Aand now I'm back...

The lack of posts has been due for a while to laziness, since I did do some nice things at the end of spring, including a trip to the mountains in the "country of the clouds" in Anhui province, and 3 very pleasant days in Shanghai just before I left, which included finding out the amazing story of how Japan-occupied Shanghai opened its arms to Jews, and spending a ton of money in the French concession.

Then I was back on the home turf. For 2 months. Where I can take white privilege for granted, make myself understood and get used to things not being (too) loud and messy. It's not a long time, but bound to lead to at least a little readjustment. Travelling to Ginseng was a bit of an adventure: my connection from Amsterdam was late (I think I'm going start boycotting KLM, because it's the second time something similar happened). When I got to Shanghai and schlepped my way to the station (1 hour and a half by subway) I was informed that there were no more trains to Gin Tonic, except one that arrived really late at night and left from another station. I subsequently learned that it's because it's Mid-Autumn festival on Monday, hence a lot of people moving around a lot. So I phone the hotel I stay in usually, which luckily had a room. Thus I was stranded 2 days in Shanghai (well, if you can get "stranded" in such a city, I took the opportunity to run a burocratic errand and have a meal at the famous Fairmont Peace Hotel, a gorgeous historical hotel).

Then, finally, I made it home. Or home away from home. Barring the corpse of one cockroach and a mysterious mini-flood in the balcony, the flat was in perfect condition (as perfect as it get from me). The university is still very ghostly, and it's hooooot (yes, there's always a reason to complain about weather in China). It looks like courses will start later than I expected, which means a slow and gentler transition.

So it's my first real "back to school" in China since I arrived mid-year and it will be my first fall. Let's see what it holds (hopefully more regular posts).

All the tea in China

I've had a brief initiation back home to the ritual of Chinese tea ceremony, and while I like good-quality tea as much as the next person, I'd never really got into it. And I've done tea ceremony in Japan, a dramatic, high mass of an affair including foamy bright green stuff which is more the stuff of ritual than an actual beverage.
In China,I was obviously motivated to make the most of the tea. My first close and personal encounter with Chinese tea (beyond the perfectly decent industrial stuff you get at the supermarket) was through a pu'er cake that a Chinese friend gave me. Then, in Shanghai, I came across by sheer luck the coolest little shop, ran by a charming young man, who was willing to serve me tea throughout the afternoon probably. There, I got more pu'er and some oolong. For the uniniated, pu'er is presented in roundish little buns, resembling this. The shapes and sizes the leaves are pressed in vary, but if you've never seen them and they're wrapped they're not even recognizeable as tea. Oolong is a smokey tea.

Then, one of the highlights of my trip to Hangzhou was the visit to the tea museum, complete with an investment in longjing, or "dragon well" tea, a grassy green tea, that, I've learned since,Chinese people don't like so much (an Earl Grey of China?) . Then, a few weeks ago, I went to Gin Tonic's very own tea market, which looks like this:

Yes, that's a massive mound of tea. Some part of me would like to jump and roll in it as if it were a heap of wonderful-smelling autumn leaves. It's not very fancy and it's mysteriously empty, though presumably the merchants do make a living out of it. The shopkeepers also do the whole schtick of washing the teapots, filling tiny little cups, spilling water all over special trays, but it didn't feel as friendly and intimate as the place in Shanghai. But still, I got some more green tea, more delicate than the long jing, as well as some "iron goddess of mercy" where the leaves are rolled in little balls that make a tinkling sound when they're put in a cup (so you don't just see, smell and taste tea, you get to listen to tea!).

Ware-wise, there's also a lot to discover,. A must have is the purple clay tea pot, which looks like a very plain thing but can cost a fortune (ok not a fortune, but way more that you'd expect a plain little terracotta teapot to cost). Then there are cups, trays, jugs, you name it. Right now, I got a cheap clay teapot off the flea market, I guess I'll start blowing money, but gradually.

The nice thing about Chinese still tea ceremony is that it might not be as elegant and grand as the Japanese one, but it feels a lot more convivial and normal. It's also easy to get obsessive about Chinese tea, as I've known some people to be, because there are so many varieties and so much stuff to fiddle with. Really feels like getting initiated in some mystery of the Orient. The slightly grating aspect I've noticed is that, where foreigners who are into tea are concerned, it's also easy to get a bit snobbish, maybe because you've admittedly gained a lot of knowledge, but still. There's no harm in admitting ignorance or to liking something that "only foreigners like." I've got a lot to learn, and want to learn (I've also invested in two books) but this is supposed to be fun, and a way to know China that overcomes language barriers and doesnt require any particular skills as say, calligraphy or martial arts would. And hey, at least by now I know that that is pu'er and not marzipan cakes!

The ghosts of China past

Now, Gin Tonic might be pleasant enough, but it's not on anybody tourist map. It might be a couple of thousand years old or so, but that's not exactly obvious. Most of it is a nondescript mass of cement and glass.
Unless you end up in the old town. I mentioned the old town before, I think, it's a couple of streets with traditional-ish houses and a flea market for all your perforated coin, Confucius statuettes and Mao paraphernalia needs.. But recently, in much nicer weather and a little more knowlege of the turf, I found there are some real hidden gems. The old town conceals some more street of very nicely kept (or fixed) old houses which have nothing to envy from the likes of Shaoxin. They organized as informal museums of sorts, with themes more or less deliberately chosen. Funnily enough, it feels a bit like Pompei, but a Pompei in which people still come and go and do stuff.

 This is the courtyard of the calligrapher's house. The house itself is some kind of calligraphy museum, with one of the masters there drinking tea and eating, and his wife trying to sell you his works.
 
Here's the calligrapy master and his acolytes in action.

This is the innter courtyard of the ghost's house. I call it the ghost's house because it's inhabited by a noble-looking fellow who habits one room where he has traditional furnitre and a flat screen tv. He seems like a kind of genie of the place. There was also a rooster in the garden, he didn't seem very happy to have visitors.

The door to another house. This was all about ceramic, if I remember correctly.

Marco's Paradise

It seems that Marco Polo thought Hangzhou was paradise  and you can see why. The misty lake, the graceful bridges, the greenery. This is Real Chinese Stuff (tm) as you can see from my present banner pic. Looks right out of a Chinese dish, right?

However, as is often the case, there is trouble in Paradise. The weather was crappy for one thing. It did add some kind of misty poetic dimension to the sights, but running around being a tourist is generally nicer when it's sunny and dry.

And then the taxi drivers. Those belong right into hell.

The first, driving us from the station to the hotel, managed to misread a street name in pynin, attempt to drop us in the middle of nowhere, then finally drove us back to the other side of the city. Another was apparently unable to read an address-in Chinese this time- and reacted by yelling. Note to Chinese people: if a foreigner doesn't get what you're saying it's because they can't speak Chinese, not because they're deaf. Raising your voice won't help. Finally, there was the surreal spectacle of seeing taxi after empty taxi not stopping by. This is one of the great mysteries of China, one of those things that are literally unexplainable (as in, you seek possible explainations, but find none that makes sense).

Apart from the taxi misfortunes, Hangzhou is a treasure chest of a city, and, if you excuse the mixed metaphor, I think I saw only the tip of the iceberg. Another place I hope to go back to, and stay smack in the middle of the city so I can avoid taxis like plague (either that, or acquire a deep knowledge of Hangzhou's public transportation network). Anyway, sights included:

Silk Street. Hangzhou is famous for its silk. It's nice, but a bit touristy. I got a cute, wearable cotton Mandarin dress, but once again the hues of the scarves look weird and unbecoming on me.

This West Lake. It looks like something out of a dream. There's an island in which there are smaller lakes (but no islands on said smaller lakes).

Hangzhou is also famous for its Dragon Well green tea. This is the tea museum, which is a massive tea field with some explainatory stuff in a building on the side. Again like something out of a dream.

A temple, which is the tomb of General Yue Fei, big national hero and model of filial piety:

And this is just a small part of what I saw, and an even smaller part of what there is to see.

Shangaied!

The week end before the last, I made my way to Shanghai, where I'd set foot before only when I got off the plane, to be whisked off immediately to my present location. Feeling like a country bumpkin, I made my way to the city of sin in a train absolutely crammed with people of all ages, eating, drinking and moving around.

The city turned out to be all what I expected--and more. What was striking is how European the city feels. You might think it makes sense, it was more or less created by and for Westerners after all, but the time of the concessions is over and done. So I was expecting a jumble of skyscapers and bright neon lights, à la Tokyo. There is a bit of that, but there is also a lot that feels, well, Mediterranean. Maybe it's because it's a harbour city? It feels like a city by the sea, though *technically* it's not one.

This is part of the "old town." You can imagine there were a lot more of this kind of little streets, before getting torn down. It feels poor, popular but oh-so-charming.

View of the Bund, with the old-style Western architecture.

The French concession-or Shanghai as you imagined it.

Other perks included a yue show, that is, a kind of opera that developed in Shanghai with women-only troupes (shame I had no frickin' clue what was going on), and the Shanghai Museum, or Everything You Ever Wanted to Know about China and Didn't Think You Could Ask.

I am officially in love with Shanghai. It might not be the most pretty-pretty place on earth but it's sophisticated and multilayered and has that big-city feel I miss. I hope the future holds many more escapades there!

More on shopping: the furniture issue

Every little thing can potentially turn into an adventure in China. Actually, cross the "potentially".

As it happens, my parents are coming and, duly expressing filial piety, I set out to look for a sofa-bed. An American friend, who is the resident "fixer", found out about a furniture mall and I set off in her company, since she actually speaks Chinese and knows her way around. So we set off to our destination, somewhere south. We took a taxi and arrived where we were supposed to arrive. It didn't look like a mall at all. There were stores, selling things for the house, but not furniture. Way more basic stuff such as floorings of various types, or toilets.
Then came a stretch of land filled with granite sculptures--Buddahs, bridges, lions, dragons, people playing golf, a winged horse, you name it. No sight of the mall, let alone beds. Finally, a bunch of workmen who seemed to have walked out of a 1950s propaganda who finally directed us to the mall.
There, I looked around and let Sarah bargain in Chinese. Somehow, the information emerged that there was some other place where you could find much cheaper, if lower quality stuff, which suited me just fine for the use I was planning to make of it. Apparently at this point the sellers went on a tirade about how the cheaper stuff was terrible, and it actually gives you cancer, how you're basically going to drop dead just looking at it.

Obviously it didn't work (I'm not even sure they were expecting it to work) and, another taxi ride later, we were at the cheap place, which was basically a great big warehouse full of whatever kind of furniture you can imagine, including ok-looking sofa-beds. I selected one in a pleasing green and brown 1970s design.

Now comes the really fun part. A delivery guy agreed to deliver the sofa-and Sarah and me ipso facto. He cleverly secured the sofa across the tow attached to his electric bike. Then the two of us jumped in and were towed home, probably making the day of everyone who saw us passing by. Finally the delivery guy propped the sofa upside down on his head and carried it five floors.

And now I'm the proud owner of a 1970s-style sofa bed-at a ridiculous price.

Retail therapy, Chinese style

Everyone who knows me  knows I love shopping (I've been accused of being a shopaholic, which is simply not true! I only buy what I need. And I can stop whenever I want). Before arriving in China, I'd been told clothing was cheap, but then China was still a blurry alien planet in my mind which wouldn't house anything as mundane as clothing stores. Someone reassured me that I shouldn't worry "because they have Armani and Prada everywhere in China." Right. Because it's like I can afford that kind of stuff. In China of all places. But we'll get to this.

When I arrived, I was pleased by the presence of H&M and Zara. Globalized retail within reach.
As I began to explore more, I became more aware of real "Made in China" clothing. I mentioned before that Chinese fashion is weird for my taste. Lots of frills, lace, sequins, cutesy designs, shiny bright colours that do the Caucasian complexion no favours. Good luck finding a simple, plain jacket or shirt or, for the matter, a skirt that's at least knee length, never mind longer. That's another thing, tiny mini skirts and hot pants (worn with tights underneath) are all the rage. It seems that the era of the blue and green Mao jackets and matching trousers is gone for good.

Still, perusing markets and malls leads to interesting discoveries and cute items-- at truly ridiculous prizes. We're talking the equivalent of six or seven euros per item. Which leads to the question of brands, and to perspective. Never mind Armani. You know H&M? The place you go to get cheap, if not amazing-quality clothing? Well, it starts feeling like Armani in comparison.

Another thing: the Chinese like to bargain. Hard, apparently. I consider myself a decent, though not exceptional bargainer, I'm from the Mediterranean after all. But I still don't feel up to it here, mainly because of the language barrier. Ok, I can say numbers, but can't pull the I'm-on-a-budget number. So right now, either I consider the price acceptable or I don't and just leave the item where I found it. As usual, we'll see how things progress.

Horse, horse, tiger, tiger

...Which is pronounced mama huhu, and actually means "so-so."

Don't ask.

I've been meaning to do a post on learning Chinese for a while. We get free evening classes, which is generous and cool. How useful they are is an object of debate. There seem to be many problems associated with studying Chinese: the pinyn, which means getting used to sounds not corresponding to letters, and some sounds being almost unpronounceable anyway. As in zh and c being pronounced respectively zd (sort of) and ts. But don't quote me on this. Then there are the tones. Why a language thought it made sense to evolve with tones is beyond me. It looks like some divine curse. But they're there, and need to be practiced and learned, at least a bit. Then there's the writing, obviously, without even the comfort of Japanese kana (incidentally, when I studied Hebrew, and proferred the sentence "if I ever take another language, it will have the Roman alphabet",  if there is a God or some other superior entity he must have laughed very loudly).

However, the classes supply some basis, even if it's not ideal, especially as I've never been a champion of self-discipline and pure self-study doesn't work for me. I've also discovered a neat trick. The laoshe (teacher) you have a total of three hours a week is not the only laoshe you have. There are scores of them. Cleaning ladies and repairmen talk to me, I repeat stuff like a kid, sometimes guess and infer meanings. I point at fruit and vegetables at the market and the sellers say the names (except one lady who wants to practice her English--that's unfair!). People talk to each other, say hello, good bye, how are you with perfect tones, obviously. Anyone can be your teacher (for  little orfree, or sometimes providing additional services) and the world your language classroom.

Go tell it on the (pointy) mountain

The view from the point of the Pointy Mountain

The landmark of my present place of residence is a pointy mountain. It was shrouded in mist and rain for most of my first month here, but now that it's sunny it's very visible in all its pointy, greenery-covered glory. The Pointy Mountain has convenient steps (two hundred of them, I believe, going up it felt more like two thousand), which make it uninteresting to some people, for some reason. Ok, it's not something to endeavour if you have knee issues, but otherwise? I'd say it was worth it.

Yesterday I made my  ascent of the Pointy Mountain, along with about one million Chinese people. The weather was great and it definitely felt like exercise. To get to the foot of the mountain you need to take walk in the Chinese countryside. As in, really countryside. Think goat herds and chickens wondering about, and people washing clothes and vegetables in ponds. Villages that feel like they're cut away from the world.

I remember reading a sentence about Mt. Fuji, that a wise man climbs it once, a fool twice. I have the impression the same applies to the Pointy Mountain, for those who land in this particular neck of the wood. It feels like I've ticked a case. I'm a wise woman now, and I'll try to keep it that way.

Spring is in the air

Spring in the 'hood

When I arrived on Valentine's day, it felt like bleak midwinter. There were occasional sunny spells, but otherwise, it got dark early and it was gloomy and rainy most of the time. Things have changed dramatically and abruptly in slightly more than a month. Temperatures soared to the mid 20s C (which feels a bit weird for the middle of March), trees are blossoming, days are stretching. You can actually see the pretty mountains that encircle the city on a regular basis. Ok, the weather is still kind of crazy, with equally abrupt changes for the worse, like yesterday, which felt like winter all over again. More importantly, at times it's still chilly inside (I know I'm sounding like a broken record, but this has got to be the single most traumatic instance of culture shock I experienced). But things are starting to look prettier, and you can truly appreciate the efforts Ginsengians are making with greenery.
Spring also brings its usual side effect, i.e. spring fatigue (doubled with cultural shock fatigue, which even according to the internet is A Thing). It also brings that non-descript feeling of wanting to romp outside, or sit under a tree with a book when you should be working

The Expat's Chinese cookbook

Food is going to be a recurring theme here. After all, I like reading about it, cooking it, and of course eating it. It's also unavoidably an issue for anyone making a prolonged stay in China--no matter how flexible your tastes and how open to new culinary experiences you might be.

I think I already mentioned I don't want to always eat out, in spite of there being plentiful and cheap restaurants and cafeterias. But cooking remains an experience which, for lack of a better word is "random". Forget about meticoulously following recipes, improvisation is the key here. So I'm sharing two recent concoctions which proved to be edible:

1) Noodles with egg à la Francesca:

Boil rice noodles. Drain and return to the hot stove. Add an egg. Add a vegetable of your choice. Saute briefly with cooking oil. Season with soy sauce. Scrape the wok.

2) Egg noodles with tofu à la Francesca:

Boil egg noodles (these come in a roundish "nest" shape and take more time to soften up). Drain and return to the hot stove  Add firm tofu cut into slices. Saute briefly with cooking oil. Season with soy sauce. Scrape the wok.

Tofu is a whole world in itself. There is even smoked tofu which looks and smells (unfortunately does not taste) like scamorza cheese. It also seems to be doing the job cheese does, as concerns calcium and protein intake.

I still haven't turned into some kind of zombie muttering "dairy..." instead of "brains..." so far. I got New Zealand cheddar from the Russian lady, as well as bread, which I'm missing more than I thought I would (I'm not a massive bread eater). I'm sure that my adventures in feeding myself and cooking with the local fare are not over.

Shaoxing

Last week end, I had my first week end trip (not so bad since I've been here less than a month). I went to Shaoxing, a town which gets described in websites as a "hotbed of Chinese culture." The modern part of Shaoxing isn't massively different from Gin Tonic, though possibly it has a prettier city centre with tree-lined alleys, more stores and even messier traffic. I spent a lot of time in a mall browsing the sales. Chinese fashion doesn't become me entirely, I've noticed. I like bright colours but these are a bit excessive for me, or just look weird with my complexion. The Chinese seem also very fond of "cutesy" details, so it's virtually impossible, for instance, to find a shirt which doesn't have a frilly collar.

The main thing about Shaoxing, however, was not the mall obviously but the historical part. The complex of houses where Lu Xun was born and raised is apparently a remarkably well preserved example of Qing architecture. It's China As You Imagine It, which I was pleased as punch to have finally encountered.

I learned a lot of stuff about Lu Xun (I was just vaguely aware of his name before that). His family was well off (as you can see from this  kind of  environment) but decayed, and he had a cool grandma who taught herself to read and told him stories. i promptly downloaded Lu Xun's stories on my kindle. As with Japanese literature sometimes, the reaction is "I'm glad this writer is supposed to be Westernized, I don't want to think what a non-Westernized writer would look like!).
The one drawback of this place is that, perhaps unavoidably, it's a bit touristy. As usual, perhaps, the Real is Fake, or the other way round. The stores were pretty regular Chinatown fare. I will have to wait to get to Hangzhou or Shangai to buy some Chinese stuff (tm).

The old town, and more of the market

The feeling of walking around with some kind of mild concussion is gradually fading away, at least some occasional WTH?! moment brings me back to it.

The first thing is that, thanks to the "old hands" I've been meeting, I've finally seen some "Chinese stuff." You might argue that ALL what I see is Chinese stuff, what was I expecting, men with queues? But I've been to the old town of Gin Tonic, which is not enormous but has its share of wooden doors, narrow alleys, slanted roofs and vendors selling assorted Three Kingdoms and Mao memorabilia. Very cool.

I've also been exploring more of the market. It's a slow learning process. Apart from all vegetables known to man, you can find a stall with lots of different varieties of tofu, and eggs sold by weight. The perks of being in a backwater of sort is that you can get fresh stuff from the local farmers, basically everything is a "locovore" plan. Meat, also sold in stalls, is primarily chicken and pork. The chicken looks weird, pork slightly less so but I never buy pork at home, so buying it at the butcher's, with the language barrier, is definitely daunting. As far as cooking at home is concerned, I have thus resolved to be a vegetarian, getting proteins from tofu and eggs. I've also made an expedition to Walmart (a ubiquitous Chinese institution) and gotten pasta. At least it's something I can cook. Still can't use the friggin' wok. Not sure what I do wrong, but I always end up having to scrape the food off... Trouble is, imported pasta costs a fortune, especially in comparison to the ridiculous price of the local food. Therefore, Barilla has to be, well, a little luxury of sorts, I kid you not.

My flat is still chilly, but I've applied some TLC. I discovered large wall stickers, so I don't have to stare at boring old whit(ish) walls all the time, but at little flowers and birds. So purty!

Best Western hotels and vegetable markets

As I inch every so slightly into Chinese life, I've discovered another side of it. There is some semblance of night life in Ginseng, very clearly catered at foreigners.
The city boasts a Best Western hotel and stepping inside is tantamount to entering another world. It's bright and shiny, with chinoiserie type decorations on the walls and a bar run by an Italian, complete with bresaola snacks and pizzas. Enough to make you feel awkward and already too "sinified" if you're wearing all your clothes in layers and pale pink plastic rainboots. I was underwhelmed by the pizza, which maybe wasn't made by the maestro himself, though my digestive system must have been delighted with flour and dairy. I also went to a bar, where they serve, you know, drinks, and had a decent glass of Australian red. The unpleasant thing is that everyone smokes inside, and coming home with my hair and clothes reeking of cigarettes is something I haven't done for the past ten years.

In other news, I have an induction stove! So I can make my own food now! Problem is, I don't know how to make Chinese food. I got some of those noodles you're supposed to boil and then stir fry with vegetable or whatever, but that involved scraping part of them off the wok. And getting pasta would require a hike downtown, where for the time being I'm too chicken to go by myself (and having to get a friend just to buy groceries is potentially a hassle). But attempting to cook means I've ventured to the market. I think I've never seen so many vegetables in one place. There's still a lot of exploration to do (they also sell meat) since I've limited myself to asparagus (which had some Japanese writing on the elastic, for some reason. Interesting) and broccoli, stuff I'm familiar with and doesn't take too much time to prepare.

I'm also starting Chinese classes next week! So excited! Hopefully it will make daily life easier.

further explorations and discoveries

So it will be ten days tomorrow.

I managed to get, once, to the centre of town, which is all messy streets and highway bridges plus some familiar sights like Zara and H&M, which presumably have exactly the same stuff that gets shipped all over the world except that this stays here. Oh, and there's obviously some adaptation to the local taste in terms of splotches of bright colours. Should make shopping for the summer interesting.

Apparently there is some kind of old town which I haven't been to yet. I chafe at the lack (so far) of pretty, exotic things. Modern China has yet to grow on me entirely. Anyway, I'm sure the ageless culture is there, not so far, it will just take me a bit more time to unearth it.

Oh and the good news is IT'S NOT SO COLD ANYMORE!! It's probably a combination of me dressing more adequately, getting a heater, and the external temperature rising.It's also a weird stage where it feels like you have to warm up to go in rather than to go out (sort of "if you keep your coat outside, you're going to be chilly at home!). I've been able to see the landscape better since the sun has been shining--the area is surrounded by mountains, including a very steep one with a narrow tip which is a landmark and is the symbol of the university of Gin Tonic.

After much seeking, I've located a Russian bakery, ran by a lovely lady with a blond bob and the highest possible cheekbones, and it's basically to her you go to get your sugar/dairy fixes. I still have to cook at home, or find my way around the market, but I've  got my first taste of dragon fruit. It looks like a purplish artichoke and tastes like a sweeter version of kiwi. I'm sure it's very healthy.

On being "green"

It's ironic, in some ways, that it's I've wound up in China as a result, amongst other things, of having studied immigration in American literature, where a concept that comes up regularly is that of being "green" or a "greenhorn." There's an early 20th century Jewish novel where the protagonist hears comments of "here comes a green one."For Chinese Americans, it's sometimes referred to as being "fresh off the boat" or "f.ob." (does that make me a "fop", as in fresh off the plane?? not sure I want to be that...)

That's what I feel like, most of the time. I'm no stranger to culture shock, but paradoxically that makes me impatient to adapt. Sticking out as a Caucasian isn't much of an issue because as mentioned before, I feel invisible, a white ghost, it is the case to say. The lack of language frustrates me to no end, but hopefully I can start learning it soon. And it's other, smaller things. The non-heated spaceb(sorry I keep bringing this up but it hit me hard), the endless rains, for instance. I'm still waiting for this dramatic change in weather where yes, I shall be bound to kvetch endlessly about being too hot.

But, perhaps, there are little things that are moving me in the opposite direction towards what- a Chinese-tion of some kind? Maybe that's too much. Just plain old human adaptability? Meeting my neighbour, Tanya, who's from the Ukraine and speaks perfect Chinese (ok, admittedly I  can't judge if it's perfect but she's with no doubt extremely fluent-hey she's planning to read The Three Kingdoms in the original, it's taking me forever to read it in translation!) has meant that she's been acting like a filter between me and the rest of the world. I'm also dealing to the best of my abilities with the weather. My nice leather shoes from Clark's and Camper's were literally soaked, but investing in a pair of pale pink rubber boots for the equivalent of 7 dollars (guiltfree "Made in China"!) has made my daily life far easier. So has investing in a padded housecoat. It's bright red and I just hope not too many people drop by unannounced. So I'm slightly less freezing at home.

It's a process, I guess.

The eagle has landed (the eagle being me)

So, after 15 hours by plane, 4 by car, I finally made it to my present basis of operation in China. My present condition (a natural symptom of culture shock, I suppose) is of walking around as if under the effect of a slight concussion. Some things, from what I've seen, I like, such as the nitty-gritty atmosphere with food and random stuff all over the place. I'm also developing an addiction to Chinese style aubergines. Yum. The campus where I'm working is pretty, and likely to be prettier when spring starts. Some things less pleasant I was prepared to, such as the less than ideal hygene standards. Something I was mightily unprepared for is the cold.

It's COLD. But it's not that cold outside actually. Rainy perhaps, but ok. It's cold inside. As in, virtually no heating whatsoever. It's been explained to me that it's the norm in southern China and it will get really warm soon (but how soon?). Sitting around a blistering hot apartment seems promising right now. And to think there was a time when I took taking off my coat when going inside for granted. And I discovered the joys of thermal underwear.

To summarize what has happened since I arrived on Friday night I:

- was settled in a hotel, people ordered very copious amounts of food for me, I was told in China you can't share eggs with people because they're a symbol of harmony. Whatever, happy Chinese egg to me (it was also Valentine's day and red lantern day--overtones of Zhang Ymou??)


- met a bunch of old China hands. There seems to be a sort of "Westtown."

- ate instant noodles with chopsticks, while wearing a padded waistcoat-this made me feel very Chinese. I also bought a wok, which I'm not sure how much I'm going to use, since food is plentiful and good outside, but it makes me feel at home and Chinese!

- experienced racial invisibilty. Ok, one kid in the bank came to see me close, otherwise I get the sense of not existing, at times. The experience is very different from being in Japan (ok, each time I bring up Japan, everyone, Chinese or never fails to remind me that it's not the same thing at all. Which I know but--ideograms and chopsticks, anyone?) where the gaijin is viewed with a mixture of sympathy, surprise and pity, since it's not his fault that he's a bit obakasan). It's the kind of thing that makes you realize how white privilege is internalized, in the odd situation where the tables are turned.

- went to an interesting medical check up. You go through various stations, and they check if you're colour-blind or have tb or a bad heart. It wasn't as unpleasant as I had foreseen. At least no one used a glove hook to check if I had trychoma.

- filled my thermos with tea, Chinese style but made very bitter tea. The bitter tea of Dr Francesca X, instead of General Yen (I got to watch that movie. Maybe it's about a guy who put too many leaves in his thermos). I also developed a taste for hot water. Tap water is a no-no otherwise.

So, this is the chronicle of my first few days. Feeling frazzled but interested.