Social Lubricant

To survive socially in China, I have found that you must have at least a rudimentary knowledge of Chinese card games. In Shandong, one of the most popular games is a complicated game for six players that involves the use of no less than four decks of cards. Needless to say, I have failed to master this game. Instead, I focus my efforts on the most popular game in the country, “Land Owner”, a simple three-player game very similar to the American game “Asshole”. Ever true to their Communist roots, the Chinese version entails one person being assigned the powerful role of Land Owner, while the other two “citizens” work together to prevent him from winning.

Playing cards is an essential part of traveling by train. Not only does it offer relief from the relentless tedium, but it also provides a service to those around you by presenting them with five-star entertainment. The sound of cards being shuffled is seemingly irresistible to anyone within a twenty foot radius—an audience gathers fast, and onlookers are not content to just watch, they also offer unsolicited advice on strategy. I once had the honor of having an eight year old boy lead me in a five game winning streak. It was a humbling experience.

If you plan on playing cards in China, in addition to the rules of the game, it is also important to know how to place your cards on the table. A casual toss or flick of the wrist is unacceptable, as is a crisp and precise placement in the middle of the pile. No, when playing Chinese cards, only a triumphant slapdown will win you respect. I’m talking a ninety-degree rotation of the shoulder, from above your head to the table, and a resounding smack when the card hits the table. Bonus points if you inadvertently send already-played cards flying to the floor with the force of your play.

As an indicator of my elevated social status, I have played cards in all manner of locales, including on a boat:

On a mountain:

and by a river:

Tomorrow morning I will be boarding a train headed to Kaifeng, the ancient capital of China. In preparation for the journey, I have purchased a new deck.

Relativity

One of the many perks of living in Jinan is that it makes any other city in the world seem like paradise. Hangzhou was no exception. To fully appreciate the joy and amazement I felt wandering around that beautiful city, you need to understand where I’ve been living for the past year. Therefore, today I offer you a visual compare and contrast between Hangzhou (insert angels singing here), and Jinan (insert deep rumbling here). Prepare to be awed.

In Jinan, the closest body of water is the cesspool in front of campus.

In Hangzhou, the closest body of water is the legendary Western Lake.

In Jinan, this is typical roadside scenery.

In Hangzhou, the streets are lined with green areas like this one.

In Jinan, you can’t see the city for the pollution.

In Hangzhou, the sky is blue blue blue.

A typical Jinan insect: the mosquito.

A typical Hangzhou insect: the dragonfly.

A typical college dorm room in Jinan has six to eight students stuffed in a tiny room.

College students in Hangzhou have their own rooms.

Which city would you rather live in?

Chillaxing

Now that the university has mostly emptied of both students and teachers, the atmosphere here on campus is much more laidback than it is during the school year. You may be wondering how I've been spending my free time. On any given day, you may find me...

1. Searching for the perfect shade of pink.

2. Introducing my friends to whiskey and coke. (A huge hit here, by the way.)

3. Partaking of Jinan delicacies such as the famous (and aptly named) "oil pancakes".

4. Perusing local markets in search of a bathing suit that is modest enough to wear in a conservative country like China, while also trying to avoid purchasing anything that my grandmother might be willing to wear (sorry Grand).

5. Finding spelling mistakes on billboards.

7. Spooning.

And tomorrow I'm hopping a 13 hour train ride headed for Hangzhou, supposedly one of the most beautiful cities in China. I'll let you know if it lives up to my lofty expectations...

The Price of Beauty

I love getting my hair cut in China. For $1 you can get a wash, cut, and blow dry. For $12 they'll dye and perm it for you too. Personally, I'm much more interested in the former than the latter, but brown hair dye and fake curls are all the rage among Chinese youngsters, male and female alike. Therefore, I dutifully accompanied my friend to the salon to take advantage of the $12 deal.

(Another convenient feature of a Chinese salon? Their long hours: 9 am to 10 pm. Cheap labor is a wonderful thing.)

While I was charmed by the amount of personal attention we received, I think my friend and I were both surprised by the length of time it took to dye and perm her hair. I don't know about you, but seven hours seems a bit excessive. Maybe it was because two of the five employees had only been in the hair business for three months? Whatever the reason, it wasn't all bad. It gave us a chance to make friends with the owner and staff. Our conversation ranged from Yao Ming (hot, or not? I say not.), to the details of the hair cutting business, to American foreign policy. By the end of the evening, we had become best buds. We walked one of the interns home after work, and the other one flirted shamelessly with us for four of the seven hours we were there. Here's a photo of him putting the moves on my friend:

While I had no intention of getting my hair cut when I walked into the salon, the staffs' enthusiasm for my hair eventually won me over. The owner literally made every staff member run their fingers through my hair just for the experience of feeling a foreigner's hair. They were very excited to get a chance to see what it looked like wet, so eventually they dropped their price down to zero, at which point I acquiesced. So yeah, I got a free wash, cut, and blow dry. Also, because they were bored and curious, they decided to play with the straightening iron too. Which, while isn't really on the top of my list of ways to spend a Friday afternoon, isn't necessarily at the bottom either.

Update: Remember how I said a reporter took my photo during the solar eclipse last week? Well, you can find it online here, along with that of an elderly gentleman and a small child.

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.

Apple a Day

This is Dr. Yi, one of the many village doctors that I met on my recent survey of China's rural areas.

In addition to enjoying the occasional slice of watermelon, he has the unique ability of making every child in the village cry on sight, probably because of his professional love of needles. He is also a favorite among the men in the village because of his tendency to hand out free cigarettes.

My interactions with him and other village doctors have taught me quite a lot about basic health care. Never one to deprive others of valuable health tips, let me share what I have learned.

- An effective cure for the common cold is an IV injection of sugar water.

- Antibiotics are a good way to both treat and prevent diarrhea.

- Flies do not pose a health risk and should be welcomed at the local clinic.

- Two pills are more effective than one; three pills are more effective than two; and four pills are more effective than three.

- When you have your period, you should:

+ Never ever exercise or engage in strenuous activity of any kind.

+ Avoid consuming any food or beverage that is not steaming hot (including water).

+ Drink a concoction of brown sugar and water to ease cramps.

- An appropriate nomiker for a bipolar patient is "the psycho".

With these tips in mind, who's up for a stay at the village health center?

Or how about the fever ward of the local hospital?

Personally, I may opt for the proverbial apple instead.

Paradise: Found

Imagine a world in which all of your friends and family members live within a few miles of your home. A world where kids regularly ride their bikes to their friends' houses without worrying about being abducted on the way. Where neighbors regularly stop by just to chat, and friendly neighborhood card games are a popular after-dinner pastime. This is a world in which families eat all of their meals together, and in which every meal is made with freshly picked organic vegetables from the garden.

Welcome to a rural Chinese village.

Before you start packing your bags and joining the approximately 87 million others living in this rustic paradise, note that some may claim that the lack of certain modern conveniences cast a shadow on this wholesome, down-to-earth living experience. These party poopers might point out that the typical village bathroom is an open air slosh pit that doubles as a maggot breeding area compost heap, and that water has to be hand-pumped from a well in the yard. But what these pessimists don’t realize is that many of these so-called "inconveniences" are actually advantages.

For example, sure, the floor might be made of dirt, but hey! No need to mop or vacuum! And yeah, no computers, but who needs the internet anyway, with all of your friends and family living so close? If you want to know what's going on in the world, just turn on the TV and tune in to one of the three government-sponsored news channels available.

Another advantage of village life is that you no longer have to spend all of your time in a sterile office reliving scenes from "The Office" and complaining about lack of lumbar support. In the village, you can connect with nature by spending your working hours gardening, or as they call it, "farming". Sure, this may occasionally involve some tiresome tasks such as planting seeds, fertilizing, spraying toxic chemicals, and weeding, but on the bright side, you'll get to work on your tan. And hey, if it rains, go ahead and take the day off, God’s treat!

Sounds pretty idyllic, no? And if that’s not enough, real estate is dirt cheap: for less than $5000 you can set yourself up in a sweet crib with all of the amenities I’ve mentioned here.

Who’s with me?