We look forward to doing as many video lessons as we can in the future. The video format not only looks all cool and snazzy, but it allows to add a visual dynamic to our lessons, which we really feel will enhance the content and make it more educational and beneficial. Particularly in the case of 麻将, you can learn so much more about the game (and the language) if you're able to see the tiles and observe the players. The lesson will be ready in about 2 weeks, and we'll be sure to share it here and on all our social networks, but to give everyone a sneak peek, here are a few HQ photos from the shoot!

和珅 had something of a rough-and-tumble childhood, but eventually worked his way up to become an imperial bodyguard for the Qianlong Emperor (乾隆帝, Qiánlóngdì). He was reportedly exceptionally attractive, with soft features some at the time regarded as feminine, which was said to have sparked the interest of the Emperor himself and led to his inclusion in the Emperor's inner circle, despite his lower-class origins. Within two years, however, he would make his bodyguard post look positively pedestrian; he was promoted to a minister position within the 內務府 (Nèiwùfǔ), usually known in English as the Internal Affairs Department or the Imperial Household Department. Still in his late-twenties, this was an astonishing feat for 和珅 and would be for anyone of any background in Imperial China. Not satisfied, he kept working (and sneaking) his way up the ladder, leading to a position as Minister of Revenue (户部尚书, Hùbù shàngshū) in 1780, at just 30 years of age. Pretty impressive, eh?

Well, kind of. While he was surely a charming and intelligent man, 和珅's greatest virute was his unmatched ability to be insanely corrupt. After marrying the Emperor's daughter, his power and actions went more or less unchecked, and he took exceptional advantage of this. Eliminating positions that were designed to impede his authority, he briefly served as 吏部尚书 (lìbùshàngshū, "Minister of Personnel") before eventually becoming the all-important leader of the 内阁 (nèigé), the imperial cabinet. This is sort of where he went off the rails, so to speak. Using his new powers, 和珅 continually raised taxes to enrich his coffers at the expense of the citizenry, which gave rise to a somewhat famous series of incidents in which poorly-maintained dams (corrupt local officials loyal to 和珅 allegedly embezzled the funds meant for their upkeep). He kept an untold number of concubines and generally led the kind of Scarface lifestyle that we'd consider comically improbable today, but at the time it was possible: by most estimated he amassed over $1 billion in today's money, making him by a wide margin the wealthiest Imperial Chinese official of all time.

It had to end sometime though, and when his patron 乾隆帝 passed away in 1799 the true nature and extent of 和珅's corruption came to light. He was sentenced to death by 凌迟 (língchí), a process ominously referred to in English as "slow-slicing"; we'll let you click that link if you want to know more. The new emperor gave him a pardon of sorts, forgoing the slow-slicing and ordering 和珅 to hang himself using a golden silk rope, which is a pretty classy way to go out, in our book. 和珅's legacy is an interesting one, in that many believe his incredible amount of corruption led to a culture of lawlessness within the 清朝 ranks that brought about its end, and with it the end of Imperial China. Quite a way to make/steal a dollar!

We hope you've enjoyed this week's look at the remarkable life of 和珅, which we're discussing because February 22nd is the anniversary of his extremely extreme death.

For more details, please click here.

Thanks,

The ChinesePod Team

We'd be entirely remiss if we didn't point out that the biggest TV draws for foreign events in China tend to have an element of "Chinese-ness" to them. The NBA, for instance, has always had fans in China and their game broadcasts have long been popular, but ratings exploded when Shanghai-born 姚明 (Yáo Míng) joined the Houston Rockets in 2002. In fact, an estimated 200 million Chinese in the Mainland tuned in to see 姚 play head-to-head against another Chinese-born big man, 易建联 (Yì Jiànlián) in 2007, so the drawing power of a home-grown element in a foreign event is not to be discounted. Long before Beijing hosted the Summer Olympic Games in 2008, the country was enthralled by the Games, with millions closely following how their homegrown athletes were doing on the world stage. Indeed, competing in sports, as well as using them to prove and strengthen national identity, is a notable part of Chinese cultural identity, so an event like the Olympic games in which the results can be seen to represent strengths and weaknesses of particular countries seems made to be a hit in China.

Much as the rest of the world does, the Chinese tend to look at US presidential elections with a mix of confusion and bemusement. Contrary to popular belief, elections are not a foreign concept in China, with People's congress deputies and officials at the local level standing for election regularly. US elections, however, often elicit puzzled looks. The sheer scale and amount of money spent on American elections strike many as ridiclous and unnecessary, and many are inclined to dismiss the circus-like proceedings; "People think the capitalist way of campaigning is all about making up fake stories to slander your opponent, that it's just a political show," as one prominent academic in China put it. Interestingly enough, former President Bill Clinton enjoys substantial popularity here in the PRC, and there are even Clinton-brand condoms to be found (draw your own conclusions). Known in Chinese as 比尔·克林顿 (Bǐ'ěr·Kèlíndùn) or simply 克林顿, Clinton's second inauguration, in 1997, was the first to be broadcast over the internet, giving those in China with internet connections the chance to see one of their favorite American leaders take office again.

This year even the Super Bowl, the championship of a sport very few Chinese follow, was broadcast live on a handful of stations in China this year. One of the biggest global stories of the last few years, however, was the death of pop star Michael Jackson, who was widely-mourned in China. Jackson was one of the most popular Western stars in the PRC ("MJ, you are our god!" one netizen wrote), and his death was a constant topic of discussion both on and offline in China. Whitney Houston's death last week elicited similar if smaller-scale reactions

We hope you've enjoy this week's quick look at how China views big global events. There are so many that we didn't even touch on, so if you'd like to chime in just drop by our Facebook page and let us know what you think!

Here is the link to the show on Chinesepod.com.

The tension between Hong Kong and the Mainland (PRC) has been dominating the headlines here in the last few weeks. While there a million angles and elements to the story, as well as centuries of history to consider, we prefer to think about it from a linguistic perspective. The native language for just about all HKers is Cantonese, and most have at least basic English skills as well. In the last decade or two, however, Mandarin (普通话, pǔtōnghuà) has become more prominent, both on the street and as an educational language of instruction as connections between Hong Kong and the Mainland have grown stronger. At the heart of one of the "tipping point" incidents was a Mainland girl criticizing the Mandarin of a local, which speaks to the place 普通话 has in the core identity of what it means to be "Chinese". In any event, we'll let the BBC explain:

A group of Hong Kong residents raised money online to fund the advert, which was published in the popular Apple Daily newspaper. It depicted mainland visitors as locusts, amid growing tension over an influx of visitors. Fifteen years after Hong Kong rejoined China, the gulf separating citizens in the former British colony and those on the mainland appears to be widening. The two groups share a common written language and culture. But differences in the spoken dialect, politics, economic standing and even personal hygiene have ignited a series of very public disagreements. These have ranged from who gets preferential treatment at luxury shops to how to behave on the subway and who has the right to give birth in Hong Kong. Xu Xi, a widely published author and writer-in-residence at the City University in Hong Kong, said recent confrontations were the result of long-simmering tensions. "Hong Kong people welcomed the handover with open arms. But over time, we realised that we simply moved from one colonial master to another," she said. "There is a great deal of misunderstanding on both sides. On a daily basis, I see it and I hear it."

'Bumpkins'

Hong Kong was a Crown colony for 150 years until 1997, when it was returned to China. The city is governed under the "one country, two systems" policy. It is largely free to run its own internal affairs, whilst Beijing sets foreign and defence policy. Since the handover, the number of mainland visitors to Hong Kong has surged. Last year, the city hosted 28 million tourists from mainland China. That is four times the entire population of Hong Kong. Many come primarily to shop. Unlike the mainland, Hong Kong has no sales tax, so it is usually much cheaper to buy here, particularly when it comes to designer clothing, status handbags and high-end electronics. In areas such as Tsim Sha Tsui, where Western luxury brands such as Louis Vuitton and Dolce & Gabbana have set up shop, the predominate dialect heard on the street is Mandarin, rather than the local Cantonese. The Dolce & Gabbana store was the site of protests in January after word spread online that security guards there allowed only mainland tourists to take photos. The protests, which eventually shut the store and forced Dolce & Gabbana to apologise, highlighted feelings among Hong Kong residents that wealthy mainlanders were getting special treatment. Gordon Mathews, an anthropologist at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, says envy definitely plays a role. "Thirty years ago, mainland people were 'achan' - they were thought to be country bumpkins. And now the richest people in Hong Kong are tourists from the mainland, or investors from the mainland," he said. "That's rather shocking and upsetting to many people in Hong Kong, and I think that is an underlying reason for these kinds of protests that we see."

Subway fight

On average, Hong Kong people are still much wealthier than their mainland cousins. But the conspicuous consumption displayed by the sheer number of Chinese millionaires and billionaires shopping in Hong Kong has been upsetting locals for years. There is also a feeling that, even as mainlanders get wealthier, their manners and etiquette leave room for improvement. In January, a mobile phone video of a shouting match between mainlanders and locals on the Hong Kong subway went viral on the internet. A young mainland girl visiting Hong Kong with her mother was caught eating dried noodles on the subway, where eating is not allowed. Security was called and a very public row ensued. Mainlanders accused locals of bullying, while Hong Kong residents insisted the visitors were rude and paid no heed to hygiene in a densely populated city. Anthropologist Gordon Mathews says that as a white American he would have been forgiven for not knowing the rules. Hong Kong bloggers say the real issue is that the passenger who politely asked the young girl to stop eating was ridiculed for speaking poor Mandarin. After the video was widely shared, a professor at Peking University called some Hong Kong people "British running dogs" for looking down on mainlanders, triggering a protest by about 100 residents at the Beijing liaison office. Wang Yiting, a mainland student attending university in Hong Kong, says she understood the reasons behind the protest. "It makes me feel very uncomfortable, but I can understand why Hong Kong people are so angry with us," she said.

Birth tourism

Hong Kong residents are also incensed about a surge in birth tourism, which they say is straining the medical system and putting lives at risk. In the past 10 years the number of mainland women crossing the border to give birth has soared. Almost half of all babies born in Hong Kong in 2010 were the children of mainland couples, according to government figures. Babies born in Hong Kong automatically receive the right to live and work here, as well as the right to carry a Hong Kong passport, which makes international travel easier. Some mainlanders also choose to give birth in Hong Kong to skirt the one-child policy, which can result in heavy fines for violators. The Hong Kong government has already imposed quotas on the number of mainland mothers allowed to give birth in local hospitals, but residents say the quotas do not go far enough. Bruce Lee, a 21-year-old university student, has roots in eastern China. Still he considers himself a Hong Kong person first and foremost, and was one of the many donors who funded the "locust" advert. "Some of these people come to Hong Kong in order to enjoy the benefits that this city offers without giving anything back," he said in between classes at the Hong Kong Baptist University. "They are basically stealing from us, taking advantage of what locals have created through hard work." Both Hong Kong and mainland officials are promising to crack down on birth tourism. The head of Guangdong province's family planning department has told reporters that anyone caught going to Hong Kong to evade the one-child policy will be punished. One lawmaker, Albert Chan of the People Power coalition, is even planning to introduce a new bill in the Legislative Council making it almost impossible for mainland women to give birth in Hong Kong. "The situation is in such a terrible state," he said. "Sooner or later, because there isn't enough medical staff to deal with so many women giving birth, local women may find their lives in danger." The Hong Kong government is facing calls by other politicians to re-evaluate its immigration policy. It is a sign that after 15 years, despite all the financial support Beijing offers Hong Kong, the city is not completely embracing a return to the motherland.

Names

As with many festivals and events in Chinese culture, 元宵节 has many names and an unusual history of nomenclature. 元宵节 literally means "first night festival", but the name's origins are more complex: 元, which today is most commonly-known as the symbol for the RMB, China's currency, also means "first" or "primary", and the first month of the lunar year is traditionall known as 元. 宵 is a (somewhat) dated term for "night", which is usually when the eponymous lanterns are exhibited. One of the traditional foods of the festival, a sticky rice ball served in boiling water, is also known as 元宵, though it also goes by the names 汤圆 (tāngyuán) and 汤团 (tāngtuán). Additional names for the festival itself include 上元节 (Shàngyuán Jié, literally "up first festival", unsurprisingly not as catchy or commonly-used in the Mainland) and the more pragmatic 十五暝 (Shíwǔ Míng), which literally means "fifteenth dark/night".

Origins

元宵节 has about as many origin stories as it does names, which is perhaps part of why its such an intriguing holiday. Our favorite tale involves the fabled 玉帝 (Yù Dì), a.k.a. the Jade Emperor, whose favorite crane flew from heaven down to earth one day. Some local villagers, however, weren't so keen on the crane, and hunted it down and killed it (couldn't it have just flown away? These are the questions we ask ourselves), angering 玉帝 tremendously. Intent on burning the village to its foundations, 玉帝 sent an army to earth, but the villagers had been tipped off by his daughter 织女 (Zhī Nǚ), and they hung lanterns and set off fireworks to trick the troops into thinking that the village was already on fire. Thus, on that day every year, people take to the streets with their lanterns and fireworks, hoping to trick the Jade Emperor (and see some cool colors) once again. You can check out a helpful collection of additional 元宵节 stories over at the Chinese Historical Society of Southern California's site.

Observations

So how does the Lantern Festival get celebrated? 元宵节 marks the end of the Chinese New Year (春节) period, so it's a pretty significant day and is marked by a serious barrage of fireworks. The lanterns themselves, however, are the real stars, with complex designs, amazing colors, and impressive feats of engineering emerging in recent years. Lanterns are made "to reflect historical Chinese themes, and depict scenes from stories and legends that express traditional values. They are also made to represent the 12 animals of the Chinese Zodiac and heroic figures." Lanterns are traditionally made of paper, but these days electric or even neon lanterns can be seen. Another key part of the holiday are the lantern riddles, written riddles placed on lanterns that, if answered correctly, earn a prize for the clever.

We hope you've enjoyed this week's look at 元宵节, one of the more unusual (for foreigners, at least) festival dates on the Chinese calendar. We certainly did, see you next week!

Hard to Get

Like many Chinese emperors, 宣德 had a colorful history of nomenclature. At birth he was named 朱瞻基, with 朱 as the family name. His father was 朱高炽 (Zhū gāo chì), also known as 洪熙 (Hóng xī), an emperor who ruled for some nine months following the reign of the legendary 永乐 (Yǒnglè) Emperor, who famously constructed the Forbidden City and inaugurated Beijing as the center of Chinese power. After becoming emperor at the age of 26 (in the process forever giving moms of 20-somethings ammunition to guilt-trip their sons) he was given the name 宣德 (sometimes referred to in English as "The Xuande Emperor"), which literally means "proclamation of morality or goodness" (alternatively "to announce Germany", though this likely wasn't intended at the time). This name is based on the name given to the era (年号, niánhào) in which he ruled, a convention that began, most scholars agree, with the Ming Dynasty. Previously, emperors often changed their names multiple times during their reigns, which must have made the business card industry in dynastic China exceptionally lucrative. Somehow, he had even more names, including his temple name (庙号, miào hào), which is a special title given after an emperor's death in many East Asian cultures. 宣德's is 明宣宗 (Míng xuān zōng), with the 明 character reflecting his role in the Ming Dynasty. Finally, 宣德 was given the honorific death name "宪天崇道英明神圣钦文昭武宽仁纯孝章皇帝" (xiàn tiān chóng dào yīng míng shén shèng qīn wén zhāo wǔ kuān rén chún xiào zhāng huáng dì), which obviously wasn't used much in casual contexts.

Cold Blooded

宣德 was emperor during one of the most exciting naval sojourns in history, the expedition led by Zheng He (郑和), an admiral who travelled as far as Africa (or North America, some claim), helping to open China to global trade. He also had an interesting relationship with his uncle, 朱高煦, who had been imprisoned in a small town in Shandong province after disobeying military orders. After quietly consolidating his power, 朱高煦 led a sizable force in rebellion, but was put down by a 20,000-strong force personally commanded by his nephew, likely making for some awkward subsequent family reunions. He was also famous for his efforts to root out corruption, sending roving bands of officials out to supervise locals and ensure justice.

Fire and Desire

宣德 was about more than just intra-family battles and epic naval voyages, however. Critics have called him “the only Ming emperor who displayed genuine artistic talent", and his works are currently exhibited at a number of galleries around the world, including the prestigious Arthur M. Sackler Museum at Harvard University. He had a thing for painting animals, particularly dogs, and was apparently quite prolific, painting dozens of detailed, nuanced works during his reign. He also had an impressive collection of rare vases. Emperors "were expected to be cultured gentlemen, whether they were or not," and almost all were active patrons of art and poetry. 宣德, however, was one of the few who actually created art as well. Also, towards the end of his reign, he bore a not-imperceptible resemblence to NBA legend Shaquille O'Neal (欧尼尔, ōu ní ěr if you were curious) as well as hip-hop fixture and perpetual 老板 Rick Ross.

We hope you've enjoyed this week's look at a lesser-known but still interesting Ming Dynasty ruler - we love learning about the many quirks of ruling China and the many colorful characters that have filled the emperor's clothes! We hope you all had a safe and enjoyable Spring Festival. There's also some very exciting news to report: ChinesePod has been acquired by Bigfoot Ventures, a Hong Kong-based communications, technology, education, entertainment and new media company. This move will allow us to offer you, our beloved Poddies, a more entertaining, comprehensive and beneficial ChinesePod experience down the road - we're psyched about it!

Some very exciting news to report:

Bigfoot Ventures has acquired ChinesePod in order to bring together Chinese-training offerings that blend the best of engaging lesson media production, interactive web technologies and the classroom.

To help adult learners succeed, it is critical to engage them with material that is at once entertaining, enlightening and academically sound. The combination of Bigfoot Ventures’ media production experience, the classroom expertise of New Concept Mandarin (another portfolio company of Bigfoot Ventures) and the new media strengths of ChinesePod offers great promise.  

Founded in 2005, ChinesePod pioneered the use of podcasts and web technologies for Chinese-language instruction. Over the past 6 years, ChinesePod has reached hundreds of thousands of students, published over 2,000 lessons and has enjoyed the contributions of each member of its passionate community, helping to create the richest set of Chinese-learning materials available.

Michael Gleissner, chairman of Bigfoot Ventures, commented: "I am extremely excited about adding a market leader of online language training to our existing portfolio of educational investments. With the increasing importance of new media and video-based training, Bigfoot Studios will play a vital role in integrating a compelling language learning experience, especially in the important field of Mandarin Chinese education."

Fu Xianling, managing director of New Concept Mandarin, remarked: "ChinesePod tools are a perfect fit for our clients, who will experience an integrated experience both online and offline."

Hank Horkoff, ChinesePod co-founder and CEO, added: "The future of Chinese training is a blended model.  Our cooperation with New Concept Mandarin will not only provide more value to students, but hopefully also provide a model for how language instruction should be done in the future."

The ChinesePod team will remain in Shanghai while working with Bigfoot Ventures and the New Concept Mandarin organizations in Hong Kong and throughout Asia.

About Bigfoot Ventures

Bigfoot Ventures is a wholly-owned international private venture capital subsidiary of the Bigfoot Group of Companies. With operations in Hong Kong, Singapore, Cebu (Philippines), New York, Los Angeles and Antwerpen (Belgium), the company manages and implements the Group's investment plans and strategies, focusing on sectors operating in communications, technology, education, entertainment and new media.

http://bigfootventures.com/

About New Concept Mandarin 

New Concept Mandarin is the world's largest Mandarin training institute.  Our approach is based on over 20-years’ experience in applied linguistic research and teaching in Australia, North America, Hong Kong and China.  We have empowered over 20,000 people with Mandarin skills, including top management and senior executives of Fortune 500 companies. In addition to our Hong Kong head office, we have 11 centers throughout China and the region, with additional facilities planned for Europe, North America and the Asia Pacific.

http://www.newconceptmandarin.com/

Several schools aiming to better prepare students for a global economy and foster cultural understanding between the United States and China have turned to virtual exchange programs between American and Chinese schools. "The global market is changing 24-7," said William Skilling, the superintendent of the 4,600-student Oxford community school system in Michigan. "We feel it is mission-critical for every student to become fluent in a world language and fluent in multiple world cultures." To that end, the district hires only native speakers to teach foreign languages, hosts both virtual and physical exchange programs with Chinese students and educators, and launched an international school in China that will allow students from the district to study there. "In today's global market, you need to have the skill set by which you can have virtual meetings in which multiple languages and cultures are present at the same time," said Mr. Skilling.

The international school, called the Northeast Yucai Oxford International High School, in Shenyeng, China, will allow American students to spend up to three years studying at the school in China. Students in Oxford Community Schools will receive the first opportunity in this program, followed by students in Oakland County, where the district is located, before the program is opened up for students throughout Michigan. Students will receive scholarships for the program but will be responsible for purchasing their own airfare, said Mr. Skilling. The school district will be offering 50 scholarships initially. Although the school was founded in April 2011, classes there will not start until next fall, Mr. Skilling said. The school district has received financial assistance from the Beijing-based Hanban, a Chinese institution affiliated with the Chinese Ministry of Education, as well as the Confucius Institute at Michigan State University in East Lansing, to launch the school and support its Chinese education initiatives. Establishing stable Internet connections in China has been one of the biggest challenges in setting up the school, he said. "It's not that [Chinese educators] don't have access to technology," he said. "It's more to do with the stability of the network." For the past three years, starting in kindergarten, students in the Oxford district have opportunities to learn synchronously and asynchronously online with their Chinese peers. "They make videos, send them over, pose questions, and talk about different things they like in America," Mr. Skilling said, referring to the Oxford students. For the 2012-13 school year, the district will launch a foreign-exchange program in which high school students in Michigan will attend the district's international school in China full time, at set classroom times, via the Internet.

The students will take virtual classes, at the high school building, from 8 p.m. until 4 a.m. "A lot of American students choose not to do exchange programs because they don't want to leave their peer group," Mr. Skilling said. This alternative will allow those students to have an international experience without leaving their families and friends. The program will be officially announced this spring, said Mr. Skilling, and students will be allowed to sign up until the end of the school year in June. So far, no concerns have been voiced about a 'graveyard shift' education schedule, he said. Beyond Stereotypes The Oxford district has also sent more than 60 teachers to China to help them get a better understanding of the Chinese education system using grant money from Michigan State University's Confucius Institute's classroom grants, Mr. Skilling said. "Our teachers have become much more aware of the culture, and they're starting to get a little better understanding of the language," he said. However, virtual education in China has grown much more slowly than in the United States, he said. "Virtual learning in China is just starting to take seed," Mr. Skilling said. "Because it's still something very new, there's a hesitancy to jump on board with it." At the 2,300-student State College Area High School in State College, Pa., students in Susan Anderson's learning-enrichment class are taking part in a virtual exchange program called Greenleaf set up through Schoolwires, an educational technology company based in the town.

Ms. Anderson collaborated with a teacher in the Beijing Yu Yuan Tan Middle and High School to launch a pilot of the program during the fall 2010 semester. The pilot began with 30 American 10th through 12th graders and 30 Chinese students; the classes used Schoolwires' software to facilitate a cultural exchange between the two classrooms. Alex Grodzicki, left, 15, and James Beaupied, with guitar, 16, both 10th graders at Oxford High School in Oxford, Mich., perform a song that is broadcast via teleconference to students in Ningbo Secondary School in China’s Zhejiang province. —Brian Widdis for Education Week "The [American] students were shocked to find out that [the Chinese students] liked some of the same music, movies—that they actually watch some of the same TV shows," said Ms. Anderson. "It certainly broke down a lot of the stereotypes." The first semester focused on allowing the students to get to know one another better, said Ms. Anderson. The American students created a FAQ page with answers to questions their Chinese counterparts were interested in, such as the college-admissions process in the United States.

The American and Chinese students also created a shared blog to cover the topics of food, sports, and holidays and celebrations, said Ms. Anderson. Still, even though the pilot was mostly successful, it ran into some technological challenges, she said. Jane Sullivan, an instructional technology specialist for the school who helped with the project, said that "we struggled with sharing files and communicating back and forth." For instance, the students and teachers originally hoped to exchange video files, but quickly found that those files were too big to send back and forth easily. Ms. Sullivan said she was surprised by how much more tech-savvy American students ended up being than the Chinese students. "I just assumed the [technology] skills of the [Chinese students] would be the same, but they're not really used to working in groups and collaborating [with technology]," she said. Learning to Collaborate Improving those skills in Chinese students was one of the major motivations for undertaking the project, said Zhijian Fang, the principal of the Beijing Yu Yuan Tan Middle and High School, through translator Lin Zhou. "Our students need to have a digital mind," he said. "They need to know how to use the Internet, digital media, and media environments to collaborate with each other." The Greenleaf exchange program is a needed departure from the longtime teaching methods in Chinese schools, Mr. Zhijian said.

"Traditionally, in China, the instructional method is really teacher-centered. The teacher gives instruction, and the main activity for the student is listening to the teacher's instruction," he said. "Also, traditionally, Chinese students tend to learn independently, [not in group collaboration]. This project really breaks that." In addition to challenging established teaching methods, the project gave students a chance to see the world from a new perspective, he said. "Before, [Chinese] students could only look at things from their own perspective. But now they can look at things from different perspectives," he said. Beyond those benefits, Mr. Zhijian said, the Chinese students also had a chance to practice their English in a real-world situation.

If New York City’s licensing test for home improvement contractors were given in Chinese and included the finer points of bamboo scaffolding, contractors like Gary Lin, 42, of Queens would breathe much easier taking it. Mr. Lin worked on bamboo platforms while working in construction in Changle, his home city in the Chinese province of Fujian. Now, despite speaking very limited English, he is trying to start a legitimate home improvement company in Flushing, which is rife with unlicensed contractors. And since the city does not allow bamboo scaffolding – and currently does not offer the test in Chinese – Mr. Lin found himself in a new class with about 20 other Chinese immigrants one recent Saturday preparing for the city-administered test for a home improvement contractor license, a requirement for contracting with a homeowner to do work like repairs, renovations and remodeling.

The class, offered by the Queens Economic Development Corporation, is aimed at familiarizing contractors with the test, which is administered by the city’s Department of Consumer Affairs and consists of 30 multiple choice questions. It is offered in English, Spanish, Korean and Bengali. Starting in February, the test will also be available in Chinese, city officials said. To Nicholas Hardie, who teaches Mr. Lin’s class in Mandarin, the change is long overdue. The classes, which cost $100, are part of a pilot program to explore ways of addressing challenges faced by immigrant entrepreneurs.

Mr. Hardie, a Wisconsin native, said he believed that there were an enormous number of Chinese immigrant contractors in Queens working without city home improvement licenses. “A main reason is the language barrier,” said Mr. Hardie, who said he had arranged with Department of Consumer Affairs officials to take groups of students from two of his classes for the test next month. He said that his students would be ready to take either the English or the Chinese test, and that he was helping them with the application process, which, among other things, demands proof of liability and disability insurance, and workman’s compensation insurance. In response to a listing for the class , 78 Chinese immigrant contractors inquired, Mr. Hardie said. But many opted not to take the class or the exam because they thought the language barrier would make passing the test impossible. Of the 37 who registered, most have either been working as employees or have been working for cash under the table, he said.

Burton Hung, a developer and licensed contractor in Queens who volunteered to help Mr. Hardie teach the class, said that oftentimes a Chinese immigrant contractor would save money to buy a van and tools and then hire day laborers. “If you don’t speak English, you can always hire people to speak English, so you can work outside the Chinese community,” said Mr. Hung, who worked in construction as a child and after immigrating to the United States started as a small contractor and eventually earned a master’s degree in business. But unlicensed contractors have to dodge authorities, and they often get bargained down on prices. And they find it much harder to work under the heavy scrutiny in Manhattan for higher-paying jobs. At a class on Jan. 21, about 6 of the 20 students could speak some English. Mr. Hardie explained to them how to collect a deposit and give a written estimate, how to draw up a contract and how to legally cancel one. He covered the finer points of certificates of occupancy and charging sales tax, as well as complying with sanitary, fire and health regulations.

He handed out Chinese translations of the contractor’s exam and license information, as well as translations he made of previous tests. Mr. Hardie said that, in the past, some contractors who spoke no English still managed to pass the English-language test by memorizing earlier test questions and also by training themselves to recognize key words, phrases and numbers. Adopting this technique, he taught students how to spot such clues. For example, the mention of $200 in a question most likely refers to the rule that a license is not necessary for jobs paying less than that amount. And the number six in a question may refer to the number of years a contractor must keep contracts on file. The number three may very likely refer to the number of days a contractor must wait between signing a contract and beginning work. On the subject of contracts, one worker, Kevin Zhang, 36, who immigrated to Flushing four years ago, held up his phone and asked if the contracts could simply be recorded, instead of written. No, Mr. Hardie said.

One of the other Chinese immigrant students was Rose Lu, who owns United Structure Solution, a metal shop in East Williamsburg, Brooklyn, that has many large contracts and 10 full-time employees. Ms. Lu said she wanted a home improvement license in order to do interior work at a hotel because the license covers lodging establishments. Ms. Lu said many unlicensed Chinese contractors in Brooklyn and Queens operate as fly-by-night operations. “A van can bring in a lot of laborers, but there’s no address, no sense of responsibility,” she said, adding that more licensing would help legitimize things. “The more people who know what they’re doing, the better,” she said.

So There's Really a God for Money?

You better believe it! 财神 is part of one of the oldest 春节 traditions, the 开年 (kāinián), or second day of the new year. Literally meaning "open year" or "beginning of the year", 开年 is traditionally the time when married women visit their parents, as opposed to their in-laws, which whom they'd spent the previous days of the holiday. These days this sort of scheduling can become a lot more complicated, but the 开年 tradition has lived on in the appreciation given to 财神. Now, here's where it gets a bit tricky: there are actually a handful of individual wealth deities, and while 财神 is a term often used to describe all of them, 赵公明 (zhào gōng míng) tends to be considered the most important of the wealth gods, and is sometimes referred to simply as 财神. He is also more formally known as 中路财神 (zhōnglù cáishén), though that bit of nomenclature is rarely used these days.

Well Then, What's His Deal?

Legend has it that 赵公明 was born of the fifth day of the lunar year. His birthday is celebrated in China with the burning of special incense and most visibly with the displaying of festive decorations, which have become one of the most enduring cultural symbols of 开年 and even the larger 春节 holiday. It is believed that the decorations help bring wealth and prosperity to the families that hang them up, which in our office is reason enough to hang them everywhere (it's the cornerstone of our quarterly sales strategy). But how did this bit of veneration come about? Well, as the Encyclopedia Britanica explains:

The Ming-dynasty novel Fengshen Bang (封神榜, Fēngshén Bǎng) relates that when a hermit, Zhao Gongming (赵公明), employed magic to support the collapsing Shang dynasty (12th century bce), Jiang Ziya, a supporter of the subsequent Zhou-dynasty clan, made a straw effigy of Zhao and, after 20 days of incantations, shot an arrow made of peach-tree wood through the heart of the image. At that moment Zhao became ill and died. Later, during a visit to the temple of Yuan Shi, Jiang was rebuked for causing the death of a virtuous man. He carried the corpse, as ordered, into the temple, apologized for his misdeed, extolled Zhao’s virtues, and in the name of that Daoist god canonized Zhao as Cai Shen, god of wealth, and proclaimed him president of the Ministry of Wealth. (Some accounts reverse the dynastic loyalties of Zhao and Jiang.)

These days, 赵公明 is usually depicted riding a black tiger (talk about commuting in style!), and people beseech him for good financial luck in the new year, occasionally going so far as to build an altar in his honor.

Anything Else We Should Know?

Sure! There are a couple other historical and mythical figures who are often revered and referred to as "gods of wealth", including 关羽 (Guān Yǔ), a real-life general who is often held up as a symbol of wealth attained through honest means. 比干 (Bǐ Gān) is another oft-venerated wealth deity, known for dressing as a civil official and distributing money to the public. No matter which wealth god you prefer, however, the tradition is often similar: people believe the wealth god will come down from heaven to inspect them, and to prepare for this they usually cook dumplings (because they resemble gold tokens used in ancient China), followed by a burning of the pictures and figures of 财神 they had previously hung up, in order to see him off an ensure a prosperous year to come.

We hope you've enjoyed this week's look at one of the more unusual traditions of the 春节 holiday! We've got something else for you to enjoy as well: some hefty 红包 discounts (up to $100 off) on our most popular Subscriptions, Praxis Passes and Speaking Classes. Hurry though, the deals only last until the end of the holiday, January 29th!

I’ve been living in Beijing for four years now, and have come back to Vancouver twice, once for Christmas, and once for Chinese New Year’s. These two trips have made me realize that, for familiarity’s sake, my family has settled into doing things the same way for both holidays. In cold of night, we’d hop into dad’s car and drive over to my grandmother’s gated community in Strathcona, Chinatown. Relatives would arrive in batches, crowding around the kitchen table for both takeout and home-cooked food, often including equal helpings of turkey and barbecue pork. We’d watch Hockey Night in Canada or the CTV news channel, while aunts and uncles would distribute red packets or presents (if they remembered to buy them). Chinese New Year is our equivalent of Christmas, and there wasn’t much difference in the way we celebrated both. As descendants of Southern Chinese immigrants, my family was probably thought the same way as that of Chinese families everywhere.

Two Chinas

And then I was introduced to China. The country is cut down the middle by the Huai River and Qinling Mountains (or even the Yangzte River). The two halves, North and South, might share a national identity, but are separated by more than just rivers and mountains. The differences, and there are many, start with geography. The north is dry and cold — its flat plains, deserts and grasslands don’t allow for good rice cultivation. Compare this with the warm, rainier climes of the south — its cascading mountains, rivers and chiselled valleys make for ideal rice-growing conditions — and you have a basis for two fundamentally distinct diets. Bread is more prevalent in the north, while rice is eaten as the staple food in the south. It is customary then for Northerners to eat dumplings (jiaozi), made of dough, on New Year’s, as they look similar to traditional gold ingots, or tael. On the other hand, Southerners partake in “New Year’s cakes” (niangao), made of glutinous rice flour. The cake’s name is a homonym for “higher year,” so eating New Year’s cakes encourages us to “raise” ourselves for the coming year. Nevertheless, nearly all Chinese eat rice dumpling balls (yunxiao/tangyuan) during the Lantern festival, though the preparation of these dumplings in the north is different from that of the south. Then there’s language. The flatness of the north has historically been conducive to trade, travel and migration, particularly during times of war. This vast northern expanse has, for centuries, promoted a constant coming and going of people and cultures, leading to the predominance of one common language: Mandarin, the official language, and its mutually intelligible (sometimes) dialects. In the south, however, the abundance of rivers and mountains, coupled with long historic stretches of peace (the Mongolians, Manchurians and Huns of central Asia didn’t care to venture that far), kept these communities isolated from each other for long-enough periods of time that a rich linguistic diversity arose. Today, there are hundreds of mutually unintelligible Chinese dialects in the south, categorized into groups such as Yue Chinese (e.g. Cantonese), Hakka, Min Chinese (e.g. Fujianese and Taiwanese) and Wu Chinese (e.g. Shanghainese).

Television gala

Of course (as is tradition) these language differences are basically ignored during the broadcast of the state’s China Central Television (CCTV) New Year’s Gala, which is in Mandarin. That’s why in the north, particularly in smaller towns and the countryside, literally every family would huddle around village television sets on New Year’s Eve to watch the program. In the rural south, however, where Mandarin is neither widely spoken nor the lingua franca, the show is not so popular. If you still don’t understand why, then picture a Catalan-speaking community in Spain watching a popular variety show in French. Despite efforts by state television to make the program more accessible to the southern Chinese, much of the New Year’s Gala remains northern in flavour. Xiangsheng, a typically two-person comedy routine popularized in Beijing during the Ming dynasty, is a regular staple of the show. In xiangsheng, the two performers typically banter, trading witticisms and barbs, usually in some form of Beijing dialect. Northeastern comedic actors such as Zhao Benshan and Xiao Shenyang have come to define the comedy skits of the CCTV gala. Although skits from the northeast are phenomenally popular in the north of late, its humour is still, by and large, lost on southerners, particularly in pockets of the deep south, including the province of Guangdong. The almost comically thick, rural accents of the northeast province of Heilongjiang adopted by the actors for these skits tend to makes the dialogue even more confusing and difficult to understand for non-native southern listeners. The show is hugely popular with overseas Mandarin-speaking Chinese communities. “My grandma has tapes of the Gala going back to ’85,” says Caro Liu, whose grandparents and family immigrated to Philadelphia from Beijing when he was a kid. “Most important for me is that the whole family would get together to watch it. We all have fond memories of watching it in Philadelphia. It’s something we could all relate to, yet the culture would be so different from our immediate surroundings.” Our family, which originated from Chaozhou (a city in southern Guangdong province), understood no Mandarin, and most of us had not even heard of this program. Wang Jia, a Beijing native in her late 50s, says she stopped watching years ago, and the only thing that New Year’s reminds her of now is that she’s one year older. Televisions are still not common in the countryside, which means that villagers would often cluster around a television in a single room to watch the show, adding to the festive atmosphere. But televisions were an even rarer sight before the economic reform of the 1980s, when they were non-existent. Good old-fashioned firecrackers would more than make up for that though.

Pond hockey

A growing sport in China, ice-hockey is played on the frozen ponds of the north during New Year’s, but is, because of the lack of frozen ponds, non-existent in the south. There’s also the rich spectrum of New Year’s customs in China, including the particularly distinct traditions followed by the numerous ethnic minority cultures, many of which can be found in Yunnan province to the south. These traditions vary from village to village, region to region, and do not necessarily connote a clear-cut divide between the north and south. However, some suggest subtle semiotic variations. “I think celebrations in the north, at least in the countryside, tend to centre on one’s clan and ancestral ties,” says Chenming Fan, a northeasterner from Liaoning province who has spent time in the south. Hong Kong and the surrounding Pearl River delta, including Guangzhou and Macau, in particular, have very distinctive Cantonese New Year’s traditions. “Before New Year’s, some parents would give their kids a red envelope placed under their pillows,” says Michel Chan, who’ve lived in Hong Kong for most of her life. “Also, if I were to visit your home, I’d bring a small gift, say, a box of New Year’s candy, and you’d hand me a red envelope of approximately HK$20 ($2.50 Canadian).”

Southern influence

Because the source of Chinese immigration to Canada has historically derived from southern China and Hong Kong, the Chinese New Year’s that we find in Canada still has a southern character to it. Lion dances and dragon dances, a common sight in Chinatowns throughout the world, are not popular at all in Beijing and other northern cities. But thankfully, firecrackers and red envelopes are universal. Some things in China are the same and some are not. I spent my last Spring Festival in Beijing, with Chinese friends who also decided not to return home (they call themselves ‘orphans’). That night, one of them taught me how to wrap dumplings in our small enclosed Chinese kitchen, while the New Year’s Gala hummed in the background. There are some things I miss about being at home. I miss my mom’s niangao cakes, which she’d pan-fry with eggs until crisp on the outside and sweet throughout, as well as the sugared coconut, lotus roots and lotus seeds from the Eight Treasure dessert candy lacquerware platters, which she would keep lying around. I also miss the assorted barbecue meats my dad would pick up at the Chinatown butcher, which he’d arrange in dishes around a big pot of congee that was also filled with plenty of pork. But as my Chinese roommate began to call me a “useless disabled person” (in the familiar way my mother does) — after accidentally dropping a dumpling into a boiling pot of tangyuan — I felt a bit more like home.

Who?

红包, which is known as and pronounced "Lai See" in Cantonese, are traditionally given to two main groups, although in recent years it has become more common to distribute the gifts more widely. Children and younger, unmarried adults have long been the main beneficiaries of the 红包 generousity, as it is believed in some places that giving such gifts to married people is bad luck. There are many, many different specific 红包 traditions and procedures, which can vary quite widely between different Chinese-speaking regions of the world, but in most places it is considered one of the rites and privileges of marriage to give 红包 to unmarried friends or family. These days, in China's modern cities, it is also commonplace to give 红包 to service personnel, like 阿姨 (āyí), 保安 (bǎo'ān) or anyone else who's helped you out over the past year. One of the most crucial rules about giving out 红包 is that if you're married, you must give one to your unmmaried friends and relatives; to not do so is a pretty serious faux pas. Most importantly though, give an especially conspicuous red envelope to the kids, as there's really no better way to get on the parents' good side!

What?

So what exactly are you giving people when you give them a 红包? Well, you're giving them money, of course, but more so you're demonstrating your respect and thoughtfulness - to not give 红包 is a bold statement about dislike or disapproval. There are a few rules to follow: always give an even amount of money, and never, ever give an amount ending in a 4 - there's a serious stigma against the number 4 in Chinese culture. Its pronunciation (sì, 四) is similar to the word for death (sǐ, 死), and this superstition is taken very seriously by some: ChinesePod's office building, for instance, doesn't have a fourth floor (just as some buildings in the West don't have a 13th floor). There really aren't other strict rules regarding amounts to give, which tend to depend heavily on your relationship with the person to whom you're giving the 红包. Close friends and relatives (especially those that live with you) usually get the fatter envelopes, while casual acquaintences may be doomed to a disappointingly light gift.

When?

春节, or the Lunar New Year if you want to get all technical about it, is the most popular time of year to give out 红包, but it's hardly the only time. Weddings in China can net ridiculous amounts in those delightful red envelopes, with one wedding in Harbin (哈尔滨) bringing in some RMB200,000. Birthdays, the birth of a child, purchase of a new house, or other positive life events are also occasion for 红包, a tradition not too different from what's observed in many Western countries. Really, any time you want to celebrate something in China and give someone a nice gift, 红包 is an excellent choice.

Where?

As it is a Chinese cultural tradition, 红包 is most prevalent here in the PRC, but it is also a very common practice in countless places around the world. You'll find a lot of red envelopes (or "red packets", as it's occasionally translated) elsewhere in the Hanyusphere, including Singapore and Malaysia. In Malaysia, in fact, some Muslim residents even celebrate holidays with their own adaptation of 红包, giving green envelopes (绿包(lǜbāo)?) instead of red. 红包 can also be seen in virtually every overseas Chinese community - there's even a bakery in Brooklyn called "Hong Bao Bakery", and many promotional events in Chinatowns the world over are 红包-themed. In short, the 红包 has become one of the foremost symbols of 春节, and even of Chinese culture in general, around the world, in no small part due to it's position as one of the most memorable traditions of the holiday period.

We hope you've enjoyed this week's look at 红包, one of our favorite Chinese New Year traditions! 恭喜发财 everyone! To help celebrate, we're offering some 红包 of our own: cash back on some of our best and most popular products (including our oft-coveted Praxis Passes)! No matter where you are, you can get in the 春节 spirit in the most fun way possible, getting free money

My initial response to this question was, “Chinese!” I was only half joking. English is the most popular second language in the world and in our increasingly connected world, the people who have an understanding of other languages—particularly Chinese—will be better equipped.

As far as computers go, I studied computer languages in school and even though I wish I had studied different “human” languages, I think understanding computer languages will become even more important in the future, since computers are the universal tools of our time. Practically every aspect of our lives has a computer of some sort embedded into it. Having an understanding of how computers work as well as a curiosity about how to tap into their future potential will be important.

This need is especially true when you consider all of the potential applications that could be created to help us better understand biology and how the world works. We are living in an age where information technology and computing are driving the economy, and I predict computer-driven advances in synthetic biology promise to be even potentially more dramatic for the balance of the century.

How do you say “herpes” in Mandarin? This unhappy question is one of many vexing the likably neurotic hero of Zayd Dohrn’s play “Outside People,” a smart but slight comedy drama about an American in Beijing that opened on Tuesday night at the Vineyard Theater, in a co-production with Naked Angels. Malcolm, a New Jersey native played with nebbishy charm by Matthew Dellapina, finds himself wrestling with the embarrassing problem of full S.T.D. disclosure even before he’s had a chance to get over his jet lag. At a cocktail gathering hosted by his old college pal David (Nelson Lee) on his first night in town, Malcolm is all but pushed into the arms of a shy but friendly young Chinese woman, Xiao Mei (Li Jun Li), whom David has brought along to help warm Malcolm’s welcome. Although he’s bleary-eyed and woozy from drink, when he finds himself back in his hotel room in the company of his beautiful new acquaintance, Malcolm still has the good grace to try to explain his delicate problem in one of the play’s funniest sequences. Since his Mandarin is nearly as minimal as her English, Malcolm ultimately must place a mortified phone call to David to help him out of his predicament.

But in the course of Mr. Dohrn’s engaging comedy of manners, Malcolm will learn to his confusion and sorrow that the barriers of language and culture are more formidable than this pleasurable first evening in Beijing might suggest. Both his budding romance with Xiao Mei and his friendship with David, who is also Chinese and was born and raised in that country, churn with undercurrents that Malcolm is slow to discover, even slower to understand. Like Broadway’s “Chinglish,” David Henry Hwang’s similarly lightweight comedy about an American making his way in business and the bedroom in the booming new China, “Outside People” derives humor from the dislocations caused by the meeting of two distinct cultures: the comparatively above-board American way of being and the more codified and coded behaviors practiced in a country where unspoken but rigid rules hold sway. Fortunately, “Outside People” does not rely as mechanically as “Chinglish” does on jokes about mistranslations, even if Malcolm is horrified to learn that the Mandarin word for Sprite, spoken just slightly off, can be turned into an insultingly vulgar reference to female genitalia. The Mandarin dialogue is not translated, either, as it is in “Chinglish,” which has the useful effect of keeping the audience in Malcolm’s uncertain position. This well-drawn character epitomizes the amiable restlessness and liberal leanings of the post-collegiate slacker. He’s spent the five years since he and David graduated from Stanford puttering around the United States in his dilapidated car, making a movie about subsistence farmers.

With no immediate prospects, he’s come to China to explore the possibility of working for David, who has returned to capitalize on the bustling economy. Natty in his shiny, slim suits, David exudes the self-confidence of a young man who has already found his niche in the world, in his case hiring peasant workers to fill the factories mushrooming across the country as China undergoes what he calls its own Industrial Revolution. While “Outside People” touches glancingly on the moral issues pertaining to the Chinese labor market explored in Mike Daisey’s “Agony and the Ecstasy of Steve Jobs” — the Chinese slang for the workers David supplies translates as “slaves” — Mr. Dohrn’s chief subject is the insularity of Chinese culture. Although David appears to be as Westernized as any of the characters in the play — the fourth is his girlfriend, Samanya (Sonequa Martin-Green, in a sleek, funny turn), the daughter of an African diplomat who has spent her whole life in China — David proves deeply suspicious of the potential for any serious relationship between Malcolm and Xiao Mei. It would take Malcolm 10,000 years “to grasp the most basic assumptions that underlie her worldview,” David says in an argument with Samanya. “They’re complete strangers to each other.”

Although the audience is inclined to join Samanya — and Malcolm and Xiao Mei — in denouncing the notion that two people born into disparate cultures cannot forge a viable relationship, Malcolm himself begins experiencing misgivings about the depth of their intimacy, even as he proceeds with plans to take Xiao Mei home. Crisply directed by Evan Cabnet on Takeshi Kata’s sleek set pulsating with hot neon, “Outside People” benefits from assured performances, with Ms. Li especially touching as Xiao Mei. This seemingly gentle-spirited young woman is driven by a tangle of motives that David, played as a smooth operator by Mr. Lee, may understand more perceptively than her lover. The play grinds to an abrupt and unsatisfying ending, but Malcolm’s search for an anchor in a disorienting new world rings achingly true. Speaking at one point of an epiphany he had on one of his dates with Xiao Mei, he recalls: “Suddenly I was like, oh my God. You know? Who is this woman? Where am I? What the hell am I doing here? Honestly, I was terrified.” Malcolm’s real problem may be not that he doesn’t really know the woman he is falling in love with, but that he doesn’t yet know himself.

OUTSIDE PEOPLE By Zayd Dohrn; directed by Evan Cabnet; sets by Takeshi Kata; costumes by Jessica Wegener Shay; lighting by Ben Stanton; sound by Jill B C Du Boff; production stage manager, Charles M. Turner III; production manager, David Nelson. Presented by the Vineyard Theater, Douglas Aibel, artistic director; Jennifer Garvey-Blackwell, executive producer; Sarah Stern, co-artistic director; Rebecca Habel, managing director, and by Naked Angels, Andy Donald, artistic director; and Renee Blinkwolt, managing director. At the Vineyard Theater, 108 East 15th Street, Manhattan; (212) 353-0303 , vineyardtheatre.org. Through Jan. 29. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes. WITH: Matt Dellapina (Malcolm), Nelson Lee (David), Li Jun Li (Xiao Mei) and Sonequa Martin-Green (Samanya).

So Far Away

Before we get into further discussion of 春运, it's important to get a grasp of the sheer scale of the thing - we find this is the case with a lot of things in China. There is that 230-million figure, but just looking at it as a number doesn't really convey the gravity; after all, there are a handful of countries with more people than that, and it's only about 1/6th of China's total population. However, one needs to consider that all of these people are travelling at the same time. The government's migration preparation itself makes headlines every year.

On Every Street

The primary method of transportation during the 春运 is the nation's railway system, which can become incredibly taxed. This a constant source of criticism within China, which is understandable given the enormous stresses placed upon the system every year. As one critic puts it, "We can blame the railway authorities, and it's not unreasonable to do so, but there's no ultimate solution to the chunyun chaos". By some estimates, the travel period is 40 days long, which leads to difficulties because in most places and for most train routes, tickets can be purchased no more than 7 days in advance. This often leads to long lines in the cold January weather, as well as uncertainty about even getting tickets at all. It's not unheard of to see people turn away from ticket windows in tears after finding out there aren't enough tickets for them to head home for the holiday, as the purchasing experience can be exceptionally trying emotionally. There are a lot of efforts underway to remedy the problems, but at present it seems as though the 春运 train issues will be difficult to solve: some 3,160,000,000 individual trips are expected to be made in the 春运 this year. Best of luck to everyone travelling!

Money for Nothing

This year's Spring Festival rush has already begun, and it won't be long before the more nefarious side of 春运 rears its head. The contrast between the innocence and filial piety of those who'd give anything to see their families and the iniquity of those trying to fleece them is especially apparent in the scalpers who buy rail tickets and sell them at ludicrously inflated prices. They're known as 票贩子 (piào fànzi), which literally means "ticket trafficker" or, more colloquially, "ticket-peddling guy". With tighter controls on tickets, ID requirements, and technological innovations, 票贩子 have become less of a problem, but many a traveler has had to shell out far too much for a simple trip home. The most recent game-changing maneuver has been online ticket purchasing, which was resisted for a long time because it unfairly favors wealthier Chinese, who are more likely to have internet access. As many have said, migrant workers often get the raw end of this deal, and they tend to be the most in need of a trip home, so it's clear that 春运, while it has improved lately, may still be fraught with troubles, delays and hardships. We hope you've enjoyed our look at the craziness that is the annual 春运; it's one of those things you can't really explain until you experience it for yourself, so we hope you're all ready for it this year!