Borderlands

After working our way down the steep backside of Tiger Mountain's section of the Great Wall, we nestled into a natural cutout in the face of the cliff to rest for a bit and wait for the stragglers to catch up.  Wind sifted though the cave and the cold rocks made for a wonderfully pleasant respite.  Conversation and laughter slowly died down as we took in the expanse before us.  The muddy canal below us barely moved, separating us from a barbed-wire fence that closed off fields of North Korean corn by a mere 15 meters give or take some bushes.  Slowly the natural silence of water dripping down the mouth of the cave opening and wind whispering through the cave behind us gave way to faint music drifting across the border.  We sat and listened for 5 minutes, not saying anything.

That was the most memorable moment of our trip to Dandong two weekends ago (internet's been out for the last few days, so I didn't have a chance to post this, sorry :\ ).  The trip was great, we got to see a great performance of Manchurian song and dance (which included an epic Lion Dance performance on Jongs!), had a bonfire where we roasted S'mores (so good haha) and a whole lamb AT THE SAME TIME (it was epic), an impromptu dance party with random Chinese tourists in the rain (kind of epic), got to see Qingshan Lake (epically natural), visit half-bridges (epically historical-we met some Korean War/Resist America Help Korea War veterans on the bridge, which was interesting) that had been climb the Great Wall (epically long), and take a boat on the Yalujiang in the city of Dandong (epically touristy), and a brief visit to Shenyang's old Manchurian palace.  All in all it was pretty epic.

But seriously, my impression of Dandong on the whole was kind of strange.  It has a lot of beautiful sites worth visiting, but tourists don't go to Dandong to see Qingshan Lake or Manchurian song and dance.  The real reason they're there is not because of anything that China has, it's simply because it's close to North Korea.  They come to see North Korea from Tiger Mountain's section of the Great Wall, to look through the binoculars the locals have set up at the summit, to purchase Korean postage stamps or currency, to eat authentic North Korean cuisine, to go to the half bridges, destroyed in the 50's when Korea closed itself (in Dandong, there's a new bridge next to the old half-bridge that transports trains and busses full of products and tourists alike), and to places like Yibukua, or One-step-across, the closest point between North Korea and China.

Places like these mean very different things to different people.  To some of the Korean tourists, and there are many, it may be as close as they get to long-lost family members, a somber moment to say the least.  It's completely different for the Chinese, however.

The Chinese side of the Yalujiang, which separates the two countries, is replete with 20+ story buildings, neon lights, a bustling riverside park and street.  The North Korean side, by contrast, is pitch black at night.  During the day it livens up.  Even on Sunday the earth movers and dump trucks were busily transporting dirt and sand, and (rusting) boats were building welded.  We even passed a North Korean boat travelling upriver when we were on our tourist boat.  But it didn't take much to amaze—simply seeing a North Korean riding a bike, or a truck driving through a city would incite Oooos and Ahhhs.

The entire time, I couldn't help but think that each side was putting on a show for the other.  Almost zoo- or circus-like, but I'm not sure who's on which side of the fence.  But Dandong is also putting on a show for China—it's impossible to not notice the stark contrast between the two sides, and for obvious reasons Chinese see that as a source of pride.  An example to see how far they've come.  Everyone has seen a picture of a Chinese kid holding up their index and middle finger in what looks like a peace sign and thought, "Oh those silly Chinese teenagers."  But it's really a V for victory, and when held up taking a picture with North Korea in the background, takes on a new, if unintended meaning.

Regardless, it was a fun trip, with some great stops that I probably wouldn't have ever gone to otherwise.  I got to know a lot of the other Chinese roommates, which was great, probably the best part of the trip.  I also got to spend some more time with Weiqiang, my roommate, without the pressure of homework, which was nice too haha.  I apologize for my tardiness, I had quite a bit of work last week and two extra classes to make up for ones that were missed, and the internet went out on Friday for repairs.  Also, sorry about the format, I wish I could do something about the photos, but I still can't access blogspot.

Mmmm Donkey Meat

I had donkey meat for the first time in my life the other day.  I've got action shots to boot.  It had a bit of… bitterness? to it.  Although that may have been the spices in the dumplings.  I'm not very adept at describing the flavors in my mouth, I should probably work on that haha.

I leave in less than an hour for Dandong, a city in Liaoning province bordering Korea, as part of our midterm travel break.  It should be fun, and I'll be sure to write a post or two about it when I get back.  The adventure begins.

But first, I've wanted to write something about the Xinjiang July 5th incident and subsequent events for a while, and I realize now that it seems like it's all already passed.  Somehow though, the news here is back on Michael Jackson and interest in Xinjiang and the Uighurs seems to have faded.    Anyways, I wanted to get some of what I've seen out there, and maybe you all can help me interpret it or tell me what you think.

The name for the Urumqi uprisings in Chinese, 7-5 has the same format as the Tiananmen Square protests, 6-4.  This is a common way of phrasing very influential events in Chinese history.

A party official addressed the military police deployed in Urumqi in front of a memorial to the military conquest of Xinjiang.

In a seven-and-a-half minute report about the uprisings on either the Tuesday or Wednesday after they happened, I saw only three Uighurs in the whole thing.  There was one cleric, who by official mandate is appointed by the government, although not necessarily a party member, and two college students, who by the mere fact that they made it to college have most likely been Han-ized, at least to a certain degree, in order to be successful in the education system.  There were scores of Han featured, by contrast, in the report showing how everything had returned to normal.

The TV is on right now.  Broadcasting a report about the grape-growing industry in Xinjiang.  It's all back to normal.  Look at all the favorable policies they're getting, and now look at the expectant parents waiting for their children's Gaokao scores to come out!  No one worry, we're still developing stably.

Incidentally, I played basketball with a Uighur student here at HIT on July 3.  He was perfectly nice and got along just fine with everyone else, who were all Han.  I saw him playing again yesterday, and didn't notice anything particularly different.

The media and government has been insistent in blaming Rebiya Kadeer, who is conveniently overseas, and hasn't mentioned any of the domestic problems that may have contributed to the uprisings.  I think I may have seen the connection to the killings of the Uighurs in Guangdong made once, maybe twice.

China's Western Development policy has created a lot of problems of inequality in the region, even though it was passed in order to try and diminish the gap between the East and West.  Of particular note, it has lead to a lot of Han moving into the region (which I'm sure you've all heard of), and a lot of new projects and businesses moving there.  The problem has been that the majority of the jobs are going to Han Chinese, and the large projects, mostly investment in infrastructure and natural resources, has benefited the East more than the West.

Many Uighur women have been seen wearing white scarves, a symbol of mourning.

Bullet holes and spider-web splintered glass have been found on storefronts in Uighur districts, such as Shanxi Lane.

A Han described the violence by the Uighurs:  They were slicing our throats like lambs.  The use of our and lambs I thought were interesting, although probably not intentional.  The media described the Han actions on the Tuesday following the incident with words like stroll and

Uighurs were not allowed to pray on the Friday after the incident, and the government limits the number of Uighurs that can travel to Mecca every year.

The government still hasn't revealed who has been arrested it seems.  There are Uighurs as young as 14 missing.

There's a Chinese idiom that is essentially a perfect counterpart to "violence begets violence."  Revenge is often even worse.  The violence that started it all is horrible and inexcusable as well.  In the end, these are all people with families and lives.  This is death.  I feel like the media often overlooks this aspect abroad.  That is one thing the Chinese media tends to focus on.  It's not always about the politics.

What a Day

Saturday.  I woke up at 8:45 to be told by my Chinese suitemate Bingnan (not roommate, Weiqiang, he had to meet with his professor) at 8:50, still lying in bed, that I was leaving at 9:00 to go to the Siberian Tiger Park.  It was the first that I'd heard of it, but that was fine, because, hey who doesn't love tigers.  And apparently you can buy whole chickens to feed directly to the tigers.  If you're willing to shell out the big bucks, then you can even get a whole cow.  Score.

However, we never got there.  After eating breakfast, we walked for about 45 minutes trying to find the right bus stop, which had been moved twice because of subway construction.  The bus would take us clear across the city to the North to the tiger park, all in about 30 minutes or so, according to Bingnan.  The bus was predictably ridiculously crowded because of the change in the route, but it wasn't too big a deal.  The sky was clear and the sun was no longer warm on my neck, but rather the heating coil for our 40-foot oven. 

And then the breeze coming through the windows of the moving bus came to a disconcerting halt.

I have never seen traffic so bad in my life.  On a Saturday at 10:30am no less.  For whatever reason, Harbin's city planners saw fit to only build one automobile bridge across the Songhua River that geographically bisects Harbin.  In a city of 10 million, with 4 million in the city center alone, that is not a good idea.  We were easily more than a 1.5 kilometers away from the bridge, and it was absolute gridlock.  Cars were actually not moving, and the fact that no driver in China really follows any other traffic law than "me first" did nothing to help matters.

We got off the bus, and after being rejected by two cab drivers who didn't want to take us across the river, we decided to head back towards campus and hit up a the provincial museum.  It was a typical Chinese museum, with potentially interesting material that just isn't displayed in an engaging way.  Or even a well-lit way in this case.  We spent most of our time in the natural history section, consisting almost exclusively of taxidermy, which left all but a few of the animals looking either awkward or scared.

After a brief lunch, we headed to Zhongyang Street, Harbin's old-school Russian street that is now a tourist trap of sorts to watch Transformers 2.  (More on the actual movie in another post.)  The movie theater had no air conditioning.  Poor decision, Chinese movie theater.  It was worse than the bus, because there was absolutely no wind, and the movie was about 2.5 hours long.  Not particularly enjoyable.  They also need to learn how to cue people to get into the theater.  They only let you in about 5 minutes before the movie starts, and there are no previews so there's quite a mob waiting to get in, and only one ticket-taker.  The movie was in Chinese though, if that counts anything towards the language pledge.

We then walked around a bit and saw the St. Sophia Cathedral again, which was beautiful, again.  We then walked to Stalin Park (yes, that Stalin), which runs along the Songhua River, to watch the sunset and people watch, which was actually quite nice.  There were also some old men writing wonderful calligraphy on the ground using water and sponge brushes, with complete concentration and indifferent to the world around them.  It was an inspiring sight.

Bingnan and the other two CET students wanted to go eat, so they left before the actual sunset, but Weiqiang and I walked further down the riverbank to a railroad bridge.  We walked halfway across and spent about an hour there talking and taking in the beautiful scenery.  It has got to be without a doubt the most beautiful spot in all of Harbin.  I will let the pictures speak for themselves.

Weiqiang and I walked back after the sunset and took in the scenery.  There were the usual peddlers and endless streams of people that make many nice moments in China less enjoyable than they should be.  There were also random performances, including models advertising for wedding styling services, electric guitarist, a saxophone player and even a street organist (never heard of that before).  They were all pretty… meh.  But they inevitably will attract an enormous crowd of Chinese tourists, simply by their mere existence.  It was kind of a nice street, although there were just so many people, and all of the buildings have been refurbished in a sort of tactless way, which was pretty disappointing.

After a quick dinner at one of the only restaurants still open—on a Saturday night at 8:15... Weiqiang and I had to take a taxi back because the last bus ran at 7:30.  Talk about a city closing up early.  The taxi driver was absolutely insane.  He weaved, sped, ran lights, jerked in and out, whizzed by pedestrians, squeezed in between busses and curbs like I've never seen before.  And I've been in quite a few Chinese taxis.  This was the first time I was actually worried.  He also didn't have a working receipt machine and picked up another customer when we got in.  Very sketch, but no one was injured and we got home safely.

All in all, it was an ok day.  Kind of a "bad-China" day, some of which I haven't mentioned here, but that was made up for by the beauty of that sunset. 

Sometimes days like these make me realize how far China has yet to come still.  Not only economically, politically, or technologically, but also culturally and in terms of discernment. 

The contrast between the number of people on the railroad bridge (or at a place like the beautiful but barren Confucian Temple in Beijing, right next to the extremely popular Llama Temple) and the multitudes of people taking endless photos of a mediocre saxophone player on the balcony of a tackily restored version early 1900's building I feel is a great example.  Although Chinese are proud of their heritage, many Chinese are so caught up in the idea of what their development should be like and what they should value that they overlook what they already have of value and who they already are. 

Aspiration and discernment are two very different things.  It's sometimes a question of where or how far ahead you're looking.  If you're too caught up in the road that you think you would like to take that you can't see the one that you're actually on, or you can't see the fork in the road coming up.  Sometimes we need to step back and reevaluate ourselves to see how we should change, and sometimes we need to just be completely present in the moment and comfortable with ourselves.  The difficulty is knowing when and how, and how to bridge that gap.

Sorry guys, it seems I can't write short posts.  I'll try harder next time, I promise.

The Gaokao

I’ve had a number of discussions with my roommate about college life and the application process.  We discussed the process a little more in-depth the other night, and so I figured I would follow through on my promise to write an entry about the Gaokao, or the National Higher Education Entrance Examination.  The pictures are of the main gait of HIT and the emblematic building, kind of like Yale's Harkness Tower.  The calligraphy, which says Harbin Institute of Technology, is written by none other than Mao Zedong himself.

Weiqiang, my roommate, is a pretty amazing success story.  He worked really hard all through school—literally from elementary school to get to where he is today.  He came from a family who couldn’t afford much of anything when he was growing up.  He didn’t have any toys, and could only look on as other boys played with theirs.  They even had to borrow money to buy vinegar towards the end of the growing season, because they had invested so much of their livelihood in the planting of the crops. 
But he worked hard to get to the top of his class and stay there, and the kids respected him.  He didn’t get teased or picked on any more.  His family also gradually became better off.  They worked every odd job possible, from hair cutting to hot pepper sales, from opening a karaoke parlor that developed into a game and billiards place to making bricks, and have become a middle-class family now in their small rural town. 
He got a full scholarship to go to Guizhou University in Guiyang, one of 100 universities in the top tier of higher education in China, where he continued to work hard and do incredibly well.  He was the best student in his major, industrial parts engineering (rough translation…). 
He was so good, in fact, that he didn’t even have to take the test to get into graduate school, he was simply referred by his dean, had an interview, and now has a full scholarship to Harbin Industrial University, probably the best industrial, aeronautical (the air force contracts a lot of projects out to HIT), and rocket-science (yes, rocket science.  About half of the people working on the Shenzhou rockets that China sends up into space are graduates of HIT) university in the nation. 
He’s a hard worker, but he also realizes that there’s more to life than studying.  But that wasn’t his choice to make before college.  During high school, his teachers strictly regimented every minute of every day, much like many other middle and high school students in China.  Coming from the countryside, like over half of China’s population, he lived in the school’s dormitory because of the long commute.  They would study for three weeks straight, with no breaks, and then get a three day weekend to go home. 
His teacher or class president would wake him and his classmates up at 5:30 a.m. to clean up, get ready for class, and review a bit before classes started at 8 a.m.  All the students had classes together until dinner, around 5:00 p.m. and then after dinner it was time to study.  Unlike America, however, they were still supervised by their teachers.  That’s great for students how have problems managing their own time, and need external motivation to study, but not for Weiqiang.  They were told what to study and for how long, and weren’t allowed to review for other subjects.  So even though he was already pretty good at physics, and he was struggling with biology, he wasn’t allowed to spend extra time on biology.  It just wasn’t in his schedule.  The lights were turned off at 10 p.m. and you had to be in bed, lying down.  No extra studying.  An even playing field. 
And that’s the way it is across China.  (Note: this is how Weiqiang explained it to me) The National College Entrance Examinations, or Gaokao, is taken at the same time over three days across the entire country for up to nine hours straight at a time and there are only two versions—the humanities or the sciences version, which you decide on when you’re in 10th grade, the first year of high school here.  And that’s it.
That one test, and the 24 colleges that you apply to according to their classification, determine where you will go to college, or if you go to college (only about three fifths of high school students make it to college, and many don’t even make it to high school, because compulsory education is only through 9th grade).  That’s the only way to be fair with so many seniors vying for a spot in college or vocational schools.  At least it’s the best the government’s been able to come up with.  The modern day version of the Imperial Examination.
However, (bear with me, this is a grammatical mess) because there are essentially four different classifications of higher education, and someone who lists a university as their first choice in that classification will always be accepted as long as their score is high enough, even if someone else has a higher score but listed it as their second choice for that classification, there are essentially only four that matter.  That means there is a LOT of strategizing going on out there, based on you score on practice tests, the scores in your area (because universities have geographically-based quotas for admittance, to try and even the playing field, again), past cut-off lines for universities, reputation, and what they offer. 
The cut-off lines aren’t standard.  They vary by your region, based on population, whether you’re in a city or not, and other factors.  Ethnicity is also a factor.  If you belong to one of China’s 55 officially recognized ethnic minorities, then you get an automatic 20-point boost.  Which is pretty significant, considering most scores seem to be in the 400s.  That’s China’s version of affirmative action I suppose.
Talk about different from “my” America.  We’ve had a couple of conversations about this since I got here.  And it’s interesting to see what he thinks, because he is generally a well-motivated guy who knows when he needs to study and when he doesn’t.  At first he thought the American system was one with a lot of potential for corruption.  I explained how it is rare for people to try and cheat on their applications, and with multiple sources of information in every application, problems like that are almost always mitigated and discovered. 
Part of his skepticism, however, I’m sure arises from his success within the system and how he’s been able to use it to its fullest.  But, of course, that’s not true of everyone.  Many students struggle in the system for any number of reasons.  Some do fine in high school, but without the rigid daily framework and freedom of college, they crumble.  Or they become 六十分万岁！ students, or “long live 60 points!” students, 60 being the bare minimum score for passing, and not getting kicked out of university. 
It’s a system that has received a lot of criticism, both from Chinese and foreigners, who say that it doesn’t encourage personal development, a balanced education, creativity and innovation, personal responsibility, and a host of other problems.  But any Chinese will tell you that there’s just no other way.

My America

I never really felt American before I went abroad in 11th grade.  It was only when I was clearly the odd one out that I came to that realization.  Back home, I never thought anything of it—I couldn't vote, I didn't think about my rights, and I was just me.  But in China, even when I was wearing my xiaofu, I still didn't quite fit.  The uniform was kind of baggy too. (picture)

But it's not really about fitting in, it's about being comfortable.  I will never be Chinese.  And that's not the point.  The point is to understand, relate, and connect.  America can meet China, but they shouldn't become one.  That just wouldn't be right.  It wouldn't be American.

More so than normal, I felt patriotic this year.  We didn't do anything especially patriotic.  We went on a nice hike (pictures), had dinner at a poor imitation of a German Hofbräuhaus, which basically meant a bunch of meat cooked on skewers and bland Chinese versions of what Harbiners (? I don't know what the correct form is) think/want Western food is/to be.  It was nice though, and all of the people who went on the hike were there; it was a package deal.  We didn't set of fireworks, for fear of expulsion, or better yet, for fear of mishap and needing to learn to write Chinese with our left hands.  We didn't do much of anything that you would normally do on the 4th of July.  I don't even think I saw an American flag.  What kind of American am I?

Apparently, I'm a very knowledgeable one, a veritable treasure trove of historical and demographic information and a cornucopia of cultural wonders.  One of the things that annoys me most about China is the way so many questions are asked.  I swear, half of the questions my roommate asks me start with "In your America…?" or "You Americans…?" 

I know it's not intentional, it's just the way it's phrased in Chinese, but it always gives me a sense of responsibility.  Not only to represent America well as an individual, but also to successfully convey a broader topic or idea.  But how can I explain what all Americans do on a particular holiday? He asked me last night about how Americans fold their blankets.  It was past midnight, so my first reaction was: why does it matter? Who cares how Americans fold their blankets when they wake up in the morning?  Well, my roommate did, so I explained what I do and how American sheets are different from Chinese sheets, and that people didn't really necessarily fold up their blankets very tidily every day.  Of course, though, some people, like my OCD Dad, like their sheets mitered military style, so tight you couldn't fit a quarter into it.  But then there also people (read: college students) who never even change their linens, let alone fold them.

So how can I convey all this information every single time?  It's simply tiring.  I almost always just say the typical situation or give a general example, with some details from my personal life, but not too many.  But it's different with politics.  When we were talking about international diplomacy and intervention the other day, I wasn't feeling responsible so much for correctly representing the breadth of American opinions, but rather responsible for the actions of America itself and the government of the United States of America.  The inherent dichotomy of "Your America" and "Our China" in such situations makes both sides particularly volatile. 

That is probably the thing I dislike most about conversations like that.  I can handle not expressing myself perfectly and struggling through characters, searching for the right word, like full-spectrum dominance, and circuitously arriving at 全方位霸权.  That's ok, but I get frustrated with the constant reminder of the dichotomy and separation between us.  Sometimes with every "You Americans" there is another brick laid in the wall that prevents me from connecting with someone.

The other thing I started thinking about, but didn't really get anywhere with was the difference between the 4th of July in the US and October 1st in China, which is the day in 1949 that the Communists beat the Nationalists in the Chinese Civil War and established the PRC.  If you ask any student, teacher, or basically anyone younger than 70, they will tell you that China was founded on October 1, 1949.  If you ask any American when the United States was founded, they will (hopefully) tell you July 7, 1776. 

It's strange, however, to think that China was founded only 60 years ago, when the same Chinese person will tell you about the thousands of years of Chinese culture and history.  They had their culture and their nationalism, but only in 1949 did they gain their independence—from Chiang Kai-shek, foreign imperialists, and any number of oppressions that just about anyone on the street could rattle off like a machine gun turret beating back the Nationalists. 

Americans, however, weren't much of a nation at all in 1776.  We established a confederation in 1777, not a republic, and had no real sense of nationalism as we use it today, and only maybe a fledgling culture developing around the idea of opportunity.  And yet the USA is older than the PRC.  But not China.

Anyways, I thought it was sort of interesting/strange.  If anyone else wants to comment on it, please do.

Short update on regular life:

Things have been good, last week I got to play badminton, basketball, and ping pong, as well as exercise a few times.  I got to see a bit more of the city, including a park and some more of the campus while on a nice evening run.  Classes have been ok, although a bit frustrating because they were kind of slow.  My Business Chinese and Classical Chinese classes are being held up enough by virtue of having people at different levels that it is frustrating.  I met with the academic director though, and she said she would talk to them and may have them assign me extra work.  We'll see how that works out this week.  It was also a bit frustrating at times to not be able to really talk to some of the other CET classmates because of their inability to express themselves, but I can only sympathize with my roommate as a result.  Things are going well though.