Olympic Enthusiasm

In the last post, I passingly mentioned the excitement in Beijing over the Olympics in August. Well, it is literally everywhere in Beijing. My friend, Grace, took these pictures of this little boy with the symbol shaved into his hair. The only reason I have learned the Chinese word for "zero" ("ling") is because it is the middle two numbers of 2008, the Beijing Olympic year. I had been walking around town with the Beijing Olympic year resounding in my head from all the commercials that I don't understand -- "er-ling-ling-ba, er-ling-ling-ba, er-ling-ling-ba".

Chinese Optometry and Dinner Games: a double post

Yes, I know that I have long promised a wrap-up of my countryside journey, but it has yet to congeal into something digestible. But, the adventures continue within the capital city, Beijing!

The rumors are true.

I lost my glasses.

I allowed my friends to convince me to leave my glasses in my shirt pocket as I hit the bars with my pals. Apparently, my gorgeous face is just too pretty to cover up behind lenses.

As is likely to happen, my dancing reached a boiling point during which my glasses seem to have evaporated straight out of my pocket. If you have ever seen me dance, you probably know the moment of which I speak. If you have not seen me dance, your imagination is probably not far from reality.

So, after a few days of wandering around Beijing blind and constantly noting how attractive people have become, it was time to get a new pair of glasses. I sought the translating expertise of my coworker and friend, Grace.

Ever diligent, Grace pinpointed a glasses store within a reasonable distance, and we met at an appointed time. Determined, we set off in search of my eyes’ destinies. On the bus, it was agreed that contacts would be a move in a good direction for my face. And, I worked up enough courage to trust a Chinese optometrist.

The optometrist was a curt woman with an array of exciting machinery. First she showed me to a large box with a very small picture of a barn. From her end of the box, she was left with the unfortunate task of gazing at the wisdom of my soul through my ever-expressive eyes. I lucked out with that barn. After some discussion, it became clear that my eyes were the wrong shape. And my astigmatism offered a particular obstacle. It seems that Chinese people have flatter eyes than I do. My eyeballs are apparently huge and too aerodynamic. Also, there was no machinery for determining the location of my astigmatism. The decision was made to wear glasses, instead.

We moved on to the question and answer section of the eye exam. I lucked out because I only had to assess the direction faced by a series of letters, “E”. It was decided that I should point out the direction, since this is still my primary mode of communication. As a series of lenses were placed in front of my eyes, the good doctor rapped a stick upon the various “E’s” she wanted me to analyze. Sometimes she would cover one of my eyes with that familiar spoon. It made me oddly comfortable to see the same eye-covering spoons used in the US for precision optometry.

After a number of lenses and repeated of the phrase, “zhege hao” (This good?), it became clear that I did not know what I was doing. I ran that poor optometrist in circles as she asked about what were possibly the same three lenses. To return the favor, she would periodically ask me to take a walk around the store with the various sets of lenses strapped to my face. Grace assured me that this was part of the process in China, and not a cool-down period for the poor doctor. So, I would wander around the store looking for English letters to assess my vision. This was made particularly difficult due to misspellings like, “new glasese”.

Ultimately, Grace shared the wisdom with me that made all the difference. In China, they do not want your vision to be too good because it will make your eyes tired...

Alas! We had been shooting for mediocre the whole time. And, I had been foolishly been asking for the vision of a fighter pilot, or a waiter, or some one who knows what’s happening twenty feet away.

As the headache of the constantly changing lenses set in, I became passive and began to see the doctor’s point of view. Perhaps I do not need to see too well. Perhaps my eyeballs are the wrong shape to live on this side of the world. Perhaps I will never be able to determine the difference between a very small “E” and three lines that are just hanging out together. Ultimately, she suggested I buy the glasses there or go to the hospital. Unsure if that was a threat, I conceded and bought some glasses. (Actually, the Chinese go to the hospital for even the smallest colds. I'm just still affronted by the idea of going to a hospital without bleeding.)

Then, we needed to eat. The eyeglass store shared the second floor of the building with Big Pizza, a Chinese Pizza Hut rip-off. We walked over to the second floor host stand to request a table. The host told us we needed to go downstairs to pay first. We walked to the downstairs hostess stand. The hostess told us that we needed to go to the upstairs host stand. We returned upstairs to stare that host in the face. As he started to send us back downstairs, the hostess appeared and told him to seat us.

After the round this quick warm up, I asked Grace if there were anymore Big Pizza games to play, and she assumed not. Little did we know that the games had only begun. (I am left to assume that the staff’s various games were part of preparations for the Olympic Games in Beijing in August.) Following the host’s gesture, we walked into the restaurant and found a table. It turned out to be out of bounds, and the host explained that we must sit in a separate section of the restaurant, away from the buffet, which we had not purchased. So, we rushed to a marginal section of the restaurant. Grace was in the lead.

Our waitress came to take our order and offered us their wide selection of three different drinks, including Pepsi Cola and milk tea. We chose milk tea. Fifteen minutes later, she reappeared with a large bottle of Pepsi and two mugs. I pondered the similarities between this brand of milk tea and the Pepsi I knew from home. The waitress reappear five minutes later and spontaneously exchanged the Pepsi for two mugs of milk tea. I pulled ahead.

Before the food arrived, the waitress asked for payment. I offered to pay, since Grace is one of the few Chinese people in whose presence I am allowed to make purchases. I handed the waitress something other than exact change, while deftly hiding the true contents of my wallet. Having not been able to arc her neck enough to determine if I had smaller bills, she gave in and brought me my change. Given the intense pressure that waitresses and cashiers put on customers in China to use exact change, this was a huge victory. My lead was locked into place.

I then took advantage of people’s lack of English comprehension and grasp of the American tradition of sarcasm to roast the restaurant with my acerbic wit. Grace conceded the win, and after demolishing our nearly palm-sized pizza, we took our places on the winner’s stand before exiting the restaurant. We both agreed to come back as soon as possible to try our luck in the steeple chase.

Coat System

So, I have yet to make good on my promise of tales from my trips to Hebei Province and Tianjin. My writings are still in the works. But, here's what I wrote about my most important accessory: my coat! (or jacket, as I mistakenly referred to it in a previous post)

My coat system is understandably enviable, and I do not blame you for your jealousy. To start with, I bargained down from 980 Yuan to 220 Yuan for the Arcteryx coat at the Silk Market. After some quick math, which I postponed until a broken zipper episode a week ago, I realized that I had only paid about thirty bucks for this pretty sweet coat. The coat includes a fleece jacket and a waterproof shell. Before going to Hebei Province last week, I added a down vest at the suggestion of my boss. (He told me that Hebei is cold and urged the wearing of a petticoat. When I realized that he meant to say “padded coat” I told him that I was covered, but could not shake the image of myself dolled up like a Gibson girl in a whale-bone corset frame.) These three layers offer me up to eleven pockets. I reserve the breast pocket over my heart for thick wads of paper after having heard the tale of President William McKinley being shot in the chest during a speech, but finishing the speech nonetheless because the thickness of his handwritten speech had taken the blow in his breast pocket. The side pockets of the shell contain gloves, Ipod, and napkins taken from restaurants as possible emergency toilet paper. The breast pocket of the fleece jacket contains my passport, a drawing of an arrow emerging from the symbol for Yuan and into the symbol of the American dollar, and a potentially counterfeit fifty dollar bill I am stuck with and trying to pass off as a real fifty every month as I send home money. The zippers for each sections of the coat act independently and in combination, with the most exciting possibility being a sudden increase in temperature. In such a case, the interior vest can be stuffed into its own breast pocket to form a pillow that can be stuffed into the side pocket of the shell. In combination with my new beard, the potbelly that forms ages me about twenty years, if I remember not to wear my Chuck Taylors. In conclusion, my jacket can sustain rain, sleet, and snow, deal with sudden temperature changes, turn Chinese kuai into American bucks, produce counterfeit American money, disguise me as an old man, and protect me from assassination attempts. If only I could get the zippers to stop breaking, then I think it would be worth the full $30.

an apology

I want to apologize to my Chinese readers, who have complained that I offer too negative a view of China. (They're not featured in the comments section because I cannot convince them that I was joking when I told them their English was not good enough to comment on my blog. --Guys, it was a joke! Come on!) I promised myself that I would write some positive posts about my experiences in China, which are generally wonderful. But, I have been unable to get past REM sleep for the past week, due to the fireworks. Thus, crankiness has gradually slipped into my demeanor in the same way that I have gradually had to raise the volume of my music as the fireworks have left my ears straining to hear what were previously adequate volumes for my laptop speakers.

My apologies,

Sven

PS: The fireworks here are insane. Just insane.

My ears are reeling from the pain of having massive explosions just outside my window. I have honestly wondered if the cars on my block were blown up because some of the explosions sound just like car bombs from movies.

I slept until 4 PM today. The reason is that I could not determine if I had slept for 5 hours or 12 hours because I honestly never got past REM sleep. (My phone alarm and clock are located in my cell phone. My cell phone is located in the hands of a lucky cab driver in Tianjin.) REM sleep is the sleep where you have dreams. My dreams were about shooting guns, being in a war torn country, fighting alongside Denise Richards in Starship Troopers, blowing up things in microwaves, and moving to the serenity of a frozen wildness. The last one did not last very long before the ice cracked open and swallowed me into Hephaestus’ blacksmith shop.

On the plus side, the world looks incredible with these fireworks constantly exploding and making every moment feel like a Disney moment. I was thrown aback by the midnight of the New Year. I took a lot of crappy cell phone pictures, which I subsequently lost.

Fireworks

It's the Chinese New Year!!!photo borrowed from www.dreamstime.com which is a stock photo website

The Chinese invented fireworks and have spent the past thousand years determining the proper way to demonstrate their love for this invention. They have settled on writing their love across the sky in vibrant yellow, green, pink, red, blue, and white explosions. During the New Year is the best time to do this, but people get excited about the Lunar New Year the same way retailers the US get excited about Christmas and start their celebrations a couple months ahead of time. They build into fury of explosions to celebrate their joy, very similar to the way Americans express their love of the season through advertising campaigns blowing their savings on useless crap.

The effect of this exuberance is that the night sky of all the cities I have visited during the New Year, Tianjin and Beijing, are nearly constantly filled with fireworks. The day time is filled with soon-to-be-swept piles of red firework debris with black craters in the middle.

Upon seeing this amazing display, as an Eagle Scout, my thoughts quickly turn to safety. Thus, I have written up my recommendation of safety guidelines.

Chinese Fireworks Safety Guidelines:

If you are worried about disturbing your neighbors, notify them that you plan to light fireworks by making a gigantic, booming noise and setting off a few car alarms.

Light your fireworks at least 6 feet away from any buildings or power lines, or less if necessary.

Be considerate of others sleeping schedules, and try to leave a 20 minutes gap around dinnertime every 24 hours

Do not let anyone under 3 years of age light any fireworks.

Do not leave a firework packaging debris pile burning unattended for more than 40 minutes before using a broom made of kindling to put it out.

Should your rockets launch into a nearby fruit stand, laugh it off as though having heavy explosives launched at your person and business is no big deal. If that does not work, run.

If you tire of blowing things up and need a nap, leave China because you are not going to get any sleep there.

Try to light your fireworks in an un-crowded area. If you happen to be in China, just give up on this guideline, you’re never more than arms reach from twelve people.

Backed UP

Okay, so it has been a little while since I have posted. So I must explain what has happened and what will happen on the blog.

I have been spending the past few weeks taking trips outside of Beijing. First, I went to work in the town of Ping Quan in Hebei Province, about 4 hours outside of Beijinig (depending on you driver's willingness to drive into head oncoming traffic for 10 seconds at a time in order to pass slower vehicles). Then, I came back to Beijing long enough to receive a care package from my mom and my girlfriend, the lovely Christina, and inhale the majority of the content, including a t-shirt which went down easier than you would expect of a poly-cotton blend. Then, I rocketed off to Tianjin on a what looked like a bullet train. Unfortunately, I am not willing to look up "bullet train" on google. Fortunately, my ignorance gives me license to call any train I like a "bullet train".

An appropriate summary of the events can be simply juxtaposed against the famous quote by Julius Caesar: I ate, I ate, I ate. I would also like to expound that I, in fact, did a lot of eating.

If you ever come to China, do not pass up a chance to be some one's guest. They will do everything in their capacity to immobilize you in a state of total comfort. As far as I can tell, the most appreciative guest in China is a person who has attained a comatose state. I came close, but fell just short of being respectful.

I hope all my readers (read as close, person friends, given that only seven people have commented) are doing wonderfully and are willing to update me at the end of their sometimes witty, sometimes snide, and always appreciated remarks.

My next posts will be beautiful depictions of the life of a guest outside of Beijing, and possibly a description of my favorite jacket.

Much love,
Sven