After 19 hours on the train, I've returned to Shanghai for a much needed rest. The grades are in. The applications out. Let the holidays begin! :) It's another Shanghai Christmas!
I'm checked in at yet another (albeit newer Motel 168) and have quite the interesting view of a bit of Old Shanghai from my window.
I'll be updating regularly over the next few days, and how to make some new connections between old memories and new ideas.
Hello all!
How are you? I attach an earlier e-mail (below) requesting Backstreet (i.e., GuangLin Yi Lu) pics for my "Backstreet VR" project. It's been a few years, and publically available software tech continues to advance so I'd like to report on my progress.
If you head over to my blog (i.e., www.OnHongKongIsle.com), you'll see I've uploaded almost half a gig and 458 photos into the newly available Microsoft Photosynth service. You can also access directly. Apologies as you'll need a plug-in, and there have been constant server outages since Photosynth has been made available to home users so your experience may vary. This needs good net speed.
Actually with this much data, I'm way above the recommended content for rendering (>300 photos). As all computations are being done client-side, my graphics card and present notebook are woefully short of the minimums. Nevertheless some of the photos have been "stiched" together, and I look forward to trying with a stronger rig (and using later software updates) to see if I can get a better "synthy" score. It'd be nice to try this with a serious graphics card that also does "physics" calculations.
Of course, this isn't the real "VR" I have in mind. Every tree and building appears in at least five photos, so the next step is for this model to be more object oriented and aware. Yet I think that for 2008 (and for free) this isn't so bad.
The entire "Backstreet" is a rather complicated environment to render. In fact, I think we'll need several years yet until I can do this on the amateur level. Happy to see that the data set is especially rich however, as most "orphan" photos (i.e., those not "stitched") demonstrate the ability to be linked into the larger model yet! :)
I'll keep you posted!
As always, I'm still eager for Backstreet pics. Everything is useable, and I extend this to the SHUFE basketball courts and Hose shots as well. If any also want to send along any Christmas Party pics (i.e., 2004) or any other pics in my former room - while I was there - I'd appreciate it. I hope everyone is doing well.
Cheers,
Steve
Now the last group of my former Shanghai students have graduated. I still remember your first day on campus when everyone arrived so scared and shy! And your movies! You've all come a long way... I'm so proud to have once been your teacher!
GOOD LUCK AHEAD! 加油！ DREAM IN ENGLISH! :)
“亲爱的同学们，祝贺你们毕业了!"
我现在用中文做这次演讲，希望你们更加清楚的明白我的意思。
你们成长的如此之快，取得了如此多的成就，行了万里路，也读了万卷书, 就连英文水平也得到很大的提高。但我仍然记得你们第一次做自我介绍时那含羞的表情和天真的眼神。Apple那时说：“大家叫我Apple是因为我的脸圆圆的像个苹果。而且在我不好意思的时候就会脸红。”
我现在还保留着我们第一学期的合照。你们是那么的可爱，像一个个小孩，尽管脸上还流露出害怕的神情，不过那极有可能是因为你们刚刚参加完我的英语口语的考试。
你们知道吗，我经常告诉我的妈妈你们实际上就是我自己的孩子，所以她现在已经有很多孙子孙女了。我妈这段时间经常想着抱“孙子”，还催我早点结婚。
那一年对我和你们来说都是在财大的第一年。我一直很想教英语专业的学生，也总是在其他外教面前大肆的夸赞你们是多么好的学生。在那年里，你们做了关于怎样做中国菜和如何筹办北京奥运会的演讲，我们一起讨论电影《肖申克的救赎》，周末举办小型电影俱乐部。我们在课堂上讨论了大学生该不该结婚和能不能搬出学校住的问题，星期六约在JUP办公室里进行课外英语练习。你们当中一些上海当地同学说他们很喜欢这样的形式，因为这样他们周五晚上就可以和同学逛街、吃饭，不用回家了。你们还让我当歌唱比赛的评委，参于英语电台“SHUFE Image” 的建立。
第二年，我成了你们的写作老师。你们有些人抱怨说我变得十分严厉，也布置了太多作业。也是你们让我适应了每次在布置完作业后听到你们异口同声的喊道：“啊！” 于是你们告诉我，中国和美国不一样。中国的大学里不应该布置这么多作业，因为在进大学之前你们已经做得够多的了。同样在那一年，我们还一起读了来自美国哈佛大学、普林斯顿大学、伯克利大学和乔治城大学的学生报。就你们阅读的那些文章，我还让布置你们回答了你们深恶痛绝的CRQs――构答反应题。甚至在网上进行激烈的讨论。
Last Monday night, Apple planned, and generous Emma treated us to, a wonderful dinner. As the date of the SHUFE graduation had been changed from the 20th to the 29th. With the date changed, this was my only chance to meet my former students.
It was a wonderful dinner, and I truly enjoyed the warm hospitality and the ability to meet and see so many future leaders, going forward 'to build the new Shanghai'! ;)
Last Friday, we met together at Honeymoon Dessert in Shanghai's Super Brand Mall. A gathering of some long lost faces, from my once young freshmen and sophomores.
And somehow, this has true meaning: gathered together on a Friday night, eating Hong Kong-style desserts in Shanghai. A third of us still studying hard, a third of us looking for work and a third of us beginning our new lives. 加油！ 加油！
[To see Chinese characters, just "Add East Asian Language Support".]
Although I didn't get a chance on my last Shanghai visit, this trip I took a stroll down my beloved "Backstreet" once again. And the street welcomed me home! :)
I had a wonderful hug with my adopted Chinese grandma (i.e., the "Backstreet Diva") who still expresses constant concern if I've eaten - or paid too much to eat - and, as always, refuses to let me take her photo. Further I had a drink with the bicycle repairmen on the corner. A unique encounter as we'd never been close, but they said they remembered me well. Perhaps my Chinese had improved so we talked more.
Looking backwards through the fence where I looked out on my first morning in China, I saw our beloved waiban, Wang Yifeng, who was checking in a new foreign teacher, coming through my same China placement program, from New York. On August 22nd, I joked that he was exactly where I was three years ago! A joyous Wang Yifeng (aka, "the Wangster") - again always confusing his "he" and "'she" - asked about my HKU studies and invited me to eat... but I'd already had other dinner plans. :)
[Blogging from a Shanghai Motel168.]
You know, when I thought about conducting a survey of university students at Jiaotong and Fudan for HKU, I couldn't have imagined it would be this easy.
And while one has recently told me, "I don't think it should be hard because you are a foreigner and cute." Cuteness alone cannot account for the sincere student willingness to talk that I encountered today in the cafeterias and lawns of Jiaotong.
There is something almost intimate in going to others (in a foreign culture) and asking them to comment on your school. It makes you vulnerable. But there is also something amazing in asking mainland Chinese to situate your university - as it exists uniquely on the periphery of the mainland (experience).
But perhaps the real intimacy is in those students that immediately speak to me in Chinese, asking me to translate for them (and, of course, indicated on their appropriate survey). They do not ask, "Do you speak Chinese?", begin speaking their own language as a cultural power-play or an attempt to shake me off. But instead with the intent to express thought in a genuine desire to communicate with this foreigner.
Yet, the mystery comes in how they know I might understand and a sense of trust in allowing me transcribe their thoughts into English.
So from the mainland, I come away knowing a little more about my English-speaking university. A very different activity from interviewingto see if it is worthy to attend. And that is a cool way to spend a couple of hot Shanghai afternoons.
[Blogging from a Shanghai Motel168.]
I was walking quickly through the morning Shanghai sun, criss-crossing between Fuzhou Lu, Nanjing Lu and surrounding streets, looking for a flower shop. Shanghai does - in fact - have many flower shops, albeit impossible to come across when you are looking for one in a hurry.
It happened on my third-cross of Nanjing Lu, already filled at ten, that I came across two -- let's call them "Nanjing Lu girls". "Nanjing Lu girls" typically are attractive females in late teens or early twenties that introduce - by enthusiastic shouts - themselves as "university students" (with oiled-salesmanship well-beyond any actual university TOEFL-exam memorizer) who say they look to practice their English. This usually leads into any number of con-games.
As I - a male, blonde-haired, Starbucks-carrying, laowai - walked past, they set upon their mark. "Where are you from?" They both shouted.
"Hong Kong," I said. They looked confused. "You live there?" "Yes." I answered.
"We are university students!" They shouted.
"Yes, I am a university student too." They now looked slightly flustered.
"We can help show you around Shanghai!" One said.
I answered in Chinese. "I've lived in Shanghai for two years."
"Really?" Their faces dropped.
"Sorry," I continued in Chinese. "Do you know where I can find a flower shop?"
And with that, the game was lost as the last possible net unravelled in their hands. I just wasn't the Starbucks-laowai they'd hoped I'd be. Now momentarily off-game, they retreated back to the flowing crowds. Yet even in the din of a passing childrens' train-trolley, I could hear the sirens renew their call...
As for me, I walked around for another half-hour, asking in bakeries, mechanic garages and "Hello Kitty" pencil shops, until I finally had a "fresh" bouquet of flowers. And with my Starbucks and flowers, I then came across the sweetest thing on earth -- that's right, a Fuzhou Lu-branch of Hong Kong's famous "mango pancake" (i.e., Honeymoon Dessert)... well, maybe almost "the sweetest thing on earth". ;) HOHO!~
[Blogging from a Shanghai Motel168.]
An "ironic" Shanghai personal story written in October of 2003.
The papers say eight people a day die crossing streets in Shanghai. Some claim this is propaganda though, and the number is much higher. As for me, a skillful American jaywalker, I sometimes cross myself at intersections here. I figure the only thing separating me from Heaven or Hell is six lanes, two bike paths, and a boulevard.
I’m usually an optimist. At one time, my smile sold more clothes than anyone else in the nation – my home nation – but I’m pretty sure I’ll die here, crossing the streets in Shanghai. It’s a bit cynical thing to say really, I know. A bit jaded maybe. China will do that to you if you aren’t careful. You have to work at it everyday, telling yourself a joke or two into the mirror each morning to keep that sparkle in your eye and rosy dimples in your cheeks. You smile.
But it all stops fast when you hit the intersection; when you are staring at either Heaven or Hell on the opposite corner, depending on the visibility with traffic conditions, air pollution, a pile-up in the bicycle corridor or a cluster of women holding sun umbrellas in the shade of the overpass, waiting in the center boulevard.
Last week, both myself and Vivian - herself a recent Tsinghua/HKU graduate who will now work for HSBC in the UK - conducted five days of interviews for mainland students interested in attending HKU both at the University of Nanjing and Fudan, in Shanghai.
We joined teams of HKU professors and staff sent to almost ten different cities and universities across China, and (together) interviewed close to 400 students!
The students assembled in conference rooms (and a KTV room) where we interviewed them in groups of five to eight at a time for thirty minutes. Our groups were often more interesting than reported by others, perhaps flowing from our young age as interviews. But as a former mainland teacher, some of these students were exceptional beyond words!
This exceptionally places them in an elite class, each group often having one or more with guaranteed placement at Tsinghua, Beida, Fudan and Jiaotong (i.e., China's best schools). Also, on an economic level, they come from families able to afford, or make an attempt at, the 100,000 HK ($12,000 US) a year price tag which brings with it a wealth of international travel experience, atypical of most Chinese (and Westerners).
Yet, beyond English fluency, it is in the areas of critical thought, social consciousness, creativity and simple "coolness" that make these students really stand out.
Since I've returned from Shanghai, I've started the bowing thing again.
Well, not bowing precisely, but enough of a bow at 7/11 to get you noticed. Last semester, a few Japanese classmates laughed when I bowed thankfully for my Starbucks coffee. I don't think I re-learned this from my own students, but from the Korean students at the SHUFE's Cultural Exchange School, where I spent Monday looking for friend and Chinese tutor, Li Laoshi (who now teaches in South Africa).
A Shanghai personal story written in April of 2005.
I learned the ‘bit bow’ not from the Chinese as much as from the Korean students in my Chinese language classes. The ‘bit-bow’ or its frequent ‘double-bit bow’ variation consists of two brief mechanized bends in the upper chest, the shoulders dropping toward another; yet delivered nonchalantly as if – to the untrained eye – the person weren’t being sincere at all. It’s different than the extended, formalized Japanese bows that are supposed to take a lifetime for a foreigner to learn. [Or the "credit card bow", here in HK.] This is just a bit of bow. Late Korean students perform these double-torso jerks toward the teacher before taking a seat.
Perhaps the Koreans put more energy into their bit-bows so I noticed this practice with them first, but now I notice similarities in the bows of all the Asian people.
Two classes of SHUFE English Majors graduated this Tuesday in Shanghai. It was an exciting and - for many - a truly emotional experience. What a joy to see so many of you on your special day. Together we sang, drank, danced, cried and - as English majors - perhaps spoke too much Chinese. :) Your friendship is deeper than I deserve.
Good luck in your futures! Dream in English, think critically and "get married" (soon)!
This small video clip, "A Graduation Toast" 0:58 (14.7 MB, MOV), was filmed at the "Monkey" class dinner after commencement. I've watched it twenty times. :) Enjoy.
[To see Chinese characters, just "Add East Asian Language Support".]
Before the graduation ceremony, Emma - a helpful and capable leader - organized a hot pot lunch with several of the third year English majors. Sichuan-style hot pot is so expensive here in Hong Kong that it was a true treat!
Thank you, Emma, Marian, Cathy, Terence, Alex & Johnny! Good to see you again. :)
With a saddened heart, I've come across my beloved plants (or their remains)...
My backstreet plant store (with Shanghainese shopkeep) is thriving though!
[Blogging from a rented room in Shanghai University of Finance and Economics.]
It wasn't the same without Shanghai Dave, but the Rhymers Club met again tonight at Chartres (just a bit from Fudan) - the difference being we spoke a lot of Chinese! :)
[Blogging from a rented room in Shanghai University of Finance and Economics.]
I never thought that I would make a new friend on this return trip to Shanghai. But when "Angela" offered to "introduce Shanghai" to me, I jumped at the chance, so long as we would speak some Chinese. In my initial arrival two-half years ago, nobody ever offered to show me around the city. I think part of this stems from my anxieties over being a young teacher - just two years older than my students - and the perceived need to keep a certain professional distance in the classroom.
Later though, I often returned to this thought, realizing that such an offer was something I had deeply desired.
Today, I was given a guided walk along part of Huai Hai Lu and across many blocks of old and demolishing homes to Xiantiandi.
[Blogging from a rented room in Shanghai University of Finance and Economics.]
From the former stacks of student compositions: here are some student reflections on mainland college life that I hope you’ll enjoy.
“Hunting for a Seat in the Library” by Benjamin
It is never easy to have a seat in the library, as there are never enough seats for everyone. Some people choose to seize a seat by making a sacrifice of sleep. The record was set on June 6th, when a girl arrived at 3:00 AM and waited for its opening at 7:30 AM. It is stupid though because lack of sleep will exhaust a person. They will feel sleepy rather than energetic when they start to work. Actually, there are some means to help you. Having practiced these tactics for more than half a year, I can ensure their feasibility.
Here are a few EXCELLENT student videos from first-year Shanghai English majors. The students wrote the scripts, acted and filmed these short movies over a two week period. They said it was "fun, but a lot of work!" :)
"Born on the First of April"*
5:39 (17.2 MB, WMV)
* students added English subtitles.
"The Legend of April Fool's Day"
5:09 (18.2 MB, WMV)
"Tony in Love"
7:39 (23.9 MB, WMV)
I post these here for students who might have lost their copy, for the next wave of foreign teachers preparing to come to China and interested guests. Enjoy! :)
A Shanghai personal story written in March of 2004.
On some days in China, I have the feeling that there is a rhythm to the chaos all around me, and, like those other natives, I can walk in time.
Those little touches, like pressing your arms against your sides to make things more difficult for the pickpockets. Pushing your chair in slightly when the tabletop in back of you starts burning from overturned cookware in a restaurant. Side-stepping the stray moped as it zooms by in the subway station, or brushing off the occasional prostitute who has attached herself to your arm as she forces you to drag her pleading weight along the street. You might even encounter a fallen bicycle, tipped over by the load of the twin size mattress that the owner had managed to strap to its back.
But there is an organic rhythm to it all, the motion of people and bodies, living and pressing themselves one on top of the other in that beautiful Chinese concoction that is so many, so cramped and so loud. And on a good day, even in the pouring rain, walking down overflowing sidewalks, wading through the usual trash and being side-swiped by the open umbrellas of unconcerned owners, there is that place of sincere delight: the feeling of having 1.3 billion dance partners and a band that never stops.
A personal story written in January of 2004.
With large open bottles of Tsingdao for each person in each hand, I packed in with the others in the crowded taxi and traveled to Tiananmen Square. A Canadian girl had spilt beer on the back seat of the taxi so with five minutes to 2004, I arrived at Tiananmen Gate with a wet bottom. The night was cold, but dry cold, a welcomed departure from the wet cold of Shanghai. I'd spent six hours earlier during the day, hiking on a deserted Great Wall. My body ached from the hike and the three and half hour bus ride each way but it had seemed a fitting way to end the old year.
Nobody is allowed on Tiananmen Square before the raising and after the lowering of the Chinese flag. And nine lanes opposite where Red Army personnel guarded the perimeter, four or five hundred had gathered under Chairman Mao's eternal portrait. A police van drove back and forth through the crowd, like a rake through gravel, trying to keep the group unsettled. The Japanese were taking pictures in full force, while the Russians, British and Americans just stood around smiling and shivering. And then, Mao's portrait's and Tiananmen Gate's exterior lighting turned off and we were left looking at a darkened culture icon. Only the Communist Party crest remained glowing. The crowd bubbled in the wait, the Japanese found the darkened building a new opportunity for more posed group shots and the police van, undeterred, continued to comb back and forth, back and forth.
Yesterday Dave sent me a link to Dan's site about "Virtual Shanghai":
"Virtual Shanghai is a research and resource platform on the history of Shanghai from the mid-nineteenth century to nowadays. It incorporates four sets of documents: essays, original documents, photographies, and maps. The objective of the project is to write a history of the city through the combined mobilization of these various sets of documents. The implementation of this approach relies on the use of NTIC technologies and GIS technology. On the research side, the platform will offer various ways to step into the history of the city and follow its course at different levels over time. On the resource side, apart from providing original textual and visual documents, it develops a powerful cartographic tool for both observation and creation. The authors of the present project suscribe to the idea of sharing scholarship and research tools for the benefit of scholars, students, and citizens at large."
This project excites me as it reminds me so much of my own Backstreet VR idea based around the street that ran in back of the graduate school (with particular attention to the 2003-2004 period) where the foreign teachers lived, called Guanglin Yi Lu. This is a fantastic, local street with a real vibrance to it that I never found an equal to in any of the other 17 mainland Chinese cities I've visited.
When I woke up on Aug 22nd, 2003, the sight through the back gate - still locked tight for SARS - of the bikes, prostitutes, hair salons, butchers and plant sellers, DVD hawkers, mobile phone and calling card shops, baking dan bings, stacked produce and crawling hairy crabs, "Hello Kitty" shops, shoe repair booths, dry cleaners, fortune tellers, children in red scarves and jiaozi wickers stacked ten high were my first glimpses of China.
Over two years, I started taking hundreds of pictures of this street. Strange pictures, from strange angles (and snippets of sound and video), even going out during different weather and lighting conditions to capture close-up "textures" of bricks, pavement, tree bark and lampposts. The types of pictures that might allow a computer to stitch all these photos together - ten or fifteen years from now - to create a fully-immersive VR environment, allowing me to visit and walk down my beloved street once again.
But the potential for this project is so huge, especially if it could serve as a platform for data-sharing with upcoming GeoTagging cameras and new object-recognition algorithms. Just imagine! It's long been a fantasy of mine to go explore Hong Kong and Shanghai decade by decade across the last two hundred years, walking and touching the actual place and time, and seeing the changes from year to year. :)
In fact, at night I often dream about slipping backwards in time, growing younger in relation to how far back I've passed. Perhaps many have such dreams, I don't know. On Monday morning - before the waking hour - I came across an Irish girl in the New York of 1901 and tried to impress her with information about the future.
But she answered, "Yes, yes, I met a boy from 2050 earlier this summer who talked just as you do about two great wars, traveling to the moon and an adding machine that can be held in just one hand. But what I want to know is: are you a good kisser?"
A Shanghai personal story written in October of 2003.
I had arrived late at the Sunday-night “English Corner” on the seventh floor of the postgrad student dorm. There were twenty people present, and the room curved around several picture windows, looking toward downtown Shanghai and the blinking red lights of the Pearl Radio Antenna.
The moderator jumped up with a smile, welcomed me and said to the group, “And we also have several foreigners that often join us.”
I looked around; most of the faces were new. I took a seat on an empty bench.
English Corners typically last three hours, the first hour or so being composed of impromptu speeches made in English with topics drawn from topics that those present had written on slips of paper.
“Would you like to give a speech, Steven?” The moderator asked.
Like every other week, I declined. “No. Thank you. I can already speak English very well.”
Everyone laughed. They were all Chinese. I was the only foreigner this week. A “volunteer” was selected from the audience.
He was handed a slip of paper which he bent over, squinting through his glasses, the light glistening between the sharp, business-major part in his Asian-black hair.
He read, “Talk about your feelings on Japanese culture?”
A Shanghai personal story written in October of 2004.
In the land of a “billion bicycles,” I don’t why I hadn’t ever bought a bike. Swerving in and out of bustling Beijing hutongs or following along the mountains hemming in southwestern Kunming, I’m no stranger to renting a bike for several days. Perhaps it’s because I lived in Shanghai, a modern East coast city that appears to do a little less biking than their inland counterparts. In fact, the Shanghai Municipal Authority irked environmentalists the world over last fall when it announced that bicycles needed to go to make more room for more cars. Five thousand cars a month were being added to a city with no real parking and, sure as certain, street after street no longer boasted the tring, tring, tring of poncho wearing Chinese during the Plum Flower Rain Season.
I hadn’t bought a car, but my friend, Dave, a thirty-year-old, Browns-loving, new American teacher from Cleveland, bought a terrific bike that he said I could borrow.
A Shanghai personal story written in April of 2005.
The food came to the table, as Ida, a third year student, returning for her second semester in the group, spoke about life in the dormitory and completing homework for my writing class. I said it is heartening to hear that students talk about the course outside of the classroom.
"Oh yes, yes, we do! We do!" Ida said. "Yesterday, we talked about your class from ten o'clock to three in the morning, wondering about what you say and why you do the strange things in your class. Me and my three other roommates we lie in our beds and talk about you and the more we talk the more we get excited!"
It was an utterance of innocence, of enthusiasm overdone in the English language and a poor understanding of euphemisms that is perfectly precious. I laughed embarrassed and looked to Dave who was holding it in; yet, knows the true meaning of such things.
"Yes," Apple said. "In my room we talk about you a lot as well and how much Coke you drink. We debate whether you'll be able to have children or not. In China, we believe that Coke will hurt a man's sperm."
Dave snorted and had to wipe his eyes with a napkin.
From September of 2003, this is one of the first personal stories written in Shanghai.
I guess the biggest adjustment to coming back from China will be walking down the street and not having anyone give a damn. Here in Shanghai, it’s very different. A hundred eyes watch every step. The people shout an accented, “Hello!” at the top of their lungs and the Red Guard security man barks a proud, “Good Afternoon!” at the entrance of the public library. At tourist sites, the famous landmarks are forgotten and the video cameras hover, taking in every glisten of every drop of the Western sweat that the Shanghai heat can pull from a foreigner’s skin, while parents push their young children forward for a picture with the dripping American. Everywhere they watch. You are an oddity, a Westerner – foreign.
A Shanghai personal story written in April 2004.
Across from one of my regular restaurants on the back street, I had bought a small eucalyptus plant with the change from my meal. Bringing it back to my room, I then set it under the desk light, thinking I would talk to it every day to practice my Chinese.
Later, I thought a cat might work better to this end, although Li Laoshi, my weekend Chinese teacher, said it would be more impressive if I could teach a Chinese cat English than if we just had conversations in Mandarin. But the university rejected my request for a pet, leaving me with my plant under the desk light.
After a couple of days indoors, it began to wilt so I moved it out onto the balcony. Seeing my lone little plant sitting out on my dirty, cement balcony, I decided to buy more plants to keep it company.
An early Shanghai personal story written in October of 2003.
Sundays mean sleeping in, correcting papers, lesson planning and church. I usually wake up hung-over – a positive recent development as it reminds me of my former life – stumble to my door and grab the thermos of warm water refilled nightly by the hotel staff for my morning green tea. I hit the power button for the water heater, fish out a new tea bag and two sugar cubes, stirring it together with a chopstick. As the tea cools, I spend five minutes spraying and killing mosquitoes before I sit down at my computer to answer e-mails and read the US newspapers.
A Shanghai personal story written in December of 2004.
A Korean girl in one of my classes wrote a poem called "Santa Claus" where she lambasted him for never bringing her any presents. I had been surprised at the reference. And although his Asia-fied face was everywhere, I guess I missed Santa too. I missed the Christmas TV specials and fireplaces and stockings and red and white cheap candy canes with the wrapping that you can never get off and end up biting into, later picking out pieces of plastic from your teeth.
And then, on the backstreet, I came across the Santa Hat. My Santa Hat. In a row of other Santa Hats, some having Mrs. Claus white braids flowing from inside. It looked miserable and cheap. It had a simple piece of white felt, not at all furry or soft as a proper Santa Hat should be, hanging in its row above the artificially enlarged cans of artificial window snow.
So I bought this hat. I wore it out of the store, across campus, to Chinese classes and when I administered my final exams. I wore it on the morning shuttle, to Pizza Hut, in taxis, in my room. I only took it off to shower and sleep.
And that’s when the magic started to happen.
The Chinese loved it. The girls laughed. My students told me I looked cute. Two male students told me I looked “lovely” but I pointed out that Western males often don’t give each other such compliments. Strangers nodded with big grins on their faces. Cyclicists stopped in intersections. The driver of the school van wanted a picture. The Foreign Language Dean told me I had “a colorful personality” but at the time I had also been shaking in argument beside a white board, drawing pictures to demonstrate that Plato was better than Marx.
It was silly, but comforting. A new twist on being the foreigner. A fresh experience in another dreary Shanghai winter after sixteen months away from family, home and country. A visible playfulness with a still big, white American smile, large eyes and a big nose. The red Santa Hat announced far ahead that a foreigner was coming.
I guess I missed the idea of Santa so much that I became him. I wonder, do parents miss the Santa of their childhood and become him too?
A Shanghai personal story written in May of 2005.
The pollution was mild, but I passed the high-school in a bad mood on my walk between campuses. Two female students walked a single bicycle through the main gate. I imagined the wasted hours that lie ahead of them: the next four years to be spent studying the pseudo-knowledge of test-taking principles. I'd been thinking up a possible Times Op/Ed piece on the topic. I wanted to tell the world how ETS' increasing dominance in China acts as a modern-day opium in such a test-oriented culture. Half a block later I admitted I didn’t have an authoritative title to appear below my name—a necessary element to criticize such a well-entrenched American bastion. The girls walked down the sidewalk after me. They laughed when I turned to look.
I've spent the day reading some of the old web-posting of another former SHUFE teacher. Phil isn't posting anymore, but he's maintaining a site that has a wealth of information, information and archive material. I'm saddened that I didn't read his writing more regularly during the last two years.
Definitely some excellent reporting!
A selection of personal stories written from December 27th, 2003 to February 2nd, 2004 during some of my travels about China.
“Sliver Moon”
The sleeping compartments were small and cramped and the smell of foot odor wafted up from someone's brown leather shoes below. Beside my own hiking shoes, they were all brown leather, five pairs all tucked under a bunk for the other five in the compartment. My ticket read "hard sleeper" in Chinese characters, but my hope for a "soft" bed in China ended the second I flopped myself down on my new bed after the nineteen hour arrival flight. All in all, I was satisfied.
I sat up, as much as such a thing were possible, against the compartment wall, trying to find an English station on the shortwave. Reception inside the train was poor however and the Grunding was only picking up the local Chinese stations. The car stewardess from her booth in the next compartment came by and collected the tickets, giving a plastic card in exchange - which she later took back at the end of the trip while returning our initial tickets. My card had been broken in two and taped back together again. The rest of the the railway car seemed to be business travelers, moving north from Shanghai to Beijing. The stewardess was the only person my own age, and – like in most Chinese customer service industries – looked particularly perfect. After she finished passing our plastic cards, she moved to the next compartment. What happens to these girls after they loose their twenty-year-old beauty?
China successfully launched Shenzhou VI, the country's second manned spacecraft, this morning. Two years ago, when Yang Liwei was placed in orbit, my students were unimpressed - despite my own enthusiasm for the event. One girl said, "It is embarrassing that we are doing now what America did twenty-five years ago."
Below is a personal reflection I wrote in 2003 upon Wang Liwei's launch.
A personal story written during the National Day holiday of 2003.
The mountains rose, green and tall, into the nine o’clock fog. I stood on the outskirts of the Yángshuò, a city in China’s famous karst region, and argued with two motorcycle taxi drivers that I didn’t want transport and that I would walk. They crowded around me tighter, gesticulating madly that I should let them take me to Moon Hill and the Buddha Water Cave.
They pointed in my direction, saying, “Just country! Just country! You’ll walk for hours! No foreigners go this way!”
So I hiked off into the morning mist, backpack loaded with my new tent and sleeping bag, hoping that my new hiking shoes wouldn’t give me blisters and praying that it didn’t rain, as I hadn’t been able to find a poncho or rain coat.
To my left, the Lī Jiāng flowed between the mountains and I decided to follow on its banks.
