Notes on Transportation

Here in Chengdu, as in any big city, effective transportation is vital. Chengdu offers several different methods of transportation, including taxis (which are never available) and a subway system (which still hasn’t been built). The bus system should not be forgotten, though – a one-way ticket for just one kuai is nothing to scoff at. Despite the city’s public transportation efforts, there are still innumerable amounts of cars on the road. As far as driving etiquette goes, the most polite thing you can do on the road is honk at absolutely everyone. You see, honking is a social activity here in China, similar to saying “Hello! How do you do?” In fact, a typical honking conversation goes something like this. Honker #1: Hoooooooooooooonk! (“Helloooooooooo there!”) Honker #2: Honk honk! (“Hello back!”) Honker #1: Honk honk hoooooonk honk! (“Nice to see you on the road today!”) Honker #2: Honk honk hooooooooooooooonk! (“Fine weather we’re having, isn’t it?”) Take the driver who transported us from Dali to Kunming, for example. If someone was in front of us, he honked. If he was riding on someone’s tail, he honked. If someone was behind him, he honked. If he saw another bus, he honked. If he passed someone on the left, he honked. If someone passed him, he honked especially loud. And just to make sure all his passengers were really awake, he at one point sat on that over-used horn for a solid fifteen seconds without pause. If you don’t want to chance the buses, your best bet is buying a bike. The bikes are unbelievably convenient – much quicker than walking, quite inexpensive (a used bike can go for 120 kuai, or about $17), and a very popular way of getting from point A to point B. One of the best features of these bikes is that they’re designed to be ridden in a city. The front often has a basket attached so you can carry things and the back has a long, flat, metal device with a clip. This back part can be used to carry a bag or some other cargo or even a second person sitting side-saddle (I highly recommend being the human cargo; though being in a semi-insecure position amidst other bikers and cars and buses, etc. is somewhat terrifying, it’s also absolutely exhilarating, a perfect cure for a bad mood). The other nice thing about a bike is that you can do most anything while biking. I have seen people smoke and bike at the same time. I’ve also seen people talk on their cell phone while biking. On top of that, you can also write text messages while biking. Or if you wanted, you could take pictures while biking. You could also study for your Chinese test while riding a bike. Anything is possible!

And You're Out

There is an apartment full of USAC students not far from where I live. They have maintenance issues all the time – in the beginning of the semester, for the first week they had no heat, no hot water, no internet, and the land line had been disconnected. They continue to have various problems. For example, if the heater is on in the main room and someone turns on lights in another room, the power goes off. Also, if the heater is on above low (which only warms up the apartment to approximately 50 degrees), all the power in the apartment shuts off. In fact, if you want to do anything involving being able to live normally, the power will shut off. Knowing the problems these residents have been having, I’ve always felt quite fortunate living where I do. Things tend to work, I get to shower when I want to, we can turn the heat on to a reasonable level, life is good. That is, until we lost almost all of our water pressure. Now, water only comes out of our faucets when it wants to; often, it will spurt out feebly for a moment or two and then stop completely. And water doesn’t even make it up to the shower head. We are forced to shower elsewhere or else suffer our own stink. Strike one. Then we realized that we had no hot water. I thought maybe this was because the low water pressure meant the hot water just never made it up all the pipes. This is not the case. We just have no hot water. Strike two. And then we discovered that our toilet was constantly flushing and would not stop no matter what we did, wasting our water and our money. Strike three. We’re totally out of the game.

Good News, Bad News

Good news: It’s been so warm recently I’ve only had to wear one pair of pants! Scarf, gloves, and coat are still part of my everyday wardrobe, however. Bad news: The rain here is so dirty that it leaves dark spots on any remotely light-colored clothing. Gross. Good news: My Chinese is improving! Bad news: I can still barely function in China. Good news: I’m learning how to cook traditional Sichuan dishes! Bad news: I now know just how much oil goes into them. And it makes me slightly nauseous.

Musical Madness!!!

My apologies for my long silence. It’s always hit-or-miss as to whether the internet here in China will actually let me access the site I post on or not. As of late, it has been quite unresponsive. Therefore, I am posting these entries (albeit intermittently) through my vessel – that is, my sister (thank you, Miryam, I love you and you’re wonderful).[Editor's note: you're welcome, Becks!] Today I’m profiling a traditional Chinese instrument called the guqin. The guqin is a long instrument, maybe four feet long or so, rectangular-shaped, and has seven strings. The lowest string is C, two octaves below middle C. The other strings (from lowest to highest) are D, F, G, A, C, and D. The instrument is plucked with the right hand and the notes are fingered with the left. The reason for all this musical mumbo-jumbo is that I am now studying the guqin. As I was unable to bring my viola with me to China (boo!), I am filling my musical deprivation with a new instrument. Really, when in my life am I ever going to get the chance to study a traditional Chinese instrument with a professional musician? If I were to give you an honest answer to that question, actually, it might be a little surprising. It turns out my music teacher is working towards her PhD in music – in North Hollywood, California, where at least half of my extended family happens to reside. She came back to China for two reasons. First, to take care of her ailing mother, and second, to write a book (in Chinese, I presume). However, come August, she will be moving back to America. Her husband is also American, so that is her permanent home. By the way, for those of you interested in seeing a guqin, go to the library (or Blockbuster) and rent the movie Hero. There’s a big fight-scene in it with someone playing a guqin. I would say it’s a great scene to watch, entertaining, interesting, etc., etc., but to be honest, I really don’t remember that scene at all. Not even an inkling. So watch it, enjoy it, and tell me how it is! Anyway, it’s a really awesome instrument. I can officially play about three songs (two of which are only open strings). Oh, I’ve progressed from just playing open strings to playing harmonics as well, which is super exciting. The only issue I’m having with it is a simple conflict of interest. String musicians (on Western string instruments, that is), are required to have short nails. Otherwise, the nails interfere with the musician’s ability to finger the notes. Guqin players, on the other hand, must have long nails; otherwise, the musician cannot make the strings sound. This means that for the past few weeks I’ve been growing out my nails, and let me tell you, they are driving me absolutely nuts. For the first time in years I find myself the victim of involuntarily self-inflicted cuts and scratches. Not only that, but they get in the way of everything. And I don’t even want to talk about how hard it is to keep them clean. Ick. In short, my nails are driving me nuts. On the bright side, though, I’m learning to play a fantastic instrument and bringing home the most amazing souvenir from China I can think of.

One for the money, Two for the show...

Once, a long time ago, during the Tang dynasty, in a homely thatched cottage in the quiet little village of Chengdu, there lived a poet named Dufu.

Dufu was not just any ordinary poet. He was a special poet! “I am special,” he proclaimed, “because one day, many years from now, some American students will stand on a stage for a Spring Festival performance and speak my sacred words with their ghastly American accents.”

And so it was destined to be! Of course, who would I be to ignore destiny? So it was, and so it shall ever be: I stood up on a stage, in front of a moderately large crowd, in front of TV cameras, in front of reporters, and recited for all who cared to hear Dufu’s poem “Chun Ye Xi Yu” (“In the Spring Night Comes the Good Rain”).

Truth be told, it was quite a production. There were famous people there and everything! I even had to arrive early so they could do me up in fine Asian fashion. In that regard, I felt a little silly – try as I might, I just don’t look Chinese. No matter how much make-up you cake on my face, there’s no hiding my distinctly Jewish nose, my light blue eyes, or my curly brown hair. Or those American hips, come to think of it.

A quick note on those hips: you may recall the people we bought the qipao from were supposed to alter it for me. Imagine my surprise when I tried it on the night before the big show and realized I still looked like I was drowning in a sea of red and gold. However, Liz, bless her innovativeness, sewed up the sides in red thread so it fit a little better.

Back to the show. The first act was the one that impressed me most. It involved young children (apparently training to be acrobats) doing more or less a whole acrobatic show in the space of five minutes. They tumbled, jumped through hoops, and there was even a tiny little contortionist. I was totally floored. My mouth gaped open as I watched these young kids dressed in rat costumes (for this is the year of the rat) performing feats it took others years to perfect. On top of that, they were super cute, which definitely gave them some extra points.

There were also a number of really beautiful dances. I made friends with one of the dancers, dressed in a bright yellow imitation sari, and we got our picture taken together. The other highlights were a well-known opera singer performing a Beijing opera piece and two very famous voice artists (known for their dubbing work) reciting more of Dufu’s poems.

Well, let me tell you, we poor Americans were certainly the underdogs here. We may have looked pretty, but our recitation skills and our pronunciation were just not up to snuff. And we got criticized in the city paper the next day just for that. Our names were in the paper along with phrases like “non-standard pronunciation” and so on. Ah well.

That aside, though, I did feel a little bit like a local celebrity. As I walked out after the show, I got a number of stares from people who had seen me on stage. I even caught one couple photographing me! Well, once I caught them in the act they decided to be a little more candid about it and just asked if they could take a picture of me. I obliged, as celebrities sometimes do, and posed with the photographer’s wife.

A last note on the qipao – unfortunately, I was not permitted to keep it. So when our act was over, I put on my normal clothes, and very calmly and quietly cut out the stitches Liz had been so kind to put in for me. At least I still have the memories! And the pictures, of course, which I now offer up to you.



Pictures! (My apologies if they're not in order)

1. Me in the five pounds of make-up they put on my face.

2. Get a load of that slit!

3. One of the dances

4. I just loved those gorgeous costumes! Especially the red one.

5. On stage, being interviewed by the hosts after reciting our poem. Yes, we were being interviewed in Chinese in front of a Chinese audience. And yes, it was stressful, and yes, I froze up a little bit.

6. The girl I made friends with doing her dance

7. The tiny acrobats!

8. Plum blossoms at Dufu's cottage

9. One of the dances I particularly liked. Apparently it was based on one of Dufu's poems. Notice that the man has the fan and the woman has the sword. I was especially fond of that aspect of it.


10. Another shot of the make-up. By this point, I'd already gotten rid of half of it.

Travels: Round One

Pictures (Sorry if they don't show up in order)

1. Lijiang, on the way to Baisha

2. Lijiang, Women in Naxi clothing

3. Lijiang, in Baisha. Is any further explanation necessary?

4. Lijiang, lanterns. I think I'm obsessed.


5. Lijiang, the sea of rooves (that is, Old Town)

6. Dali, fields of rapeseed

7. Dali, atop the ancient city walls, with one of the Three Pagodas in the background

8. Kunming, Bamboo Temple, close-up of a surfing Buddha (on the far left)


9. Kunming, Bamboo Temple, a random pavilion with more surfing Buddhas on top

10. Kunming, Western Hill

11. Kunming, Western Hill

12. Kunming, Bird and Flower Market


13. Kunming lights

14. Our merry band of travelers, from left to right: Liz, Mario, Shay, Traci, and I












This threatens to be a little out of order chronologically, but a lot has happened in the past week, so bear with me.

So I just got back from a week-long trip! Five of us from my program all went to Yunnan province, which is south of Sichuan. Our merry little group consisted of Mario, Liz, Traci, Shay, and I. We had three planned stops in Yunnan: Lijiang, Dali, and Kunming.

We arrived in Lijiang on our first night. As we came out of the airport, I knew immediately we had made the right decision coming to Yunnan. A mere glance skyward and we were all awestruck by the celestial vision above. A myriad of stars met our eyes; not just a few paltry ones, but more stars than I had seen since I was in Yosemite last March. I’d forgotten how nice it was to see them! They don’t shine in Chengdu, thanks to the impenetrable cloud-cover. In fact, I had become so accustomed to the starless nights that it hadn’t even occurred to me to look up – it was Liz that alerted us all to the sky situation.

The next morning my conviction was irrevocably affirmed. I woke up, breathed deeply, and tasted the sweet, pollution-free air. It was clean and fresh – it didn’t give the impression of inhaling grit like it does in Chengdu. That morning we noticed that the city was lined with streams, with water clean and healthy enough to support fish and plants. In Chengdu, the nearest water to my apartment is a dangerous, murky turquoise, and the only thing it supports is a putrid odor.

And the sun – oh, the sun! And the sky! The sun was so bright and wonderful. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to feel the heat of the sun on my face. And the sky was the most magnificent blue. It was such a delight to look up and actually be able to see that beautiful cerulean instead of clouds and gray and smog. In fact, I enjoyed the sun a little too much, and my face is still peeling the aftereffects. On top of that, we were surrounded by mountains – and we could see them. Theoretically Chengdu is also surrounded by mountains, but, well, it might as well not be, because we’ve never seen then. We unanimously decided that we would rather be studying in Lijiang than Chengdu. No surprise there!

The old town in Lijiang was wonderful. It had so much character! The local minority in Lijiang is called the Naxi, and the older people walked around in Naxi clothing all the time. The streets were lined in cobblestones and the original architecture was disturbed nowhere by modern-looking monstrosities.

Our main activities in Lijiang consisted of walking and biking. One day we biked all the way out of Lijiang to Baisha, a gucheng (ancient town). We even made a Chinese friend for a day, Nicole, who came with us.

One of the nice things about Lijiang was that it had plenty of distinctive food to try. One of the local specialties is called baba, which is like a thick pancake with some sort of filling on the inside. The kind I got was quite sweet and made a good snack. Another regional dish is Across-the-Bridge noodles, which is kind of like hotpot (refer to the disastrous expedition described earlier if you don’t know what hotpot is) except that it’s personal-sized and not as spicy.

I’m going to try and zoom here a little bit to keep this post from getting out of hand.

Dali was a bit unremarkable. The most exciting thing we did was rent bikes for ten kuai and go out exploring. Mario, Liz and I ended up cutting through fields filled with rapeseed and being invited in by some of the locals.

Kunming had its ups and downs. We initially decided to go there because we heard it was warm enough to be outside in a t-shirt. Our first day in Kunming, however, saw rain, fog, and weather cold enough that you could see your breath. So of course we were all out in our winters coats. T-shirts? Ha! And that day we were touring, which meant our touring experiences were hideously sub-par. In lieu of the weather, we still managed to see the Bamboo Temple, Western Hill, and Ethnic Village.

Bamboo Temple first. This temple is renowned for its numerous “surfing Buddhas” – that is, carvings of the Buddha surfing the waves of the temple on the backs of various animals. Western Hill is supposed to be gorgeous, with commanding views of the lake below. However, like I said, it was foggy, so it didn’t quite work out. As for the last of the three, we all thought Ethnic Village was going to be a real Ethnic Village. It turns out we were quite wrong. It was more like an Ethnic Disneyland.

Regardless of our suboptimal first day in Kunming, the second day was lovely. It was sunny and warm enough that I only required a light sweater. We spent a large part of the day in the Bird and Flower Market, which sells everything from cats and dogs to model airplanes made out of gun shells. At least it can be said that we certainly got our fill of souvenirs!

And with that, I end this travel post. We returned to Chengdu, depressed though moderately well-traveled, without incident. I guess it's back to school and real life now!

Highs and Lows

Some things about China are fantastic. Consider the food, for example. It’s absolutely delicious. They do such wonderful things with eggplant and tofu here. And the baked yams you can get on the street. Delectable! Another great thing about China is how cheap everything is. I got a beautiful scarf the other day for less than $3. I went on a week long vacation and spent less than $150 (including food, lodging, city-to-city transportation, sites and tours, and souvenirs). Also, a little traveling will reveal that the different cultures here are incredibly varied and amazing. That said, there are some things that are really disturbing about China. Like watching an eight-year-old girl begging for small change on the sidewalk by bending her spine in a way that should not be physically possible, holding on to a bar with her teeth, lifting herself off the ground, and spinning around (supporting her entire body weight by her teeth). Or seeing some man emaciated beyond belief, clearly incapable of moving, lying on the street in order to get a kuai or two from passers-by. Or being asked for five yuan repeatedly from a small child. That was just too much for one day.

This is going to be a picture-heavy post

Today was yet another field trip day – we went to the Panda Research Institute, which is pretty much a zoo designed to house and breed pandas. They were all out and active, which was nice, although their main activity consisted of munching on bamboo. There was one exciting moment when we saw a panda do something that did not involve eating bamboo – he had an itchy butt and we got to watch him scratch it.

Aside from that, though, the morning involved a lot of oohing and aahing at giant pandas of all ages, from the babies to the adults. We watched a short video all about giant pandas and their habits and breeding patterns and such. I’ll spare you the gory details, but in sum, there are only about 1000 pandas around these days. They are really selective about their mates and when the babies are born, they’re about the size of a large rat. They look pretty rat-like too, all white and squealy and gross. They don’t even start growing fur for a long time. Also, it seems as though only about half the babies survive. They’re super helpless when they’re born, though, which might have something to do with it.

They don’t just have giant pandas there, however. They also have red pandas, which are super cute. A bunch of us paid 50 kuai ($7) and got to hold one! It was really exciting. We had to put on plastic gloves and this blue robe and the little red panda ate apples while we held it and got our pictures taken. My roommate Sol got a fabulous one of me and my buddy the red panda (see below).

I hope you enjoy the pictures (which may not be in order, sorry). In other news, tomorrow, I officially start guqin lessons, a traditional Chinese instrument! I can’t wait.

1. Me with the adorable red panda!

2. Munchy panda

3. Baby panda!

4. Panda baby sticking out his tongue!

5. Baby Panda with attendant

6. Panda party, complete with loner

7. Red panda

8. Chinese lanterns to celebrate the Chinese New Year (we get a week off of school for this holiday, Chun jie, so I’m heading south to Yunnan province on Tuesday)

American Inside and Out

Let me just start by saying that today was the best day ever. First, we need to play a little catch-up. During the Tang Dynasty, there was this famous poet named Dufu who lived in Chengdu; his poetry was largely inspired by my current environs (although back then, there were far fewer cars and much less smog). The city of Chengdu has rebuilt his thatched cottage and surrounding gardens in his honor. For the spring festival (the Chinese New Year), the staff at Dufu’s cottage is putting on a show, complete with performances of some nature by several famous Chinese actors. There is also to be a poem read by some foreigners. My Chinese teacher, Lin Laoshi (laoshi means teacher), selected Will and I to be the requisite laowai. We will stand up in front of a large crowd and recite one of Dufu’s most famous poems. There will be camera crews there, we’ll get to meet famous people, and apparently we’re also going to be on TV. Exciting, right? It gets better. Since this is a Chinese performance, we need Chinese clothing to wear (despite our evident foreignness). So, lucky us, we are being bought Chinese clothing! We may even get to keep it after the show, although that part is still a little unclear. Accordingly, I will be wearing a qipao, a traditional Chinese dress. Since we currently have no Chinese clothing, Lin Laoshi took us costume shopping today. Okay, now we’re all up-to-date and back to present day. Like I said, we went shopping, where it was immediately apparent that I am an American through and through. In order to wear a qipao, the wearer must be quite slender. Quick disclaimer: I am plenty skinny. But let me tell you something about Chinese women. Not only are they very slim, they also have very slight hips. I went to try on a qipao, I pulled it up over my legs and – you guessed it – it got stuck around my hips. So I thought maybe it would actually work if I pulled it over my head – not so. I was definitely stuck mid-hip. The next size up presented the same problem. I ended up with the largest size, not because I am a large person, but because I have American hips, which correspond to the approximate body width of an overweight Chinese person. The sizing troubles don’t end here, however. I suppose it could be said that my waist is on par with that of a normal Chinese woman. Which means that once you get past the hips, the qipao is far too large on me. In order to compensate, I stuck with the largest size, but the people we got it from are altering it for me so I don’t look like an American sumo wrestler instead of a curly-haired Asian with extraordinarily large hips. Oh, and don’t worry – I’ll have plenty of pictures taken at the performance so I can show you all what I looked like. One more note of catching up. There are numerous street vendors here that sell lots of interesting things to munch on. Among the most pungent (and as far as I’m concerned, the most appetizing) are the baked yams. Hot, sweet deliciousness for less than 28 cents. I have been vowing ever since I smelled them the first time that one day I was going to buy myself one. So, back to the story. After costume shopping, our teacher took us on a tour of Tianfu square, the center of Chengdu. And oh man. I smelled them before I saw them. We rounded a corner, and all of a sudden it hit me. Someone was selling those baked yams. I started smelling the air with vigor. Heaven in my nose! There was no denying it – Lin Laoshi knew right away what I was craving. She bought me and Will each one yam, one palm-sized delicacy, hot and ready to eat. It was everything I had imagined and so much more. I’m still on a high from that yam.