One (Wo)man's Trash...

It didn't take me too long to get comfortable and settled in at my new apartment. For one, I was really lucky - a foreign teacher had lived in my place last year. That meant my kitchen and bookshelf was pretty much fully stocked.

I did need to get used to certain things though.

The cement floors, the shower (aka my entire bathroom), and the lack-of-a-dryer-for-my-clothes, you all already know about. So what's new?

Eh... the closet in my second bedroom had a couple of really old blankets. They were a little moldy and smelly. I felt horrible throwing them out, but I didn't know what else to do with them. After holding on to them for about a month or so, I decided that it was time to take action. I buckled down, folded up one of the blankets and headed outside to place it next to the big trash can.

One down. Two or three more to go. I went back inside. Got another one. Went back outside and... WHA?

Wait... where did the other blanket go? It had vanished. I... just shrugged, put it down, and went back inside. Grabbed something else. Went back outside. And-

Again. The second blanket was gone. I slowly walked up to the trash can and looked around. I couldn't see anyone nearby. I set down the bunch of pillow cases that I had onto the floor and walked slowly back. This time, I hid by my door and waited...

An older lady walked out from a building further down the street. She saw the things there and walked over. Picked them up... and turned back. She was picking up and bringing home everything that I was throwing out.

I stuck my head out and asked if she needed any help.

She shook her head and looked at me. "Why are you throwing all this out?"

I was a little embarrassed. A little ashamed, too, when I stuttered out an excuse. "It's.. eh.. I'm just cleaning up. Just moved in." When she gave me a confused look, I gestured towards the stuff that she was holding. "Are you sure you don't need any help?"

"Yes. Where are you from?" (Because I have a weird accent, apparently, when I speak Chinese).

"America. I am an English teacher at the university."

"Oh. Well. Come by my place anytime you want to. I live on the first floor at the end of this street."

"Ok. Wait. Eh.. what do I call you?"

"Call me A Yi (Aunt)."

"All right. Thank you. Have a good afternoon."

She nodded and carried her things back home.

After that point, I started paying more attention to how quickly trash vanishes. Even my plastic bags get pulled out of the garbage and rooted through. Plastic bottles, glass, and paper products are taken out - I was told to recycle just by leaving things next to the trash can inside of putting them in it. People get paid for everything they bring to the recycling center, so there's a clamber for certain kinds of trash.

And then... of course, in the early days when I was cleaning up, I threw away a lot of stuff (mostly moldy pots and pans) that other people took and brought home with them.

I think the garbage can outside my house is one that a lot of people root through... just because there are three foreigners living right near it. I guess... sometimes we just don't realize how much we waste until other people find it and take it right back out of the garbage can.

With that lesson in mind... today, I happened to break a glass cup. So I very carefully placed it and all of its pieces in a plastic bag separately from everything else. I didn't want anyone rooting through my trash only to accidentally cut themselves on it. Anyway, I haven't seen A Yi since that day... but that is definitely something that I'll remember for a long time.

Belinda

No. Belinda is not a teenage witch.

It sounds like it a little, yeah? Belinda... Sabrina... Something about those two names sound similar. But this is just me getting off topic. Because I want to take this entry to introduce to you all my Chinese tutor.

According to her, it was fate and destiny that brought me to her.

Me? I don't know if I believe in fate... but... well-

Let's start from the beginning.

Fairly early on in the semester, George (one of the other American English teachers here) asked me if I wanted someone to tutor me in Chinese. He, like all the other veteran American teachers here, have been a great help. He drew me a simplified map of Baoding (to come later), he showed me how to read the bus route signs at the bus stops, and - here's the biggest favor he did for me - he helped me find a Chinese tutor.

I explained to him that I had some background in Mandarin Chinese... and, more than anything, I wanted someone who could help me with my speaking. I wanted to improve my listening and speaking fluency.

His first question? "Does it matter if your tutor's a boy or a girl?"

My response? Without thinking, I just shrugged. "Whatever."

Next thing I know, he's introducing me to a young man - a third-year computer.. science (I think?) student. The four of us (George brought his own tutor along, since his tutor was the one who found the student) stood around awkwardly in the park. We shook hands, introduced ourselves, exchanged phone numbers, and set up our first meeting time and place.

I wasn't really sure what to expect.

We met at the park the next week. Only... wait? It wasn't just him. Two people were waiting for me there. The two of them - the guy that I had met last time and his girlfriend (Belinda) were there waiting for me. Belinda laid out a seat cushion on the concrete ledge that they were sitting on and told me to sit.

Ok.

So the three of us just chatted. Belinda is a third-year English major, so she actually knew enough English to jump back and forth whenever we got stuck. We took a stroll around the university park, and we talked about the historical value of some of the structures there.

Lesson 2: Let's take a look at Belinda's dormitory! Her boyfriend waited outside - all dorms at this campus are segregated by sex... guys can't walk into the girls' dormitories, and vice versa. That's a MAJOR difference from college life in the US, yeah? More on that later. They also showed me around the rest of campus.

Anyway...

Within two weeks, Belinda explained to me that her boyfriend wasn't going to come anymore. It would just be me and her.

I was confused, of course. And I still don't really know what happened. Was he my original tutor, and did his girlfriend... excited for the opportunity to speak English... steal me from him? Or was this their plan all along? Or.. or...

...Well.

Belinda and I met twice a week during the semester for two hours each session. If it was nice outside, we'd meet in the park. If it wasn't (and it got cold really quickly), we'd meet either in her dormitory (where I got to meet all of her dorm mates... which was really cool), or at my apartment. Sometimes, if I wanted to meet in the coffee shop, I'd treat her to ice cream or whatever it is that she wanted to eat.

And... despite the lack of structure, we just spent our entire time talking in Chinese.

In the first or second lesson, when both Belinda and her boyfriend were there, I very quickly learned one phrase that I constantly use to this day: qi1 fu2 欺负 - or, to bully.

I will talk about my tutoring sessions with her as my blog progresses. For now... I'll just end with this: I think Belinda gets a little frustrated sometimes at how quickly I pick up certain words (mainly curse words - mild and otherwise) and how long it takes me to pick up other... more important vocabulary points.

And in case you are interested, in order of intensity from the lightest to the most severe:

er2 二 (dumb)

haui4 dan4 坏蛋 (bad egg)

ben4 dan1 笨蛋 (stupid)

chi2 dun4 迟钝 (mentally impaired)

bai2 chi1 白痴 (idiot)

Now you can go and dou4 逗 (or verbally/jokingly insult... tease) your friends. Be nice though, yeah? See you tomorrow...

Attack of the Jujubes!!!

Because the International Cooperation Office (ICO) at my university great, they decided to take us (all the foreign teachers) on a trip. And yes... this trip involves jujubes!

...What are jujubes?

No... no, no, no. Not Jar Jar Binks!

Not Jar Jar... Not Jub Jubs either.

No Jub Jubs. And... yeah. I know. I'm a dork.

But I haven't played Neopets in... at least ten years now.

Really.

But OK. Seriously now. Jujubes.

They look like dates, yeah? (I don't actually really know what dates are... but I assume that these are dates). This particular kind of date from China is known as the jujube... and it's wildly popular here. Jujubes are famous for their health benefits - so much so that you can easily buy dried jujubes, jujube teas, and jujube... gum?

Not gum, really. But it's wrapped in the same kind of paper.

Anyway, you know that saying about apples? An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Well, in China, there's a similar saying about jujubes. Two jujubes a day will... make your skin smoother, your eyes brighter, and your age... younger.

Something like that.

Can't really remember.

Anyway- the adventure. The ICO invited us all on a day trip on September 24th, 2011. At 8:00am, we met right outside my home.

Then a big van (or a very very small bus) picked us up for a two hour ride to Cangzhou (沧州). Cangzhou is famous for its jujubes. They're known for other things too, I think, but all I could see from where I was were fields and fields of these delicious little fruits.

Can't seem in? Let's zzzoooom in!

Those aren't ripe yet. They're green. They're sweet and perfectly ripe when its exterior becomes a dark reddish brown. Like these:

Once we arrived, we each grabbed a bag and started picking them. I'm a little ashamed to say that more went in my mouth than into my bag. At first, I was curious. And then... I was hungry. As usual - as a card carrying member of Procrastinators of the World, Unite... Tomorrow! - I woke up a little too late and missed breakfast.

Here's the outside and inside of a jujube:

My friend and colleague Hannah picking one:

And eating one...

And me! Eating one too.

Here, we're being given a little cultural lesson on the jujubes by our hosts:

After we've picked (aka eaten) our fill, we ran into one of the farmers. Everyone in the village pretty much works together to grow and maintain these fields. They were excited to see us, and they happily gave us a chance to try and pick jujubes the way they do it.

You see... how we did it - going through and picking each one out one by one - isn't really efficient when they want to collect them all, process, package, and sell them. Instead, one person takes this long bamboo pole and uses it to knock against a tree's branches. The jujubes then fall onto a big sheet that someone had laid onto the ground.

And here's a better picture of the bamboo stick:

After that, we got a big group picture.

Then hopped back onto the mega-van to a jujube processing plant. Here's the exterior of the plant:

Since we clearly hadn't eaten enough jujubes by then, we went inside to try a bunch of different jujube products.

Yum. Dried jujubes. Jujube gum. Jujube covered in coconut. Jujube freeze-dried or somethin' like that. Then to the actual place where they processed the fruit.

After eating all this fruit... we were, of course, getting hungry. For lunch? More jujubes!!!

...No.

Fortunately, no. We had real food.

Unfortunately, we had it banquet-style.

What does that mean? First, it means that cultural etiquette asks that we all participate in the communal act of toasting and drinking baijiu (or Chinese rice wine). And next?

See where I am sitting?

Our host is to my left. I was the first one into the room... so, without thinking, I went all the way inside and took the inner-most seat. I saw a strange napkin setup thing on the table in front of the inner-most seat... so I figured - OK. That seat isn't for me.

I took the seat to its right.

What does this mean?

I had no idea... until, as the dinner progressed, I realized that I was the first one being served. And then I realized - without knowing it, I had taken the seat reserved for the guest of honor.

Oops.

No one said anything to me. They just gave me a funny look... realized that, though I don't look it, I am definitely and culturally American. And continued on with seating themselves and eating. So Cultural Lesson of the Day?

The host (aka the person who is paying for the meal, aka the most important person present) sits in the seat furthest away from the door. The further you are away from this spot, the less important you are.

So I was definitely in the wrong seat.

But whew. It was ok.

All was forgiven... or ignored... or taken in stride thanks to my status as an ignorant American.

After lunch, we hopped back on the bus and took the long ride home to Baoding.

Oh wait! One more thing!

As if we hadn't picked enough and eaten enough jujubes that day, our hosts presented each of us with a giant box of jujubes that none of us would be able to eat.

I ate some, gave some away to my students in a lesson, and threw the rest out when they became sour and moldy and stinky.

And... that is all.

I would like to credit half of the above photographs to Ms. Tian, one of the directors at the ICO. And I would like to note that this pictures took ALL DAY to upload. *kicks the internet here*

QiLinHe: "Coffee" Hours

What do I do with all this free time?

That was my first thought when I first got my schedule. Free time Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings. Free time Tuesday and Thursday afternoons... Compared to my past teaching experience, this was nothing.

So what could I do with it?

Let's work more! YEAH!

...well. I decided early on that I would give myself office hours - a set time each week when my students could come and talk to me outside of class. And since I don't have an office at the university, I made my own.

Yep. Brick by brick, lego piece by lego piece, I built four walls, a roof, and a desk for myself.

Then, when a baby-having-a-tantrum knocked it all over, I established myself at a local coffee shop on West Street (the street right outside my community that connects my home with the university).

QiLinHe.

It's a western-style coffee shop. I'm a little embarrassed to say that I come here almost everyday. They have American-style coffee, really good lattes, some teas, some attempts at western-style cakes, and egg tarts (蛋挞). Oh! It also has ice cream.

I like ice cream.

The best part? It has wifi. Wifi is very hard to find in this city. I have wireless internet at home, but I'm not very productive when I'm there. So it's good to have a place where I can go to get some work done. A lot of students come here too - more for the internet than the coffee, since internet access on campus is limited.

So... this is what my 'office' looks like:

And... my favorite part of this cafe? It's got an awesome poster picture thingy.

Welcome to the Party!

The... er... Party. The Communist Party, you see? It's.. the only Party here in China. I mean, there are technically other parties that are allowed to exist.. but.. eh... erm.. yeah. Ok.

First: That's... my man, Mao, setting the beat (coughs). Lenin's dancing with a party hat. Carl Marx is spinning around on the ground, break dancing. Castro and Stalin are sharing a drink: The Cuban's got a beer. Stalin's sipping on his martini.

So yeah. The Party.

Twice a week, two hours a day, I am here - sometimes just in time for the free egg tarts that comes with my coffee. Sometimes I miss it by a few minutes... but that's ok. A few of my students come every week... and we just chat. We talk about American culture and Chinese culture and current events and... whatever else we can think about. My really dedicated students have pen and paper out to write down whatever expressions I end up using that they don't understand.

It's laid back. It's fun. And I think, thanks to the proximity of our ages... it sometimes kinda blurs the line between teacher and friend. They don't think of me like they think of the other Chinese teachers, but they're also careful not to disrespect me.

Sometimes huge groups come at one time. Sometimes, only one or two students show up. I actually really enjoy it when only one student shows up - especially because then the student is much more willing to talk about things that the students, as a class, would shy away from talking. It's a chance to at least bring up more controversial topics. The topic that I have the hardest time with my students about concerns their views on Japan as a culture and a country.

...But yeah.

Those are my office hours.

In a coffee shop.

Thus... my "coffee" hours.

Clever, eh?

...Heh. I'm also there outside of coffee hours though. When I need to be productive... or when I want to just hang out with the other foreign teachers, or when I want some dessert after a meal... I come here.

The QiLinHe.

I also come here to write blog entries. And now that the place is open again after its week-long Chinese New Year holiday, I'll be here everyday too... updating... people on my adventures. Updating.. er.. anyone who reads this.

Or just.. updating... for..

...for...

Er. You. Whoever you are.

'Til next time.

The Classroom and Teaching

First semester, I had a sweet schedule. Yeah... sweet! I use that word sometimes.

Not really.. but.. um.. it fits here.

One class consists of a forty-five minute period, a ten minute break, and another forty-five minute period. I had two classes Monday, one on Tuesday, one on Wednesday, one on Thursday, and two on Friday. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, classes didn't start until 2:30pm.

And that means... sleeping in, right?

YEAH!

First day of class - Monday afternoon - I walked into my first classroom. I was a little nervous. My experiences from the previous year had me worrying about classroom management before classes even started... but a veteran teacher colleague of mine told me not to worry about it at all. The hard part isn't in stopping the students from chitchatting - it's in getting them to open their mouths.

They're learning English after all - and many students are, for the most part, too nervous to speak in class. I was warned that after their initial curiosity about the foreign teacher fades in the first week or two, student participation drops.

Other than that, I didn't really know what to expect.

Neither did my students. First off - all of their schedules said that their foreign English teacher would be named 'John.' My name isn't John. As a matter of fact, I don't look like a foreign teacher. I don't even look old enough to be a teacher.

So when I walked into class... all the students stared at me in confusion.

[i]What.. is she doing? Why is she walking up to the front of the classroom? Why is she looking at us? Why... why..[/i]

And then a collective "Ooooooh!" goes through the classroom when I open my mouth.

"Oh! We thought you were a student!"

"Wait. You're a teacher?"

"Where are you from?"

"You don't sound British. You must be American!"

"What? Why do you look Chinese?"

"Oh... wait... I don't understand."

"You're ABC!" (said one overenthusiastic student in one class).

"You're the first ABC I've ever met!"

American Born Chinese. ABC. And I'd nod, brows raised. Yes. Yes I am. This continued all week long with every one of my classes. In one of my classes, one of my students even tried to explain to me that I was lost and in the wrong classroom.

I had fun though.

And it is much much easier teaching the same lesson throughout the course of one week. I feel a little bad for my Monday students because they have the roughest version of my weekly lesson presented to them. Tuesday is pretty good. By Friday, I could give the lesson blindfolded.

Another thing I learned? Having time to think is amazing. Even my Monday lessons got better over time because I had time to stop and think about what was working and what wasn't working. I know this seems intuitive... but this was something that I couldn't do before - simply because I didn't have the time to rest.

Rest helps.

And... once again, thanks to my experiences last year and to all the teachers that I worked with, I found that I could suddenly explain things much better. Instructions and directions - something that I had trouble with before - was something that I could suddenly do without a hitch. Explaining things to Chinese students in their second language is difficult - mainly because I need to use language that they can understand.

Other interesting things about the classroom:

Students stand up when I call on them to speak. I've told them that they don't need to stand up in my classroom, mainly because I wanted to give them a sense of what an American classroom is like. Classes that have had other foreign teachers before stopped standing up almost immediately. Classes that didn't... it took them a couple weeks to stop completely. I think many of my students weren't sure how to behave around me - do they treat me like a foreign teacher? Or should they treat me like a Chinese teacher?

I had an in-depth discussion about this (standing up when talking) with my Chinese tutor. Standing up is a sign of respect, she said. If the teacher is standing at the front of the classroom, the student should stand to address her. If the teacher is walking among the students, standing is not as important. If the teacher is sitting - and usually only foreign teachers sit down, it seems (and WOAH! We sit down on top of desks! My students think that this is funny) - it's definitely ok to answer while sitting.

None of this is set in stone, of course. The student just uses their judgment and try and figure out how to address their teacher. Who I am - my age, my status as teacher, my ethnicity, and even my sex has an impact on the way that my students act around me. The fact that I am a foreigner makes my students nervous... but the fact that I am Chinese makes them more comfortable around me, I think, than they are at first with the other foreign teachers.

Anyway, that's it for now. I think I'm going to take a nap..

It's been a long time coming...

Sorry!

I am... very bad at keeping up with these things. But the semester is over now. My winter traveling is done. I can, at last, sit back and concentrate on letting you guys know what I've been up to these last few months.

So... er.. where did we leave off?

Um. Right. My first Friday night in China and... my first banquet experience.

Wow.

That's a lot to catch up on. Hm....

Here we go.

Baijiu

Alcohol.

You know me with alcohol.
Or maybe not. Maybe you don't.
OK. In case you don't - I don't really drink. Maybe once in a while, I'd be convinced to have half... of a full drink or something, but I really really don't drink.

I went to school in an environment where there really wasn't a lot of pressure to drink.

Where is this leading to? Let me start at the beginning:

The second or third day in Baoding, Hannah and I went to the Foreign Affairs Office to officially sign our contracts. We got certain rules explained to us, then we were invited to a dinner banquet.

Our "Welcome to China!" dinner was filled with fancy food, really good yams, and... other stuff that I can't quite remember. In front of each of us, though, was a nice little set. There was a plate, a bowl, chopsticks, a teacup, and - here's where I got confused - a little glass pitcher and a very very very small wine glass.

Very small. Miniature.

"What's this for?" I asked.
"Baijiu."

What?
Baijiu.
Urban dictionary calls it "Pure distilled evil in liquid form."


OK. I'll be open-minded. I'll try it.

Not that I had a choice. My boss, the director of the Foreign Affairs Office, looked around and explained the tradition.

"Everyone has the first three cups (aka shots) together. And then you are free to drink with anyone you want."

This stuff tastes like...
I can't really describe it.
Since this was my boss - and since this was a brand-newish.. culture for me - I did my best to keep up. Sometimes, I'd refill my little shot glass only halfway... only to be told off by one of my leaders, who graciously helped me out by filling it up to the rim.

Three shots is a lot.
But, as one of the two guests of honor, everyone else at the table also wanted to share a drink with me. One by one, they'd say- "Felice! Welcome to Baoding!"

And then "Gan bei!"
Gan bei. Empty your glass.

The head director. The deputy director. The Party representative. The other director. The guy who actually did the work.

Fortunately, the other foreign teachers were able to figure out that I probably couldn't drink anymore, so they didn't ask me for a toast.

Still- After all my leaders (aka bosses) toasted us, we still had the... "To all the ladies! To all the foreign teachers!" and on and on....

The good news?
I held it in.
I drank slowly - it was a long dinner - and ate as much as I could. Drank as much water as I could. Then went home that night to a good night's sleep, wondering about my first banquet experience in China.

--
This experience, by the way, brought back one memory from my childhood.
My family and I were at a banquet in China when I was younger. They served everyone baijiu. I took one sip and decided against drinking it.

My little sister wrinkled her face... then finished it all up in one big gulp. She must have been 8 or 9 at that time. When I asked her why she drank it, she said that she thought she had to. Our parents had always stressed the importance of finishing up everything that was on our plate and in our cups.

So she drank it all.
Then skipped dinner.
She curled over and slept the rest of that night.

--
And thus ends my first baijiu experience.