A Bittersweet Farewell

To my dearest friends and family,

I will be home sooner than you would imagine! Just one more day! I can hardly believe it myself, even as I sit here looking at my suitcases all ready to go. My many things may be ready to go, but it's hard to say whether my heart and soul are really ready to leave behind this home I've known for the past year.

Since school officially ended in mid-June, I've been non-stop running around taking advantage of all the things I love about Beijing and spending time with my beloved friends. In other words, I've been enjoying my first real summer vacation without studies or work (besides privately teaching English here and there)! And throughout all this preparation for my return, I've realized there are quite a few things that I will miss, both big and small. Thus, I give you a list of the top ten things that I expect to miss upon returning to the states, in no particular order:

1. The feeling of safety living and traveling in China. Surprisingly, even in such a large city as Beijing, I have always felt incredibly safe wandering around town even alone and at late hours, and in nearly any neighborhood. I project that there are several factors for this sense of safety, including the restriction of private gun ownership and the presence of every kind of person of any age on the streets, whether it's noon or midnight. Of course, caution must always be exercised, but perhaps because one is always expecting to be cheated (as a foreigner), it becomes a nice surprise when people can be trusted.
2. Cheap haircuts that are better than any expensive ones I've ever had. The one hair salon I've been going to since I arrived, called "Punk", has a wonderful student discount- RMB 8 off of the already dirt cheap RMB 38 (about USD 5)- for a shampooing and haircut. The hair stylists are all young, hip guys with the latest trendy cuts, and I've never gotten a cut I don't love!
3. The availability of fresh soymilk. Nothing beats the taste of smooth, freshly made soymilk, so wonderfully thick that it has to be watered down a bit.
4. Business hours. Even banks are still open on Saturdays and Sundays! Though the long lunch breaks, sometimes from 11-2, are a bit inconvenient.
5. Restaurants everywhere, open early to late, and serving nearly every cuisine. Beijing reminds me much of San Francisco in this sense, such that people love to eat, and there are countless choices! Everything from hot pot, BBQ skewers, all spicy, noodles, dumplings, Thai, Indian, Japanese, Korean, Vietnamese, German, Brazilian, Greek, Sichuan, Hunan, Henan, Cantonese, Shanghai and every other regional cuisine. One cannot go hungry in Beijing- there is something to satisfy every tongue and every wallet.
6. Nightlife! Besides eating of course, there are countless karaoke venues as well as many clubs, which a growing population of young people and middle/upper class have begun to frequent. Fun for everyone!
7. Clothes shopping. And namely the abundance of cheap, fun clothing that changes with the seasons. Which means a whole new wardrobe every 3 months!
8. Which reminds me...the obvious change of seasons in and of itself. 20 years in California means I've known nothing but the slight rise and drop of temperature, and the increase of rain during winter, so living in Beijing is an adventure with the drastic changes in weather. I think I've nearly gotten used to the muggy summers now, sweating non-stop that is, and certainly used to not seeing blue skies for days and days at a time. Fall is quite gorgeous as the leave turn fiery red, and one can comfortably walk around in jeans and a t-shirt, before winter comes, with its frigid cold (frequently below zero) and snowstorms. Bearing the cold is worth it to see so many clear blue skies in winter! The coming of spring is not quite as romantic as one would imagine, because although the greenery begins to sprout and flowers pop up everywhere, spring in Beijing means many sandstorms. By sandstorms I mean days where the air is filled with dust, and cars end up with a thick layer of it.
9. The usability of public transportation. This year, four new subway lines have opened up, and combined with a public bus system that gets you anywhere you need to go (there must be thousands of buses on the road), getting around is quite easy, not to mention cheap (with a prepaid transportation card, bus rides are only about 5 cents no matter how far you ride)!
10. Friends! From my classmates who have long since returned to their respective countries, to my language partners, best friends, and frisbee teammates, I cannot begin to express how much I will miss those who have become my dear family. Most of all, I owe a big thanks to everyone who has helped me in the tiniest and biggest ways- my fluency would not be such a success without the dedication of my talented teachers and patient friends, and my satisfaction with this past year would not exist without all the people I've met.

So although I'm looking forward to seeing my family and friends again, feeling the fog of San Francisco Bay, watching squirrels scamper around the redwoods, returning to classes other than Chinese language at UCSB, and much more, it is still very hard for me to believe that I must part with my beloved Beijing. But I am determined to come back (when and how are still big question marks), and perhaps knowing that I will return one day is what makes it a bit more bearable.

Because you see, this year has been a rollercoaster, pushing me to the limits in every aspect of life, and I truly wouldn't have survived without knowing that there was a crowd back home in the US rooting for me, reminding me to take advantage of all that China offers.

Time to take care of a few last things, and then I"m off to the airport!

Can't wait to see you all!

Much love,

Kenzie

Let's Migrate South For The Winter!

Hello dear friends and family!

I am finally back in Beijing and already well into new classes after three weeks of traveling through bits of China and Southeast Asia, and couldn't be happier about it! I returned home earlier than planned the day before New Year's Eve (the New Year started February 7th) and was rewarded with unusually clear night air for Beijing and surprise fireworks- as our plane descended for landing, I watched the sky below flash with the sparks of huge fireworks lit by the few people left in Beijing; every second they could be spotted in every neighborhood. The New Year's celebrations had clearly begun!

But the frequent explosions of firecrackers and fireworks that would have American police scrambling to arrest the hooligans was just the beginning. As I watched the skyline from a friend's 26th floor apartment on New Year's Eve, admiring the clear skies that allowed us to the city center and even past Tian'anmen Square to the fireworks being launched at the southern outskirts of the city, I was filled with complete awe and excitement; we joined in the fun tradition with a few roman candles, sparklers, fountains and giant fireworks from the rooftop. Such products are outlawed within city limits throughout the year, but in light of the Lunar New Year and the long-standing tradition lighting off fireworks, city law permits fireworks for a certain period each year. Frankly, I don't think any amount of police, firefighters or government officials could stop every family left in Beijing (the natives and those who did not trek across China to return to their hometown for the New Year) from releasing an artillery of fireworks anyways.

As the year of the rat approached, more and more fireworks and firecrackers were being lit, and for over an hour, the city was a war zone of booms, crackles, flashes and smoke. Even before the sky had darkened there were constant explosions and always something pretty to see in every direction, but nearing the stroke of midnight and for nearly an hour afterwards, the entire city was literally ablaze.


Out on the street you couldn't even shout to talk to each other, as the booms from fireworks everywhere around you reverberated on the tall buildings, and from the roof everywhere you looked there were fireworks exploding! I would actually say that there could have been a million fireworks being set off that night, if not more! By the time it half-died down, the clear sky was filled with a smoky yellow haze, blurring even the lights of closer buildings and masking Tian'anmen completely. I conveniently forgot my camera, but luckily it was a sight one can never forget, and certainly enough to get me back to China for the Lunar New Year again!



Before diving into what I've been doing for the past month while on holiday, I'd like to wish you all a Happy New Year, and may good fortune and health come to you! Though I am far from home during a holiday that is most importantly spent with family, I can only send my thanks for every bit of warm encouragement that makes me feel you are always by my side, and wish you all the best for this coming year. I miss you and love you all!

Now for the juicy stuff...

By the fourth day of my trek around Southern China and Southeast Asia, it already felt as if it had been a month since we’d left Beijing. "We" consisted of myself and four other American students from our University of California program: Rafael (Rafa), Stephanie (Steph), Ben and Gloria. We were busy running around a completely unfamiliar city looking for authentic food and making our way to the top rated tourism sights, a trend that more or less describes the daily activities of my entire trip, major variations being the weather and the frustrations of managing (or rather, surviving) every mode of transportation.

I must admit that the first time I really had a chance to jot a few notes down was not until I arrived at the island of Phuket, Thailand. With a welcomed cool breeze drifting through the window and the sound of roosters arising with the morning light, I was suddenly inspired to remember the events, views, tastes, sounds and feelings of the first week and a half, perhaps realizing that the enticing beauty and fun to be had throughout Southeast Asia could dilute the experiences of China. Although Chengdu, Guilin and Yangshuo were far colder than we all expected for traveling so far south of freezing Beijing, the discomfort caused by the cold and disappointment over the terrible hazy fog that enveloped the supposedly epic scenery were not enough to stop us from having fun, and simply resulted in promises to return during a more temperate season to fully enjoy the scenery that makes these places so famous. I would prefer not to list all the places that we visited, as my 1400-plus photographs are plenty of a reminder (check out my flickr page…Flickr photo page All, and I mean all of my photos are posted with descriptions... this bit is rather supplementary to the photos), but rather recall the days that stood out, random highlights, moods and epiphanies. Such details are what set the tone when traveling, as the things that make traveling worth it are not merely the special things that can be seen nowhere else, but what is retained long after one has left the scenic route.

For instance, despite the disappointing weather, after hearing about the massive snow storms that hit China after we escaped to Southeast Asia, we could hardly complain about the benefits of a relative lack of mobs of tourists, a rather refreshing discovery amongst other advantages of winter travel such as finding blooming winter blossoms and an abundance of sweet, juicy tangerines throughout China. As food lovers it was a responsibility (or obsession) to seek out local bakeries in every city, and we were thoroughly satisfied with the offerings. After visiting the world’s largest Buddha at Leshan, an hour’s bus ride outside of Chengdu, we roamed around town for sweets after a lunch of brothy cilantro beef and tripe stew, and discovered delicious muffin-like cakes. They were so yummy that while waiting for the bus to get to the long-distance bus station back to the city, Rafa decided that the two cakes he’d already consumed were not enough and he just had to buy more, so he ran back down the street as we nervously hoped the bus wouldn’t arrive while he was gone. We were rather perturbed when he came back with only about four more cakes! The way he had been raving about them we expected him to come back with at least a dozen! Luckily the bus came shortly after he returned, but we still teased him about the risk of missing the bus for only a few cakes. Such are the priorities of our group- a willingness to put food over transportation.

As college students on a tight budget, for the most part we stayed at hostels as they usually had the best deals, were well marked, had English speaking staff, and have a distinct backpackers' atmosphere. However, we happened upon a few deals at local inns that just couldn't be beat- RMB 25 (about USD 3) per person per night in Yangshuo! Perhaps it was merely a hazard of paying so little for housing, but very few places had the hot water they promised, or if they did it didn't matter much because the room was so cold anyways. In Thailand and Cambodia this wasn't much of a problem, as a cool shower was actually refreshing in the heat, but throughout China and in Hanoi where a hot shower was necessary to warm the bones before hopping into a cold bed, it just strengthened my shivers and appreciation for reliable 24 hour scorching hot water at home. This may sound unpleasant (it was), and ridiculous (yes, we could fork out a few more dollars for nice accommodations), but honestly by the end of a long day, simply being able to wash and brush my teeth was enough to keep me content.

Those sort of "luxuries" were not always available, particularly when traveling long distances between cities by bus. I'm most specifically referring to the last bit of my trip in Vietnam and the horrifically long two day bus ride from Saigon to Hanoi, during which I had to restrain my urges to scream out in pain and frustration due to everything from the uncomfortable seating, hunger, lack of sleep, lack of more frequent stops, extreme tardiness, and the rudeness and stupidity of fellow passengers and rest stop workers. The only things that really got me through those hours were a copy of Papillion, deep breaths, and the unfathomable patience of my dear friend Rafa. Once again, the discomfort we encountered strengthened my appreciation for China's smooth transportation, everything from the smooth roads, relatively comfy seating, reliable schedules, complimentary water and snacks, and overall pleasant attitudes.

Speaking of attitudes... hopping around four countries within a month did not leave much time for deeply understanding each country and its people, but from our experiences we couldn't help but notice differences between each culture's attitudes towards foreigners and tourists, which turned out to be a large factor in our enjoyment of each place. China was as it has been since I arrived- welcoming, curious and overjoyed when you can read/speak the language. Thailand, probably due to the large tourism industry and abundance of lavishly spending Europeans who spent most of the day lounging their disgustingly dark and wrinkly nude bodies on the pristine stretches of heavenly beaches in Phuket (a decent-sized island on the west coast of Thailand that was hit hard by the tsunami, though besides the warning signs I couldn't have told you they suffered such a disaster with the rapid rebuilding of hotels), harbored an overwhelming number of eager, unrelenting businessmen seeking to take you somewhere ("Hello, tuk-tuk!") or sell you something ("Hello, pineapple!"). We'd gotten quite used to asking the pricing of anything before eating anything, using anything or going anywhere, yet on several occasions the business still tried to cheat us, claiming a much higher price than agreed upon, and certainly higher than deserved. In Phuket after a delicious dinner we nearly got the police called on us after refusing to pay ridiculously inflated prices. The one time we forgot to ask the price of every single dish (menus aren't prevalent, especially those in English), and the woman who seemed so sweet before became a raving mad lady backed up by her wrinkly mother. We knew what prices should have been, particularly at such a local joint, and we realized that she deliberately tried cheating us because while Rafa and I challenged them to call the police as they claimed they would if we didn't pay the full amount, the husband just kept sitting at his table, sipping tea and reading the paper, not in the least bit alarmed. Not until a long while after we pulled out what we thought was a fair amount and then some, claiming it was all we had, did he finally wave his hand, half motioning us to leave, half motioning to his wife to just give up. He knew the police would have nothing on us, and it would just bring trouble to the business. The daughter and mother were not very happy, continuing to pout and shout. Not a very good impression of the locals, who were for the most part friendly, though extremely keen on getting our money.

What we experienced in Vietnam was entirely different. I must note that we didn't even spend 24 hours in Saigon, as most of our time was on the long distance bus making our way from the southern region to Hanoi in the north. Thus, most of the people we encountered and the experiences that will stick forever should be specified as having taken place in Hanoi, which according to friends that know Vietnam better than I do, is somewhat known for being less friendly than the south. But unfriendly would be an understatement. As you know by now, I extremely enjoy food and so does Rafa, so much of our time was spent strolling the quaint Old Quarter of Vietnam (where most tourists lodge and visit), stopping for heavenly baguettes and Vietnamese coffee. We favored the hole-in-the-wall shops that were bursting with chattering locals, gesturing for prices and motioning for what that guy next to us was drinking. One afternoon however, when we did the usually "how much?" to the coffee lady, we were met with the cold flick of a hand and brisk turn of her head. I furrowed my brow in confusion, continuing to repeat "how much?" aloud and counting on my fingers, and in frustration as I realized that she had literally refused to serve us! What could possibly be her reason? Just because we were foreign? I was appalled and quite enraged at the blatant discrimination, which kind of spoiled the fun even when we did find a place kind enough to serve us. I have never before experienced such discrimination based so clearly upon appearances, and couldn't stop thinking about her reasoning for her actions. Unfortunately, this refusal of service happened again while trying to buy some baguettes from an old man, and in the same curt fashion. At that point, it didn't matter how many nice people we'd come across, I was already frustrated and disappointed, wondering what about the popular culture included discriminating against foreigners, even when a good portion of the local economy depends on tourism. I realize animosity towards Americans could have been a lasting effect after the Vietnam War, but surely they could not have know we were American. Not until discussing this later on did the possibility of a dislike of mixed people arise- in other words, many children of American soldiers were left behind to single Vietnamese mothers, which could inspire a dislike for not only the foreigners but also the mutt children left behind, as a if a reminder of all the pain already endured. Interestingly, Vietnam was the only place in Southeast Asia where locals asked whether I was part Asian, part white, which makes me wonder whether those discriminating shop owners could tell I was mixed too, and subsequently refused to have any dealings with me. These few moments should not be what dominates my impression of Vietnam and its people, but unfortunately I cannot help but hesitate when thinking about whether I would return to that country.

So that sums up the worst of the trip, which leaves my hands-down favorite: Cambodia. Saying that I went to Cambodia still feels a bit surreal, as I never would have guessed I'd visit the country that mourns at the sites of a genocide that happened less than forty years ago and also boasts Angkor Wat, the same place where Angelina Jolie filmed Tomb Raider. Despite an adventure crossing the border from Thailand, trying to make our way to Siem Reap, about 2-3 hours away from the border, during which we were originally cheated of money and a complete ride to Siem Reap but eventually ended up getting there using less money than originally paid by way of a bumpy ride on the back of a pick-up truck, and having to pay a bit more for rush Vietnamese visas, our days in Cambodia were relatively smooth and offered plenty of interesting tidbits. I couldn't say that it is a particular charming country, as the few paved roads and poor development certainly struck me as being Third World especially upon seeing nearby clusters of fancy hotels resembling palaces catering to Korean and Japanese tour groups, but Cambodia's complicated history and apparent contrasts kept me intrigued, particularly the differences between the majestic Angkor Wat Complex (you gotta see the photos for this! Angkor Wat Photos), and the haunting genocide museum and killing fields. The indescribable pride that Cambodians have for the ancient ruins of grand temples built by extravagant kings is well-deserved of the charmingly overgrown puzzle of scattered stones, remaining towers and intricate carvings that probably hardly do justice to the peak of its beauty. Perhaps such pride in the country's golden years centuries ago is strengthened alongside the confusion and heartbreak of the relatively recent genocide by their own Khmer Rogue of the early seventies, but such attitudes seemed nothing less of genuine, and only made me admire Cambodians for their seemingly collective nationalistic pride after such hardships. While strolling through the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum in Phnom Penh, the very high school that was turned into the prison/extermination camp by the Khmer Rogue, I had a conversation with a monk in the standard papaya orange robe while looking at photographs of victims' skulls excavated from the killing fields. He was curious about how I, as a foreigner, felt about the issue, and not until I explained through teary-eyes that I was shocked, did I realize Cambodians felt the same way. He agreed that we could never understand the horrific ruthlessness of the Khmer Rogue, let alone their reasoning, nor comprehend the desperation of civilians and even children forced to be guards torturing friends and family. The monk admitted precisely what I was thinking when he said that if he had been alive during that time, he probably would have been killed for being an educated person and monk, and explained that Cambodians ask the same question: what could possibly be the reasoning for so many deaths? A solemn silence clouded the museum, extending to the killing fields (excavated mass graves and a tasteful monument housing the victims' skulls about thirty minutes outside the city) that we visited the next day at dawn, a silence that took away your breath in a way far different from the beauty of Angkor Wat.

I've realized that much of what I have described here is rather negative, but remember, this is merely a portion of the adventures, the bits that couldn't exactly be expressed through photographs, and if you take a peek at the photos, you will realize that I was quite content with my travels!

Flickr photo page: Click here to visit the first of many cities, and from there continue the journey!
Steps:
1. Click on this link (email me if it doesn't work for you)
2. Click on "Collections"
3. Click on "Sets". Here you will see all the albums I've organized by location.
4. Click on the set that you want to see (they are in reverse chronological order, i.e. the first album Chengdu is at the bottom of the page).
5. You may view it as a slideshow by clicking on "View as slideshow" to the right side. Many photos have captions along the bottom; these take a more time to load than the photos in slideshow mode, so if you're not seeing any descriptions, just wait a second longer.
6. You may also click on "Detail" to see larger thumbnails of the photos, including their captions.

How could I not be happy here:


Or smiling non-stop when I have:


And see this:


And this:


Soon enough I will have spent an entire year in China, and I would like to think that my understanding of China has become more deep. My time hopping around Southeast Asia may not have provided a similarly complete picture of each country, its culture, history and people, but it revealed one thing that I have learned in China: the world is more complicated than we think.

I hope you enjoy the photographs, and of course, if you have any problems with the links, any questions or thoughts, please don't hesitate to email me!


Much love,

Kenzie

The Coldest Place I've Ever Been

Hello my dears!

It has been quite some time since I indulged in a literary revelation of recent life experiences, and seeing as I'm now on vacation, I believe now is a good time to bask in the luxury of no classes.

After four months of school and with the arrival of the holiday season, staying academically motivated became increasingly more difficult. Strangely, despite the Christmas decorations spotted around Beijing and fun celebrations with close friends, it simply did not feel like the holidays, at which point I realized that such holiday spirit is truly dependent upon being around family and engaging in family traditions However, it was not the lack of a true holiday that drained my interest in school, but rather that I had become simply tired of school's routine. Nevertheless, classes came to a much anticipated though somewhat anti-climatic end with finals earlier this week, complete with plenty of studying to send off the semester of course. With ends come beginnings, and so my friends and I headed off on a trip to Harbin in northern China.

Eight hours on a comfy train and suddenly we were in a the coldest place I'd ever been. And not just cold as in, "Oh, I should put a jacket on, it's a tad chilly." No, this kind of cold is more accurately described as a force that completely takes a hold of your body, infesting your mind with nothing but thoughts about how cold it is, why it is so cold, when or if your frozen toes, fingers, cheeks and ears will possibly be warm again, and why in the world anyone would want to live in such a place. I'm quite sure that my four layers should have been enough to insult my thin blood from this vicious weather, especially when we spotted guys in jeans and t-shirts walking the streets, who didn't look a bit cold. Apparently one can get used to such temperatures.

But enough about the weather. That's not exactly why we went. No, we went for the effects of such weather, namely the snow sculptures and ice lanterns, and ended up with much more than we expected.

Our local friend who kindly met us at the train station and brought us to the hotel rooms she booked was a bit crazy, maybe only nervous, perhaps only the result of trying to make a good impression on her friend's boss, but my gosh girl! when you insist on slowly stumbling through your English even when we tell you that we can perfectly understand you if you speak Chinese and it would greatly improve the efficiency of our interactions, you do not fail to uphold that unwritten Chinese rule about saving face. Our frustration was enough to make us say goodbye after only just meeting her and take it upon ourselves to deal with everything ourselves.

This brings us to the lovely hotel she booked for us. The furnishings were quite nice, a bit modern and a little flashy, enough glitter and sparkles to put it just on the verge of being tacky or cheesy. As I was with two other girls and four boys, we ended up with three rooms and luckily no one had to sleep on the floor. No, we all indulged in the luxury of the plush beds and slept like babies every single night, as the rooms were rather quiet, and although the hotel was completely booked, we didn't see or hear many other guests in the hall ways and small lobby. However, those that we did see were mostly Chinese men, hardly any women or children. Hmmm... and that sign in the lobby displaying the room rates: honeymoon suite (complete with round bed and glass enclosed bathroom)... double room... rest room hourly rate??? How very curious! And is that basket under the minibar filled with sexual contraceptives and pleasure enhancers? Oh dear. It all fell into place suddenly. Our friend had indeed booked us into a nice hotel, a hotel that catered the very short term visitor. We figured that this was not exactly a brothel, it was far too classy for that. No, this was probably the type of place where forbidden lovers met, the married businessman entertaining his mistress. We couldn't be quite sure of such a theory, but as if to confirm our suspicions, as we were checking out, a man had just received the keys to a room he booked for two hours. Well, that confirms that. Lesson learned: hotels with hourly rates may be a better option than your average place because the beds are sure to be comfortable and silent (memory foam instead of springs), the rooms are sure to be quiet (thicker walls so neighbors are unheard), and the rates are rather reasonable. Who woulda thought!

Truthfully, I have fun out of time to elaborate on the rest of my short, cold journey, as I am heading off in precisely five minutes for a month of trekking around southern China, Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam. So naturally I cannot write much more about my cold adventures, save a few thoughts...

Our bus ride to the germ warfare museum was quite eventful in that our bus (rightfully) hit another vehicle as the woman madly cut off the bus, resulting in us having to hope onto the next bus, now packed with two full buses worth of people.
The germ warfare museum (the Japanese did cruel experiments on healthy human Chinese subjects during the second world war, for the purpose of biological warfare, and ultimately destroyed the complex when they were being convicted) was depressing and strangely disappointing because nothing besides the administrative building turned museum remains standing, and there were Japanese tour groups going through it.

The snow world was, well, snowy. I just kept wondering who made all these enormous structures and how long it took.


We (finally) saw the ice lantern festival after nearly missing it the second night. We hadn't realized the park closed at 9pm, and were very disappointed about missing the famous lit ice, but luckily just before we hoped onto a sleeper bus to Beijing the next day, we got to do a loop around the park. Very pretty, worth seeing.

Okay, time to go, now. Let's see how many pictures I can load in two seconds!

Much love,
Kenzie

A Winter's Day

Hello friends and family!

This may be my shortest note ever, because all I have to say is....

IT SNOWED!!!

Yes, yesterday when I woke up at 6:30am I thought I had set my alarm incorrectly, perhaps a few hours too early, because it was still pitch black out when there is usually some sort of glowing sunlight from the east. But nope, the time was correct. The falling snow just blocked out every bit of light until sunrise an hour later!

It wasn't a whole lot of snow, and it stopped by mid-afternoon, but it was enough to create a nice white fluffy layer that has remained through today (except for the bit that became black, melted, mush under heavy traffic).


So even though it is below freezing and I remain very cold, seeing the snow makes it a more worth it.

Love,
Kenzie

No Excuses

Hello once again!

I do not particularly like making excuses, but I promised you a few last week. At least you get to enjoy it with some pictures.

So how could I possibly not have a moment to simply tap away a few words about the latest events in this patch of Earth I currently occupy? Well, it all starts with school. In case you haven’t noticed, unlike many of my fellow classmates I actually enjoy every bit of my academics, which ultimately means that when I have to choose between typing English or scribbling pictographs, I pretty much always choose the latter. Unfortunate for those who are curious about life in Beijing, but certainly paying off in terms of my grades. That’s not to say that my fluency is actually improving as fast as you might think, because according to every Chinese friend that sees my textbooks, many of whom are amazingly talented and intelligent graduate students, our books not only contain excessively difficult texts, but also teach us vocabulary (100-200 or more characters per chapter) that even they do not really know how to use. Hmmmm… I seem to have missed out on the whole BUILDING A FOUNDATION aspect of learning a foreign language! So I can write a decent essay, attend reading, speaking and writing classes all taught in Chinese 18 hours a week, get around town, and have a more or less fluent conversation with a native, but I still cannot read a newspaper without looking up every other word in my handy pink electronic dictionary. To boost my morale, I’ve bought a translation of the French book “The Crowd: A study of the popular mind” and have attempted to plow my way through it, surprisingly finding that I am able to not only read every character, but almost fully understand the author’s meaning too. Wow! Perhaps I am not illiterate after all! My goals have thus been adjusted towards studying independently, while keeping up with the mandatory program of course, so that by the time I leave the country next year, I can read an academic research paper as well as the newspaper.

All this talk of the future misses the excitement I have experienced on campus, so time to back all the way up to choosing classes in September. I am one of a few hundred foreign students (literally from all over the world! In my classes there are: Japanese, Korean, Thai, Malaysian, Russian, Polish, Norwegian, Swedish, Scandinavian, Dutch, French, Spanish, Italian, British, Columbian, Brazilian, Canadian…) at Peking University enrolled in the Chinese language program specifically designed for foreigners,
which requires us to take a placement exam followed by examining the textbooks to determine whether or not the books indeed match the level that our test results suggest. Although we are able to chat with teachers and flip through the texts to determine what seems like a suitable level, this process is realistically a terrible indicator of a class’ difficulty, as the student demographics and speed of teaching can greatly affect how easily one actually absorbs vocabulary and understands text. Thus, I ended up in reading and oral classes that were both unbearably easy for me (the books seemed a lot harder than the classes actually were). Even though the school’s administrators had made it clear several times over that it was impossible to change classes, and my own UC directors were clearly unwillingly to help me switch, I was still absolutely determined to not spend the next four months in two classes that would actually put me to sleep (and you know how much I love school). When I essentially complained to the teachers and administrators, I discovered that there were indeed possibilities for moving up to the next book, but little did I know that the process of changing classes is more complicated than just voicing your complaint and having things changed. That just wouldn’t be, well, China-like. For a whole week I bounced between teachers, administrators and offices until I not only found the right people to talk to, but the allotted time to make my appeal. I felt like I was trapped in a never-ending automated telephone operator network, always waiting for ridiculous amounts of time in lines, never getting a straightforward or correct answer when I finally found an end, and then when I finally got to sit down with the one person who could wave the magic wand to fix everything, I had to modestly explain that my level was simply higher than my current classmates, lest someone become offended by my directness. But alas, one of the classes I needed to join was full! Luckily, a friend who somehow placed into that class unquestionably needed to move a few levels down, opening the precious seat for me. After an exhausting week of dealing with a typical Chinese administration, I was enrolled in suitable classes, and have ever since been happy with the change. All but a single classmate (the arrogant American frat-boy) are pleasant and interesting, assisting in the survival of the monotony of a 19 week-long semester, during which I have become more appreciative of the relatively short quarter system at UCSB.

When I am not buried in my books (I recently learned that this metaphor exists in Chinese too- how useful!), I spend time doing a multitude of fun activities with friends that I’ve met randomly and those from classes. Besides my greatest love, eating the splendid food Beijing has to offer, we shop, dance, go to concerts, sing karaoke, roller skate, play badminton, Frisbee and pool, and are always on the lookout for something new. A staple in the life of anyone residing in Beijing is shopping, for anything from food, books, electronics, DVDs, music, shoes and of course clothing, perhaps not only because things are relatively cheap even as the US dollar loses value, but because the entire experience of shopping is just plain fun, no matter who you are. There are various shopping experience options throughout the city to satisfy everyone’s needs ands styles, whether you are a high-roller looking to browse the boutiques and brand-name branches at Beijing’s fancy malls, or a student ready to search and bargain at the local market (or maybe just at the street corner peddler when something catches your eye). However, no matter where you go it is crowded, hot, stuffy, exhausting, and what you find can literally be found just around the corner, and probably for less. I’m pretty sure that the only unique thing would be something you’ve made yourself, for instance a knit scarf, and even then somebody is probably selling it for far less than what your labor would have cost. This establishes one of the principles of successful bargaining: if you are not willing to pay the vendor’s price, no worries because the same exact article can be found somewhere else and chances are that it will be cheaper. Thus leading to the fabulous “walk-away” strategy. This usually comes towards the end of a transaction, and is best explained through a specific situation, so let’s take the example of when Beijing’s weather became increasingly cold and lead me to the purchase of a heavy parka at the Wudaokou clothing market, my favorite two stories of crowded stalls selling clothing, shoes and bags that change with the seasons.

Usually it is best to go in to these sorts of places with a specific item or style in mind, or you might go crazy trying to find what you figure you want, but I wasn’t quite sure about the kind of jackets available. Once I looped around, however, I realized that it is just as easy going about your search with what you DON’T want in mind, like the racks and racks of short, poofy down jackets in neon colors or with gold chain accents, and the endless baby-doll styled coats that only hip Koreans can pull off. I was sure that I didn’t want anything very shiny on my clothing, though a fur-lined hood was appealing, and after two long rows of pushing my way through the people and clothing, I discovered a thigh-length black parka with a fake brown fur-lined hood and interesting details on the pockets that actually fit my tall frame and long arms, and I was going to get it for no more than 160 kuai (about $22). My Taiwanese-American friend Stephanie and I asked the young Chinese woman managing the stall for her lowest price, a ridiculous 400 kuai. We told her she must be joking, “just because we look foreign does not mean prices should be increased, we know that nowhere in the entire market is there a jacket worth, let alone sold for that price! So please give us your real price, the lowest you are willing to go.” She didn’t budge, just kept telling us that there was a Japanese couple there yesterday that bought the same “good quality” coat for that price. We replied that we are certainly not Japanese and comparing us as such is unreasonable, and in addition the quality of the coat does not look all that great (even though we actually believed it was relatively sturdy), so we refused to pay that much. Even when she lowered to about 350 kuai, we walked away slowly, repeating that we would not pay that much. About two stalls away, she called us back, at which point the vendor usually breaks down and says, okay, I’ll give it to you for a third of what I originally asked. But she was special, she still didn’t decrease her price! It is best not to reveal the price you are willing to pay, at least until the vendor has given you a number, because you have a better chance of being less ripped off if they set the price range. But at this point, it didn’t really matter, so I told her 160 kuai was all I had in my wallet (which as actually true) and I honestly couldn’t pay anymore. She whined and moaned that she couldn’t make a profit if she sold for that, so we walked away again. Once again, she called us back, but of course only whined and still didn’t lower her price. This continued another few times, walking away and being called back until she finally dropped her head and shoved the jacket at me with a frown of defeat. We asked once more to make clear that she was actually selling it at my price, to which she replied, “How could I not? Money is money.” Score! That only took at least twenty minutes! Exhausting, but exhilarating when you walk away with a hard-earned purchase. Not a bad way of practicing your Chinese as well.

Clothing is perhaps the most work as far as bargaining, as prices vary greatly between vendors and products, and it is difficult to get a ballpark idea of pricing without the knowledge of an experienced shopper. On the other hand, electronic product prices can be quickly assessed through a questioning sweep of the stalls, and DVDs are usually 8-20 kuai ($1-3) depending on popularity and whether it’s a new release, resulting in a dangerously easy and cheap addiction. But of course not all my money is spent on movies and clothing. Yet.

I currently live across the street from a 24 hour pool hall, and also nearby a roller skating rink (straight out of the seventies!), which are cheap and convenient ways to pass time with common Chinese citizens, from your high school students in matching sweat suit uniforms to young chain-smoking businessmen. These places have seen increasing business from me as the weather transitioned rather abruptly from the humidity of summer to the literally freezing, gusty, dry coldness of winter, which forced me to stop playing weekly Frisbee games to prevent a feeling of breathing knives as the cold air ripped through my esophagus and lungs. I’ve discovered how grateful I am for living my whole life in fairly temperate California, only experiencing this kind of cold when I seek it for fun in the snow, not having to spend extra time just getting dressed in at least three layers everyday. Good thing I have a nice long down jacket from the Russian clothing market (all products made for Russians- some of the vendors even speak Russian!) and a pair of tall, fuzzy fleece-lined Converse high-tops to keep me warm out there. As for the indoors, I must share my newest friend with you, yet to be named: a giant, fluffy, pink, stuffed mouse slipper. And yes, only one. I stuff both my feet into this ridiculous, cute accessory which keeps my feet warm while I sit at my desk, and no, I do not hop around with it on my feet, I have separate fuzzy slippers for shuffling around the apartment. (You really must stuff you feet in this slipper to appreciate the absurdity of this ingenious product.) The cuteness of this slipper rivals that of my bear look-alike humidifier, another necessity in the dry, Beijing cold. China really seems to have the marketing down; how can one resist buying something when it is not only the cheapest option, but the cutest as well?


Till next time,
a big hug and much love,
Kenzie

A Misty Mountain and A City I've Seen

A big hug and hello to all!

It has been far too long since I have written about my life- I've
simply been too busy to jot down even the simplest of notes! I hope
you hadn't given up hope, because here is the long overdue second half
of my August vacation. Yes, yes, yes, that was quite a few months
ago, but I really have been so busy I couldn't even finish it, and I
couldn't very well just leave any parts out, now could I?


Floating down China's famed Yangtze River for four days sounded like the perfect break from the hustle and bustle of running around Shanghai- not having to plan meals, think of what to do all day, find lodging or transportation, and instead just soaking in the beauty and history of the river. It was indeed relaxing, but not exactly the kind of "cruise" that my 12 other classmates and I had imagined. The boats used for these river cruises certainly range in quality, so I'd like to believe that the vessel we boarded was mid-range, if only to give hope that there's something more luxurious out there. That's not to say that our boat wasn't nice, we were just a bit surprised after the travel agent told us it was an American-style cruise, and instead we found sub-par food, tacky decorations, peeling paint, worn carpets and signs in not only Chinese but English and German as well, and generally felt like we were chugging our way down on a large ferry boat. Nevertheless, we got a good taste of the Yangtze, making side trips to the Fengdu Ghost City and the smaller Three Gorges, waking up early to snap a hundred pictures while we passed through each of the Three Gorges, spotting monkeys, ancient temples and famous rocks on the riverbanks, and of course ending our journey at the gigantic Three Gorges Dam. Throughout the cruise, I was in awe from the beauty of the steep banks of the majestic gorges and somewhat saddened whenever we passed by billboards with big red numbers perched on the hillsides marking where the water level will rise to when the dam is finished. These signs were well above many bridges, homes and cultural sites, even a whole city that has now been demolished and rebuilt on the opposite bank above the water level. The locals' attitudes towards the Three Gorges Dam seemed mixed, though it was difficult to determine if anybody did welcome the changes when our local tour guides were probably sponsored by the government. As we passed through the ship locks of the dam and strolled around it, I was no longer impressed by the engineering, but instead horrified by the monstrosity and disregard for preserving what this country often holds above everything else- its long history.
Although there are creative efforts to preserve cultural relics, some sites will be lost, and the local environments and economies will continue to change as the project nears an early end. Just as it would have been difficult to imagine the changes from twenty years ago on the river, I cannot imagine what that winding river will become in the next two decades.


The end of the cruise marked a turning point- the friends I had stuck with in Shanghai headed to Hong Kong as I joined two other traveling buddies, Katty and Yan, to climb Huangshan (Yellow Mountain) followed by a few more days in Shanghai. Our agenda seemed reasonable until we had a better look at the train schedules and discovered terrible weather upon our arrival, the limited transportation options forcing a seven-hour layover, several half-days spent in hostels and hotels hiding from the rain, frequent adjustments to our plans and exhausting travel conditions. The days were soon filled with constant travel, sleep and boredom, the glizty excitement of Shanghai and scenic peace of the river cruise hardly a possibility. We managed to pass the time with inventive card games and long naps, which sounds more like a lazy vacation than it really was, because one forgets that traveling through China is far from easy and certainly not relaxing.

Transportation from the city of Yichang, where we disembarked from the cruise, to the small city of Tangkou at the foot of Huangshan is a complicated combination of bus and train options. Before leaving Beijing we had already decided to take a slightly longer southern route to Huangshan that only required two trains, rather than a more direct bus-train-bus route along the north, which worked out quite well (my pack of cards proved to be our savior on the 15 hour train ride). During our 7 hour layover in Yingtan, a city within the region of China's top "furnace cities" (i.e. really hot places that one should avoid, especially during the summer), we amused ourselves with a walk around the block in search of food, but finding more sunglasses vendors than restaurants. Going by the logic that if the restaurant is filled with customers then it must have good food, we settled on a small bustling place for fried rice, and the young waitress quickly kicked a man in the middle of slurping noodles to another table to make room for us, leaving him for at least 10 minutes without a chair while we started ordering.
The waitress was clearly overjoyed in the presence of waiguoren (foreigners), and became ecstatic when I asked to take a picture with her and the restaurant address in order to send her a copy. Her wide, glowing smile warmed our hearts, as we sensed that her happiness over the simple joy of meeting foreigners would keep her smiling all year.

We eventually arrived at Tangkou after an afternoon of training by hard seat (the cheapest, dirtiest, noisiest but bearable train option) and dealing with insistent cab drivers that spat at me while we loaded our packs into a cab that offered the same exorbitant prices but whose driver was simply nicer. Our impressions of locals improved as we chatted with the driver during the hour long ride through a dark valley, asking him about the area more so to keep him from dozing off than to satisfy our curiosity. We were especially pleased to find that the old couple that ran the hotel we booked online were like friendly relatives, helping us plan our route up the mountain, cooking dinner, and advising us to delay our climb if it rained again tomorrow. When we awoke after a solid night of sleep, the floodgates of the sky were wide open, and it did not look like they would close anytime soon. We did not realize that hiking in such rain would be rather unpleasant until we stepped outside with our packs, ready to conquer the peaks, looking for the buses that would take us to the steps, all the while becoming more drenched and discouraged from climbing by every local. We finally admitted defeat, retreating to a hotel to wait out the rain, though Yan decided to return to Shanghai early to visit his friends without attempting Huangshan. Sure enough, by 3pm the rain had been reduced to a thick mist, and we decided to hike up the eastern steps, a route half the length of the more scenic 15km west side, which would hopefully be short enough to finish in the remaining daylight. Before starting, we had the owner of the restaurant we had lunch at, Mr. Hu, arrange two cheap bunks at a mountaintop hotel, lest we end up with no place to sleep when we arrived.

Katty and I slowly made our way up the mountain, trudging up the seemingly endless steps. Though the steps were not quite as steep as parts of the Great Wall and were generally evenly spaced, the wet weather forced us to be extra careful, especially with all our belongings on our backs. It was peaceful and refreshing, heavy droplets of fresh rain dripping off the lush green trees, glimpses of the towering rocks through the flowing cloud cover, and not another hiker around besides the occasional worker making his way down. About a third of the way up, Katty hired a tall, lanky Chinese man to carry her pack up the rest of the way for a reasonable price, which turned out to be more useful than just taking the weight off her back, as he directed us towards the correct paths as the sun faded away and we became engulfed in complete darkness. After nearly four hours of hiking, we finally arrived at the fancy hotel where Mr. Hu had booked us two beds, only to find that what we were getting was the typical Chinese tour group accommadations: beds in one of many rooms crammed with five bunk beds, behind the in-house massage parlor and some store unidentifiable from the billowing clouds of cigarette smoke. The man who took our money tried to charge us more for the use of the shower in the room, but we made enough of a fuss that he agreed it was included in the price we had decided upon. Perhaps not the most comfortable lodging, but it was just enough for us to recharge for a 4am wake-up to see the famous sunrise above a sea of fluffy, white clouds, followed by our stroll down the west steps.


Unfortunately, when we awoke the next morning and tagged along with the gobs of chinese tour groups, the thick fog and rain clouds had not cleared, leaving us with nothing but a wall of whiteness. With nothing to do but go down and hope that we have another chance to come back to the mountain, we started off with everyone else, and were terribly glad that we did not decide to hike up the longer western steps, blown away by the strength of the workers that lugged gasoline, water, and other supplies up the steps. We hiked down faster than we had planned, probably because the time we had factored in for stopping to take pictures at every scenic spot had been lessened by the weather. Ironically, by the time we were off the mountain, Yan had finally arrived in Shanghai. We spent the rest of the day sleeping at the hotel we had first stayed at in Huangshan, resting before our morning train ride to Nanjing.

Such little rest was not enough to ease our muscles the day after such hiking, and certainly did not prepare us for standing the entire 7 hour ride to Nanjing. Yes, for seven hours I stood in the aisle of a train packed with students returning to the cities after a summer in their hometowns, trying to ignore the burning, aching pain in my already tired legs as I watched the sitting passengers play cards, munch on sunflower seeds, and one mother continually smack her 5-year-old son on the head for no good reason (I knew such violence was bad when everyone else on the train was staring too... but perhaps they only found it surprising that she was doing it in public). I'm still not quite sure how I was mentally and physically able to get through all seven hours fighting for leaning space against the seats and stealing a squat or two before the snack cart came squeezing by, but I know that the express train from Nanjing to Shanghai had the most luxurious seat I've ever sat upon.

Before heading back to Beijing, we made our way around a few sites we had missed our first time through Shanghai, like the Planning and Exhibition Center, which was a fascinating history lesson on the development of the city and an interesting glimpse of what to expect in the coming years. On my last full day in Shanghai, I was feeling frustrated that I had exhausted all to do and see in a thriving city- surely my boredom could be combated by some unique and fun sight in Shanghai. It didn’t help much that my two travel partners were bored too, and only wished to lounge in the hostel or go to the gym for four hours, unwilling to accompany me to cultural streets or museums. My itch to be surrounded by culture led me to the Shanghai Art Museum, a magnificent racehorse club building filled with contemporary Chinese art. My craving for art was thoroughly satisfied by the three solo exhibits on display: ink paintings of Yang Zhengxin, who blends Chinese and Western themes and techniques to create beautiful, chaotic, delicate images of mountains, flowers, fish, bird and the wind; Zhang An Pu’s startlingly clear photographs of landscapes and locals across China that become surreal; and a retrospective exhibition of 's art work, from sketches of tourist attractions to poster and stamp art. With a few more hours left to explore, I left the cool, nearly empty museum to find 50 Moganshan Lu, an industrial complex that once housed spinning factories and has recently been converted into art galleries, creating a cozy community of artists. I was worried that I would never find it, however, because the map I had was not detailed enough to mark side streets and alleyways, and any directions for locals were too vague, leaving me wandering around the area for nearly an hour. I gave up searching for the road it was on, and turned down a wide alley that I figured would loop me back towards the subway station. As I rounded the corner, I noticed the street sign: "Moshangan Lu". Yippeee! I kept walking, still not seeing anything that resembled art galleries, but regaining hope as I admired the whimsical graffiti on crumbling walls. I finally arrived at the complex, both relieved and giddy to explore the clean, modern galleries. The artwork varied greatly in medium, style and subject, though it was dominated if not entirely consisting of contemporary/modern art, and was surprisingly all intriguing. My artsy itch was thoroughly satisfied.

When we finally returned back to Beijing, I realized that I was completely relieved to be back. Beijing had somehow become more of a home than I had realized over the first two months, and experiencing Shanghai only made me miss every good and bad thing about Beijing. With the end of summer, a new chapter was beginning in my life in China as I moved into an apartment with two UC Santa Cruz students and prepared for classes at Peking University, and I couldn't have been more excited.

Love,
Kenzie

P.S. Love hearing from all who write, and just wanted to let you know that fast on the heels of this bit will be all my excuses for why I haven't been keeping up!!!

Shanghai, Here I Come!

好久不见！
Long time no see!!

It's been awhile since I last wrote. You haven't forgotten than I'm in China, right? Well, let me remind you...

As I lounge comfortably in my new apartment, I become exhausted just thinking of the two weeks I spent traveling around Shanghai and the Three Gorges at the end of August. Traveling through China is not a particularly relaxing venture, unless you take a liking to navigating the maze of transportation systems and frequently adjusting your plans. However, I cannot deny that this trip was truly a vacation, one filled with friends, laughter, new foods, captivating discoveries and beautiful scenery.

An overnight train ride by soft seat (comfier and more spacious than an airplane seat) plopped me in Shanghai the morning after my graduation from the summer program. The sky was bluer than I remembered it could be, the white fluffy clouds drifting through the hot air as a welcomed sea breeze eased the heat, a perfect background to the expansive high rises that greeted me as I stepped out of the train station. There were over twenty of us Beijing EAP students in Shanghai, but I was primarily sticking with David, Rafael and Michelle.

Our first destinations were our respective hostels for a shower and to drop off luggage, Michelle and I boarding the Dr. Suess-like UCool Hostel. Feeling wonderfully refreshed for all of two minutes until we braved the humidity outside, Michelle and I headed to The Bund (only a block from our hostel!) to meet David and Rafael for some sight-seeing. Walking the mile along the river in glorious heat and full sunlight promptly began the sweaty soaked mess we were to relentlessly experience throughout the trip, relieved only by wandering through well air-conditioned malls, rides on the metro, and cold drinks. We soaked in not only the sun's rays but also the magnificent views of the Shanghai skyline, including the wacky bulbous Oriental Pearl TV Tower, the Jin Mao Tower and countless giants of the Pudong New Area. Though our focus remained on the river of cruise boats, small tankers, barges piled with coal and the scene across the water, I could not forget that the bank we strolled upon was famous too. The Bund (a word describing the muddy embankment that it once was) had been part of the British Concession, quite evident in the Western styles of the majestic buildings that lined the riverside, and remains one of Shanghai's architectural wonders.




For a better view of the Bund we decided to cross the river by way of the heavily advertised sightseeing tunnel that runs beneath the river. With high hopes we descended into the depths of what resembled a subway station decorated as an amusement park ride. We were sorely disappointed by the super-cheesy tram rid, perhaps because we were simply confused about what to make of the fluttering ghosts, psychedelic light shows, and neon animals that played on the tunnel walls. The experience was much like Willy Wonka's chocolate river boat ride, minus the rowing dwarves, chocolate and fun, and left us wondering how they had failed to utilize the potential in an empty tunnel and tram cars with 360-degree views. We emerged from the tunnel near the base of the Oriental Pearl, enchanted by the hilarity of the giant purplish spheres suspended by concrete. Refusing to pay horrendous amounts of money to ascend each sphere, we opted to instead wander along the west bank of the river and admire the view of the Bund before roasting to a crisp in the beating sun. Our inclinations towards a more temperate atmosphere drew us to a gargantuan mall, aptly named Super Brand Mall, that was as posh and crowded as we expected.


Making our way towards the ferry, we detoured to a rare patch of shady grass that we were actually permitted to sit on while admiring China's tallest building and the world's 4th tallest, the Jin Mao Tower [tower on left], not-so-discreetly dropping into the shadows of a building still under construction. The ferry ride was much more pleasant than our underwater transportation, offering quick service and gorgeous views. The ten minutes of rest for our feet was enough to put us back on the Bund towards Nanjing Donglu, a popular shopping street since the beginning of the last century. This is a street that has probably been photographed countless times, the blend of Chinese and Western-style buildings housing international brand name stores, piles of brightly lit signs in Chinese and English hanging above the constant crowds. After a stroll and mediocre dinner of noodles and dumplings with gobs of Chinese tourists, we headed back to the river for views of Shanghai dressed in flashy and glorious lights upon an hour-long cruise. We were only slightly disappointed by not having
access to the upper, outdoor deck due to our restrictions on our cheap tickets, by the end of the hour we had grown tired of snapping pictures of the landscape anyways. Our generously wide hostel beds were completely welcomed after chatting with new friends in the hostel from Germany, France, Sweden and South Africa.

Day two and we were off to the Shanghai Museum in RenMing GongChang (People's Park), a large park surrounded by museums, exhibition halls and malls. The museum was simply impressive- the modern architecture of the building, the extensive collections of pottery, coins, paintings, masks, festive minority clothing, furniture, ceramics and more, and of course the ridiculously cheap admission fee: only 5 yuan for students, down from the standard 20 yuan. That's less than USD 1!! How is this possible? Does China value its history and culture so much that it is not absurd to charge next to nothing, as long as someone becomes more educated? Perhaps this is only the result of generous donors, and not the result of cultural pride. Nevertheless, we reaped the benefits, and got several hours worth of Chinese history through artifacts older than we could imagine, after which we spent the late afternoon wandering around the park trying to come up with things to do. So we flipped a coin- heads and we go east on the metro, tails and we take it going west. We went west, and got off at a random stop, pleasantly surprised to find a large park with a lake with bumper and row boats, a carousel, some small-scale amusement rides, and grassy fields dotted with locals exercising and strolling in the cool breeze of dusk. We relaxed under the trees as we watched the moon rise above the city skyline, and as usual, soon found ourselves thinking about food. As if on cue, our friends called to tell us about joining most of the other students on our program at an all-you-can-eat Japanese restaurant, which happened to be just around the corner from the park we were in. The meal was fun and delicious, with excessive amounts of beef, pork, chicken, shrimp and veggies made in front of us. I can only say that we slept well that night.


Working our way down the list of Shanghai attractions, we expected the next destination to be somewhat redundant, but nonetheless a place we couldn't leave Shanghai without seeing. YuYuan sounded like any other garden we had seen throughout Beijing- ancient pavilions for lounging, delicately arching trees over ponds filled with fiery orange koi fish, meandering paths through bamboo groves and rock sculptures... Indeed, the gardens were exactly this, yet proved to be different than anything we had already seen in an indescribable way. Perhaps it was the small touches of sculptures atop black stone roofs, pathways laid with thousands of small stones on their narrowest side, or the lush, deep green vegetation. Whatever the reason, I felt peaceful wandering through YuYuan, as it was meant to be.


Back in the rush of the ancient town of Shanghai, an area reeking not only of chou doufu (stinky tofu), but also the inauthenticity of a tourist trap for Chinese and foreigners alike, we searched for a famous Shanghai dumpling restaurant. Upon seeing the 75 yard long line, however, we had a feeling that we could find the same type of delicious food elsewhere. Sure enough, as we wandered back to the hostel to rest and refresh, I stopped for a yummy snack that most closely resembles a waffle in that an eggy dough with black sesame seeds is poured into a hot press to be baked into a plate-sized crispy, doughy, slightly sweet and salty, piping hot snack. With plans to enjoy the sunset at the top of the Jin Mao tower, we had only a few hours to explore another Shanghai attraction, so we headed to a new favorite: the Shanghai Propaganda Poster Art Centre. This small museum is housed in someone's basement in a tall apartment building in the beautiful French Concession, a district not particularly populated by the French, but distinguished by its tree-lined streets and prevalence of Art Deco homes. Not exactly the kind of place where you would expect a museum of propaganda poster art. The collection was nicely displayed with bits of information in both Chinese and English, and the chronological order allowed us to see how the artistic styles, slogans, attitudes and topics changed throughout the years. We wished that our Chinese was good enough for reading and fully grasping the meanings of the text on the posters, as the translations and explanations hardly seem sufficient. Despite the linguistic barrier, to be in the presence of perhaps the only (public) collection of Chinese propaganda posters was an experience that made me realize there are some things that I will probably never understand, in this case the conflicting attitudes towards the events of a tumultuous past.



So with a glimpse of history we headed to China's tallest building for a 360 degree view of the future, which takes precisely 4 elevators to reach. After surviving the maze of elevators, a dizzying 34 floor Grand Hyatt that starts on the 53rd floor, and hostesses that strictly enforce the dress code, amazing views of a colorfully lit Shanghai surrounded us as we lounged in the dimly lit Cloud 9 club. While the masses bustled around the Bund and the Oriental Pearl TV Tower below us, I gazed out towards the suburbs. I had not realized the expansiveness of Shanghai until I stood at the windows of the 87th floor, and saw nothing but city buildings as far as the earth's curvature allowed me to see. The abundance of new high-rise apartments and office complexes was perhaps one of the most obvious differences between Shanghai and Beijing, as I could not imagine that Beijing's never-ending construction carried quite the same height as Shanghai's towers.

The next day we visited ZhuJiaJiao, a water-town an hour outside of Shanghai. All around Shanghai's suburbs there are towns built on water, like a miniature Venice dotted with temples, teahouses and gardens. After successfully figuring out the location of the bus station and how it worked, we arrived in a sleepy town that certainly catered to tourists, but nearly completely lacked their presence. We expected the usual crowds wandering through cobble stone streets and floating under bridges on beautiful boats, but we were pleasantly surprised by only seeing a handful of touring groups. I cherished the peace while boating through the canals and exploring the empty temples and quaint gardens, a rare feeling among the modernity of Shanghai.

This blend of historic and modern was topped off by our Maglev train ride to the airport the next day. The Maglev use remarkably strong magnets to make the cars hover slightly above the tracks, propelling travelers at a speed of 431 km/hr (over 200 mph) on a cushion of air. I tried not to think of what would happen if we suddenly stopped or flew off the elevated railway, and instead focused on the blur of factories, suburbs and trees whizzing past our windows. Less than ten minutes later, we were at the airport, ready for the next leg of our adventure on the Yangtze River. After five days of running around the big city, we were more than ready to indulge in some laziness while drifting down the river.

Much love,
Kenzie

Summer's End

Greetings my friends!

Yay! My finals are now over, the celebratory meals are starting and so is my two-week vacation! Of course, these rewards have been earned after weeks of madly running around looking for an apartment, planning my vacation, studying, and spending as much time as possible with friends that will leave after the summer program. The result is an abundance of new culinary delights and no shortage of moments reminding me that I AM IN CHINA!

For the most part, I have not been terribly homesick during the past months. Though I miss certain conveniences readily available in America, and long for my family and friends, China has kept me busy enough that I have no time to cry my eyes out over being who knows how far away from home. But sometimes a sound or smell invokes a memory of home, always bringing contradictory feelings of happiness and sadness for my wonderful life home and how exciting life is in Beijing. A few weeks ago I went DVD shopping (“expensive” 3 US dollar copies!) and enjoyed the Chinese equivalent of a gyro- delicious roast pork sawed off a skewer and placed in the middle of a soft bread with onion and a salty-sweet sauce. As I was returning to my dorm from dinner on the street, the familiar sounds of Chinese drumming, cymbals and gongs emerged from the tree-lined sidewalk. The music led a group of over 20 women of all ages dancing gracefully with bright green and pink fans, drawing the attention of every passerby on the street. I stopped to join the small crowd that gathered to enjoy the simple performance amid the sounds of rush hour, and became nostalgic as I was reminded of good times with the UCSB Chinese Lion Dance Team. I suddenly missed the familiarity of drumming, and the fun I had practicing with my friends, wishing that they and everyone else I love could be here to share the experiences with me.


I mean, just think of all there is to do! Besides the usual attractions, I have been taking pleasure in simple moments, like enjoying my breakfast in a courtyard on campus everyday, watching the old people do morning exercises before I begin class. Or having breakfast on the weekend at a vendor who sells miniature beef buns, made-to-fry round Chinese donut and warm, fresh soy milk, followed by a walk through the park. What could be more enjoyable than watching two guys knead the dough, expertly pinch the buns shut after being filled with seasoned meat, then steam in bamboo right on the street? And perhaps my favorite creation to watch the street is diaomian, a type of noodle cut from a giant slab of dough straight into a vat of boiling water, and served in slightly spicy broth.




These sorts of foods can be expected to be absolutely delicious, but what about the weirder foods- like peanut butter and meat floss toast, or scorpion? Surprisingly delicious!! Yes, the toast was a snack at a restaurant that has bench swings instead of chairs, serving both Chinese and Western foods. Upon reading the menu, I could not resist giving the weird combination a try: a thick slice of white bread (Texas toast?) topped with real peanut butter, then dried shredded meat (i.e. meat floss) with a drizzle of condensed milk and a sprinkle of dried seaweed on top. Strange, but good enough to finish. The scorpion on the other hand was pure heaven. Three tiny scorpions on a stick, fried and topped with salt… a moment of hesitation before the bug entered my mouth, but when I tasted how crispy and crunchy it was, I wanted more! Especially when there is hardly an aftertaste of scorpion guts. My visiting friend from UCSB, however, refused to not only look away as I ate but also refused to share any more food because my lips had touched the scorpions!


When not eating, I have been searching and dealing with apartment matters and planning my upcoming vacation in Shanghai. After searching for housing, navigating negotiations of rent and terms of the contract, and registering with the Public Security Bureau about my residence in Beijing, I cannot believe that vacation is about to begin. With only one last run with belongings to the new apartment that I will share with two UC friends (each with our own bedroom!), I finally feel like I can enjoy my time in Shanghai, the 3 day cruise on the Yangtze River, and a climb up Huangshan (Yellow Mountain).

So in two weeks I will write once again, when I have more adventures to share, and the mood is less bittersweet than now as friends disperse. These few days have been full of reflection upon the best moments and the worst moments so far, and the extent to which China has simply grown on us without us realizing. While I feel that the month and a half have passed quickly, it also feels like a long, long time since my feet stood upon the California soil. Will the rest of the year be the same? Happening so quickly, yet so much more time to go? Is that my final goal, to reach the end? Living in a foreign country is perhaps where one best understands that the journey matters most of all.

Love,
Kenzie

Times of Leisure

Good evening everyone!

Another week full of tasty bites, new sites and travel has bombarded my senses, just waiting to be remembered, the first main attraction coming to us in the form of: what do I do when given a free weekend without program planned activities? Shop, eat and read of course!

Sleeping in should be added to the list as well, a treat we all yearn for during the weeks of exhausting 8am classes and early wake-up calls on big weekend trips. The beauty sleep prepared us for the overwhelming bustle of Yaxiu market, a five story "mall" packed with stalls selling mostly clothing, bags and shoes, and only two buses and a subway ride away. Apparently less crowded and touristy than the famed Silk Market (where I have yet to venture), Yaxiu stocks "brand name" items and plenty of quirky Asian clothing to cure a shopping itch, especially if one is willing to dig deep and refine the haggling skills. It takes a fair amount of time to browse each floor, especially the basement floor where the bags, belts and shoes live- my favorite! This floor is perhaps the most diverse in terms of selection, from "Converse" and "Vans" in every color, style and detailing imaginable, "Tevas" and hiking boots, a rainbow of sporty Puma and Diesel knock-offs, and off course the countless women's sandals, pumps, flats, boots and so on. All squeezed among the stalls selling purses, laptop cases, "man purses" (a staple in this city), backpacks of the student and camping types and popular knock-offs of Louis Vitton, LeSportSac, and others I could not begin to list. This trip, I left with only a pair of chocolate-colored Puma Speedcat sneakers, classy leather sandals, a pair of linen shorts and a striped hoodie shirt. The clothing selection is dominated by small sizes and men's polo shirts, but if you know your style and what you're looking for, you'll likely find it at Yaxiu. Then you can enjoy a meal on the top floor, at the nicest fast-food court I have encountered, with nearly twenty Asian food options. I might just have to return to Yaxiu.

The excitement of shopping necessitated a restful day of study, so I ventured to the other side of town (back to the neighborhood of Sanlitun where Yaxiu is located) to try a burrito at The Rickshaw, and relax at The Bookworm. The Rickshaw provides a menu catered to the expat community, with American breakfasts, a few Mexican favorities, buffulo wings and a popular happy hour, but as we let the manager/owner know, the burritos were not up to standards of Californian college students, mainly due to the over-abundance of chicken and lack of rice, beans and cheese. Our disappointment spurred a discussion about the most successful types of restaurants to open in Beijing, from burrito shops and cafes to smoothie spots and breakfast nooks, partly nursing our cravings and partly dreaming about business ventures. Several hours spent working on an essay at The Bookworm, and I nearly forgot that I was in China- I might as well have been in San Francisco, surrounded by English language books and yuppie clientele (mostly white, though some French and some Chinese), except that I was scribbling away in Chinese.

That was two weekends ago, a relaxing break that turned out to be hardly enough for the coming week. As I prepared for another midterm in both classes last Thursday, I ventured down the block for a few favorite goodies: freshly pulled noodles, muslim bread, and all-you-can-drink-and-snack-on sweets. The noodle man pulls the "la mian" as you watch, working so fast that you can hardly see how he separates each strand of the soft dough with his fingers, then splashes them into a vat of boiling water, only to be removed in minutes and added to broth for customers, with a scoop of stewed meat on top. The restaurant is certainly the local equivalent of a neighborhood diner, or at least that kind that looks a bit grungy on the surface but still serves a consistently satisfying meal for a decent price. To fulfill my addiction to bread, I visited the nearby Muslim restaurant, which has a brick oven outside to bake crusty rounds and tempt the passerby. I tried soft flat bread and something that resembles a bagel with a hard crust and sesame seads- both worth my fifty cents. As for the drinks and snacks, those were also worth the RMB 18 (less then $3). For this reasonable price, one selects any and as many drinks from a menu of teas, iced coffees, milk teas, fruit juices, ice creams, and fruity blends. This wonderful service comes from the local branch of a chain of 24-hour teahouses, where students go to hang out and study for long afternoons, munching on lightly salted dried peas, fava beans and watermelon seeds. Why such venues do not seem to exist in California baffles me.

Our evening of studying have been interrupted by massive thunderstorms, not the first we have had, but perhaps the most exciting because the lightening has recently been striking close enough to see the bolts through usual haze and stormy clouds. One night, we spent at least an hour watching mesmerized from a balcony and a window, deciding which Chinese character the flashes of lightening resembled, much like calling out the animal profiles of fluffy white clouds across a blue sky.

After midterm, the last planned weekend trip for the summer program brought us to Shanxi, a region northwest of Beijing about a 12 hour train ride away. Once again I was terribly sick during the first day of travel, suffering from headaches, aching muscles, fever and chills. I believe my fatigue was merely from a buildup of stress and sleep deprivation, as the exhaustion faded after two full nights of sleep thanks to my friend NyQuil. During the first day of sight-seeing I dragged my feet like a zombie through the ancient city of Pingyao, once the financial capital of China during the Qing dynasty. We climbed the ancient wall that surrounds the city, built for military protection but also symbolizing the cultural value of intelligence and education: the 72 larger towers represent the 72 people of great wisdom, while 3000 battlements honor 3000 disciples of Confucius. While the view of the city from the wall is quite magnificent, one does not soon forget that invaders died in the traps of Pingyao residents along the wall, such as giant spiked rolling pins dropped from over 50 feet up.


These walls now protect original and restored buildings, many filled with shops selling knick-knacks to tourists, hostels and hotels, restaurants and shoemakers, and of course museums in the courtyards of important officials, the first private bank and the judicial courts. The rich history was difficult to fully appreciate without extensive historical knowledge of the area, but our sweet tour guide’s facts and explanations gave enough life to the buildings to get a taste of the city’s character and cultural importance. For instance, the depressions on the floor in front of the judge’s stand were the marked locations for the defendants and prosecutor to kneel, presenting their cases and awaiting the judge’s decision. I kneeled in the spot designated for the accused, imaging the fear and horror of the court’s ruling expressed by throwing a black or red tipped stick to the ground in front of the accused- red for the guilty. We strolled through the prison (wood-fired heated beds and a stove in the cells!) and viewed the holding cells (like wooden cages out of a movie!) before wandering amongst the stalls of souvenirs. Despite my low energy, I managed to bargain for an intricately carved wooden comb with the image of a dragon, and even got the carver to etch my Chinese name on the backside! This purchase was as exciting as the delicious crispy, fried, sweet corn fritters served at lunch!

On the way to the next attraction, I was distracted by more food, namely a thin, crispy snack baked on the street called Shi Tou Bing- basically meaning “rock pancake”. The women roll out dough dotted with black sesame seeds and green onion until it is a thin pancake, then lay it atop small, smooth, black rocks heated in wok above fire. The dough is covered with more hot rocks, and baked until it’s a crispy chip with indentations of the bumpy rocks. I have yet to see this snack in Beijing, but the other prevalent snack in Shanxi never seems to be in short supply anywhere in China- sunflower seeds. Whether flavored with green tea (my favorite), meat, milk flavor or sold straight from the flower, these delicate snacks are available everywhere!

Next we strolled through the extensive courtyards of the Qiao family- the legacy of five wealthy generations of businessmen, all from a single man who started selling bean curd in Inner Mongolia. The story goes that poor Mr. Qiao traveled to Inner Mongolia looking for work, selling bean curd on the streets to travelers until he realized that a hotel would be quite profitable in the heavily traveled area. The business grew immensely, and eventually the family owned restaurants and hotels in cities all over China. Their five generations of wealth is remarkable in Chinese culture because wealth is said to last no more than three generations, as the latter generations become lazy and spoiled to the point of losing their wealth. Thus, the beautiful Qiao residence, where the movie “Raising the Red Lantern” was filmed, seems to be the model of a family dynasty, with over 60 traditional courtyards housing museums (with models of miniature Chinese people demonstrating cultural events) and a gorgeous garden with a pavilion above a waterfall flowing into a pond bordered by willows and lotus flowers.

The serenity of the Qiao home was replaced by claustrophobic fear at the Hanging Temple. As expected at tourist attractions throughout China, crowd control is minimal if existent at all, resulting in herds of eager travelers packing into small areas, even on the narrow walkways of a temple built into the side of a cliff. The safety of the structure was questionable, with some supporting posts only doing work when enough people create a large enough load to bear down on the thin posts, but I suppose if it’s lasted so many years with so many tourists passing through, it must be safe enough. While we shuffled along at a rate of 10 centimeters a minute (not too much of an exaggeration), we peered into the colorful shrines that are famous for combining Taoist and Buddhist elements. As crowded as it was, the hour we spent walking through the temple was less time than we spent on the bus at the park entrance, stuck in traffic. Our bus did not move at all for over an hour as we waited for space on the narrow mountain highway stuffed with tourists, buses, and construction trucks- a perfect example of traffic in China.

Unfortunately, the time we spent waiting meant less time at the last stop of the trip: the Yungang Grottoes, a group of about 45 caves with thousands of carvings of statues both large (up to 70 meters tall) and small (down to palm-sized Buddhas, disciples and story characters). Over 20 large caves are each filled with a towering carving of a Buddha statue, each representing the emperors of the dynasty that built the caves while their capital was in nearby Datong city. Each statue is different, some painted in bright colors, others in the natural dim gray stone, some standing, some sitting, different dress and gestures, all to reflect the character or accomplishments of the emperor. For instance, one emperor who let many innocent people die is carved with his left hand held over his heart, a symbol of his regret and apology. As we arrived as the park was closing and the sun setting, the lack of tourists and warm light created a calming atmosphere among the immense, faintly smiling Buddhas. However, my awe was tinged with sadness, as these 1500 year-old relics have survived war and weather, yet seemed to suffer the most from the hands of well-meaning preservationists. While trying to prevent erosion of the rock and the effects of coal dust polluted air, efforts to cover the statues in a layer of mud reinforced with wooden poles poked into the statues have left countless holes in many of the statues. I suppose that as silly as that idea seems to us now, the results are as much a part of history as the original construction of the statues.

The trip to Shanxi already seems long ago after this week’s hectic moments and cherished discoveries in Beijing, which remain to be shared next time. For now, I have to plan what I’m doing in the city for this free weekend!

Much love,
Kenzie

The Camel, The Mongolian, and The Wall

大家好！！ (Hello Everybody!!)

It has only been two weeks since I travelled to the Great Wall, and already the awe and excitement have been replaced by my recent trek through Inner Mongolia. However, my memories of camping overnight on the Wall and climbing one of the most beautiful sections have not faded.

The only way to begin is to say that I love my body. However, for the first time ever, during the grueling 3 hour bus ride to Jinshanling, I was literally in pain due to my height, and really wished I was much shorter (though I'm not sure if this would have even helped). I sat cramped in the farthest back corner of the bus with luggage on my lap, my knees hitting the seat in front of my even as I sat jammed against the back of my seat. For 3 hours I could not move my long legs more than a few inches, hardly enough to stretch my muscles and keep them from cramping. Finally standing upright when we arrived was a great relief, and I could not wait to climb the Wall, though our long hike would not start until the next morning.

After stretching our legs through a few tosses of my frisbee, we devoured an unremarkable dinner, remembered only for the prevalence of corn in many forms and far too much food leftover due to our program's excessive ordering. An invigorating game of hotbox frisbee followed dinner, and we even got the program assistents to play! Once it was dark, nearly everyone trekked 20 minutes up the road to sleep on the Wall, a few students choosing the comforts of the quaint hotel in town. My roomie, my friend Michelle and I explored the store houses and stake-out posts on the Wall while eveyone else set up their tents and sleeping bags and started partying. It was warm enough to sleep without a tent and only a sleeping bag stretched across us, but unfortunately this was not as fun as we had anticipated because the sky was as overcast as in Beijing, sadly preventing any star-gazing. Nevertheless, sleeping on the Great Wall was a uniquely fun experience- when do we ever get the chance to lay upon ancient stones that represent more than just another wall?

An early wake-up and breakfast of porridge set us on our way from Jinshanling to Simatai, a stretch of 30 towers that took about 4 hours to hike. As an avid hiker, I found no problem with the countless sets of 100-300 steps, climbing up and climbing down as the Wall followed the steep contours of the mountains. I was impressed that the students who started hiking successfully finished the hike without injury, and too much whining. I recommend that anyone who is fit and has enough ambition and perserverance to hike for several hours should climb beyond the tourist attraction sites to see the "real" Great Wall. The stretches between the tourist sites are not as repaired, and simply feel more authentic than orderly paths around Simatai, with weeds poking out from between stones, and crumbling walls lining the pathway. The beauty of the Great Wall is both its magnificence as a whole, even as it deteriorates, as well as the details that one discovers along the way, like the picturesque views and the characters carved in the stones (by modern tourists? or those who built the Wall?). [Excited about finishing the hike, crossing the Simatai bridge]

Climbing the Great Wall was nothing less than grand, but this past weekend's trip to Inner Mongolia was absolutely epic (and not quite in the same good vibe as when I might say, "That was EPIC, dude!"). Traveling to Huhot (the capital) by train was lots of fun: over 100 students in two cars, six bunks per cubby open to the aisle, ghost stories, chatting with native Chinese people, a trolley of snacks (ramen, green tea...) rolling down the narrow aisle and a squat toilet that emptied onto the tracks (yikes!), all in one night. We were in the hard sleepers, which are the second most luxurious seats one can book (after soft sleepers with 2 bunks per private cabin), and they turned out to be "cush". Perhaps as students familiar with living in dorms we did not mind the lack of privacy, as I could understand that having a stranger stepping around your bed to get to the bunk above would be rather invading. The train moved quite slowly (9pm till 7am ride), but the rocking and rhythmic sounds made sleeping quite easy.

After travelling a few more hours on a bus, we finally got to the third largest sand dunes in China. As we passed through grassy plains and decrepit industrial towns, I was skeptical of whether the sandy desert would ever appear, but sure enough, they suddenly rose from behind a few hills and strangely evoked the same feelings as one might experience when arriving at an oasis. These dunes are not pristine parks, but rather like a Mongolian theme park, or at least the portion that I visited. Within a few acres of dunes there was a tourist center and a chair lift taking visitors across an expansive basin to the dunes, where there were tents, camels, and games such as parasailing (while being towed by a 4WD truck), ATV-ing and archery. I wisely spent my money on an hour-long camel ride (lots of drooling, especially on me, and camel flatulence too!), a roll in a giant inflated ball (imagine a hamster running in a ball, but we were strapped to the inside wall of the ball), and sliding down the side of the steep dunes over 100 meters essentially on a plank of wood. The camels were endearing, with their buck teeth, furry paws, lanky limbs, and some camels' humps flopping to the side.
A guide walked our caravan of about 15 camels around the dunes, passing by some amazingly intricate sand sculptures of Buddha and temples that were larger than a tool shed (we even saw the talented Mongolians working on a few new scuptures). It was not the most comfortable ride, because despite the padding between the two humps, there are no stirrups as when riding a horse, so all of one's weight in on the bum. However, I wouldn't have traded the experience for any other! We left as the sun set, and the rocky cliffs bordering the dunes and grassland reminded me of mountains in Southwest America, with streaks of red running through the golden rock.

A night in a 3 star hotel about two hours from the dunes (which by American standards was much nicer than just 3 stars, besides the part where the hot water turns off at 7:40am) refreshed me for the next day of seemingly endless travel on a bus, with Mongolian tour guides teaching us Mongolian folk songs in Chinese (painful!) while we tried to sleep. A stop for Mongolian lamb hot pot lunch was disappointing, as I have been spoiled by the delicious Cantonese version of hotpot. Traditional Mongolian hot pot lacks a tasty broth (choices are: extra bland or extra spicy), fresh seafood and fresh veggies, which all make the slurping of broth and noodles at the meal's end impossible. Speaking of disappointing food, I failed to mention that at one of our meals at the hotel, we got french fries! Perhaps I've forgotten what delicious shoe string fries taste like, but I'm pretty sure that what we had was not very good. The search for fries persists.

Bus travel was not uncomfortable due to the lack of space (I greedily claimed two seats for myself and my long legs), but rather the long hours and the off-roading. Yes, large tour buses in China apparently have no problem with using half-finished on/off-ramps and driving many kilometers on unpaved (and rather rocky) dirt roads across the grassland. This makes the ride a bit more bumpy than one would hope, but at least it got us where we needed to be. And luckily laughter abounds amongst our group, making every dire situation seem ridiculous and fun.

When we arrived at the grassland at a compound of yurts similar to an American Indian reservation, we were greated by local Mongolians, and engaged in a ceremony of blessing using bai jiu (a clear 42% proof alcohol). Every guest is expected to perform the blessing and sip from a small cup, if not chug it all and ask for more, as refusing the drink offends their hospitatlity. I'm not sure how the rest gulped up the bai jiu, because the splash that hit my pursed lips burned for a minute after and tasted just as "la" (spicy) as the reputation boasts. While we waited for activities to begin, I whipped out my trusty frisbee and started tossing with two friends. Within minutes, a fellow guest of the yurt-ville joined us, and I can honestly say that she is the most energetic and excited Chinese woman I have come across, as she would clap, cheer and generally released excited yelps while catching and throwing. And she was pretty good at frisbee, especially in her strappy wedge heels and with long manicured nails. Two of her male friends started playing too, then within the next five minutes, about 20 other students on our program joined the toss, stretching our circle to the limits of the fenced field. It was immense fun, but during another frisbee game after a short horse race and Mongolian wrestling, my poor frisbee cracked into three pieces when it hit a stone path a tad too hard. Quite sad, but at least it opens opportunities to find a frisbee and perhaps a team in Beijing!

Mongolian wrestling was basically what siblings look like while they wrestle, with the addition of leather vests which the wrestlers grab a hold of on each other, and the goal being causing one's opponent to hit the ground before you do. After the eight young Mongolian guys wrestled each other, the guests were free to wrestle each other in the same manner, as well as challenge the Mongolians. Many of our students attempted, including a two girls, but only one guy was able to beat the best of the Mongolians, though each fight was amusing, if only because the crowd was so excited.

Dinner was finally served, with plenty of rice, baozi and veggies, while the Mongolians sang a traditional song and presented each of us with the gift of a white scarf (though I do not know what meaning this holds). The main dish came last: two whole roasted lambs, complete with a red sash around their necks and sprigs of green herbs in the mouths, their heads attached such that they bobbed when they were moved from the kitchen to the dining room. Each table received a portion of some limb, served with a dish of spiced salt to sprinkle atop the lamb. The meat was tasty, though not as juicy as I would have liked. The fun was in the presentation of the food, and the experience of watching a roomful of UC students and program directors simultaneously become drunk on more bai jiu while making toasts to their respective UC's every minute.

A long performance by our Mongolian hosts ensued after dinner, complete with traditional dances, piercing songs, a rap in Mongolian (puzzling...), traditional string instruments played to a techno/trance beat (really, really fast! and it actually sounded good!), and some spur of the moment Chinese songs performed by guests, including my fellow students. Throghout the performance, fireworks exploded in the sky above us, a beautiful sight amongst the stars! After the formal performances, someone put on techno music, and what could we all do but start dancing like it was a rave?! Yes, in the middle of the grasslands of Inner Mongolia, a bunch of Californians and Chinese people danced the night away.

With a good night's sleep in the six-person yurts, most of the students went on a two-hour long horse ride in the grassland, lead by many Mongolians. The weather was gray, bone-chillingly cold and threatening rain, but not enough to prevent our ride. The horses were small, and some mothers had their colts follow along, a cute sight. The grassland was not full of tall grass, but nubby green weeds among hard packed dirt, and we saw two herds of sheeps roaming the softly rolling hills. Just as half the group turned around to head back to the yurts while the other half rode further to visit a local family, the rain started as the cold wind seeped through our clothing. Unfortunately, no one was prepared for the rain, or even the cold temperatures, and by the time we returned to the yurts, everyone's warmest clothing was already soaked through. I was feeling somewhat delirious because I was so cold, and after removing my wet outer layers of clothing, wrapped myself in blankets and curled up in a friend's yurt to wait for my roommates to return with the key to our yurt. When I awoke an hour later, my legs were still numb, but I went outside to search for my roommate, who quickly opened up our yurt, and along with the most competent program assistent, immediately took care of me, pouring a tub of hot water to warm my feet, giving me dry pants, wrapping me in a down jacket and nesting me in a pile of blankets while chomping on some baozi and veggies. Slowly my body generated heat, and eventually when we boarded the bus in the afternoon I did not look as sickly and could think more clearly.

While on the verge of hypothermia, I vowed to be more prepared regardless of what I am told. One would think that the experienced leaders of a program would know exactly what its participants would need, but clearly after the day's events, the knowledge and experience of others cannot always be trusted. Thus, it seems best to be overly prepared, especially when the only risks are a loss of luggage space and seeming silly for taking "unneccessary" items. Among these feelings of disappointment is my gratitude for the good sense of friends, particularly their concern for my welfare and quick actions. Without such caring people, I'm sure I would have not recovered as fully or as quickly.

I slept through most of the return bus ride to Beijing (all warm and snug!), and when I awoke still amongst the countryside, I observed the seemingly endless corn fields and I realized that the corn fields are different than those I have seen throughout the US. If you have ever played tag in a corn field, or gotten dizzy while watching corn fields pass by as you sit in a car, you know that corn is planted in neat rows with plenty of space between rows even as the field narrows to a tiny corner. The corn fields that I have seen in China, however, do not seem to be planted in this same uniform way, as no rows are evident. Instead, the fields are dense with stalks so closely packed that a person could not walk between plants without bushwacking a path. Yet the fields look healthy, each green stalk with its wisps of yellow stretching towards the sky. To me, these corn stalks compared to those in America seemed to represent how a foreigner can feel in China. At times, both the culture and physical lack of space can be suffocating and confusing as one finds that little is familiar. Yet eventually one realizes that the chaos is organized, just in a very different way than one knows, and despite the differences, things are quite similar, whether it be people or corn. Hopefully one can find comfort in the different environment before being scared off by the lack of familiarities. Maybe all it takes is the realization that just as there are many ways for corn to grow, there are similarly many ways for humans to thrive.

Much love,
Kenzie