Signs

I have a great fondness for much of the signage I've encountered during my travels around Hunan Province thus far. When I try to explain to my Chinese friends why I'm always running around photographing signs, they just sort of stare at me with a puzzled look. It's because they're funny!

For your enjoyment, here are a couple of sign-related highlights from the trip to Shaoshan that I blogged about recently:

Don't just avoid trampling the flowers and grass. Love them. Care for them.

I.e., you're in Mao's birthplace... show some respect! Don't be misbehaving.

Some signs from my visit to Kaifu Temple, an ancient Buddhist site in Changsha:

(Uh, yeah, for those of you who've never been to China, this type of sign is very necessary; more on that in a later post).

Ladies first? Yeah, right! In China, it's every man, woman or child, pregnant, disabled or elderly person for him (or her) self!

Finally, a sampling of signage from Orange Island Park (yet another Mao tribute site) in Changsha:

Though this one may not look so interesting, it hold special significance for me... it's the first sign written in Chinese characters that I was able to read all by myself! (For those not in the know, it says, "20 yuan per person").

And now, my personal favorite:

Can't you see the little grinning blades of grass? Why would you want to step on them? What's wrong with you?!

Mosquitos, Research, and Dragon Boat Festival

This will be somewhat of a "catch-up" post, as I've failed of late in the diligence department when it comes to making regular updates. So, last week I finally started my data collection (yes, the actual reason I came to China in the first place), which involved visiting three elementary schools in the rural countryside surrounding the city of Changsha. Our mission included obtaining height and weight measurements for all fourth grade students at each school, followed by distribution of a questionnaire for the students to take home to their parents.

On Thursday, the "big day" on which I was to begin my research, I woke up feeling excited but a bit groggy due to difficulty sleeping the night before. Why, you ask? Well, let's just say that that rainy, humid, and frankly somewhat miserable climate which typifies Changsha at this time of year provides the ideal breeding ground for our dear friends the mosquitoes. During Wednesday night alone, I acquired 5 new mosquito bites on my arms and legs, and one additional bite in what is quite possibly the worst imaginable place. See exhibit A:

Yes, the rogue mosquito apparently felt it necessary to bite me not only on my extremities, but on my EYELID as well. Who gets a mosquito bite on their eyelid, you ask? Apparently, I do. On the day I am to begin my research. Talk about timing.

Thankfully, my giant swollen eyelid was not as swollen by day's end (it was definitely still noticeable, but had gone from a "10" to maybe a "3" or "4"). Still, I'm fairly confident that the many Chinese schoolchildren I met that day thought I was even more strange-looking given my unfortunate physical deformity. As it was, I was already somewhat of an "odd duck" in their minds, what with my tall stature and big blue eyes. In fact, I'm quite sure that the simple sight of me may have been the highlight of many a child's day, so much so that one of them quite adorably approached me and asked in broken English for my email address. Most, though, were only able to utter an enthusiastic "Hello!" before laughing and pointing at me and running in the opposite direction.

Here's a pic with me and some of the kiddos:

After our research activities for the day had concluded, my advisor and her colleagues took me THE place to go in Changsha when one has something to celebrate... KTV!! For the uninitiated, KTV = Karaoke... but a much cooler version than one experiences in most places in the US as you get your own private room in which to make a fool of yourself in front of your friends (as opposed to having to do it in front of an entire bar full of people in the US version). So, at 2pm on a Thursday, there I was, with my research colleagues enjoying what may be their favorite pastime. I must admit, I was a bit surprised at how seriously my Chinese friends took their KTV... especially given that there was not a drop of alcohol involved. To put it simply, they were into it! I was quite impressed by their vocal stylings.

Afterwards, my advisor graciously took me to get what may be one of the greatest inventions of all time... a "Glade Plug-In"-style mosquito repelling device that has since become my best friend. Behold...

So far, I haven't gotten a single other mosquito bite in my room! Hallelujah.

Finally, to wrap up this post, I will give a brief synopsis of the Dragon Boat festivities I experienced earlier this week. Basically, Dragon Boat Festival is celebrated in China each year on "the fifth day of the fifth lunar month" to honor a famous poet who lived in the days of the Emperors. As the story goes, "Qu Yuan served as minister to the Zhou Emperor. A wise and articulate man, he was loved by the common people. He did much to fight against the rampant corruption that plagued the court -- thereby earning the envy and fear of other officials. Therefore, when he urged the emperor to avoid conflict with the Qin Kingdom, the officials pressured the Emperor to have him removed from service." Soon after this, Qu Yuan "fell into despair and threw himself into the Milou river. As he was so loved by the people, fishermen rushed out in long boats, beating drums to scare the fish away, and throwing zong zi into the water to feed the braver fish so that they would not eat Qu Yuan's body."

Great story, huh? In some Chinese cities, they actually hold Dragon Boat races to celebrate the holiday. But in Changsha, the modern-day celebration of Dragon Boat Festival mainly consists of getting the day off from work to consume massive quantities of zong zi, which basically consist of sticky rice and various fillings (beans, dates, fruit, meat, etc. depending on the region of China) wrapped in corn leaves, and look like this:

But perhaps the highlight of the Dragon Boat Festival festivities included a trip to our local "hot pot" restaurant. This is a very communal style of eating that basically involves ordering all kinds of meats and veggies and cooking them in a boiling broth. Here's a pic of our crew partaking in the joys of hot pot:

Happy Dragon Boat Festival!

Dinner

When you're in a country where you don't speak the language, even the simplest tasks (read: going to the supermarket, taking a taxi, etc.) become a challenge. For someone who prides herself on being fairly independent, this can be frustrating, as it requires partial if not total dependence on others to complete even basic errands. And this becomes especially difficult when it's 7pm, you haven't eaten a thing all day besides a small packet of Chinese Oreo cookies (similar to the original, except that the cream kind of makes my tongue tingle a little... I won't analyze that too much!), and you really don't want to bother the sweet little undergraduate nursing students who've so kindly led you around the city since you've arrived and patiently tolerated your complete lack of Chinese language abilities. So tonight, I do something I've never done before. After consulting the cheat-sheet of "survival Chinese" my friend put together for me, I pick out a phrase that seems relatively easy to pronounce and decide that will be my dinner. And I head out to the little restaurant near my dorm on campus, march inside, approach the counter, and try to say in my best Mandarin intonation, chao fan (that is, fried rice). With the woman behind the counter shooting me a puzzled look, I repeat myself: chao fan, hoping against hope that she'll simply nod and jot down my order on her little notepad. This time, she seems to catch my drift, but asks a question in return. Crap. I nod my head, clueless as to what she is saying; truth be told, it could have been anything from, "Would you like crickets on that?" to "Extra spicy?" to "Stupid American girl, what's wrong with you?" I have no clue. But I do succeed in ordering a dish that I hope will in some way resemble fried rice. Victory!

Five minutes later, the woman hands me a plastic bag with a small styrofoam takeout container inside and I grasp it, victorious, and practically skip out of the restaurant with my head held high, my first food order in Chinese an apparent success. Back up in my dorm room, I open the container excitedly and... well, it's food. It's fried. But it's definitely not rice. (Presumably, though, the noodles are made of rice, right? Close enough!) I dig in, satisfied both with my achievement -- however small -- and my dinner.

One Week Down

Hard as it may be to believe, as of today I've been in China exactly one week. After some initial culture shock and a bit of a health scare, I really do feel as if I'm settling in nicely. China, of course, is incredibly different from the US in countless ways, the true extent of which cannot be fully appreciated until you experience it for yourself. One of the most obvious of these differences became apparent to me shortly after the plane touched down in Changsha, a city of just under two million people (small, by Chinese standards) which will be my home for the next two months. After deplaning and finding my way to the baggage claim area, I took my position by the carousel as I have done so many times before. But despite the fact that there was only about a foot or so between me and the carousel, over the next 20 minutes countless people would step in front of me, nudging me from the right, from the left, from behind, in such a way that would have been considered rude by American standards. Yet I can't say that I sensed any rudeness or hostility from the people surrounding me; I'd describe it as more of a complete lack of regard for what most Americans would consider "personal space." Of course, compared with the US, there are many more people in China concentrated in a much smaller area; I read recently that while China and the US are nearly identical in size, approximately 75% of the Chinese population of 1.3 billion people lives on only 15% of the landmass, with the vast majority of land being comprised of uninhabitable mountain ranges, vast stretches of desert, etc. And so it is that the Chinese people have become accustomed to being pushed, shoved, and on a good day, gently nudged by their fellow countrymen. It's all part of the culture here, and no one's getting bent out of shape about it.

What's funny, though, is that in my short week here so far it occurs to me that the Chinese like to use their country's insanely large (and growing) population as the excuse for all sorts of things. Chaos in the street because pedestrians cross the road at will? There are just too many people! Have to wait for hours to get in to see the doctor? Get in line, there are just too many people! Toddlers flying around with their parents on mopeds, with not a helmet in sight? You guessed it -- there are just too many people to enforce any kind of law prohibiting such a practice. It occurs to me that there are a lot of people in many US cities -- New York, for example -- and yet there are such things as crosswalks, doctor's appointments, and traffic laws. It seems to me that there is something larger at work here -- a different set of cultural norms, perhaps -- which is more responsible for the way things are than just the population size alone. Still, I feel privileged to find myself here in this strange land, and I can't wait to explore more of this crazy, fascinating country called China.