Even though I arrived back in Beijing three weeks ago, the memories from my February travels are still fresh in my mind. Because the trip was so long (3 weeks) and so much happened, I'm going to tell you about a few of the more interesting aspects. Moreover, because so many interesting things happened and right now life is incredibly busy, I'm going to split up the Yunnan trip post into a few parts.
First, for a little bit of background, SYA took all 50 of us to Yunnan, China's large, southern province. Yunnan has a very different feel than other places I have visited in China, mostly owing to the huge percentage of ethnic minorities living in this region. Also, the terrain in Yunnan varies from wide grass lands to towering mountains. We spent most of our time in the tropical and rainforest section of the province.
Our group started out in Kunming, the capital of Yunnan province, to find our Beijing heavy winter jackets and furry mittens completely useless. The weather was stunning and we spent a day exploring the city's temples and pagodas on our own.
From Kunming, we traveled to a small village famous for its special 'dragon dance'. As soon as we got off of the bus a small troupe of dancers and musicians greeted us with a performance. Their costumes were deep, rich colors with intricate stitching and designs, and the dancers clothing had small silver bells attached that dinged wildly with their swirling movements. Not far from the performers stood a small group of little children torn between watching their mothers and aunts dance and looking at the bizarre group of scraggly American teenagers. After putting our stuff away in our very basic accommodations, we went back to the main square to find the group of children waiting. One girl, slightly older than the rest, looked at me in the eye and smiled as she bravely walked my way. Lily, as I later named her, became my tour guide for the day.
Lily, 10 years old, took my friend and I through every nook and cranny in her village. First we visited her grandmother's home and watched as the family prepared dinner. Because the village was primarily non-Han Chinese, the older generations, such as Lily's grandmother did not speak Chinese but rather their own complicated language. After visiting the house, she, took us to a look out point where a farmer was packing radishes onto a truck. She went up to him, said something, and the man handed over his foot long scythe to the 10 year old... After a moment of panic, I relaxed as Lily picked up a giant radish and artfully carved off the skin. She gave both my friend and I our own foot long radishes which we munched on as the tour continued.
From there we were led down the dirt path through the small rundown houses to a large and completely deserted group of buildings. All of the doors were barred and it was slient. Lily grabbed my hand and giggled as she dove into one of the narrow alleys. My friend tore after us and we were completely alone with the sound of our laughter echoing eerily. I later found out that the building was a deserted smoke house to make tobacco.
Lily took us all through her town. We saw the houses of her friends and family, and she was especially proud to show us her family's land. Her family owned a good portion of land on which they grew a variety of vegetables ranging from lettuce to plum trees. There was such pride in her voice when she explained what everything was and that she had helped her family plant them.
I have such a strong mental picture of leaving the village, looking on the villagers from my seat on the bus and seeing Lily's smiling face. The little girl waving to me from below had given me the best glimpse into village life I could ever get.
Expect the next section up soon!
Until then,
Julia
Song of the Week: Colors By: Amos Lee
Monday, March 16, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
KA-BOOOM
I'm back! Tonight is the last night of my one month hiatus from school, work and the real world. The past month has been a blur of exploding fireworks, steaming 饺子 (dumplings), glittering rice patties, and swaying palm trees. I did not know it was possible to experience and see so much in one month. Let me go back in time to 8 am., Sunday, the 25th of January.
'KAAA-BOOOOM!!!' **THWACK** The bang of an explosion sent me sitting up straight in bed. Well, I would have been sitting up straight if it wasn't for the wooden board supporting the bunk bed above me that I collided into with extreme force. "@#$%! OWW!" However, my cries were interrupted with more bangs, and I quicky panicked. Someone was setting off bombs somewhere very close to my hutong. I got up expecting to find my host sister Wang Qian fully awake and equally worried. Instead she rubbed her eyes and rolled over.
"王芊？" （Wang Qian）
"Mmmmhhh..."
"是什么?" （What is that？）
"放炮。” （Fireworks。）
And then I remembered. That Sunday marked the beginning of the Chinese New Years or 春节, arguably the most important holiday in China. A holiday known for eating dumplings until they come out your ears, watching marathon celebration/singing/dancing performances on tv, spending time with family, and setting off fireworks at ALL hours of the day.
This year was 牛年( The Year of the Cow) and my family spent the majority of it at my Laolao's house (maternal grandmother).
We set off mid-afternoon on Sunday to her apartment on the outskirts of Beijing where we would stay for 3 nights. When we opened the door a combination of steam, sweat and smoke greeted us. Her overheated, midsized apartment was crammed full with gaggles of relatives- the men smoking and playing cards, the women in assembly line form making mass quantities of food, and the children running around causing mahem. This was all just the start of the partying chaos. :)
After settling in and eating a huge dinner, the sunlight started to fade outside my baba pulled out a giant plastic bag. He beckoned all the kids to come outside with him and when we arrived outside the sound of more explosions reached our ears. Everywhere people were setting off fireworks, and my baba opened up the bag to pull out dozens of varying sizes and colors of fireworks. The bangs made it impossible to hear what anyone was saying, but my baba beckoned me over and gave me a match. He then pointed at the whisp of rope leading to a rather large firework. Gulp. I lit it and ran for my life in the opposite direction. KAABOOOM. My firework mixed in with the bangs of the hundreds of other fireworks going off in Beijing and a red spark shot up into the night sky. After lighting off that one, I choose to just watch the spectacular light show above me. The blinding lights and deafening noises were exciting and overwhelming. While we went back inside at just past 12:30, the party outside raged on until 3 or 4am and restarted at about 7 am.
The next several days were spent much the same way. Eat, play cards, light off fireworks. I enjoyed spending time with my host family and chatting with relatives, and occasionally escaped for long walks along the exploding streets. Going for a walk outside during the Chinese New Years is like going for a walk through a war zone. Everywhere you turn there are explosions and people ducking for cover, and you have to be very careful where you walk. Car alarms go off and the sky is constantly being lit up. However, instead of the crumbing buildings and the deserted streets of war, the only evidence of disturbances are the omnipresent scatterings of ripped red paper littered on the streets and a lingering smell of smoke. I have honestly never seen anything like Chinese New Years celebrations and it completely puts any American holiday celebration to shame.
After three days at my laolao's, Wang Qian, my baba and I headed home (my mama stayed an extra couple of days with her family) and I started to prepare for my next adventure.
Unfortunately, it's starting to get late and I want to do the next section of my adventure justice. I promise it will be posted before the week is out!
Until Next Time,
Julia Loughlin
Song of the Week:
Maps By: The Yeah Yeah Yeahs
'KAAA-BOOOOM!!!' **THWACK** The bang of an explosion sent me sitting up straight in bed. Well, I would have been sitting up straight if it wasn't for the wooden board supporting the bunk bed above me that I collided into with extreme force. "@#$%! OWW!" However, my cries were interrupted with more bangs, and I quicky panicked. Someone was setting off bombs somewhere very close to my hutong. I got up expecting to find my host sister Wang Qian fully awake and equally worried. Instead she rubbed her eyes and rolled over.
"王芊？" （Wang Qian）
"Mmmmhhh..."
"是什么?" （What is that？）
"放炮。” （Fireworks。）
And then I remembered. That Sunday marked the beginning of the Chinese New Years or 春节, arguably the most important holiday in China. A holiday known for eating dumplings until they come out your ears, watching marathon celebration/singing/dancing performances on tv, spending time with family, and setting off fireworks at ALL hours of the day.
This year was 牛年( The Year of the Cow) and my family spent the majority of it at my Laolao's house (maternal grandmother).
We set off mid-afternoon on Sunday to her apartment on the outskirts of Beijing where we would stay for 3 nights. When we opened the door a combination of steam, sweat and smoke greeted us. Her overheated, midsized apartment was crammed full with gaggles of relatives- the men smoking and playing cards, the women in assembly line form making mass quantities of food, and the children running around causing mahem. This was all just the start of the partying chaos. :)
After settling in and eating a huge dinner, the sunlight started to fade outside my baba pulled out a giant plastic bag. He beckoned all the kids to come outside with him and when we arrived outside the sound of more explosions reached our ears. Everywhere people were setting off fireworks, and my baba opened up the bag to pull out dozens of varying sizes and colors of fireworks. The bangs made it impossible to hear what anyone was saying, but my baba beckoned me over and gave me a match. He then pointed at the whisp of rope leading to a rather large firework. Gulp. I lit it and ran for my life in the opposite direction. KAABOOOM. My firework mixed in with the bangs of the hundreds of other fireworks going off in Beijing and a red spark shot up into the night sky. After lighting off that one, I choose to just watch the spectacular light show above me. The blinding lights and deafening noises were exciting and overwhelming. While we went back inside at just past 12:30, the party outside raged on until 3 or 4am and restarted at about 7 am.
The next several days were spent much the same way. Eat, play cards, light off fireworks. I enjoyed spending time with my host family and chatting with relatives, and occasionally escaped for long walks along the exploding streets. Going for a walk outside during the Chinese New Years is like going for a walk through a war zone. Everywhere you turn there are explosions and people ducking for cover, and you have to be very careful where you walk. Car alarms go off and the sky is constantly being lit up. However, instead of the crumbing buildings and the deserted streets of war, the only evidence of disturbances are the omnipresent scatterings of ripped red paper littered on the streets and a lingering smell of smoke. I have honestly never seen anything like Chinese New Years celebrations and it completely puts any American holiday celebration to shame.
After three days at my laolao's, Wang Qian, my baba and I headed home (my mama stayed an extra couple of days with her family) and I started to prepare for my next adventure.
Unfortunately, it's starting to get late and I want to do the next section of my adventure justice. I promise it will be posted before the week is out!
Until Next Time,
Julia Loughlin
Song of the Week:
Maps By: The Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Family Adventures
It seems I am incapable of producing a blog post with any regularity. I have excuses, but you don't want to hear them, so I will spare you :).
Even though it has been about a 2 weeks since arriving back in Beijing after two wonderful weeks of travel with my family, the memories are still fresh in my mind.
The week before my family I arrived I was itching to see them. I counted down the day, 7,6,5.... and so on until Friday afternoon I got an email from my dad, "We are in Beijing!" My family, who I had not seen and had missed so badly for 4 months was finally in my reaches. I raced home to my hutong near where my parents hotel was. I found my mom sitting in hotel lobby waiting, fighting off her jet lag while my father and brother had succumbed to it and fallen into bed. To be able to hug my family and actually see them for the first time in so long, not just as fuzzy pictures on my computer screen, is a feeling I can't really describe. After the happy reunion and a SYA Christmas Party, the trip really began.
We all arose bright and early (to my brother's extreme dismay) and headed off to the Great Wall with my good friend, Stephanie, and her family. After enjoying several hours strolling the Wall's tumultuous hills, we headed off to the Ming tombs, several burial sites of emperors long gone. We had a tour guide, and it was a wonderful feeling to hear her tell my family little bits about Chinese culture and then, having already studied most of them, elaborate and teach them what I have been learning about.
After a long day, we headed home to have dinner with my host family and when we arrived I discovered that my mama had prepared nothing short of a feast. There must have been 8 or 9 dishes of various dofu's, meat's, vegetables and all sort of CHinese cuisine. Having already prepared my family for this possibility, they tried a little bit of everything and kept up a constant stream of praise for my mama's cooking. It was a little funny to watch them struggle with their chopsticks, but after several dropped mouthfuls into laps and onto the floor, they got the hang of it. After I thought they might all burst from so much food, my mama, who did not eat anything but watched and piled things on their plates, said, "现在我们吃饺子。“ Translation- Now come the dumplings.
Uhoh. My mama made a grand total of 4 trips into the kitchen to bring out 2 bowls of lamb jiaozi, 2 bowls of vegetable jiaozi, and a bowl of beef jiaozi. I thought my family might start to cry when they saw the 2nd round of food, but if they just smiled and polietly stuffed as many dumplings into their mouths as possible in between the cries of, "UMMM! Delicious!" and "The best Chinese food I've ever eaten!" I would like to make special note of the real hero of the night, my brother. As a 6'1" kid with not an ounce of fat on his bones, his plate was immediately the target of my mama's heavy scooping spoon. He ate more food than any human being, Chinese or otherwise, I have ever seen. Though generally a picky eater and absolutely allergic to anything healthy or vegetarian Esq, he put down more dofu, radish, and spinach than I though humanely possible. I was so proud of all of them, but him in particular for his enthusiasm and wonderful attitude around my Chinese family. Beyond proving themselves competition worthy eaters, my family communicated with my family beautifully. Though they had help from Wang Qian, and myself, my family basically held their own and covered issues from the one child policy to what Americans really think of Bush (lots of laughs on that one...). To watch my two families not only accept each other and get to know each other, but also have a wonderful time in each others company made me realize how incredibly lucky I am. Most people are lucky to have one solid, loving and caring family, but I have two.
After several days in Beijing, showing my parents my favorite places and introducing them to some of my friends, we were off. First stop, Lijiang, a relatively well known city in Yunnan. Lijiang is beautiful and we spent most of our time in parks and in the old town. Here are a few pictures that will probably do I better job than I will of showing you Lijiang.
Then after a VERY long 7 hour car ride, we arrived in Zhongdian, or Shangrila as it was renamed a few years ago. Zhongdian, also in Yunnan province, is the sight of a huge Lama Temple that houses near 700 monks. This area was a former Tibetan territory and when we visited this culture was extremely apparent in the atmosphere of the place. Everywhere we went the people were dressed in very traditional and colorful Tibetan grab and the architecture or the homes was like no Han Chinese home I have seen before. Cows, pigs and yaks roamed the gravel paths and monks ranging any where from 10 to 60 strolled solemnly through the giant temple. The temple itself is a giant edifice set on a hill with a long line of steps leading to the main entrance. Inside there are many giant brass and silver prayer wheels and colorful murals depicting the scripture's stories on the walls. Unfortunately, not pictures were allowed inside of the temple but here are a few from the area.
It was beautiful and wonderful to see such a starkly different part of China.
From there we headed to Shanghai. Shanghai and Beijing are often compared and judged against each other, leaving Beijing to be the "Washington DC" of China while Shanghai is the "Manhattan". This comparison held up and Shanghai truly is a cosmopolitan and international city. But because of its extreme similarities to New York and London, it wasn't nearly as interesting as the other places we visited. Besides that, the weather was absolutely atrocious and this was our view from the bund, the most famous sight in Shanghai.
Rather anti-climactic, but the shopping was fabulous :).
We all left Shanghai ready for something other than a huge bustling city and found ourselves in Hangzhou, our last stop on the trip. Famed for having been called the most beautiful place in China by Marco Polo, Hangzhou is a city of 7 million set near a giant lake resort area. It is the most beautiful place I have thus seen in China and there was a certain magic to the way the sun sparkled on the lake and the willow trees dipped their branches low to skim the surface. We stayed on the outskirts of the city, and other than visiting a temple and garden, my family spent our last days together for the next 5 months strolling over ancient marble bridges and watching birds scoop low to hover above the vast lake. One night my mom, dad and I went to see a performance Hangzhou is famous for. I was afraid it was going to be a giant tourist trap, and perhaps it was a little bit seeing as the audience was almost entirely comprised of foreigners, but it was most tastefully done tourist trap I have ever experienced. Disney World/Land should take notes. The show started at 8 and it was outdoors on bleachers on the edge of the lake. Suddenly the lake lit up and a beautiful score began to play. From the middle of the lake rose a figure, and he seemed to float on the water. The show was the folk lore of the town and a sad love story intertwined and preformed entirely on platforms just below the waters surface. There were drums and a fantastic light show that not only lit up the small section of the lake we sat near, but a huge area. It was the best set for a show I have ever seen. To give you an idea of the scale of this performance, I found out afterwards that the staging and lights were done by the same man who helped to direct the Olympics opening ceremony. In short, it was awesome.
After several days of relaxing and enjoying each others company, my family flew on to Hong Kong and then home and I flew on to my home. It was hard to see them go, but I feel better knowing that they have seen how I live now and that they know I am happy :).
Well, its late and I have the SAT this Saturday... *gulp*...
Study time!
Until Next Time,
Julia Loughlin
Song of the Week
I Miss You by: Incubus
Even though it has been about a 2 weeks since arriving back in Beijing after two wonderful weeks of travel with my family, the memories are still fresh in my mind.
The week before my family I arrived I was itching to see them. I counted down the day, 7,6,5.... and so on until Friday afternoon I got an email from my dad, "We are in Beijing!" My family, who I had not seen and had missed so badly for 4 months was finally in my reaches. I raced home to my hutong near where my parents hotel was. I found my mom sitting in hotel lobby waiting, fighting off her jet lag while my father and brother had succumbed to it and fallen into bed. To be able to hug my family and actually see them for the first time in so long, not just as fuzzy pictures on my computer screen, is a feeling I can't really describe. After the happy reunion and a SYA Christmas Party, the trip really began.
We all arose bright and early (to my brother's extreme dismay) and headed off to the Great Wall with my good friend, Stephanie, and her family. After enjoying several hours strolling the Wall's tumultuous hills, we headed off to the Ming tombs, several burial sites of emperors long gone. We had a tour guide, and it was a wonderful feeling to hear her tell my family little bits about Chinese culture and then, having already studied most of them, elaborate and teach them what I have been learning about.
After a long day, we headed home to have dinner with my host family and when we arrived I discovered that my mama had prepared nothing short of a feast. There must have been 8 or 9 dishes of various dofu's, meat's, vegetables and all sort of CHinese cuisine. Having already prepared my family for this possibility, they tried a little bit of everything and kept up a constant stream of praise for my mama's cooking. It was a little funny to watch them struggle with their chopsticks, but after several dropped mouthfuls into laps and onto the floor, they got the hang of it. After I thought they might all burst from so much food, my mama, who did not eat anything but watched and piled things on their plates, said, "现在我们吃饺子。“ Translation- Now come the dumplings.
Uhoh. My mama made a grand total of 4 trips into the kitchen to bring out 2 bowls of lamb jiaozi, 2 bowls of vegetable jiaozi, and a bowl of beef jiaozi. I thought my family might start to cry when they saw the 2nd round of food, but if they just smiled and polietly stuffed as many dumplings into their mouths as possible in between the cries of, "UMMM! Delicious!" and "The best Chinese food I've ever eaten!" I would like to make special note of the real hero of the night, my brother. As a 6'1" kid with not an ounce of fat on his bones, his plate was immediately the target of my mama's heavy scooping spoon. He ate more food than any human being, Chinese or otherwise, I have ever seen. Though generally a picky eater and absolutely allergic to anything healthy or vegetarian Esq, he put down more dofu, radish, and spinach than I though humanely possible. I was so proud of all of them, but him in particular for his enthusiasm and wonderful attitude around my Chinese family. Beyond proving themselves competition worthy eaters, my family communicated with my family beautifully. Though they had help from Wang Qian, and myself, my family basically held their own and covered issues from the one child policy to what Americans really think of Bush (lots of laughs on that one...). To watch my two families not only accept each other and get to know each other, but also have a wonderful time in each others company made me realize how incredibly lucky I am. Most people are lucky to have one solid, loving and caring family, but I have two.
After several days in Beijing, showing my parents my favorite places and introducing them to some of my friends, we were off. First stop, Lijiang, a relatively well known city in Yunnan. Lijiang is beautiful and we spent most of our time in parks and in the old town. Here are a few pictures that will probably do I better job than I will of showing you Lijiang.
Then after a VERY long 7 hour car ride, we arrived in Zhongdian, or Shangrila as it was renamed a few years ago. Zhongdian, also in Yunnan province, is the sight of a huge Lama Temple that houses near 700 monks. This area was a former Tibetan territory and when we visited this culture was extremely apparent in the atmosphere of the place. Everywhere we went the people were dressed in very traditional and colorful Tibetan grab and the architecture or the homes was like no Han Chinese home I have seen before. Cows, pigs and yaks roamed the gravel paths and monks ranging any where from 10 to 60 strolled solemnly through the giant temple. The temple itself is a giant edifice set on a hill with a long line of steps leading to the main entrance. Inside there are many giant brass and silver prayer wheels and colorful murals depicting the scripture's stories on the walls. Unfortunately, not pictures were allowed inside of the temple but here are a few from the area.
It was beautiful and wonderful to see such a starkly different part of China.
From there we headed to Shanghai. Shanghai and Beijing are often compared and judged against each other, leaving Beijing to be the "Washington DC" of China while Shanghai is the "Manhattan". This comparison held up and Shanghai truly is a cosmopolitan and international city. But because of its extreme similarities to New York and London, it wasn't nearly as interesting as the other places we visited. Besides that, the weather was absolutely atrocious and this was our view from the bund, the most famous sight in Shanghai.
Rather anti-climactic, but the shopping was fabulous :).
We all left Shanghai ready for something other than a huge bustling city and found ourselves in Hangzhou, our last stop on the trip. Famed for having been called the most beautiful place in China by Marco Polo, Hangzhou is a city of 7 million set near a giant lake resort area. It is the most beautiful place I have thus seen in China and there was a certain magic to the way the sun sparkled on the lake and the willow trees dipped their branches low to skim the surface. We stayed on the outskirts of the city, and other than visiting a temple and garden, my family spent our last days together for the next 5 months strolling over ancient marble bridges and watching birds scoop low to hover above the vast lake. One night my mom, dad and I went to see a performance Hangzhou is famous for. I was afraid it was going to be a giant tourist trap, and perhaps it was a little bit seeing as the audience was almost entirely comprised of foreigners, but it was most tastefully done tourist trap I have ever experienced. Disney World/Land should take notes. The show started at 8 and it was outdoors on bleachers on the edge of the lake. Suddenly the lake lit up and a beautiful score began to play. From the middle of the lake rose a figure, and he seemed to float on the water. The show was the folk lore of the town and a sad love story intertwined and preformed entirely on platforms just below the waters surface. There were drums and a fantastic light show that not only lit up the small section of the lake we sat near, but a huge area. It was the best set for a show I have ever seen. To give you an idea of the scale of this performance, I found out afterwards that the staging and lights were done by the same man who helped to direct the Olympics opening ceremony. In short, it was awesome.
After several days of relaxing and enjoying each others company, my family flew on to Hong Kong and then home and I flew on to my home. It was hard to see them go, but I feel better knowing that they have seen how I live now and that they know I am happy :).
Well, its late and I have the SAT this Saturday... *gulp*...
Study time!
Until Next Time,
Julia Loughlin
Song of the Week
I Miss You by: Incubus
Friday, January 2, 2009
A Taste of Hutong Life
Sorry for the extreme delay in post! I just returned from a two week vacation with my real family through Beijing, Lijiang, Shangrila, Shanghai, and Hangzhou. It was an absolutely wonderful trip and seeing my family was amazing. I was happy to see them in good health and humor, and loved watching them explore the city I now call home. I have a very long blog in the works because there is much to say about our travels through China, but first I'd like to post another English essay I wrote shortly before my winter break. In English we read an essay from the book Wild Grass by Ian Johnson about the destruction of historic hutongs for new real estate developments. Then our English teacher assigned us to go on a scavenger hunt through the city visiting some of the sights mentioned in the essay and talking with current hutong residents. We then had to pick one of the items on the list that we had completed and write about it. As a hutong dweller, I had many interviews with the people living around me to find out more about what they thought of hutong life. Hope you like it!
The deep rattling sucking noise of phlegm climbing up a throat like a locomotive chugging out of a tunnel. Then the pronounced, heavy spit into a sink. It is so loud it sounds as if it were happening in the room, even though I know it is occurring just outside the hutong's paper thin walls. I used to shudder every time I heard it but today I don't even look up from my Chinese homework. Half way through writing the next character my sliding door is thrown wide open. At the door way stands my 7 year old mischievous neighbor with an impish grin spread across his face. Today he has donned a stained cartoon Spider man t-shirt, but has forgotten the bottom half of the outfit. He takes one look at me, laughs, and runs back into my family's living room where my host parents sit apparently oblivious to the intrusion. After being ignored for several seconds he takes off, giggling, back to his own section of the hutong.
When my English teacher assigned our class a scavenger hunt to find various hutong locations in Beijing, I was ready to learn more about the fast disappearing edifices. After having read Wild Grass by Ian Johnson in class, and hearing his views on the government's destruction of hutongs, our mission was to find some of the oldest hutongs in Beijing, see some of the new real-estate developments that have replaced destroyed hutongs, and talk to residents of the ancient courtyard homes. Half of the locations on the list were in my backyard, the closest being Ju'er Hutong, an ancient alley about 3 minutes from my home. I scouted out most of the locations on the list and found it very interesting, however, it was the conversations with hutong residents that were most informative and enlightening.
My host father sits across from me on a cracked pink plastic lawn chair. I ask him what he thinks of living in a hutong. He looks at me thoughtfully for a moment from behind his wire rimmed spectacles, his fingers laced on his lap. He tells me that he has lived in hutongs his whole life. Even today, his mother lives in the hutong he grew up in, not far from the one he owns now which means he can see his 70 year old mother everyday. My host father's eyes have a glint of nostalgia as he recounts his memories of growing up in a hutong. He tells me of his childhood adventures ice skating on the Hou Hai lake, just a 5 minute walk from his home, and playing tag with his siblings through the snaking alley ways. He admits, life was simple and there wasn’t a lot of space, but that there was an incredible sense of community between all the hutong dwellers. Today, this sense of community is still a main reason my host father likes hutong life. "I know every single person in this hutong," he tells me proudly. Moreover, he says that this kind of community is the perfect atmosphere to raise a child in. His own daughter, Wang Qian, now grown up and away at college, grew up in a safe and kid friendly environment. All of the other hutong residents looked out for her when necessary and because the neighborhood was very quiet with few cars daring to wedge their way through the narrow alley, there were no worries when she wanted to play in the street.
When I ask my host father if he finds living in a hutong comfortable, his eye brows knit tightly. He concedes that it isn't very big and some hutongs are not in good condition, but that his hutong has every thing his family needed. There is hot water, enough room for Wang Qian to have her own bedroom, and a sizable living room. Moreover, when I ask him what he thinks about living in an apartment in comparison to living in a hutong, I find out that he actually owns a 3 bedroom apartment in Beijing, but rents it out because he doesn't find it as comfortable.
Wang Qian sits on the faded white sofa with her laptop in her hands, her Ipod to her left, and a brand box set collection of Gossip Girl DVDs to her right. She glances past me at the shiny flat screen screen TV on which a group of game show contestants try to jump from Styrofoam block to swinging rope over a pool of water. Splash, a contest falls and Wang Qian’s focus jumps back to me. “What about hutongs?” I repeated my question of whether or not she liked living in a hutong. A familiar thoughtful look crosses her face. She tells me that it was where she had grown up and made her friends. She admits it’s not a fancy, new apartment, but it has what she needs, being most importantly wireless Internet and central heating. She adds that living in a hutong means you live in some of the best and most central locations in Beijing. Behai Park, Jingshan Park, Hou Hai, Wangfujin, and the Forbidden city are all at her fingertips, and if that means living in slightly cramped quarters rather than a modern apartment, she’d take it.
Living in a hutong means noise, interruptions, and sometimes not as much privacy as you would like. I’ve lost count of the times my little monster of a neighor has run into my hutong just to throw the sliding door open. I can’t remember how many times the dog that lives next door has followed me into my house just to beg for dinner scraps. And I certainly know that I have heard that same neighbor hack leughies every morning without fail, but I love it. Based on my scavenger hunt assignment to have conversations with hutong residents, I learned that many of them feel the same way I do about hutong life. Yes, sometimes we have to sacrifice a little bit of personal space and be patient with the peole we live in such close quarters with, but the reward is the incredible sense of community only a hutong can offer.
The deep rattling sucking noise of phlegm climbing up a throat like a locomotive chugging out of a tunnel. Then the pronounced, heavy spit into a sink. It is so loud it sounds as if it were happening in the room, even though I know it is occurring just outside the hutong's paper thin walls. I used to shudder every time I heard it but today I don't even look up from my Chinese homework. Half way through writing the next character my sliding door is thrown wide open. At the door way stands my 7 year old mischievous neighbor with an impish grin spread across his face. Today he has donned a stained cartoon Spider man t-shirt, but has forgotten the bottom half of the outfit. He takes one look at me, laughs, and runs back into my family's living room where my host parents sit apparently oblivious to the intrusion. After being ignored for several seconds he takes off, giggling, back to his own section of the hutong.
When my English teacher assigned our class a scavenger hunt to find various hutong locations in Beijing, I was ready to learn more about the fast disappearing edifices. After having read Wild Grass by Ian Johnson in class, and hearing his views on the government's destruction of hutongs, our mission was to find some of the oldest hutongs in Beijing, see some of the new real-estate developments that have replaced destroyed hutongs, and talk to residents of the ancient courtyard homes. Half of the locations on the list were in my backyard, the closest being Ju'er Hutong, an ancient alley about 3 minutes from my home. I scouted out most of the locations on the list and found it very interesting, however, it was the conversations with hutong residents that were most informative and enlightening.
My host father sits across from me on a cracked pink plastic lawn chair. I ask him what he thinks of living in a hutong. He looks at me thoughtfully for a moment from behind his wire rimmed spectacles, his fingers laced on his lap. He tells me that he has lived in hutongs his whole life. Even today, his mother lives in the hutong he grew up in, not far from the one he owns now which means he can see his 70 year old mother everyday. My host father's eyes have a glint of nostalgia as he recounts his memories of growing up in a hutong. He tells me of his childhood adventures ice skating on the Hou Hai lake, just a 5 minute walk from his home, and playing tag with his siblings through the snaking alley ways. He admits, life was simple and there wasn’t a lot of space, but that there was an incredible sense of community between all the hutong dwellers. Today, this sense of community is still a main reason my host father likes hutong life. "I know every single person in this hutong," he tells me proudly. Moreover, he says that this kind of community is the perfect atmosphere to raise a child in. His own daughter, Wang Qian, now grown up and away at college, grew up in a safe and kid friendly environment. All of the other hutong residents looked out for her when necessary and because the neighborhood was very quiet with few cars daring to wedge their way through the narrow alley, there were no worries when she wanted to play in the street.
When I ask my host father if he finds living in a hutong comfortable, his eye brows knit tightly. He concedes that it isn't very big and some hutongs are not in good condition, but that his hutong has every thing his family needed. There is hot water, enough room for Wang Qian to have her own bedroom, and a sizable living room. Moreover, when I ask him what he thinks about living in an apartment in comparison to living in a hutong, I find out that he actually owns a 3 bedroom apartment in Beijing, but rents it out because he doesn't find it as comfortable.
Wang Qian sits on the faded white sofa with her laptop in her hands, her Ipod to her left, and a brand box set collection of Gossip Girl DVDs to her right. She glances past me at the shiny flat screen screen TV on which a group of game show contestants try to jump from Styrofoam block to swinging rope over a pool of water. Splash, a contest falls and Wang Qian’s focus jumps back to me. “What about hutongs?” I repeated my question of whether or not she liked living in a hutong. A familiar thoughtful look crosses her face. She tells me that it was where she had grown up and made her friends. She admits it’s not a fancy, new apartment, but it has what she needs, being most importantly wireless Internet and central heating. She adds that living in a hutong means you live in some of the best and most central locations in Beijing. Behai Park, Jingshan Park, Hou Hai, Wangfujin, and the Forbidden city are all at her fingertips, and if that means living in slightly cramped quarters rather than a modern apartment, she’d take it.
Living in a hutong means noise, interruptions, and sometimes not as much privacy as you would like. I’ve lost count of the times my little monster of a neighor has run into my hutong just to throw the sliding door open. I can’t remember how many times the dog that lives next door has followed me into my house just to beg for dinner scraps. And I certainly know that I have heard that same neighbor hack leughies every morning without fail, but I love it. Based on my scavenger hunt assignment to have conversations with hutong residents, I learned that many of them feel the same way I do about hutong life. Yes, sometimes we have to sacrifice a little bit of personal space and be patient with the peole we live in such close quarters with, but the reward is the incredible sense of community only a hutong can offer.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
我有一点但心！
Public speaking has never been my strong point. Every time I get in front of a podium my hands start to sweat and I become twitchy and shaky. My thoughts race and my stomach feels like its about to empty its contents into the front row. I stutter, I forget things, and have incredibly long pauses during which the audience shifts uncomfortably in their seats. I hate everything about it. That's how I feel about giving speeches in English, now imagine how I must have felt when I was told I would have to give a 2 minute, completely memorized speech in Chinese to my classmates, teachers and the host parents. My thought process went something like this (perhaps with stronger language...) 'Oh-My-God. This is the kind of thing they should have warned me about before coming to China! I'm going to puke all over my Chinese teachers in the front row! Can I fake sick that day? What am I going to do? AGGGGHHHH!'
Yeah, something like that. So I started writing. I spent several hours pouring over my text books stringing together a short story/speech type thing (actually based on my last blog post) and was feeling pretty good about it. I had it almost memorized three days before the speeches where to be delivered and my host dad asked to see it. So, I stood awkwardly in the middle of our small combo living/dining room with him sitting before me ready to correct, and I started going through the speech. I didn't even make it to the middle before my dad stopped me and told me it was horrible. Not only were my tones wrong, but the story itself wasn't clear. This point blank criticism is something I have a lot of difficulty swallowing. I'm not used to having people tell me that something I worked hard on is awful, but a common trait amongst Chinese people is this sometimes painful frankness. So, wonderful, hours and hours down the drain and all I had to show for it was a crappy speech and seriously bruised ego. So, after 20 minutes hiding out in my room fuming internally about how baba had no idea what he was talking about and freaking out because I only had 3 days left to reconstruct my speech I emerged red eyed and humbled. “爸爸， 你可以帮我马？” (Dad, can you help me?) He could tell I was upset and spent an hour with me reworking the story. What came out of it was a much better story and the agreement that my baba would come watch me.
So the next three days I memorized, edited, and worked hard. I said my speech to myself riding my bike, in the shower, while running and before going to bed. By Tuesday morning I had it down. I was the 19th person on the list and as the number of people before me slowly shrank, the butterflies in my stomach grew. I wouldn't call them butterflies, more like herds of wild buffalo stampeding through. Then the 18th person finished. Oh, no. They called me up and I stumbled to the stage. My hands went clammy and my stomach twisted into knots. I got behind the podium and looked onto the 70 odd people sitting there, most of them bored out of their minds. I opened my mouth and... choked.
Just kidding! I remembered everything and even got a few laughs. My tones were pretty mediocre but I got through it with reasonable clarity and smoothness. It wasn't perfect and it certainly was not the best one, but it was the best I could have ever managed. : ) I saw my baba afterwards and he said it was, "不错。“ (not bad) That's a pretty big compliment coming from him so I was happy.
Well, now its 10:10 and I have to go rememorize the province map of China.
Until Next Time,
王芸 Wang Yun （aka Julia Loughlin）
Yeah, something like that. So I started writing. I spent several hours pouring over my text books stringing together a short story/speech type thing (actually based on my last blog post) and was feeling pretty good about it. I had it almost memorized three days before the speeches where to be delivered and my host dad asked to see it. So, I stood awkwardly in the middle of our small combo living/dining room with him sitting before me ready to correct, and I started going through the speech. I didn't even make it to the middle before my dad stopped me and told me it was horrible. Not only were my tones wrong, but the story itself wasn't clear. This point blank criticism is something I have a lot of difficulty swallowing. I'm not used to having people tell me that something I worked hard on is awful, but a common trait amongst Chinese people is this sometimes painful frankness. So, wonderful, hours and hours down the drain and all I had to show for it was a crappy speech and seriously bruised ego. So, after 20 minutes hiding out in my room fuming internally about how baba had no idea what he was talking about and freaking out because I only had 3 days left to reconstruct my speech I emerged red eyed and humbled. “爸爸， 你可以帮我马？” (Dad, can you help me?) He could tell I was upset and spent an hour with me reworking the story. What came out of it was a much better story and the agreement that my baba would come watch me.
So the next three days I memorized, edited, and worked hard. I said my speech to myself riding my bike, in the shower, while running and before going to bed. By Tuesday morning I had it down. I was the 19th person on the list and as the number of people before me slowly shrank, the butterflies in my stomach grew. I wouldn't call them butterflies, more like herds of wild buffalo stampeding through. Then the 18th person finished. Oh, no. They called me up and I stumbled to the stage. My hands went clammy and my stomach twisted into knots. I got behind the podium and looked onto the 70 odd people sitting there, most of them bored out of their minds. I opened my mouth and... choked.
Just kidding! I remembered everything and even got a few laughs. My tones were pretty mediocre but I got through it with reasonable clarity and smoothness. It wasn't perfect and it certainly was not the best one, but it was the best I could have ever managed. : ) I saw my baba afterwards and he said it was, "不错。“ (not bad) That's a pretty big compliment coming from him so I was happy.
Well, now its 10:10 and I have to go rememorize the province map of China.
Until Next Time,
王芸 Wang Yun （aka Julia Loughlin）
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Ta de kuzi zai nar?
First of, my sincere apologies for my extreme delay in blog post. I spent from November 2nd to the 15th traveling and have since then been putting off writing a travel entry. Unfortunately, it's still not finished so to keep you updated until then I will write about my time back in Beijing since then.
Traveling was wonderful, don't get me wrong, but when I stepped off of the train into Beijing's railroad station I wanted to fling my backpack off and kiss the filthy ground beneath my feet. I was home. Beijing finally felt like home. The air was brisk and bit my nose and cheeks, and I was shuffled around roughly by the impatient crowd waiting to exit, but I couldn't care less. I got out of the station and promptly hopped on the subway to my hutong. I never would have thought I could miss my flat as a board bed or the way I can hear my next door neighbor hack lugies every morning, but I really did. :)
My baba was waiting on the sofa when I arrived. "WANG YUN! ZENMEYANG? NI SHOU LE!" (How are you? You got skinnier!) He enthusiastically grabbed my back pack off my back and gave me a hug. Hugs in China are a big deal. You don't just hug your parents for any reason, and I remembered back on the first day when I tried to give my baba a hug it was received with several awkward pats on the back. It really was an excellent indicator to me of how much my relationship with him has grown. It was one of the best greetings I have ever experienced. My mama was still at work and my jiejie didn't arrive until later that afternoon, but when they saw me that night they seemed genuinely happy to have me back.
After the enthusiastic greeting I headed off to unpack. Upon first unzipping the bag, I immediately shut it again and gagged a little. 2 weeks with 3 shirts, 2 pants, 2 shorts, only 10 pairs of underwear and socks, no laundry, and about 6 showers in total added up to a bag of stink. I left the bag on the floor, firmly sealed, and instead decided to go to the gym.
During our travels it was, for the most part, very warm. Shorts and t-shirts weather most days. So I, brimming with common sense as most of you know, put on a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and a fleece for good measure...
My gym is about a 45 minute bike ride from my house and by the time I rounded the first intersection past Behai park, I knew I had made a mistake. Beijing's winter had set it and it could have been at most about 40 degrees out. Apparently I was not the only one questioning my sanity because as I rode people stopped, stared, gawked, and pointed. Several of them shouted out things as I past. "Ni leng bu leng?!?" "Weishenme ni mei you kuzi?" "Nide kuzi zai nar?" (Aren't you cold? Why don't you have pants? Where did your pants go?) My favorite was just as I turned into the gym entrance, my legs a nasty shade of purple and my hands a deep grey, a little kid saw me and said to his mother, "Waiguo ren bu xihuan chuan kuzi ma?" (Foreigners don't like to wear pants?) To which his mother responded, "Bu dui, na ge waiguo ren hen ben." (Not true, that foreigner is just very stupid.) And at that moment my only thought was "Wo tongyi." (I agree.)
Besides my warm welcome home, and idiotic adventures with no pants, I have been studying hard and doing my best to explore as much of the city as is possible. My real Mama, Baba, and Didi (younger brother) will be here in 3 weeks (YAY!!!) and I still am working on planning out their trip... If they don't bring me good stuff from home and behave very well while I'm their tour guide I plan to take them to eat chou dofu (stinky tofu, really nasty stuff ) for every meal and make them use the bus system at rush hour. :) (Hint: I haven't eaten Special K in 3 months and I really miss it...)
Anyway, it is past my bed time and I must go now.
Until Next Time,
Jules
Song of the Week
Summertime by: Sublime
Traveling was wonderful, don't get me wrong, but when I stepped off of the train into Beijing's railroad station I wanted to fling my backpack off and kiss the filthy ground beneath my feet. I was home. Beijing finally felt like home. The air was brisk and bit my nose and cheeks, and I was shuffled around roughly by the impatient crowd waiting to exit, but I couldn't care less. I got out of the station and promptly hopped on the subway to my hutong. I never would have thought I could miss my flat as a board bed or the way I can hear my next door neighbor hack lugies every morning, but I really did. :)
My baba was waiting on the sofa when I arrived. "WANG YUN! ZENMEYANG? NI SHOU LE!" (How are you? You got skinnier!) He enthusiastically grabbed my back pack off my back and gave me a hug. Hugs in China are a big deal. You don't just hug your parents for any reason, and I remembered back on the first day when I tried to give my baba a hug it was received with several awkward pats on the back. It really was an excellent indicator to me of how much my relationship with him has grown. It was one of the best greetings I have ever experienced. My mama was still at work and my jiejie didn't arrive until later that afternoon, but when they saw me that night they seemed genuinely happy to have me back.
After the enthusiastic greeting I headed off to unpack. Upon first unzipping the bag, I immediately shut it again and gagged a little. 2 weeks with 3 shirts, 2 pants, 2 shorts, only 10 pairs of underwear and socks, no laundry, and about 6 showers in total added up to a bag of stink. I left the bag on the floor, firmly sealed, and instead decided to go to the gym.
During our travels it was, for the most part, very warm. Shorts and t-shirts weather most days. So I, brimming with common sense as most of you know, put on a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and a fleece for good measure...
My gym is about a 45 minute bike ride from my house and by the time I rounded the first intersection past Behai park, I knew I had made a mistake. Beijing's winter had set it and it could have been at most about 40 degrees out. Apparently I was not the only one questioning my sanity because as I rode people stopped, stared, gawked, and pointed. Several of them shouted out things as I past. "Ni leng bu leng?!?" "Weishenme ni mei you kuzi?" "Nide kuzi zai nar?" (Aren't you cold? Why don't you have pants? Where did your pants go?) My favorite was just as I turned into the gym entrance, my legs a nasty shade of purple and my hands a deep grey, a little kid saw me and said to his mother, "Waiguo ren bu xihuan chuan kuzi ma?" (Foreigners don't like to wear pants?) To which his mother responded, "Bu dui, na ge waiguo ren hen ben." (Not true, that foreigner is just very stupid.) And at that moment my only thought was "Wo tongyi." (I agree.)
Besides my warm welcome home, and idiotic adventures with no pants, I have been studying hard and doing my best to explore as much of the city as is possible. My real Mama, Baba, and Didi (younger brother) will be here in 3 weeks (YAY!!!) and I still am working on planning out their trip... If they don't bring me good stuff from home and behave very well while I'm their tour guide I plan to take them to eat chou dofu (stinky tofu, really nasty stuff ) for every meal and make them use the bus system at rush hour. :) (Hint: I haven't eaten Special K in 3 months and I really miss it...)
Anyway, it is past my bed time and I must go now.
Until Next Time,
Jules
Song of the Week
Summertime by: Sublime
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Sick... But Happy?
Sorry for the delay in post. I have dozens of excuses, but I don't think you want to hear all of them so please forgive me for taking so long to write to you and thank you for your patience (for the most part...)
Last week was midterms week so you can probably imagine the scene. 50 odd electric blue bundles of nerves zipping through the hall, scribbling clumsy characters on white boards, and ripping out their hair. (Actually, my hair is currently falling out an alarming pace due to stress (I think) so I refrained from the hair ripping.) So, in a word, it was chaos. I experienced mid term week in a slightly different way than most people because my Chinese teachers decided I could move up from Chinese 2 to Chinese 3. That's good news right? Here's the catch, I had 7 chapters between the two classes to catch up on by myself and one week to do it. All of my grades from the first quarter of Chinese classes, which were reasonably good, were cancelled and I start fresh with level 3. I not only had to take my Chinese midterms from level 2 (and do well on them), but also take a midterm Monday for a class 4 chapters ahead. When I found this out, one thought dominated my head and I vocalized it frequently...
AHHHHHHHHHHHH!
As you can see I was a little bit stressed out... ok, a lot stressed out, but clearly, because I am writing this, I survived without throwing myself from the 6th floor window were our SYA classes take place. The midterms were hard, but I think I did ok on them (I haven't gotten them back yet). Unfortunately, the late night studying took its toll and today I came home from school sick.
I would have thought that being sick in a country half way across the world from my friends and family would be a reasonably tramuatic experience. Rather, it has actually made me see the bonds I have made with people here. For example, when I biked home and passed out in bed for 3 hours, I awoke to my baba rushing through the door to make sure I was ok and then proceeding to make me lunch and tea. My mama was equally concerned and would not stop fussing over me until I resembled an arctic explorer with all my sweatshirts, pants, gloves, scarves, and hat. I then waddled back to my room to do homework with repeated check in's from both of them. It may seem silly to you but the fact that they cared so much for my well being really made me feel better. I didn't know you could be happy and be sick at the same time, but it seems to be possible :)
Now, I feel somewhat better, although my mama is convinced I still have a fever. Right now she is edging around the door, surely about to tell me it is time for sleep. I completely agree with her and off to bed I go.
Until Next Time
Jules
Song of the Day:
Clarity By: John Mayer
Last week was midterms week so you can probably imagine the scene. 50 odd electric blue bundles of nerves zipping through the hall, scribbling clumsy characters on white boards, and ripping out their hair. (Actually, my hair is currently falling out an alarming pace due to stress (I think) so I refrained from the hair ripping.) So, in a word, it was chaos. I experienced mid term week in a slightly different way than most people because my Chinese teachers decided I could move up from Chinese 2 to Chinese 3. That's good news right? Here's the catch, I had 7 chapters between the two classes to catch up on by myself and one week to do it. All of my grades from the first quarter of Chinese classes, which were reasonably good, were cancelled and I start fresh with level 3. I not only had to take my Chinese midterms from level 2 (and do well on them), but also take a midterm Monday for a class 4 chapters ahead. When I found this out, one thought dominated my head and I vocalized it frequently...
AHHHHHHHHHHHH!
As you can see I was a little bit stressed out... ok, a lot stressed out, but clearly, because I am writing this, I survived without throwing myself from the 6th floor window were our SYA classes take place. The midterms were hard, but I think I did ok on them (I haven't gotten them back yet). Unfortunately, the late night studying took its toll and today I came home from school sick.
I would have thought that being sick in a country half way across the world from my friends and family would be a reasonably tramuatic experience. Rather, it has actually made me see the bonds I have made with people here. For example, when I biked home and passed out in bed for 3 hours, I awoke to my baba rushing through the door to make sure I was ok and then proceeding to make me lunch and tea. My mama was equally concerned and would not stop fussing over me until I resembled an arctic explorer with all my sweatshirts, pants, gloves, scarves, and hat. I then waddled back to my room to do homework with repeated check in's from both of them. It may seem silly to you but the fact that they cared so much for my well being really made me feel better. I didn't know you could be happy and be sick at the same time, but it seems to be possible :)
Now, I feel somewhat better, although my mama is convinced I still have a fever. Right now she is edging around the door, surely about to tell me it is time for sleep. I completely agree with her and off to bed I go.
Until Next Time
Jules
Song of the Day:
Clarity By: John Mayer
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