Doing it on the cheap

If you've been reading along, you know that the college where I work is undergoing some major renovations. The progress made by the workers is by turns impressive and frightening. Impressive because they labor under really substandard conditions (e.g., they work in flip flops; most labor is done by hand; no protective gear of any sort is used; scaffolding often consists of little more than a rope and a board, a swing, really) and they still manage to build giant buildings. But it's frightening because -- perhaps not surprisingly -- the quality of their work sometimes suffers.

Like this:




This is part of the building that was built a year ago. As you can see from the photo, part of ledge has crumbled away (this is on the 4th floor), and by way of patching it, the workers have jammed some sort of concrete coated paper into the hole.

We are learning very quickly that these kind of dangerous and makeshift working conditions extend to almost every part of life here. For example, D was on campus earlier today and watched a team of worker clean the floor with gasoline [edited] some kind of yellow paste that when rubbed, turned into a liquid and then into a gas. They were on their hands and knees, using rags, with no masks or gloves or anything. He said that the air was so toxic that you could smell it a mile away.

We've also watched people smoking cigarettes while working with propane, oil, and gasoline. And I've ridden on buses that have doors that won't close. I could go on and on. These are just common examples. [Clearly there are unsafe working conditions in the U.S. But they're not as out in the open, not as taken for granted. No one here even notices this stuff. It's just business as usual.]

There's a tension in this country right now -- a tension between fast growth (lots of stuff being built, a new middle class coming into being) and the desire to do things as cheaply as possible. This is, of course, the driving force behind capitalism, and it's being played out to the extreme here. It really makes me willing to pay more -- a lot more -- for quality made goods that are produced by adequately compensated workers.

What's really disheartening is that the U.S. is following in this path, too. It used to be that "made in the U.S.A." meant something good. Now it probably means that the item was made in some sweatshop by 10 year-olds.

Ok100, how I love thee

In a village near our apartment (within a 20-minute walk), there's a fast food chain called OK100. Their slogan is "You're Okay, I'm Okay!" and of all the restaurants nearby, we've probably eaten more meals here than anywhere else.

Truth be told, we'd probably rather eat at McDonald's if we are going to eat fast food. But we have to take the public bus to get to the golden arches. So Ok100 (or, okioo, as I like to call it) has its obvious advantage.

They've also got some killer stuff on the menu. Like these corn chicken nuggets (a chicken nugget with whole corn kernels mixed in), which are served with something called "sweet acid sauce" (similar to duck sauce).



They also serve taro nuggets (taro is reminiscent of sweet potato). And they fry everything in peanut oil, which is so tasty (and made tastier by the fact that peanut oil here really does have a peanutty taste. This means that their fried chicken tastes like the peanut chicken that you get at US-style chinese buffets).

I have not yet tried their corn slushy -- some kind of blended corn drink that, well, features corn. Corn drinks are insanely popular here. They're treated like a milkshake. MMMm, corn.

They also, inexplicably, serve samosas -- those little pockets of fried Indian goodness.

This is their webpage. It's all in Chinese, so if you're feeling motivated, you can use Babelfish to translate it.

Making it legal

Today we spent about 4 hours in the "visa office" (as it's unofficially known). Since we came into the country on tourist visas, we have to apply for residence visas and work permits in order to legally work at the college. Otherwise, we'll become official guests of the state, so to speak.

Anyway, after we completed our obligatory interview with the police at the visa office, the officer who questioned us handed us a brochure that welcomes newcomers to the city. Its main purpose is to dispense advice about staying safe in the city.

Some of the tips are pretty obvious:

"Watch out against pickpockets in crowded places".

Some of it is helpful:

"It is illegal to work without a working permit and residence permit. penalty for this could be very serious with possible deportation"

But some of the advice is just plain confusing:

"Do not follow strangers into fun places."

I haven't been able to decipher that one yet. Based on the drawing that accompanies the warning (in which one man directs another man's attention to an image of a busty woman), I'm assuming that this is some sort of warning against "houses of ill-repute." But it could just be a warning about avoiding Lingerie stores. Or breast augmentation clinics. Can't really say.

Fun With Chinese Signs, Part III

These signs are posted at the still-being-built part of our college (classes begin in a mere 10 days).



I didn't realize that in China, bowler hats are considered protective head gear. It seems they're keeping up a fine British tradition:

The bowler was designed in the workshop of Lock's, the legendary London hatmakers, on the instructions of a certain William Coke, who wanted to give his gamekeepers headgear that would not keep getting knocked off when they patrolled the undergrowth and woodland. And indeed, this rigid, dome-shaped hat offers little purchase to obstructions. Initially the new hats were called "coke" in honor of that concerned landowner, not being given the name 'bowler' until the firm of Bowler & Son began to make them in 1850 or thereabouts.
--- Bernhard Roetzel, Gentlemen: A Timeless Fashion

The road less taken (by Whiteys like me)

The main part of town -- that is, the part on the big bus routes -- is pretty commercialized here. Apparently, a few years back, city officials redesigned the city's main drag and relocated everything that wasn't associated with a big corporation or approved commercial venture. Think Guliani and Times Square.

Anyway, what this means is that the to see the really neat stuff, you have to wander down side streets (duh, I know). Yesterday, while we waited for our cushy non-public compound bus to arrive downtown to take us home, D and I wandered a bit. These are a few of the things that we saw (warning: my photos stink).

1) Tables being readied for the onslaught of Sunday evening diners (Sundays here are like Fridays in the U.S. Everyone goes out and has a good time and stays out late).



2) Pots, pans, plates, and bowls being prepared for the dinners those diners will eat.



3) A whole pig being roasted by hand over charcoal (the dude in the white shirt is holding the pig. The dude in black interrupted the cooking process).






4) Chickens, ducks, geese, and other birds in the line-up for the evening meal.



5) Apartments.

Changing public behavior

I've observed people of all stripes here (old, young, rich, not-so-rich, male, female, etc.) "get comfortable" in public spaces. "Getting comfortable" could mean anything from openly and with great relish picking one's nose on the bus (a favorite hobby of bus riders here) to taking a nap under a tree on the main drag in town (another favorite activity). Getting comfortable also seems to mean doing whatever the hell one wants so long as it doesn't inconvenience someone that one personally knows. That is, the attitude that prevails here is, "If I don't know you, I don't owe you anything." Here, you take care of "your own" and ignore everyone else. Kind of like the mafia.

Due in large part to the upcoming Olympic games, the powers-that-be have started broadcasting Public Service Announcements (PSAs) that try to change some of the behaviors that can make city life in China off-putting to (cash-rich) non-Chinese visitors. In one scene from the most frequently aired PSA, a heart-shaped red balloon (which is supposed to signify something good) is given to a person who chases after a stranger to returns something that the stranger dropped. In another scene, kudos are given to people who don't try to run each other over with their cars. Very mundane stuff to those of us living in most parts of the U.S. (Los Angeles and New York City excluded here, I think).

Rather than use the gentle hand of PSA's to persuade people to change their behavior, our town has taken a decidedly more severe form of behavior modification:



If you look closely at the photo above, you will see that there is barbed wire separating one sidewalk from another. This is done so that the hordes of shoppers, residents, and lookers-on who populate the area will not trample the landscaping that the city paid for. Not pictured in the photo is the barbed wire that the city has thoughtfully laced through the ground cover that lines the sidewalks. And just to drive their point home, the city has decided not to post warning signs. This is a smart decision -- word of mouth is so much more effective.

Fun with Chinese Signs, Part II

On an evening walk through Tangjia (a village close to where we live), I spotted this sign (as always, click to embiggen).



What caught my eye was the smiling rubber (see it in the white "halo" effect?), which I at first thought was a creative addition by some clever graffiti artist. Then, when I spotted a second smiling rubber forming the "L" of the "Be Love" message, I realized that it was part of the sign's design.

Of course, I still can't figure out what's being advertised. It's kind of creepy, though.

The little bastard upstairs

This dog lives on the floor above us.



Its favorite activity is to stand on its balcony, peer into our bedroom window, and bark at us. Or the cat. Or dust motes floating in the window. Rather than being scared of it, little Jameson has become enchanted by it. She’ll sit in the window for long stretches of time and wait for it to appear.

Me? I just bark right back at it.

Sixteen Tons, Whaddya get?

Apparently, you get a beer dedicated to you [click photo to embiggen]:



How could I pass up a beer named "Blue Power" beer? Especially when it is the "highest quality blue power beer" and features a hard-working laborer on the bottom of the can. Makes me wanna protest something.

A taste of CNY

Those of you who have had dinner at M's house in upstate NY might recognize that yellow-domed thing in the picture: pan dulce. This just happens to be the specialty of M's neighbor (and Boston-bound runner), Queen of the Pattermooses. And where did I find such a delicious treat here, you ask? In one of the downtown "bakeries" right here in China.

And yes, the scare quotes around bakery are necessary because while China has a long and distinguished history of food preparation, their baking skills are (how shall I put it?) crap-tastic. Not surprising, perhaps, in a county where 99% of kitchens are not equipped with ovens.

Of the 10 or so pastries that D and I bought from the bakery, this was the only thing that was remotely edible (but not even half as good as the Queen's).

I have been feeding my need for baked goods with Oreos (which are a bit pricey here -- treated like an import food, maybe).

Hey Culligan Man!

Most people in China don't drink water from the tap. The Chinese are not being overly cautious; the water isn't safe for consumption. And China isn't unique in this. In fact, "37 percent of the populations of lesser developed countries did not have access to safe drinking water." (non-authoritative cite Wikipedia)

For the first couple of weeks that we were here, we bought our water supply from the nearest grocery store. This entailed lugging heavy gallon jugs of water home. Not. Fun. Plus, the cost started to add up. Bottled water is cheaper here than in the States, but even so, since we have to buy potable water, I want to get the best deal I can.

So, one day last week, we signed up for water delivery (quite an adventure when you don't speak the language here and the water folks don't speak English). It's much cheaper than buying it by the gallon at the supermarket, and I don't have to worry about what to do with the leftover gallon jugs (recycling doesn't seem to be on the agenda yet in China, at least in our little town). But best of all, I don't have to waste my energy on hauling water home from the grocery store. A nice man on a bicycle delivers it to my door. Instead, I can concentrate on bringing home important stuff. Like beer.

The only downside to this whole endeavor is the fact that the water dispenser that came with the apartment doesn't dispense cold water. Sure, it has a red (hot) and blue (cold) tap [see above photo], but the blue tap just dispenses room temp water. This is pretty common in these parts; our dispenser isn't broken. Rumor has it that some Chinese (maybe the majority??) think that drinking cold beverages is bad for digestion (or something), so they tend to drink room-temp or hot stuff. Which is why our "blue" tap only dispenses room temp liquid. I'm a bit suspicious of this explanation, though, since it's pretty easy to buy refrigerated beverages at grocery and convenience stores. I suspect that it has to do with the fact that cooling down water (which is sometimes purified via boiling) is just viewed as a waste of resources.

You can buy cold drinks at the grocery store, but ice is almost impossible to come by (a fact that I lamented when I tweaked a muscle in my low back four days ago and needed ice to bring down the inflammation). So instead of buying bagged ice (a luxury in which we indulged ourselves when we lived in CNY), I bought dorky ice cube trays that make ice in the shape of various fruit: pineapple, apple, melon, strawberry. Yes, this was all they had at our local store.

Jameson does not approve

Well, she does approve of the ending to this story:

From The Times

July 10, 2007

Saved by a whisker



BEIJING More than 800 cats destined for the dinner table were saved by animal lovers who rushed to a car park in Shanghai after an internet alert. They paid 10,000 yuan (£650) [appx. 1333 USD] for the cats after police said there was no evidence that the animals, on their way to Guangdong [our neck of the woods], were stolen pets. (Reuters)

See also, "Drat! No cat for dinner tonight in Guangzhou" from Shanghaiist

"Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!"

The drivers around here are giving me ample incentive to learn Chinese curse words. The attitude of people in vehicles here toward pedestrians is something along the lines of, “I’m bigger than you and I clearly have more money than you, so get the hell out of my way.” As in the U.S., people here in SUV’s are the worst offenders. For a communist country, China sure has a snotty bourgeoisie.

I’ve pretty much made peace with the fact that as a pedestrian, I basically have to be on guard at all times from the onslaught of buses, cars, bikes, mopeds, and other pedestrians that populate the streets. What I was not prepared for is the occasional driver in a car who decides to use the non-car lane just because it’s more convenient than using the road. Now, the non-car lane I’m talking about is separated from the main road by a concrete barrier. This special lane is intended for use by cyclists, people on mopeds, and pedestrians. Because the lane is physically separated from the road, the cars who enter it are purposely doing so. With malicious intent. And they have the audacity to honk their horns at me when I don’t immediately jump out of their way.

Of course, I do move, but not without unleashing a volley of curse words in English, accompanied by a few fist shakings. (I am emboldened to do this, of course, by the fact that guns aren’t common in China and that if accosted, I would probably outweigh opponent by a good 40 lbs. or so.) When I’m feeling lethargic, I just “boooooo” them. This kind of behavior seems to surprise the locals, who, even if angry, don’t show it. (At least I’m providing some entertainment as a crazy foreigner).

Things are bound to get more interesting now that I have a new weapon in my arsenal: A Chinese curse word. This phrase is the equivalent of calling someone an a$#hole. Are you ready? Here it is in Pinyin: gui tan [not sure of the tones]. When you say it, it sounds like “qway tawn” I've also seen it spelled "wan ba dan."

Wanna know what the translation is? It’s ‘turtle egg.’

No doubt you are wondering how something that’s so innocent came to have meaning as a curse word. Here’s a short and unofficial explanation that comes from D’s dad: Apparently, turtle eggs are impossible to cook. You can boil the heck out of them to no avail. Because they can’t be cooked (at least by boiling), they’re thought of as useless (i.e., can’t be eaten). So, calling someone a ‘turtle egg’ is like calling them useless, but only worse. An alternative explanation (here and on other cites if you google "chinese swear words") -- and the explanation that is most common -- claims that this is more of a “bastard”-type insult, since turtles don’t know who their fathers are. In any case, it’s definitely a head-turning insult.

And now you know.

Dinner with Herodias

A few nights ago we ate at a local seafood joint. Since we're so close to the water here, there are lots of seafood restaurants in the city. And a good many of them practice the NEW seafood diet: "see your food, order it to be killed."

Take, for example, our dining experience. The server led us to an outdoor courtyard, where, off to the left, was a collection of fish tanks, crab buckets, shrimp buckets, etc. All of the critters were still alive. There were also baskets of assorted fresh veggies. (And for some reason that I was not able to discern, there were three really mean white geese patrolling the grounds.) On the wall hung pieces of wood with menu items written (in characters) in chalk. You picked your dish, picked your critters, and then the chef cooked them. It's like eating at Red Lobster, but with more choices.

The fish in the tanks seemed unaware of their fate. The crabs, bound as they were with seaweed, kind of knew (I think) that their future was not bright.

We ended up eating puffer fish soup with turnips and a clay-cooked chicken, chicken that is seasoned and packed in clay, then buried in the ground to cook (we didn't order the chicken's execution as this dish takes a while to prepare and it was already "in the ground").

If I could have, I would have ordered roast goose. They were bastards.

Fun with Chinese signs, Part I

When our city bus unexpectedly pulled into a gas station to fill up last night, this is what I saw out the window (click the photo to embiggen):

As a teacher of technical communication, this kind of thing fascinates me. I mean, I can tell that it's some sort of warning sign (the yellow color and the triangle give that away), but I have no idea what it's supposed to be warning me about. Don't use a dremel saw to cut my hair? Be careful to avoid low-hanging sprinkler heads?

Clearly, it would help if I could read Chinese. But still. The picture is supposed to alleviate illiteracy, no?

The Inscrutable Colonel

In an earlier post, my dear brother raised the topic of KFC's popularity in Asia. And yes, it is true that KFC, in China, anyway, is waaaayyyyy more popular than McDonald's. I can't quite figure this out. The KFC's that we've been in are just like the one's at home -- kinda dirty and not at all cheery. Most of the KFC's here are about 10 times the size of your average US establishment (many are two stories), though. And I've heard that KFC is the happening spot of kids' birthday parties, too.

Here is what the shopping guide for the Incheon (Seoul) International Airport has to say about KFC:

KFC is well-known for its symbol called the Colonel, a grandfather in a white suit with a soft and sweet smile on his face. Do you miss assorted hamburgers and chicken dishes seasoned with 11 different spices? That's KFC's top secret! KFC is waiting for you!

Grandfather? That's certainly not the first thing that pops into my mind.

The picture above is of my first KFC meal in ages. Their "value" meals (compared to McDonald's prices, KFC is no value) feature this kind of "corn slaw" -- corn kernels and chunks of pepper and cucumber mixed with sweet mayonnaise. The name of the product, when translated into English, is "Corn Colonel Sand". The drink is some kind of fruit drink. Nothing I could recognize, but reminiscent of mango.

Perhaps it's just the focus on chicken that makes KFC so popular -- or maybe it's that kindly "grandfather." What I do know is that even McDonald's here caters to the locals' taste for chicken -- there are many more chicken-themed items on the menu than in the States.

Now you know.

[Edited to add: We visited a second KFC, and this one was pretty nice. I think that the first one we went to was in the ghetto-licious part of town]

The Wheels on the Bus . . .

We are car-less here, so we rely on public transportation (or walk). Taxis are insanely cheap, but they are terrifying. The drivers, without fail, exceed every posted speed limit (I think our last taxi driver topped out at 95 mph in town), and like most Chinese drivers, take road rules as mere suggestions. I've even seen several cars driving on sidewalks. Not many taxis have seat belts, either. Because I am a weenie, I've pretty much avoided taxis and take the public buses instead.

Taking the bus in China -- as in the U.S. -- can be many things: boring, exciting, amusing, disgusting, sometimes all at once. They're always a good place to do some people watching, though, and get a sense of how many different kinds of 'locals' there are here. It seems that a big cross-section of the community rides the bus, although this seems likely to change as cars become more popular.

A couple of things about the bus:

1. None of the signs are in English, and there's rarely even Pinyin. So, we've memorized the bus numbers that take us to important places (like school). I know, for example, that if I take the no. 10 from downtown, I'll eventually get home.

2. You have to flag down the buses, even at the bus stop. They sort of slow down as they approach the stops (and they stop if they're letting someone off), but they don't actually stop unless you stick your arm out and wave them down. I find that my new silver and orange striped umbrella helps with this process.

3. When you're on the bus and want to signal a stop, you have to walk to the back of the bus (where the rear doors are) and push a tiny red button to signal your intent to the driver. When the buses are empty, this isn't a big deal (if your balance is good). When the bus is full, you have to burrow your way to the back and hope to hell you make it before the driver passes your stop). Also, once the bus stops, it helps if you leap from the bus to the sidewalk rather than carefully step from the bus, as the drivers tend to basically tap the breaks by way of stopping; no wasted time. And you have to be on the lookout for bicycles and mopeds as you exit the bus because they drive on sidewalk and do not yield to pedestrians (no one yields to pedestrians).

4. Air conditioned buses cost 1 yuan more than non-airconditioned buses. The air-conditioned buses have closed windows and a picture of a snowflake next to the bus number. I have a bus pass, so until it runs out, I don't even have to worry about exact change.

5. You can take pretty much anything you want on the bus. The other day, the floor of the bus was flooded from a woman's shopping bag. Seems she had a live fish from the market in it and had filled the bag with water to keep it alive until she got home. Bag had a leak. Yesterday, I hauled a roll of chicken wire home on the bus. And last week, I watched an old women, wearing pearls and no shoes, shell a bag of chestnuts. China also has its share of people who sleep on the bus. Given how noisy it is, I have no idea how they do it.

6. You can't exit from the front of the bus. If you try to, the bus driver yells at you (guess how I know this).

8. Even though the bus drivers drive like maniacs (just like the taxi drivers), the buses feel safer. At least in an accident we'll be the squashers and not the squashee.

Taste of China I

We've found that the English translations that sometimes accompany Chinese characters on restaurant menus are often incomprehensible or not quite accurate. For instance, the place where we ate at yesterday featured a soup called "example soup." Example of what? I wasn't brave enough to order it.

Sometimes, though, the English descriptions are spot on, almost disconcertingly so. When we order "One-half steamed chicken" we received, quite literally, one-half of a chicken, right down to it's little chicken head (embiggen the picture for more detail). I dare say that the chicken looks a bit displeased. I still don't know if we're supposed to eat the head of if it's just for garnish.

Cat-proofing the balcony

We're on the 8th floor of an apartment building, and the balcony railing is not designed to keep cats on the balcony where they belong (the first time that Sonny ventured out there, she stuck half her body through the railing with the intent of making an escape). So, our big adventure today involved procuring chicken-wire to "baby proof" the railing.

After lunch at a nearby restaurant (a tofu dish, a chicken dish, and a sauteed greens dish), we stopped at a hardware store to see their wares. We spied a roll of chicken wire, and D's dad explained what we needed. The photo above is of the store owner cutting our wire. What's not pictures are the 20 or so locals, lounging under a tree about 10 feet away, who were very entertained by the foreigners buying this kind of thing.

I suspect that the balcony is going to be a big part of our lives. We use it to relax and to hang clothes to dry (I don't think that anyone in our area has a dryer, just a washer). As soon as we get wireless internet, I'll probably work out there, too. We have a great view of the road below, and I get to watch all kinds of shenanigans (families of 4 on one bicycle, cars and motorbikes competing for road space, little kids playing in the street, wild dogs running amock, and so on).

Bonus photo for you today: a picture of the loo that we used at the local grocery store (those doors you see at the end of the alley are the entrances to the two stalls). I'm not bathroom obsessed, but the differences in habits regarding all toilet matters is kind of fascinating. This one looks scarier on the outside than it was on the inside. It did, however, have a manual flushing mechanism: a.k.a. a bucket to fill with water and chuck down after your "stuff."

BYOTP

The public bathrooms in China are interesting. For starters, they're mostly squatters -- you can't sit down on them because they're embedded in the floor. You squat above them, hence the name. This takes some getting used to (how do I keep my pants out of the way? What do I do with my packages? etc.) Two additional factors make the experience even more of an adventure. First, the bathrooms are incredibly filthy. The women's rooms here are about as clean as men's rooms in the U.S. There's spit everywhere (people here hock up big lugies and just spit them wherever they want to, including inside buildings) and cigarette butts litter the floor. Second, you have to bring your own toilet paper. The only public bathroom that stocks it (that I've seen) is McDonald's. So, whenever you leave the house, you've got to carry with you a mini-packet of tissues. If you forget, you can purchase them for around 15 cents a piece from enterprising salespeople who hang out around public bathrooms.

Apparently, these are the nice bathrooms. I've heard that there are "trough style" squatters where only a partition about a meter high separates you from your neighbor. These toilets are flushed once an hour (give or take) by a worker who hoses them out.

Of course, little kids around here avoid this unpleasantness altogether. They just pee (and more) wherever and whenever they want. Unfortunately, the parents are not as responsible as dog owners; they generally don't "scoop the poop" afterwards. The only benefit to this arrangement that I can see is that at least diapers aren't filling up landfills here. People don't use them. Pampers seems to be wanting to make inroads here. I saw a commercial for them the other day on tee vee trying to appeal to the "new middle class" here.

For another westerner's take on the squatter, click here. Warning: it's a titch more descriptive than mine.

Afternoon Delight

Today we ate lunch at McDonald's. It's located in a multi-story department store downtown. Let me say this: eating at McDonald's in China is a fabulous experience. It's downright pleasant.

For starters, the workers are friendly; they don't bludgeon you with their surliness the way that the burnouts who staff U.S. mickey d's do. And they're clean. As soon as you finish eating a worker appears seemingly out of nowhere to clean the spot you've vacated. And the food is hot -- even the french fries.

The best part, though, is that the McDonald's restaurants here sell old-school pies -- the kind that are deep-fried and have that flaky, puckered skin (none of this baked crap that they switched to in the U.S.). They sell apple and some other kind (I can't quite tell what it is, but it's purple in color).

One other thing I've observed -- you can ask for plastic gloves with your food when your order -- the kind of gloves that food handlers wear in the U.S. It seems that the folks here don't like to touch their food with their hands, so they tend to do one of two things: use a glove or keep their burgers half-wrapped in the wrapper they come in. Some people, like me, are just barbarians and go at it bare hands and all.

Beating the heat

Right now in southern China, it's hot and humid. I'm having to get used to sweating constantly. The locals don't seem to perspire the way that we do, but they do take a funny stance toward any kind of physical activity in the heat. That is, they just don't do it (unless they're laborers and have to). For example, the campus is only 3 miles away and within easy biking distance. But when we bring up the idea of biking to campus, our local colleagues warn us, "no, it is too hot to bicycle now." Clearly, though, plenty of people ride bikes around here. No doubt if I rode one to campus, I'd arrive a sweaty mess, but still, it could be done. Before I bike (rather than take the bus), I'll have to practice steering with one hand and holding an umbrella above my head (for shade) with the way that everyone else around here does.

As a break from thinking-about-working-on-the-dissertation I trolled the 'net for an English language version of the user manual for our air conditioner. It took me about 75 minutes, but I managed to find instructions I can understand. I guess all my training in finding sources has fringe benefits!

What I wake up to

Our new apartment is fabulous. Two bedroom, balcony, and fully furnished. (I am completely sold on this rent-a-place-with-furnishings business. What a way to make moving easier! It probably helps that I'm not too picky about what kind of stuff I live with.) The best part? The view from our balcony (pictured here), which is, incidentally, the view from our bedroom window, too (the bedroom window takes up the whole wall; we essentially have a wall of glass between us and the outside environs).

PBR me ASAP

When we went to the local supermarket today, we were in search of beer. They stocked the local brews, of course, but they also had imports. From Denmark they had Carlsberg. Also from Denmark, Heinken. From the U.S.? Pabst Blue Ribbon. No Budweiser, no microbrews, just good old white trash beer. Made my heart go pitter patter.

For your viewing enjoyment, today's photo is of me and D's dad viewing an elm tree.

Welcome to China

Well, we made it. Our route: 1.45 hr. car ride from parents' house to East coast airport. 6 hr. plane ride from east coast to west coast. 10 hr. lay-over in West Coast Airport. 12.5 hr. plane ride from West coast to Seoul. 4 hr. layover in Seoul. 2.25 hr. plane ride from Seoul to Guangzhou. 2 hr. van ride from airport to seaside city.

Did I mention that we brought our cat along for this journey? And that we had enough luggage for 4 people?

Holy crap. We are t-i-r-e-d.

But, we made it. And it's really cool -- and more than a little surreal -- to be in China. For so long now, we've been looking forward to this, and now we are here. In the short time that we've been here, we've already experienced some of the funny-odd things that we've read about: Chinese yelling "hello, hello" at us (maybe the only English words they know?); terror-inspiring cab rides (our last cabbie seemed to be practicing his formula one racing skills); 'different' food experiences (D's dad digging into a seemingly 'normal' bowl of soup only to find a chicken foot).

The biggest difference, of course, is the communication issue. In some ways it is very liberating not to be able to speak or read the language. Someone talking about me? Who cares! I can't tell. Annoying tee vee commercial? Who cares! It's all funny to me when I can't figure out what's being said. Too many options on a restaurant menu? No problem -- just point to one -- don't know what's what anyway (and isn't the surprise part of the fun?!). Being me, I did have D's dad write out in Chinese the characters for "Caution" and "Warning" -- I might not know what the danger in any situation is, but at least I'll know to pay attention. You do what you can.

Tomorrow I meet one of my new colleagues. I am very excited, as she seems really nice. She's from New Zealand, and I could listen to her talk all day -- great accent!

Tomorrow's challenge: get a mobile phone. And not freak out when I see someone on a bicycle with 30 or so live chickens strapped to it.