January 18, 2007

Hi All,

We’re still in China and still loving it, though somehow the whole fall term has come and gone since my last update.

In the sleeping berth on the train

We went to Beijing just before the start of the fall term. The train ride from Nanjing to Beijing took about twelve hours. It was an overnight train, so we splurged for soft sleeper tickets. Soft sleepers consist of four bunks with soft matresses, two upper and two lower, in a small compartment. There is a small, hard-to-reach overhead bin for luggage; anything that won’t fit there has to share the bunk with you. There is a narrow bit of floor space between the cots, but if all four occupants were to stand there at once, they would have to be on very friendly terms, and there would be no way to open the door. Kate and I had the upper bunks; our roommates were a man and his daughter, who looked to be about twelve or thirteen. There was a screen at the foot of each bunk for viewing on-demand movies. Earphones and a remote were tucked into a little mesh pocket on the wall above each bunk. The daughter, under Kate’s bunk, was watching an American science fiction movie. I wasn’t having any luck navigating the Chinese menus, so she helped me load the movie. Like all Chinese students, she was learning English and seemed glad for the opportunity to practice with a foreigner. We reached Beijing late the next morning, checked into our hotel, bought a map, and went out to see the sights.

Tiananmen Square

It was a 20-minute walk to Tiananmen Square, which is billed as the world’s largest public square. It is certainly large; the story is that Chairman Mao could stand in the Square and review a million of his troops. That figure may be down a few thousand these days; Mao’s mausoleum now occupies a substantial section of the south end of the square, with Mao’s preserved body on display to the public, like the bodies of Lenin and Ho Chi Minh. There are usually long lines to view his body. Taking pictures is not allowed; cameras, bags, and other personal items must be left outside. There is no stopping for a long look, either; guards keep the line moving, so that the view is limited to a few seconds while shuffling past the Chairman’s glass-encased remains. We did not go in. It will be interesting to note how Chinese historians regard Mao in another generation or two. It is generally acknowledged that his excesses during the Cultural Revolution produced tragic results, and he is recognized as a flawed hero of the people; the official Party line is that Mao was 70 percent right, 30 percent wrong. Despite his flaws, he remains the face of the Revolution. His picture appears everywhere, including on all denominations of the paper currency.

It is, of course, impossible to stand in Tiananmen Square and not remember the pro-democracy demonstrations of 1989 and the government’s swift and deadly response, though there are no visible reminders of this. When we visited the Square, there were several thousand people there, but it was not crowded. A few people flew kites, but most simply wandered around to see the sights and take photos of landmarks. Tiananmen Square is a large rectangle, bound on the west by the Great Hall of the People where the National People’s Congress meets. The People’s Congress was in session that day, so no people were allowed inside. The Museum of Chinese History and the Museum of the Chinese Revolution share one large building just east of the Square. In the center of the Square you will find the Monument to the People’s Heroes, a granite obelisk more than 120 feet tall. At the north end stands the Gate of Heavenly Peace, the entrance to the Forbidden City.

An important Tiananmen Square experience is to observe the raising of the flag at sunrise or its lowering at sunset. The flag ceremonies are performed by troops of the People’s Liberation Army who are renowned for their precision marching and formations. We watched the lowering on a windy and rainy evening, and the troops all stopped to pull on plastic rain gear, which I think detracted from the dignified solemnity of the whole proceeding. But a large crowd gathered to watch, and opportunistic umbrella vendors were also on hand.

Forbidden City

Entrance to the Forbidden City is no longer forbidden to anyone having the 40 yuan ($5) price of admission. It is a remarkably dense cluster of Chinese imperial architecture. I don’t remember ever giving much thought to the Forbidden City before seeing it, but I was completely surprised by the size of it. I guess I expected a rather small, exclusive, royal family enclave, something like the Bush estate in Kennebunkport or the Kennedy compound at Hyannisport. What we found instead was a massive walled complex of governmental buildings, temples, theatres, residences, gardens, and more. A courtyard adjacent to the Supreme Harmony Gate is said to accommodate an audience of 100,000. The Hall of Supreme Harmony, the most important of the Three Great Halls, was surrounded by scaffolding and closed for repairs when we were there in August 2006. There was, nonetheless, a seemingly endless stream of halls and pavilions filled with furniture, artwork, calligraphy, jewelry, and other items from the Ming and Qing Dynasties. We spent most of a day in the Forbidden City; to see everything in every building there would take at least a week.

More in Beijing: Lama Temple and Lamasery

While in Beijing, we also visited the Lama Temple and Lamasery (a monastery for Tibetan or Mongolian lamas). According to The Lonely Planet, this is the “most renowned Tibetan Buddhist temple outside Tibet.” It is large and highly colorful. There were shops along the street just outside the Temple selling incense, images of Buddha, prayer wheels, prayer flags, and other Buddhist goods. On the Temple grounds there is a 55-feet high Buddha carved from sandalwood.

Hutongs

Bejing is home to unique residential areas called “hutongs.” These are tightly packed clusters of small homes with narrow walkways or alleys winding through them. Some are bleak and primitive, lacking heat, air conditioning, and modern plumbing. In these, you can sometimes smell the communal bathrooms before you see them. Other more gentrified hutongs have become enclaves for artists, entrepreneurs, and Beijing’s upwardly mobile professionals. Many of Beijing’s hutongs have been designated as places of historic significance to be preserved, but are nonetheless being razed in the city’s all-out effort to present a prosperous 21st-century face to the world for the 2008 Olympic Games.

The Great Wall

No trip to China would be complete without seeing the Great Wall. Approximately 5,000 kilometers in length, there are lots of places to see the Wall, but one of the most popular, and the one we chose, was at Badaling, 70 kilometers northwest of Beijing. We rode the No. 919 bus there, splurging on the nonstop, luxury, air-conditioned bus at 10 yuan ($1.25) apiece each way. The regular, non-air-conditioned bus takes twice as long to get there, but costs only 5 yuan. The entry to the Wall at Badaling is lined with souvenir shops. For a 45 yuan admission fee, you can walk atop the Wall either to your left or right.

In both directions, the Wall zigzags through very rough and steep mountainous terrain. The climbs are often steep, and the stairs provide a good workout. We turned left and walked, climbed, and huffed and puffed for a couple of hours. The Wall at Badaling was built during the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644), making it one of the later sections of the Wall; the earliest sections date to the 3rd Century B.C.E. The construction is a rammed-earth core paved with stone; it is about 25 feet high and nearly twenty feet wide – wide enough for five horses or ten men walking side-by-side – with frequent watchtowers. The view was spectacular. From any high point, we could see the Wall winding through the mountains as far as we could see.

There were thousands of other sight-seers spread out along the Wall, but for the most part it didn’t seem crowded or congested. We doubled back to the entrance and continued on to the right. There were fewer people on this section of the Wall, though that may have been simply because it was later in the day. We followed the Wall in this direction until we reached a barricade marking the end of that portion of the Wall that was open to the public. Just beyond the barricade we could see restoration work underway on the next section. We also saw a train of fifteen or twenty pack horses moving along a narrow path just below us carrying materials to the worksite. It was a reminder of just how staggering the sheer logistics of building the Wall through these mountains must have been. All along the Wall there are vendors selling maps, guidebooks, drinks (the cost of bottled water goes up as you get farther away from the entrance), and certificates to prove that you have climbed the Wall. The certificates are important because Chairman Mao once declared, “He who has not climbed the Great Wall is not a true man.” All Chinese people seem to know this saying, and our male students are ruefully self-conscious of having not yet set foot on the Wall.

We returned to Fuyang at the end of August, a few days before the start of the fall term. We were scheduled to teach freshmen again this year, but between their late arrival and two weeks of military training, classes for freshmen wouldn’t begin until October. So Kate and I were given temporary teaching assignments for September. Kate taught a group of juniors, and I had fifth-year seniors. China has a number of three-year colleges. Students who complete their work in a three-year college may spend two additional years at a four-year college to earn their degrees. My students were in the second year of that program. We were productively engaged and useful during September, while watching our new freshmen arrive and learn to march. It would be safe to say that the freshmen did not demonstrate any natural aptitude for left-right-lefting in unison. I am certain that Don Haynes, the venerable director of the LBJ High School marching band (“the one, the only, LBJ Jaguar Band!”) in Austin could have had these kids marching better and quicker and enjoying it more.

Xi’an

There were no classes during the first week of October, in observance of the National Day holiday. We took advantage of the school break to go to Xi’an in Shaanxi Province (not to be confused with the neighboring Shanxi Province). Xi’an is an ancient city that was the center of Chinese civilization for two thousand years. Xi’an was the eastern terminal of the famous Silk Road and drew caravans of trade goods from Central Asia, the Middle East, and beyond.

It is a walled city, and most of the walls remain intact. The city walls are higher and wider than the section of the Great Wall we saw at Badaling and provide a terrific view of the old part of the city. There is an excellent museum of Shaanxi history in Xi’an and numerous sites of interest, including the Drum Tower, the Bell Tower, and the Big Goose and Little Goose Pagodas. Xi’an has a sizable Muslim population. Its Great Mosque is one of the largest in China, and the Muslim quarter includes a fascinating collection of shops, street vendors, and food stands.

On a walk through Xi’an’s Revolutionary Park, we saw an event we had read about but never seen before. Finding a mate can be a real challenge, and periodically there will be matchmaking events in public parks. People hang personal biographies on lines, and others come browsing for partners. Young men and women come looking for partners, and old women come looking for mates for children or grandchildren.

The main attraction in Xi’an is the 2,000-year-old army of terra cotta warriors. The 6,000 life-sized warriors and horses guard the tomb of Emperor Qin Shi Huang, who died in 210 B.C.E. This subterranean army was discovered inadvertently in 1974 by peasants who were digging a well. The terra cotta warriors are considered on a par with the Great Wall and the Forbidden City as one of China’s most important historical sites. Many of the warriors were armed with crossbows, longbows, spears, daggers, and other real weapons. No two figures have the same facial features or expressions. Only a portion of the burial site has been excavated, and it is thought that the site may contain a much larger army yet to be discovered.

The warriors that have been excavated to date remain in place in trenches under a protective enclosure that shelters them from the elements. Many, of course, are broken and incomplete, but many others appear to be intact and undamaged. They are a compelling array of figures commemorating a time and an imperial lifestyle (and deathstyle) that we can hardly imagine. I’m glad they are there, and I’m glad to have seen them, but at the same time I recognize that they are the product of an emperor’s tyrannical conceit. Qin Shi Huang is known to have used forced labor for his construction projects, and it is said that the artisans who created his tomb and all its figures and furnishings were buried alive with him. That’s a heavy price to pay for 21st-century tourism. It is probably a good thing that the terra cotta warriors were discovered no sooner than they were, or they would likely have been destroyed or badly damaged during the Cultural Revolution, along with countless other reminders of China’s feudal past.

Fall term

On our return to Fuyang, our fall term began in earnest with our first week of classes with this year’s freshmen English majors. Our first year in China was such an unforgettable experience, so completely different from anything I’d ever done before, that I wondered whether the second year could be as enjoyable and rewarding. It has been so far, and in some ways it’s even better. For one thing, we learned a lot last year by trial and error, with emphasis on the “error” part of that equation. By the end of our first year, we had figured out some things that we should have been doing at the beginning of the year. Our first year’s freshmen were special and memorable, but they were also guinea pigs. I think our second year freshmen are getting better instruction in English.

Our college works on a two-level system. One student called it a combination of public and private education. The higher ranking students, based primarily on their college entrance exam scores, are admitted to the West Campus, which is newer, has better facilities, and is heavily subsidized by the government. Lower ranking students are admitted to the East Campus, which is older and has poorer facilities, but costs substantially more than the amount paid by families of students on the West Campus. Last year there were ten classes of freshmen English majors on the West Campus and eight on the East Campus. After a rapid increase in college enrollments over the past few years, however, China is now scaling back on admissions because the economy is not producing nearly enough jobs for all the college graduates. This year there are only six classes of freshmen English majors on the West Campus (with 36 students per class, compared with 30 per class last year), but there are twelve classes on the East Campus, so that the number of government-subsidized students is down, but the total number of English majors is up slightly.

Most of my students again this year have English names, though some of the names might not be immediately recognized as “English” – Moch, Ming, Lusa, Jocy, Hendy, Trancy, Cantin, Gystar. Some names appear to be hybrids, like Dorsha, Ivecy, Natrily, and Shorly. Part of the rationale for the English names, at least as it was explained to us in orientation, is to create a separate persona for the Chinese student, a persona who is freer to speak in a foreign language and more willing to risk making mistakes than the student herself might be. I haven’t seen any indication that this is true, but then my own persona (the only one I have, as far as I know) may not know what to look for. What I do see are students who choose English names, then forget how to spell them. So far this year, Melinda has become Melinder, Wynne has become Wunder, Nadine/Ninade, Luna/Launa, and Doris/Dorise. I have pointed this out to some of them, and sometimes they go back to the original spelling, but in some cases they just like the new spelling and stick with it. My student Antia came to school with this name, but I’d bet a yuan that she used to be Anita. When I suggested that, she was not interested. Fruit names remain popular; Lemon, Fig. Last year I had Apple; this year I have the more specific Green Apple. Last year I had White; this year I have two Blues and a Red, who is not a redhead.

Chinese are not as likely to be physically affectionate as many Westerners are. Hugging is not common, but some people seem to think it should be. There is a movement afoot in some Chinese colleges, though not yet in ours, to encourage hugging. I read in The China Daily about college students who offer free hugs as a public service. Apparently they stand around on the sidewalk with a sign that says “free hugs.” I enjoy a good hug as much as most shy people, but I think I might cross the street to stay away from the free hug set. I have been pleasantly surprised this year, though, that several of my students from last year have greeted me with warm embraces. This never happened last year. It’s not something that I feel I can initiate with a student, and it seems like a significant step for them to do so.

And I’ve been bowled over several times this year by emails and text messages from last year’s students about how much that year meant to them. I’ve been equally surprised in some cases at who sent the messages. There are some students you know are connecting with you and others who just don’t seem to be making that connection. Some of the most touching messages have come from students I never sensed would feel that way. It’s amazing how far the simplest kindness or courtesy goes here. We try hard to learn and remember our students’ names, and they are surprised at that. Several have commented that other teachers never learn their names. When students are involved in contests or performances, we go to watch and support them. We attended all three nights of a “Future Teachers Contest” in which several of our students were involved. Afterward, I got an email from one of my students from last year saying how nervous and tense she had been and how much she had been calmed and encouraged because I was there. Of all three hundred students I had last year, Emma was the one who seemed tough as nails and least likely to be anxious or rattled in any situation, so her note was another pleasant surprise. I would really like to be as good a teacher as the students give me credit for being. There are lots of excellent teachers out there, but how many of them, at the end of the class period, have students come up and thank them for the lesson? Folks, if you like a little affirmation, this is a very good place to be. We are having such a good experience here that we have asked to stay a third year, though we may not have a definite answer on that till later in the spring.

The English Department debate

We were invited by our students to an English Department debate. China’s central government is famous for its five-year-plans, but that kind of long-range planning hasn’t trickled down effectively to the college level. The dates of holidays, exams, and other major events are usually uncertain at the beginning of the school year and are always subject to change. You get used to it. At every party, contest, and big event, guys are still stringing wire to speakers ten minutes after the starting time. When we got to the debate, we discovered that no arrangements had been made for debate judges. Kate and I and one other teacher were the only likely prospects, so we were conscripted as judges. We had no guidelines or instructions about how to score the contestants, so we had a quick two-minute huddle, devised a rudimentary scoring system, and we were underway. The topic of the debate was “To Achieve Smooth People Relationship Requires Some Degree of Dishonesty.” This was not the no-brainer here that it would have been in the United States Not a single student on the affirmative side served up the obvious example of a significant other who asks, “Honey, do these pants make my butt look big?” Instead, they used examples that most Americans would find completely unpersuasive. They suggested as a necessary degree of dishonesty that, if a child’s mother ran off with another man, the child should be told that her mother was dead, because that would lead to a happier childhood than knowing she had been abandoned. And a person dying of a fatal illness should, of course, never be told this terrible truth so he could die happy. Though I’m rather inclined to agree that the proposition is true—at least some little degree of dishonestly may be necessary for good relationships (“It’s a new recipe, do you like it?”)—we all found for the negative side whose arguments for honesty at all times were more persuasive.

Halloween

We had another Halloween party this year. We caused a bit of a stir at the Hua Lian supermarket when we stocked up on large quantities of candy. We don’t know how many people came, but at least two or three hundred, enough to run through all the candy in a Fuyang minute. When you invite hundreds of freshmen to a small apartment, it can get pretty crowded. Students were literally wedged in so tight they could hardly turn around, but everyone seemed to have a good time.

Christmas

For Christmas, we invited about 1,200 people to our apartment—all of this year’s freshmen, all of last year’s freshmen, plus the Foreign Language Department faculty and other friends and acquaintances. We started with the sophomores on the Wednesday and Thursday evenings before Christmas, two classes at a time. On Friday evening we had an open house for the faculty and other friends. We finished with the sophomores on Saturday morning, then spent Saturday and Sunday afternoons with the freshmen, one class at a time.

On Saturday night there was a big English Department party and talent show in the West Campus auditorium. There are lots of occasions for students at the college to showcase their talents, mostly through karaoke-style singing and dancing. This show also featured tricks on roller blades, bicycle stunts, Chinese opera performances by teachers, skits, and a truly dazzling traditional dance by one of my freshman girls. At nearly all of these events, Kate and I are ushered to front row seats and served tea and other refreshments like VIPs. After a year and a half, we still get these incredible welcomes just for coming through the door. It was a standing-room-only crowd, with hundreds of people squeezed into the aisles in ways that would distress an American fire marshal. I turned around to take a few photos of the crowd; when I looked at them later on the computer, it was remarkable how many faces (and cameras) were looking directly back at me.

Christmas Day was a regular Monday in China, so we had classes during the day. Actually, Christmas was the first day of our week of final exams and our last week of classes for the fall term. We were hoping for a quiet Christmas evening alone, but it wasn’t meant to be. Several more people came to visit on Monday afternoon and evening. People we’d never seen before came to visit because they’d heard that the foreigners had a Christmas tree. Some came who didn’t speak any English, but smiled and shook our hands and seemed quite taken with the Christmas decorations. Several 10- or 11-year-old kids came by; I had the impression it was a homework assignment from their English teacher. We took pictures with nearly everyone who came to see us during the Christmas season, and we had about 940 photos printed. Most of the photos were distributed to students and friends right away, but we still have twenty-five or thirty photos of people we can’t identify. They were here on Christmas, but none of our students or friends seem to know who they are.

Popcorn

Kate and I are pretty serious about popcorn, and for a long time there was a lady outside the North Gate, quite near our apartment, who made and sold bags of lightly sweetened popcorn for one yuan. Then there was a big clean-up of the North Gate area, and the popcorn lady was gone. We found another source downtown and would buy eight or ten bags at a time, usually all that was available. Recently, a new popcorn vendor has appeared in the North Gate. Sometimes the stand is run by a woman, sometimes by a man. One day after Christmas, while the decorations were still up, the popcorn man came to visit. He speaks no English, and my Chinese is so limited as to be of little help, but we did lots of gesturing and smiling. I got a notepad and gestured for him to write a note, thinking I could get a student to translate for me. He wrote two characters, showed them to me, and when I couldn’t read them, he wouldn’t write any more. I took a picture with him in front of the Christmas tree and gave him the print later, along with a note in Chinese saying that if he would write me a note, students would translate. So we’re passing notes now, and he occasionally insists on giving me popcorn.

There is more information about our work and life in China, visit our home page on the Mission Connections page of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) Web site. For more information about the Amity Foundation Teaching Program, visit their Web site.

Shalom y’all,

Don and Kate Lindsay
Fuyang Teachers College
Fuyang, Anhui 236001
Peoples Republic of China
don@donandkate.org
kate@donandkate.org

The 2007 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 244