Xin nian kuai le!

New York City.  Los Angeles.  Chicago.  Houston.  Philadelphia.  Phoenix.  Spokane.  Imagine these cities combined forces and had a party.  If they pooled their budgets for 4th of July and New Years fireworks, doubled it, and lit everything off...They still wouldn't match Shanghai on Chinese New Year.

Besides a short lull from about 1 am to 3 am and 1 pm to 3 pm, it's been Fireworks Central around here--in spite of the government's so-called limitations (http://www.latimes.com/world/worldnow/la-fg-wn-china-fireworks-20140129,0,2905534.story#axzz2rxQzElFV).

I kinda like it.

Last night around 8 or 9 the neighborhoods a few blocks north of me starting blowing up the good stuff--pyrotechnics that, in the U.S., would be surrounded by a ring of fire trucks, just in case.  I could see flashes of it from my west-facing window, so I ran out to the hallway and looked out that north-facing window instead.  Mostly, everything was sparkling rockets of gold stretching up until gravity forced them to pop like popcorn in the sky--shimmering explosions of gold, and of course, the auspicious red, with a bit of random blue or purple thrown in for spice. 

To her credit, Gipsy Danger didn't seem as nutso as I'd been expecting.  She actually crouched in my window, fascinated by the flashes of light reflected in the windows of the tall buildings all around.  Of course, she's also the most talkative cat in the East, meowing and, at times, even yowling as if I've stepped on her tail. 

I'm watching Gipsy because her human parents, my friends, are in Guangzhou visiting family.  Right now Ms. Danger (named after the Jaeger in the movie "Pacific Rim") is curled up on her blanket in my rocking chair, content during the temporary truce (in firework parlance) to close her eyes and actually nap.

The air outside displays shockingly little damage from last night.  The pollution level is 167--unhealthy--which is fairly normal for this place.  The highest level in the Los Angeles area I can find right now is 80.

The gunshot bangs and the colors that light up the night remind me of some good times with cousins back in the States when we were younger, watching 4th of July fireworks and lighting off some of our own.  When your male cousins are pyromaniacs and are still blowing up stuff at our age (mid-30s), you just end up getting excited about all of it!

As the Year of the Horse gallops in, and the word mashang ("immediately"--as if on horseback) is being overused, let me enlighten you with a few predictions for 2014:  people will fight the good fight based on their ideals, especially towards the end of the year, but meaningless violence is also expected.  Patience and self-control are advised.  Supposedly, this is a good year for single people to meet that special someone.  I might sit that one out.  We'll see.  Businesses involving wood or fire will do well, since this year's horse is a wood horse.  Volcanoes are also predicted to erupt.  If you were born in the Year of the Snake (like me), it might be time to "reboot" your career, which I've been considering doing anyway.

Happiness, prosperity, and longevity to all my readers, and if you speak Cantonese:  Gung hay fat choi!

 

My sources for predictions:

http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/chinese-new-year-2014-what-the-year-of-the-horse-means-for-you-9096775.html

http://fengshui.about.com/od/fengshuigoodluckcures/ss/Feng-Shui-Tips-Horse-Chinese-Zodiac-Sign.htm

http://ca.shine.yahoo.com/blogs/shine-on/2014-lunar-horoscope-predictions-130052631.html

22 Jan 2014

I've finally surpassed the six-month mark in my contract, and I can safely say that I am no longer experiencing culture shock! 

I am, however, experiencing what Peace Corps Volunteers and other seasoned ex-pats know as cultural fatigue.

People still push on to the subway or the elevator as people try to get off.  I know this won't change.  I'm used to it, but it still bothers me.  The logic of waiting a few seconds for people to get out so that it's actually easier to get in seems to be beyond anyone here. 

People still ride their scooters like they have a death wish.  They go against traffic, overloaded with passengers, water jugs, or sharp objects, texting on their cell phones (sans helmet, of course); they ride up on the sidewalk, beeping and swerving--or worse, not beeping at all.  On my best days, I actually find this somewhat exhilarating--what a physical challenge!  All senses on alert!  It's like reflex training camp!  But when you've got the flu, are tired, homesick, or just plain not in the mood, it's like a needle in your spine.  The most I've ever seen cops or traffic directors do is yell at them half-heartedly.  There is no enforcement; and yet, everyone seems terrified of the police because they are part of the Communist government.

The guards that operate the metal detectors at the subway entrance gates only make me scan my backpack half the time.  Still, it's irritating when a man or woman overloaded with shopping bags on a trolley doesn't have to lift their stuff onto the belt.  They don't even get wanded or patted down.  What, I ask you, could be in my backpack that couldn't be in their bags?  Sometimes I'm sure it's because I'm foreign; and it's hard to be angry about this, knowing that racial profiling happens in my own country--land of the free, supposedly.  Sometimes I pick up my backpack at the other end of the scanner, and notice that the second guard--who's supposed to be watching the monitor--is picking his or her nose, watching an ad on the big screen TV ten feet away, checking his or her text messages, or speaking with someone.  Why bother having me put my bag on the belt if you're not even going to watch the scan? 

After six months, I'm used to all of this.  But it still bothers me.  That's culture fatigue.  The shock has worn off, you've gotten used to it--but the culture you're living in doesn't change.  Every "problem" you noticed during week one is still there, and there's nothing you can do about it.

Living in Qinghai in the late 80s, and being a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer, I'm well aware that my situation here could be much, much worse, and, contrary to what you might think, I'm not even really complaining.  I'm just tired of it.

Part of it is big city life.  With 20 million people, you must push.  You must hurry.  You must fight a little harder for a place in line, a seat on the subway, a good spot in a crowd.  After three years in New York City, I kind of get it, and then some.

I'm not saying Shanghai is a hell hole, although sometimes, when I can't see the buildings a block away due to the pollution (PM 2.5 over 500, anyone?), or when I can smell the garbage truck 20 floors up, it certainly feels like one.

Okay, then, you ask, are there any good things about Shanghai?  Yes!  I've made more friends here in six months than I did in six years in Spokane.  I have a job here.  I'm even dating a great guy!

I just wanted to say, before I got into the whole Chinese New Year holiday thing, that I'm enjoying my time here as well as getting sick of the place--and that's normal.  That's life.  I feel almost the same way about Spokane--the air was clean, but I had no job.  The traffic was orderly, but there were no decent men to date.  I had my family, but no buddies.  I love Spokane.  But I was sick of it.  And that's why I came here.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

January 14th was the annual party for all the teachers and staff at the adult centers.  It was kind of like a company Christmas party, except we were really celebrating the Year of the Horse.  It was held in Le Royal Meridien, one of the fancier hotels in Shanghai, and everyone was dressed up--"red carpet wear", the invite had said.  The food was "just so-so", as my students would've said.  They'd attempted to make the Chinese food more to the western palette, and the western food more to the Chinese palette, and as a result, everything tasted a little off.  The coffee and the salad were okay, and the desserts, and far be it from me to complain too much about a free lunch!  I cleaned my full plate!

Each center had prepared a performance of some kind--a song, a play, a dance, a traditional something-or-other.  Some of them were downright horrible--people forgetting lyrics, not being able to hit notes, or dressed in way too little and dancing way too scandalously (bordering on strip club, I'm not kidding).  But some of the performances were great!  Two different girls tackled popular Adele songs, and did quite well hitting the notes.  One center had taken "The Twelve Days of Christmas" and turned it into "The Twelve Days of EF", and I was nearly in tears of hilarity by the end--they pretty much said exactly what I'd been feeling, especially when they shouted "NO CHRIST-MAS BREAK!" at the "five golden rings" part on the final verse.

However, another center had decided to retell the story of the birth of Christ, using both foreign and Chinese actors.  One of the actors, a Brit playing a bare-chested Joseph, kept interrupting his own lines to tell us, "It's not blasphemous!" when it clearly was.  I mean, Mary in a pink skirt that barely covered her ass and in three-inch heels?  The Angel of the Lord worse than Tinkerbell, yelling at the characters and bopping them on the head with her magic wand?  Mary pregnant before the Angel's visit?  And, finally, Mary giving birth to Santa Claus?  A Catholic buddy and I met up after, shaking our heads.  The baby Santa thing had been pretty bad.  Some people in the audience had actually walked out of the performance; an American co-worker of mine had laughed until he was in tears.  To top it all, the entire performance looked as though they'd written it the night before and hadn't rehearsed--they repeated lines, missed cues, missed whole scenes, and then interrupted other scenes to explain what they'd missed.

I wondered if the performances would've been better or worse if alcohol had been served.

Speaking of, rather than doing a lucky draw, as was tradition, the higher-ups had decided to purchase a bottle of "Celebration Wine", a red from Down Under, for each one of us.  With its screw-off top, I was sure it was going to be horrible, but the Aussies didn't disappoint.  It wasn't the best wine I'd ever had, but it certainly wasn't the worst.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The mall where my center is located has seen increased activity since about two weeks ago.  You could equate it to the last-minute Christmas rush at home.

I sometimes feel as though pieces of my culture are being pilfered here:  fake pine boughs dripping with red and gold ornaments, clearly Christmas decor, being used for Chinese New Year; "Oh my darlin' Clementine" becoming the melody for "Happy New Year, Happy New Year, Happy New Year, everyone!"; Handel's "Hallelujah" being used in commercials (I know it is at home, too, tongue in cheek; but here, where no one believes in Christ by government decree, it makes me mad).  There are Nordic patterns on sweaters, and Christmas lights decorating the chilly tropical plants in front of my apartment building.

I then have to remind myself of the bodhisattva incense burner I have at home, my Tibetan singing bowl, the times I've studied yoga or hung Tibetan prayer flags over my door.  The chopsticks and soy sauce in the kitchen.  The red and silver Asian-looking earrings I sometimes wear.  I don't think of myself as stealing anything then; I think of myself as exploring, appreciating.  Is that what China is doing with Christmas--adding it into their Chinese New Year celebration--appreciating?  I'm not sure, but I have to be careful how harshly I judge because I don't have enough information to really know.  And it's not like every Christian in America takes Christmas as seriously as they should.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I feel bad for my students.  Some of them live far away and are planning to travel over the new year break--but then they admit they don't have their tickets yet.  Tickets are notoriously difficult to come by this time of year.  Some may wait days at the train station without being able to get on a train--my sister and I watched a documentary about it on PBS.  There is a sense of deep obligation to return home for the new year; and an equal sense of guilt, I'd imagine, if the person isn't able to make it.  Some of my students, I can tell, aren't especially looking forward to the holiday; some see it the way Americans might see Thanksgiving or Christmas--a time of forced imprisonment with dysfunctional relatives with the obligatory smile pasted across your face because this is supposed to be a happy time, after all.  Hurried preparations, exhausting shopping trips, and shoving crowds out of your way more than usual. 

A lot of my students are working overtime right now so that they can earn an extra day off.  Working overtime and then spending Saturdays in their three or four--or five--English classes.  Their dedication still amazes me.  It is humbling, inspiring, exhausting, and sad to watch.  When I see a class of twenty having entire conversations in English, it feels like a miracle, and sometimes I just watch with a smile on my face instead of scribbling down notes to use later for feedback.  I can tell you right now, if I worked overtime during the week, I would not be spending my Saturdays learning another language!  At least not for five hours.  Maybe one hour.  For fun.

That's the difference between my students and I.  They are willing to sacrifice their free time because of the benefits knowing English will give them--promotions, a higher salary, a more important title.  My free time, I have to admit, is quite valuable to me.  Even knowing I could make more money makes me reluctant to let it go.  Maybe if I had a family to support, I'd feel differently?  Who knows?

21 January 2014: Liang kuai!

This will be an article about money.  Liang kuai is a way of saying "two yuan", but it's also a way of saying "cool" (as in, "awesome"), and I think it's a fitting title:  some things are cheap in Shanghai, and some are downright robbery.  If you've ever lived abroad, you can probably already tell which items will be the most outrageous, but sometimes the truth is still surprising.

Here goes.

A box of 25 Twinings tea bags is 38.6 kuai--nearly $6.50.  Wasn't this the land of tea?  But Twinings, you see, is a British brand.  Darn that import tax.

Granola is about $10 a box--on sale.

If you stay local, of course, everything's cheap.  One place that saved my butt here in July, August, and September was Happy Lemon.  I could get a frosty, yummy mango orange smooth for 10 yuan--like $1.67.  Imagine getting a 12 oz. smoothie anywhere in the States for that price. 

My Chinese friend and her British boyfriend (who was in my intake group for the same company) showed me a great vegetable market.  It's probably government controlled, because the prices were stable (non-negotiable), the produce was clean and up off the floor, and the place was well-lit.  All of the vendors had hands that looked scrubbed clean.  This market was in the same neighborhood I've written about before (where the locals have no bathrooms and where the fire truck can barely get down the street).  But after griping about the poor quality of produce at Jiadeli, it was worth the extra walk and the extra interesting sights along the way to go to that veggie market.

One trip there, I got a nice frozen chicken breast, some freshly homemade noodles (stretched right in front of me), and a bag full of veggies--all for about three dollars.  Yes, three bucks.

The same friends helped me purchase a toaster oven online.  I had dreams of muffins, toasted bread, cookies.  99 kuai--only about $17 or so!  However, when it arrived, it became clear very quickly that all it could do was toast bread.  (Not being able to read item descriptions online when shopping on Chinese websites is always a gamble.)  An oven with temperature control that would actually bake something was, of course, far more expensive.  A box of "cheap-in-Spokane" blueberry muffin mix, I'd discovered, was $12.68 anyway--it was actually cheaper to go to the many bakeries in Shanghai (thank you, French people!) and just buy muffins already made if I got a hankering.

Most apartments don't come with an oven in Shanghai, and if you've got a clothes washer you won't have a dryer.  My apartment has a water heater, too, so if I want to have a hot shower I've got to plan ahead.

A box of feminine supplies runs about the same as in the States, perhaps a bit more.  You have to go to the foreigner grocery stores for them, though; local stores do not carry them; even the pharmacies, and even Watsons (a British Rite-Aid) don't, either.  Once again:  Shanghai is modern according to their standards, not mine!

Speaking of Watsons, I went there the other night after work.  It was a Saturday evening, and the mall was packed with pre-Spring Festival crazies (imagine a mall in America about 10 days til Christmas and you get the idea).  I'd come down the flu and was looking for some zinc.  Once again, the logic of the store and the logic of the Chinese culture baffled me:  There were only two cashiers.  There were eight customers in line.  And there were over a dozen salespeople roaming the aisles like sharks.  Why they didn't add at least two more cashier lines was beyond me; however, I've never seen a customer get impatient and leave a line.  Not at Watsons, not at the supermarket, not at the post office.  Maybe the extra salespeople are a better strategy--get people to fill up their baskets, because waiting in long lines doesn't deter them from buying anything.

Clothes were a slightly different story.  Qipu Lu (the cheap shopping street half of Shanghai comes to on a daily basis) is only two blocks from my apartment, and I'd picked up a beautiful scarf for 10 kuai (about a buck-fifty)--without even haggling!  There were fairly cute skirts and coats for $10 to $50--not that I bought them, but the prices were enough to get my attention.  Ah, Qipu Lu--your old-school techno blasting out of crappy speakers, your shoppers with overloaded trolleys and four-inch heels, your squid-on-a-stick snacks--I must confess I've been sucked in just a tad.

Recently, I've noticed my denim jacket being too small for me to be able to close the buttons.  I love the dark wash of this jacket, but it is a small--I picked it up for three bucks at a Spokane farmers' market a couple years ago, so it's not like I'd be throwing money away if I got a new one now.  I was hoping to see something at Qipu Lu.  I haven't seen every store (I have a low tolerance for crowds, ironically enough), but there are pretty much no denim jackets to be found. 

For kicks, I decided to have a look at a couple of stores in the mall (Bailian Youyicheng) where I work.  I was pretty sure the Wrangler store would be cheaper than the Levis store, so I went there first.  The style of denim jacket I like is called "trucker"--your standard jean jacket with a collar, button front, and two pockets.  I saw a jacket I liked and flipped the little price tag over.  800 yuan.  I blinked.  No way.  800?  That's about  $133.  Yes, you read that right.  I shook my head and laughed a little, and the shop assistants seemed pretty bummed to see me leaving without buying anything.  Foreigners, the rumor goes, have more money than locals.

I'd try the Levis store next.  Why not?  How high would the prices go? 

Well...how does 1099 kuai sound?  About $183 for those of you calculating at home.  I checked on JC Penney's website when I got back to my desk at work--the exact jacket was $50.  Yes.  So they were charging more than triple the price here--here, in China, where, ironically, a lot of famous "American" products get made.

There were a lot of stores in this mall with nice dresses for 2580 kuai, or about $430.  The stores were empty, other than cute employees sedately picking their noses.  Who's shopping here?  I wondered.  I'm aware that China's developed a new riche over the past couple of decades, but this was crazy.

In the Jing-an Temple area are a lot of western luxury brand stores--Hugo Boss, Marc Jacobs, Coach, etc.  I've seen perhaps one customer in the whole six months I've been here.  Usually, I walk by these stores and it's just the employees, looking almost suicidally bored, pacing and trying to look rich enough to serve the ultra-rich. 

I read somewhere that Marc Jacobs, et al are perfectly happy having stores in Shanghai, since Shanghai is considered the fashion capital of China (maybe even the whole of Asia)--even if no one buys anything.  It's good for business just to have "Shanghai" on your list of stores.  And, of course, it's good press and good economics for Shanghai neighborhoods to have a Nike or a Gap somewhere within walking distance.

Well, whatever floats their boats.  I've always admired fashion from afar, especially since I can never afford it on whatever salary I usually have.  A larger concern is paying off those student loans before I'm 80--that would be nice.