terribly long time to respond). And if you don't want to e-mail, I do always appreciate comments in the handy forum provided below. It just makes me feel like you guys are out there somewhere, and that warms the heart mightily.

Thank you so very much, and happy holidays to all!

*"starts with a '[single letter]' and ends with a '[rest of the word]' are both copyright Mark Siano 1997 or earlier.

SEXY BEIJING

The weekend before last I was at an AIDS benefit with some classmates and overheard "Did you see Sexy Beijing?" "No, is she here?". I hadn't a clue what they were talking about but was told that this "Sexy Beijing" thing was a video-blog whose creator and star was in our midst. Although from the sounds of it I feared some sort of chipper horror of a expat covering the local club scene, my vision was quickly amended as the young lady in question, a sweet, diminutive American girl with distinctive horn-rimmed glasses, stopped to talk to my friends on her way out. My curiosity was piqued, so much so that I remembered the encounter despite the fact that it occurred early in the evening, before we passed a massage parlor offering not only a seemingly unnecessary "massage of the kidney", but also a possibly useful but rather shady sounding "massage of the ovary", as well as a tantalizingly vague "part of the body massage". It also withstood much wandering around a sleepy hutong looking for a secret bar called "Candy Floss", and ending up in a packed bar where a Chinese band played a surprisingly kick-ass cover of a song I usually hate, Sting's "Englishman in New York". It must have been the bongos.

Anyhow, last weekend, while coming down from a midterm, I looked up Sexy Beijing on Youtube, which, happily, is hardly ever blocked these days, and I actually quite enjoyed it. Su Fei is a personable hostess, and does the best kind of pop anthropology, chatting with regular folks about all manner of topics with apparent ease. The production quality is great, and the gimmick not overdone.

This one, on the English names Chinese people choose for themselves, is quite short and funny:



This one, on finding love in Beijing, is more in keeping with the spirit of the original:



This one is mostly ridiculous, but kind of worth it just so you can hear "我有bitches，我可以大电话给她" (I have some bitches I can call) [at about 4:47 if you're impatient]。 There are also lots of pretty girls and some very silly Chinese rappers.



The production company behind Sexy Beijing, Danwei.org, has some other good stuff out there too, most of it far more on the intellectual side of the infotainment spectrum, which I recommend you browse at your leisure as time and interest permits.

MY ROOMMATE JESSICA (狄可佳)

I've had this post in my drafts for ages now, but keep deleting half of it and then setting it aside and then editing it again. It's not easy to describe a friend, particularly someone who is (as Montana suggested), like an island for me here. I couldn't do without Jessica and I want you all to know how awesome she is, but I know I can't do her justice here, so for now, this will have to suffice.

Firstly, you should know that she doesn't like having her picture taken, so these socks, my birthday present to her, will have to do. She likes to pretend she's a bit of a grouch, but only as compared to me, seeing as some of my favorite things are whistling in the morning, jumping rope, and drinking Stolichnaya (a very dangerous $6.50 a bottle here). In reality, she is one of the most considerate, personable, generous, open-minded people I have ever encountered, but I suppose a veneer of negativity keeps her from being deluged with applications for friendship (also, you probably shouldn't cross her, ever). Sometimes she calls me Lele, short for 乐观 (leguan) or optimistic, and I call her Beibei, short for 悲观 (beiguan) or pessimistic. We make a good team.

The grumpy-face socks have a greater significance here in China, where for us foreigners the whole face-saving dance and concommitant avoidance of direct confrontation gets old quick, and it is a mighty relief to have someone to vent with. In Chinese you say 出气 (chu qi), or "to vent one's spleen". We make a habit of it.

Jessica and I only met at the hotel breakfast on the morning after we arrived here, but she has also spent the last two years in Bloomington, studying for her Masters in Chinese Pedagogy in the East Asian Language and Culture Department. Jessica already has a job lined up to teach Chinese at a private high school in Chicago next year, and actually taught first year Chinese last year at IU while I was in third year. Still, its awfully strange we never met.

We are studying at the same level here at IUP even though our abilities are very different. Jessica has been studying Chinese for five years off and on, and spent a year studying abroad in China while an undergrad. She has very precise tones, good pronunciation and excels at dealing with daily life. I have shoddy (but much improved tones) and can barely order a meal by myself, but I have an enormous vocabulary and in the right setting can talk easily about all sorts of big ideas. No, this has NOTHING to do with our individual personalities! How dare you think such a thing! We do, however, joke that our combined powers make for one excellent Chinese speaker.

We joke a lot actually, one might even say perpetually, and it is a very good thing. Readiness to laugh and to be delighted, rather than frustrated, by cultural dissimilarities and obstacles to going about daily tasks, is really a prerequisite for living here. Jessica is excellent to have around in all manner of situations, not only when being chased by douche or wandering the grasslands, but also in the wonderland of our local grocery store, or during long taxi rides when we entertain ourselves by looking up dirty words in our electronic dictionaries. She is particularly ace at responding to enthusiastic greetings on the subway. Not only does she have a powerful command of the Chinese expression meaning "piss off", but I once witnessed her befuddling of two Chinese dudes who she first spoke Japanese to and then explained to in flawless Mandarin that we really were Japanese. There is also no one aside from her that I would rather assist in wording a note to the upstairs neighbors humbly requesting that they reduce the volume on their amorous activities.

We're perfect roommates for the additional reason that she cooks to de-stress and I clean to de-stress, meaning that we enjoy delicious eats in highly sanitary conditions! She does a fantastic pumpkin soup, bean soup, persimmon pudding, banana bread, and seaweed and sesame salad; and uses her mean stir-fry skills to make tofu and veggies her bitch. This has given me ample practice in using the grammar pattern which foregrounds the object dispensed with, notably in the phrase 我把你做的饭吃完了 (literally: I took the food you made and ate it until it was gone).

Comprehende? She's rad.

ALL NEWS IS GOOD NEWS

Both of my morning classes take place just off an all-purpose room optimistically termed the 休息室 (relaxation room), where one can peruse a variety of Mandarin newspapers as well as the country's official English-language newspaper, the China Daily. Those in my cohort are not yet advanced enough to read much in Chinese newspapers (which, again, have their own style of language), but my classmates Wei Lian and Ding Ding have developed a habit of perusing the China Daily together during the break between our classes (I usually just sulk in the corner and lament my poor classroom performance). By peruse, I really do mean that they just leaf through, as there isn't much to be gleaned from news items like this:

Or hard-hitting editorials like this:

While these are mostly just facile, there are also many that make optimistic pro-China news items out of non-events;

Or misrepresent news items in the interest of the CCP:

In the case of this one I must call attention not only to the inaccurate image that people of Chinese descent the world over are rioting in the streets to bring Taiwan back into the tender arms of the motherland, but to the troublesome linguistic distinction that a country cannot actually secede from another with whom it has no diplomatic ties.

Usually the only time I pay attention to the China Daily is when Wei Lian and Ding Ding find a real zinger of a headline, the kind that causes laughter and light consternation and to which our classmate Han Wei characteristically responds with a sing-song "mei you daoli" (没有道理 - literally - 'lacking in truth'). These articles are not so much outright falsehoods, but gross distortions based on extremely vague statements of supposed fact.

I really feel for the journalists behind these pieces, apparently required to create a headline which has little more to bolster it than the bold-faced quote: "The judicial reform process has been progressing smoothly". The body of the text contains another such quote from the garrulous Chief Justice Xiao:

"The number of death sentences has been gradually decreasing and human rights are being better protected", Xiao told a national work conference on court reform, without elaborating.

Because why would you need to elaborate on such on obvious statement of fact? Progress is progress, Socialism with Chinese Characteristics is the way forward, and all those tricky human rights issues and environmental catastrophes are pretty much going to work themselves out, right?

Of course I have selected only the most extreme examples from the last week, and much of the paper is actually composed of international articles taken from wire sources (but certainly cleared through some national authority) which exhibit no more or less truthiness than those you would find anywhere else. I think the thing that really gets me about the more farcical articles is that I just don't understand on whose behalf they are being produced. They must know that the English speaking readers of the paper are just going to chuckle at the empty places where news should be and go find contraband ways of reading the New York Times online, yet they obviously put a great deal of care into keeping up the appearance of vigilant indoctrination. So I suppose its just another wink, wink, nudge, nudge sort of a deal. You pretend to write the news and we'll pretend to read it.

WANG LEE HOM - 放开你的心 (open up your heart)

Starting at 7:50am and continuing during each and every 10-minute break between classes at IUP, Chinese pop music is played loudly over the school's speakers. I have yet to determine the purpose of this system, but I very much enjoy the insta- life soundtrack it provides. Every few weeks the five or six songs that rotate get replaced by a new set and I must say, someone has fairly decent taste, at least regarding inoffensive, chipper tunes. For several weeks running now, Wang Lee Hom, a massive heartthrob on the mainland (and apparently a star in Ang Lee's Lust: Caution, which is screening here in a massively censored form) has been the darling of the IUP airwaves. This is not one of the songs playing now (there's too much English in it for that), but it is one of my cheesy favorites from the dreamy Mr. Wang. Enjoy

生日快乐?

This year my birthday fell on a Tuesday which also happened to be the first day of the new semester. As much as I agree with my teachers that a glorious entree into the Chinese language is the greatest gift of all, this happenstance didn't exactly lend itself to an opportunity for celebration. Luckily we had Monday off, so I went to explore the city's tea district then met a dozen or so classmates for dinner at Xiangyang Tun, a Cultural Revolution themed restaurant (because who doesn't want to re-live those all-singing, all-dancing, all-persecuting, halcyon days?).
Because it was a Monday night there wasn't much of a show, but we did get a taste of the comedic and acrobatic skills of the proletariat.



We would have missed most of the show anyway, as we had our own Chinese style private room, which was kind of lavish looking and unsurprisingly, rather red. The gilded Buddha in the center was flanked on either side by little cubbies with beds, reflecting, I am sure, the opulence enjoyed by the peasantry in the mid to late 1960s. The food was good, though not spectacular. The meat-eaters liked the ribs, and the herbivores enjoyed the soybeans, greens, and Chinese chives cooked in a clay pot. A surprise hit was the fish stew with cornbread (at right). We opted against sampling the more authentic fare of variously prepared innards, and were all the happier for it. Not that we didn't eat well...


Apparently there was an attempt to bring the evening's performers into the room to sing to me, but there was a miscommunication and they went home early. I was perfectly happy just to be serenaded by all of my classmates.

Bellies filled, we departed for a round of drinks at a bar close to campus. Chinese people don't really go to bars, preferring to drink at restaurants or at home, so the only bars around are those catering to and populated by foreigners. It seems that certain of these foreigners believe they have reason to doubt the quality or authenticity of the beverages on offer at these establishments, thus the reassurance below:

When Jessica and I got home, it was almost midnight, and I responded with the tears and lamentations I thought appropriate upon reaching an age at which unmarried women are referred to in Chinese as the 大龄女青年 (aged youth). Jessica presented me with a gift bag of marvelously weird stickers, notebooks, and pins, and I gibbered unintelligibly about my 学历太高了and 找不到男朋友 problems. The girl is a saint really.

The week staggered by, but the blows of the new semester were softened by all of the thoughtful birthday greetings from friends near and far. My dear mb must come in for extra special commendation, as her care package of handmade birthday wonder was one of the nicest things I've ever received.

On Friday we hosted IUP's weekly happy hour, starting at 7:30pm so the teachers could come if they wanted to, but lasting into the early morning (at around 2:30 we accompanied the last 5 or 6 revelers to our classmate Adam's apartment two floors for an "after-after-party", though I fear that my bragging about this just shows how old I really am). I was nervous, as I always am when hosting a party, that no one would show up, but as it turned out it was a really, really fun time. Hula hoops were employed, hipster music videos were viewed, towers of Yanjing beer were created, and I mixed drinks using my new Olympic mascot shot glass.

This panda, who goes by the name of Jingjing, is my favorite of the five Olympic friendlies depicted in murals and on souvenirs all over town. Jingjing represents sports classified as liliang (meaning physical strength or force) and according to the official mascot website:

Jingjing makes children smile -- and that's why he brings the blessing of happiness wherever he goes. You can see his joy in the charming naivety of his dancing pose and the lovely wave of his black and white fur. As a national treasure and a protected species, pandas are adored by people everywhere.

And that's all fine and good, but I am slightly troubled that Jingjing's "charming naivety and optimism" seem to lend so much to his sharpshooting. If you think about it though, violent pandas are pretty freaking punk rock.

All of which goes to say, you really shouldn't let me get started on pandas. Returning to the party, I must say again that it was terribly fun, and that it felt kind of deliciously naughty speaking all night in English to people that I have to speak Chinese with during the week. Although party photos tend to make both participants and event look less fun that they really are, here are a few.

Leslie and Jason (whose blog is essential reading for those wanting more critical observations on modern China as well as for those just wanting vicarious visits to Siberian tiger reserves).

Laura, working the red on red.

Canaan, who celebrated his birthday on Friday and wore the birthday crown I passed down to him with great manly gusto.

Though I woke up happy this morning in recalling the evening's merriment, I confess that at times I have felt better. It was a grand, lazy day though, with much tea drinking, a bit of internet time-wasting, bustling about the house, and a trip to the city's art district to see a gallery exhibit on the Chinese New Wave. Chinese Dada from the 1980's? I don't know if it can get much cooler than that (but if it can, rest assured that you will hear all about it).

THE PLACE

The Place is a new shopping center in central Beijing which claims to have the largest LED screen in the world and uses it to dramatic effect by streaming scenes of either outer space or undersea. This was the part where we went hurtling towards the sun and the whole plaza was bathed in warm orange light.

Rather than inspiring childish wonder, China generally causes me raise my fists to the sky in a silent cry of "what is this fresh hell?" Thus, I felt I owed it to my poor brain and nervous system to visit The Place and be amused. Also, I totally wanted to go hang out at Starbucks.

The undersea part was very soothing. I especially liked when the life-size humpback whale went sailing above, although the Asian mermaid kind of creeped me out.

The Chinese name means something like "World of Heaven's Greatest Goods". I don't know what marketing genius decided to give it an English name that makes anyone who speaks of it sound like a simpleton in an Abbot & Costello sketch.

Here are some 30-second clips of the streaming footage. Yes, that is me giggling in the background and saying aiya, zhen zaogao (oh no, how terrible!) as the asteroid came rushing towards us.





It was really cool. Thanks to my trend-scouting pops for hearing about it first!

BABY, IT'S COLD INSIDE

On account of what appears to be a country-wide decree passed down from on high by cold-hearted bureaucrats, no one in China turns the heat on until the 15th of November. It just isn't done. Schools seem to receive a slight exemption -- at Tsinghua the heat was turned on on the 1st of the month, putting an end to the strange sight of teachers conducting class wearing parkas. You can of course buy a little space heater, and some apartments have A/C that can also blow heat, but they aren't very effective, especially in my big room with a wall of floor to ceiling windows. It is the radiators that do the real work, and it is those that we have no control over. And lest you think this is evidence of a greener China, guess how most of those radiators are going to be fueled come next Thursday? Wait for it..............

COAL!

While I am nervous about the incineration and aspiration of even more fossil fuels, I still think the policy is too, too cruel. I had to buy an extra blanket and still usually sleep in my hat and several layers of clothing. I bundle up to study but still shiver and have to get up and run around or think of an errand that will give me an excuse to go up and down our nine flights of stairs.

In a strange way, I can appreciate the unifying nature of the policy, which becomes a shared experience for everyone, as well as another way in which we conceive of time as divided by the senses. When I think back to remember events of this year I will probably categorize them by pre- and post-heat weeks (and possibly also by when I am finally forced to abandon my skirts for more [sigh] practical trousers). In India, the monsoon is a killer and a huge pain in the ass, but it also has a strong place in collective and individual memory. Every Indian writer I've ever come across has waxed poetic about the romance of the rains, of being drenched with strangers; or being cozy inside, playing games, cooking, or reading as the torrents fall.

While far from a natural phenomenon, I wonder if the National Starting of the Radiators holds a similar place in Chinese hearts. Do lovers write to each other, "my heart is suddenly aflame like the middle of November"? Are more relationships begun in the first half of the month than the second on account of the practical needs for warmth?

I don't know, but I've decided to pretend that my birthday falls two days later than it actually does, just so I can wake up to all that lovely radiating heat and imagine that it is all for me.

MY LIFE IN PICTURES

It occurs to me that I have been writing too many strange stories about offensive hoodies and human douches and not posting enough pictures lately. Thus, I present a gallery from recent weeks.

First are some pictures from Xi'an of some of the teachers hamming it up for the camera.

The second from the left is my teacher Li laoshi, and the fellow on the right is Ding laoshi.

I can't remember this teacher's name, but she is widely agreed to be one of the most adorable things any of us students have ever laid eyes upon.
Cai laoshi with Ding laoshi. Ding laoshi has a strong penchant for stripes and is rumored to have excellent connections in the CCP. He teaches my Talks on Chinese Culture class, using a textbook which discusses things like traditional marriage and Chinese fiscal policy and which has the characters in the dialogues (necessary because spoken Chinese is very different from written Chinese) say things to each other like: "Your knowledge of changes in the post-war Chinese monetary system is impressive! This conversation has greatly enhanced my understanding". I'm grateful that my classmate Wei Lian studies economics at MIT. You should see how excited he gets when we talk about national reserve funds and foreign exchange. Actually, it looks kind of like this:

Anna, Wang Yang, Joel, Richard, and Wei Lian (at bottom) in Xi'an.

Anna and Wang Yang looked a little different at the Halloween Party Leslie hosted the weekend before last.

Leslie, at left, went as a rapper, but was identified as J. Lo by one of our teachers. Wang Yang, at center, was a chengyu, a traditional Chinese 4-character expression, this one meaning "as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns" (you can't see her horn, but it was impressive). Anna was Robin Hood. They made quite the gang.

Canaan was in a costume instantly recognizable to anyone who has lived in China, the curbside bike mechanic. These dudes set up shop all over the place (I pass about 3 during my 15 minute commute) and they are always smoking and wearing grubby button-up shirts and jackets. They'll also tighten up a loose chain for about 28 cents.

Me, Leslie, and Peter. I didn't have much in the way of materials with which to cobble together a costume so I made use of the hat I bought in Xi'an and went as a Russian spy. Peter was a shudaizi, or bookworm, but for him, that isn't really a costume.

Ding Ding was attempting to costume himself as an Ivy League student, but we all just told him he looked like a newsie. I don't think Loafers even noticed, but if he had I'm certain he would have taken it as tribute rather than offense.

This past weekend, Leslie, Canaan, Anna and I took advantage of the crisp, clear day and moderately clean post-rain air and rode our bikes out to the Summer Palace. Pretty amazing that I live in a big, filthy city in one of the most polluted countries in the world and yet it only takes about 45 minutes to ride from my house to here:

Here is a close-up of the actual Summer Palace complex.

I had really wanted to take out a boat again and my classmates indulged me. Good thing too, as all that peddling kept us nice and toasty. Here are Leslie and Canaan looking at the island in the center of Kunming Lake.

This lovely bridge connects it to the land, and you can get a pretty good echo from going through the archways.

As we were walking back around the lake to get to our bikes an old man starting singing, quite beautifully. I took a little video but I don't know if you can see him in it. Sorry it's so shaky but I was trying to figure out if I could zoom in (nope).



Anyhow, it was a fine day. It made me feel just as fresh and rejuvenated as if I had just ......................................... oh, forget about it.

I JUST GOT CHASED BY DOUCHE AT THE MALL!

So it's Friday afternoon here and since our regular classes were canceled today Jessica and I thought it would be a good day to take a taxi out to Carrefour to buy some foreign products (mostly just cheese and gin). Walking through an underground mall area to get to the entrance we encountered a promotional display and several pretty ladies in uniforms giving out samples and information. We couldn't tell what the product was, aside from noting that its English name was "Gayo", but I spied two figures costumed as what appeared to be giant white lotion dispensers about 30 feet away. Jessica thought they were just inflated parachute-material displays, but I was certain they were interacting, and sure enough, as we got closer, we saw that they were trying, as much as their immobility-inducing Michelin Man-esque suits would allow them, to chest-butt each other. Obviously, I was delighted by this, and stopped to chuckle and point. Big mistake. Turning around, one of the figures spotted me and started towards me with all the bumbling grace of an astronaut in low gravity. I, naturally, started backing away. The bottle picked up speed and began bounding towards me. I turned, giggling nervously and began to walk away. The bottle continued its pursuit. Jessica had moved away from me a little on realizing that I had become a target. I kept walking, looking back to realize that the bottle was closing in, and was now close enough for me to decipher the elegant cursive on its abdomen reading: "GAYO Feminine Wash".

But why was the douche still pursuing me? I didn't understand. I don't mind a good-natured chest-butt now and then, but would I be required to buy douche afterwards? I started to run, and easily created a safe distance between us. Once we rounded a corner Jessica and I nearly collapsed in hysterics, and I barely managed to choke out "I just got chased by douche", over and over again.

So yeah, maybe I shouldn't have given the punchline away so quickly, but it was quite the way to start an afternoon.

SOMETHING TO PONDER

As I was riding my bike to school today through the hutong* (胡同) I was interrupted in my daily apprehension of the battle for smell supremacy between the public toilet and the street stall of baked goods (wherein I wonder whether feces will triumph over sugary muffins or if they will continue to commingle in an eternal stinkfest). I recalled a sight from last weekend's errand running that had shocked and distressed me. It seriously 引起了我的震惊, if you know what I mean.

Waiting for Jessica at the grocery store on Sunday I saw a young Chinese man wearing a purple camouflage hoodie with large letters printed on the front spelling out RAPE. I first tried to get Jessica's attention to ascertain whether she was left similarly speechless by the sight, but when I could not, I just stood and stared and wondered. What possible reason could there be for this item of clothing to exist? Here are a few I have considered:

A) It is an intentionally transgressive statement about war and sexual violence [see also Mackinnon 1990; Enloe 2003]

B) It was intended to read "GRAPE" but is missing a G / intended to read "RAP" but with an extra E.

C) It was produced and retailed by a native English speaker who likes to play sick jokes.

D) It was intended as consciousness-raising technique. This isn't as far out as you might imagine. A classmate and I in Ann Arbor were once aghast to see a young man wearing a t-shirt that read "I heart Michigan vaginas", but it turned out to be promoting a rape crisis hot line (although, come to think of it, that still doesn't entirely explain the sentiment).

E) It is an intentionally transgressive statement about consumerism and the plunder of natural resources.

Geez, I don't know. I'm so confused. Maybe a nice massage would help...

Probably not. Yes, this is for what you think it is for. This sort of business card gets left stuck in the door to our place every few weeks or so, along with the endless take-out menus for Korean food or pizza with really strange toppings (mayonnaise, bulgogi, or peaches anyone?). We generally pass them on to 丁丁(Ding Ding) and 继磊 (Peter)，our classmates and neighbors in an adjacent building with an unexplained deficit of call girl flyers.

*a hutong is an old narrow alleyway lined with one-story brick buildings. It is the traditional type of housing in Beijing, but the majority have been razed to make way for wider streets and newer, taller buildings. They are now mostly home to Beijing's poorest residents and are sometimes used as shortcuts from the traffic-clogged, exhaust-polluted streets.

XI'AN - 西安

School field trips are awesome and much too rare. How come we never get to have them in graduate school? (I'm not counting last year's jaunt to Nashville, Indiana, though the company couldn't be beat). Although our trip was kind of disorganized and rushed and included only one night in Xi'an, being able to walk/wobble through the train cars and see almost all of my fellow students and our teachers and administrators, eating noodles, drinking beer, playing Uno, or just shooting the shit with random Chinese folks was an event of its own. Also, I got to see the freaking Terracotta Army! NEAT!

I wish I had more historically relevant material on the 兵马佣 (bing ma yong), but I'm sure you can all find that yourself. What I can give you is some exciting first-hand pictures. I'm sure this won't have been the first time any of you have ever see Emperor Qin's Army of Terracotta Warriors, but who knew they were housed in what appears to be a giant Olympic Swimming Stadium? I honestly kind of expected that they were still underground like the Egyptian tombs I visited in Cairo a long time ago.

There are indeed thousands of them, most still buried, and it's true what they say about how every single human figure and horse is different from every other - different facial expressions, physicality, hairstyle, etcetera. It really is, as an older American gentleman near me whispered into the microphone of his camcorder as he slowly, slowly, slowly panned across the length of the hall: "truly incredible". I pity his poor family and friends. They've got an awfully slow ride ahead of them.

The whole place also had a very distinct smell, rather like you would expect an old, cold, pottery studio to smell, but still surprising to encounter.

Here are some of the still partially buried figures, notable not only for their archaeological value and for illustrating how much work has already gone into reconstruction, but also for their rich metaphorical content, seeming to emerge from the clay all crumbling, broken, and headless.

I'd make a terrible historian as I am far too mushy-headed to labor over careful analyses of dynastic balances of power and would much rather ruminate over the magnificent creepiness of this great monument to human pride and cruelty. The most affecting part of seeing the Terracotta Army for me was the way all these thousands of soldiers, representing who knows how many thousands of hours of labor all faced forwards, marching ahead in place towards nothing at all, towards a stone wall...

There is of course a great intimacy with history that you cannot escape in such a place, and here that history includes the tragic and macabre stories of those craftsmen and horses who built the army and were buried alive with it. This may be one reason why the place is so compelling and affecting, but I think that regardless of whether you know anything about the history of the site (and I know very little), both its sheer scale and all those careful renderings of soldiers in battle formation give some sense of the futility of war and empire and man's desire for immortality. Or something like that.

Damn. Leave it to the Chinese to construct elaborate conceptual art in the guise of burial grandeur more than 2,000 years ahead of its time!

I don't remember what I was thinking here -perhaps considering the possibility of a Terracotta Warrior Halloween costume or wondering if someone nearby had a nip of whiskey for me?

Aside from the three main pits, there was also a modest museum on the grounds, as well as some warriors removed from the rest to enable a closer look.

Having arrived in the morning, we spent several hours enjoying the halls and exhibits and were then delivered to a dismal lunch of bleached rice and wheat products, fatty starchy meat, and oily vegetables. Our next stop was the Huaqing Pools 花清池, a favorite retreat for Tang dynasty-era emperors and their concubines.

Unfortunately I didn't understand much of what the guide was saying and the pools themselves were rather unimpressive looking without the historical background.

The scenery was nice though.

And the adjacent Huaqing gardens, constructed somewhere in the 1930s, were tranquil in a very typical Chinese way, a style which I might add, is complemented perfectly by ice cream.

From the pools, we were shepherded back to the actual city of Xi'an, which is some distance from the Terracotta Army but holds its own draws. Though probably half the size of Beijing, Xi'an is a massive city, and a surprisingly pleasant one at that. With a population almost equal to that of New York, it has a flashy downtown with lots of upscale housing, shopping,

and, from the looks of it, an exciting night life:


The phrase at the bottom of the sign reads "Friend-making clubhouse at half past eight". Unfortunately I never got around to taking a picture of the "Hot Dance Club" near our hotel, and worse, I never got to go.

One of my classmates made the apt comparison that Xi'an is a little like the Chicago of China. It doesn't get as much attention as the coast but has a glorious history and a lot to offer and always seems to be the exception made when the center of the country is written off as backward and boring. It is also the capital of the province of Shaanxi and the best part of it.

And now, because I am lazy, an excerpt from Lonely Planet China:

For more than two millennia, over a dozen dynasties rose and fell in Shaanxi... Two centuries before Homer penned the Iliad and the Odyssey (and Rome was founded), five centuries prior to the Buddha's enlightenment, Xi'an was already a classic world city.

The old city wall still stands solidly in the center of the city and we were taken there to explore a little on our own when we got back into town.

It is actually possible to bicycle all the way around the wall, which would have been fun, but there wasn't really time. So we just wandered around.

We saw these huge kites in a few places in Xi'an. They went on for ages and rose impressively high into the sky, looking quite beautiful and a little lonely.

Here are my dear classmates Mo Ran/摸然/Bernie and Ding Ding/丁丁/Michael hanging out at the wall. I have no idea what the hell they are doing in this photo, but don't they look like charming fellows?

For dinner, Jessica and I made our way to the Muslim quarter with a few other classmates. This was her fifth visit to Xi'an and so I elected her tour leader for all times that we were not with the group. She took us to a Xinjiang restaurant on this street, 北院门 (bei yuan men) which had some of the best food I've had since coming to China: perfectly spiced noodles, garlicky naan-like bread, lamb skewers for the meat eaters and a few other things I devoured in hungry haste and cannot now remember.

We went back to the same restaurant for lunch the next day and spent more time exploring the street and nearby areas. The night before had been the first day of Ramadan and as we wandered down the market alleyways we kept running into a cluster composed mostly of men and children who would set upon a table prepared with food, devour it with much gusto and noise and then quickly move on to the next. I have no idea what the significance of it was, but it was apparent everyone was having a grand old time.

It was nice to get the cultural experiences out of the way though, so we could spend the next afternoon doing a little consuming.

No, I didn't buy any birds.

Nor did I buy any calligraphy brushes, but don't they look appealing?

We did spend quite a while at the dried fruit market where we found some natural, unsulphured pineapples, dates, persimmons, kiwis, apricots, and mysterious others. We also saw a rather nasty fight break out between a few of the vendors and spread to a larger group. As far as we saw only guy ended up with a badly swollen face but we didn't stick around to watch.

I dropped a couple of hundred RMB at this teashop overlooking the fruit market. I bought another nice fat brick of Pu'er like I did the first time I visited a tea shop in China, but this time I got to talk teas with the shopkeeper (who Jessica knew from a previous visit) and not rely on a translator. We lingered tasting jasmine pearls, oolongs, white bai hao, lychee black tea, flowering peonies, and chatting with our small friend here in the yellow sweater. Small children in China get bundled up in padded clothes in the winter and it causes them to waddle around like tiny, cushioned linebackers. I wish they made those quilted clothes in my size. I could have used them on the train ride home...