Two hours by bus and subway and a world away from urban China.
Jim, Marcus and I were invited (actually invited ourselves) to the home of one of his friend's parents. Both he and his parents, he tells us, are very happy we want to take the time to meet them. I am spending the week trying to figure out the appropriate gift to bring: I settle on a basket of fruit our family picks out from the local city markets because we are told that: 1) It is a traditional gift when Chinese visit hosts; and 2) Fresh fruit that is not grown in the village can be quite expensive for those who live there.
Our friend's parents are "peasants" and the only reason we are getting to meet them is because this colleague did so amazingly well at school that he received scholarships that allowed him to continue in school -- all the way through his PhD -- a literally one-in-a billion case.
So we are all together, ambling up a newly paved path ("This is no good...no plants can grow here now" says Jim's colleague). I'm surprised at this country attitude coming from a city-living PhD-er.
His father and his father's oldest brother greet us: the father in a Nike windbreaker and tennis pro cap and uncle wearing a wool suit. We walk over the path, rice fields on either side of us, looking yellow green in the distance and reaching toward the mountains. The air is fresh.
The house consists of three structures: an outhouse (a squat toilet connected to the pig stalls) an open room with a dining table, benches, a wall full of our friend's school achievement certificates with official red star stamps (the display had to be rearranged several times, as the awards kept coming), and bags of fresh rice from his family's fields (the brown for the pigs, the white for people); and a house with an open kitchen and one closed room: the bedroom.
Our friend's mom, about my size with a brown wrinkle-less face, huge smile, straight strong back, serves us duck with potatoes, chicken, a greens and tofu dish, rice, and stir-fried cilantro. We dig into the greens and cilantro though the family has strategically placed the meat in front of us. It's all just so good.
Later, Marcus and I feed brown rice and its chaff to the ducks, and chickens (which sneak into the dining area, but are shooed away by our friend's mom) and pigs. I admire the baby pigs and our friend's dad makes the slash-across-the-throat sign ie: "do I want him to slaughter it so I can eat it?" Somehow I'm able to communicate that it is not that kind of like, so the baby pig lives another day.
At some point, after several cups of tea, I have to use the bathroom, and our friend's mom worries that perhaps I should use the village toilet, and I insist that theirs is just fine. I try to balance myself and commune with the pigs and it all works out.
We are the only foreign family in recent memory to visit the village, and we try to not commit any faux pas, though it's hard to know what is or is not acceptable. We come to understand that not having third helpings would have been an insult, but we are expected at another professor's home that evening for dinner and not eating at THAT home would have been an insult: so we get away with just having seconds.
Jim and Marcus are doing well speaking and understanding the Chinese conversation. But then Marcus has a hard time at one point listening and smiling to all this adult talk (very few kids in the village as families who can move to the city often do, unfortunately) and asks to play with his hand-held game computer. I say "no." So, instead, he goofs around and starts making animal noises, and our friend's father declares he must be very bright, as any boy in the village who can do such a thing is considered very smart. I think he is being polite, but I'll accept it.
We take two long walks, one through the village center and see a few kids. One little boy starts crying because he is afraid of the foreigners. One little girl hides, then bravely says hello. I make a baby laugh by tickling his feet, so I feel I successfully communicated.
We are invited back, and I am amazed at what I saw. I ask our friend if he thinks living in the city or country is "easier" and he believes country life is better, "because you always have food."
I do hope things continue to go well for his parents. As an only child in a system with no pension, our friend will be their sole source of support should they be unable to work. I ask him what their thoughts are on his amazing achievement. His father's parents were able to afford 6 years of school, his mother's, two. "They have no idea," he says.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
What sabbatical?
I've spent most of the last week line editing 22 student stories. Most of them are fascinating--examples below--but take about an hour each to edit. I've also been invited to lecture at 2-3 other colleges in Nanjing, am working hard on my Chinese and helping Marcus with his Hebrew tutoring. And I'm now one of Nina's acupuncture patients. I went to her clinic yesterday where I had my chronic knee pain treated by the head doctor and half a dozen students. They stuck in lots of needles and used heat from burning cotton swabs (as the smoke was rising, I told the doctor I felt like a Nanjing kao yangguizi, a Nanjing roasted foreign devil). Four more treatments to go. The good news, I'm told, is that none of this can do any harm.
Marcus is making new friends--he's having a sleepover with a Canadian boy and his family this weekend--and enjoying the school. They brought in a former European league basketball player to coach the kids this week. They're also studying Shakespeare, Roman history, maths and Chinese. (He's getting better faster than I am but is usually too shy to speak.) We're also hanging out regularly with Ma Yan and her family--a connection from an NU Chinese prof. We went to the driving range with them Sunday and then Marcus and BangBang joined dozens of kids half their size bouncing around a giant, inflated jungle gym in Baima park. We're going to try to cook together Sunday.
Back to some student papers. I assigned them to write travel pieces during the week off and now they're rewriting them. Most of them have great story ideas although they have trouble with English, particularly our weird colloquialisms. One story was based on a student's visit to a small Hani viilage in Xishangbanna where she and her family visited a Hani home (where they butchered a pig for them) and went with them to pick tea leaves. Another student visited a museum commemorating a shipyard in Mawei that introduced European education to China in 1866, brought foreign teachers here and sent students, some of whom became prominent leaders, to study in Europe beginning at age 12. Another wrote about the freshwater springs of Jinan City through the eyes of a 70-year-old man who has lived there all his life.
"On a sunny afternoon, Cui Liangjun came to wash clothes in a spring stream, and happened to come across another old neighbor. They swung clothes lightly, and let running water wash dirt away. At the same time, they chatted charmingly together, sharing news on the price of eggs, discussing details of their shadowboxing practices, and exchanging information about their children. They both have lived here for many years and are highly familiar with each other’s family. In this traditional Chinese community, a near neighbor is better than a distant cousin. Cui said he knows the names of his neighbors’ kids, breeds of their pets, and their hobbies. “I can even know what they will eat at supper by the smell,” he said.
Marcus is making new friends--he's having a sleepover with a Canadian boy and his family this weekend--and enjoying the school. They brought in a former European league basketball player to coach the kids this week. They're also studying Shakespeare, Roman history, maths and Chinese. (He's getting better faster than I am but is usually too shy to speak.) We're also hanging out regularly with Ma Yan and her family--a connection from an NU Chinese prof. We went to the driving range with them Sunday and then Marcus and BangBang joined dozens of kids half their size bouncing around a giant, inflated jungle gym in Baima park. We're going to try to cook together Sunday.
Back to some student papers. I assigned them to write travel pieces during the week off and now they're rewriting them. Most of them have great story ideas although they have trouble with English, particularly our weird colloquialisms. One story was based on a student's visit to a small Hani viilage in Xishangbanna where she and her family visited a Hani home (where they butchered a pig for them) and went with them to pick tea leaves. Another student visited a museum commemorating a shipyard in Mawei that introduced European education to China in 1866, brought foreign teachers here and sent students, some of whom became prominent leaders, to study in Europe beginning at age 12. Another wrote about the freshwater springs of Jinan City through the eyes of a 70-year-old man who has lived there all his life.
"On a sunny afternoon, Cui Liangjun came to wash clothes in a spring stream, and happened to come across another old neighbor. They swung clothes lightly, and let running water wash dirt away. At the same time, they chatted charmingly together, sharing news on the price of eggs, discussing details of their shadowboxing practices, and exchanging information about their children. They both have lived here for many years and are highly familiar with each other’s family. In this traditional Chinese community, a near neighbor is better than a distant cousin. Cui said he knows the names of his neighbors’ kids, breeds of their pets, and their hobbies. “I can even know what they will eat at supper by the smell,” he said.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Rosh Hashana and The Golden Week
At the end of class a week ago Tuesday (September 23), my students asked me if I was having class on Sunday. I hadn't heard about it before, but it seems that's the price we pay for Golden Week. National Day on October 1, celebrating the Communist Party coming to power on October 1, 1949, has become National (Golden) Week this decade, an opportunity for hundreds of millions of Chinese to travel to historic sites, visit family and spend money. I don't think that's what Mao had in mind, but Deng Xiaoping is smiling.
At any rate, since the holiday doesn't officially start until Wednesday (and all the students leave town well before that), those of us with Monday or Tuesday classes hold a makeup session on Sunday. About half my students came but it was a pleasant class. I also got to spend part of the morning with four Nanjing high school students who wanted to discuss careers in journalism with me. They are even more shy than my grad students but I'm planning to see them at least a few more times. It's the kind of outreach the Fulbright program encourages and it's fun for me.
We'd been thinking about going back to Shanghai for Rosh Hashana since Chabad holds services there. (Judaism is not one of the authorized religions in China but Rosh Hashana is OK since it's a New Year's festival of sorts.) But Marcus's Hebrew tutor Enav told us he'd be conducting a small service here in Nanjing at the Judaic Studies Center. It was another unique China experience.
About a dozen of us gathered around the conference table--Chinese master's and doctoral students in Judaic Studies, a junior faculty member, an old China hand whose connection to China goes back to the days of Kissinger and Nixon, Marcus, Nina and I--and joined Enav in blessing wine (he brought a bottle from Israel), bread (which Enav baked) and plates of fish, fruits and vegetables Enav had prepared. String beans, pomegranates, pumpkin, apples, honey. We talked about the significance of the holiday, said our blessings and ate. A special Rosh Hashana.
We spent the rest of Golden Week following Deng's wishes by joining half the country in Beijing. We've all seen the new China on tv but it's certainly different from the country I taught and traveled in during the mid 80s and the China Nina and I saw on our three-week trip here in 1992. Beijing is a stunning, futuristic city. It also had a palpable feel of political control we haven't sensed in Nanjing. Police, security checks, security cameras. People who are careful about what they say. Tiananmen Square may be filled with crowds but it's clear the Party is keeping a close watch on their make up.
We got to spend some time with our Fulbright friends in Beijing. The Balla family lives outside a hutong (a traditional neighborhood with single story houses that open onto narrow unpaved streets)in northwest Beijing and we met them near Tiananmen just after we arrived (but not until we got our first taste of Beijing duck). The crush of people in the subway and on the street was overwhelming so we headed to the night market where we sampled everything from jiaozhe to scorpions. We did the usual tourism--Temple of Heaven, Summer Palace--the next day, then headed to their hutong and a great family-style restaurant.
On Friday, we visited the Great Wall at Mutianyu--almost tranquil (except for the hawkers) compared with the other sites. Ok, so I bought a "I Climbed the Great Wall" t-shirt and Marcus bought a funny paper hat. Then back to town to join the Ballas at a Uighur/Muslim restaurant with terrific chicken kebabs and a curry, anise, paprika dish that translates as "big plate of chicken."
We paid our respects to The Chairman on Saturday--two hours of pushing and shoving in an endless line so we could spend about 30 seconds filing by his eerie but well-preserved corpse. And more jostling to see the Forbidden City. One thing that hasn't changed in my decades away is the Chinese passion for taking pictures of each other virtually blocking out historic sites in the background.
We got back to Nanjing late Saturday. It's nice to be home. It's even nicer that our adopted home in China feels that way.
At any rate, since the holiday doesn't officially start until Wednesday (and all the students leave town well before that), those of us with Monday or Tuesday classes hold a makeup session on Sunday. About half my students came but it was a pleasant class. I also got to spend part of the morning with four Nanjing high school students who wanted to discuss careers in journalism with me. They are even more shy than my grad students but I'm planning to see them at least a few more times. It's the kind of outreach the Fulbright program encourages and it's fun for me.
We'd been thinking about going back to Shanghai for Rosh Hashana since Chabad holds services there. (Judaism is not one of the authorized religions in China but Rosh Hashana is OK since it's a New Year's festival of sorts.) But Marcus's Hebrew tutor Enav told us he'd be conducting a small service here in Nanjing at the Judaic Studies Center. It was another unique China experience.
About a dozen of us gathered around the conference table--Chinese master's and doctoral students in Judaic Studies, a junior faculty member, an old China hand whose connection to China goes back to the days of Kissinger and Nixon, Marcus, Nina and I--and joined Enav in blessing wine (he brought a bottle from Israel), bread (which Enav baked) and plates of fish, fruits and vegetables Enav had prepared. String beans, pomegranates, pumpkin, apples, honey. We talked about the significance of the holiday, said our blessings and ate. A special Rosh Hashana.
We spent the rest of Golden Week following Deng's wishes by joining half the country in Beijing. We've all seen the new China on tv but it's certainly different from the country I taught and traveled in during the mid 80s and the China Nina and I saw on our three-week trip here in 1992. Beijing is a stunning, futuristic city. It also had a palpable feel of political control we haven't sensed in Nanjing. Police, security checks, security cameras. People who are careful about what they say. Tiananmen Square may be filled with crowds but it's clear the Party is keeping a close watch on their make up.
We got to spend some time with our Fulbright friends in Beijing. The Balla family lives outside a hutong (a traditional neighborhood with single story houses that open onto narrow unpaved streets)in northwest Beijing and we met them near Tiananmen just after we arrived (but not until we got our first taste of Beijing duck). The crush of people in the subway and on the street was overwhelming so we headed to the night market where we sampled everything from jiaozhe to scorpions. We did the usual tourism--Temple of Heaven, Summer Palace--the next day, then headed to their hutong and a great family-style restaurant.
On Friday, we visited the Great Wall at Mutianyu--almost tranquil (except for the hawkers) compared with the other sites. Ok, so I bought a "I Climbed the Great Wall" t-shirt and Marcus bought a funny paper hat. Then back to town to join the Ballas at a Uighur/Muslim restaurant with terrific chicken kebabs and a curry, anise, paprika dish that translates as "big plate of chicken."
We paid our respects to The Chairman on Saturday--two hours of pushing and shoving in an endless line so we could spend about 30 seconds filing by his eerie but well-preserved corpse. And more jostling to see the Forbidden City. One thing that hasn't changed in my decades away is the Chinese passion for taking pictures of each other virtually blocking out historic sites in the background.
We got back to Nanjing late Saturday. It's nice to be home. It's even nicer that our adopted home in China feels that way.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Stories from My Students
I had my writing students interview each other in the first class and over the past week they've been emailing me their stories. Most of them need help with their English writing but they have some remarkable stories to tell. Some are simple stories about having a bicycle stolen or being caught in a bus in a snowstorm. Or about a young woman who nearly had her ear cut off (accidentally) by a mischievous boy when she was 10.
I've been projecting the stories onto a screen in the classroom and ask the writer to discuss it first, followed by the person he/she is writing about. They are good at criticizing themselves (I made a joke about self-criticism, a Communist Party tradition, but it fell flat. But my Chinese tutor taught me how to say it in Mandarin.) The biggest challenge for me is dealing with political/cultural barriers. I'm careful not to interject my opinions about Chinese policies, but it seems as if some things are not even open to discussion. One young woman had worked as a volunteer for the Party in one of the Western provinces, sponsoring events and rallies designed to build up community spirit. I told her I had read some accounts in America about conflicts between minorities and the Han majority and asked her if any of the minority peoples were in any way hostile to the Chinese who came to help them. "No," she said. "They all want to be just like us." End of discussion.
Here are a few excerpts (names deleted) from two of the most fascinating stories so far:
*****
I've been projecting the stories onto a screen in the classroom and ask the writer to discuss it first, followed by the person he/she is writing about. They are good at criticizing themselves (I made a joke about self-criticism, a Communist Party tradition, but it fell flat. But my Chinese tutor taught me how to say it in Mandarin.) The biggest challenge for me is dealing with political/cultural barriers. I'm careful not to interject my opinions about Chinese policies, but it seems as if some things are not even open to discussion. One young woman had worked as a volunteer for the Party in one of the Western provinces, sponsoring events and rallies designed to build up community spirit. I told her I had read some accounts in America about conflicts between minorities and the Han majority and asked her if any of the minority peoples were in any way hostile to the Chinese who came to help them. "No," she said. "They all want to be just like us." End of discussion.
Here are a few excerpts (names deleted) from two of the most fascinating stories so far:
Through the camera len
This is a story about a boy and his camera.
In Guangdong province,there are 67 leprosy rehabilitation villages in which 6500 leprosy recovery people are still living an isolated life.They can not work or play like normal persons.The discrimination against these poor people and their children is hurting them even more than the illness has done before.
_____ as a vonlunteer,came to Haifeng village (a famous leprosy rehabilitation village in Xuwen county Guangdong province)for the first time .During that whole volunteering week, ___had meals with the villigers on the same table,visited residents house by house and help them do some farmwork .He always took a camera along with him in order to record the life there.
“Through the lens ,many details can easily be seen,”___ said .
The head of Haifeng village, whose children go out to work , lives with his wife all year long .When it comes to important hollidays such as the spring festival,this old man’s daghters will come back.
Deng maoman and his wife suffered from leprosy at the age of 14 .To everyone’s astonishment,illness never knock them down.,but strengthen this couple’s love for each other.
Lin Qinghong and her two young brothers are espected to spend their childhood in this special village like many other habitants’ children.Without remote control car or barbies,playing with a balloon becomes their most interesting entertainment .
The faces of them are permanently kept in ____’s photos.Behind the faces,we saw the lonliness ,which is shared by all the leprosy patients.
Now, ___has entered into Nanjing University to futher his study. Before him,a new chapter has unfolded yet. When asked about his plan in photographing, ___ seems to be a little puzzled. “If time permits,I still choose to record the life of people belonging to bottom class in China.Sometims you and I also can experience the feeling of being isolated.”
“The things you choose to reveal in the photos can reflect the way you feel for the reality. ” To some degree,press photography can be more impressive than ordinanry text report.So ___ has a strong desire to attract enough attention and concern from the whole society,making his photos become a bridge between the isolated crowd and mainstream society.
A DEAF GIRL
I want to tell you a story of a deaf girl. In the summer holiday, I took a part time job of teaching a 12 years old girl lip language in a countryside of Qingdao.
Her name is Wangxiao. She is a lovely girl who always with a smile on her face. Her face looks like Yanglan who is the famous TV anchor.
She had many hobbies,such as watching idol play,embroidering,guessing the riddles,and so on.
She was so optimistic to life that you couldn’t believe she was a severe inborn deaf patient.
My work was to help her correct pronunciation.We need pronounce every letter of the alphabet precisely. Meanwhile,we also need read the articles of the elementary school textbook fluently. It was not an easy task. I have no patience. When I began this work I was worried that I couldn’t persevere. However, I was deeply moved when wangxiao pronounced every letter once and again. She repeated it cautiously until I nodecd . Sometimes, she couldn’t accurately pronounce a word although she had try it many times. Then, she saw my mouth shape carefully, tought my throat to feel vibration, and put her palm before my mouth to feel my breathe. I was absolutely touched and couldn’t help bursting into tears when I saw her striving against the misfortune that she had encountered. One time, she asked me: “_____,what are you weeping for, or you have some unpleasant things? ” “No , I just feel a little pain of my eyes. ”I answered. Then she simled sweetly and uesd gesture language: “Closing your eyes for a moment you’ll be comfortable. ” As seeing the smile on her beautiful face, I recognized that what I should is to help her learn skills of communicating with other people as every normal girl rather than have a pity on her unfair life.
In the blog of wangxiao’s mother, I knew she have started to learn surfing on line. Wangxiao and her mother have written several articles to erncourage many other deaf girls,sharing their experience of surmount obstacles in life. They believed that there are great interesting things in their life. Nothing can resist a heart of cherishing life.*****
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
September 18
Today marks the anniversary of the Japanese invasion of China in 1931. Full-scale war didn't break out until 1937 when the Japanese conquered Shanghai and headed west to brutally rape and murder hundreds of thousands of civilians here in Nanjing. So perhaps it was appropriate to lecture to my journalism ethics class today about freedom of the press and the limits on press freedom that are often imposed in times of war and surging nationalism. I ended my talk with Justice Holmes' dissent in Abrams v. US (1919), a case about three anarchists and a socialist, refugees from Czarist Russia, who distributed leaflets in Yiddish and English in the Lower East Side opposing President Wilson's decision to send US troops to Russia after the Bolshevik Revolution. Their convictions for sedition and sentences of up to 20 years in prison were upheld by the majority of the Court. But Holmes, joined by Justice Brandeis, dissented, arguing that these immigrants had as much right to publish their leaflets as the government has to publish its Constitution. Holmes wrote that we "should be eternally vigilant against attempts to check the expression of opinions that we loathe and believe to be fraught with death."
That opinion might not get much support from our current Supreme Court. And it's a particularly radical idea in China, despite some recent relaxation of restrictions on the news media. Perhaps it has some resonance here at Nanjing University, which has a long and proud tradition of protest. We'll see.
We really enjoyed the Moon Festival Sunday at the home of a friend of an NU Chinese teacher. Marcus played with their son Bang Bang, and the two of them found enough English and Chinese words in common--and lots of hand signals--to play together while the rest of us (two young English teachers from Omaha and northern California, an older couple from New Zealand who teach at a Canadian school and our hosts) made dumplings. They live near a big lake in the southern part of Nanjing. It was an adventure catching a taxi--every cab was either full or was grabbed by someone else who outmaneuvered us. A sweet old lady with a fan and her husband felt so sorry for us that they hailed a cab, fended off several people and escorted us into the cab. It can be crowded and noisy here but moments of kindness like that make it memorable.
Nina just headed to Gulou Hospital to work with the doctors there and Marcus is due back in a few minutes. He's got a Hebrew lesson tonight. I'm making some progress on my Chinese and am meeting with my tutor tomorrow. And I'm determined to find the golf driving range this weekend. And we don't mind if the Sox have to settle for the wild card.
That opinion might not get much support from our current Supreme Court. And it's a particularly radical idea in China, despite some recent relaxation of restrictions on the news media. Perhaps it has some resonance here at Nanjing University, which has a long and proud tradition of protest. We'll see.
We really enjoyed the Moon Festival Sunday at the home of a friend of an NU Chinese teacher. Marcus played with their son Bang Bang, and the two of them found enough English and Chinese words in common--and lots of hand signals--to play together while the rest of us (two young English teachers from Omaha and northern California, an older couple from New Zealand who teach at a Canadian school and our hosts) made dumplings. They live near a big lake in the southern part of Nanjing. It was an adventure catching a taxi--every cab was either full or was grabbed by someone else who outmaneuvered us. A sweet old lady with a fan and her husband felt so sorry for us that they hailed a cab, fended off several people and escorted us into the cab. It can be crowded and noisy here but moments of kindness like that make it memorable.
Nina just headed to Gulou Hospital to work with the doctors there and Marcus is due back in a few minutes. He's got a Hebrew lesson tonight. I'm making some progress on my Chinese and am meeting with my tutor tomorrow. And I'm determined to find the golf driving range this weekend. And we don't mind if the Sox have to settle for the wild card.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Moon Festival
The Moon Festival approaches. We've been invited to a party to have dumplings and moon cakes on Sunday. There are many versions of the myth of the moon goddess and I'm sure we'll hear more. And everyone gets the day off Monday.
We all make new discoveries every day. Even in the new China, with its Starbucks and KFCs, nothing is quite the same as in the US. I'm learning enough rudimentary Chinese to order food and get directions (although I don't always understand the answers). Nina has learned how to negotiate with the neighborhood xiguo (watermelon) seller. I taught her two phrases--duo shao qian (how much?) and tai gui le (too expensive), which is enough to bring home a large watermelon for 3 yuan (about 50 cents). And Marcus is adding to his Chinese vocabulary and is the only one of us who can read any Chinese characters.
We took the cable car to the top of Zijin Mountain on Saturday, a great view of the city from about 1500 feet up. The summer heat seems to be dissipating a bit and it was cool up on the mountain and mostly clear. There's often a mist over the city--I'm not sure how much of it is air pollution.
Nanjing may be small compared to Shanghai but it still has 7 million people and buses, cars, motorcycles and bicycles coming from every direction. The cars and buses generally stop for traffic lights, unlike the chaos of Shanghai, although there are no rules for the motorcycles and bikes. (I'm sure there are many rules but few people follow them. And most people are talking or texting on their cell phones while they walk, drive or ride. That reminds me of home but the sheer volume of traffic, even on campus, means you have to remain alert all the time.)
We've learned the route to the supermarket and our favorite new restaurant, Gold and Silver. We're really enjoyng the food--jia chang dou fu (home-style tofu with bamboo shoots and a spicy sauce), hong shao yu (whole fish, sometimes cooked in soy sauce, sometimes in a spicy broth with huge red peppers and peppercorns), suan cai mian (noodles and bok choy in broth), zha daxia (fried shrimp), and, of course, dumplings. We can eat a big dinner for three of us at the canteen next door for about 10-12 yuan (less than $2), or splurge at one of the restaurants and pay 70 to 80 yuan (about $10). And I've been able to do some cooking at home as well--spicy tofu, noodles, rice.
Marcus really likes his school, particularly since we let him take his psp for the long bus ride. They're studying micro-organisms in science (they did a little skit last week), the Aztecs in humanities, measures and metric conversion in maths (as the Brits call it), lots of writing in English, art, music and ICT, where they'll be making multimedia presentations. And he's in the advanced Chinese class, even though half the kids in it are Chinese. He loves soccer(oops, football) most of all and claims to be able to bend it like Beckham. And he's earning points and marbles (I don't understand the system yet) for being helpful to the little kids and being polite and respectful (which I hope he can bring home). Oh yeah. He loves his little British school uniform--maybe he'll wear it to school in Brookline.
We've been watching dvd's in the evenings, including Lawrence of Arabia, Big Fish (highly recommended) and Meet Dave (has some funny moments). We've bought a few that don't work in English or don't play at all, but they usually sell for for 10 Yuan or less.
My graduate assistant from Beijing (she's a doctoral student in history at NU) came here last weekend and we searched bookstores for books about Jews. Nearly half the books in one of the large humanities sections were books about the Torah and Talmud (apparently badly translated excerpts that quote passages about making money, educating children, etc.) and many books in the business sections about why Jews are so shrewd at business. (The Chinese consider this a compliment--they want to learn from us). We also met with Xu Xin, the head of the Judaic Studies program here at Nanda, and some of his graduate students. He's put together a $15 million center with a library, conference rooms, scholarships for students and funds to bring in visiting lecturers and scholars. Most of the money comes from American, Canadian and British Jews and his students seem well-versed in Hebrew, Torah and even Talmud (the real one). He's also got an Israeli Hebrew teacher on his staff who runs holiday services for visiting foreigners. I just recruited him to teach Marcus some Hebrew and tutor him on his Torah portion.
My classes start Tuesday. Happy Moon Festival from Nanjing.
We all make new discoveries every day. Even in the new China, with its Starbucks and KFCs, nothing is quite the same as in the US. I'm learning enough rudimentary Chinese to order food and get directions (although I don't always understand the answers). Nina has learned how to negotiate with the neighborhood xiguo (watermelon) seller. I taught her two phrases--duo shao qian (how much?) and tai gui le (too expensive), which is enough to bring home a large watermelon for 3 yuan (about 50 cents). And Marcus is adding to his Chinese vocabulary and is the only one of us who can read any Chinese characters.
We took the cable car to the top of Zijin Mountain on Saturday, a great view of the city from about 1500 feet up. The summer heat seems to be dissipating a bit and it was cool up on the mountain and mostly clear. There's often a mist over the city--I'm not sure how much of it is air pollution.
Nanjing may be small compared to Shanghai but it still has 7 million people and buses, cars, motorcycles and bicycles coming from every direction. The cars and buses generally stop for traffic lights, unlike the chaos of Shanghai, although there are no rules for the motorcycles and bikes. (I'm sure there are many rules but few people follow them. And most people are talking or texting on their cell phones while they walk, drive or ride. That reminds me of home but the sheer volume of traffic, even on campus, means you have to remain alert all the time.)
We've learned the route to the supermarket and our favorite new restaurant, Gold and Silver. We're really enjoyng the food--jia chang dou fu (home-style tofu with bamboo shoots and a spicy sauce), hong shao yu (whole fish, sometimes cooked in soy sauce, sometimes in a spicy broth with huge red peppers and peppercorns), suan cai mian (noodles and bok choy in broth), zha daxia (fried shrimp), and, of course, dumplings. We can eat a big dinner for three of us at the canteen next door for about 10-12 yuan (less than $2), or splurge at one of the restaurants and pay 70 to 80 yuan (about $10). And I've been able to do some cooking at home as well--spicy tofu, noodles, rice.
Marcus really likes his school, particularly since we let him take his psp for the long bus ride. They're studying micro-organisms in science (they did a little skit last week), the Aztecs in humanities, measures and metric conversion in maths (as the Brits call it), lots of writing in English, art, music and ICT, where they'll be making multimedia presentations. And he's in the advanced Chinese class, even though half the kids in it are Chinese. He loves soccer(oops, football) most of all and claims to be able to bend it like Beckham. And he's earning points and marbles (I don't understand the system yet) for being helpful to the little kids and being polite and respectful (which I hope he can bring home). Oh yeah. He loves his little British school uniform--maybe he'll wear it to school in Brookline.
We've been watching dvd's in the evenings, including Lawrence of Arabia, Big Fish (highly recommended) and Meet Dave (has some funny moments). We've bought a few that don't work in English or don't play at all, but they usually sell for for 10 Yuan or less.
My graduate assistant from Beijing (she's a doctoral student in history at NU) came here last weekend and we searched bookstores for books about Jews. Nearly half the books in one of the large humanities sections were books about the Torah and Talmud (apparently badly translated excerpts that quote passages about making money, educating children, etc.) and many books in the business sections about why Jews are so shrewd at business. (The Chinese consider this a compliment--they want to learn from us). We also met with Xu Xin, the head of the Judaic Studies program here at Nanda, and some of his graduate students. He's put together a $15 million center with a library, conference rooms, scholarships for students and funds to bring in visiting lecturers and scholars. Most of the money comes from American, Canadian and British Jews and his students seem well-versed in Hebrew, Torah and even Talmud (the real one). He's also got an Israeli Hebrew teacher on his staff who runs holiday services for visiting foreigners. I just recruited him to teach Marcus some Hebrew and tutor him on his Torah portion.
My classes start Tuesday. Happy Moon Festival from Nanjing.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Traditional Chinese Medicine #1
This is my first blog from Nanjing and it's a little too early in the morning for me to be writing--but I'll try to give some context and not sound too flat. I feel lucky to be here with Jim & Marcus and even luckier that Mount Auburn Hospital granted me an academic leave to be learning something I had only read about with interest -- Traditional Chinese Medicine. And I owe it to one of Jim's colleagues at Northeastern (who was willing to call/e-mail friends, who e-mailed friends, who e-mailed friends--literally) who connected me with a TCM school that teaches one small section in English that had a class starting soon after I arrived.
Nanjing's school of TCM is associated with the World Health Organization and had taught Giovanni Maciocia, the doctor who wrote the textbook on the topic: The Foundations of Chinese Medicine.
Why study it at all?
One thing I've focused on in medicine is why, despite money, resources, some patients do not receive good treatment. Those patients tend to have problems -- such as addictive disorders -- that are not "solved" easily, and therefore become a frustration to their doctors who naturally want to see good results of their hard work. When I worked for Health Care for the Homeless, acupuncture to the ear was prescribed for patients who were withdrawing from alcohol, to help with the craving. At $2 a session at the Fenway health center, they sat in a room with others getting the same treatment (a needle placed on a certain point on the ear), drinking tea. And I heard from some of those patients that it seemed to work -- whether it was the point, the company of others in similar situation, time away from alcohol.
The school is a long hot walk from our apartment along streets with intersections more complicated to cross than Times Square (yes, even with the current construction there) because sidewalks also host motorcyclists/bicyclist/motorbike riders but the hard part is that unless I take an even longer and hotter route there is no caffeine to be had before I walk into the classroom.
The classroom has five rows of wooden desks, padded chairs, and in the left front corner, a lifesize white model of naked (though somewhat edited) man with blue and red acupuncture points mapped out.
Up front is a blackboard where two doctors stand, with cups of hot tea which they sip from during lectures. The older doctor lectures in Chinese. The younger once translates in English. It is the lingua of our class which includes myself, and 7 other doctors, one each from Switzerland, Poland, Turkey, Australia, Japan and two from Mexico. I am among the three who are Western-trained internal medicine docs, the others are acupuncturists looking for more training.
We ended up in this sometimes stuffy, sometimes cool (depending upon who gets control of the floor to ceiling "cooling tower" of an air conditioner first) through the usual ways, internet, word of mouth, and two are repeat students looking for more advanced knowledge.
Included in the course is a 590 page textbook, and a foot tall plastic model of, who guessed it, Acupuncture-Man.
What is different about this medical learning versus that I've done in the past will be a topic for another day. But even more is the same: after a little learning, we are all diagnosing ourselves. As is obvious to all of you who know me, I have way to much yang, I always feel hot, I like spicy food & stimulants (cafeine) , don't like to be quiet. I made this claim when I was cranking the air conditioner and got a laugh from my classmate who wanted the AC off and suffers from, you guessed it, yang deficiency.
Hoping you all have had a good meal (an old Chinese greeting)...Irene
Nanjing's school of TCM is associated with the World Health Organization and had taught Giovanni Maciocia, the doctor who wrote the textbook on the topic: The Foundations of Chinese Medicine.
Why study it at all?
One thing I've focused on in medicine is why, despite money, resources, some patients do not receive good treatment. Those patients tend to have problems -- such as addictive disorders -- that are not "solved" easily, and therefore become a frustration to their doctors who naturally want to see good results of their hard work. When I worked for Health Care for the Homeless, acupuncture to the ear was prescribed for patients who were withdrawing from alcohol, to help with the craving. At $2 a session at the Fenway health center, they sat in a room with others getting the same treatment (a needle placed on a certain point on the ear), drinking tea. And I heard from some of those patients that it seemed to work -- whether it was the point, the company of others in similar situation, time away from alcohol.
The school is a long hot walk from our apartment along streets with intersections more complicated to cross than Times Square (yes, even with the current construction there) because sidewalks also host motorcyclists/bicyclist/motorbike riders but the hard part is that unless I take an even longer and hotter route there is no caffeine to be had before I walk into the classroom.
The classroom has five rows of wooden desks, padded chairs, and in the left front corner, a lifesize white model of naked (though somewhat edited) man with blue and red acupuncture points mapped out.
Up front is a blackboard where two doctors stand, with cups of hot tea which they sip from during lectures. The older doctor lectures in Chinese. The younger once translates in English. It is the lingua of our class which includes myself, and 7 other doctors, one each from Switzerland, Poland, Turkey, Australia, Japan and two from Mexico. I am among the three who are Western-trained internal medicine docs, the others are acupuncturists looking for more training.
We ended up in this sometimes stuffy, sometimes cool (depending upon who gets control of the floor to ceiling "cooling tower" of an air conditioner first) through the usual ways, internet, word of mouth, and two are repeat students looking for more advanced knowledge.
Included in the course is a 590 page textbook, and a foot tall plastic model of, who guessed it, Acupuncture-Man.
What is different about this medical learning versus that I've done in the past will be a topic for another day. But even more is the same: after a little learning, we are all diagnosing ourselves. As is obvious to all of you who know me, I have way to much yang, I always feel hot, I like spicy food & stimulants (cafeine) , don't like to be quiet. I made this claim when I was cranking the air conditioner and got a laugh from my classmate who wanted the AC off and suffers from, you guessed it, yang deficiency.
Hoping you all have had a good meal (an old Chinese greeting)...Irene
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