I recently read about some disturbing news in Kunming, a city in southern China. It reminded me of Conrad's novel The Secret Agent, in which an idiotic young man accidentally blows himself to bits while carrying a bomb around town.
The news is this: some Chinese d00d with a grudge in Kunming walked into the local expat hangout a few days ago apparently with the plan to blow a good chunk of it and its patrons away. Luckily, he messed up, and you can read about his death here.
Thank gawd for the internets or I would've never heard about this, the English language media here never reports about anything negative or anything that might put China or its citizens in something other than the best possible light. I never understood how boring propaganda can be until I started watching CCTV9 - the english language Chinese news network. But I'll save my rant about them for another day.
All in all, I'm glad the only one hurt was the bomber himself.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Shanghai Scammers
The end of the term is fast approaching, thank gawd, and I have a nice little break coming up. I've been planning to go to Shanghai for at least a few days, maybe a week, just to stretch my legs a little bit.
Unfortunately I'm dreading some very likely encounters with scammers and/or touts. I visited Shanghai for an afternoon a few weeks ago and mistakenly decided to stroll down Nanjing Lu, the most famous shopping street in town. I was probably approached 20 times in a few hours by the "tea girls" and dozens of times by touts selling their crap wares. You can read details about Shanghai scams on this thread; also, I quite like the picture halfway down the page.
I have some experience with these people. This summer I was pickpocketed three times while in Barcelona (though thankfully I noticed what was happening each time before they got away). And during my first visit to China, the first place I went was Tianamen(sp) Square, and the first thing I encountered were a couple of "students" who wanted to take me to their "art gallery." I didn't fall for it, thankfully. There was also the street urchin I literally had to kick in the face to leave me alone, but the records on that incident are sealed and I will say no more - unless you get me drunk.
I've yet to encounter the "bag swipers on mopeds" yet, and hope I never will. Those guys sound good.
Although everyone with experience with these people counsels "ignore them, smile and try to walk away, be polite," and though I've followed that advice before, I think I'm going to go about it differently next time it happens. The first person who comes up to me and says "excuse me, do you speak English," I'm going to answer "yes, fuck you."
It should make for an interesting visit. I'll keep you posted.
Unfortunately I'm dreading some very likely encounters with scammers and/or touts. I visited Shanghai for an afternoon a few weeks ago and mistakenly decided to stroll down Nanjing Lu, the most famous shopping street in town. I was probably approached 20 times in a few hours by the "tea girls" and dozens of times by touts selling their crap wares. You can read details about Shanghai scams on this thread; also, I quite like the picture halfway down the page.
I have some experience with these people. This summer I was pickpocketed three times while in Barcelona (though thankfully I noticed what was happening each time before they got away). And during my first visit to China, the first place I went was Tianamen(sp) Square, and the first thing I encountered were a couple of "students" who wanted to take me to their "art gallery." I didn't fall for it, thankfully. There was also the street urchin I literally had to kick in the face to leave me alone, but the records on that incident are sealed and I will say no more - unless you get me drunk.
I've yet to encounter the "bag swipers on mopeds" yet, and hope I never will. Those guys sound good.
Although everyone with experience with these people counsels "ignore them, smile and try to walk away, be polite," and though I've followed that advice before, I think I'm going to go about it differently next time it happens. The first person who comes up to me and says "excuse me, do you speak English," I'm going to answer "yes, fuck you."
It should make for an interesting visit. I'll keep you posted.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
My China Moto
I like to indulge the occasional explorer fantasy with random internet searches, and today I came across mychinamoto.com, a website for dirt bike riders in China, especially those who like to ride their bikes West out of the sprawling cities and into the underpopulated countryside.
I found this post, and I can't wait to do something similar, once I get myself a dirt bike, 30,000 RMB or so, and balls the size of watermelons like the author has. But anyway it's an interesting read.
I found this post, and I can't wait to do something similar, once I get myself a dirt bike, 30,000 RMB or so, and balls the size of watermelons like the author has. But anyway it's an interesting read.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
PC Room Stories
Since I've been in China, for that matter since I left Korea in July, I have been operating sans computer. This has not been easy, in part because I can't search for porn, waste time with video games, or illegally download music and tv shows like I used to. But I've also been forced to rely on my local PC room, which is something less than perfect.
First let me just get away with praising Korea once more. Korean PC bangs, despite being dark smelly generally unhappy places, represent the difference between flying first class and hanging on for dear life as a stow-away amidst the cargo whence compared to their Chinese counterparts.
My biggest complaint is how much the internet sucks here. It's slower than the short bus in reverse. Time wasters like youtube, facebook, and the washington post are all more or less inaccessible because of The Great Firewall that protects the people's republic here.
Then there's the filth. Public PC rooms are typically not the cleanest of places, whether you're in sunny Barcelona or chilly Seoul. But the ones in China have managed to distinguish themselves. Roaches are abundant, well-organized, and bold; I can't count how many times I've had one crawl across my keyboard and caress my typing hands before I recoiled in horror, shrieking like a banshee. And one time I avoided my local PC room for an entire week, a lifetime in Internet hours, because a rat jumped from the ceiling and landed a few feet away from me before scurrying away into the impenetrable darkness.
Also, the computers are all locked away, protected in a plastic cage, meaning you can't open the CD drive to play Age of Empires or even plug in your iPod to try and charge it.
The quality of people you meet at these places is also something less than spectacular. I remember the first time I walked into one, I encountered a stream of giggly derka before I finally realized they wanted to see my passport, and when I logged onto the computer and couldn't spot the ubiquitous Internet Explorer icon, I asked the helper dude a single word I thought he might understand: "Internet?" It's a cognate in Korean and anyway I thought surely someone who spends so much time around computers must know that word, whether he's Chinese or not. Instead he looked dumbfounded, pointed at me, and then made some joke to his buddy.
This last one's the kicker, tho, the gawkers. I come into my local PC room now 5 or 6 times a week, so I'm more or less a fixture and no one pays me any mind. But every now and then there'll be some newbie who's never seen me before and who just has to check up on what the laowai's doing with a computer. Just the other day I had some guy walk over to my chair and stand behind me, alternatively watching me and my monitor, for something like 30 minutes. At one point I turned around and stared at him for a good 15 seconds, but it did no good. For him, watching me read wikipedia and check email was a fulfilling and rewarding way to pass the time.
I will not miss these places.
First let me just get away with praising Korea once more. Korean PC bangs, despite being dark smelly generally unhappy places, represent the difference between flying first class and hanging on for dear life as a stow-away amidst the cargo whence compared to their Chinese counterparts.
My biggest complaint is how much the internet sucks here. It's slower than the short bus in reverse. Time wasters like youtube, facebook, and the washington post are all more or less inaccessible because of The Great Firewall that protects the people's republic here.
Then there's the filth. Public PC rooms are typically not the cleanest of places, whether you're in sunny Barcelona or chilly Seoul. But the ones in China have managed to distinguish themselves. Roaches are abundant, well-organized, and bold; I can't count how many times I've had one crawl across my keyboard and caress my typing hands before I recoiled in horror, shrieking like a banshee. And one time I avoided my local PC room for an entire week, a lifetime in Internet hours, because a rat jumped from the ceiling and landed a few feet away from me before scurrying away into the impenetrable darkness.
Also, the computers are all locked away, protected in a plastic cage, meaning you can't open the CD drive to play Age of Empires or even plug in your iPod to try and charge it.
The quality of people you meet at these places is also something less than spectacular. I remember the first time I walked into one, I encountered a stream of giggly derka before I finally realized they wanted to see my passport, and when I logged onto the computer and couldn't spot the ubiquitous Internet Explorer icon, I asked the helper dude a single word I thought he might understand: "Internet?" It's a cognate in Korean and anyway I thought surely someone who spends so much time around computers must know that word, whether he's Chinese or not. Instead he looked dumbfounded, pointed at me, and then made some joke to his buddy.
This last one's the kicker, tho, the gawkers. I come into my local PC room now 5 or 6 times a week, so I'm more or less a fixture and no one pays me any mind. But every now and then there'll be some newbie who's never seen me before and who just has to check up on what the laowai's doing with a computer. Just the other day I had some guy walk over to my chair and stand behind me, alternatively watching me and my monitor, for something like 30 minutes. At one point I turned around and stared at him for a good 15 seconds, but it did no good. For him, watching me read wikipedia and check email was a fulfilling and rewarding way to pass the time.
I will not miss these places.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Misfits
The three categories of ESL-abroad teachers, based on my experience and ratified by conversation and, by extension, the experience of others, in decreasing levels of representation, are:
1) the short-timers, in it for the money and a little excitement
2) the wanderers
3) the crazies on the run from something
Those in category 3 are, by far, the least common, but one of the persistent joys of being a category 1 or 2-er is encountering the rarer birds amidst our flock.
I've known a few, and though I can't really say I've known any codeine-addicted leprechaun kathoey-lovers, or anyone who walked off alone into the Saudi desert, or a mentally unstable ex-fencing instructor, well, they're out there. And as the man says: here's hopin', one day.
To borrow from Mr. Dylan, someday when I paint my masterpiece I'll have to include them in it. I just need to meet a few more, first.
1) the short-timers, in it for the money and a little excitement
2) the wanderers
3) the crazies on the run from something
Those in category 3 are, by far, the least common, but one of the persistent joys of being a category 1 or 2-er is encountering the rarer birds amidst our flock.
I've known a few, and though I can't really say I've known any codeine-addicted leprechaun kathoey-lovers, or anyone who walked off alone into the Saudi desert, or a mentally unstable ex-fencing instructor, well, they're out there. And as the man says: here's hopin', one day.
To borrow from Mr. Dylan, someday when I paint my masterpiece I'll have to include them in it. I just need to meet a few more, first.
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Crackle! Pop! SNAP!
It's a good thing I'm such a mellow, stable person. A lesser soul would've snapped by now.
No, this is not about the shit in the streets, or mind-boggingly stupid taxi drivers, or eery nationalistic college students. This post is about fireworks.
Every fucking Sunday morning, like clockwork, they go off. Seemingly right outside my window. And EARLY. I'm talking, like, 9 AM. Gawd knows what's being celebrated every week at this time. The Chinese set them off on birthdays, when businesses open, when they find 10 RMB in the street...any miniscule cause for celebration at all results in the ceremonial lighting of the wick followed by the ritualistic "oohs" at the sight/sound of exploding gunpowder. I had one student tell me they even set off fireworks at funerals, which seems bizarre to me.
And it's not just the noise waking me up. I've just never understood what the big fuss was all about, here or back home. You light someting on fire and it blows up. Big frikkin deal. Once you've seen it once...apparently you need to see it ten thousand more times, according to the rest of the fireworks-craving world. But for me once or twice is enough. Maybe if the firework was actually destroying something, like a window or a small car, then it might be interesting. But otherwise I'm tuned out.
And remember in "Land of the Dead," the zombie movie, how the zombies were so easily distracted by fireworks? Call me a fireworks-elitist, but that's how I feel about fireworks-lovers. You're all mindless zombies waiting to be hacked to bits by machete-wielding survivalists. And you deserve it. So keep your head in the clouds if you like, but when John Leguizamo comes looking for me I'll be ready.
No, this is not about the shit in the streets, or mind-boggingly stupid taxi drivers, or eery nationalistic college students. This post is about fireworks.
Every fucking Sunday morning, like clockwork, they go off. Seemingly right outside my window. And EARLY. I'm talking, like, 9 AM. Gawd knows what's being celebrated every week at this time. The Chinese set them off on birthdays, when businesses open, when they find 10 RMB in the street...any miniscule cause for celebration at all results in the ceremonial lighting of the wick followed by the ritualistic "oohs" at the sight/sound of exploding gunpowder. I had one student tell me they even set off fireworks at funerals, which seems bizarre to me.
And it's not just the noise waking me up. I've just never understood what the big fuss was all about, here or back home. You light someting on fire and it blows up. Big frikkin deal. Once you've seen it once...apparently you need to see it ten thousand more times, according to the rest of the fireworks-craving world. But for me once or twice is enough. Maybe if the firework was actually destroying something, like a window or a small car, then it might be interesting. But otherwise I'm tuned out.
And remember in "Land of the Dead," the zombie movie, how the zombies were so easily distracted by fireworks? Call me a fireworks-elitist, but that's how I feel about fireworks-lovers. You're all mindless zombies waiting to be hacked to bits by machete-wielding survivalists. And you deserve it. So keep your head in the clouds if you like, but when John Leguizamo comes looking for me I'll be ready.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Bong Hits for Mao
Taken from Newsweek magazine:
"Starting Point When the Olympic torch passed through Juneau, Alaska, in 2002, 18-year-old Joseph Frederick saw a chance at TV airtime. His tactic: a banner reading BONG HITS 4 JESUS. Not amused, Frederick's principal confiscated the banner and suspended him for five days. He shot back something about Thomas Jefferson. She tacked on another five.
Fever Pitch Frederick took his free-speech argument to court, with backing from the ACLU. Five years later it was before the U.S. Supreme Court, with Kenneth Starr representing the school. The court ruled that since Frederick was holding the banner at a "school-supervised" (though not on school grounds) event, the principal had a right to restrict what he said about illegal drugs—even if his message was rather nonsensical.
Present Day Now 25, Frederick is learning Mandarin and teaching English in China. Although he is proud that he stood up for his rights, he regrets "the bad precedent set by the ruling." His case was finally settled at the state level in November, winning him $45,000 and forcing the school to hold a forum on free speech."
No, I don't know him.
"Starting Point When the Olympic torch passed through Juneau, Alaska, in 2002, 18-year-old Joseph Frederick saw a chance at TV airtime. His tactic: a banner reading BONG HITS 4 JESUS. Not amused, Frederick's principal confiscated the banner and suspended him for five days. He shot back something about Thomas Jefferson. She tacked on another five.
Fever Pitch Frederick took his free-speech argument to court, with backing from the ACLU. Five years later it was before the U.S. Supreme Court, with Kenneth Starr representing the school. The court ruled that since Frederick was holding the banner at a "school-supervised" (though not on school grounds) event, the principal had a right to restrict what he said about illegal drugs—even if his message was rather nonsensical.
Present Day Now 25, Frederick is learning Mandarin and teaching English in China. Although he is proud that he stood up for his rights, he regrets "the bad precedent set by the ruling." His case was finally settled at the state level in November, winning him $45,000 and forcing the school to hold a forum on free speech."
No, I don't know him.
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