Ninjas!
Monday, March 30, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
"lost" bikes never gonna break in my stride...ain't never gonna hold me down, oh no, I got to keep on mooooooooovin'
I can't remember the last time I posted something about our bicycles. I remember for awhile we were posting a lot of things. It really bugged us when Erin "lost" her first bicycle. (Cultural note: if your bicycle gets stolen in China, when you tell people about it in Chinese, the phrase you use translates roughly to "I lost my bike" and not "someone stole my bike.") I've since mellowed out. Bikes get stolen over here. It still saves a lot of money to ride them places, and riding bikes in a pack of Chinese bicyclists is one of the most exhilarating things I've ever experienced.
As a recap to our current bicycle situation, Erin's new bike got stolen last semester, so then she used my bicycle to go to school, which was actually a bicycle we inherited from an American guy named Chase who went back to the states. Eventually, we saw some guys on a street by Nankai selling super, super cheap bikes. We went and bought one for Erin, so that we could both have bikes, only to discover about a week later that the reason these bicycles were so cheap was because the gear and the pedals were actually slightly BEHIND where your body is positioned on the seat. I want you to stop for a moment and imagine pedaling a bicycle with the pedals very slightly behind your center of gravity. It was horrible. You get a good crosswind hitting you and it felt like you were moving backwards. Not having functional bikes for both of us was no huge loss, at the time, since it was the middle of winter and my school is a ways away, and Nankai is really close. I just took taxis to school and Erin rode our one good bike. The taxis sound like a ridiculous thing to do, I know, but you must keep in mind that the cost of a 20 minutes taxi ride translates to a little over two U.S. dollars here. The real loss was that I just missed riding my bike, particularly riding around to places with Erin on the weekends.
So, now that it's thawing out in Tianjin (I type, as I'm wearing my red long underwear), I decided that I wanted to get a working bike and start riding it to school. Last week I asked Sam, Erin's brother, to show me the place where he got Chase's bike, and also his own bicycle. Actually, it's the same bike Erin is using. Also, the week before last, Sam got a bicycle from the same place for a Canadian guy named Scott. Scott's wife Olga already has one of these bikes. While Sam was helping me he joked around about all of us having the same bicycles. There was one moment when Sam and I were riding together past a group of people, and he looked down at our matching bicycles and said "Riders of ROHAN!" Before Erin and I leave China I want to take a picture of everyone who owns this same bicycle riding them together at the same time. I think this can be done. Also, the guy who owns this little bicycle shop loves Sam. I think Sam should be getting some kind of kickback, or percentage from this guy. Sam Billing is the Tianjin bicycle connection.
Yesterday Erin and I rode to my school together, so that I could time the ride and not arrive late once I start bicycling there next week. It's about an eight mile ride. I'm looking forward to it. I'll try to remember to take my camera with me and get some shots of things I pass on the way. The picture I'm posting with this is from our friend Miguel's birthday party last week. Miguel is from Columbia and is one of our good friends here in Tianjin. He had his party in one of the local little park areas by some apartment buildings. I think what you see in the background of this picture looks very Tianjin to me. Miguel cooked Columbian BBQ for a bunch of international students on these little charcoal grills and we had a really nice time.
P.S.: I almost forgot! The cheap bike that was so horrible to ride was parked in the big pile of bicycles in front of our apartment all winter, with a little lock on it. I took off this lock so that I could use it, along with a massive, heavy-duty chain lock I bought, on my new bike. Estimated time before the crappy bike with the horrible center-of-gravity was stolen? 12 hours.
haha. Take that, thieves! I hope you hit a crosswind.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Day 219 in China: The photo shoot
Today is my two hundred and nineteenth day in China. In honor of this momentous occasion, I accosted Erin where she was sitting and studying on the couch and forced her into an impromptu photo shoot. Some of the phrases I blurted out as emotional instructions for the shoot included "look confused!" "Okay, now look angry!" "Okay, now you just finished a marathon!"
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
I will sneak in under the wire and post before a month has gone by.
Many of my friends are currently enjoying spring break. I hope everyone is having a fabulous time. Without further adieu, here are five things about China:
1. The Chinese word for road is "Lu." One of my earliest cabbie-jokes involves the word "lu." "Cabbie-jokes" are my largest category of social interaction in China. Functioning as a mute, I've developed an entire series of discreet, non-verbal, or barely verbal, interactions with people. These interactions tend to involve several hand gestures and sounds that I've perfected. For example, there is a displeased sort of smacking noise Chinese people make when something is happening that shouldn't be happening. When I catch a cab to go to my school in the morning, traffic is usually unholy in a special kind of unholy way that does not exist in cities in the United States. It amazes me that people in the U.S., a country that prides itself on automotive aptitude, know so little about what is possible when driving. For example, on an average-sized, busy street, it is in fact possible for five, sometimes even six cars to travel side by side around a corner after a light changes. It is also possible for a fleet of bicyclists to weave in and out between these cars during the same light change. While this is all going on, it is also supremely possible for an octagenarian man carrying a tin cup full of dry rice home from the local market in his pajamas to make his way across the afformentioned intersection. On rare occasions, it is also possible for a city bus to T a bicyclist at this intersection and for there to be blood on the street for several days before someone washes it off. But I digress. All these things are possible.
One "cabbie-joke" that is a favorite of mine involves a very busy street in Tianjin called "Fukang Lu." Taxi-drivers hate this street. I noticed after a month or so of being here that Fukang Lu gets really busy at about the same time each morning. My cab-drivers all start to make the smacking sound about a half a block before we arrive at Fukang Lu. So, I've started making the smacking sound along with them. Happily, the actual name "Fukang Lu" sound awfully close to an English explitive of displeasure. One of the moments in my daily life when I feel the closest connection to a Chinese person is when my taxi approaches Fukang Lu and the driver makes the smacking noise and mutters "Fukang Lu!" This muttering is my cue. I nod my head vigorously, make the smacking noise myself and then mutter "Fu**ing Lu!" along with him. He laughs, and then pats me on the back. We are together in our mutual shared experience at this moment. Last week, after this exchange with a taxi driver, the driver reached with one hand (he was driving with the other) behind his seat and pulled out a loaf of bread. As every Chinese citizen knows, Westerners eat bread constantly all day and night. It is one of our oddities, like having blue eyes and trying to force capitalism on the unwilling. The cabbie was so pleased with our feeling of togetherness that he offered me some of his bread. We ate the bread and he drove me to school. I then made exact change for him, an action that is sometimes met with an extreme degree of surprise by some taxi drivers. It is common knowledge that a bread-eating Westerner, much like a horse that has been trained to count by stomping its hoof, has only a rudimentary grasp of numbers; he may be able to give you money, but not the correct amount of money. When one of these bread-eaters does so, it is a wonder.
2. Last week I, an American, taught my Korean World History students at a public, Communist Chinese High School the five pillars of Islam while we studied the history of Islamic civilizations.
Anything is possible.
3. There are at least six or seven distinct kinds of Kim Chi. I have eaten them all.
4. If my students think the clothes I'm wearing are good, they flash me a thumbs up when I arrive to class and yell "Ben-teacher! Fashion very good today!!" This perplexes me, as I only have about five outfits I cycle through, since I could only bring two suitcases with me, and one was full of books. I will, however, miss this when I'm back teaching at KU next year. I can't imagine a jaded, Johnson County freshman who is being forced to take composition flashing me anything as positive as a thumbs up.
5. The lyrics "whisper words of wisdom" from the Beatles song "Let It Be" are difficult for Korean students to say, which is unfortunate, since this is one of their favorite songs to sing in the singing rooms at KTV karaoke centers. Even their English teachers have difficulty helping them learn how to pronounce it.
1. The Chinese word for road is "Lu." One of my earliest cabbie-jokes involves the word "lu." "Cabbie-jokes" are my largest category of social interaction in China. Functioning as a mute, I've developed an entire series of discreet, non-verbal, or barely verbal, interactions with people. These interactions tend to involve several hand gestures and sounds that I've perfected. For example, there is a displeased sort of smacking noise Chinese people make when something is happening that shouldn't be happening. When I catch a cab to go to my school in the morning, traffic is usually unholy in a special kind of unholy way that does not exist in cities in the United States. It amazes me that people in the U.S., a country that prides itself on automotive aptitude, know so little about what is possible when driving. For example, on an average-sized, busy street, it is in fact possible for five, sometimes even six cars to travel side by side around a corner after a light changes. It is also possible for a fleet of bicyclists to weave in and out between these cars during the same light change. While this is all going on, it is also supremely possible for an octagenarian man carrying a tin cup full of dry rice home from the local market in his pajamas to make his way across the afformentioned intersection. On rare occasions, it is also possible for a city bus to T a bicyclist at this intersection and for there to be blood on the street for several days before someone washes it off. But I digress. All these things are possible.
One "cabbie-joke" that is a favorite of mine involves a very busy street in Tianjin called "Fukang Lu." Taxi-drivers hate this street. I noticed after a month or so of being here that Fukang Lu gets really busy at about the same time each morning. My cab-drivers all start to make the smacking sound about a half a block before we arrive at Fukang Lu. So, I've started making the smacking sound along with them. Happily, the actual name "Fukang Lu" sound awfully close to an English explitive of displeasure. One of the moments in my daily life when I feel the closest connection to a Chinese person is when my taxi approaches Fukang Lu and the driver makes the smacking noise and mutters "Fukang Lu!" This muttering is my cue. I nod my head vigorously, make the smacking noise myself and then mutter "Fu**ing Lu!" along with him. He laughs, and then pats me on the back. We are together in our mutual shared experience at this moment. Last week, after this exchange with a taxi driver, the driver reached with one hand (he was driving with the other) behind his seat and pulled out a loaf of bread. As every Chinese citizen knows, Westerners eat bread constantly all day and night. It is one of our oddities, like having blue eyes and trying to force capitalism on the unwilling. The cabbie was so pleased with our feeling of togetherness that he offered me some of his bread. We ate the bread and he drove me to school. I then made exact change for him, an action that is sometimes met with an extreme degree of surprise by some taxi drivers. It is common knowledge that a bread-eating Westerner, much like a horse that has been trained to count by stomping its hoof, has only a rudimentary grasp of numbers; he may be able to give you money, but not the correct amount of money. When one of these bread-eaters does so, it is a wonder.
2. Last week I, an American, taught my Korean World History students at a public, Communist Chinese High School the five pillars of Islam while we studied the history of Islamic civilizations.
Anything is possible.
3. There are at least six or seven distinct kinds of Kim Chi. I have eaten them all.
4. If my students think the clothes I'm wearing are good, they flash me a thumbs up when I arrive to class and yell "Ben-teacher! Fashion very good today!!" This perplexes me, as I only have about five outfits I cycle through, since I could only bring two suitcases with me, and one was full of books. I will, however, miss this when I'm back teaching at KU next year. I can't imagine a jaded, Johnson County freshman who is being forced to take composition flashing me anything as positive as a thumbs up.
5. The lyrics "whisper words of wisdom" from the Beatles song "Let It Be" are difficult for Korean students to say, which is unfortunate, since this is one of their favorite songs to sing in the singing rooms at KTV karaoke centers. Even their English teachers have difficulty helping them learn how to pronounce it.
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