Dear Mr. Brierly

(The following is a reply to a letter I received some time ago. I initially wanted to reply in kind, with a physical letter, but I have been lazy and postponed my reply. Now, it is definite that I would arrive in the states before my letter would, which means that sending it would be counterproductive; it would generate an awkward moment in which I would be forced to say "I did reply to your welcome and uplifting message, you just don't know it yet!")

Dear Mr. Bruce Brierly, and family,

I apologize for the lateness of this reply; this tardiness is not a reflection of any apathy towards your message, in fact it is kind of the opposite. I wanted to reply to the great message properly, which was hard and, since it was difficult, I did not do it quickly.

It is definitely true that the re-assignment was a destined event! I think I learned as much as my students. And while it is certainly true that I was out of my comfort zone in the younger class, I eventually figured out how to act naturally and instructively even with kids who could barely form sentences in their own language. Really, the biggest challenging was figuring out realistic expectations of their ability since I had so little experience with kids of that age. And to be honest, I did make a couple mistakes. I did not expect them to have such a problem with "What's your name?" and "My name is [Chinese or English name.]" And it didn't help that the kids were divided into three years, the youngest of whom couldn't reliably say which sport they liked after three weeks of practice, and the oldest, some of whom could say "The blue dog plays ping pong." without any help. With such a disparity, there were a couple times I had lessons that were so easy they were finished in half the class, and once when, after going into "Overtime" the kids still could not comprehend the meaning of "This is a fish."

I think, after that, I've gotten more patient with kids of that age, and more comfortable waiting for them to figure out how to say what's on their mind. I started out rather lifeless in front of a couple dozen rapidly-getting-bored young kids, but in the end I've been able to get them excited to draw and explain pictures of animals playing sports. And, as you say, this experience will surely be useful if I have a kid of my own, and in many other aspects of life. After all, many people like to draw similarities between stubborn adults and young children. It's nice to know I have a head start on that. (But I do have to say, I never went so far as to lay on the floor. That would definitely have ended poorly. But my proxy, Xiao Gou Peng {Small Dog Friend} is willing to go to those lengths.)

Shijiazhuang is known to be a smoggy city, even by Chinese standards, but during my stay it was generally quite clear. I would say most days had a blue sky, and it was rarely bad enough to impair sight at medium distances, such as looking down a long street. I have been told that the situation has improved recently, and that the weather is generally better in the spring and summer because of the wind patterns, so I got pretty lucky with my timing.

The city you mention your great grandparents visited sounds like it is in another part of China from me, where the dialects produce different sounds. And the best guess I can make on the actual pronunciation would closer to Ta Ke Ying Cao, (the last sound is pronounced like tchs-ow, which is a bit tricky to write with English characters) Maybe this will help you find this lost city! Though it is possible the name has changed, or my guess is wrong. China is changing more rapidly than many people realize. For example, this city was only a small village seventy years ago; in fact it's name roughly means "Village of the Shi Family," which is noticeably missing the character for city, Now, almost twice the population of Maryland calls this place home! The change happened so fast, I bet there are people who saw the entire thing during their lifetimes.

Unfortunately, I have no guess as to how to say your Great Uncle's phrase, nor any idea what it's meaning is. And because Chinese is very sensitive to pronunciation, (Saying 'wo zai ma`i shi si ge bao zi' means 'I am now selling fourteen dumplings,' but 'wo zai ma-i si shi bae zi' means 'I'm buying forty cups') it is going to be a difficult task to determine the meaning of the phrase, and the translation you found is probably the best closure you're going to get. But, if you want to continue investigating it, I wish you the best of luck!

While it is very unfortunate that I couldn't go to Hawaii, I kind of feel like I wasn't too bad off either. I mean, I didn't have to leave after a few days, I'm being paid to be here, I'm not living out in the middle of the ocean, and I am learning a language to boot! But, it does sound like the trip was a blast and I'm sure everyone will try very hard to make me jealous.

I'm glad you were impressed by Leah's "performance" during Footloose. To be honest, I regret missing the play more than I regret missing Hawaii. Leah always take what she's doing seriously, and always makes sure to do it as well as she can, so it's no surprised she would be able to correct something like that so fast. But, that said, it is cool to hear that she made such a significant contribution to the production, while it was taking place!

That's great news about your new family member! I have to say, that was an unexpected plot twist while I read your letter, but I'm glad your new grandson had such a warm welcome into the world, even as the world itself was cold and wet. I'm sure he will grow up well in a family as loving as yours.



In conclusion, I am glad to read your message, even so many weeks after receiving it as I compose this reply. Although it has been.... over a month.... since it showed up at the school, I still found fresh meaning in it. What was good advice before I started teaching kindergarten, became very sound truths now that I'm done. And your surprise that I didn't go to Hawaii made me realize just how special my time here is. Finally, reading about how Kaiden had such a great family from his very first day in the world was as heartwarming a story the second time as the first.

Thank you for not only thinking of me, but going to such lengths to send a physical letter when I'm on the other side of the world!

I don't such a meaningful salutation to conclude this note, but I'll try to make do with what I've got: 小孩子笑，大人侧耳，大家成长 [xiao hai zi xiao, da ren er ci, da  jia cheng zheng.] (I made this one up, and I hope it means 'Children laugh, adults listen, everyone grows.')

From the other side,

Spencer "石鹏" Christian Paire

Lao Wai, the Old Foreigner

I guess it's been a while since my last post, and part of the reason is because I realized you guys are probably getting a bit tired of "Guess how hard it was to buy a ____!" stories, which meant I actually had to do something new. So this time, I thought I would mix it up by recollecting a few of the funny moments that came about by virtue of the fact that I'm not from around these parts, but were too minor to include in any of my epic shopping stories.


While gawking at the merchandise in a store (hydraulics) one of the workers asked if he could get a picture taken with me. That's how novel foreigners are sometimes.


Many times I have asked people where something is and received a completely incomprehensible reply. So I would just walk in the direction they pointed and turn out of sight a short distance away.


I always eat the same old thing, so, in pursuit of new food, I walked into a restaurant that I had never been to before. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to sit at a table of my own accord, if a waiter was supposed to give me a table, or if I should go up to the counter and order it for myself. So I stood in the doorway for a few seconds, staring at everything, then I turned around and left without saying anything. This happened twice.


I was trying to order some breakfast muffins that were half a Kuai a-piece; I told the lady I wanted ten. Somehow, she thought I wanted ten Kuai worth of muffins, so she gave me twenty. I ate seven.


Before my Chinese was as good as it is now, I got in a cab and told the driver I wanted to go to Walmart. He asked me something, along the lines of "which Walmart." I think I said whichever. He kept asking me, so I got out of the cab. But he was still talking, so I got back in and asked him again and tried to say it was near a certain mall. He was still confused, so I got back out of the cab and went back to my dorm to get more specific directions. I ended up taking the bus.


On my way back from my first visit to the tailor, I wasn't sure which bus to take, and I didn't want to spend money on another cab, so I started walking back the way the cab had come from, looking for a familiar bus line. I ended up walking all the way back to the school. Next time I visited the tailor, I realized that one hundred yards in the other direction was a bus that went directly to the school.


I have no idea how my phone works. Once, after getting off the phone with my family, I received a text that was littered with the word for money preceded by small numbers. I though it was warning that I was almost out of data. I showed it to a translator at the office. She told me it was an advertisement.


During a fitting for my suit, the tailor asked me a question containing the word for rest. I said that I had been resting today, because I have not had classes. After recorded the adjustments he would need to make to the suit I was buying, he asked me if I wanted to stay and chat, again using the same word for rest. I said I couldn't stick around because I had a class to teach. I realized on the bus back to the school that the first question was actually "Do you want to chat after the appointment?" and my reply roughly translated to "Sure, I have no class." Less than thirty minutes later I said "Sorry, I can't hang out; I have a class."


I was once told that my usage of chopsticks was as awkward as the speaker's usage of English. I am uncertain how to feel about this.


Collectively, I have spent more than three hours trying to figure out how to use the washer and dryer. They are labeled in Chinese and like to turn off to conserve electricity.


I discovered that the word for baking soda also means yeast. I need a new pancake recipe.


During a Chinese lesson, I learned that green hats are taboo in China because the word for green hat sounds just like something else. After that class, I visited the night market and happened to find a hat I liked. It took me twelve hours to remember that lesson. I've since found a new lid.

My tutor did assure me that the hat is appropriate,
but after learning what "green hat" means, I'm not taking any chances.
The character on the front means handsome or cool.

Soon after arriving in China, I was vocally surprised at how conservative their selection of soda is. I found out later that they have more carbonated fruit drinks than I have ever seen in my life.


Upon hearing the Chinese name of one of the other teachers at the Kindergarten, I remarked that there were several similar sounding names in English. One thing lead to another, and her English name is now Beyonce.


During a Chinese class about personality traits, my teacher asked me to describe the personalities of myself and my family. After consulting the dictionary on most of the words that I used, we found that almost all of them had negative connotations when translated directly. Evidently, the only way a Chinese woman could be described as pragmatic is by marrying a rich dude.


After a tutoring session, my student took me to dinner, and his older sister joined us. I found out she is my age. Then she asked how American parents feel about their young adult sons getting girlfriends while abroad.


I spent five minutes asking if I should do anything with my bowl when I was done eating at a small restaurant. Nope. Just leave it on the table and walk away. But then please come back and pay for your meal.


I hope this provides some insight into how things get awkward sometimes.

Darned slippery rail.

Remember that sliding rail I bought a couple weeks ago?... Wow, I didn't realize it was already that long....

Well, after all the trouble that stupid thing caused me in Shanghai, I kind of figured it had gotten out all its bad juju and it would leave me alone. But, of course, the story of the sliding bearing did not end in Shanghai.

The carriage, the green rectangle thing, just slides up and down the rail.
How hard is it to find something like that?

I guess it's my fault really, after all, what kind of idiot was I to try and buy a second one?

The piece is for a kind of gadget I've been trying to build properly for years, a gadget that is attached to the wearer's wrists. And since most people have two wrists, I wanted to make two of this kind of gadget. Also, having extra parts is always helpful on experimental builds.

So, knowing about a local string of hardware stores that were probably planned by the guy behind Water Bottle Street, I set out to find a shop like the one I discovered in Shanghai.

The first shop I visited had no idea what it was. They didn't even know where I could go to find out what it was. So I asked the next shop in line. Their ignorance was as complete as turkey with gravy. The next shop had as many clues as elephants. After that, I asked the next shop, which sold power tools. At first, I was hesitant to even investigate here; they probably didn't stock anything but the most basic components, and they certainly wouldn't have something like this.

And I was right about both things. But the lady behind the desk was helpful regardless.

She knew were I could continue my search. It was a little tricky understanding the directions she gave me, so I gave her my notebook and she sketched and labeled an intersection where I could find a potential vendor. This was the best information I had gotten all day, and I was quite thankful, but I could hardly distinguish any of the characters  she had written. She assured me that a taxi would understand the diagram, so I took her word and picture and set out.

I couldn't even figure out how to look these words up in the dictionary
so I could tell the cabby.

Miraculously, this fortune was followed by a second; the cabby easily understood the pictogram without any input from me.

Rewind to the previous Friday for a second, to another time I was in a taxi, on my way to a tutoring job. We passed a string of stores that looked like they sold hardware and tools. As anyone who knows me would expect, I took notice of this and planned to visit the place after the tutoring appointment next week.

Turns out I was back sooner than I thought; that street was a block from where the cabby dropped me off.

I went into the store, noticing the many bearings stacked along their shelves, and asked them if they had the kind that I needed.

Nope.

Did they know where I could find them?

Somewhere in that direction.

Great.

Once again I started walking into stores asking them if they sold the kind of thing I was holding. The specific sentence I kept repeating was "你知道我在哪儿可以买这样东西？" (Do you know where I can find this kind of thing?) Which was the correct question that never seemed to yield the correct answer.

After about four shops I hit an appliance mall, so I doubled back and tried the stores on the other side of the first one. Pretty soon, I found a more professional looking space that had actual desks and clean tile where other shops had overfull shelves and dirty wood floors. This time, they seemed to recognize the bearing, but they didn't have it in stock.

No matter, they did have a catalog! After they took a few measurements and scrutinized the rail, they told me that it wasn't branded. Huh, no surprise there, I hadn't exactly paid for a quality guaranteed Mouser system. Regardless, they seemed to have found it in the catalog based on its measurements, but they would have to order it.

I wasn't really interested in that. I didn't want to wait around for it, for what could be weeks, and pay for shipping, and I was sure that one of these places must have it, or something close enough, already in stock. I thanked the ladies for looking it up, and asked them if any other shop would have it.

Of course there weren't any other shops that sold it, their's was the only shop in this entire area, which I would later discover was bigger than the lot where the Frederick Towne Mall resided, that could order this component for me.

I instantly recognized how ridiculous this whopper was, and though I recognized the reason for it, I still couldn't believe they dropped it on me. It was sort of like going to a restaurant in Frederick, a generally Coke-Cola town, and being told that they were the only place for a mile around that served Pepsi and that it would cost twice what a Coke did.

I already wasn't keen on ordering the part, and after learning this shop would be my "only" chance, I excused myself .

I was fairly disheartened at this point; including the shops before the taxi ride, I had hit over a dozen places, 90% of them said something like “没见了" (I've never seen this before) and only one of them even knew how to get what I needed. Even though there was another string of unexplored shops across the street by this time I was about to give up the chase. Perhaps the only option really was catalog ordering. And I was already tired. And the sun was so bright.

Pff, I wouldn't give up that easily.

Turns out, the shops those ladies were talking about when they said that no one sold what I wanted only included the shops on their side of the street. Less than ten minutes after walking out their door, I had found a guy who sold linear bearing carriages almost identical to the ones I already had. (The carriage is the part that slides about on the rail.) 

Unfortunately, the man didn't have any rails the size I needed, but he could order them from, what else, a catalog!

And that is when a very interesting thing happened for a second time. Some readers may remember when I was questing for solder and a new phone, and just as I asked where I could buy solder the guy's wife came out of nowhere to give me a price on their own solder, earning them a sale. This time, just after I learned that he was going to get it shipped form a catalog and I was about to end the sale, his wife spoke up to say the perfect thing.

She said that delivery would take three or four days.

Those other ladies never mentioned a time, and I had assumed it would take at least two weeks based on previous, albeit small, experience with Chinese shipping. And the price was good, the guy seemed trustworthy, and assured me the rail would fit the extra carriage I had. Also, I had realized a couple of other things since I walked away form that other shop with their extremely exclusive catalog, like, maybe I happened to by a part that generally wasn't stocked. And, even if I paid extra, I would probably never find this component at this price in America. And, I would probably just end up catalog ordering this thing in America anyway.

After getting the price, ever cautious of dumb decisions after getting my phone, I told the guy I would pay him half now, and then the rest when I got the piece. (Honest question for readers, is this an appropriate thing to do?)

He understood, and told me it would be in around Saturday. He also showed me the shop next to his where I could buy hardware to mount the components I had, and had just ordered.

At this point, I had gotten what I was looking for, and some hardware to boot. But a bag of screws and washers didn't seem very conclusive, even if a rail was on the way. Hmm... Perhaps I could also get a spring for this thing. Shouldn't be too hard, I just needed something a couple inches long.

Man, that was a terrible idea. That place seemed to be completely out, and by 'place' I don't mean shop. Or shops. Or even that market. Absolutely no one had extension springs. I spent easily an hour wandering up and down the street. And an oddly creepy indoor market(?) with a remarkable number of empty stalls. And a 'village' that contained enough hydraulics to build a robotic T-rex.

And that was the weird thing. Every third shop sold hydraulics, on the street, in the village and the market. How could this city possibly need so many? I know they're important for factories, but those were miles away and I would imagine they order their own parts directly.

It was a proper water bottle street conundrum. And the confusing aspect was multiplied by the fact that they didn't even have any other types of springs. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I would think those two would go hand in hand; in all the How It's Made videos I've seen, machines with linear and rotational motion always need springs. Except, apparently, for whatever these shops were supplying.

Finally, I concluded my search. I think I had tripled my 'visited stores' tally, and had nothing to show for it save a very strong impression that this place sold hydraulics.

After peeking my head into the dozenth  store full of pistons and pumps, I got a taxi to the one of the many malls in the area, marking a shift in focus from the mechanical to the nutritional. Lunchtime had already passed as I considered how many robot dinosaurs a particular shop could equip, and my wandering had left me famished.

I felt better after eating, but not good enough to continue looking for the spring, so I got some cheap electronic accessories and concluded my day there.

I guess it wasn't totally fruitless, but it was frustrating.

It is kind of interesting though. The rail I bought is designed to keep things moving in a linear fashion. And yet, it was only when I deviated from my linear thinking did I get anywhere. Why would I go looking for a linear bearing in a power tool shop? I'm not sure why I thought what I needed was across the street minutes after being told no one in the city sold it. And I couldn't have gotten what I wanted if I stayed determined to avoid catalogs. 

But what thought should I have departed from to get that darn spring?

Perhaps to get that, I should have been inelastic, unyielding in my drive to find it.

Since all this happened, which was on Tuesday, a bit more of the story has developed. My order came in, exactly when the guy said it would, and the new rail is exactly what I wanted, so ordering from him turned out to be a great idea. Also, I found the spring I needed, and it was nowhere near that district; it came out of a stapler. I'm not sure what kind of reflection that has on what I said above about ways of thinking, but it's sort of moot anyway now that I have what I need.

Shanghai Noon on the Day of Water

Lighting crackled through the sky; lighting up the clouds around our plane like the flash on God's camera. Then, in the pitch black that followed, we started diving.

The stomach churning decent lasted several seconds before we regained a level flight path, but level hardly meant flat. Our small airliner was jostled around, with the first noticeable lateral motion I've ever felt on a plane, interrupted by more lighting. Some of it seemed so bright I would have guessed it actually went through the plane. The seat belt lights never went off, even after the quaking and lighting subsided.

It had all started much earlier, as I felt the first few raindrops on my neck after leaving the aquarium. I gave the rain more notice than usual because, unlike the frequent torrents Maryland experiences, Shijiazhuang rain was infrequent and light. I estimate that we have gotten less than two inches since I arrived. 

It didn't occur to me that the drops that I was feeling would lead to such a dramatic effect later, mostly because I was preoccupied by figuring out if the aquarium I had just left was really worth it. It had been pretty cool, perhaps a tier below the Aquarium I visited several times while I lived in New Jersey. They had a lot of the usual freshwater and jellyfish exhibits, as well as a neat underwater tube thing.  For an experience like that, I generally wouldn't have thought twice about the value of it, but it was on my mind because I had borrowed 100 rmb from Ruud to get in.

The moment I had to call out that loan was pretty awkward. We had just arrived at the gate, and there were several people in line behind me as I opened my wallet to pay for the 160 rmb ticket. 

Only to discovered that I only had 100.

I gave the teller a panicked look and left the line so the people behind me wouldn't have to wait. Then I had to admit to the group that I didn't have the cash, so Ruud spotted me some, making it possible for me to join them. I was really appreciative of that. Especially because I had run short of cash for a stupid reason.

The first day we arrived in Shanghai I had noticed an odd little shop right outside the hostel. This shop sold linear and rotation actuators and bearings, exactly the kind of thing I needed for one of my building projects back in the States. But, in America, I hadn't found a shop where I could see the pieces before I bought them and where I could buy in very small amounts. Also, I would bet that an American company would charge more than a small shop in Shanghai.

However, despite having this shop literally right under my nose all weekend, I hadn't had a chance to visit and carefully choose what I wanted. The last chance I had was Monday morning, just before I went with the crew to the aquarium, and I was a bit rushed.

I kind of budgeted 100 rmb, but that was flexible because I had no idea what to expect. So, when the guy quoted it at 130 I didn't even hesitate. Less than a minute after that transaction, we were heading to the subway and the purchase was secure in my bag and out of my thoughts. 

The rail and slider I bought didn't really surface again until I was at the airport. And where, of all the places in an airport would they resurface? Security check.

I had thought the 'loan in the middle of the gate' was a bad moment, but I could have sweated through a wool blazer when the airport security attendant pulled the odd, long metal object out of my backpack, giving it a suspicious glare. Until they were pulled form my bag, I never thought the rail and slider looked threatening, but in that moment I wasn't sure if the attendant would agree with me. She consulted more than once with the x-ray operator behind her. I wondered if they would give me translator when they pulled me aside.

Then, in a miraculous moment of benevolence, she put it back, zipped up the pocket and gave me my backpack.

It is comforting to me that every single unpleasant thing that happened that day, and on every day since, is over. But I'm glad I have the memories.

(For all the trouble that rail and slider caused me, until I sat here to write this post, I had forgotten that it was in the backpack I've used every day since then. Funny how things work, huh?)

Shanghai Noon on the Day of Wander Part II

After surfacing from the market, I evaluated my resources. Though I had spent more than I wanted to, I did have a couple hundred in my backpack for an emergency, and I figured the crew couldn't be too far since we hadn't even been separated an hour. But, that didn't do anything for my phone, which I would need in case they contacted me, and I still didn't know where I was. Perhaps, since I had my charger in my backpack, I could find a McDonald's where I could charge up and take care of both problems.

So I set out towards a street that seemed to lead back to the city. At this point, looking around actually made me even more confused; there weren't any buildings other the Shanghai Science and Technology Museum for quite a distance, and none of the buildings I did see on the horizon were familiar. I couldn't even see the Shanghai tower. I was surrounded by trees, a memorial of sorts, a couple decorative flower patches, and an abandoned attempt at recreating the Space Needle:

They didn't even anchor it proper.y!

The directory on the corner didn't help at all; it was all Chinese and didn't even seem to have a bus route. But, it did seem like I was a bit of a walk from any place that I could use as an oasis.

Then, finally, Ross called me to see if I was done shopping.

I was definitely done shopping, so he told me the crew was chilling in Century Park, not far from the museum. Well, hanging out in at the park sounded better than wandering around in the city, so I took a picture of the unfinished UFO and, following Ross' direction, turned back the way I came to find this Century Park.

(Though I never understood that half-finished spaceship, to this day I hope that it finds its parent, which I believe is the Pearl of the Orient. Maybe together they can rendezvous with those weird buildings from Seattle, then go back to Mars, where they will be awarded gigantic medals for the service they performed on our planet.)

I found out later that Century park is the largest park in Shanghai, but that sure didn't make it easy to find. After exchanging texts with Ross it took me about 30 minutes to find it. (To be honest, I was walking in a straight line, but I don't think I ever passed a sign to indicate it was the right straight line.) And it was a proper "over the river and through the woods memorial" journey.

Ross said the crew would meet me at the gate, but upon arrival, I didn't see any white people. I just saw lots of Chinese walking along the edge of the park's lake. Some were also riding in bike-cars which sat between 2 and 6 people. Oh, look; that one has a bunch of foreign people in it!

They had rented the contraption for an hour, and we used every minute of that to explore the park. In China, the roads can be a bit chaotic with cars relentlessly overtaking each other with little regard for road conditions. I think the foreign teachers were kind of getting revenge for that with our bike-car. Because our vehicle had seats for four pedalers and two passengers, and everyone on the pedals was in prime pedaling condition, we had a lot more horsepower than any other vehicle on the road. We careened around that park with great vigor, swinging past other vehicles, weaving through the crowds, and making a great noise. At any given moment, the driver may have been holding a debate to see what direction we would turn next, Jess may have been gasping as yet another kid wandered toward us, and the people in the back seat held conversations about the queer park-going habits of the Chinese.

This may all sound a bit reckless, but don't worry. No matter how worried Jess got, we never actually hit anyone. Though I have to say, some of those kids were lucky their parents were watching.

After that invigorating journey, everyone was ready for lunch, which had been arranged at a restaurant called Pizza Express. Initially, I thought it was an American style pizzeria where we could pick up a pie for cheap, maybe 50 rmb to serve two or three people. No such luck, a single serving Quatrro Formaggi was 75. But at least it was made with all authentic ingredients, and it marked the authentic end of my cash on hand.

After that, I was about done spending money; I listened to see what everyone else was doing after lunch so I could tag along with someone doing something cheap. I'm glad I listened, because Quetin said he was going to visit one of the city's skyscrapers. Perfect; Quetin was a good traveling companion, I also wanted to see the skyline from above, and I knew that this excursion wouldn't cost much more than 150.

I hit the ATM after leaving Pizza Express, and we decided to go to the Jin Mao Tower. It isn't the tallest part of the skyline, but it's not far from it. Also, the price of admission to visit the observatory deck on the 88th floor wasn't as expensive as the other buildings.

From left: Shanghai World Financial Center, Jin Mao Tower, Shanghai Tower

Fortunately, the line to visit the tower wasn't very long, and after a 50 second elevator ride, Que and I were 1300 ft above Shanghai. We could see the city for miles; the smaller buildings were like Lego towers, the cars looked were smaller than Hot Wheels, and the people were too small to see.

Then, I saw the Shanghai Tower and I reevaluated my assumptions about humanity.

There were buildings that, from the streets, were very tall, over 30 stories. I am mildly afraid of heights, and when I was little, before I started rock-climbing, I would get vertigo just from looking up at tall places. There were buildings that were of such height in Shanghai. From the Jin Mao Tower, these buildings were puny; we literally towered over them, as high as a bird. But, the Shanghai Tower stood that high, yet again, above us. I felt like the view was hardly different than it was form the street; I just had a better appreciation for the details than I did from down there.

That is just how tall the Shanghai Tower is.

Humans built a tower so tall, that it can create that feeling, which makes me doubt some of the things I've heard people say we are incapable of. Perhaps a space elevator won't always be science fiction, and maybe The Avenger's Heli-Carrier won't be just VFX forever.

This is the Shanghai Tower, from the top of the Jin Mao Tower.

The hotel lobby inside the Jin Mao Tower is over 300 feet tall

After that spirit raising excursion, we returned to Earth and, back at the hostel, joined the crew for a more grounded activity; drinking. After getting started a couple cocktails at the hostel, the other guys got beers, we headed out to the Bund again, this time to see the Shanghai skyline at night.

We were too late. Evidently, the lights go off before 12.

Instead, we got logical and played charades. I'm not kidding. At 12:30 AM, on the abandoned Bund, with a worker cleaning the space behind us, we played charades. I managed to act out 'Yellow Submarine,' 'The Art of War' and 'The Road.' Somehow.

The inebriated crew eventually tired of the game, perhaps they were sobering, so Ross told us that he knew a bar nearby that we could hang out at. That bar was called Jerry's, and as Ross described it; "This is the dirtiest, dive-barriest dive bar. Ever."

I'll believe him on that; I have never seen a place with graffiti across the *entire* ceiling and walls and tables and most of the chairs and the bar itself. I would have taken a picture, but between the haze and the barely lighting, nothing showed up. They served Coke and whiskey in metal pails, and there were bongs that could be brought to tables if someone wanted more than alcohol. Fortunately, my group was content without that. After a short while, we found a table, and everyone settled in and drank.

Having an intolerance for beer that even social pressure couldn't shake, I ordered a 'Flamingo,' but I was getting woozy, so that was my last drink.

Most of the rest of that night sort of slid past, but I remember something else Ross said as someone was losing very badly at Ride the Bus at the table beside him. He told me that the most important thing to do when you're drinking is to make sure, no matter how wasted you get, you can always get home. He assured me that he may finish his entire pail of whiskey and Coke, and drink another one after that, but he would still find his way back to the hostel when he was done.

I felt like this had some importance, some application that may have been useful, some archaic meaning, some critical connotation....

But perhaps he was just really drunk.

Shanghai Noon on the Day of Wander Part I

The second day in Shanghai was no less impressive than the first, though it was even more expensive.

After a late morning, I tagged along with Jess, Andrew, Meggy, Ross, Quinten and Ruud to one of Shanghai's famous fake markets. I was pretty excited to get some good deals, but I had no idea how to barter properly, so the crew gave me some tips on the ride over.

1. The vendor will always give an insane price to start off, it may be 6 times what should you pay.
2. You should start with a price that is so low you feel bad for mentioning it.
3. If they say that their kids will starve if they sell it for that price, let them know that you will starve if you pay what they're asking.
4. Walk away if they give you a hard time.

This advice was all well and good, but I still didn't have any values to base this off of; how do I tell if they're starting offer is 6x or 3x what I should pay? What if my starting price is so low they get offended? And, since this is the fake market, how do I even estimate what I should really pay for something?

And then, when we arrived, the others sort of figured they didn't want to deal with the shopping and opted to go to the Shanghai Museum of Science and Technology instead. But not me, I was determined to get my shopping done, and I figured as long as I kept my wits about me, I could, at very least, protect myself from obvious scams.

So, we parted ways, with me striking out on my own. I had hardly walked twenty feet before I found a shop selling watches, including pocket watches which caught my eye. I didn't really need a pocket watch, but before I could walk away the vendor produced something even more interesting; a Rolex. No box, no case. Just the watch in a little Ziploc bag with some protective laminate around the watchband. Obviously, I was looking at the real deal, which was confirmed by the 600 rmb asking price. 

Now, I'm no idiot, and I know what a real Rolex is worth, so I asked for a more realistic 150. The vendor, who evidently did not know the value of the very real Rolex he was holding, asked for an astronomical 500, then 400, then 350. I was amazed at how fast the price was dropping, but it seemed to stop there. 350 rmb, about $50, as any American knows, is daylight robbery for an authentic Rolex, so I suggested 200 rmb. Too low; he asked 325. Nah, I wanted it for 200. 300? Nope. 275? How about 250? Sold.

And that is how I bought a Rolex for $5 more than my previous watch, who's most valuable component was probably the battery. (On a side note, when I got back from Shanghai I examined the watch pretty closely, and looked up some pointers on discerning if a Rolex is fake. As far as I can tell, the band is definitely fake, but the watch itself is either an amazing recreation, or it was stolen. I mean, the movement is exactly the way a Rolex is described, and it even has the logo micro-engraved above 6:00.)

It is sitting on more cash than I paid for it.

Next, I spotted a vendor selling traditional Chinese tchotchke and I remembered that I should buy some gifts for my family. This Chinese fan looked nice, and I picked it up to inspect it. Obviously, that meant I was going to buy it, and the vendor told me it was 60 rmb. Not bad, but I wanted it for 20. After some haggling, I got him down to 30, but he wasn't budging. So I told him I would take two for 50 total. He figured that was the best he was going to get out of me, and I got the fans. but I didn't stop there. Next, I went for a set of ceramic chopsticks. 300 rmb. Nah, I figured they would be worth 100. Again the bartering ensued, but halfway though, I realized that I would actually prefer some metal chopsticks, which the guy didn't have. It got kind of awkward, and I think the guy thought I was just giving him a hard time, so eventually I just walked away. He gave it a royal effort to gt me back into his shop, but I wasn't interested anymore.

I was walking along, keeping my eyes peeled for metal chopsticks, when I walked past a really stylish traditional Chinese men's coat. It was a bit gaudy for my taste, but a man approached and asked if I wanted to buy it. I told him it was too flashy, so he produced a much simpler, plain jacket; the kind with a really straight cut, knotted cord instead of buttons, and cuff-less straight sleeves. It came straight out of Ip Man's closet.

I really liked this jacket, just wearing it made me feel like I could one-inch punch a horse. Loving the piece was my first mistake.

800 yuan.

No way. I actually scoffed a bit, and started taking it off, but the man insisted, and asked what I thought it was worth. I was thinking maybe 100, since it wasn't a complicated jacket, and the material didn't feel like anything special. But I said I wanted it for 200, which may have been my second mistake. 

The man said, "Discount, because you are my friend," and offered it at 15 percent off, bringing it to about 600 yuan. At that point I made a bit of a recovery; if he knocked off 15 percent without blinking, perhaps that 800 was one of those 600% mark-ups, and I would be able to get it much cheaper than it seemed. So I said 225. He replied with "because your are American, I give you discount." and brought it closer to 500. Still too high. Next, he showed me how it was reversible; red on one side, black on the other. When I stayed fast at 230, he brought it down again. We went back and forth until I started doubting how much the jacket meant to me. when I tried walking away, he caved a bit, I haggled some more, and eventually got it for 300.

Then I opened my wallet and discovered that was 100 rmb over-budget.

No matter, the friendly vendor volunteered to walk me to the ATM so I could get the cash I needed. Well, that sounded like a great idea; hold on while I use the ATM with this guy watching in some pockey market in Shanghai.

In a bullet time decision, I evaluated my options; using the ATM was not going to happen, I could just drop the purchase altogether, but I actually wanted this jacket and I didn't want to tick the guy off. I could also just grab some more money out of my backpack and pay what I said.

So, I went with the last option and dipped into tomorrow's budget so I could afford the jacket.

And that pretty much meant I was done shopping.

The market was underground, tangential to a subway station, so after putting the jacket in my bag, I surfaced and realized I had no idea where I was. And my phone had about 15 percent.... 14 percent battery. I called Ross to see what the rest of the crew was doing, but the call didn't connect. There was sort of awkward moment at that point:

I was standing in the blinding Shanghai sun, 100 kuai past my budget, completely unsure of where I was and where my friends were, and rapidly losing cell phone battery. And it was starting to occur to me that I probably paid twice what I should have for that jacket.

I think that's an appropriate stopping point. Guess this report on my Shanghai trip is really dragging out longer than I thought it would.

Xiao Go Peng.

你们好！石鹏今天很忙，所以他没有时间写他的上海故事。那，他请求我写公告。

请让我介绍我本人， 我的名字叫小狗朋！我帮石鹏教幼儿园，可是我的汉语不是很好。我的汉语越来越好，但是说实话我觉得石鹏的汉语比我好。他每星期七个小时上课，还有九个小时教课。他常常说汉语。

现在是早上一点。我要是睡不觉，我明天就没有我要的精神。

哦！我差不多忘记附相片：

你好！

P。S。如果我写错了，请告诉我。

Shanghai Noon on the day of Wonder

It's been a bit longer than usual since my last post because I've been preparing for, enjoying and returning from an epic weekend trip to Shanghai. The trip was planned about a month in advance, and we managed to get some great timing on our flights; Saturday, 8:00 AM departure to get there, and Monday 8:00 PM departure on the way back. Next we found a hostel for less than 100rmb a night, that was one metro stop from the heart of Shanghai. And finally, for this trip to China's shopping and food center, I budgeted 1000rmb.

Upon the day of the trip, I could hardly sleep, and only got about 2 hours before my alarm sounded at 4AM. I checked that I had everything I had packed, and then met the others outside the school at 5. A long taxi ride took us the airport, in the calm-ocean-flat outskirts of Shijizhuang. Passage through the airport was as easy as walking with a backpack, and we arrived at the gate with plenty of time. I tried sleeping, but the excitement of travel was too much, and I was restless until it was time to fly.

Tim Hawkins has a sketch about a very short domestic flight. Listen to it if you want to know what the two hours to Shanghai were like; he describes it in better detail than I can. But one thing Hawkins won't mention is the fact that the Chinese are zealous about phones on planes. The rule seems to be "Turn off everything with a screen." I generally appreciate the Chinese and the way they do things, but after learning that "the Chinese do not believe in airplane mode" from one of the attendants, I kind of lost respect for Chinese airlines. I mean, even the FAA isn't greatly concerned with this.

After that interesting flight, we touched down in Shanghai, and we checked in to the hostel before 12. I was amazed by this; I had woken up that morning bleary eyed in Shijiazhuang, and I was in Shanghai, over a thousand kilometers away, ready to explore it before lunch time.

When everyone who was staying at the hostel had checked in, we set out for a staple Shanghai tourist location; The Bund. The Bund is not much more than a bend in the river, but it's covered in tourists because you can get amazing shots of Shanghai, like this:

(David, our resident 'foreign tourist.')

And this;

After doing our tourist thing and getting some photos, we stopped at Subway and then trecked over to the hotel where David was staying. Since he arrived in China after we made our reservations, he had to stay somewhere else.

From there, it was time for our group of eleven to break down into some sub groups so that those who wanted to shop and those who wanted to sight-see could go their own ways.

I departed with Ross, Ruud, Quentin and David to explore Shanghai, with the intention of crossing the Huangpu River into the Pudong district, where the city's most famous skyscrapers pierced the clouds.

It turns out that rivers are a pain to cross if one goes it on foot. Seeing a bridge was north of us, we set out along the Huangpu, only to realize that the bridge was more distant than we thought. Undeterred by this, we continued, hoping to find a ferry or tunnel that we could use instead. After about thirty minutes in the sub-tropical Shanghai sun, we encountered a small coastal park, which we believed had a ferry landing. Instead, we found a cruise ship docked in the park. There was no grand dock, no vendors hawking wears at the base of the gangplank, just a boat parked next to some relaxing trees and flowers. On the other side of this cruise ship dock/nature reserve we found our ferry, which put us on the other side of the river within a few minutes.

That is about when I realized how grand Shanghai's skyline is up close. The Pearl of the Orient is an absolutely alien sight, suspended on great legs, each as big as my apartment. It resembles a spacecraft from the future, stranded in China. I imagine if MIB was set in China, that is exactly what it would turn out to be. The Shanghai tower was even grander, as it swept off the ground with a gentle spiral, like a furled scroll set upon the ground by a giant scholar. And its windows are more translucent than other buildings, affording people on the ground a view into the impossibly high structure. Finally, the Shanghai World Financial Center, with its singularly distinctive bottle opener shape, stood proudly above many of its neighbors.

For a short spell, we walked among these giants, I was agog as we passed below the Pearl. We visited one of the many expensive malls that populated Shanghai, picked up some exclusive foreign beverages, and headed back to the hostel to get changed for dinner. This time it was Ross, not Alex, who had made the reservations at a very high end Mexican restaurant called Maya. After Ross said he didn't plan to eat any Chinese food this weekend I realized he had an interesting point. Shanghai may be my last chance to eat a good variety of western foods, and I may be able to find it in better quality than I could find in the States.

Finding Maya was a bit interesting, as it was situated in a village, inaccessible from the street. But we did find it, after walking into the wrong restaurant and happening upon a private party.

Maya obviously served extremely authentic Mexican cuisine; one could literally smell the quality upon entering the restaurant. The warm scents of spicy dishes permeated the air. And triple digit prices permeated the menu. About when I figured out that this meal would probably cost 300 rmb, half the cash in my wallet at that point, I realized I might not have brought enough cash for the trip, at least not if I wanted to abstain from Chinese cuisine.

After that shock, I was pleased to find that the food warranted the price. My chicken enchilada was superb; warm, just a bit spicy, wonderfully textured, and exactly one serving. It was perhaps the most satisfying meal I'd had in China, and it increased my appreciation for high-end cuisine and Mexican food in general. I wish I could better describe the experience I had as I ate that enchilada, but I feel any words I produced would still fail to capture it.

By the time we returned to the hostel that evening, I couldn't help but wonder at Shanghai's wealth. It had buildings so grand they dwarfed cruise ships, multiple malls that sold Gucci, Rolex, Prada and the like, and numerous restaurants I could guess were at least as good as Maya. What a place, to wonder at the wealth.


I did capture some pictures from this trip, which have been added to this album. Tune in tomorrow to hear more about Shanghai.

*Sweats Nervously*

I was pretty worried about starting Kindergarten this week; by Friday I had observed three classes, spent two hours considering possible lessons, listened to several songs for kindergartners, and spent more time than all of the above in a slightly worried state about teaching the kids. It was the perfect time for a trip to a local hot springs.

I had forgotten until the week before that the school funded a trip to a hot springs for all the foreign teachers. Being an American, I had never been to one before, but from what I've heard, it's the perfect thing for a worried soul. After all, what's more relaxing than sitting in very hot water?

Before the hot springs, the school also budgeted to pay for a lunch of our choosing. Alex, who has been here the longest out of our circle and seems to know the city like Sherlock knew London, happened to know an enterprising restaurant owner who was starting a studio restaurant where we could eat lunch.We unanimously agreed upon the location, ordered our meals the day before and set out on Saturday morning.

I was surprised to see that the restaurant had been kidnapped from its native pasture in downtown Frederick and transplanted next to a small street in Shijiazhuang; it had the unabashed blend of strong, clean features mixed with industrial modern-deco that has proliferated in coffee shops and cafes in my hometown. The furniture was all simple black and white, surrounded by tasteful, black and white stock photos of books and fruit, with one wall of exposed brick, an ancient spotlight in the corner, and an unfinished but whitewashed ceiling to top everything off. I received cream of mushroom soup, a spaghetti appetizer and a simple chicken entree. Though the dishes came quite slowly, I still give the chef credit because every dish was authentic; there were no Chinese ingredients in what I or anyone else ordered.

After the meal, most of us got a drink from the also trendy coffee shop situated directly beneath the studio. Again, just like any Frederick Coffee shop, though this time a little less refined.

 And finally, we were off to the springs.

The hots springs were not that far from the city, only about 30 minutes, but within that time one of the teachers found an interesting word on the dictionary app we all use. I have since confirmed that the word is as vulgar as I first thought it was, so I won't repeat it here, but I will say I'll never think of green tea the same way.

After that interesting vocabulary lesson we were at the hot spring, and I realized that it wasn't a stand alone location; it was the major attraction of a medium sized resort, tucked in the middle among a small aquarium and some hotel buildings. This location gave me the impression that if it was in America, middle-class families would probably buy timeshares there.

The staff greeted us from the moment we stepped off the bus, and within minutes we were whisked into the changing room, given robes and flipflops, and then we had the run of the hot springs. I was expecting a more singular hot spring to be honest; one where it was all pretty much one pool, or a single spring that fed other little pools, but this place was actually a slew of distributed pools of different shapes, temperatures, and additives.

Additives? As in, one pool was sprite-bottle green with tea, and another had fish in it which cost an extra 36 rmb. Somewhere there was supposed to be a pool with rose petals. And I'm not sure what they put in the 'Happy Man' pool, but it was probably different than the nearby 'Happy Woman' pool. (To be honest, I don't think either 'Happy' pool had any surprises; otherwise they would have charged extra.)

We teachers started in a mid-range pool, that was 40-42C (104-108F). As one may expect, getting in was a slow affair, a kind of upside down version of that Calvin and Hobbes strip. After settling in the heat, I started to appreciate the allure of hot springs; it was fairly relaxing, and you couldn't ask for a less demanding social activity.

After about fifteen minutes, the group decided to move on to a different spring, and most of us migrated to a scented one named after some kind of tea. At long last, the kindergarten problem re-appeared. Erika, who teaches kindergarten already, asked me how I felt about it. After saying that sometimes I would rather sit in the spring while it was filled with ice than teach 3 year olds, she and a couple other teachers with experience told me about some of the ups and downs to teaching kids in that age range. I'm not really sure if their input helped or not, but before long, a couple of the guys moved on to another spring and I joined them.

We sat in a few different pools, but eventually we decided it was time for something a bit more exciting. Anndrew (no typo), Ruud and I shelled out the money to sit with the fishes. They were in a shallow little pool, and when you sit among them they nibble away at any dead skin they find, aggressively exfoliating anything that enters their watery arena. Instantly, I regretted it. I had done the same thing at Greenbrier back home, but those fish were smaller, less hungry and less well-trained than these fishes. It wasn't painful or 'uncomfortable,' but something about those fish really unsettled me, and I couldn't take it for very long. It was as though the sensation of the nibbling fish filled my mind, a sort of tickling that blotted out everything else. Very weird.

Next was a sauna, which was far more pleasant; it may have been my favorite part of the trip. I've never appreciated a sauna before, but I think because I actually had something to relax from, I got more out of it than usual. While I laid on the dark room's matted floor, in a sort of sensory deprivation, I thought about my job. And I realized how stupid I'd been about the whole thing. They were just kids; they probably couldn't tell if I was teaching them English or math, and they certainly didn't care if I made a fool of myself. As I relaxed in the timeless heat, I remembered that someone had once told me that all those kids want to do is play, they live to play, so the only thing I have to worry about was making the lesson fun. And if I based my lessons on songs from the internet, and gave them pictures to stare at or paper to scribble on, they would be happy.

They say that the reason saunas feel good is because you sweat out a lot of toxins while you sit in them. I think I sweated out not just my toxins, but also my concerns. In the next hot spring, which was a lobster cooking 44 C, I also came up with a good lesson. And just like that, I got over my kindergarten problem.

And isn't that why people started siting in very hot water to begin with?


If you want to see pictures of my studio cooked meal, I've added such photos to my album. Unfortunately, I did not get any pictures of the hot spring itself, since I wasn't comfortable with the idea of carrying my phone between pools of water.

Shake that Shade

Everyone has had those 'too good to be true' moments, where they were right; things really were too good, and when they decided to change, they changed for the absolute worst. I'm pretty sure that's happening to me now.

My first month in China has been a total blast so far; I've done so much new stuff, seen so many cool and strange things, and enjoyed the abundance of freedom and cheap food. And I was getting well paid to do work that I enjoyed, that challenged me and helped me grow. 

But, one aspect of my situation that has bugged me, a kind of worm of doubt, is that I'm not really qualified to teach at this school. I've been carrying my weight, but I don't have the certification, or really the right visa, to be a professional teacher in China, and especially not at a magnet school like #43. Knowing this, the school informed me from day one, since before I arrived, that I would actually just be filling the position until a qualified teacher arrived. At the time, I figured that probably meant, upon his arrival, my pay would be reduced by half, or so, the new teacher would take some of my classes, and life would continue about as it had before.

But I was wrong about all of that.

David, the new teacher, arrived at the end of last week. And my director told me he would actually handle all of my previous classes, and that I would be moved into the Kindergarten, where I will teach about 8 classes a week compared to my earlier 21. Because of these reduced hours, my salary will also be reduced to about a quarter of my original income; down to roughly 2200 yuan ($340) a month.

I guess, generally, this would not be a terrible blow. But, budgeting for a 50% decrease, I had planned a trip to Shanghai with the other teachers, and enrolled in a Chinese class that already costs about 2000 yuan a month. And my tutoring students don't bring in quite enough to live off. And there is the fact that I have actually no experience teaching five-year-olds. And, of course, I did not say goodbye to all of my previous classes.

Obviously, the pay decrease is something of a problem, but my new students are also kind of worrying me. I've already figured out from my previous classes and tutoring students that while all the kids I teach are cool enough, I do prefer to teach older kids; they are able to understand the higher concepts and technical nuances that I like to teach about. But kindergartners, as far as I have seen, have little capacity to understand these things in a second language, especially when they've only just become proficient in their first.

So, with this re-assignment, a cloud is passing in front of the sun here in Shijiazhuang. I have no doubt it will pass in time, but it is a bummer while it lasts. I guess while the shade is here, I'll rest in it, and pick up some more tutoring students to fill my schedule and wallet.

By the way, you guys don't worry too much; pray if you feel compelled to help. Financially, I'm already reacting by cutting back on my Chinese lessons from three times a week to only twice. I've also figured out my eating situation so that it's economic and healthy. And I just got my state and federal tax returns if I need some emergency cash from the ATM. As for teaching Kindergarten, there's less I can do to prepare, though I am doing what I can. 

Oh, and I took a few more pictures that can be found in the album. You know, if you're a pictures kind of person.

Go Tai He buy Miao Mi, no Xiao Mi.

After arriving in China, I had managed to buy a soldering iron in less than 72 hours. But I had no solder to use it with. I scoured the aisle in the store where I bought it, and I inspected almost every street on the block for some place that would sell it, but no one was selling solder. Then, one night when the teachers were out for drinks, in the dim, smoky light of the bar, Ross told me about Tai He; a multi story electronics market, where one could buy anything that was made with silicon, and one could buy it at Chinese prices. Since I also needed a phone, and some electronic components, this sounded like some El Dorado I didn't know I was looking for. I decided to make a quest of it: Acquire Solder of Fixing and Phone of Communication (+10 Repair Skill, +20 Chinese Skill, +50 exp.)

I planned and embarked on a trip to Tai He that weekend, for it is only a 30-40 minute bus ride away. After wandering into and around what I believe is Shijiazhuang's shopping district, and going up and down the wrong building, I finally found Tai He, and was immediately confused. Remember waterbottle street? Well, I found its electronic cousin. (And in the words of MMORPG fans, "it is time to raid the dungeon.")

Within 6 stories, there were hundreds of vendors, many selling the same products. I must have seen a dozen people selling the same electric razors, phone cords, chargers, flashlights, phones, radios, security cameras, ethernet cord and everything else. There was half a floor dedicated to karaoke equipment, and another floor dedicated to high-end PC hardware. And yet another floor focused on phones. There were thousands of phones, of every brand and model.

It was on this floor that I was trying to buy a phone, in broken Chinese, with a poor concept of what I needed and how much it should cost. I kind of felt like I was blindly wandering the map, in awe of the shopkeeper's wares, but acutely aware of how low my barter skill was.

The first shop I tried did not work out. I tried to tell them I wanted something cheap that didn't come with a plan, because I had no credit card to pay for such a plan. That confused them to no end, and I realized I they were probably getting more frustrated than I was. I abandoned that dialogue tree and looked for another stall.

Within seconds I was hailed by another salesman.

"Hello!" He said.

"说英语吗？" (Do you speak English?) I responded, hopefully.

Of course, he didn't. But his phone did, so we were in business. The man was no slick-suited, quick-talking stereotype that could sell you a phone that cost more than a car; he was actually a t-shirt wearing 20 something with a phone case that looked like a hundred Yuan note.

This image of sophistication was pleasant enough to work with, and put up with my poor ability to communicate what I wanted. Obviously, I needed a name brand phone, but I also wanted a cheap one. Then, seeing the products the salesman produced, I realized I also need a phone with an English operating system. (Quest requirements: Phone, price < 500 rmb, cannot have Phone Plan Curse, needs to be American Class compatible.)

He showed me a couple phones, and I remembered that Xiao Mi was a brand know for decent quality at reasonable prices, sort of like Samsung before they started edging into Apple's high-end market. I told the salesman I wanted to see a Xiao Mi, he said sure, and he showed me a pretty slick looking smartphone with an English operating system and two SIM card slots. Originally, I was planning on spending as little as possible on this phone, but after seeing the double SIM slots, I realized I could put a Chinese SIM and American SIM in it, and take it back tot the States with me. Since it had every feature I knew I needed, and one I didn't know I needed, I bought the phone, despite it going a bit above budget.

But, before I actually handed over the cash, I realized what a dunce I was! I was buying a phone from a nameless kiosk in China after all.

So, I had the salesman call his phone from the one I was about to buy, just to make sure it worked. Satisfied that it did, I picked up my new Xiao Mi, the SIM card I had bought to go with it, and got out of there for only 800rmb ($125). Obviously, I had been intelligent and careful, and definitely had not made any mistakes buying this Xiao Mi phone.

Next on my list was the elusive solder. On the floor where the man sold me the Xiao Mi, there were also tons of little shops were guys hunched over desks repairing phones with spare parts. Obviously, these guys would need solder, but most of them didn't seem to want to talk to me, perhaps they were non-interactive NPC's. Eventually though, I found a guy repairing radios, and asked him where I could buy some. The dialogue tree wasn't really working out, since I couldn't understand most of it, but he caught my drift and pulled his own roll of solder out of his inventory.

There was sort of an odd moment: I realized it would be a total pain trying to get this guy to tell me where I could buy my own roll, and his roll was basically full, and I actually knew a reasonable price for this stuff. So I said, "我会买这个焊锡." (I will buy this solder.) This prompted a look of confusion and surprise, but before the man could respond, his wife, who I had not seen, said it would cost 20 rmb, which was actually a good price. Quest completed, I made my way out of the dense, labyrinthine market.

On my way out I happened upon a green 100 mw laser that only cost 60 rmb. I had been questing for something like that since I was about 10, so I snatched up that great loot drop, content to buy it for half to a fifth the American price without even bartering.

And that would have marked the end of the quest, except that I stopped in McDonalds to get a better look at my new toys. And the man sitting across from me noticed the box that my phone had came in. And he told me, that my phone was a Miao Mi. And after a second, I realized that it was not, in fact, a Xiao Mi. I had bought one of the infamous Chinese Fake Products.

And that is, hopefully, the dumbest thing I do in China.

(Fortunately, the phone works, and is actually really nice to have. But, after thinking on it for a while, I realized it's kind of the penultimate Chinese phone: It's a knock off, the English is always a bit off, it came with WeChat already installed, and it has this kind of suspicious perpetual low memory error. Also, all the apps, including the app-market, are in Chinese, so I've started loading *.apk's onto it from my American phone so I can do more besides just talk and text.)

FY2016 First Quarterly Report page 1

What an interesting first month it has been. I've done a lot of the interesting things that I expected to do, such as teaching a class larger than the staff of the McDonald's I worked at, eating unknown foods from street vendors, and understanding 10% of the words used by some of the people I interacted with. But those classes seem smaller each week, those once alien foods are a common sight (but not my common meal) and that 10% has grown on every encounter. 

This first month has been largely as I expected, even down to the 'unexpected' elements that I had accounted for; culture, food and language. At this point, I've got my routine figured out and have ceased learning how to survive; I have moved on to exploration. (Minecraft players, you know what I mean when I say "I've finished my house, now I'm digging for diamond and building a portal to the Nether.")

But what kind of adventure is this predictable and linear? Certainly not this one; it was only a matter of time before something came out of left field. 

And that's why now is a great time to mention alcohol.

I have always abstained from alcohol, even small amounts offered by my parents, because I hated the taste and did not want that disdain to change. But when the foreign teachers went out for drinks a few weeks ago I decided to join them. Oddly enough, the reason I decided to join was because I was actually in rather safe circumstances; the people I was with were experienced drinkers, had not demonstrated irresponsible behavior, the bar was within 'walking' distance down the street from the school, and I did not have a lot of money on my person. 

As they say, 'I'm gonna down some shots, only got 200 yuan in my pocket. I'm lookin', lookin' for a cocktail, this is freaking awesome.'

Alright, I didn't actually do shots. But that night, I did discover that I enjoy cocktails. But before I found that out, we hit a bar whose name I will not mention because they gave me what the teachers think was white rum and a cherry. I had ordered a Martini. We quickly went to a more professional institution called Drinksology, where I ordered an Apple and Elderflower, which I could actually drink, and rather enjoyed. Our troop found a table on the bar's second story and we talked and laughed and traded teaching ideas.

It was when I went to order my second drink that I met a girl from Thailand.

Pause. She did not become my girlfriend.

This Thai chick had a tongue that would make a sailor blush, two phones (Why?), and a rich boyfriend that would show up soon and would definitely pay for all the rounds of beer she kept ordering. By the time the first set of beers arrived, I realized, even through my buzz, that this girl had the most obvious case of "attract attention to compensate for low self esteem" I had ever seen, including my time in Scouts. Her foul language, loud volume and not present rich boyfriend put me on edge, so I slowed down a bit and didn't drink more than I could pay for. Actually, I may have slowed down because I was getting really dizzy. But she certainly didn't help.

After she sat at our table for an hour or two, something really insane happened. This guy Chris showed up. The rich boyfriend that gladly bought several rounds of beer and drank as much as his girlfriend cursed. He actually existed. Chris was a good foil for his girlfriend, and though he was Large-Haldron-Collider-level intense, I relaxed again and kept enjoying the opportunity to drink alcohol.

Unfortunately, I discovered that no matter how much beer someone else bought, I could not stand the bitter taste. I got a third cocktail, I believe it was a Vodka Ricky, and ate peanuts, enjoying the buzz from my first couple of drinks while the teachers accepted the beer and Chris Gan Bei'ed (Bottom's up'ed) at the drop of a hat.


Since that first night, the teachers and I have gone out for drinks a couple of times, and Chris has joined us for each. Since his girlfriend went back to Thailand, he doesn't buy as many show-off drinks, but since I didn't take any to begin with, I consider that a win.

In conclusion, my take away from this new activity surprised me; I cannot stand the taste of most alcohols. Beer and Whiskey are disgusting to me. And I discovered during lunch with my tutoring student's family that I also dislike red wine. So, when I do drink, I stick to sweet beverages. Oh, and I tried a cigarette. What's the big deal with those things?

Now, I think that's enough about 'the devils brew.' Join me next time to read about the ultimate Chinese phone, lights and lasers, and a fetch quest that got lost on its way to World of Warcraft.

This album has just a couple photos of my time in bars. As many may have noticed, I am not a prolific photographer, but the public demands photos, so I'll offer what I have. And one of them is this totally cool shot of me smoking like a boss.

I Survived the Terrible Plague

The Horseman of Plague rode though the school this week, claiming a score of victims with his pestilent touch. It began, as far as I perceived, among the students and it first began affecting me when the teachers began falling. Multiple classes where missing their primary English teachers, and I had to work with substitutes; volunteers from the high school and interns who wanted to exercise their English. It was no great hassle, as I can conduct the class mostly without aid, and they did translate for me when needed.

But then, my voice was stolen. At first I believed the demon to be over-use. After all, I was talking above scores of children in a dry atmosphere, and my lesson for the week was about sound and song, requiring me to speak more often and at greater volume than usual. However, upon the break of the third day, I knew I was suffering no normal sore throat. I too had succumbed to the dread disease.

The first symptom, the sore throat matured slowly, gradual impairing my performance as I told kids about sounds and how to describe them. In the beginning, I simply didn't sing along when the lesson came to the musical portion. But as my condition worsened, I lost the ability to imitate the sounds I talked about.

Almost as soon as I moved on to my six grade classes, which thankfully did involve music, another symptom manifested; a runny nose that seemed inspired by Poseidon himself. Though it did not significantly increase my encumbrance, as the sore throat persisted, it did affect my life outside of school. I possessed naught, but paper towels to thwart the flow.

In a sick twist of irony, I next became exhausted by the lethargy of the ill, too tired to run errands. I made due with the paper towels and frequented the restaurants across the street for my meals, but I could not bring myself to trek to the supermarket to buy anything else. Fortunately, it seemed the fatigue was not a symptom of the disease, but of the healing afterwards, and it only lasted a few days, marking the end of my illness. And because it struck at the end of the week, it did not interfere with my ability to educate.

And at last, I am healed!  I battled that harshest fiend, the illness that preyed upon me, and I emerged victorious, not even allowing it to interrupt my good work. Over today, all my symptoms have ceased to bother, and I made a much needed trip  to the market to replenish my rations, including my crucial lifeblood: Mountain Dew. Energy restored, Green Dew replaced, and fresh week ahead, I am ready!



Yeah, so that's why this post is a couple days late.

Fortunately, I took a video of a class from just before the plague struck, so you guys can finally see me in action! Unfortunately, it is too big to fit in this album, where I keep everything else, and Blogger won't take it, so I'll have to figure something out, like cutting it down perhaps.But I'll let you know what's up with that on my next post!

Singing will continue until moral improves.

Today I was asked to leave a class. It was almost the end of the period, and it was because the teacher had some choice words for the unruly students that she didn't want me to hear. Based on what I have listened to, she must have been preparing to unload some heavy ammunition at those kids, but they deserved it. I packed my laptop as quickly as I could and left the room. The students all said goodbye, likely unaware of the hurricane that was about to strike. I wonder if this sort of thing ever happens in American classrooms when the class misbehaves for a guest speaker, I suspect it does, but only if it's politically correct.

 (TL;DR, if you're just here for the photos and videos I promised, here's the link.)

Other than that class, Grade 5 (2), my other classes have been great, especially as I get better at teaching. The improvement is largely because I've begun lecturing less and integrating more student interaction into my lessons. Initially, I was hesitant to do this because it meant I was communicating less material, and the the immense class size complicated any interaction. But, after I realized just how hard it is for some kids to understand me, I determined that games may teach them more than I do: Even if what they learn is not as complex as an idea that I could explain, if they can't understand that explanation then it has no value anyway.

After realizing this, I also sidestepped the class size problem by using a song as the interaction mechanism. As many people know, songs are an interesting and potentially powerful teaching tool. If the students concentrate while they sing, it is easy for them to memorize rather long passages of meaningful English, which they can practice and consider without a written aid. In a few classes I've attended and some I've seen, teachers have used meaningless or overly repetitive songs to teach kids, which sort of bugs me. I, with negligible musical skill, memorized some pretty long songs when I was a kid, and some of them had almost no repetition, like the National Anthem, or Weird Al's 'White and Nerdy.' So, when it came time to choose a song for my lesson I knew I wouldn't be using nursery rhymes, I would be using contemporary pop and classic rock. Both genres often have songs with simple lyrics that tell a story, catchy tunes, and cover a wide variety of subjects. Also, both genres are popular internationally, so it is likely my students will have heard songs from these two genres.

Today's Grade 5 lesson was about sounds, so choosing music was easy. After all, the was an international hit single released recently that was just about one sound. The Fox's sound. And that is how I got sixty kids to sing 'What Does The Fox Say.' But, I've only taught this lesson twice, and one of those was G5(2), so I'll have to observe my other classes to see if they get something out of this song. I hope they do, because it's an easy tool for me to use.

Finally, on a different note, I finally have some visual records of the school! I've taken pictures and videos from around the primary school, generally to show how big it is, and I've posted them in this album. You know, the one with the buy-one-get-one frogs. I'll continue to add more photos and videos here, so you can bookmark it if you want, but I'll try to link to it in each of my posts. And I promise the quality of my videos will improve, but some of the ones here are shot while I'm moving. Eventually, I also hope to film a few of my lessons, when I get good enough to film. I did capture about ten minutes of G5(2), but for the same reason they earned that teacher's wrath, I'll only use that video to analyse my own work and what I should improve, but I'll not post it. Tomorrow, I think I'll film a better class.

Life is like a box of chocolates: sometimes you get those stupid nougat things.

It is high time I talk about my actual job while I am here; teaching English. I am starting my second week at work and I think everyone back home wants to hear how things are going.

First of all, I had no idea what this job entailed until I arrived. I had no curriculum, no notes, I hadn't even researched ESL teaching techniques. I didn't know if these kids were already mostly fluent, or if they couldn't compose sentences. I had been told that I would be teaching middle school, probably 10-12 years old, but I was not sure if that was a guarantee or an estimate. I certainly didn't know my hours or how big the classes are. I was flying blind until I arrived.

Last week, the day after I landed, I finally got details:

•  I will be teaching grades 4-6.
• The kids would have a full spectrum of fluency; some can hardly read, some can speak like natives. 
• I will be teaching 21 classes a week, 35 minutes apiece. Each class contains 60 kids.
• Most classes would have a teacher present, to translate on occasion, or reprimand troublesome children. But, I heard, they are often not present.

Well, this is all good stuff; I was just glad to hear what I will be working with.Then came the kicker:

• The school did not have materials for me.

Now, I know my situation is a bit odd, but shouldn't they have mentioned that? Don't they have a book they teach from? Well, I do have lots of writing and speaking experience, it shouldn't be a problem. Also, the other teachers said there are given prompts and themes to base their lessons, so maybe I can use that too.

At this point, I was a bit confused, but still pretty chill with things. 60 kids is a lot, but the Chinese are more well-disciplined than Americans, right? 21 classes is also a lot, but since they are only 35 minutes long, I figured I wouldn't have trouble keeping up the energy to teach. And even if my assistant teacher didn't show up, I knew enough Chinese to make do if the class needed clarification.

As for curriculum, the head of the Primary School suggested I start by teaching out of a movie. Forrest Gump was a good choice since it had lots of clearly spoken English with varying levels of complexity, and even the most advanced students could learn about American culture. This lesson was going to be great.

Though there were a few hiccups, it looked like this job would go great. Now I just had to spend the week observing the other teachers so I could get an idea of what a class was like! The first person I observed was Maggie, who taught grade one.

That was when I found out I was going to be a terrible teacher.

She exhibited so much energy, acting out nearly every word she said, that I felt exhausted just watching the lesson. How can I charade everything I say during even a simple English lesson for 13 hours a week?! And I would feel downright clownish doing this in front of the older kids.

Next I sat through Ross' lesson, and I realized that perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. He taught grade three's, and not only did they not need a full Broadway performance to stay engaged, Ross didn't have a game every five minutes. Perhaps I would be fine.

The final teacher I observed was Kirstie, who teaches grades 7 and 8, and by that time I realized that as long as I didn't drone or lecture without a visual aid, I would be fine. Kirstie's a great teacher, but she is as intense as a cell phone ring.



Now, after all this, it was time for my first class. Monday morning, 9:20, showed up a few minutes early to set up my laptop. I had my Gump lesson, a sharp outfit, a full water bottle. I was doing great. The lesson?

It went terribly.

I discovered that Forrest Gump is at least three grades too advanced. Also, my presentation's organization was terrible. And I speak too fast. And whenever there was a lull in my lecture, or if I tried speaking a few words of Chinese, or if I said something a bit interesting, the class would start generating as much background chatter as the Dulles Airport control tower.

So, I started editing my slides between classes, I tried speaking as slow as possible, and I learned that the classes are trained to quite down when the teacher claps. So, my lessons quickly improved.

The night after that first day, I also completely re-wrote my material. Forrest Gump 'ran like the wind blows' out of my lesson and America colonized in his place. Now, I spent my lesson telling my students about my home country and talking about myself in more basic language. I threw in a couple more sections where the students could talk, and looked it over to make sure I used an elementary vocabulary for all written text.

And everything, finally, went well.



I know this is a lot to read, but for any readers getting bored of my text adventures, I suggest you stay tuned. I'll be uploading some pictures and videos soon to show you guys how big a 60 kid class is, how loud a 60 kid class is, and what it looks like when 1200+ kids do their morning exercise. Oh, and I may include some video of one of my lessons, one that goes well.