Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Zhong hua ren min gong he guo wan sui!
Which seems an awfully roundabout way of saying Long Live China (literally, "Ten thousand years to the People's Republic of China"). But anyone who expects anything less than roundabouts and runarounds from the Chinese is fairly well doomed from the start. I must have been out of my mind. At the end of our 13-hour flight, I turned to Mike and said, "I suppose it's too late to back out now?"
I kid. I am thrilled here. After four nights in Andrew's dorm at Tsinghua, during which time he graciously gave up his bed (in effect a brief layer of padding on top of a wooden board, which is what I like best), I have moved into my dorm at Beijing Yuyan Wenhua Daxue, and my chinese name has been registered and inscribed for all time as Wen Wuyan, a name they seem to love ("ah, hen hao mingzi!"). I had to take a roommate, who turns out to be Thai. He's been here three months, speaks no English, and his Chinese is actually worse than mine. The only way we can communicate is in Chinese and the occasional hand gesture. Mostly this is me babbling at him. We've largely given up on conversation anyhow. I'm getting a single for the next session. On the plus side, it's $8 a night.
Most of the laowai here seem to be affiliated with a program of some kind, which means they are pampered, placated and paying through the nose (north of six times more than me). I don't know how many Americans just apply direct to the college, like me. It's not that many. In any case I heard some of the foreign ghosts' Chinese the other day. Dismaying in the extreme. I have to take a placement test on Thursday, and then classes start Friday. Chances are, because my spoken vocabulary so dramatically exceeds my character vocabulary (by an estimated 400 words), the class I'll get stuck in is below my real level, and I'll have to go kvetch. But what we're learning is that the only way to get anything done in this cheerfully circumambulous country (the taxi drivers, holy shit) is to attack the problem head on, charge into the office and plant yourself there until you get what you want. Because there is a golden rule: they want your money.
What have I done since I've been here? Well, there's been a lot of beer and a lot of food. Chief mission objective at this juncture is to eat my way across this town. Or at least this neighborhood. I am in food heaven. I know I spent this year bitching about how much American Chinese food sucks, but that's only because it's more true than I can communicate. I had this gongbao chicken the other day, and I swear I soiled myself. It was perfect, soft luscious pillows of chicken infused with flavors that went on for days before the heat of the chilies took over, and sweat beaded and cooled on the back of your neck. It was heartstopping. Cost $1.50. The food is so much a part of why I'm here. The friends are another part. The gang is indeed all here. It's brilliant. We've been out every night, eating colossal meals, watching the World Cup (now broadcast at 11pm and 3am. Spain and France at 3am. So there), causing general havoc in restaurants. No loneliness this time.
The rest, as I've said, is vengeance.
I'm here to avenge every rip-off, every moment of linguistic bafflement, every embarassing cultural stumble. Going at the language barrier hammer and tongs. I'm going to work hard this summer. I'm not here to travel, I'm sick of traveling. I'm here to install myself on campus and learn this language. We get four hours of class a day. I'm finding a language partner. You know I've never in my life studied for a language exam? I'm going to learn how this week.
Though the watchword of this country must be "despite." Despite the heat, despite the pollution, neither of these can be overestimated, despite the filth, despite the language, despite the exclusion, despite the fact that everything but everything is alien and strange, despite the gastrointestinal histrionics which show little sign of calming, despite the unrelenting influx of white people into this country (Nick's new line is, Fuck this I'm moving to Sri Lanka), despite the constant frustration of beating your head against a brick wall--there is what is phenomenal here. It's going to be quite a summer.
I kid. I am thrilled here. After four nights in Andrew's dorm at Tsinghua, during which time he graciously gave up his bed (in effect a brief layer of padding on top of a wooden board, which is what I like best), I have moved into my dorm at Beijing Yuyan Wenhua Daxue, and my chinese name has been registered and inscribed for all time as Wen Wuyan, a name they seem to love ("ah, hen hao mingzi!"). I had to take a roommate, who turns out to be Thai. He's been here three months, speaks no English, and his Chinese is actually worse than mine. The only way we can communicate is in Chinese and the occasional hand gesture. Mostly this is me babbling at him. We've largely given up on conversation anyhow. I'm getting a single for the next session. On the plus side, it's $8 a night.
Most of the laowai here seem to be affiliated with a program of some kind, which means they are pampered, placated and paying through the nose (north of six times more than me). I don't know how many Americans just apply direct to the college, like me. It's not that many. In any case I heard some of the foreign ghosts' Chinese the other day. Dismaying in the extreme. I have to take a placement test on Thursday, and then classes start Friday. Chances are, because my spoken vocabulary so dramatically exceeds my character vocabulary (by an estimated 400 words), the class I'll get stuck in is below my real level, and I'll have to go kvetch. But what we're learning is that the only way to get anything done in this cheerfully circumambulous country (the taxi drivers, holy shit) is to attack the problem head on, charge into the office and plant yourself there until you get what you want. Because there is a golden rule: they want your money.
What have I done since I've been here? Well, there's been a lot of beer and a lot of food. Chief mission objective at this juncture is to eat my way across this town. Or at least this neighborhood. I am in food heaven. I know I spent this year bitching about how much American Chinese food sucks, but that's only because it's more true than I can communicate. I had this gongbao chicken the other day, and I swear I soiled myself. It was perfect, soft luscious pillows of chicken infused with flavors that went on for days before the heat of the chilies took over, and sweat beaded and cooled on the back of your neck. It was heartstopping. Cost $1.50. The food is so much a part of why I'm here. The friends are another part. The gang is indeed all here. It's brilliant. We've been out every night, eating colossal meals, watching the World Cup (now broadcast at 11pm and 3am. Spain and France at 3am. So there), causing general havoc in restaurants. No loneliness this time.
The rest, as I've said, is vengeance.
I'm here to avenge every rip-off, every moment of linguistic bafflement, every embarassing cultural stumble. Going at the language barrier hammer and tongs. I'm going to work hard this summer. I'm not here to travel, I'm sick of traveling. I'm here to install myself on campus and learn this language. We get four hours of class a day. I'm finding a language partner. You know I've never in my life studied for a language exam? I'm going to learn how this week.
Though the watchword of this country must be "despite." Despite the heat, despite the pollution, neither of these can be overestimated, despite the filth, despite the language, despite the exclusion, despite the fact that everything but everything is alien and strange, despite the gastrointestinal histrionics which show little sign of calming, despite the unrelenting influx of white people into this country (Nick's new line is, Fuck this I'm moving to Sri Lanka), despite the constant frustration of beating your head against a brick wall--there is what is phenomenal here. It's going to be quite a summer.
 |  |
 | |
 | |
 | |
| Graphic Design Job |
