Saturday, October 18, 2008

The Dao of Cellphones

Did you know that when your cellphone is working, it has profound effects on your life? Listen up...

I call my friend on my cell and the phone indicates that I am connected, but I can't hear anything. Later in the day, I call a restaurant. Again, the phone says I am connected, but I can't hear anyone. After the third time this happens, I realize the speaker in my phone is broken.

Later on in the evening, my friend Michael calls. I speak into the phone and tell him that I can't hear him, that my phone is broken, and that I'll call him back.

So, the next day I take the phone to the young cellphone fixer guy who has a little station in the corner supermarket. I tell him the problem with the phone and he looks at it for a minute. He tells me it will cost about $10 to fix and so I give it to him to fix.

I can see that he replaces a part and then he screws the casing back on, but there's something wrong. He does this several times. I'm worried that maybe I shouldn't get my cellphone fixed at the same place where I buy my soymilk. Finally, after waiting for over an hour, he gets it right.

It works, but the next day, someone calls me and says she can't hear what I'm saying. I hear her fine. It looks like my phone has a new problem. The speaker seems to be malfunctioning.

So, I decide to head back to the soymilk cellphone fixer and see what he says. I know he is going to be a little defensive. After all, it doesn't seem like this problem is related.

I tell him about the problem, and tell him I didn't have this problem before he worked on my phone yesterday. He, of course, is defensive, but I tell him to not worry. I tell him I will pay him to fix it. And so, he puts in a new microphone and doesn't charge me for labor. He is very kind and tells me if there's anything I need to come back.

For some reason, after these repairs, I feel more at peace. More clear, perhaps, because my cellphone has a new speaker and microphone.

I don't know, call it cellphone fengshui.

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Memorizing the Card Catalog

I'm immersed in studying Chinese. I love it.

It's hard to convey to people who've never studied Chinese what it's like. For those of you who've studied French or Spanish or German, I would say that it's nothing like studying a language related to English, because it's not.

Here's the best that I can do. If you are old enough, you might remember the wooden card catalog at your elementary school. Well, once you learn how to use it, it's not a big deal. Just look up whatever book you need and then you can start looking for it on the shelves.

Well, learning Chinese is sort of like that. Except you have to memorize the card catalog. Unlike those other languages above, you can't really make associations with cognates, because there are none (except email, which is pronounced "yi-mei-er", and aspirin, which is pronounced "a-si-pi-lin").

Of course, perhaps there's another way to describe it. Perhaps it's like visiting a little village in a fantasy novel, like in Lord of the Rings. You meet all these new people and see things you haven't seen before, and have experiences that you haven't seen before, and then after you've been there for a while (and you think you know it), more is revealed to you and you realize there is a little pond you've never seen, a quiet elf who never goes to the town square, a path behind the tavern that goes to a meadow in the woods....

The Old Man with the Cal Hat


The weather has been beautiful in Beijing lately. As I ride my bike down Qinghua Street, I see an old guy. Face wrinkled, looks like he has a lot of stories to tell.

He's got a Cal (University of California) hat on. I'm sure he has no idea what those letters mean. But it makes me think of Berkeley, of walking around campus, on Telegraph, and up near Strawberry Canyon, near the football stadium.

I want to stop and tell him what his hat means to me. Even for me to stop and talk to him, much less about the University of California at Berkeley, would be strange in China.

So, I keep on going, enjoying the sunshine and those memories.

The Little Red Book


In the school library, there is a little bookstore where you can buy texts to study Chinese. I find a small dictionary that I want and bring it to the cashier at the front.

On the desk where she is sitting are a stack of Chairman Mao's Little Red Book. They're all over China, sold as kitch to tourists. Let's just say I (and plenty of foreigners, and lots of Chinese people, too) don't like Mao all that much. (Dear Chinese censors, please don't deport me. I really like Chinese culture and I have some good friends here who can vouch for me.)

As I give her the dictionary, I point to Mao's book and I tell her I don't want it. She is a little confused as to why I am telling her that I don't want the book, but she realizes what I am trying to say.

"Why don't you like the book?", she asks.

"Because I don't like Mao," I answer. I can see that the air is becoming a little thick, and the air around her coworker, another young Chinese girl, is even thicker.

"Why don't you like Mao?" she asks.

I explain to her that I like Chinese culture and I support the Chinese people, so I feel that if I answer this question honestly, she will think I don't like China. But I tell her my answer, "The Cultural Revolution".

I am surprised to hear someone so young so interested in talking to a foreigner about politics.

She responds by saying that the Chinese people also believe that the Cultural Revolution was a big mistake. But, she says, we don't think it was Mao's fault. He was old, he wasn't really in control of China. The people around him were the ones who orchestrated the Cultural Revolution.

I don't buy her answer. In the West, we tend to not make excuses for leaders who make mistakes. We just say they fucked up.

I expain to her that in Western countries, you are allowed to criticize the country's leaders. As a matter of fact, it's sort of like learning a new language. If the teacher doesn't point out your mistakes, you're never going to get better.

I thank her for telling me her opinion and head out for some more studying.

The Two Jiao Heist

Back in Shanghai, for change, they use coins (like in the States). But here in Beijing, they prefer paper. Even for tiny amounts.

Today, someone gave me a tattered 2 jiao bill (there are 100 maos in a yuan) that would be like a 2 cent bill in the States). You can't buy a small piece of candy with it.

Later on in the day, I was paying for some things in the campus grocery store. It cost 5 yuan and 2 jiao (let's say 78 cents). So, I say to her, I think I have 2 jiao. I reach into my wallet and grab the 2 jiao bill. I am excited to get rid of it.

The cashier, a young Chinese girl of about 20 says I can't use it. I tell her someone just gave it to me earlier today. She starts to get on the defensive and says that she didn't give it to me earlier in the day. It's torn and wrinkled, no one will accept it, she says.

I think she is making a big deal, so I laugh and say, "I'm not trying to cheat you, I'm just an innocent foreigner trying to buy something at your store. Here, take this other bill."

Her friend laughs, and so does she. And I'm off to go study at the library.

Writing What I See in China

Because of the Olympics, Chinese people can now read my blog (Blogspot is not censored for the time being). A Chinese woman reads my blog and writes me a long letter about how I don't understand China, how I don't like China, how I like Taiwan too much, etc. She says that there are other countries to criticize, why criticize China?

Well, my dear friend, I live in China right now. I write what I see. The old guy at the Xierqi subway station who pops popcorn in a kettle over a fire. The guy in Shanghai trying to cheat me. People spitting. All the beautiful Chinese kids. Old guys transporting goldfish on the back of their bikes.

You can leave the censorship to your government, protecting you from, well, whatever it is they are trying to protect you from. As for me, I'll continue writing what I see in China.

The Chinese Matrix

Remember in the Matrix when Neo sees a black cat, and then it repeats, a deja vu? It's a sign that something's going on in the Matrix. Maybe that can explain some of the mysterious things I have seen in the last few weeks here in Beijing.

The other day, I was riding my bike along one of the roads on the campus of the university where I am studying. I large bus speeds by all of us and honks. Very loudly. Of course, none of the students make a fuss about this. I like that about the people here in China. It seems like they are aware that life has its hassles and they don't make a big fuss of it.

Suddenly, I see a student look back at the bus and turn to his friend, obviously pissed off, raising his hands. It's like it's happening in slow motion. I see his facial expression, his turning angrily to his friend. I am totally surprised that a Chinese student would ever react like this, to anything.

Then suddenly it all makes sense.

"Seriously!" he says (in American English) loudly, adding a "What the fuck!" to make his American English more authentic. And so I realize that he's not a Chinese student after all, but most probably an ABC (American-born Chinese) studying here for a semester.

It makes sense, but for about two seconds, I felt I was in the Matrix.

Then yesterday, I was washing my hands in the bathroom when a young foreigner walks in (he looked European or American). As he heads to the urinals, he spits on the bathroom floor. I find this quite strange.

In China there are some people who spit indoors (not everyone, but for instance, at subway stations and other public places, it is pretty common). But, I have never seen a foreigner do it (and I have never seen anyone do it in the university where I am studying).

I laugh and say to him, "Wow, that's a first." I don't think he understands.

Another day in the Chinese Matrix.