1.Decorating your room.
If you cannot afford to buy nice decorations for your room, don’t worry. There is a very easy solution that will cost you nothing and will make you feel right at home while still fitting into your local culture.
First, find an old Ethernet cable that is not currently in use. The reason for using the cable is that it is generally colorful and with its many filaments it is really sturdy and can generally stand a lot of weight.
Next, spend about three hours figuring out where to hang the wire. You may have to go through a number of trial and errors. One possible option you will find is to thread the cable through the empty curtain rings lining your window and tie a knot at both ends. Hook one end onto the corner of the windowframe and the other to a nail sticking out of the wall at the opposite end of the room creating a pulley system.
Then wash your dirty clothes so as to add a homely, soapy smell to the room and hang the wet cloths on the cable. If you find that it is not tight enough and that all your cloths clump at the center of the cable, use little pieces of malleable wire and wrap them around the Ethernet cable at even intervals. You can find these little wires by going to the local store and buying hangers. (They hold the hangers together), or dig down deep into your electronics bag.
To add the finishing touches, open the window and the door to create an airflow that will make the cloths flutter mimicking either silent wind chimes or prayers flags, depending on your preference.
2.Taking care of your skin.
If you are finding that the hot, humid weather is causing your facial skin to break out, don’t fret! Here is one way of taming those coagulant pests without spending a weeks salary on beauty products.
First, wash your face with either regular soap or hand soap (if the latter is not available) two to three times a day. Make sure to use your wet, musty hand towel to whip your face.
At night, before going to bed, wash once again vigorously. Then apply a generous amount of toothpaste to the heavily pimpled areas. Once your feel your skin start to burn with minty freshness, then slap on pieces of toilet paper. This will prevent your pillow from getting all sticky and will continue to absorb the perspiration until you learn how to use the air conditioner. If need be, use tape to make sure the paper sticks to your face properly. The end result should look like a mummified facemask with paper.
As a side note, make sure to puncture air holes for the mouth and nose.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Do You Want Chinese Boy For Your Boyfriend?
If I had any hesitations about going to SISU or even coming to China, they have completely vanished. I am very happy here and have completely settled into a routine. I am in three challenging class which focus one reading and writing, speaking, and grammar. All three combined, push me to learn and apply the language to my all-encompassing “real-life” classroom. I have found that getting around is easier; I am not as timid as I used to be, and I am able to better communicate and further conversation with my flat-mates, who have turned out to be just wonderful. I could not have ended up with a better couple.
Living in Shanghai and enrolling at the University has opened up many opportunities such as going to the World Expo for half price, taking elective classes in paper-cutting art and calligraphy, which I have yet to start, and meeting other international students. The other opportunity that I mentioned in a previous e-mail is being able to earn some money by teaching two Oral English, first year college classes, which has turned out to be more fun then I expected. There have certainly been some highs and lows but overall, things are going really well and I am very happy. Here are some of my stories.
Wednesday September 15th. I wake up as usual at 7:00am and like every other morning am dressed and out the door within half an hour. I walk into the elevator crowded with scooters, bags, people, children etc., stand awkwardly in silence for 30 seconds and rush out as soon as the doors open. I then turn the corner and head for the local 包子管（baoziguan) dumpling stand, pay 2 元 - 0.30$ for breakfast, and start my morning trot towards my campus. I get to class right on time and am ready to learn. However today, half way through class, a faint pain starts in my lower abdominal area. Familiar with this monthly occurrence, I reach into my bag for Advil and…oh crap, I don’t have any. “Oh well” I think, “It can’t get too bad, I will just stick it out. If I focus hard enough on the new grammar structures, I should be just fine. Mind over body, mind over body, mind over body…”
Ten minutes later, my body has decided to assert itself in full force, so much so that the rule explaining why “the structure particle “地“(de) is not used when the monosyllabic adjective modifies the verb…” isn’t even able to make it through one ear, never mind out the other. I decided to excuse myself from the class and walk around to see if movement would alleviate the pain. In doing so, I passed by what looked like and office with, women! Assuming that cramps were common amongst all women, I figured that at least one of them carried some kind of painkiller. In my disheveled state, I forgot that I was no longer in the U.S. where everyone walks around with pills, and that I was in a country were apparently women do not use tampons, nor do they experience severe discomfort every month.
Trying to describe what was wrong with me without making them think that I needed to go to the hospital, or that I was insane, must have been a sight. I kept on pointing at the space between my legs, grimacing formulating the phrase “every month, women’s problem!” in broken Chinese, and then pinching my fingers and pretending to eat something and then pointing back between my legs and smiling! Then I tried in English and with the combination of both languages, they finally understood. My relief was short lived when no one said that they had anything except hot water. The youngest girl seeing my face suggested she go with me to the nurse. “No, no, no, um…no need. Um… can I just rest here for a few minutes?” She nodded.
Lying on the couch in the corner of the room, doubled over, tears streaming down my face, feeling embarrassed and foolish for not being better prepared, was a new low. When the hot water had no effect, I finally decided to go to the nurse. The young girl who kept peering at me from over the desk kindly escorted me. When I finally got to see someone, I went through a whole ordeal about explaining that the pains were normal and that all I needed was a painkiller. Fortunately, while shifting through his cupboard, a small box with pain relief diagrams fell out and I jumped and said “This! This is what I need!” So, he gave me the box and that pill was down my throat faster then you can say IBprophin. Now emotionally relieved, I thanked the nurse and headed back to class. Before I leave the building however, I am stopped by the clerk and am charged 20元。Twenty yuan for a pill! I pay and with my head hung low, I hobble back to class, which is over by now, collect my things and head back home. Not a good day.
Thursday, September 16th however, was a very different day. First off, it was pain free so I was able to focus in class. It was also the day that I taught my two freshmen Oral English classes for the first time. At the beginning of the first and the second class I gave every student an English. A side note to parents, if you thought that naming one, two, three, even four kids was hard, try giving 35 Chinese students English names that sound similar to their native ones. Not easy, but certainly a lot of fun. In fact, I think the students in both the first and the second class enjoyed themselves and were pleased with my teaching style. The teacher-student dynamic was good, aside from certain cheeky personalities, and teaching the material came quite naturally to me, which I was grateful for, especially since in the second class I had to keep the students focused on the material rather than on my skirt. Oh, did I mention that the second class was almost all boys? Rambunctious, sassy, horny, self-aware, teenage boys? Yes, that’s right, and believe me, I know they were very pleased to have me as their teacher.
When I entered the room to teach my second class, all the students were sitting at the front, ogling me like they had never seen a western woman before. While trying to ignore this slightly voyeuristic behavior, I started the class the same way I had the previous one: with names and introductions. One exercise that my oral Chinese teacher did which helped us to loosen up, was to get us to ask her questions so that we not only got to know her better, but we also practiced our speaking skills. Since this exercise worked so well for us, and worked well for my first class, I thought that it would be a good idea to do the same for the second class.
The enthusiasm was not lacking however, as soon as questions such as “do you have a boyfriend?”, “are you married?”, “how old are you?” and “do you like Chinese men?” followed by hysterical laughter were asked, I realized I should have phrased “you can ask me anything”, to “you may ask me any question from the textbook”. A worthy note to make for the future. In an attempt to not let them get carried away, while trying not to crush the excited level of participation, I evaded each question conservatively and moved on to the next exercise. Unfortunately every other exercise carried the same tone and it was a challenge to keep them focused, although I think they actually did learn something. If anything, they know how to get a girls’ number.
The four boys at the front were particularly noisy and as I walked up to them during a group exercise, I noticed them hustled around a piece of paper. When I got closer and saw the contents, I snatched it up and told them to come and see me after class. In case you are as curious as I was, here is what was written:
“Do you find a Chinese boy for your boyfriend?”, “Do you want to marry to a Chinese boys?”, “Do you want set up a family in China?” and “What is your telephone number?”
To top it off, there was a poorly drawn sketch of what looked like me.
As they approached me at the end of class, I was very clear with them that this kind of behavior was unacceptable and that if they did it again, I would make them leave my class. Although I was stern, I also didn’t want to be hated in the first class. So, my words went something like this:
“This is unacceptable! Not good! I am your teacher. I am here to teach you English, not be your girlfriend. I am very happy that you ask me a lot of questions but these questions are not good. If you do this again, you leave my class. Ting Dong le ma? Do you understand? Good, alright, see you next week”.
“Sorry teacher, sorry teacher” they kept saying and then finally left giggling harmlessly into the hallway. The minute they left, I myself burst into laughter. Knowing where they were coming from, I hadn’t actually been offended. If anything is was a nice change from being called fat by my former acquaintance. However, I still wanted to assert myself as their teacher. But really, I found it rather endearing, and above all, so hilarious I couldn’t help but laugh the whole way home.
Living in Shanghai and enrolling at the University has opened up many opportunities such as going to the World Expo for half price, taking elective classes in paper-cutting art and calligraphy, which I have yet to start, and meeting other international students. The other opportunity that I mentioned in a previous e-mail is being able to earn some money by teaching two Oral English, first year college classes, which has turned out to be more fun then I expected. There have certainly been some highs and lows but overall, things are going really well and I am very happy. Here are some of my stories.
Wednesday September 15th. I wake up as usual at 7:00am and like every other morning am dressed and out the door within half an hour. I walk into the elevator crowded with scooters, bags, people, children etc., stand awkwardly in silence for 30 seconds and rush out as soon as the doors open. I then turn the corner and head for the local 包子管（baoziguan) dumpling stand, pay 2 元 - 0.30$ for breakfast, and start my morning trot towards my campus. I get to class right on time and am ready to learn. However today, half way through class, a faint pain starts in my lower abdominal area. Familiar with this monthly occurrence, I reach into my bag for Advil and…oh crap, I don’t have any. “Oh well” I think, “It can’t get too bad, I will just stick it out. If I focus hard enough on the new grammar structures, I should be just fine. Mind over body, mind over body, mind over body…”
Ten minutes later, my body has decided to assert itself in full force, so much so that the rule explaining why “the structure particle “地“(de) is not used when the monosyllabic adjective modifies the verb…” isn’t even able to make it through one ear, never mind out the other. I decided to excuse myself from the class and walk around to see if movement would alleviate the pain. In doing so, I passed by what looked like and office with, women! Assuming that cramps were common amongst all women, I figured that at least one of them carried some kind of painkiller. In my disheveled state, I forgot that I was no longer in the U.S. where everyone walks around with pills, and that I was in a country were apparently women do not use tampons, nor do they experience severe discomfort every month.
Trying to describe what was wrong with me without making them think that I needed to go to the hospital, or that I was insane, must have been a sight. I kept on pointing at the space between my legs, grimacing formulating the phrase “every month, women’s problem!” in broken Chinese, and then pinching my fingers and pretending to eat something and then pointing back between my legs and smiling! Then I tried in English and with the combination of both languages, they finally understood. My relief was short lived when no one said that they had anything except hot water. The youngest girl seeing my face suggested she go with me to the nurse. “No, no, no, um…no need. Um… can I just rest here for a few minutes?” She nodded.
Lying on the couch in the corner of the room, doubled over, tears streaming down my face, feeling embarrassed and foolish for not being better prepared, was a new low. When the hot water had no effect, I finally decided to go to the nurse. The young girl who kept peering at me from over the desk kindly escorted me. When I finally got to see someone, I went through a whole ordeal about explaining that the pains were normal and that all I needed was a painkiller. Fortunately, while shifting through his cupboard, a small box with pain relief diagrams fell out and I jumped and said “This! This is what I need!” So, he gave me the box and that pill was down my throat faster then you can say IBprophin. Now emotionally relieved, I thanked the nurse and headed back to class. Before I leave the building however, I am stopped by the clerk and am charged 20元。Twenty yuan for a pill! I pay and with my head hung low, I hobble back to class, which is over by now, collect my things and head back home. Not a good day.
Thursday, September 16th however, was a very different day. First off, it was pain free so I was able to focus in class. It was also the day that I taught my two freshmen Oral English classes for the first time. At the beginning of the first and the second class I gave every student an English. A side note to parents, if you thought that naming one, two, three, even four kids was hard, try giving 35 Chinese students English names that sound similar to their native ones. Not easy, but certainly a lot of fun. In fact, I think the students in both the first and the second class enjoyed themselves and were pleased with my teaching style. The teacher-student dynamic was good, aside from certain cheeky personalities, and teaching the material came quite naturally to me, which I was grateful for, especially since in the second class I had to keep the students focused on the material rather than on my skirt. Oh, did I mention that the second class was almost all boys? Rambunctious, sassy, horny, self-aware, teenage boys? Yes, that’s right, and believe me, I know they were very pleased to have me as their teacher.
When I entered the room to teach my second class, all the students were sitting at the front, ogling me like they had never seen a western woman before. While trying to ignore this slightly voyeuristic behavior, I started the class the same way I had the previous one: with names and introductions. One exercise that my oral Chinese teacher did which helped us to loosen up, was to get us to ask her questions so that we not only got to know her better, but we also practiced our speaking skills. Since this exercise worked so well for us, and worked well for my first class, I thought that it would be a good idea to do the same for the second class.
The enthusiasm was not lacking however, as soon as questions such as “do you have a boyfriend?”, “are you married?”, “how old are you?” and “do you like Chinese men?” followed by hysterical laughter were asked, I realized I should have phrased “you can ask me anything”, to “you may ask me any question from the textbook”. A worthy note to make for the future. In an attempt to not let them get carried away, while trying not to crush the excited level of participation, I evaded each question conservatively and moved on to the next exercise. Unfortunately every other exercise carried the same tone and it was a challenge to keep them focused, although I think they actually did learn something. If anything, they know how to get a girls’ number.
The four boys at the front were particularly noisy and as I walked up to them during a group exercise, I noticed them hustled around a piece of paper. When I got closer and saw the contents, I snatched it up and told them to come and see me after class. In case you are as curious as I was, here is what was written:
“Do you find a Chinese boy for your boyfriend?”, “Do you want to marry to a Chinese boys?”, “Do you want set up a family in China?” and “What is your telephone number?”
To top it off, there was a poorly drawn sketch of what looked like me.
As they approached me at the end of class, I was very clear with them that this kind of behavior was unacceptable and that if they did it again, I would make them leave my class. Although I was stern, I also didn’t want to be hated in the first class. So, my words went something like this:
“This is unacceptable! Not good! I am your teacher. I am here to teach you English, not be your girlfriend. I am very happy that you ask me a lot of questions but these questions are not good. If you do this again, you leave my class. Ting Dong le ma? Do you understand? Good, alright, see you next week”.
“Sorry teacher, sorry teacher” they kept saying and then finally left giggling harmlessly into the hallway. The minute they left, I myself burst into laughter. Knowing where they were coming from, I hadn’t actually been offended. If anything is was a nice change from being called fat by my former acquaintance. However, I still wanted to assert myself as their teacher. But really, I found it rather endearing, and above all, so hilarious I couldn’t help but laugh the whole way home.
Funny Happenings In The Park and In Streets.
I am doing well and am now so settled that I am finding it hard to fill my time. Part of it is intentional and has to do with enjoying time to myself after being so busy, and part of it has to do with not having a schedule yet. Plus, it doesn’t help that the weather is 33C and so humid that after being outside for 30mins it looks like I have been rained on. So for the past week, my days usually involve an air-conditioned café and my journal, a walk in the park, a trip to my campus for tests or collecting books and what not, and a venture to the market to buy food for dinner.
The highlights of my days are walking through LuXun Park and playing badminton. Walking through the park is wonderful. Not only is it a beautiful place filled with greenery, traditional architecture and a pond, it is designed so that you can actually find a little corner to yourself and not be disturbed. I also came upon the badminton courts in the park while strolling around and the next day I bought myself a racket and decided to go pay.
The first time I went to play, I stood awkwardly at the edge of the courts, with my racket out, hoping…no, knowing that I would draw some kind of attention and that the locals would want to test out the foreigner to see if she would be any good. Low and behold, at the end of a game one of the players motioned for me to come and join him. With a huge smile on my face, I jump on the court, ready to give it my best shot.
The other players gathered around, smiling, smoking, and cracking jokes, expecting a foreign girl to barely be able to hit the birdie over the net. The man made his first hit and a nice exchange entails until, BAM! I smash the birdie and make it in. My opponent smiles, chuckles and gives me a look of “oh, now then, we have a good player over here”, as the rest of the watchers laugh and convey that they are impressed. From then on, everyone wants to play with me. So everyday, I have been going back and have played with both new and regular players, advanced and beginners. Who would have thought that playing badminton in high school would have proven to be incredibly useful in connecting with locals? Thanks Gary!
Yesterday was particularly great. I went up to an older man and invited him to play. He accepted and before I knew it he was coaching me on how to hold the racket, improve my backhand and drilling me back and forth on the court. Then I was invited to play a doubles match and although I think we lost, there was lots of laughter, smiles and yells conveying “oh, no”, and “ugh! Just missed!” and so on. Before I knew it I had played for 2 and half hours and boy, did I feel great.
After I am finished playing, it takes about 20 mins to walk back from the park to my apartment. It is a great time to observe people and to reflect on my day and process my experiences. Here are some of things that I have noticed and have wanted to share with you.
Be pushy but don’t get pushed over.
Shanghai drivers are crazy and I often wonder if street signs, cross walks or lights mean anything to them. In some cultures, pedestrians have priority, but not in China. Vehicles tend to own the road. At first, I obeyed the street laws like a good Swiss and waited for cars to go by and for my turn to cross. I quickly realized that I would never get to the other side that way. Then I decided to assert myself and walk across the road without waiting just to see what would happen. Cars still did not stop. They slowed down and avoided me, but if I didn’t move, I would have been run over. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t just blindly walk across the street, but all I am saying is that I have learned to cross whenever I can and to look both directions at all times, no matter where I am or what the street light says.
People hit themselves?
If I didn’t know better, I would have thought that the Chinese are either Christian Flagellants or they believe life is a performance. Everywhere I look, there are people hitting themselves either with their hands or against something, or they are clapping. As it turns out, it actually has to do with health and strength. Although I am not sure, I believe that tapping your muscles makes blood rush to whatever area you are tapping. If done softly enough it can relax the muscles. If it’s done hard enough, I think it can also build strength and force the muscles to contract in response to the harsh slap. But like I said, I don’t know for sure. Maybe they really are masochists?
Don’t confuse a chest bag for a girlfriend.
Everywhere I turn, there are young Chinese couples standing, no, hanging on each other. I guess PDK (Public displays of kissing) is still not totally accepted in China. So the youth try to compensate for it by hugging and mimicking Raggedy-Ann dolls. What I mean by hugging is the girls wrapping their arms around the guys neck and practically hanging off of him as they wait to cross the road or for the subway. If you squint, they look like large, pink, frilly front bags.
Chopsticks are great for picky eaters.
(My family will get a kick out of this one). I wish I had grown up with chopsticks. Picking out mushrooms and icky little spices and herbs would have been much easier, less time consuming, more efficient and would have attracted less attention. I have certainly become less picky now, but I still come across some things that I am not so found of and boy, it is satisfying to pick them out without making a mess. :)
That’s all the updates I have for now. As you can read, I am still doing well and continue to learn, observe, and absorb everyday and I am happy to have the time to process it all. My classes start on Monday, which I am very excited about, and my job at the University starts next Thursday. I am teaching an oral English class to freshman in college. Intimidating? Yah. Will definitely let you know how that goes.
The highlights of my days are walking through LuXun Park and playing badminton. Walking through the park is wonderful. Not only is it a beautiful place filled with greenery, traditional architecture and a pond, it is designed so that you can actually find a little corner to yourself and not be disturbed. I also came upon the badminton courts in the park while strolling around and the next day I bought myself a racket and decided to go pay.
The first time I went to play, I stood awkwardly at the edge of the courts, with my racket out, hoping…no, knowing that I would draw some kind of attention and that the locals would want to test out the foreigner to see if she would be any good. Low and behold, at the end of a game one of the players motioned for me to come and join him. With a huge smile on my face, I jump on the court, ready to give it my best shot.
The other players gathered around, smiling, smoking, and cracking jokes, expecting a foreign girl to barely be able to hit the birdie over the net. The man made his first hit and a nice exchange entails until, BAM! I smash the birdie and make it in. My opponent smiles, chuckles and gives me a look of “oh, now then, we have a good player over here”, as the rest of the watchers laugh and convey that they are impressed. From then on, everyone wants to play with me. So everyday, I have been going back and have played with both new and regular players, advanced and beginners. Who would have thought that playing badminton in high school would have proven to be incredibly useful in connecting with locals? Thanks Gary!
Yesterday was particularly great. I went up to an older man and invited him to play. He accepted and before I knew it he was coaching me on how to hold the racket, improve my backhand and drilling me back and forth on the court. Then I was invited to play a doubles match and although I think we lost, there was lots of laughter, smiles and yells conveying “oh, no”, and “ugh! Just missed!” and so on. Before I knew it I had played for 2 and half hours and boy, did I feel great.
After I am finished playing, it takes about 20 mins to walk back from the park to my apartment. It is a great time to observe people and to reflect on my day and process my experiences. Here are some of things that I have noticed and have wanted to share with you.
Be pushy but don’t get pushed over.
Shanghai drivers are crazy and I often wonder if street signs, cross walks or lights mean anything to them. In some cultures, pedestrians have priority, but not in China. Vehicles tend to own the road. At first, I obeyed the street laws like a good Swiss and waited for cars to go by and for my turn to cross. I quickly realized that I would never get to the other side that way. Then I decided to assert myself and walk across the road without waiting just to see what would happen. Cars still did not stop. They slowed down and avoided me, but if I didn’t move, I would have been run over. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t just blindly walk across the street, but all I am saying is that I have learned to cross whenever I can and to look both directions at all times, no matter where I am or what the street light says.
People hit themselves?
If I didn’t know better, I would have thought that the Chinese are either Christian Flagellants or they believe life is a performance. Everywhere I look, there are people hitting themselves either with their hands or against something, or they are clapping. As it turns out, it actually has to do with health and strength. Although I am not sure, I believe that tapping your muscles makes blood rush to whatever area you are tapping. If done softly enough it can relax the muscles. If it’s done hard enough, I think it can also build strength and force the muscles to contract in response to the harsh slap. But like I said, I don’t know for sure. Maybe they really are masochists?
Don’t confuse a chest bag for a girlfriend.
Everywhere I turn, there are young Chinese couples standing, no, hanging on each other. I guess PDK (Public displays of kissing) is still not totally accepted in China. So the youth try to compensate for it by hugging and mimicking Raggedy-Ann dolls. What I mean by hugging is the girls wrapping their arms around the guys neck and practically hanging off of him as they wait to cross the road or for the subway. If you squint, they look like large, pink, frilly front bags.
Chopsticks are great for picky eaters.
(My family will get a kick out of this one). I wish I had grown up with chopsticks. Picking out mushrooms and icky little spices and herbs would have been much easier, less time consuming, more efficient and would have attracted less attention. I have certainly become less picky now, but I still come across some things that I am not so found of and boy, it is satisfying to pick them out without making a mess. :)
That’s all the updates I have for now. As you can read, I am still doing well and continue to learn, observe, and absorb everyday and I am happy to have the time to process it all. My classes start on Monday, which I am very excited about, and my job at the University starts next Thursday. I am teaching an oral English class to freshman in college. Intimidating? Yah. Will definitely let you know how that goes.
If at First You Don’t Succeed, Try, Try Again.
In the past three days I feel like I have accomplished more than I have in an entire year. I am pleased to say that I found an apartment for the next 10 months, I have registered at the local police station and at my University, opened up a Chinese bank account, and currently have three different jobs tutoring English. Now that I sit in my comfortable room, and look back on the sequence of events leading to all of these things, it seems surreal. Hopefully by sharing it with you, I can begin to realize that I am now officially settled and well on my way to achieving what I want: Chinese proficiency, money and an experience of a lifetime.
After unsuccessfully walking into random real-estate agencies and trying to find a place to live, I decided that I not only needed a roommate, but that I had better turn to the internet for an insult-free look at apartments. With my minimal Chinese and the saving grace of Google Translator, I came across some interesting links through a Chinese website, made a few calls, organized a few meetings and set out on a new search.
After braving the usual crowds in the subway for over half an hour and walking through the blazing heat, my nose in a map, I finally arrived at my first destination. I give the person a call and out he comes with a huge ring of keys and leads the way through a very nicely decorated entrance. “This is more like it” I begin to think until the man opens the door onto a lovely room without windows. This is going to be a problem. Upon request he shows me a room that does have windows but the price is much higher and I decide to think it through before making a decision. Another problem is the fact that the apartment is rather far from my University but I didn’t realize this until I decided to walk there.
Asking for directions is a funny thing and something I would not advise if you don’t know directions in Chinese. The majority of the friendly people I stopped on the streets for directions to 上海外国大学 “Shanghai Wai guo da xue” pause, repeat the name fast, rushed and slurred, which makes me wonder if I gave them the right name, and then point in four different directions and say: “Ting Dong le ma?” (do you understand?), which leaves me feeling more puzzled than before. However, on this particular day, I stopped a young girl with stunner pink shades for directions. Seeing my sweaty face and my disheveled map, she motions me to sit at the back of her scooter and says “ I takeugh you!” Why not? And before I know it I am enjoying the wonderful breeze and the thrill of being on the road mingling with taxis, trucks, bikes, people and buses.
When I get to my University, I arrive with all my paperwork and am well prepared to matriculate. My first stop is room 201 to fill out my residence form. While I wait for the next set of instructions, I have a chance to glance around the room. Everyone has their passport open and I am able to get a glimpse of Japanese, South Korean, Mexican and Kazak documents. Walking in the hallway to room 202, I hear German, Spanish, French, Japanese, Dutch and Indonesia languages and accents all trying to figure out where to go and what to put down between the lines of Chinese official documents. Who would have thought that I would be surrounded by such a rich, international student body? Before I am able to fully register, the office clerk asks me about my living situation. Ah ha, good question my friend to which I have no answer. I explain my situation and he asks me to come back by the end of the day to let him know if I will be living on campus or not.
So I leave the University to go to my second apartment. But first I stop to visit the dorms, which turn out to be too pricy and stale. When I reach the street, I am feeling lucky. The landlord comes from across the street and takes me through the security gate and up to the 9th floor. As it turns out, he is not the landlord but a resident living with his girlfriend and they have decided to rent the spare room to make some money. The room is spacious, clean, has a desk, a wardrobe and lots of storage space. The bathroom, kitchen, living room and utilities are included but shared. It is a ten-minute walk from my school and the subway station, and it is located in a very nice neighborhood. This feels right and before further hesitation I tell him that I’ll take it. He says I can move in tomorrow. Fantastic! We arrange to meet later that evening to meet his girlfriend and sign the contract. When I return to the registration office I am told that I now need to fill out a whole new set of paperwork informing them that I am living off campus etc. and that I have to go to register at the local police station after signing the contract.
As I make my way back to Kara’s place, I get phone call from my teaching agent Amy who asks me if I can meet little 4 year old Reting (Laura) tomorrow. No problem and we set up a time. Since things are starting to take shape and I will be receiving some income, I decide to go to a local bank and open up an account. When I walk in, I am the only Westerner and so one of the assistant jumps to my aid. She leads me to a machine and prints out a ticket and asks me to stand in line. Of course, I am noticed and glanced at from around the room, which makes me feel a little out of place but am determined. When my number is called I walk up to the window and immediately another assistant hops in and starts translating. The process is relatively easy as a result, and I am relieved. I then return to my district to meet with my new flat mates.
When I walk in, the girlfriend greets me with a big smile and chatters away in Chinese. I am a little intimidated but have come prepared with my computer and my dictionary. As we all sit huddled around the living room table, going back and forth between the computer, the paper, the dictionary and each other, we all come to a mutual agreement and we sign the contract. Finally, I have a place to call home.
A Day In Shanghai
Since my arrival, my days have been jam packed with mini adventures as I try relentlessly to get settled into this new city. Overall, I have been quite successful in some things and not so successful in others however, each day I move one step closer to getting a permanent place to stay, an education, a job and miscellaneous things like a cell phone (which has proven to be invaluable). My friend Kara has been a huge help and has shown me around enough to get my bearings, but when she works I am very much left to my own devices and although it makes things a little harder, it has jumpstarted my Chinese and makes things more interesting.
Since I am on a low budget, I very much need to get a job on the side of my studies. Tingshuo (word is) that the best way for a white, English-speaking foreigner to make money is through tutoring and teaching. So I do what most college graduates are best at: I search online for tutoring positions in HongKou district where I hope to be living and studying. I finally come across a request for an English tutor and with a “why not” attitude, I fill out the application and send in my resume. Twenty minutes later I receive an e-mail telling me that Rachel has received my application and wants me to send her my photo. Skeptical but slightly desperate, I send her what she asked for and five minutes later I receive an invitation to come to her office for an interview. Being alone in Kara’s apartment with nothing yet to do, I decide to go. I write down the directions and head down the street to the subway station.The air is so hot and stuffy outside that going underground is a quite a relief. Since the expo, the public transportation is excellent, which is quite nice considering it is hard enough to figure out which stop is which because they are all written in Chinese. Thank goodness for pinyin (alphabetized Chinese)! Once I get down the stairs, I zip through security to Line 1. Riding the subway in Shanghai is just like in any other city except that people stare. Although I would like to think that I can adapt to any environment, there is no getting past the I-am-a-tourist with my tall, curvy looks and my practical shoes and backpack. Ya, no chance. In Rackai French there is a colloquial and rather aggressive way of addressing the stare with “tu veux ma photos ^%$#?” (you want my picture?). Although I would never say anything, on this particular subway ride the lady sitting opposite was watching me so very carefully that the saying came in to my head as I stared back at her. And then, out of nowhere she popped out her phone and snapped a picture. I guess that’s where the saying comes from.
To get to my final destination, I needed to get off at Renmin square and then take like 2. With everyone else, I get off the subway, but unlike everyone else, I take the stairs. “Haha,” I think. “I am so clever and faster than all of you and…” and as I get to the top I am inundated with tens of thousands of Chinese people, pushing, criss-crossing and whizzing through the maze that is the transition station. It’s like a river, a massive flow of people and there is no other way than to jump in. Once you are in, it is very easy to just go with the flow, but once I realized that I had missed the exit out of the flow of people to get to Line 2, it was even harder backtracking than if I had missed a stop on the subway. However, I managed.
When Line 2 arrives I am standing at the very front of the entrance, again thinking I am so cool and going to get a good seat. But the train pulls up and I quickly realize that there are as many people who want to get off as there are getting on, AND no one will wait. Conclusion? I am going to get crushed between both the in and out waves of people. With panic, I jump out of the way just in time and head to the back of the line. Seats are over rates anyways.
When I get to my final stop, it is a welcome and bedazzled relief to be outside again although this time I am not too sure where to go. After walking around huge skyscrapers and commercial centers, wanting to laugh at the Chinese version of Papa Johns pizza, dance to Lady Gaga blasting out of stores as hard as the air-conditioning, and cry out of frustration for being lost, I finally find where I am supposed to be. The office is an agency called Linguatutor, which facilitates a link between tutor and tutee. To my relief it is clean and very professional, and not sketchy. Before I get a chance to sit down, Rachel greets be with a smile and steers me into a cool and comfortable room. Amy is scheduled to interview me and is very impressed by my elaborate and convincing bullshit-esque experiences teaching English in Tanzania and Yunnan. At the end she tells me that she will contact me the moment she finds me a client and I leave the building feeling relieved and delighted to have not only adventured on my own, but that this opportunity turned out to be legitimate. Low and behold, I got a call from Amy yesterday telling me that I will be tutoring a 6-year-old Chinese boy on weekends and that I am meeting him on Monday. Hen hao!
Now I really need to find an apartment. So yesterday I headed off to Hong Kou district to explore the area and my campus. Since I was advised that renting an apartment would be cheaper than paying for a two-person bedroom on campus, I have decided to keep student housing as a last resort. I found the main street and a real estate agency and, again having nothing else to do, decided to figure out a way to see an apartment. I first asked if anyone spoke English. They all shook their heads and said “bu shuo, bu shuo” (don’t speak, don’t speak). So, in my best Chinese I try to tell them what I want. The minute I open my mouth, the four of them are all throwing questions my way. Yes, I am American, no I don’t have a lot of money, yes I want a bathroom included in the apartment, no I don’t want it to be too expensive, yes I am a student, no I am not studying economics and finance, I am studying Chinese, etc, etc, etc. Finally they agree that they will take me to see an apartment but before, I have to “deng yi shiar, deng yi shiar”. So I wait. Before long, a young Asian man walks in and I am hopeful that he speaks English and is the landlord. He does speak some English but he is just another costumer. No matter, we are both whisked away to see the apartment. The agent leading the way is a little aggressive and very abrasive but I don’t care because I am glad to have the young man to talk with. Kim is from South Korea and he is here studying finance and business and is looking for his own place away from “very noisy” roommates. Bummer, I am his competition. Oh well.
When we get to the apartment, it is a very nice place, fully furnished, with a kitchen, bedroom and bathroom. It is very small but clean and newly renovated. My heart sinks however, when I hear the price: 2500 yuan. Way out of my measly 1700 budget. So, I tell the landlord I will think about it and that in the meantime I want to see a cheaper place. Because I am a foreigner, there is this assumption that I am loaded with money, so she doesn’t understand why I would want a cheaper place. After huffing and puffing and saying no then yes then no, I finally get her to take me to place that is worth 1700 yuan. Unfortunately, Kim has another appointment but leaves me with his phone number and tells me to call him if I need any more help. Grateful, I say goodbye and start walking again.
I know enough Chinese to carry a small conversation and I try to be as amiable as possible and thank the agent for her time. In exchange she looks at me pinches my arms and tells me I am fat. At first, I am so surprised that I think I have miss-understood her. When I ask her to repeat herself she looks at me, opens her arms around her waist and says very loudly “ni shi hen pang!” (you are very fat). Rather offended but trying to keep my cool, I shrug my shoulders. Now she is the one that is super chatty and seems to think that if she speaks louder, I can understand better. I keep smiling and nodding and saying “dui” or “shi”, at the end of whatever I think is a question. Finally, we arrive at the apartment but the person who is supposed to meet us with the key is not there so we wait outside. Actually, I wait. She walks around the building screaming at the top of her lungs to see if anyone is there. Again, I can’t tell if she is being obnoxious or if it is a cultural thing. While I wait a young girl walks by and asks me if I am here to see the apartment for rent in the 4th floor. Yes, I say and as it turns out she lives next to the apartment and knows the person who is trying to rent it.
Nina is Taiwanese and is here studying her masters in economics and finance (no wonder the people at the agency were surprised when I told them I wasn’t studying economics and finance). Nina is quick to tell me that she has seen the place and advises me to look elsewhere, but before we can finish the conversation, the son of the person with the keys shows up without the keys and tells us that we can’t see the apartment now but we can tomorrow. When I try to take down his phone number to meet up tomorrow, the agent pushes me back and points at her chest talking fiercely in Chinese. Looking at Nina in desperation, she translates and says that the agent wants me to go through her directly. Argh! I am being conned. With a basic instinct, I finally turn to the agent and I lie. I agree to meet her at 9am the next morning, with every intention of not showing up. When she walks away, Nina and I finally have a chance to talk and as luck would have it the person with the keys shows up. So we all walk up together to see the place.
The small apartment is the opposite of the one before. It is barren, half painted, with cement flooring, a dirty brown bathtub, no washer, fridge or lock on the balcony. Nina was right. Seeing the look of discouragement on my face, Nina invites me into her place and tells me how to go about getting what I want. En bref, I need one or more roommates and gives me websites and numbers to call. I thank Nina from the bottom of my heart and after two hours of getting lost around the most touristy part of shanghai, I finally jump in a taxi and had back to Kara’s place.
Job, check. Apartment, needs more work. Registration for classes, Wednesday. I am on a roll!
Arrived
After a 14 hour flight and a 2-hour bus ride into Shanghai and full nights rest, I finally arrived!
Aside from being very long, the trip was relatively smooth. I arrived at JFK airport with all my paperwork, all of my things, feeling ready to take on this new adventure and feeling prepared for anything, and then I reach the Shanghai checking counter and to my utter surprise everyone standing in line is Chinese. Dugh! Of course they are. But for some reason, being surrounded by loud, hacking, Chinese speaking, black-haired, short men and woman each with a small child, was my first reality check that I was actually going back to China. The second check came when my friendly and vivacious neighbor in 46B (I got the window seat heheh) would every so often lean right in front of me to look out the window, crossing every layer of personal space I had. Another Chinese cultural ism.
After tossing and turning in a seat too small and dozing in and out of sleep, I finally looked out the dark window and small speckled lights began to emerge below. Yes I think, we are nearing the city! But when I look closely, I notice that all of these dotted lights are actually ships! Cargo ships. Huge Cargo ships spread out all across the Eastern China Sea. Then the plane veers off to the right and wow! We are hit with a zillion sparkling lights of all colors outlining the parameters of the city and it’s architectural landmarks. Again, wow! I can’t believe I am here.
My friend Kara was waiting for me at the airport when I arrived with all my luggage. We were then hustled into a bus packed to maximum capacity and driven off for the heart of the city. I then went to bed and slept 7 hours straight. So now I am up and awake and about to head out the door to explore the city!
Aside from being very long, the trip was relatively smooth. I arrived at JFK airport with all my paperwork, all of my things, feeling ready to take on this new adventure and feeling prepared for anything, and then I reach the Shanghai checking counter and to my utter surprise everyone standing in line is Chinese. Dugh! Of course they are. But for some reason, being surrounded by loud, hacking, Chinese speaking, black-haired, short men and woman each with a small child, was my first reality check that I was actually going back to China. The second check came when my friendly and vivacious neighbor in 46B (I got the window seat heheh) would every so often lean right in front of me to look out the window, crossing every layer of personal space I had. Another Chinese cultural ism.
After tossing and turning in a seat too small and dozing in and out of sleep, I finally looked out the dark window and small speckled lights began to emerge below. Yes I think, we are nearing the city! But when I look closely, I notice that all of these dotted lights are actually ships! Cargo ships. Huge Cargo ships spread out all across the Eastern China Sea. Then the plane veers off to the right and wow! We are hit with a zillion sparkling lights of all colors outlining the parameters of the city and it’s architectural landmarks. Again, wow! I can’t believe I am here.
My friend Kara was waiting for me at the airport when I arrived with all my luggage. We were then hustled into a bus packed to maximum capacity and driven off for the heart of the city. I then went to bed and slept 7 hours straight. So now I am up and awake and about to head out the door to explore the city!
Oh The Places I Will Go!
Today is the day!
I’ll go off to great China.
I’m off on my way!
I have brains in my head.
I have feet in my shoes.
I can steer myself
Any direction I choose!
I am on my own and I know what I know.
And I am the girl who’ll decide where to go!
(inspired by Dr. Seuss)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)