Inner Mongolia

Our trip to Inner Mongolia was an interesting adventure. I had thought we were going by train, but somehow I missed the memo that we were taking the bus instead. It was okay though. When you take the bus you still get to see the country (though you are much more susceptible to traffic jams).

We pulled out the south gate of the university on Friday at 12:50pm, only twenty minutes behind schedule—not bad for a group of about 45 people from all over the world. I sat in the middle seat of the back row so that I could take advantage of the leg room in the aisle (Travel tip: while this is a good strategy for short trips, on a long trip it is better to sit by the window. You have a better view for taking pictures, and it is easier to sleep).

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Chinglish of the Day

There were a couple of interesting signs at the breakfast buffet the other day:

A better translation would probably be "crispy sausages". . . .

I couldn't figure out why they would translate the left one as "mushroom rape" until I got home and looked up the characters. The one on the left is referring to rapeseed, the brassica plant similar to collard greens. It was fried mushrooms and greens. I still haven't figured out the one on the right. . . .

Shortcut, my a--!

I had planned to tell you today about our trip to Inner Mongolia, starting at the beginning of the trip. However, the trip home was so interesting that I wanted to tell it first.

On our trip up to Inner Mongolia, we had seen hundreds of trucks stopped on the freeway that leads to Beijing. Coming back to BLCU, our dear leader, hoping to avoid the traffic, instructed the driver to take a different route, one that cut through the mountains and would drop us  right into Beijing. We would be able to avoid the traffic jam on the main road and save ourselves a couple hours road time. If only it were that simple.

Shortly after we left Datong, we pulled off at a small rest stop to use the bathroom. The guide told us it would be six hours before we stopped again, because along this back road there were not going any good places to stop (he was wrong, there were plenty of bushes along the road). This sounded a little ominous, but I didn’t worry too much about it. Driving tractor growing up had seasoned me for long periods of sitting. However, once we got back on the road, I quickly realized that we were in for a long day.

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I'm Crook (really!)

I've got one more quick story for the week, and then I’m headed out of town for the weekend. BLCU organized an optional field trip for us to the province of Inner Mongolia, and spending two nights in a yurt on the Mongolian grasslands is something that everyone should do at least once in their life, or so I’ve been told. One of the lessons from our reading textbook was about this particular excursion, which the school offers every year. It promised us blue skies, white clouds, green grassy plains and herdsmen singing traditional Mongolian folk songs. When we get back, I’ll let you know if they were telling us the truth.

The trip aside, today’s story is about languages. More specifically, it’s about English and the diversity within the language. My friend Roberta, an Italian who sits next to me in class, asked me if I would understand her if she said “I’m crook.” I told her no. You can say “I’m a crook” or “I’m crooked” (though who would ever say either?), but “I’m crook” doesn’t really mean anything to me.

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Chinglish of the Day-Lomo Love

LOMO LOVE

"Angeously waiting for a perfect arrive o..of you

Wonder L'm one of you when I first look in your eyes

Although beaury of love in my life with one lool come true

Said I ooh wuhwoo yes"

(Sorry about the focus on the picture)

There are No Atheists in Chinese Class

Have you ever heard that "there are no atheists in a foxhole”? For anyone who hasn’t heard the phrase before, I’ll explain it. A foxhole, as you might guess, is a burrow that a fox digs in the ground for a home. In this case, though, it also refers to a small enclosure or shallow trench dug into the ground by soldiers on the battlefield. Often not much larger than the soldiers themselves, these spaces provide a minimum amount of cover from enemy fire. When under attack, soldiers may rise up out of the hole to fire on the enemy and quickly slip back down into the tenuous safety that the foxhole provides. Foxholes can be dug quickly and can be used as a last resort if better cover is not available during a battle. To be under attack with nothing but a foxhole for protection is terribly frightening experience, one that can rattle even the bravest soldiers.

The phrase "there are no atheists in a foxhole” refers to the fact that the fear while under attack is so strong that even the most staunch atheist is willing to pray to God for safety and deliverance from the battle. Today I am proposing a new version. In my case,it is more appropriate to say “there are no atheists in Chinese class” (especially in listening comprehension). You might ask, how in the world could that phrase be related to Chinese class?

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Wandering where Tiananmen is. . . (with pictures)

When you go out wandering, sometimes you find hidden treasures, and sometimes you just get sore feet. Yesterday (Saturday), I got both.

My first adventure of the weekend was to walk from BLCU to Tiananmen Square. After checking Google maps to get a general idea of how to get there, I set out walking to see what I could find. One of my favorite ways to explore a city is on foot. When you forego the comfort of a taxi or even the subway, you get to see how people live, and you don’t just see the parts of the city that every other tourist sees. Of course, when you walk around in places that don’t get many tourists, you get lots of curious stares. Especially from small kids. In Beijing, some of the kids are not sure what to think when they see a tall, blondish foreigner strolling by. I think that while I was walking yesterday,  I heard one shout “Look mom! A foreigner!” (Don’t quote me on that though, my Chinese isn’t that good yet. Just ask my listening comprehension teacher).

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