First off, for those of you who don't know, my computer's screen has gone very, very dim. So that's a bit of an inconvenience, but I can eventually get it fixed when I get back home.
I had a lot more to say on that subject, but upon further reflection, it was really boring and not particularly relevant. No need to thank me, just doing my job.
This blog post is going to be a little bit of everything, since I don't really have a unifying theme this time. I know that you're all shocked and appalled at the idea that anything I would write for this blog could possibly be rambling and unfocused. Unfortunately the higher-ups here at Barbarian at the Gates Inc. have had their say. (Yes, this is the quality that you have come to expect from me, kind of awkward self-deprecation followed by ripping off stuff Matt Wilson came up with years ago).
Oh, I had presentations a while ago. They were mostly good, but one stood out. The students were doing a presentation about a western weddings (that's weddings that are descended from the European tradition, not those that involve cowboy hats). Anyway, the students doing this presentation wrote some words up on the board that were never mentioned again. These words were:
"Bride"
"Groom"
Okay, so far, so good, that seems pretty normal for a wedding presentation. Let's see what else they have...
"Holy ceremony"
That's a bit weirder. At no point did I ever use the word "Holy", but oh well, let's see what's next.
"Unfasten"
Ummm...whoa. I think they're moving a bit too far into the honeymoon territory. I'm just glad they never actually tried to work that word into the presentation.
One last item. The GTCFLA had a school-wide English competition that included singing, poetry, drama, and a whole lot of other things that I didn't particularly care about. As a foreign teacher I was asked to judge the singing competition. The acts were the usual karaoke favorites (featuring two renditions of "My Heart Will Go On") But, it was all worth it for the....well, words can't quite describe what it was. All I remember is that it involved dancing, and tree people, and a person in a suit that was either a bear or a dog or a monkey depending on who you asked. I have pictures, I'll need to put them up, because what I witnessed defies any attempt to categorize it. It's what I voted for as the winner.
And that's about it. You know what part of essays I was worst at? The conclusion.
Monday, May 15, 2006
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Travel!
Alright, I know what's going through your head. "He thinks that he can just casually wander back after 2 months, and we'll resume our positions on the edge of our seats. Oh, it won't be that easy. He's going to have to grovel a bit." Hey, you have a right to be angry. I realize that the tales of my exploits are the most entertaining things ever, and that my writing style leaves you breathless and wondering how you could have ever even remotely questioned the existence of a benevolent God. I realize there are those of you who, for lack of anything else in your life, sit and reload my blog page over and over again, hoping that I updated in those critical milliseconds (you don't have to raise your hands, I know who you are). I don't have any excuses really, so I'll just assume that, yes, you will forgive me.
In truth, I'm fairly lazy. Plus, China has become so routine at this point that many things that would have had me rushing to my keyboard barely register now. "Oh...one of my students is wearing a t-shirt that actually says something sexually explicit. Ho hum." Even if they do show up as a gnat-sized blip on the radar, I tend to forget by the time class is out.
So, now I'm traveling again, which gives me some new perspectives on the country in which I live. And this time, it's the travelers, not the Chinese who are going to e exposed to my rapier wit and razor-sharp tongue. I'm in Chengdu again. It's quite a nice city, and I'm exploring some different parts of it. That's not the point of this, though. I'm staying at a backpacker's hostel, and it's one of those places that so desperately wants to be trendy- it encourages people to write messages on the walls, it provides DVDs, etc.- but the confusing this is that people actually seem to buy into it. One guy has been here for 4 months.
Sorry, got a bit unfocused, it's the travelers here who shall receive my scorn. You see, of all the trendy things I think this hostel is trying to do, it's the forced sense of camaraderie that galls me the most. Listen, just because you're in China and I'm in China doesn't mean that I will like you or want to talk to you. Maybe I'm just in a bad mood because people kept interrupting me while I was in the middle of reading, but the other annoying thing was that every conversation was basically the same. And no matter what, the conversation inevitably turns towards travel oneupsmanship (a game that I've taken to calling "Anywhere you have been I have been better"...and yes, I know that doesn't make sense)
Oh, so you've seen the Great Wall? Well I've been horse-trekking across Mongolia.
You've done the 3 Gorges river cruise? I'm going to cycle all the way to Tibet.
I've been to Vietnam.
I've been to India.
I can pack lighter than you.
They're like more athletic versions of music store geeks, with the constant need to find things more obscure to appreciate more than your average schmoe. People who've only done the big things are met with scorn. I actually took great delight in talking to these people, just because I have the G-bomb. "Oh yeah, I live in Guangzhou". You see, Guangzhou is like the backpacker's kryptonite. It's an ugly city, it's a commercial city, and there's nothing to do for travelers. There are some hills to climb, but that's about it. After I drop the G-bomb, you can see the look of disgust spread across their faces, and they kind of move away from me, lest they contract whatever congenital illness I have that moved me to live in such a deplorable city.
Now, the other problem with travelers in China are the long-term expats. There's an old saying about expats in China, they are one of two things. Either they have rejected the west, or the west has rejected them. The latter are annoyingly abundant. One such guy was Detroit. Detroit wasn't his real name, but you quickly learn to assign diminuitive and dismissive nicknames to people you don't like out here. I call him Detroit just because he couldn't go 4 sentences without referencing the fact that he was from Detroit. I know, I know, and if you call now, you can get my book on coming up with clever ways of referencing people you'll never see again.
Now, I could outline the various and sundry ways in which Detroit was a shrilly annoying waste of space, but he's not really important in and of himself. No, I'm only mentioning him because he represents so many foreigners here in China. I'm sad to say that Americans are particularly poorly represented. This poor representation may be accurate, but it's poor nonetheless.
I don't actually have as much to say on this guy as I thought. I'm actually going to head off for now, but I just thought I'd check back in with all the people out there. Maybe I'll talk about something happier?
Oh yeah, I also saw a baby panda.
In truth, I'm fairly lazy. Plus, China has become so routine at this point that many things that would have had me rushing to my keyboard barely register now. "Oh...one of my students is wearing a t-shirt that actually says something sexually explicit. Ho hum." Even if they do show up as a gnat-sized blip on the radar, I tend to forget by the time class is out.
So, now I'm traveling again, which gives me some new perspectives on the country in which I live. And this time, it's the travelers, not the Chinese who are going to e exposed to my rapier wit and razor-sharp tongue. I'm in Chengdu again. It's quite a nice city, and I'm exploring some different parts of it. That's not the point of this, though. I'm staying at a backpacker's hostel, and it's one of those places that so desperately wants to be trendy- it encourages people to write messages on the walls, it provides DVDs, etc.- but the confusing this is that people actually seem to buy into it. One guy has been here for 4 months.
Sorry, got a bit unfocused, it's the travelers here who shall receive my scorn. You see, of all the trendy things I think this hostel is trying to do, it's the forced sense of camaraderie that galls me the most. Listen, just because you're in China and I'm in China doesn't mean that I will like you or want to talk to you. Maybe I'm just in a bad mood because people kept interrupting me while I was in the middle of reading, but the other annoying thing was that every conversation was basically the same. And no matter what, the conversation inevitably turns towards travel oneupsmanship (a game that I've taken to calling "Anywhere you have been I have been better"...and yes, I know that doesn't make sense)
Oh, so you've seen the Great Wall? Well I've been horse-trekking across Mongolia.
You've done the 3 Gorges river cruise? I'm going to cycle all the way to Tibet.
I've been to Vietnam.
I've been to India.
I can pack lighter than you.
They're like more athletic versions of music store geeks, with the constant need to find things more obscure to appreciate more than your average schmoe. People who've only done the big things are met with scorn. I actually took great delight in talking to these people, just because I have the G-bomb. "Oh yeah, I live in Guangzhou". You see, Guangzhou is like the backpacker's kryptonite. It's an ugly city, it's a commercial city, and there's nothing to do for travelers. There are some hills to climb, but that's about it. After I drop the G-bomb, you can see the look of disgust spread across their faces, and they kind of move away from me, lest they contract whatever congenital illness I have that moved me to live in such a deplorable city.
Now, the other problem with travelers in China are the long-term expats. There's an old saying about expats in China, they are one of two things. Either they have rejected the west, or the west has rejected them. The latter are annoyingly abundant. One such guy was Detroit. Detroit wasn't his real name, but you quickly learn to assign diminuitive and dismissive nicknames to people you don't like out here. I call him Detroit just because he couldn't go 4 sentences without referencing the fact that he was from Detroit. I know, I know, and if you call now, you can get my book on coming up with clever ways of referencing people you'll never see again.
Now, I could outline the various and sundry ways in which Detroit was a shrilly annoying waste of space, but he's not really important in and of himself. No, I'm only mentioning him because he represents so many foreigners here in China. I'm sad to say that Americans are particularly poorly represented. This poor representation may be accurate, but it's poor nonetheless.
I don't actually have as much to say on this guy as I thought. I'm actually going to head off for now, but I just thought I'd check back in with all the people out there. Maybe I'll talk about something happier?
Oh yeah, I also saw a baby panda.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
It's been a while....what's new in Guangzhou?
Well, Blog title, I'm glad you asked that. I'm sure that out there somewhere my throngs of admirers have been weeping softly to themselves, crying out in their lonliness and wondering how a month without Ben Gulley posting could possibly exist in a world with a loving and benevolent god. Then they remember that it is often darkest just before dawn, and sure enough the rosy glow of my prose comes peaking over the horizon. Hope is once again restored, like an oasis in the middle of the Sahara. Then everyone realizes that the whole "darkest before dawn" saying isn't true...it's actually significantly lighter right before dawn than it is during the middle of the night. Then comes the awakening comprehension that the "throngs" are actually a handful of my friends and family...and that the "weeping" and "questioning the existence of a loving and benevolent god" is actually a vague, tepid apathy. Then I also realize that I ripped off the opening gag from Matt Wilson.
Just a second, I need my checklist...let's see here...
Self-aggrandizement: check
Self-deprecation: check
Actually saying something of substance and worth:...nuts.
So, I'm back in Guangzhou, and I've settled pretty well back into old routines. Unlike the rest of you, spring has already come to Guangzhou in full force. Unfortunately in Guangzhou, spring is the rainy season. I'm not sure how many of you have actually lived in a place with a proper rainy season, but it's not quite what you imagined. Okay, scratch that, it is what you imagined, it's a season where it rains a lot. What I meant was, it's one thing to know about it academically and quite another to live a life where things are never dry. In the 3 weeks I've been back I've seen the sun maybe twice, and it was really hazy one of those times. Combine that with daily rainfall and a humidity rating that would give a lake a run for it's money, and you've got a recipe for general unhappiness. Especially when you consider that everyone has to hang their clothes out to dry and the fact that I've been wearing damp trousers for the past fortnight.
Another fun harbinger of spring is the condensation on everything. Even when it's not raining, every surface of the school has a layer of mist or dew on it. Fortunately, whoever built the school had the foresight to install extra-slick linoleum everywhere to ensure the maximum amount of slipping and sliding. Going from class to class elevated from kind of boring to deadly in a moment. Apparently this is the sign that spring is here for good.
One last thing before I bow out this time. On my 3rd day back I was sitting in a restaraunt with another teacher here, and I mentioned that I won't have as many stories this time around because I'm much more used to China's insanity. "Oh ho!", thought the suddenly anthropomorphic country, "A challenge!" The next thing I knew, a monk had walked in and approached my table. He put a pamphlet down and started talking to me very quickly (whatever it was, he was trying to sell me something for 180 yuan...that much I understood). After a while I just said, "Ting bu dong," which means, "I don't understand". I repeated this while he continued talking to me, and after 5 minutes he finally accepted the limits of my language ability. But, if you can say one thing about this monk, he was persistant. Undaunted by the language barrier, he abandoned his native tongue for pantomime. And the pantomime consisted of:
a). Touching my kidney.
b). Pointing at my crotch
c). Giving me a thumbs up.
So, imagine a monk repeating these three gestures over and over, with the crotch point (already too close for comfort) getting dangerously closer each time. I reiterated my previous not-understanding point over and over, but he could tell I was scared. The blood was already in the water and I was chum. Finally the owners of the establishment chased him out and the meal continued in peace. Never before have I been so curious and yet so afraid of what someone has said to me.
So yeah, China: 1, Ben: 0
At least my crotch is apparently a-okay.
Just a second, I need my checklist...let's see here...
Self-aggrandizement: check
Self-deprecation: check
Actually saying something of substance and worth:...nuts.
So, I'm back in Guangzhou, and I've settled pretty well back into old routines. Unlike the rest of you, spring has already come to Guangzhou in full force. Unfortunately in Guangzhou, spring is the rainy season. I'm not sure how many of you have actually lived in a place with a proper rainy season, but it's not quite what you imagined. Okay, scratch that, it is what you imagined, it's a season where it rains a lot. What I meant was, it's one thing to know about it academically and quite another to live a life where things are never dry. In the 3 weeks I've been back I've seen the sun maybe twice, and it was really hazy one of those times. Combine that with daily rainfall and a humidity rating that would give a lake a run for it's money, and you've got a recipe for general unhappiness. Especially when you consider that everyone has to hang their clothes out to dry and the fact that I've been wearing damp trousers for the past fortnight.
Another fun harbinger of spring is the condensation on everything. Even when it's not raining, every surface of the school has a layer of mist or dew on it. Fortunately, whoever built the school had the foresight to install extra-slick linoleum everywhere to ensure the maximum amount of slipping and sliding. Going from class to class elevated from kind of boring to deadly in a moment. Apparently this is the sign that spring is here for good.
One last thing before I bow out this time. On my 3rd day back I was sitting in a restaraunt with another teacher here, and I mentioned that I won't have as many stories this time around because I'm much more used to China's insanity. "Oh ho!", thought the suddenly anthropomorphic country, "A challenge!" The next thing I knew, a monk had walked in and approached my table. He put a pamphlet down and started talking to me very quickly (whatever it was, he was trying to sell me something for 180 yuan...that much I understood). After a while I just said, "Ting bu dong," which means, "I don't understand". I repeated this while he continued talking to me, and after 5 minutes he finally accepted the limits of my language ability. But, if you can say one thing about this monk, he was persistant. Undaunted by the language barrier, he abandoned his native tongue for pantomime. And the pantomime consisted of:
a). Touching my kidney.
b). Pointing at my crotch
c). Giving me a thumbs up.
So, imagine a monk repeating these three gestures over and over, with the crotch point (already too close for comfort) getting dangerously closer each time. I reiterated my previous not-understanding point over and over, but he could tell I was scared. The blood was already in the water and I was chum. Finally the owners of the establishment chased him out and the meal continued in peace. Never before have I been so curious and yet so afraid of what someone has said to me.
So yeah, China: 1, Ben: 0
At least my crotch is apparently a-okay.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
A little bit of this and that
Alright, so it's been a few weeks since my last entry, and I'm currently back stateside for about a month. But first, let's get into some madcap, belated holiday wackiness.
First of all, I suspect that one of the prior teachers at the school was a Christian with slightly more missionary leanings than I'm used to. I came to this conclusion when, upon asking my students what they knew about Christmas, they would all respond, "Christmas is a joyous celebration of the miraculous birth of our savior Jesus Christ." It wasn't just the fact that each class (10 classes of 30 each) would respond this same way, it's that they would chant it robotically in unison. I assume that the intended effect of teaching this to the students would be to share in some of the hope and sense of wonder that is a longstanding part of the Christian tradition. What it actually accomplished (at least on my end of things) was a knee-jerk reaction of "Augh! Creepy death cult!" Again, it wasn't what they said, it was how they said it. The monotone, completely lifeless chant seemed more applicable to saying, "Soon you will join us in the sweet sleep of death," or something equally gothy. It definitely didn't put me in the Christmas Spirit.
Either way, the students obviously haven't learned anything else about Christmas. I say this, because there's a fairly widespread misconception that Santa Claus is the father of Jesus ("In the beginning, Santa created Heaven and Earth"). Now, I'm going to jump to some conclusions, and assume that after the person who taught them the Jesus-chant, they were taught by a British person who told them that Santa Claus was also called Father Christmas. So, when you know about Christmas being a celebration of the birth of Jesus and this other guy known as Father Christmas, it would make sense to put those things together. I have no idea if this is true, but it makes sense, at least.
I ended up getting invited to another party, which was fun, and as a bonus I was asked more than the same 4 questions I normally get ("Where are you from? How long have you been here? What do you think of China? Can you use chopsticks?") Here was the one main extra question I got asked:
"What can I do to improve my oral english?"
This is a question that makes complete sense. They're all studying english, so they want to know how to speak better. Unfortunately, whenever I respond with, "Practice as much as possible, even if it means using DVDs.", they all give me the look. Yes, the look that says, "You know the real secrets to fluency in english and you won't tell me...very well, but know that when I master your pathetic language I will use its scathing rhetoric to obliterate your puny mind." I try to give them other bits of advice, like how to improve listening skills, but every student thus far has been unsatisfied with my answer. I've taken to just making things up on the spot just to get them off my case. "Oh, you want to be better at oral english? Well, here's what you do. Take the blood of a black cat that died on a Sunday, and then during a new moon you'll need to find a willow tree. Spread the blood around the base of the tree at midnight, and then walk around it 5 times counter-clockwise while knocking on the wood. Next a leprechaun will come out of the roots, and he'll offer you a prize. Don't accept it, and then he'll ask you a riddle. Answer the riddle and he'll open the doors to the fairy lands. In those lands shall you find your english skills."
Hmmmm...that was a bit of a long aside to talk about the party I attended. Anyway, I was at the party, and they were asking the standard questions. After 3 hours of revelry, I decided I wanted to go home, and I'm still unclear as to the etiquette of ducking out of a Chinese gathering, so I made the quick excuse that it was my father's birthday, and I needed to call him (it was actually the day after, and I'd already called Tad). Before I left, they insisted on singing Happy Birthday. Not only that, but they got confused a lot, and thus half of them sang "Happy Birthday, Ben's father" while the other half sang, "Happy Birthday, dear Ben". So anyway, Tad, it's a little late, but class 16 wishes you a happy birthday.
This is long enough for now, and I haven't even gotten to Christmas in Hong Kong. Anyway, I'm home for now. And I really don't know how to end this post.
It's true, I got nothin'.
First of all, I suspect that one of the prior teachers at the school was a Christian with slightly more missionary leanings than I'm used to. I came to this conclusion when, upon asking my students what they knew about Christmas, they would all respond, "Christmas is a joyous celebration of the miraculous birth of our savior Jesus Christ." It wasn't just the fact that each class (10 classes of 30 each) would respond this same way, it's that they would chant it robotically in unison. I assume that the intended effect of teaching this to the students would be to share in some of the hope and sense of wonder that is a longstanding part of the Christian tradition. What it actually accomplished (at least on my end of things) was a knee-jerk reaction of "Augh! Creepy death cult!" Again, it wasn't what they said, it was how they said it. The monotone, completely lifeless chant seemed more applicable to saying, "Soon you will join us in the sweet sleep of death," or something equally gothy. It definitely didn't put me in the Christmas Spirit.
Either way, the students obviously haven't learned anything else about Christmas. I say this, because there's a fairly widespread misconception that Santa Claus is the father of Jesus ("In the beginning, Santa created Heaven and Earth"). Now, I'm going to jump to some conclusions, and assume that after the person who taught them the Jesus-chant, they were taught by a British person who told them that Santa Claus was also called Father Christmas. So, when you know about Christmas being a celebration of the birth of Jesus and this other guy known as Father Christmas, it would make sense to put those things together. I have no idea if this is true, but it makes sense, at least.
I ended up getting invited to another party, which was fun, and as a bonus I was asked more than the same 4 questions I normally get ("Where are you from? How long have you been here? What do you think of China? Can you use chopsticks?") Here was the one main extra question I got asked:
"What can I do to improve my oral english?"
This is a question that makes complete sense. They're all studying english, so they want to know how to speak better. Unfortunately, whenever I respond with, "Practice as much as possible, even if it means using DVDs.", they all give me the look. Yes, the look that says, "You know the real secrets to fluency in english and you won't tell me...very well, but know that when I master your pathetic language I will use its scathing rhetoric to obliterate your puny mind." I try to give them other bits of advice, like how to improve listening skills, but every student thus far has been unsatisfied with my answer. I've taken to just making things up on the spot just to get them off my case. "Oh, you want to be better at oral english? Well, here's what you do. Take the blood of a black cat that died on a Sunday, and then during a new moon you'll need to find a willow tree. Spread the blood around the base of the tree at midnight, and then walk around it 5 times counter-clockwise while knocking on the wood. Next a leprechaun will come out of the roots, and he'll offer you a prize. Don't accept it, and then he'll ask you a riddle. Answer the riddle and he'll open the doors to the fairy lands. In those lands shall you find your english skills."
Hmmmm...that was a bit of a long aside to talk about the party I attended. Anyway, I was at the party, and they were asking the standard questions. After 3 hours of revelry, I decided I wanted to go home, and I'm still unclear as to the etiquette of ducking out of a Chinese gathering, so I made the quick excuse that it was my father's birthday, and I needed to call him (it was actually the day after, and I'd already called Tad). Before I left, they insisted on singing Happy Birthday. Not only that, but they got confused a lot, and thus half of them sang "Happy Birthday, Ben's father" while the other half sang, "Happy Birthday, dear Ben". So anyway, Tad, it's a little late, but class 16 wishes you a happy birthday.
This is long enough for now, and I haven't even gotten to Christmas in Hong Kong. Anyway, I'm home for now. And I really don't know how to end this post.
It's true, I got nothin'.
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