Sarcasm-Free

I have recently been accused of adopting a sarcastic, cynical tone here. To put these outrageous claims to rest, today I will share with you a wholesome experience that is very near and dear to my heart: the recent solar eclipse. They say that to see another solar eclipse of this duration in China, you'll have to wait another 500 years.

In Jinan we only saw an 80% eclipse - the full eclipse was only visible in a narrow band south of here. My friend happened to be in this band during the eclipse, and reported that the whole sky went black. Nothing like that here, but the view we got was still pretty amazing. Plus, the temperature dropped about 10 degrees Farenheit, which was a nice respite from the brutal Jinan heat.

The morning of the eclipse, I woke up early and headed out to the campus soccer field with a friend in preparation for the 8:22 am start. You can't look directly at a solar eclipse, so we planned to use the "simple" method of viewing, which the internet and newspapers claimed was as easy as punching a small hole in a piece of paper and viewing the shadow. This is myth. Not only do you feel ridiculous standing outside in broad daylight staring at a tiny pinprick of light on the ground, but the pinprick doesn't actually change to show the eclipse.

Luckily, an elderly professor and his grandson had also come out to see the eclipse, and had actually come prepared with special glass lenses through which you can look directly at the sun without going blind. They were nice enough to let us share. Actually, the professor was so nice that he actually went over to the guys training on the soccer field, told them about the eclipse, and invited them over to take a look. I think they were relieved to take a break from carrying each other around.

Anyway, these magic lenses turned broad daylight into this:

We stood out in the field passing around the lenses until the peak of the eclipse at 9:40 am, at which point the seven year old grandson couldn't take the tedium any longer and forced Grandpa to take him home. (I had to respect this kid's persistence. His winning argument: "Grandpa, which gives off more UV rays, the sun or the TV? Huh, the sun, really? Well then I guess we'd better head home to the safety of the TV.") Newly lense-less, we decided to head over to the city square where they were selling cheapo lenses.

My friend had a bike, which meant that I got to do the girl thing and ride on the back. Chinese bikes all come equiped with a flat metal wire area over the back tire. Girls, and the occasional guy, often sit side-saddle on this "seat", turning the bicycle into a vehicle for two. This is not as easy as it sounds. First of all, Chinese bikers weave through traffic a lot, so you have to watch that your knees don't get smashed into a passing car. Plus, since your weight isn't distributed equally on both sides of the bike, you kinda have to lean back a little and constantly make tiny body adjustments. I spent the vast majority of the ride tensed with fear, gripping the seat for dear life. Once we got back to campus, though, I was brave enough to take this picture:

See my friend's back? He's pedaling, I'm sitting.

Anyway, back to the eclipse. Once we got to the city square, we bought some cheapo lenses of our own and watched the end of the eclipse. The crowd had thinned out a lot, but there were still quite a few spectators.

The TV stations and newspapers were there too, and a guy with a professional-looking camera took my picture for the local paper. He claimed he'd e-mail me the photos, but so far, nothing. This will have to suffice.

A final (only mildly sarcastic) note: Somehow, despite the fact that the moon was blocking 80% of the sun's rays, I still managed to get a nice sunburn to compliment my stylish sandal tan.