30,000

On Friday Jim and visited the Panjiayuan market, where all variety of antiques and “antiques” can be found. We were accosted for a long period of time by a gentleman from Henan Province who claimed to be an English teacher who sells antiques in his spare time and really wanted to practice his English on us. We also found a Buddhist artifact that we really liked and wanted a closer look—I asked how old it was and they paused, and then said, “Tang Dynasty.” Well, that would make it anywhere from 1100 to 1400 years old—Jim started laughing out loud. I then asked what they wanted for it and was told “san wan.” I had to ask again and was told, for a second time, “san wan.” Well, that is 30,000 yuan, about $4000! We walked away very fast, with them hot on our tail. If I’d wanted to bother, I would have said that “Starting at 30,000 yuan for an item of dubious origins and authenticity didn’t really give us much negotiating room, did it?!” Usually when bargaining for a price, I feel comfortable offering about one-third of the original asking price, or at the very least one-fourth, so we really had nowhere to go with this one!

On a mostly unrelated note, I have been unable to access my own blog from here (Chinese word of the day: blog=bo’ke). This has led me to go to the Blogger help page (which I can access) to find, almost immediately, a query from someone with the heading “Cannot access my blog in China.” Apparently the Chinese government’s internet censors (sometimes referred to as the Great Firewall of China) periodically block Blogspot. After all, people might use their blogs to write inflammatory things, like noting that the National People’s Congress is really just a rubber stamp legislature or that Beijing opera sounds like cats screeching, and that these facts might actually be shocking news to people in China, things that they had never heard before or would be incapable of thinking of themselves. Chairman Mao himself wrote that “It is on a blank page that the most beautiful poems are written,” as a way of justifying his various schemes for social engineering.

The rumor in the foreign media and among human rights groups is that the Chinese government employs 30,000 censors to monitor internet content and block sites. Interestingly, they don’t usually block The New York Times or some other western news sites—they are more concerned about sites in Chinese, for obvious reasons. Nonetheless, there are ways of getting around the censorship, notably through what are called proxy servers. Within minutes of beginning my search I was directed to this sort of server, the home page of which reads at the top “Is your blog blocked in India, Pakistan, Iran, or China?” I’m not sure why India wants to be in such illustrious company, given its status as the only real democracy in this list (see, that’s the sort of statement that gets blogs censored here), but apparently all of these countries block Blogspot.

My guess is that, following the conclusion of the two-week-long lianghui, the government feels that foreign media scrutiny will be lessened and so they can revert to a higher level of censorship. This actually reminds me of a common phenomenon here—the often wide gap between concept and execution, in which what seem to be good ideas (to someone, in this case the regime) often fall short in their implementation. In the case of the heightened censorship, perhaps the regime feels that no one will notice--I often observe that they might benefit from having a really good p.r. firm on retainer, who would tell them that the benefits of censoring sites like Blogspot might be outweighed by the costs, like the fact that people are actually going to notice that this is occurring. The "good idea-bad execution" paradigm is a topic about which I have so much to say that it will have to wait till the next entry.

Running in the Key of G

Jim is here now—a fact that has made my life much happier. Things are just better when shared with the one you love! We have been hanging out, eating lots of good food (I have to make the admission that probably our favorite restaurant so far has been the Thai one called Purple Haze), doing some running and yoga. On Saturday I ran 16 miles, part of which were with Jim but then we went opposing ways in Yuyuantan Park because he is still recovering from foot surgery. The park is evolving as springtime comes; the lake has thawed and people are beginning to take little rental boats on it. It was rather crowded and we had to do quite a bit of dodging of people—besides one other man, we were the only runners among the throngs.

I spent much of my run thinking about an article from the New York Times that I had read online that day, about the conclusion of the lianghui here in Beijing—lianghui means “two meetings,” and this refers to the annual two-week-long meeting of the National People’s Congress, China’s rubber stamp legislature, and the National People’s Political Consultative Congress. Joseph Kahn, the current China correspondent for the Times, usually writes worthwhile stuff, and this piece also was interesting and valid on the face of it. However, I also found it frustrating and it made me contemplate the hazards of cultural comparisons (more on that in a moment). Here is the article:

Chinese Leader Strikes Defensive Tone

China does have alarmingly increasing amounts of foreign reserves, air pollution (probably the source of my apparently never-ending cold), and military spending. Yet I still felt annoyed by this article. The statement that frustrated me most was “China has become the largest consumer of energy after the United States and by some estimates the largest emitter of gases that contribute to global warming after the United States as well.” While true in absolute terms, what might be wrong with that statement? In other words, why is it not just a statement of journalistic fact? I will leave it to readers to draw their own conclusions on that matter.

On my run while pondering this article I also listened to my iPod—I decided that I couldn’t feel inspired by the soundtrack that is piped over the speakers in the park, which primarily consists of Kenny G. Kenny G is probably more appropriate as music for insomniacs than music for runners, if it is appropriate for anyone at all. They completely love Kenny G here—for instance, his is the only music of choice in the Korean/Japanese restaurant downstairs from where I live. Which actually made me further consider the topic of cultural comparison, and on what basis we make such comparisons. For instance, I have had more than one Chinese person say to me, “I don’t like American food—McDonald’s is really just not very good.” I’ve occasionally pointed out that it probably isn’t accurate to equate American food with McDonald’s (just as it isn’t a good idea to equate Kenny G with American music), but this is a difficult concept to get across (besides, I’m coming up short on what really is American food and not something derived from our history of being immigrants—about the best I can come up with is chocolate chip cookies, which are a very fine addition to global cuisine indeed).

Equivalent American comparisons with China might include the misconception that Chinese food primarily consists of sticky sweet goo like sweet and sour pork (actually an American invention) and fortune cookies (also an American invention) and that Chinese music primarily extends to Beijing opera, which can be quite nice at times but also incorporates what to our ears sounds like cats screeching and toddlers banging on pot lids.

Amish Cooking

I actually saw another runner on Tuesday, in Xidan, one of the busiest areas of Beijing. This is a part of the city that has been thoroughly transformed by Beijing’s rapid development—it lies just a little bit west of Tiananmen Square, right on Chang’an Avenue (the Avenue of Eternal Peace). Xidan is now full of department stores and a hip underground shopping mall populated by teenagers wearing unrecognizable yet apparently very fashionable things. It also features at least two Starbucks within 100 yards of each other, a fact that both pleases and horrifies me (if you ask nicely, I can give you my classtime-perfected riff on how Starbucks epitomizes both the joys and horrors of globalization all in one venti nonfat double shot caramel macchiato, not that this is a particularly original observation).

It was a very nice, clear day, and so seeing another runner was inspiring and somewhat shocking. Of course, this runner was a laowai, and this enabled me to perhaps see myself through the eyes of Chinese observers as I am running on the streets here (something that has occurred rather seldom so far, due to the proximity and anonymity provided by the King Gym). This male laowai runner was wearing knee-length running tights, with an emphasis on the tight, if you know what I mean. My first thought, before I really processed the whole scene, was “What kind of nut goes running in Xidan in midday, in that sort of get-up?” And then of course I reflected on my own thinking, and realized that I probably look as absurd to Chinese observers when I am out running. I’d like to think that my choice of running apparel is never quite so outré, but then again, I’ve seen Chinese running in their street clothes (not the ones running for the bus, but actually out exercising in the parks) and even their street shoes, so perhaps any of our Western, consumerist, “I need special gear for whatever activity I’m doing” attitudes seem strange and perhaps somewhat langfei here (our word of the day—it means “wasteful”).

Speaking of joys and horrors of globalization, one of my favorite sights in all of Japan, land of Mount Fuji (briefly glimpsed from a train window), wonderful gardens (I think I drove Kelly nuts in search of Japanese gardens because of my fascination with them and my actual desire and emerging scheme to put one in our backyard), Zen temples, and hypermodern urban landscapes, was actually this one:


Kelly in Kamakura












We stopped to take some pictures because I was just so amused by it and the owner came out. He told Kelly that he’s been to Amish country in the U.S. before and really appreciated the spirit of the Amish. He said he uses real Amish recipes, but we opted not to stop to try them.

Here is a more zhenzheng Japanese image. Here we are, being very Japanese, simultaneously at a Shinto Shrine and admiring flowers (possibly cherry blossoms, but I don’t think so). In Japan, they love the cherry blossoms. In fact, they have “cherry blossom reports” on the TV news, cherry blossom viewing parties, and you are even supposed to accessorize your home with a cherry blossom motif, but only while they are in season. They even come out with cherry flavor Kit-Kat bars, but again, only in season!

Moshi moshi!

I am now back from Japan, which was a great experience. Some running content first: on the day after I arrived we were eating our Japanese breakfast (sitting on the floor on tatami mats, eating things like fermented soybeans and fish and lots of seaweedy stuff) and on TV was the Tokyo Marathon. Had I planned better, that might have been a more reasonable choice since it does not involve 7000 steps and the Japanese actually understand running! At least in some places they do—in Tochio, the small town where my student Kelly teaches English, she says that she and this one guy are the only runners in town. Other places, however, we saw runners galore, which actually made Kelly wonder what was going on. In Kamakura, an ancient capital of Japan, we saw tons of them, including some in groups. That is probably explainable by the fact that Kamakura is not only an ancient capital with lots of Zen temples, but also an upper-middle class (at least it seemed so) bedroom community of Tokyo. Wherever you find yuppies, you can also probably find runners.

Despite my frequent admonitions in my teaching and in life in general regarding the hazards of stereotyping, I am now going to engage in some discussion of Japan that does just that. Generalities are inevitable, even if sometimes problematic, but also they can reveal some fundamental truths. I’ll even organize this into numbered and lettered examples, so as to enable you to enjoy some of the fruits of my Political Science-educated analytical mind.

1. Japan is polite. (I guess it would be better to say “Japanese people are polite.”)

a. All over you see people wearing surgical face masks, even though the vast majority of them are not surgeons and probably do not even play surgeons on TV. Unlike in China, where mostly people wear such masks to reduce the effects of the pollution, in Japan people wear them when they are sick, to avoid infecting others.

b. Despite the fact that Japan is a mobile-phone crazed society (some 80 million subscribers in a population of 127 million) they are not supposed to talk on them or even let them ring on the shinkansen (bullet train) or parts of the subway system in Tokyo. And people actually follow these rules—when people’s phones vibrated (remember, no ringing) on the bullet train they would always go to the corridor between cars to have their conversation.

b (1). When they can answer their phone, they say not “konichi-wa,” which is Japanese for “hello,” but rather “moshi moshi”. I find this inherently more polite than in China, where the phone is answered by saying “wei?!” which basically means “Hey?!” This usually comes out kind of surly. However, I think it would be almost impossible to be surly while saying “moshi moshi.”

c. The Japanese language is full of other politenesses. When Kelly and I entered the museum at the atomic bomb site in Nagasaki, Kelly was carrying a soda can. The woman from behind the entrance desk came running up, and said, in English “Is it OK or not for you to carry that can inside?” (or something like that). What she really was saying was “It is not OK for you to carry that can inside” but that would have been too direct, so instead it was a question.

d. Before she returned home, Kelly had to buy gifts, known as omiyage, for all of the teachers in the schools in which she teaches. That is 70 people, folks. This is a common custom—wherever you go, you buy omiyage for your co-workers because you are supposed to feel guilty (or shameful—some scholars say Westerners do guilt and Asians do shame) for being on vacation while they were left behind to toil in your absence. All over the place, for instance in Tokyo Station, you find nicely wrapped boxes with labels saying something like “this box is good for 8 people.”

e. Generally you do not criticize your boss or your coworkers so as not to destroy the wa, or the harmony of your workplace community. However, there is one time that this is permitted, and that is at an enkai. This is when you all go out together, get smashingly drunk, and then are permitted to be honest with your boss.

f. In Japan, they do not even jaywalk. If you are at a light and it is red, you wait for it to turn green, even if there is not another car or pedestrian around. Admittedly this is a rare occurrence, but in Kelly’s small town of Tochio (not to be confused with Tokyo) we were walking home from an evening of ramen, gyoza, and karaoke (I sang, badly, “I Will Survive”—I’m considering going on an “I Will Survive” karaoke tour of the world since I have now sung it in at least two countries) and there was no one else around. Nonetheless, we waited for the green light to cross.

g. People do not litter, even though trash cans are few and far between. Instead, they hold their trash till they return home and can throw it away on their own turf.

2. Japan is safe.

a. See 1f above.

b. On the Tokyo subway, you can see small schoolchildren in the morning and evening (I’m talking ages 6 and up here) on their way to school. Alone. Without parental accompaniment. Try that anywhere in the U.S., much less anywhere with a subway system, and watch the parents promptly arrested for child endangerment.

c. Kelly liked to joke that in Japan the police primarily exist to give directions, a hypothesis that we were able to test a few times and does actually seem to be true.

3. Japan is clean.

a. See 1a above.

b. See 1g above.

c. In private dwellings and in some other spots you are expected to remove your shoes. I was in Japan less than 6 hours before committing my first shoe faux pas, which just involved stepping my shoes on the wrong part of the floor as we were entering the onsen (Japanese bath, where everyone is naked together—single-sex only—a story for another time and place, perhaps).

c (1). Due to the removal of shoes, you often wear slippers around indoors, or at least hopefully socks without holes. In several places, you were expected to change your slippers into the special ones provided for going into the toilet. Sometimes, these are even helpfully labeled “toilet” so you are very clear about when and where to wear them.

c (2). While on the subject of toilets, Japanese toilets often come equipped with all sorts of extra features, accessible by buttons on the side. For instance, on many you raise and lower the seat cover by pushing a button. Some have heated seats (much nicer than in a car, really), and built in bidets, so you have to be careful to push the right button or else you might be getting some unexpected services.

4. Japan is a technophile’s dream. (These are admittedly all incredibly trivial examples.)

a. See 3c(2) above.

b. Everywhere you go you see vending machines selling beverages. Even beer.

c. I had sushi for breakfast one morning at the Tsukiji fish market, which is where most of Japan’s (amazing, by the way) seafood originates. They had a picture menu where you could pick which sushi you wanted. When I entered (a little counter place that could seat maybe a dozen people) I was handed a laser pointer to point to my sushi choice. Very clever.

d. Along with many other toilet options, many public restrooms feature a motion activated flushing sound effect, which helps obscure the noise of what you are doing in there. Apparently this was introduced to save water from people actually flushing to do this. Which of course takes us back to the “Japan is polite” point.

Since this is getting rather long, I will stop here for now…Next entry will feature a few Japan photos and perhaps even some updates on my marathon training!