Initial Differences Between China and the US
It’s always strange to return from a foreign country, because, on one hand, it feels like you never left. Everything you did on the other side of the world never happened, and the only reminder you have that you went anywhere is that shelf full of useless souvenirs. But I have been away for a long time, and there are many things about life here that are definitely different from life in China.
Immediately out of the airport, I noticed how much cleaner and quieter the US (or at least Utah) is. That could be because Utah isn’t “big city” like China, but then cars also honk less frequently, and people don’t yell at each other to have a normal conversation. You could have the same number of people in Changzhou’s Walmart or Provo, Utah’s Walmart, and the Changzhou Walmart will always be louder.
What I’m most relieved to get away from, however, is the smoking. I cannot stress enough how physically ill second-hand smoke makes me. Granted, this is a constant battle in the US, too, but at least there are laws to help protect non-smokers. I haven’t had to smell that crap once since I got back. Still, I’m not used to being in a smoke-free restaurant. I keep expecting the guys sitting next to me to start smoking at any second. I hear a “click” and automatically cringe, because it reminds me of the constant clicking of lighters I heard all the time in China.
The weather also feels a lot warmer here, which, at a glance, probably doesn’t make sense. Americans are much better about keeping their buildings heated, though, because we use this crazy technology called insulation, and we don’t open the damn windows during the winter! In China, I had to wear two pairs of pants, a beanie, a jacket, and a coat at all times to stay warm, and that’s suggesting that I actually stayed warm. I didn’t. I was always cold, even in my own apartment. Home again, although there’s snow outside, I’ve been able to shed a layer, because it’s easier to escape the cold.
The Frozen Foreign Teacher
Hey, I wasn’t done complaining about the weather. Seriously, it’s bad. Every time I go to class, I think to myself, “There is no way I can tolerate this for another two months.” Those classrooms are so cold, it’s making my whole body ache. But when I ask the students to close the windows, they look at me like I’m crazy and keep trying to crack them open again when I’m not looking. What the hell is wrong with you people?!
The afternoon classes are even colder than the morning, and the last class of the day—the special class for the top students—makes me want to cry. I don’t even take off my beanie or coat or gloves to teach. It’s a shame I have to end the day in the coldest room in the school, because the special classes are the only classes that feel like actual teaching. Those students are also the only students I feel any kind of connection with since I see them twice as much as everyone else (i.e. two times a week).
One of these special students did have the nerve to tell me my normal lessons were too easy, though. I reminded him that I was teaching from their book, and he replied, “Yes, you teach us many words, but we already know these words. You should pick a topic, like traffic, and we can talk about it.” Except that if we did that, only five students would participate. Every class has about five know-it-alls (he being one of them), but the rest of the students are divided evenly into “I can answer if you give me a minute” and “Duh……”
My current lesson, for instance, pulls a list of vocabulary words straight out of the book, simple words like “important” and “able.” I know they know what these mean, but few of the students really understand how far these words reach. They just parrot safe, familiar answers, “Sleep is important. Eat is important. I am able to study.” What I want is for them to personalize the words and tell me something that is specifically important to them. All I get in return, though, is, “Duh……”
When China Freezes Over
I usually tell people my favorite season is winter, but when winter finally comes, I complain about the cold and wish for a quick summer recovery. Then summer comes, and I start pining for winter. I really do like winter, though. It’s such a great feeling to relax in a nice, warm house with no obligation to go outside once you’re home from work/school. The winter holidays and open ski resorts are a nice touch, too.
In China, however, I’ve decided I hate winter. Even in 2009, they still haven’t figured out how to construct a decent building that retains an adequate amount of heat. I’ve got my heater running on full, another space heater set up near my bed, and yet wearing a sweater and long underwear to sleep still isn’t enough. I apparently have a heater monitor, too, who tattles to the head teacher whenever she thinks I am using the heater too much. Why is she watching my apartment, anyway?
And now for the ultimate dilemma. My kitchen doesn’t have a built-in heater, so, naturally, it gets miserably cold in there. The pipes from upstairs run right through the kitchen, though, and stink up the place. Who knows what vile things drip down those pipes every day, but, believe me, they reek. The only way I can get rid of the smell is to leave the windows open. Uh… Clark? That just makes the cold situation worse. So what would you do? Be cold or gag all the time?
Teaching isn’t much better. The Chinese teachers and students are so up in arms over needing “fresh air,” they’ll subject themselves to frigid weather for the sake of “keeping healthy.” Between classes, the students will slide all the windows open, and nobody bothers to turn the heater on. This obsession with not wanting to get sick is making it so I can’t even function as a teacher. It’s a little hard to get across perfect pronunciation when you’re shivering your ass off. G-g-g-g-good m-mor-morning, s-s-s-s-students…
The Night Sky in Changzhou
Ooh, spooky. Hey, that reminds me. Halloween is coming up… and yet I’m still stuck in a country that doesn’t embrace trick-or-treating. This is the second time I’m going to miss the big holiday season, and it’s finally making me a little homesick. Don’t forget that the caption contest ends the day after Halloween. At least there’s always that to look forward to!
Pandas and Buddhas in Chengdu
Of all the places we visited in China, we spent the least amount of time in Chengdu. The city was mostly included on our itinerary to act as a transfer point between Jiuzhaigou and Guilin. Chengdu is famous for pandas, though. That’s got to be worth something, right? There was originally a nature reserve in the city, but after the Sichuan earthquake, all the pandas were moved to an underwater station, where they are now guarded by sharks with rifles. Fortunately, Chengdu’s second major pandattraction, the Research Base of Giant Panda Breeding, is still intact.
Alas, summer is not a good time to see pandas. In the event of rain or extreme temperatures, the pandas are kept inside, and all the visitors crowd around their small cages, trying to get a picture. The park would have been a letdown had we not discovered two “panda houses” away from all the other nurseries. It seemed like nobody else knew these houses existed, because they were void of tourists yet offered a fantastic, up-close view of a pair of pandas.
Another overlooked treasure at the park were the red pandas. Hey, guess what? Apparently there’s an animal called a red panda! I had no idea they existed. I’m going to go out on a limb, though, and say they’re cuter than regular pandas. Red pandas are now my dream pet. But they don’t get the same special treatment as their black-and-white counterparts; they’ve been relegated to only two nurseries and have no house to retreat to when the weather’s too hot (which is pretty much every day in China in the summer).
The other attraction I wanted to see in Chengdu was the Leshan Giant Buddha, which is in Leshan, not Chengdu, but… oh, shut up. Pictures I had seen of the 71-meter tall Buddha were very inconsistent, since the sight undergoes regular restoration. The old, weathered, plant-covered Buddha I was hoping to see looked a little too clean to be over 1,000 years old. It’s still an impressive structure and, had the weather been milder and the crowds thinner, I probably would have enjoyed it more.
I guess summer isn’t a good time to see Buddhas, either.
Dear Chinese Men,
Please stop rolling your shirts up in the summer. I know it’s hot outside, but nobody wants to look at your big, nasty belly. Thanks.
Sincerely,
Clark
Jiuzhaigou Valley for the Win
I may not have had a lot of good things to say about Beijing and Xi’an (mainly because I’d already been to both places), but my outlook on our family vacation changed when we arrived in Jiuzhaigou. For one, the altitude of this secluded Sichuan valley is so high, the weather’s actually cool, even in the middle of summer. And the landscape there ranks as some of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen anywhere. Pictures really don’t do this place justice.
Getting to and around Jiuzhaigou is not an easy task, though. There’s no train to Jiuzhaigou, the airport only connects to a few major cities (like Xi’an), and the bus from “nearby” Chengdu is a ten-hour drive on a windy, bumpy road. While flying is the better option, the airport is in the middle of nowhere. It still takes another 1.5 hours and 200 yuan by taxi to get to the actual park. Jiuzhaigou isn’t so much a city, either, as it is a bunch of small Tibetan villages spread across a very large area. English is pretty rare, too, so if you’re not up for an adventure, you might not want to come.
But how can you say no to scenery like this?
Or this?
Or mighty fine waterfalls like this?
When you take into consideration the cost of airfare, shuttling around the area, and the ridiculous 320-yuan entrance ticket, it’s surprising any Chinese people come here at all. Jiuzhaigou Valley definitely caters to the richer population. Maybe this is the government’s sneaky way of trying to outclass the local Tibetans. Or they could actually have nature’s best interests in mind. Every other tourist attraction in China is crowded beyond enjoyable, and the usual patrons have no respect for littering or smoking rules.
That’s not to say I think highly of rich Chinese tourists, but when they’re in smaller numbers in a national park that’s pushing particularly hard to remain ecologically friendly, they’re probably more inclined to toe the line. In an entire day, I only saw one piece of garbage that had been thrown into the river. That’s a big change from what I’m used to seeing. And so are the deep blue skies and mountains surrounded by clouds. Why can’t Changzhou look like that?
No Love for China’s Solar Eclipse
Typical of Chinese weather, it was a rainy, miserable, overcast day when there was finally something worth doing outside. Everyone knew it was going to be a bad day, and yet everyone still showed up at the park, umbrellas and special visors in hand, hoping determination would somehow trump the forecast and bring the sun out. It didn’t work. But the entrepreneurs continued to peddle visors even after the park announced over the loud speaker that there was nothing to see here, folks, move along, now, move along.
I guess I shouldn’t be too disappointed, because I didn’t find out there was a total solar eclipse happening in China until two days prior. But when the subject came up in class, you better believe I was excited. I had never seen one before and expected it to be a very surreal and humbling experience. Yeah, it was still cool to see the world turn dark for six minutes, but not being able to witness the actual phenomenon was a major letdown, a huge missed opportunity. The next eclipse to last this long isn’t due until 2132. Mark your calendars!
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