It's hard to imagine that I only have one week left in Hangzhou, China- less than one week from the moment I sit here writing this blog post, I'll be on board an Asiana Boeing 767 on the first leg of my journey home. But before that can happen, I still have to weather the gauntlet that is final exams in a foreign country. All of my preparation for four spoken presentations and four lengthy Chinese essays has left me in a dark, sad little place filled with New York Times articles on issues such as horrifying food safety concerns in China and why Chinese car companies can't go global. Check this out:
For my Business Chinese class, I'm writing a paper on the issues facing Chinese car companies as they try to expand overseas. Such bland articles as this link from Forbes.com and this other link from the New York Times should show you what I'm dealing with here. A dull endeavor indeed.
But far more terrifying is the plethora of food safety concerns that have swept China in the past few years. Besot with unnecessarily complicated and corrupt bureaucracies, China has little way of controlling such scary circumstances as melamine-tainted baby formula, fake eggs, noodles made from ink and wax, pork chemically "thinned" with the additive/steroid clenbuterol, and the use of sewer oil in roughly one in ten of China's restaurants (you don't even want to know, but I added the link for the morbidly curious). On a mildly positive note, despite all these issues, I'm still alive and kicking and my ears haven't fallen off or turned green just yet. I give the New York Times props for admitting that the food safety issue isn't limited only to China: check out this article, "China's Bizarre 'Food Safety' Scene, and Our Own", for more. Needless to say, writing an essay on this stuff for my "Contemporary Issues in China" discussion class has left me wanting to do little more than cuddle on my bed with a box of Birthday Cake (生日蛋糕) flavored Oreos. But press on I must.
So instead, allow me redirect this discussion to reflect on the difficulties associated with completing even the most seemingly mundane tasks in Mainland China. I don't want to draw too over-arching of conclusions based on singular instances- maybe I just have particularly bad luck?- but it seems that there's a trend to getting stuff done in this place. I present what may seem to be a straightforward example: replacing my Xiao Yuan Ka (Campus Card), or the little student card that magically lets me into my dorm. The card also can function as currency at the campus C-store and the cafeterias, but thankfully my card only had a few kuai's worth on it at the time of loss.
Anyone who knows me well will also know that I am notoriously bad at keeping track of my stuff, and the fact that I managed to go three months without losing my Campus Card is impressive in and of itself. But alas, I discovered Thursday evening that this rather necessary little card had gone missing- after a thorough search of pockets, purses, and pulling through my hair, the conclusion seemed to be that it had fallen out of my pocket on a taxi- in other words, lost forever. Oh well, I thought. I'll head over to the office and pick up a new one in the morning.
On Friday, I walk over to the ZUT (no, not misspelled slang for acne, but an acronym for Zhejiang University of Technology) Campus Card center to pay twenty kuai (less than three dollars US) and get my new card. But, to my dismay, nobody was working there on Friday. I was told by another attendant to come back "later." I go two more days bumming off friends, acquaintance, and random Korean and European international students to get myself in and out of the dorm- not only is the little card necessary to enter the building, but also to exit?- before heading back to the office Sunday before lunch. This time, the attendant was there, flipping through an entire stack of Campus Cards. He eyed me over his cigarette and brusquely asked what I wanted. "I misplaced my Xiao Yuan Ka," I told him, offering twenty kuai for a new one. "Sorry," he said. "I can't help you today. It's the weekend. Come back tomorrow." I thanked him and left, pondering how I'd get back into the dorm this time.
So today, Monday, around two in the afternoon, I head over to the same sad little office yet again to try to get another Xiao Yuan Ka. This time, I find the office closed, again. I asked an attendant leaning against the wall what's up. "Oh, they're on break," she told me. "You shouldn't come to the office between ten and two. It's lunch time! Come back after three, workers should be there by then." Ah. Acting much more graciously than I felt, I stomped back to the dorm to finish up a PowerPoint presentation and feed myself a very late lunch, stopping to pick up Oreos at the C-store on my way. Finally, three came along, and I headed back to the office filled with apprehension.
"Hi, me again. Can I please get a new Xiao Yuan Ka?" I asked the attendant with as much politeness as I could muster in Mandarin. "Hmm. Name and department number?" he asked me. I told him my name, but was taken slightly aback. "Department number? Do you mean my student ID number?" "Oh, no, you know," he barked. "The relevant department number." "Well, I'm a foreign exchange student--" He cut me off as I started to explain. "We don't handle foreign exchange students here. Go to the student center next time." "Where is the student center-?" I began, but he cut me off with "Humph! and a wave of his hand. And that was that. Hmm. Would have appreciated that nice bit of information the first time I stopped by the office on Friday- or at the very least, when I visited with this exact same individual the day before. But never mind all that. I suppose I'll check with my program coordinator for my next steps in the Campus Card saga.
For the time being, I still don't have a new Xiao Yuan Ka (and I'm leaving the country in seven days), but I do have Birthday Cake Oreos. And those bring considerably more joy to one's life during finals week, anyway.
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