Variations On Dirty Laundry Blues

Wow! I've got many things to report in this post, and most of them are not related to any others.

Trucks!
On the morning of 30 August, I saw an amazing sight. While I was sitting outside of the building in which I was to write my placement test at 8:20 that morning, I saw four cargo trucks drive toward the building (from my right side, facing away from the front of the building) in single file. Then, they all started to turn away from the building, but not in parallel directions, for to prepare to back-up towards the building. They seemed all to have the intention of being right at the middle of the set of main doors to the building. I really don't have any idea how no accident was caused by their behaviour. I don't even know why four trucks were needed: all of the stuff they were moving from the building filled only one quarter of one of the four trucks.

McDonald's Advertising
I have to say that despite the renowned semi-prudishness of the Chinese, I'm amazed at what sells hamburgers here. The sexually charged advertising campaign I witnessed at McDonald's during my first week here would not fly in Canada or the U.S., where it seems to bill itself as a family-friendly restaurant.

The Best Indian Food In Beijing

Well, I'm not sure that it's the best Indian food in Beijing, but it's certainly the best Indian food I remember ever having. On Thursday, 14 September, some of my Canadian and Australian friends took me out to dinner for my birthday. I didn't think that the place was so expensive until I looked at the menu, and I certainly didn't want them to pay the bill, but I was unable to overpower all five of them. Cheryl, Conchita, Dean, Courtney, and Debi took me to the Ganges, a well-run Indian restaurant with a Western-style toilet and toilet paper! That is the first public place in Beijing at which I saw both provided. The second is a pizza joint to which I went with Cheryl this evening.

From left: Dean, Courtney, Debi, Jean-Guy!, Conchita, and Cheryl

Cheryl was the impresario for getting me a birthday cake and a card. Thank you, Cheryl! :D

Calligraphy
As some of you know, I've invested much time in the practice of Chinese and Japanese calligraphy. For to preserve what little talent I've gained throughout the last 6.75 years of study, I enrolled in a class here at BLCU. The cost of the class for three months is two-thirds the cost of my annual membership at the on-campus gym. The instructor seems to be good, and he seems to like my writing. He's a native of Beijing, but he knows some Japanese (which is good the Japanese student of Mandarin who is one of my classmates), and he lived in Poland throughout six years, if I remember correctly. This class will be fun, but it shall probably not be the amount of fun which Mrs. Maeda's class is. At least he's got Koizumi Junichiro's hairstyle to make up for that

The Laundry Machine That Ate Cincinnati
I hate my laundry machine. I really do. I washed a load of laundry on Friday, but the last rinse cycle kept experiencing a certain error. This error left me with a large amount of sopping laundry, some of which is still drying while I type this, more than forty-eight hours later.

They Travel Alone Or In Packs
A week ago, someone came to me while I was doing my homework out in the (relatively) fresh air, and asked me for help with her English. She introduced herself as someone who is studying English, and we arranged to meet on a weekly basis to have some sort of exchange of languages. After that first meeting, things started to become weird.

From here I'll refer to her as SMS Girl. We exchanged a few SMS messages, and then she sent me one which I didn't understand, with the Chinese character 梦 ('meng' -- dream). I asked two of the other Canadians whether they understood the message, and they thought it was weird. I asked a female friend of mine from China, who shall remain nameless, and she said that it was not out of the ordinary. I stopped worrying about it.

I arranged via SMS to meet her on Saturday, 16 September. I went to our meeting-place ten minutes before the appointed time, and I met two graduate students in Finance from Beijing University, Vincent and Unique, who were looking for some place at which they could advertise for language exchange partners (Mandarin for English).

While they were giving me their contact information, SMS girl arrived. She and the two students from PKU exchanged pleasantries, and during that exchange I overheard her say that she's not actually in school right now -- she's working. ALARM! DING DING DING! I thought that I'd give her the benefit of the doubt, and that she was industriously working on her English while working.

While we were sitting there, mostly silently, we saw another foreign student sit at a nearby table. He was approached shortly thereafter by three girls who were looking for language exchange partners. They spoke to him throughout ten minutes, and then they left. Shortly thereafter, he was joined by a girl who I believe he had arranged to meet.

SMS Girl and I started to speak a bit but, for a language partner, she didn't really say much, and she especially didn't seem interested in practising her English. I know that I'm bad for motivating myself to practise speaking Mandarin, but her lack of interest in speaking any language was ludicrous. She broke one of our spates of silence with the question '在加拿大你有没有女朋友？', which means 'Do you have a girlfriend in Canada?'. I was then reminded of her question from the previous week, in which she asked whether I'd yet married. I was warned that that question is quite common, and that I should expect it. The latest question confirmed my suspicion that she's not at all interested in learning English. I made the mistake of saying 'no', and then asking her whether she has a boyfriend (out of politeness). Aiya!

Eventually she left without really saying anything more. In less time than it took me to pack my bag (three minutes), another girl plopped herself in front of me and asked me whether I was at BLCU to learn Mandarin. I told her that I was, but that I was unable to stay and chat because I was to meet someone at the gym. I swiftly returned to my dorm room and prepared my work-out gear which, yesterday, included my '白人看不懂' (white persons don't understand) shirt, which I donned before leaving my dorm. During my three-minute walk to the gym, I was accosted by three girls who were looking for a language partner. Aiya! In the immortal words of Master Shake, 'Why am I cursed with such popularity?'!

Hi, You'll Do
After my experiences with insincere women here, I have to say that the t-shirt which I saw one woman wearing, upon which was emblazoned 'Hi, You'll Do', was really funny. I wish I'd gotten a photo: it was almost as if she were some affine combination, with positive coefficients, of the two women who seemed to show in me some interest-with-an-ulterior-motive.

Your Passport Or Your Wife?

Wow! I heard about dating someone for one's passport but what happened to me today was, in some ways, ridiculous.

Today, while I was at class, my roommate, Omer, took a message for me from a woman who was looking for me. After he and I returned from our respective lunches, he gave me the message, and I understood it to the best of my ability (which is currently poor; we can really only communicate in Mandarin because that is the only language in which each of us is able to articulate himself to the other).

The message consisted of a name and a phone number. I went outside and tried phoning the number with my cellular phone, but I received no reply. While I was at class, someone tried calling my cell from another number, but I had set my phone not to ring, so I missed the call; I have yet to learn whether the phone numbers are related. I tried returning that call to my cell phone, but I received only an answering service.

After I returned to my room, I started to prepare myself for a workout and going shopping. I received a knock at my door, and I found a Chinese woman outside, whom I later learnt is 52 years of age. She asked me whether I'm '石黝夫', and I said 'yes'. She told me that she was looking for a Canadian. Then she told me that she was a landed immigrant in Canada; she unsuccessfully sought work there, so she returned to Beijing and is currently employed here. She showed me her residency card and her Social Insurance Card. Then she suggested what sounded to me like we would either marry, or become common-law (which takes a year in Canada, I believe). My final understanding before she asked to get someone to translate, is that she wanted a civic address at which she could claim she was living so she could claim that she's been spending two of the last five years in Canada.

At that point, I decided that perhaps we do need a translator, so I went down the hall to Mihai (Mike) H.'s room to ask for help. After his attempt at translation, we concluded that my final interpretation must be correct. I ultimately told her that I didn't want to do this ('不好意思'), but that I would ask on her behalf, if she gave me her number. Anyone who's interested in doing this can contact me, but I would strongly counsel someone not to do it because it involves lying to the Canadian government.

I have no idea who gave her my name and room number, but I saw on one of the sheets she was carrying that she had my Chinese name and three poor approximations to my given name. Whoever told her about me was definitely not one of the native speakers of English whom I'd met, and is definitely someone who's got a good enough handle on Mandarin to remember my Chinese name. I think that she told me that she was asking-around, and that someone at a bar gave her my name. I'd certainly like to meet whoever gave this woman my DORM ROOM NUMBER and give him or her a short lecture on stalking.

All this time, I thought that those Chinese women who are reportedly looking for foreign passports to date, of whom I have been told to be wary, are nubile and young. I guess that the stereotype is not so 'stereo', in at least one sense. :P

My Short March To And From Tian'anmen

The front of Tiananmen (from the outside)

Tian'anmen, The Forbidden City, The Palace Museum, And Lunch
Hello, everyone!

I went to Tian'anmen and the Forbidden City yesterday (Beijing time), the thirtieth anniversary of the death of Mao Zedong. I was told that the event of his death has been all over the news throughout the last week, or so, but I don't really watch the news. My current roommate, a Sudani named Omer, watches more television than I do, but I don't think that he watches the news. Anyway, I knew about yesterday being the thirtieth anniversary not because of the news, but because I know a little bit of history. :P

Anyway, I received a call on Friday, 08 September, from my friend Mike B., who I know from Waterloo. He's in China for about a month, and he arrived in Beijing, from Tianjin, on Thursday. He said that he wanted to go to Tian'anmen Square and the Forbidden City on the morning of 09 September, and was wondering whether I wanted to meet him later. I told him about the anniversary of Mao's death, and that I would like to join him at the Forbidden City. We then made plans to meet some time around 8:30 in the morning.

The Great Helmsman

The morning was cool, but anyone who's known me for any significant amount of time knows that I'm undeterred by what others call 'the cold'; I embarked upon my adventure clad in a t-shirt and shorts, and equipped with many litres of water. I took Beijing's subway (with two transfers) directly to Tian'anmen Square's front gate. I snapped a couple of photos in front of that area. After snapping a few touristy photos, I decided to solve some Sudoku puzzles while I waited for Mike. I attracted a lot of attention as a stocky, bearded white guy wearing a t-shirt and shorts while holding a clipboard. Many persons took a look over my shoulder to see what I was doing (I'd been warned that that's not rude here, so I was prepared for it). Some persons even came to meekly say 'hello', not because they were afraid of the lao3wai4 (as I'd heard myself be called earlier in the morning), but because they wanted to say 'hello' to a foreigner. (Thanks to Kate's blog for the heads-up on that one!) Those persons who did that were really sweet, especially the first one (a fifty-some-year-old man; he was soooo cute). Also while I was waiting, a woman came to ask me whether I was cold, but I didn't understand her until after she left. Ah, well.

The Great Helmsman with the Gretag-Macbeth Colour Checker

When Mike arrived, we entered the gate and were almost immediately accosted by a man trying to sell us packages of post cards for 'one dollar'. We told him 'bu2 yao4' (we don't need it), and proceeded to ignore him. I went to a kiosk and purchased some 'Kodak' batteries for my camera. I write 'Kodak' because each pair of AA batteries I purchased allowed me to snap about five photos. I'm pretty sure that someone hijacked the name and packaged phonies. I bought some batteries much later, from a real Kodak store inside the Palace Museum, and they're still working well. My advice, on batteries, is to refrain from purchasing them in an area outside of a tourist attraction, and to purchase them inside the attraction.

Mike B.

Mike and I paid the 60-kuai entry fee (as of this writing, the exchange rate is ~7 kuai per Canadian dollar), and rented headsets for 40 kuai, with a 100-kuai deposit. While we were paying for the headsets, I observed a sign which had some 'Chinglish', which I see all over the place in China. I'm really sorry to see that the government can't pay to have a native speaker of English edit their signs.

Spot the typos

Here, I feel the need to digress again. My university is touted as being a university for the study of language -- not just Mandarin, but the world's major languages. Anyway, I see 'Chinglish' all over my university, including inside the text books published by, and used at, the university. I'm not so impressed.

Anyway, Mike and I spent almost four hours going around Tian'anmen Square and the Forbidden City. While I was looking for a washroom (I had to go six times, if my memory serves me correctly), we were approached by an 'art student' who wanted to show us an exhibit in another part of the Forbidden City. I had read about such 'students' who want to lure unsuspecting foreigners to their art exhibits for that they may sell their pieces, but I didn't expect to see them in the greater palace area. After I went to the washroom, Mike and I went to see the 'exhibit'. While we were walking thither, another such 'student' accosted us about going, and that convinced me that they were going to try to convince us to buy some of their works.

We entered what looked like a small portable from my elementary school and we were shown many traditional and non-traditional pieces of artwork. The second student we had encountered showed us some pieces of calligraphy, as well. One piece, which I thought was not particularly well executed, was evidently written by their instructor. I may only be a novice calligrapher, but I didn't like what I saw on that piece. At that point, I thought that it was high time we'd left the 'exhibit'.

While I was 'appreciating' those pieces, the young woman tried to talk prices with Mike, who was not showing any interest at all in buying any. I guess that the woman took Mike's lack of interest as only an apparent lack, because her price for one particular piece fell from 200 kuai to 100 kuai then, finally, to 60 kuai.

The Palace Museum

After that, we decided not to go to the Maosoleum to see Pickled Mao (tm). We returned our headsets, we gathered our deposits, and then we went to find something to eat. I must admit that the place wasn't quite the zoo I was expecting, given that it's the thirtieth anniversary of the death of the Great Helmsman. It's bascially what I'd expected to see on any given Saturday.

We decided to go to a vegetarian restaurant approximately a ten-minute walk from the northern gate of the Palace Museum. While we walked thither, we were accosted by many persons who drove sedan chairs with their bicycles, as if we were passing-up the opportunity to ride with one driver to go to them. After encountering these drivers, we stumbled upon the Beijing School Of Calligraphy; I should remember to go thither in the Winter term, once my Mandarin has improved. We walked all the way to the restaurant, only to find that it was out of business. I guess that that's one of the dangers of using guide-books.

While we were investigating that situation, we were approached by two women who told us that the restaurant actually went out of business two months ago. They told us about a Shanxiese restaurant across the street which also had good vegetarian stuff, and that they also study calligraphy in a studio right above the restaurant. Like rookies, Mike and I went with them for them to give us 'souvenirs', of our names written with mao2bi3, the calligraphic brushes. Of course, they wanted to sell us some of their master's works.

The woman who wrote my name didn't write it well, although I told her that her writing was better than mine. She wanted me to look at some pieces to buy. I told her that I am a Buddhist, and that I had taken some precepts which precluded the buying of silk. At first she didn't believe me; then her mind hit-upon the idea of selling me something without silk. While that woman was looking for something silk-free, the other woman gave Mike the hard-sell. We both left with our 'souvenirs' and with the words 'bu4hao3 yi4si' coming from our lips. Interestingly, but not surprisingly, the only other customer in the shop at the time was a white man who spoke English.


Korean Barbecue

After I returned to my dorm, I decided to chill for a while. I sent a message to some of the other Canadians to ask them whether they'd be interested in going for dinner. We finally organised ourselves and left the school at approximately 7:15 for a Korean place. I didn't know ahead of time that it was Korean barbecue. If I'd known before I left in the morning that I'd be going to a Korean BBQ place in the evening, I'd have invited Mike to join us. He's one of the regulars in our trips to Toronto. (Mike currently lives in Toronto, but usually the majority of attendees travel from Waterloo specifically to go for Korean barbecue.)

I have included a number of photos to show those who are interested how the Korean barbecue was executed at the restaurant to which we went. A charcoal-powered brazier is put in the middle of the table, and the meat is cooked on a grill atop the brazier. This is different from what I've experienced in Toronto, at which one would use a gas-powered grill for cooking the meat.

Before


During


After

One of the most amazing things I've seen here, which wouldn't fly in Canada, is the replacement of BURNING COALS while the barbecuing is happening. We saw the fu2wu4yuan2 (waiter, attendant, service person), using tongs, carry live, hot, burning coals from the kitchen to a couple of braziers. I have a photo of it here.

Great Balls Of Fire!

Here are two photos of the inside of our brazier (taken with and without flash, respectively) after we finished eating.

Here is a photo of the lovely ladies who ate the grilled meat, along with other dishes, while I had vegetarian bibimbab (and a bit of soup). From the left, they're Debi, Courtney, Conchita (Australian), and Cheryl.

Other (mostly) Canadian International Students

After we finished eating at the Korean place, I saw a wonderful sign which, I must admit, made my day.

A sign for a cafe, the name of which makes reference to camels

Dirty Laundry Blues

Earlier today, I cleaned some of my laundry. I went to the laundry / shower room to fetch my clothing, but the door was closed, and the handle on the outside of the room was broken. I wasn't too worried about entering, because I was certain that the person who was showering inside would open the door and I'd be able to re-enter the room.

I returned to my bedroom, only to learn that my electronic key-card no longer opened my door. I went downstairs to complain to one of the attendants, and I had a hard time convincing her that I had arrived only a week ago, despite the electronic record of my arrival. My name wasn't in their paper registry; because I signed many things last Sunday, I don't remember entering my name in the registry. Eventually, the attendant was able to re-enable my electronic key.

I returned again to my room for that I might then proceed to fetch my laundry. When I returned to the laundry room, the door was still closed but I no longer heard any noises from within. After half an hour of fretting and trying to open the door by using the broken handle, I went to talk again to an attendant. I said 'I did my laundry in the laundry room, and the door is locked.'. The attendants; response was 'You can do your laundry in another of the laundry rooms.'. 'My clothing's still in the room.'. 'Oh. Well, we don't know when the door will be repaired.' Enh. I finally found something which would give my hands the purchase to turn the stub of a knob which was on the door, and I sucessfully retrieved my laundry. Shortly after that, I left the building. On my way out of the dormitory, I said 'I opened the door.'. 'Oh.'

Osama ben Parker And Other Fugitives

We Found Osama!
He's hiding in Haidian district of Beijing. I previously thought that Peter Parker was Spider-man's alter ego. Courtney spotted him shortly after she, Cheryl, and I ate lunch yesterday. I had a vegetarian pizza which, I am quite thankful, was devoid of silicates.

After lunch, we went to the Lotus Centre to buy various things. Just before we left, we saw a machine making little fried cakes (for lack of a better term in English). It's more elaborate than the similar ones I've seen in Dragon City at Spadina and Dundas: this thing's like a small assembly line. Batter is injected into the moulds, and the cakes / non-waffles are moved in a counter-clockwise fashion. By they return to the person tending the machine, they are cooked to perfection.

Interesting Sign
Is anyone able to tell me why I think that this sign is cool? Ali knows why, but that's because I told him yesterday approximately an hour after I shot this pic.

Fast-Food Mania!
I went to Ali's part of town again yesterday in order to meet him for DQ Blizzards (he had Oreo, I had Green Tea Max), and I decided to walk again. This time, I snapped a number of photos to give those of you who've never been to Beijing an idea of what kinds of fast-food joints you'll find.

This, I think it goes without saying, is Domino's.

Here's evidence of the Legend Of The Golden Arches.

This one needs a little explanation. This is a direct competitor to McDonald's but, instead of being represented by a happy clown wearing grease-paint, this chain is represented by a not-so-happy Little Dragon who's gonna take you out 'cuz his True Kung Fu is better than yours.

I haven't yet investigated this one. I'll do so when I get a chance.

Farewell, My Friend
My roommate, Caspar, returned to his home in Switzerland yesterday. He studied here throughout a month in order to supplement his already-incredibly-good Mandarin. I would have had a much more difficult first-week here without his help. He's quite talented, intelligent, and friendly, and I'm glad that he was my roommate, even if only for a week. His presence shall be sorely missed. (He's the one on the left.)

Update On Tests

In case you were wondering, I didn't have to pay for the medical retesting; it's covered in my scholarship. Because of my result on the HSK, I'll be placed in Elementary Level 2. What that means, I'll learn on the morrow.

Broken Glass & Foot-Massages Do Not Mix

McDonald's, Revisited
I decided to give McDonald's's fries another chance, so I went thither for lunch today with Caspar. The fries I had today were indistinguishable from the fries I've had at McDonald's in North America, which leads me to believe that the ones I had the other day were undercooked. What I enjoyed most about today's visit to McDonald's is the pie: I had taro pie, not apple pie! It was really good! What, you don't believe that I had taro pie? I photographed the box in which it came. :)



A Night Out With The Girls
After wasting the rest of day trying to reinstall software on my computer, I joined three other Canadians, Cheryl, Debi, and Courtney, for dinner. We took an adventuresome taxi ride to a restaurant which is touted as a fusion Japanese-Italian restaurant. The restaurant itself is only about a fifteen-minute walk from my residence's room, but none of us knew the precise directions to the restaurant. Courtney had eaten there a couple of times, and was interested in introducing it to us.

After we arrived, I leafed through their menu, and found what looked like the only vegetarian item on the menu: pumpkin-macaroni & cheese. My dish took the longest to prepare, I presume because the dish was baked with mozzarella cheese atop the macaroni. Well, it turned-out to be not mac & cheese, but rice & cheese, with big slices of pumpkin atop the rice (and under the cheese). It also turned-out to have pieces of bacon inside.

I ate about half of my meal, carefully removing the bacon, when I realised that the second half of the dish had a greater concentration of bacon than did the first half. At that point, I decided that enough was enough, and that I'd be wastig a lot of what was cooked for me, so I dumped into the dish all of the meat I'd previously removed and tore into it with gusto. In my first or second mouthful, I bit something crunchy; until that point, my meal had been decidedly less crunchy. I removed a piece of broken glass from my mouth; I'm quite thankful that I didn't hurt myself with it. I only hope, at this time, that I didn't swallow any earlier in the meal. I guess it's a sign to remain vegetarian. I've thought of a couple of good plots for comedic sketches based on that experience.

After we complained, we awaited appeasement in the form of a newly prepared dish; ultimately, none was forthcoming. Courtney thinks that it's because I said 'mei2 guan1 xi4' (没关系) in response to her 'dui4 bu qi3' (对不起) coupled with an offer to prepare the new dish. Anyway, while we waited in vain, we were approached to appear for auditions tomorrow for a commercial. The woman who approached us spoke to all four of us, but presented business cards only to two of us; I didn't realise at the time that she was focusing on the two non-(fully-)ethnically Chinese in the group.

Anyway, we left the restaurant and went to have our feet massaged. I'd read about it previously, and I'm glad that I had an opportunity to have it done. Ordinarily men massage women's feet, and women massage men's feet. However, the hotel to which we went for this treatment (which included another, which I saw described as 'leg beating') had a dearth of male massage therapists, and so each of us was given a massage by a woman. As Caspar put it when I told him, 'so ... you spent the whole time, while you were being massaged, with seven women ...'. :D

I'm to tired to write more, so all y'all are going to have to be satisfied with this. S2out