It's hard to believe, but a country that can boast of a 5000 year history, has wisdom hiding in almost every corner. At times, this wisdom is passed along. It's October and the season has definitely turned from summer to fall, an indicator of the brutal winter that northern China deals with on a yearly basis. Now, I enjoy wearing a t-shirt with perhaps an unbuttoned flannel over it and jeans. Since the first sign that the weather was changing from brutally hot to a little cool, the issue of my not wearing enough clothes has been brought to my attention with everyone I meet. Today it was 65 degrees farenheit, a rather pleasant temperature. A friend of mine who was giving me a lift to the store on the back of his motorcycle turned around with a grave face and dispensed some of the wisdom that Chinese people are known to possess. "You must wear more clothes. You musn't catch a cold. I know your young and strong, but you need to wear more clothes." That was the end of the discussion. I of course smiled and agreed with him, but in reality I was a little irked. I don't want to wear a coat, and that should be my business. Every day I go to work, the inevitible "Ni lung bu lung" or "Are you cold or not" question is raised by more than one person when my choice of garb is seen. I answer that in fact, no, I'm not cold, and thanks for your concern. I can take care of myself. It's been happening every day for a month now. One time there was a little impromptu meeting about my lack of layers, and decisions were being made about what I needed to spend my hard earned money on. "You need a sweatshirt and a coat. We can have someone take you to the store this afternoon. Do you have enough money?" Was a question put to me after the decision had been made. I know I need a coat and when the weather becomes as such that I'm uncomfortable, I'll buy one. It doesn't help that last week I caught a cold and made all of the grave warnings I had recieved a reality. I'm going to buy a coat today or tomorrow. They've worn me down, and I know that everyday I see someone they're going to ask if I'm cold and why don't I have more clothes on. After I'm seen wearing a coat, perhaps we can deal with more substantial problems. Such as why my toilet wont flush.

Driving, traffic and road rage. Driving in China has to be one of the most nerve wracking experiences I've encountered since I've been here. The streets are absolutely FULL. Not with cars and trucks as one may think. But with pedestrians, motorcycles, bicyclists, the odd donkey pulling a cart of coal, and any number of such things. Homemade bicycles with large baskets that carry piles of vegetables, tricycles that act as taxis, people moving large amounts of good, all of these vie for the space of the street pavement. While driving in a car, the horn is almost never idle, that gets a little irritating. Watching the scene from the backseat of a car leaves one slack jawed and with a sense of sympathy for the driver. There is no order, it's chaos. Pure chaos. Swerving into oncoming traffic to avoid a bicylist is common, and close calls are common also. The brakes are the drivers best friend, as well as his horn. It can really only be described as a horrible mess. But somehow, one arrives safely at their destination. It's something I still awe at, and am not sure how I'll take the ordered streets and roads of an ordered sort when I leave this region of the world.

I'm not sure what it is about this country, but sometimes I find myself enjoying myself much more than I would have thought possible. The country is centered around society, and coming from America where people enjoy their private space immensely, the communal aspect to Chinese society is a new thing for me. This afternoon there wasn't any electricity in the school for some reason. Usually at lunch I enjoy a quick nap and then make my way to the computer room where I mess around on the interet, sending emails, corresponding with potential employers, etc.. Without electricity however, this becomes an impossiblity. I wandered around the school grounds for awhile before I found a friend who asked me what I was doing. I told him nothing because there was no electricity. It's no secret that I spend time on the computer whenever possible, partly to relieve boredom, and partly because it's basically my only conduit to the outside world. Upon realizing that I was free, he beckoned me to go to the teacher's dorm for something which he couldn't quite explain in English. At first he took me to a dark room where a group of people were enjoying a game of mah-jong which is a tile game akin to Dominoes. After a few minutes there he asked me if I could play cards. I said I knew a few American games, and had a rudementary knowledge of a popular Chinese card game called pu ke. He led me down the corridor to another room. At first sight it reminded me of a den of theives. People sitting around a makeshift table made from a cardboard box, while four people played the game. I was made welcome with cigarretes, but quickly the attention turned back to the game. It was enthralling. The players would slam down runs and pairs trying to beat the person who went before them with a higher denomination of a run or pair. I had been introduced to this game before and could play a little. I was asked to play, and promptly payed my 3 kuai entrance fee into the game and sat down. Pu ke is played with two decks and at the beginning of the game each player takes a turn taking a card so ones hand is almost impossible to hold. I was far from their skill level and could barely keep up with the pace of slamming down cards. It was obvious that I sucked, and as soon as my one hand was over (I lost my 3 kuai) I gave up my spot to someone who could actually compete. The little tiny room was filled with about 10 people and the comraderie was excellent. The players were intense and the people spectating were fully enamored with the game. After watching for 45 minutes or so, I myself was exhausted even though I wasn't playing. It was time to go presently and I got up with a friend and walked back to the school grounds. It was a fully satisfying way to spend my lunch break. Not only did I realize where the teachers and workers of the school dissapeared during lunch, but it felt like a was a part of the faculty instead of just a foreigner, who taught English. It was some of the best 3 kuai I've spent in a long time.

An anecdote: During the Mid-Autumn festival, which is held during the full moon cycle of the month of August, I bought a cricket. It came with a little wooden cage and I thought it was something really very truly authentic and unique to China. It chirped with it's wings and was quite an enjoyable novelty. It died tragically one day, perhaps it was too cold. I believe it's the last time I'll buy an insect for a pet. The cricket was purchased on the street. The vendor who sold them also had quite a variety of birds, including: Cockatiels, Parakeets, and numerous others which I lack the knowledge to classify. End of anecdote. China is full of festivals. Most of them are celebrated by China's vast amount of minority people, mostly inhabiting the south-west, and north-west, the places most not influenced by Han culture. The Mid-Autumn festival is a time for families to come together, eat, drink rice wine and be merry. It's a time when people gather and gawk at the full moon. Schools are given a holiday, people take a day or two off work and enjoy themselves. The Mid-Autumn festival is a pretty "festive" time that includes the consumption of "moon cakes": little pastries filled with a chewy filling, sometimes with nuts, sometimes with lotus paste or other such sweet tasting things. Quite tasty although, to some may be an aquired taste.

Living in China poses problems for me. The most important is probably the language barrier. Sitting at my computer back in the States, looking at ads for teachers of English in the People's Republic, I thought it would be a cake walk. Reading journals such as this weblog, it seemed like I would have access to whatever I wanted: the inner workings of the Chinese mind, the unravelling of Chinese society etc., I quickly found out that I was to be left out of this due to my inability to speak Chinese. How frustrating. My only friends are those who speak English, which leaves countless amounts of people untouched. Now, since I've been in China I've learned enough to get by, and can answer basic questions such as where I work, where I'm from, my age and such trivial things. Sometimes, I dread going out to eat, or to purchase things on the street because I'm inevitably greeted with, "Ni hwei shuo han-yu ma?" I quickly reply, "No I can't speak Chinese", sometimes in Chinese and sometimes with a simple shake of the head. I know that if I could speak Chinese my experience would be much deeper, and I'd go beyond the superficial levels of friendship that I have with many of my collegues. I'm told to, "just learn the language then!" when I discuss this problem with my friends, and if they only knew that it's not that easy. For most of the Chinese people I converse with, they've been learning English for some 10-12 years, and this includes University level instruction. I can't "just learn the language". I know that this is completly my fault, but at the same time it's still frustrating. At times the language barrier can be a great source of comedy, especially when I try to communicate using my basic ability. To my surprise I'm understood quite often but the conversation can't branch into anything of substance. Language is not the only difficulty I face here. Being a complete novelty and standing out wherever I go is a little tiring. Contant "hello's!" and shouts of "laowai" or "foreigner" can be heard wherever I go. For the most part I've learned to ignore them, but that doesn't mean I don't hear them, and whenever I do, it's a constant reminder that I stand outside of the rest of the population. This experience is lessened when I'm in big cities such as Beijing, however I'm still the odd man out. I came to China thinking it'd be easy. At times it's been exhilirating, staggering, profound, but it's never been easy. That's not to say that it's been unbelieveably difficult, I believe I've adjusted as well as can be expected. However, uncomfortable feelings sometimes make their presence known and I'm often brought back to reality. This country beats with a different pulse than what I have known in my homeland, and it would be ridiculous for me to presume that I could unravel the mystery during my short stay here. It might not even be possible were I to spend the rest of my life here. Different moulds cast this place. It's a place I've learned to respect, it's a place that's forced me to repeal my pre-concieved notions, and it's a place I'll not soon forget.

I'd like to discuss Chinese banquets. As a foriegner living in China, I've had countless banquets thrown with me being the guest of honor. A banquet to welcome me, a banquet to see me off, and banquets in between with numerous leaders, members of the communist party and sometimes just interested people who want my friendship and a chance to practice their English. The banquets start off with handshakes all around, translation when needed, and creating a seating arrangement that is suitable for the neccesary 'feng shui', with the guest of honor facing the door. Drinking is a major deal at the banquets, and any excuse to drink will be made. "Lets drink to this" and "lets drink to that..." Sometimes it's exhausting. The custom is to start off with three toasts,filling your glass after each one, one for friendship, one for happiness, and one for something else although at the moment the reason has slipped my mind. At the banquets 'baijiu' is drunk which is a potent rice wine akin to Japanese sake if you've ever had that. After the initial round of toasts of rice wine, the food comes. And comes. And comes. There is always so much food that one would burst if they took more than one bite of each dish. Plates are carefully stacked on top of each other so as to provide access to the food, but to also save space as there wouldn't be enough if they all sat on the spinning disk that is in the center of the table so noone has to reach too far for their food. All the food is communal, and people just take what they want, I enjoy this part of eating in China, sharing food, and you get to sample far more then if you ordered your own idividual amount. So, after the first few dishes of food come, it's time to have another round of toasts. China is one big smoking lounge, which suits me fine as I'm a smoker, so it's drinking and smoking and eating in large quantities. Just when you think the eating is over, here comes the "fuwuyuan" or waitress with a platter that is holding bowls of noodles or something. Basically, to be polite, you have to eat what you are given and usually at some point during the banquet the amount of food you eat borders ridiculous. Sometimes these banquets last three hours with the guests eating and drinking the whole time. They are sort of a tiring experience, when I attend one I feel as if I have to adhere to customs that I don't know, and demonstrate the most refined of manners, all while extremely drunk and full. Chinese hospitality is hard to beat, although it's possible to have too much of a good thing, and usually at one time or another during the banquet, I wish I was eating a dinner of simple stif fried vegetables alone in some small hole in the wall 'fan dian' or restaurant. I'm always relieved when the host says, "Lets go" and stands up to leave. By that time I'm ready for a good long sleep, and the hangover that ensues the next day.

Well, really now. Where to start. The nine months or so I've been in China so far have really given me the entire spectrum of the human experience. From incredible lows to unbelievable highs. Upon arrival I was like most other 21 year olds. Interested in few things that didn't give me effemeral pleasure. My first sights to behold in China were of Shanghai which beats with a thumping pulse and is two beats away from chaos. I knew the place was populated, but I had no idea is was anything of the magnitude I witnessed. Literally a cesspool of humanity, I was numb. The first 6 weeks I was in China, I travelled a bit on the east coast in Zhejiang province, seeing the famed Hangzhou and it's beautiful Xi Hu or, West Lake. I took a train from the mid-southern province to Beijing in the frigid month of Feburary and met the city and woman I would fall in love with. Beijing was much more of the China that I was looking for. While taking a simple bus ride, one is overwhelmed by all of the activity, 15 million people crammed into one urban space creates a literal sensory overload. Food, pirated DVD's, beverage venders, they all take their rightful place in the concrete jungle, fighting for customers on the streets. Being accosted every two minutes to purchase something is something you either get used to quickly or something you begin to furiously hate. Mix with that a colorful history, complete with ancient buildings in traditional Ming dynasty architecture, serene parks and lakes, magical teahouses and the metropolitan feel, and Beijing truly is a place that plunged me into an appreciative mood for being allowed to see it. After a month in Beijing, I knew I'd be back but I had to set out west for 5 months. Sichuan province greeted me with the poverty that I had known I would sometime see during my stay in China. Sichuan borders Tibet, but the line on the map indicating a border doesn't stop the foothills of the Himalayan Mt. range from spilling into the province. The scenery and countryside is pristine. With farmers ploughing their fields with oxen and solitary cigarettes sticking out of their mouths and rolling hills full of Bamboo groves, right beside lean-to shanty towns, I was once again in awe. The people of Sichuan were a hardy bunch on the outside. But get to know them and you'd be the first to be invited to their den for shot of rice wine or "baijiu" and a bowl of rice with some stir-fried vegetables. My time in Sichuan was lonely, but was the immersion I had been seeking from China. I had very little contact with other foreigners, and didn't speak much of the local language. I was free to absorb the city, full of signs displaying goods written in Chinese and to see what life was like away from the moderately developed east coast. I left Sichuan after numerous experiences that left me scratching my head and, feeling as if I would never be able to do them again. One time while taking a different route home from work, I was greeted by an old man with a smile that displayed few teeth. He was evediently happy to see a foriegner. He beckoned me to come over and join him outside his front door for a bowl of rice and hot water. I was tired and didn't really want to, but I'm glad I did. I sat there for an hour or so, struggling through some of my basic Chinese much to the enjoyment of the old man. It was finally decided that I should come back often for free rice and a talk. After giving me a cigarette, I was off. Another time, after I had gotten off work I decided to take the bus the few blocks to my apartment. Upon crossing the street I was witness to a most peculiar sight. A middle aged peasant farmer was dragging a cow behind him tied to a rope through his nose. Now, you must understand that this man and his cow were weaving in and out of traffic, the multitude of bicyclists and everything. He wasn't bothered in the slightest that cars nearly grazed him and his animal. I decided not to take the bus and instead follow this man and his cow from the safety of the sidewalk, I was once again in awe that I was in China, such a different country than my home, and was witnessing this most bizarre scene. Since my time in Sichuan, I've once again been to Zhejiang province, and Beijing respectively and back to Beijing again. I'm now in Shandong province, a province that is fond of boasting of it's sacred Mt. Tai, and the birthplace of Confucius: Qufu. Upon arrival in Tengzhou, which is a southern city of Shandong province, I was greeted by the administration of the school. I knew right away that the head principle was a character who would give me many entertaining moments, and he started off in grand fashion. At the train station that early morning, it was raining, or should I say torrentialy pouring and Mr. Jiang was tired of waiting in the rain and promptly pushed people aside saying,"Get out of the way! We have a foreigner here who doesn't like to get wet!". The tactic worked and we were no longer subject to the long exit line. That night at dinner we had a good conversation through the aid of a translator and I found out that he was a man of rather well known repute in the area. A Communist party member who was fond of quoting Mao Zi, another Chinese sage similar to Confucius, and the great sage himself Confucius, Mr. Jiang was a never ending spring of quotes and anecdotes. I found myself taking a liking to him, even though communication was rather difficult. After being in Tengzhou for a week, I was told that we would visit Qufu in a month's time. In the mean time I was to familiarzie myself with the city, which wasn't hard to do, as it's quite small. City sizes are decieving in China however, this city has 1,000,000 million people in it. The streets are constantly flooded with people going here and there on their bicycles and motorcycles, cars and donkey pulled carts. The first time I saw the donkeys in the middle of a city, I was floored. What a contrasting scene. In the middle of a city, there were donkeys pulling carts full of coal and cut lumber and all kinds of other things. I spent the next month exploring the immediate area of where I lived, looking for small fan dian, or restaurants that serve up fresh vegetables cooked in a wok, stir-fry style. They really are my favorite place to eat in China, I enjoy the scene: The cook of the restaurant outside of the entrance to the place standing over his table with a cutting board chopping up vegetables and meat. Then throwing them into the stir-fry..and the sizzling sound it makes as it's tossed back and forth until it's done and ready to eat. Simple, yet rich. Qufu was quite an interesting place although the city was nothing special. The center of the city is made up of a temple where people give offerings of incense and money to Confucius, and the Confucius mansion. The Confucius mansion is where Confucius lived and some 70 of generations of his descendants. The mansion has been added on onto of course throughout the years and is one sprawling little town all in itself. The last Confucius descendent left Qufu in the 1940's once Communism was taking hold and hightailed it to Taiwan. After visiting the mansion and temple it was time for lunch. We pulled up to a little restaurant. Outside of the door in a cage were two roosters. Five minutes later one of them was in a bowl of broth on our table. It was good, and everything was eaten, including the head and feet. Crunchy, and tasted like chicken. Go figure.