A Spectacle, Twice Over

Today was a nice day off. I woke up from a healthy and well needed 12-hour-night of sleep, and greeted my roomate Anna who was FINALLY back from vacaction. It's nice having a place to yourself, but it does get lonely and quiet a lot. But probably not if your play Britney Spears' 'Blackout' at full volume and dance around for an hour in your pajamas. Just an assumption.

I took a trip to the gym, where I'm treated like I'm their only [white] customer. I started my workout, running on the treadmill, and drifted off into my own little world in which Britney's new CD played quite loudly in the background (seems to happen quite often these days). Now, the workout machines are on the second floor, and face a wall of glass. Overlooking a big swimming pool, one can see all that is going on, and the same for the swimmers looking into the workout space. Halfway through my workout, I glanced randomly down below, and realized that every single person was crowded in one corner of the pool, watching me run. There were about 50 people with their eyes fixed on me (from the corner with the best view, might I add), having conversations that included gesticulating in my direction. Yeah, bit awkward. Actually, it was a lot awkward, and it continued for half an hour.

After I removed myself from that potentially harmful and excruciating typical situation, I had an hour of chinese lessons with my tutor, Fiona. I am actually getting into some conversation now, which is very exciting! 

Today is October 30th, and all of the foreign teachers are going to celebrate Halloween (we have a long day Saturday with class, so it would be a very bad idea to go out the actual date). I am about 90% sure that I am the only person dressed up. But, seriously, it's NOT Halloween if you don't dress up! With what I had, I put together a costume depicting a Chinese Runner. I have running spandex on, a hoodie, running watch, pollution mask (easy to fit into anything)  hair in a ponytail, and THEN I wrapped my rubber boots in toilet paper so that they look like casts. I made a sign that says:

I deemed it best to indicate that my legs were broken; therefore, my boots were casts, not rubber boots wrapped in toilet paper by a mentally unstable person. However, Chinese people can't read English, nor do they know about Halloween, so... I'm prepared to be that mentally unstable person for the night. And I am simply giddy to be dressed up, it's a bit sad actually! Maybe I took one too many cough drops today...

E! THS: Anonymous Superstardom in Asia

If you weren't aware of this already, China is made up of Asians. 

I, however, am not an Asian, contrary to popular belief. I'm a bona-fide white, blonde, Enlgish-speaking American girl. While at home, this might make me fade into the wallpaper of a crowded room, it has ordained me with a sort of high profile celebrity status here in Jinan. 

Unlike Beijing or Shanghai, Jinan has little to offer to a tourist. Therefore, it's inhabitants rarely, if ever, see Western folk. China is very much it's own country, lacking the 'melting pot' effect of a multitude of cultures, appearances, and history; Jinan is very much the quintessential  Chinese city in this regard. There is minute western influence and even less Western presence here. So, when I appear, like out of a dream, around the street corner with my blue jeans, blonde hair, and big sunglasses, this naturally attracts awe, surprise, and sometimes inspires minor riots.

Just like Britney Spears, I am stared at at all time. Not only stared at, but pointed at and pointed out to friends and small children. People shout 'MEIGOUREN!' (American) from their taxis, a triumphant look on their faces as their fellow passengers scramble to get a better look as they pass. Some even blatantly snap pictures of me looking at vegetables, or waiting for the bus. Or shaving my head bald with a crazed smile on my face.

Last night, a group of Western teachers went to this club, Chameleon, to partake in the free drinks and to support the Chinese girlfriend of one of our own. She's named Blue (adding to the list of unique Chinese names), speaks English very well, and is simply awesome. She was DJing, and, as I was watching her, I reminisced about the days when I was a star of a different kind. When Usher graced the club with his presence (vocally),  4 of us girls had raced to the dance floor (that was literally shaking beneath our feet, quite fun when everyone jumped at the same time!) and were immediately entrapped by a swarm of tall Asian men. They formed a tight circle around us, arching their arms above so that it formed a literal tent around our posse. I remembered my friend Russel Crowe, and resisted throwing any telephones or starting any horrible rock bands in protest. 

When 'Beautiful Girls' by Sean Kingston hit the speakers, the tent collapsed. The men tried to no avail to sing along, only really knowing the words 'beautiful girl'. They fervently let us know what they thought by giving us two extremely enthusiastic thumbs up, pumping them infront of our faces and nodding to the beat. And that was me in a turtle neck. God know what would have happened it I wore, say, a tee shirt.

We were followed to another bar and McDonalds after this, having collected a nice party of stalkerazzi. I kept my head down, but instead of large glasses like Nicole Ricci, I put on my new pollution mask (houndstooth and very well insulated!) to hide my flashy, notorious features. That's just one of the burdens of being anonymously famous, which sometimes seem to outweigh the perks, which amount to something lik absolute zero.

On another note, I have been a bit sick lately. The receptionist at one of the schools offered to get me some medicine, and later that day I was gifted a small bottle of paste, a throat spray, and strange cough drops. I discovered that bottled medicine was DELICIOUS. It tastes like someone melted the inside of a york peppermint, added some herbs, put it in a jar, turned the York wrapper over and drew a new label. This is probably why it doesn't work well. This inadequacy of Chinese medicine is more than redeemed, however, by the miraculous powers of the cough drops. I had been taking the American version all day, and only succeeded in keeping my progressively worse voice and violent cough at bay. However, one Chinese cough drop later, I could speak, forget I even had a cough, and I actually felt my self esteem rise a few points. Which made me want to take another, and another... leading me to wonder whether other blooming starlets have suffered from it's highly addictive side effects as well. Perhaps in it's popular powdered form.

Today, I am working for 5 hours, with a 4 hours break in between classes. The watch I bought in Peru broke (causing me to panic when I thought it was 3:45 in the afternoon and I had slept through my classes, when it was actually only 8am), so I have to buy another one. An adult student gave me her shop's business card, so I think I'm going to buy one from her. Not only does it look like a quality shop, but she needs to practice her English. Or, I need her to practice her English so I can buy a watch. Also during the break, I'll probably head to Eat Street (the generic term for the multitude of streets that have many stalls and vendors selling various Chinese food at very cheap prices) for lunch. I have to make my appearances, and let the people know that I'm still around. 

And that I still got it.

And Brian Adams Takes the Cake!

Only in China, working as an English teacher, to you hear the phrase, "Thank GOD the weekend is over!"

Saturday morning, all the Lixia Dasha teachers (where we live) met outside at 7am to taxi together to school. Upon exiting the compound, we saw a massive number of what looked like military men, uniformed and unarmed, walking silently and seriously on the other side of the road in a very long line. What made this scene odder was the fact that each of them was carrying a small tin stool in the same way on their hips. "Look, it's the Army of Stools!" Gary shouted in his thick british accent, continuing the banter all the way to school amid much laughter. Fortunately, we speak our own language here, so none were offended. 

This just one example, I am perplexed by so many things here. Not to mention the odd English translations; the grammar is nearly always extremely awkward, creating misleading signs, such as a large flashing "SERVICE ONESELF 24 HOURS" over an ATM.

School Saturday and Sunday was very long. I worked about 10 hours each day. It wasn't the long hours that got to me, but the repetition of the classes. I taught 5 classes at the C2 level, which consists of young kids of 7 or 8 learning pretty basic things. Imagine repeating "I am SWIMMING," and "I am JUMPING," accompanied with actions and the written form on the board, eighty times in one hour only to discover that, when asked, the kids respond "I am SWIM." Now, do this 5 times in a row. I am GOING crazy.

On top of this, I experienced exceptional difficulty with one class. They were level C5, so 10 year olds. I spoke almost robotically slowly, using the vocabulary of a 3 year old, and I was met by blank and utterly bamboozeled asian eyes. Then, lightning stuck; I realized that Anna, who I was covering for, had a thick Aussie accent. So, in a desperate attempt to get my learners to tell me if they truely 'liked apples', I pulled out what was probably the worst British/ Australian accent there ever was. And, like a fog had lifted, they understood everything that came out of my pretending mouth. Needless to say, it was an amusing hour and a half that followed, using phrases like "Atta boy, mate!" and "Blimey!" to add to my character, whom I christianed 'Amy'  as well.

Sunday night is our big night on the town. Celebrating the end of the weekend (another thing I never thought I would say), everyone goes out for food and drinks. Food is family style here, so we ordered a few plates and some rice at a small local restaurant. One dish was really spicy and delicious. Another was a spicy version of mashed potatoes, cleverly disguised as a messy mountain of brown goop. But, also very delicious. Tea is complimentary at every meal, something I could really get used to. I only ate half of what I would have in the States; I'm still in chopstick-training mode. Apparently I was holding them the wrong way, explaining the tenacious handcramps I get halfway through a meal. 

Afterwards, we went to a bar, where they played Nirvana, the Beatles, and, wait for it... BRIAN ADAMS. This was probably the happiest moment of the entire weekend: sitting in a Chinese bar with new friends, walls covered in christmas lights and Santa posters, watching people play old video games on the TV perched above the ridiculously priced imported liquors,  and listening to an acoustic version of "Summer of '69" echoing painfully in the poor acoustics of the room. Doesn't get better than that.

Today, I am a busy little bee. I am going to the gym, cleaning the apartment up, studying some Chinese, and then going to get a new charger for my phone with the aid of a chinese friend. Then it's off to 2 hours of teaching this evening. It's all adults, and much more mature content. And this time, I'm taking over for a Brit with a very soft accent, so I won't have to pretend to be anything I'm not. 

How boring.

Opposite World: This is China (or is it?)

You don’t know how much you rely on internet until you are cut off completely.

Finally, after 2 miserable (not quite) weeks of cyber darkness, I can communicate with the outside world again! And I do have quite a lot to tell.

China is, in so many way, the polar opposite of the States. For one, while we are obsessed with cleanliness, they could care less. People spit in buildings, breathe in pollution, and splatter pee over the in-the-ground toilets. Young children wear what Westerners loving call "Shit Pants" ; with a gaping hole stretching around the crotch and upper leg region, these pants ingeniously take the place of diapers. These pre-potty-trained toddlers can do business whenever and wherever business calls. This also means that THIER business is hanging out for the world to see. Some street-bound Chinese wear doctor masks over thier noses and mouths, which act as both air filters and a statement. Or perhaps they're just doctors who left work in a hurry. Either way, I want one. A doctor (preferably attractive) and a mask.

While we form lines and wait respectfully (with the occasional gripe and groan), they push and shove like Jack Bauer is on their tail. I am shoved getting on the bus by young men who later smile at me, a hidden agenda in their eyes. I got hit with a cane by a surprisingly agile old woman for taking too long looking at the kiwis. 

While we opt for freshness, they opt for tons of oil, lukewarm chicken feet, more oil, scorpians on a stick, and even skin and BLOOD. That’s right. Sheep’s or cow’s blood with a side of skin, anyone? Make sure to check frequently after a lunch of scorpian to make sure that you still have feeling in your legs, and that you are not, despite what you see, in a tunnel with a very appealing light at the end.

My life here has been enjoyable so far. I live in a nice sized apartment with a very nice Aussie named Anna. She's helped me settle in so much. My room is bigger than I expected, and I have a good amount of storage space. Our bathroom has a doorless shower in one corner, leaving a huge amount of water covering the floor after showering. We mop up what we can, but the majority is left to dry throughout the day, leaving a strong stench of mold. Toilet paper is thrown in the waste basket. Our kitchen has 2 burners with a large tank of gas attached, a refridgerator, and a microwave. We have a washing machine in our apartment as well.

The other foreign teachers are also really fun and amicable. Most are from England, though we do have some Scots, Aussies, Canadians, and other Americans. Work is fun as well. Being a substitute, or 'floater,' to use the school's term (I thought people were refering to me as 'the poop that floats' at first, but quickly realized the misconception), my schedule changes every week. I work at all 3 Aston schools (though only one a week, being that I take over for a teacher who is taking their 3 week vacation). The students are mostly children, ranging from age 5 to age 15. We do offer adult classes, but these are in the minority.  Normally, I have a night class on Monday, Wednesday, or Thursday, and definatley a night class Friday. Then, I word 9 hours or so Saturday and Sunday. We are garunteed 2 days off a week, but, with the classes at night, it seems like more. Lot’s of free time!

I just started being tutored in Chinese by one of the guys’ Chinese girlfriends, named Lily. Here, I must mention the, um, shall we say 'uniqueness' of Chinese chosen English names. Lily is a very nice name, but atypical of our creative Chinese students. I have had students named Lucky, Glacier, and, most importantly, Flashlight.

Anyway, we have a lot of fun while she’s tutoring me, and I’m picking up Chinese rather quickly. The tones are a bit difficult to learn, but the grammar is remarkably easy. I even understood a few people when they spoke to me; even though the taxi driver turned me down (they can do that here), I went in for a victorious high-five because I actually knew he was saying that. I think I actually squealed in delight. Like I said, opposite world.

Now that I have internet (and a gym membership as of yesterday!) I should have much more of an agenda. I only work 4 days a week, and only 2 full days. Having little money until payday, no internet, and no agenda, I have almost gone crazy with lack of activity. Lessons take 15 minutes to plan (I have no idea what the class will be like, so I have to fly by the seat of my pants, so to speak), and travel time is minimal. Most alcohol is very expensive, save beer (yuck) and a horrendous liquor called Baijo that burns like the devil and threatens to immediately come back up again. Apparently it is fermented with 3 different animal penises as well, which are considered a delicacy. In opposite world, this is simply THE BEST!

Another interesting thing about China is that I am stared at wherever I go. A look of shock appears on everyone’s face as I pass and they are overcome with amazement that white people do indeed exist. An old man, holding a large bird cage in one hand, started laughing to himself while looking me straight in the eye. Just when you thought you’d seen it all, an American appears. Who’da thunk it?

I guess the biggest adjustment so far has been the language. I cannot read anything or talk to anyone, so I rely heavily on facial expressions, hand gestures, and pictures to get by. The frozen dumplings look safe, but the ones with a picture of Jackie Chan giving an enthusiastic '2 thumbs up!' look AWESOME. This has a picture of a black chunky paste, so I will put it back.  Golden arches in the shape of an 'M', followed by 'cDonalds' looks like something I once knew.

Well, it's time to go to work! I miss everyone so much! Or do I? 

(I do.)

CHINAAAAA!

I'll post something longer later, but I just wanted to get the word out that, YES, I am in China after much anitcipation, and I am alive (as of yet).

My travel was horribly long, but eased by the wonderful food (not a sarcastic comment, surprisingly) and unbeleivable larger film and TV show selection on my 13 hour flight to Beijing. My total travel time to Jinan was around 30 hours, so one can imagine that my first night in Jinan I was, for lack of eloquence, dead.

Life in China is so very different from life as I have known it. For one, the pollution is awful. I can see blue-ish grey sky directly above me during the day, but apart from that, only smokey abyss. The traffic is insane, but doubled with the cyclists, bring certain doom. The cyclists put themselves in a class separate from the rest, assuming the right and privelages of both the motorists and the pedestrians. I will be shocked if I leave here with out being hit once by one of them.

Jinan is a big city, but is not a tourist stop. Hence, 95% of everything is in chinese only. Since I do not speak a word of Chinese, though I'm learning a bit here and there, this presents a bit of a problem. My first stop in the supermarket, I basically stocked up on fruits and veggies, and grabbed other things and hoped they turned out to be something I liked. Chicken feet and beetles were avoided. All of the bread is sweet. Milk and yogurt is sold in little plastic bags. There are gallons and gallons of oils lining the shelves (which I mistook for juice, lol) and a million different types of soy sauce.

My apartment is nice. I live in a building in a college type compound with 30 other foreign teachers for Aston. My roommate is really nice, from Australia. My room is larger than expected, and we have a western style toilet, thank GOONESS. THe Chinese ones are in the ground, so you have to bend and squat really low. I giggled the whole time when I first did it because I felt so ridiculous. Also, they reek like you would not believe.

I start teaching today. I have 3 1/2 hour tutoring sessions, so that should be a nice introduction for me. I will write more later, for there is much more to tell ... this uber slow internet in the single computer (from around the early 1500s) is very inhibiting.

Ziajian! (goodbye!)

Uh-oh, Spaghettios!

Today the full realization of what I have gotten myself into hit me like a ton of Chinese lanterns (which weighs exactly the same as a ton of bricks, as it where). This left me a bit shaken, nervous, and hyper-actively self destructive, leading me to ask me the one question I thought I knew the answer to in the first place: what have I gotten myself into? 

Uh-oh.

I scrapbooked some more to calm the feelings, which were beginning to shred my stomach lining.

 

Miraculously, all of my materials fit into the suitcases, though I am almost positive they are over the weight limit (which is much less than the ton of ill-mannered Chinese lanterns mentioned earlier). 

Uh-oh.

I recieved a package from one of my BFF4EVAHs* which could potentially save my life: A book with accompanying CD for beginners to learn Chinese. I didn't realize that I have training Monday and Tuesday (I arrive Sunday night) and then I start on Wednesday. I don't know the meaning of jet lag yet.

Uh-oh.

With this book, I will perhaps be somewhat prepared to buy food (and eat for the first time in 3 days) on Thursday.

Tomorrow, 4 a.m. I'm leaving. Maybe I should finish getting ready?

Uh-oh.

*LYLAS, IDK TTYL BUTFUL!

Anxious Chinese Scrapping, My Dream Guy Smells like Red Bean!

The end of the week is drawing to a close, and each day I become exponentially more freaked out about going to China.

Though I'm sure that everything will work out fine, this doesn't change the fact that I have slight nausea in the pit of my stomach at all hours of the day. The facts that 1) I don't know a word of Chinese, 2) I know zip about their culture, and 3) I am clueless as to what the my life will be like there, are all  chipping away at me, bit by bit, one sunburned patch of skin at a time. Plus, the obvious excitement of a new adventure that is s0-close-I can-taste-the-general-taos-chicken is making me even more anxious. The icing on the cake: knowing that I have sit on a plane for 13 hours (fear of flying combined with 13 hours of boredom... not a good combo for a slightly ADD, I-want-to-run-around-and-PLAY kind of person). 

Today, I downloaded a podcast to learn some chinese words. I can now say 'hello,' 'long time no see' (which will be completely useless as I know no Chinese people, least of all those I haven't seen in a long time, yet, just in case Jin or Sun from Lost shows up...), 'I'm good, you?', and 'thank you'. I am well on my way to fluency, as you can clearly see. Also, I am well on my way to checking myself into rehab for Lost addicts, where they play 24 all day long. Afterward, patients are transferred directly to 24 rehab (unavoidable), from which there is no escape.  They've come under fire recently for using some sketchy and rather violent healing techniques (hacksaws and other weapons were discovered in the Mary Poppin-esque man-purses carried around by the nurses), so I think it's best avoided. At all costs, damn it!

Anyway, rest of my day looks just about as relaxing as the rest of the lazy days I've had at home. I have to run some last minute errands, picking up such things as tampons (which apparently are really expensive in China) books (only classics are available), and deoderant... with scents like 'Red Bean,' it just wouldn't be fair to the boys if I wore it. How could you resist a western woman that smells like a red bean? I don't think you could. Hm, maybe that's why there's so many chinese people.

In my spare time, I finally got the chance to start scrapping my college years, something that's been eating away at my scrappy soul for some time. Here's the first 4 pages:

 

I have missed scrapping SO MUCH that I really think I need to bring my stuff to China. It's a great de-stresser for me (as is going to the gym, which, when googled, yeilded many different locations where I could satisfy that itch). Hopefully I have enough room!  

25 Years Younger: CHOMP, The 80s ATE Me!

These last few days have thrown me, unknowingly, down a swirling sand pit of time to another universe where the 80s are forever on rotation.

First, during daily workouts, I find my iPod constantly serenading me with 80s pop hits. And I LOVE it. When I take off the headphones, the tunes are still pounding in my temples, causing spontaneous dance parties in the kitchen with mom. When they slip out of my succombing lips, "Straight Up" by Paula and "Heaven is a Place on Earth" by god-knows-who have produced some pretty mad raves, let me tell you. Mom just might perm her hair again.

During the rest of the day, I turn on the TV, settling in for some relaxing mind-numbing, and, to my genuine surprise, realize that, in what seems like a second, I've just devoured 3 hours of Growing Pains re-runs and a 'Child Stars of the 80s' countdown. I've laughed and cried along with the original audience 20 years past, sitting like ghosts on the couch next to me and continually running through the door to join the party in their bulky socks and tight neon jeans.

I looked at myself in the mirror this morning, and realized that I had tight, bright blue sweat capris with a baggy hot pink tee teetering off one shoulder, with my morning blonde-highlighted ponytail loose and resting comfortably on one side of my head. It took everything I had to restrain my frantic self-minded fingers in painting brightly colored makeup on my face and snapping large costume jewelry over the rest of me.

I'm taking some steps to pull myself (somewhat unwillingly) back up the present. First, I downloaded a large amount of music from this momentarily foreign modern music scene, like new singles by Taylor Swift, Kanye West, Jennifer Hudson, and the rest of that new Britney CD that I might as well give into already. I have banned Growing Pains from my life (not without a steady withdrawl process, however), and now eagerly await the next episode of Cash Cab (the best show EVER!!), though many trivia questioned are catered to my 80s expertise. I've gone shopping with Mom, and picked out a few new work-clothes for China. I think I've finally gotten over my monster crush on Rick Springfield. Sigh, what a heartthrob.

This weekend, in celebration of my parents anniversary, we are heading to Clearwater Beach. It's a nice long 4 hour drive, but with a TV in the back of the van, I won't drive my parents crazy with questions like "Are we there yet?", "Mom, I'm HUNGRY!", "Can we PLEASE listen to my new Culture Club 8 track?!". Should be a fun 2008 weekend.