August 16, 2010
i write like....
Who do you write like?
Had dinner with Erin and our friend Evan, who was in Beijing this summer, and by had dinner, I mean wished we were in China. The entire conversation was in masterful Chinglish and took place at H2O, Oxford's Oriental restaurant.
In other news, Leigh and I have moved into our apartment and rush workshop starts tomorrow. Then next week...school. And watching Lost every night until Leigh has watched the whole series.
xxx
August 6, 2010
So my last post was all about missing Nanjing...and in order to get excited about this upcoming semester I give you:
Things I'm looking forward to! (in no particular order):
-football season
-being totally moved in to my apartment and having my own space to live in
-Party in the USA with Garbo
-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part I in November
-Formals, swaps, concerts at the Lyric, fraternity parties
-cooler weather
-new seasons of Glee, Fringe, Gossip Girl and The Vampire Diaries
-finishing my thesis on how Americanization/Westernization, the economic policies of the post Deng Xiaoping era, and Confucian based culture influence eating disorders in Chinese women (er...it's a working title)
-graduation*
-the possibility of my own Party in the UK(eh?) next summer (PS- British friends, I'll be needing places to stay...请? 请? You know I'll return the favor if you find yourselves in my neck of the woods...)
-returning to Nanjing (and Phuong!) in the fall of 2011 if everything goes according to plan
*I'm torn on graduation. I'm excited to really start my adult life and go out into the world, but the thought of leaving my friends and the familiarity of college? Terrifying.
It's gonna be a wild ride, y'all. Stay tuned!
Things I'm looking forward to! (in no particular order):
-football season
-being totally moved in to my apartment and having my own space to live in
-Party in the USA with Garbo
-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part I in November
-Formals, swaps, concerts at the Lyric, fraternity parties
-cooler weather
-new seasons of Glee, Fringe, Gossip Girl and The Vampire Diaries
-finishing my thesis on how Americanization/Westernization, the economic policies of the post Deng Xiaoping era, and Confucian based culture influence eating disorders in Chinese women (er...it's a working title)
-graduation*
-the possibility of my own Party in the UK(eh?) next summer (PS- British friends, I'll be needing places to stay...请? 请? You know I'll return the favor if you find yourselves in my neck of the woods...)
-returning to Nanjing (and Phuong!) in the fall of 2011 if everything goes according to plan
*I'm torn on graduation. I'm excited to really start my adult life and go out into the world, but the thought of leaving my friends and the familiarity of college? Terrifying.
It's gonna be a wild ride, y'all. Stay tuned!
July 22, 2010
i miss nanjing
I think almost anyone who studies abroad will tell you that that place becomes a part of you. Things like the sounds, the smells might fade (well, maybe not in China's case. . . open sewage system, anyone?) but the people you met, the experiences you had--it all stays with you.
The hardest part in going back to Oxford is going to be all the things that get lost in translation. I can't tell a funny a story about, say, Mazzo without explaining what Mazzo is and why it was so great, and by that point, even a really good friend would be looking around, thinking of all the things they'd rather be doing than listening to me wax poetic about study abroad.
And like Garbo said a while back, when you go abroad it's all, "Hi, I'm Kelli! You're from ________? That's so cool!" so on and so forth. And when you go back, it's more, "I met So-and-So and he/she was from Wherever and they said this funny thing and it's just so funny because they're from There!" and your friend just nods blankly, wanting to understand but just can't. The experiences you have when you study abroad are so uniquely yours that things get muddled when you try to explain.
It's gonna be a hard adjustment, I think (and those who have already studied abroad and been back for a while can vouch for that). Especially when you factor in the fact that you won't see people that were all you had for 6 months.
. . . and now that I've completely depressed myself, I think it might be time for a popsicle.
The hardest part in going back to Oxford is going to be all the things that get lost in translation. I can't tell a funny a story about, say, Mazzo without explaining what Mazzo is and why it was so great, and by that point, even a really good friend would be looking around, thinking of all the things they'd rather be doing than listening to me wax poetic about study abroad.
And like Garbo said a while back, when you go abroad it's all, "Hi, I'm Kelli! You're from ________? That's so cool!" so on and so forth. And when you go back, it's more, "I met So-and-So and he/she was from Wherever and they said this funny thing and it's just so funny because they're from There!" and your friend just nods blankly, wanting to understand but just can't. The experiences you have when you study abroad are so uniquely yours that things get muddled when you try to explain.
It's gonna be a hard adjustment, I think (and those who have already studied abroad and been back for a while can vouch for that). Especially when you factor in the fact that you won't see people that were all you had for 6 months.
. . . and now that I've completely depressed myself, I think it might be time for a popsicle.
July 5, 2010
the end
Well boys and girls. . . this can no longer be called "Life On the Oriental Express" because I am no longer on that particular train. Alas, never fear gentle readers! This blog will continue in some way, shape or form because my dear sweet friend Garbo has requested as such. So I will keep you posted on those developments. Until then. . .
Have an amazing summer!
July 3, 2010
home home home part 2
Definitely fell asleep immediately after putting up my computer last night. . . oh jetlag, how you ruin my life.
I believe I promised to explain why getting from Beijing to Shanghai (a two hour flight, keep in mind) was such a nightmare. . . here you are:
So I get to the Beijing airport at about 12:30 in the afternoon, check in for my flight at 1:50 to Shanghai Pudong Airport (there's two airports in Shanghai: Pudong and Hongqiao. That's important to remember). I'm sitting at my gate, enjoying the relaxing knowledge that I'm on time for my flight. And then. . . 1:50 passes. And I'm still sitting at my gate.
I get up and go talk to the women at the China Eastern Airlines desk. In frustratingly bad Chinese, I explain to them that I have to be in Shanghai by 10 am Friday because that's when my flight to America leaves, and God help them if I'm not on my way to America by then, because I want to go home. When they tell me the plane is in Hangzhou (which is a 3 hour flight away) and won't be in Beijing until 7 pm, I demand to switch flights.
They blink at me and say, "Please have a 休息." (a rest). I grit my teeth, get my phone out and call Pong to explain the situation. She's silent, then goes into kill mode, saying "Kelli give them the phone. I'll sort this out." I smirk on the inside, knowing someone is about to get ripped a new one. (I'm bloodthirsty when I'm pissed and ready to go home. It's a fault I freely acknowledge.)
I can't quite here what Pong says to the women, other than the occasional "美国" (America) but I can hear her voice from across the counter. When the China Eastern woman hangs up and hands the phone back to me, she says in a mix of Chinese-English, "Go to Gate 23, the 对面 (across) of Gate 23. Exit past security. Go to our counter to the right. Then you can 换票 (switch tickets)."
I peace out and go up to Gate 23, while bitterly bitching to Erin about the extreme 麻烦 of traveling in China. Then I can't find the exit across from Gate 23 for a good 10 minutes, until I see a tiny sign and a guard. I hang up the phone and inform the guard I want to 换票 and he lets me through, past a line of airport workers who gawk at me. I look to the right, and there is only security, no China Eastern counter. I fume, then look to the left and there's the counter.
I wait my turn (unheard of in China) and explain that I want to switch tickets. Approximately 7 Chinese stick their government ID cards in front of my face trying to cut me. I whirl around and almost scream, "排队!" (Wait in line!) at them and they all slink back, except for one particular annoying character, who still waves his ID in front of me. I slowly turn around and give him the meanest look I can conjure and he slowly withdraws his ID.
The guy changes my ticket, then discovers I have already checked my two bags (massive cumbersome bags with my entire summer wardrobe and several World Cup glasses in them) and tells me to go to Q2. Exasperated, I turn and start heading in the apparently wrong direction because one of the people I screamed at to wait in line screams at me, "Outside!"
When I finally find Q2, they tell me I have to go downstairs to the first floor to pick up my bags and recheck them. I stand there for about 30 seconds and alternatively curse China and cry. Nobody is sympathetic, except Erin, who I call and cry to. She tells me I have to channel my inner bitch if I'm gonna get anything done. So I suck it up and go in search of my bags.
Turns out I have to go in where new arrivals come out. Which would get me tackled in the States. So I apprehensively creep up to the guard and tell him in the most broken Chinese I can manage at the moment that I'm switching flights and my bags are already checked. He waves me forward and I go to another worker and tell him the same. He stares at me, then tells me to have a rest while they bring my bags. I curse the words 休息.
About 10 minutes later, another guy brings my bags round. He looks at them, looks at me, and chuckles, "一样的." I almost snap, "Yeah I know my bags are the same. It makes them easier to find when picking them up. Sue me."
After re-checking the bags and rushing to my new gate (where my new flight leaves in 30 minutes, into Shanghai's other airport), I arrive and call Pong and Erin, telling both my new flight information. Erin tells me that she went to the Ramada where we are supposed to share a room that night and asked to go ahead and check in, even though the room is under my name and they let her.
So my flight leaves (an hour late) and I arrive in Shanghai, at the Hongqiao airport an hour away from my hotel (which is 5 minutes from the Pudong airport. . . so 麻烦). I take a cab and 200 RMB later, I call Erin to tell her she can stop her eye twitching, I'm here.
And my plight has yet to end, y'all. I hand my passport to the receptionist and wait to be checked in. She asks for my confirmation number because they can't find my name in the computer. I give them the number; they can't find it either. Erin and I are both beyond confused--after all, Erin's already in the room and paid the deposit, so does it even matter? We ask, and are ignored.
They tell me they've lost my reservation, Erin and I repeat, that's not possible, she's already paid the deposit and is in a room. This is again ignored, and they tell me not to worry, probably because they can see I'm about to cry because damn it's just been the WORST day and America is so close I can taste it but people keep tryin to get in the way of our reunion.
Finally finally finally they realize that Erin is in the room already, and we both try and control our groans because we have already told them this. And finally, I'm allowed upstairs and my miserable, no good, very bad day stops being so very bad.
But now I'm home, and even though I'm so glad to be in the US, I wish all of you 南大ers were with me. You could live in my house, I'd vouch for you.
I believe I promised to explain why getting from Beijing to Shanghai (a two hour flight, keep in mind) was such a nightmare. . . here you are:
So I get to the Beijing airport at about 12:30 in the afternoon, check in for my flight at 1:50 to Shanghai Pudong Airport (there's two airports in Shanghai: Pudong and Hongqiao. That's important to remember). I'm sitting at my gate, enjoying the relaxing knowledge that I'm on time for my flight. And then. . . 1:50 passes. And I'm still sitting at my gate.
I get up and go talk to the women at the China Eastern Airlines desk. In frustratingly bad Chinese, I explain to them that I have to be in Shanghai by 10 am Friday because that's when my flight to America leaves, and God help them if I'm not on my way to America by then, because I want to go home. When they tell me the plane is in Hangzhou (which is a 3 hour flight away) and won't be in Beijing until 7 pm, I demand to switch flights.
They blink at me and say, "Please have a 休息." (a rest). I grit my teeth, get my phone out and call Pong to explain the situation. She's silent, then goes into kill mode, saying "Kelli give them the phone. I'll sort this out." I smirk on the inside, knowing someone is about to get ripped a new one. (I'm bloodthirsty when I'm pissed and ready to go home. It's a fault I freely acknowledge.)
I can't quite here what Pong says to the women, other than the occasional "美国" (America) but I can hear her voice from across the counter. When the China Eastern woman hangs up and hands the phone back to me, she says in a mix of Chinese-English, "Go to Gate 23, the 对面 (across) of Gate 23. Exit past security. Go to our counter to the right. Then you can 换票 (switch tickets)."
I peace out and go up to Gate 23, while bitterly bitching to Erin about the extreme 麻烦 of traveling in China. Then I can't find the exit across from Gate 23 for a good 10 minutes, until I see a tiny sign and a guard. I hang up the phone and inform the guard I want to 换票 and he lets me through, past a line of airport workers who gawk at me. I look to the right, and there is only security, no China Eastern counter. I fume, then look to the left and there's the counter.
I wait my turn (unheard of in China) and explain that I want to switch tickets. Approximately 7 Chinese stick their government ID cards in front of my face trying to cut me. I whirl around and almost scream, "排队!" (Wait in line!) at them and they all slink back, except for one particular annoying character, who still waves his ID in front of me. I slowly turn around and give him the meanest look I can conjure and he slowly withdraws his ID.
The guy changes my ticket, then discovers I have already checked my two bags (massive cumbersome bags with my entire summer wardrobe and several World Cup glasses in them) and tells me to go to Q2. Exasperated, I turn and start heading in the apparently wrong direction because one of the people I screamed at to wait in line screams at me, "Outside!"
When I finally find Q2, they tell me I have to go downstairs to the first floor to pick up my bags and recheck them. I stand there for about 30 seconds and alternatively curse China and cry. Nobody is sympathetic, except Erin, who I call and cry to. She tells me I have to channel my inner bitch if I'm gonna get anything done. So I suck it up and go in search of my bags.
Turns out I have to go in where new arrivals come out. Which would get me tackled in the States. So I apprehensively creep up to the guard and tell him in the most broken Chinese I can manage at the moment that I'm switching flights and my bags are already checked. He waves me forward and I go to another worker and tell him the same. He stares at me, then tells me to have a rest while they bring my bags. I curse the words 休息.
About 10 minutes later, another guy brings my bags round. He looks at them, looks at me, and chuckles, "一样的." I almost snap, "Yeah I know my bags are the same. It makes them easier to find when picking them up. Sue me."
After re-checking the bags and rushing to my new gate (where my new flight leaves in 30 minutes, into Shanghai's other airport), I arrive and call Pong and Erin, telling both my new flight information. Erin tells me that she went to the Ramada where we are supposed to share a room that night and asked to go ahead and check in, even though the room is under my name and they let her.
So my flight leaves (an hour late) and I arrive in Shanghai, at the Hongqiao airport an hour away from my hotel (which is 5 minutes from the Pudong airport. . . so 麻烦). I take a cab and 200 RMB later, I call Erin to tell her she can stop her eye twitching, I'm here.
And my plight has yet to end, y'all. I hand my passport to the receptionist and wait to be checked in. She asks for my confirmation number because they can't find my name in the computer. I give them the number; they can't find it either. Erin and I are both beyond confused--after all, Erin's already in the room and paid the deposit, so does it even matter? We ask, and are ignored.
They tell me they've lost my reservation, Erin and I repeat, that's not possible, she's already paid the deposit and is in a room. This is again ignored, and they tell me not to worry, probably because they can see I'm about to cry because damn it's just been the WORST day and America is so close I can taste it but people keep tryin to get in the way of our reunion.
Finally finally finally they realize that Erin is in the room already, and we both try and control our groans because we have already told them this. And finally, I'm allowed upstairs and my miserable, no good, very bad day stops being so very bad.
But now I'm home, and even though I'm so glad to be in the US, I wish all of you 南大ers were with me. You could live in my house, I'd vouch for you.
July 2, 2010
home home home
Disclaimer: I'm back in Memphis but my internal clock can't quite grasp that. It thinks we're still in Nanjing and that it's actually 10:50 Saturday morning instead of 9:50 Friday night. Not only have I been up for 24 straight hours, but I also took sleeping pills about 10 minutes ago. So basically, don't judge me for typos or rambling, kthx.
Got an update on the Belgians I creeped on! I emailed them the picture with an apology for my superstalking and they emailed back, which I wasn't actually expecting. Would you email a creeper all-star like myself back?
Basically all they said was no need to apologize, they love Beijing, say hi to my Chinese friend, and have a safe trip home. But the best part is they signed the email "Grtz from the Europeans." Love it.
So yeah, I'm back in the US after 17 hours of flying, which is always simply delightful. Maybe when my head isn't tingling from lack of sleep, I'll rundown the HELL it was getting from Beijing to Shanghai. Let's just say I almost murdered some Chinese people while crying and leave the story for my next post.
Dad played paparazzi at the airport:
Got an update on the Belgians I creeped on! I emailed them the picture with an apology for my superstalking and they emailed back, which I wasn't actually expecting. Would you email a creeper all-star like myself back?
Basically all they said was no need to apologize, they love Beijing, say hi to my Chinese friend, and have a safe trip home. But the best part is they signed the email "Grtz from the Europeans." Love it.
So yeah, I'm back in the US after 17 hours of flying, which is always simply delightful. Maybe when my head isn't tingling from lack of sleep, I'll rundown the HELL it was getting from Beijing to Shanghai. Let's just say I almost murdered some Chinese people while crying and leave the story for my next post.
Dad played paparazzi at the airport:
And my eyes are starting to cross, so that's my cue to cut this short and promise more for next time.
June 29, 2010
the creepiest thing i've ever done
I usually don't post twice in a day, but since the last one was kind of sad and because something amazing (and by amazing I mean incredibly creepy of me) happened tonight, I'm making an exception.
Tonight, Pong, Cong Cong and I went to this place called The Village, which is basically this enormous shopping mall with the world's largest Adidas store. (As Pong said, China is obsessed with having the biggest, the longest, the --est. . . overcompensating? Hmm. . .) She dropped Cong Cong and me off to go park the car and said she'd meet as McDonald's. So Cong Cong and I are waiting in line at McDonald's when I see the most amazingly handsome boy I've ever seen (who was not a former Armani model).
I immediately whip out my phone and text the people I know will appreciate it the most: Garbo, Kat and Phuong. After describing said boy to all three friends, they demand pics or STFU. I refuse. I'm not that forward, I say. And I'm not.
Cong Cong and I leave McDonald's to find Pong and I wax poetic about this beautiful guy to her. She immediately wants to see him. I know my face turned bright red (like it does) and I kept repeating no, no, he'll know. . . but Pong was not to be swayed. She asked Cong Cong if he had seen said 帅哥 and he says of course! And takes her hand and leads her to the guy. And POINTS.
I'm dying. Pong makes me sit down and drink my Coke approximately 10 feet away from where he's sitting, while saying I should take a picture with him because he is so handsome. I keep refusing, saying it's weird, he'll think I'm weird, etc, etc. He keeps looking over, because he has to know we're talking about him (beautiful people always know). And so we leave.
After wandering around the mall for a while, we go into the Apple Store, where I covet a new iPhone...and see the guy. With three of his friends. And this time Pong won't take no for an answer. Gripping my arm as tightly as she can, she drags me over to them and starts talking. And introduces me.
(Just so you know, I'm dead from losing so much face. My 面子 is completely 丢ed.)
So we chat for a bit, and I'm hoping that's enough for Pong, but nope. She chirps, "Take a picture?" to the guys. And they blink a little, then say, "Sure!" And insist that I'm in the middle.
For your viewing pleasure: my ultimate creepstar moment.
The one on the far right was the one I saw in McDonald's. The others are 还可以.
Oh and ps--got the one in bright blue's email. So I can email him this picture. Bow down at the altar of my creepstarness. Or Pong's creepstarness, I should say.
Tonight, Pong, Cong Cong and I went to this place called The Village, which is basically this enormous shopping mall with the world's largest Adidas store. (As Pong said, China is obsessed with having the biggest, the longest, the --est. . . overcompensating? Hmm. . .) She dropped Cong Cong and me off to go park the car and said she'd meet as McDonald's. So Cong Cong and I are waiting in line at McDonald's when I see the most amazingly handsome boy I've ever seen (who was not a former Armani model).
I immediately whip out my phone and text the people I know will appreciate it the most: Garbo, Kat and Phuong. After describing said boy to all three friends, they demand pics or STFU. I refuse. I'm not that forward, I say. And I'm not.
Cong Cong and I leave McDonald's to find Pong and I wax poetic about this beautiful guy to her. She immediately wants to see him. I know my face turned bright red (like it does) and I kept repeating no, no, he'll know. . . but Pong was not to be swayed. She asked Cong Cong if he had seen said 帅哥 and he says of course! And takes her hand and leads her to the guy. And POINTS.
I'm dying. Pong makes me sit down and drink my Coke approximately 10 feet away from where he's sitting, while saying I should take a picture with him because he is so handsome. I keep refusing, saying it's weird, he'll think I'm weird, etc, etc. He keeps looking over, because he has to know we're talking about him (beautiful people always know). And so we leave.
After wandering around the mall for a while, we go into the Apple Store, where I covet a new iPhone...and see the guy. With three of his friends. And this time Pong won't take no for an answer. Gripping my arm as tightly as she can, she drags me over to them and starts talking. And introduces me.
(Just so you know, I'm dead from losing so much face. My 面子 is completely 丢ed.)
So we chat for a bit, and I'm hoping that's enough for Pong, but nope. She chirps, "Take a picture?" to the guys. And they blink a little, then say, "Sure!" And insist that I'm in the middle.
For your viewing pleasure: my ultimate creepstar moment.
The one on the far right was the one I saw in McDonald's. The others are 还可以.
Oh and ps--got the one in bright blue's email. So I can email him this picture. Bow down at the altar of my creepstarness. Or Pong's creepstarness, I should say.
as many times as i blink, i'll think of you
You know how when you first go off to college and you meet new friends and one semester later, you can't remember life without them?
That's how this is.
Even though I only met all of these people in March, I can't imagine life without them.
It's not goodbye, it's see you later.
That's how this is.
Even though I only met all of these people in March, I can't imagine life without them.
It's not goodbye, it's see you later.
June 16, 2010
Australia vs. Germany
So it's happened. I knew it would, eventually, especially under the right circumstances. . .
I like soccer (ahem--football). Erin is still coaching me through the finer points of the rules and who's who and why that's a penalty and what's a red card again? but I like it. I really do.
And not that this should have surprised me given how I act at American football games, but I have discovered I really like soccer trash talk. For example:
I've refrained from posting it on the walls of actual English friends. Because I don't want to to get punched in the face. Or jinx the US team, because I can't handle having that on my conscience.
However, I have no problem jinxing other countries. So on Sunday, after having slept until approximately 1 in the afternoon recovering from the previous night's exhausting watch of US-England, Kat, Jelena and I headed to Secco. Where we, with our Aussie friends, talked serious smack to the Germans.
In order to paint a proper picture of this, I should start off by saying that we were watching the game at a German pub with a group of about 15 Australian supporters (us included).
And we were those fans. You know the ones. . . the ones you just want to sit down and shut up before you really lose your temper and make them shut up.
For example. On our way to the German pub Secco, we chanted these gems:
"There were 10 German bombers in the air (in the air)!
There were 10 German bombers in the air (in the air)!
There were 10 German bombers, there were 10 German bombers
There were 10 German bombers in the air!
Then the RAF from England shot one down (shot one down)!
Then the RAF from England shot one down (shot one down)!
Then the RAF from England, the RAF from England
Then the RAF from England shot one down (shot one down)!"
. . . And so on and so forth until you get to zero, when you shout something about Germany losing the war.
I particularly liked: (this is to the tune of "Yellow Submarine")
"We all live in a convict colony
A convict colony
A convict colony." (and repeat)
And the classic:
Chant Leader: Aussie Aussie Aussie!
Chanters: Oy Oy Oy!
Chant Leader: Aussie!
Chanters: Oy!
Once we ran out of those, we made up our own, righteously pissing off the Germans. They involved, in no particular order: Volkswagen, sauerkraut, the Schleiffen plan, a brief rundown of German history since 1945, and World Wars I and II. (Although we made up with a few Germans by challenging them to a drinking contest [and by "we" I mean the boys, Mom and Dad] which was promptly lost by the Aussies.)
The end result? Germany 4, Australia 0.
And that dear friends is why the smack-talking pic of Robert Green is only getting posted on American walls.
I like soccer (ahem--football). Erin is still coaching me through the finer points of the rules and who's who and why that's a penalty and what's a red card again? but I like it. I really do.
And not that this should have surprised me given how I act at American football games, but I have discovered I really like soccer trash talk. For example:
I've refrained from posting it on the walls of actual English friends. Because I don't want to to get punched in the face. Or jinx the US team, because I can't handle having that on my conscience.
However, I have no problem jinxing other countries. So on Sunday, after having slept until approximately 1 in the afternoon recovering from the previous night's exhausting watch of US-England, Kat, Jelena and I headed to Secco. Where we, with our Aussie friends, talked serious smack to the Germans.
In order to paint a proper picture of this, I should start off by saying that we were watching the game at a German pub with a group of about 15 Australian supporters (us included).
And we were those fans. You know the ones. . . the ones you just want to sit down and shut up before you really lose your temper and make them shut up.
For example. On our way to the German pub Secco, we chanted these gems:
"There were 10 German bombers in the air (in the air)!
There were 10 German bombers in the air (in the air)!
There were 10 German bombers, there were 10 German bombers
There were 10 German bombers in the air!
Then the RAF from England shot one down (shot one down)!
Then the RAF from England shot one down (shot one down)!
Then the RAF from England, the RAF from England
Then the RAF from England shot one down (shot one down)!"
. . . And so on and so forth until you get to zero, when you shout something about Germany losing the war.
I particularly liked: (this is to the tune of "Yellow Submarine")
"We all live in a convict colony
A convict colony
A convict colony." (and repeat)
And the classic:
Chant Leader: Aussie Aussie Aussie!
Chanters: Oy Oy Oy!
Chant Leader: Aussie!
Chanters: Oy!
Once we ran out of those, we made up our own, righteously pissing off the Germans. They involved, in no particular order: Volkswagen, sauerkraut, the Schleiffen plan, a brief rundown of German history since 1945, and World Wars I and II. (Although we made up with a few Germans by challenging them to a drinking contest [and by "we" I mean the boys, Mom and Dad] which was promptly lost by the Aussies.)
The end result? Germany 4, Australia 0.
And that dear friends is why the smack-talking pic of Robert Green is only getting posted on American walls.
June 12, 2010
USA v. England
So as most of you know (unless you live under a rock or just got out of prison...or are American) the World Cup started this Friday and the US and England played on Saturday. As much as I love the English friends I've made here, all that camaraderie was put aside at approximately 2:30 Saturday morning (don't worry, friends, it was recovered at approximately 5:00 Saturday morning).
When Erin and I heard that the English were painting their faces with their flag, we knew what we had to do: not allow America to be shamed with less hardcore fans. So with the help of Garbo (who is British but Welsh, so it's ok) I found Crayola paint and we painted up our faces. And it was amazing.
We felt like pro-wrestlers. And straight out of the movie Nacho Libra. And awesome.
So we get to Castle, the bar where most of our friends (American and English) were watching the match, where we discover that we are the most hardcore of the Americans. People I didn't know took pictures with me, Chinese people pointed (not that that's all that unusual. . .) and many an England fan made sure to tell me that even though they hoped they stomped America into the ground, they admired the face paint. At one point, someone told me, "Go you! Not go USA, but go you!" I took that as a compliment of the highest order. And I took some pics with the enemy:
Once the match started, there was the customary ribbing and taunting. Some new Americans from a state I won't say here (hint: it rhymes with Shmarizona) must have never been to an Ole Miss- LSU game and apparently don't understand that taunting is a part of sports. They were getting personally offended at the insults the English were yelling. . . and started yelling personal attacks at specific England fans. They overused the "1776!" chant waaaaay too much--it's funny a few times (let's be real, we all know I called all my English friends redcoats and limeys all night), but after the 87th time, just stop. We get it. We won the Revolutionary War. Let's move on, please.
Anyway, so England scores in the first 5 minutes, and the Shmarizonians are making me so 不好意思 and making America in general 丢面子 that I want to die. Or hit them.
But the game was fantastic and intense, which is really all I can ask for in any sport. So English friends, good game and your defense is fantastic; American friends, I'll be seeing you in less than three weeks!
When Erin and I heard that the English were painting their faces with their flag, we knew what we had to do: not allow America to be shamed with less hardcore fans. So with the help of Garbo (who is British but Welsh, so it's ok) I found Crayola paint and we painted up our faces. And it was amazing.
We felt like pro-wrestlers. And straight out of the movie Nacho Libra. And awesome.
So we get to Castle, the bar where most of our friends (American and English) were watching the match, where we discover that we are the most hardcore of the Americans. People I didn't know took pictures with me, Chinese people pointed (not that that's all that unusual. . .) and many an England fan made sure to tell me that even though they hoped they stomped America into the ground, they admired the face paint. At one point, someone told me, "Go you! Not go USA, but go you!" I took that as a compliment of the highest order. And I took some pics with the enemy:
Once the match started, there was the customary ribbing and taunting. Some new Americans from a state I won't say here (hint: it rhymes with Shmarizona) must have never been to an Ole Miss- LSU game and apparently don't understand that taunting is a part of sports. They were getting personally offended at the insults the English were yelling. . . and started yelling personal attacks at specific England fans. They overused the "1776!" chant waaaaay too much--it's funny a few times (let's be real, we all know I called all my English friends redcoats and limeys all night), but after the 87th time, just stop. We get it. We won the Revolutionary War. Let's move on, please.
Anyway, so England scores in the first 5 minutes, and the Shmarizonians are making me so 不好意思 and making America in general 丢面子 that I want to die. Or hit them.
But the game was fantastic and intense, which is really all I can ask for in any sport. So English friends, good game and your defense is fantastic; American friends, I'll be seeing you in less than three weeks!
June 1, 2010
shanghai expo 2010
Okay guys. It's the post you've all been waiting for...the Shanghai World Expo 2010 post! Get excited! Go on, go make your popcorn and settle into your favorite chair because this is gonna be a beaut.
I left Nanjing on the 6:30 am train (yes, that means I got up at 4:30, showered, finished packing and left the dorm at 5:30) with Garbo, Delphine and Laura (all of the British persuasion, but we love them anyway :D) and arrived in Shanghai at around 9:30 am. On Saturday, we managed to snag Guest passes into the Asian X Games where we hung out for most of the morning, watching people roll down ramps in giant hamster balls the color of Mountain Dew (in other words, one of the best days ever).
After seeing hundreds of different flips one can do on a skateboard, Jazza (British) and Lee (Canadian, so I had at least one fellow North American with me to argue that it's not "aluminium" it's aluminum :) ) and I went wandering around Shanghai (read: walked around Shanghai and made snarky comments). It was while wandering that I found the best bakery in all of China:
After wandering around, we all met back up and ate a vegetarian restaurant, aka a restaurant where the chefs make meat-like foods out of veggies. The food is really good, which surprises a lot of people.
We made our way over to the Bund, which I think I mentioned in a much earlier post (around February). It's the old European section of Shanghai, so all the buildings are very old-school European architecture. Anyway, Garbo, Delph and Laura and I were beginning to fade since we had been up since 4:30ish so we all hopped in a 黑车, which is basically an unmarked cab that takes you to your destination for a set price. It was very sketchy and I was convinced that we were all about to go on an Albanian adventure like in the movie Taken, but I was so exhausted I didn't care.
Sunday was EXPO DAY! (It's in all caps because it was awe.some.) Woke up at 5:30 to take our bags to the train station and then head to the Expo (the train station and the Expo park are on opposite sides of town and we wanted to get in the entry line at least an hour before it opened). So we rushed to train station, dumped our bags and rushed to the Expo park where we encountered this mass of people:
The line moved fairly fast, so we got into the Expo at about 9:15 and immediately headed to the ferry to cross the river over to the country pavilions.
First on our list was the UK pavilion because it was supposed to look like a giant pincushion. And it did not disappoint:
The inside was just as cool because the "needles" had plastic handles with different kinds of seeds found in Britain in them:
After the UK pavilion, we wandered into the Africa pavilion where there was traditional, live African dancing going on:
After Africa, Garbo and I split off to head to the USA! Where I took an obscene amount of pictures.
Yes, a rando Chinese popped into my pic. Oh well.
I may or may not have bought an "I <3 USA Pavilion" t shirt. And a USA Pavilion hat. It may have come with an obnoxious American flag bag that I adore. You can hate me now, it's cool. I'm kind of disgusted with myself.
After the US pavilion, Garbo and I headed to Ireland, the home of my ancestors! They had many a pic of Bono, Westlife, Colin Farrell and Cillian Murphy, as well as castle pictures. We bobbed in and out of various pavilions but the one I really want to tell y'all about was the North Korea pavilion.
Yep. North Korea had a pavilion. The question most asked of me about the North Korean pavilion is, "Is there a nuke in it?" No. But there was grainy footage from the 80s/mid 90s showing smiling and healthy North Koreans dancing around with ribbons. And it was sunny. We all know the sun doesn't shine in North Korea, who are they fooling?
We spent literally 11 hours wandering around the Expo, and towards the end, after not having waited in line for more than 15 minutes the entire day, we decided to venture into China. (PS-after incorrectly assuming that Starbucks would be by the American pavilion--because seriously, who loves Starbucks more than Americans??--we found it by China. Sneaky ninjas.)
And then my camera battery died. So you'll just have to take my word for it that China was amazing. They had split the space by province so it was like traveling from one province to another and it was just fantastic.
So, with my feet despising me with every step I took, we headed off to the train station at midnight. And after a grueling 4 hour train ride with various poultry chirping desperately to be let out, we arrived in Nanjing, where I promptly went to my bed and passed out for 12 hours. Expo for the win!
Much love!
I left Nanjing on the 6:30 am train (yes, that means I got up at 4:30, showered, finished packing and left the dorm at 5:30) with Garbo, Delphine and Laura (all of the British persuasion, but we love them anyway :D) and arrived in Shanghai at around 9:30 am. On Saturday, we managed to snag Guest passes into the Asian X Games where we hung out for most of the morning, watching people roll down ramps in giant hamster balls the color of Mountain Dew (in other words, one of the best days ever).
After seeing hundreds of different flips one can do on a skateboard, Jazza (British) and Lee (Canadian, so I had at least one fellow North American with me to argue that it's not "aluminium" it's aluminum :) ) and I went wandering around Shanghai (read: walked around Shanghai and made snarky comments). It was while wandering that I found the best bakery in all of China:
After wandering around, we all met back up and ate a vegetarian restaurant, aka a restaurant where the chefs make meat-like foods out of veggies. The food is really good, which surprises a lot of people.
We made our way over to the Bund, which I think I mentioned in a much earlier post (around February). It's the old European section of Shanghai, so all the buildings are very old-school European architecture. Anyway, Garbo, Delph and Laura and I were beginning to fade since we had been up since 4:30ish so we all hopped in a 黑车, which is basically an unmarked cab that takes you to your destination for a set price. It was very sketchy and I was convinced that we were all about to go on an Albanian adventure like in the movie Taken, but I was so exhausted I didn't care.
Sunday was EXPO DAY! (It's in all caps because it was awe.some.) Woke up at 5:30 to take our bags to the train station and then head to the Expo (the train station and the Expo park are on opposite sides of town and we wanted to get in the entry line at least an hour before it opened). So we rushed to train station, dumped our bags and rushed to the Expo park where we encountered this mass of people:
The line moved fairly fast, so we got into the Expo at about 9:15 and immediately headed to the ferry to cross the river over to the country pavilions.
First on our list was the UK pavilion because it was supposed to look like a giant pincushion. And it did not disappoint:
The inside was just as cool because the "needles" had plastic handles with different kinds of seeds found in Britain in them:
After the UK pavilion, we wandered into the Africa pavilion where there was traditional, live African dancing going on:
After Africa, Garbo and I split off to head to the USA! Where I took an obscene amount of pictures.
Yes, a rando Chinese popped into my pic. Oh well.
I may or may not have bought an "I <3 USA Pavilion" t shirt. And a USA Pavilion hat. It may have come with an obnoxious American flag bag that I adore. You can hate me now, it's cool. I'm kind of disgusted with myself.
After the US pavilion, Garbo and I headed to Ireland, the home of my ancestors! They had many a pic of Bono, Westlife, Colin Farrell and Cillian Murphy, as well as castle pictures. We bobbed in and out of various pavilions but the one I really want to tell y'all about was the North Korea pavilion.
Yep. North Korea had a pavilion. The question most asked of me about the North Korean pavilion is, "Is there a nuke in it?" No. But there was grainy footage from the 80s/mid 90s showing smiling and healthy North Koreans dancing around with ribbons. And it was sunny. We all know the sun doesn't shine in North Korea, who are they fooling?
We spent literally 11 hours wandering around the Expo, and towards the end, after not having waited in line for more than 15 minutes the entire day, we decided to venture into China. (PS-after incorrectly assuming that Starbucks would be by the American pavilion--because seriously, who loves Starbucks more than Americans??--we found it by China. Sneaky ninjas.)
And then my camera battery died. So you'll just have to take my word for it that China was amazing. They had split the space by province so it was like traveling from one province to another and it was just fantastic.
So, with my feet despising me with every step I took, we headed off to the train station at midnight. And after a grueling 4 hour train ride with various poultry chirping desperately to be let out, we arrived in Nanjing, where I promptly went to my bed and passed out for 12 hours. Expo for the win!
Much love!
May 14, 2010
summer in the city
Since nothing's really happened here lately, this is just going to be a random stringing together of whatever thoughts float through my head. There's my disclaimer/apology. Onward!
Now that the weather has gotten warmer, Nanjing has started to smell so bad. The combination of sewage, half eaten food, and trash cans is lethal, and it feels like it seeps into your nostrils whenever you pass an unfortunate amount of grossness. Of course, it's just how China smells, so there's really not much you can do except laugh and breathe through your mouth.
It's not that I don't love China, because I do; especially Nanjing. It's just that when you're in China, you start appreciating things that make America...America. I've gotten used to a lot here, but some things still get me, like getting stared at when I walk to the market, or having little babies look up at me with terrified expressions (I've coaxed a few smiles and giggles from some braver kids).
I managed to ninja this picture in Shanghai--this baby's grandmother was giving Erin and me suspicious glances.
My parents left on Monday, but not before we ate at Jack's Place again (of "slow woasted pork" fame), this time with a few of my friends.
I'm really trying not to think about how little time I have left here. It doesn't seem like I've been in Nanjing that long, but I'm more than halfway through--in fact, I only have about 6 weeks left. I've made a Nanjing playlist on my iPod that I already know I won't listen to once I get back to the States because it'll make me miss here too much.
It's been really interesting being in class with people from different cultures. Yesterday, we had an intense, two hour long discussion about the necessity of marriage (no surprise in the verdict: most of the girls say yes, marriage is important; and the guys say, no, living together is the same thing). Today we talked about what causes generational gaps (verdict: economics and technology, although I made the argument that my grandmother has Facebook and Skype), and a Polish friend mentioned that her parents don't have a TV. I can't imagine my house with a single TV--I think my dad would lose his mind.
And of course the Brits crack me up when we get into faux-arguments about American English vs. Queen's English (direct quote: "You Americans take the u's out of everything...and replace s's with zeds!" Btw, 'zeds' are z's in American.). There's a few Brits I just want to take home with me so that they can live on my shoulder and make snarky comments about American life (just imagaine: "Yew coll this ci-ty Oxfohrd? Yew Ahmairicans ah always cop-ying us!"). If only that technology were available (if only I wasn't a Muggle)!
Anyway. Time to catch up on some TV shows. I'll update when something interesting happens, or until I get tired of Matthew bugging me about it.
PS- I absolutely love my roommate! :)
Now that the weather has gotten warmer, Nanjing has started to smell so bad. The combination of sewage, half eaten food, and trash cans is lethal, and it feels like it seeps into your nostrils whenever you pass an unfortunate amount of grossness. Of course, it's just how China smells, so there's really not much you can do except laugh and breathe through your mouth.
It's not that I don't love China, because I do; especially Nanjing. It's just that when you're in China, you start appreciating things that make America...America. I've gotten used to a lot here, but some things still get me, like getting stared at when I walk to the market, or having little babies look up at me with terrified expressions (I've coaxed a few smiles and giggles from some braver kids).
I managed to ninja this picture in Shanghai--this baby's grandmother was giving Erin and me suspicious glances.
My parents left on Monday, but not before we ate at Jack's Place again (of "slow woasted pork" fame), this time with a few of my friends.
I'm really trying not to think about how little time I have left here. It doesn't seem like I've been in Nanjing that long, but I'm more than halfway through--in fact, I only have about 6 weeks left. I've made a Nanjing playlist on my iPod that I already know I won't listen to once I get back to the States because it'll make me miss here too much.
It's been really interesting being in class with people from different cultures. Yesterday, we had an intense, two hour long discussion about the necessity of marriage (no surprise in the verdict: most of the girls say yes, marriage is important; and the guys say, no, living together is the same thing). Today we talked about what causes generational gaps (verdict: economics and technology, although I made the argument that my grandmother has Facebook and Skype), and a Polish friend mentioned that her parents don't have a TV. I can't imagine my house with a single TV--I think my dad would lose his mind.
And of course the Brits crack me up when we get into faux-arguments about American English vs. Queen's English (direct quote: "You Americans take the u's out of everything...and replace s's with zeds!" Btw, 'zeds' are z's in American.). There's a few Brits I just want to take home with me so that they can live on my shoulder and make snarky comments about American life (just imagaine: "Yew coll this ci-ty Oxfohrd? Yew Ahmairicans ah always cop-ying us!"). If only that technology were available (if only I wasn't a Muggle)!
Anyway. Time to catch up on some TV shows. I'll update when something interesting happens, or until I get tired of Matthew bugging me about it.
PS- I absolutely love my roommate! :)
May 5, 2010
Xi'an/西安
Matthew Archer, I'm dedicating this post to you since you've been harassing me about it all week. :)
My parents arrived in China on Monday and spent a few days in Beijing catching up with Pong and her family and then I met them in Xi'an on Thursday for my May Day/International Labor Day holiday.
I've been to Xi'an once before, last summer with the Flagship crew and we all absolutely loved it, so it's no surprise that I still love it. I don't know if my parents really understand how much I love this city, especially because they seem to think it's pretty run of the mill. I don't get how they think that, especially when you walk out of your hotel, you see this:
Friday was our first full day in the city and we went to see Xi'an's biggest claim to fame, the Terracotta Warriors!
The really cool part about seeing these again was that the farmer who discovered them was at the gift shop, signing books they were selling! He wouldn't take any pictures, but I bought a book and had him sign it. He was pretty baller, not gonna lie.
The Terracotta Warriors took almost all day, so we didn't do much else on Friday. Mom and I went to Subway to grab dinner--one awesome thing about Subway is that no matter where in the world you are, it still smells like Subway...aka America.
Oh and how to know your ancestors were Irish? You sunburn when you walk outside for an hour. Yep.
On Saturday, we decided to venture over to the Muslim market, which is behind the hotel where we stayed last summer. The Muslim market is definitely a unique experience; people are everywhere, the air smells like spices and cooking meat, and cars and motorbikes are zipping through streets that are really too narrow for them and honking like mad.
There's tons of food for sale:
And some things that made me want to vomit.
Bargaining in China is an incredibly fun experience (for me, anyway) and the seller attracts your attention like this: "Herro! Buy t-shirt? Watch? Bag? Give good price for you! Good discount!" And so on and so forth. When I bargain, I feel so good about my Chinese, because the shopkeepers always tell me my Chinese is so so good, they must give me a better price (total lie, but whatever, I'll take it). So Mom and I loaded up on gifts for people and some really pretty decorations for my room in my apartment.
On Sunday, Mom and I left Dad to his own devices (scouring the Internet for news--using my Mac...and now one of my Top Sites is The Lonely Conservative. Thanks Dad.) and went to see the Big Wild Goose Pagoda, or 大雁塔. It's a very very old temple built by Buddhist monks in the year 652 and it's gorgeous, but unfortunately, my camera's memory card was pitching a temper tantrum and so while I do have pictures, they're stuck on my camera until I get the connector to my computer.
Anyway, now we're back in Nanjing and back to the normal routine. Except while I was in Xi'an, Nanjing apparently skipped spring and went straight to summer because it's HOT.
Good luck to all the Ole Miss crew taking finals this week! And if you're already out on summer break, I envy you.
My parents arrived in China on Monday and spent a few days in Beijing catching up with Pong and her family and then I met them in Xi'an on Thursday for my May Day/International Labor Day holiday.
I've been to Xi'an once before, last summer with the Flagship crew and we all absolutely loved it, so it's no surprise that I still love it. I don't know if my parents really understand how much I love this city, especially because they seem to think it's pretty run of the mill. I don't get how they think that, especially when you walk out of your hotel, you see this:
Friday was our first full day in the city and we went to see Xi'an's biggest claim to fame, the Terracotta Warriors!
The really cool part about seeing these again was that the farmer who discovered them was at the gift shop, signing books they were selling! He wouldn't take any pictures, but I bought a book and had him sign it. He was pretty baller, not gonna lie.
The Terracotta Warriors took almost all day, so we didn't do much else on Friday. Mom and I went to Subway to grab dinner--one awesome thing about Subway is that no matter where in the world you are, it still smells like Subway...aka America.
Oh and how to know your ancestors were Irish? You sunburn when you walk outside for an hour. Yep.
On Saturday, we decided to venture over to the Muslim market, which is behind the hotel where we stayed last summer. The Muslim market is definitely a unique experience; people are everywhere, the air smells like spices and cooking meat, and cars and motorbikes are zipping through streets that are really too narrow for them and honking like mad.
There's tons of food for sale:
And some things that made me want to vomit.
Bargaining in China is an incredibly fun experience (for me, anyway) and the seller attracts your attention like this: "Herro! Buy t-shirt? Watch? Bag? Give good price for you! Good discount!" And so on and so forth. When I bargain, I feel so good about my Chinese, because the shopkeepers always tell me my Chinese is so so good, they must give me a better price (total lie, but whatever, I'll take it). So Mom and I loaded up on gifts for people and some really pretty decorations for my room in my apartment.
On Sunday, Mom and I left Dad to his own devices (scouring the Internet for news--using my Mac...and now one of my Top Sites is The Lonely Conservative. Thanks Dad.) and went to see the Big Wild Goose Pagoda, or 大雁塔. It's a very very old temple built by Buddhist monks in the year 652 and it's gorgeous, but unfortunately, my camera's memory card was pitching a temper tantrum and so while I do have pictures, they're stuck on my camera until I get the connector to my computer.
Anyway, now we're back in Nanjing and back to the normal routine. Except while I was in Xi'an, Nanjing apparently skipped spring and went straight to summer because it's HOT.
Good luck to all the Ole Miss crew taking finals this week! And if you're already out on summer break, I envy you.
April 24, 2010
china's clubbing culture
It's been way too long, friends, but nothing's really happened. In fact the only purpose of this update is for me to bitch about China's clubbing culture. Get excited, it's gonna be great.
1912 is Nanjing's bar district. There are random other bars floating around, but this is the best place to go clubbing because if one club gets boring, no problem, just hop in next door! The club we most frequent is Mazzo, and because we've been there so often, we've made friends with a few of the managers who can get us a table on really busy nights.
So last night, we splurged for sushi (and by splurged I mean we spent 150 RMB each...or about $22) and headed over to Mazzo...where it was packed wall to wall with people.
In the States, if a ton of people are packed together in a club and someone bumps you, usually that person will turn around and say sorry or make some sort of apologetic gesture or roll their eyes at the drunk person who pushed them into you so you both laugh about it or something like that. In China, not so much. If they bump into you, they slam into you, and when you turn around, they glare at you like it's your fault--how dare you be in their way?
In short, I've perfected my foreign bitchface here, due mostly to these situations. Last night, I was literally smushed between 10 Chinese people, all of them shoving at me and generally being obnoxious. Finally, once my frustration level had gone to 11, I stuck out my elbows, enacted the foreign bitchface and powered through. I stepped on all of their feet, got quite a few dirty looks that were returned, but I got that line to move.
And now it's time for a feminist rant.
The way women--all women, not just Chinese women--are treated here is disgusting. I'm not saying that in the US, women are treated perfectly, because obviously nowhere is perfect. But being in China has once again made me appreciate America so much more than when I'm actually in America. Last night I saw two Indian guys with a Chinese girl in between them, literally holding her there--when the song was over, she peaced immediately and I saw her shaking her head at her friend. I've had my rear end grabbed on more than one occasion--sometimes not even on the dance floor, when I'm just trying to get through a crowd of people.
And it's assumed that because you're out on the dance floor, you want some random guy trying to grind with you. No, I'm here with my friends and I've actively moved away from you more than once, and it's not because I want you to chase me, it's because I'm try to get away from you! Story of my life.
Okay, rant is over.
To end this on a lighter note, I went for a run yesterday, but the track wasn't open yet so I decided to run in the area around Nanjing. You would've thought I was some celebrity the way people stared and gawked at me. The reason: white girl with blonde hair, wearing shorts, running. People reacted as though I was running from something, and maybe they should be running too. "Yes, in fact I am running from Godzirra."
My parents are coming to China in 2 days!! Just so everyone knows. Yay!
1912 is Nanjing's bar district. There are random other bars floating around, but this is the best place to go clubbing because if one club gets boring, no problem, just hop in next door! The club we most frequent is Mazzo, and because we've been there so often, we've made friends with a few of the managers who can get us a table on really busy nights.
So last night, we splurged for sushi (and by splurged I mean we spent 150 RMB each...or about $22) and headed over to Mazzo...where it was packed wall to wall with people.
In the States, if a ton of people are packed together in a club and someone bumps you, usually that person will turn around and say sorry or make some sort of apologetic gesture or roll their eyes at the drunk person who pushed them into you so you both laugh about it or something like that. In China, not so much. If they bump into you, they slam into you, and when you turn around, they glare at you like it's your fault--how dare you be in their way?
In short, I've perfected my foreign bitchface here, due mostly to these situations. Last night, I was literally smushed between 10 Chinese people, all of them shoving at me and generally being obnoxious. Finally, once my frustration level had gone to 11, I stuck out my elbows, enacted the foreign bitchface and powered through. I stepped on all of their feet, got quite a few dirty looks that were returned, but I got that line to move.
And now it's time for a feminist rant.
The way women--all women, not just Chinese women--are treated here is disgusting. I'm not saying that in the US, women are treated perfectly, because obviously nowhere is perfect. But being in China has once again made me appreciate America so much more than when I'm actually in America. Last night I saw two Indian guys with a Chinese girl in between them, literally holding her there--when the song was over, she peaced immediately and I saw her shaking her head at her friend. I've had my rear end grabbed on more than one occasion--sometimes not even on the dance floor, when I'm just trying to get through a crowd of people.
And it's assumed that because you're out on the dance floor, you want some random guy trying to grind with you. No, I'm here with my friends and I've actively moved away from you more than once, and it's not because I want you to chase me, it's because I'm try to get away from you! Story of my life.
Okay, rant is over.
To end this on a lighter note, I went for a run yesterday, but the track wasn't open yet so I decided to run in the area around Nanjing. You would've thought I was some celebrity the way people stared and gawked at me. The reason: white girl with blonde hair, wearing shorts, running. People reacted as though I was running from something, and maybe they should be running too. "Yes, in fact I am running from Godzirra."
My parents are coming to China in 2 days!! Just so everyone knows. Yay!
April 5, 2010
清明节
This weekend was 清明节, also known as the Tomb-Sweeping Holiday. During 清明节, people go to the graves of their relatives and burn paper in the shape of things they think said dead relative might want or need in Heaven (the more elaborate, the better). But instead of burning paper cars for my relatives, I went to Beijing to see some of my favorite people!
When I last saw my little godsister Jia Jia she looked like this:
And now she looks like this:
In other words the most adorable child ever.
I arrived in Beijing on Friday night, and after discussing Google, the American stock market crisis and 成语 (Chinese four character idioms) with Pong, I got to see Cong Cong (who might as well be my little brother) and Jia Jia. We had homemade hotpot for dinner and Pong told me that on Saturday we would go to the mall after Cong Cong's violin lessons.
It was at this mall on Saturday that God gave me my Easter present:
Major League in Beijing.
Cong Cong and I posed as baseball players: (Braves and Red Sox, respectively).
And we ate lunch at a sports bar called Allstar (they had ESPN, I almost died) where I inhaled the most legit Mexican food in all of China, so it was basically my perfect day.
On Sunday, Pong told me we might go to see the Summer Palace, or we might go to 香山 (Fragrant Mountain). As it turned out, everyone in Beijing and their mother was at the Summer Palace, so we went to 爬香山 (climb Fragrant Mountain). As we're walking up to the mountain, I'm thinking this mountain won't be any big deal, since I 爬ed 老山 in Qingdao last summer, and there's no way 香山 is tougher than 老山. We arrive at the beginning of the "trail" (in China, you don't really climb a mountain, you climb stairs) and to my surprise, Pong and Jia Jia wave good-bye to us. I don't know what I was thinking, because of course an 18-month old can't climb a mountain, so it was just me and the boys.
Let me give y'all some explanation of the Chinese way of mountain climbing. As I said, it's less climbing than it is doing a Stairmaster, and there's no concept of keeping to your right. People going down the mountain drift over to where people trying to climb up the mountain are trying to walk, everyone's chatting on cell phones, and there's very little room to move.
Anyway, I was pretty badly dressed (in my opinion) for this climb because the only remotely athletic shoes I brought to Beijing were my Converse. But apparently I was even more badly dressed than I first realized. It seems that mountain climbing attire in China consists of heeled boots, tights and a dress:
And of course, there was this poor child, who had decided that he was really craving some roasted squid:
As I'm climbing this mountain (with old ladies speeding past me), several thoughts went through my head, most of them not very nice. For example: "Why can't Chinese just take the American view of mountain climbing? Don't do it unless you're Rachel Johnson." And "If you look at me again, I'll push you off this thing." And "I hate this. Why am I doing this? I hate this."
And of course, like most mountains, the view makes up for the tortuous climb (there's a life metaphor in there somewhere).
Once we manage to climb back down the mountain, my legs screaming at me and my feet bemoaning my lack of appropriate footwear, Pong and Jia Jia meet us at the nearby park, where Pong tells me, "It's a very difficult climb, one of the most difficult. I didn't think you'd make it. . . I thought you would come back halfway." 香山 may have owned my entire lower body but I made it (later I found out that compared to 香山， 老山 is a piddly baby mountain. If I had known that beforehand...).
Today, before my flight left at 2, Pong, Qing, Jia Jia, Cong Cong and I went to this shopping street that is right behind Tiananmen Square and is built in the Ming and Qing style.
Anyway, now it's back to the grind. . . but my next break is so soon--the end of April! And my parents are meeting me in 西安 (Xi'an)! Yay!
When I last saw my little godsister Jia Jia she looked like this:
And now she looks like this:
In other words the most adorable child ever.
I arrived in Beijing on Friday night, and after discussing Google, the American stock market crisis and 成语 (Chinese four character idioms) with Pong, I got to see Cong Cong (who might as well be my little brother) and Jia Jia. We had homemade hotpot for dinner and Pong told me that on Saturday we would go to the mall after Cong Cong's violin lessons.
It was at this mall on Saturday that God gave me my Easter present:
Major League in Beijing.
Cong Cong and I posed as baseball players: (Braves and Red Sox, respectively).
And we ate lunch at a sports bar called Allstar (they had ESPN, I almost died) where I inhaled the most legit Mexican food in all of China, so it was basically my perfect day.
On Sunday, Pong told me we might go to see the Summer Palace, or we might go to 香山 (Fragrant Mountain). As it turned out, everyone in Beijing and their mother was at the Summer Palace, so we went to 爬香山 (climb Fragrant Mountain). As we're walking up to the mountain, I'm thinking this mountain won't be any big deal, since I 爬ed 老山 in Qingdao last summer, and there's no way 香山 is tougher than 老山. We arrive at the beginning of the "trail" (in China, you don't really climb a mountain, you climb stairs) and to my surprise, Pong and Jia Jia wave good-bye to us. I don't know what I was thinking, because of course an 18-month old can't climb a mountain, so it was just me and the boys.
Let me give y'all some explanation of the Chinese way of mountain climbing. As I said, it's less climbing than it is doing a Stairmaster, and there's no concept of keeping to your right. People going down the mountain drift over to where people trying to climb up the mountain are trying to walk, everyone's chatting on cell phones, and there's very little room to move.
Anyway, I was pretty badly dressed (in my opinion) for this climb because the only remotely athletic shoes I brought to Beijing were my Converse. But apparently I was even more badly dressed than I first realized. It seems that mountain climbing attire in China consists of heeled boots, tights and a dress:
And of course, there was this poor child, who had decided that he was really craving some roasted squid:
As I'm climbing this mountain (with old ladies speeding past me), several thoughts went through my head, most of them not very nice. For example: "Why can't Chinese just take the American view of mountain climbing? Don't do it unless you're Rachel Johnson." And "If you look at me again, I'll push you off this thing." And "I hate this. Why am I doing this? I hate this."
And of course, like most mountains, the view makes up for the tortuous climb (there's a life metaphor in there somewhere).
Once we manage to climb back down the mountain, my legs screaming at me and my feet bemoaning my lack of appropriate footwear, Pong and Jia Jia meet us at the nearby park, where Pong tells me, "It's a very difficult climb, one of the most difficult. I didn't think you'd make it. . . I thought you would come back halfway." 香山 may have owned my entire lower body but I made it (later I found out that compared to 香山， 老山 is a piddly baby mountain. If I had known that beforehand...).
Today, before my flight left at 2, Pong, Qing, Jia Jia, Cong Cong and I went to this shopping street that is right behind Tiananmen Square and is built in the Ming and Qing style.
Anyway, now it's back to the grind. . . but my next break is so soon--the end of April! And my parents are meeting me in 西安 (Xi'an)! Yay!
March 28, 2010
there are a lot of creepers in nanjing
So I went for a run today and found this tidbit of information out: apparently in China, kicking soccer balls at people trying to run is a form of flirtation.
The first two soccer balls I kicked back. The third one popped me in the leg, after which I said no more (actually I said something much less ladylike, but I won't repeat it). The fourth, fifth, and sixth ones I jumped over, avoided, or watched as they rolled by me.
Anyway, so this weekend I: found an Indian 男朋友, almost broke my nose and trash talked basketball with a Kentucky fan (and this was before they lost). Let's start with the my new Indian boyfriend.
The DJ at the club started playing Three 6 Mafia, and if you know me at all, you know I absolutely cannot resist the lure of Three 6, ever. (It's the same with Justin Timberlake, it's some kind of Memphis curse.) So of course I join my friends on the dance floor.
Somehow I end up dancing with this Indian guy who was shorter than me and, judging from the way he smelled, was not wearing deodorant. I kept giving one of my guy friends the omgpleasehelpme face but he didn't notice.
So this guy asks me, "Where you from?" I tell him America and he literally steps back about three steps in shock (I'm getting a little pissed with this whole WTF-Americans-aren't-smart-enough-to-be-in-China attitude that so many people have). So then he tells me that I'm so beautiful, just so beautiful and I just laugh and try to back away because he's waaaaay to close to me and all his friends are cheering him on and making supportive guy noises.
Then he asks me if I have a phone number, and I lied and told him I didn't have a phone (yeah, my phone was in my pocket) and the song finally ends and I peace out from the dance floor.
Later in the night, I was dancing with one of my friends and his phone and some coins fell out of his pocket. We both bend down to pick it up, only he got there first, and whips his head back up--right up into my nose. I can't accurately describe how bad this hurt--I heard bones crunching and when I reached up to touch my nose, I really thought it was broken. However there was no blood (which seriously surprised me at the time) and Allison assures me that although my nose looks slightly swollen on Skype, it's definitely not broken and that was probably cartilage I heard crunching. (I did assure my friend that if he had broken my nose it was ok, because "a bump will give it character!" He just looked so upset, I had to say something.)
At some point in the night too, I was walking back to my friends and I was carefully picking my way through the dance floor so as not to step on cigarette butts, dice, or whatever else is lying on the floor and this Chinese guy swerves in front of me and does this weirdly affectionate bumping of my chin with his hand. I was sufficiently creeped out and skidaddled.
And finally. Probably the greatest moment of my night. I jinxed Kentucky.
Once again, if you know me at all, you know that, being a die-hard Memphis Tigers basketball fan, I hate Coach Calipari. So watching Kentucky do so well in the big dance, while my poor Tigers piddled away in the NIT (losing to Ole Miss, my actual school, in a weird ironic twist) has been very hard to swallow.
Anyway, I had met this Kentucky fan in the elevator and we had talked a little smack so when I saw him at the bar, I went over to him and we started talking more smack. It went something along the lines of: "I hate your coach! I really hope y'all lose soon! But you probably won't." And he laughed (it was amiable trash talk) and that was it.
And then I wake up this morning to the glorious news that West Virginia upset the Wildcats to move on to the Final Four, while Kentucky gets to go home to Lexington. So yeah, I'm taking full credit for this one (not really, Kentucky fans, not really).
This post has been very short on pics, so let's see if I can get some to upload.
My dorm view at night.
This is 一九一二 (1912), the street where all the clubs are located. Kind of like Oxford Square, but less historical and more club-ish and techno.
Well I'm off to eat dinner and 预习 (preview) tomorrow's lessons. Talk to y'all later!
The first two soccer balls I kicked back. The third one popped me in the leg, after which I said no more (actually I said something much less ladylike, but I won't repeat it). The fourth, fifth, and sixth ones I jumped over, avoided, or watched as they rolled by me.
Anyway, so this weekend I: found an Indian 男朋友, almost broke my nose and trash talked basketball with a Kentucky fan (and this was before they lost). Let's start with the my new Indian boyfriend.
The DJ at the club started playing Three 6 Mafia, and if you know me at all, you know I absolutely cannot resist the lure of Three 6, ever. (It's the same with Justin Timberlake, it's some kind of Memphis curse.) So of course I join my friends on the dance floor.
Somehow I end up dancing with this Indian guy who was shorter than me and, judging from the way he smelled, was not wearing deodorant. I kept giving one of my guy friends the omgpleasehelpme face but he didn't notice.
So this guy asks me, "Where you from?" I tell him America and he literally steps back about three steps in shock (I'm getting a little pissed with this whole WTF-Americans-aren't-smart-enough-to-be-in-China attitude that so many people have). So then he tells me that I'm so beautiful, just so beautiful and I just laugh and try to back away because he's waaaaay to close to me and all his friends are cheering him on and making supportive guy noises.
Then he asks me if I have a phone number, and I lied and told him I didn't have a phone (yeah, my phone was in my pocket) and the song finally ends and I peace out from the dance floor.
Later in the night, I was dancing with one of my friends and his phone and some coins fell out of his pocket. We both bend down to pick it up, only he got there first, and whips his head back up--right up into my nose. I can't accurately describe how bad this hurt--I heard bones crunching and when I reached up to touch my nose, I really thought it was broken. However there was no blood (which seriously surprised me at the time) and Allison assures me that although my nose looks slightly swollen on Skype, it's definitely not broken and that was probably cartilage I heard crunching. (I did assure my friend that if he had broken my nose it was ok, because "a bump will give it character!" He just looked so upset, I had to say something.)
At some point in the night too, I was walking back to my friends and I was carefully picking my way through the dance floor so as not to step on cigarette butts, dice, or whatever else is lying on the floor and this Chinese guy swerves in front of me and does this weirdly affectionate bumping of my chin with his hand. I was sufficiently creeped out and skidaddled.
And finally. Probably the greatest moment of my night. I jinxed Kentucky.
Once again, if you know me at all, you know that, being a die-hard Memphis Tigers basketball fan, I hate Coach Calipari. So watching Kentucky do so well in the big dance, while my poor Tigers piddled away in the NIT (losing to Ole Miss, my actual school, in a weird ironic twist) has been very hard to swallow.
Anyway, I had met this Kentucky fan in the elevator and we had talked a little smack so when I saw him at the bar, I went over to him and we started talking more smack. It went something along the lines of: "I hate your coach! I really hope y'all lose soon! But you probably won't." And he laughed (it was amiable trash talk) and that was it.
And then I wake up this morning to the glorious news that West Virginia upset the Wildcats to move on to the Final Four, while Kentucky gets to go home to Lexington. So yeah, I'm taking full credit for this one (not really, Kentucky fans, not really).
This post has been very short on pics, so let's see if I can get some to upload.
My dorm view at night.
This is 一九一二 (1912), the street where all the clubs are located. Kind of like Oxford Square, but less historical and more club-ish and techno.
Well I'm off to eat dinner and 预习 (preview) tomorrow's lessons. Talk to y'all later!
March 21, 2010
st. paddy's and other adventures
Lots to update y'all on!
For St. Paddy's Day, a pretty big group of us went to our regular club, Mazo, because Wednesday nights is House music (a mix of really good techno and random songs that always include Gaga and the Black Eyed Peas and sometimes other stuff) and because they give us free drinks (alas these drinks were not green). The DJ has a habit of yelling things like "你准备好了吗？？" which means "Did you prepare well???" in the middle of songs and I think he recognizes us now.
Anyway, I don't think anyone at Mazo knew it was St. Paddy's or noticed that a lot more Westerners than usual showed up, wearing lots of green. At one point, I was dancing and this skinny Chinese guy started dancing with me. My general line of thought was that he wasn't dancing incredibly close to me or being creepy, so why not dance with me a little? Bad idea. He leans forward and says to me (in English), "You are so beautiful!"So I smile and try not to be too creeped out, when he asks me, "你是法国人吗?" (Are you French?) I tell him no, that I'm a 美国人 (American) and he repeats that I am so beautiful. So in a moment of utter creeped-outness, I grab Erin and sneakily slide her into my place so that now she's dancing with Skinny Creeper. Later she told me that he repeatedly told her she was beautiful. What a smooth talker.
Towards the end of the night, they put on Michael Jackson's "You Are Not Alone" (and all of y'all know I'm a huge sucker for some good MJ) and passed out glow sticks, which was the absolute highlight of my night.
On Friday, my Chinese Culture class took a field trip to the Presidential Palace here in Nanjing, which is where the governor of Jiangsu Province (where Nanjing is located) lives. The Palace has a beautiful garden, and my teacher was telling us that in Chinese gardens, symmetry is very important. All the elements are supposed to be present and something must be in bloom every season.
Of course, all those beautiful blooming flowers come with a price attached. My allergies went beserk and have been punishing me ever since.
One last story before I leave y'all so I can do some homework. When we were wandering around the Presidential Palace, this non-Chinese man and his Chinese friend were strolling behind me. The non-Chinese guy glances at me then says, "You have a nice size."
My mouth drops open a little and I make this half offended, half WTFdidhejustsaytome noise and my friend Jelena, who heard him, goes, "What??" But by this time the guy and his friend are too far away to hear us, although they did turn around and look at us a few times. When we left the Palace, Maxine (Erin's roommate) spots them and goes, "I'm gonna go ask them what they went by that." And she does.
When she returns, she reports that he's Algerian and he thought I had a nice shape--a nice body. So of course when she says Algerian, all I can think of is the movie Taken (which is completely unfair to this guy seeing as how he's probably not a human trafficker) and getting freaked out.
Anyway, here's a picture of the non-Algerian friend I made at the Presidential Palace:
For St. Paddy's Day, a pretty big group of us went to our regular club, Mazo, because Wednesday nights is House music (a mix of really good techno and random songs that always include Gaga and the Black Eyed Peas and sometimes other stuff) and because they give us free drinks (alas these drinks were not green). The DJ has a habit of yelling things like "你准备好了吗？？" which means "Did you prepare well???" in the middle of songs and I think he recognizes us now.
Anyway, I don't think anyone at Mazo knew it was St. Paddy's or noticed that a lot more Westerners than usual showed up, wearing lots of green. At one point, I was dancing and this skinny Chinese guy started dancing with me. My general line of thought was that he wasn't dancing incredibly close to me or being creepy, so why not dance with me a little? Bad idea. He leans forward and says to me (in English), "You are so beautiful!"So I smile and try not to be too creeped out, when he asks me, "你是法国人吗?" (Are you French?) I tell him no, that I'm a 美国人 (American) and he repeats that I am so beautiful. So in a moment of utter creeped-outness, I grab Erin and sneakily slide her into my place so that now she's dancing with Skinny Creeper. Later she told me that he repeatedly told her she was beautiful. What a smooth talker.
Towards the end of the night, they put on Michael Jackson's "You Are Not Alone" (and all of y'all know I'm a huge sucker for some good MJ) and passed out glow sticks, which was the absolute highlight of my night.
On Friday, my Chinese Culture class took a field trip to the Presidential Palace here in Nanjing, which is where the governor of Jiangsu Province (where Nanjing is located) lives. The Palace has a beautiful garden, and my teacher was telling us that in Chinese gardens, symmetry is very important. All the elements are supposed to be present and something must be in bloom every season.
Of course, all those beautiful blooming flowers come with a price attached. My allergies went beserk and have been punishing me ever since.
One last story before I leave y'all so I can do some homework. When we were wandering around the Presidential Palace, this non-Chinese man and his Chinese friend were strolling behind me. The non-Chinese guy glances at me then says, "You have a nice size."
My mouth drops open a little and I make this half offended, half WTFdidhejustsaytome noise and my friend Jelena, who heard him, goes, "What??" But by this time the guy and his friend are too far away to hear us, although they did turn around and look at us a few times. When we left the Palace, Maxine (Erin's roommate) spots them and goes, "I'm gonna go ask them what they went by that." And she does.
When she returns, she reports that he's Algerian and he thought I had a nice shape--a nice body. So of course when she says Algerian, all I can think of is the movie Taken (which is completely unfair to this guy seeing as how he's probably not a human trafficker) and getting freaked out.
Anyway, here's a picture of the non-Algerian friend I made at the Presidential Palace:
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