Blue Skies!

After raining all day yesterday, the sun came out in full force today. I was delighted to see that Beijing has a brilliant blue sky. I have never seen it like that here. It was amazing to see the transformation of the city. You could easily see for miles. When you live in Portland or Boston or Dayton, it’s hard to appreciate how well you can see. Imagine living in Portland and not being able to see anything east of the Willamette from Washington park. If Portland had Beijing-type air, some people might not even know that Mount Hood existed!

Given the fact that it was so beautiful outside, I had to take a walk. It would have been better for my test score tomorrow to stay in and study, but when the air is clear, don't waste it! Today’s wander was not that exciting, but it was good exercise. I headed east from the university along Qinghua East road for a few miles until I ran into the Olympic Park.

A spectacular day at Olympic Park

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A Quick Dorm Tour and the Flaming Shirt Incident

Someone asked me what my accommodations were like over here. They’re nothing extravagant. I live on the 14th (top) floor of Dormitory 1, where they put the scholarship students because they can charge more for the other, nicer dorms. For me, the location is great. I can sleep in until seven o’clock and still easily get to class on time.

My room is a double room, but I haven’t seen any clues that my roommate exists, other than the bicycle and clothes rack in the middle of the room. I did find a receipt dated July 19, one week before I arrived, so maybe he’s just traveling. Who knows? It’s good for me that he’s gone because I don’t sleep much here and would probably bother him when studying or writing at night. The room isn’t bad. The bed is a bit lumpy for my tastes, and the pillow more so. I have air conditioning for those days when it gets really hot outside, but most of the time I just leave the window open. The a/c dries out the air and gives me a cough.

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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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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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Chinglish of the Day

Chinglish T-Shirt Philosophy:

"Anyone Who Doesn't Believe In Miracles Is Not A Realist. The greatest victory had been to be able to live with myself, to acsent [sic] my shortcomings and those of others."

I agree.