Plum Rains

Nanjing is in the subtropics. This time of year, the weather alternates between intense, oppressive heat and torrential rains. This is the season of the "plum rains," so-called because the Chinese plum comes ripe at this time.

Artist and Teacher

We teachers at the Oxford Academy are an international group. Yesterday, I was at the home of Carl Mather, English teacher and artist, and his wife Jenny. Carl grew up in a remote village in Australia. The pictures and wood carvings in the photographs are Carl's original work.

How do you say 'detergent'?

I needed some liquid detergent to rinse out my clothes in the hotel sink. Problem was, I didn't know the Chinese word for detergent and had forgotten to ask anyone at the office. What's a foreigner to do?

I did the same thing a Japanese student of mine once did when he was looking for an implement to unstop a toilet-- I wandered around a supermarket. My former student knew much more English than I knew Chinese. A doctor and medical researcher, he knew words like 'cardiovascular' and 'hypertension.' But he didn't know the word 'plunger,' anymore than I know how to say 'detergent' in Chinese.

Now, by American standards, a Chinese supermarket isn't that big. It's more of a mini-mart--even smaller than the A & P my mother went to back in the 50's. Still, things take longer when you don't know what you're doing. It took the better part of an hour to find a bottle of detergent.

Does China have China Buffet?

Benn Gann asked me this in a recent conversation. The answer is "not exactly." By "China Buffet," most of us mean a buffet restaurant specializing in American Chinese food, a modified Chinese cuisine geared to the American palate. In that sense of the term, there is no China Buffet here. However, there are someChinese cafeterias which charge item by item.

And today, to my great embarrassment, I was the honoree at a formal Chinese luncheon, where the guests were seated around a rotating table and presented with dish after dish-- over 20, I was told. I blame this on Sir Barry Jowett, director of The Oxford English Academy where I work. Our school is conducting a ten day in-service for 60 Chinese school teachers, and Sir Barry loves to brag about my doctorate. The people from the school system got the idea I was an important American educator, and wanted to show proper respect! It was a very structured affair, with toasts given at specified times, by specified people. I was required to make the last toast, after the fruit course at the end of the dinner.

Fast Food

Pictured on the blue sign is a tasty frozen treat--a combination of crushed ice, watermelon, honeydew melon, cantalope, yellow chinese melon. It is topped with honey and black beans. You heard me! Black beans. It's delicious... and weird.

A fellow teacher, an Australian artist who has lived here five years and has married here, has invited me to his farm, and I visit there tomorrow.

Sojourning

This stay in China is more sojourn than vacation or trip. I'm into a routine. I rise at 6:30, buy a roll at the bakery across from my hotel, and go to the office at the Oxford English Academy I share with another senior teacher. Then, I work on whatever project Sir Barry has in mind-- schedules, curricula, assessments and so forth. I've never relished administration, but learned to do a certain amount by running grants. I start teaching next week. Late afternoons and evenings are my own. Sometimes I eat out. When I don't want the headache of trying to communicate with restaurant personnel, I pick up fruit at a local stand. Often, I walk at night. On sweltering evenings in Nanjing, people sit out on the street. Air conditioning is not particularly common. I take photos of odd things that strike my fancy, like the outdoor fruit stand in the picture below. The woman was at first suspicious when she saw my camera; then she laughed that anyone would want to take a picture of her and the melons she sells.

pictures zhan yuan and paranoia

Many of you say you're reading this blog. I really appreciate it. Here are a couple of pictures from my day at Zhan yuan: the tea room and the garden. I find myself becoming paranoid about the availability of internet services. When I'm unable to post pictures or can't make contact with family over the Internet, I don't presume it's a technical difficulty but a bureaucratic interference. And realistically, it's probably a technical problem all or most of the time.






Finally!.

Zhan Yuan and Murphy's Law

I've been feeling homesick. Nothing serious. I suppose it's inevitable on a trip of this length. I miss by husband, my kids, my friends, and my cat. I miss the university Cherokee Church and the mountains. I miss not having to struggle to communicate, being able to read the billboards, and the assurance that food will not be slimy or oddly flavored. I even miss Kroger's.

I decided I ought to stop moping, perhaps get out more. Enjoy China. Do something touristy. My hotel advertizes day trips. Why not do one? Turns out the day trips are very informal. A college kid, who goes by the English name Tim works part time at the hotel and wants to practice his English. He takes foreigners around Nanjing on days he has time. Fine! I arranged to go with him today-- Wedneday. He suggested a trip to the emperor's gardens: Zhan Yuan. He brings his girlfriend. He is dubious when I insist on riding a Chinese bus. Wouldn't I prefer a taxi? Of course not. I want to experience Chinese life. (Besides, I'm frugal) The vehicle is crowded and sweltering, like the New York subway at rush hour before the advent of air conditioning.

At the Zhan Yuan gardens, personnel determine I require a personal English-speaking tour guide. I acquiesce. It's only 40 remimbi-- less than ten bucks. The tour guide rattles off her schpiel about these gardens beginning in the Ming dynasty 600 years ago. The gardens are really pretty, but I'd rather contemplate and daydream than listen to a historical lecture. It's really hot. As we trudge around, Tim and his girlfriend hold my backpack. It's a hot day, and under my pink hat, sweat pours down my face. I'm getting dizzy. It's not just the heat. The lunch we ordered today and ate as a group had more meat than usual, some of it rare. My stomach is a bit upset.

The guide takes me into a cool building, where musicians perform on traditional Chinese instruments and we are served tea. Tim and his girlfriend can't come-- the show and the tea are just for the people who took the personal tour. The tea is excellent. I need it. My stomach is starting to cramp. I inquire as to the location of the ladies' room and I'm shown to one which has Chinese toilets. I can't cope with these and leave the restroom. I'm dizzy, tired, and my stomach hurts. It's time to go home, I decide. I look about for Tim and his girlfriend, who are nowhere to be found. Together, the guide and I search for Tim and the girlfriend. When we are unsuccessful, she seats me on a bench and keeps looking. Time passes, and I become worried. Have these lovely young people made off with my backpack? My camera is around my neck, but everything else of value is in the backpack-- money, AAA money card, an address book with directions to the hotel, even my passport! What will I do if I'm stranded, with no money, no passport.

At last the guide returns with Tim and the girlfriend, who believing me occupied with music and tea, had taken a walk. I breathe a sigh of relief. But my stomach still hurts. There is no choice. I remember Murphy's law: If something can go wrong, it will and at the worst possible moment. I attempt the Chinese toilet. I will spare you the details. Let's just say I am not very good at it. Apologetic, I tell the guide some cleaning needs to be done. She smiles, and assures me "staff will handle." I feel sorry for them.

On the way home, Tim and I talk politics. He believes his country is becoming more developed, more democratic. He is hopeful for the future, he says. He says he likes to read news with different viewpoints. I tell him how to access NPR and BBC online. When we return to the hotel, he accepts no money for the tour beyond my share-- one third-- of the cost of a taxi. He says he would like to talk with me more. My stomach is slightly better. I'll have to be more careful about what I eat.

I still miss home, but it's been a successful day.

Note: because this post is long, I can't put in pictures. I will post them under separate heading.

English as cultural capital

At this time in China, it is important to know English well. Ours is the language of computers and other technology. If one is a native speaker of English, one is in demand. Students of literacy call such important "know how" cultural capital. Possessing it is a pathway to success in the society. If one has it, one is in demand. Because I am a native speaker of English, I was invited to the home of the affluent family who live in the apartment pictured here. It's odd to be well-received because I speak English. For me, having English is like having opposable thumbs.

The dumpling industry

The Chinese are wild about dumplings (Shown second row left). Entire restaurants are devoted to their sale. I guess it's analagous to the American love affair with pizza. Dumplings are eaten with chopsticks. They may be placed on a plate, or in soup. My friend Yang Ping invited me to her home to learn the fine art of dumpling creation. You must take care not to stretch the dough too much and pinch the dough packet into the shape of a half moon. Yours truly had a hand in making the dumplings shown in this picture. Yang's daughter Lucy is an expert dumpling maker.

Lottery

One of the most prestigious schools in Nanjing is an English bilingual high school. To even take the exam, you have to be selected by lottery. For the Cincinnatians reading this--It's a bit like the frantic contest to enroll children at the Montessori schools, only magnified tenfold. They only let 2000 of 4000 children take the test. The names of the children who could take the test were posted this morning. Of those 2000, only 200 get in. The faces on those parents were something to see. It was very sad.

Some few children from other communities had already taken the test. Their scores were posted. Some families were joyful; some were weeping. We were there leeafleting for the Oxford School, trying to let people know there was still a chance to learn English even if the kids didn't get into the bilingual high school.

There are several English academies like ours in Nanjing. However, ours was the only one this morning with a native English speaker leafleting. I really hustled, and I think it helped. I figure if you're running a pet shop, you ought to take some dogs out with you when you advertized. Think of me as a mascot.