The other day when I was at my godfather's home, after we'd spent the better part of the afternoon looking at warehouses full of every kind of Chinese antique imaginable—and then some—he said that was the thing he liked about China: every day is an adventure, whether you mean it or not. Granted, mid-Qing housewares aren't exactly my idea of an adventure, but he's right. It's not often that a random British guy you just met over lunch drives you out past the 6th ring road in the surprisingly cramped backseat of his Jeep Cherokee, windows gaping and wind blasting through the car, a hungover Brit in a dazed half-slumber in the front passenger seat, in search of a pair of metal-clad doors with peeling red paint to be fashioned into a dining room table for your godfather's home back in the US. Or maybe I'm just uncultured or something.
That adventure was something that was missing from my time in Harbin. With classes came routine, cafeterias and homework, and that sense of everyday adventure was lost. Of course, that's good for focusing on work, doing well in class, and improving your Chinese—that was my goal, and I did that well, and the lack of distractions was one of the reasons I chose Harbin. Adventure doesn't mean base-jumping with horse-riding Finnish nomads in the Andes; when you're abroad and learning a new language it can be as simple as venturing down a new alleyway and finding a small park where you can talk to some old people doing calisthenics. That's something that I need to change when I'm in Taiwan. I think living in an apartment off campus will be immensely helpful in that respect, but I've got to stick to it regardless. Plus, who knows when the opportunity to base-jump off of Taipei 101 will come up.
Anyways, I think I've started to make up for my lack of adventure in Harbin and started to build up momentum for Taiwan these last couple weeks. The time I spent in Beijing has been great. I had a chance meeting over dinner with my high school friend's parents the day we got into Beijing from Harbin, which turned out to be helpful in more ways than they can imagine. I've reconnected with a bunch of classmates from my year abroad in 11th grade, one of whom I just happened to run into randomly biking home one day (and without Facebook he may have been lost in Beijing indefinitely). I got to see my teachers from 11th grade for the first time since then, which was brief but great, as they prepared to pick up the new set of students for this year (hard to believe it's been 4 years now since I was on that group flight). And among all that I've had time to explore new places with those friends, meeting new people, try and go swimming in the water cube (and failing because they were preparing for the national swimming competition, which it turns out foreigners can't sign up for), and just having fun.
I've also spent time with my godfather, who's currently working here, and it's been fantastic getting to know him and his family, including two adopted Chinese girls, better and in a new light, as well as having those antiques-roadshowesque experiences (and who I also spent a wonderful low-key evening with on my birthday). I've been staying with my host family again, spending a lot more time with my host brother, who, now in college and past the gaokao, has significantly more time to just chill and talk. My relationship with my host family has changed, and yet stayed the same in many ways. My brother and I are closer, but my parents, who have always been nice, patient, and friendly, but distant, seem more distant, and I'm not sure why. I feel like I may have lost that feeling of family with them, and gained a friendship with my brother. I'm not quite sure how to feel about that, or even what that means or why, for our relationship, but also my conception of family; maybe I'm just reading too much into it too. Throw my godfather and his family in there and I'm even more lost.
At the same time though, Beijing has a feeling of home for me, along with Los Angeles and New Haven, all for different reasons. A big part of that is the sense of belonging that comes from familiarity with the city—antagonistic to adventure—but that sense of family, both with people and the city, is key. The one place that I feel the excitement and uncertainty of adventure though, is Beijing, which is something I need to change when I get back to the US as well.
Anyways, enough of my silly ramblings, here's the fun part: I've gone on a couple of relatively impromptu trips the last couple weeks with classmates from CET.
The first was to Mount Tai/Taishan and Qufu, Confucius' hometown and resting place, in Shandong province. Huiying, Baxi (Brazil in Chinese, so called because we'd all forgotten his Chinese name the first couple days of the program, but remembered he was from Brazil, and so it stuck) and I set out the day the program officially ended and found ourselves with the only train tickets to Taishan that day—no seat, meaning we would stand for the 4 hours my Lonely Planet said the ride would take. Turns out my Lonely Planet is outdated, and the train ride actually took 7 hours. I asked the same attendant 3 times, just to make sure. He was sure. That's a long time to stand, and the other passengers couldn't stand still, one guy passing back and forth about 7 times in what seemed like an hour. But it was an adventure. We had fun talking, awkwardly fumbling our "dinner" of bread, peanut butter, dried fruit, and anything else we could scrounge out of our bags, and taking in the scenery.
Once there, I found myself in a bit of a leadership position, having the best Chinese, which was a good experience. We also had to all learn to just roll with the punches. The hostel in my Lonely Planet didn't exist, so we found a different hotel and pushed the two twins together for our stay. The first day we were there it was supposed to rain, so we postponed Taishan and went to Qufu first, which was a fun little day trip and really interesting. I really liked the black-red-and gold of the Confucius' Mansion, and the "Confucius Forest" was really the site of Confucius' tomb and the tombs of all his ancestors… right down to the 67th generation I think. Little burial mounds everywhere, all very low-key, even Confucius'. The second day, when the weather was supposed to be better, by the time we got to the top of the mountain the fog was so thick that we couldn't see more than 10 meters in front of us. Regardless, it was a fun trek up those 6,600+ steps to the top, dotted with temples that must've taken ridiculous calves to build. Mine were sore for a couple days afterwards.
Second trip was to Qingdao, also in Shandong and renowned for its namesake brewery Tsingdao (Wade Giles romanization vs. modern pinyin), for a few days. Another classmate, An Qiongen, joined me for a couple days before heading back to start his fall semester program in Beijing. We wandered through the gently curving tree-lined streets of the old city, wrapping around the mountains lining the shore, stopping to marvel at the endless rows of European homes—large and small, restored and dilapidated, ornate and simple—that have effortlessly become a natural part of the city, almost oddly comfortable with the storied past of invasions and handovers. I loved the city, its clean ocean air, temperate weather, wonderful seafood, and beaches. Oh, beaches, gotta love 'em. We also took part in the "Qingdao International Beer Festival," with brews from Germany, Belgium, Australia, America, and of course China all on tap, and Chinese locals more than willing to invite us to partake in the fun and games. Sometimes almost too willing, if there is such a thing. It was a fun time all around, we learned about Chinese drinking culture and customs, and we met some interesting characters. For those of you in Australia: look out for Jack C from Qingdao in a few years. He's coming, and it's going to be big.
The following two days on my own were interesting as well. It was weird not having anyone to talk to, especially because there aren't many foreigners in Qingdao, so every conversation with a foreigner consisted of the same simple astonishment at my Chinese and basic introductory topics, like where you're from, why you're studying Chinese, and Kobe Bryant. At the same time, it was also very peaceful. I was able to take my time, spend my time however I wanted and act on any whim, and really take notice of what was going on around me and all the little details. I drew for the first time outside of an architecture class in… I don't even know how long, but it was great. I climbed down to a secluded little rock cave by the shore and sat there for an hour, writing in my journal and just enjoying the seclusion. Climbed to the top of a mountain with a park on it, where I watched the sunset and city light up. Met new people at the hostel, who were also travelling alone, who I maybe wouldn't have opened up to had I been with a travel partner. It was nice, and I'm more confident that if I end up living along in Taiwan that I not only could do it, but I could do quite well.
Aiight, that's more than enough for now. If you made it through, thanks for bearing with me. For those of you that didn't, check out the pictures with descriptions below, separated by the two trips—they're probably a bit more digestible and fun.
