In Which Emily Discovers Cooking

I spend much of my time in China thinking about food. Chinese food, cooking food, eating food; food is a big deal. Mostly because, when food goes wrong, my life stops functioning here.

I have recently discovered cooking. Now, most of you are thinking, "Wow, it took her twenty years to realize cooking existed." Haha. No. I mean, I have discovered how to actually cook and feed myself.

It all goes back to June 2010, on my Italy EU Governance program, when I lost ten pounds in three weeks. Now, before you go asking me what my secret was, or congratulating me on the weight loss, let me just explain something quickly. I had a little revelation in Italy: if you train for a half-marathon and spend 80% of your time walking, while consuming roughly 900 calories daily, you drop weight like it's not even funny. For the record, I was literally starving myself, and not at all intentionally. I was just failing to get enough food into my body, and I was too excited by all the Italian sites and the intriguing EU lectures to care even remotely about food.

My mother made me promise not to repeat the Italy experience in China. I told her I would do my best to make sure I wasn't averaging negative calorie consumption every day. She didn't love that, but I figured that was a promise I could keep.

Well, I got to Shanghai, and guess what. The Italy trip came back to haunt me. I was eating 900 calories again, and I was sitting listlessly at my desk, no energy. One day, after five cups of coffee, I realized that this was not going to work long term. I had to learn how to feed myself.

Why was I consuming so little calories? Simple. I kept getting sick. I get a food poisoning based disease once a month in China. I throw up for a couple days. I don't eat. My metabolism slows to a crawl and it takes me at least a week to eat like a normal human being again. I figured out that most of this food poisoning was coming from the restaurant food I relied on. So, I stopped eating restaurant food. For me, this basically meant not eating. Not eating is not healthy; it doesn't take a bachelor's degree to know that. So, I did the only thing I could do: I started figuring out how to cook.

It's funny how getting food into one's body can become so complicated in a foreign country. For example, in America, I can bite into an apple, no problem. Sometimes, you can even do this *GASP* without washing it first. Scandalous! Well, try that in China, and you'll be throwing up for a week.

Here are the rules I must follow in China for cooking, or I am one sick puppy:

1. All vegetables and fruits must be washed and peeled. This means fruits like peaches, which don't stand up well to peeling, are a no-no. Oranges and bananas are the best, since you don't need a fruit peeler. Preferably, you wash, cook, and peel all vegetables before eating them. Washing is never enough. I have had the occasional salad in China, but only from very reputable restaurants, and with the expectation that I might be regurgitating it later.

2. All poultry must be cooked to within an inch of its life. I was charring chicken for at least a week before I calmed down enough to realize that it didn't need to be turning black not to kill me.

3. All poultry must be purchased from organic food sources and wrapped in plastic. Open meat markets are a death trap. Literally, bins of meat sit out, in the sun, in the June humid heat of Shanghai, with flies buzzing around, landing in it, burrowing in it...beginning to see why I kept getting sick? Yeah, I haven't tried meat from a meat market in China, and I don't plan to before I leave.

4. Milk products. Forget it. I shouldn't have to explain this one. I like my milk without toxins.

5. I take more probiotics daily than you want to know. Yakult and acidophilus are my best friends. They keep my stomach fortified against bacteria.

For those of you who wonder what I eat daily, it looks like this: oatmeal for breakfast, nuts for a snack, chicken with cooked vegetables for lunch, carrots and/or apple with hard-boiled egg for snack, chicken and cooked vegetables for dinner. I do this every single day except for Friday and Saturday night, where I go to restaurants and enjoy the food culture of Shanghai. I stick to my rules, and I haven't gotten sick since early June, which is the longest I've been well since being in China.

Basically, I am now eating a very balanced diet. Essentially, it's incredibly healthy, with the right portions of everything. Michelle Obama would be so proud. And, you know what? I feel fabulous. I have lots of energy, and I never feel sluggish anymore.

But my point of this posting is this: cooking is far more important than people realize. It is the foundation of our lives. Without cooking, there is no food. Without food, nothing can get done. As an academic, most of my life is spent with ideas far larger than real life. I have generally scoffed at cooking for a long time as an activity that isn't as worthwhile as studying, or writing, or reading. China has brought me back down to reality. Reality is that I only get to play with cool ideas at Siemens if I do the laundry and make lunch first. Don't forget to pack the snacks! Drink water! You know, the stupid, logistical things that no one considers valuable in college. But, you know something? These life skills make college possible, make life possible. So, I thought I'd give cooking a shout out, because it has saved my health in China.

Beijing vs. Shanghai vs. Hong Kong

So, this is a question I get asked a lot: which city is your favorite in China? Which do you like better, Beijing or Shanghai? Where does Hong Kong fit into this mess?

SHANGHAI

Photo credit: http://blog.chinatraveldepot.com/tag/shanghai-vacation/

Let me just start by saying, I think about cities like a director might think about where to stage her next film. When I first arrived in Shanghai, my first thought was, “This city would be perfect for a film noire,” something classy and in black and white. Shanghai is situated on the water, so we get these fog blankets cast over the city every other day (yes, actual fog, not just pollution).

Picture this: The sun has set, and you are walking through poorly lit streets, where the only beacons of light are those cast from the neon signs of restaurants and hotels looming stories above your head, piercing the sky, too high to see the peak. The fog settles betwixt the buildings alit with every color of light, and the city takes on this surreal quality, like you are in a theme park after dark. All signage is in a combination of Chinese characters and Romanized Chinese pronunciation. From the balcony of the apartment, the city seems to float in the night, so many buildings like ships set out to sea.

I am telling you, film noire. Shanghai is TOTALLY a film noire set waiting to happen. And don’t get me started on that nouveau French aesthetic of the French Concession, or the art deco atmosphere of Tianzifang.

BEIJING

Photo credit: http://rashbre2.blogspot.com/2005/03/beijing-smogwatch-webcam.html

When I arrived in Beijing, I was too jetlagged to form an opinion of the city. It came to me slowly, over time, that Beijing would be the perfect place to film a post-utopian apocalypse film. I’m talking zombies, robots vs. aliens, something catastrophic and involving lots of empty streets, broken lamp posts in the night, gunshots in the distance. Perhaps this sounds like an insult to Beijing; in truth, I love Beijing for its intensity. The city’s utilitarian architecture is essentially composed of apartment after apartment built in the same style. In a word, the theme of Beijing buildings is often austere. If Beijing was a shoe, it would be the combat boot. If it was a mood, it would be teen angst in a night club after dark. Beijing is very gritty and real, nothing soft or indulgent about it. It has an allure like that of a great action film; you went to see the film to feel alive, not for rainbows-and-butterflies nonsense. Beijing is excitement mixed with pollution and a shot of baijiu. That, in summary, is Beijing, in my mind. I’d go back for another screening of that film a second.

HONG KONG

Photo credit: http://www.tropicalisland.de/china_hong_kong.html

If you are in the market for the perfect set for a cyberpunk martial arts action film with a bent towards cyber warfare and in need of an anti-materialist backdrop, Hong Kong is your city. This place is a visual assault to the senses in the best way possible. It has the harbor and the jungle reminding you that nature is just around the corner, barely beaten back by the cement towers of the city. At any moment, the subtropical foliage might swallow you whole, if the urban jungle doesn’t claim you first. The architecture of Hong Kong is tall, unnaturally so, buildings so high the sun cannot reach the street. You look up from ground zero, and the sky is a strip of blue obscured by layers of decks and awnings and red neon signs announcing dim sum is around the corner. The street level is not for pedestrians; this is a car’s domain. Pedestrians instead climb through overpasses that weave in and out of buildings, passing major highways with eight or more lanes, cutting into art districts and through megamalls. It’s the Amazon jungle of humanity’s construction, built from concrete and Ethernet cables, electricity and plasma screen. Hong Kong is a place you could lose yourself; lose yourself to the electric show, the fast paced lifestyle, the sheer immensity and complexity of a city that only spans a tiny island south of the Chinese mainland.

So, which do I love best? How do you pick between such dynamic and disparate cities? I think, if I had to live somewhere for a long time, for years, Shanghai or Hong Kong would be the cushiest and most hospitable sets for the future film of my life. Beijing would be a hell of a ride, but it would be a fight every day, a challenge every second. Do I love Beijing less? Not at all; I love these three cities equally, each in their own ways.

Shanghai. Whaddup.

So, I know, I haven’t updated this blog in somewhere south of forever. Truth is, times be crazy here in China. Allow me to give a quick summary of everything that has happened in the past three months:

1. I graduated from my program at BeiWai in May. I was awarded Top Student of the Intermediate-Advanced Chinese level, along with another student in my class. Kind of came out of nowhere, but they gave me this super awesome Chinese calligraphy scroll. I honestly couldn’t care less about the Top Student thing, but the scroll? Friggin AWESOME. It’s the best souvenir ever, because it is the embodiment of all those hours spent memorizing Chinese, and one of the teachers in my program made it, so it’s authentic. As you can tell, I’m kind of in love with this scroll. I’m planning to elope with it as I type. I was thinking Hawaii, thoughts on elopement location? Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to photograph the living daylights out of it and post the photos. SO BEAUTIFUL IT PAINS ME!

2. I went to Hong Kong. Twice. So…the Chinese government changed visa policy RIGHT when I needed to be getting a visa for Shanghai. I am really not going to bore you with the details of this. Actually, to be honest, I don’t want to put my visa at risk, or risk getting myself kicked out of China, so I’m going to play nice in this post. Allow me to summarize, succinctly, why I hate the Chinese Visa Fight to the Death:

First: It is the quintessential red tape experience of a lifetime. Nothing is transparent. There are no summaries of how to do what you need to do to get visas. You have to go through back doors and through trials by fire just to get a flipping L visa.

Second: Everyone contradicts each other. Like, Hong Kong and Shanghai, do your visa offices ever, you know, chat? Like, to get your story straight? I mean, sure, I loved being toyed with as much as the next girl, but you guys are the worst manipulators ever. You are so transparent in your lies, it isn’t even funny.

Third: It’s expensive for no reason. It’s mainly expensive if you get raped by the system and have to do the visa trip twice. Which I did. Don’t even talk to me about it; my pocketbook isn’t speaking to me right now on account of how badly this whole visa thing went financially.

Anyways, while I was playing the leading role of Rocky in this visa match of pain, getting owned in the face by the Chinese government for nine rounds of blood, guts and gore, I got to see Hong Kong. Hong Kong, my friends and family, is awesome. You all should be worried, because I might just elope with my scroll to Hong Kong and never come back to the States. Hong Kong is so awesome, I’m going to give the city its very own post, just because it’s too awesome to describe in one paragraph.

3. I moved into an apartment in Shanghai. Now, as most of you know, I got a thing going with Siemens right now. Due to a non-disclosure agreement, I can’t really tell you anything about what I am doing via blog. However, if you want the particulars, call me and we’ll chat. Skype, people. I live on it. As Shakira once said, “Whenever, wherever.” Call me.

My apartment in Shanghai is really, truly wonderful. I love it dearly. It is situated one block from the Huangpu River, so I get to run along the Riverside Promenade whenever I want (this is a bit like being able to run along the Embarcadero in San Francisco whenever you want; essentially, it is an awesomely easy, daily activity you get to do that most people travel half the world just to see. I have run it dozens of times now, and I am still in awe). It’s just a couple blocks up from the Metro, so I have easy access to all of Shanghai for less than a US dollar per trip. The apartment itself is quite nice; two bedrooms, a study, a kitchen, a laundry machine, a refrigerator, two bathrooms, a living room, and free WiFi are just a few of the perks. Also, it has spectacular views of Shanghai; I can see the Oriental Pearl Tower from my room. Basically, this apartment is a dream. Except, the bathroom showers kind of like to go hot and then cold, and the washing machine takes forever to run a load. However, given the awesomeness of everything else in the apartment, I tend to overlook those downsides.

So, now you are pretty up to speed on my life. My next posts will be talking about life in Shanghai, my touring around the city, and I’ll probably be answering that age old question: “Beijing or Shanghai??? Which is better?”

If I say Hong Kong, am I cheating? Kidding! More on that in the next blog post!

On A More Serious Note...

*WARNING*

This post is long and involved. Read further at your own risk.

The Difficult Questions
When I went on this study abroad adventure, people asked me a lot of questions. “Why China?” was a common one, as was “will you miss your family,” but the one I got asked constantly was “Do you think you will go live in China after you graduate?” Well, ladies and gentlemen, I had no answer to that question. The question was the premise of this study-abroad experiment. Sure, I know the language, and I sort of know the culture, but is this the place I want to live post-grad?

Now that I have made it to the halfway point of my stay, the answer is becoming clearer, but it is still not entirely clear to me whether I can live here or not. On the pro side, jobs for Americans in China are everywhere. Everyone wants you to teach them to speak English. Every company wants that English-speaking intern. You have to understand, for a graduating US college student, times in America are beyond tough. Many of my peers are facing futures post-grad that have “Parent’s Basement” and “Unemployed” written all over them. I know several incredibly competent people who are having an impossible time finding jobs, and they have resumes that make mine look like child’s play. To go from that environment of economic downturn to China, were everything is growing and everyone wants me simply because I speak English, well, it’s a type of temptation that is hard to ignore.

On the con side, China is still a developing country. What does that even mean? Economists write dissertations on this term. I could spew some jargon at you about core-periphery relationships and neocolonialism. Instead, I am going to talk about the tangible benefits of a so-called “developed” country, things we take completely for granted. Namely, there are two aspects lacking in most so-called developing countries: sanitation and non-polluted air. This is not unique to China at all. However, I am going to make it clear, in the next few paragraphs, the actual practical issues of living in a country with issues in the areas of sanitation and pollution. I will warn you now that this is not going to be a pretty description. This is just going to be what I have experienced, what I have heard and what I have read.

Now, I researched the living daylights out of the food sanitation issue, because I just ate Trader Joe’s Toffee Bars and I got into a sugar-induced research attack. According to the Chinese Center for Disease Control and Prevention, there are 300 million cases of food poisoning a year in mainland China (http://factsanddetails.com/china.php?itemid=144&catid=11&subcatid=73). In a population of 1.6 billion people, that means roughly 18.75% of the population will experience food poisoning at some point during the year. Reputable Chinese milk companies have accidentally created milk products lethal to children because they added nitrates or melamine to the milk (http://www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,1844750,00.html). Pigs are fed the illegal additive clenbuterol, a cancer-causing agent, to make the meat leaner (and, you know, more toxic) (http://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/19/world/asia/19briefs-ART-China.html?_r=1&ref=foodsafety). A child could drink the wrong glass of milk and be in the hospital tomorrow (http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/15/world/asia/15briefs-Milk.html?ref=foodsafety). And these are just a few of the highlights. If you dig deep, everything from tainted spinach to toxic seafood is present in research on China's food sanitation issues. The problem is, this isn't just research. I confront this issue every time I eat, from breakfast until dinner. Every time I put food in my mouth, there is that chance that it will end in four days and four nights of agony, a hospital trip, and some serious regrets. It might even be worse than that.

Eating in China is a game of Russian roulette. Most of the time, you will be fine eating that chuanr, eating that salad, eating those dumplings. Then there are the times you are not fine. I have heard horror stories, and I have lived them. A professor’s friend contracted hepatitis C here from a salad (or so she claims). I contracted gastroenteritis from Korean food in Yunnan. My friend and I even shared the dish, but I was the one who ate the wrong piece of fish. It could just as easily have been her throwing up for four days. It would have gone on longer than that, too, if I didn’t just happen to have the right antibacterial medication on me during that trip.

Do I want to live this game? It doesn’t get better with time. The Chinese like to boast about the strength of their stomachs. I am sorry, but your "stomach strength" will not stop you from getting food poisoning, or worse, consuming cancerous additives or nitrates, some of which can lead to immediate trips to the hospital, potentially death. Parasites, bacteria, viruses, these are the killers that hide in food. This is why we have the FDA, the USDA, the Center for Disease Control, the list of bureaus we have monitoring these issues goes on and on. I know, America is by no means perfect. Our system for sanitation is decentralized, creating gaps in our food monitoring systems. We have our own scandals, involving peanuts butter or spinach tainted with bacteria, medicines that can kill, I could list them off. However, the dangers from food in China far outweigh the dangers of food in America. Why? It is because our food regulations are better enforced in America. How well enforced? Read this report: http://www.fsis.usda.gov/PDF/Testimony_Petersen_031109.pdf


This is a nice summary of how much meat we test in a year in the US:
“To accomplish its tasks, FSIS inspection program personnel perform antemortem and postmortem inspection procedures to ensure public health requirements are met. In fiscal year (FY) 2008, this included about 50 billion pounds of livestock carcasses, about 59 billion pounds of poultry carcasses, and about 4.3 billion pounds of processed egg products. At U.S. borders, they also inspected 3.3 billion pounds of imported meat and poultry products. In addition, FSIS personnel conducted millions of inspection procedures to verify that establishments met food safety and wholesomeness requirements. In 2008, FSIS personnel collected and tested about 24,000 ready to eat product and environmental samples using risk based criteria for Listeria and approximately 56,000 raw product samples for E. coli O157:H7 in ground beef and Salmonella in raw meat and poultry. We employ a number of other field personnel, such as laboratory technicians and investigators.”


This is the gift of development, this is what the trial and error of developing sanitation protocols yields. It is something we take for granted, and I know I took it for granted before I came here. Some say the US has among the best food safety measures in the world. We continuously update them and pursue better safety measures (Some new ones for the Obama administration:http://www.foodsafetyworkinggroup.gov/FSWG_Fact_Sheet.pdf). China, on the other hand, is just getting started on all of these mechanisms. The US Federal Meat and Protection act was passed in 1906. China began implementing similar measures 70 years later. If your want a higher-level analysis of this food safety development issue, this blog and the WSJ journal it cites do an excellent job of breaking it down: http://www.chinalawblog.com/2007/08/china_food_safety_the_science.html
But at the end of the day, here’s my issue. Every time I look at lettuce in the Chinese market, all I can think of is hepatitis C, and how something you ate for lunch can give you a disease you will carry for the rest of your life.


The next biggest issue that has me reluctant to live here is pollution. No, I am not going to overload you on articles this time, I’m just gonna tell you what it is like to live in a place that has “crazy bad” pollution (I lied, here is an article that corroborates my claim: http://green.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/11/26/a-crazy-bad-day-in-beijing) There is nothing like waking up in the morning to sinuses completely clogged and your throat burning, and knowing that this is not a cold. This is your body’s immune response to toxins entering your body. You could take medication to relieve the symptoms, but all you are doing is allowing those toxins to enter your body faster, sink deeper into your lungs, dig deeper into your tissue. As I type to you, I have all the energy in the world, but my throat aches and my sinuses throb. Sometimes it comes with a headache, the sort that forces you to close your eyes and put your head in your hands. If I spend too long outside, that hacking Beijing cough begins in my throat. If I try to run when I have those symptoms, it turns into a lung-rattling hack, the kind that smokers have. This is not just me being a sensitive American. Why do the Chinese spit on the street? It’s because that is sometimes to only way to unclog the mucus from your throat, the mucus your body is expelling to combat the pollution. The Beijinger hack, the deep cough the older Chinese have, is a symptom from years of pollution affecting the lungs. I know the statistics on pollution in Beijing. I knew it before I came here. This is one situation where reading the numbers is not enough information. Knowing that there are days you will wake up feeling like hell, just because of the air you breath, is something you can only know from experience. Seeing some of my classmates develop chronic sinus infections and bronchitis really only reinforces this madness. No one told me it would feel this way. I suspect, my readers, that unless you lived it, you also don’t know what it feels like to hate breathing. Seven months of this will likely only take a few months off my life. But there is no doubt, these toxins can kill, if given enough time. Is living here worth the shortening of my life?



To be clear, I am stating reality. Also, to be clear, these are problems every country has faced in the process of development. Britain and America have well-documented battles with sanitation and pollution dating back to the 1800s. Read some Upton Sinclair if you never want to touch meat again. We have had our share of horror stories like these. Given trial and error and a lot of time, the US has slowly managed to improve sanitation conditions in this country. This is not about the West being better than China. This is about the dangers of living in a country that is still developing. And these are factors we all must weigh when choosing to live in China.


If you stumble on this blog, and you are considering going to China, you have just garnered some information that is worth weighing before you buy your ticket over here. Do I regret coming here? No, not for a second. Was this the safest choice for my body? Heh, no way. Just know that, if you want to get out of your comfort zone, it is going to be uncomfortable. Sitting in a Yunnan hospital trying not to throw up on the old woman sitting next to me was definitely way out of my comfort zone. However, living here has taught me something valuable: health safety, that thing we all just take for granted, is a very important part of our lives. That environmental debate, you know, the one Americans like to ignore; it has real impacts on real people. This isn’t rhetoric, this isn’t politics. This is my life, and your life.
So, do I want to live here? The facts on health safety certainly stack on the con side, and it is pushing me in that direction. However, I need to have work, and if America doesn’t have anything for me post-grad, I will likely be coming back here, regardless of health issues.

The Wonders of China

Now, I know this blog is going to contain a lot of stories of my misadventures in China. I do not want my readership (all three of you) to think that I am basically a dumb fool wandering around China upsetting the natives and infecting myself with disease and puking all over the world. Actually, that's pretty much what I am doing, but whatever. There is more to China than messing up constantly.

I suppose this blog would not be complete if I didn't indulge myself in some Orientalist mysticism. Translation: despite the issues with describing China as "exotic" and "mysterious" and "different," I am going to do just that.

China is exotic, mysterious and different. No, but actually. From the food I eat to the people I speak with, to the culture as a whole, living in China is as close to experiencing a whole new world as a Westerner can get without departing Planet Earth or going to the movie theater. I won't lie, that difference is what drew me to China in the first place. There is something refreshing about a culture that straight up rejects a lot of American notions of how to do things. It is liberating to see a country that can ignore the US in favor of its own methods of keeping a country running. I'm not saying the US is wrong, or that China is always right about the way it does things. It's just nice to see a new perspective of the world, one not based in Western methodology. It is a chance for me to better understand other ways of living, so that I can better understand my own way of living my life. One might say, it's part of my exploration of how to engineer my own destiny.

I just want you all to know that China is wonderful. From chocolate mousse Pocky to karaoke, China is just a bundle of new experiences waiting to be seized. If you go by the motto "Carpe Diem" in China, you will seize just so many amazing moments, emotions, knowledge, and wisdom.

This post is extremely nebulous, I know. This is because it is hard to describe wonderment. It is hard to describe that intangible feeling of walking out the door of your dorm room in the morning and feel like today will be a day that you will never forget. It is hard to describe the feeling of finally understanding a conversation you overhear in Chinese. The amazing parts of China are not as story-worthy, nor as amusing to tell.

However, lest there is any confusion, you all should know that I am loving China, mishaps and all.

The Wrong Dial from Hell

We have all, at some point, wrong dialed someone. I can say this with a fair degree of confidence. Yet, typically, these interactions are limited to "Oh, my name is not Winona, and I do not have your cat. You have the wrong number." *Hangs up*

That is, at least, what happens in America. In China, if you are a laowai and dumb enough to own that you are a laowai, the conversation is a very, very different one.

This is the story of the most messed up wrong dial I have ever had in my life, and will likely ever have. How messed up can a wrong dial get? It's still going on, that's how messed up it is.

THE CALL

It started out so innocently. I was trying to call a good friend of mine from America who had just arrived in Beijing. I thought I had the number right, but I was talking to someone over Skype at the time when I was dialing, and I unwittingly entered the last digit as a 6 instead of a 9. You can imagine my surprise when my traditional greeting of "Oh hey! How's Beijing going so far?" was met with "......." and the grumblings of a very male, very Chinese person on the other line. To put this in perspective, I was calling a female, English-speaking friend of mine, who also speaks Chinese, but would not have likely responded to an English greeting sounding like a Chinese man. I quickly ascertained that I had, in fact, called the wrong number, apologized in Chinese, and hung up.

End interaction?

I think not.

The man texts me back in Chinese, with the English equivalent of "Who do you think you are? How did you know I study English? You know, I heard what you said, and you spoke the English incorrectly."

I really should have left that alone. Really, I should have ignored it. But honestly, when I am struggling with a foreign language in a foreign country, and the only thing I know for certain is I have spoken English as long as I have been able to verbalize cogent thought, I am SO not letting some laobaixing Chinese tell me I cannot speak my mother-tongue. So, I text back, in English "Oh, I am sorry, I dialed the wrong number. And, by the way, I know for certain my English is correct, because I am American and an English speaker."

Wrong. Thing. To. Say. That whole "pride cometh before the fall" thing? That text was the "pride."

This was "the fall."

THE FALL

He texts back, going "OH I AM SO SORRY I THOUGHT YOU WERE JOKING blah blah blah." I was ready to leave it alone at that. He knows I wasn't pulling a fast one on him, and that it was a misunderstanding.

Then he calls back.

The conversation that followed went something like this.

Me: Wei? (Hello?)

Chinese dude: Oh, hello, I am sorry, I thought you were a friend of mine playing a trick on me.

Me: Oh hahaha no, I just dialed the wrong number.

Chinese dude: Ohhh hahaha...so you are American?

Me:...yes?

Chinese dude: Oh...how long have you been in China?

Me: One month?

Chinese dude: Oh, your Chinese is so good! (He is assuming, as many Chinese people here do, that I started learning Chinese when I arrived. He thinks I have learned three years worth of grueling Chinese lessons in four weeks. Naturally, he is impressed.)

Me: Oh hahaha thanks (I laughed a lot in this conversation. Mostly because it bought me time to understand what the hell he was saying and figure out how to politely ask "Why the hell are you calling me back?!?!")

Thankfully, he answered my unspoken question.

Chinese dude: So....what are you doing now?

My thoughts: Oh. So that's where this is going. Are you serious? Are you flipping serious?

Me: ...I'm at work (Lies. I was sitting in my room attempting to make my Internet work, I was so not working).

Chinese dude: Oh...what are you doing later tonight?

My thoughts: Oh yes, he is flipping serious. I am being picked up by the guy I wrong dialed.

Me: Oh I gotta get back to work BYE! *Hangs up*

Was this the end of the conversation? Oh, hell no. Not even close.

THE FOLLOW-UP

You know, the Chinese are really good at following up. I have noticed this on multiple occasions. From the guy you wrong dial, however, this is not so much an asset as it is an issue. A serious issue.

This past week, I was waiting for several very important calls from internships and from my Chinese tutor that my study abroad program gives every student. I had never spoken with any of the people I was expecting to hear from, and any of the calls could have been in Chinese. Thus, when I got a call on Monday from an unknown Beijing number, I assumed it was a) one of my internships or b) my new tutor. I was not expecting c).

c) The Wrong Dial Dude from Last Week

Yes, indeed, I deduced halfway through that call that it was c). It wasn't immediately obvious, and even now I cannot be sure. But really, it could only have been him. This was the conversation.

Me: Wei? (Hello?)

Dude: Hello *says things quickly in Chinese that I cannot understand*

Me: ...sorry, what was that? Who is this?

Dude: Oh, I am a friend.

Me:...what is your name?

Dude: uh...Wang (This is like saying his name was Smith. Extremely common, extremely not helpful)

Me: When did we meet? Are you a BeiWai student? (I think it is my tutor at this point)

Dude: haha, we have never met. And no, I am not a BeiWai student.

Me: Oh, are you calling abut the interview? (Now I am thinking internships)

Dude: Oh, heh, no.

Me:...how do you have this number?

Dude: *mumbles incoherently*

Me:...do you speak English?

Dude: Oh, not very well.

I now know this is none of the calls I am expecting. Everyone I was waiting to hear from would need at least a functional ability to speak English.

Dude: What are you doing now?

My thoughts: No way. No. Friggin. Way.

Me: I am running errands (This is true, I was indeed running errands. Sometimes I like to tell my stalkers the truth, just to mix things up a bit.)

Dude: Oh, what are you doing later?

Yeah. This was when I was like "We meet again, Wrong Dial Call from Hell"

Me: Chores. Errands. I gotta go, bye!

At this point, I knew I was in trouble. To be clear, this guy is not in it because I am a girl, or at least that is not his primary concern. It's the English part that has him excited. Native English speakers are highly valued in China, since listening to a native speaker's accent can improve your own accent. The Chinese want to hear me speak English for the same reasons I want to hear them speak Chinese: it perfects the language acquisition. This guy is, I am almost 100% sure, after that elusive native accent. Unfortunately for him, I have no desire to help out the guy I wrong dialed once.

Yet, he is nothing if not persistent. A week later, he texts back, asking to meet. I ignore the text. That was today. This may carry on for quite some time.

So, if you think you have had a rough wrong call, please comment and tell me about it.

Chinese New Years

I just need to get this out there. Chinese New Years? Awesome. If you like fireworks, cheesy TV specials and stuffing your face, this is the holiday for you. However, if you do not like firecrackers at 5 AM, a vaguely post-apocalyptic setting, or having every store in the country be closed for, like, all of February, you might want to get the hell out of China. So, what to do if you like all of the former and hate all of the latter? Then, you'd be me. And you'd be conflicted.

Chunjie, aka Chinese New Years, aka Lunar New Year, aka Post-Apocalyptic China for Two Weeks, is a festival. A huge, national, fifteen day long festival.





Those, my friends, are fireworks. For those of you who read my Barcelona blog (hah, right, like I have a readership), you remember that in Barcelona, setting a firework off next to a building was not uncommon during festivals like San Juan. China has a similar view, except "uncommon" is not the right adjective. China sets off fireworks next to buildings with no compunction whatsoever. That picture above is a firework going off between two highrises. No big deal. Is it safe? Uh, no. Walking around during chunjie gets exciting really quickly, since, you know, kids are exacting revenge on meddlesome neighbors by bombing their cars with firecrackers, and if you happen to be in the way of that firecracker, that sucks. Welcome to Darwinism at its finest. If you are oblivious, chunjie will eat you alive. And yet, I did survive.

I also went to a temple festival during chunjie with a couple friends from Beijing, Jordan and Bernice, awesome people (and no, I am not just saying that because Jordan is one-fourth of my readership on this blog). The festival was very interesting. Having never been to one before, I was surprised to see that they had imported snow and set up sledding areas, in addition to pony rides and food stands galore. Of course, I was basically the only laowai there. Staring from passersby definitely happened. One guy got very National Geographic with me, as in, he was in my face with a huge camera, snapping away while I failed at eating tofu. He was all but narrating, "And here we have a laowai in its natural habitat. Observe its eating habits. The laowai are not known for their mental or physical aptitude. Note how this one apparently cannot eat tofu correctly....*click* *click* *click*" Hey, I don't mind being a one-woman zoo. I really should start bringing a hat with me so people can give me money for being so entertaining, though.

During the Chinese New Years itself, I went to a homestay family. At dinner, there were four different languages being spoken: Spanish, English, Russian, and of course Chinese. Yeah, we IES students are THAT multicultural, it was a pretty awesome experience. The food was excellent (lots of jiaozi!!!), and the people were wonderful.

Overall, I like chunjie. It's got its downsides, but I like it. It makes me feel alive, in every possible way. Including ways that involve running for your life so you don't have an obituary that reads "Emily was a promising girl, who just happened to be obliviously walking by a firework when...."

CHINESE FOOD

So, there is something you need to know. If you think American Chinese food is anything like Chinese Chinese food, you have been misinformed. Incredibly. Horribly. However, there is hope. You can continue to read this post, and I can set the record straight.

CHINESE FOOD will be an ongoing posting topic, but this will be the introduction to the foodstuffs of Chinese awesomeness. So, how do I introduce a cuisine so multifarious, so delicious, so FRIGGIN' GOOD? I'll do it the only way I know how. I'm starting with the basics. And by basics, I mean what I lived off of for the first two weeks I was in China.

JIAOZI

So, Chinese dumplings are WAYYYY better than American Chinese food dumplings. For one thing, there are approximately a million varieties of Chinese dumplings, whereas the American counterpart has, bascially, vegetarian dumplings and pork dumplings, the end. In China, they have egg and mushroom, egg and spinach, egg and tofu, tofu and spinach, tofu and anise, anise and egg and mushroom, twenty different types of mushroom...and these are just the vegetarian ones, and only the ones I have tried. The best part? Dumplings are EVERYWHERE, and they are CHEAP AS SIN. I mean, I spend MAYBE 7 yuan on a serving that is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man. That is 1 dollar, in case anyone want the American conversion.

I have also made dumplings. It takes forever, but they are also INCREDIBLY DELICIOUS. Observe:




However, at some point, there is life beyond jiaozi and baozi. I mean, eventually you gotta move on. Well, I mean, you don't really have to. But unfortunately, during chunjie my favorite jiaozi place closed, so I was forced to move on to...

MALATANG

So, I'm gonna get this out there now, I like my food spicy. Like, just this side of painful spicy. Malatang is like my dream food, for that very reason.

Malatang is one of those Chinese foods that is awesome because it is playing with fire. Either the food tastes great, the end, or it ends in food poisoning. It's the Chinese equivalent of Russian Roulette. But hey, if it kills you, what a way to go!

Malatang is spicy, since it is a way of boiling vegetables and meat using a broth of peppercorn sauce and spices. The peppercorn kind of numbs your mouth a bit, which is good because the broth may conceivably kill you by being just THAT spicy.

Don't believe me? Here are some pics that my shed light on the HAWT HAWT HAWT that is malatang:


This is before I unwrap the magnificence of malatang.


This is what it looks like before it gets IN MY BELLY.


This is the sauce/boiling medium. Note the distinctly ORANGE LIKE DANTE'S INFERNO color. This is how you know your mouth may want to disown you after you eat it.

Malatang is godly. But, then, of course, during chunjie that place closed as well. Then my cuisine got a lot less interesting for awhile (ramen noodles anyone?).

However, a constant in any person's life in China is...

MILK TEA

I love bubble tea. China is like my homeland, in that regard. They, also, see the miraculous nature of tapioca in drinkable form, and they pay homage to it by making your very own, instant-coffee style milk tea-in-a-cup. It's almost as good as the stuff you get on the street, but I drink that stuff too quickly to get a photo, so here are some prepackaged ones until I can find my self-control, or bring my camera with me when I buy milk tea.



These are a few of the types they have.


Note the slightly demonic level of glee in my eyes.


So, these are my first few foods I learned about in China. Next up: Baozi, Fangbianmian, and Hongshao Qiezi (and, maybe, ACTUAL milk tea, if it survives long enough to be photographed)

Adventure, Illness, Tiger Leaping Gorge: All in a Day's Work

Yunnan. One of China's many provinces. Home to a wide array of Chinese ethnic minorities. I spent two weeks here in February. What happened? Oh, a lot happened. Highlights?

KUNMING IS AWESOME

Kunming is the capital of Yunnan. It is said to be "the San Francisco of China" or "the Denver of China," which I find endlessly amusing because, honestly, it is only like those cities in respect to the weather. Kunming does have amazing, temperate weather, the kind that thaws the frozen souls of Beijingers. To say Kunming is beautiful kind of doesn't do it justice. It has all the grunge of a city, so "beautiful" does not quite represent it correctly. However, it has that off-beat spark that makes it comparable to San Francisco. It has lovely parks with lakes in the middle (very picturesque. Check out the pictures if you don't believe me), and it is known for its flowers and fashion scene. Overall, I was a fan of Kunming.

KUNMING IS AWESOME, BUT ILLNESS IS NOT

At least, I was a fan of Kunming until I fell crazy ill on the overnight train from Kunming to Lijiang, a rural village in rural northern Yunnan. Now, no one likes reading about illness, so I'll keep this short: I basically couldn't keep food down for 3.5 days. Unfortunately, at that point in my study abroad program's travel itinerary, we were staying in EXTREMELY rural Yunnan, in the north, where medical care was in scant supply and sanitary food was not a guarantee at the best of times. When I hit the four day illness mark, my program decided it was time to go see a doctor...

IN WHICH EMILY FINDS OUT WHAT HEALTHCARE IS LIKE IN YUNNAN

You know the game Musical Chairs? You know how they made you play it in grade school, and you thought it had no applicability to real life, that it was just a game? You were wrong.

That game was preparing you to try to see a doctor in rural Yunnan.

It's very simple: since it was during a holiday, there was one doctor in the Shangri-la Hospital to see all patients waiting to receive a diagnosis. He sat at a desk in a room. There was a chair by that desk. There was a mob of people waiting to see him. Whoever gets into that chair first gets a diagnosis. It's like Musical Chairs, minus the music and plus some serious medical issues. Let's call it "Survivor: the Chairs Edition."

In this episode of "Survivor: the Chairs Edition," I had the opportunity to use my Mandarin language skills to attempt to communicate my situation, and my RA and our guide helped make sure we were actually communicating, not just saying words and not understanding each other. I then showed him some of the English medication I had taken to help alleviate my symptoms. He looks at this for a moment, like an archaeologist looks at a vaguely intriguing fossil, and then hands it back to me. He diagnoses me with gastroenteritis (still not sure that is what I had, but I think it was?) and prescribes me roughly 6 different types of medication. Unfortunately, the one medication I needed, a strong round of antibacterial meds, was the one thing he did not give me, since they likely didn't have any in rural Yunnan. I later talked to a Beijing doctor, who said what I was given should have helped eventually ("eventually" being the operative and disconcerting part of the sentence). Thankfully, my mom is a genius and had me bring Cipro to China, and I was genius enough to bring it with me on the Yunnan trip. Thus, I was eventually cured of my Yunnan disease, and I was able to attempt eating rice while enjoying Napa Village.

NAPA CUN

The living room of the homestay

The view outside the village leader's window

Napa Cun (纳帕村） is a village in rural Yunnan that was once part of the vast Tibetan subregion in China. Thus, the culture of the town is heavily steeped in Tibetan tradition. The women wear garb typical of a Tibetan household, and the houses all are believers in the Gelugpa sub-sect of Tibetan Buddhism, or they rejected Buddhism altogether, it's either one or the other. I was living with one of the families in Napa Village, with a mother, father, grandmother and an adorable two year old. Overall, the family was great. It would have been even better if I wasn't deathly sick, but it was still awesome nonetheless.

There is nothing like living in Napa Cun. It is authentically China, in its own way. These people have been braving the mountains of Tibet since time immemorial, and they are a hardy brood. I was literally living with them in their houses, and when I went to the bathroom (outside in an outhouse), I got to say hi to the yaks (and their two foot long horns).

Of course, that one night when I was very sick, Napa Cun was an interesting place to be ill. I literally had a little one-person party outside, in the yard, with the yaks and the obnoxious mallard duck that quacked its head off constantly. I had a flashlight, which I clung to like my life depended on it (it kind of did depend on it, actually....there was a ladder to climb in and out of the house, so the flashlight became very necessary). I had my cellphone, which SOMEHOW had service in Napa Cun, which I used to call my mother in the States to be like "Yeah, this isn't food poisoning...thoughts? Oh, and what is my medical insurance number again?" Actually, I think it was way more panicked than that, but that was the general gist of the call. All I can say is that the time change works in my favor when I want to call the States at 3 am. Anyways, I survived (again), and all was well. I really do like Napa Cun. The people are incredibly friendly, we had all kinds of dance parties, and I think my Napa Cun host family genuinely didn't want me to die.

...AND THEN TIGER LEAPING GORGE HAPPENED

So, when we went to Tiger Leaping Gorge, I had kept food down for a day and a half. I nonetheless decided to try to climb this gorge. This hike is 22 km, and the first part and the last part are INTENSE, can't-breathe, legs-burning, heart-committing-sepaku kind of intense. Put it this way: I ran the San Francisco half-marathon in July of 2010. I am in roughly as good of shape right now as I was in July. This hike was overall harder than the half-marathon. That may have been because I hadn't eaten food for four days of that week, or because I was on bed rest for most of the week. Regardless, it was a hard hike.

But, it was also beautiful. Gorgeous. Breathtaking. The sheer enormity of the mountains and the depth of the gorge just blew my mind. It was majesty as far as the eye could see. I have pictures, but they only barely do it justice.

AND WE WENT TO OLD TOWNS. AND IT WAS PICTURESQUE.

Here, have some pictures:

This concludes the Yunnan travel adventures. It was full of ups and downs, of staying with Tibetan families and dancing Tibetan dances, of illness and overcoming mountains. It's a trip I will never forget.

The Journey Begins

This blog is, more or less, a chronicling of my seven months in Beijing, China.

While the journey here began officially on January 20th, 2011, this trip was years in the making. Those of you who know me well know that I am an International Relations/Politics and Asian Studies Major, and that I spend innumerable hours studying Chinese in any given semester.

Why? Why spend the time learning a challenging language, especially since I have studied Spanish? The answer is complicated, and not one I entirely understand myself. It is one part adventure, one part intrigue, one part the thrill of linguistic challenge, and several parts bullish perseverance. This trip is a test of what I have learned in college thus far and what my entire college career has been preparing me to do.

I was not originally sure I would be doing a blog while in Beijing. However, having just returned from Yunnan, I realize now that this trip deserves a blog. The experiences of this laowai may not be like those of others, but this is my time in China as I perceived it.

WHAT IS LAOWAI(老外）?


In this blog, I will inevitably be referring to Chinese terms. I will do my best to define them all as best I can.

Perhaps one of the most important Chinese words for a foreigner in Beijing to know is "laowai". Meaning foreigner, or literally "old outsider," it is a Beijinger or a Chinese person's way of identifying travelers from foreign countries. I am, most definitely, a laowai. I have been informed as such multiple times, often by children in the street who point at me and exclaim in surprise "LAOWAI!" Or, just as likely, I hear the term whispered between adults in undertones of wonder or, occasionally, distain. To be fair, your average Beijinger could care less about my laowai status. To a Beijing native, the laowai are a part of life, much like the KFCs or Starbucks that are scattered throughout this immense city. However, when I venture beyond Beijing's urban sprawl, my hair, my skin, my eyes, my very foreign appearance is a source of interest. In other words, the word "laowai" is never far from my mind.

Thus, I named this blog the Laowai Chronicles. For seven months, I am that nebulous identity of laowai, perceived of as a foreign entity by the Chinese people, and constantly reminded of my foreignness. Now, I do not resent this role. I knew I would be playing this part in China. I acknowledge it and I own it. My intent when I came to China was not to become Chinese. My intent was to see with my own eyes a culture that is becoming increasingly important on the international stage. Thus, this blog is for myself to remember what I saw, and how people saw me. It is also for those who want to know what I am experiencing in China.

This intro post is dry, I know, but I felt this blog needed some justification beyond just "Well, here's a blog folks!" In the next few posts, I will be detailing my entry into China, my adventures in Yunnan, and the rest of my time in China.

Welcome to China, Now Just Survive the Taxi Ride

Traveling is a challenge.

Mind you, I'm not a novice at flying. I've been traveling on planes alone since age 9, and I have flown several times overseas on my own. However, logistics on both ends of flying are kind of a special place in hell for me. I do not like the jumble of getting off a plane, jet-lagged as all get out, then playing "find the baggage in the labyrinthine airport terminal," and then playing the "where the hell am I living again?" game.

Arriving in China, my first thought was "Thank god I am finally here." I had a nice, thirteen hour flight to contemplate that I was leaving my country of birth for the longest period of time ever. And that I would not see my family for seven months, the longest period of time I have ever gone without visiting them. And that I knew all of maybe two people in the whole friggin country of China.

Needless to say, I did not get much rest on the flight.

When I got there, I was relieved to end this leg of the journey. I just needed to get to my dorm at BeiWai, and then I could pass out.

There is one serious obstacle that stood between me and a bed. Danger, thy name is Taxi Driver.

So. I had really only one viable option: use a taxi to get to BeiWai. Now, taxis are a special creature in China, and the drivers in them speak in a special type of Beijing accent that is near incomprehensible. It is, in fact, a testament to a student's Chinese language ability to be able to communicate and understand Beijing taxi drivers. You can imagine, with me getting off the plane and having not spoken Chinese for a month and it being 4 am my local time and all, that my Chinese was less than stellar.

Somehow, through a combination of broken Chinese, some random "arrr" sounds thrown in to sound vaguely Beijing accent-like, some pantomime, some pointing at Google maps I had printed, and a lot of repeating "BeiWai BeiWai BeiWai," the taxi driver finally realized that I wanted to go to BeiWai. He proceeded, through some miracle beyond my comprehension, to take me there.

There was only one small mishap. See, Beijing traffic is death. It's like the "dog eat dog" proverb as lived out in highway scenarios. So, we were traveling along nicely, with only a few spurts of vicious honking and a few choice words uttered by the taxi driver. However, at a tight intersection, this bus had the nerve to want to merge into the lane. My taxi driver was having none of it. As the passenger, I could do nothing but watch as my taxi driver decides to play chicken with a huge bus.

He proceeds to lose. Duh.

The bus taps the taxi. Yes, the taxi was hit by a bus. A bus hit the taxi. This was what was running through my sleep-deprived, jet-lagged, completely overwhelmed mind. I sat there completely at a loss, while my taxi driver gets out of the taxi, in the middle of the Beijing highway, to berate the bus driver. This carried on for about a minute or so. I was still sitting there, unclear as to what the protocol is for a taxi passenger who's taxi has just been tapped by a bus full of people. Well, the bus backed up a bit, and my taxi driver got back in and drove off as though nothing had happened.

I did make it to campus in one piece. I also learned a valuable lesson: All is fair in love, war, and Beijing transit situations. Go for the kill, or be killed.