** Beijing - Day 2 - Two sides to any story

Funny. I didn't realize until today, or at least didn't fully comprehend the extent, how different an experience Garrett & I will have in China, even if we travel this entire trip together. For one, having been to HK (though it's been a while) as a relative (instead of as a lone tourist sort), some things here in Beijing are... well, not old-hat, per se, but at least familiar. Ordinary, even. I, in fact, own a U2 brand shirt (the purple one, from back in the day, pressed and starched into oblivion, though I still love it), and so the storefront is hardly surprising or photo worthy. (I should note, of the photos taken today, minimum three were of storefronts of big brand-ish stores -- but for very particular reasons). So, (1) HK influence.

For two, though my mandarin is poor, it exists in some broken and wonderful fashion, and I think is getting better too. I'm beginning to fully appreciate what Christopher said once about how much of the culture you miss when you can't speak/understand the language in question. There are already tons of things that I miss because I can't read the unilingual historically informative plaques (sad, but true. I'm nearly totally illiterate. More broken than my speech, it is). But at least I catch bits, and can sometimes get a lot just by asking.

There are a number of examples of this one from today... For instance, Garrett and I wandered past a gorgeously constructed building having chinese-style architecture. While I couldn't read the sign to figure out what it was, I was curious enough that I popped into the little entrance hut-thing, and asked there. Qing wen, zher shi shenme di fang? Shi yi yuan, the man responded. He then proceeded to ask me what place I was looking for, and I had difficultly explaining that I was just curious what the building was, and that I really wasn't lost or anything. I mostly just spat out some broken mandarin, a thank you, nodded and smiled at them and walked out. But MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. That gorgeous building, which you'd think was historically relevant or something, was a hospital. A teaching hospital, too, although that I discovered later on, when looking at signs on the other side. I'm pretty pleased that I asked. Pleased as punch, one might even say.

In addition, tonight, when I was reheating my leftovers from last night for dinner (rice and dumplings, though the dumplings were nothing compared to those at lunch -- went to a little restaurant that specialized in almost nothing but dumplings. Mmm) in the microwave in the hostel's kitchen, there was a chinese guy cooking dinner at the same time, humming to himself. He then motioned me over and pointed at his wok, currently filled with chicken wings and potatoes in some brown sauce. He didn't really say anything, assuming, as most do, that I wouldn't understand (look at the crazy foreign girl try to work the microwave). But I asked, in mandarin, what it was (didn't really catch what he said it was seasoned with, but caught chicken and potatoes), asked if it was spicy, and then said, sure, I'd love to try some. He asked if I could (would?) eat chicken, and when I said yes, he got me to take out my tupperware full of rice, and put a heaping scoop of potatoes, wings and sauce on my dinner. Wow. Thank you, I say. It's tasty, I say.

So, he keeps cooking and singing to himself, and I sit down to eat at one of the kitchen tables. When he's done cooking, his two friends (a guy and girl) come to join in the food (carrots w broccoli, and another dish -- a spicy cold cucumber-ish type thing. Krista/Maureen/Dee would be proud. I tried it even though he warned me it was spicy. I figured it wasn't often I was going to get to try a home-cooked chinese meal.) They invite me over to sit and eat with them, totally sharing everything they've got, and I get introduced by the cooking-guy as "a new friend", which made me laugh. Much of the meal was them chatting, and me trying to follow the conversation (mostly unsuccessfully... they spoke rather quickly). But bits and pieces of it included me too, and I explained why I like eating chinese food, and that my mandarin isn't very good, and that I'm from Canada, and yes, I have to get a stamp in my passport to come to China for vacation. I understood almost every question they asked me, and knew enough to answer, albeit brokenly. Even stuff I didn't understand, I could get if they explained it a little in mandarin. No English required. Except the word "passport" which I couldn't remember, and is difficult to explain. I'd also written my name in chinese on my food (as it was in the communal fridge), and they asked about that too. Said it was nice (they said you picked a good name, Ma zi).

So we ate, laughed, and ate more. It was good, I'd say, and not really an experience I'd expected to have. Definitely the highlight of my day, though. Even the food and craziness of wangfujing (today's tourist highlight) couldn't compare to that. Plus, funny story, the guy who was cooking reminded me of Christopher, as least in as much as (1) he ate as fast as humanly possible, without breaking limits of courtesy, (2) talked very fast and animatedly, with hardly pause for breath, and (3) would sing like Chris dances, almost unstoppably.

I think I'm becoming the hostel's resident foreigner who hangs out with the staff or something. In fact, one of the guys I was playing guitar with yesterday (who works at the hostel, and seems to speak more English than the dinner folk tonight) stopped in to say hi to the people I was eating dinner with, and waved to me too. I should really start learning names though. I dunno. I'm still feeling moderately unsociable, but somehow, hanging out in a language not my own is worth it in all possible ways. Plus, since I can't say much anyway, it doesn't seem so odd that I'm comfortable being quiet. Bonus, sweethearts. Absolute bonus.

** Beijing - Day 1 (and some) - I touched history. Whoa.

So, here I am. In China. For real.

Somehow, I expected there to be some moment upon arriving when I'd feel like I'd really arrived. When it would finally hit me that, Wow, I'm really here. I'm in China. I'm travelling. I'm speaking broken mandarin in conversation with the girl working at the bakeshop (probably one of the highlights of my day, but back to that later).

But somehow, I expected there to be some feeling of ... shock. There is, I suppose, in a fashion. It's really different. And there's a lot that I miss, because my chinese just isn't quite good enough. It's not like anything I've ever done before. It's a little scary. All that is still true. But it didn't get any more REAL when I stepped off the plane.

Philosophical Moment Warning: I think, perhaps, this is furthering some notion in my head that anything's possible. I don't mean "anything", of course, as my relationship with physics is still on good terms. But merely I'm settling into the realization that this is, in fact, as real as it gets. And not only is that "good enough", but it's already mind-bogglingly more than enough. What more could I ask...?

Anyway... philosophical thoughts aside... The hostel I'm staying at is right across the street from the main Beijing train station, which is very convenient (and walking-distance close to things like TianAnMen square, and other major Beijing attractions of note), but my window has the misfortune of, in fact, facing the train station, and thus, I awake to not only the usual traffic noise (honk, vroom, honk honk, HOOONNNNK, vroom), but also to a pleasant but VERY LOUD female voice announcing the various departing (or arriving?) trains. I can't really make out what she's saying, other than a variety of place names, but I think that's good enough. Still, the place is nice, and very convenient, and reasonably priced for Beijing @ some 40 yuan a night, so I quite like it. Realistically, the honking is just as loud as the train announcer anyway, and less regular, so harder to ignore.

This morning, however, I awoke instead at 3am, when my lovely roommate on the bunk below me decided she needed to pack before leaving at around 6am.

ANNOUNCEMENT: The top bunk can BITE ME.

Everytime this girl shoved stuff in her pack, the whole bed shook. By the time I was awake enough to figure this out though, and then got up to go to the bathroom, she'd finished packing, so I just ignored it and went to bed. It was funny, though; my Aussie roommate who also left this morning was even more peeved about it, and referred to the other girl as unbelievably rude.

Anyway, for now, I'm down to two roommates: a Scottish girl whose name escapes me at the moment (ed: Allison), who intends to join the police force, and Sabine, a German girl who is teaching at a school across the way. Both seem nice, and I've enjoyed meeting them, though admittedly, I'm feeling a bit asocial as I begin my wanderings. More interested in quietly absorbing the place around me than talking about it, per se.

This makes me an interesting travel companion at times, I'm sure.

Hm. What else about the hostel? It's got both western (standard toilet bowl) and chinese (squat) toilets, and I think I might just prefer the latter. The habit of throwing the used tp in a wastebin instead of the toilet is still a bit strange to me, but there's just something I really quite like about a step-on button to flush. It's a beautiful thing. I'm still getting used to the communal showers (perhaps I'd be more comfortable with it had I swum more in public pools?), but whatever. Comfort is as comfort does.

Oooh. I also got the chance to play some guitar this morning (not well, but I had fun) in the common room (Krista, Maureen, and Dian would be proud; I've introduced my song to a whole new continent), and the two chinese guys who work at the hostel's internet/long-distance phone call booth thing sat and listened and applauded. One even played (and sang) a traditional chinese song for me. It was pretty awesome, all told. A little bonding over music (Karim, it wasn't a flute, I know, but I make do).

Of the hostel guests, the non-Chinese folk all don't seem to put a lot of trust in the provided hot water, and prefer buying bottled. Me, I figure my mom survived 4-5 months of the stuff, and it's well and boiled and lovely, so I'm unwilling to be paranoid about it. Quite frankly, I have better things to be paranoid about than 100 degree Celcius water. If I'm going to worry about that, eating out really ought to be out of the question. Silly.

Oh, I also totally got my first set of "what's that little white girl doing sitting on the side of the road? crazy." stares today while waiting outside the hostel for Garrett. I was actually surprised to have not gotten any of that yesterday, and not felt out of place or anything. Lost, a little. But not out of place. I've felt more out of place in HK prior to this, even... But, perhaps out of place is merely a state of mind. Perhaps I'm just noticing it less, because I'm determined to be here. I don't really know.

In other news, I still find it a little scary crossing some of the big intersections. Through traffic. Here, when you have a walk signal, it only means that orthogonal traffic is stopped. All those other cars and bikes and things that are turning right or left TURN RIGHT INTO YOU. While you cross. It's a little scary. I like following the flow of pedestrian traffic. I figure that if I'm in the herd of Chinese pedestrians, do as they do and I won't get killed by traffic. One cab driver gave us the funniest look yesterday as he turned past us though; he peered out the window, wide-eyed, while turning very very narrowly in front of us, as if to say "Hm, I hope I'm not driving over your toes" as well as "yes, yes I am a little crazy, thank you."

This phenomenon makes me very thankful for both under-street and bridge (over-street) pedestrian walkways. (sidenote: All stairs here seem to be built with 12" ramps at the sides or centre, and I've yet to figure out why. It's not wide enough for any type of cart, and I've yet to see a bicycle pretend to be a pedestrian in this fashion.) I'm also a big fan of the tons of traffic cop type folk, with their whistles and red flags. Traffic is still intimidating, but I don't think it's actually dangerous.

[wow. I haven't even talked about what I did today, and I think I've already been writing for an hour. I have a lot to say. There is a LOT to see, a lot more to write about, a lot to photograph... And yes, for those of you who keep track of these things, my first photo taken in Beijing is, indeed, of a sign, though not a road sign. And yes, I've taken a lot of photos. And I haven't even been to anything yet, for real]

So far, my wanderings have taken me to many no-place-in-particulars, and one "attraction" of note. Garrett and I went to see the old Beijing city wall (Ming Dynasty, around 1400's -- I had completely forgotten that there'd been dynasties and emperors well into the 1900s in China. That boggles my mind. Boggles), which is now a historic site and has been turned into a park. It's really pretty, though falling apart in places, as most historic things are. The park was neat too, and had signs for where tents could be pitched, and water spigots were for drinking... I'm curious who gets to pitch tent there, but my mandarin wasn't quite good enough to ask one of the guard type folk wandering around the park.

Garrett is doubtful that this is the government being friendly to squatters, but I am more optimistic than he. I don't know what it's for, per se, but it's definitely signage designed for long-term, not just for some annual fair or event. The park is built permanently for temporary tent-residents. Besides which, I refuse to be negative about a place and culture I know nothing about, by any stretch of the imagination. Yes, I realize I have my own set of biases too, and so shouldn't pick at those of others, but... that one tends to get on my nerves more than most.

Anyway, at the top of the wall, there's a modern art gallery, which also has an exhibit on the history of the area. The history was really interesting, especially some of the modern stuff (WWII era), and the art, well... was as art tends to be. I always find something I like, and something that I think, why would you ever have made this... how is THIS art?

Also interesting to note, the park had music. Projected from speakers. That were designed to look like rocks. It sort of ruined the "natural" park/greenery setting that I tend to want in my long "walks through the park", but was entertaining nonetheless. Also entertaining was the extensive list of rules for this park, best expressed in photo.

Anyway, one last thing, and then it's off to find dinner, I think. One other interesting thing that came about yesterday, though unrelated to China... We met a Swedish guy named Marcus on the bus ride from the airport, as he is staying at the same hostel as us. He's doing his PhD in compsci, and was travelling through China since he'd just been at a conference in Chengdu (in the Sichuan province... that's in the west). That's SO the reason to go to conferences. Well, you know, that and hearing all the cool stuff happening in your field. That too.

Over dinner, though, I asked what his plans were for after his doctorate, and he responded with 'anything but academia'. It was really neat to talk to someone, different field, different country, different stage of the cycle, and realize, yes, they totally understood.

Publish or die. Thesis eat soul.

Welcome to my world kids. It's like I said to Garrett. The only reason I'm so functional on this trip, despite any lack of sleep etc, is my thesis (well, and the courses that I was doing too, I suppose). If I could put my body through that, I can do anything. It taught me to be so functional, for so long, on so little. Nothing really compares.

ANYWAY, I'm sure you all don't want to hear me thesis-whine. You've had enough of that during the year itself. I certainly don't want to hear me thesis-whine. I just loved that moment of understanding that occurred. People in research just get it.

Avast, kids, til another day.

PS. The only thing that drives me crazy so far is the cigarette smoke. Even the smog isn't so bad (although makes for very unattractive photos at any distance at ALL, and is very sketchy when you think about it), but smoking... in enclosed spaces... with no rules other than "don't smoke in BED". Eeg. My poor lungs. My poor eyes. Bleah.