The Middle Kingdom

2013-07-31T17:53:00.000+08:00

A New Standard

With my days getting busier and my stories getting more and more interesting, I feel it is no longer relevant to discuss my boring days, searching for restaurants and running into strangers who just want to practice their little English. I will continue to post here but I have realized my life in Anqing is straight out of a TV show, or even more unreal.

After spending more time with my close friend Jay, the one who dances for the club, I began learning more and more about the groups of friends I had been meeting along the way.

A slow Friday night consisted of Jay and me drinking beers, eating fruit and nuts and talking in one of the VIP rooms in the almost empty club. After an exhausting few evenings, the ability to sit on a couch and drink beer with a friend was the perfect way to relax.

As I was sitting there, drinking beer and chewing on a beetle nut, some strange plant that gives you a caffeinated buzz, I asked Jay how the club makes money. I realized I had been in the club to pregame almost every night of the week, and it is never busy, in fact, some nights I am the only person there. Not to mention, I have yet to pay for a drink, as the owner is always telling me to drink and eat more.

With confusion starting to set in, Jay told me that the club makes money other ways. Immediately my head pushed forward like a chickens does, and I ask for clarification. Unable to explain it in English, Jays tells me to look around and notice how the few girls present are the same as every night. After my imagination stopped running and I was confident this was not a brothel as I have been in every room of the club, I realized the owner was running a type of scheme I had read about before coming here. The owner, who Jay calls, Bossman, hires a bunch of attractive and flirty girls to walk around the streets of Anqing and talk to men. They are basically told to seduce them enough so the girls are invited out for a drink. It is then when the girls say agrees to a drink, but they really want to go to this one club they heard about. Obviously the men agree, the girls come to the club acting like it is their first time, and proceed to order a hefty tab on the already overpriced menu.

Jay DJing in the empty club.

I have learned to keep my own mindset and views out of a lot of things here. Just as I witnessed a Chinese man being abusive to his girlfriend one evening on the street, I have no other choice but to turn my head and ignore this situation. It does not matter if I agree with this mans views or not, as I am only a guest in his country. I still am not completely sure why I am always treated with food and drinks and never asked to pay, but as long as I am getting free beer, hospitality, and feel safe, I will continue to not ask questions.

With a curiosity-ridden mindset, it is unlike me to just accept things for how they are and not question further. But this clearly is not how it goes in China, and I am quickly learning to follow in these footsteps. On Sunday night, I was back at my friends club as I was told to invite friends because Jay wanted to use the club as his location for a private party. The night starts off with a new group of Jay’s friends and me, as only recognize one of them from the motorcycle club. With all of these guys taking an interest in what seems to be their first foreigner they’ve ever drank with, they were all incredibly nice.

We began talking about tattoos and if I had any. Then Jay asked me if I knew what a dragon tattoo means. Looking about, I notice all of these guys had dragons tattooed somewhere on their body. Jay then explained that dragon tattoos like the ones that these guys have are to show you are in the Chinese mafia.

Unable to swallow my gulp of beer, I take out my phone and tell Jay to make sure his translation is correct. Indeed it was, it turns out, this group of nice Chinese guys I had been drinking with, were all part of the mafia. My newly learned ability to not ask questions is in full effect as I am dying to ask more to determine if I should escape through the back or continue to be friendly.

I mention I don’t want to drink anymore as I am driving back to Anqing University, a 25-minute drive by motorbike. Immediately one of my new mafia friends says it is fine, they will drive me home. The younger members, kids that looked to be around 16 – 18 were told not to drink so they could drive my motorbike and me back safely. And then, it was settled, the remainder of my night continued with me getting drunk with the Anqing mafia.

My favorite part of the night was when they were all giving me their phone numbers. They told me that if I ever got into trouble or a fight with people near my school, I should just call them and they will bring a bunch of people to help me. “But no students!” one shouted, as I learned that the mafia does not touch students, they are off limits and pose no threat.

I safely got back to my dorm at the end of the night, settled into bed and began laughing at how strange my encounters have been in this peaceful city. Having the mafia act is my designated driver has done nothing but make me love this small city even more.

Some of the younger 'members' and me.

2013-07-29T17:51:00.000+08:00

It ends in I Do, I think…

This is how I met Anqing’s own Fast and the Furious club. After spending a nice day at a pool in a local hotel resort, my three friends and I headed over to a small shop to get my friend Rambo’s car touched up. Rambo wanted to remove the carbon fiber trim on his car and replace it with a silver trim. The shop owners, a group of young guys all began peeling off the vinyl and using heat guns to reapply the new trim. The shop was interesting, the walls were covered in different custom add-ons for motorcycles and motorbikes, and all the bikes outside were fully tricked out with colors, stickers, mufflers, and lights. Immediately I felt like I was a garage where Pimp My Moped could be filmed.

After spending a few hours there talking to these guys, relaxing, eating watermelon, and playing with their dog, a friendship was clearly being born. I mentioned I had recently bought a moped and wanted brighter headlights on it because I did a lot of night riding. They asked what kind of bike I bought and immediately began to giggle when I showed them the picture. Apparently my most prized possession in China was not up to these guys’ standards. For lack of finding a better translation, the owner, who goes by The Two, said to me, “If you are going to ride with us, we need to make you motorbike look better.”

No less than 24 hours later, my bike was inside their shop getting worked on. New headlights, new paint job, handlebar grips, dashboard upgrade, smoked out taillights, and added lights so I could be seen better at night. With more modifications ordered and on the way, I sat back and watched these guys get to work. At first worrying how much this was going to cost me, and then being caught in the same mindset of being able to customize a car on my old Need for Speed racing video game, my imagination went wild as they spent about four hours sweating over my bike. Finally, the first day’s work came to an end. The bike, originally a red grandma looking motorbike, was transformed into a clean looking, black with a red and yellow accented pieces of pure beauty.

With plans for the evening, I was getting ready to pay the bill and be on my way. After asking how much it was, The Two showed me the price of the paint he had to order and said just that. Four hours of work, LED lights, paint, HID headlight conversion kit, grips, and countless other things that I am still learning about, the total price came to seven dollars.

My plans were quickly put on hold when one of them said we were all going to the park for something. Quite nervous at first, I realized I had no other choice but to hang out with my new friends who generously hooked my bike up. We all ride to the local park, leave our motorbikes and motorcycles outside and proceed to walk in. Getting slightly frustrated because I had made plans to meet a few girls at a club around nine, it was quickly becoming eight o’clock and I had yet to go home and shower. Walking up to a man made beach and a bunch of people standing around in a circle; my fear of being late to a club was the least of my worries.

As I got closer, I couldn’t help but say ‘Aww’ as I saw the red candles laid out in a heart shape, followed by more candles spelling out JY I Love You. My new friends had brought me here because their friend was going to propose.

We all helped in lighting the candles and waited for the couple to approach. Envisioning a picture perfect setting, my excitement was screaming from the inside, as I have to admit, I am a huge fan for stuff like this.

The couple walk up, immediately I get ready for the girl to start crying, putting her hands up to her face, doing all the things one would expect at a moment like this. She stops dead in her tracks. The word ‘No’ falls off her lips, my heart is pounding as I am getting ready for her tears of joy. The word ‘no’ again comes out of her mouth, then she tries to walk away, but is forcefully pulled back into the scene by her boyfriend. As she is shaking her head, the arms of what was in hopes to be her fiancé, was holding her still.

At this point it was obvious, this girl really did not want to her boyfriend proposing. What I expected, as I hope anyone else reading this would have done, would be to quietly take a few steps back and allow to couple to have their most important moment of their lives in peace. Instead of doing that, everyone who came to watch immediately whipped out their cellphones and began taking pictures. When the word ‘yes’ was not heard from the bride to be, everyone began casually starting their own conversations, laughing, and shouting, and planning the rest of their evening activities directly within earshot of the couple.

By this point, the candles are almost all extinguished and people are beginning to leave. And then, the girl goes in for the hug, wiping her tears on her boyfriend’s shirt, as everyone begins to clap. I still am in shock, and completely unaware whether or not she said yes or no, and it seems I am not the only one who is unsure, I am just the only one talking about it.

So there you have it. Those past two days consisted of me entering the world of underground motorbike racing, getting my bike tricked out, and witnessing my first and most embarrassing proposal, still unsure of the outcome.

More days to continue.

2013-07-22T14:13:00.001+08:00

Never Alone

The question continues to boggle my mind, is it because I am a foreigner, or are the majority of the people in this city truly interested in everyone else’s affairs? The majority of the situations that have led me to have conversations with locals, whether it be with a translator or not, quickly escalate from the two or three of us, into a small crowd of bystanders, many of which are more than willing to become a part of the conversation. From asking where the English section is in a bookstore, to asking a mechanic to look at my faulty motorbike, a simple conversation always turns into a crowd of the local community taking part in the seemingly pointless conversation.

My most recent experience was yesterday when I realized I was unable to start my motorbike, no surprise, after I had been warned not to purchase a secondhand piece of machinery, since they often have problems. My first step was finding a mechanic, an easy task, as there is one around almost every corner. With my friend by my side translating, the conversation began with just the three of us, her simply asking him if he could come take a look at the bike. This turned into a majority of the local shop owners and patrons listening in. Unable to understand why everyone is so interested, the conversation that has taken less than 30 seconds with mechanics in America, turns into a town hall meeting with everyone voicing their opinion. As the mechanic followed us back to my dorm, he began taking apart my motorbike, just as seagulls spot a single bag of chips on the beach, everyone in the building began swarming at their first sight of action. First the construction workers who have been vigorously renovating the cafeteria begin watching, then the students who always have their heads buried in books make their way to the scene, then a mother with here young child, the crowd continued to grow as I felt I was the only one wondering if I can leave the man alone with my bike and just let him do his work.

Within the same day, I made my way to East Gate to get food, since everyone else spent their precious free time watching a man tighten bolts on a $150 moped, I had no choice but to go to lunch alone. Something that I have no problem doing because it usually forces me to practice my Chinese on the waitresses and ends up in a interesting conversation, mostly after my brain dead answers of “Yes, I am an American”, “I am here as a student, not a teacher”, “Yes, I also like Lebron James” and “Yes, I do know how to use chopsticks” come to an end. Concluding the repetitive series of questions this man, who was conducting his idea of original inquiries, asked if I would like to have lunch with him. Having already been served my food, I offered him a seat at my lonely table for four, he ordered more food and we began conversing in Chinglish a language using half English and half Chinese, my most frequented language to date. This man, Chen, asks if I drink beer, and being the college aged American I am, took no time to answer that I indeed do drink beer.

Within fifteen minutes, a once lonely table of one patron with a chicken dish and a small bowl of rice, was filled with beautiful dishes of vegetables and meats, and of course a lot of 500 milliliter bottles of watery Chinese beer. We continued drinking, talking, and eating as the restaurant owner/waitress/customer service agent continually came by to see how we were doing, ask me a question in the impossible to understand Anqing dialect, and serve us more beer. With the tin roof tapping as every raindrop crashed onto it, I determined I had no better place to be than with my new lunch partner and this incredible cook.

As the meal came to an end, I got up and attempted to pay for our meal, my money is turned away as I come to find out my new friend had already taken care of the check, my meal and his included. Chen and I part ways as I realize another attempted solo meal turns into making friends and my understanding that while in Anqing, I am never alone.

2013-07-19T07:30:00.000+08:00

Confusing Math and Cultural Differences

Even though it is summer break, a small portion of the 20,000 University students decided to stay and prepare for the upcoming semester. With the majority of the staff gone and all but two buildings closed for the break, every morning students wake up at the crack of dawn and head to the only building with open classrooms. They spend the majority of the day studying, and when their head is not buried in a book, they are catching a quick nap before they consume more knowledge.

I met a group of girls who were able to work out a deal with the English department, the same building as my dorm room, and hold on to the key of one classroom so they could have a private room to study in. As these girls noticed I was walking to my room, immediately they forgot everything their eight to ten years of learning English taught them. One barely got out a broken 'Hello' as the others giggled, with me responding in a friendly manner, they did not know what to say next, but I could tell they were begging their brain to spit out another phrase that would continue the interaction.

We all began talking and I learned that they are studying to become English teachers. With the unfortunate first impression aside, their English began opening up and we dove into an incredible conversation about world politics and current events. As they were quenching my thirst with the ability for me to speak English outside of an elementary level, I was quenching theirs with the opportunity to speak with a native English speaker.

With the evening coming to an end, they invited me to lunch the next day, an offer that I won't ever refuse, as going out with locals allows me to experience the variety of restaurant's and cuisine's in the area. After arriving at the dingy looking restaurant with dirty tables, broken tiled floors, and chairs that reminded me of the stools used by young girls pretending to have a tea party, I sat down in the humid room and allowed the girls to order. Three platters arrived, tomatoes with scrambled eggs and spices, a cold mushroom dish that has been the closest thing to salad I have had here, and fish. The fish entrée consisted of two fresh water fish simply cooked and soaked the in spicy broth with vegetables. There was no filleting done to the fish, you just used your chopsticks and mouth to spit out the bones and other undesirable parts of the creature.

With an English conversation in full force, the girls would occasionally switch to Chinese if they were confused or wanted to say something without me knowing. What people here often forget is, although I cannot keep up with a full conversation, I can pull out general meanings of sentences and get the gist of a conversation. As I realized the girls were trying to figure out my age, I sat and listened as none of them knew. I interrupted their silence by asking them how old I look? As their guesses of 24, 23, 25 all came to a fail, I began seeing a familiarity with a similar conversation I had a the club a few nights before.

I've had this theory, that I've kept to myself about the maturity level of Chinese people. I noticed I had been befriending more and more people who were three or four years older than me, as the ones my age seemed too juvenile. Just as I revealed my age to the girls at lunch, immediate giggles and phrases saying how young I am began, just as what was done at the club. The girls said their ages, revealing they were all 24 and 25, and were surprised I was four years younger than them.

They then asked the year I was born. Answering, 1991, the girls then exclaimed "Oh, we were born in 1990." ... Confusion sets in, forcing me to make sure my family, friends, and country had to doing the correct math of my own age. At this time I was quite certain my age was correct, and at the given date, someone born in 1990 could not be more than 23 years old.

This is where I am introduced to an entirely knew cultural idea of age. Something that I was not previously informed of during my year of Chinese language studying, or during the massive amounts of readings and preparations I had done prior to arriving here.

Though I am still quite confused, the Chinese count age not by your birthday, but the year you were born. Without failing to try to explain a cultural custom that I still have not idea how to figure out, I did leave with the knowledge that while in China, I am no longer 21, here I am 23 years old. I apologize as this not a great explanation, but hopefully I can leave you with a tiny bit of confusion I've had. While I am still wondering if my friends from the club really are three years older than me, or if they just graduated, every explanation I have gotten is just an inadequate answer that is is just a Chinese custom.

Apart from the confusion, the meal was great and three new dishes names were added to my phones notepad of safe things to order. I made my way back to my room and relaxed the remainder of the afternoon in my air-conditioning.

2013-07-17T10:26:00.000+08:00

Total Immersion

Nothing quite says total immersion than taking on the crazy streets of China. On Tuesday morning I woke up to a phone call from a friend I met the previous day. His English name is Kurt, and he is a banker at one of the Bank of China branches in downtown. He was calling me because I had asked for his help in finding a motorcycle that I could buy.

The night before, I met up with the friends I met in the club for another fun filled night. It turns out, Rambo’s good friend owns a club downtown and he invited me to have some drinks there. Rambo picks me up in his tricked out Chinese brand sports car, nothing too excited, just a cool looking car that you can tell would never pass emissions in America. Rambo says he has some business to take care of first, and we drive to the shipping section of the city. While I am still unaware what business Rambo must take care of and why I have to come, I evaluate my situation and make the assumption he is not going to sell me into trafficking or have me help unload a meth shipment, I relax and enjoy the ride. Chinese driving is unlike anywhere I have been to. America has a strict set of laws with the occasional asshole driver who usually gets what is coming to him. Israel is similar but the drivers are all crazy with road rage. India is like a herd of sheep, all traveling together as close as possible and slowly funneling through narrow streets. China does not even begin to compare. The rules posted on the road are merely a suggestion, red lights mean yield or close your eyes and step on the gas, and giant trucks are just obstacles meant for cutting off and driving in-between.

Rambo and I arrive at a market district near one of the shipping yards and we walk into a fabric store that specializes in drapery and curtains. Instantly I begin trying to figure out what this transaction is as Rambo, as 25-year-old male, whose favorite movies include Rocky and Fast and The Furious, does not seem like he is in the curtain business. Rambo and I sit down with a nice looking Chinese woman, we make our hellos, and the two of them begin taking in the Anqing dialect, a dialect that is very difficult to grasp. The meeting goes on of about 45 minutes, the entire time I am trying to figure out what the hell is going on and why I am a part of this. The meeting comes to a conclusion and we leave. Immediately I ask what he was doing and what that was all about. It turns out; Rambo is a clothing designer with a factory in Shanghai. He was negotiating a deal with the storeowner to open up another one of his stores. My mind does a complete 180 degree turn and everything begins to make sense.

He then takes me out to a restaurant that was absolutely beautiful. With iPad Mini’s given to you instead of menus, beautiful wait staff, incredible decorations, and a view overlooking Anqing’s equivalent to Time Square, we were seated at the hibachi table. Our chef cooks an incredible meal right before our eyes, and as usual, everyone is coming up to Rambo and me and asking what I am doing in Anqing, where I am from, and if I need a fork.

The meal comes to an end and we head towards the Yangtze River. With the sun setting, the view on the walkway that follows the river was incredible. As I was taking picture after picture of the beautiful view as Anqinger’s were asking for me to be in photos with them. Rambo and I stayed for a while looking at the water and then began to head to the club.

The Yangtze River with Rambo.

Rambo and Me on the river.

Taking in the sights.

We get in to the freezing cold club, have a seat at a table and have a drink. A short time passes and Rambo’s friends show up, we all exchange greetings and chat until it is time for us to go to a different club. We meet up with the friends I had made the night before and enjoy the remainder of the night with a lot of drinks, dancing, and talking.

With Kurt’s phone call waking me up and creating the cause for a pounding headache, I hop in the shower and meet him downtown. We take his motorbike, scooter by American terminology, and drive to a motorcycle dealer. Long story short, I finish my day by driving off in a nicely used motorbike, very similar to the blue one I was use to driving back in America.

In an effort to curb my mother’s fears of me driving in the hectic environment I had previously explained, Anqing is catered towards anything on two wheels. The have separate roads for bikes and motorcycles alike, and the right lanes on highways are designated for motorcycles too. With the exception of driving in-between cars downtown, my moped has yet to make me feel unsafe or forced me into a dangerous situation.

For those wondering about a license… I am simply taking my chances. A lot of Rambo’s friends I have met are Police Officers and I have asked them about it. They all tell me to wear a helmet to cover my face, hiding my race, and obey the traffic laws. There are too many people and mopeds on the street for the police to care which are registered with license plates and which ones aren’t. They also told me the only cops that will pull me over and the ones on foot, so just drive away from them. It’s different in China.

0-60 in 3 seconds ... they use kilometers here, you do the math.

2013-07-16T10:25:00.000+08:00

Health Check

My alarm wakes my up at 6:30am as I have a busy morning getting my mandatory health examination so my Visa clears and I am allowed to stay past the six month mark. I quickly shower and get dressed, having no idea what I have in store for my body in the next couple hours. With a set time of 8:00am to meet my schools Foreign Affairs Director at the Old Anqing Campus, located in Downtown, I catch at bus around 7:15. Half way through the ride I wake up from my early morning grog and realize I forgot to bring my passport and necessary documents needed for this checkup and to ultimately get my ‘Residency Permit’. With the bus most like two times more full than it was intended to hold, I squeeze my way off, catch a taxi back to my room and collect my belongings. I take another bus, miss the bus stop I was supposed to get off at, backtrack by taxi again, and finally meet Alice, the director an hour late.

Realizing there is no point in having frustration or care that I have already sweated through my shirt, we begin filling out the forms at the Travel Health and Quarantine Building. Eventually I make my way to a flood of over a dozen Chinese men all getting the same procedure I am getting, but I assume they were getting it done to leave the country.

Let me warn you, this was nothing close to your annual checkup at your doctor, in fact, for the thirty minutes it took to finish the wide array of procedures, I felt more dehumanized than I have ever felt. The experience goes like this:

Flash back to 1973, hospitals are merging the new era of medical equipment with the old practice, nurses are still donned in all white with funny hats, and there is a weird musk to the room overpowered by sterilization chemicals. With one long hallway and about five doors on each side, the group of us rushed into each room. Feeling like a mouse in a maze with a brick of cheese around each corner, we were all moving like mad men. If you haven’t seen Asian culture before, most of them do not understand the concept of waiting in line. Imagine three billion kids armed with cash as they run towards a group of ice-cream trucks, it does not matter who got their first, if you can wiggle your way to the front, you most likely have the next turn. Each room was designated for a different test, and the nurses who manned these rooms were complete their portion of the exam at ridiculous speeds.

My first stop was the X-Ray department, where I am X-Rayed, inspected, my paper is stamped with a check of approval and I am on my way. Next I rush to get an ECG of my abdomen. Not understand a word the nurse is saying to my, she rubs my belly with this weird lubricant and beings pressing the barcode scanner looking thing into my belly. Naturally I begin giggling, which she does not seem to like and I get nasty stares back. She finishes, hands me a single tissue to clean up jelly like substance that I am covered in, and I rush to the next room. This continues as I get my body physically inspected, blood pressure checked, height and weight checked, including being hooked up to a weird machine with suction cups all over my chest and clamps on my ankles and wrists, clearly being cleaned with the rag that was dipped in alcohol earlier in the morning was sufficient. The final two procedures were the vision check and blood sampling. For those of you who have wondered how they do eye exams in countries that use characters consisting of around five to twelve strokes, my question quickly became an experience. Instead of letters, they use a single character that resembles shān (山) except the strokes are even. You then have to explain whether it is facing up, down, left or right. I would like to personally thank my Chinese teacher for constantly going of points of directions, as this exam would have been impossible to complete without those key words. Apparently, by Chinese standards, my vision is incredible. Finally it is time for my blood sampling and surprise urine test. Had I not watched the nurse remove the weird looking tube with a needle at one end from a sterilization packet, I would have walked out. The conclusion of the exam was given and I was sent on my way.

I got breakfast from a street vendor and took a bus home to find a store with cleaning supplies. Finally I found one, gave my room a nice deep cleaning, trying not to notice the black that came up from every surface my tissues touched. An interesting thing about the paper cleaning products, they don't use paper towels like the Brauny we are use to, instead they make due with tissues, and the other is that toilet paper is not perforated. So each break from the roll ends in an annoying paper fraying.

Besides the lack of privacy that was encountered a everyone was watching me get the tests done, and the feeling of being in an hospital in the 70’s, I was rather impressed with the efficiency that was provided. Had those tests been completed in a hospital in America, it would have easily have take my hours for the single nurse to complete each task.

2013-07-15T02:00:00.000+08:00

An Interesting Exploration

It’s two o’clock in the morning and my Sunday even has come to an end. Fortunately the weather never broke 90 degrees, so it was bearable to walk around the city, which is what I spent most of the day doing. I am still trying to get a grasp of the city, but it is huge and has no understandable layout. What I found quite interesting is the lack of variety on each street. As I would walk down a narrow street, each one was different, but all the stores were the same. There were streets that consisted of only baby clothes and old copying keys, another consisting only of bicycle repairs and watermelon, and another with only hair salons and repair men fixing everything from cheap fans to doors.

After literally wandering for hours, my shopping list of household products came to a fail. I found the bus that brings me back to my school, showered and took a nap. For the second time in a row, my attempted two-hour nap turned into something much longer. I ended up waking up at 10 at night, and pissed that I slept through another dinner. Since I knew I couldn't go back to sleep, I walked to the East Gate and got a late dinner. A black car then pulled up and asked me if I wanted a ride, since there was nothing better to do, I armed myself with the phrase ‘lets go to the bar’ and we were off. I think he asked me if I wanted a bar with big boobs or dancing, I chose dancing.

So after a twenty-minute car ride, I show up at a club with a bunch of people outside. Immediately I am asked to be in a bunch of pictures with people right outside the club. This is where I will have to be humble with my explanation as the experience was quite overwhelming and bizarre. Everyone is coming up to me with broken “Hello’s” and “Hi, what is your name my name is Marc nice to meet you very much(es).” As I walk inside the club, the first thing I see is two dozen wait staff walking around with flashing LED name tags. With the house music’s bass bumping, I walk around and notice all the tables pointing and talking about me, the ‘Yinguo Ren’ (English Person). Not sure what to do, I walk up to a table that looks friendly, they excitedly say hello and begin talking to me. Fast foreword about ten minutes and were all best friends drinking together as they are pouring my tiny cup after tiny cup of beer. I have noticed that all beer is drank not from the bottle, but our of glass Dixie sized cups, quite counterintuitive for my large gulps. Once my newly met friends seemed like they had enough of the club, they invited me to get food with them. We walk across the street to some food carts and they begin to order an array of food. The seven of us, three girls and four boys managed to eat more food than I see on my Thanksgiving dinner table.

After eating, we all hang around and talk until a few of them decide to go home to get sleep before work the next day. Turns out they are in their mid to late twenties and all have jobs in Engineering, Business, and Logistics. My one new friend who goes by the name Rambo, and whose only English comes from American Movies offers to drive me home. We all exchange QQ numbers, and part our separate ways with plans to meet tomorrow evening for another fun filled night.

Some new friends after a long night of drinking.

2013-07-14T07:00:00.000+08:00

A Quick View of Anqing

Not too much happened yesterday, with the heat reaching 98 degrees Fahrenheit, I made no attempt to explore anymore of the city or the school. With my jetlag still in full force, I am showered and ready to start my Sunday at six in the morning. I have been awake since three after my attempted nap last night before dinner turned into a full night sleep. By five, I decided to throw on my running shoes and explore the campus. If I remember correctly, Anqing Normal University is home to about 30 thousand students, and houses most of them. Needless to say, this campus is huge!

Surrounded by beautiful mountains, lakes, ponds, and forests, ANU has a beautiful view around almost every corner. The architecture here is interesting, each building is at least 100 yards long, four stories, and mainly made out of concrete and tile. Unfortunately, maintenance does not seem to be the schools number one priority as it is not difficult to find cracked tiles on the floors, or dirt covered exterior walls. I assume since the campus is not completely open due to summer break, the lack of horticulture is at an absence.

With roads as wide as four lane highways guiding you around the campus, it is obvious that any journey will take awhile since the buildings are so spread apart. My building sits right next to the Main Gate of the campus, and about a mile down the road is the East Gate. The East Gate is were most of my shopping and eating will take place, as it is filled with street vendors, restaurants, shops, grocery stores, and KTV. This is also where most of the students have been hanging out.

The front of my building. Sorry for the hipster filter.

A panoramic shot of the campus gym.

As far as my bedroom goes, it is about 15 feet by 30 feet, has a double bed, dinner table, desk, night table, closet, and what looks like a China cabinet… My private bathroom is connected to the room, and I am still trying to figure out the proper logistics of using it. Fortunately it is a Western toilet, so I will not have to squat into any holes, but directly next to the toilet is the showerhead. No shower curtain, no barrier on the floor to prevent the water from spreading everywhere, just a drain on the ground. I do have a hot water heater that looks like a propane tank above my head, but it is only connected to the shower and not the sink. From what I have gathered, this is normal in most apartments in China. No traditional kitchen as we are use to, just a single sink used for everything from brushing your teeth to doing the dishes. Even though all of my meals have not cost more the four dollars, I do feel as though I will want to cook occasionally. Another interesting part of my room is the door that is behind the China Cabinet. It leads to a living room with a washer/dryer, TV, furniture and sink. Unfortunately this room is “Off Limits,” as it is only for foreign teachers using my room, students only get one room. I believe English teachers use this room for English Corners, but I am rather confident I will learn that schedule rather quickly.

After buying sheets and pillows for my bed, my room is slowly looking like it will be a comfortable place to relax in. I still could be confusing my dinner table with my bed, as the firmness is about the same. I am not sure if it is because my sleep schedule is still so messed up or I enjoy sleeping on hard surfaces, but my sleeps have been rather pleasant and comfortable. Overall, I am truly not complaining, but rather excited and intrigued by the differences in living settings between the East and West.

Because my laptop does not have an Ethernet port, I am limited to Wi-Fi, a luxury that is not yet offered in my room. After spending a total of seven dollars on the local electronic stores best wireless router, my inability to setup a Wi-Fi network using only Chinese characters prevents me from going further. I will be on the hunt today for a solution in order to stay in contact with home and publish my posts.

It is getting close to seven in the morning, and I think I am going to try to find a place for breakfast. Tomorrow morning I have my mandatory health check at the hospital, so today will consist of a lot of praying that they use sterilization for their needles.

2013-07-13T07:46:00.001+08:00

A Successful First Day in Anqing

After landing in Anqing Airport, the plane door opens and we are dropped on the tarmac where everyone rushed to the terminal to gather their checked baggage and reunite with their loved ones and taxi drivers. I refused to give myself any preconceived notions about the city I was about to be living in, but it was slightly difficult not to as we left the gates of the Airport. My first impression of Anqing was that of any other slightly impoverished rural community in Asia: dirt filled streets, vendors selling watermelon and used tires, and countless vehicles struggling to hold the oversized cargo.

We arrive at the front gate of Anqing University, and it a sight unlike any college I’ve visited. The main gate is probably the size of a big box department store, but beautiful. We go through the guarded entrance and I am almost immediately greeted with the foreign office building that I will be calling my home. With the temperature exceeding 95 degrees, I get out of the air-conditioned van and walk to my room on the second floor of a building mainly consisting of classrooms and offices. The second floor however, is reserved for foreign students and teachers. My room could be described as a jail cell fit for a king; high ceilings, beautiful furniture, a bathroom consisting of only a sink, toilet, and showerhead, and most importantly, no windows. The room does open up to a balcony that looks out to a lily pond, beautiful at first, shortly realizing the amount of mosquitos I will endure should I utilize the place.

Soon after dropping my bags I leave my room in anticipation to meet my friend in downtown Anqing. Hao is an Anqing native whom I met in Salisbury as he was working toward his second degree in Secondary Education. The driver dropped me off at the older University campus in downtown to meet up with Hao. Once our greetings were done, Hao and I went off, bearing the heat and walking around town.

Our first stop was China Mobile, China’s cell service provider. I get my phone up and running, send a few messages home to family and friends saying I have arrived safely, and head out to our next location. Hao takes me to a restaurant where we are greeted by his adorable six year old daughter, who looks at me and asks her daddy, “Why is his hair yellow?” Hao orders what I can only understand as food, and we are brought a huge bowl with the center design of a ying-yang swirled in the center. Hao explains that the white liquid is normal, and the dark liquid is very spicy. Then platters upon platters are served, but all of these meats are raw. The waitress turns on the hot plate that is built into the base of the table and our soup begins boiling. “This is hot pot,” Hao explains, as we begin cooking our own food. It is sort of a relief to see and know that not only will my first meal be as fresh as fresh gets, but also cooked in a boiling soup. As the meat begins to cook we head over to the sauce station and begin concocting our own sauce that we will be dipping the contents of our meal in. I put together a peanut, soy, chili, and a few other liquids that looked appetizing into a small bowl. The meal was incredible, we ate everything from lamb to blood of duck gelatinized, and each thing I pulled out of the boiling soup was better than the last.

Our next stop is the local convenience store where we meet up with Hao’s parents. I am introduced to the very friendly couple, they take their granddaughter, and Hao and I are off to our next location in Downtown Anqing. Hao takes me to the town Mahjong center, an apartment looking establishment on the outside, with every door opening to a single room with a Mahjong table in the center. We play Anqing’s most popular game, win some money, and head out to get massages to celebrate and relive my aching back from 46 hours of traveling. For roughly the price of a hoagie at Wawa, I received what was the most relaxing massage I have ever experienced. After the massage, glass jars are suctioned onto my back with a flame lit at the top. This technique is apparently used to suck out any toxins that are in your body. At first the pain felt like 15 giant vacuum cleaner hoeses were giving my back any assortment of aggressive hickies. Eventually the uncomfortable sensation wore off and an odd feeling of relaxation set in, followed by a truly rejuvenated body. With Hao taking pictures, the aftermath felt incredible, but left my back covered in hickies the size of drink coasters that will probably last a week.

After the massage, I take the bus back to my dorm room to get my stuff to stay at Hao’s for the night. Throughout my time here, I have been stared at, smiled at, touched, greeted in broken English Herro’s and approached with countless questions. My favorite was the girl on the bus. A girl enters the bus with her mother, and the girl immediately sits next to me. I give a polite smile as she inspects my white skin, blonde hair, blue eyes, and curiosity as to what I am doing in a place like this. She immediately touches my cell phone and asks for my QQ number, a messaging service used in China, similar to Facebook Chat. After the number exchange she asks me the barrage of obvious questions any Anginq native wanted to ask upon meeting the rare face of a foreigner in their city. She then asked if she could take me to her home and show me the very famrous mountain that is overlooked in her backyard, after saying it would be her honor, I told her maybe another time, and continued answering all the questions her English could put together.

My walk from the bus to my room, though short, had me drenched in sweat. With high hopes of being able to relax in my room with the AC cranking, my worst fear confronted me as I found out the AC was broken. My neighbor, and only other person living in the building at the time showed me the local market where I could go to get a bath towel and other necessities.

Even after a freezing cold shower, my body refused to stop sweating. I changed out of one pair of sticky wet clothes to a fresh pair, only to immediately become sweat ridden like the last. As the sun began to set, I took the bus back into downtown to meet up with Hao.

Him and I cool off in his apartment, a one bedroom, single bath, accommodating himself, his daughter, and his two parents. DanDan, Hao’s wife is still in America studying English.

We head out to get barbeque, and I experience real Chinese barbeque. There was a man on the street with a smoky grill, Hao greets him and we walk into his restaurant. This place consisted of about seven tables each with four tiny stools around them. Hao orders our food, lights up a cigarette, ashes onto the floor, and we wait for what is about to be my favorite meal. After stomping his cigarette butt out of the floor, our meal is served. Skewer style, each type of meat is seasoned with a spicy seasoning and grilled to perfection.

After further analysis, Hao’s actions were not rude or impolite, the floor was merely seen as the location to discard objects no longer in use at the table. Any bone we encountered was spit out onto the floor too. Although seemingly gross at first, I quickly realized that it was not gross, but simply the customs of prideful people that call any establishment with a line “nationally famous”. Considering the small city has millions of people and I’ve waited in line everywhere I’ve been, I am quite lucky to be in a location that is truly famous to the people who have family roots in this location back to the era of dynasties.

Getting the Hot Pot ready.

Enjoying a delicious fruit drink on the hot day

2013-07-12T07:39:00.000+08:00

A Day in Shanghai

After what seemed like traveling for two days straight, I finally arrived in Shanghai. Initially I planned on taking a taxi from Pudong across town to Hongqiao, which would have been a 40 minute ride and could have taken an hour. After debating a 300RMB taxi ride verses an eight RMB subway ride, I decided to take the adventitious route, join the hustle and bustle of mid day Shanghai and ride the green line from one end to the other. This took about two hours total to trek across the city that is roughly the size of New York City.
Finally I arrive at the Hongqiao airport where I take a taxi to my hotel. I felt like I needed to reward myself and stay in one of the nicer hotels in this part of town, a four star hotel in the suburbs of Shanghai. After paying my bill of 170 yuan, roughly $27, I ran to my room and took a nice cold shower after being in the 95 degree humid heat.
Quickly I changed my clothes and ventured out into the streets. The musky air reminded me of any other Asian city and the vast array of mopeds and scooters sealed the deal for me, finally making me realize I am in Shanghai.
After searching for a place to eat that would make me feel as comfortable as walking into my local pizza place, I forced myself to make the actualization that this is not New Jersey, this is China and things are different. Commencing a nervous debate of whether or not I could trust any locations cleanliness, I bit the bullet and told myself I was eating at the next establishment that remotely looked like they served food.
With the pure feeling of being 100% alone, my shaky hands pushed on the glass door of a building that opened up to a beautiful restaurant with fresh fish swimming in tanks, giant round tables and an overstaffed dinning room with an employee to do everything short from unzipping your fly at the urinal. Three waiters quickly crowd me as I sit alone at a table made for six and watch me as I inspect every page of the menu. I quickly learn that these guys don't speak a lick of English and my Mandarin is not ready to be used to conduct a full meal order and an explanation that I don't need; a fork, tap water, and an introduction from the chef, just a cold beer to calm my nerves is all I asked.
After experiencing the same feeling as my first time ordering a Cheesesteak in Philly, I ordered something that I think said pork and noodles. No more than two minutes pass and my meal is being delivered to my table. It was nice knowing there was probably as much staff in the kitchen as there was watching the only white boy enter their establishment since what seemed like the fall of the Berlin Wall.
I guess I got lucky because the dish looked authentic and delicious. It was a vermicelli noodle stew with pork and hot pepper. Needless to say, I enjoyed every second of it, once I got past the constant staring of the laowai (term used for foreigners) struggling with chop sticks.

I paid my check, not sure if I was supposed to tip or the lack of change I received counted towards gratuity, and headed back out to the steaming hot streets. Overall, the filling dinner in a beautiful restaurant, which converted over to less than four US dollars was very satisfying. Had I ordered the fresh fish, I would have been watching my meals siblings swim away in fear in the tank feet from my table, as the chef would come out with a net the size of a coffee table to pull out another 3 foot fish and struggle to drag it into the kitchen.

I'm am currently finishing my night with a glass of beer at the, what I thought was an American bar. Turns out it's just a wannabe hipster bar with a young bartender wearing what looks like a Where's Waldo outfit practicing every bit of English he knows on me.

Overall, I am proud to say it was a successful and satisfying first night in the Center Kingdom, a country so foreign to the Western philosophy that I've grown up loving, and a place I will call my home for the next six months.

Pork and Noodle Stew

View from my table.

2013-07-10T07:28:00.000+08:00

The Start

In 24 hours, I will be settling into an apartment in New York City for the night. There, I will anxiously try to sleep as my nerves and

excitement overtake me. For the next 187 days, I will be living in Anqing, China. My purpose for travel is technically to fulfill my East Asian Studies minor requirement. Unofficially, I plan on making this trip act as my tryout for my desire and strong interest in working in the Far East.