I’ll just share one little awesome Chinese phrase that I learned in Berkeley, which goes against the trend of my vocabulary only shrinking since I left Beijing. The phrase is dǎ fēijī (打飞机， 打飛機）, which translates literally as “to hit the airplane”. I’ll leave it to my intelligent and imaginative readers to figure out what that actually means.

Anyways, I’ll soon be departing for the Near (or Middle?) East, and so I should have some interesting things to write about, and hopefully some good pictures to share. On to post-undergraduate life!

推敲 (tuīqiāo)– Legend has it that Jia Dao, a poet of the Tang Dynasty, was composing a poem as he rode astride a donkey. He came up with two lines: ‘The birds perched on the trees by a pond,/As, in the moonlight, a monk knocked on the door,’ but was unsure whether or not he should change ‘knocked on’ to ‘pushed’. While thinking this over, and making the movements of pushing and knocking, he bumped into Han Yu, to whom he told his quandary. After thinking for a while, Han Yu said it would be better to use ‘knocked on’. (See the 19th volume of Collected Notes on a Hermit Fishing at Shaoxi Brook, quoted from Fine Words of Liu Yuxi.); (fig.) weigh one’s words and expressions; polish or refine repeatedly

This is an awesome illustration of the poetry and compactness that can make learning Chinese really, well, interesting. Classical Chinese was basically only comprehensible to an extremely small part of the population; these were the scholar-officials who spent most of their time reading or writing classical literary chinese (文言文 wényánwén). Classical Chinese is distinguished from modern Chinese by its extreme compactness, with every single character, which only represents one syllable, comprising its own word. Certain expressions have made their way from classical Chinese into modern vernacular Mandarin, but if a person heard the expression (or sometimes even saw the characters) made up of words that he knows without having been taught the meaning of the expression, he would not be able to decipher it. The word tuīqiāo is a decent example of what I’m talking about.  

Also, I’m back in the USA now, so for now this blog is coming to an end. If anybody’s read everything I’ve written, I’m flattered, and I hope you liked it. I might post some pictures from Beijing and my second trip to Vietnam (I went there after leaving Beijing but before coming back home) in the next few days, so check back for those if you want. As I’m back in the USA and will hopefully be near phones and have more free time, I have no excuse to not stay in touch, so email me if you want to say hi.

I’m not sure what it says about China that they had to import these words. I think most of my teachers here have senses of humor. I’m sorry to say I haven’t had a chance to test their understanding of romance, but from what I see of couples on campus, it’s not too different from my own. They’ve come a long way from the feudal, humorless, romance-less society of 1900.

Things will probably go back to they way they were before in a few weeks once people stop looking, but at least I can watch the Colbert Report for my remaining 11 days in China.

1. English that people in the USA would just never wear because it’s silly or too happy.

2. English that is riddled with spelling and grammar mistakes, or just no makes no sense at all.

3. English that has connotations that the wearers most probably do not understand.

One example of the first category that I’ve seen is a man wearing a shirt that said:

LOVE!

YOU!

An example of the third category that I saw with my own eyes was a woman wearing a shirt that said:

Nike

I LIKE

TO BE

ON TOP

I really doubt she knew the connotation of that shirt. A pretty great example that I heard about second hand was a woman wearing a shirt that had a big rainbow on the top, underneath which were written the words:

I’m so gay I shit rainbows!

The person who saw this shirt asked the lady why she was wearing it and she said “I think the rainbow is really pretty. I don’t know what the words mean”.

Luckily, for the second category you don’t have to rely on my descriptions, as today I blew my 3rd place prize money from the PiB speech contest on amazing examples of category 2. I am going to really enjoy putting these on, but I doubt seeing me wearing them in the USA will be nearly as funny as me seeing Chinese people wearing them.

Click the slideshow below to see big versions of any of the pictures. If you want me to buy you a shirt, email me soon and let me know.

Rather quickly, the conversation came to where I was going to look for a job next year. This gave me an opportunity to summarize for him the little narrative that I’ve been forming in my head for the past six months or so. The narrative ends with me deciding to live in the USA, and it starts with my mom and dad both making that same decision. Both my parents are immigrants, I told him, and because of their influence I came to see learning about foreign languages and cultures as very important. With this in mind, when I started my university studies, I started studying Chinese. Initially I thought learning Chinese would give me the opportunity to communicate with a billion people if I wanted to go to China. After a few years of studying it, I realized that if I ever wanted to reach anything near fluency, I would have to go to China. So now I’m here in China, and even though I like it here in Beijing, I’ve realized that besides studying Chinese, I don’t have any reason to leave the USA for China. If I have another reason to be in China, then I should study Chinese, but studying Chinese isn’t a good reason in and of itself. China’s great, just not better than America.

“Of course it’s not! America is ‘paradise‘ (he said in English). I don’t like China, either,” he replied, to my surprise. 

“What don’t you like about China?” I asked. He went on to list freedom of speech, a clean environment, and a democratic election system as things that China lacked and the USA has. He’d move to the USA, he said, but his English is really bad. He says that some ABC (American Born Chinese) students here at PiB have told him that Americans are prejudiced and look down on them. “If they look down on these Asians who speak perfect English, they’ll definitely discriminate against me,” he said.

“Maybe you should come to California. At my university, 45% of the students are Asians, more than whites. White people are the ones who have to fear being discriminated against.”

“Chinese people won’t look down on white people. Chinese people really like white people,” was his reply. I took this opportunity to ask him about a phenomenon that several of my ABC friends here at PiB have mentioned to me. If a bunch of Chinese-Americans are walking around together in Beijing, people are rude to them. If there’s a group of white Americans or a mixed group walking around, everybody’s extremely polite and kind. Some possible reasons for this that we discussed are:

● Chinese people expect people who look Chinese to speak Chinese. If their Mandarin isn’t fluent, then they are disappointed, and assume that the person is maybe from some other part of China or other Asian country, or maybe just stupid.

● Conversely, Chinese people don’t expect white people to speak Mandarin, so even my very bad (chà) Mandarin surpasses their expectations and impresses them.

● Chinese people associate white people with the USA, and they respect the USA for being powerful and rich. This respect for some reason extends to any white person they see, but not to really rich Chinese individuals. They also think Americans have a really great sense of humor, are good looking, and really laid back and speak very openly about everything.

● The government has been encouraging people to give a good impression to foreigners during the olympics, but Chinese people assume they can be their regular-old rude selves to people who look Chinese.

We talked about a lot more, but I’m going to get back to studying now.

First, a video of me trying to slide down a sand dune and failing miserably.

And click below to see lots of pictures from the whole trip. Click on any picture in the slideshow to see the high-resolution version.

I haven’t explored Beijing nearly as much as Hong Kong, Bangkok, or Hanoi, but even the food options within walking distance of my (re-)education facility have the power to make me pretty glad to be alive.

First up, tapioca milk tea. There are two vendors within a 10-minute walk of my dorm. It’s not anything I can’t get in Berkeley, but here it’s about 1/3 the cost. I drink too much of it. Actually, Chinese people love tea in general, including cold tea sold in plastic bottles at the supermarket. My first week here I bought tea bags and was drinking tea exclusively. I think the caffeine from 10 cups of tea a day contributed to my feeling nervous and not being able to sleep. So it’s back to water for me.

Right around the corner from the closest milk tea vendor is a little stall that sells, among other things:
Rice porridge (zhōu) – $0.14 / cup
Meat pancake things (zhuàngyuan ròu bǐng) – $0.28 each
Egg cake with lettuce and hot sauce (jīdàn {something} bǐng) – $0.28 each
These are all pretty solid and really fast for when I need to get back to studying.

A few steps farther away is a market that sells what I am truly addicted to: zhǔshí, or “primary food”. This consists of a lot of cake-like things made of wheat, flour, sesame seeds, and a bunch of stuff I don’t know about. I speculate that the original meaning of “primary food” was just the plain cakes and buns, but now most vendors offer both plain and stuffed versions. The little sesame bread cakes that I’m so addicted to (shāo bǐng) can come stuffed with eggplant, chives and eggs, red bean paste, or just sugar. In only four weeks I’ve already become a regular at this place. The lady who works there only needs to ask me, “How many (red bean paste shāo bǐng)?”

When the powers that be finally gave us our student ID cards (not until the 4th week!), this opened up the possibility of eating in the campus cafeterias. Food here is as ridiculously cheap as at the aforementioned food stalls, but there’s more variety available, as well as the luxury of tables and chairs. My first time in the cafeteria I just got what one of my teachers got, thinking that she’d know what’s good. She chose a fish dish, and unfortunately for me I don’t have the Kung-fu required to eat Chinese fish dishes in any reasonable amount of time without swallowing lots of spines.

Besides the total lack of knives and forks, the cafeteria’s major difference from UC Berkeley’s is that people are expected to leave waste (like fish spines) on their tables, whereas at Cal everybody has a tray under his plate on which to put unwanted waste. Cheap Chinese labor comes around and wipes each table down as soon as one group departs.

I wouldn’t say the food at the cafeteria’s great, but so far I’d say it’s better than Berkeley’s. Besides the quality food, I also enjoy the huge number of options and sitting across from the Chinese intelligentsia, including my own teachers. Also, at restaurants I tend to stick with items whose ingredients I can somewhat decipher from the Chinese characters on the menu, but in the cafeteria, where all the food is already prepared and visible, I can try something new after deciding that it looks appetizing.

I’ve covered all the on-campus, super cheap options. I could write forever about middle-of-the-road places, but I’ll spare anyone whose made it this far and just skip to the really classy places. Last Saturday, a classmate took me to the best Korean barbeque place in the city. It’s called 烤肉乐，which is either pronounced kǎoròu lè or kǎoròu yùe, I’m not sure (Chinese characters suck). It’s right next to Tsinghua and Peking Universities, and apparently a lot of Koreans live, work, and hangout in the area. My friend who took me is from Korea, and he’s spent a fair deal of time in Beijing, so he knows where it’s at. We ordered some raw beef, condiments, and soju. Wrapping the beef in some lettuce and dipping it sauce made for a surprisingly light tasting dinner. This great meal at the best place in town cost us each $7.50. My friend told me it would cost at least twice as much in Korea (I’m referring of course to the country where people regularly eat).

I have to mention one more fancy place. To celebrate the end of the first semester, some classmates and I went to one of the two most famous Peking Duck (aka běijīng kǎoyā) restaurants in Beijing (aka Peking). Luckily I’ve started to become friends with a wonderful young lady named Yuhwen who knows her way around Beijing. When we first walked in, I was very impressed, but also worried that dinner would cost a fortune. There were a lot of people in business attire, both Chinese and foreigners, and the décor included handwritten messages from the ambassadors of several nations, as well who I assume are famous Chinese people.

We had to wait thirty minutes for a table, but for once I was more than happy to wait to be seated. The waiting area was right in front of the kitchen, which was surrounded by clear glass, giving us all a clear view of the ducks being oh-so-enticingly roasted. As if the thank you notes and kitchen action weren’t enough to keep us happy, we were also free to help ourselves to free drinks! And not just tea, but soda, white wine, red wine, and my personal favorite, plum juice.

After being seated, we actually had to wait a long time before a waiter came to take our order. I think the absence of tips really discourages speedy service in China. We ordered two ducks, and got to watch them get sliced up, which was fun. After eating the best duck I’ve had since I got to Beijing, I was treate to free fruit and dessert. Thanks for the memories, dàdòng kǎoyā diàn!

One last food related story; this one’s really really embarrassing. It was really late at night after eating roast duck, and i wanted to get some fruit for the next day’s breakfast. We went into a little convenience store that sold ice cream and bottled drinks and such, and I was pleasantly surprised to see some fruit. In retrospect, it was strange that there was only a little bit and there was only one kind of fruit all laid out on one plate, but at the time I thought nothing of it. I started inspecting it, and it felt pretty ripe to me, so I asked “How much?”. When the salesperson looked puzzled, I realized that I was asking to buy fruit that was an offering at a little shrine! When I realized this, I quickly said “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t want it,” but the lady went ahead and put some fruit in a bag and insisted and so I paid for it and eventually ate it. If I die in China under strange circumstances, it’s actually somebody’s ancestors getting revenge on me for stealing their fruit sacrifice.

Here’s a link to more pictures if you’re interested.