who says there's no halloween in china?

Well, actually, I say there's no Halloween in China. That is, unless you're among a bunch of non-Chinese people who also celebrate Halloween, in which case there may be Halloween in China. But it will be very, very difficult to devise a costume. It takes a lot of searching: there's no "Halloween section" in China's Wal-Marts, and there's no seasonal costume store at any of the many, many malls in Tianjin.

Nevertheless, the foreign students at my school pressed forward. Last night we celebrated Halloween at Alibaba's, a local bar that draws the expat crowd most weekends (and some of my classmates on most weeknights). There were actually a TON of people in costume at this place as the night went on, but sadly, my camera battery died before I was able to take pictures of all of them. So, here are some pics from early in the evening.

Poor Benny was home sick with a cold, but Sam came out to play for a little bit. . .

and managed to scramble together a borrowed costume for this picture. The witch's hat belonged to some girls sitting at our table. I found the gold mask after hours of searching, and grabbed it, thinking I could use it for something.

"Who is that lovely lady?" you ask? It's Nathan (in drag), of course!

Felipe (the mummy) and me. I had a heck of a time devising those kitty ears. I actually used part of a mask like the one Sam is wearing above, and worked a little Halloween magic on it.

Steffi and Felipe. Steffi heard Nathan was going as a woman, so she decided to dress as a boy.

Two (of three) comrades. This is actually probably the easiest kind of costume to find around here. You can buy this garb at a lot of market stalls on the street.

There are a few costumes I really wish I could show you pictures of. For example, my friend Miguel managed to put together a complete pink fuzzy bunny costume, and he wore it all day long. You should have seen the look on our teacher's face when he walked in to class.

the fight at hand

I've reached a point in our year here where the initial excitement has worn off a bit, and life has really just become pretty much routine. I mean, I don't know if it's ever entirely routine when you're living in an unfamiliar culture, especially when it's so different from your home culture as it is here. But my daily life definitely has a routine pattern: get up; go to class; eat; prepare for the next day's class; eat some more; sleep; rinse and repeat.

The worst part is, the initial excitement about studying as hard as possible, practicing all the time, and really improving my Chinese over the course of the year has kind of worn off. Some days, I walk away from class feeling like I really have a handle on things, like I'm learning so much, like my comprehension level is continually improving. Then, that same afternoon, I'll try to talk to someone on the street, or to the lady in the internet service office, and I'll have absolutely no idea what that person is trying to communicate to me. I've run into enough of this kind of disappointing language situation that my spirits have begun to drag a little bit. That's not to say I'm totally bummed out here, or anything. It's just that I'm not quite so idealistic about what can be accomplished, in terms of language acquisition, in a year as I was when we first arrived. I'm really seeing how long it will take for me to really "know Chinese," whatever that means.

So, I'm kind of fighting to get excited about studying right now. I know studying is good for me. What's more, I know that if I don't study, it will be very bad for me, because things move along so quickly here that it doesn't take long to fall completely behind. But nevertheless, I find it much more inviting to think about snuggling up on the sofa with a good book, than to consider the prospect of doing homework and studying and getting up early tomorrow morning.

This rebellious feeling started about a week ago, and it's been simmering under the surface ever since. I'm fighting to keep it down, but sleeping in tomorrow morning is sounding so, so tempting.

黄崖关长城--Huangyaguan Great Wall

On Saturday, against my (and Ben's, and most sane people's) better judgment, Ben and I joined my classmates on a trip to see the Huangyaguan Great Wall, a section of the Great Wall that is outside of Tianjin. I say it went against my better judgment because any trip to any section of the Great Wall involves a lot of walking, and usually a lot of stair climbing, too, and my ankle is still recovering from the recent incident. Any right thinking person probably would have bowed out, but I really wanted to hang out with my classmates. And I really wanted to take advantage of the inexpensive price to see the Great Wall. The whole trip (including chartered bus to and from, and lunch) cost me only 15 kuai (about $2). (It cost about $20 for Ben, because he's not a student, but that's still a great price.)

Since climbing was hard on my ankle, I rested a lot, and didn't walk the entire section, which got really steep toward the end. Instead, Ben and I took our time (and a lot of pictures). Here are some of them.

can't beat that with a stick (part 1)

It's really easy to notice the things that are a pain in the butt about living as a foreigner in China, the things that don't work as efficiently here as they do back home, the things that make me homesick, or tired, or just plain frustrated. I think I've mentioned some of these here , and here, and of course here. But I've been thinking lately that there are a number of perks about living in China, things I'm going to miss when I return to the States, because there is nothing to compare in the U.S. Thus, I want to start a mini-series of posts on this blog, focused on things about China that simply can't be beat.

I encountered one of these today. When I got out of class this afternoon, I realized that my back bike tire was completely flat, because the tube was punctured. Were I to find myself in this situation in the U.S., my only recourse would be to walk my bike home, drive to a store, buy a new tube, and replace it myself. Considering the amount of time it generally takes for me to do such a thing, it is more than likely that several weeks (months?) might go by before I was back in the saddle again. (I suppose I could also take the bike to a bike shop to have someone else replace the punctured tube, but it's not likely I would get the problem solved any faster that way.)

Not so in China. As my Chinese textbook likes to say, China is a bicycle nation (一个自行车大国). Considering the nature of bikes, China is also necessarily a bicycle-repairing nation, and this was completely to my benefit today. As soon as I realized my tire was flat, I had to walk only about 1/2 a kilometer (it would have been shorter, but I wasn't really sure where I was going at first) until I found one of the many (and I mean many) bicycle repairmen who have a stand on the side of the road. Seriously, these guys are everywhere. The photo at the top isn't my own, but there are two of these little stands within two blocks of my apartment, and even more as you near the gate to Nankai university. They're everywhere.

Anyway, I found one of these guys. Ten minutes and 18 kuai (about $2.50) later, I had a competely new, freshly aired-up tube in my back bike tire. Boom. Done. I'm not even sure you could get the tube for that cheap in the U.S., much less the accompanying repair job.

Just one thing about China that can't be beat.

Ancient Culture Street (古文化街)

Here is the promised post about Ancient Culture Street. This is an entire area, actually a street and several side streets, of market stalls and stands, selling just about every kind of souvenir you can imagine. Paintings. Jade carvings. Jewelry. T-shirts. Bags that say "I China." Mao memorabilia. Papercuts. Chops. You name it, they've got it. In recent years, the whole area has undergone a kind of overhaul, complete with traditional-style building facades and statues commemorating important historical and mythological figures. There are even some vendors who dress in traditional (sort of) Qing-era clothing and hats, with false queues hanging down their backs.

Ben has compared the place to historical Dodge City tourist attractions, and I think that's pretty accurate. It's definitely for tourists, and there were several tourist groups being led through by guides while we were there. But we had a lot of fun seeing what kinds of things were for sale, and thinking about what kind of souvenirs we might want to bring home with us.

Up until the disastrously embarrassing event that brought our day to an end, we had a really great time eating, walking around, taking pictures, and even buying a few little things here and there.

the doctor is . . . in?

Okay, so I was right about that visit to the doctor's office being something to blog about. Sheesh. I just got home about 10 minutes ago. And it turns out the problem is exactly what I thought it was: the ankle isn't broken, I've just injured the ligaments. A moderate sprain.

A lot of the doctor's office experience was exactly what I expected. There were several people already in the examination room when we went in. That's kind of par for the course around here, I've learned. People listen in and look on while you're being examined. More than one patient may be examined in a room at a time, and that was certainly the case today. Anyway, I consulted with a doctor, showed him my ankle, and after looking at my ankle for a bit, he sent me to have an X-ray.

So, we went down the hall, paid an X-ray fee, waited a little while (that part of going to the doctor's office is pretty universal), and then I went in for the X-ray. The X-ray tech was a really nice woman who was impressed with my Chinese ability, which was kind of ridiculous, because I know how poorly I was communicating with her. But, I guess I should take a compliment where I can get it.

After the X-ray was taken, a second doctor, a specialist, took a look at the X-ray film, and determined I didn't have a break, but he could see evidence of previous injuries. Sam was kind of impressed by that, since we didn't tell him I had previously injured the ankle. Then we were sent back to the original doctor, who gave us the whole speech I had expected before we went: rest, elevate. He prescribed some meds: something for pain, and another something for joints, although I'm not entirely "for joints" means.

And then it turned bad. They were going to put this medicated wrap thing on my ankle, but before they did, the doctor and another guy (physical therapist? another doctor? I have no idea.) grabbed hold of my leg and started massaging the injured area. Which hurt. A lot. And I tried to pull away. And the doctor kept telling me, "Relax, relax." Which is really hard to do when you're in pain. And the the doctor grabbed my foot, and the other guy grabbed my calf, and they pulled in opposite directions. At which point I started crying, finally convincing them to give up. Meanwhile, I had a room full of people looking on at me crying, which was embarrassing, which made me cry more. I'm a little ashamed of the amount of crying that's been going on around here in the past couple of days, but sometimes, it's the only way to get your point across.

I'm still not sure what that massaging/pulling thing was all about. I mean, I understand the value of massaging an injury, of making sure the muscles and ligaments don't get too tight. But trying to massage and stretch the ankle less than 24 hours after the injury?! That was not good. As Sam said when we were walking out, "If we'd been in America, we would have sued that guy."

Not that it was an all bad experience. But it also definitely was not an all good experience. On the up-side, the whole thing (examination, X-rays, medication, everything) cost less than 300 yuan, somewhere around $40 USD. That's a co-pay in the U.S.!

That being said, it wasn't really an experience I want to go through again. But, as Sam jokingly suggested after we left, maybe that was the point--they make you so miserable when you go in with an injury, you'll be much more careful in the future so you don't have to go through it all again. If that was the idea they had in mind, I'd say it worked for me.

a little excitement for the weekend

Yesterday afternoon, Ben didn't have to teach, and I didn't have class, so we decided to take a little trip to Tianjin's Ancient Culture Street (古文化街). We both took several photos while we were there, and I will share them and describe the place soon, probably in my next post. However, I first want to write about a kind of ridiculous, traumatic event, which is kind of taking precedence over everything right now.

The whole thing is really kind of embarrassing. After we left Ancient Culture Street, we walked down the street to this shopping center that had a Starbucks in it, to get a cup of coffee, and to chat a bit. While we were there, I had to use the restroom, which was up a floor from the Starbucks.

The thing about most Chinese public restrooms is that the stalls are usually a step or two up from the main floor of the room. You go in, walk up a couple stairs, open the stall door, and do your thing. Which is fine. Except when I walked out of the stall last night, my mind was totally somewhere else; I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, and I completely forgot about the two steps down from the stall. I basically just walked straight out as if I were walking on an even floor. Needless to say, I took a pretty hard fall, and when I did, I felt something pop in my left ankle, and then a lot of pain.

And of course, I created quite a spectacle, which is even more embarrassing. I very soon had about 10 Chinese women hovering around me, including one woman who was trying to pull me up to stand up. Except my ankle hurt too badly to hold my weight. And I was crying. And the woman wasn't giving up on the idea of me standing up--she was very insistent, despite the fact that I kept telling her I couldn't stand. And I was having a very difficult time trying to remember how to say anything in Chinese, so they were tugging on me, and I was refusing to stand, and I was sobbing, and they were all talking a million miles a minute, and I wasn't answering, and more women kept walking in, and hovering. I don't know how long this went on before I finally just forced myself to stand up and hobble out of there.

Getting myself home from there was kind of an ordeal. I had to walk a little, just to get back down to the Starbucks where Ben was, and then to get out to the street to get a taxi. And for some reason (probably because we were so near Ancient Culture Street, which draws a lot of tourists) none of the taxi drivers wanted to use the meter to take us home--they all wanted to bargain on a price, and they all wanted us to pay extravagant amounts. And I really wasn't in the mood to bargain.

We did finally find a sympathetic driver, and we made it home. We live in a fourth floor walk-up, so Ben had to carry me up to our apartment. By the time we got home, my ankle had swelled up like a purple puffer-fish, so I've been icing it and popping ibuprofen like tic-tacs ever since. I couldn't put any weight on it at all last night, but I can hobble around on it a little today, as long as I walk a certain way, and I take very small steps. I'm not sure the picture below really does it justice, but you can see the big, swollen lump on the outside of my left ankle there, and the kind of purplish bruising around it, on my foot. Those aren't supposed to be there.

I'm very sure the ankle is not broken. In fact, I think I know what's wrong with it--I've injured this same ankle in pretty much the same way (although never in a Chinese bathroom) several times in the past. But, to be safe, Sam is taking me to see a doctor this afternoon, (which should be another event worth blogging about) possibly to get some X-rays, and hopefully some kind of brace or wrap or crutches or something to make life a bit more bearable.

I don't even want to think about how I'm going to get to and from class on Monday. Sheesh.

communication gap

In general, I really like my classes here at Nankai. My classmates are fun. My teachers are generally very enthusiastic and helpful. And I'm learning quite a lot. But there is one thing that, although kind of funny, really gets on my nerves here. Every once in awhile, we'll come across a new vocabulary word, and in an attempt to get us to practice using it, one of our teachers will ask a question, the answer to which we could not possibly know.

For example, one day, in an attempt to get us to use...um...I don't even remember what vocabulary word, our teacher asked us very earnestly, "What do Chinese elementary school students always say?" The room was absolutely silent. Um, lady--how in the world would we know that? Do any of us look like we were once Chinese elementary school students?

Or one day, one of them asked, "If you're a hostest as a restaurant, what should you say when customers come in?" Now, I've heard them mumble off something that ends with "huanying" (welcome), but honestly, I had no idea what the rest of the phrase was. And neither did anyone else in the room. And anyway, when are we ever going to use that phrase? What is the likelihood that any of us are ever going to be hostesses in a Chinese restaurant?

This is a problem among the young recitation instructors (and actually, it's mostly one teacher in particular, who really drives me crazy, although I won't go into that right now). I chalk it up to lack of experience. But it seems that, if your job is to teach language to students who aren't from your home country/culture, it's probably an important part of your job to recognize when there's absolutely no way your students would (or should need to) be familiar with a particular cultural experience.

work it out!

I've been pretty active since I've been here in Tianjin. Life here necessarily requires a lot of walking and/or bike riding, (no car, you know) so I have some exercise naturally built into my daily schedule. However, thanks to the fact that I don't have to teach or do (much) research during the next year, I have a lot more free time here than I did in the U.S. As a result, I've been feeling like I really should take advantage of that time and do that thing. You know, the first thing I cut out of my schedule when I get busy? That thing that is so easy to talk myself out of doing? You know...that "exercise" thing.

So, tonight I went to the recreation center on campus with my friend and classmate, Juana. She told me about a week ago that, for just 88 yuan a month (about $12 USD), you can use any of the equipment, swim in the pool, and take any of the fitness classes offered every day of the week. I was interested, but a bit reluctant at first, but she finally convinced me to join her and check it out. Tonight we took advantage of the "boxing aerobics" (I'm not sure what it's called, but that's what I'm gonna call it) class that is offered every Wednesday night.

It was an interesting experience, and I regret the fact that I was not able to take any pictures. First of all, the class is, of course, taught in Chinese. I worried that this was going to be a problem. In fact, it wasn't a problem at all, because the music was playing so loudly, even if the class had been taught in English, I probably wouldn't have known what the instructor was saying. It didn't seem to matter much, though. The classroom was packed completely full of people who didn't really seem to know what was going on, but were bouncing around and wildly throwing punches in the air anyway. So, I just jumped right in. You know the saying: when in Rome . . . er, China.

I learned a few things tonight. First of all, I learned that, if any of the Chinese girls in that class got into a fist fight, they wouldn't stand a chance. But I also learned that I shouldn't worry about sticking out like a sore thumb in the gym here. I mean, I do stick out like a sore thumb--there's no way anyone is going to confuse me with a Chinese student--but at least I stick out in the gym the same way I stick out anywhere. Back home, I always worry that my general non-athletic-ness is going to draw a lot of attention in the gym, that people are going to take one look at me and say, "What is that clumsy girl doing stumbling around, jiggling, and sweating all over the place in here?" But here, everyone else is just going for it, no matter how silly they may look in the process, so I may as well go for it, too.

The third thing I learned is that there are also weekly yoga, aerobics, and belly dancing (!) classes at the rec center. I'm planning to go back on Friday night, so I'll let you know how it all turns out.

运动会--sports day!

Sorry I haven't been posting much lately. I've had a cold for the past few days, and it's kept me from wanting to do much besides lay around and watch movies. I'm on the mend, though, so I'll try to post a bit more frequently.


Last Friday, my school had a 运动会 (yun dong hui--a sports competition) for the international students. Each class competed in a variety of events, including (but not limited to) a jump rope competition, a three-legged race, and a tug-of-war.



The whole thing was kind of funny. We all imagined it was going to be a kind of laissez-faire kind of event, but as we are learning, in China, there really is no such thing. There was actually an opening ceremony, where each team had to march around the track while this grand march played over the stadium loudspeakers--like the Olympics, only there were only about 10 people in the stands. Some school leaders gave speeches, none of which we could really hear or understand, and then the events began.


We were mostly reluctant participants when it started, but it turned out to be a lot of fun, thanks largely to my friend Miguel (the guy being kissed in the third picture down) and his overwhelming enthusiasm--he led our entire class in cheers and chants throughout the competition. And then the whole thing turned out to be a little too long (four hours!) to be much fun any more--I was definitely ready for the thing to be over long before it actually was.

On the upside, the event provided a lot of good photo opportunities. I took a lot of pictures, but here are some of my favorites.

random shots of the day

Walk out toward the entrance to our neighborhood, any day during daylight hours, and you're bound to see this group (or others) playing cards, shouting, and engaging in general rabblerousing.

Anyone want a haircut? You could look just like this:

Ben and I found a great new cafe, just down the street. It's called 5.4 coffee bar. The slogan is: "Who says you 5.4 yuan can't buy good coffee?" (that's about $.75)

The electronics superstore down the street from us was having some kind of sale, or extravaganza, or something. These girls were dancing outside the store (somewhat half-heartedly, I might add), trying to drum up sales.