As we all know, China has a planned economy. The government controls many things. It just does.
One thing the government controls is when the heat can be turned on in the buildings. They set a date (I hear it's November 15) and until then, no central heating.
Before you all freak out, consider the pollution in China. (Note to self: tell you about a couple of weekends ago.) Keeping the heat off saves something like, well, a LOT of coal. A shit ton, to be exact. (I did a quick google search, but I couldn't find a number that corresponds to that tonnage.) It's a pretty good reason to limit when the heat is turned on. (That is, unless you all like how much pollution floats over the Pacific to the U.S.)
The temperature dropped significantly on Sunday. Right now (at 6:45pm), it's 50 degrees. Highs today were around 59. Lows tonight are predicted to be around 38 degrees. Let's just say that it's a little cold right now.
But hey! It's just like living in the dorm back at Carolina. The heating was controlled by the Physical Plant there, too.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Subway Breakdown
Some colleagues and I are establishing a tradition of going out to eat someplace yummy on Friday nights. After a long week of living where the best place going is The Holiday Inn, we head over to the east side and eat in restaurants that cater to the Western palate. Don't discount it. It's the highlight of the week and gets us through the long-dark Wednesdays and Thursdays.
This week, we had decided that we would head over the Indian restaurant. (You know, Bombay is high on my list of places to live next. Talk about some good food.) We had Parents' Night after school, so we didn't get out of school until 5pm or so. We agreed to meet at 5:30 and head eastward.
After my almost-two-hour taxi ride at 5:30 on Thursday night, I was adamant that we take the subway. As leader, my followers dutifully followed me. Oh, the blind leading the blind.
We got on the subway, which was packed crowded, but not uncomfortably so. We are figuring out the rhythms of the subway, so we knew when it was going to get crowded. And it got crowded. Usually, there is some ebb and flow, though. This time, there was just flow, no ebb. More and more people pushed into the carriage.
One stop from our exit, we were all pushed to the far back wall. No one was moving. When we got to our stop, the usual flow of people leaving was pushed off the right was the influx of people was pushing to the left -- right where we were. For a moment, we really thought that there was no getting off. Then my friends made a break for it, and I had no choice but to raise my elbows and push my way through. It wasn't pretty, but we did get off.
I've made the switch between the lines before, and I knew the tunnel was crowded. But I also knew that most people go in the opposite direction, so if you can make it through the tunnel, the platform usually empties out. (The last time I did this, we left the subway to get a cab -- in the rain -- only to decide we'd never get a cab so went back in from another tunnel entrance and found the way easy.) We lemminged our way along the tunnel, went down the stairs... and confronted another crush of people getting on a train.
We knew there was no getting on that train, but they come every 90 seconds or so. We moved towards the center, where the line was a little shorter, and waited. And waited. And waited. More and more people poured down the stairs onto the platform. We had been feeling a little claustrophobic all night, but we realized that at this point there was no leaving. The exits were so packed with people, we'd be hard pressed (ha ha) to make it out.
Finally, other people in line decided that a 15 minute wait was too long and were moving out of the tunnel. A man next to us (who happened to speak English) clinched it when he said the trains usually come every two minutes and maybe we should leave before the oxygen ran out. We were outta there.
I didn't say it, but I was fairly convinced that we'd never get a cab, but hanging out in the cool evening breeze was far better than chilling in the stuffy subway basement with thousands of workers heading home at the end of the day. I probably should have been a bit more patient in looking for a cab, but I sometimes forget that everyone isn't as fond of walking as I am.
Sure, I joke about being a fat slob, but that's really only in comparison to my rock-hard, mountain-climbing friends. I'm in pretty good shape considering the minutes I clock watching TV and reading books. (Hey, these are serious English-teacher pursuits! I have to work on my analysis and allusion skillz. I don't want to fall behind.) I can walk all day without too much damage, especially now that I DO walk everywhere in my new, car-free lifestyle. My friends, however, are a bit older and a bit more sedate than I. Oops.
It took me a moment to get my bearings and orient myself in space, but once I did, I knew where we had to go. We started walking and flagging at the same time. But at 6:30pm on a Friday night, wasn't no cab that was gonna stop for a bunch of white women. (All you black men out there can laugh all you want, now I know how it feels.) The line at the hotel (not ours, but whatever) was super long without a cabbie in sight. The closest we saw was a dodgy taxi, and we weren't taking one of them.
By this point, I'm swearing up a blue streak. All I wanted was a nice hot dinner of delicious Indian food and a carafe of wine (or three -- the carafes are small and there were four of us). Cabbies would drive by, empty, studiously not making eye contact so they wouldn't have to stop. We walk. And walk. And walk.
One of my friends had her good map (I had my pocket map, which is great for general ideas, but bad on the details), and I knew where we were and where we had to turn. Yay. And we were getting closer. Of course, she tripped over a hole in the sidewalk (you know, an entire brick missing). She had already broken her foot earlier by tripping over the sidewalk. It is a dangerous place. So we're slowing down and still flagging the taxis. To no avail.
Well. We did finally make it. There was an empty table when we walked in the door. The carafe of wine (eventually) made it to the table. And we ate. And ate. And ate. It was delish. But, it was such a stressful evening, we had to go out to another bar after.
The Stumble Inn is becoming my favorite place. They serve North Coast Brewing beer (yes, Beth, that brewery), and while they don't have Pranqster, they do have the Red Seal Ale and Scrimshaw. They also have Rouge Dead Guy. All for about 35 kwai, or $5.25 including tip. The music is good. The bathrooms are impeccable. They have a downstairs, a pool room, and a patio. I hear their food is good, too. I could live in that bar. If you come visit, I'll take you there.
Fortunately, lots of taxis are very willing to take you from the east side to wherever you want to go. Taxis in that neighborhood know exactly what they're in for and who they are going to drive.
The moral of the story? Well, there are two lessons. 1) If your friend tells her husband that we're sure to get to the restaurant before him since he's coming from the airport, be afraid. Very afraid. You have just been jinxed. 2) Never pass through Tiananmen around 6pm at night -- either in a car or on the subway -- DON'T. If you can't leave the west by 4:30, just wait and leave at 6. The rush will have slowed down just enough that you won't have to swear a blue streak from frustration.
Oh, and I'm thankful that at least the subway didn't break down when we were on the train.
This week, we had decided that we would head over the Indian restaurant. (You know, Bombay is high on my list of places to live next. Talk about some good food.) We had Parents' Night after school, so we didn't get out of school until 5pm or so. We agreed to meet at 5:30 and head eastward.
After my almost-two-hour taxi ride at 5:30 on Thursday night, I was adamant that we take the subway. As leader, my followers dutifully followed me. Oh, the blind leading the blind.
We got on the subway, which was packed crowded, but not uncomfortably so. We are figuring out the rhythms of the subway, so we knew when it was going to get crowded. And it got crowded. Usually, there is some ebb and flow, though. This time, there was just flow, no ebb. More and more people pushed into the carriage.
One stop from our exit, we were all pushed to the far back wall. No one was moving. When we got to our stop, the usual flow of people leaving was pushed off the right was the influx of people was pushing to the left -- right where we were. For a moment, we really thought that there was no getting off. Then my friends made a break for it, and I had no choice but to raise my elbows and push my way through. It wasn't pretty, but we did get off.
I've made the switch between the lines before, and I knew the tunnel was crowded. But I also knew that most people go in the opposite direction, so if you can make it through the tunnel, the platform usually empties out. (The last time I did this, we left the subway to get a cab -- in the rain -- only to decide we'd never get a cab so went back in from another tunnel entrance and found the way easy.) We lemminged our way along the tunnel, went down the stairs... and confronted another crush of people getting on a train.
We knew there was no getting on that train, but they come every 90 seconds or so. We moved towards the center, where the line was a little shorter, and waited. And waited. And waited. More and more people poured down the stairs onto the platform. We had been feeling a little claustrophobic all night, but we realized that at this point there was no leaving. The exits were so packed with people, we'd be hard pressed (ha ha) to make it out.
Finally, other people in line decided that a 15 minute wait was too long and were moving out of the tunnel. A man next to us (who happened to speak English) clinched it when he said the trains usually come every two minutes and maybe we should leave before the oxygen ran out. We were outta there.
I didn't say it, but I was fairly convinced that we'd never get a cab, but hanging out in the cool evening breeze was far better than chilling in the stuffy subway basement with thousands of workers heading home at the end of the day. I probably should have been a bit more patient in looking for a cab, but I sometimes forget that everyone isn't as fond of walking as I am.
Sure, I joke about being a fat slob, but that's really only in comparison to my rock-hard, mountain-climbing friends. I'm in pretty good shape considering the minutes I clock watching TV and reading books. (Hey, these are serious English-teacher pursuits! I have to work on my analysis and allusion skillz. I don't want to fall behind.) I can walk all day without too much damage, especially now that I DO walk everywhere in my new, car-free lifestyle. My friends, however, are a bit older and a bit more sedate than I. Oops.
It took me a moment to get my bearings and orient myself in space, but once I did, I knew where we had to go. We started walking and flagging at the same time. But at 6:30pm on a Friday night, wasn't no cab that was gonna stop for a bunch of white women. (All you black men out there can laugh all you want, now I know how it feels.) The line at the hotel (not ours, but whatever) was super long without a cabbie in sight. The closest we saw was a dodgy taxi, and we weren't taking one of them.
By this point, I'm swearing up a blue streak. All I wanted was a nice hot dinner of delicious Indian food and a carafe of wine (or three -- the carafes are small and there were four of us). Cabbies would drive by, empty, studiously not making eye contact so they wouldn't have to stop. We walk. And walk. And walk.
One of my friends had her good map (I had my pocket map, which is great for general ideas, but bad on the details), and I knew where we were and where we had to turn. Yay. And we were getting closer. Of course, she tripped over a hole in the sidewalk (you know, an entire brick missing). She had already broken her foot earlier by tripping over the sidewalk. It is a dangerous place. So we're slowing down and still flagging the taxis. To no avail.
Well. We did finally make it. There was an empty table when we walked in the door. The carafe of wine (eventually) made it to the table. And we ate. And ate. And ate. It was delish. But, it was such a stressful evening, we had to go out to another bar after.
The Stumble Inn is becoming my favorite place. They serve North Coast Brewing beer (yes, Beth, that brewery), and while they don't have Pranqster, they do have the Red Seal Ale and Scrimshaw. They also have Rouge Dead Guy. All for about 35 kwai, or $5.25 including tip. The music is good. The bathrooms are impeccable. They have a downstairs, a pool room, and a patio. I hear their food is good, too. I could live in that bar. If you come visit, I'll take you there.
Fortunately, lots of taxis are very willing to take you from the east side to wherever you want to go. Taxis in that neighborhood know exactly what they're in for and who they are going to drive.
The moral of the story? Well, there are two lessons. 1) If your friend tells her husband that we're sure to get to the restaurant before him since he's coming from the airport, be afraid. Very afraid. You have just been jinxed. 2) Never pass through Tiananmen around 6pm at night -- either in a car or on the subway -- DON'T. If you can't leave the west by 4:30, just wait and leave at 6. The rush will have slowed down just enough that you won't have to swear a blue streak from frustration.
Oh, and I'm thankful that at least the subway didn't break down when we were on the train.
Humorous Things I Saw on My Way to Work
An aging, portly Chinese dude in a tracksuit carrying a badminton racket with his comb-over flopping in the breeze.
Our new early morning guard (I live in a "gated community") in the jacket so large that the sleeves completely cover his hands. He always looks like he's wearing his dad's clothes.
A man careening down the street on his bicycle with his girlfriend riding sidesaddle on the bike rack.
Our new early morning guard (I live in a "gated community") in the jacket so large that the sleeves completely cover his hands. He always looks like he's wearing his dad's clothes.
A man careening down the street on his bicycle with his girlfriend riding sidesaddle on the bike rack.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Next to Godliness
As many of you know, I am not the neatest individual. Far from it. Those of you who have lived with me, might call me sloppy or even slovenly. (There was the never-emptying dish bin in college -- as in, we didn't do the dishes for a month.) I'm bad at setting up systems and even worse at maintaining them. So, my stuff ends up all over the place. My dust bunnies grow into dust rhinoceri.
I notice it. I mind it even (at some point), but I am lazy. Well, lazy when it comes to cleaning. I'd much rather read a good book, or watch a documentary, or take a nap.
This also extends to my personal habits. Anyone who has seen me during finals week or the summer knows that showering is not my favorite activity. Getting naked (and therefore cold) and standing in water (hot or not) just isn't the most thrilling thing to me. Oh sure, it wakes you up in the morning... but who the hell wants to wake up? I'm not saying that I do my best to smell, and I admit that a shower is awesome after a long day skiing or hiking, but if I'm not that dirty and I'm not working, I'll often skip the shower.
Well, things aren't too much different here, except when it comes to that whole soap thing.
Moving to Beijing probably wasn't the best choice for someone who raises dust rhinoceri, seeing as the dirt piles up just from leaving the windows open. And I've mentioned before the thin layer of poo that coats everything. My response? Lots and lots of soap.
I wash my hands religiously. Not that I didn't wash them before, but I really wash them now. I shower every day. Maybe it's the awesome shower head I have. Maybe it's the low ceiling that help keeps the heat in. Maybe it's the super-bright heat lamps right over the shower. Maybe it's my giant, fluffy towel towel. Maybe it's the feeling that I'm coated with poo every time I've been outside. But, I am a much, much cleaner person.
And there's a benefit to all this hand washing -- I haven't gotten sick yet! At least four of my colleagues have come down with food poisoning and three of them have gotten colds. I've suffered from neither. I thought I had the beginnings of a cold earlier this week, but I think it was allergies from the horrible pollution we had during the weekend (more on that later). This doesn't mean that I won't get sick, but as someone who usually starts the year with a cold from the germ-factories, being cold-free is a pleasant surprise.
I notice it. I mind it even (at some point), but I am lazy. Well, lazy when it comes to cleaning. I'd much rather read a good book, or watch a documentary, or take a nap.
This also extends to my personal habits. Anyone who has seen me during finals week or the summer knows that showering is not my favorite activity. Getting naked (and therefore cold) and standing in water (hot or not) just isn't the most thrilling thing to me. Oh sure, it wakes you up in the morning... but who the hell wants to wake up? I'm not saying that I do my best to smell, and I admit that a shower is awesome after a long day skiing or hiking, but if I'm not that dirty and I'm not working, I'll often skip the shower.
Well, things aren't too much different here, except when it comes to that whole soap thing.
Moving to Beijing probably wasn't the best choice for someone who raises dust rhinoceri, seeing as the dirt piles up just from leaving the windows open. And I've mentioned before the thin layer of poo that coats everything. My response? Lots and lots of soap.
I wash my hands religiously. Not that I didn't wash them before, but I really wash them now. I shower every day. Maybe it's the awesome shower head I have. Maybe it's the low ceiling that help keeps the heat in. Maybe it's the super-bright heat lamps right over the shower. Maybe it's my giant, fluffy towel towel. Maybe it's the feeling that I'm coated with poo every time I've been outside. But, I am a much, much cleaner person.
And there's a benefit to all this hand washing -- I haven't gotten sick yet! At least four of my colleagues have come down with food poisoning and three of them have gotten colds. I've suffered from neither. I thought I had the beginnings of a cold earlier this week, but I think it was allergies from the horrible pollution we had during the weekend (more on that later). This doesn't mean that I won't get sick, but as someone who usually starts the year with a cold from the germ-factories, being cold-free is a pleasant surprise.
Dire Straits
You know you're not in Kansas anymore when the only bastion of all that is clean and wonderful in your neighborhood is the Holiday Inn,
Yup.
We went to the Holiday Inn for lunch yesterday. They have a decent Thai restaurant and a decent "Western" restaurant. You're not really supposed to eat there if you're not a guest, but they let you anyway. We all got the burger and fries. The fries were good, complete with a lightly spicy salt dusting. The burger was large and came with cheese and bacon, but without mayo. I was sad that I didn't bring my new jar of mayo with me. (Thanks again, Mom!) The ketchup, too, was a little weird. But it was the closest thing to a normal lunch I've had in a long time.
To be fair to the Holiday Inn (which brings to mind hordes of screaming kids and their careworn parents on sad, American vacations in random heartland locations), it has a good reputation internationally.
Yup.
We went to the Holiday Inn for lunch yesterday. They have a decent Thai restaurant and a decent "Western" restaurant. You're not really supposed to eat there if you're not a guest, but they let you anyway. We all got the burger and fries. The fries were good, complete with a lightly spicy salt dusting. The burger was large and came with cheese and bacon, but without mayo. I was sad that I didn't bring my new jar of mayo with me. (Thanks again, Mom!) The ketchup, too, was a little weird. But it was the closest thing to a normal lunch I've had in a long time.
To be fair to the Holiday Inn (which brings to mind hordes of screaming kids and their careworn parents on sad, American vacations in random heartland locations), it has a good reputation internationally.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Pirates of the Dream Space
The school handed out some free movie passes for Teacher's Day (back in September). Although I had opted for the karaoke session, one of my colleagues gave me her ticket. The Canadian and I decided we wanted to use them before they expired (today), so we set about planning a trip to the movies.
First, we had to figure out if any English films were indeed playing at the movie theater. I had done some Google Chroming, and it appeared that "Pirates of the Dream Space" was playing in English at our local theater. Of course, it's hard to Google Map things when you really don't know what the street names are (road signs are often written in pinyin, but Google Maps uses Chinese characters). I thought I had our movie theater, but when you rely on translations done by a Web browser, all bets are off.
I asked my Handler to confirm, and it turns out that it WAS playing at our local theater, but only in the IMAX theater. Of course, the tickets weren't valid for IMAX showings. It was also being shown at the movie theater in the CBD (across town) on a regular screen. (The Chinese use the English acronym for central business district for some reason.) Woo-hoo. The tickets even had the address of the theater printed on it, so we could give that to a cab driver.
We briefly considered taking the subway, but decided against it. (Big mistake.) We would leave around 5pm. Grab some dinner. See the 8:00 showing. Simple.
The main reason why we didn't take the subway is because we didn't really know where the theater was. I knew it was in the CBD and it looked like it was on the main thoroughfare, but I didn't know which subway stop it was at. There is nothing quite so frustrating as wandering around a city looking for something specific and missing it because you're a block off.
It turns out what is even MORE frustrating is sitting in a taxi for an hour and forty-five minutes because of traffic. Oh yes. Crossing Tiananmen is a big mistake. Sometimes they shut down the road (the main road through the center of the city) because of ceremonies or big wigs or whatever. At rush hour. Of course.
Fortunately, taxis in China are cheap. CHEAP. Almost two hours in a taxi still totaled a mere $9. However, it did trash our plans for dinner.
We walked around briefly looking for food and saw a Subway. I've eaten a lot of Subway, but I really don't consider it appropriate dinner fare. We found the Wal-Mart and decided to try our luck at Wal-Mart bathrooms. (Did I mention how long we were in the taxi?) I can say they are better than many restrooms I've been in in China, but the woman squatting in a stall with the door open in front of the mirror was a bit disconcerting. Trying to look away while checking your reflection in the mirror is a tad difficult.
Off we went to the theater to at least get tickets. Oy. Vey. Everything was in Chinese! Somehow, the idea that the film was shown in English made me think that the English title might have been listed somewhere... Not so much. It was all Chinese, all the time. We waited in one line, but that was for the V.I.P. card, so we had to get in the other line. Then I remembered my Handler. We got the front of the line, I called my Handler, and... we were told to go to a third line to use the vouchers. So then I could hand the phone to the woman and he could ask for our tickets for us.
I do a lot of things on faith in this country. I assume he said what I asked him to say. I assume she did what he asked. I have no idea, though, because everything is written in Chinese. I can read a few things in Chinese (beef, chicken, alcohol), but I can't read "Pirates of the Dream Space".
By now it's really dinner time. The Canadian is not going to live on popcorn alone. (I have often made a meal out of a bucket of popcorn with butter-flavored topping.) Off we went, back towards the Subway. We decided to walk around the block, and if we didn't see anything better, we'd have a sandwich.
And then we saw it. Kungfu. Oh yes, the restaurant is named Kungfu. I don't think we really had an option but to eat there. It was a fast food joint selling things in bowls. We both ordered the chicken and got a bowl of boiled chicken, a plate of steamed broccoli with sauce, and a bowl rice with a scoop of peanut/meat topping. It was pretty decent, all things considered. It cost about $4.50 and the chicken was real chicken (on the bone with feet floating in the broth -- yes, I said feet) and the broccoli was al dente. Not as in-your-face-awesome as you might hope from a restaurant called Kungfu, but our chopsticks were flying as fast as lightening. It was a little bit frightening.
We went back to the theater. We got a bucket of popcorn that was actually pretty good. No butter topping (sadly), but it was caramelized. The Chinese love things sweet, so they serve caramel corn at the movies. Not bad, not bad at all.
Then, we were pointed to a theater. In China, you pay your money (or the school's money, as the case might be), and you take your chances. Would we really be seeing a movie in English? We were the only two English-speakers in the place. It would have been perfect to sit in a cab for almost two hours, just to use our tickets to a movie dubbed into Chinese. Ten minutes worth of commercials in Chinese later, and the movie started... with Chinese subtitles! Success!
I must say, Inception is a great film and definitely worth seeing in the theater. Worth being totally out of your element just to get in the door. I especially loved how true the homages to and reverberations of other popular movies felt. Of course there were echoes of Star Wars and Total Recall and The Matrix because it is a film about shared our consciousness and dreams. What else does Hollywood do but provide fodder for our dreams?
First, we had to figure out if any English films were indeed playing at the movie theater. I had done some Google Chroming, and it appeared that "Pirates of the Dream Space" was playing in English at our local theater. Of course, it's hard to Google Map things when you really don't know what the street names are (road signs are often written in pinyin, but Google Maps uses Chinese characters). I thought I had our movie theater, but when you rely on translations done by a Web browser, all bets are off.
I asked my Handler to confirm, and it turns out that it WAS playing at our local theater, but only in the IMAX theater. Of course, the tickets weren't valid for IMAX showings. It was also being shown at the movie theater in the CBD (across town) on a regular screen. (The Chinese use the English acronym for central business district for some reason.) Woo-hoo. The tickets even had the address of the theater printed on it, so we could give that to a cab driver.
We briefly considered taking the subway, but decided against it. (Big mistake.) We would leave around 5pm. Grab some dinner. See the 8:00 showing. Simple.
The main reason why we didn't take the subway is because we didn't really know where the theater was. I knew it was in the CBD and it looked like it was on the main thoroughfare, but I didn't know which subway stop it was at. There is nothing quite so frustrating as wandering around a city looking for something specific and missing it because you're a block off.
It turns out what is even MORE frustrating is sitting in a taxi for an hour and forty-five minutes because of traffic. Oh yes. Crossing Tiananmen is a big mistake. Sometimes they shut down the road (the main road through the center of the city) because of ceremonies or big wigs or whatever. At rush hour. Of course.
Fortunately, taxis in China are cheap. CHEAP. Almost two hours in a taxi still totaled a mere $9. However, it did trash our plans for dinner.
We walked around briefly looking for food and saw a Subway. I've eaten a lot of Subway, but I really don't consider it appropriate dinner fare. We found the Wal-Mart and decided to try our luck at Wal-Mart bathrooms. (Did I mention how long we were in the taxi?) I can say they are better than many restrooms I've been in in China, but the woman squatting in a stall with the door open in front of the mirror was a bit disconcerting. Trying to look away while checking your reflection in the mirror is a tad difficult.
Off we went to the theater to at least get tickets. Oy. Vey. Everything was in Chinese! Somehow, the idea that the film was shown in English made me think that the English title might have been listed somewhere... Not so much. It was all Chinese, all the time. We waited in one line, but that was for the V.I.P. card, so we had to get in the other line. Then I remembered my Handler. We got the front of the line, I called my Handler, and... we were told to go to a third line to use the vouchers. So then I could hand the phone to the woman and he could ask for our tickets for us.
I do a lot of things on faith in this country. I assume he said what I asked him to say. I assume she did what he asked. I have no idea, though, because everything is written in Chinese. I can read a few things in Chinese (beef, chicken, alcohol), but I can't read "Pirates of the Dream Space".
By now it's really dinner time. The Canadian is not going to live on popcorn alone. (I have often made a meal out of a bucket of popcorn with butter-flavored topping.) Off we went, back towards the Subway. We decided to walk around the block, and if we didn't see anything better, we'd have a sandwich.
And then we saw it. Kungfu. Oh yes, the restaurant is named Kungfu. I don't think we really had an option but to eat there. It was a fast food joint selling things in bowls. We both ordered the chicken and got a bowl of boiled chicken, a plate of steamed broccoli with sauce, and a bowl rice with a scoop of peanut/meat topping. It was pretty decent, all things considered. It cost about $4.50 and the chicken was real chicken (on the bone with feet floating in the broth -- yes, I said feet) and the broccoli was al dente. Not as in-your-face-awesome as you might hope from a restaurant called Kungfu, but our chopsticks were flying as fast as lightening. It was a little bit frightening.
We went back to the theater. We got a bucket of popcorn that was actually pretty good. No butter topping (sadly), but it was caramelized. The Chinese love things sweet, so they serve caramel corn at the movies. Not bad, not bad at all.
Then, we were pointed to a theater. In China, you pay your money (or the school's money, as the case might be), and you take your chances. Would we really be seeing a movie in English? We were the only two English-speakers in the place. It would have been perfect to sit in a cab for almost two hours, just to use our tickets to a movie dubbed into Chinese. Ten minutes worth of commercials in Chinese later, and the movie started... with Chinese subtitles! Success!
I must say, Inception is a great film and definitely worth seeing in the theater. Worth being totally out of your element just to get in the door. I especially loved how true the homages to and reverberations of other popular movies felt. Of course there were echoes of Star Wars and Total Recall and The Matrix because it is a film about shared our consciousness and dreams. What else does Hollywood do but provide fodder for our dreams?
Friday, October 15, 2010
The Whiteness of the Whale
When I did some reading up before moving here, I heard that the Chinese are very fond of skin whiteners. It was suggested that I might want to bring lotion and make-up with me to avoid an excess of whiteners.
If you're reading this, you probably know me. And if you know me, you probably know that I glow in the dark. Like, seriously. Living in California was the closest thing I ever got to being actually "dark". And by "dark", I mean I didn't look sick. I actually had a nice, healthy glow. (Well, when I wasn't burned to a crisp.)
Today, my school dropped off a bag of goodies at my desk. They are prone to doing this (as you might have gathered). We got laundry detergent, soap, shampoo, conditioner, and bottles of water (3 small bottles of water). Later, they dropped off a 10-pack of toilet paper. Well, the bath items are all Chinese products with Chinese packaging, so I brought the soap with me to my 8th period.
I told them I needed their help. I told them what I'd heard about whiteners. I told them how the last thing I need is to get any whiter. I told them about glowing in the dark. I explained how they might need sunglasses come winter, I get so white. I told them how my skin turns blue because you can see the veins.
Then, I gave a couple of girls in the front row the bottle, and asked them if it had whiteners. They confirmed it did. In fact, it will whiten my skin in three different ways! When they said that, I burst into laughter. It was such genuine laughter, my kids started laughing along with me.
In Moby Dick, Melville discusses white and black and that although we venerate the former, we also find it horrifying when seen in great expanses -- like vast snow fields, or as the case might be, my glow-in-the-dark skin.
I gave the soap away to a colleague who says he is willing to test it out and see if he gets any whiter. He's a scientist, and so prone to experiments.
If you're reading this, you probably know me. And if you know me, you probably know that I glow in the dark. Like, seriously. Living in California was the closest thing I ever got to being actually "dark". And by "dark", I mean I didn't look sick. I actually had a nice, healthy glow. (Well, when I wasn't burned to a crisp.)
Today, my school dropped off a bag of goodies at my desk. They are prone to doing this (as you might have gathered). We got laundry detergent, soap, shampoo, conditioner, and bottles of water (3 small bottles of water). Later, they dropped off a 10-pack of toilet paper. Well, the bath items are all Chinese products with Chinese packaging, so I brought the soap with me to my 8th period.
I told them I needed their help. I told them what I'd heard about whiteners. I told them how the last thing I need is to get any whiter. I told them about glowing in the dark. I explained how they might need sunglasses come winter, I get so white. I told them how my skin turns blue because you can see the veins.
Then, I gave a couple of girls in the front row the bottle, and asked them if it had whiteners. They confirmed it did. In fact, it will whiten my skin in three different ways! When they said that, I burst into laughter. It was such genuine laughter, my kids started laughing along with me.
In Moby Dick, Melville discusses white and black and that although we venerate the former, we also find it horrifying when seen in great expanses -- like vast snow fields, or as the case might be, my glow-in-the-dark skin.
I gave the soap away to a colleague who says he is willing to test it out and see if he gets any whiter. He's a scientist, and so prone to experiments.
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