Archives for September 2009
National Day: A Week of Doing Nothing
The PRC was founded on October 1, 1949. To celebrate this event, everybody in China (and I mean everybody) gets a week off. This year, National Day coincides with Mid-Autumn Festival, so the vacation has been extended to eight days. A new record! It’ll also be a new record for sitting around and doing nothing, because that’s about all you can do. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get train tickets when the whole country is wanting to go home or go see the Yellow Mountains? Huh? Do you? No, I don’t think you do.
I was still wanting to at least see a lesser known tourist attraction over the break, but any plans were put on hold (or at least exacerbated), because my brother’s school took its sweet, sweet time renewing his visa… and you can’t stay in a hotel without one of those little pieces of paper. I had this crazy idea, though, where we would just take an overnight train somewhere (preferably here), arrive early in the morning, see the sights, then leave late at night on another overnight train. Crazy… but I was willing to do it. However, there were no beds available to Pingdingshan and no trains at all on the way back. No way. Not doing that.
Well, these week-long Chinese holidays are still a great way to see your hometown, given that your hometown isn’t a popular destination. Over spring festival, Changzhou felt so empty and void of pushing and shoving. It was awesome! I’ve been meaning to see Dinosaur Park again, too, since my last visit was so underwhelming. My school even offered to give me a few extra days off while the students do some “sports meeting,” but then the school panics at the slightest chance of rain and tells me to come back and teach. Why is it such a hassle to make travel plans in this country?!
Part-Time Teaching is Full-Time Tired
In my Training Centers vs. Public Schools article, I pointed out that training centers normally work you 40 hours a week, which can be pretty exhausting. But I find that working only 14 hours a week at a public school leaves me equally drained. While the training school unloaded more classes on me, they were small and casual. I could sit down and relax and use my inside voice. For the public school, I’m on my feet in front of a hungry audience of 50 kids, talking as loud as I can and growing increasingly frustrated with the noise.
Two classes later, and I’m usually beat. Of course, the school has to make the most of its foreign teacher, so I end up doing four lessons a day. By the time I’m done, my voice is shot, and I don’t want to do anything but eat a quick dinner and zone out to a TV show. People chastise me for not learning Chinese fast enough, but I’ve come to realize that I can only teach English or learn Chinese. I can’t do both. It’s too tiring being that engulfed in language… native or foreign. And the Chinese English teachers wonder why I’m so “shy” in between classes. Hmmmmmm.
The other teachers only have one or two classes a day but complain that the trade off involves them correcting homework. Hey, I’d rather correct homework and be able to sit down and listen to music instead of putting on an additional three shows. It’s mentally stagnating, because you end up doing the same lesson several times a week (in my case, 16 times a week) and get bored with the routine. Even though I only have two classes on Fridays, I’m so sick of my lesson by then, the day drags on and wears me out sooner than any other day. This post comes to you on a Friday, so if I sound irritable… I am. Goodnight, folks!
Top Five Favorite Attractions in China
I need to rectify the bitterness from my previous tourism rant with something a little more positive. Granted, I may be jumping the gun on this post, but the majority of my traveling is over. I don’t think I’ll be seeing any other big attractions in the next four months. As you read through these (or skip straight to the bottom), keep in mind that my picks are based on favorable weather conditions, crowds, and timeliness. The Li River, for instance, probably would have ranked higher (or at all) if it had come at the beginning of my summer vacation instead of the end.
5. Lingshan Buddha in Wuxi
Despite everything else I’ve recently seen, one of my favorite sightseeing moments is still the Lingshan Buddha in nearby Wuxi. Maybe I’m a little biased, because it was the first trip I went on alone, but it really is a nice park. And the closer you get to the 88-meter high Buddha, the more impressive it becomes, until you’re standing right next to its big, bronze toe.
4. Great Wall of China
In 2005, I hadn’t yet seen a lot of great places in China and was beginning to lose faith in the tourism scene. Then I went to the Great Wall, and it actually exceeded my expectations and restored my love for the country. Even after going a third time this last summer, I still highly recommend it and still believe it deserves its place as the most iconic attraction of China.
3. Yellow Mountains (Huangshan)
I had tried twice before to go to Huangshan and got rained out both times. When I finally did go in 2006, it was an overcast day. The clouds obstructed every great view and didn’t allow any of my pictures to turn out, but I still enjoyed it more than the Great Wall. Natural scenery simply appeals to me more. Huangshan is such an interesting area, too, looking like an enormous pile of leftovers from other mountains.
2. Ice and Snow World in Harbin
Every time I see pictures of Harbin, I have a hard time believing I was actually there. The whole city felt like stepping into the ice world of a video game, where shady taxi drivers and slippery sidewalks were the enemies. The snow and ice sculpture venues were particularly surreal, because they’re so different from all the other tourist spots in China. It’s damn cold, but this seasonal festival is well worth the visit.
1. Jiuzhaigou Valley / Huanglong
I have to put Jiuzhaigou and Huanglong together. Otherwise, they’d take up the first and second slots. They’re in the same vicinity, though, so it’s fair. And is this any surprise? I haven’t been able to shut up about them since I got back. Jiuzhaigou is, by far, the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. I know water like that exists in other parts of the world, but after seeing Jiuzhaigou, I don’t even care.
China Ruins Tourism
As I get into this post, you’ll probably point out that other foreign countries are the same way, so let’s just get that out in the open right now and save everyone their breath. I know! I was in Mexico shortly before I left for China and found their vendors just as equally eager to exploit a tourist attraction and harass incoming gringos. The difference between Mexican vendors and Chinese vendors is that Mexican vendors tend to know a little more English than just, “Hello! Cheaper for you! Hello!”
What drives me crazy about tourism in China is that vendors not only congregate outside a tourist attraction, they plague the tourist attraction itself. Jiuzhaigou was swell and all, but I didn’t appreciate the locals asking me if I wanted to try on their Tibetan garbs for a price. Even on the Li River, small rafts would latch onto the side of our boat, and a couple of rough-looking guys would hop on board, trying to push their jade statues on us. Oh, but that’s not nearly as disruptive as the floating vendor booths on the other river ride we went on. It was supposed to be a relaxing moment, and yet they kept pestering me to buy their drinks, squirt guns, and postcards!
While I make an attempt never to reward these people for being a nuisance, Chinese tourists eat it right up. In fact, they’re part of the problem. Every attraction in China is packed with people to the point where it’s barely enjoyable. You become surrounded by these huge tour groups, whose ringleader is yelling over a megaphone, and whose members are always standing in your perfect picture or pushing you out of the way so they can take a photo of themselves with their arms spread out like a dumbass. They hit each photo opportunity as quickly as possible and run you over in the process.
I hate to be the one to say this, but Chinese tourists need to learn some manners… or at least learn how to read the signs that say “No Smoking” and “No Littering.” It’s so hard to appreciate nature when you’re sitting next to a group of middle-aged farts blowing cigarette smoke everywhere or a group of young farts eating noisily and tossing the wrappers on the ground. It wouldn’t be fair to just point the finger at the Chinese, though. Western tourists in China aren’t always on their best behavior, either. It seems like being in China gives some people an excuse to be the slob they’ve always wanted to be back home. Thanks for contributing to the problem, guys.
More Video Game Madness from China
Arcades may be a dying fad back in the US, but they’re still popular hangouts for Chinese citizens, young and old. The arcade on Nanjing Road in Shanghai had some pretty crazy, new games, too, like a strategy game where you controlled your characters by moving playing cards around on a table. The coolest part of the arcade, though, was this game that used a big-ass joystick:
A few weeks later, I was in Wal-Mart and stumbled across a hilarious Nintendo console knock-off in the toy aisle. No, it’s not a Vii. Even better. And cheaper. It’s only 180 yuan ($26), which is a small price to pay for something called a WiNi. I can only imagine that’s pronounced “weenie.” Oh yeah, everyone’s going to want one of those for Christmas. Here’s a close-up of the box art if the below image isn’t enough:
Chinese Seniority: Putting Family in Place
Now that my brother is here, it is interesting to see how much importance others place on knowing which one of us is older. Often, the first question a new acquaintance will ask is, “Who is the older brother?” if we weren’t already introduced as Clark, the older brother, and that other guy. I’ve noticed that, after the hierarchy has been established, people tend to direct the rest of their questions towards me. I’m the one who matters, after all!
Clearly, seniority receives a lot of attention, as the Chinese language is very specific about family placement. While there are general terms you can use to describe relationships (like xiongdi for brothers), things get complicated once age is factored in… and it always is. For instance, jiedi refers to a brother and sister, where the sister is older. Xiongmei, on the other hand, refers to a brother and sister, where the brother is older. I’m not even sure you can say “brother and sister… period.”
Looking at my brother and me again, it would be more appropriate for us to call each other didi (younger brother) and gege (older brother). If, however, one of us was a girl (and that’s completely hypothetical, mind you), this distinction would be mandatory. I don’t think a girl can get away with saying xiongdi, unless she is talking about someone else’s brother. And when talking about (or rather, to) their own family members, people will usually use these terms instead of their siblings’ names.
Interestingly, Chinese people refer to their cousins as brothers and sisters, too, which is confusing when someone tells you they have no siblings but keeps talking about a mysterious older brother. It took a while to realize my girlfriend really did come from a one-child family. She also tells stories of how her cousin used to twist her arm until she would call him gege (which means older brother, if you’re too lazy to look at the paragraph above), much like how we bully our peers into calling us uncle. It’s all about being older, but at least I’m already on top!
E-Bikes are the Bane of Chinese Traffic
I hate e-bikes. They’re the worst part of Chinese traffic and are a major contributor to its dangerousness. Every driver in China thinks they are above the law, but people on e-bikes seem to follow the thinking that an e-bike is still a bike, and bikes don’t have to follow the same rules as cars. So e-bikes drive on the sidewalks, weave through cars, speed down the wrong side of the road, cut across intersections when the lights are against them, and are generally always in the way.
People on regular bikes behave like that, too, but regular bikes aren’t as heavy and don’t go as fast and don’t hurt like hell when they run into you. Idiots. E-bikes are just like motorcycles… but quieter and deadlier, and their drivers really should be more aware of that. Of course, drivers think that a simple honk (or a prolonged, ear-splitting honk) is all they have to do on their part to ensure the safety of pedestrians. I think pedestrians get sick of listening to so much honking, though, that they tune it out. I do, and I have.
Keeping that in mind, my family and I decided to rent e-bikes in Yangshuo for a day and contribute to the traffic problem. The whole point was to take the bikes out of the city and explore some of the countryside, but the few minutes we were in Yangshuo were pretty intense. I never felt safe. Other bikes would zip past me without any warning, and every intersection felt like a mad scramble to get across without colliding with someone else.
When we first started out, I would honk at everybody just to get back at them for always honking at me. By the end of the day, it had become a knee-jerk reaction. If anything, man or machine, was in my way, I’d immediately reach for the horn. Breaking traffic rules and driving where I pleased had also become second nature. You quickly pick up on the chaotic vibe of driving in China, though it’s sad how easily others’ bad habits rub off on you. We’ve become one of them.
I Don’t Know How to Save Face
When Chinese students answer their teacher, they are expected to stand. I don’t really like this practice, because it punishes the kids for participating. I decided to give my classes a new rule: if you raise your hand, you don’t have to stand. If I call on you, however, and your hand wasn’t raised, then you still have to stand. The students seem to like this setup a lot more than what goes on in their normal classes, but it still doesn’t encourage enough of them to participate.
All right, so maybe students don’t want to raise their hands, because they’re afraid of being wrong. I can understand that. One of our activities, though, was to determine facial expressions by looking at the handsome devil below:
I had written on the board: angry, scared, surprised, sad, happy, disgusted. The students could choose any one of those. I didn’t care. “There is no right answer,” I tried to assure them. “I just want you to guess. What do you think his facial expression is in this picture?” But as soon as we got to the third face, nobody wanted to say anything. So I’d call on a student (and they would stand), but then they’d just stand there and fidget until finally saying, “Sorry, I don’t know.”
What is so hard about guessing?! My students are always eager to resort to, “Sorry, I don’t know,” even for the simplest questions. But outside of the classroom, nobody likes admitting they don’t know. Instead, they’ll outright lie to you to “save face” and hope you don’t get angry when you find out they were wrong. Uh… I hate to break it to you, but I’m gonna get angry. You said my apartment has a kitchen, but when I move in, there’s no kitchen? Yeah, I’m angry. Look, if you would just say, “I don’t know,” I’d be happy. Unless you’re in class. Then answer the damn question, please.
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