Sunday, December 30, 2007

I Don't Make These Things Up: Carrefour in China is Scary

In my February 27, 2007 blog, I described the Carrefour experience in China:

... let me acknowledge to those familiar with Carrefour in China that I do know how ridiculously nuts it was to brave the wild, cart-wielding, desperate DVD-, chocolate-, clothing-, appliance-, and frozen-food-seeking masses in Carrefour on any Sunday, let alone the weekend of Spring Festival. For those of you who have never been, I'll say this: the store is a reminder that even though the middle class is only a tiny fraction of the Chinese population, a tiny fraction of 1.2 billion is a very large number. And they all shop at Carrefour on the weekends. And not one of them knows how to navigate a parking lot with either a shopping cart or a car.
On December 3, I wrote:
That I went to Carrefour on a Sunday afternoon, by the way, speaks volumes about my desire to have a bike. It's dangerous in there. Picture the grocery store snack food aisle the morning before the Superbowl, the toy store on Christmas Eve when it finally gets a shipment of Nintendo Wiis, teenagers vying for autographs from the Harry Potter actors. This is Carrefour, every weekend. From liver to auto accessories, you can get what you need at Carrefour - if you can survive the crowd.
Some readers might think I'm exaggerating. Perhaps, Nancy simply doesn't understand the Chinese and their ability to turn into a crowd that is larger than the sum of its individual human parts. Maybe I'm so mentally prepared for a bad experience when I go to Carrefour that I attract trouble.

Now read this: 31 people were injured and three died at the Carrefour in Chongching when they stampeded for discounted cooking oil. If you don't believe me, read it on bbc.com.

Saturday, December 29, 2007

Cough, cough: It Couldn't Get Any Worse (but the scary thing is, it could)

421 was not, in fact, the height of Beijing's pollution the other day. That was the official Chinese Environmental Protection Agency reading in Beijing up to 6 pm. But the following day, the Beijing Environmental Protection Bureau reported that from noon Thursday to noon Friday, almost all of the monitors within the city limits of Beijing had readings of 500. Since the charts top out at 500, it is impossible to say how bad the pollution really was.

Follow this link to see the Beijing Environmental Protection Bureau readings for Thur-Fri. It's in Chinese, but each line is a different district of Beijing, so all you need to see is how many readings are above 400 and 500 to understand. Also, it includes all of Beijing's surrounding counties, where the pollution indexes are generally much lower. www.bjepb.gov

At the bottom of this post, I have copied an AFP article that includes quotes from Beijing environmental and Olympics officials, but I also highly recommend reading this Dec. 29 longer, in-depth New York Times article by Jim Yardley that accurately describes both the Olympic and long-term aspects of Beijing's pollution problem.

If you don't read the NYT article - and again, I think you should - this quote the author got from a factor worker assessing Beijing's efforts to ensure clean air for the Olympics tells a large part of the story, and the first photo in the article, also pasted below, is chilling.

“Yes, I heard about it,” said an engineer at one factory that may temporarily be shut down. He refused to identify himself because he was criticizing government policy. “It is like you invite some guests to your home, and hide all your children underneath the bed to make the house look nicer. If all the polluting factories are shut down for the Olympics, there will be a major pollution outbreak afterward when all the factories restart, right?”
Picture of Tiananmen Square on Thursday, from the NYT article (Oded Bality/AP):


The AFP article is copied below. Don't miss the last line.

Beijing air pollution 'as bad as it can get,' official says

BEIJING (AFP) — Beijingers were warned to stay indoors on Thursday as pollution levels across the capital hit the top of the scale, despite repeated assurances by the government that air quality was improving.

"This is as bad as it can get," a spokeswoman for the Beijing Environmental Protection Bureau told AFP.

"Level five is the worst level of air pollution. This is as bad as it has been all year."

According to the bureau's website, 15 out of the 16 pollution monitoring stations in urban Beijing registered a "five" for air quality rating.

The main pollutant was suspended particulate matter, which is usually attributed to coal burning and automotive exhaust.

"Old people and young children should reduce outdoor activities and protect their health," the spokeswoman said.

The Beijing Evening News warned residents not to do their morning exercises on Friday as pollution levels were likely to linger over the capital until a cold front moved in and blew some of the bad air away later in the day.

A lack of wind in the capital over recent days has led to a heavy cover of smog trapping in the pollutants, the paper said.

By nightfall, the pollution was still horrendously thick.

In the run up to the 2008 Olympic Games, Beijing has vowed to clean up its air and this year set a goal of 245 "blue sky days," or days with only light pollution.

As of Thursday, the city needed one more day to reach the annual goal, the bureau said. But official "blue sky days" are often hazy affairs with heavy pollution.

Beijing's air quality is routinely rated among the worst in the world by international agencies such as the United Nations and the World Bank, with rampant coal burning, regular dust storms and a growing number of cars cited as the main reasons.

The head of the government's information office, Cai Wu, told reporters on Thursday that Beijing's environment was improving and they should have "full confidence" that the Olympics would be pollution free.

Thursday, December 27, 2007

The City in Smoke

Twice in my life I have thought, "This must be what it feels like in a war zone." Both times were in China.

The first time was in February 2004, as I celebrated my first Chinese New Year in Shanghai. I and a couple hundred other foreigners were holed up in the Blue Frog bar on the old Maoming Rd bar street, the bar filling with smoke and ash from the fireworks outside. Over a couple of hours, the scattered sound of fireworks going off in all the neighborhoods around us grew, like popcorn in a microwave bag, into a steady popping on all sides, then into a furious, dizzying stream of different explosions, crackling, booming, whizzing so loud that there was no guessing which direction they came from. I assumed the chaos would subside after midnight, but when we stumbled out of the bar two hours later, holding our ears and unable to talk, we had to dodge sparks and flame, trudge through the waves of ash and paper wrappings that were continuing to pile up, and communicate with hand signals through the din. On that festive occasion, the twinge of fear that mingled with the sensory assault only added to the novelty and excitement.

The second occasion was this afternoon, and it was neither exciting nor festive. Beijing is officially just one Blue Sky Day short of the 245 Blue Sky Day quota this year, and wind and storms are expected tomorrow. Confident the wind will clear the air enough to make a Blue Sky Day by Monday, the Beijing authorities have apparently given up all pretense of trying to protect the People's air. Not only that, they are refreshingly honest about it: the official pollution index was 421, the highest I've seen it since I started paying attention in July. Other days may have been just as bad - although today was certainly among the worst - but since no one wants to be the bearer of that kind of news, officials low-balled the pollution index.

When I first arrived to Beijing, I would gauge the pollution by how far a I could see or not see outside my window in the morning. Now that coal-heating season has arrived, I gauge by the smell. I woke up in the middle of the night Wednesday night with smoke in my nose. The charred pollutants in the air had completely permeated my tightly sealed 16-th floor apartment.

By morning, I could feel it in my eyes and throat. All winter, Beijing-ers from my employees to taxi drivers to store cashiers have been telling me, "Drink more water," as if that were the cure for living in a petri dish. Mostly they say, "Beijing air is dry, drink more water, drink hot water." The bolder sometimes day, "Beijing's air is bad in the winter, drink more water." Several times I've said to myself, if one more stranger tells me to drink more water, I'm going to wring his neck. Today, though, I was drinking that water. With a bottle of cool water and a tall mug of warm water with honey next to me at all times, my throat still felt parched and dusty all day. By closing time, I had used up a significant portion of my herbal tea and cough drops, but my voice was still raspy.

When I left the office, the temperature was cold, yet it felt like walking into a burning building, where you can't see the flames but the smoke tells you there must be a serious fire. I could feel the grit in my mouth when I breathed. Although I could hear the ongoing construction on a nearby half-finished office tower and I knew where it always breaks the skyline, I couldn't see it until I was almost next to it. Wafts of a faint, almost sweet, chemical smell occasionally mixed with the basic underlying burnt odor the air.

On the way home, I was reflecting on how completely the smell and feel of smoke had covered the city. Everything was darker than usual, as thick layer dampened the glow of street lamps and fluorescent signs. The muted colors of Beijing, already a fairly gray place, faded into a e exhausted monochrome. Not only was there no identifiable source of the smoke and darkness, there's no way to know how long it will last - everyone tells me January is the worst month, and for all I know it might be this bad all winter. Everything looked depressed, from the tired commuters waiting for their buses with masks over their mouths to the coughing motorbikes to the friendly noodle shops that are usually oases of warmth and light. As I rounded the corner into my neighborhood, I saw one young child running. Her dainty, happy skip was so incongruous that it only magnified the gloom surrounding her. That's when, for the second time in China, I thought, it must feel like this in a war zone.

Monday, December 3, 2007

Lost: The Story of a Bike and a Nosy Bystander

I have previously written how much I enjoy my daily two-wheeled commute, despite the constant peril in the bike lane and the additional exposure to Beijing's toxic air. Even now that it takes some seriously creative engineering to determine the correct distribution of layers to both survive the morning cold and arrive to work looking at least somewhat professional, I am willing to do what it takes to ride to work.

Imagine my frustration, then, when I walked into the parking garage, excited for my first day back to work after two weeks in the States, and found my bike was missing. I searched the two bike racks by our entrance and walked the parking lot looking for a security guard, to no avail. The driver of the illegal taxi I grabbed to try to make it to work on time said, check Building 9. If you didn't use your bike for two weeks, they probably moved it to Building 9.

Sadly, the cluttered repository in Building 9 did not have my bike. I was chagrined, especially considering I definitely shared some blame for the loss. With the nice SUVs, high end vehicles, motorcycles, and other, much more expensive bikes parked in the garage, I had assumed there would be no reason for anyone to steal my bike, so I was not 100% diligent about locking it up. Clearly, I was not thinking about the scourge of bike theft in Beijing, as reported in this China Daily article. The author notes, "That 3,686 people have so far this year been caught stealing bicycles speaks volumes about the efforts of the local public security departments."

After a frustrating week of taxi-ing to work, I was relieved when the weekend came and I had time to buy a new bike. I headed to Carrefour, where I had originally purchased my 289 RMB bike at the discounted price of 189 RMB - plus, of course, the price of a basket, lock, bell, and light.

That I went to Carrefour on a Sunday afternoon, by the way, speaks volumes about my desire to have a bike. It's dangerous in there. Picture the grocery store snack food aisle the morning before the Superbowl, the toy store on Christmas Eve when it finally gets a shipment of Nintendo Wiis, teenagers vying for autographs from the Harry Potter actors. This is Carrefour, every weekend. From liver to auto accessories, you can get what you need at Carrefour - if you can survive the crowd.

It took me about 10 minutes to make my way to the bicycle section on the third floor. I
browsed the bicycle section, looking for the least expensive item that seems sturdy enough to survive the rigors of my commute, namely, getting up the ramp out of the parking lot and getting hit by other bikers without stopping. Two salesmen in yellow work suits watched me, and muttered about whether I might or might not understand Chinese. I settled on a 99 RMB number that one salesman said was too cheap for me. I replied my last one had been stolen and he nodded with an understanding sigh.

I tested the bike, dodging customers and carts in the mops & buckets aisle, the hats & jackets aisle, and the children's musical instruments section, which are all sensibly located around the bicycle department. As I returned to the bike salesman and told him I would need the handlebars and the seat raised, a 50-ish man in a slightly crumpled, mismatched brown suit appeared and started giving orders. First, he told me to get a more expensive bike, to which the salesman responded, she doesn't want to spend too much money because it will get stolen. Then, he told the salesman to raise the handlebars and put air in the tires.

I didn't know who this man was, and I didn't particularly appreciate him inserting himself into my bicycle transaction, but it was in fact time for the salesman to adjust the handlebars and tires, so I ignored it. You would be amazed how long it takes to adjust some handles bars and inflate tires in a busy Carrefour, and I was convinced this random brown-suited man was delaying the whole process. I pointedly ignored him as he attempted to advise me on what basket and lock to purchase (I was taking the lock more seriously this time than last), so he devoted himself to bossing around the salesman.

Almost minutes later, the bike was ready for me to test again. As soon as I climbed on it, I said, "You haven't raised the seat yet." The salesman replied, "Oh, the seat can't be raised on this model." I nearly lost my head, "But the FIRST thing I said was that I needed the handlebars and seat raised!" To which the salesman responded, "The seat can't be raised," and the brown suit guy chimed in, "He's right, it can't be raised."

I tried to explain that while I was annoyed that the seat couldn't be raised, what I was most bothered by is that because they failed to listen to me when I told them what I needed, I had just wasted over half an hour in their crowed, noisy, stuffy store. The brown suit then ordered the salesman to raise the seat - even though it couldn't be done - to show me that it couldn't be done. Moments later, we were in a shouting match, the brown suit and I, both tugging on the bike and telling the other to let go, as he insisted he could show me that the seat could not be raised and I insisted the last thing I wanted in the world was to watch him and the salesman futilely attempt to achieve the impossible task of raising the seat just to prove to me that I was wrong about wanting a bike with a seat at the appropriate height.

As you can image, we attracted onlookers. Finally, the salesman told the brown suit, she doesn't want to see me raise the seat. "Who is this guy?" I asked the salesman, but I got no reply. I was ready to ditch the store and go home without a bike, but how would I get home if I didn't buy a bike? With the throngs of people pouring out of Carrefour on a Sunday afternoon, it could be an hour wait for a taxi.

I sullenly refused to talk to anyone as I again browsed the section for a new bicycle. Brown suit man would not take a hint, however. And by hint, I mean, my turning to him and snapping, "I do not want to listen to you! Leave me alone!" as he gave me unsolicited advice about which bike to buy. He said, "But I'm just trying to tell you the right bike to get," until the salesman finally came over and repeated to him, "She does not want to listen to you. She wants you to leave her alone." at which point the brown suit shuffled off to the other end of the bicycle section to watch from a safe distance.

Finally, I saw it, for 289 RMB (plus the price of basket, bell, light, and lock). The same model bike I had originally lost. The one I knew could be adjusted to my height. And could fit the basket, bell, and light I liked. No discount this time, but in the face of the serene stability of the purple MANTX Bike, and the possibility of leaving the store without another fight, suddenly my fear of spending a chunk of money on something that was likely to be stolen again didn't seem so important.

As I completed my second spin through the mops and jackets and mini-instruments, the brown suit approached me again. He opened his mouth to comment on my choice of bike again, but I cut him off. It was time for a showdown. Here's how it went:

Me - Who are you anyway? Do you work here?
Him - Rolling his eyes, Oh, come on.
Me -Do you work here?
Him - No reply.
Me- You're not wearing a yellow uniform. Do you work here?
Him- (finally!) No, I don't work here.
Me - Then what does my purchase have to do with you?!?!?
Him - Silence.
Me - Nothing to do with you! Do not interfere with me again!

The salesman again came and told the brown suit, "She doesn't want your help." He huffed, annoyed, then finally shrugged and walked off.

Without the brown suit's "help", the process of exchanging my previous receipt for the n0-seat-raising bike, adjusting the new bike, and adding my accoutrement took about 15 minutes. Then it took only about another 12 minutes to navigate my way out of the store again to freedom.

So this was the tale of the hard fight I fought to obtain my second bike in China. The second bike is in for more adventures very soon, though, so stay tuned...

Thursday, November 8, 2007

Yuck!

Yesterday, our Environment, Science, Technology & Health office sent out a notice informing everyone in the office that air quality was poor.

On Tuesday, they noted, Beijing's Air Pollution Index was 172. You didn't have to tell us - Tuesday evening, a group of us walked outside around 9:30 pm, and one of my friends said, "Jeez, can you see that?" And indeed we could. A thick haze blurred vision in every direction. The haze wasn't fog, it was particulate matter in the air. You could smell it, too.

On the Chinese EPA's scale, 172 is considered "lightly polluted," and the health effects are described as "healthy people begin stimulate symptom." The US EPA considers 172 "unhealthy" and states that everyone may experience health effects at that level.

Beijing, city of grand scale, was not ready to stop at an API of 172. Wednesday, the Air Pollution Index turned out to be 253! Even the Chinese EPA recognizes this level as "moderate-heavy polluted" and describes the health effects as, "the healthy crowds popularly appear some symptoms." The US EPA considers this level of pollutants "very unhealthy," meaning that everyone may experience more serious health effects.

I wonder if that's why several members of my staff have been off work sick each day this week with sore throats and colds? And those who are in the office are coughing and complaining of hoarse voices. I keep hearing about Beijing's winter pollution - I hope it's not like this for months!

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Visitor Points Tally Update

I realized it is time to re-post the Visitor Points Tally, as I had a wonderful visit from the Shah sisters - Manisha Shah-Bugaj, Rupal Shah-Palanki, and Julie Alleyne (1 point each).

Although I haven't had a chance to blog about their adventures here, suffice to say they rivaled my cousins Michelle and David in shopping volume but didn't quite approach my Mom's professional attack on Yashow Market and the market at Yu Gardens in Shanghai. Like everyone who has been to visit me in Beijing so far, they were delightful guests, and both General Tsao and I missed them when they left.

Below is a link to just a few photos from their visit. Those of you who have been here will appreciate how much they were able to see in a short period - plus of course spending some quality time with me! Those of you who haven't visited yet, I hope you will take some inspiration - if these three high-power career women with families to take care of can find a way to take some time for themselves and each other (and me) to visit China, surely you can, too!

Shah visit Sep 2007

Enjoy the pics. The updated VPT is listed in the comments.

Saturday, October 20, 2007

More hotel English

At our hotel in Jinan, the provincial capital of Shandong, the guest welcome note in our room was translated into - well, I couldn't really truthfully call it English, but it did use our alphabet. I couldn't get a clear picture, but the text read, in part:

If you are drunk the liquor please to send a telegram "2345" with the room service center relation. We will deliver the tea for you.
Please will not pollute the rug or the bed the thing as well as the turban class.
A sign in the shower was less stern, with this message:
Friendly proposing: Please control the temperature well.
Got all that?

Friday, October 19, 2007

Qufu - Birthplace of Confucius

We walked off the overnight train and into the town of Qufu to the explosions of confetti canons, which rained multi-colored paper scraps on the street in front of a newly opened department store. The sound - once we got over our fright at the sounds of artillery less than a block away from us - was apt accompaniment to bright red archways adorned with dragons and Chinese characters announcing the 2007 annual Confucian Culture Festival.

The wall surrounding the Confucian temple and Kong family home was draped with banners quoting famous insights from the works of Confucian scholars, while a crowd of locals and Chines tourists gathered in front of an immense TV screen to watch the ceremony being performed in front of an audience of invited dignitaries on the other side of the wall.
We started our tutorial on Confucian history at the Kong family mansion (Kong was Confucius's surname in Chinese.) Confucius himself rejected luxury and lived in a simple three room house that was later replaced by the large and ornate compound built by an emperor of the Song dynasty for his descendants.

The first generation of Confucius's descendants to live in this home was the 32nd generation - that is, the family of 32nd first-born son in the line of Confucius's first-born son's first born son's first born son, etc. Leading us around the site, our guide continued to pepper us with stories of the various generations, their families, and the interactions with emperors. I was amazed that the life and history of every generation of Confucius's descendants, on through the 77th generation son, who moved to Taiwan, is common knowledge. Our guide could give us the names of any generation of son, his wives, his brothers, his personality, and anecdotes about his life and accomplishments.

The birth of the 77th generation son was a fairly typical story about the descendants, whose lives did not seem to be consistent with Confucius's own way of life and philosophy of loving others, doing what is right, and leading by example. When Kong DeCheng, the 77th generation son, was born in 1920, his father had died several weeks before. The whole household, including not only his mother, but his father's other wives and all their children, were anxious to find out whether the child was a boy or a girl. His father had not yet sired a son; the Kong family estate, the authority of head of the Confucian family line, and the title of Sacrificial Official to Confucius hung in the balance. If the child were female, all this would have gone to the son of the father's sister, as the oldest male child in the generation. This was the last chance to save the household and keep the line.

As we now know, the child was male, and the household rejoiced. A large ceremonial door in the center of the courtyard was opened for the first time ever, and the mother walked through it with her son. (The door was opened for a second time when then-president Jiang Zemin visited the Kong family mansion, but he walked around the door, rather than through it, as a sign of respect.) One would think everyone in the family would have been grateful to her forth birthing the child that kept them in the mansion and in control of the Confucian family line, but jealousy drove another wife to murder the mother a few days later. So much for loving others.

I was pleased to find that city officials of Qufu have long protected the historical and cultural heritage of the Confucius family home, Confucian temple, and Confucian cemetery there. Unlike many important historical sites in China, these do not seem to have been destroyed by restoration, nor have they added loud music, lights, or amusement parks - despite being a famous tourist attraction, the atmosphere remains fairly serene. As you can see, preservation remains a priority. This bench reads, "The archaeological artifacts are not recyclable. Please take care of them."

The Confucian cemetery is home to the graves of Confucius and his many descendants. Anyone with the surname Kong is considered a descendant of Confucius. What if they are from some other Kong family, not at all blood related to Confucius, I asked the guide? Confucius was the first person with the last name Kong, she explained, therefore anyone with the last name Kong is his descendant. And if they are not even Chinese? Even if they are not Chinese. You see, Confucius is considered the father of surnames in China, since before Confucius there were no surnames. Thus, Confucius started the tradition of last names, and he started the Kong family line, therefore anyone with the surname Kong is part of his family. Got that?

Not every descendant of Confucius is eligible to be buried in the Confucian cemetery, however. According to our guide, there are four conditions for burial in the cemetery:
1) Must have the surname Kong. (See above.)
2) Must be male. (Females would marry someone and have children whose last name would not be Kong, therefore they are not really part of the family.)
3) Must be 17 years old or older. (For some reason, it is important to be an adult Kong to be considered a true descendant.)
4) Must have good morals/ no miscreants allowed.

Confucius's own tomb is in a place of honor in the cemetery, right near those of his son and grandson. Confucius is was given a title that can be translated as Sage, or even saint, and his grandson and many generations after were given the same title. Confucius son, however, while also venerated, was never given such a high title. I think the following story will dispel any misunderstanding that he might have been less clever than the other Kongs.

Kong son said to Confucius, "Father, in every way you are greater than me, but in one way I surpass you." Confucius asked, "In what am I inferior to you?" And the son replied, "Your son is not as great as my son."

Kong son then addressed his own son, "Son, in every way you are greater than me, but in one way I surpass you." Confucius's grandson asked, "In what way am I inferior to you?" And Kong son replied, "Your father is not as great as my father."
So, there.

We also learned at the Confucius cemetery that corruption is not a new phenomenon for Chinese public officials. There is a brook running through the cemetery called the Zhu Shui River, and there is a large stone sign identifying the bridge over the brook as Zhu Shui Bridge. When the sign was erected, the name of the bridge was carved in characters in the middle of the sign, with the date and a quote from the official who commissioned the sign along the side.

Many dynasties later, an emperor sent a large sum of money to Qufu to have a new sign built for the bridge. The new sign, of course, would recognize the emperor instead of the earlier office. Of course, the money went to other uses.

When the emperor announced he would come to Qufu to pray and honor Confucius, the local officials knew he would cross the bridge and see the old sign, rather than the one he had paid for. Scrambling for a solution on a shoestring, the officials removed the stone panel, turned it around, and carved a new sign, with the new date and emperor's name, into the back side of the panel. They put the sign back up with the newly carved side facing front. The emperor never knew the difference, and the sign with two carved sides remains over the bridge today.

For more pictures of our trip to Qufu and nearby Taishan, follow the link below:
Qufu & Taishan

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

You get what you ask for?

I was recently stranded in a Chinese airport while my flight was delayed for several hours. Because it is not possible to check in for a Chinese domestic flight more than an hour in advance, I was stuck, with my luggage, outside security, where there were no shops with Olympic paraphrenalia, no comfortable lounge (OK, there's no comfortable lounge in any Chinese domestic terminal, but a lounge anyway).

My only options were the Chinese airport restaurant - huge, with no customers, surly staff, plastic-wrapped dishes (more on that in another post), and food that manages to be at once bland and incredibly salty - or the Chinese airport bar - Chinese wine, Chinese beer, maotai, a couple of cocktails you've never heard of, and pickled anything snacks. I went with the bar.

The waitress appeared by my side as soon as I sat down, not saying a word but indicating with her bored countenance that I should order immediately. When I asked if I could have a minute with the menu, she said yes and kept standing there.

What to order? My new departure time had not been posted, but the airline representative reported our aircraft would not arrive for at least 3 hours. I didn't feel like beer, and I definitely did not want to take my chances with Chinese wine - after all, what I really needed was to relax. Every cocktail on the small list included either blue curacao or rice wine, not a good sign.

As I was about to resign myself to a bottle of water and some boiled peanuts, I spied "Bailey's coffee" on the list. I didn't feel like caffeine, but if they have Bailey's with coffee, they must have Bailey's right? But Bailey's as it's own drink was not on the list. Not on the list = will not compute with waitress.

I chose my words carefully. "You have Bailey's coffee, right?" Bailey's coffee, yes, she replied, turning around and walking away. "Wait! Wait!" She came back and stood over me silently. "So, can you bring a glass with Bailey's in it, like from the Bailey's coffee, but don't put any coffee?" She stared. "You get my meaning? Baileys, but I don't want any coffee?" Wait, she told me, and turned around and walked away again.

Wait, instead of the anticipated, No, sounded promising. Even better, she reappeared and said. Yes, we can do it. "Great, then, I'd like that - Baileys, no coffee. Oh - and I'll need some ice with that, OK?" She didn't reply, but slid off and I waited happily. And in fact, I did receive Bailey's, no coffee, with ice. Like many things in China, it was not exactly what I expected...
... but it did the trick.

Monday, October 15, 2007

The Beijing Terry Fox Run - Don't Run - Run

About half an hour after I got back from the gym Saturday morning, my friend Jenson called and told me the 7K Beijing 2007 Terry Fox Run would begin across the street in Chaoyang Park in an hour - did I want to run? I was a little concerned that the combined effects of jet lag and and additional 4+ miles on top of the previous hour of exercise might really wipe me out, but I decided to join.

I'm glad I did not miss it. Of course, I wanted to see my friends after a couple of weeks out of town, and I support the Terry Fox Foundation's cause - raising money for cancer research in the name of Terry Fox, an amputee with bone cancer who attempted to run across Canada in the early 80s to raise awareness and money for the National Cancer Institute of Canada. On top of that, the event had some memorable aspects, including the biggest foreign celebrity in China and an militant announcer who told the runners not to run.

Arriving around 9:30, Jenson, Mark, Ti-Ying and I were happy to see we had not yet missed the 9 am warm-ups. Warm-ups, when they did begin, consisted of two small, wiry Chinese guys in tank tops rolling their heads and shoulders and making what someone described as kissing motions toward the sky. As we looked around at the many people gathered for the event - alarmingly few actually dressed in running clothes, or even sneakers - we commented that 7K was an unusual distance for a run.

We also couldn't help scratching our heads a bit about the the dancers, who were dressed in traditional Chinese costumes but performing an odd, sort of neo-modern, jerky rowing motion back and forth across the stage. As they gave way to dancers dressed in nurse costumes singing, 'Thank you," then Beijing city officials, then the Canadian Ambassador, we knew we must be approaching starting time.

Of course, no Canadian-sponsored event in China would be complete without Da Shan, and we were not disappointed. Da Shan, for the unititiated, is simultaneously a symbol of friendship, hope, and unmitigated hatred for foreigners studying in China. Da Shan, whose Chinese name means "Big Mountain," is a Canadian named Mark Roswell who began studying Chinese in Beijing in the late 80s, when there weren't many foreigners running around. At some point, he ended up on a TV show - not an uncommon even for Chinese speaking foreigners, who were considered highly amusing novelties well into the 90s - and became noted for his particularly good Mandarin.

As he continued to study Chinese and began learning traditional Chinese performance arts, Da Shan continued to get invited for appearances and shows, until all of China knew of Da Shan, the foreigner who speaks Chinese better than many natives, knows classical Chinese, reads poetry, and builds bridges between Canada and China. He's been in Chinese TV programs and movies and has his own Chinese learning TV show and web site, and he's plugged products from Chinese translators to Ford automobiles in China.

All this sounds delightful, unless you are unfortunate enough to be another foreigner studying Chinese here. Friendly Chinese making conversation always ask, "Do you know Da Shan?" (No, he's Canadian and much older than me.) "I mean, have you heard of Da Shan?" (Yes, about a million times...) "Your Chinese is good, but not as good as Da Shan." (Yes, I've heard that too.) "You can't really understand Chinese culture until you've learned classical Chinese like Da Shan. Da Shan can do xiangsheng [a traditional Chinese type of comedy routine involving very fast-spoken, quippy conversation among 2 or 3 performers with lots of puns and literary references], you probably don't know what xiangsheng is." (But I do! Sigh.)

Can you blame us other foreigners for making violent gestures whenever we hear his name? The following quote in the China Daily after Da Shan was appointed Canada's Olympic Attache to China didn't help his case with Americans, either:

When Chinese people see the red and white and 'there's a guy from Team Canada,' the image is, 'Oh, Dashan's on that team and they're our friends.' As opposed to the Americans.
As Da Shan introduced the run - given the prized role of speaking last on stage, even after the Canadian ambassador! - Mark noted that he would really like to catch up with Da Shan and give him a piece of his mind about that quote.

Finally, it was time for the race, which we knew because an announcer suddenly yelled in Chinese, "The Terry Fox 2007 Beijing Marathon of Hope begins now!" and not one, but two starters shot off guns. Excited but slightly confused runners looked right and left in front of the stage, not exactly sure which direction was the race course. They were saved by another announcer who quickly grabbed the microphone and yelled, "Don't run! Wait a minute! Don't run!"

Apparently, an enthusiastic rush of runners pouring across the starting line was not the chaotic image the organizers wanted associated with the Beijing Terry Fox run. The announcer then began listing groups of sponsors - universities, cancer-fighting organizations, companies, who may proceed across the starting line to the right, with their supporters behind the appropriate banner or flag.

We did not have a banner or flag, but we finally felt it would be OK for us to start on the loop through Chaoyang Park. We passed a variety of events occurring simultaneously with ours, including two weddings doing pictures and a couple of groups of Xinjiang-style dancer groups in multi-colored skirts and head-dresses. Unfortunately, it was a thick, dark gray day with light rain and palpable pollution in the air, probably not the best day for either an outdoor run or wedding pictures.

The course was a very simple loop, and we had been running for perhaps 20 minutes when Da Shan appeared by our side, chatting with a Chinese runner. A moment later, we found ourselves crossing the finish line. While one might expect celebrations and festivities at the end of a charity run, the plaza was surprisingly empty. We found almost no one there other than Mark, who had finished a few minutes in front of us. Mark confirmed with his GPS wristwatch that the run, advertised as 7K, had been only about 3.5 K, or 2.2 miles, and equally round number for a road race, I suppose.

With no fanfare, music, or even water at the finish line, there was nothing to do but head off for a nice brunch at Chef Too, which we did once Mark had taken the opportunity to talk to Da Shan. I don't want to steal Mark's thunder, so I will hold off on reporting that conversation to give him the opportunity to blog it on www.facethesun.org.

Friday, October 5, 2007

Back - but what does it all mean?

I'm back to blogging, after a frightfully long hiatus. There's lots to tell, but let's start with a language lesson. A colleague and I joined two Chinese teachers and a local guide on a trip to Qufu, which is the birthplace of Confucius, and Taishan, which is one of China's five most famous mountains. In addition to our Chinese immersion, however, we also tested our English with these translated signs. Let's see how you do...

1) In a (slightly smelly) public restroom. English text: Sweet memories go with you and clean environment leaves behind.

Chinese text - proper translation: Leave a beautiful environment, leave a beautiful memory.
What did they really mean? Please be neat!

2) In our hotel guest guide. English text: Respect guest hello, the guesthouse enters you in the room has electric heatingcanteen, Please directly receives in the basin tap the running water,after boils Then drinks uses.
Chinese text - proper translation: Greetings Respected Guest. There is an electric hot water pot in your room. Please boil the tap water before drinking.
What did they really mean? It takes 5000 years of civilization to learn how to use a tea kettle.

3) On the light switch above the night table in our hotel. English text: Bedside shoots the lamp.
Chinese text - proper translation: Bed head shoots the lamp.
What did they really mean? Since you are an American, we have booked you into our "Wild West" room. Please enjoy the violence. Tee hee.

4) Hotel night table. English text: For your safety, please keep chsh and valuable goods in head stage.
Chinese text - proper translation: For your safety, please leave cash and valuables at the front desk for safe keeping.

5) In hotel bathroom. English text: Please use slippery.
Chinese text - proper translation: Please take anti-slip precautions.
What did they really mean? This is the most dangerous bathroom ever. Because this is an old state run hotel in a provincial capital, it is not well kept and the bathroom floor is never dry.

Thursday, August 9, 2007

August 8

Well, give Beijing one thing: they managed a blue sky day for August 8.

I really don't think we can give credit to Chinese calendar's assertion that
yesterday must have been a clear, warm day because it was the first day of autumn, though.

Yesterday, citizens of Beijing definitely saw blue sky. But while we were out there staring out the blue sky, we were sweating our eyeballs out: it was 93 degrees and humidity once again reached 100%. According to weather.com, the humidity went as low as 56%, almost refreshing, although I was inside at that time and can't confirm.

As for pollution, this could not possibly be a coincidence: the pollution index for Beijing yesterday was 88.

So how did the weather turn so blue and half-bearably dry? I am sure the rain storm the day before had something to do with clearing the air. Did the heavens cooperate to bring honor on the descendants of the dragon as they prepare for the historic 2008 Olympics? Perhaps, but the heavens surely had help from a little seeding of the clouds.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, don't mind that peasant farmer over there manning the anti-aircraft gun. Those shells he's shooting into the clouds will make it rain. Like all other Olympics preparation systems, the rain-making (in more ways than one!) system was tested for the one-year countdown. Beijing officials have committed to preventing rain at Olympic venues during athletic events, and they also plan to rely on manufactured rain storms to clean the air.

There are a few minor flaws in this plan, however. One, noted yesterday, is that the effects of a seeded rainstorm don't last that long. This morning looks a little bluer than normal, but in general these storms clear the air for only a little more than a day. On top of that, the effect is not always dramatic as one would like. Sure, the sky was blue yesterday. But would you want to be an Olympic marathoner in 93 degree heat and over 70% humidity most of the day? Even without pollution, August in Beijing is just not an ideal setting for athletic competition.

Finally, cloud seeding is just one of many, many aspects of Olympic preparations where the effects on ordinary citizens don't seem to be taken into account. Last year, farmers complained when officials seeded clouds to make a convenient rainfall. Without interference, they pointed out, the rain would have eventually fallen on their fields, instead of falling prematurely on the city of Shanghai. Their crops suffered in favor of Shanghai's cleansing shower.

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

Waiting for August 8

For the last eight weeks, Beijing has been a humid, soggy, gray mess. I have seen blue sky twice. It's hot - in the 90s almost every day. And, it's wet - humidity over 90%. I used to believe that 100% humidity = rain, but that's not true. Beijing reaches 100% humidity, and it doesn't rain. For days.

With this level of humidity, it's impossible to differentiate between the fog and the pollution. You know they're both out there, but on any given day, you can't tell which one is responsible for the fact that you can barely see across the street.

The Chinese government's Air Quality Report (SEPA) gave Bejiing a "3A" rating for yesterday, which means, according to SEPA,

"The symptom of the susceptible is aggravated slightly, while the healthy people will appear stimulate symptom. The cardiac and respiratory system patients should reduce strength draining and outdoor activities."
As a healthy people, I can confirm I did appear stimulate symptom: nose running, sneezing, and an occasional stinging in the eyes when outdoors.

I should be clear, though, not all of the blame lies on the pollution or the failure of the authorities to curb pollution. Even with a normal level of pollutants, it would be difficult to be outdoors in this weather, and in the States it would be recommended for many folks to reduce strength draining and outdoor activities. And, with this level of humidity, it would be difficult for even minor levels of pollution to dissipate from the city air.

When one points out to Chinese acquaintances, especially Beijingers, that even if Beijing achieves its pollution control goals, 90-degree heat with 90-percent humidity are not conducive conditions for Olympic athletic performance, they all say, "It will be clear by August 8." Every one agrees, on August 8, the heat will break. On August 8, the air will be dry. August 8 is a magic date. And so, I wait, for August 8.

Why do Beijingers have such faith in August 8? There are probably a few reasons. The first two are most straightforward:
  • August 8 is 8/8. 8 is the most auspicious number, so this date must be an auspicious one. Not as auspicious as it will be next year, when the Olympic opening ceremonies will begin at 8 pm on 8/8/08, of course, but an auspicious date in any year to be sure.
  • August 8 or this year kicks off the 1-year Olympic countdown activities. As part of the countdown kickoff activities, sporting events are being held all over the country to test China's level of preparation. Festivals and banquets will be held to evaluate the progress of the service industry. 1 million cars will be taken off the road in Beijing to practice for the Olympics and see if it makes any difference in the air. In case you're curious, the way officials get 1 million cars, 1/3 of the automobile population, off the road in Beijing, is to tell all the public servants not to drive. (No, foreign diplomats don't count.) When 1.3 billion people, all descendants of the dragon, join forces in this way to bring honor to the Middle Kingdom, it's not too much to expect the heavens will force the weather to cooperate.
But there is another reason, entirely separate from the Olympics. In the Chinese traditional calendar, August 8 represents the beginning of a new season: Autumn. By the time we in the West start Autumn on September 23, the Chinese are halfway through it.

The Chinese also subdivide their seasons into smaller portions, so that August 7 (today!) is not only the last say of summer, but also the last day of the most unbearable sub-portion of the hottest sub-season of summer.

Summer starts in early May, on a day called 立夏 (li xia), or the standing up of summer. But the real heat starts at the beginning of the 三伏天 (san fu tian), which literally means three lying down days, and perhaps could be described as the three periods when it's so hot you want to lie down all day. This stretch of time is about 30 days of the hottest, most humid weather in China.

More over, the hot san fu tian 三伏天 is further broken down into three 伏天 (fu tian) periods of about 10 days (I say about, because there are some years when the whole 三伏天 period is actually 40 days - a fact that requires a far deeper understanding of the Chinese calendar than I posess.) There's early fu, middle fu, and end fu. End fu is the hottest and most humid of them all, and August 7 is the last day of that final fu.

So, today I will bask in the end of the 末伏 "final fu" of the sanfutian of summer. And let's hope Chinese are right about tomorrow!

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Like a Train Wreck... on a Bike

Don't worry, I'm OK. The accident I am about to recount did not happen to me; I was just a witness.

In my previous post on biking in Beijing, I mentioned the commuters who cram their way to the front of the bike lane at the intersection, then cut through the two lines of left turning cars rather than waiting through lights at both corners.

One day, as usual on my commute to work, I skirted a congested bus station and prepared to cross one portion of a major 5-way intersection in accordance with the light and the traffic assistant. I had cleverly maneuvered my way to the front of the bike pack waiting at the intersection, so I was feeling pretty proud of myself as I sailed across the street ahead of the herd.

Among the usual din of honks, bells, yells, and squealing brakes, I noticed a particularly long and annoying whine to my left. It was a motor-scooter, crossing diagonally between the left-turning cars at full speed, the driver holding his hand on the horn and his small son on his lap. Just as I shook my head and turned my attention back to the road, I heard a loud CRUNCH!

The father-on-scooter had just T-boned a young couple riding to work on a single bicycle about 10 yards behind me, right in the middle of the pack crossing the road. The girl was trying to pick herself up from under the bike, which was wedged under the front of the scooter, and the bike-riding boyfriend was standing up and yelling at the scooter driver. Unconcerned, the driver backed off of the bike and started to drive away (son still on lap), as the boyfriend tried to call the police on his cell phone. Not about to let the scooter get away, the boyfriend dodged in front of the scooter to prevent it from leaving the scene.

The boyfriend and scooter danced back and forth for a while, until the scooter driver had enough and decided if he couldn't get around the bike victim, he should just to drive away through him. Next thing you know, the scooter has rammed directly into the bike boyfriend's stomach and is pushing him backward down the street as the boyfriend grabs the handlebars with one hand, continues trying to call the police with the other hand, and drags his feet along the ground. Did I mention the son is still on the scooter driver's lap?

There were about 35 people on bikes and foot on that side of the intersection, but as far as I could see, none of them did anything.

My own light changed then, and it was time for me to safely - or as safely as possible under the circumstances - cross the street. I realized, if I had not worked my way to the front of the pack at the intersection, I would have been right where that bike couple was when they got hit.

To summarize the experience of biking to work, it's like being in a documentary on Beijing city life, a low-speed police chase, and an action film all at once.

Getting to Pingyao

On our way to the ancient walled city of Pingyao, my cousins Michelle and David were treated to a Chinese airline customer service experience.

First, picture US airline customer service. Then, move that out of an overly litigious and customer-focused society into a context where it is accepted that the customer has no rights but those the vendor tells him to have, and no one has ever received a refund or compensation for poor treatment, ever.

Very early in the morning, we hopped a taxi to the airport. We walked in about 55 minutes before our flight and split up into different lines to see who would make it to the counter first. Exactly 30 minutes before our flight, we handed our passports and boarding passes to the agent, who said, "Flight is closed. I cannot check you in." What! We've been here almost a 1/2 hour already! And there was no announcement the flight was closing, no effort to get passengers checked in. I was furious. The gate agent deflected me with a classic Chinese send-them-to-someone-else-for-bad-news maneuver, "Go to the Duty Manager. He can help you."

We headed across the hall to the Duty Manager, who said, "The flight is closed. Of course I cannot help you. It's already 30 minutes before departure." At that moment, a Chinese customer approached the counter with the same situation for the same flight - as well as proof that he was actually at the check-in counter a full 33 minutes ahead of the flight, but he was denied check-in as well. Now I realize, the flight was likely overbooked. Perhaps a group of VIPs needed to get on the flight, or perhaps they sold just a couple of extra tickets, but either way, the airline saved face by declaring us at fault.

The duty manager said, "There is another flight at 9:20." Ok, less than 2 hours later, we can manage that. We dashed to the ticket counter only to find out the flight was a 9:20 pm, not am. Score 2 for the duty manager, 0 for customer service. Ultimately, we ended up going to a different airline and buying first class tickets to Taiyuan, the nearest city to Pingyao, because those were the only seats available. At 900 RMB (about US$130), the price was quadruple our original ticket price, but still acceptable.

Perhaps if I had known what we were headed to in Pingyao, I would not have been in such a rush or felt so frustrated at the delay. But as it was, the taste of my fury at the duty manager was still lingering in my mouth as I nursed my instant noodle cup in the first class lounge.

Closer to Beijing Life, Closer to Death

For the last three weeks, I've been biking to work at least three times per week. Participating in the great Beijing two- and three-wheeled commute is a fantastically stimulating experience. It really cannot be understood unless you've done it, but I'll try to paint a picture. (An actual picture of me on my Chinese bike will be forthcoming soon, I promise.)

First, you might ask, why am I risking near-certain death on the way to work and absolute certain sweatiness on arrival at work by biking? I can easily afford a few dollars for inexpensive Beijing taxis, or I could pay a small fee to ride a commuter shuttle to the office with my colleagues, or a I could take the bus. But all forms of car transportation are frustratingly slow and unpredictable during rush hour, and the ride to work ranges from 20-40 minutes. Amazingly, drivers manage to endanger a maximum number of people while moving at a minimum speed. One morning, I sat in my taxi for over 15 minutes at a single intersection, all the while watching bikes pass by. Looking around the taxi, I realized it was filthy inside, the air conditioning didn't work, the polluted outside air and the exhaust from the cars around me was stifling, and I was getting aggravated at the driver's inability to move the vehicle forward. I decided it was time to join the bicycles.

From the first moment in the bike lane, it was liberating. The commute is 20 minutes each way, no matter what the traffic. On top of that, I have full control. I can leave when I want and stop as many times as I want along the way home, running errands and filling my bike basket with groceries, and I don't have to pay a new 10 RMB minumum taxi fare with each new leg of the journey.

Best of all, just by rolling outside my gate on two wheels, I joined the community of Beijing residents in a way I hadn't in 6 months of walking, taxi-ing, and busing around. One look at the swarms in the bike lane and you'll know biking is very much a part of Beijing life: small children bike to school (or more often, sit on their parent's lap on the bike - I still don't know how they do that), adults ride to work, old men pull carts with their bird cages to the park, workers haul supplies, young women perch carefully on the book rack of their boyfriends' Flying Pigeons. From the bike, I also have the chance to really observe what's happening on and along the road and get a better handle on the layout of the streets in my neighborhood. I wouldn't call myself a Beijinger, but suddenly I feel like a real resident of the city.

So, what have I seen from my new mobile vantage point? A few observations:

  • China really stretches the definition of "bicycle." My cousin David noted, "In Beijing, bicycles are like snowflakes - no two are exactly alike." You've got your ordinary Chinese bike, with flat handle bars, very tall wheels, adorned with any combination of baskets on the front and back, seats on the back and front, a safety - "safety" - light, a bell, and an old plastic bag tied around the seat. Then there's also the bikes pulling open carts full or trash down the bike lane, motor scooters, motor bikes, hybrid pedal-and-motor bikes, and three-wheeled tuk-tuks. Environmentalists might be delighted to see such abundant non-car flora and fauna, but I assure you no victories are being won against air pollution in the bike lane. (Did you see I mentioned open carts of trash and old diesel motor scooters?)
  • Biking is far more dangerous than driving. Sure, Beijing's crazy taxi drivers are a serious threat (that bike lane doesn't confer magical safety powers, you know), but the bikers are really scary. Lane space is a commodity to be claimed at any price.
  • There's no point in going fast. Intersections are the great equalizer. Ah, the Great Third Ring Road Intersection. At rush hour, uniformed traffic monitors, with no particular training, whistle incessantly and wave a red flag in erratic patterns. It's impossible to know what they are trying to communicate, especially when you're 15 yards back from the intersection packed in pedal-to-pedal with a couple hundred of your favorite Beijing neighbors, but you just go when everyone else goes.
  • Without a bike bell, you're toast. For cars, the horn is an essential tool of communication. To us Americans, a blast of the horn means, "Look out!" Either you're about to kill me or I'm about to kill you. In China, the many meanings of the horn have yet to be fully cataloged, but a few of them include: I'm passing you on the right or left; you're going too slow; you're going too fast; hello; I have no intention of obeying the light/ sign/ traffic cop ahead; the light is green; hey look! did you see that foreigner on a bike?; you had better stop because I'm going no matter what; you had better go because I'm yielding to you, but I'm really impatient; this red light/ toll booth/ motorcade/ storm/ earthquake/ song/ bridge/ run-up to the Olympics is too long so I decided to make some noise because that might help. It turns out, the bike bell is every bit as adaptable and communicative as the horn. And it's brave, too - I have seen many a trill little bike bell take on a taxi, pick-up truck, or van.
  • Finally, a lesson that pops up in almost every aspect of Beijing life: people are nuts. Do you want to know why Beijing bikers push their way to the front of the intersection, scraping my legs and jostling all the little children precariously balanced on the crossbar of their parents bikes? So they can streak across the intersection diagonally in the brief moment between when the light changes and the cars in the left turn lanes from both directions actually reach the center of the intersection. And, those cars in the left turn lanes include buses.

Tuesday, July 3, 2007

A Seriously "China" China Visit

My cousins Michelle and David are here for two weeks, getting their name on the Visitors Point Tally with 1 and 2 points, respectively (David gets and extra point because it's his first ever trip outside the United States). While any trip to China is sure to include some unexpected events, David and Michelle have had a lot of "only here" moments. To name a few:

- received counterfeit 50 RMB bill; found out when they tried to pay for something with it
- saw a car on fire, Chinese firefighters put it out (a real Chinese fire drill!)
- received counterfeit 50 RMB bill (again!)
- their taxi slammed into a pedestrian and sent her flying; driver yelled at victim
- a vendor reached into Michelle's wallet to take money from her at Great Wall; 1 fake 50 RMB note disposed of

Of course, this is on top of the bajillion taxi close calls with their life, a 4-hour hike up an almost vertical mountain; the usual bargaining adventures; watching me fight (unsuccessfully) with an Air China Duty Manager after our flight's check-in closed early so we couldn't get on it; sleeping on a traditional "kang" bed in one of the dirtiest supposed tourist sites I've seen in China (more on Pingyao in a later post); a Cultural Revolution restaurant experience where they denied us food while we were in a VIP room and forbid us to take pictures.

Suffice to say, this is a trip that is going to make even more stories than the usual China jaunt. Also, Michelle is now expertly trained in identifying fake Chinese bills.

Saturday, June 16, 2007

New Color Scheme for Summer

I haven't been blogging for the last couple of weeks because now is time to get ready for my Chinese exam next week, so not only haven't I wanted to spend much time blogging, but I also haven't been seeing a lot of blog-worthy things. What I'm really looking forward to is not the test, but the the arrival of two special visitors the following day.

Since both Michelle and David will be getting their names on the Visitors Point Tally with this
visit, I've re-posted the details of the VPT in the comment below.

I promise more postings after this week!

Tuesday, June 5, 2007

China's National College Entrance Exam 高考

This week is China's annual national college entrance exam, known less-than-affectionately as the "gao kao." The gao kao is the only way for most students to get into university.

The gao kao would be just another rite of passage, if it weren't for the shortage of slots at universities
. According to the Ministry of Education, 5.67 million students will be able to enroll in college this fall, but over 10 million have registered for the exam. Chinese people describe the gao kao as 千军万马过独木桥 "a thousand soldiers and 10,000 horses crossing single plank bridge."

Moreover, not all of the available university slots are equal. This year's college graduates faced a serious job shortage, with many taking menial jobs just to have some income, so a degree from one of the higher-ranked universities is an essential asset in the intense competition for good jobs. It's true that the Chinese economy is growing wildly, but 1.3 billion is an awfully large population to employ, and many of the available jobs are for skilled laborers, not educated intellectuals, in the construction or manufacturing sectors.


Adding to the pressure on this weeks test takers is the fact that they are mostly only-children, and they have both a cultural and a legal responsibility to provide financially for both their parents in the future. Their performance on this week's test will determine not only which university their attend, but also to some extent which major they will be allowed to study, and thus their future profession. Rural families are known to give up their farming, home, and income to move to cities where, due to the quirks of the test system, their child will be able to get into a university with a lower score than those who attend high school in the village.

For a more complete picture of how intense the pressure these high school students face, and the ferocious tempest of parental angst that swirls around them, check out this sampling of articles in the last month alone:

June 5: Stressed Parents Drug Kids for Exam -
Some stressed out parents in Shanghai have been searching for a prescription stimulant to give their children ahead of this week's national college exams, according to the Beijing News. Pushy parents and grandparents are as anxious as the youngsters about the highly competitive exam, and would buy whatever tonics and drugs were promoted on TV or recommended by friends. They were also booking quiet but expensive hotel rooms near examination halls.

June 1: Police Seize Cheating Devices Before Exam -
A market inspector shows a purse-like electronic device made for cheating ahead of the national college entrance exam in Jinan, East China's Shandong Province, May 31, 2007. Police raided a shop and confiscated a large number of cheating devices.

May 30: Worried Parents Told to Relax -
An event held last weekend that was designed to provide free psychological counseling for students ahead of their college entrance exams ended up attracting more parents than teenagers. One father said, "I would wake up suddenly in the night, thinking that my son was going to fail his exam; then I would not be able to get back to sleep."

May 29: China Establishes "Credibility Record" to Combat Exam Fraud -
Cases of cheating in national educational tests, including the College Entrance Examination and postgraduate recruitment exams, would be entered on the record. The record, expected to be available online, would be open to higher educational institutions and employers for reference.

May 10: Maids Sought for Exam Season - Demand for specialized ayi, or domestic helpers, trained in nutrition and student psychology and skilled at cooking, is growing as the entrance examinations for universities and senior high-schools draw near.

This last one is a bit older, but illustrative.
Apr 19: Leak of College Entrance Exam Paper "Impossible" - The people who design the college entrance exam papers are "confined" in certain places during the exam conception phase and hand over their mobile phones and computers during the process. After the exam papers have been written, the exam designers are "confined" for a further 30 to 40 days for the sake of confidentiality.

Harmonious Society's Harmonious Exercise

Like the US and much of the West, China is facing a growing - literally - problem with juvenile obesity. China's modern, only children are less active and better-fed than previous generations, and the looming specter of the 高考 "gaokao", the ridiculously intense college selection exam, ties many to their desk studying late into the night, with no time for recreational exercise.

A recent study by the Chinese Youth and Children's Research Center found that Chinese children spend an average of 8.6 hours per day at school, with some spending 12 hours per day in the classroom. After school and on weekends, most students - at all ages, not just those preparing for the gaokao - attend additional tutoring or "cram school" classes, and this does not include extracurricular activities such as music. They have very little time for free play and exercise, and 60% of respondents claimed they didn't even have any playmates.

The Ministry of Education has announced a solution: mandatory dancing. Elementary and secondary school students will be required, during their break periods or extra-curricular times, to practice specific 4-5 minute dances developed by the government specifically for this purpose. There are different dances for different ages, and the whole set of dances will be revised every two years. And of course, the teachers must learn the dances as well.

I wonder, considering the Ministry itself cites excessive homework and a shortage of time as reasons for children's failure to exercise, is forcing them to use their free time to do an activity many won't like really the best way to encourage good habits?

Saturday, June 2, 2007

I don't make these things up...

Many advertisements in Chinese cities, including some I occasionally receive by SMS text on my cell phone, promise to make "genuine," or at least, realistic official documentation of any kind - diplomas, work verification, temporary resident cards, awards, etc. But I never saw an advertisement offering pre-framed English-language certificates for your wall...

Last weekend, I took a bunch of items to be framed, including my Foreign Service Officer commission. When I returned this morning to pick them up, the framed items were waiting in the showroom, alongside many other beautifully framed items for sale and pickup. The salesperson pointed to the commission told me, "Someone asked to buy
this one, but I said no!" Although the customer presumably didn't know exactly what it was, he told her, "It would make me look like I had big accomplishments."

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

In Defense of MSG 味精论

Monosodium glutamate, or MSG, gets a bad rap. Most people who haven't lived in Asia don't realize how wonderfully useful this food additive is, or how ubiquitous it is, even in the US.

So what is MSG? Without getting scientific, it's a white crystal flavor enhancer that looks a lot like big grains of salt. I understand it's made from fermenting beets or cane sugar molasses. You ordinarily won't see it in your food, except in some cases where the cook sprinkles a lot on at the very end of preparation, in which case you'll see a little layer of it on the top of your dish. This is something I've only see happen in China, never in Chinese restaurants at home.

In Chinese, the word for MSG is 味精 wei4jing1, or "essence of flavor." As far as I know, MSG does not have a flavor of its own; rather, it does amazing things for the existing flavors in a dish - makes them "jump out and dance on your tongue," as one friend put it. Apparently the particular combination of chemicals in MSG excites our taste receptors, making the flavors in our mouth come alive.

MSG and gluatamates are responsible for our enjoyment of savoriness, or umami. It makes me feel old to say a new taste has been invented since I was in school, but it's true. In biology class, I learned there are four tastes: sweet, sour, salty, and bitter. But at some point we in the West became aware of the flavor that Japanese call "umami," which is the savory and "full" mouth sensation associated with things like ripe tomatoes and veal with onions.

When you make a dish without MSG or another form of "free glutamates", it's pretty hard to replicate umami. What's the difference between dull, limp spinach sauteed in a oil and garlic at home and delicious but simple greens served at a Chinese restaurant? MSG. If the Chinese food you're eating in the States tastes bland, check the menu. I bet it proudly states "No MSG!"

But what about the evils of MSG, from numbing on the back of the neck, to excessive blood pressure, to migraines? There are certainly some people with sensitivity to MSG, although the International Food Information Council has made clear that there is no such thing as a true MSG allergy. The thing is, the small number of people who are sensitive to MSG are sensitive to a lot more than Chinese food. Naturally-occurring or additive MSG and glutamates are found in almost all American fast food, flavored potato chips and other "junk food" type chips, canned soups & soup mixes, Parmesean cheese, cold-cuts, mushrooms, some veggie burgers, salad dressings, seaweed, fish extract, fresh tomatoes & tomato juice, some seasoned flours, sausage, etc... So the next time some health nut refuses to eat Chinese food because of the MSG but dashes off for a veggie burger and a protein shake with a seaweed booster, feel free to raise an eyebrow. Finally, glutamates are abundant in human breast milk, another thing that makes me doubt they are as dangerous to humans as many people say.

Sunday, May 27, 2007

The National Pig and Pork Reserve

There's no question a rising super-power like China has oil reserves and weapons reserves, the world's largest reserve of US dollars... But do you know about China's national pig and pork reserve?

The Chinese consume pig meat like no other group of people on Earth. In addition to being the most important ingredient in a wide variety of actual pork dishes and dumplings, pork is also used to flavor every type of meat dish, not to mention the little flecks of pork you find at the bottom of vegetable dishes. Pigs, by the way are considered the smartest animals in the Chinese zodiac because they are clever enough not to do any work for anyone else but just to lie around and eat all day - a good life, and the kind of life many modern Chinese mothers hope for their own only-children to have.

As you can imagine, the recent rapid rise in the price of pigs (71% in a month) and pork (29% in a month) has effected everyone in the country except a few Buddhists. The dumpling stall by our school - so delicious they've been known to make people find religion - raised the price of a half-dozen dumplings from 3 RMB to 3.5 RMB. Figure in the exchange rate increase, and soon we might be paying a whole 50 cents for lunch!

Premier Wen JiaBao personally went to Xi'an to "investigate" the pig situation. In addition to high prices for the corn used to feed , he also found that this years pig production was reduced to due low pork prices in recent years and a blue ear disease outbreak.

The government has since announced it is prepared to rely on the national pig and pork reserve to ameliorate the situation.
I immediately thought of imperial stores of valuable treasures like jade, gold, and of course, pigs. It turns out the reserve is a much more modern construct, managed under the state-owned China Merchandise Reserve Management Center.

Since I'm not sure I will be able to take a field trip to see the pigs & pork reserve, and if I did, I doubt they would allow my camera in such a mission-essential government facility, I'll leave you with this photo of the Chinese premier inspecting pork in Xi'an.

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

It's Not a Language Problem... 不是语言的问题...

The toughest problems communicating in Beijing arise not when a foreigner can't speak enough Chinese to explain what you mean, but when your meaning is so foreign it can't be explained. It's not a language problem, it's a conceptual problem. Or, as one of my colleague's teachers told him on a painful day, "Your language is fine. It's your thought process that's wrong."

One example is the American who asked me to help him translate his request to return a good to a salesman on the street for his money back. He realized he'd been overcharged (by about 1000%) for an item he purchased that he suspected all along was counterfeit, but he had believed would at least be better quality. He believed product failure within 12 hours was sufficient reason for a return. He also believed the reason the vendor wouldn't comply with his request was my inability to explain it in Chinese. He was wrong on all counts.

Such miscommunication is understandable between a street vendor and a fresh-off-the-boat China newbie, I guess. I was much more surprised when it happened with a very with-it, educated, open-minded Chinese friend who speaks excellent English and often hangs out with Westerners. When I mentioned a fundraiser I attended for the 2007 Special Olympics World Games 特殊奥运会, which are going to be held in China, my friend said, "Ah, right, the 'Handicapped Olympics' 残疾奥运会."

I pointed out the term "special" in English - and in Chinese, for that matter - highlights the special qualities the athletes demonstrate in daily life and in competition. The word "handicapped," on the other hand, suggests being held back by something, when clearly athletes who train for a long time and come from all over the world to compete are not letting themselves be held back.

"Oh, there's nothing negative about the word handicapped," was the response, "It just means that their body is broken or they are weak in the head." I'm not particularly PC, but I couldn't take that definition any more than my friend could understand why it bothered me.

In general, any portion of the population that is markedly different from the other 1.4 billion people around here has a tough time. I was glad to see the enthusiasm at the fundraiser, as well as the other events in the leadup to the Special Olympics, which should increase awareness. The government has made some effort in this regard. On May 20, mobile phone customers in Beijing received a SMS blast message notifying us of the 17th annual National Help the Disabled Day (全国助残日), which is held on the third Sunday of May. The message encouraged Beijingers to consider the situation of disabled people in society. I'm sure all the international attention approaching the Olympics does not hurt the effort to shine some light on this aspect of human rights in China.

For more information about the 2007 Special Olympics, follow this link to the web site. The fundraiser, by the way, was to raise money for an website that will show results and live and archived streaming video of each athlete so friends and relatives can watch from anywhere in the world.

Monday, May 21, 2007

"Water goods" (水货) All Around...

I recently dealt with two electronics markets in Beijing: the cleverly named "Buy Now" (百闹) computer mall, whose name means "100 Computers" in Chinese (literally "100 brains", because the word for computer is "electric brain"); and the 2nd-hand appliance market, where every type of machine from the Atari onward rests in various states of assembly and disrepair. My goal was to obtain a replacement power cord for my Apple iBook G4 at a reasonable price. In the end, it turned out to be cheaper and more convenient to wait for my mother to send the replacement part from the States and to purchase a tiny little used laptop to hold me over until my Apple is functional again.

How could this be, you might be wondering? After all, these things are all made in China, right? Plus, one look around at the uber-connected Chinese youth (and older people too - even peasants use SMS text messaging), and you know there is no shortage of mobile, wireless, and other computing technology in country. But "Made in China" is not the same as available in China, and the brand name you see is not necessarily the brand name you get.

Most of my belongings are part of a free-trade life cycle: they were produced in China and sent to the US, and now they have returned here with me. But unlike immigrants, these goods likely never saw the light of day in their home country. Most goods for export are sent directly from production to shipping and stop only for customs inspection before heading overseas. Despite what vendors might say, the ubiquitous, inexpensive look-alikes of famous Western brands here are rarely, if ever, over-runs, mistakes, or genuine goods authorized for sale on the local market. They are usually completely counterfeit knock-offs, local products with a recognizeable brand's label slapped on. Those that are not entirely fake night be unauthorized runs made at the real factory with some of the real materials purchased under the table from a real supplier.

If you want to buy the real product, you can get it, but not cheaply - it's been exported and re-imported, so your price tag includes two directions of shipping and two countries' customs duties. And if you're not absolutely sure you're buying a genuine product, you'll always have the nagging feeling you paid a fortune for something that's only worth a few dollars. That was my experience searching for my power cord at Buy Now. Last week, I bought a power cord at an Apple Authorized Reseller stall there - one of only a handful of Apple stalls in a sea of HP, Dell, IBM, Canon, and local knockoffs of the same. I had to bargain hard to get the price down to almost $100 USD, still more than the $80 price on the Apple web site. I needed the cord, though, and I was willing to pay for a product I knew was genuine. You can imagine my frustration, then, when the precious power cord, worth more than I usually spend on a pair of nice shoes, broke within a week of purchase.

I returned to the stall and was told they would sell me a replacement for the same price. But why should I have to pay, I asked, when it's clearly a problem with your product? Since I hadn't specifically negotiated a guarantee at the time of purchase, I was out of luck on that front. This time, I insisted on one-year guarantee. "No possibility! 不可能!" I was told, "This product can only be guaranteed for three months." I happen to have learned from the Apple web site their products are guaranteed for a year, so I fought.

Eventually, the sales manager came back with the following solution, "This can be guaranteed only for 3 months, but we have a better one that can be guaranteed for a year, which is a bit more expensive." By a "bit" more expensive, he meant over twice the price. I hit the roof. I know there is "no possibility" that Apple makes two versions of an accessory, a still-not-so-cheap one that will break in three months and a ridiculously expensive one that will break in a year. The vendor explained that one was domestically produced, and one was "original," and of course the one I had bought the week before was domestic.

I have no idea whether the power cord I had previously purchased from them was a "domestically-produced" Apple product, a used item that had just reached the end of its lifespan, or a fake. The stall does carry genuine new Apple products, but that doesn't mean they don't deal other stuff on the side as well. All I knew for sure was, there was no way I wanted to pay these guys another $200 or more for a possibly unreliable version of an $80 product. What else could I do, though? Hardly anyone in mainland China uses Apple computers, and this was pretty much the only place in Beijing to buy accessories for them.

Possibly sensing impeding meltdown of my own not-so-electronic brain, my friend Mark offered a suggestion: what about the second-hand appliance market? You could buy a cheap computer to hold you over for the three weeks until you get the power cord from the States (Mark had recently done such a thing himself).

I had been to that market once before, to purchase a cell phone for a friend who didn’t speak much Chinese. On that visit, I learned that 2nd-hand was sort of a misnomer – there were plenty of brand new cell phones and other electronics to be had. When I asked one vendor if his phones were so inexpensive because they were second-hand, he looked affronted, "I wouldn’t sell you a used product!" he exclaimed with pride, "It’s 水货 'water goods'! Quality guaranteed."

"Water goods" means smuggled goods, which slip into the country over water without stopping at the ports, or looking at it another way, flow through every corner of the country like water. There is virtually no social stigma against owning smuggled goods, any more than fakes. Another time, my hairdresser commented that the price I spent on my own cell phone was so cheap, it must be smuggled. "No way! I cried, I bought it at the China Mobile store, I wouldn’t mess with smuggled goods!" He looked surprised at my outburst and grumbled, "Well, it was a good bargain anyway."

I don’t have to get into the many reasons reasonable foreigners, especially diplomats, would want to avoid purchasing smuggled goods or counterfeits. The thing is, in many cases, illegitimate is the only option. The water goods, along with their their counterfeit and pirated brethren, flood the market so thoroughly, they drown any legal, genuine products. Frugal, recently-risen-to-middle-class consumers easily become accustomed to the products and low prices, making it extraordinarily difficult for the legitimate producer, who invested heavily in research to develop the product, to compete and turn a profit.

One US movie company, for example, opened a store in Beijing selling DVDs for around $2, almost the same as a DVD on the street, specifically to encourage Chinese shoppers to buy the real thing. But even at the same price, the genuine DVDs were not worth the effort to walk past dozens of guys selling high-quality pirated movie, software, and music DVDs from all brands and all countries, just to go to a store that sold only one label of American movies. I understand the store has since closed.

On this visit to the second-hand appliance market, I took care to browse at only stalls with old, beat-up looking products, both because I wanted something cheap and because I wanted to make sure I was getting truly a second-hand, not smuggled or pirated, product.

I doubted it would be worth the time and money to get an additional computer instead of a power cord. The idea sounded so ridiculous and wasteful, there must be a Chinese four-character idiom to describe it. But it turned out not to be that ridiculous at all. After less than a half hour of looking, I found a slim, light, mini-laptop for the same price as the 3-month guarantee power cord at the Apple Reseller. It was fairly old, and pretty basic, but it can do what I need – word processing in Chinese and English, and of course wireless and DSL internet access. I noticed it had Windows ME and asked why it didn’t have Windows XP as the sticker in it indicated. "Oh, ignore that, I just put it there to make it sell better," said the vendor. Well, at least he’s honest – sort of.

So I am blogging at this very moment from my new gadget, no match for my beloved iBook G4, but certainly functional. I researched the model and found it was originally made strictly for the Japanese market, it’s pretty old, and the operating system cannot be changed from Asian languages to English, all of which makes me feel like the price I paid was about right. If I were a Japanese person buying this new several years ago, this would have been a pretty hot item. Now, it simply fills my requirements: genuine, not smuggled, and capable of going online.