A jiao zi close-up

Originally uploaded by a little coffee

At lunchtime, there was a new offering amongst all the usual noodle and sandwich sellers in the university’s backstreet: dumplings!

The reason is today is the Winter Solstice and the Chinese (at least around here) traditionally eat dumplings on this day. I don’t remember exactly why… something having to do with the shape of the dumpling resembling an ear… I’ll have to verify with my students. But I don’t care because I’ll take any excuse to get dumplings!

This is my favorite Chinese food. Unfortunately, they’re a pain to make because you have to individually stuff each dumpling with a spoonful of whatever filling you want (we go for chive-tofu-egg). Imagine hand-making ravioli.

When Chris and I tried on our own, it took over four hours from preparing the filling and the dough to boiling them to finishing off a bowl of 20 or so. No wonder they’re not available everyday…

Museum of Chinese Writing

Originally uploaded by a little coffee

On Friday, our Chinese friends Jenny and Lucy took me, Chris and Robert to the brand new “words museum,” one of two (yes, two) places of interest in Anyang dedicated to Chinese writing. Actually, I think these are the only places of interest in this polluted hole of a city, yet they have more culture here than most cities in the U.S.

Anyway, there it is, the magnificently shiny gold structure located on the outskirts of town. (You obviously can’t see it, but a pollutant-pumping factory and a bus station are behind it). If I remember right, that character out front there is the ancient character for “an” (as in An yang) which means “protect.”

Inside are four floors, three of which are packed to the gills with displays describing the history and evolution of Chinese characters dating from a gajillion years ago when the there wasn’t a formal system exactly, just symbols scratched into pottery, to times when scribes wrote primitive characters on the bones of animals, to writing on bamboo, to the invention of paper, to unifying the writing system up through the 1950s when China simplified its characters to the present day.

We were in the museum (free!) for over two and a half hours but didn’t have time to see everything. The displays, brand-new, in perfect condition with naught a fingerprint on a display case, kept going and going, and although the material was interesting, there’s a point at which you say, “OK, I’ve seen enough examples of characters painted on thin strips of bamboo” or “Look, the twentieth turtle shell cracked into pieces with indecipherable, ancient characters scratched into it… yes, now I can see that that looks like a ‘horse.’”

Lucy, though, was having a fantastic time, “a genuine enthusiast” as Robert said. She’d be lingering miles behind us retracing a character in an exhibit (“associative compound-characters” for example) with her finger while softly pronouncing the character.

By the time it came to the displays on how Qin unified China in 222 BCE (and so could unify the writing system) we (except maybe Lucy) were starving so we breezed through the next few thousand years, peaked in at the display on writing of various languages of Chinese ethnic groups and headed for lunch.

If you should find yourself in Anyang City, China, the Words Museum is worth a stop.

Big Big Goat and co. make friends with Doodle children

Originally uploaded by a little coffee

Today, Chris and I went to out favorite shopping center in Anyang to do a little Christmas shopping (and buy myself a new pair of boots). With Jesus’s birthday less than a week away, the “supermarket” (it’s really a five story mall with a small grocery on top and no food court) had decked itself out with Christmas trees, ornaments, snowmen figures, and perfectly wrapped packages. Off to the side of the entrance, they even constructed a small snow village beneath a Christmas tree.

All the celebrities were out too: Tigger, Mickey and Minnie, Donald Duck and Daisy Duck greeted us and the swarms of Doodle children. Even Big Big Wolf was there. He stars with Precious Goat (who was not in attendance) in a Chinese cartoon, maybe of the same name (Those two are also on my glasses case).

Once inside, we were bombarded with lots and lots and lots of the worst Christmas music on the planet. Recordings of “We wish you a merry Christmas,” and “Jingle Bells,” (and a couple other nauseating contemporary favorites) were sung by the same bunch of enthusiastic children so loudly that Chris and I had to shout at each other to have a conversation. Even when I was a child, I don’t think I heard nearly the same amount of songs sung by children that I’ve heard living here. Nothing says “Christmas spirit” like a bunch of six year-olds jingling bells and screaming about reindeer.

Tuesday was another tedious day with my art students. Two more weeks to go until I’m rid of them! (Until spring, anyway). The topic for the day was “movies” which I thought surely would generate some interest. I mean, it’s way more interesting than reviewing how to ask for advice and make suggestions. But I’m a foreigner so I could be completely off the mark.

First I started easy with just “describe a character in a movie.” What is their appearance? (Tall, short, does s/he have black hair, blonde hair, etc). What about their personality? (friendly, kind, angry, etc). Did you like the character? (Yes or no). I knew they could handle this because in a previous class we’d covered this topic, only with real people but not movie characters. As usual, I gave them time to talk practice amongst themselves first before I’d ask them.

But they just sat there. Like lumps. Doodle lumps. Not in the mood for it this time, I sat in the back and read a book for 15 minutes before marching over to the four girls who showed up for some reason (I was really hoping no one would so I could finish reading David Sedaris’ latest collection of essays) and asked them the questions I had written on the board.

And, of course, they gave me short, one word answers. That is, when they weren’t Doodling to each other to try to figure out that yes, I had just asked the exact same question that I had written on the board. This is why I give you time to practice amongst yourselves, I told them! So this crap doesn’t happen. Then I said they were “frustrating” and made some noises that hopefully indicated the annoyance and disgust I felt, but the four looked at me like I was as interesting as a piece of string.

I didn’t even get to the second part of the lesson, “Describe what the movie was about.”

I had some pictures with me that I cut out from a magazine for a previous lesson so I told the students to choose a picture and write a short story about what’s happening in that picture (“imagine it’s in a movie!”) This they could handle. This they actually did. Because it involved writing and reading, not, you know, talking which is the whole point of the class!

At the end of class I explained what would be on their exam in two weeks and that next week we’d practice for the exam. After I  bid them farewell, one of the girls handed me her notebook on which she wrote, “We are going to words museum 12:30 22. Will you and your boyfriend come with us?” To cover the upsurge of annoyance I chuckled and replied, “Thank you. But I am going on Friday.” Oh. Then I asked about the date, the 22nd. That was in one week when we were supposed to have our final class. “Will we have class next week?” I asked.

After about ten minutes of Doodling, broken English, dictionary consultations, and more notes on paper, we finally had it sorted that no, they wouldn’t be able to make it to class on Tuesday so I’d see them the following week for the exam.

Ladies, I wanted to say, if you can’t even ask if I want to got to the words museum with you, how do you think you’re going to do on the exam?

I was gonna blog about this, then I realized Chris beat me to it! Drat! But, this does give me an excuse to be lazy, so I’ll let Chris relay our latest, perhaps most brief encounter with Ger-bear to date:

[he] is one of the laziest, most corrupt men I have ever met in my life. To give you a taste of what it is like working under him: He never calls, unless he expects you to do something for him; he never updates you on your schedule, your classes, or school events; when told of annoyances that he can very easily change, he tells you with all kinds of sympathy that he will take care of everything–don’t you worry–and then ignores you. He’s getting his PhD right now. And by “getting his PhD” I mean paying someone to attend lectures and write his dissertation for him. Upon completion, Jerr-bear will receive a pay raise. But don’t get too outraged, ’cause that’s standard PhD practice in the ole PRC.

Gotta love China.

So he called us up on Monday afternoon. We, of course, both had class then, not that he would know that (he’s only in charge of scheduling), so he called us again when we got back. He told us about a middle school we were supposed to go to on Tuesday in order to “teach” (read: dance like a monkey for) some students. Christina answered the phone, so she got to tell him that, awww, we just can’t make it ’cause we have class Tuesday afternoons (again, not that he would know). In typical doodle fashion, he tried to bargain with us. Come after your classes, come on Thursday instead. Finally Christina just told him flat-out no. We don’t like visiting other schools so you can show us off, the kids can’t even understand us, no. It’s in our contract that we’re to participate in any school functions, so if this “visit a middle school” were official, he could have pushed it. He didn’t, because it wasn’t. No doubt he had pawned our presence off to some “friend,” corrupt sack of shit that he is.

That was the first peep we’ve heard from since the semester began! Thanks for thinking of us Ger-bear, but no thanks! Which is what I effectively said in my most polite tone. I even said “I respectfully decline” which may have gone a wee overboard, especially since Chris said that if he had answered the phone, profanities would have ensued. So… maybe we’ll see him, the Dean of our department, once before the end of the school year in June. I hope we’re that lucky.

Tuesday a few of my computer students and I had lunch together. It began with me literally getting into a shoving match about who would pay. I’ve seen full-blown arguments in restaurants before, but as us foreigners always split the cost of the meal it hasn’t been an issue for us. When I got up from the table with my wallet to stop one of the girls from paying, the other three hurried up to bar me from getting to the cashier. The line, "but in my country the teacher always pays" didn’t work on these four girls so I was shoved to the back of the crowded restaurant while they paid.

In true Henanese fashion, we ate homemade noodles in a mysteriously tasty broth with some green vegetables. (Chunks of meat were also included, but not for me). We casually chatted about this and that, all the while I’m trying not to embarrass myself too badly with my poor noodle-eating chopsticks skills. It is tricky enough to use little sticks to get a bunch of slippery noodles in your mouth, but add the piping hot temperatures and you’ll realize how much of an actual skill it is. (Really, it’s no wonder that the Chinese are known for making loud slurp noises as they eat. It’s nearly impossible not to!) As Robert said recently as we ate a bowel of noodles for dinner, "we have a long way to go before we’re true noodle-eaters." This from a man that’s lived here five years! But I thought I was making progress. I mean, I was actually able to eat all the noodles without getting a sore hand and without using more than four napkins to clean spattered broth off my face. Then my ego fell to shambles when one of the girls said to me, "You can’t really use chopsticks, can you?" Well, at least I was able to finish all the noodles, even with you guys staring at me!py

[tag China, food]

A Poem to Christina

Originally uploaded by a little coffee

Yesterday, Chris’s former student/our friend Lucy dropped by with an early Christmas present for us. She was over at her Chinese literature teacher’s house, and he, a practiced calligrapher, wrote these for us, one for each of the foreign teachers. (We think she politely goaded him into doing it, but we’re still touched because we’ve never met this teacher).

Mine is a poem, (a very beautiful poem, Lucy assured me) that is also outside the literature teacher’s house. After describing me to her teacher, he decided this would be perfect for me.

She loosely translated the poem for me, but I forget. Something about woods and a stone that get’s wiped clean… or something? Maybe there’s rain involved? (I’ll have to ask her to write it out). She did spend a lot of time describing it, like telling a story, and as you see there aren’t that many characters. Again, I marvel and am struck dumb by the Doodles.

Chris’s scroll is in a different calligraphy style. I think it’s a message more than an established poem? Dunno, but I did recognize the two characters for “books” in his! (Well, no. I understood the words when Lucy said them. Whatevs, it’s all I got.)

Now, where to hang them in our tiny apartment?

Happy early Doodle-mas!

I’ve often complained about my classes, especially my computer class. But a realization has been sneaking up on me the past few weeks, one that I’m struggling to admit but now I can no longer escape the harsh truth, that I actually like my computer class. Not only like, but they’re becoming one of my favorite classes! *gasp* What the hell?

Last semester I actively loathed the class of 50 students. Even after studying English for seven or eight years, most of them couldn’t actually speak English (which, again, isn’t wholly their fault because prior to college, they weren’t given much opportunity to actually use the language) but most of them didn’t even try- even if they could!  Yet, most insisted on coming to and disrupting class by acting out like a bunch of spoiled high-schoolers. Kicking them out helped and gradually by the end of the semester I had maybe fifteen pretty good students but by then, my energies had been sapped and I just didn’t want to deal with any of them.

This semester, however, I was prepared. I knew what I was getting into. By the third and fourth weeks, I embarrassed most of the bad students into leaving and now, twelve weeks in, haven’t seen them since. And by embarrassed I mean I made them actually work- they had to speak English in front of the whole class. Once they realized I wasn’t going to ignore them like last semester, they fled. Bwahahahahahahaha!!!

The class has shrunk and shrunk so Tuesday, after the 10-minute break, only five of my regular students were there! (Some of these five helped build Madame Snow-woman). This way, we could actually have a good discussion (this week, we talked about “Juno“) instead of with bigger classes where I often only get one-sentence answers and there’s just not enough time with 25 or more students to move beyond that. Plus, I could ask these five more in-depth questions and they’re willing, even happy to talk! So the class ends up feeling more like a conversation between friends instead of… work.

Now, my computer class has become my ideal class. Just a handful of interested, energetic students who want to share their opinions and ask questions. They don’t stare at me and wait for me to drill knowledge into them, that’s what every other of their ten teachers is doing, they don’t sit and fiddle with their phones and act like they have so many better things to do. They’re willing to be engaged. And that’s a welcome change.

No bars, no dance clubs. Terrified of singing in front of a bunch of Doodles at the KTV. No card game. What are Chris and I to do on a Saturday night in Anyang? Watch the slightly crappy quality version of New Moon he downloaded! Given all the hype (and my strong feelings about Twilight) I’ve had a masochistic curiosity to watch the movie for weeks. Upon learning the film was well over two hours, we decided break out the bottle of lime-flavored Finlandia vodka that’s been languishing in our freezer.

To be even more prepared for the juvenile tedium, Chris did a little research and discovered there exists oodles of Twilight drinking games. Not so many for New Moon specifically yet so we invented our own as it progressed. Take a drink… Every time Edward strikes a broody-sexy-model pose! Every time Bella starts crying or screaming because she’s sans Edward! Every time Edward "appears" to Bella because she did something stupid and reckless! Every time Jacob has his shirt off!

The film did not in anyway improve by the third drink, but it made the time slip by all the faster.

I highly recommend Finlandia (delicious and refreshing with either oranage juice or Sprite) upon viewing New Moon. Expect only a faint case of Fuzzy Head the next morning.

Originally uploaded by a little coffee

Happy Thanksgiving!

For our feast last year, Chris and I stayed in and attempted a home-made spaghetti sauce, which sort of worked. This year, Robert and Annie joined us at our beloved hot pot restaurant for a Doodley Feast which was way better than the traditional turkey you suckers in the States are stuck with! And no, I didn’t eat that meat pictured there. Filled up instead on the potatoes, mushroom, tofus, white carrots, noodles, and green veggies [not all pictured]. Gnom Gnom!

Only thing missing was my mom’s homemade pie!