When studying abroad, Americans stick to cultures similar to their own.
“... When choosing where to spend a semester abroad, US students seek the familiar. In Europe and the UK they can be immersed in a different culture, but not one so different from their own ...” further, “... most US students said that their aspirations for studying abroad were to have fun traveling and explore different cultures. That may be fine in the short-term, but not so much in the long-term, when they start interviewing for jobs and find they are competing for the same positions with their fellow exchange students–from China ...”
Our man in Beijing returns home, with lungs only somewhat the worse for wear.
Health Effects of Living in China (for 14 months)
Three themes from the article above: 1) yes, the health effects of living in China are that bad (I heard somewhere that living in a city with Beijing’s pollution is the equivalent to smoking a few packs a day), 2) your body, however, can and will recover (not sure what the threshold is, though) and 3) there are far worse health hazards of living in China (e.g., being a pedestrian in a crazed driver country; I did have a friend get hit while crossing the street. To be fair, I’ve been hit by a car before - and that happened in sunny Santa Monica in California).
I’m very curious about the health effects of short(?) term living in China (1-2 years). Going to get a full blood workup in the coming weeks and planning to compare my labs from pre-China to post-China (after 14 months in Harbin/Xi’an). Though not a perfect science (can’t control for diet/exercise/lifestyle changes; though, I always exercise regularly and that didn’t change much in China - except during the winter when the smog was terrible) - it will be interesting to see if anything (and what) changed.
Simple observations from my first “real” (outside home, not catching up on GoT) days back in the U.S.:
So much diversity!
Even at the Asian marketplace, Mitsuwa, I saw a range of ethnicities: Japanese, Indian, White, Hispanic. America truly is a cultural melting pot. No two faces look the same, unlike in China, where it was easy to pass hoards of people wearing similar outfits, hairstyles, even, expressions.
People can be rude...
Walking to a Starbucks, some guy drove by, rolled down his windows and shouted at me “pick up your dog’s shit!” (I was walking with my dog. I don’t think he had pooped?)
Everything is expen$ive
Find local coffee shop. $1.95 for a coffee, $1.00 for banana. That’s ~140 yuan for a coffee (I was shocked in Harbin when coffee cost more than 45 yuan). 66 yuan for a banana. At my local farmer’s market (literal farmers selling fruit and veggies peddled in from the rural areas), bananas are 2 yuan each.
Blue skies, happy (recovering) lungs
The air smells sweet. My lungs don’t hurt when I breathe in too deeply. I can actually see definition in the white clouds floating above me, in a deep, royal blue sky.
Warnings! Warnings! & more Warnings!
Straws (that can, quite unexpectedly, poke children in the mouth) are considered a hazard in this country. In China, straws are a luxury item that can be used (among other things) to slurp yogurt because the glass bottles are reused and unsanitary to drink from...
The Trump Supporters are Real
Red pirate vehicle spotted outside my parents’ home.
... a blurry zoom in:
help.
Satisfaction in isolation
A man walks by with Beats by Dr. Dre headphones, buried in his phone, unaware of an old lady hobbling by with a cane. She, too, is alone and she struggles to hit the “cross walk” sign while balancing on her walking stick. A mom pushes her stroller of twins, Starbucks in tow. She’s texting on her phone and misses her twins smacking their lips at one another. A lack of smiles and silence where I am used to hearing chatter and laughter pierces the air, broken only by the sound of a dog barking. You don’t hear too many dogs barking in China.
The spaces seem so large. No aiyis (old ladies) dancing in square formation, no large crowds at all - for that matter. Just individuals, mainly, on their phone or their laptops, focused on their own.
The acrid smell of car exhaust hits my nose and for a moment, I’m back in China. I close my eyes and breathe in the polluted scent of burnt hydrocarbons, feeling strangely (unhealthily) at peace. A wet lick shakes me from reveries of honking motorcycles and steaming bocaimian. My dog’s rough tongue scrapes my hand again and I open my eyes. A homeless man wanders by and screams “asshole!” at a horrified-looking women dressed sharply in a suit and heels. Yep, I’m back in the USA.
{this actually made me feel very sad. are there really children that hit each growth mile(acorn) stone within the four walls of the .. Hilton?}
Was sitting in (none other than) the Hilton earlier tonight, sipping some wine and scrolling through Notes on my phone when I stumbled across some half-formed initial impressions of life in China that I had jotted down during my first two (really three, but the first week I was asleep/too confused to function) weeks in Harbin:
as I’ve been dreading dealing with the “final” 告别 in less than two weeks, I thought this might be an opportune time to pen some final thoughts, to accompany my initial impressions regarding life in 我国 (really, 半我国）. Here’s the full first note, written in July 2015:
In some ways, it feels like home. Navigating through a sea of Asian faces feels familiar and reminds me of Japan. In other ways, it feels like I've landed on an alien planet.
The "hhhhh-pwa!" As men clear their throats and spit (unfortunately it does not matter whether anyone may be in the line of fire), the cars (and any moving vehicles) as they plough their way through the streets, the smell of sewer in the streets, classrooms and bedroom at night. The joint toilet-shower in my dorm bathroom.
I have so much to share - but will start with the basics:
People
A cold stare. A prolonged glare. These things most anyone can handle. It's the subtle reminders you are second class, you are less than us, that penetrate deeply - that propagate widely. Experiencing discrimination - even at the lightest level, has opened my eyes once again to the causes of inequality that promulgate through society, from schooling and education to healthcare. When you are chosen second or last over and over, you begin to question yourself. Even the most confident individual, when questioned and tested over and over, wonders.
Have to break through, trust yourself. There is so much work to do.
Product (school/learning experience)
Very personalizedI like how vocabulary learned in one class will be used in another; integrated curriculum helps me learnAlso the one on one focus / kind and empathetic teachers motivates me to do well (eg in my one on one class)
盼着（panzhe- what I miss about living in the U.S. So far- will continue to update this as my time here progresses) *** ... guess I didn’t miss much as I never filled this in ***
and, today, as I looked out over one of the most picturesque landscapes I’ve encountered thus far in China:
and this:
andd 还有一张：
{beautiful forests surround and I’m concerned about a fly landing on my leg... metaphorical?}
I then decided to pen a new note - based on my final impressions of life in China, written 13 months after I first arrived in Harbin:
the full text:
Less than two weeks left.
The "hhhhwa-pa" and subsequent splat of spit on the sidewalk has become commonplace, even anticipated, background noise.
I know when to avoid a (bottomless) child, running eagerly ahead of a chasing, toothless and grinning NaiNai, bemused to no end at the sight of her xiao didi-touting sunzi toddler. Another splat (well, more of a spray) as another puddle forms around said toddler + proud NaiNai. I know now to stay clear. How is another question.
Beyond the bodily fluids (or beside), the noises and smells fill the air. Each season in China (well, more specifically, Xi'an) brings its own distinctions. The cool autumn with the changing leaves, back from 放假, student buzz and chatter fill the air, the cantings open for business, filling the stomachs (and hearts) of hundreds of hungry Chinese students (and I, one of the few waiguoren), dogs run about, 阿姨s and 奶奶s frolick to choreographed dances in public squares, all set to the backdrop of deep autumn reds and sunset oranges and, with cooler weather, a brief and welcome drop in pm2.5 levels.
Winter was here. And thankfully, no more. Never one to enjoy the cold, winter in Xian for me meant masks, masks and more masks. I brought 100多 and had an extra supply delivered halfway through January. My gas mask brought shameful relief. Shameful because few of my research colleagues even mentioned the air pollution, much less complained or took remedial action to avoid it. Meanwhile, I hopped about like a fool, dodging smoke clouds, bus exhaust and an unidentifiable (but surely toxic) vat smell that seemed to pervade the campus through February.
Spring. Could it have come any sooner? Flowers blossomed, birds chirped and finally - finally! - pm levels dropped below 120 and I could exercise without feeling like someone was stabbing at me with a ballpoint pen. The huge migration that is 春节 finally passed and I crawled out of a hole (my cozy studio apartment) that I had dug in a poor attempt to avoid large crowds (but mainly, pollution). Hangzhou, Nanjing, Beijing, Shanghai, Guilin, Yangshuo. 阿里旅行 (Alipay) had been downloaded and who was I to not make use of its wonderfully user friendly flight and hotel booking options and deals 😈 travels in the spring were made all the sweeter by my lovely (& blissfully unaware of the whispers by the many ogling observers) partner Rafai, and I was able to see China again with fresh(er) (less-polluted?) eyes, laughing at the Chinglish, remarking on the Japanese-aversion and realizing how different life here, in China, is from life there, in the US.
With the arrival of summer came a preview of the rolling oven heat waves. I attempted to swim at the campus pool, but there were too many people (is it a pool when you can't really float because you're really just on top of another body?). I tried to find shade, but there was no escaping the beating Xian sun, and I got burnt (like a lobster) as we lounged in Sanya (China's Hawaii). As it is throughout the rest of the year, privacy and shade (?) are hard to find in the Xian summer. As China's Oven starting cooking, ironically, so did I. I finally got into a rhythm. Waking up, exercising, cooking in my beloved 饭锅, writing up my research, speaking more fluid Mandarin, 等。and, as the dust settled outside on my balcony floor, so too did my levels of comfort and ease with life alone in China.
It's still summer now, but the temperatures aren't as blistering hot (aka heat index no longer 45C). harbingers of fall seem to be just around the corner. My flight is booked. My bags are mostly packed (mainly because I won't have time to unpack after I get back from Yunnan). The postcards that I wrote back in August have been stamped (albeit clumsily-- sorry if they never make it!) and sent via China Post. Purchasing groceries is no longer a huge undertaking of effort and mental energy. I have cab friends who don't charge me when I ride and tell me to "just pay next time". My cafeteria lady knows how I like my 冒菜, with extra tofu and greens. "Ah you're back!" says the 菠菜面 people when I walk through for a batch of spinach-pressed noodles with cooked tomato and egg (so delicious). The receptionist in my research building with the kind face, stands up to say hello each morning when I come in; past the shiny red "economics and Marxism studies" poster and golden statue of a (great leap) forward-pointing Mao. And then there are my friends. The ones who have more patience than I could ever dream of having. Who smile when I stutter (mainly in mandarin, but also in English), who laugh when I mix up "pear" and "example" (as in, "now I will give you a pear"), who recommend popular Chinese movies and dramas so I can blend in "even better," who come to my rescue when I am asked to give an impromptu research presentation on evaluating quality of care, who nod understandingly when I say I grew up in Japan, who then tell me they are planning to visit Japan because it sounds not so bad after all and maybe the propaganda flamed and fueled by the government isn't so accurate, that if we foreigners put effort in to learning about China, maybe they can try to learn more about other parts of the world, too.
Summer is ending, now, and it's about time to go home. As I hike through the greenest mountains I have ever seen (in Dali), and provide screenings for children of rural farmers (in Wenshan), and make my way back to the ancient capital and terminus of the Silk Road (Xian), I realize now something I will never forget: that I'll never be truly at home, without China in my life.
Thank you, Fulbright and IIE and US state department and Obama (always) for opportunities that have opened doors beyond imagination.
Thank you, China.
China Diaries: The perils of good, but not fluent, Chinese
Sorry, lotus boats, this has nothing to do with you
I came to a startling realization the other day: speaking a new language well, but not fluently, makes you vulnerable in a more insidious way. My first time in China, I was easily taken advantage of by shady cab drivers who’d shortchange me because I couldn’t even say “not enough.” The second time, my Chinese was still pretty basic, but I had an outstanding research assistant who enabled me to do more than I ever could have on my own and, with her help, the research went incredibly well. This time, I’m on my own with much better Chinese, and my knowledge of the subtleties of Chinese etiquette gets better every day, but I’m certainly less savvy than someone who grew up here.
When it comes to delicate situations, I really need to be on my guard because I don’t have the finesse to assert myself without jeopardizing my professional relationships. I’ve discovered there are some people who want to take advantage of this fact.
The other day I arrived at the address given to me by an artist, and a woman I didn’t know came out to meet me. I assumed she was his wife or an assistant. She stayed with us for tea for a bit, then left us alone to tape the interview. Afterwards, she came back. Her cheerfulness was almost aggressive. She turned out to be an employee at the gallery that represents the artist. She dominated the conversation, bowling over the soft-spoken painter. I felt uneasy.
As we were getting ready to leave for dinner, the inquiries began: Can you come to our first opening? We would be so happy. Can you translate? Are you looking for a Chinese boyfriend?
I made a deliberate effort to distance myself from her at dinner. She noticed. You’re so difficult to read. You’re not sensitive like an artist. You’re logical. The artist put on a strained smile. After an increasingly tense hour-and-a-half, they (she) invited me back for tea. We were pretty far out from the center of town in a less-developed area where the rent is cheaper. We walked back along the poorly-lit road with cars and farm vehicles zooming past. “You walk in between us. It would be bad if you got hurt.” She made jokes the whole way back. “Oh, she’ll say ‘I went to China and they took me along this dark, dangerous road!’”
When we finally arrived, she was very happy to run into a male friend outside the studio, and invited him in. We’d hardly sat down when he asked me, “What are your requirements for an eastern man?” Just as I’d told her two hours ago, I repeated, “I’m engaged.” She laughed loudly. He visibly balked and said, “I have a three-year-old.”
From there on out, the atmosphere just got more and more hostile. I tried to figure out how long I had to stay before it was acceptable for me to leave. She noticed my discomfort and said, “Sometimes, in China, when you make an appointment with someone, other people will be there. Is that okay with you, or does it make you, hmmm…?” She raised her pitch on the final syllable and tilted her head to one side and grinned. I quickly glanced at my watch. It was about 9:45. She said, “Say you’re drinking tea with someone and it’s almost, oh, ten, and you’re not sure if you’re imposing, what should you do?” I waited for an answer. “Well,” she said, “You could say, ‘Mr. Zhou, it’s getting late, are you feeling tired?’ And he might say, ‘No, I’m feeling fine,’ would that mean he wants you to stay? Or, you could say ‘It’s getting late, I should be going,’ and he might say ‘Yes, it is getting late,’ or he might say, ’No need to leave, stay a while’; what would that mean?” The artist looked almost as uncomfortable as I felt. “No need to talk like that…” he trailed off.
A few minutes later, I said “I actually would like to catch the subway—” she cut me off and howled with laughter. “I’ll get a cab—“
“No need, he’ll drive you to the subway,” she gestured towards her friend. She put on a huge grin. “So nice to meet you today! I hope you’ll come to our opening.”
When people (mainly, Uber drivers and fruit sellers) ask me how long I’ve been in China, I usually answer something like “不到一年” - not quite one year. And I realized today that I’m probably going to continue answering this way, even after I pass my one-year mark because (1) it gives me an excuse for why my Chinese isn’t as good as I’d like it to be and (2) because I realize that when I do hit my one-year (which is coming up in almost exactly one month’s time), that it will very soon be time to pack up and go home. Or, more appropriately, back to Los Angeles, where I lived prior to receiving a Fulbright, packing up my life of four-years (including my live-in boyfriend and our dog/rat) and moving out to what some have lovingly (you know who you are) referred to as the butthole of China.
And as I near this 一年 one-year mark, I’ve realized my list - the things that make me feel (ugh) #soblessed - only continues to grow. 大便的 things have happened, to be sure. Ones that have made me want to crawl home, cuddle up with my dog (ok, I want to do that no matter what), breathe in the sweet-smelling, pm 2.5-devoid blue California air and walk through the streets without the sound of a hundred men hawking up a big one...
Pew!
Can we please consider implementing this in China?
I wanted to go home when my brother got married. When my parents got divorced. When my dad’s plane almost crashed and, just recently, when he went through a pretty serious heart operation. When my cousin had her first baby (a boy!). When a close friend miscarried. When I didn’t get into the graduate program I had originally wanted to. When my research didn’t seem to be going in the right direction. When I opened my curtains to the millionth apocalyptic-looking day. When I realized how painful long-distance can be.
A fellow Fulbrighter disappears into the “fog”
But (and there’s always a 不过), for every foggy polluted, gray day, there is always a brighter one to follow. A coworker who proposes an exclusive wine and movie club; a stranger who you just meet and they offer to take you out to dinner/to their home for the weekend/to tutor you for your upcoming language test/to meet their entire family...you get the point- people here are welcoming to an extreme; a language partner-turned good friend who nods her head understandingly as I tell her that if I speak one more word of Chinese my brain will explode; that same friend who then says - “don’t talk, let’s just go to Chongqing” - and then proceeds to plan a last-minute getaway for the two of you; the couple on a train who invite you to their rural home and give you the opportunity to teach twenty screamingly enthusiastic elementary school students English (or, play Duck, Duck Goose and Red Rover); the best friends across the ocean who set up quarterly catch-ups and attend - even when their office is getting raided by French police; the doctors and nurses who are there to take care of your family members when you aren’t physically able to be there yourself; the sibling who sends you weird emojis and refuses to set a profile picture on WeChat so he can “stay anonymous”; the weather, that has allowed for consecutive (what!) blue skies three days in a row; the boyfriend who pulls out all the stops (including working from 10pm-5am local time) to move around the world to a country where he doesn’t speak the language; the strangers who take in aforementioned boyfriend and invite him to play basketball/soccer/lift weights because, as we have both learned, sports is quite the universal language; the advisor who took me in on the blind faith that I’d be able to add something to his amazing research center; the mentors who continue to stay in touch, believe in me and express general enthusiasm for my future even when I am not feeling entirely sure...
Teaching some crazy beautiful kids in Hanzhong, Shaanxi, China
So, 不到一年的中国: thank you for the many, many bright days so far. Though I may not care to admit to hitting that one-year, I am looking forward to the many more to come.
Survived my first Chinese winter! (5 items, in pictures)
As spring turns into summer and I prepare to face life in China’s oven, I wanted to share a few of my favorites that helped get me through the below-zero temperatures (yes, I’ve been spoiled by California weather) and >300 pm2.5 levels - aka winter in China.
1) 3M P95 Face Mask
After trying 3M’s N95, Vogmask, Japan’s P99 (similar to the thin hospital mask you wear when you have a cold) and industrial-level gas masks, I’ve found this one to be most effective in blocking out pollutants and polluted-air smell. You can basically walk through a cloud of smoke and not smell anything.
2) Contigo canteen
So reliable. So worth the $30 on Amazon.
3) Uniqlo Texting Gloves
Purchased in Japan on my way back to China, these gloves prevent the undesirable chill resulting from having to pull my glove just enough to expose my thumb to unlock my iPhone (brrr!).
Luckily, you can find a Uniqlo (优衣库) in most major Chinese cities.
5) Olay Hydrating Moisture cream
Perhaps it was the change in environment, the more concentrated pollution or because I only ate at 小摊 for two weeks straight, but when I first moved to Xi’an, I noticed my skin breaking out more frequently than I was used to. Following my roommates advice to treat “上火“ (shanghuo, TCM concept of too much internal heat), I stopped eating 辣椒-infused spicy foods, and tried a few local skincare products. The thing that has worked best so far is Olay’s Hydrating Moisture cream. It not only hydrates, but protects my skin from the harsh Xi’an winds and ever-present layer of “smog”. Since I’ve started using it, no more breakouts! You can pick it up at any local 超市 (supermarket) in China. I got mine from Vanguard.
In Beijing for a conference and work trip (出差）for the week. Staying just inside the Third Ring, which, until just a few years ago, was considered part of the suburbs (郊外), but is now undergoing rapid gentrification and development to become prime urban real estate.
Glossy, empty stores
There are several new-looking stores and eateries, with large, conspicuous signs out front, but empty (or undergoing construction) on the inside. The building my Airbnb is in boasts a gym, yet next to the high-end treadmills and elliptical trainers, there are no outlets to be seen. Almost eerie, if you didn’t realize this was just a byproduct of fast development:
CoCo Hair - style yourself?
Lofts on the left, rubble on the right
Everywhere you turn, you see signs of a rapidly developing new neighborhood. It is sad to realize this area will likely be bulldozed or wiped out in the coming months - paving the way for shiny new complexes and high-rise buildings.
Same street, two impressions:
A fashionable Beijing resident walks her bike through an alleyway:
Lightbulb, strung up by wires, to illuminate the nighttime streets:
Hutong Tour around Houhai
And finally - a quick look at the old Hutong district (next to 前海 qianhai and 后海 houhai) from back of a rickshaw (三轮车 sanlunche):
Our driver was a Shanxi native, and made joking (?) references about how hungry and tired he was the whole time...
Upon moving to China (more than six months ago), I quickly realized that all my favorite apps, the ones I absolutely depend on in the U.S., were either blocked or non-existent in my new home. Further, I had no idea which Chinese apps were dependable and useful. After several nosy inquiries, watching my roommate get food delivered to our dorm room every other day (miss you @lemonindorm6!), and getting stranded and having 百度地图 come to the rescue, I’ve finally compiled a list of frequently used apps and their (more or less) Chinese equivalents. I call this list:
Which ones haven’t I found Chinese equivalents for (i.e., market opportunities)?
DogVacay/Rover (AirBnb for dogs): the pet market, at least how it is defined in the western world, has definitely not caught on in China yet
Washio (laundry delivered to your door): not here, and I hope not in the U.S. soon either (really, how lazy can we get)
Doodle and other productivity apps: still a major lag here in China. While some of these sites do work in China, the load time is significantly longer, making you question the ROI of using it in the first place
Sosh and other “I’m bored and need ideas from the Internet”: also not here, yet. But these will come..
Things to Be Thankful For This Holiday Season in Xi’an 住在西安有几个条件值得我的感谢
As my first winter in China begins (and the accompanying smog from all the coal-burning 暖气 heaters rolls in) and, in celebration of my 5-month anniversary here in China (周年快乐！), I would like to share a few things I am grateful for this holiday season.
#1: The opportunity to immerse myself in a new language, culture and skills
Learning how to write (paint?) calligraphy from 王欢, above. When she found out it was my mom’s birthday, she immediately ran to her room, grabbed a fresh sheet and began instructing me on the science and art of 中国笔迹！Guess which characters belong to which calligraphist (?)...
Also, a little 羊 in the corner because my mom was born in the Year of the Sheep!
#2: Overwhelmingly warm welcome from everyone I meet in Xi’an, and the added bonus of three amazing new roommates
A lot of people here use the word 缘分 (fate) to describe lucky situations. 缘分 was definitely at play while I was signing a lease for my own apartment in Xi’an when one of my now roommates (second from the left) offered to let me stay in their apartment for a few days. Those few days turned into two months, and now I’m blessed with three amazing 新的、好热情的室 and good friends!
Suqi being adorable with my stuffed 猪 🐷
When they’re not in class or working (so, about an hour each week...), we swap funny words (杀马特。。脑残。。什么鬼？）and play with our in-house 松鼠，啾啾：
JiuJiu helping me with excel.
#3: Living in a place I feel safe walking back home alone at night, or even going for a run (still being cautious, of course!)
#4: Western-style cafes, a gym and familiar-looking cups of coffee :)
$5 cup of coffee with festive cup designs... am in Xi’an, or at a Starbucks home in Los Angeles? :)
#5: SmartAir Filters and N95 Masks!
Thankful to these products for providing clean(er) air, when the outside looks like this (below):
or, this (below):
which brings me to...
#6: Blue skies and sunny days!
Moving to China from Los Angeles, which is sunny and pleasant about 350 days of the year, I have begun to REALLY appreciate the rare blue-skied, sunny days. I would say about 1 or 2 days a week, on average, are sunny, though that doesn’t necessarily mean you will see the sky. Though the air is much better in Xi’an than other cities like Beijing, or Harbin (during the winter), the pollution here is still very real (as you can see above).
#7: Feeling intellectually stimulated by work that can make a difference
As part of my Fulbright research grant, I’ve been working with Stanford’s Rural Education Action Program to help establish a social enterprise providing basic vision care to children throughout rural China. They have a couple vision centers open now and are planning to open twenty more over the next few years, with the ambitious (but attainable!) goal of solving rural China’s vision care crisis.
Their studies have found that over 215 million individuals in rural China ages 5 and above have inadequate vision, and that virtually no village clinics and only one in five township health centers offer optometric services (ability to refract and manufacture glasses). No glasses leads to kids doing poorly and falling behind in school, effects that are only compounded as the child grows up.
I’m also working on a study evaluating quality of public and private vision facilities. More on this in a future post.
Other REAP / CEEE published works can be found here:
http://reap.fsi.stanford.edu/
#8: Supportive family and friends all over the world who send me care packages, updates on life outside China and patiently listen to my endless rants/raves about life here
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday by far, while I hate the original imperialist reasons for its creation and how everyone kinda just forgot it, it’s hard not to enjoy the systemic excuse for paid vacation, eating excessively, and enjoying eating excessively with those you love most. This year, I was able to (force) spend it with my dear friend Christina in Nanjing who I would like to think welcomed me with open arms and part of her bed (this is a big deal for those who know her, she generally has a physical aversion to me)
Check below; we really focused on the poultry part of tradition.
Thanksgivin’
The aftermath
Christina, being almost a true Nanjing resident, took me to check out the “Marriage Marketplace” on Saturday in the local XuanWu Park. What is that you ask? It’s essentially a setting for Chinese parents to post “seeking ads” and meet with other parents in the same situation to network and find a “suitable marriage partner” for their child, with or without their child’s consent/knowledge. These markets exist in many major cities all over China – in this specific Nanjing market, one of the mothers explained to me that the area was split into two parts: “Individual Ads” and “Broker Ads”. I guess it’s really not that different from the states, where you also can pay someone to help you find the love of your life. These marketplaces have popped up as a product of pressures stemming from traditional culture, the economy, and laws, basically all sorts of factors that I am currently not in the position to accurately analyze. On the surface, traditionally Chinese marriages are seen more as a union between families rather than just two individuals, continuing the family bloodline is extremely important, and the One-Child Policy has left parents with pinning all their hopes of grandchildren and a stable future on one child. There is a strong, negative stigma of being in your 30s and still unmarried or “left behind”.
Marriage Market
Christina and I wandered around the different “seeking ads”, paying particular attention to how an individual was introduced (usually by gender, age, height, weight, occupation, income, education level, and a few choice adjectives) and what they were looking for in a partner in all those categories. The information and descriptive adjectives that parents/their children chose to summarize themselves with vastly differed from what I’ve observed on America’s traditional Tinder culture (where the most factual information I’ve seen were along the lines of “I like pancakes”. Though I have to say this is still very telling of a person’s character)
Perusing
Within minutes, Christina’s uncanny ability to attract a large percentage of the Chinese population (second to that of no other foreigner I’ve witnessed) manifested itself as we were suddenly surrounded by a group of at least 15 mothers. After determining where we were from, they were suspiciously curious about our marital status, despite our initial emphasis we were just curious tourists. A few more minutes of commotion later, they judged that we were indeed there just for some sort of deeper culture understanding and we all started to 聊天. A clear leader of the pack emerged, let’s just call her Newscap Lady, who’s presence I immensely enjoyed, mostly cause every time someone asked me where I was from, she would immediately cut in with an eye-roll and a “She’s a Chinese-American, isn’t it obvious?” Thank you Newscap Lady for letting me catch my breathe.
Christina in her habitat
Of course, since we were there for culture understanding, Christina and I started to ask what I would personally consider violating questions: Are you here for your daughter or son? What are you looking for in a partner? Do more men or women come here looking for a partner? Can I look at your child’s “seeking ad”?
To these questions and our follow-ups, we received a myriad of opinions.
Some saw men as being in the inferior position, due to the fact that men had to own a car and a house to garner any attention, as this was indicative of their financial stability and ability to provide. They were expected to also pay for the entire wedding. Someone else added that requirements for men were too high. Others saw women as being in the inferior position since men had too high of expectations.
When I brought up the fact of gender imbalance in Chinese society (generally accepted at 105 males for every 100 females), all the parents shouted in unison that this was not an issue. At this point, Newscap Lady pulled me towards her and whisper(shouted) into my ear “Look, none of them will admit it, but in actuality, they’re all here for their sons, every single one of them”
By now, I felt like Newscap Lady and I had pretty good rapport so I asked if I could see her son’s advertisement. She answered that she didn’t have one up, but that she came only equipped to talk to parents since she wouldn’t consider a match who’s parents she hadn’t already met in person. I answered that she must have a pretty outstanding son considering she was his mother and she immediately retorted back “他一点都不优秀，你看他还没结婚” He isn’t even a little outstanding, look how he’s not married yet.
She then continued on a tirade about American vs. Chinese parents with regard to their children’s marriage.
American parents don’t 管 their children’s marriages, only Chinese parents管 their children’s marriages.
Look how tired Chinese parents are, after raising our children to adulthood; we’re now out here everyday, helping them look for a partner.
This idea of管 I thought was really interesting. Growing up, 管 was used usually in a negative context, 你管不住 You’re too wild 他这么调皮，绝对没被管好 He’s so naughty, his parents clearly didn’t teach him well.
However in this context, Newscap Lady essentially meant love or care for. Only Chinese parents LOVE their children enough to be out here, looking for their partner, American parents don’t CARE FOR their children in this way. Besides the duality of管, I was also engrossed by this lesson of LOVE. Granted, I would be livid if my parents tried pulling off any scheme like this, but it was obvious how much these parents did love their kids and were doing what they thought was best/right. It was chilly enough outside that I already had on 2 jackets and still wished for another one; these parents were putting themselves out there as much as their children in terms of privacy and definitely in terms of effort, constantly networking throughout the day with other hopefuls (Newscap Lady left soon after this to go talk to another mother, and I didn’t see her again)
Clearly there was only one thing left to do at this rate, make my own “seeking ad” to leave up before catching my train to Hangzhou. After much deliberation, I decided to put up all true information since other people were being authentic, I should be too. I also was not trying to ridicule this practice; I genuinely was curious how me as me would fare in this market.
Dating Profile Picture? Never enough children
Translation: Female, Born May 1991, Consulting Industry, Never Married, 170 cm, Columbia University Graduate, Chinese-American. In Hangzhou’s Zhejiang University doing independent research, optimistic and cultured independent woman
Caught One!
As I was about to leave the park, one of the men we had talked to earlier scurried up to me and repeated my “seeking ad” to me word for word, asking if it was for me or Christina. When I answered it was for me, I could swear his excitement ebbed, however he persisted, saying his son was born in 1990. 1990! I couldn’t believe it, already a 25 year old was starting to be considered a “left behind” male. I embarrassingly told him that the “seeking ad” was more for curiosity than anything, but followed up that I was sure his son would have no issues and must be very handsome given how handsome his father is. At this, the father beamed, saying his son was indeed very handsome but unfortunately he had no pictures on hand. After exchanging a few more words, I found Christina and we fled.
My marriage adventures didn’t end quite yet though…
Why Investigative Journalism isn’t for me
Apparently I’m the non committed one and my friends don’t expect enough from me
P.S. I am sincerely apologetic to whatever dragon I’m snubbing
这个好吃的月饼（不是阅兵）是我同屋给我的。过第一次在中国的国庆节过得挺好！Enjoyed this tasty mooncake (not review of military troops, which is pronounced with a different tone: yue4bing1), a gift from my roommate, @lemonindorm6
"The fellow knew that it was over for him, and so he didn't struggle when they led him into the room and tied him down... I cut him open from the chest to the stomach, and he screamed terribly, and his face was all twisted in agony. He made this unimaginable sound, he was screaming so horribly. But then finally he stopped. This was all in a day's work for the surgeons, but it really left an impression on me because it was my first time."
(Story of a Japanese farmer who worked as a medical assistant in Unit 731 during WWII, shared in NYTimes)
About an hour from Harbin institute of Technology lies the remnants of Unit 731, which was set up by the Japanese during WWII to carry out biological warfare research and medical experiments on thousands of Chinese. While most of the original Unit was destroyed by the Japanese as they fled in 1945, the original building as well as a brand new museum (updated in 2015) stands in its place, evidence of a horrifying 8-year period and the unfortunate, horrifying atrocities human beings are capable of doing to one another.
Chinese were injected with bubonic plague, anthrax and typhoid; 3-day-old babies were experimented on and men and women were placed in pressure chambers and tested when their eyes would pop out of their sockets. No one came out of Unit 731 alive.
In addition to the gruesome details of this “devil’s laboratory,” I was surprised to learn that Russians, Mongolians and Koreans were also captured and experimented upon at Unit 731, though the majority of the unit’s victims were Chinese. 8 American pilots were also vivisected by the Japanese, though not at Unit 731. Their picture is below. I’ve included some links at the end of this post for those interested in learning more, as I’ve found Unit 731 is not heavily covered. I definitely did not learn about this in my history studies, and having lived in Berlin for a short time, it’s amazing to see the difference between Germany and Japan’s response to atrocities committed during war. Through its many museums, galleries, through its education system, the former conveys deep regret, apology and a focus on reestablishing peace. The latter, the country I grew up in, has recently caused great upset in the rest of the world but particularly in Asia, due to the denial, wish-washy apology and lack of clarity in acceptance and admission. It’s a shame that a country so focused on pride and honor would act in this shameful manner, uncomfortably denying a past so obviously real that hundreds or more still live today, their existence and memories serving as evidence of the atrocious acts committed in the name of war.
I’ve included a short summary at the end in Chinese, English and Japanese in hopes more people who speak these languages know about this horror of humanity.
(above) A new, updated Unit 731 museum, reopened in September 2015.
(above) In 1936, the “epidemic prevention department” was officially established in Harbin and Unit 731 began construction in the Pingfang area of Heilongjiang. In 1937, the department changed its code name into the “Ishii Unit” after Shiro Ishii, a Japanese army medical officer and director of Unit 731.
(above) Poison gas masks worn by Japanese officers.
(above) “Unit 731 conducted large-scale human experiments on healthy and living Chinese and non-Chinese...more than 50 kinds of bacteria and viruses [were tested] including plague, anthrax, cholera, tuberculosis and typhoid.”
(above) 8 American pilots captured and vivisected by scientists at Kyushu University in Japan.
(above) Video interview of a former Japanese medical assistant, recounting the “hot and cold” experiments conducted on live human subjects.
(above) Explanation of the biological warfare research carried out between 1932-1945.
(above) Effects of germ warfare. This victim’s leg has been infected with one of the many bubonic, anthrax or typhoid germ bombs dropped over villages throughout China’s northeastern districts.
(above) Copies of slides and data from Unit 731 bacterial and germ research.
(above) This was especially disturbing as it confirms findings from the Stanford prison experiment. In calling Chinese people Maruta (literally, wood) Japanese officers successfully distanced themselves from these very real, very alive humans, allowing them to carry out inhumane testing and killings. It’s hard to believe a human is capable of cutting open an un-anesthetized, screaming child who probably looks similar to your own/your family, and not feeling anything - but it has happened and we need to understand how to prevent this from happening again.
(above) Another victim of germ warfare. Many rural residents were infected after inevitably touching grass containing plague germs dropped by Japanese planes.
(above) “Frostbite Experiment Chamber”
(above) In exchange for the reports and data, the U.S. exempted several war criminals (including the medical director of the lab, General Ishii) from any charges.
(above) Post-war positions of former Unit 731 members.
(above) Post-war positions of former Unit 731 members. Several went on to hold prominent positions in government, at top hospitals or companies.
Ultimately, it’s not about what the Americans did to the Japanese, or what the Japanese did to the Chinese and so on. It’s about us as human beings and the potential to inflict extreme pain, suffering, shame and decades of sorrow on what can otherwise be a beautiful experience. It’s about taking the tremendous potential each human being has and squashing it (or literally slicing through it like the Chinese babies in Unit 731) on a mass-scale. It’s unfortunate Unit 731, the Rape of Nanking (before Iris Chang's book came out in 1997) and other atrocities committed here have been largely left out of classes and history books, at least in the West and definitely in Japan. I am writing to my own high school in Tokyo to ask they include this important piece of history in the curriculum in hope that we - as young people and as future leaders of this world - remember our own potential for harm as well as good, and to be aware of how even small actions, comments or biases can lead to atrocities like those committed at Unit 731 in Harbin, China.
