Jingju Pictures

30 June 2007

I just woke up and it's a bright and beautiful Sunday morning. There's a light breeze--judging by the weather outside, this might well be San Francisco. Yay!

"Cultural Enrichment" Day Two: The Beijing Opera

At six o'clock last night, all 70 of us HBA-ers piled into the school's buses and headed to the Beijing Opera.

(Skip this paragraph if you're not interested in the technical stuff.)
We spent Thursday in class learning about 京剧 (Jingju). Our Chinese textbook tells us that this modern opera is a mixture of 湖北 (Hubei) and 安徽 (Anhui)'s--two regions'--local theater. The most striking aspect of the Beijing Opera is the characters' 脸谱 (lianpu), or face paint. Because the Opera uses no props and doesn't have much of a spoken introduction, the paint tells the audience each character's personality. Red indicates a good person, white a villain, and yellow a reckless person. There are four main roles: Sheng, Dan, Jing, and Chou. Sheng is the male hero, Dan the female hero, Jing a less important female, and Chou the villain/comic relief. Because the opera incorporates singing, speech, wushu, and acrobatics, training for it can take years. Nonetheless, nowadays the opera is becoming less and less popular, especially with young audiences.

We arrived at the hotel where the opera was being put on around 7pm. Our teachers lead us through the ritzy lobby (this was the nicest interior that I've seen in China) and into the theater. It was rather small, and by no means full. We sat down in Section 3--an area close to the stage, but better yet, in which all of the seats were around dinner tables piled with china, tea, sweets, and snacks. Ritzy.

The Opera began. If you're ever in Beijing, and you think you hear an ambulance, there are two possibilities: either someone has keeled over, or you're passing the Opera house. The Opera's "singing" is actually really high-pitched wailing. The strange thing is, it grows on you. Because the theater provided us with captions in both characters and English, I could often even understand what the characters were saying (I never can in American opera).

The singing was about what I'd expected--at our table, us students tried to be polite and hide our amused smiles under our hands. We thought that the Opera was, well, kind of silly. But then the wushu and acrobatics began. And wow! Suddenly I understand why it takes years to become a performer. It's difficult to describe the whirlwind of walkovers, flips, and juggling feats that the performers carry out. Suffice to say, the first day of training, I would have been kicked out.

The Opera was also short--only about an hour and a half--which left all of us slightly surprised and wanting more. I could've watched the female lead kick away her attackers' arrows (Really! So cool!) for hours. The Opera left me impressed, and saddened that it's losing in popularity.

28 June 2007

Hi again!

I've been blogging a lot, but today I went to the Lama (Yong He Gong) Temple--an experience that definitely merits an entry.

At about 2pm this afternoon, I took a taxi to the Lama Temple. According to my Eyewitness Travel guide book, this temple complex "was constructed during the 17th century and converted into a Tibetan lamasery in 1744. Its five man halls are a stylistic blend of Han, Mongol and Tibetan motifs." Since I didn't know what "Han, Mongol and Tibetan motifs" were, this description didn't give me much of a hint as to what to expect.

The temple complex, however, was fantastic. Most striking was its sheer size--I walked through one, two, three nearly-identical, fantastically-painted halls housing (1) statues of Buddha and the Four Heavenly Kings (2) statues of three manifestations of Buddha and (3) "a statue of Tsongkhapa, the founder of the Yellow Hat sect of Tibetan Buddhism." Each hall's decorations were elaborate: flowery multicolor designs covered the walls and ceilings, the Buddhas were gold, with painted faces, and were flanked by vases of red and yellow plastic flowers. Each room was hazy and sweet with incense. The buildings were, without question, spectacular--though I was surprised at the complex's slightly run-down state.

The Lama Temple's highlight, my guidebook says and I agree, is a 55-foot statue of the Future Buddha carved from a single block of sandalwood. I walked into the furthest and last temple, expecting life-sized Buddhas, but instead came face-to-face with a very elaborate big toe. I had no idea that the building I'd walked into was so tall, much less that there was a David-sized statue hidden within it. The statue was painted the gold-bronze color of Aladdin's lamp, and in its hands held yards and yards of blue and yellow fabric.

Making my way back towards the entry gate, I stopped in a small souvenir shop: a bad idea in China, since the salespeople inevitably hassle you until you buy something. I walked in because there were beautiful (albeit probably fake) silk robes hanging up just outside the door. Their price? 480RMB, or $63. Too expensive. And thus began my first bargaining experience, because when I said "太贵" and left, the saleswoman followed me and said, "for you, 250." Still too much. But 150, or 19 bucks? I bought the robe. It's gold, and beautiful, and I can't wait to sleep in it!

28 June 2007

你好！ Two quick thoughts.

First off...

A first-two-weeks impression of Beijing. This city feels like it’s taken straight out of a futuristic movie. The hot, rapidly-changing weather (regular and violent lightning storms), the architecturally modern buildings’ griminess and the Chinese fashion sense render Beijing a little surreal, at times even eerie. On sunny days, men and women ride around together on bicycles carrying opened umbrellas. Days when the pea-fog sets in, or when it’s pounding rain, women still slip into feathered or sequined high heels and traipse off to teach English. Beijing reminds me of the gray and noisy cities of Blade Runner and the Matrix, in which humans, unaware of the large-scale changes taking place around them, doggedly out their to-do lists.

Second...

I, as some of you are well aware, have a habit of eating off of other people’s plates. In America, this is somewhat frowned upon—I’ve tried to stop, but have so far been unable to kick the habit. I also tend to take small portions over and over. (The sentence, “Justine, you have to take the whole cookie” is one that I’ve heard many times.) The problem, I’ve happily realized since arriving in China, is not me but rather American culture. At Chinese restaurants, everyone orders, but all of the plates are placed on a lazy susan and sent around the table for eaters to pick at. Each person’s individual plate is roughly the size of a DVD, so there’s no way to take a lot—if you like a dish, you take a mouthful... then another mouthful... The only thing that would make the experience better would be if on every lazy susan there was also a pint of Haagen Dazs. And spoons.

26 June 2007

First off, a quick technological note: due to Chinese internet regulations, I can't actually view my own blog, or read my comments--I'm "blogging blind," as Wen Jun says. So if there's an awful problem with the layout, or if you wrote me a haiku comment (highly recommended) that I haven't yet mentioned, that's why. I'm working on getting around that, but it might not happen.

Since Saturday, many exciting things have happened:

1. I ate Beijing's famous roast duck (even the 鸭头)
2. I went to Hou Hai
3. I got a letter in the mail (which brought me great happiness!)
4. I had my first food-induced stomachache, probably as a result of either the sketchy but delicious Cantonese restaurant where I ate lunch, the odd-tasting green-bean popsicle I ate in the afternoon, the day-old sticky rice balls that I ate cold for breakfast, or some combination of the above. I've since cut back on "exotic" cuisine.
5. I took part of the HSK--the Chinese TOEFL
6. I witnessed a fantastic thunder and lightning storm that seemed like it was right outside my 6th-story window
7. I got a haircut

... all in Chinese. Each of these is a story in its own right, but I have to save some things for when I get back! Ergo, my next blog post will most likely be about the Opera this weekend, though I do have a few text-book inspired thoughts about Chinese culture that may surface between now and then. 在见!

Great Wall Pictures

23 June 2007

“Cultural Enrichment” Day One: The Great Wall

I know what I expected the Simatai Great Wall (司马台大量长城, Simatai Daliang Changcheng) to be like. The “Great” in its name sounded like an easy tourist trap—that, coupled with the wall’s iconic status as China’s national symbol, made me assume that the Wall was over-hyped. I expected to arrive by bus at a hot, dirty field, climb up a concrete monstrosity reminiscent of Harvard’s Mather House, sweat through crowds of other easily-fooled tourists like me, take a few pictures, and come home. Sure, I was excited, but I was almost upset at myself for being so, thinking, “God, Justine, The Great Wall? when did you become so cheesy?”

It wasn’t like that at all.

Our bus wound up a mountain road, every scene out of our window looking like a National Geographic centerfold. Outside of one village, a husband and wife leaned on their hoes in a small field of what looked like cabbage. In another, a man waded through knee-deep, muddy water with a net—his son looking on from the riverbank. Some of the villages that we passed through were well developed (I saw a school, pigs, goats, and chickens)—but most of them were not. Quite different than Boston or Davis.

When we arrived at “the Great Wall,” the first thing that struck me was that, well, I couldn’t see it out of our bus window. But then we got off of the bus, and could see the mountain above us and, perched on its ridge, the Wall.

I loved the poor English of the ticket office’s signs: “Beautiful Environment Comes From Your Care and Cherish,” “No Naked Flames,” 什么的。

I didn’t expect that today I would get to walk around in a scene that looked like a stereotypical Chinese brush-painting with its high crags, misty clouds, weeping-willow like trees. I didn’t expect that today I would get to hike a well-groomed, high-mountain path. (The wall itself is architecturally impressive—it’s perched on the top of a ridge that I wouldn’t want to walk up too often, much less carry enough bricks up to build a Great Wall.) I didn’t expect the only tourists who would be there were others, like us, who were willing to sweat up many, many flights’ worth of stairs.

Dad, I do not recommend that you go to this section of the Wall. It was Robert-Sawyer steep; it reminded me a lot of Half Dome’s quarter dome. The wall’s stairs varied in width and in steepness… at times, the steps were knee-high, and at other times, the wall was flat. We hiked for a good hour and forty-five minutes (and passed 11 watch towers, 楼 , or lou) before reaching the end of the trail.

Along the wall, there were vendors selling Coke （可口可乐, kekoukele）, popsicles, and souvenirs. The vendors will follow you for hours along the quite arduous wall-top trail, hoping to sell you a 20 kuai (6-7 US dollar) t-shirt. Everything is overpriced, but by overpriced I mean popsicles and postcards cost 1 US dollar instead of 20 US cents. (Much to our teachers’ dismay, we bought them anyway.)

Coming down seemed a lot steeper than going up, but had the same breathtaking view. My words of the day are cable car (lunche)—there for those with injuries, like our classmate TianShui, who yesterday sprained his ankle but still chose to come hike—and “use a camera to take a picture” (yong xiangji pai zhaopian). As an added bonus, on the way down we discovered the “Flying Fox,” a sketchy-looking zipline that you could take across a river and down the mountainside. As I hooked myself into the harness and jumped off the platform I glanced back at the rusty wheel that turned the zipline’s cable, which was a bad idea but for that it added a little extra rush to the already thrilling ride down. (This zipline would not have passed US safety standards!)

Everyone slept on the bus ride home; after a full day of hiking and ziplining, who wouldn’t? But I’m left with the impression that, OK, the Wall earned its name. It’s well-built, graceful-looking, and useful. If I were Chinese, I would be proud to have it as a national icon.

Aforementioned Article

http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2007/05/21/070521fa_fact_hessler

22 June 2007

This is what I learned today: 星期五 makes the rest of the week worthwhile.

Instead of large class, small class and individual class we have a test and a presentation. I was 很紧张 (very nervous) before I began, but it turned out neither was too hard. And the upside? We were out of school by 1:00pm, and headed to 中文桌子 (Chinese Table) with our teachers.

Every Tuesday and Friday from here on out, I think I'll look forward to Chinese Table. Here's how it works. Right after class, we meet our teachers and walk to a restaurant. Tuesday, we went to an on-campus restaurant and today, we went to the one in our hotel. We sit around tables full of strange-looking dishes--the teachers order food that we would never know to ask for--and eat and chat. It's free, and today today in addition to food there was a karaoke machine.

This week has had it's ups and downs, but today was unquestionably fun. Tonight I meet my Chinese host family, and tomorrow we go to the 长城 (Great Wall). (A great guest lecturer, David Spindler, came yesterday and spoke with us about the Wall's history... in truth, you cannot see the wall from the moon. I'll try to post a New Yorker article about him when the internet speeds up.)

Okay, now it's off to meet yet another teacher--this one, though, is officially called my 朋友 (friend). 再见！

20 June 2007

Communication. It’s ironic how, in some ways, people communicate better with a more limited vocabulary. Since the language pledge took effect, I’ve noticed a few things, namely that:

- So much of 所谓的 (so-called) “talking” is actually body language—particularly smiling and laughter.

- It’s difficult to fight when learning a foreign language. It just takes too much effort.

- On the flip side, people don’t have enough vocabulary to be polite and so are refreshingly frank. White lies don’t exist—who would use ten words when you could use two? “Do you want to come with us?” is never answered with an “I’d like to, but…” but instead with a simple “Yes” or “No.” Other people are easy to identify: “the big one,” “the small one,” “the one with weird clothes.” No one takes offense—they’re just glad to understand you.

I thought that 沟通 (communication) would be my biggest challenge here; 令我惊讶的是 (what surprises me is that) I actually find it in many ways easier in Chinese than in English.

17 June 2007

So after a long orientation with several speeches by our directors (in Chinese) yesterday we started the academic part of BCLU. This is what my day looks like:

8-10 am Lecture
10-12 am Drill Section
2:20-3:10 pm Individual Session (One-on-one with a laoshi)
7-9:30 pm Homework Review

Plus, every day we have a CD to listen to, 100 new words to memorize, sometimes a paragraph to memorize, and a homework worksheet. I'm hoping to take BLCU Martial Arts classes and Salsa classes (yep, Salsa) through the BLCU gym.

Down time is not going to be a problem here. The good news so far is that I'm still on California time, which means I wake up at 4am and have a few hours to study before class.

About the food here:

It's interesting in that it's nothing like Western food. For breakfast I have dumplings and tea, for lunch, dumplings and tea and for dinner... you get the picture. Actually, the food here has been varied and quite good so far--I ate particularly tasty "pork wrapped shrimp" and broccoli--but what baffles me is why everything is cooked in a sauce with the consistency of maple syrup.

I went to the grocery store yesterday afternoon and stared at labels for awhile. Eventually I gave up on the native stuff, though--when you can't tell if it's shampoo or alcohol, you've got a problem. My room, thus, is well stocked with Nestle hot chocolate and Pocky... the delicious chocolate-dipped pretzel sticks that are also sold in America, and that I may end up living off of for the next three months...

16 June 2007

And… Beijing!

The trip here was surprisingly painless. I stood in line for an hour waiting to check in, but the security line was short—and a long wait to check in equals a short wait at the gate. As I watched the rest of the plane board, I tried to evesdrop on as many Chinese conversations as I could.

On the plane, I sat between “June” and “Steve”—the former, a woman who was coming to China for a 22-day adventure tour, and the latter, a businessman who two weeks ago came to China to adopt a baby girl. He was going back this time just for work. June sat by the window. Steve sat on the aisle. June and Steve happily chatted away over me, who sat in the middle, and so I abandoned my studying efforts and joined the conversation. When June and Steve were asleep, I read The Kite Runner, which I’d give a thumbs up. Talking and reading—and the fact that it never got dark—made the flight go by quickly.

When we began our descent into Beijing, I looked down and asked June, “Is that fog?” The answer, unfortunately, was no: LA’s smog is nothing compared to Beijing’s (see picture). I read that the city’s plan is to shut down its factories before the Olympics, and I hope that they do so, because I can’t imagine how athletes will really exert themselves if they can’t breathe.

I met three of our teachers and about ten other students just outside of customs. Our bus drive from the airport to the Beijing Language and Culture University’s (BCLU) hotel offered us a glimpse of the city—all I could think was “wow.” Beijing is very modern!! I’ll try to post some pictures of buildings below.

At the BCLU, I checked into my room, which is very nice and clean. It is on the sixth floor and has a window overlooking the BCLU soccer field—I lucked out! After I checked in, I unpacked, took a shower, and met with a group of students for dinner. (My bathroom here is a shower with a sink and a toilet in it. Every time that I bathe, the water pools on the floor and my wastebasket literally floats.) We walked out of the BCLU’s south gate and went to a Korean restaurant, where 30 of us stuffed ourselves for 800 kuai (a little over $100). I couldn’t believe the quality and quantity of food that I ate for $6—noodles, rice, vegetables, cooked meat, omlettes.

The students here are down-to-earth and friendly. At dinner (last night was the only night here when we’re permitted to speak English), we learned each other’s names and bit into strange-looking tempura together on the count of “1, 2, 3…”. I think that the tempura was seaweed wrapped around clear noodles, but for all I know, it might have been seaweed wrapped around glowworm. Yesterday, only half of us went out—today we should meet all of the other students from Harvard, Yale, Tufts, Berkeley, etc.

In an hour, we begin our orientation. We take the HSK (Hanyu Shuiping Kaoshi, or Chinese Level Test) in the morning and attend a ceremony in the afternoon.

Now, it’s six thirty in the morning (ah, jetlag) and I’m headed down to breakfast. My goals for the day are: buy school supplies, and more bottled water.

Welcome

您好, and welcome to my blog. I'm thrilled that now there actually is a website with the URL http://www.justinelescroart(whatever). I'm also thrilled about the rest of this year!

I'm starting this blog because I'm about to travel, quite literally, around the world. My trip began on May 26th, the day that I flew from school back home, from Boston to San Francisco. It will continue on Thursday--that's June 15th--when I'll fly from San Francisco to Beijing. On August 24th I jet from Beijing to Paris, and soon after I'll take the train to Granada, Spain. My Spanish visa expires on December 21st, so I should be headed back to San Francisco around then.

The title of this blog is pronounced "yi hui sheng er hui shu" and is a Chinese expression that means "unfamiliar the first time, familiar the second." I hope that Beijing and Granada--places entirely foreign to me today--will, a year from now, both feel like home.