Author Archives: dyk5081

Walk Down Memory Lane (now with photos!)

Hello everyone.  Do to the somewhat slow connection speeds of China’s interwebs, I was not able to upload photos with ease these past few months.  So in a make-up-for-lost-time mindset, as well as a good way to relive some of my memories, I shall start photo blog of sorts with my top fave pics and captions.  Enjoy!

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A wooden model of the Forbidden City in a museum in Beijing.  Cool!
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A theme park in Jeju, South Korea that featured a 1/100 scale model of the Forbidden City!  Cool!  (Also featuring the Eiffel Tower, Mount Rushmore, and others)

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But nothing beats the real thing!  (Panda hat FTW!)

Location: Home, Where the Hear Is

Mission Complete

Immediately following my experiences in China, I’ve spent 21 days in the motherland of South Korea.  I spent most of my time staying with different relatives and eating delicious Korean foods, but did some interesting things like going to Jejudo, the Korean version of Hawaii, and Lotteworld, the Korean version of Disney World. 

So this is my last official day abroad.  I wish I had more to talk about on such an important day, but I kind of don’t.  Its bittersweet to say the least, but in truth I’m all Asia-ed out at this point.  I miss green money, relatively low population density, and the abundance of cheese.   

Cultural similarities between China and Korea is great.  I think this is because a lot of Korean culture is derived from the Confucian notion of respect and lifestyle.  There are things like respecting the elders, gender roles of men as workers and of women as house people and the like.  However, Korea is also very westernized too.  I would describe it as almost fully modernized with lots of flourishing industries with some trickles of Confucian culture remaining in everyday interactions.  I think it was a good transition between China and going back to the United States.

After successfully enduring 4 straight months of super intense Chinese, I thought Korean would be a piece of cake to catch up on during my 3 weeks here.  I was mistaken.  Korean is pretty hard too.  The alphabet system is a lot more straightforward than the Chinese character system, but everything sounds the same and all the letters look the same.  I’ve found I had a hard time memorize new words at the speed at which I was able to memorize Chinese words.  But maybe this is because in Korea I was just chilling and in China I studied the hardest I’ve ever studied in all my life.  In any case, I bought a bootlegged copy of a Korean drama called Secret Garden in China with Chinese subtitles, so maybe I’ll be able to practice my Korean listening and Chinese reading simultaneously. 

I hate the prices here.  It’s so similar to American prices, it’s almost disheartening.  I hate currency rates and their constant fluctuations that makes me regret not exchanging all my foreign cash earlier (and possible saving $30!!).  But travelling is good for the mind.  I feel like I understand the world more and would like to embrace the culture differences rather than squirm at it idea.  Cup successfully emptied and refilled.  


Location: Kimpo, South Korea

Zaijian Beijing (Goodbye Beijing)

Here I am in Kimpo, South Korea, a few weeks after that fated day, the day when I last saw Beijing.  I’m still dazed and confused, utterly blindsided by what just happened to me these past few months.  Indeed, what just happened? 

I woke up at 7 that morning, but went to sleep at 3.  Last day celebration extravaganza at Wudaokou, Beijing’s foreigner/bar district.   Wasn’t too tired that morning.  It was more of a wispy “dude, I can’t believe I’m leaving this place, this place I’ve called home for the last 4 months” kind of feeling.  I packed up my stuff.  Ended up buying so many souvenirs that I had to buy a second luggage case.  For some reason my judgment lapsed during that purchased and I convinced myself that 300 RMB wasn’t bad for a luggage case.  I completely failed to factor in the Chinese’s continual dedication to craftsmanship and quality (insert sarcasm).  But hey, you get what you pay for.

My friends all gathered to my dorm room door at around 10:30 in the morning.  They wanted to catch lunch with me before I headed off, as I was the first to leave out of our group.  With some degree of poetic irony, I chose the shoujuabing stand.   As Gob Bluth once said: Return from whence you came.  I slapped Nick on the back and asked him if he remembered  our first time there and the buttload of troubles we had just trying or order something, anything.  We didn’t know the menu, any of the Chinese characters on the menu, or what we were supposed to say.  So I resourcefully said “I want the same” after the guy in front of us ordered.  It turned out to be the first of many times I ate a delicious shoujuabing, but that day was to be my last.  With a much greater degree of fluency, I ordered the works, something I’ve been too stingy (or maybe scared?) to try before.  One crispy flour pancake wrapping around cheese, egg, lettuce, a variety of sauces, and not one but two pieces of bacon.  It was to die for and the most fitting of last meals. 

So we all grabbed our meals and a drink and sat outside the tables just outside the Red Umbrella convenience store, thusly named for the red umbrellas it puts out during the summer.  I’ve yet to see these umbrellas and probably never will.  We chatted, reminisced about our adventures in China and our plans for the summer.  Then I said my goodbye.  Many of my friends planned on staying for the summer in order to better solidify their Chinese, so they urged me to stay as well.  Perhaps if I didn’t already have plans this summer, I would’ve obliged.  But alas, I have Korea and an internship waiting for me in the States. 

So is this goodbye?  This may be copying a little too directly from Will Fienberg’s IES Beijing commencement ceremony speech, but whatever.  Zaijian translates to “goodbye”, but more literally, it means “See you again”.  In that sense, maybe I will see this country again: a place where explosive growth is happening, a place of extremely deep and profound culture, a place that boasts one of the most difficult languages to learn…  A place I’ve once called home.  I’ll see you again someday.  As for my friends, I’ll see you guys again someday too.  Till then, zaijian.  


Location: Kimpo, South Korea

Coming back to China (?)[!]… ><

A few weeks ago we had a discussion panel with former IES alums.  Their goal was to share their experiences as expats and how to navigate through the interesting world of post graduation China life.  It was exhilarating. 

All four alums were now well into their young adult lives, making a decisive choice to come back to China in order to start a new life.  One was an “IT” guy for the IES program, another worked with the US Department of Energy, another worked on micro financing in China, and the last was an manager for the China’s Groupon.  (For those of you who don’t know what Groupon is, put those well developed googling skills to work and start saving moneys!)

They discussed their difficulties.  When they returned to America after their initial study abroad experience, a lot of them had a tough time.  Reverse culture shock, so to speak.  People would label them as “the guy who went to China”, but this wasn’t the worst of it.  I am to expect the same exact questions of “Oh, how was China”, which I imagine to get old.  But as I proceed to explain all the cool and exciting things that I did or that happened while I was in a completely different country, I am also to expect their eyes to glaze over within the first twenty seconds… because in the end all they are looking for is, “Yeah, it was cool”. 

A lot of ties and connections will be lost.  As Marc, an RA here explained, living in China for a half a year will pretty much knock all my friends down a tier in our friendship.  Besides maybe family and the best of friends, the people who I stop and chat with on campus may become people I just give the old head nod to instead.  The people I give the old head nod to may become total strangers.  But for these young professionals, that’s a way of life.  As one put it, “That’s them now, this is me.  And I may not be able to make it to their weddings or the birth of their first child, but it’s a path I chose”. 

Everything is possible in China but nothing is easy.  We entered a discussion about visas and the headaches that they often cause, switching from student to tourist to business to government services.  How often you must renew the passport (usually every 6-12 months) and whether it is single entry or multiple-entry are all factors to consider.  The terms and processes and even the fees for the visas change almost biweekly, and unless the company you work for has special connections, it might be fairly troublesome.   Having electricity may be easy in America, but perhaps not in China.  I hear you can buy a driver’s license here without going through the arduous process if you’re willing to pay enough for it.

But in the end, if opportunities are what I seek, China has a wealth of it.  We can also make a living teaching English.  We can spam our resumes to the expat community.  Fulbright Scholarships and post-back programs galore!  Everyone who is anyone wants a piece of that China pie, but I feel lucky that I have a step up over everyone else that I have taken the initiative to be here in person and see the excitement and growth myself.  I cannot help but imagine a garden flower.  The “United States” part of that garden has many beautiful flowers.  But competition is fierce for them; people crowd over the garden.  The “China” part of the garden has several times the area of the United States one, yet no one is there.  Why?  The flowers are still buds.  But very soon (and the whole world knows this), they will blossom.   


Location: IES Activity Room, Beijing, China

The Art of Filling

This was an article I wrote for the newsletter create for the end of the semester.  This one is about the “fudao” or tutors that IES prepares for us.  We are allotted up to 4 hours a week to meet with them, with the fees covered through our IES tuition.  I must say, I really did enjoy having a fudao, particularly my own.  Here’s a short, somewhat snarky article about what its like.

Imagine a large jar, and surrounding the jar are large rocks.  One by one you place the large rocks into the jar until you cannot fit anymore.  Is the jar full?  It is not.  You can take the smaller gravel pieces around the large stones to fill in the holes.  So you do that.  Is the jar full now?  You see that the large stones and small gravel are just specs in an ocean of sand on which it lies.  You pour sand into the jar, and watch it trickle down and fill the gaps that the large and small stones fail to occupy.  Finally, it must be full you say.  Not so!  Even between the sand particles are spaces that not even the smallest sand particle can fill.  So you add water.  

The point of this illustration is to show how difficult it is to learn a language, and how incomplete it would be to sit in a classroom and hope to absorb the characters, pinyin, definition, grammar that we learn four days a week.  Nosiree, as large as those rocks are, they simply will not fill.  That’s why we have Chinese roommates or homestay families, (are forced to) speak in Chinese 24/7, and meet with tutors.  All these outside-the-classroom activities work together to perpetuate our learning after 12:15, solidifying the lessons through repetition and appropriate contextualized use.  However, I am especially appreciative of the fudao that IES has arrange for me, and all the ways that she is able to tailor to my needs to help me have a more complete Chinese learning experience. 

I meet with my fudao four times a week, usually at the IES building.  Our tradition is always the same: we greet, we sit down, and we get to business.  In an hour’s time, I am usually able to get familiar with the grammar points, read through the passage, and complete the next day’s homework.  However, what is interesting to note is the magic that occurs when we’re not on task.  We chat about our day and what we did that day.  I pause to ask my fudao what her opinion is on the day’s topic such as the one child policy, bicycle maintenance,  or George W. Bush’s visit to China (notably outdated, I know).  I ask her how 特别,特色,特殊 are different, even though my book says they all mean “special”.  I ask her to help me create crazy, nonsensical (but grammatically correct) sentences for my homework.  It’s like having a second teacher that is more willing to keep up with my Chinese learning antics. 

But it’s not always rainbows and butterflies.  Some say that their fudao experience is quite bad.  They complain that their fudao seem unresponsive or disinterested during the meeting.  Or perhaps that their fudaos reschedule too often or are unwilling to trek to the IES building to meet with them.  To those individuals I can do nothing but offer my condolences.   But as for me,  I can honestly say, without any degree of exaggeration, that my life has become fundamentally and holistically better because of my fudao.  She is the water that fills my jar; my cup overfloweth.  


Location: IES Building (during my tutoring session), Beijing, China

The Wall of Greatness

The Great Wall of China.  A Wonder of the world.  Continuous in its run through the hills of China (false), the only man-made structure that can be seen from space (false), and filled with the lost lives of those who paid the ultimate price to build it (also, false).  Now that we’ve gotten some misconceptions out of the way, we can start a real assessment of this wall that is considered so great.

The drive is about 2-3 hours from Beijing via bus.  Upon arrival I was immediately rushed by a bunch of xiaofan, or souvenir vendors catering to the “needs” of tourists.  They followed us for a whiles on the hike but we paid no mind to them.  In terms of how the Great Wall of China actually is, I can only really say it’s exactly what it looks like in the pictures: majestic, breathtaking, a pain in the butt. 

Compared to Tiger Leaping Gorge, I suppose it wasn’t nearly that bad (I didn’t contemplate suicide!),  but there were times I was definitely in want of rocket boots, a Segway, or a weird hybrid contraption that serves the needs of speedy horizontal movement with the capacity to jet me up and down those the parts of the wall that goes up and down.  Despite being centuries old, most of the wall looked pretty intact, until I realized that those were the renovated parts.  As we traveled further along the wall, hitting around 30 towers check-points along the way, the intactedness of the structure disappeared, only to be replaced with crumbling stone bricks, ledges that must be carefully crossed like in the video games, and fragments of walls and poles that once held the archers who fired at the invading Huns.  It was actually pretty cool.  Visually, it looked ancient.  I revered the Wall’s antiquity and cultural meaning.  I didn’t appreciate the hiking, which as we’ve already establish, I don’t care much for. 

Through the arduous hike, we took breaks and rested alongside the wall’s edge.  Most of the landscape was barren.  The deforestation that took place centuries ago to fuel the brick making had been devastating to the surroundings.  I can only imagine with my eyes closed how cool it would’ve looked if there were dense, thick forests on both sides of this giant stone snake.  It would’ve been really cool, I think.

As we walked, those darned xiaofans kept bothering us so I eventually caved in a bought a Great Wall photo book, which I am pleased to say I bargained down to a decent price.  The xiaofans also collected our empty bottles, which apparently they could cash in for a measly 3 fen (about half a cent).  I’ve noticed this phenomenon elsewhere.  People, often fish through trash bins looking for plastic water and soft drink bottles and collect them in hug bags.  I always wondered if they traded those in for money, and if it was really worth all that trouble.  I learned that it is humiliating and difficult, but for some it is scraping together a living.

We entered a forbidden part of the wall, and it was totally awesome.  I felt like Kratos from God of War, except less muscular and less adept at jumping, ledge hopping, and walking along narrow bridges.  Eventually, we ended up in a small village near the wall where we would be homestaying for the night.  They had the best kung pao chicken I have ever tasted in all of China.   


Location: The Great Wall of China, China

Kungfu Hustle

Shaolin Showdown

For our 4 day weekend vacation, some of the IES students went to Shaolinsi, arranged by IES of course.  It took an overnight train to get us there, which I must say is always an adventure.  Upon arrival, we met up with our daoyou (tour guide) in a Shaolin Monastery/Temple.  It was really amazing.  Mountains surrounded us on all sides as we explored this hidden city.  Everything you could imagine in a the kungfu capital of the world was there: wall paintings of ancient kung fu moves, real life Shaolin monks walking around the streets and ancient temples featuring Buddha.  However, our daoyou shed light to the less glamorous aspects of kungfu and Shaolin.

As a former kungfu student himself, he mentioned with bitterness the commercialization of kungfu.  The monks, he said, were more of custodians and souvenier venders than actual monks devoted to Buddhism.  And what he said was right; on every corner was a stand selling toy swords, prayer beads, cheap jade, and Buddhist paraphernalia… all manned by a Shaolin monk.  Our daoyou said that he himself could work there as long as he gave the monastery a sizeable bribe.  From there, many monks lead dual lives, he said.  Monks aren’t supposed to “marry” but still maintain relationships with women when not spending time in the temples.  They own cars, homes, luxuries.  Most of the mysterious, bald, monks featured in the Shaolin Temple were facades of actual living conditions.  In a typically hierarchical form, the lowest monks stayed in the monastery in poor living conditions while the higher ups travel the world giving kungfu seminars and reaping royalties from official kungfu schools all over the United States and all over the world. 

Outside the temple, he entire city was devoid of most industries but rather relied solely on kungfu as the driver of economy.  Hundreds of kungfu boarding schools were within the city, with nearly all the students being children under 18.  Parents of children with disciplinary problems would send their kids to kungfu boarding schools, our daoyou explained.  In order to better learn discipline and get their act together, many would be sent to these grueling schools.  Rigorous exercise, academic studies, endless practicing of kungfu forms six days a week all take tolls on these children’s lives.  So stressful are these kungfu programs that the daoyou said that one kid, maybe around 10 years old, tried to kill himself by jumping off a 4th story balcony.  Its really quite sad.  Our daoyou turned out okay, and most of the children at the kungfu school we visited were very polite and seemed okay.

There, we learned some kungfu.  Greg and I were paired up with a young kung fu student as he taught us some forms.  Apparently, all the flowery moves shown in Jet Li and Jackie Chan movies aren’t really typical of real Shaolin Kungfu, which takes a more pragmatic approach.  Sharp movements and specific body motions rule this type of kungfu, as Greg and I painstakingly attempted to learn.  Later we learned that the downward hand spear followed by a quickly executed retracting horse stance was actually used to castrate the opponent by grabbing their testes and yanking it out of their pelvic region.  Ouch.

Food was good.  We had a traditional Shaolin noodle dish.  This one gives you la (spiciness), this one gives you numb, our daoyou said as he pointed to two different sauces.  I tried mine with both.  The la was as expected.  The numb threw me off guard.  My tongue felt like it was fuzzy, which tingled uncomfortable with anything hot, carbonated, or cold.  The numbing sauce was not my cup of tea. 

Also, one cool thing I learned about Chinese culture as a whole was the idea of “hai keyi”.  This means its okay, or its so-so.  The dayou asked if we ever asked a Chinese person what they thought of something, whether its politics or particular ice cream flavors, only to be replied to with a “hai keyi”.  Only too often, I thought to myself.  He said the reason for this is the same reason why a kungfu practioner does not commit fully to a punch nor jab shallowly.  The idea of moderation, at least in range of motion for punches and kicks, is essential to not be thrown off guard.  If one needs to adjust, one can.  And at no time is one ever in a completely vulnerable position.  The same thing applies to Chinese people.  Ask a Chinese person, “Hey what do you think of my jacket”, and they say “Sure, its okay”.  If I say “what do you mean ok?  This jacket sucks” they can quickly adjust their opinion to side with yours, in order to make you feel comfortable and to please you.  On the other hand, if you say “what do you mean ok?  I love this jacket”, they can quickly change it to “yes you’re right after all!  Its awesome!”. 

How was the trip?

“Hai keyi” 


Location: Henan, China

Bargaining Blues

 After our stay in Napa Village, the group went to a small village called Lijiang.  Its famous for its old city, which is decked out with traditional Chinese sceneries and architecture.  The buildings were quaint and had curved roofs, little streams flowing underneath the stone brick walkways, bridges, and waterwheels.  It was… cute.  There were also a lot of touristy places to buy touristy souvenirs.  This is where I did a lot of “bargaining”.  I put in quotes because it’s debatable if I actually ended up getting the best possible price. 

Since most of the items I purchased were gifts I shall be stingy with the details.  Here are the things I bought:

3x animal souvenirs

4x decoration type souvenirs

1x slightly larger decoration type souvenir

3x expensive jade thingies

1x festive looking container

Ok, in my defense, Lijiang was a super touristy place so the price of goods are exponentially higher than they should be.  In my experience, touristy places like this are no good for buying things.  The reason why I bought multiple of most items was because I figured since it was gifts, it wouldn’t hurt to have extras and buying more than one would give me leverage to demand a lower price.

First the animals.  I thought they were cool looking and pretty unique.  They came in several sizes.  Small, which was about the size of a half dollar, the mediums were about the size of small computer mouse, the large was about the size of a baseball and the extra large was freaking huge.  Not wanting to be too conspicuous, but at the same time wanting to make sure my friends don’t feel shafted, I went for the medium.  The lady told me that each one was 25 RMB each.  I easily brought it down to 3 for 50 RMB, but according to my friends, I got ripped off pretty bad.  I could’ve/should’ve gotten them for 10 RMB each.  I hate my life.

Next I bought decoration type things.  They were pretty cheap, and looked pretty cool.  3 for 10 RMB.  However!  I tried to haggled it down, or get another one for marginally cheaper.  All I could do was 4 for 12 RMB, which in my opinion is total bullcrap.  But!  Its only 12 RMB, so I can live with that.  And then!  While I was walking down another alley, I saw identical items in a different stall, but this time it was 4 for 10 RMB!  I hate my life.

Same for all the other stuff.  It was astronomically expensive; I got it down to a semi-reasonable price, but then realize that it’s still severely overpriced.  I have a shopping problem.  I confess it.  Someone save me.  The fact that I justify relatively expensive goods with “Oh, but its actually not that expensive when you convert it to US prices” might be pretty bad too.  Hopefully I won’t be too broke poor when I come back.  


Location: Lijiang, China

Yunnan: Part Two

After the various hikes in and around Tiger Leaping Gorge, our group stopped by Shangrila on the way to Napa Village, a small village of about 40 people in the heart of Yunnan’s mountainous region.  We were invited to home stay with Tibetans, which was interesting to say the least.  Tibetans are an ethnic minority so they get some benefits from the government, the most notable being their ability to have multiple children without being penalized with an extra child fine.  I think the going rate for an extra child for a Han Chinese (the most common ethnicity in China, over 90% of the population) is about 30,000 dollars.  Also, it seemed as though Tibet was “backwards” in a lot of ways.  Their homes are made almost entirely of wood, limited electricity, no central heating/cooling unit whatsoever, reliance on farm animals, etc etc.  I felt the few luxuries we did have at those home stays (such as solar powered, if unreliable hot water, were only there because of its status as a hostel, since being a hostel for allows the family a good supplementary income. 

The heart of a Tibetan home is the fireplace, a large, central fireplace that’s almost always burning.  It’s the sole source for much of the heat in the home and is also used to cook food and boil water.  Their toilets, not to anyone’s surprise, were squatters.  At this point, I abhorred squatter toilets.  But sadly enough, I was used to it at that point.  I’m pretty inflexible so for me to squat down and try to go number two is quite the challenge, but I’ve figured out some methods that work for me.  And yes, I am proud of myself for that accomplishment.  

My host family was really warm and welcoming.  I had a host mom and a host dad, both of whom tried very hard to make us as comfortable as possible.  They had two children, both of whom were old enough to be out in the real world and thusly not with us.  One interesting thing is that our host mom could not speak a lick of Chinese.  Tibet has a completely different culture and language, which is not at all similar to Chinese.  When my roommates and I tried to communicate with our host mom in our developing Chinese, we quickly realized that her Mandarin was about as good as ours.  It was hard, but via wild hand movements and charades, we got most of our messages across (I think?).  Our host dad’s Chinese was alright, but he spent most of the day out working. 

Every morning they would prepare for us eggs, apples, some fried yak cheese, and yak milk, and yak butter tea.  I can’t really say I liked yak products too much.  It has a different taste than cow dairy products.  My theory is this, human beings weren’t meant to consume dairy products.  In fact, we were only meant to consume human milk and only up to a certain age.  That’s why most of the world is lactose intolerant (even though most of the western world IS lactose tolerant due to generations of biological conditioning).  That being said, I’m only really used to cow milk, cow cheese, etc.  But as soon as you give me different-animal milk/cheese, my taste buds reject is somewhat.  It’s not bad.  Just unfamiliar.  The best dish and the highlight of the Napa experience was the Tibetan hotpot.  In a word, it was awesome.  I don’t know how to describe it.  A buttload of different meats and noodles and some veggies all boiling in a stone pot in the fireplace.  It was delicious.  Oh, and how can I forget Tibetan barbeque.  That was amazing.  The fireplace was cleared of all pots and pans, and right on top of the iron shelve we placed our meats.  From sweet and tangy marinated beef to chicken wings, from potatoes to tofu, even spam-like sausage meat was a joy to behold in my eyes and hold in my stomach.  In Tibet, if the food is weird, it’s weird.  But when its good, its fantastic. 

At Napa Village we did a variety of activities.  Kayaking in the lake, hiking up the mountains, typical travelling touristy stuff.  But the best activity was definitely the Tibetan dance party.  We all gathered in one of the home stay family and huddled around the fireplace.  The Tibetans were garbed out in their best traditional dress, which was distinctly oriental, intricate, and colorful.  We drank, we danced, we sang, we had a good time.  The funny part is, all the Tibetans were singing their traditional folky songs of old, and we were expected to bring some songs as well.  Our repertoire consisted mainly of childhood songs like “I’m a little teapot”, “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”, songs everyone knows like our national anthem, and Backstreet Boys, as well as some TV show songs like “Arthur” and “South Park”.  Hilarious, embarrassing, and a little sad, but we pulled through somehow and saved face.  


Location: Dali, China

Photos

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A Ethnic Minority restaurant in Kunming
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A park in Kunming
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A small stand selling touristy souveniers in the aforementioned park in Kunming.  About 10 RMB each, 1.50 USD
Sorry for the slow loading.  Internet in these parts is slow as mollases.  Gotta do it in chunks

Location: Kunming, China