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...

JUST FOR FUN!

Here are some pictures of the view out my bedroom window with and without pollution. The first is a pretty average day, the second a late afternoon just after a good rain. Pollution is bad. Seeing mountains is good. I could spit out a bunch of scary statistics about air quality in China, but then that wouldn't be much fun, would it?

After midterms tomorrow the school is taking us on a trip to Xi'an to see the terracotta warriors (all 6,000 of them!).

We are taking overnight trains in both directions and I am much looking forward to a couple good nights of train sleep and Chinese dreams. There will be a full report upon my return.