Journey to the East

Today, rain swept into Ji’nan. With it came an awakening: cold weather will soon be here. The drizzle was nothing terribly new (much of late July and August here were marked by overcast skies and buckets of rain). Unlike the showers of summer– which only made the air steamy, and the city feel like a greenhouse– the rain brought a chill with it. Suddenly, temperatures dropped into the low 60s and I found myself wearing long pants and a sweatshirt.

Is this the end of the warm weather I’ve been living with since nearly May? Last year, it was almost November before the seasons really turned. In this sense, there really wasn’t a long Autumn and vaguely warm weather lingered on until nearly Halloween. For the temperature to drop so dramatically now seems premature. To be sure, it would be nice to get away from the searing heat that has characterized this city over the past several months BUT, I can’t say that I’m looking forward to the full plunge back into winter (the last one here was perhaps the longest and coldest of my life). Nonetheless, as previously noted, Ji’nan is beginning to take note of the change of seasons, and it won’t be long now before the warmer days are really over for good.

The end of this week marks the start of a nice little vacation for Chinese National Day. As I mentioned before, I’ll be headed with some friends to take a cruise down the Yangtze River’s Three Gorges area starting in Wuhan and ending in Chongqing. We’re also trying to work in a side-trip to Chengdu (and possibly to the panda reserve there). Stay tuned as plans get more specific. I’ll be sure to fill in the pre-trip itinerary soon.

Ok, so I’ve gotten kind of behind on the blog (No big surprise here, right?). An explanation is in order. It’s pretty simple, actually: As is often the case over here, the website just ceased to work, meaning I couldn’t log in to update. So here I am, much later, trying to fill in all of the blanks for about a month. I guess, I’ll go for the lightning review… Here goes nothing, then:

Summer is coming to an apex here in Ji’nan. For one thing, the temperatures continue to be blazing hot. Venture outside your apartment for any reason, and you’re sure to return sweating copiously (and I mean it. I have to take a change of shirts when I ride my bike in to work to avoid having to teach all day in a shirt that’s drenched with sweat). Inside my apartment, my air-conditioning unit runs constantly, keeping my room not unlike the inside of a refrigerator unit. Understandably, when it is so hot outside (and I’m not exaggerating when I say that it’s been well over 90 degrees on average) it’s hard to summon up the wherewithal to get out and do things. Despite this, however, I’ve been managing to continue to play in weekly pick-up soccer games. In fact, my foreign friends and I have become regulars. When it’s not blazing hot, it’s usually raining buckets. Ji’nan doesn’t have a monsoon season on the order of Southeast Asia (or anywhere close), but there is a “rainy season,” which is pretty much the entire month of August. Several times in the last month or so, I have walked outside to find my neighborhood completely flooded with rainwater. When it rains here it rains VERY hard. Runoff spills out into the streets. Gutters overflow… as (occasionally) do sewers. It’s unlike rain that I’ve encountered elsewhere because of it’s intensity. The storms come in short, violent bursts and drop tons of water on the city and then go just as quickly. In merely the span of fifteen or twenty minutes, streets will be covered in water.

It’s not really that surprising then, that everyone here seems to want to flock toward cooler climates. During the past several weeks of classes, my students have told me that they’ve all been to many of the various beaches in the area at places like Yantai, Rizhao, Weihai, and of course Qingdao. August seems to be summer vacation time for most Chinese people, and many of my classes were missing students over the past several weeks due to family beach trips. Foreign teachers are no exception to this rule. My friends and I have made two trips to Qingdao in a month (one that I described previously and another last week to get back to the beach and visit Qingdao’s “Beer Festival” which is basically the Chinese version of Oktoberfest… this will be described in detail in following entries, I promise). Each time, I’ve returned to Ji’nan feeling refreshed, so I am convinced that the ocean air does me quite a lot of good.

Summer will linger here for several more weeks. If last fall is any indication, it will be Halloween before the weather really turns here, and then the weather will turn abruptly. The arrival of fall brings a lot with it: new colleagues, new classes, cooler temperatures, and the opportunity to get out and travel again. I’ll get some time off for China’s National Day in October that I can use to take a trip (might head down to Sichuan province to see the very famous national panda reserve). I’m hoping that I’ll get a chance to take some trips further afield this fall (Inner Mongolia’s grasslands come to mind for one), but much depends on scheduling.

Now that the blog is operational again, I’ll get some pictures of Qingdao and Beer Fest posted ASAP. No more excuses. Until then, stay tuned.

I’ve just returned home from a short get-away trip east to the city of Qingdao, and the beach. I’ll post a more thorough report on the city and my impressions of it (complete with photos) very soon. For now, I just wanted to give a small introduction to Qingdao while it’s still pretty fresh in my head. The city lies on the east end of Shandong province in which Ji’nan is situated. By bullet-train, it’s about three hours away from Ji’nan and makes for a really easy trip between teaching weekends. The city is famous in China for lots of different reasons: its seaside location, its former status as a German concession, its self-proclaimed title as the beer capital of China, its hosting of the sailing events for the 2008 Beijing Olympic Games.  More importantly, it is, for us, the perfect spot to get away to for a while.

Some friends and I decided that this week would be a good chance to get out and away from the scorching heat of summertime Ji’nan. Temperatures have been in the nineties on average for at least a few weeks in a row now, and there’s been a pretty thick haze lately (whether this is induced by heat, or pollution, or both is difficult to say). Getting out to Qingdao to enjoy some sea breeze, and cooler weather made a lot of sense. So, we enjoyed a good two days of taking in all the city had to offer: cooler weather, (comparatively) cleaner air, good seafood, and a chance to relax. After a few days by the sea, I’m feeling a little more rested and happy to have had a respite (no matter how brief) from the heat.

I’ll post pictures and more reflections on Qingdao in the next couple of days. Stay tuned…

The weather outside is stifling. The A/C units in school are running full-blast all the time. By the time I get to school, I’m drenched with sweat and look like I’ve been swimming. Must be summer in East China. Must be time for a blog update. First, let me apologize for falling completely off the map for a while. Like the weather, which has grown stifling and lazy, I too have been going through some sort of writing doldrums. I simply wasn’t able to muster up the time (or maybe the effort) to set anything down to writing. So, as you can see, there’s been a bit of a lag here… sorry. That’s pretty much my fault.  This isn’t to say that there’s nothing going on. It’s been a busy time here: midterms, family visits, the World Cup, grading, etc.. Lots of things have been happening all at once. Suddenly, Ji’nan’s short but sweet spring became a hot, lazy summer. We’re now in the midst of July, which is very much high summer here in Ji’nan (actually it has been high summer for a while, summer being one of the longer seasons here).

Summer in Ji’nan is strange when you consider just how cold it was here during winer (which still seems like it was only a very short time ago). In January I would have never imagined that this city could be so hot. And yet, it is. While having to bundle up to spare yourself from frigid and icy winds and temperatures well below freezing in winter, I would have laughed at the idea that summer temperatures rarely dip below 90 degrees here. To call the heat oppressive is not an understatement.

But even though it can feel pretty unbearable, the warm weather has its selling points. Warm weather means that you can do things outside. Unlike in the winter when I was confined to the indoors, trying to keep out of the intense cold, summer lends itself to being outdoors. Now, it’s really easy to go take a bike ride, or a walk through the springs, or to sit outside near one of the springs and draw (I’ve only done this once or twice, but it was fun when I did). At least once a week, I’ve started to play soccer at a local university which has a full-sized, artificial turf field. We’ve had some really great pick-up games against the students who attend and it’s been a a really good way to get some exercise. It’s fun to be able to stay outdoors at night, too. It’s not an uncommon sight to walk out of the gates of my neighborhood to find some of the women who live here sitting out and playing cards together, or to find others in lawn chairs simply out chatting and enjoying a breeze every now and then. Often, I’m able to spend a good, warm night in Quancheng Square, relaxing and hanging out with friends. On nights like this we’ve chatted, played soccer in the square, attemped to fly kites, and watched the fountain displays that go off on either end of the square at night. This would have been unthinkable in January, but on a warm night in June or July it’s been great to be able to sit out and enjoy the outdoors.

Locals are out, too. On any given night, it’s not uncommon  to find lots of people out in the square doing any number of things: practicing calligraphy, ballroom dancing, in-line skating (this is VERY popular, especially with little kids who go zooming around lines of cones doing all kinds of crazy footwork), tai chi, playing with skip-its (SKIP-ITS?!?!?! Remember those? They advertised constantly on Saturday morning TV when I was a kid. They’re HUGE over here during these night-time congregations), line-dancing, playing hackey-sack, fishing, martial arts, etc. It’s fun just to sit and watch. As with almost everywhere in this city it seems amazing that there are so many people in one place, and that they are all in the midst of doing so many different things. There’s a tangible buzz in the square at night. It’s a nice feeling.

Eating outside is a big part of summer, too. Curbside restaurants have popped up everywhere. At dusk, tables and stools appear out of nowhere. Suddenly, sidewalks are filled with outdoor cafes and diners. People flock to these impromptu restaurants to eat Chinese style barbecue (lamb kebabs, mostly) and boiled peanuts and drink beer. The center of town is full of places just like this (one of the best being a place we call “the pool,” which is basically a restaurant next to a local swimming hole, where you can eat tasty, cheap food and watch the old men of the neighborhood swim laps). It’s become a favorite past-time of mine to go with friends to Old Ji’nan, find one of these places, and eat next to the canal there. Summer favorite foods like cold noodles, barbecue, crayfish boils and cold plum juice have replaced the heavier, warmer foods of winter, and with an abundance of fresh peaches, melons, and cherries to be bought at fruit stands, it’s easy to get a taste of summer through local produce.

Soon, we’ll be giving final exams and wrapping up yet another semester here. Soon, I’ll have been here for a year. One year. Doesn’t seem like it could even be. And yet… time here has gone so fast. There’s plenty more adventure yet to come, though, some of it almost immediately. After this weekend, a few friends and I are heading out to coastal town of Qingdao for a day or two to relax and check out the beach. Should be a fun trip. Stay tuned for reports on that, and more, later.

So I’ll admit it, I’ve been a little lazy with this blog for a while. The root of my laziness is perhaps my own perception that I’ve not really done too much that’s noteworthy lately. This is a bit of a misperception on my part, perhaps. In any case… updates have been a little slow. Given some recent events, I feel like I owe everyone some sort of general status check.

By now, you’ve no doubt heard about the earthquake here. In the event that you perhaps haven’t, I’ll fill you in. About a week ago, there was a fairly huge earthquake out in Qinghai Province in what is Southwestern China. The epicenter of the quake was not far from Sichuan province, which was the center of the deadly quake of 2008. Here in eastern China, everyone is fine and somewhat removed from everything. Qinghai is a long way away from Ji’nan. While everyone I meet is no doubt touched by the scale of the tragedy, it is in a very distant sense. There have been numerous memorials, telecasts, fundraisers and gestures of solidarity for those who have fallen victim to the quake. However, aside from large, official displays of mourning (flags flown at half-mast are amongst the most prominent of these), life seems to continue to function as it always does here.

Most importantly to all of you reading this, I suppose, is that I’m OK. This now raises my “Earthquake in China” percentage to 2-for-2. It’s a strange thought to me: Must it be that every time that I come to China, the country suffers a devastating earthquake? (In fact, it feels almost like the realization of the leading man in Thomas Pynchon’s novel Gravity’s Rainbow who finds that there’s a direct link between places where he’s been and buildings which are blown up during air-raids in London during WWII). I hate to make it sounds like I’m making light of what is undoubtably a tragic event. But it seems like a very bizarre thing to me, especially given how close I was to the last earthquake and how strangely distant from me this one seems by comparison.

In every sense, life has continued to progress as it normally would.  The semester continues to progress. Classes continue to move forward. We’re rapidly approaching the mid-term for this semester (how can that be? We just started right?). Summer will be here before long, and it’s evident. The weather is getting much warmer, very quickly. Before long, I suspect that I will be sweating like crazy.

The activities that fill our time off are becoming more and more oriented towards being outdoors and enjoying this increase in temperature. Yesterday we played a game or two of American-style football at the University where we’ve played frisbee before. It was fun, considering I’ve not thrown a football or played a game of two hand touch in a VERY long time. The Chinese students, who gathered in pretty large numbers as spectators when we played frisbee, mostly found American style football baffling, I believe… or at least the confusion as to what was actually going on seemed to prevent any kind of crowd from gather to watch us play (which is what usually happens when we decide to play sports in public). Nonetheless, it felt good to be outside and active again.

We’re approaching the May holidays, and I have a pretty large-scale journey in front of me as I try to take full advantage of an 11 day vacation (see the post below for further details). Otherwise we continue to run along as normal here in Ji’nan, for which I’m quite thankful. I’ll continue with a few updates in the coming days, and will try to make some sort of huge update once I get back from my journey over the next few weeks. Keep tuned for more.

So the winter fades: flowers in bloom on the cherry tree outside my apartment

All of my life, I have lived in a temperate climate. Even if my college years were spent in a place where winter felt comparatively mild, I still expected the change of seasons and always felt a kind of relief at the end of the winter months. Thus, it is with much thanks that I bid farewell to winter in Ji’nan. It did not go quietly. Rather, winter hung around much like a lingering illness. In fact, in Eastern China (which is by no means as cold as Manchuria to the north, but nonetheless cold enough: The average low in January and February is somewhere around -4 or -5 degrees Celcius), winter is more or less legendary. In fact, there’s an incredibly famous essay called, “济南的冬天” (”Jǐ’nán de dōngtiān,” or “Winter in Ji’nan”) by the master writer Lao She (老舍). It should come as no surprise then, that winter seemed to go on forever. Every time the temperature peaked, I would cross my fingers hoping that spring had finally arrived. I remember– on multiple occasions– thinking, “This is it. We’re out of the woods. From now on it will be warm.” Each time I was disappointed as Ji’nan plunged back into cold weather.

The weather, at the very bitter end of winter, became nothing short of confusing. Of course, you’ve all heard about the wild dust and sand storms as a winter’s worth of dried grass and dirt swept off the plains of Mongolia and descended into Eastern China. Even more confusing, however, was the constant up and down swing of the thermometer as the March weather struggled with its own severe bipolarity. Would it be warm at last? Who could say? Just last week I awoke at 8:30 AM to what appeared to be a furious snowstorm. My roommate Chris had nudged me awake, imploring me to “Get a look at this.” And look I did: as I peered outside, the snow flakes fell heavy, large and fast outside my window. All I could think was “Not again.”  By noon, the sun had come out and the temperature had climbed to nearly 65 degrees. Any trace of the snow from the early morning had vanished.

At long last, in the final week of March winter’s back was broken. After a solid week of temperatures above 50 degrees, it is safe to say that spring is here. And so, the longest and coldest winter of my life is over, giving way to a warm spring breeze and the promise of a new season. While riding my bike last Wednesday, I noticed something odd… a smell. At first, it was something I couldn’t place. Amidst the swarming, complicated bouqet that is modern China (and this merits an entry all of it’s own because the smell of China is completely unique: mixed hints of wok oil, car exhaust, garbage, incense, smoke from kebab restaurants, etc.) drifted a soft, fragile and delicate new fragrance. This smell was clean, fresh, pretty, and new. I looked upward and found its source: flowers. Now, in this city which is made of so much concrete and pavement and metal and glass that it’s sometimes easy to forget the natural world, cherry blossoms are bursting forth everywhere. As I approached the square, I could see that almost overnight, the willow trees and sprouted new leaves. They too were fragile, tender and green. We are in a season of great change. The vulnerability of early spring, the newness of the season, will not last long here (Spring is reported to be the shortest time of year here, lasting only 3-7 weeks), but it is welcome all the same.

The signs of change are suddenly easy to see. The crystalline flowers of ice that populated our winter landscape have made way for snowy white blossoms of another kind on the trees throughout the city. The sky has slipped into an ever-s0-more-subtly-dark shade of blue, strengthening from it’s pale winter haze. Jay-like birds have come swarming back outside our apartment. After the hardest of winters, life has returned to Ji’nan.

More of the cherry tree outside of my apartment on DiKou Lu.

Fishing in the canal at QuanCheng Square.

A kite-flier enjoying warm weather near the Blue Thing.

Spring weather brings out all types of people to the square. Each practicing their own hobbies, like calligraphy.

The willow trees at the square had just sprouted leaves.

Doves perched in QuanCheng Square.

People flocked to the square with the arrival of warm weather.

The city, too, has showed new vitality. Suddenly, Ji’nan is the city of my first memories from August again. All of the places we used to go during the last warm days of fall have opened their doors: The “pool” in Old Ji’nan where locals go to eat, drink beer and swim; the 0utdoor cafe called “Luna” along the side of the springs by the canal; the barbeque restaurant next to our apartment; the outdoor seating at WeiWei’s (last Sunday we triumphantly set up the metal tables that had been in WeiWei’s back room since late October and ate at them outside in front of his restaurant). People have returned to the square at night to congregate and exercise. During the day, there are more bikers, kite-fliers, fishermen, painters, musicians and calligraphers near the Blue Thing than there have been in months. Warm weather has brought a return to the Ji’nan that I was first introduced to these many months ago.

Flowers in QuanCheng Square.

At the close of the day on Wednesday, I was drawn toward an old favorite spot: Black Tiger Springs. This public park in the heart of Ji’nan is one of the most beautiful places in the city. I had not been in since late fall (maybe October). In the cold weather, it is robbed of most of its beauty, and it is far to cold to sit and admire the lazy willow trees that line it’s banks, or gaze at the tiny percolations that bubble up from the natural aquifer that feeds the spring from below. It was a fitting way to end the first real day of spring, the first night where I could walk outside without shivers.  It’s clear: Winter is finally, finally over.

Sunset at Black Tiger Springs.

Water bubbles up from the source at Black Tiger Springs.

Bubbles from the springs.

Roof ornaments at sunset.

Black Tiger Springs at sunset.

A shot of Black Tiger Springs from on top of a nearby bridge .

A sign of Spring's arrival: Dogwood Blossoms.

Spring seems to have finally arrived in Ji’nan. On Monday, a day marked by warm temperatures, blue skies and abundant sunshine, it seemed silly to be inside. I hopped on my bike and took off, heading in no particular direction. Almost instinctively, I headed towards Old Ji’nan, the well preserved core of the city not far from the center square. This mostly residential area is pretty tucked away. Down its narrow, winding cobblestone alleys you can find some of the city’s best kept secrets: local watering holes, nice little shrines, pleasantly sloping rooftops, excellent grilled meat vendors, etc. There, you can see life unfolding much as you imagine it would have 50 years ago, if not longer. On Monday afternoon it was pleasantly sunsplashed and bustling as the residents went out to do laundry, enjoy a beer by the side of one of the neighborhood’s many spring, or just simply enjoy a walk on a spring afternoon. Every time I venture into this part of the city, I find myself seeing or experiencing something which I would have never previously known about, or anticipated. Monday was no exception. Here are some of the highlights:

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A typical alley in Old Ji'nan

Private homes like this one still make up most of Old Ji'nan.

Down a back-alley in Old Ji'nan: A public well.

Sometimes, the fascinating thing about being in Old Ji'nan are the very small details. Case in point: ornate roof tiles.

A map which lays out the networks of alleys and paths at the heart of the Old City.

A common sight in the old neighborhood: A wall mural intended to bestow good fortune upon the household.

New Year's couplets on the door of an old house. These will be displayed all year long.

One of Ji'nan's major tourist attractions, the "72 Beautiful Springs." This is a good spot for dining outdoors when the weather warms up. Nothing beats BBQ by the canal.

Reflections: Old Ji'nan.

Nestled in the center of Old Ji'nan: A decorative arch for a local temple.

The entrance to a shrine to the local god in the heart of Old Ji'nan.

Incense sticks at the local god temple.

In Old Ji'nan: a surprise around every corner.

Warm weather seems to be here to stay at last (expect another entry about that soon). Yesterday, I went with friends and hiked Hero Mountain (one of the high hills that rim the Eastern end of the city), taking in the city in spring from another vantage point: one in the heights. It’s good to, at long last, get outdoors for a while without feeling like you’ll soon freeze up.

Stay tuned, there’ll be more to come shortly.

Beijing, where the sandstorm was the heaviest. Ji'nan looked a little like this, too.

I have moments where I feel like I’ve finally absolutely gotten the hang of living in Ji’nan, and that I pretty well am prepared for most things that life over here could throw at me. I almost always immediately find out how wrong I am. In fact, it seems like these are the times when Ji’nan throws me the strangest of twists. Take Saturday for example, when I experienced the strangest weather phenomenon I have ever encountered: A sandstorm.

At this point, I should say that sandstorms are not a historical oddity in China. In fact, they’re something of a given. Eastern China has often felt the effects of being very close to some very large deserts. Strong winds often carry dust from the deserts of Inner Mongolia (or places further afield) right into Beijing. In fact, historically, this kind of thing is almost expected. It’s sort of the natural consequence of living near what is actually a very arid region. I should also note that in recent years these storms had become larger in scale because of the expansion of cities, which causes desertification to occur at a faster rate. In any case, despite the fact that I had read much about the fact that these sandstorms are real and do occur, I had relegated them to the very back of my mind.

When I woke up Saturday morning at 6:30 and began getting ready to head into school, a sandstorm was the last thing that I was expected. In fact, judging by the warm looking, softly glowing light that was streaming in through my bedroom window curtains, I thought that it might be a sunny day. When I got outside it became very obvious that it was not. At first, I was still too locked in the early drowsy-ness of waking up to notice much. As I wheeled my bike out of the front door, the first things that caught my attention were the cars parked immediately outside. They were all covered in a fine layer of a fine orange dust. They were flecked with specks of dirt that look strangely reminiscent of the way a car looks after it has gone through a rainstorm, and it stands studded with little beads of water. Confused, I looked up, and that’s when I noticed the sky.

Like many cities of its size in this country, Ji’nan has days where there’s a lot of haze and smog. Mostly, it’s not so bad, but there are days when the air feels particularly thick. Even the haziest of days could not have prepared me for the skies on Saturday. The entire sky was tinted a glowing orange. The air seemed almost solid, gritty even. Indeed, there was an almost apocalyptic quality about it, as if there was an imminent and impeding doom coming (For those of you who’ve seen the original Star Wars: remember the scene on Luke Skywalker’s home planet, in which there is an enormous sandstorm? It looked exactly like that). Visibility was almost non-existant. I could see perhaps as far as fifty feet in front of me in clear focus. Everything else became lost in a cloudy, dense, orange abyss. As I rode my bike into work, I immediately cast off the lingering sleepiness of the early morning, knowing that even the slightest inattention on my part could put me directly in the path of an accident. Riding along, I noticed a slightly gritty feeling in my teeth, and I immediately understood: some grains of sand had managed to fly right into my mouth.

As I rode up onto the suspension bridge that passes over Ji’nan’s railyard (and which lies in the middle of my route to work), the scale of the storm became very apparent. Usually, from the high vantage point of the bridge, you can look out and see most of downtown Ji’nan. High-rise buildings in downtown, and the mountains which ring the city are usually visible. As I rode into work Saturday, I couldn’t even see the arches of the bridge in front of me until I was nearly upon them. Forget looking out over the sides to see any of the city, it just wasn’t there.

Finally, after a tense 1o minutes or so on my bike, I finally reached the McDonald’s down the street from school where I always have a cup of coffee with my co-workers before going in to school on weekend mornings. I saw one of them sitting at table just inside the door, having similarly just finished his own trek into work via motorbike. He looked equally astonished. After cracking some very lame joke about whether or not I had just ridden through the set of a disaster movie, we both concluded that this was, undoubtably, the strangest weather either of us had ever experienced.

Like March in the United States, March in Ji’nan is a time of ups and downs as far as weather goes. Some days, it’s really still winter and the weather is cold and windy. Some days, the weather is much more mild, and you almost feel the onset of spring when you walk out the door. Today was one of those days. The sun was out. The breeze was mild and warming rather than being a strong and icy current of wind. The high temperatures peaked at about 60 degrees Fahrenheit. It was one of the best days we’ve had here in a while. So, what did we do? We played ping-pong, of course.

My friends and I have become something like regulars at ping-pong, or table tennis as my British co-workers tend to refer to it. There’s a public park not far from Hero Mountain (one of the major networks of hills in the center of town which is surrounded by a public park) which has about 20 outdoor tables. During warm weather, my friends and I will go out and play there for a couple hours at least once a week. The park is usually pretty busy, and filled with people from all walks of life all coming to play ping-pong. Though many of the people who we see at the tables are clearly retirees who probably play about everyday, we’ve also seen lots of younger people and children out at these tables too.

It’s a very egalitarian setting. You’re likely to be asked by just about anyone to play, and most people that show up there seem to have a take-on-all-comers kind of attitude towards the game. It’s also a good place to get to chat with people, as they will inevitably wander over and seek out a match against the group of foreigners standing around. When this happens, we’re always happy to oblige and usually end up getting to chat a little with out newfound Chinese friends.

These are usually friendly games, and are pretty good areas for cultural exchange, too. I’ve found that sports are usually a good venue for cultural interaction, and while there are some notorious examples of times when international sports rivalries get to be too heated (e.g. England v. Argentina in soccer, Russia v. Czechoslovakia in water polo in the 1968 Olympic games, China v. Japan in anything at anytime) I think that friendly competition and mutual recreational past-times help to break down cultural barriers. Is this not what the Olympics are all about? My experiences at the ping-pong tables have, in these sense, been overwhelmingly positive. It’s a way for me to go out and meet and interact with Chinese people.

While the games may in fact be friendly, I should perhaps mention something about the skill level of the average player over here. Ping-pong is a serious past-time in China. I’ve been told by several Chinese people that I’ve met that this is China’s “National Ball Game” (which makes it, I guess, like baseball in America). While the game tends to be relegated to “basement game” status in the US, one thing is very clear about the sport here: it’s serious. In the individual world championships in 2005, 2007 and 2009 a Chinese competitor won in every category: Men’s and Women’s singles, doubles and Mixed doubles. This sport is not taken lightly.

Today, I was reminded of that quite clearly. How? When my two other friends and I arrived at the tables, we were met by a Chinese woman who wanted to play doubles with us. Fresh from having purchased a small lunch of egg-fried rice from the nearby “eat street” (literally a long alley lined with food vendors), my first priority was to have lunch. Little did I know, this would provoke quite a reaction from our new friend.

“Hey. Why you eating? Don’t eat that. You’ll get fat.”

I was astounded. Was she trash-talking?

“Hey. Eat faster! C’mon, faster!”

Yeah, yeah she was.

“Hey! You don’t need to eat! You’re already fat. C’mon, let’s go!”

I couldn’t believe this. I slowed down a little… and took my time, savoring my none-too-extravagant lunch, just to force her to wait. When I got done I found, to my distinct pleasure, that this woman was going to be my doubles partner. And, shockingly, she was incredibly intense about ping-pong. Playing doubles ping-pong Chinese-style usually means that you end up having to alternate hits. You basically return the shot from the person diagonally across the table from you. If you hit out of turn, you lose the point. This is both occasionally confusing and sometimes a little difficult to keep up (it involves a lot of coordination and communication and knowing when to get out the way). My new partner was not very impressed with my skills.

“What was that? Why didn’t you hit that? Were you asleep?” she asked, as I missed a return on a shot that was not only on the opposite side of the table– far out of my reach– but which she was clearly in the way of, because she hadn’t moved an inch. This continued for nearly the whole time we played (probably about two hours on the whole). Eventually we switched partners, but the smack-talking never ceased from this woman. Which just goes to show, I guess, that smack-talk is a universal language. All in all it was a very bizarre afternoon.

Meanwhile, the new semester continues to roll on in. We’re heading into week two of classes, and all of our new foreign teachers have arrived. Stay tuned for more on that later!

As promised, here’s the photo re-cap of my recent trip to Beijing.

One of the best parts of this trip to Beijing was getting to explore new places within the city, places that I’d never been to before. One of the first was Yonghegong Lama Temple, one of the most renowned Buddhist temples in China. It was built in the 1600’s to honor the visit of a very important Lama to the Emperor of the Qing Dynasty, who was a devout follower. It’s a pretty colorful place, and it boasts lots of significant items, like the Emperor’s ceremonial robes, and the world’s tallest wooden carving of the Buddha made entirely from one tree (couldn’t take pictures of this, sadly). Because of its history and prominent location in the heart of the capital city, this temple draws LOTS of pilgrims. During our trip it was especially packed, as people who were looking to make a visit to this holy place at the start of a new year. Here’s a look:

A tower at the entrance to Yonghegong Temple in the heart of Beijing.

Prayer flags at Yonghegong Temple.

Spinning one of the temple's many prayer wheels.

Prayer wheel in mid-spin.

Pilgrims flock to this temple. The place was especially crowded on our visit, as it was during New Year festivities.

Prayer flags at Yonghegong Temple.

The signs at the temple are written in three languages (From the left to the right): Manchu, Tibetan and Chinese.

For me, a highlight of this trip was getting to see Beijing’s old city walls. They’re mostly gone now, due to being demolished in the ’50s and ’60s to make way for modern highways. What remains, however, is fantastic. The walls are crumbling, but something about the fact that they are in ruins lends an air of authenticity to them. Much like the acropolis of Athens or the Colosseum in Rome, the fact that the walls have been left in their disarray makes them feel much older, much more real. A restored gatehouse sits at the end, and gives you a good sense of just how magnificent the walls must have once been.

The entrance to the very small park which is devoted to preserving the old city walls.

Some views of the ruins:

Gazing up at the heights to admire the wall.

The restored gatehouse at the very end of the park.

The stairs up to the top of the wall.

The view from the top of the old wall.

Though in the midst of a hot day in June or July you’d never know it, Beijing is very much a northern city. While it may not get as cold as Haerbin or the extreme northeastern part of China, winter in Beijing is chilly to say the least. As a result, Beijing is a city where people know what to do with cold weather, and how to have fun when temperatures drop. No place is this more apparent than around the center of town, where the lakes that draw strollers and pleasure boaters in the summer are FROZEN SOLID in the winter months. What do you do with a large, solidly frozen lake? Improvised ice-skating. Such was the case at Hou Hai lake (后海) during our visit. Here’s what our venture out onto the ice looked like:

The residents of Beijing flock to the ice at Hou Hai.

Cautiously, my friend Dave takes to the ice.

Standing on the ice at Hou Hai.

I think that the look on my face says everything you need to know about how eager I was to be out on the ice, and how confident I was to be out in the middle of it when we first stepped out. After about 30 seconds it became totally apparent that we were completely safe- the ice was well over a foot thick.

This woman was offering to tow people around on the ice in a psuedo-sled ride arrangement for a small fee.

Improvised sledding: A chair and a pair of ski poles.

During the summertime, this is a boat dock.

Out of place: Frozen boats on Hou Hai

The Drum Tower in Old Beijing as seen from Hou Hai, at night.

This trip to Beijing was my third. Like all major cultural centers, Beijing is a place that holds far too much to be seen in one trip. In fact, you can go to Beijing multiple times, and still not even hit all of the major tourists sites, let alone the smaller attractions. For instance: I’d really never been able to thoroughly explore the large lakes in the center of town. Bei Hai Park (北海) is located at the center of Beijing. It used to be part of the vast Imperial complex during former days, and served (as I understand it) as one of the Emperor’s many pleasure gardens. It’s renowned for the very surreal White Dagoba, a Buddhist stupa planted on an island in the center. It’s also home to a very odd network of caves, previously used as sacred grottoes for local monks. If nothing else, it’s a pleasant place for a walk, even when it’s freezing cold.

The Jade Islet in the middle of Bei Hai, home to the strange White Dagoba.

The White Dagoba: A close up.

Peeking out on Bei Hai from the top of the Jade Islet.

Like its neighbor, Hou Hai, Bei Hai was completely frozen.

Scenic spot: A restaurant at the edge of the Jade Islet.

In search of some seclusion: Bei Hai offers some peace and quiet at the heart of Beijing.

Down under: exploring the caves at Bei Hai.

These guys were kinda creepy when we first happened upon them in the Bei Hai caves.

One of the most interesting (and rapidly dissapearing) parts of Beijing is its core of old neighborhoods (called 胡同, hútòng). These low lying buildings, tucked away down winding and narrow alleyways and cobblestone paths provide a glimpse of a much older time. Exploring here is fun, and worthwhile, even though these old neighborhoods have largely been converted into souvenir shops, coffee houses, bars and restaurants. Sometimes while exploring a hútòng, you’ll happen upon a slice of authentic Old Beijing… a really rewarding experience.

A typical house in a Beijing hútòng.

The Drum tower, in the middle of the maze of hútòng in Old Beijing.

Rooftops, Old Beijing.

The REAL Beijing? A typical hútòng alleyway.

As seen in Old Beijing: Peking Roast Duck, an enduring symbol of the city.

More updates will come later… including, at long last, a photo recap of my journeys to Nanjing and Hangzhou in January.