I Stepped On My Host Mom's Mango, and Other Stories

Yes, this entry's title speaks the truth: while sitting on the couch and watching Chinese opera on TV, my host mom accidentally dropped the mango she was peeling. At her outburst of "Aiya!", I stood up to look for it, and my right foot came down on something soft and squishy. I had found the mango. A good chunk of it got smushed into the carpet. Luckily, it only took a few tissues to clean it up. My host mom thought it was hilarious. I, however, felt bad for the mango - the rest of it ended up in the trash, after only one bite. Oh well.

My host family is great. I think I am a constant source of amusement for them, especially when I try to have a conversation with them in Chinese. For instance, I was talking to my host mom and sister the other day, and I mentioned the phrase "I like sleeping in my bed." However, I mispronounced the word for "bed" and instead told them "I like sleeping on sheep." My host sister is constantly writing down new words for me, but there some words that no matter how often she repeats them, I can never remember them. My top 3 are "tomato" (xihongshi), "gym" (jianshenfang), and ironically enough, "to remember" (jide). My sister really gets a kick out of me trying to recall them, and has even gone so far as posting a note on the bulletin board in the living room with the word for "tomato," complete with illustration. Actually, there are quite a few post-its scattered around the apartment labeling common household features, such as xiyiji (washing machine), weibolu (microwave), yagao (toothpaste), etc.

In other news, my real mom came to visit last week. It was great to see her, and we had a good time touring around Beijing. I took her to see the Great Wall, the Forbidden City, Tiananmen Square, and the Temple of Heaven. We also hit up the Silk Market, where we made out like bandits, but only after some hard bargaining. On her last night here, we went to this awesome out-of-the-way restaurant called The Tree (voted "Best Pizza" in Beijing). They had dozens of Belgian beers to choose from - I opted for a wheat beer called Celis Witbier. Wow. A party for my tastebuds. Sweet and spicy, with a bitter citrus aroma. Coming from a college in Pennsylvania, I know it's blasphemy to say any beer other than Yuengling is the best, but I'd be lying if I said that beer wasn't the best beer of my life.

Well, I'm in the homestretch for the end of the semester: less than 3 weeks of classes and finals left, then I'm off to Tibet for 2 weeks. Although I'm ecstatic about going to the Roof of the World, I am particulary excited about whom I will be traveling with, specifically a certain someone who decided that he wanted to fly halfway around the world to explore Tibet with me. I couldn't think of a better travel partner.


(Mom and me at the Temple of Heaven)

No Queue-Jumping Day

Today is April 11, and in Beijing, that means it's "No Queue-Jumping Day." In February, the city launched a campaign to encourage Beijingers to be a little more civil in preparation for next summer's Olympic games, and deemed that the 11th day of each month would be a no line-jumping day. They even have a slogan: “It’s civilized to queue, it’s glorious to be polite.” One day out of 30... hmm... I would say that it might be effective... if people in this country even queued in the first place. The Chinese are the anthithesis of the British when it comes to queueing. Boarding a bus, subway train, or even an elevator is like reaching for the last Tickle-Me-Elmo in a toy store filled with hundreds of desperate parents - you gotta throw some elbows if you wanna get on.

Once a week, I a person wearing a red armband standing at the bus stop near campus, trying to get people to line up (just to line up, we're not yet at the queue-jumping stage). He'll wave a little red flag and try to corral the people waiting there into something that resembles a line. All goes well, until the bus arrives - poof! the line disappears and suddenly there's a mob of people pushing and shoving their way onto the bus. Talk about an exercise in futility.

I know I'm not supposed to make judgment calls when it comes to cross-cultural comparisons, but the lack of order here really frustrates me sometimes. People don't even line-up while they're waiting for the bathroom. I can't help but look at how things are done back home and lament the apparent inefficiency of this place. However, I've taken enough anthropology classes to know that there is always a reason for a certain behavior of a society, even if it's not immediately apparent. The every-man-for-himself mentality that I witness everyday here probably has its roots in the tulmultuous history of China itself. That's 5000 years of habit and tradition. I don't think one day a month will do much to change that.

In related news, the Chinese government has also started a "no-spitting" campaign. We'll see how well that one does.

Commuting

Mornings come pretty early here in Beijing... at least they do when you have class at 8 am and have to bike from your apartment to campus. I live about 15-20 minutes away from campus by bike, which I suppose evens out to about 2 miles give or take. I've really come to love biking to class, but everytime I venture out onto the streets, I'm taking my life into my own hands. Nothing gives you an adrenaline rush quite like biking in Beijing, especially when you have to cross two major intersections. To give you some sort of an idea of what I'm talking about, here is a short play-by-play of a typical morning commute:

7:19 am Leave apartment
7:23 Retrieve bike from the bowels of apartment building. Make sure to say hello to the bike lady who guards tenants' bikes like a rotweiler. Select playlist on ipod for listening pleasure, usually AC/DC or the Allman Brothers.
7:25 Turn onto Xueyuan Lu towards campus. Careful when merging to avoid the throngs of bicycles carrying school kids, furniture, propane tanks, trash, giant stuffed crocodiles, and just about anything else you thought you'd never see on a bike. Pass the Chaoshifa (supermarket) and the truck that delivers sweet potatoes.
7:27 Cross the entrance to the Agricultural Sciences Academy. Weave in-between cars waiting for the light. Have a close encounter with the front bumper of a taxi. Almost hit a man walking a Bichon Frise (who is wearing red booties).
7:28 Hit a pothole. Stop to fix the bike chain that is now sadly dangling from the bottom of the bike.
7:29 Wipe greasy fingers on nearest available clean surface (read: jeans). Resume biking.
7:30 Almost wipe out on a car door that out of nowhere has swung open.
7:31 Cross major intersection, always watching for cars making left-hand turns. It pays to wait for the light.
7:33 Hit another pothole. Fix bike chain. Resume journey.
7:36 Cross Xisanhuan Road.
7:38 Enter Bei Wai via the west gate. Furiously ring bell to get through the throng of students on their way to class. Play chicken with a car. Car wins.
7:39 Arrive at IES Building. Lock bike (using two locks).


(Photo courtesy of China Chas)



(Photo courtesy of... I forget)