Tag Archives: sichuan

out in the country

On Wednesday Holly and I got up far too early to go out to a school in the nearby town of Lijia for an extremely well-documented bout of “helping the poor children” (ugh). This wasn’t our idea.

There’s a group of outdoorsy type people who started this organization “Twinkling Stars” to raise some money and do some work for kids after the Sichuan earthquake of 2008. They went to the village they were helping and did some good work I guess. Wednesday was their second trip, and first that wasn’t disaster provoked. They’re customers at the bakery and asked Holly to join them.

The idea was that they went to this poor school, brought a bunch of clothes and stuff to give them and then shared their skills. There were maybe fifteen to twenty volunteers. A lot of them were photographers and some of them were taking good pictures of the kids in a class and then would give prints to their parents. There was some sort of gongfu training I think? Holly was brought along to teach English classes to grade four students.

Of course, this being China, any work could only be done after a multi-hour ceremony outside in the cold with speeches and songs and seven year old girls dancing wearing nothing but gauze. It was maybe 6 degrees out. I wept for them.

Twinkling Stars and the school both knew how to stage these things. We got off the bus that brought us a hundred metres away and walked up to the school with the bags of clothes, all the volunteers wearing orange or yellow jackets. Maybe twenty metres from the school gate the road was lined with kids waving tinsel covered hula-hoops and drumming and chanting “Warm Welcome!” A couple of handfuls of cops kept an eye on things.

As the Twinkling Stars headed up to their seats of honour I peeled off of the group. Because Holly is great, she explained away my disappearance nicely. So through the speeches and performances I didn’t have to sit in the cold, but wandered around the fringes with the parents and other villagers. I was accosted by a few people asking me questions I couldn’t answer (my 中文 classes helped very little for this trip) and got mobbed for a photo once.

When Holly got into the classroom she did a lesson on Christmas vocabulary and played games with the kids. I helped with classes two and three after lunch, as I’m a much better classroom assistant than lead teacher. She’s much better at dealing with a classroom than I am.

For lunch we ate from the cafeteria and then had a session of talking about what we’d experienced that morning. It felt like everyone came up and shared sort of prepackaged moments of the touching things they’d learned (of course, I wasn’t actually paying attention and don’t know the language so I’m probably way off). My favourite part of that was when the girl who (I’m told) is a really cool journalist expressed that she’d had some difficulties with her class. People then appeared (to me, not knowing the language) to be berating her and giving her “encouragement” on how to not suck so much. (Again, just my impression.) She looked like she was going to cry. I just appreciated the idea that someone telling the truth about her experience got jumped on like meat in a tiger pit for not having a warm fuzzy moment.

In the gaps between lunch and classes and between classes and waiting for our bus to leave, there were piles of kids wanting autographs from all these volunteers (not just Holly and me). It was ridiculous and stupid. For a while we signed some things, Holly and I sending messages to each other on the pages we signed for each kid, but it was endless. And I hated the dynamic of that so much. This faux-rock star thing. Just like the banners and the honourific speeches (which you might remember I dealt with on a trip to the country back in the day). The supplication and demanding something that wouldn’t actually be at all useful for them. “There’s no reason for this!” I wanted to grab kids and yell.

Holly and I agreed to stop signing stuff but still had mobs. Holly could laugh it off when one boy tried to get an autograph out of her by saying “We’re so poor though!” but I didn’t even have the language to tell them what the problem was. I hated the not signing things too. Just all over I detest that power dynamic.

On the ride back to Nanchong Holly and I read chapters of Matilda to each other. That doesn’t have anything to do with anything, but it was my favourite part of the day.

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trappings of winter

It’s gotten cold around here. Last night it snowed in Chengdu. The internet says we’re somewhere around 4 degrees outside right now. Which isn’t bad if you have well-insulated buildings and heating, but is mighty shitty if things are otherwise.

Holly has an air conditioner in her apartment which is also a heater, but we can’t run it at night because it’s kind of noisy and it keeps her neighbours up. They left a note on the door about “their bedroom shaking” after the one night we did turn it on. So it’s all about the multiple blankets, which gets inconvenient if you ever want to leave the bed. For food, say.

Although today we did make some good soup/stew/vegetables. We bought the vegetables to make this soup yesterday because of the soup stock Sam’s mom brought us, but when lunchtime rolled around the water to the apartment had been cut off for some reason. It’s hard to make soup without any water. (Also, pooping into a hole you can’t flush brings cholera epidemics to my mind, so it was kind of an uncomfortable day.) The water was restored at like 10pm but before that we bought soup from a nearby restaurant that Holly is rapidly losing faith in. Today we cooked our soup in the rice cooker for hours until really there wasn’t much soupiness to it at all, but it was tasty.

I’ve been getting some writing done but nothing’s going as smoothly as I would like. The story I was working on turned out to be crappy. No, just uninteresting. So I’m repurposing the good details that I had into something else which is interesting. Moreso. I hope.

We went for hotpot the other day and it was some special style of hotpot using a copper pot with a chimney and coals instead of a gas flame. I love mushrooms in hotpot but for some reason, though we had a tray full of them, mushrooms were the last things to get dumped into the cauldron. I had to brave so many unpleasant mouthfuls of bony fish before we got to the stuff I enjoyed.

It’s also really nice having a girlfriend at hotpot who likes stuff like duck intestines so I can pass them off to her when our hosts were placing the choicest entrails in my bowl. Thank you Holly. I don’t know why duck intestines are so cringe-inducing in me, when I can eat those shredded stomachy bits with impunity. Probably because I ate those stomachs for so long before realizing they weren’t a kind of chewy mushroom.

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there are only three topics

The whole internet-sabbatical aspect to this trip has been derailed mightily. It’s because there’s wifi at the bakery and this is where I’m spending so much of my time. And I don’t need to borrow Holly’s laptop, since I brought my netbook whose VPN works so I can access the world the way I would at home. Sort of.

Last night I was talking with one of Holly’s friends about Chinese media and free expression and such. He’d been to the States on a scholarship given out by the government after the 2008 Sichuan earthquake (that was a Red Cross/Crescent link – here’s the Wikipedia version) which did a lot of damage to his hometown. He had some personal experience with the media since he was interviewed by China Daily as well as a Sichuan newspaper about his experiences.

He complained about China Daily’s “famous reporter” changing everything he’d said to “make the government sound so wonderful.” What I found really interesting was how after the interview he’d been contacted by China Daily to say they’d have to make some small changes to make it sound better. “They were not small changes!”

The Sichuan paper reporter got him mad for being too prying, and forcing him to think about all the ways he felt when the terrible things were happening to his hometown (he wasn’t there at the time). “What was your feeling then?” the reporter kept asking. I had more sympathy for this reporter, since if you don’t pry you just get crappy bland stories.

We also talked about Tibet and whether it was always a part of China. We talked about the importance of a diversity of perspectives in history and current events. I talked about how the corporatization of Western media makes it suck (not as much as state-controlled media but that it isn’t as great as its ideals might suggest).

We didn’t get into Wikileaks.

Holly’d been working and only passing by our table occasionally, and I was talking most of the time. The only question she needed to ask about that odd state of affairs was “So was it comics, baseball or journalism?”

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eating crappy chocolate

I’ve been casually working along this weekend. Not finishing anything but making sure I don’t have anything that hasn’t been looked at. Right now my weirdest assignment (a web presentation) is staying weird because of my topic. It’s not going to be very academic I don’t think, even though it’s referring to a lot of sort-of academic work. The problem is that it’s a static webpage presentation, which isn’t how anyone would present this kind of information these days. It reminds me of the project we did for Benedetti’s New Media class years ago.

I’ve really been loving this baseball postseason. The Giants are such a scrapheap team with great pitching. The Rangers are this anonymous team plus Cliff Lee. It’s just a good story all around. Supposedly it’s been terrible for the TV ratings, but fuck TV ratings. I just like baseball. And this has been way better than just seeing the Yankees and Phillies again (sorry Doc).

I feel a little bad about cheering for the Giants since I don’t have a problem with the Dodgers either. I cheer for them against most teams. My best-broken-in baseball hat is my Dodgers cap. And it’s supposed to be a Red Sox vs. Yankees style rivalry that I’m playing both sides of here. Whatever. I told my mom who was playing in the World Series and she immediately said she was cheering for San Francisco. She’s more a fan of the city than of the team.

Thirty-three days till 中国. And the cold wet uninsulated 四川 winter. And Holly. And being very happy.

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book review: mr. muo’s travelling couch

Mr. Muo’s Travelling Couch by Dai Sijie was recommended to me by the only scholar of Sichuan dialect literature I know. It was okay. Originally written in French and about a Chinese emigre psychoanalyst virgin who’s trying to find a virgin to sacrifice to the diabolical Judge Di. The whole thing didn’t really hang together very well. The chronology in the first part was vague but in a way that felt sloppy, not like something to figure out. Overall the whole thing felt like it had been written in one long binge and then not really edited. Which is too bad. It had some funny bits.

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28c transportation

On the bus to Mianyang Jiaozi was climbing all over Catherine and whoever her seatmate happened to be. First it was Holly then when she came back to give the dog his own seat it ended up filled with a guy we picked up on the side of the road. The terror on his face that he had to share a seat with a dog was pretty priceless. Holly was embarrassed about the dog, but Catherine doesn’t seem to mind. When Jiaozi got extra antsy she tried opening the window a bit but had some trouble. The guy leapt to assistance. I’m sure he was hoping the dog would leap out. But it didn’t help that much. When we arrived the guy bolted so fast.

From Mianyang to Chengdu we took a cab instead of a bus and that driver liked Jiaozi. Petted him at least. Catherine was in shotgun for that trip so the dog couldn’t crawl all over the rest of us and Holly could chat with the fourth passenger, a 26-year-old designer of some product that gets exported. His girlfriend was a 21-year-old student which he was sort of sheepish about.

The cab ride was quite pleasant. We were going 130 as much as we could on our little natural gas powered cab (interesting side effect: the fuel gauge reads empty all the time), dodging big trucks and amateur drivers. Holly talked to the designer, Catherine slept and read Marriages that Work. There were fireworks and four planes in one region of the sky.

On the road between Jiangyou and Mianyang they’d painted all the buildings traditional black and white in honour of the Xth (1400th?) anniversary of Li Bai (Li Po in my collection of his poems). As we drove through both that in the afternoon and the night expressway I felt very in the present. We were driving through Sichuan. I don’t know why but that was very fulfilling to me. My biggest pet peeve about travelling is people talking about it being a “once in a lifetime experience.” No. Or at least no more than any other. I’ll go back to Sichuan (China is pretty much a given). There’s no anxiety over what I’ve missed. Life is long.

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28a jiangyou

When we got off the train it was a bit earlier than scheduled, so we had a few minutes in the dark outside the train station before Todd showed up. There wasn’t anyone trying to take us anywhere which was nice, peaceful. We could idly guess if Todd was at the Jiu Dian or the Bing Guan. It turned out he was at the Bing Guan which wasn’t as seedy as it appeared at first glance. Even silhouetted in mercury vapour you could tell when Todd was coming. His height helps. And his ambling kind of walk. And his jacket. He arrived and we headed back to his room for chatting purposes.

We ranged over a host of subjects including Neil Gaiman and his time in China with Todd, what’s been happening on my travels and stories of library paging, which Todd did all through high school. Deb later revealed that she’d been a page too, as had Michelle and Phil Bender. Very strange but indicative of what a transitory job this can be. Good to know I guess.

After an hour and a half (the electronic chimes following the pattern of the bells at St. John’s college only began marking the hours at 7am) we got in a couple of cabs to head down to the college. Oh, right we picked up James & Michelle & Deb too. James is so easy for me to get along with, or at least be clever with, which may only be a substitute. Once here we met Darryl and had breakfast and sat. We talked cameras and stories were shared about whatever. “When spring comes the pretty girls come out,” said someone who was quoting their students. “Just add water,” someone else added. “And evening is when the pregnant women come out,” said another person. “Just add…” said I. Chuckles abounded.

It felt very natural hanging around here with these people. Lots like I’d never left. Holly said it’s taken her a few years for her to realize this is her family. Maybe she’s right. Maybe we needed this time this longer term. But that’s just a couple of friendships. I don’t know where I’m going with this. All this talk in the next room (Julie’s asking Catherine if the guys feel any connection between their personal lives and their Christian lives. Now she’s asking “Why have we allowed society to value what success is?) makes me worry I’m not done with the past that may not be done with me.

I met William this morning and though Holly tells me our theology is vastly different and I shouldn’t ask what he’s reading if I don’t want to get angry, I like him. He’s got this grinning laugh and joking manner I get along well with. He’s sort of a funnier Jared, or at least trying to be. And he’s got that Sean loudness to him to talk back to the starers and Nihaoers which I like. It makes me laugh which is all I really want. I feel like (theology aside) we could have been great friends if our CEE/MPC times had overlapped. Way more than me and Dan. This afternoon he was talking about his classes and what is good and what his troubles are and my brain just shuts off. Maybe it’s that he’s boring. I don’t quite know. We should be better friends. We have similar interests. But I suppose interests aren’t everything.

William led the bike tour of Jiangyou after much searching for bicycles. The place with the tandem and tridem bikes had already rented out their tallest ones. At another place “less than a mile” up the road we dug through the tarps and back rooms for suitable cycles. They weren’t as good as they could have been but they were worth the 1RMB ($0.17) I paid for the afternoon. We rode through muck and up roads through canola fields (small ones, dare I use the word agrarian?), William guiding us on the route he’d planned out the week before. I love Chinese bicycles in their gearlessness and knee-hurtingness. We can go slowly and not worry.

We curved by the coal power plant with its huge cooling towers (I was singing that song from the Simpsons power plant strike “And we’ll march day and night/by the old cooling tower/They have the plan/but we have the power” over and over while we stopped in our flocks and took pictures.) We arrived at a soysauce plant and Phil tried to get samples and Holly got used to Sichuanhua.

It feels really a lot like spring when you ride a bicycle through fields. I love that and can’t wait for spring to happen in Winnipeg. This is my extra spring. And it’s out here in the country, the healthy (though smoggy) country. There’s a dedicated steam train for the coal power plant that goes in or out at least once an hour. The first time it steamed through the flock of waiguoren to the crossing made me feel like part of a flock of waiguoren.

And we passed a bridge/pipeline crossing the river and went to William’s soccer field and got back to the school. All pictured up and ready to eat at the Christian Lady’s restaurant. Which was great. We eat so much for so little money and at the end the Jia Chang Doufu arrives, mercifully unsweet.

In the afternoon I found where I was sleeping and hung around with Dan. When we headed out to see downtown Jiangyou we occupied the back of the bus and William played tourguide and yields through stop signs and the Mall Mart. We wandered through the church behind the Mall Mart and the markets and saw the Car Bar where they may stage boxing or ultimate fighting. There’s a park along the canal where we saw a Tibetan guy in a cowboy hat hawking medicines to people with hands open empty plastic bags. I wasn’t allowed to take pictures of them and later Holly talked to someone and only found out they were from Tibet. Then we headed through winding markets with shoes and locks and stuff down to the statue of Li Bai who never refused wine. Because of his Taoist inclinations.

Dinner at a Muslim restaurant after losing everybody. We certainly are a group that doesn’t wait around for everyone to be ready. Dan was in the bathroom and emerged to find an empty apartment when the downtown excursion had begun. At Li Bai after examining the benches with no seats, only bolts Dan and I looked up and saw a receding cloud of foreigners. We caught up and left Darryl behind and then when we hit the canal we lost the Benders as well. We met up with William who’d gone to find Deb. And eventually we were in contact with everyone and ate another huge heap of food. My guts are so full of Sichuanny goodness.

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