A white Christmas.

I took off Wednesday after class for Shenyang, Liaoning -- the northeast of China -- where my former Harbin roommate Beth is stationed. Three hours on a plane and one taxi driver who tried to rip me off later, I found myself at Beth's place which just so happens to be located inside of a 5-star hotel. That meant ample space for the guests who descended on her (besides me, there were two other students from CLS last year in Harbin, and three of their friends), and that also meant amenities such as a kitchen with a stove! and a bathroom with a tub! She's truly living the high life in Shenyang.

Cooking had begun before I even arrived, as Beth and her colleagues (one of whom is a Georgetown graduate of '07 who also had the pleasure of having Yu Laoshi as a teacher) have been attending holiday parties. So there was lots of food: delivery pizza on Thursday, peanut butter-m&m-chocolate chip cookies, peanut blossom cookies, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, turkey, ham, cranberry sauce, homemade macaroni and cheese, stuffing, pumpkin pie, sweet potato cheesecake, veggie chives and onion cheese dip, gouda! cheddar! camembert! and Harbin sausages... all for a never ending Christmas banquet of deliciousness.

Christmas dawned bright and white -- marking my first-ever white Christmas (cue Bing Crosby). Of course, thanks to the four smokestacks within view of Beth's windows, the snow quickly turned yellow and black. But I still had time to make a snow angel on the sidewalk while making a run for some groceries; this might have been a mistake given my knowledge of the spitting habits of Chinese citizens. The weather was unbelievably bitterly cold, so cold I was sure my eyelashes would freeze, but that didn't stop eleven of us from making a trek on Boxing Day to get Korean food (bimimbap!) and karaoke. I also enjoyed stories of the random happenings of US Consulate officers in their quests to find fraud among the multitudes of visa-seeking Chinese.

Merry Christmas!

Current craving list.

1. The sun.

2. Spaghetti.

3. Hot chocolate and/or cider. (I don't even like cider).

4. Skim milk.

5. Central heating.

6. Grilled cheese and tomato soup. Lots of cheese.

In China, these desires are not easily satiated. I attempt to solve my food cravings with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, a method that is surprisingly effective. Yet some linger still longer, however; last summer, for instance, I had a craving for a corndog for two months while in Harbin.

Although, when I made it back to the States, I never ate one, and still have not to this day consumed one -- odd considering the ravings about corndogs I was prone to. So clearly, then, my mind is simply playing tricks on me, and I need be strong and persevere.

Cosmopolitan cities and wordly traveling styles.

Spent the weekend in Chengdu with Kathryn and Phil. Amazing opportunities abounded: sushi, Brazilian barbecue, donuts, and TOAST! Toast is very important, folks. You don't realize what an integral part it plays in your life until you come to a Country Without Toasters.

Anyway, the journey to and fro' this cosmopolitan metropolis was fraught with dangers nothing much. My time spent on train and bus rides throughout the southwest can almost always fit in to one of these categories:

1. Sleeping. This is the best way to pass the time, but 99% of the time it is impossible to attain, not in the least because the man next to you insists on spitting continuously into the aisle.

2. Playing cards.

3. Playing jian.zi. This is very difficult to accomplish in small, confined places (ie, trains, buses and elevators -- trust me) as it is the Chinese equivalent of hackeysack. (Also, I accidentally kicked a dog across the pavement in the courtyard of our hostel when playing it, and had to hold it for about ten minutes to soothe my conscience.)

4. Playing mah jong. This is also very difficult to accomplish, in that I don't actually know the rules.

5. Playing Trivial Pursuit. This is quite entertaining, as Phil carries the cards wherever he goes. Did you know a whale's tongue weighs four tons?

6. Playing "Physical Challenge". This is where someone lays out a challenge for the other person to do, such as kiss a cab driver or sit on that weird staring guy's lap for the rest of the trip or down half a bottle of baijiu. These are almost always declined.

Only in Hechuan...

...can you get in a taxi and declared, "Take me to the dinosaur!"




Because only in Hechuan is there a random fake dinosaur half-buried along the bank of the Jialing River. That is all.

Thanksgiving dinner.

Pumpkin soup.


French fries.


Baked pork chops in rice (with cheese on top!).

Some classroom thoughts.

So I've talked a bit about China, but very little about my students. I teach mostly freshmen, and they're the best (with the exception of the few boys in my classes whom I want to club quite often). They are so enthusiastic about almost everything I tell them about America -- I've found that including pictures of my family and friends will always elicit several oohs and aahs. Of course, they're still very shy and their English is quite terrible, but they're still much better than my one class of jaded and unimpressed sophomores, where everything is like pulling teeth.

I teach four oral English classes and three listening (terribly boring for both me and my poor students), plus this month I agreed to teach tow evening classes for non-English majors who want to improve their English. These are nice classes despite the extra work for two reasons: one, since these students are going the extra mile to study English, they enthusiastically participate in class; and two, because I get an extra 100 元 an hour.

Some things about my students: they are obsessed with Prison Break, High School Musical and Twilight. They also love me when I let them watch episodes of Friends (I prefer showing an episode of TV for four or five classes every once in a while as opposed to having to watch glittering vampires or Zac Efron for four or five classes every once in a while).

Students here are also obsessed with weight loss and dieting. I see girls "running" around the school track wearing jeans and coats and non-running shoes, and I wonder how they could possibly be comfortable. They also tell me about their crazy diets and how 55 kilos is fat. They have an incredible disgust for slightly chubby people.

Also, the students' text books are ridiculous. Take the following passage from one of them (emphasis mine) --

Whereas many Chinese enjoy snacking on natural foods like dried fruit, seeds, or nuts, many Americans prefer snacks like potato chips, buttered popcorn, and cookies. If they are really hungry between meals they even have a hot dog or two.

I would write more, but I'm a bit hungry. I think I'll go have a quick hamburger before lunch to hold me over.

Hechuan: Some things to know.

Some snapshots of Life in Hechuan--

To begin with, walking across the street in Hechuan is like playing a live-action game of Frogger. This is because there are absolutely no traffic laws in this city, or in Chongqing in general. I know I've complained in the past about crazy taxis in Beijing, but honestly they have nothing on the complete anarchy in the streets of Hechuan. Half the time drivers are on the wrong side of the street, or driving three abreast down two-lane roads, or swerving to avoid having to stop behind a bus.

　In fact, there are only two intersections that I have seen that even have traffic lights (according to a sign, it is called the Cultured Traffic Law Intersection, and it admonishes drivers to pay attention to traffic laws. It is ignored). Otherwise, taking a left turn is simply a game of chicken, where the driver swerves at an appropriate time and others honk and yet somehow miraculously slow down in time all the while dodging pedestrians and small animals. The noise pollution of the city is deafening.

Despite all of this, taking a taxi is quite convenient. It is only 3 yuan, quite easily the cheapest taxi I've ever been in in China. I am greeted when I first enter by the driver's garbled Chongqinghua (dialect), and then an automated voice stating, "Hello, passenger. Welcome to take my taxi." The buses are only 1 yuan, and rather easy to use as well -- someone leans out the window and shouts the destinations, and if you happen to be going to those places, you just hop right on.

Secondly, foreigners are non-existent here. Really. Maybe a few people stared at me in Beijing or in Harbin (well, in Harbin they just glared because they thought I was Russian). But here, foreigners are a complete novelty, as is Western life. There is no McDonald's or Starbucks like in pretty much all Chinese cities -- instead they have the Chinese fast-food chain Dico's (rather delicious, actually) and a couple of poor coffee shops where they take a half hour to bring you a cup of coffee and don't know how to make an actual sandwich. There's also a Western restaurant that serves vegetable pizza -- with carrots on top (?). People in Hechuan are incredibly friendly, though sometimes it is quite vexing, as when you are trying to work out at the gym and people keep talking to you non-stop.

Thirdly, there is no heating in any offices or classrooms at the university. Recently it has quite suddenly become winter, and it is surprisingly cold and wet. As a result, my students are huddled at their desks in their coats. I can only clutch my hot water bottle closely and freeze. In fact, people even leave windows wide open for "ventilation" everywhere despite the fact that one's breath frosts indoors; and restaurants and shops don't even have doors, which means that I look like a hobo as I huddle in my coat and gloves and drink bowl after bowl of soup. The city-wide power outages that come and go every once in a while don't help, either, as we are periodically plunged into darkness for hours at a time.

Halloween Hocus Pocus in Hechuan.

Halloween, when seen from the viewpoint of people who have never really heard of it before, is really strange.

I spent all last week introducing my students to the curious customs of this wonderful holiday ("we wear ridiculous costumes" "children beg for candy" "people make their houses look creepy") and spreading the joy of that Great Film, Hocus Pocus. My living room has been filled with cardboard gravestones and flapping bats that Carolina, Lilly and I made during our quarantine days, and I decided to be a panda for the night -- ace! We dressed up in the afternoon and played some basketball so students could see our costumes and take pictures. I also went into a store and bought some 'bamboo' from a befuddled store clerk who I suppose is not used to seeing pandas walking about (it was not actually bamboo, but rather some kind of sugarcane, but close enough for my Halloween prop).

Our party was set for the only night club in dear ol' Hechuan, Manhattan's (曼哈顿). We worked out a deal with the manager of the club -- the foreigners would perform three songs and draw in clients in exchange for an entire night of free beer. I was more than okay with this, and thus, after we all introduced ourselves ("Hi, I'm Alison, and I'm a panda), I found myself singing Backstreet Boys' "As Long As You Love Me", some techno remix of John Denver's "Country Roads" that is insanely popular amongst the Chinese here, and a dance to MJ's "Thriller" which at some point randomly turned into a conga line.



There were other random performances as well, including a drag queen. I think. At one point someone stole my bamboo, but then someone else gave me a mask, so I changed my costume to a panda at a masquerade ball. And, outside of a soccer match in Chongqing and finding a Subway sandwich in a place called Pirate City (more about this later), that was the highlight of the past few weeks. You stay classy, Hechuan.

Quarantine: Day 2

Swine flu has been found on campus, and so the authorities that be have insisted on a total lock down of the campus. Some students cannot even leave their dormitories at all, not even for meal times at the cafeteria -- which, by the way, is not at all equipped to accommodate 10,000 students and all the faculty. Classes were canceled yesterday afternoon, and it's anyone's guess how long this will last -- I have heard a few days, at least a week, or more...

I have a stock of instant noodles, instant oatmeal, oreos, weird Chinese bread, and half a bottle of corn-flavored peanut butter to get me through this. I will soon be desperate enough to begin planning an escape attempt à la Steve McQueen and his fellas in The Great Escape, so wish me luck.

I've also gotten some texts from a couple of students, one of which was so long it had to be delivered as eight separate messages:

Dear Alison, are you OK? How do you have your meals? Do you miss us? Before going to bed, you had better drink a cup of milk, which will help you fall asleep. Besides, wash your feet with hot water is also helpful. What are you doing now? Have you got any interesting books? Are you lonely? The disease is very serious, so you should, Oh, no, you must take more care! Clear? Will you go home in the winter holiday? Hope we can have our lessons early! Remember to take good care of yourself! Yours, Hmily

Chengdu: home of pandas & other less-important things.

Back from my long weekend in Chengdu, thanks in no small part to my guanxi with Policeman Zang, who helped me buy bus tickets in the crazy traveling fervor that accompanies Chinese festivals. This past week was not only Mid-Autumn Festival, during which I had to choke down a moon cake to celebrate while failing at making a paper boat to sail on the river, but also National Day, commemorating the 60th anniversary of the founding of the People's Republic of China. The train we took back to Hechuan was completely packed with standing-room only tickets, and I was boxed into my window seat by a four-generation Chinese family, complete with a six-year-old child who flinched every time I looked at him and his spicy instant noodles.

Amidst the temple-hopping that accompanies any Chinese sight-seeing, there were also frequent breaks to take advantage of the abundant Western food restaurants in the city (seeing as there are none in Hechuan), including Pizza Hut (Hawaiian pizza!) and a Tex-Mex restaurant (burritos!); I also managed to meet up with a couple of friends I studied with last summer in Harbin for 烤肉. And of course, I also went to the Panda Breeding Center, where I spent five minutes watching three pandas fight each other, clearly the highlight of the trip, and possibly my life.

Today: headed into Chongqing city to celebrate Peter's birthday in style, seeing as everything closes in Hechuan at 11:00 p.m.

Let's make friends.

Yesterday marked my radio début, as Peter, Carolina and I all agreed to participate in an English edition of the university radio broadcast. This consisted of us sitting awkwardly at a table with two microphones and stuttering through introductions and random sentences about our homes, trying to cover up long pauses as we glanced at each other wondering what to say.

Then, to break up the silence, Peter told everyone that Carolina and I would sing the American national anthem for everyone... and thanks to the enthusiastic nodding and smiling of the assembled radio cast watching us speak, we dutifully and painfully warbled our way through the Star Spangled Banner, complete with unintentional harmony and a bat-like shriek on "land of the free".

We were quite mortified, but we convinced ourselves that it was not so bad; walking outside, there were tons of students walking around so, "probably only ten" people even tuned into the radio, we thought. It wasn't until a few minutes later, as we walked out the gates to grab a quick dinner, that we saw Mat, who applauded our singing and congratulated Peter on his deft manipulation. As it turns out, the entire fifteen minutes were broadcast on the university loudspeaker for the whole campus to hear. Despite my embarrassment, I really just pity everyone who had to listen to it.

*

In regards to the aforementioned weekly English Corner, I am going to be quite distraught when I return to the States and no one is constantly complementing me -- last night alone I was told I was beautiful more times than I had ever been told in my entire life. The message is also reinforced by frequent messages from students:

Hi Ali,I'm the girl named V, I am very happy when I talk with you,thanks for giving me such a beautiful night~Just now my roommates said that our pronunciation teacher may be Peter,if it's true,it's really a pity cause we like you more~(Oh, please just keep it a secret, hoho)Good night my friend, and have a sweet dream just like your smiles~

I of course promptly showed that message to Peter and gloated.

Oh my dear Alison we are your students,we think you are so beautiful. Can we make friends with you?

Alison!Hi!~I'm your student in class 12. When I first saw you, I said to my friend that you are so beautiful!We love you so much!I really wanna make friends with you,but my spoken English is so poor,

I don't know how famous people do it.

I have somehow become some kind of Ambassador for America.

Let me explain: In addition to several dinners over the past couple of weeks to introduce us to the English department head's friends in Hechuan, including policemen and karaoke bar owners, he (Mark) took five of us six foreign teachers to his hometown yesterday for meals and tours with the county leaders and school officials, even canceling lectures for Peter so he could go (Chinese men apparently love tall awkward Brits). After a harrowing hour-long journey, where I saw my life flash before my eyes multiple times, around hairpin turns and after near-collisions with dogs and small children, we arrived in a tiny town of 70,000 or so for lunch. Despite it not being yet noon, beer and baijiu (that cursèd drink of fortitude and "integrity") were freely pouring from the moment we sat down. I have to admit the food was lovely, in that none of it set my tongue on fire as Chongqing dishes are wont to do, and even the pig's tongue was fine until the texture got the better of me.

All of my meals lately have consisted of mastering Chinese toasting policies. That is: there is one initial toast to welcome the guests. Following that, every single person takes turns at making it around the table and toasting everyone individually. Thus, I was toasted by the seven-or-so people at my table, and then it was my duty to stand up for each person and toast them in turn. Following that are the guessing games (à la rock, paper, scissors), where the loser has to down his or her glass. And at the very end, there is one final toast to finish off the last of the alcohol, leaving only a mess of food and empty bottles on the table.

Somewhat (read: very) buzzed, we took a tour of the town's main streets and police station; apparently, we were the first foreigners in that town, um, ever, and all the officials were convinced that our coming meant a great and glorious future of expansion and development for the town. Afterward, we headed for the middle school for a presentation and then -- it hurts to think about this -- we were led to a stage where, seated before us, was the entire 2000-plus student population, applauding and gaping and photographing us. All of a sudden, I was being handed a microphone, and told to introduce myself and say something about the American education system. The other teachers did likewise... at one point Mark tried to convince me to sing IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE CROWD and I just said, WTF NO (but very slowly since apparently their English isn't very good). After Mark babbled on about how great he was and the wonderful things he has accomplished (including going to Los Angeles once for a conference that lasted maybe two days at most), the students literally rushed the stage we were seated at, asking for our autographs.

I repeat: AUTOGRAPHS.

Why? I'm not sure, but apparently being foreign in this town is akin to celebrity status. Notebooks, text books and torn lesson pages were shoved at me for fifteen minutes straight, never slowing down; a professor finally had to act as an impromptu bodyguard while another orated into the microphone cautioning patience. Towards the end, I was signing hands, arms, and even a five-kuai bill, before we were escorted back to another room where we idled about, "resting". And all the while, during the lunch, tour, and mad rush of pubescent Chinese schoolkids, the camera crew of the local TV station was capturing everything for a broadcast about it that night.

After a visit to the Big Buddha Temple nearby (大佛寺), we had to join everyone for dinner. Instead of two separate tables as there were at lunch, we were at one giant table, complete with the largest lazy Susan I have ever seen, that would rotate slowly on its own, allowing people to pluck out shrimp and cow's feet at their leisure. But given that this table was twice the size as at lunch, that meant TWICE the toasting, and TWICE the guessing games. Towards the end I was simply pretending to down my beer, but quickly refilling it before the person toasting me had a chance to realize I had only taken a sip.

So, China is turning me into an alcoholic, as I start drinking at noon now. But, a sociable one at least. Cheers.

Welcome to Hechuan.

My internet has been on-again, off-again for the past week. Tomorrow I shall attempt to charm the Internet Man with my broken Mandarin in order to fix it, thus enabling me to connect to the world more than for one hour every two or three days.

I am almost completely settled in Hechuan, Chongqing now. The city is even smaller than I originally thought, about an hour outside of the city Chongqing; in fact, the only foreigners present are the other five foreign teachers. My apartment is distinctly Chinese, from the leaking air conditioner (thought at least we have some to combat the current sweltering heat and muggy grayness of the city) to the scalding hot water and freezing cold water, to the mud swirls we track through on the white tiles of the floor. Other than that, our living conditions are quite good -- dare I say we foreigners are even pampered compared to other apartments.

I'm living with the other American, Carolina. The other teachers consist of three UK peeps, and one Irish girl, and all but one of us is a brand-new college graduate. Evidently, then, Chongqing Normal University is not that stellar of an institution, considering they hired six foreigners with absolutely no English-teaching credentials or experience.

As I am teaching all freshman, and they are going through their mandatory army-training exercises at the moment (more about this later), my classes don't start for another week. My days have consisted then of drinking too much beer, trying to fix the internet, avoiding giving out my cell phone number to taxi drivers, and wandering about the city locating essentials such as mops, brooms, dishes, water bottles, towels... and so on.