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