Dinner for a Dollar

The Chinese spring semester ends this week.  All across the Qingdao University campus lots of people are moving out, going home, and trying to sell off their "gently" used goods.  In the international dorms, at least, some just aren't quite patient enough to sell their stuff and instead toss it in the trash. I don’t blame them- back home, if you want to dispose of a broken mini-fridge, shelving unit, or dirty stinky futon, you leave it near a dumpster or on the street and a well-organized team of garbage collectors will show up and magically make it go away.  In China, it seems like “organized” trash pick-up isn’t happening anytime soon. The past two days, this has been the view from the dorm’s front porch: 

 

 

Yes, a massive pile of trash. What’s even crazier about it, though, is the number of random Chinese people who have come out of the woodwork to rummage through it, looking for things they might be able to sell second-hand.  It was getting really intense. I saw a pair of old Chinese men literally screaming at each other over a broken set of suspenders, one guy grabbing each end. Another woman was holding a torn pair of pants up to herself, as if to see if the damage was reparable.

It makes me wonder just how many kuai (the Chinese dollar) someone might be able to fetch for a broken item of clothing or a damaged Ethernet cable.  Apparently, just enough to make rummaging through foreign students’ month-old instant noodles, used hygiene products and moldy bedding somehow worth it.  I guess if you live in a place like the one below (right next to our dorm) and need the money that badly, dealing with bad smells today might mean that your kids will have the luxury eggs for breakfast tomorrow.

So where do that ridiculously hard-earned pennies go?  In America, $1 US can maybe buy a gumball, some dollar store toothpaste, or if you're really lucky, a candy bar or two.

In China, however, one's American money goes a whole lot further. One dollar (6.5 RMB, or yuan) will buy you a whole meal: a banana (1.5 yuan), spicy won ton soup (3 yuan), and a bag of greasy egg pancakes (2 yuan). Soup’s on!

**Note: If you do end up in China, PLEASE don’t actually eat this kind of street food. My stomach did not appreciate the “grease cakes” or “spicy won ton” at ALL

On another random note, this week our professor Dr. Wang became quite distressed about the news that the food in China is upsetting some of her students’ stomachs.   To remedy the situation, she promised to bring us a “natural” remedy for the la duzi (or diarrhea) epidemic plaguing the Chinese flagship this year. Clearly the idea that we're setting ourselves up for illness, by eating meals akin to the one pictured above, didn't cross her mind.What, you might ask, was this amazing remedy? Nothing less than straight-up bulbs of garlic.

We were all a bit surprised, but Wang didn’t seem a bit fazed by our dumbfounded faces.  She proceeded to pass out entire bulbs of garlic to each one of us and show us the “proper” way to peel off the papery skin. Then, she grabbed a whole clove of garlic, by now lending its wondrous odor to the rest of the room, and popped it into her mouth uncooked. “It’s stronger if uncooked,” she explained. “Garlic is pretty spicy though, so girls should only eat one or two cloves at a time. The young men can probably handle more.”  For whatever reason, whether curiosity, hatred of vampires, or merely sheer desperation to remedy our digestive tracts, almost all of us followed Wang’s lead and munched on some surprisingly spicy raw garlic. I don’t know if it was the garlic (or, much more likely, the Pepto I consumed along with it), but so far my digestive system seems to be doing pretty darn well. I’m sure you appreciate the update on the state of my intestines.  However, one more thing that I can guarantee is that one classroom on the second floor of the Min Xing building is probably smelling quite nice by now. No vampires on campus now, for sure.

Chrysanthemums cure everything

I hereby solemnly swear...  no, I'm not up to no good, but I do promise to blog much, much more frequently than I have been lately. Today's guided activity was quite fascinating: for me, a second trip to Tong Ren Tang (同仁堂), a traditional Chinese pharmacy incongruously nestled between a noodle joint and a knock-off clothing store in the crowded Taidong district of downtown Qingdao.

All around, masses of Chinese people were milling about their hectic lives, squeezing ever more of themselves onto unbelievably packed city busses.

 

Tong Ren Tang's timeless and distinctly Chinese architecture, modeled after ancient temples and complete with roaring sculptures of some sort of dragon-lion creatures, served as a wake up call to remind me that, oh, wait, I’m in the country where that epic Disney movie (Mulan) was supposed to take place after all…

The Chinese medicine found at Tong Ren Tang is extremely different from its much more familiar Western counterpart. While Chinese people typically will go see a Western doctor in the case of serious to life-threatening illness or injury, they prefer visiting a traditional Chinese-style pharmacy to cure minor headaches, colds and the like.  These pharmacies are home to both Western and Eastern medicines, though Eastern medicines are much more prevalent- and often downright weird to us outsiders.  Browsing through Tong Ren Tang's wares, I spotted all sorts of dried plant, animal, and insect matter.  Deer antlers and dried centipedes both made appearances; even ground stones are considered a viable remedy for some illnesses. It kind of seems that in Chinese traditional medicine, anything that can be consumed will be consumed and must treat some sort of illness. And balance out your qi energy, right?

One thing I've been itching to try out here in China is herbal tea.  I'm a fan of yummy teas back in the States, and I figured that China must have some pretty legit options.  However, I have had yet to try any because my professor, Dr. Wang, advised me that Tong Ren Tang would be the place to buy a "decent" herbal tea/remedy.  Apparently, most Chinese medicine is consumed in a sort of tea form, boiled with water into either tea or bitter soup.  The ratio of materials used, temperature of the water they're steeped in, and length of time steeped all determine the "medical" effects.  Most of the Chinese medicine I came across was assorted plant matter, and with Wang's advice and help I eventually purchased two small packages of dried greenery. One contained ju hua (菊花), or chrysanthemum flowers, and the other contained mai men dong （麦门冬), or something called monkey grass tubers. According to Dr. Wang and the Chinese pharmacist, the two combined should make a nice "cooling" tea, perfect for daily health for females. Wang herself enjoys a cup or two of the mixture every morning, and claims she hasn't fallen ill in over a year.

So what exactly are these ingredients supposed to do? Although I got the general gist of the pharmacist's descriptions of their usage in Chinese, I eventually resorted to some light Google-ing and Wikipedia-ing to sort out the purported medicinal uses of the Zhong Yi I purchased.


I've seen lots of Chinese girls toting around water bottles with chrysanthemum flowers floating in them, so when Dr. Wang pointed out a package of these white flowers I wasn't too awfully concerned about negative effects.  Actually, Chinese people claim that chrysanthemums are good for just about everything:


- Prevention of sore throat
- Fever reduction
- Recovery from the flu
- Acne
- "Cooling" the body
- Balancing qi energy
- Remedying Yin/fluid deficiencies (?)
- Treating circulatory disorders, such as varicose veins
- Helping out the eyes: remedies eye pain from stress, blurring, spots in vision, diminished vision, or high inner-eye pressure
- Lessening dizziness
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chrysanthemum_tea

So, when in doubt, sip on some chrysanthemum tea. It will make your cold go away, improve your eyesight, realign your "system" properly, and make all of your dreams come true!

Mai men dong, however, was a different story. Although both Drs. Wang and Zhang excitedly exclaimed "Ooooh Mai dong, so good for you!" upon seeing my purchases, my Chinese-English translating tool didn't even recognize the characters forming this "medicine"'s name, and my first round of google searching didn't return promising results. However, at long last, I discovered the following. According to the all-knowing Wikipedia:


"In Chinese medicine Ophiopogon japonicus tuber, known as mai men dong (麥門冬), is the cardinal herb for yin deficiency... the herb is sweet, slightly bitter and slightly cold, enters the Heart, Lung and Stomach channels and nourishes the yin of the Stomach, Spleen, Heart and Lungs and clears heat and quiets irritability."
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ophiopogon_japonicus

So basically, according to Chinese medicine theory, this stuff "balances out" the effects (?) of the chrysanthemums, helps out our feminine side (the yin), and reduces stress.  We'll have to see about all that.  I don't know how much stock I put in Chinese medicine, but I think in this case, it's worth a try as part of general well-being. I already take four different vitamins as it is- what more harm can sipping on some pretty flower-essence do?

In any case, regardless of potential helpful or harmful effects, I think the most important thing about my new tea mix is its lovely, semisweet, fragrantly earthy flavor.  Absolutely delicious. That's what matters most to me, at least.

And hey, if sipping on Chinese medicine does make me grow a third eye or something after all, at least it improved my vision, right?

Settling in, surprises, and sobering thoughts

I know, it's been two weeks since my last post... shoot me! But SOOOOO MUCH has happened since the last time I posted. Working, running errands, and playin' mommy for a pack of nineteen-year-old Mississippi college kids is exhausting, especially when coupled up with mountains of vocabulary words to "bei yi bei" (memorize) and lengthy essays to write every night.  But regardless of all that craziness, I have some fun China stories to share.

Here I am at the top of Lao Shan, an 1132.7meter high mountain thirty kilometers east of downtown Qingdao: 

First off, shopping here is amazing. At this monstrous four-story shopping center called Ji Mo Lu, every single brand name item that can be knocked off is indeed knocked off.  Naturally, shelves are filled with the stuff you find on the streets in New York- Gucci purses, Louis Vuitton luggage, Prada sunglasses and the like- but on top of those niceties are sparkly high heels, cooking supplies, and even knock off Toms shoes (buying these would probably send you straight to hell), all for amazingly cheap prices. There's a lot of bargaining involved, and often you can get stuff for less than half of the asking price.  I've been stocking up on some wonders for friends and family back home :)

Earlier this week, I hit up Ji Mo Lu with my friends Kaz and Mallory, looking for sunglasses. Kaz was looking for clothes. As we browsed through the super-sketchy, grimy little stalls in the first basement level where women's attire is sold, we encountered some fun sights. One store seemed to feature mostly extremely revealing flight attendant costumes, prom dresses, and very uncomfortable looking lingerie. Another specialized in misspelled "Convorse" shoes and matching t-shirts. But our favorite stop of the day was an average-looking, tiny little shop filled with pretty, frilly girls' clothes. Kaz picked out a white lacy sleeveless top with a zipper in the front, and proceeded to try it on behind a little shower curtain in the back corner. Something about my friend Kaz: she has lots of curves in the right places. And the lao ban, or shopkeeper, sure saw it. As soon as Kaz came out and showed her stuff, Lao ban lady ran up to her with the usual Chinglish string of compliments: "Ah looka looka so breutifurl, looka good, buy buy buy" and such. Then, placing two hands on Kaz's left breast and squeezing appreciatively, she exclaimed in Chinese: "Oh, so BIG!" I guess, to middle-aged Chinese ladies, such molestation isn't considered inappropriate. In any case, we just kind of went with it.

Part II: Living Arrangements

On a slightly more serious note, I’ll show off some pictures. Here’s Building Number 13, my home for the next five weeks. Gorgeous place.

My dorm room in China is pretty posh by Chinese standards: two twin beds, two writing desks, an air conditioning box unit, and a private bathroom with shower attachment and seated toilet.

There are clothes washers on every other floor, but no dryers; so, to compensate, I purchased this beautifully spidery piece of junk at the Carrefour store. It falls apart at least once a day. And when I wake up at night, I always have the terrifying feeling that those arms and clothespins are going to grab me and drag me down to clothes-drying hell…

But really, I have no room to complain about the dorm situation for exchange students at Qingdao University. In comparison, the living arrangements for normal college students in China are beyond horrendous to us spoiled Americans. Though I’d heard stories and seen these buildings from outside, I had yet to actually step foot in a Chinese dorm room until my Chinese roommate, Dong Lin, snuck me into her Chinese dorm the other day. While fanning myself in the warm, un-air-conditioned building, I managed to snap a few shots.

Foreign students aren’t usually even allowed into the Chinese dorms- probably so we won’t find out how terrible of a living environment these dorms are.  Because of this, the Ayi, or dorm cleaning/guardwoman, was not pleased at all to see me walking down the six flights of stairs leading back from Dong Lin’s room.  That’s right- a room on the sixth floor of a building with no elevator is home to six girls, whose beds do not have proper mattresses, and whose bare-floor living space is smaller than the average dorm room in Crosby.  The place was reminiscent of a slightly dirty shoebox filled with bunk beds. There aren’t even any showers in the building- instead, these girls have to walk ten minutes across campus to the special Showering Building behind the library, with soap and towels in hand.

So here I am, typing away on my MacBook Pro and listening to (and smelling) my roommate chomp on some pickled eel.  I’m waiting for the air conditioning to cool the room back down- Dong Lin, like most Chinese people, feel that “conditioning the air” can “unbalance one’s system,” leading to a cold-like illness called “Kong tiao bing,” or “Air conditioning illness.” So, every time she comes in, she shuts off that air conditioner- or puts it on 80+ degrees. 

Still, I have absolutely no room to complain.

I feel almost sad sometimes, spending my summers in Qingdao. It’s not necessarily homesickness, or culture shock, or stress from everything I have to do; though to some extent, maybe it’s all of those things. But most of all, China makes me refocus my perspective.  At home, we whine when the internet’s too slow for our YouTube videos to load, or when a classroom or office is a bit too hot or too cold, or when the kids down the hall won’t keep it quiet at 1:00 am, or even when Wendy’s puts too much ketchup on our double cheeseburger. In China, thousands- no, millions- of college kids walk across campus to the showering building once a week to wash their hair, fall asleep on a hard plank bed to the sound of jackhammers, live without any sort of air conditioning, central or box, and can’t even afford the luxury of an “exotic” double cheeseburger.

Part III: Touristy stuff

So far, I’ve climbed a mountain (see the pic at the top of this post!), visited the Tsingtao (Qingdao) beer factory, and made appearances in the family photos of countless nameless Chinese people. They like snapping pics too, when a blonde girl poses in front of something cool.

And, last but not least, here’s an assortment of funny English translations I’ve run across in public places. More to come!

 

I'm sure it's very careful.

 

No frolicking!

"Be Careful of Thunder on Thunder Storm Day"

First week in Qingdao!!!

So, my friends, I am FINALLY done with my first week in the beautifully foggy coastal city that the Zhongguo ren (Chinese people) call Qingdao. The "clear island" city isn't necessarily clear all the time- actually, the weather this week has been weirdly foggy and COLD! Generally highs are in the low 70's and lows down into the fifties. Beautiful, yes, but not for someone who didn't even bring one pair of long pants!


Really though, describing my first week in China could take up an entire blog in itself, though I've been so busy with my homework and teaching assistant duties that I've barely had time to sleep and eat meals, let alone post on my somewhat neglected China blog. I don't even know how to begin. How about some pictures?

So yes, Qingdao has beaches.  Qingdao people describe their ocean as 天海一色 (tian hai yi se), or the sky and sea are the same color. I can't even tell where the fog ends and the ocean begins in the background! This beach is called Shi Laoren, or the Old Stone Man, because somewhere off the coast there is a big rock shaped like a sitting old man. Sadly I wasn't able to see it Monday, but I did get to climb on the rocks.

 

You might remember that some weeks/days ago I posted a lovely picture of a typical bathroom at the Ole Miss Inn, with its seated toiled, spacious sink, and clean appearance. In contrast, this is an average rest room at most public places in China: a luxurious space featuring pretty tiles, waste basket, and a comfortable flush toilet. Very posh, right? This particular specimen is found in the building where my classes are held. 

 

 Speaking of restroom facilities, take a look at the little girl on the right's breeches. No, they don't have a random patch of skin-colored fabric on the backside; Chinese babies indeed do NOT usually wear diapers in Qingdao, and to accommodate for this deficiency their pants simply allow them to squat and relieve themselves whenever and wherever they feel the need, without shedding any clothing. So yes, the road on the way to class from my dorm is vaguely tinged with the splendid odor of human urine. All the good smells, right?

And here's a quick look at the awesome kids I'm spending my summer with: the Ole Miss Flagship Chinese gang. The large red twirly thing behind us is the Wind of May statue, which was put up as a tribute to the May Fourth movement protests in Qingdao. Basically, the port city of Qingdao was handed over to the Japanese in the early part of the 20th century. This event inspired Chinese students to protest and eventually led to the creation of a new wave of literature in China.

And now for a look at Qingdao's bizarre, sometimes absolutely delicious, and other times terribly unappetizing food.  First come drinkable things: Coke Light (or healthy Ke Kou Kele) and beer that comes in plastic bags, and is poured out of barrels on the side of the street at 3 in the afternoon:

Hai xian, or seafood, is Qingdao's specialty. Because of Qingdao's proximity to the famous Tsingtao Beer Brewery, Qingdao people can cheaply drink as much QingPi, or Qingdao beer, as they want, while stuffing their faces with every sort of sea creature that could imaginably be consumed. It looks like the sea slugs below are trying to make a run for it:

Qingdao seafood is good and all, but I particularly like Sichuan-style food, known for being numbingly spicy. I was so excited when I ordered the dish below that I almost danced on the table, but decided against it because the 热水, or boiling water that is served as a beverage in Chinese restaurants, might spill and burn people. Below is 宫保鸡丁，or what we Americans lovingly know as Kung Pow Chicken!

Another, slightly less appealing Sichuan delicacy that I tried at this restaurant was the super-spicy soup below. The Chinese T.A. who accompanied waited until I forced down a good bit of the soup before telling me the secret main ingredient: pig's blood!!

 And, last but not least, street food in China is an experience in itself. My favorite roadside delicacy is the spicy 馄饨汤, basically won ton soup, shown below. And guess what? Like some Qingdao beer, it's also served in a plastic bag!

So there's a quick glimpse of my Qingdao experience so far. Hopefully, time permitting, I can be much better about blogging from the Middle Kingdom in the weeks and days to come.  Please let me know.. China's weird, isn't it? What would you like to see more of in my blog? Comment away, and 加油！