Visit to Qutang

To my more faithful readers, no, there's no excuse for the two week delay in posting-but this post is long, if that's any concession.

Due to the swine flu vacation, the Chinese National Day vacation was shortened from eight days off school to just two. This put a wrench in any plans to make a trip of sizable distance. But, since it was the 60th Anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic, and because the break coincided with mid-autumn festival, I decided to keep it traditional. So, I accepted my good friend Qin Chen’s invitation to go back home with her. Danthemanstan also accepted the invitation; so we would both accompany Qin Chen back to her hometown of Qutang, near Hai’an, in the Nantong prefecture in southeastern Jiangsu province.

There are two major holidays in China. Chinese New Year (Spring Festival) is usually in late January or February and is about two weeks. National Day is October 1st and the holiday lasts one week. These three weeks are beyond crazy for travel. You can look back at my blog to read about the experience Dave and I had last year. This year Qin Chen had bought tickets ahead of time. Danthemanstan, Sarah, Sean, and I got up early and headed to the bus station on Thursday morning (Sean and Sarah were going to visit Zhao Min, another friend). Knowing the imminent crowd, I was keen on getting to the bus station early. Quite surprisingly, Qin Chen and Zhao Min didn’t share this urgency. Apparently they had never traveled on the actual holiday before and didn’t expect the crowds (see picture to understand what I mean by crowds). I don’t know how they have both lived here their whole lives and not understood the travel craziness on those days, but I don’t know lots of things. Either way, we made it into the bus station, pushing and shoving as best we could. At one point, I actually felt like I was floating as the pushing carried me off the ground. Some nasty pickpocket’s day was made as Danthemanstan had his wallet stolen the scrum.

When we got to Qutang, we went to Qin Chen’s grandparent’s house, as it was a holiday and her parents and aunt were there for the day. Danthemanstan and I were really excited about the National Day parade. In China, multiples of ten for anniversaries, birthdays, etc. are a big deal, so there was a full military parade in Beijing, through Tian’anmen square. We were interested because military parades aren’t that common in today’s world and because I am very intrigued by the Chinese patriotism/nationalism. Qin Chen wasn’t really interested at all, her grandpa showed some interest, and her grandmother was busy making us a feast. I am sure her family was intrigued by our intrigue in their national parade. We, of course had a delicious lunch, as the Qin family stayed true to the Chinese custom of offering guests copious food and drink.

After lunch, we headed to one of the local parks in Hai’an with Qin Chen’s grandfather. As a typical Chinese retiree, he goes to the park almost every day to play Chinese chess. Meanwhile her grandmother shops, cleans the house, and hits up the local mahjong hall. The park was pretty, and very similar to those in every other Chinese city. It was nice to sit and watch him play chess against some other old men and chat with Qin Chen. We attracted a fair bit of attention at the park, as foreigners are sparse in Hai’an. One man treated Danthemanstan and I like monkeys or Martians. He sat near us, pointed us out to anyone who would listen, and as I was writing a text message, was tapping at my phone’s screen while laughing. On the way to and from the park, I noticed that Grandpa Qin was very brazen in his street crossing, paying no attention to the oncoming cars at all. Dangerous as it may be, he is eighty and probably isn’t nearly as afraid of death as me. Or he’s just plain tough.

Dinner was just as tasty as lunch, and the best thing we had was fried lotus root stuffed with pork and greens. They were awesome. Generally, when eating with Chinese people, in order to be hospitable and good hosts, they will put food onto your plate for you. I don’t like this practice at all, but put up with it, as the people putting the food on my plate usually slaved away making scrumptious and abundant dishes for me. After Grandpa Qin had put more dumplings than I could ever eat into my bowl, I ate a few, and he was reaching over with more. I tried to refuse them (also expected in Chinese manners) but he actually poured some dumplings onto my hand blocking the bowl. They were hot, so I withdrew the hand; the dumplings were added to my already heaping bowl of dumplings. Grandpa Qin won. He was quite a character: another night he poured me a shot of baijiu mixed with ginseng out of a Sprite bottle. It kind of lingered and burned in my throat for a while. He didn’t seem to mind as he drank cupfuls. He also enthusiastically showed me pictures of when he was a soldier in the late 1950s. He was stationed in Xinjiang, the massive, mostly Muslim/Turkic province in northwestern China. China took over in the early 1950s. The takeover is called a “liberation” by the Chinese government, but my little knowledge makes it sound a little more complicated than that. Hence the reason soldiers like Grandpa Qin went out there to serve. I really wanted to talk with him about it, and started some conversation, but no one really seemed interested in talking about it. I was a little surprised about how little Qin Chen or her father knew or wanted to know about her Grandpa’s life. But, as a friend reminded me, life in China in the 1950s and 1960s was incredibly volatile, horrendous, and trying-so it might be something still too sensitive to discuss. It was cool enough to see the pictures though, he was quite proud of how young and handsome he looked fifty years ago.

We spent the night at Qin Chen’s rich uncle’s house-also in Hai’an (staying with the wealthiest relative is the modus operandi). It was quite nice, newly purchased and very well furnished. Danthemanstan was only staying for one night, so we got up the next morning. As we were on our way to the bus station, a classic Chinese experience occurred. Instead of getting to the station on time comfortably, we had to stop by one of Qin Chen’s friends’ parents’ restaurant. This has happened to me before when visiting Chinese friends. Instead of making it to the bus/train on time, thus reducing stress and making the visit better, the host will make sure to take the guest to one last place, to do one last thing. Thus, we had to hurry to the bus station; worried Danthemanstan would miss the last bus of the day. Even Qin Chen, who has spent so much time with some of us foreign teachers, can’t shed some classic Chinese tendencies now and then.

I spent the rest of that day the way most Chinese seemed to be spending it, walking around town, buying some snacks and shopping. I did buy a camera case, which was a way too complicated process for a country that is trying to use increased domestic consumerism to grow an economy at 8% annually. Visiting Qin Chen’s house in Qutang (the actual town/village where she lives) was very interesting and fun. Qin Chen and I rode bikes around town; it was very enjoyable. Qutang is a pretty small town, in that you can cover most of it on bike in half an hour. Yet, it’s still a full on, all senses, fast paced rush-as riding bikes in Chinese traffic, no matter how small the town, always is. There were a lot of people milling around due to the holiday and that there are villages all around the town, with rice, soybean, greens, and other fields interspersed. Qin Chen’s house hasn’t been hit by the Usain Bolt speed development in China, which makes it pretty cool to visit. In my opinion, it is a great example of the dramatic changes occurring in this country. The toilet consists of two concrete chunks on either side of a hole above a stagnant cesspool. It’s in the corner of a dirt floor, brick shed used mainly to store and dry bean stalks-which are used in one of the stoves (the other is gas). Meanwhile, Qin Chen sits in her parents’ bedroom on her laptop, sending videos she took with her camera phone to friends. Her cousin is talking with her and browsing and playing the collection of American pop songs on her phone.

As mentioned, the reason for the trip was the joint holiday of National Day and Mid-Autumn Festival. Like any relatively noteworthy holiday in China, Mid-Autumn Festival is celebrated by lighting off fireworks. Chinese fireworks (in China nonetheless). Qin Chen wasn’t too excited about the fireworks, but you bet I was. So I spent about $15 and got a lot of fireworks. I kind of just pointed at about everything the guy on the street had, and got a big box of the type of fireworks you see at a fireworks show. I had a great time setting them off in the street outside Qin Chen’s house. Her dad and uncle were equally enthusiastic, and her dad even lit his huge stash of black cats off. All the neighbors came to check it out, and some even brought their fireworks to the party. Other than that the holiday consisted of Qin Chen’s grandmother doing some sort of incense/candle/laying out of food prayer that was to remember and nourish dead relatives. Her grandmother was way more into it than anyone else. The painting above the small shrine was Taoist, but the shrine looked more Buddhist-all in all it was probably more of the difficult to classify Chinese traditional mystical beliefs.

I have touched in this blog, and others about visits to Chinese homes, about Chinese hospitality. I returned to China both because I lead a comfortable life here and I really enjoy learning more about and experiencing foreign cultures. Even so, I don’t enjoy or understand everything about China, and I’ve never been one to hold my tongue. Visiting Chinese people is an awesome experience because you get to see how many of the people on our planet live, and this helps a lot in understanding the things my students and friends do and think. It is also a very trying experience for one’s patience and tact. I am aware enough to recognize that I have trouble exercising both of those traits. When visiting people in America, (well people that have been in America for awhile) it’s not that trying, because, in sharing a culture, almost everything is understood. The towels are over there, the juice is in the fridge, and all that jazz. Not so in China. It’s not like getting juice or a towel is that difficult (although dry towels can sometimes oddly be in short supply) but it’s rather the way it’s done. Essentially Chinese people think that they are doing what’s best for me by directing and telling me what to do at all times. They also think they’re helping me by repeating questions, which are often unnecessary or inane to begin with. I am the guest, and additionally a foreigner, so it’s best for them to explain every detail and ask multiple questions about said detail. All these questions, instructions, and general overbearing attention do nothing but frustrate me and add stress. At times I wonder how many times I have to say I’ll shower in the morning to convey the fact that I do, in fact, want and plan to shower in the morning. In order to be polite (and thus inefficient) I will refrain from expressing my frustration to the host. But this just means the frustration grows greater. Not insulting the cook is easy to do at a family style meal where one serves one’s self, and even easier when it’s buffet style. It’s not so easy when the cook is sitting next to you and is putting the food onto your plate. In this case Qin Chen’s mother, father, and grandmother were good cooks, so it wasn’t a problem…but I can’t say the same for everywhere I’ve visited. In complaining about this I remember when my family used to host visitors to Des Moines through some cultural exchange program. I wonder if the Taiwanese girls that visited would later complain about how the rude Americans just left them alone, without repeating the questions many times and generally looking after them at all times. Then again, we did make bowls of white rice for them at every meal…and I haven’t had any bread and butter put before me yet. Then again, those fried lotus roots were damn good!

Swine flu vacation to Qingdao

After just two days of class, class was over. Well, temporarily, at least. A number of students had become infected with H1N1, so the school wasn’t going to take any risks: classes were cancelled. The students infected were all sent to the hospital, while classmates and roommates were put into quarantine. The security guards at the front gate took everyone’s temperature upon entry and exit. Well, they allowed those in cars and us foreign teachers to walk by uninhibited. Apparently if you have enough money to buy a car or are foreign, you can’t contract the flu. This was quite a change from the spring, when all foreigners (since we all look alike to them) were assumed to have the flu. Luckily, (for me) China since developed a local case of the swine flu, so I have regained my larger than life status as a foreigner here.

Now, the isolation of the classmates and roommates who were not displaying any symptoms may seem a bit draconian. I don’t deny that it was to an extent, and the authoritarian attitude with which it was carried out is unacceptable. But, in this case, I can’t say it was as extreme as most of what the Chinese government does. Our campus, and eastern China in general, is a petri dish for communicable diseases. Huge populations crowded into small living spaces combined with a complete lack of both sanitary conditions and (in my opinion) poor sanitary education means that diseases will spread here…and fast.

I had the opportunity to visit one of my friends in isolation. I did this partly because I hadn’t seen her since returning, and because she had clearly relayed to me the boredom of isolation, and I wanted to find out if all the rumors I was hearing were true. So, I went over to the building, was stared at by the guard and attendant until Yuxi came down to meet me. The guard stood a few feet away from us while we chatted. We maintained a good three-foot gap as we chatted in the entryway (I didn’t want to give anyone any reason to put me in quarantine). She explained that she and her three roommates were sharing three beds and a desk in an old classroom. I actually taught a class in the building last year. It is definitely among the worse of the buildings on campus, and is mainly just used for offices. She said it was unbearably hot (the fan was broken); they were essentially at a flash shower every other day due to volume of students and supply of showers/hot water. She had only been given thirty minutes to get her stuff together and get to the isolation building. Thus, she didn’t have the time, or calm of mind, to pack well. So, she and her roommates were playing cards and sending text messages to friends (and apparently foreign teachers) the whole time. This was on day two. It lasted nine days. I’ll let you imagine. She was in a quandary because friends could bring her things if she wanted…but her whole class was in quarantine. Because they take all their classes together and live with their classmates…her list of friends to ask was pretty short. And no, I couldn’t help. No boys in the girl’s dormitory. I had dinner with her the other night…she said it was horrible; she was glad it was over and didn’t want to talk about it.

As oft is the case in life, one man’s loss is another’s gain. So, after a day or two of doubt about how long classes would be cancelled, I headed to Shanghai to attend a party at the apartment of a girl from my original CIEE group, meet up with Clark (who taught here last year) and search for some stuff for my computer-(note-the Apple store in Shanghai is not yet open…or just really hard to find). While enjoying some amazing food cooked by Clark’s girlfriend, Danthemanstan called me to see if I was down for a trip. Of course I was, although I’d have to manage with what I had brought for a one-night stay. So, I grabbed an early train back to Changzhou and met up with Danthemanstan, Sean, and Sarah. Jordan had already headed up to Qingdao to meet up with some people from his CIEE group, and it was on a short list of places that would be good for this trip, so we headed up there.

Qingdao is a beautiful, clean, calm city on the beach. For those who haven’t been to China, or are only reading government approved media, saying that somewhere in China is calm and clean is a bold claim. Bold. Because China, in a few words, is crowded, dirty, loud, and busy. Well, actually, the western third of this country consists of a huge desert, massive tundra, an expansive steppe, and no people. But, the aforementioned words apply to the center and east. Qingdao’s traffic was relatively orderly, its streets wide, and sidewalks weren’t too overrun with vendors. The business side of the coast was filled with a not too loud port complimented with hordes of fishermen. Every gap in the boats featured some fit, older Chinese men swimming or doing a pre or post swim stretch/slap. The slap refers to the Chinese custom of slapping/hitting oneself in all sorts of places and ways when doing exercise. My skeptical and American mind sees this as pretty useless, but they did win more gold medals than us in the most recent Olympics, so I am trying to be more open minded about some Chinese health techniques (of course those medals might just be due to 13-year-old gymnasts and massive government rewards for obscure medals).

The pleasure side of the coast featured some great beaches, generally full of couples taking wedding photos. 9-9-09 was a big wedding day in China due to numerology. October 1st (National Day) was a big wedding day in China due to patriotism. We hit that gap in the middle-hence the couples. We spent a day at the beach, haggling beer and umbrella prices in between dips in the perfectly warm water. What wasn’t perfect was the swimsuit I had to buy-it was bigger than a Speedo, but not by much. We spent another day checking out the old Protestant church (Qingdao was a German concession for awhile) and trying to go to the Catholic Church…that was apparently closed to tourists contrary to the guidebook’s “guidance”. Notch one for the Protestants in the ongoing post-1517 tally. When searching for a hotel, I had my first encounter with the “no room at the inn” syndrome for foreigners. Lots of books about foreigners in China, especially just after the 1978 opening, talk about how foreigners are only allowed to stay in certain hotels. Ostensibly this is done to direct foreigners to the nicest hotels that can best serve their needs. Realistically, it was done as a control/record keeping measure, which is why it has pretty much vanquished in most cities. Qingdao is holding on to the tradition in order to most likely boost tourism revenues. My pitiful attempts at Chinese wouldn’t convince them to let us stay…although at first I used whatever charm I may have to convince the receptionist, but the boss was having none of it. The next hotel was too expensive, and we were walking out to genuinely go to another hotel, but it worked as a bargaining strategy: the receptionist came out and offered us a good rate.

Danthemanstan wasn’t keen on the description of Mt. Lao in the guidebook, so he checked out some temples and the old prison next to our hotel while we climbed the famous Taoist and Buddhist mountain. Disappointingly, you can’t climb all the way to the peak (or we couldn’t figure how) but the climb does end in a pretty cool Taoist temple. Cool not because of the figures in the temple (same old, same old) but due to the sweet scenery and views of a mountaintop temple. Among the more interesting things we encountered on the mountain was tan, almost opaque gel that many vendors had for sale. It was made of something that looked like kind of like camel’s hair…but apparently came from the ocean. I tried to have Xingxing translate the name of it (which the vendor wrote down for me) but she said it didn’t really make sense and was more like the local name of the dish less than a description. It was served with garlic, peppers, vinegar, and hot sauce. They gave it some flavor, but it still pretty much tasted like it looked: bland and gooey.

Hands down the best part of the trip was what went into my mouth (that’s not an innuendo). Qingdao is famous for Tsing Tao beer (it uses the old English approximate spelling). It’s essentially the only beer exported from China to the rest of the world, although everyone here drinks Snow Beer (kind of like how you can find Budweiser in Europe, but no Bud Light). It’s pretty good, and uber-ubiquitous around town. You can even get it in a bag on the street: we did. We took the brewery tour, which was mostly through a museum. The best part was watching the bottling room, which despite 17% investment by Anheuser Busch has a long way to go to match the bottling at the brewery in St. Louis. Along with lots of Qingdao beer (including the dark variety) we ate fantastically. Kebabs of all variety were very tasty and go great with beer and some fried rice. By far the best thing that Qingdao had to offer was clams in a pepper sauce. They were incredibly tasty. I admit that I forgot my manners at one dinner and just parked the lazy Susan in front of me and unloaded all of them onto my plate. Now I just have to find a restaurant in Changzhou that serves ‘gala’ the clams…although we’re a bit inland, they might not be quite so good.