Ningbo's Finest

Having recovered from the Walmart incident, I decided to play tourist on Saturday. Ningbo’s best known site is its 16th cent library, the oldest in China (here’s a link with more info: http://www.nbtravel.gov.cn/pub/nbtravel/en/Visit_OC/200803/t5677.htm). It’s located on Moon Lake, which is surrounded by lots of bridges, water lilies, and gorgeously landscaped trees and rocks.

To get there I walked down what must have been wedding row. All of the shops had to do with weddings; dresses, photographers, florists, salons. In Chinese weddings, brides change dresses 5 times—one of the women at the Foreign Affairs Office said that this was because there are a lot of toasts at weddings and all the clothes changes gave the bride a chance to avoid becoming completely soused! Well, judging by what I saw on wedding row, these dresses are quite the fashion statements—picture the worst (best?) 80s prom dress you can, throw in some belly dancing inspiration, and you are ready to get married. And the tuxes weren’t far behind: my favorite was white with gold flower print. Remember ¬True Life: I’m Getting Married and Jersey “ I will gut you like a fish” guy? He would love this tux.



I didn’t actually go the library this time (I’m holding out for going with a Chinese person who can read me the information cards), but wended my way along the path along the lake. I passed 2 or 3 people washing their clothes in the lake—I’m not sure if they were homeless—the clothes looked quite nice—or just taking advantage of free water. There were also people fishing and paddle boating. There was a walled in garden, with a bridge leading to a keyhole entrance, framing a small pond and twisted trees. Another “I’m in China moment.” I wandered around looking at pagodas and water lilies, along with lots of couples and photographers. This must be where everyone goes to take pictures—I saw a little kid and several sets of brides and grooms—none in white floral tuxes, unfortunately. I had some ice cream by the lake side, and was excited to discover that Chinese people have the same cheesy tourist photo opportunities as Americans do: Tony and I collect these, so I’ll have some nice ones to add to our collection.



As I was wandering, I got accosted by two Chinese kids. There’s nothing unusual about this. Because pretty much everyone studies some English, and westerners are sparse, everytime I walk across campus I get a spate of “Hello, how are yous.” Then, if it’s a girl, the kid always giggles in excitement/fear of having practiced her English and runs away. Just that morning I had been chased down by a group of girls who yelled ‘we are freshmen. We would like to talk to you!” Then we talked for about five minutes. They told me that I was the first foreigner they had ever spoken to and then looked me over and said “you are very beautiful.” What could I do but agree? Anyway, these two kids in the park had maybe 10 words of English, but they were excited to talk to me. They said “American?” and I agreed, “Meiguoren.” Then they asked “New York?” and I shook my head. Next they said “Obama?” at which I nodded enthusiastically. They followed this up with “George Bush”: I shook my head and said “bo hao.” At this point we’d pretty much used up our vocabulary—the more talkative guy said Kung Fu and showed me some moves and then we counted to 10 in each other’s respective languages. Anyway, before I left they grabbed my camera and insisted that I take a picture with each of them.



I finished up the day in the old market, which is a covered area with stores selling every imaginable tcotchke. I really need to learn the Chinese word for tcotchke, because they have a lot of it: bobble head figures, cell phone charm, giant stuffed animals, jewelry, note pads, carvings, etc. (By the way my vocabulary—especially about beverages— is growing by leaps and bounds: I can say orange juice and lemony and sugar and know how to ask for a waiter in the standard polite way and the more informal Ningbo way (you just yell mister, or lady, which will get you some angry looks outside of this area, according to my students). Today I also learned the word for lion tamer—long story involving a made up chosen career for the resume class I’m teaching—which I’m sure will come in handy). I found some makeup at amazing prices (Chanel mascara for $2 anyone?) and just enjoyed the crush of people.



The other big excitement this week was the university brass threw a lunch for foreign teachers—besides our group there is one brit and two Americans, who teach English and American culture, and two Japanese professors (I felt bad for them—they had minimal English and I’m guessing not a lot of people in China speak Japanese). The lunch was all typical Ningbo dishes and the food was delicious and beyond bountiful. When we came to the table the lazy susan in the middle was already loaded up with dishes—soft tofu, roast duck, roast chicken, greens, some sort of preserved looking fish. After they served us a seafood soup, the waitresses just kept adding more and more dishes: crab, shrimp, steamed fish, steamed lotus root (very tasty—a cross between artichoke and corn flavor), beans with chestnuts, chinese cabbage with preserved shrimp, pork and greens in a spicy sauce, clams, fried beef strips with Mongoloian seasoning, pickled radish, something called Chinese yam which didn’t taste at all like ours—a crunchy, slightly watery texture and faintly sweet and earthy. A scallop dish—big slices of insanely sweet scallop served in the shell with vermicelli and some peppers and a slightly sweet sauce got special attention: the waitresses came by and put one on each of our bowls. As soon as one dish got low, the waitresses whisked it away and added three more. Towards the end they began to bring sweeter dishes—corn in a sort of fritter and hot dates stuffed with sticky rice and glazed with sugar syrup. Then, came a second soup—sugar water with dumplings stuffed with black sesame paste and watermelon. That was all. We axtually never got rice—according to a Chinese woman we had dinner with (who disdained Szechuan cuisine as wimpy because the peppers in it were whole and could be picked around, as opposed to her province, where they grind them up fine and put them on everything) it’s considered rude to serve rice while people are drinking (beer is another of my words for the week, btw), I think because it would soak up the booze. So, no rice for us. The director who was hosting us promised he could get more food if we felt the need, but I could barely roll home as it was!

Here's a view of the table (and guests!) eabout mid way through--that lazy susan would get far fuller! Look how happy my back looks eating all that yummy food. I have pictures from moon lake, but somebody named Mr Tony Wilson is supposed to be photo-shoppinng them. It's been so grey here that all the pics look a little gloomy.

Soup and a Sandwich, Chinese Style

I walked down to the collection of street vendors outside of the college for dinner last night. I have one criteria: lots of people around it. That way it's a safe bet that the food is good, and I can watch them and figure out how to order. Generally, they assemble the food there, so I like to see if you put the food you want in a little basket and then hand it over to them to cook, point at it, or some combo. I also like to see what combos people order so I don't to mix things that shouldn't go together.

Today I was attracted to what might roughly be called a pita purveyor. They roll out a hunk of dough into a thin circle and then slap it on the griddle, adding chopped green and red peppers, an egg, some sort of hoision like sauce, siracha and some grilled meat. Then, right before it is done, they add lettuce and a cucumber salad. It looks like this

and tastes like heaven.

The soup vendors beckoned to me as I was heading back, so I decided to go crazy and spend another 80 cents. Basically, they have a big vat of boiling broth and they dip in a wire basket with what you want cooked—greens, your choice of about 8 different kinds of noodles, from ramen to thin rice noodles, to the dense chewy ovals of rice noodle I choose, and 2 or 3 different meats—chicken wings, pork, beef. You also flavor the bowl they pour it into—garlic, hot sauces, some sort of pickled fungi, cilantro. Then they dump it all into a bowl and ladle some broth on and you end up with this:

(this is my own bowl-- the cardboard one they gave me was looking dangerously limp by the time I got home.)

By the way, this has nothing to do with streetfood, well I guess it does in an ancillary way, but I'm digging the icons on my toilet paper package:

The blue guy in particular seems troubled and hysterical, perhaps apt for his future.

I went to Tian-Ye square and Moon Lake today, so I'm putting together another monster post--just consider this an appetizer!

In which I teach some classes, destroy a woman's dreams, get lost, and take a taxi

So my first week of classes is over. I’ve been really impressed with the students. I was warned that they would be very uncomfortable with speaking in class, but I think this group has learned that crazy American professors want you to talk. They definitely are slower to speak than American classes, though sometimes that is a translation issue. My poor kiddoes—they not only have to take classes in English, but they get stuck with me, the fastest talker ever raised south of the Mason-Dixon line. I’m really trying, and also making sure to get questions and instructions clearly up on ppt. At the end of class today, my English students, who have had me 3 times this week, told the assistant that they were starting to get used to my speed and style, so I think we’re off to a good start.




My first class, business research, is about 40 some students. The class itself is the usual business nonsense, but the kids seem very nice. I was demonstrating how to define a business dilemma and trying to draw them out, so I grabbed one kids iced tea out of his hand and said, ok, we’re going to sell this iced tea—by the way, how do you say that in Chinese? After they all had a good laugh at me trying to say “bing ho cha,” they loosened up. The class is very close to 231, for my IU peeps, and I had them starting brainstorming a campus problem, which gave me some interesting perspective on their campus life. Several groups wanted to work on getting individual toilets in the dorms. Frankly, first I’d work on getting TOILETS: Chinese bathrooms have drains, and flush, but they don’t have an actual toilet—you squat over the drain. And put your toilet paper in a basket next to it. Let me tell you, in a hot climate with no air-conditioning, the classroom halls smell delightful by the end of the day. But I digress. Several other groups wanted to work on getting hot water for bathing—apparently some dorms have hot water heaters that work intermittently, while others have none. H-ee-N-ee as they call it here (yi is the Chinese word for one) also was a big contender. It’s interesting that most of them are interested in creature comforts that I think wouldn’t have even occurred to a Chinese student a few years ago—but then, Zheijiang province is one of China’s richest, so these kids are the spoiled rich of China. Can you imagine American students in a dorm with no hot water?



The English cohort is 16 kids, with 3-4 repeaters from last year. I only have one really interesting English name—“Event”—although “Jimmy” said he’d like to be known as “NBA guy.” There are one or two really bright kids who are pretty willing to talk—the class monitor even came up to me during the break in Shakespeare class to talk about The Other Boleyn Girl and ask how it fit in the whistle stop tour of 16th cent British history I’d given them. Shakespeare will definitely be a struggle, but we got some good discussion going about the creation of family in Little House.



To get the ball rolling in the Amer Lit class, I asked the students what their vision of America was. I got the answers I expected, but some interesting ones as well. One student said he thought America’s clean envt was a big draw—he was impressed with the pictures friends who were in America sent back with blue skies—something I haven’t seen since I’ve been here. Someone else said America’s health care system was a big draw—that the government provided healthcare for all. I figured it was just a student misconception and said, well that’s not really the case and moved on. But today I was talking to my assistant, Nina, and she said when she discussed American culture this was one of the plusses she emphasized—our benevolent approach to healthcare. So apparently while everyone in the US is screaming that we are socializing healthcare, the communists think we do a better job of spreading the wealth. Anyway, Nina explained to me that in China she wouldn’t even have health care if she didn’t work. When I explained the same was true in America AND I paid the equivalent of 12000 yuan for my healthcare, and told her what a hospital visit cost in America (in China it’s maybe 200 yuan a night—maybe $35), she looked at me with a very serious face and said “you have ruined my American dream.”



So yesterday, I decided to be super brave and go grocery shopping on my own, via bus. Cabs are really cheap, but most drivers do not know where are apartment complex is—they’ll drive us up to the university and then you have to direct them the rest of the way. But this is me we’re talking about—I can’t find my away around the 10th floor of the library, so I felt my chances of telling a Chinese cab driver where to go were minimal. So the bus seemed a good plan. The two choices for shopping—beyond veggies and fruit, which are sold on fruit stands which are everywhere—are the Walmart, in Wanda Plaza and the Metro, which is like the fancy store in town—it carries lots of imports. The Metro is easier to recognize—it’s in a free-standing building—so I decided to try to go to it. After three of the proper busses passed by the proper stop without stopping—they all waved off people trying to board and then pulled up for their break or something 50 feet down the road—I decided to walk up the road a bit to see if there was another stop past their nap area. Well, 20 minutes later, no such luck and I returned to the original bus-stop to see the same darn busses still parked down the road.



Reasonable people would have given up by this point, particularly since there are 10 restaurants 10 feet from my apartment, all of them serving very tasty meals for less than $2. But I’m stubborn. So I walked across campus (another 15 minutes or so) to get to the bus-stop that had the bus that went to Walmart. I successfully boarded the bus this time, but, as you might be able to guess, I missed the Walmart and ended up at the bus terminal on the other side of town.



While I could have ridden the bus back, I decided to retrace the bus path of foot for a bit and then catch a taxi to the Walmart. It was actually very cool. I wandered down a very typical, narrow Chinese street. Apartment buildings, clothes shops and restaurants lined the street, and several merchants had blankets spread out with potatoes, greens and oranges. One of the things I’ve noticed about the produce available is that it does not vary from cart to cart—it’s obviously all local and we get the veggies currently in season. I wonder what it will be come mid winter?



Also, because it was evening, the people were all out. I passed a group of old men playing go, kids sitting on stools doing their homework, and lots of adults chatting to each other. Dogs wandered around sniffing trash and I definitely had another “wow, I’m in China moment.” This moment was somewhat marred when I came back out to a busy intersection with a big cafeteria style restaurant blaring Fergie’s “My Humps.” Even more bizarrely, later in the evening I passed two rows of Chinese people facing each other on a street and doing some sort of Western-style line dance. Peculiar.



Well, I was ready to grab a taxi by this point, but it was Ningbo rush hour and, if you haven’t seen the Chinese drive, just imagine a giant bumper car course with lots of obstacles. I couldn’t get a cab to stop and I was starting to think that there was some obscure way of catching a cab in China and, not knowing it, I was going to spend the rest of my life on that street corner. Luckily I like Fergie.



Anyway, I was saved by the fact that Chinese school kids LOVE to practice their English on white people. I get about 15 “Hello, how are yous” every time I walk across campus—after which the kids get embarrassed, giggle and run away. We also do a lot of waving—I was passing by a school the other day and about 20 boys in uniform all stopped what they were doing and waved at me. So, just when I resigned myself to taking up residence on the street corner, two school girls came and said “can we help you?” They chased down a cab for me (well, they had to try 4 or 5, but finally got one), told the cab driver where to take me, and then sent me on my merry way. The Walmart visit is anti-climactic after that and even the cab drives--- and if you haven’t been in a Chinese cab, but have been on the Italian Job rollercoaster at King’s Island, just subtract the flaming jet of fire (not that I’m saying that won’t happen on some cab drive) and you have a good idea of what it’s like—although I was very lucky, on the cab ride home, to find one of the few cab drivers in Ningbo who actually knew where the apartment complex was, with the help of a few “taos” and “zai nallies.”

I hope everyone is doing well!

The Chinese are a nation of sidewalk merchants:

At every meal time, 30 some peddlars come to the campus gates; they drag their carts, complete with griddles or gas rings for woks, behind their bikes. There are meat on a stick vendors, create your own fried rice carts (you point at the fillings you like, they make it there), a huge thin pancake of some sort that they wrap various fillings in-- sort of a Chinese sandwich--dumplings, and many, many more things. I don't have an image of this yet (imagine the midway of the state fair, with less fried twinkies), but here's a shot of the aftermath:

That's  a big pile of egg shells, left over from the fried rice vendors. They pretty much toss everything behind them--egg shells, lettuce and boc cai leaves, plastic bags and then leave them. The first time I walked to campus I thought that there had been some epic egg fight, but then I figured out the score. Everyone drops everything on the street, though interestingly, this doesn't seem to be the case on campus. Between that and the spitting and nose-blowing, thre's a really good reason the Chinese believe wearing your shoes in the house is filthy.

As soon as lunch is over, all the bicycle guys dissappear until 4 or so. Our veggie guys also take a siesta (or the Chinese equivalent), but they don't pedal away-- they just lower the umbrellas and wander off

 Obviously, there's not a  lot of crime in China-- no one worries about leaving things unattended. What's funny is that lots of the kids do have bike locks, usually the cable kind rather than the sturdy ones, but they'll leave their bikes leaning against the bike rack and just loop the cables through a spoke of the back wheel.

Two more images:

 First, the way all the balconies look-- no one has dryers, so you see hanging clothes everywhere--I even saw a fruit and veg stall that had a rack of clothes drying next to it and finally some pretty flowers growing along the side of the road.

Pictures (1)

Hooray!!! I've got my laptop workimg, which means I can run a different internet shield which means: I can access the toolbar and post pictures!!! so here's the illustration from the previous long post:

This is my bedroom.

And here is the wooden couchhere's the living room and dining roomand here's my kitchen. Those cookies on the microwave there, by the way, are the bomb.

Pictures (2)

The happy little icons on my air conditioner

the view down (above) and out (below) from my balcony

I thought you needed this picture in large to see exactly what it said. Wow.

Oops, my microwave picture got out of place. Can anyone figure out what the top right icon is suppoed to represent?

I love the night life

China really comes alive at night. Even down on our local strip of restaurants and stores, after 7 or 8, the streets are filled with people-- eating, shopping, chatting. If you go into Ningbo proper, as we did tonight, it seems like all 5 million people are out and about. It's not just restaurants and bars-- trucks are still making deliveries, hair salons are still full of customers-- the town is buzzing.

We went down to Laobaitan, which means foreigner-ville. It's the old concession area of Ningbo-- where the Chinese allowed trade from the outside world-- and is still where foreigners gather: there are Indian and Italian restaurants, an Irish pub and "foreign entertainment" night clubs. It's very pricy by Chinese standards-- we ate an Indian meal and the bill was about $30 for the three of us.

When we got there a big procession came by which I assume must have been a wedding. First came a man snapping pictures of everything, including us, and then a bunch of men with cymbals and other instruments including, oddly enough, an accordion. Everyone was in bright red silk outfits with yellow head-dresses. They were carrying two little people carriers (what is the right word here? you know, ceremonial boxes that people sit in) over their shoulders on poles. By the way, the carriers were not particularly large, but they were not carriers for little people per se. Every five minutes or so, the carriers would stop and put down the people carriers. Then everyone would rush up to the people holders and peer in. We did too, and saw the bride in an elaborate head-dress waving back out at us. I think my favorite moment though, was when one of the pole carriers in traditional dress, doing this traditional ceremony, pulled out his cell and started texting as he walked.

After dinner, we wandered the streets and came across a street show of some kind. The first act was some sort of game show like thing, with a blindfolded girl having to identify what i assume was her boyfriend out of a group of men. There were a lot of jokes which I missed. The next act was a magician though, which needed no translation; nor did the excitement in the faces of the kids watching him. By the way, it seems that, at least at outdoor entertainment, the Chinese favor those plastic clappers that look like a bunch of hands.

Also, the advantage of a Chinese crowd is you can always see over everyone's head.