tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15285568539190788322024-02-21T10:05:28.794-08:00of Rice and Ren - 人米之间Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-41858738461073133112010-07-19T23:16:00.000-07:002010-07-19T23:19:59.041-07:00The Time has ComeAll good things must come to an end. Actually, I don't think that's true. But in this case it's true. Unless an extraordinary, unexpected turn of events happens in the next few hours, I will be leaving China very shortly.<br />
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Even though I've been here for almost five months, I still feel like I hardly know the place, the culture or the language. China is still mysterious to me. But I suppose that's what makes it attractive. I can still go walking on the streets filled with a sense of expectation, curiosity, and wonder. As much as China has become "westernized," it is still rich with culture and unordinariness -- ordinary to them, for sure, but peculiar and interesting to my me-focused eyes.<br />
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I'm going to miss many things.<br />
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I will miss the people.<br />
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I will miss the buildings.<br />
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I will miss the non-Chinese people.<br />
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I will miss the streets and shops.<br />
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I will miss fighting crime with my friends.<br />
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And there are a hundred other things I will miss. Of course, there are also things I won't miss. I won't miss getting my hair butchered by the barber because I can't speak correctly to him. I won't miss the sound of jackhammers everywhere I walk. I won't miss the smell of pollution in the morning.<br />
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But then again, anything worthwhile is never easy. I feel like this is the place to insert a Lord of the Rings quote as Sam and Frodo talk about adventure and facing hardships, but I can't think of one. Imagine I did and that it was profound.<br />
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Now I have the task of returning home and processing what I've experienced. That shouldn't be too hard, as I have many friends and family who will keep my memory jogging.<br />
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Before I leave, though, I want to share one last story that has been on my mind a lot and still makes me laugh. When I was in Shenzhen (see last post), I was riding in the car with my friend Yuwei and his family. We started talking about English songs. They said they knew very few. But Yuwei's dad knew at least one.<br />
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All of a sudden, he started singing <i>Jingle Bells</i>. After the the first "jingle bells" the whole family immediately jumped in. Yuwei's parents can hardly speak English. There they were, happy as could be, singing <i>Jingle Bells</i> in broken English at the top of their lungs. I couldn't stop laughing because all I could think about was this famous scene from <i>A Christmas Story</i>. They get to <i>Jingle Bells</i> about 50 seconds in. <br />
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Those are the kinds of memories that will stick the most. Priceless. <br />
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Thanks for following me on my trip!Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-11340468675293225202010-07-15T01:20:00.000-07:002010-07-15T01:22:27.465-07:00Welcome to Shenzhen!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyhkCZ1cvoa4DAy3bzIpjHdo_pUySMQETycPaHwHU7nkSKMkKn-BnEA_ZtdnMq7S61IdBwHy1kgjTKmgqG-wsdHgHw2XloP91VDUU7qS83u9kJVSXO13NbFOXa33i-a2JKwkDEBtdDaFQ/s1600/china+map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyhkCZ1cvoa4DAy3bzIpjHdo_pUySMQETycPaHwHU7nkSKMkKn-BnEA_ZtdnMq7S61IdBwHy1kgjTKmgqG-wsdHgHw2XloP91VDUU7qS83u9kJVSXO13NbFOXa33i-a2JKwkDEBtdDaFQ/s320/china+map.jpg" /></a></div><br />
As many of you probably noticed, I've been on a 10-day hiatus from blogging. That is because I left Wuhan to visit a good friend in a city called Shenzhen, just beside Hong Kong.<br />
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Meet Wang Yuwei (a.k.a. Derek):<br />
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Derek is a really good friend of mine from Kansas. He lived a few doors down from me in the dorms at K-State last year. He invited me to visit his home before I go back to the U.S.<br />
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He and his family treated me so well while I was with them. <br />
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The past 10 days have been so packed full of adventure that I could never tell you everything we did in just one blog post. So, I will have to settle for a few short blurbs and pictures.<br />
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Derek took me to a few different theme parks. One of them highlighted the different minority groups in China. Each minority group "village" featured that culture's architecture, clothing, food, dance, etc. People from each minority group performed, usually dancing and/or singing.<br />
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One thing about these performances is that they like to pick volunteers to participate and make fools of themselves. I'm glad I wasn't picked.<br />
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That would have been really embarrassing.<br />
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I mean, you would think they would always pick the tall, strange-looking American in the crowd of all Chinese. I must have hidden myself well.<br />
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Can you imagine having to wear way-too-small clothes and flail around to try to impress a girl?<br />
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Or what if they picked you to do something in front of 200 people, promising that you won't get wet...<br />
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...then you end up being drenched with multiple bowls of water? I can't imagine what it would be like to spend a whole day at an amusement park with a soaked shirt, shorts, underwear, and socks.<br />
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But thankfully none of that happened.<br />
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We also went to a really neat park that had miniature replicas of famous places in China. It was a beautiful place.<br />
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Later, Derek and I had some free time. So we decided to fly to France.<br />
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The Eiffel Tower is bigger in person.<br />
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But we soon got tired of France, and Egypt wasn't that far away.<br />
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Actually, let me tell you a little secret. We didn't really travel to France or Egypt. I had you going, didn't I?<br />
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There is a really cool theme park called Window of the World in Shenzhen. It has "small" replicas of famous world landmarks. I say "small" because some of them, like the Eiffel Tower, seemed very close to the actual size. It was really impressive. And when you take a picture of many of them, you can't tell that they are fake.<br />
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We decided we'd better fight at the Colosseum. <br />
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In honor of my brother, I even sang opera at the Sydney Opera House.<br />
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I'm belting out a high B flat.<br />
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Derek thought that being in the African portion of the park made him stronger.<br />
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These different amusement parks also had very good stage shows for free. I've never seen a real Broadway musical, but I would guess that some of these shows could be shown on Broadway. We also went to an ancient Chinese war re-enactment on horseback. It was really neat.<br />
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But we didn't spend all of our time at amusement parks. We played basketball and tennis and badminton together with Derek's parents and their teacher friends. I watched my first ever 3-D movie and my first ever 4-D movie. I was really impressed. <br />
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On the weekend, Derek and his parents took me to the beach. We spent two days there. <br />
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I loved the mountains just off the beach.<br />
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And of course we swam a lot.<br />
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Since I didn't bring a swimming suit, I had to buy one there. Unfortunately, Chinese guys don't use the shorts-like swimming suits most guys use in the U.S. Instead, they use speedo-like swimming suits. That was another first for me. Now I will be coming home with a new swimming suit I probably will never wear again; but, on the bright side I do think it made me swim faster.<br />
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After going to the beach Derek and I spent our last day together at an amusement park called Happy Valley. This is a pretty standard amusement park with roller coasters, rides, over-priced food, etc. It was fun and tiring.<br />
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So now I'm back in Wuhan with a sunburn and many good memories. I won't be here much longer. My plan is to leave on July 21.<br />
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Stay tuned for another blog post before I leave.Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-64894652032333887712010-07-02T05:17:00.000-07:002010-07-02T05:20:11.375-07:00Dr. Pepper Breaches the Great WallOne day when I was teaching English here two years ago, my students asked me to tell them about American food. That's a hard question to answer when you think about it. It seems like we steal other countries' foods.<br />
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But one thing we did not steal...<br />
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Actually, I mainly mentioned it because it is my favorite drink in the U.S. No one in the class knew what I was talking about. So the next day I brought a picture of Dr. Pepper. <i>Still</i>, no one had heard of it or seen it. That is <i>170</i> Chinese college students that have never even <i>heard</i> of Dr. Pepper.<br />
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Then I started looking around. I couldn't find it anywhere in Wuhan. When I went to Beijing (one of the most "Western" cities in China) I still couldn't find it anywhere. Not once did I see it then, and during my whole time here this summer I have never seen it. Pepsi, Coke, Sprite, orange soda, and grape soda are all very popular here. But I could never understand why Dr. Pepper never made the cut. <br />
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When I came to Wuhan this summer, I met up with a few of my students from two years ago. During one of our very first conversations after meeting each other again, one of them mentioned Dr. Pepper out of the blue. He said that ever since I mentioned it in class he has been looking for it and has never seen it. <br />
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So he was psyched when I told him that I brought some to China this time. After telling them all two year ago how good it is, I felt bad leaving them hanging. So I brought some, and I was really excited to hear that they had been dreaming of tasting it.<br />
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Today, they finally got that chance. During a going-away dinner in the cafeteria (funny, right?) I brought the bottle of bubbly. This was a going-away dinner because I will be traveling to another city on Monday to visit a friend, and they will be traveling to Shanghai. <br />
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If you've been following my blog, these faces will be familiar to you. These guys took me to the botanical gardens a few months ago.<br />
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So what did they think? Dream come true?<br />
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Tao eagerly sipped.<br />
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Thinking about it...<br />
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Not exactly the face of ecstasy. In fact, when he noticed I was taking pictures of him, he gave me this face:<br />
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Hmmmm...maybe Zhongyuan will like it.<br />
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It looks like it burns going down.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkIabV8gHvhou7Uz5xEfK3u5ey7UHHI3xg1jO5jFz2OcInNvCPnIrAJUDEPF3JEFlPWD3axDviUjGBmh6STZkCpkK0rndppJ1wy7rCvm3WauDWXCwcMuVeeapyir5AnBW_hlEt_JwaZuw/s1600/IMG_3923.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkIabV8gHvhou7Uz5xEfK3u5ey7UHHI3xg1jO5jFz2OcInNvCPnIrAJUDEPF3JEFlPWD3axDviUjGBmh6STZkCpkK0rndppJ1wy7rCvm3WauDWXCwcMuVeeapyir5AnBW_hlEt_JwaZuw/s320/IMG_3923.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Zhongyuan's thought: "How do I politely tell my American friend that this drink is <i>HORRIBLE</i>?" <br />
<br />
He lifted up his head with a plastered-on smile and said, "Not bad."<br />
<br />
Soon, the third person of the trio showed up. Remember Hua?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBX2j-xMLmnAnDYN1VYBRiK-TFpOuhhICAoRKwT2VaXIVX72n5RxBQwIb77tSIz9OWQj1QT5psZHRpD2ngtFsrSrLBCCtic4964pxgc-zzDs6_pIRywsxI2gNB8j1ViM33Jb3oiGZSSOc/s1600/IMG_3928.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBX2j-xMLmnAnDYN1VYBRiK-TFpOuhhICAoRKwT2VaXIVX72n5RxBQwIb77tSIz9OWQj1QT5psZHRpD2ngtFsrSrLBCCtic4964pxgc-zzDs6_pIRywsxI2gNB8j1ViM33Jb3oiGZSSOc/s320/IMG_3928.JPG" /></a></div><br />
He was focused.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUH4jRVhPAEn2VJaI_tGuH3iFXSdtZ8vbKE_fbTlHDzIaivNHyBw-TPkiYTDRrFn2FwttpIWZ4wrwGd7ALZlPhQOn5xa2qLKY5jp7we0keWYSAo1Og-Sp3lMo-LIf1pDSoHpDNNH0fTo/s1600/IMG_3929.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUH4jRVhPAEn2VJaI_tGuH3iFXSdtZ8vbKE_fbTlHDzIaivNHyBw-TPkiYTDRrFn2FwttpIWZ4wrwGd7ALZlPhQOn5xa2qLKY5jp7we0keWYSAo1Og-Sp3lMo-LIf1pDSoHpDNNH0fTo/s320/IMG_3929.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Processing...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFvZ4l_d6C3aqsCh2MCgTwvhXFppI0egZ2lHa52EdsR4CwRSwRD7SCWirdt8NwCkqNDRgB4oGqCkMSke2B9fieOk8IGs41XI7SW0SBU1xK6QiFhD02vsk8FN16GIQQGZTLmdB3zMwfV0I/s1600/IMG_3931.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFvZ4l_d6C3aqsCh2MCgTwvhXFppI0egZ2lHa52EdsR4CwRSwRD7SCWirdt8NwCkqNDRgB4oGqCkMSke2B9fieOk8IGs41XI7SW0SBU1xK6QiFhD02vsk8FN16GIQQGZTLmdB3zMwfV0I/s320/IMG_3931.JPG" /></a></div><br />
My favorite expression so far.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuN7nz7cF6g7HxTQ4vXxgCtx-wWS2Lax6cy3tTyF5YP0hcPAiU9k1aQTSfQyIR0qE4x0SE-utoOlfZuoGlTm1nlKrapCLPL7w8_wAZVpnHf78WhXI9KtDkR60CYDHzyLdHF521VskJOPY/s1600/IMG_3932.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuN7nz7cF6g7HxTQ4vXxgCtx-wWS2Lax6cy3tTyF5YP0hcPAiU9k1aQTSfQyIR0qE4x0SE-utoOlfZuoGlTm1nlKrapCLPL7w8_wAZVpnHf78WhXI9KtDkR60CYDHzyLdHF521VskJOPY/s320/IMG_3932.JPG" /></a></div><br />
And, naturally, the forced, nervous smile follows.<br />
<br />
Maybe it's better after the second sip, right?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6k__0S73B3jJPbOr0M1uOPyNBdo-wz-L5EwmdzE_tGe21LSO4nko_Lpy3OcvJtuIub7HynGJVUNEfN30WRJj80XoWks9zO6Lr6Vef1_tV2f23qUFJ8N-nbTYDnEJthg9B72LjYnUWGWA/s1600/IMG_3935.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6k__0S73B3jJPbOr0M1uOPyNBdo-wz-L5EwmdzE_tGe21LSO4nko_Lpy3OcvJtuIub7HynGJVUNEfN30WRJj80XoWks9zO6Lr6Vef1_tV2f23qUFJ8N-nbTYDnEJthg9B72LjYnUWGWA/s320/IMG_3935.JPG" /></a></div><br />
OK, maybe not.<br />
<br />
I asked them what they thought it tasted like. Hua said it tasted like the metal of a car tire (extra points for creativity). Zhongyuan said it tasted like a bitter peach. Tao said it tasted like medicine.<br />
<br />
After he said that, I told them that it was originally created by a doctor (hence, the name) and was used for medicine. They just couldn't understand why so many Americans like to drink medicine.<br />
<br />
In fact, I haven't met a Chinese student in the U.S. who likes Dr. Pepper. That eased their consciences a little.<br />
<br />
In the end, this going away dinner didn't end with the "bang" that I'd hoped for, though I can't exactly say I dashed their dreams. After all, they<i> did</i> finally get to taste Dr. Pepper. Unfortunately, there's something wired differently deep within the D.N.A. of Americans and Chinese.<br />
<br />
And it wasn't all bad on my end, either. I got to drink most of a bottle of Dr. Pepper for the first time in over 4 months.Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-88174923251020852392010-06-28T03:07:00.000-07:002010-06-28T03:10:13.558-07:00Finally Cooling OffToday the heat index here was 104 degrees Fahrenheit. <br />
<br />
The other day it was 114 degrees Fahrenheit.<br />
<br />
I have plans to play (outdoor) basketball with a friend in two days. I covet your prayers.Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-78480593412312924282010-06-25T01:35:00.000-07:002010-06-25T05:52:16.760-07:00Cultural Conundrum #13: T-shirtsYesterday a thought came to my mind: "I should buy a Chinese T-shirt." I haven't bought any clothes the entire time I've been here, and I don't necessarily need any new clothes. But I have always thought that a T-shirt with Chinese writing on it is a novel thing to have in the U.S. You don't see them very often.<br />
<br />
Then a second thought came to my mind: "I don't recall ever seeing a Chinese person wearing a T-shirt with Chinese writing on it."<br />
<br />
So, on my way to and back from lunch I paid attention to the T-shirts everyone was wearing. I took statistics in my head.<br />
<br />
I counted 77 T-shirts with writing of some form or another on them. Of these, <b>72</b> were only in English, and <b>5</b> had Chinese writing on them. Of these 5 with Chinese writing on them, <b>2</b> only had the university logo on them (which is just one Chinese character); <b>2</b> others had both Chinese <i>and</i> English; and only <b>1</b> consisted of more than one Chinese character and no English.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4peso8ijljzH20Q5WLRWOMPcFZbwqRzlGa-wJ7cTl61DgGDRygwbJKYue6X-N2Nak41JWXe9QTb9SD9sGo4bSU-Ez_7p1i13ZnLM8PAaO4juBy-I5FBet5l2Zj5FJxPPKYeWNljyJqC8/s1600/IMG_3740.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4peso8ijljzH20Q5WLRWOMPcFZbwqRzlGa-wJ7cTl61DgGDRygwbJKYue6X-N2Nak41JWXe9QTb9SD9sGo4bSU-Ez_7p1i13ZnLM8PAaO4juBy-I5FBet5l2Zj5FJxPPKYeWNljyJqC8/s320/IMG_3740.JPG" /></a></div><br />
After living here for a few months, this doesn't come as a surprise. Most Chinese students I've talked to here greatly envy Americans. Very, very few would turn down the opportunity to live in the U.S. At times it is frustrating talking to some of them because of the idol-like status some of them have of Americans. I would even go so far as to say that there is an obsession with America among many people here -- especially the younger generations.<br />
<br />
One of my friends said when she was growing up she would always complain to her mom that she wasn't white. She didn't like being Chinese. <br />
<br />
There has been a massive infusion of American culture into this society. For example, Chinese people (or at least university students) mostly watch American movies and listen to American music. In fact, most of the people I've asked don't even like Chinese movies.<br />
<br />
From my perspective, over half of the advertisements on billboards and posters around the city have Americans (or at least white people) on them. "America" is trendy. <br />
<br />
And fashion is no exception. It's trendy to wear clothing with English on it. Much of the time there is some mention of "America" on it (or places in the U.S. like New York, California, etc.). Sometimes the English doesn't make sense at all, but no one knows -- or no one cares.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf5kpEQKNiB45lbnoiIu6z3wYcBtgAiL78eif-klV1xBuwsvvi4CUAKKBsXTsRNHb5H3hwQShVL9EpcNxpiLFqPQVUejbljHNG0QWS-pQUD1xmpQFpBQrGShYHwQlqwfhcsdXwgnP4WiI/s1600/IMG_3735.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf5kpEQKNiB45lbnoiIu6z3wYcBtgAiL78eif-klV1xBuwsvvi4CUAKKBsXTsRNHb5H3hwQShVL9EpcNxpiLFqPQVUejbljHNG0QWS-pQUD1xmpQFpBQrGShYHwQlqwfhcsdXwgnP4WiI/s320/IMG_3735.JPG" /></a></div><br />
So, I probably won't be coming home with a Chinese T-shirt. I have yet to see people selling them. I did, however, see a T-shirt of President Obama dressed in a Chinese communist outfit. I'm not sure what they are trying to communicate through that one. I have a feeling it largely depends on whether you wear it here or in the U.S.Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-30349569568939816722010-06-20T10:20:00.000-07:002010-06-20T18:17:24.440-07:00Cultural Conundrum #12: FirearmsAs I venture outside of campus, it is hard to walk for one minute without passing by a man or woman squatting on the edge of the sidewalk with a sheet spread out in front of them on which an array of carefully arranged items rest. These are what I have dubbed the "sidewalk salesmen" (or "sidewalk salespeople" for the p.c. police).<br />
<br />
These items range from electronics, like mp3 players, to hand-made crafts, like bags, to no-one-could-possibly-ever-pay-money-for-this stuff, like used pencils (sold individually, I might add), to hand-held accessories, like...<br />
<br />
...guns.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6wKBP7qk3uLuod-1FjlrbzeMXUUv4t1dxh7KKBGEUd2SAJUD6IYuX9Lj2cKqRObh-n-R3HbpEtsICkVzO9kZ4D-3bH-5-ZH86mQ4Gdk-FTbqr3wld1dBnh3bnfLA7a5e8zItfp62bmns/s1600/P6051886.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6wKBP7qk3uLuod-1FjlrbzeMXUUv4t1dxh7KKBGEUd2SAJUD6IYuX9Lj2cKqRObh-n-R3HbpEtsICkVzO9kZ4D-3bH-5-ZH86mQ4Gdk-FTbqr3wld1dBnh3bnfLA7a5e8zItfp62bmns/s320/P6051886.JPG" /></a></div><br />
When I first came across people selling guns on the street two things came to mind.<br />
<br />
1.) This is illegal.<br />
2.) Does everyone have a gun?<br />
<br />
As a matter of fact, guns <i>are</i> illegal in China. Citizens aren't allowed to possess guns. Furthermore, hunting is illegal. There are no kinds of permits that allow ordinary people to carry firearms.<br />
<br />
What makes these scenes even more strange (and frightening) is that the guns aren't limited to small hand-helds. There are submachine guns, AK-47 assault rifles, and even sniper rifles. During my first few weeks here, every Sunday morning on my way to church I would walk across an overpass lined with people selling guns. There must have been ten different people selling them. After a couple of weeks I decided to take my camera, but they were gone. I figured they had to keep on the move so that they didn't get caught.<br />
<br />
Call me gullible, but for over a month I thought all of this was real -- an underground gun market. Then one day I expressed my concern to one of my Chinese friends, only to be comforted by almost uncontrollable laughter. It turns out they are all fake.<br />
<br />
At least some of them (like the ones pictured above) shoot BBs (still dangerous in my book). Though, I'm puzzled by the larger guns, such as the sniper rifles. A sniper BB rifle is a pretty hardcore BB gun. Perhaps some of them are just for show.<br />
<br />
But one thing is certain: they all look genuine. Not one of them is painted neon green or orange. Even more surprising is that the main consumers appear to be children. Even after discovering that the guns aren't real, it is still frightening to come across an 8-year-old boy running around with an AK-47.<br />
<br />
Still, I can't blame them. I most certainly would have bought one (or two, or three) if I grew up here. <br />
<br />
This boy and his friends all bought their own guns. Actually, even more concerning, their parents probably bought the guns for them. They go on "missions" together. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiavQ12e-16mMRwR_7P3Q5arBt7g6xPGYyvq6vFan_QKJwCfJBPt7aCtnfR6cAH8ls-hCf1S_AgJmce-pXYA50kXFQZLGCTQ4sbKAUCiz7fXVZ-XOJr2zFO8WLuKtYvfA-3eNKjqN-ZDg/s1600/IMG_2722.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiavQ12e-16mMRwR_7P3Q5arBt7g6xPGYyvq6vFan_QKJwCfJBPt7aCtnfR6cAH8ls-hCf1S_AgJmce-pXYA50kXFQZLGCTQ4sbKAUCiz7fXVZ-XOJr2zFO8WLuKtYvfA-3eNKjqN-ZDg/s320/IMG_2722.JPG" /></a></div><br />
I wanted to get a picture of them all together, but recently they swapped their guns for roller-blades. Maybe it was just a fad?<br />
<br />
But the guns have their own share of adult fans, too. I really wish I had my camera with me two weeks ago. I was walking up a long, uphill street when all of a sudden a grown, 26-ish-year-old man came running full-speed down the middle of the street holding a giant sniper rifle. China never gets boring.<br />
<br />
But some guys think it's a bother to carry around a 4-foot-long gun. After all, they don't conceal well. That is when a glock comes in handy.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNuKYlx1voK6KLPW8oQ0inqXe1L9VlKHjY4ywyh1K1XtumwcANYUGuwX340nMniXwUNVg80AUcvaN1Su_KvwW_6b2a4BIuK4Y3s2ip_3Z-7zai3GmBRN7c6Z7BGYZVsB_jNLIdDsTUF0k/s1600/IMG_2701.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNuKYlx1voK6KLPW8oQ0inqXe1L9VlKHjY4ywyh1K1XtumwcANYUGuwX340nMniXwUNVg80AUcvaN1Su_KvwW_6b2a4BIuK4Y3s2ip_3Z-7zai3GmBRN7c6Z7BGYZVsB_jNLIdDsTUF0k/s320/IMG_2701.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Still, I wonder. Could it be that there are legitimate guns secretly mingled with the decoys? Could this all be an underground, international conspiracy to arm the nations most dangerous criminals?<br />
<br />
When I tried to take a picture of the guns one man was selling, he freaked out, put his hand over my camera, and started yelling at me. Since that incident, I haven't seen anyone selling guns. Everyone is gone again.<br />
<br />
What a coincidence.<br />
<br />
On another note, does anyone have any suggestions how to get a small rifle through airport security? Surely they'll believe me when I assure them that it's not real, right?Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-72745249261792157432010-06-15T01:23:00.000-07:002010-06-15T03:35:11.391-07:00Five Random Blurbs- One -<br />
<br />
I spent five minutes running around my room trying to kill a GIANT fly with one of my textbooks. Seriously, this fly was as big as a bumble bee. It almost never landed.<br />
<br />
But because this fly was so big, it flew quite slow. So, my strategy was to literally bat it in the air with my textbook, then chase it to the place I knocked it to and smash it. Remarkably, the fly survived this multiple times. At one point I smashed it really hard, and when I lifted the book to see what happened to it, it was gone. Disappeared! A moment later I heard buzzing again.<br />
<br />
But alas, it met it's match.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5crMPLgOwAb2dnn_MhzUDKhZpFMyFQ6k_qtMAw6RoahYMMsNduUMc8-UMN0X_WtnrUefvNMkCpangmmwdcjd4wRzpaknyl7FWyMYtFIajaULrBmSoYpukGaQ2k6-H2bssshT7iUBR810/s1600/IMG_1321edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5crMPLgOwAb2dnn_MhzUDKhZpFMyFQ6k_qtMAw6RoahYMMsNduUMc8-UMN0X_WtnrUefvNMkCpangmmwdcjd4wRzpaknyl7FWyMYtFIajaULrBmSoYpukGaQ2k6-H2bssshT7iUBR810/s320/IMG_1321edit.jpg" /></a></div><br />
- Two -<br />
<br />
I have had the classic Christmas song <i>Winter Wonderland</i> stuck in my head ever since I arrived here. At least three times a week I will catch myself humming/singing to it while I'm walking around campus.<br />
<br />
I have no idea why this song originally embedded itself into my mind or why it won't get away. Wuhan is one of the "Four Furnaces" of China. The summers here are <i>really</i> hot. Maybe this phenomenon is a way for my body to cope with the heat.<br />
<br />
All in all, it's not a bad song to get stuck in your head. There are much worse.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp41qG_bxQXJoxealShz8ZWn9JVZl97G548MyLMoYKLpUcUWc_eegUg7hxqF4qm8lXpPep7pf7HG0D6QAHEvq5MFW_0gJIvLwNdMttcEI0cDcB30tThIP8pkFUUqC6an5NP0L1pnwHEZc/s1600/IMG_1251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp41qG_bxQXJoxealShz8ZWn9JVZl97G548MyLMoYKLpUcUWc_eegUg7hxqF4qm8lXpPep7pf7HG0D6QAHEvq5MFW_0gJIvLwNdMttcEI0cDcB30tThIP8pkFUUqC6an5NP0L1pnwHEZc/s320/IMG_1251.JPG" /></a></div><br />
- Three -<br />
<br />
I have seen a sudden surge in dogs recently. I've even gotten to pet a few. It's strange how some of them even <i>look</i> Chinese.<br />
<br />
But along with cute, fun, people-loving dogs comes almost unbearable pangs of longing for her, my baby...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmaObHW7fAmUdWGTLIyWbpPkTVwVNqQhtoPYIe6ZizAaemJ3pG15Py76LxAKzpBagfpt4B-vXZGCfD9utLeDipALdU1YAqmI1HipiESuarkZwPuB5QUT2SbeRC4hCSgvJzmFIESV7q4C4/s1600/P1010458edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmaObHW7fAmUdWGTLIyWbpPkTVwVNqQhtoPYIe6ZizAaemJ3pG15Py76LxAKzpBagfpt4B-vXZGCfD9utLeDipALdU1YAqmI1HipiESuarkZwPuB5QUT2SbeRC4hCSgvJzmFIESV7q4C4/s320/P1010458edit.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I'm coming Kiah!!! Just a little while longer. I know you've been thinking about me every day. I'll be home soon. Be strong!<br />
<br />
*sigh*<br />
<br />
<br />
- Four -<br />
<br />
Yesterday I was eating in the cafeteria again. I was eating a bowl of three kinds of Chinese dishes mixed together. About two minutes into eating I discovered a hair in my food. I took it out...<br />
<br />
...and kept eating. I was hungry, I didn't want to go get new food, and I'm pretty sure you can't get any disease from eating a piece of someone's hair. The heat kills the germs anyway, right? <br />
<br />
So, I kept on eating. About two minutes later I discovered a nail in the same food. A <i>nail</i>! Not a fingernail. A metal, pointy, hammer-into-a-piece-of-wood nail. I took it out...<br />
<br />
...and kept eating. This is the kind of affect China has on a person.<br />
<br />
After about another two minutes of eating I discovered a chicken claw in my food!<br />
<br />
...oh, wait. That's supposed to be there. Never mind.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbhAp-ZF4S6OiL2hsZbqqDrr8y1jpSKSdXv9gm3Fl2O2GbSmhF2gkYyZ-hxWK-rsWPBKmGHY3tAW_fki-RnK2nOuPQyBaxM0-jYGamNehQPvBQXjRQ174cZWkMyp5bxep18mbXYN34G34/s1600/IMG_3305edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbhAp-ZF4S6OiL2hsZbqqDrr8y1jpSKSdXv9gm3Fl2O2GbSmhF2gkYyZ-hxWK-rsWPBKmGHY3tAW_fki-RnK2nOuPQyBaxM0-jYGamNehQPvBQXjRQ174cZWkMyp5bxep18mbXYN34G34/s320/IMG_3305edit.jpg" /></a></div><br />
- Five -<br />
<br />
Kids are fun(ny).Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-67240136200101561072010-06-12T05:01:00.000-07:002010-06-12T05:05:41.173-07:00Home Away From HomeMonday through Friday I spend 20 hours in the classroom. That means 1/6 of my time on the weekdays are spent here:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhuC6UPPjVXTjjpF50WO0sqVQtV5OGTG_fxW-PMhWmo2CMXqxWlYGNp7fdkWoOtgF97HURrxjqCj-G437_75I7dFaGy5JiX_KMLaJERhStUbkqZoFhk8PCSK8zmaF66Ml4d87xlEoN9a8/s1600/IMG_2814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhuC6UPPjVXTjjpF50WO0sqVQtV5OGTG_fxW-PMhWmo2CMXqxWlYGNp7fdkWoOtgF97HURrxjqCj-G437_75I7dFaGy5JiX_KMLaJERhStUbkqZoFhk8PCSK8zmaF66Ml4d87xlEoN9a8/s320/IMG_2814.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Welcome to my desk. It has a smooth top surface for lightning-fast writing, sturdy legs that will withstand the pressure of those who prefer engraving on paper over writing (you know who you are), and a lovely <strike>shelf to hold your extra books</strike> barrier to keep anyone from comfortably using the desk. <br />
<br />
OK, maybe I'm being a little too hard on the desk. It might be the chair's fault. But in either case, this is clearly a chair-desk combo. The chair came with the desk. <br />
<br />
My only guess is that the chair designer at the factory and the desk designer didn't work together; thus, the chair was made too high and the desk was made too low. Or perhaps they did work together, and a third guy came along after the desk and chair were made and had the brilliant idea to add a shelf. <br />
<br />
At first one might think that this is only a problem for really tall people. But take a closer look. The problem isn't the length of my legs – as it is trying to sit on the bus:<br />
<br />
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The problem with my desk is the gap between the seat of the chair and the bottom of the shelf. Imagine how thin your upper legs would have to be to fit between that gap.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBF_t91swDUkRDzHMjaiBoremUS556XFCpFcf01Ls0Kte7nlWkHHldTWw0tFuClLyr9rH7mpaZjflwhXWi4ZF-JJjq_9kngrDLf5VFUSuw-TGmXiljj07NbzA79YPE95oEbkr8cHVMVJs/s1600/IMG_3539.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBF_t91swDUkRDzHMjaiBoremUS556XFCpFcf01Ls0Kte7nlWkHHldTWw0tFuClLyr9rH7mpaZjflwhXWi4ZF-JJjq_9kngrDLf5VFUSuw-TGmXiljj07NbzA79YPE95oEbkr8cHVMVJs/s320/IMG_3539.JPG" /></a></div><br />
And if you're lucky enough to have pencil-thin legs, there is a lovely shin-barrier that will keep you from scooting in too close. I might add that this barrier also keeps me from extending my legs so that they fit under the desk.<br />
<br />
Solution? I have three. <br />
<ol><li>Sit "normal" and hunch over to reach the top of my desk</li>
<li>Extend my legs sideways into the aisle</li>
<li>Get rid of the desk altogether and do my work in my lap</li>
</ol>And lest you pity me too much, you can rest assured I'm not in this alone. Nearly all of my class faces the same problem.<br />
<br />
My teacher told me that there are some other desks on campus that are even worse, so I guess I should consider myself blessed. Just be prepared for me to come home with an arched back.Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-21630982517526492432010-06-09T11:02:00.000-07:002010-06-09T11:02:44.021-07:00My New Favorite FruitWhen you find food you really like, it's hard to try something new. At home, it seems like the only time we ever try something new is when we have coupons. If we don't have coupons, then we don't want to risk buying something that we might not like when we can buy something we already know we like.<br />
<br />
Things are no different in China. By now I know what food I like, and it is really hard to spend my money on something new. And unfortunately, I haven't found any coupons. But coupons aren't the only catalyst to exploration. Friends are, too!<br />
<br />
When I eat with friends they often offer me their food to taste. That is when I stumbled across this:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTm8swHfsibHD9zIFrMZfttjfjCpYMtuGdpbUo2iaHxJng0-Vnh-MEgPIIKb7_guUgz_A9XA9TukUKmEINwKshu4bYQqvAp3zyB-dCKb3ipeKH13JyrN_4OisOGI90JpSU4GTHkmDjltc/s1600/IMG_3309.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTm8swHfsibHD9zIFrMZfttjfjCpYMtuGdpbUo2iaHxJng0-Vnh-MEgPIIKb7_guUgz_A9XA9TukUKmEINwKshu4bYQqvAp3zyB-dCKb3ipeKH13JyrN_4OisOGI90JpSU4GTHkmDjltc/s320/IMG_3309.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Dynamite comes in small packages.<br />
<br />
In Chinese, the name of this fruit is pronounced "lee-jer." When I looked up the translation online, I discovered it has the terribly unappetizing name of "lychee." <br />
<br />
Somebody please find the man or woman who was in charge of naming this thing. I've got a bone to pick with them. It wouldn't surprise me if it's the same person in charge of naming oranges: "naval," "bloody," etc.<br />
<br />
Instead, I would hire the apple guy: "red delicious," "pink lady," "golden delicious," (and the lesser-known) "seek-no-further," "strawberry parfait," "pixie crunch," and "revival." Look them up if you don't believe me. <br />
<br />
And I must confess, I've always envied Roald Dahl for creating the "Scrumdiddlyumptious Bar." Unfortunately, he's not around anymore to consult. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4WrpL2D0lMkiKhwzWazMvWnH7_7MZv00YFHhZnl9w96cr9ep7l6cUbYgFONkywK0B5vi8v2M4jhd0qxjh_tiZ9jpE8Jwbmmm-0a2jNhmxkfySbA3tSRaRmTLlaHujIYgBgqMyJFuaXwA/s1600/IMG_3314.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4WrpL2D0lMkiKhwzWazMvWnH7_7MZv00YFHhZnl9w96cr9ep7l6cUbYgFONkywK0B5vi8v2M4jhd0qxjh_tiZ9jpE8Jwbmmm-0a2jNhmxkfySbA3tSRaRmTLlaHujIYgBgqMyJFuaXwA/s320/IMG_3314.JPG" /></a></div><br />
These things peal very easily. Inside, there is a translucent ball with a seed inside. The texture most resembles the inside of a grape, though it is less firm and more juicy.<br />
<br />
And as for the taste, it is completely unique. I think this is in the fruit punch family. If you mix four parts fruit punch and one part watermelon you might be close to creating "lychee juice."<br />
<br />
...I'm serious about finding the apple guy to change the name of this fruit.<br />
<br />
Has anyone seen this fruit in the U.S.?Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-16960497768545345522010-06-05T02:00:00.000-07:002010-06-05T02:02:58.744-07:00Stuffed Animals and Balls are for Babies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP_a8-_U0rl6CihQRIcI729UZEupWsJRG7Z1aZGHc9ghzzppzzpcFOE3bNUnVGux9A5wB8OrxzymBxnV0JF5HboZyhPLmB1xHYObMobTMxUDPHLtFOe75oGYQCxq8L-SyC0za1X6l7gsc/s1600/IMG_3276editsmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP_a8-_U0rl6CihQRIcI729UZEupWsJRG7Z1aZGHc9ghzzppzzpcFOE3bNUnVGux9A5wB8OrxzymBxnV0JF5HboZyhPLmB1xHYObMobTMxUDPHLtFOe75oGYQCxq8L-SyC0za1X6l7gsc/s320/IMG_3276editsmall.jpg" /></a></div><br />
If you've been following my blog, you'll remember this little guy from a few days ago. This picture was taken at the same time I took the photos for my last post.<br />
<br />
I also had a little time on my hands to do some magic with Photoshop. If I had enough time, I would spruce up my photos on every post. But I don't have enough time, so you're stuck looking at "normal" photos again (not at the expense of boredom, though -- keep reading).<br />
<br />
In order to protect the identity of this boy, let's call him Phillip.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7BnlUKJjiHxE3aIYjTpp-czMyZ26bRiu7OnZA_bmMTcMCtrbgTDbJkTJgaHqLho388uEoKTBzwzpLVEX1uDJzG7qH60VnsVM0iiMnfzemkt3PmUCRiojLpnPCQTiwlLTr_E0v5VD_ZGE/s1600/IMG_3279edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7BnlUKJjiHxE3aIYjTpp-czMyZ26bRiu7OnZA_bmMTcMCtrbgTDbJkTJgaHqLho388uEoKTBzwzpLVEX1uDJzG7qH60VnsVM0iiMnfzemkt3PmUCRiojLpnPCQTiwlLTr_E0v5VD_ZGE/s320/IMG_3279edit.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Actually, I have no idea who he is. I didn't ask him.<br />
<br />
Apparently, Phillip found a fun-looking brick on the ground. Children here play a little more roughly than those in the U.S.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhII3h4uzpzbEqwKF9slfViIrRreO4JReLSpOlV1Km_IyrDebteaCnjpwbcUph3K7CW7y2mG22_8dqxuCGVNSURsTmFFyxzurdT8YgbaHe-lW6TTrrqvJPKo2U-vRj7yTVs6Gr0vk94XaY/s1600/IMG_3282edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhII3h4uzpzbEqwKF9slfViIrRreO4JReLSpOlV1Km_IyrDebteaCnjpwbcUph3K7CW7y2mG22_8dqxuCGVNSURsTmFFyxzurdT8YgbaHe-lW6TTrrqvJPKo2U-vRj7yTVs6Gr0vk94XaY/s320/IMG_3282edit.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Suddenly, something (other than a tall, strange-looking white man squatting down awkwardly across the street while pointing a big machine at him) grabbed his attention.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8f4JNdQau4peNn-fE0uLcVVP6Sj3-vuMt3UZGOb5ylO2RCK6YPpwVH2YVcg3craUj-QkMA5lhZfc33FWSyfM2sZvt7904AhijGozOuhzujnPO28tnRqFGnGBg5ARm389xkljel4Zqcy4/s1600/IMG_3283.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8f4JNdQau4peNn-fE0uLcVVP6Sj3-vuMt3UZGOb5ylO2RCK6YPpwVH2YVcg3craUj-QkMA5lhZfc33FWSyfM2sZvt7904AhijGozOuhzujnPO28tnRqFGnGBg5ARm389xkljel4Zqcy4/s320/IMG_3283.JPG" /></a></div><br />
At this point in the story, I'm not sure what happened. Here are my theories:<br />
<ol><li>Phillip saw something really interesting, and he wanted to go see it. But his brick was too fun to leave behind, so he tried to pick it up and take it with him, not realizing that the brick weighed more than him.</li>
<li>There was a big puddle of oil under the brick from the street vendor selling deep-fried scorpions who sets up shop in that place every day (he happened to be sick this day and didn't come to work). The brick wasn't fun anymore, so Phillip tried to push off of the brick to get up, causing the brick to slide backward on the oil, making Phillip lose his balance. </li>
<li>A massive gust of wind blindsided him, knocking him to the ground. </li>
</ol>I never felt a gust of wind, so I think it's ridiculous to assume that wind did it. It must be either 1 or 2.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcM4kt78xM4g3tn4RkTQCkIg-KofMmgLGmPWa4Zy43W4Duapwml7YcNzk8jVSm7pg1HwcB-6jxrqmd3VgsuO3miwSD4agLq47tmpdgy9iBxE4glMH20op9ec-kQJFun1v8b33VH01WYfE/s1600/IMG_3284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcM4kt78xM4g3tn4RkTQCkIg-KofMmgLGmPWa4Zy43W4Duapwml7YcNzk8jVSm7pg1HwcB-6jxrqmd3VgsuO3miwSD4agLq47tmpdgy9iBxE4glMH20op9ec-kQJFun1v8b33VH01WYfE/s320/IMG_3284.JPG" /></a></div><br />
At this point I entered into news photographer mode. News photographers are trained not to get involved in what's happening -- no matter how serious -- but only to keep taking pictures. To my credit, I knew the mom was right beside him. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF6J6kEiKv3ejUF94T0NWaQzhg1NKq4EPYxmERdgZdkovQha2rXXeAI44QbkfYoso074qoWGhvjorGK_wQhXsf2t7v3N8r3pHF-hIfFV9umlA6tLrDdP_rbskz0RDoX025mvGhovDzGGU/s1600/IMG_3285edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF6J6kEiKv3ejUF94T0NWaQzhg1NKq4EPYxmERdgZdkovQha2rXXeAI44QbkfYoso074qoWGhvjorGK_wQhXsf2t7v3N8r3pHF-hIfFV9umlA6tLrDdP_rbskz0RDoX025mvGhovDzGGU/s320/IMG_3285edit.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I also started saying things like "Oh no!" and "Poor guy!" and "Oh, that looks bad!" all while I kept clicking my camera. I felt like a jerk. That's pretty bad that my instinct was to keep taking pictures. Journalism has corrupted me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOjwYkmvesT_GOzZDxgbPGPIUwN6EAm6268KEBoWRNQVUyO127hiRsUWM1BqJ1T2qzRVbqAYpFaU66YtmeaXRfIPfL-GQSMgZrmlC8WmHV0Gc5SUGxrQ2WZMuXshjVf2x7xzgyAq1vogs/s1600/IMG_3285editblood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOjwYkmvesT_GOzZDxgbPGPIUwN6EAm6268KEBoWRNQVUyO127hiRsUWM1BqJ1T2qzRVbqAYpFaU66YtmeaXRfIPfL-GQSMgZrmlC8WmHV0Gc5SUGxrQ2WZMuXshjVf2x7xzgyAq1vogs/s320/IMG_3285editblood.jpg" /></a></div><br />
The moment he lifted his head I saw the trail of blood run down.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTxMnI-M0ABVCNDfR-eBoivV4Qtn6g5vmPFaksrWmadkeiIY9ZLvHA0eHyC8rbXb_GfpYCR8hyuLLRmkbgChvDnRNP1vyexhciqsAkHvAfilWKtnabbTaRgP8Aijptif14DLeldkzszSo/s1600/IMG_3286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTxMnI-M0ABVCNDfR-eBoivV4Qtn6g5vmPFaksrWmadkeiIY9ZLvHA0eHyC8rbXb_GfpYCR8hyuLLRmkbgChvDnRNP1vyexhciqsAkHvAfilWKtnabbTaRgP8Aijptif14DLeldkzszSo/s320/IMG_3286.JPG" /></a></div><br />
About three seconds after he fell, a woman who I am guessing is his mother picked him up. At first she didn't notice the blood.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ-MWBmyYEMFrLma47rVWNoeUZ8s4RKgVJB-BWC5XdUs_J40GIWOIejs8P5wyUXhgq-0hvMqfvxqAiGvEQOcuhvseh4wBV503pC9us1fltDRgj444InXD2f0Vikp6T1h080vqz-BwXL5s/s1600/IMG_3289.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ-MWBmyYEMFrLma47rVWNoeUZ8s4RKgVJB-BWC5XdUs_J40GIWOIejs8P5wyUXhgq-0hvMqfvxqAiGvEQOcuhvseh4wBV503pC9us1fltDRgj444InXD2f0Vikp6T1h080vqz-BwXL5s/s320/IMG_3289.JPG" /></a></div><br />
As soon as she saw the blood, she grabbed a tissue and held it on his head.<br />
<br />
She ran Phillip across the street and ran into a buliding.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF7B8N9FGe9IVcj-mFi9YLe98NFprTbqHTe1CA5YrLmWC7aOG217WD5cS5RxyJDnpHXk1977xrHVJK7nAE_gBN9iwrrFAR2sP8KYcKY8EhbhWh4Ll6R9GnX6LtUJlPOyij9vsp7QAq4wQ/s1600/IMG_3292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF7B8N9FGe9IVcj-mFi9YLe98NFprTbqHTe1CA5YrLmWC7aOG217WD5cS5RxyJDnpHXk1977xrHVJK7nAE_gBN9iwrrFAR2sP8KYcKY8EhbhWh4Ll6R9GnX6LtUJlPOyij9vsp7QAq4wQ/s320/IMG_3292.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Upon reading the sign, I was stunned. It was a pharmacy.<br />
<br />
Lesson learned: If you're going to let your child play with bricks, do it in front of a pharmacy.<br />
<br />
I saw the child a couple of days later, and he looked good. He didn't even have a bandage on his forehead. It must have looked a lot more serious than it was. <br />
<br />
Or maybe they superglued it shut. <br />
<br />
Oh, and this morning I went for a stroll and came across the <i>other</i> child from last week's post. He was playing...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8rxrIjnnOD61DptRv0qv5zEhVJ3amWxpTLFSpW13yidDkXcosD6g0nNMJhauU4YEW9NA8XmIoeZJZmqFGAVc-dz9H-za490dJxnPKqGwnhb5HE-QmimQeWE7X8H29nmyQWc_hulL19Bw/s1600/IMG_3330edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8rxrIjnnOD61DptRv0qv5zEhVJ3amWxpTLFSpW13yidDkXcosD6g0nNMJhauU4YEW9NA8XmIoeZJZmqFGAVc-dz9H-za490dJxnPKqGwnhb5HE-QmimQeWE7X8H29nmyQWc_hulL19Bw/s320/IMG_3330edit.jpg" /></a></div><br />
...with a hammer.<br />
<br />
He was trying to break apart a wooden chair with the back of it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgirHGg7UEDrIiLcUE_Zq7oQjCeYFEmDLJ2nMGtOBXGlE-cRJF2Ksxid1fiJjZzsHLzg2Ot4Q6iQskc7pPCV9Udoy0ohWf6CMPHkaOX4JsWbR9BbiWg26OnY2FB6MZUzhl-vRbFFt192o/s1600/IMG_3326.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgirHGg7UEDrIiLcUE_Zq7oQjCeYFEmDLJ2nMGtOBXGlE-cRJF2Ksxid1fiJjZzsHLzg2Ot4Q6iQskc7pPCV9Udoy0ohWf6CMPHkaOX4JsWbR9BbiWg26OnY2FB6MZUzhl-vRbFFt192o/s320/IMG_3326.JPG" /></a></div><br />
When I passed by again about 30 minutes later, his mother was holding him, and he was crying.<br />
<br />
The pharmacy was also just across the street.<br />
<br />
Looks like they learned their lesson.Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-1156630587724832202010-06-02T09:16:00.000-07:002010-06-20T10:24:07.613-07:00Cultural Conundrum #11: The "Bottom" LineA couple of months ago I created a post about children here, mainly highlighting their cuteness. There's much more to them than meets the eye.<br />
<br />
...but(t) sometimes it meets the eye. (I'm going to have a hard time not overusing puns in this post -- please "bare" with me)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpMyrODYxLb7LVsFGUCbxslIfvXXvM6HeWeMJc_0lStO2Ug3_4n_BAI34R4VbnCzNtKxurhyrDBa-Te1i2Ds2uSSXsBvgiFNBUCDDWbZPMs7LNHSOGyN7O1J5OYcMFHuxjWs-ZeZhjUos/s1600/IMG_3260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpMyrODYxLb7LVsFGUCbxslIfvXXvM6HeWeMJc_0lStO2Ug3_4n_BAI34R4VbnCzNtKxurhyrDBa-Te1i2Ds2uSSXsBvgiFNBUCDDWbZPMs7LNHSOGyN7O1J5OYcMFHuxjWs-ZeZhjUos/s320/IMG_3260.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Most children here have a convenient slit in the back of their pants. Based on the number of children I've seen here, I would guess that four out of five children have it. It might be different in other cities. They don't get much older than this guy.<br />
<br />
I've been told that only the wealthy families buy diapers for their children (though many of them still have the slit while wearing diapers).<br />
<br />
You can probably guess how it functions. In an earlier post you'll remember that Chinese people use "squatty potties" instead of a "sitting" Western-style toilet. So when children need to go, they just squat and do their business -- anywhere.<br />
<br />
This obviously raises a lot of questions, and unfortunately I haven't done enough research to answer them all. But I'll tell you what I know (and have seen).<br />
<br />
One day I happened to have my camera in my backpack when I saw the child pictured above. He was playing about two feet outside the entrance to his parents' shop. He was holding a toy gun. It made for a great photo.<br />
<br />
As I started to get my camera out of my backpack, the boy squatted, pointed his toy gun straight above him, and "went" (I was seeing this all from the back). For a split second I considered taking a photo because it was so funny with the toy gun and all. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. It's just not the same as those embarrassing potty training photos (or videos) that our parents took of us when we were little. This was a bit too "exposed" if you know what I mean (but still a hilarious image in my mind).<br />
<br />
Just as the child finished, the father came out screaming. I didn't stay to watch him clean it up.<br />
<br />
Sometimes the parents don't clean it up, especially if it's on a street or sidewalk. Just blame it on the dog.<br />
<br />
One time I saw a little girl walking with her friend in the middle of the street. Suddenly she stopped, did her business, and kept on walking. They are so nonchalant about it -- even if there are people all around them.<br />
<br />
I've been told that the risk diminishes if the children are being held or if they are sitting (on a lap, in a taxi, in a chair, etc.) because they instinctively do the squatting position when they need to go. Still, I don't think I would be the first one to let that boy with the gun sit on my lap. And I'm not sure what happens when they are <i>really</i> small and can't squat.<br />
<br />
This still begs the question: What about walking around in buildings?<br />
<br />
In all of the buildings I've been in, I've only seen parents hold their children. But I imagine they are free to walk around in the house. Perhaps carpeting isn't common? I haven't been in many houses here.<br />
<br />
This is called a cultural <i>conundrum</i> for a reason. It still baffles me, and I have a lot of questions. My Chinese vocabulary just isn't good enough to ask them yet.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgANfBbute4eQLcKpmaVLR38xItOrzRmAcCw7hyphenhyphenfI4XgBVdtHO9rDvVa6aG1nyPR4NS7kCmA-eQhIdgbs3j-ne1HuPi1jXBOveKALu7Rw1SbbhgASUcgja0TkTr0up6VULKMqEQLUJgq3w/s1600/IMG_3266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgANfBbute4eQLcKpmaVLR38xItOrzRmAcCw7hyphenhyphenfI4XgBVdtHO9rDvVa6aG1nyPR4NS7kCmA-eQhIdgbs3j-ne1HuPi1jXBOveKALu7Rw1SbbhgASUcgja0TkTr0up6VULKMqEQLUJgq3w/s320/IMG_3266.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Stay tuned for a sad story about this little guy. Don't worry. He's OK now.Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-69132815880735405842010-05-29T08:28:00.000-07:002010-05-29T08:32:55.909-07:00Modeling: Round #2I'm starting to get the hang of this modeling business. I might have finally discovered that career I've been searching for. A couple of days ago I was back to work.<br />
<br />
And so was Andrew.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWl-IVFLNJlpkDS0mboK-d7zd8mUMer8ySj2P_gRzCpxv7MWq4soof9dFbLWk0rczam3VmW6iLivCP0hFnq3OdbU8-J4_ghm8aIuhyphenhyphenK79Q2uznRgBuZEnQKH5z47xMcHyHbmD_Nfrx4WQ/s1600/IMG_3017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWl-IVFLNJlpkDS0mboK-d7zd8mUMer8ySj2P_gRzCpxv7MWq4soof9dFbLWk0rczam3VmW6iLivCP0hFnq3OdbU8-J4_ghm8aIuhyphenhyphenK79Q2uznRgBuZEnQKH5z47xMcHyHbmD_Nfrx4WQ/s320/IMG_3017.JPG" /></a></div><br />
In case you missed the last time we worked together, you should <a href="http://ofriceandren.blogspot.com/2010/05/basketball-and-modeling.html">check it out</a>.<br />
<br />
If you remember, last time I made a big mistake. I changed my clothes in-between modeling (a big "no-no" in this business). But this time we planned my wardrobe...and I didn't mess up!<br />
<br />
Drum roll please.<br />
<br />
*dldldldldldldldldldldldldldldldldl*<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">(click to enlarge) </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyquGeJ-ZcPTIyp114nVGdlfUHf2QAOGuUqEG69Z3oXQb8lWwivXXKkdIKNLWA8pjZyHL-1ervEXAnBAEDtNDxFlzCA6dKi5ufhBc_lX1bc7-J_35KxzwXERGu2-bC4epSdMZA9XFWFg/s1600/IMG_3060edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyquGeJ-ZcPTIyp114nVGdlfUHf2QAOGuUqEG69Z3oXQb8lWwivXXKkdIKNLWA8pjZyHL-1ervEXAnBAEDtNDxFlzCA6dKi5ufhBc_lX1bc7-J_35KxzwXERGu2-bC4epSdMZA9XFWFg/s320/IMG_3060edit.jpg" /></a></div><br />
As you can see, it is a completely different style than the first one he did. That's because Andrew is not a one-trick pony. He's an artist. And he dabs in many different styles. For example, when I arrived he was working on a Picaso-style painting. He's an amazing guy.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9MfysG7i5II6cZ_yLa36PH_khzmcT2XMLh4e4XLOwklBtKgELiuS6ACRCyycT1EuxQ-PQN6AyGTigoy3_SmIJurNP8XDPuk7EDwjSzDD0alfDQ1za_UhHQLpIX7TJGoxJLWk13XBvDKk/s1600/IMG_3030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9MfysG7i5II6cZ_yLa36PH_khzmcT2XMLh4e4XLOwklBtKgELiuS6ACRCyycT1EuxQ-PQN6AyGTigoy3_SmIJurNP8XDPuk7EDwjSzDD0alfDQ1za_UhHQLpIX7TJGoxJLWk13XBvDKk/s320/IMG_3030.JPG" /></a></div><br />
I <i>love</i> this style. He told me the name of it, but I don't remember. Every once in a while he would go wild with the brush -- like Tazmanian-Devil-esque. It was really hard to sit there when that happened because I really wanted to get up and see what he was doing. <br />
<br />
It was also really hard to sit there because I convinced myself that my head itched...but if I itched it I would have messed up the wrinkles in my clothes. I wasn't sure if he was painting them at the moment or not.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj70bJUTLh2pgR8uCpf-MDjplK3qZxkv12bCBoa3XPxf9puS5h8Ymh60SnK3-iZacEcU5nndvgz-SY-SQcZOAC8wNxeoX-kIqY6hJ08DM8gvMXjJD5cS5ObCTw9UfYucCXc9aUGYKzh_1I/s1600/IMG_3057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj70bJUTLh2pgR8uCpf-MDjplK3qZxkv12bCBoa3XPxf9puS5h8Ymh60SnK3-iZacEcU5nndvgz-SY-SQcZOAC8wNxeoX-kIqY6hJ08DM8gvMXjJD5cS5ObCTw9UfYucCXc9aUGYKzh_1I/s320/IMG_3057.JPG" /></a></div><br />
And as you can probably guess, I didn't get to choose my own pose. Originally I was actually going to stand the entire time. Then he changed his mind.<br />
<br />
The entire painting only took a little less than two hours to paint.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx-0X7OTu3TSUMe7JJhf5wDYBAy_8XYN1diKlBMRk1dbYq1QOHM9f61_U_U7TDxS094RJPGmTeWyiA2jmo2EufAxwuwSe78v_RKjPrZ7Ke2BzKO-4q-Fm5o4n5gMHCmZnX7rWTnWaKNKg/s1600/IMG_3062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx-0X7OTu3TSUMe7JJhf5wDYBAy_8XYN1diKlBMRk1dbYq1QOHM9f61_U_U7TDxS094RJPGmTeWyiA2jmo2EufAxwuwSe78v_RKjPrZ7Ke2BzKO-4q-Fm5o4n5gMHCmZnX7rWTnWaKNKg/s320/IMG_3062.JPG" /></a></div><br />
I won't be taking this one home for a few reasons. One, he's already given me one. Two, it's too big to fit in my luggage. And three, Andrew doesn't have any paintings or drawings of me. <br />
<br />
I bet he'll hang it in his living room.Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-42711098081503218952010-05-26T06:25:00.000-07:002010-05-26T06:25:19.421-07:00Cultural Conundrum #10: The WaveThe other day I realized that I had yet to show off my Microsoft Paint skills. When I get the opportunity I like to supplement my blog posts with pictures. But as I've mentioned before, I am very new to the whole photography thing. <br />
<br />
But this is not so with Microsoft Paint. <br />
<br />
And since today's topic presents a good opportunity to utilize my craft -- <i>and</i> since I'm feeling generous today -- I thought we could move on from photography games to the real deal.<br />
<br />
Behold, "the wave": <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJE_cxfXYVxw8BYPAoxnv3NHmo6mqghBQh4JGMDDMsBkSLRMUd-3sLTW8PFMrTZydUVPgpS0eOSG0dSKIZX18zF4ZmTdy50ab7RG3hd5taWepFylMNBo14pGHsIc2UC5c8woR3gZ3JHqg/s1600/hand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJE_cxfXYVxw8BYPAoxnv3NHmo6mqghBQh4JGMDDMsBkSLRMUd-3sLTW8PFMrTZydUVPgpS0eOSG0dSKIZX18zF4ZmTdy50ab7RG3hd5taWepFylMNBo14pGHsIc2UC5c8woR3gZ3JHqg/s320/hand.jpg" /></a></div><br />
In the U.S. this hand gesture conveys such meanings as...<br />
<br />
"Get that out of my face."<br />
<br />
"You're too close. Scoot back a little bit farther."<br />
<br />
"I'm on the phone. Don't bother me now. Leave."<br />
<br />
...and the like.<br />
<br />
But in China it means the complete opposite. It means...<br />
<br />
"Come closer!"<br />
<br />
"Taxi!"<br />
<br />
"Is that you over there? You're too far away. Come here! I have something to tell you."<br />
<br />
"Waitress!" <br />
<br />
...and the like.<br />
<br />
Whereas we turn the palm up and bend our fingers toward us to gesture for someone to come, people here use this gesture. So don't run away if a Chinese person does this wave in your direction. You'll think they don't like you, but they'll think you don't like them.Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-81105933577496888872010-05-22T08:34:00.000-07:002010-05-22T08:37:43.736-07:00Cultural Conundrum #9: SafetyThere are three main classroom buildings here for international students. Probably the first thing the casual observer notices upon entering one of them is the security guard sitting at the desk placed awkwardly in the center of the room.<br />
<br />
In fact, anyone walking by one of the buildings will see the security guard staring back at them through the glass doors. And naturally, the presence of a security guard conjures up feelings of peace, security, and safety.<br />
<br />
...that is until you begin to explore.<br />
<br />
For example, behold the emergency phone directly across from the security guard's desk.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLiPOOBzlJk5HHjJwEK0ROe_ig68iCu8LofWBUHJUgRgKqUwbsU9NN0_w2WSIkOyUNqr42PwcqS5HbK7mkipaOEv9ALnxC_sA7zfE-zf0K1TNfIyMVE10sDZK42eawNV-0NVNAKx8y_-w/s1600/IMG_2793.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLiPOOBzlJk5HHjJwEK0ROe_ig68iCu8LofWBUHJUgRgKqUwbsU9NN0_w2WSIkOyUNqr42PwcqS5HbK7mkipaOEv9ALnxC_sA7zfE-zf0K1TNfIyMVE10sDZK42eawNV-0NVNAKx8y_-w/s320/IMG_2793.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Looks "safe," right? Now drop your eyes down a little ways.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5lsvkyqn43IiR1r7Te1xkVbYCX5whqM-bx0uDd_C65Gv4GOZHerpWzGxI7wtJC0G_zaauWLNHvwWhv40gsPuKBH3PC7KeHBvWevddYxiISRl5W4IHyg08azM7e9vTFzFlOsRYTGnbV0c/s1600/IMG_2797.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5lsvkyqn43IiR1r7Te1xkVbYCX5whqM-bx0uDd_C65Gv4GOZHerpWzGxI7wtJC0G_zaauWLNHvwWhv40gsPuKBH3PC7KeHBvWevddYxiISRl5W4IHyg08azM7e9vTFzFlOsRYTGnbV0c/s320/IMG_2797.JPG" /></a></div><br />
It's not connected to anything. That makes me wonder if those other two "safe"-looking boxes next to the phone are hollow.<br />
<br />
But maybe I'm being too hard on them. Maybe they're working on it. They've probably got some backup plans in the meantime.<br />
<br />
*walks up stairs*<br />
<br />
See! Look over there! That fire exit is screaming, "Safety!"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGwNtJni5ryD-ZIWlNCB6EA8fHnTFf416kKW-UU_xzkAhx9o6rMaHGC_G6VPYoRJxnWKEN9os3UyryGdfpuS-5DFQDqfJFMnjEN2a0-qsRGEEIm1bWN10bBiJfg557GuIxWoj0Z0W4Gac/s1600/IMG_2803.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGwNtJni5ryD-ZIWlNCB6EA8fHnTFf416kKW-UU_xzkAhx9o6rMaHGC_G6VPYoRJxnWKEN9os3UyryGdfpuS-5DFQDqfJFMnjEN2a0-qsRGEEIm1bWN10bBiJfg557GuIxWoj0Z0W4Gac/s320/IMG_2803.JPG" /></a></div><br />
The lights on the sign are even on.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6MxLx7jkS9VHzqF-S7ycp6rWOCEPeEMV3DlMp63C_FjOVYzB5TTPWDJk56HhabUmFJpkhPqmDQ4F6IF0VaOrhjJl8ElMzg-lzS-IDv1m_VNdcySFzadOqdHoclt9QICVPQCBpe0tue_8/s1600/IMG_2801.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6MxLx7jkS9VHzqF-S7ycp6rWOCEPeEMV3DlMp63C_FjOVYzB5TTPWDJk56HhabUmFJpkhPqmDQ4F6IF0VaOrhjJl8ElMzg-lzS-IDv1m_VNdcySFzadOqdHoclt9QICVPQCBpe0tue_8/s320/IMG_2801.JPG" /></a></div><br />
What's more, the literal translation of the Chinese is not just "Exit" but "Safe Exit." This makes up for the phony phone.<br />
<br />
Wait...what's this?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO55umQIDGmPLM3yyadB3HB1hAcFIEfDJ579V7T49U8aNtzXM-NbLKrSCi2G7BTunbYWLH3HmLh8TxJWn7CJ9fuwZjwA8Q-59ifhSg374gv1seK3eSV7G2PjZwRcA9sr-j-ypxxGw0TSE/s1600/IMG_2804.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO55umQIDGmPLM3yyadB3HB1hAcFIEfDJ579V7T49U8aNtzXM-NbLKrSCi2G7BTunbYWLH3HmLh8TxJWn7CJ9fuwZjwA8Q-59ifhSg374gv1seK3eSV7G2PjZwRcA9sr-j-ypxxGw0TSE/s320/IMG_2804.JPG" /></a></div><br />
It's locked. Every day. And there are no other exits. But at least we're safe from burglars.<br />
<br />
I want to be careful not to use my university as the representative of all of China. Perhaps my university is just an exception. But I have seen similar kinds of things around here.<br />
<br />
For example, one of my friends here has a friend who is a fireman. That fireman saw the fire extinguishers either in the dorm or in this building (I don't remember), and he said they aren't functional at all.<br />
<br />
A Chinese person also told me that if someone is trying to break into your home and rob you or hurt you, it is best to take the matter into your own hands (i.e. grab a baseball bat or knife and get to business) because the cops will take way too long to arrive.<br />
<br />
However, I have heard that the paramedics will come quickly when called. <br />
<br />
All of that said, more than one of my Chinese friends in the States have said that they consider China to be really safe. Maybe the unplugged safety phone, the locked fire exits, and the unusable fire extinguishers are actually signs of how <i>safe</i> China is. After all, only places that have intruders and catch on fire need those kinds of things.Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-92157828943696933092010-05-19T06:03:00.000-07:002010-05-19T06:03:05.421-07:00Basketball and ModelingIf there's one thing that unites all Chinese guys...if there's one thing I'm most prone to stereotype about guys here...if there's one commonality that transcends every ideological, sociological, and otorhinolaryngological (it's a word, look it up) barrier between every boy and man...<br />
<br />
...it's the NBA. <br />
<br />
Basketball is a phenomenon in China. I can almost be sure that every guy I meet here follows the NBA to some extent. Of course there are exceptions, but they are few and far between. So you can imagine the first question most guys ask a 6'5 American...and the answer is No.<br />
<br />
I don't play basketball. I don't like to watch sports. I do like to play tennis and ping-pong, and occasionally I'll shoot some hoops with some friends. But by no means am I an athletic guy. As a kid I used to be. I don't know what happened.<br />
<br />
The other day one of my friends -- English name Andrew -- asked if I wanted to play basketball with him and his friends. I kindly refused, but offered to go out to eat with him after they were done. We agreed to meet at the basketball court (there are 6 on campus) at 6:00.<br />
<br />
I had a hunch that they might try to coerce me to play, so I wore some un-athletic shorts, a jacket, and my backpack. I should have known better. <br />
<br />
As soon as I arrived they didn't even hesitate. I have yet to learn the secret of countering the coercive attacks of Chinese people. If they can coerce me into singing a pop song in front of 50 elementary school kids, they can certainly get me to play basketball. <br />
<br />
So I played. And as expected, a small crowd gathered to watch the "giant" American basketball player. There sure isn't a shortage of opportunities to practice humility here. They were quickly disappointed, and people slowly dispersed. But I had a fun time nonetheless. <br />
<br />
After Andrew and I were drenched in sweat, we walked to the cafeteria. On the way he told me something that I translated as, "After we eat I want to give you a painting."<br />
<br />
Did I mention that this guy is an art student? This guy is an art student. I taught him English when I was here two years ago, and we've since become good friends.<br />
<br />
Naturally, I was excited, and I was wondering what the painting might be of. Mountains? Pandas? Flowers?<br />
<br />
After we ate we walked to the art building and stopped by the art shop inside. Andrew bought an empty canvas then we went to one of the painting rooms. I figured he just needed to pick up a canvas for some other project. I didn't think twice about it. But when we arrived he showed me where to sit, and he started preparing his easel. <br />
<br />
At this point I realized he was going to paint ME. Apparently the sentence "I want to give you a painting" and the sentence "I want to paint you" are very similar in Chinese. <br />
<br />
So here I was in a sweaty, bright yellow Great Bend Recreation Commission t-shirt, my face covered in dried sweat, having not even looked in the mirror, and I'm suddenly modeling. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheyFoqMbTQ37YzDCDl7BmOBwn-EPfqw_3GwpMbvyL8jVVC9nAICVS9amxTwTSMksmxC76V98iPe2k2Ax5Gemd7OFQA7slyQqZrRrBtyivOMI6mIfP4iz3AhyUuXXQtb2KL9maKe-APu7Q/s1600/IMG_2933.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheyFoqMbTQ37YzDCDl7BmOBwn-EPfqw_3GwpMbvyL8jVVC9nAICVS9amxTwTSMksmxC76V98iPe2k2Ax5Gemd7OFQA7slyQqZrRrBtyivOMI6mIfP4iz3AhyUuXXQtb2KL9maKe-APu7Q/s320/IMG_2933.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Most of the time the students paint live models -- most of which are nude elderly women. Nude models get paid 50 yuan (about $7) an hour. They almost never get the opportunity to paint foreigners -- especially Americans -- so Andrew viewed this as an honor just as much as I did. It's a win-win situation.<br />
<br />
And just to clarify again, I was wearing clothes.<br />
<br />
Andrew turned on some Whitney Houston, and I sat there for about two and half hours. You can do a lot of thinking by just sitting still for 2 and a half hours. I got a few breaks, and we talked a bit as well.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio6V4LuQPcnRXVWaoWApKxzUDrqpzdIr_iuF0mTtjGYnaEuEhxJTdMVvWv4fN54CxGOXk2vcc_Kj3ZhPDWW1ReHfpJBvebLEvb1DmMfkJsnQmG-c8yz3QDyzpqrn6LMRWOZWvmGN8zkbA/s1600/IMG_2906.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio6V4LuQPcnRXVWaoWApKxzUDrqpzdIr_iuF0mTtjGYnaEuEhxJTdMVvWv4fN54CxGOXk2vcc_Kj3ZhPDWW1ReHfpJBvebLEvb1DmMfkJsnQmG-c8yz3QDyzpqrn6LMRWOZWvmGN8zkbA/s320/IMG_2906.JPG" /></a></div><br />
It was interesting watching him dip his brush in the different colors. I thought to myself, "Are you <i>sure</i> there is neon green somewhere on my face?" -- "Ummmm, I'm pretty sure I don't have any hot pink on me."<br />
<br />
At one point he ran out of white paint. He grabbed a sack he brought along and took out a brand new tube of white paint. He said, "Since you're so white I knew I would need an extra tube." That's the kind of stuff jokes are made of. But I don't think he understood the humor.<br />
<br />
The "final" result (click to enlarge):<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt3FAbcMcC_rQINDTsn2qy9HOxmeI_X4zKTTUhLVuLbwYWkO7pSrrZtC_tfw2A76DuiGIaJc16f3_dG1ehHkiLtddzy9WtVtxnt2m-6odGrOnPk-qJHwH8tCmpgyvVObDhKh9WDJ2xtKY/s1600/IMG_2900.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt3FAbcMcC_rQINDTsn2qy9HOxmeI_X4zKTTUhLVuLbwYWkO7pSrrZtC_tfw2A76DuiGIaJc16f3_dG1ehHkiLtddzy9WtVtxnt2m-6odGrOnPk-qJHwH8tCmpgyvVObDhKh9WDJ2xtKY/s320/IMG_2900.JPG" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I was blown away. I loved it!<br />
<br />
In case you haven't thought about it before, it's almost impossible to smile while modeling for something like this -- unless you can hold a smile for 2 and a half hours. <br />
<br />
But that's not the end of the story. Andrew said he wanted to do some finishing touches on my face, and he asked if I would come back the following day to model for a little while longer. Of course I agreed.<br />
<br />
The next evening I walked over to meet him, and the first thing he said when he met me was, "You changed shirts."<br />
<br />
My heart sank. I was wearing a black shirt. I didn't think twice about it because I figured it doesn't matter what kind of shirt I was wearing since he only needed to touch up my face. He kindly told me it wasn't a big deal, so I felt better.<br />
<br />
But as I sat there modeling, I noticed him using an awful lot of black paint. Come to find out, the color of your shirt changes the color of your face because the light reflects off of it. So he had to actually change my shirt color in the painting, as well as my skin color. He showed me how the shadowed part of my skin changed from green to blue when I changed shirts.<br />
<br />
So I ended up putting him through a lot of extra work. But he didn't complain at all. I felt really bad, but he said he still liked the painting.<br />
<br />
Here is the FINAL result (click to enlarge):<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht1QNSf8IMQhct2qL7Si8ssEKp-YqZO-5MAHmMWt7FlGJAv3rYXdGpyKra5wqj9W8vWIEn-1q_-mMQogKoNry4Xoonqf48X7SSWg1852_g8noJgIGKNYtEoBhevV299kOjFIB4AeApB9c/s1600/IMG_2962.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht1QNSf8IMQhct2qL7Si8ssEKp-YqZO-5MAHmMWt7FlGJAv3rYXdGpyKra5wqj9W8vWIEn-1q_-mMQogKoNry4Xoonqf48X7SSWg1852_g8noJgIGKNYtEoBhevV299kOjFIB4AeApB9c/s320/IMG_2962.JPG" /></a></div><br />
It kind of reminds me of when a comic book hero turns evil and their costume turns black (i.e. Spiderman). If you compare the two, it's easy to get the impression that I underwent some terrible transformation overnight.<br />
<br />
But if you just look at the second one alone, I still look like a fairly friendly guy.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8-334KAy9HK2gn_x0YtwMP2AaSQ_ss3uN73yODDO5OfTGdnL2nKzH_zKqQoSQxadINyK7YRllVMxP_FBrpFmYJSjPw8_cLKNvpHAJ7mUSBzVA4L-nzvLjtQo7kpqJn3NzonUWMu29Wnw/s1600/IMG_2954.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8-334KAy9HK2gn_x0YtwMP2AaSQ_ss3uN73yODDO5OfTGdnL2nKzH_zKqQoSQxadINyK7YRllVMxP_FBrpFmYJSjPw8_cLKNvpHAJ7mUSBzVA4L-nzvLjtQo7kpqJn3NzonUWMu29Wnw/s320/IMG_2954.JPG" /></a></div><br />
He did a really cool thing with the shirt. After painting black over the yellow, he used a knife to sign it by scraping away the black to reveal the yellow underneath.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZOCvEh_hlUDicDvrqTWmtPgc-fPmE6MInhQTnp4Ob4iboMC99GkHiBYiV0ItNYmYMXqeGRfYU1Ehyphenhyphenq-xxt5p0adTNkW-Tt9AzL8Yvzk5TBZq-axAZ727OeaC0qQOWzuyBA9dF4s8BMh0/s1600/IMG_2928edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZOCvEh_hlUDicDvrqTWmtPgc-fPmE6MInhQTnp4Ob4iboMC99GkHiBYiV0ItNYmYMXqeGRfYU1Ehyphenhyphenq-xxt5p0adTNkW-Tt9AzL8Yvzk5TBZq-axAZ727OeaC0qQOWzuyBA9dF4s8BMh0/s320/IMG_2928edit.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Next week he wants to paint my entire upper body. I've been thinking of fun poses to do that I can hold for 2 and a half hours, though he'll probably pick the pose in the end.<br />
<br />
And this time we're planning my wardrobe.Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-44478329724424098662010-05-12T08:11:00.000-07:002010-05-12T08:11:44.884-07:00HalfwayAssuming everything goes according to plan, by the time I leave China I will have been here for 143 days. Yesterday was day 72. Since I just crossed the halfway point, I figured it would be good to do a little reflection of my time here so far and of the second half that lies ahead. <br />
<br />
If you go back and read my very first post on this blog, you will feel a great sense of optimism and expectation as I look forward to the months ahead of me. Having never studied abroad before, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. I came here with many assumptions, most of which have been proven wrong. <br />
<br />
Perhaps the largest of these is the assumption that being immersed in a language will result in a sort of magical, osmosis-like absorption of the language. In fact, I've heard many testimonies from others of that sort of thing happening. One of the students in my class who has already studied here for a semester said after a couple of months "something just clicked" and he was able to pick up the language rather easily.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, I have yet to experience anything like that. The journey so far has felt uphill almost constantly -- and not just uphill, but sometimes uphill in a massive blizzard with falling rocks and wild animals making creepy noises at night...then after 2 days of climbing you look down and see that you've only made it 10 feet up the mountain. <br />
<br />
Today, in one of my classes we were talking about newspapers. Our teacher gave each of us part of the newspaper to do some role-playing. In the midst of this, my partner and I looked at the front page. After a few minutes he said, "I feel so stupid. I've studied here for a year, and I can't even read one sentence in the newspaper." I can't either.<br />
<br />
It seems ridiculous that you could study a language while living in another country for a year and not be able to read a complete sentence in a newspaper, but that's the reality I am facing and many here are facing (though I've only been here for less than 3 months). In fact, a Canadian friend in another city has been studying Chinese in China for 3 years and is actually just now taking a "newspaper reading" class.<br />
<br />
One would think after living for 3 years in a country solely studying the language you wouldn't need to take a class to learn how to read the newspaper. But so it is.<br />
<br />
At times I get the feeling that there's a secret conspiracy here to make learning Chinese as difficult and confusing for foreigners as possible. Maybe everyone here has a list of all the words and phrases that our textbooks use, and they make it a point not to use any of them when speaking with foreigners or when writing any form of public communication.<br />
<br />
The English equivalent: Instead of saying, "It looks like it will rain today," you say, "According to my observations of the current condition of the atmosphere, I postulate that droplets of the substance inside a bottle of Aquafina will plummet to the earth's surface in massive quantities before this planet makes one complete rotation on its axis."<br />
<br />
Of course I'm going a little over the top, but I did not expect it to be so difficult to communicate after two and a half months of living here and after two years of studying Chinese in the States. And the little I do know hasn't come from some sort of magical "enlightenment" that happened when I started living here. It has just come from plain hard work.<br />
<br />
With that said, I <i>have</i> made progress. I'm higher on the mountain than when I started, and I'm making much more progress than I did in the States.<br />
<br />
When I started taking classes here, I could barely understand my teachers because they only spoke in Chinese. But now I can mostly understand them. Even if my teachers and my textbooks are speaking at a very elementary level, at least I know what they are saying.<br />
<br />
Another wrong assumption I came here with was that living on campus in China would be similar to living on campus in the States. It is so much more difficult to interact with Chinese people on campus than I expected. The international student dorms and buildings are piled together into one segregated area, as are the restaurants and stores that cater to them.<br />
<br />
I think I would be making much more progress if I was allowed to live in a Chinese dorm. But as it is, no one speaks Chinese in the international student dorm. I have to go way out of my way to visit Chinese friends on campus. It's very, very easy to only speak and read English. Most things are translated and most people in this small area speak at least some English.<br />
<br />
I also thought I would have plenty of free time to explore the city and hang out with Chinese friends. In reality, my time is quickly swallowed up by a variety of things -- mostly studying. This makes practicing speaking and listening especially difficult. <br />
<br />
So, after 72 days here I have a much more sober view of things. It might seem that I have gone from 100% optimism to 100% pessimism, and at some point early on I probably did. But slowly I have been gaining some of that optimism back. Although the road ahead seems much longer, I have gained more of a desire to get to the "end."<br />
<br />
It has been helpful to hear from others who are advanced in the language now but in the past have experienced the same kinds of things I'm experiencing. <br />
<br />
I've also made some good friends, and I have really enjoyed the time I've gotten to spend with them. I continue to love how interesting the culture is here, and I have yet to get bored walking down a random street during the day. <br />
<br />
If I had the opportunity to go home right now, I wouldn't. I really do want to stay here and continue learning and challenging myself to interact with people. I imagine the next 71 days will be full of more hard work and slow progress -- but progress nonetheless.<br />
<br />
Chinese is certainly a horse of a different color...possibly a dark blue. I knew it would be difficult, but I didn't expect it to be <i>this</i> difficult. And yet I'm writing small articles in Chinese! And having short conversations with people in Chinese! And reading my textbook in Chinese! And listening to my teacher teach completely in Chinese!<br />
<br />
That is certainly encouraging, and I look forward to my last 71 days here -- that is until I come back.Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-47304496256968624792010-05-09T05:22:00.000-07:002010-05-09T05:28:28.499-07:00Cultural Conundrum #8: Lightning Round!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Since I've been a little sluggish with posts recently, I figured I owe you an extra-special one this time. So, instead of giving you one cultural conundrum I've decided to give you <b>FIVE</b>! <br />
<br />
<i>Ready?</i><br />
<br />
<i>Go!</i><br />
<br />
<b>1.</b> Buses get <i>really</i> full. I mean <i>REALLY</i> full. At full capacity you don't have to hold on to the bars because if the bus makes any sudden stops there is no room for you to move -- as if you're in a bus filled with packing peanuts. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikjM_ZZtJDZYaAurU1ZiVdn8oMFwxIQ2qUaCpVn-_LV8R3WAW_T0uZJZcA4cD6-mNSzmJFvWZEUa8OwbZOwNw1h9XG-kd-l2dJmcQEtXm3S3qEKKmxQbRkNVKQ3dOdIBWte7Wv5FFpKYo/s1600/IMG_2474.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikjM_ZZtJDZYaAurU1ZiVdn8oMFwxIQ2qUaCpVn-_LV8R3WAW_T0uZJZcA4cD6-mNSzmJFvWZEUa8OwbZOwNw1h9XG-kd-l2dJmcQEtXm3S3qEKKmxQbRkNVKQ3dOdIBWte7Wv5FFpKYo/s320/IMG_2474.JPG" /></a></div><br />
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I often laugh out loud when the bus stops at a bus stop and some people have to work their way from the middle of the bus to the door. As of yet I haven't seen anyone else laugh about this. I don't understand why. It's funny!<br />
<br />
<b>2.</b> Tap water isn't safe to drink. It isn't treated and tested like it is in the States. Either you boil it or buy bottled water. Many people drink hot water or hot tea.<br />
<br />
<b>3.</b> Most people use Kleenexes when they eat because the food makes their noses run. It's strange. Even when I'm not eating spicy food my nose almost always runs here. Either I'm subconsciously being convinced that I need to use Kleenexes because everyone else is, or there's something else in the food that causes it.<br />
<br />
<b>4.</b> The toilets here are holes in the ground.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_LYpNSj_8osMZqID0EfOOOGAqtLN0XEEkOEBn_syiUQJaUkEKBBTnVL8HTX8I4cl8RxGmqTbljJzbRFHq5v7uffs2aMWbmLyXG5H9xR__ja6L3wdjK9zRvYq3Fkypo3SQPH8XGU8hnt8/s1600/China_toilet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_LYpNSj_8osMZqID0EfOOOGAqtLN0XEEkOEBn_syiUQJaUkEKBBTnVL8HTX8I4cl8RxGmqTbljJzbRFHq5v7uffs2aMWbmLyXG5H9xR__ja6L3wdjK9zRvYq3Fkypo3SQPH8XGU8hnt8/s320/China_toilet.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Unless you go to an airport or a really nice hotel, you have to use one of these "squatty potties." You simply squat and do your business. It's also good for building up those quads. <br />
<br />
Thankfully, the international student dorm here has Western "sitting" toilets. But I'm fairly certain that as soon as you venture out of the dorm you won't find Western toilets within a 10-mile radius.<br />
<br />
And don't ask me what the lavatory in a moving train is like. Let's just say you better make sure you're wearing some old shoes before going in.<br />
<br />
<b>5.</b> You can't flush toilet paper down most toilets. Notice that trash can in the picture above? You guessed it!<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, the sewage system can't handle toilet paper in most places. Lots of bad things happen if you try to put toilet paper down the toilet.<br />
<br />
And speaking of toilet paper, public restrooms don't give you any. You have to carry some with you wherever you go (or hope that you don't have to go). If you can swallow your pride, random strangers will probably loan you some if you really need it.Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-16974378203338896112010-05-03T09:04:00.000-07:002010-05-03T21:49:56.269-07:00Tractors, Bugles, and Warning "Signs"I was going to write a post about the strange “prohibit" signs I've seen here. The illustrations on many of them range from puzzling to frightening to humorous to "someone actually got paid to design this?"<br />
<br />
However, recently I was forced to eat a piece of humble pie...or humble duck neck or whatever it's called in China (they don't have pie here). <br />
<br />
First, look at one of the signs I came across:<br />
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This sign is right outside of the campus. I don't think I need to point out what's strange about it. What's even more interesting is that there are multiple signs around campus just showing the tractor. This is no isolated incident.<br />
<br />
My first thought was "Is this <i>really</i> a tractor?" I've never seen a tractor in China, let alone on campus. Maybe that means the sign is working. Or maybe it's representative of something else. But what? General four-wheeled vehicles? "Work" vehicles? This sign falls into the perplexing/humorous category.<br />
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But as I was walking around on campus the other day, I saw something strange hidden behind a mess of trees and bushes. When I worked my way back there this is what I found:<br />
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No way! Impossible! I don't believe it! Can it be?!<br />
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Behold, a 100% genuine...tractor? I'm still not sure what it is, but it looks exactly like the image on the sign. Since I grew up in Kansas I've only seen tractors doing work on farms, but perhaps they use them in cities, too.<br />
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It's entirely possible that most of you are yelling at me through your computer telling me how ignorant I am. Maybe everyone else knows exactly what this is and what it does. In that case, I'm ready to eat another piece of humble duck neck. It doesn't taste that bad once you get used to it. <br />
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This thing clearly hasn't been used in a <i>long</i> time. <br />
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It was covered with rust and spider webs, not to mention all of the critters that call this lovely place home.<br />
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The interior is top-of-the-line. It even includes a tin-can cup holder seamlessly welded next to the broken speedometer.<br />
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So what did I learn from this experience? I'm still trying to process it. I think I will withhold judgment -- at least for a longer period -- when I see seemingly ridiculous things here. There might just be something to them after all. I don't know everything...<br />
<br />
...except this. I am <i>sure</i> that this sign is merely symbolic:<br />
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There is <i>no way </i>these people would actually try to ban bugles. No one plays bugles around here. That would be ridiculous. Surely this just means "no car horns."<br />
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Right?<br />
<br />
Two weeks ago when I was walking back to my dorm I walked past two children walking, laughing, and...<br />
<br />
...playing bugles. Not even trumpets. Two beat-up and tarnished bugles.<br />
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Maybe I should just stop making judgments and assumptions altogether.Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-68779459315995166572010-04-27T06:44:00.000-07:002010-04-27T06:46:55.058-07:00Cultural Conundrum #7: Wet Clothes and IngenuitySpring has brought a lot of life to Wuhan in the past few weeks. Children are outside playing, older folks are practicing Tai Chi and walking around, gardens are filling with flowers, and trees are filling with...<br />
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...clothes.<br />
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I like to think of it as a Chinese Charlie Brown Christmas tree. If you've seen the movie you know what I'm talking about.<br />
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But why stop with the trees? It's <i>spring</i> for Pete's sake! Those bushes are looking a bit drab...<br />
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...that's better.<br />
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You see, dryers are a hot commodity here (nothing like a good pun to keep things flowing, I always say). Of the few dormitories on my campus that have washing machines, none has dryers. None of my friends' apartments has dryers. I have yet to hear of a family owning a dryer.<br />
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In China -- or at least in Wuhan -- if you want your clothes machine-dried, you have to go to the cleaners. Otherwise, you better hope you have access to a clothesline.<br />
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But, as the old joke goes, "How many clotheslines can you fit in a city in China?"<br />
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OK, maybe that's not an old joke. Actually, I've never heard that before in my life. But you get the idea. There simply isn't enough room for clotheslines. For example, all of us in my 13-floor dormitory have to share 2 clothes lines about 40 feet long.<br />
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But people here are resourceful. If the weather is nice outside you are bound to come across a lot of clothes, some dangling from strange places. And while the trees and bushes are strange, I have seen stranger.<br />
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If a power line is within reaching distance of your window, why not? Sure, you might get electrocuted, but what are the chances?Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-48364796923934980302010-04-23T05:35:00.000-07:002010-04-23T05:35:51.191-07:00Planes, Trains, and Audible DealsIf my Chinese teachers awarded star stickers for significant accomplishments, I am pretty confident I would have received one today. This afternoon I ventured to a nearby ticket office (alone) and purchased an airplane ticket <i>and</i> a train ticket in Chinese!<br />
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At first this might seem terribly unimpressive, but those who have been following my journey closely will understand my elation. Ever since I began studying here I have been bombarded by frustration and incompetency in regards to my Chinese abilities. Time and again conversations with Chinese people have abruptly turned into English conversations -- with <i>them</i> usually initiating the change -- because they can't understand what I'm saying, or I can't understand what they are saying. Most inklings of hope that have sprung up due to understanding my teachers in class have almost immediately been mowed over as soon as I enter the "real world."<br />
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But today I "successfully" had a significant exchange of words with the woman in the ticket office. I say "successfully" because much of that exchange was spent clarifying each other's meanings. But, alas, I now have two tickets.<br />
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In case you're wondering, I purchased the tickets because I will be traveling during a short school holiday next week to visit a couple of friends.<br />
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A few interesting facts to leave you with: <br />
<ul><li>At most ticket offices in China you can only buy a train ticket if it is 10 days or less before your departure date. </li>
<li>The standard price of a train ticket to a city 500 miles away is about $20 if you want to sit or $40 if you want to lie down.</li>
<li>You can fly for about $75.</li>
</ul>And since I'm feeling generous I'll throw in a couple of pictures. I still can't get passed how interesting this city is. Even something as mundane as a wall or a dirty sidewalk will captivate me.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6_HR0dJZ2lw6ZNDUbBwi8hvNxfdlH3r2SjOsP3J-uPPKZnmrJk2iuQ3sBApSIn1o8Nw8kvSsVQsIn5uACE0pHvxTCFjHBPdGaEzAHciBuuh4WvAAeQoDfmzV8DezGjCw67xCr1yNWfSE/s1600/IMG_1712+edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6_HR0dJZ2lw6ZNDUbBwi8hvNxfdlH3r2SjOsP3J-uPPKZnmrJk2iuQ3sBApSIn1o8Nw8kvSsVQsIn5uACE0pHvxTCFjHBPdGaEzAHciBuuh4WvAAeQoDfmzV8DezGjCw67xCr1yNWfSE/s320/IMG_1712+edit.jpg" /></a></div>Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-59938257822549075222010-04-16T10:50:00.000-07:002010-04-17T02:08:24.916-07:00Spring has Sprung!A couple of weeks ago a few friends took me to the botanical gardens here in Wuhan to celebrate the coming of spring, but since I took almost 800 photos I had to delay this post. Do you know how long it takes to look through 800 photos, let alone to choose a few?<br />
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But alas, it is here. Meet my noble comrades:<br />
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This was my first time meeting the two guys on the left. The one on the right is named Tao.<br />
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He was one of my students when I taught English here two years ago. We have since become very good friends. <br />
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I had never before been to a botanical garden, so I didn't know what to expect. We entered through a massive greenhouse. In fact, it was so big that I thought that <i>was </i>the garden. It even had a waterfall inside. And there were many interesting flowers.<br />
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But I had no idea what I was in for. What followed was reminiscent of the scene from <i>Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory</i> when they all enter through that really small door and walk into the candy garden with the chocolate waterfall for the first time. All that was missing was the music. There were steps leading down into the garden outside, and I actually considered doing the Willie Wonka thing -- take a few steps down then one back up then a few more down and a couple back up.<br />
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It's hard to overstate how huge this place was. Very few places were "garden-like." Instead, it was like a series of environments. Each environment was a huge park of sorts.<br />
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Unfortunately, I took almost zero pictures of these environments as a whole. I can't believe it. I focused more on individual flowers, etc. Here is one, though, to give you a small taste.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwDwnbgGgclynb5t_kz4Ph-nz2jtHjclWZPFn64oksOmR4ii3HuNq_Qc5QeMa3N-kyJqyYVmHIm4qCJk43L2LSjeL_Jx2QjFSO9aOFaeNbjIFW-k1fdxQBeSH54SRyIsVvMFAr6Q-ruZs/s1600/IMG_2058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwDwnbgGgclynb5t_kz4Ph-nz2jtHjclWZPFn64oksOmR4ii3HuNq_Qc5QeMa3N-kyJqyYVmHIm4qCJk43L2LSjeL_Jx2QjFSO9aOFaeNbjIFW-k1fdxQBeSH54SRyIsVvMFAr6Q-ruZs/s320/IMG_2058.jpg" /></a></div><br />
There were heavily forested areas, wide-open grassy areas, ponds, lakes -- it was really breathtaking. And even though it looks like there were a lot of people there, this place was so big that many areas had no one.<br />
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I just wanted to sit on the grass and...sit. I'm sure I could have sat in one place for the entire day. It was so peaceful.<br />
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And the flowers were beautiful, too.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ndVgGaGw05zthSzUUYu_N1z1kM4IZrAfHDXERP070bFwPLZc6vzn5uhPmW7h8aeYVhvfU2B6A-NpEzrj9Dg-R2iCQLCZFevTKV-nc4iWZUd5oMps_p84iz0lwcrAZJXh5GJP6XWOxGs/s1600/IMG_2100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ndVgGaGw05zthSzUUYu_N1z1kM4IZrAfHDXERP070bFwPLZc6vzn5uhPmW7h8aeYVhvfU2B6A-NpEzrj9Dg-R2iCQLCZFevTKV-nc4iWZUd5oMps_p84iz0lwcrAZJXh5GJP6XWOxGs/s320/IMG_2100.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlZa4iNq7Z3sR8hHtwaSzEh44BH8TS8R9sPG2gp4_vtPcYA_ahJSwM-TwAfQbDYWPdg8Y_QIpJWZwQvBGrc2D0gJgZWz3QTwemglJYSrDx4mZWXbHASU4jBQCIRMbN4yNeNItH317Okmg/s1600/IMG_2114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlZa4iNq7Z3sR8hHtwaSzEh44BH8TS8R9sPG2gp4_vtPcYA_ahJSwM-TwAfQbDYWPdg8Y_QIpJWZwQvBGrc2D0gJgZWz3QTwemglJYSrDx4mZWXbHASU4jBQCIRMbN4yNeNItH317Okmg/s320/IMG_2114.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Unfortunately, I don't know much about flowers. My mom is a gardener, so she probably knows what I'm looking at in these photos. But in some respects I'm glad I was clueless. It made this experience that much more new to me.<br />
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By the time I left, I was convinced that any flower I could dream up exists somewhere on earth.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP-Nx6QL_Nxb57dTjx2ptK4QRqFJaTh9N2Ij-CD42zqEXbj4I7ChoEeiVjQIjC-Pdad7rMC2VBJUgOJsyG1_o_PtcqHMj7dHAduuk4rQKBT0pKzKmejcbyzIhgbdrxO-8SyAmF5pRUdpI/s1600/IMG_2130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP-Nx6QL_Nxb57dTjx2ptK4QRqFJaTh9N2Ij-CD42zqEXbj4I7ChoEeiVjQIjC-Pdad7rMC2VBJUgOJsyG1_o_PtcqHMj7dHAduuk4rQKBT0pKzKmejcbyzIhgbdrxO-8SyAmF5pRUdpI/s320/IMG_2130.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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You can almost hear the birds chirping, can't you?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg03bY9yPkzNGCasBLJXNhCglBAa6H9G4Q1KrvuuMVlRkRNQFQQTMo5bkb4_RPljlf_Zq96-aCHgNTZ_qa9l64lTRt-eydvZKK0sOarRiTjDY7sPslPrByf67g9AXoHPepXHCFjbXdR_Ls/s1600/IMG_2256.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg03bY9yPkzNGCasBLJXNhCglBAa6H9G4Q1KrvuuMVlRkRNQFQQTMo5bkb4_RPljlf_Zq96-aCHgNTZ_qa9l64lTRt-eydvZKK0sOarRiTjDY7sPslPrByf67g9AXoHPepXHCFjbXdR_Ls/s320/IMG_2256.jpg" /></a></div><br />
They even had a medicine garden filled with plants used for traditional Chinese medicine.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCEQRDmJtdWfyrGCwCXSVIFKYErWi6KPKtvQxusc-Vg6fFiORxvTUJB30QWQBw0whnaMHSO6Fz0w9n_p9r66PBu2Qp_XZF2vdJmmo44I-blrmGd_HdpR90eQhpyTo1jcXGImqNdCGiu_o/s1600/IMG_2137.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCEQRDmJtdWfyrGCwCXSVIFKYErWi6KPKtvQxusc-Vg6fFiORxvTUJB30QWQBw0whnaMHSO6Fz0w9n_p9r66PBu2Qp_XZF2vdJmmo44I-blrmGd_HdpR90eQhpyTo1jcXGImqNdCGiu_o/s320/IMG_2137.jpg" /></a></div><br />
If I ever get sick I'm coming here -- not because they have medicinal plants but because I think it's nearly impossible to come here and not feel better.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq9jTFdPQbh8Fa6LqAFrOmIKWvOvtoPMgVPbw4uCGrFs35OgFjvbPjN2_1Uz7qTWt1yDy2EbnE2aKhyphenhyphenKcF_-TKWqsixhrt4uleDAjRm89cSZbl041mBdqYwqnvTZp_hNANJf_N2e45Amc/s1600/IMG_2194.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq9jTFdPQbh8Fa6LqAFrOmIKWvOvtoPMgVPbw4uCGrFs35OgFjvbPjN2_1Uz7qTWt1yDy2EbnE2aKhyphenhyphenKcF_-TKWqsixhrt4uleDAjRm89cSZbl041mBdqYwqnvTZp_hNANJf_N2e45Amc/s320/IMG_2194.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJlczubaVtMN-88VohowQzUQqnTPVT3CXbogScnkx4PSL9SigqD4yUnZxtEKARrIVEoP8nWpCttukjYsaSv0VJ7muQcgE6n6MZSHhLuasa6s95u8AAPrnybIHCa6UTEqlG5dRTN6Z7WcY/s1600/IMG_2033.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJlczubaVtMN-88VohowQzUQqnTPVT3CXbogScnkx4PSL9SigqD4yUnZxtEKARrIVEoP8nWpCttukjYsaSv0VJ7muQcgE6n6MZSHhLuasa6s95u8AAPrnybIHCa6UTEqlG5dRTN6Z7WcY/s320/IMG_2033.jpg" /></a></div><br />
They also had plenty of fields of flowers.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaFaCO_jk5ROFG3ioWj90KArY_S7G-nGBmTW7TGifO8_3kA5NirR-e5AURov_Za7UzvC0kcXcxKx4TMJz3VamY76dr2UByCBqU85XdGzXVV4DGTExfgI3hKr8damyKpgIdcg0E5j9Mzrc/s1600/IMG_2397.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaFaCO_jk5ROFG3ioWj90KArY_S7G-nGBmTW7TGifO8_3kA5NirR-e5AURov_Za7UzvC0kcXcxKx4TMJz3VamY76dr2UByCBqU85XdGzXVV4DGTExfgI3hKr8damyKpgIdcg0E5j9Mzrc/s320/IMG_2397.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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</a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzcVZpk5ZGJnRHmzI48pjgqxRihma8d41S6-i85fxIptlKTuLBsVqZpR6TLD-itD2dSROUNs_wkDFrjs1Ojp6FVClnQXqpxDNsX1deqU6EbZmnhJicLTfB0YBqo45kC1Vv7CllcLa3piE/s1600/IMG_2345.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzcVZpk5ZGJnRHmzI48pjgqxRihma8d41S6-i85fxIptlKTuLBsVqZpR6TLD-itD2dSROUNs_wkDFrjs1Ojp6FVClnQXqpxDNsX1deqU6EbZmnhJicLTfB0YBqo45kC1Vv7CllcLa3piE/s320/IMG_2345.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVhQ57WfKwcn93_6aQxzHLqzn8SlmTpc7zl78ckUYC8DWyAhBEt4BcHcElJSazg47gT4zix2taYljiRAJ0dmtNT98vsOuKKD_4ot5Ta1OjAxlkdfSWtpU8O4kNhCKCEikWA8JdEAVzNCw/s1600/IMG_2399.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVhQ57WfKwcn93_6aQxzHLqzn8SlmTpc7zl78ckUYC8DWyAhBEt4BcHcElJSazg47gT4zix2taYljiRAJ0dmtNT98vsOuKKD_4ot5Ta1OjAxlkdfSWtpU8O4kNhCKCEikWA8JdEAVzNCw/s320/IMG_2399.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxi-2AzKBHyMhUWSjl-lJFTlHNx-yBzg3VOBY0AGnrr606F-QXGOqeMxaUpN76ocCKo1n-ZpDmrSwUaQ4kyPhTDogtjG9NqcZpcEV84Bl7kiyKO2gpMQKzVoOvqiS6VID4BYjfKJYvw70/s1600/IMG_2316.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxi-2AzKBHyMhUWSjl-lJFTlHNx-yBzg3VOBY0AGnrr606F-QXGOqeMxaUpN76ocCKo1n-ZpDmrSwUaQ4kyPhTDogtjG9NqcZpcEV84Bl7kiyKO2gpMQKzVoOvqiS6VID4BYjfKJYvw70/s320/IMG_2316.jpg" /></a></div><br />
...and some really tall trees...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRxImh19euqqZPhJ6OplzDpdxkCWX_-b3HvgnnIvsPlZIqgsLycmuSY06V6coH99y9zuJSigMZaCJEiPpGWxMW75fYrky85OWEIuHfT8L30X54bKjdKgWUf-3hwEsJOVZ0EM2gXwYFkao/s1600/IMG_2189.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRxImh19euqqZPhJ6OplzDpdxkCWX_-b3HvgnnIvsPlZIqgsLycmuSY06V6coH99y9zuJSigMZaCJEiPpGWxMW75fYrky85OWEIuHfT8L30X54bKjdKgWUf-3hwEsJOVZ0EM2gXwYFkao/s320/IMG_2189.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>They had some areas with flowers that were more obviously arranged, as well.<br />
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I've never taken so many pictures at one time. I've got stockpiles of flower pictures now. Unfortunately, they don't do this place justice.<br />
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I enjoyed it so much that I plan on going back there again. At first I decided that I won't bring my camera the second time I go.<br />
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But after thinking about it more, I'm sure I will. It's such a fun place to take pictures.<br />
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And, better yet, even if you know almost nothing about photography your pictures will undoubtedly look good.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgvRXUiIaKnb0-1kSgoHGtSo342mRAJNtOZKDWhnja11atoJdRYDCWWMw8FReKl0sJX-22LQ8DGcX-TsgtNQ3nON1PGyueAfjbxBoSB4KypH53TXFpskpnwcmK6OcyqlsyR8XD93nYt1M/s1600/IMG_2420.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgvRXUiIaKnb0-1kSgoHGtSo342mRAJNtOZKDWhnja11atoJdRYDCWWMw8FReKl0sJX-22LQ8DGcX-TsgtNQ3nON1PGyueAfjbxBoSB4KypH53TXFpskpnwcmK6OcyqlsyR8XD93nYt1M/s320/IMG_2420.jpg" /></a></div>Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-4747337732993905542010-04-12T09:17:00.000-07:002010-04-12T09:18:18.174-07:00Cultural Conundrum #6: Fast Food DeliveryThis one isn't so much a cultural conundrum as it is a cultural convenience.<br />
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McDonald's delivers!<br />
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The delivery person rides around on a scooter. I've also seen a KFC delivery person riding around.<br />
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I'm not sure how much extra it costs to have your food delivered. I have yet to eat fast food during my stay here. It's tempting to have a taste of home every once in a while, but I figure fasting from McDonald's and KFC for five months will make them taste that much better when I return to the U.S.<br />
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We'll see how I hold up.Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-22698710860981087652010-04-08T11:07:00.000-07:002010-04-09T18:28:16.780-07:00"Today, children, we have two very special guests..."Yesterday I experienced yet another "first," though this one was something very unique. I went to an elementary school to visit some children and encourage them to learn English. But this isn't any ordinary school. It is a school for children of migrant workers.<br />
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These children come from "the slums" (quoting the woman who brought me). Companies travel to cities all around China and hire homeless people or peasants to do hard labor for extremely little pay then transport them and their families to their company's home city to work, usually making them live in terrible conditions. <br />
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Fortunately, there are some schools like this that offer the children of these families a basic education, though the parents must still pay some fees. I met a Chinese girl named Mandy (English name) at church who attends my university and teaches at this school every day as part of a non-paid internship. She asked if I would come to her class to motivate them to learn English. Another student from my university here named Chad, who teaches at this school about every month, also came along.<br />
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What's more, the children have never before come in contact with a white person (or Caucasian for all you politically correct readers). Though they've seen them on advertisements and whatnot, they have never had the opportunity to see a <i>real, live</i> white person because they've lived in very poor places all their lives. <br />
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I went along with a university student from the Caribbean named Sharon. Most of these kids have never seen a black person either, so it was quite the experience for both of us.<br />
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When we arrived, many of the children were playing outside. As soon as we walked through the gate they all came running like the paparazzi. It was crazy. Since we all arrived late, Mandy and Chad were hurrying us through the swarms of children.<br />
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There were about 60 children (10- and 11-year-olds) in the class we visited. It was completely silent when we entered.<br />
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Kids who weren't in the class were trying to peak in through the windows.<br />
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We began by introducing ourselves. We spoke in English, and Mandy translated. Following that we had a question and answer time -- unscripted for sure. Consider how you would answer the questions I was asked:<br />
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Why is your skin white?<br />
Why are your eyes blue?<br />
What kind of food do you eat?<br />
Is the U.S. more beautiful than China?<br />
Do people in the U.S. think white people are the best?<br />
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Although those questions were hard enough to answer -- let alone to a group of children -- the most difficult question came from Mandy (the Chinese teacher).<br />
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"Can you sing an American pop song for us?"<br />
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Actually, I should have expected it. When I was here two years ago I visited a local elementary school supposedly to play some English games with the children. Instead, I was forced to sing <i>Edelweiss</i> (from <i>The Sound of Music</i>) for them. I'm still at a loss as to why they chose that song.<br />
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But this time I was going to hold my ground. I insisted that I don't listen to pop music -- and I don't. I threw just about every [truthful] excuse at her, but she pulled the it's-such-a-pity-that-these-children-finally-have-the-opportunity-to-see-an-American-and-now-you-won't-show-them-your-culture card. Sharon (the Caribbean woman) even jumped in and said she was being too pushy...but to no avail.<br />
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Mandy said some stuff to the class in Chinese, they all clapped their hands in excitement, then she turned to me and said she just told them I would sing a song.<br />
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*Pause for dramatic effect*<br />
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Everyone was staring at me. I started laughing nervously, trying to think of some "American" song to sing. After about 30 seconds I told Mandy I couldn't think of any good songs that I knew. She recommended the National Anthem.<br />
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*Pause again for dramatic effect*<br />
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I decided that it's too difficult to sing a capella. Besides, it's not really <i>music</i> if you know what I mean. I pauseed for another 30 seconds. Then a very random song came into my head. *Deep breath*<br />
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"Sommmmme-times in our liiiiiiives we all have paaaaaaain we all have sorrow..."<br />
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Everyone's favorite: <i>Lean on Me</i>. <br />
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It's impossible to capture the moment in writing. It was reminiscent of that scene in <i>Sister Act 2 </i>when the boy performs <i>Oh Happy Day </i>in front of the school. The only difference was I am not a singer. But I sang with the confidence of one. You only live once, right? I felt like one of those cocky people auditioning for American Idol who is actually really bad and gets laughed at by the judges. The only difference was I knew I was bad...I just didn't act like it. <br />
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After a few lines, Sharon jumped in. Apparantly <i>Lean on Me </i>made it's way to the Caribbean.<br />
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When I got to "You just call on me brother when you need a hand," I started clapping on the off-beats. Pretty soon everyone was clapping. When we finished everyone went crazy. It was one of the most awkward, funny, surreal moments of my life -- everything from the song selection to the environment to the stares of the children to the un-impressive singing skills to the overenthusiastic reaction. <br />
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After the performance, Sharon and I taught them <i>B-I-N-G-O</i> and <i>Old MacDonald</i>. When class was over the kids bolted out of their seats and swarmed us once more, though this time we had nowhere to go. Most of them just wanted to touch the foreigners. They were in awe of Sharon's hair. She said she felt kids constantly touching and pulling it.<br />
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As for me, they seemed most interested in touching my arms. They had never touched white skin before. It was a little awkward, but I'm sure I would have acted similarly if I was them. I handed my camera to Mandy, but unfortunately it's a little tricky to operate. Also, I was standing by a window. So it's not the best picture. But since I have yet to post a picture of myself in China...<br />
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In case you're wondering, the two-fingered "peace sign" in China is a "V" for "victory." It's almost just as common as smiling for pictures in China.<br />
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We finally made it outside and were met by another group of children waiting for us. Some of them almost seemed more excited to get their picture taken than to meet the foreigners. But others were entranced by the foreigners.<br />
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This boy stuck by me everywhere I went, and his expression never changed. He would poke me every once in a while and keep staring intently at me. He gave me a few hugs. He wasn't fazed by the camera in the least. I'm not even sure he realized I had a camera. There was something about his expression that brought out the sort of innocent curiosity of a child more than any of the other kids I saw. <br />
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The kids were eventually loaded on buses and taken back to their homes. It was encouraging to learn that they are fed meals at school and given supplies for little cost. And even though they are growing up in very difficult environments, they were still full of smiles and energy.<br />
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45 minutes later I was back in my dorm room.Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-44495677804176923432010-04-04T21:30:00.000-07:002010-04-05T07:44:36.623-07:00Cultural Conundrum #5: Communal Scrap Bowls -- or TablesContinuing with the food theme, I want to highlight another food-related observation. At many cheap restaurants and at every cafeteria I’ve been to you will find a lovely centerpiece on every table.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_-7EuUQ5BrA04zCm3nCg2erVP9wEq6wMXUkRZjidLcMT1wA2OhnajEA_Kz2fjo_ZB88trI68FYbtbw6G7BDDZPFQzoqzn3lbCzSrOapWFRt1kxtG26nsxgrgoPf5Lof0RiCTwN1nUHVI/s1600/IMG_1689.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_-7EuUQ5BrA04zCm3nCg2erVP9wEq6wMXUkRZjidLcMT1wA2OhnajEA_Kz2fjo_ZB88trI68FYbtbw6G7BDDZPFQzoqzn3lbCzSrOapWFRt1kxtG26nsxgrgoPf5Lof0RiCTwN1nUHVI/s320/IMG_1689.JPG" /></a></div><br />
This is what I like to call the communal scrap bowl. In China, fish and meat are almost always cooked with the bones. You can imagine how difficult it is eating an entire fish without swallowing any bones — that’s why I rarely eat fish (though the locals are really good at it). <br />
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Aside from swallowing bones, there arises yet another problem with eating bone-enriched food: Where do you put the bones while you’re eating?<br />
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Have no fear! The communal scrap bowl is here!<br />
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As gross as it seems — and it is pretty gross — it is actually quite convenient. You don’t have to maneuver around bones on your plate. Just toss them in and keep eating. And while you’re at it, you can toss in anything else you don’t want — peppers, napkins, chicken feet and the like.<br />
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Every once in a while a lady will come by and empty out the bowl at your table. But most of the time when I sit down, the bowl is filled with some type of goodness. <br />
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But what do you do when there is no scrap bowl? Or what if you just don’t feel like using the scrap bowl? Simple — put the bones on the table!<br />
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Generally it seems that about 2/3 of the people use the bowl and 1/3 use the table. The same lady that empties the bowls also clears the tables of any bones or other scraps.<br />
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When there are many open seats you can just avoid the ones occupied by scraps. But when it’s packed, you just have to set your plate on top of the scraps so that you aren’t looking at them when you eat. Here’s a sneak peak at what was under my plate during a busy day:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZWy007YGUGyPe3xSq8UcKoQu0uAE3sXqgUm3chUKemMRkAAbXDA48M9pDzJ8tJ-gt6u7UT-prbc8_C4Re76YyPW0P1EKCG_QXdrgPf5L7VodbB9VHGVC81WKzlGM6ZpNhdbaqpZ_0eKk/s1600/IMG_1686.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZWy007YGUGyPe3xSq8UcKoQu0uAE3sXqgUm3chUKemMRkAAbXDA48M9pDzJ8tJ-gt6u7UT-prbc8_C4Re76YyPW0P1EKCG_QXdrgPf5L7VodbB9VHGVC81WKzlGM6ZpNhdbaqpZ_0eKk/s320/IMG_1686.JPG" /></a></div><br />
To Americans this probably seems a bit disgusting. But to Chinese people it’s a normal part of eating. And that’s how cultures function, right? One culture sees their practices as practical and convenient while another culture views them as strange or repulsive.<br />
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It is interesting, though, that Americans generally wouldn’t have a problem looking at bones on a person’s plate sitting in front of them. But as soon as you put them in a bowl in the middle of the table we freak out. Granted, putting them ON the table might be a little different. But a table is just a really big plate if you think about it.<br />
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Just saying…Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1528556853919078832.post-15030918391132310362010-03-31T05:47:00.000-07:002010-03-31T05:48:50.061-07:00Cultural Conundrum #4: Expiration DatesWhen I was here two years ago, I would often stop by a little shop and buy some <i>Chips Ahoy!</i> cookies as a periodic indulgence. After a few weeks, however, I glanced at the expiration date and saw that they were expired by many months--maybe 6 or more. I don't remember.<br />
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I stopped buying them. Every day I would check to see if they got new ones. One day they did get some new ones...they were just <i>less</i> expired. I worked up a theory in my head: this shop bought them cheap from some bigger store after that store had to get rid of them.<br />
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Eventually, the craving got so great that I decided to buy them anyway. I hadn't gotten sick from the first few packages, and they still tasted good.<br />
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Since then, however, I have learned a secret. The date printed on food isn't the expiration date. It's the production date. Finding the expiration date is a 3-step process.<br />
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Step 1: Find the date on the package:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7C60pV0NDpNB4MzoH5HPX4iKVZ8t_6mGGL_y4zE4XcKsYjP4XoGQPawyZpGzEmc5YIu6S_8rTYfNdOMkSrlekmAm9dKwcMthIcilnFNTjo5MYKbtesxrayLUaqQfRpu2XC0CUZOvZxEk/s1600/IMG_1862.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7C60pV0NDpNB4MzoH5HPX4iKVZ8t_6mGGL_y4zE4XcKsYjP4XoGQPawyZpGzEmc5YIu6S_8rTYfNdOMkSrlekmAm9dKwcMthIcilnFNTjo5MYKbtesxrayLUaqQfRpu2XC0CUZOvZxEk/s320/IMG_1862.JPG" /></a></div><br />
It says "20091204." So these cookies were packaged on December 04, 2009.<br />
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Step 2: Turn the package over and find the length of time they can be consumed after production.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRIV93Lu_STx7lAxLsnnW0CCemH7HqZjJx6xC8huPYPYdQ3K5RZAKeQGSpzQihMCrBIeiSW8rv7-XazVlv44v6qc4G2DnWSEgWFbs1SGvvH9pLlj3JjtO0xQf5F-eX8Toii-BPm-XJiL8/s1600/IMG_1864.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRIV93Lu_STx7lAxLsnnW0CCemH7HqZjJx6xC8huPYPYdQ3K5RZAKeQGSpzQihMCrBIeiSW8rv7-XazVlv44v6qc4G2DnWSEgWFbs1SGvvH9pLlj3JjtO0xQf5F-eX8Toii-BPm-XJiL8/s320/IMG_1864.JPG" /></a></div><br />
It's really hard to see, but if you look at the middle of the top half you will see the number 12 followed by some Chinese characters. This says "12 months."<br />
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Step 3: Subtract today's date by the production date. If that is less than the period of time on the back--in this case 12 months--then it is safe to eat.<br />
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I look at the date on everything I buy. Only once have I seen both the production and expiration dates on the front of the package. It was on a box of <i>Orion</i> pies (an American company). <br />
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I don't know why they do it like this here. Maybe it is so that lazy customers will still buy their product if it is expired because they won't want to bother finding the information and doing the quick calculation in their head. I have no idea.<br />
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But at least I can rest assured that those <i>Chips Ahoy!</i> cookies I bought two years ago were actually good.Brent Pinkallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09970718328441947486noreply@blogger.com1