An American Girl in China - Duck, Duck Goose

My third day in Beijing--aka, Peking--was by far my most expensive. Aside from the free visit to Tiananmen Square, I paid a slight admission to the Forbidden City, once home to the emperors of the Ming & Qing dynasties. Some light shopping in what could only be described as an immense, enclosed garage sale, and Red (name changed) and I were off to dinner with some friends of her, J & A, whom had taken up residence in Beijing.

One of the items on our "must-do" list was to have Peking Duck in Peking. We told the to J & A what we were looking for and they took us to the first Peking Duck restaurant. It was very nice, indeed; well lit, carved wooden trim along the walls, a chandelier over every table, hand-embroidered linens, silver silverware, crystal glasses, and an army of hired help--my wallet trembled.

Unable to read Chinese, we let J & A order. They ordered the set menu for the table, a pre-determined 6 course meal with any beverage--except water. Each item was so delicious and large, I nearly filled up before even tasting the duck we had come for. There was an exquisite chicken with snap peas, duck feet (strange but incredible!), some green vegetable thingy, spicy tofu, and other dishes I cannot remember.

Then the duck came. The duck in all it's glory came fully prepared on a silver platter on it's own serving table, with the chef who prepared it, an observer to ensure quality cutting and a certificate of authenticity. Seriously. The certificate--which almost seemed more interesting than the duck itself--listed our duck's personal identification number, as well as the number in line it was being served at this restaurant. The observer lady was there to make sure that the duck had not only been properly cooked and met the standards of the restaurant in quality, but also to ensure that the chef carved it in exactly the right manner, and produced the specific number of slices a duck should provide. This was all translated to us by J & A, and Red & I counted have been more miffed.

The duck was incredible. There is a specific way to eat it, in a neat burrito-like fashion. You dip the duck in the sauce, then use the duck to spread the sauce on the wrapper (like a thin tortilla, similar to a lumpia or wonton wrapper, but thicker). Then you place the duck on the wrapper, add a second slice of pre-cut duck, some green onions (all of this done with chopsticks of course), then roll the wrapper like a burrito (still using chopsticks) and lift with chopsticks and enjoy. It all seemed much more like finger food to me, but when in Rome...

Positively stuffed and with mountains of food still on the table I shivered in fear about the upcoming bill. The total for the four of us was around 400 Yuan, divided by 4 is 100 Yuan each, divided by 8 to turn it into dollars, yes, that's right, our own personal chef, observer, and a team of other staff, enough food for a small village and a certificate of authenticity for the whopping price of $12.50. Outrageous.

Yes, it was a very expensive day...


Later that evening we could be found out various bars and clubs in Beijing, but all I could think about was how to get more duck.

Alas, our flight to Hong Kong, and our next adventure departed at 7:00 am the next morning. When we got into our hotel at 4:00 am, we should've just stayed up...

An American Girl in China - A Lawsuit Waiting to Happen

Golden Week, a collection of four national holidays in Japan, found me even farther West in China for a 10-day vacation, and while Japan is foreign, I basically live in a subsection of America. In China, however, life is VERY different. A friend of mine stated it well calling China the "leader of the third world."

I went to China with my friend Red (name changed). Our flight arrived in Beijing around 9:00 pm on Wednesday night and for the first time in my life there was a dude from the travel agency there waiting for us. He even had one of those signs with our names on it! Thankfully transportation to our hotel was arranged, because the hour-and-a-half long cab ride surely would have made me uneasy. Having watched to much 20/20 when I was a kid, I was sure we were being transported to some slavery hut, or were being taken as hostage for ransom. Alas, we arrived at our destination on time.

The next morning we woke up early to begin our adventure with a tour to the Great Wall of China. Well, it was called a tour, but really it was two guys with a van and four bikes. Not that I am complaining. Something I have come to enjoy how easy it is to get by on very humble means. Anyway, the van and the two guys (one with decent English, one with no English) drove Red, another guy from Minnesota and I to some remote place outside of Beijing. I don't really have a good idea where, all I know is that it was far from the influences of the city.

Before we could even see the wall we all toppled out of the seatbelt-less van and jumped on bikes. The ride itself was a challenge. Occasionally we were struggling to go straight uphill, other times we were flying downhill so fast we would pass vehicles. The lack of control was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

After the three hour ride we arrived at our destination for lunch. At this point I was still wondering where this so-called "Great" wall was, but had I just looked up it was directly behind the eatery. For lunch we dined like kings while listening to the highly outrageous conversation between the guy from Minnesota and the guide. It started when the guy from Minnesota asked, "So, since you are single, where would you go to meet someone?" The guide said, "Well, I don't know, but you probably have to pay for that." From there, the conversation digressed into a hysterical miscommunication revolving around the topic of sex in China.

The meal, which easily could have fed my entire extended family (food just kept coming!), was delicious. When I asked how much it would cost if I had just paid for it without the tour the guide said that because I am a tourist it would cost around $50 Yuan or $7 dollars. For him, however, it was closer to $5 USD. INSANE!

After stuffing ourselves silly, we stepped behind the establishment to what could only loosely be called bathrooms. Truth be told, I would have rather found a tree. Then we went and literally climbed the wall.

Now, I know some people say they have climbed the wall, but let me tell you, it is unlikely that many people have any idea what I mean by climbing. Most people go on large group tours to a touristy section of the wall where knick-knacks are sold, there are beverage vendors, and the wall has been restored to all its original glory. This was not the wall I saw.

The part of the wall we visited has remained completely and totally unaltered for the last 500 to 1,000 years. There were absolutely no other tourists or other people in the area, and whenever we stepped, chunks of rock and brick would slip out from under our feet. As our guide said, "You are breaking our Great Wall! If you keep it up, there won't be any wall left!"

We climbed on our hands and knees on three-feet wide ruins all the way to the top of a mountain. Several times I looked around, the ground a good 40-80 feet below and thought to myself, "This is a lawsuit waiting to happen!" Nowhere in America could I have done this. Imagine that you need to get to the top of your roof, and instead of a ladder someone hands you a slide made out of sand. Now multiply the height you need to go by 700. That is what we were trying to do.

At the top, we looked over the mountains surrounding Beijing. Now, I know the Great Wall is, well, great, and that many thousands of Chinese men sacrificed their lives to build it, but I couldn't help thinking that with the absolutely insane terrain that leads up the the city, a 40-foot wall that doesn't regularly connect and doesn't cross the rivers into the city was a major waste of military funds. I mean, okay, so you have an army and you want to attack Beijing, so you march over all these mountain through heinous weather, to find this 40-foot wall you can walk around or cross a river to pass...hmmm...

Anyway, the view was spectacular. The Great Wall is just one of those overwhelming sights you have to take in sometime in your life. Like the Grand Canyon; you just can't fully appreciate and believe it until you are there.

Back to School

In the land where the opposite of sweet isn't sour, but bitter, one of the most interesting elements of the Japanese educational system is the distribution of teachers. In America, an aspiring teacher would obtain the necessary credentials, then would likely apply to a school district and then a specific school. Upon hire, the teacher could then set up shop at the school, arranging the classroom just the way the like it, and settle down to working at their choosen school for any number of years.

This is not so in Japan

In Japan, upon receiving teacher credentials, a qualified teacher may apply to the a prefectural (state) education system. If they are hired, they will then be placed at a school. In this way the two sysytems are similar, but the similarities mostly end their.

A Japanese teacher has a desk in a communal staff room, and a classroom belongs to the students, not the teacher. Teachers will rotate in and out of the classroom as the day progresses on, and often the students will not be streamed for skill level or ever leave their classroom except for specialty classes like P. E. or music.

Further, what school a teacher works at and how long they work there is not up to the teacher. Every three to five years a teacher is moved to another school or education administration office with no regard to the teacher's wants. They can be moved geographically, grade level, or even job type. For example, a music teacher of a junior high can suddenly become a vice principal at school two hours away with only two weeks notice. Or a third grade teacher can be moved to administration.

The logic behind this is that by moving the teachers around regularly, students obtain a more well rounded education, and no one school can claim better teaching than another. All moves take place at the same time; teachers are notified in private one week prior to spring break, schools are notified a couple days before spring break, and when the new school year starts, everyone will be in their new position. Some considerations are made--a math teacher won't suddenly be asked to teach Japanese, and you must be referred to take on a leadership role such as Principal of a school. Also, an elementary school teacher won't be uprooted to a high school, unless they have a certification to teach that level.

The idea that I would have no control over where I worked, despite how much I liked or disliked my situation is so foreign to me. Everyone was on pins and needles as we waited to see who would be shuffled and who would stay. One of my schools, decreasing in size, lost seven teachers and had an additional three exchanged. All of my schools got new principals and vice principals, but my poor supervisor who desperately wanted out of the office and back in a classroom, sadly did not get moved this year.

The interesting thing as an ALT, is that this all happens midway through our contract. We are employed on a August to July schedule, whereas all the teachers are on a April to March plan. It seems disruptive to have to learn to work with someone new halfway through the year.

Upon reflection, however, I like the idea of the mix up. I can remember back from my school days, infinite numbers of teachers who had worked at a school 10-20 years. Some that could remember when my parents attended that school, or teachers that are just now teaching my baby sister who taught me as well. They never move anywhere else, they are rarely exposed to new ideas or teaching styles, and while they have perfected their lesson plans, and customized their classrooms, they have little to compare their teaching methods to, or their policies to, or even their schedules to.

Just think, if that teacher who has been at your highschool for the past ump-teen years, imagine if they had been forced to change every five years. Do you think you would have read the same books, or wrote the same essays? Just a thougt...

Spring Break

Spring Break found me with very little planned. Coordinating the details for upcoming trip to China, I had neglected arranging anything for the five days cultural furlough that must be spent in Japan, so at the last minute, my friend Red and I booked a trip to Tokyo.

We were only planning to stay there two days and one night, taking the night bus there and back, and it wasn't until 6:00 am on Saturday, post arrival, that we even began to consider our options. So, after maybe three hours of sleep and two cups of coffee, we looked at our guidebooks and embarked on our adventure.

I have very distinct memories of my first time in Tokyo; not knowing how to flush or use the toilets, spending ten minutes figuring out what to do with my shoes at a restaurant all to find out I couldn't read the menu, being terrified by the labyrinth-esq subway system, buying the only thing I recognized in a convenience store--oreos--because I was starving, buying at least a dozen different drinks that looked like water, but were never actually water, realizing that my entire Japanese vocabulary consisting of the word, "Konnichiwa," was not enough to get around, trusting strangers simply because they spoke English, and wondering what I had gotten myself into. Tokyo was a blur of fear and terror. My most recent trip, in stark contrast, was a whirlwind of fun,excitement, and a realization that I belong back in a big city.

Red and I went everywhere. We started by walking around the Imperial Palace and viewing all of its lush gardens. The sakura (cherry blossoms) were not yet in bloom, but we did find a couple (literally two) trees that were early developers. The startling pink color was overwhelming. Then we went to Tokyo Dome in hopes to see a Giants game...Sadly the earliest game we could buy tickets for was May 21st, almost two months aways. We dined on the fine cuisine of Subway Sandwiches for lunch...Each consuming two incredible subs, then off to Asakusa, an incredible old temple, souvenir shopping center and less the nice onsen. Toweled off, and skin radiating we headed to the hotel to check in, grab a quick nap, then out on the town for a night of French food,American beer, live music and dancing. We met up with a couple of our friends from Ishikawa for dinner, and at the first cocktail lounge we randomly ran into another Ishikawan. It was one of those New York moments, where, despite the fact that there are millions of people crammed into a small area, you find someone you know. The second pub of the night provided an incredible blend of gaijin and Japanese, onion rings, hot wings and apple pie, a top notch band, and several rounds at the bar. We ended up closing the house down.

The second day, Red and I took it easy. We slept in, then schlepped our stuff across town to an Outback Steakhouse where I ordered the biggest steak burger on the menu in perfect Japanese, and the waiter asked me in perfect English if I wanted fries or coleslaw with that. His English was so refreshing...If only my students showed as much promise. Two frozen daiquiris later, and half a masticated cow later, Red and I headed to Harajuku to see dozens of Japanese girls dresses in the wildest outfits you have ever seen. Also in Harajuku we found a gang of twenty Japanese Elvis impersonaters, a Japanese Dixie land Jazz Band, a GAP store, and several million people enjoying the sunshine and shopping just like us. The streets were dense with foot traffic and I couldn't have been happier.

After some light shopping, we headed across town for some heavy shopping in Akihabara--the ELECTRONICS DISTRICT. It was like heaven. We got out of the subway and the blinking lights, electronic noise,and commerce were blinding. Red was looking for an MP3 player, while I was hoping to fulfill my dream of owning a real oven in Japan. They sorta have ovens, but their ovens are like the way I remember cellphones in America; most of the time they work the way they are supposed, but until a cellphone can just always be a phone, no matter where I go, or what I am doing, I don't really care that it can do anything else. Just be good at being a phone. Similarly, an oven in Japan can also toast, microwave, steam and deep fry, but until it can bake an apple pie, I don't care about the rest!

The evening found us with a friend of Red's who is from Tokyo at a Mexican restaurant. I had forgotten just how good tortillas,cilantro, beans, and carne asada tasted. We stuffed ourselves full,then headed back to the station for eight more hours on a bus that would take us back to our home...Which is called a city, but really leaves something to be desired...

Cousin It

After living in Japan eight months, I decided it was time to brave a haircut. While my do-it-yourself haircuts were keeping me from looking like a total fraggle, the time had come to bring in the professionals. However, with my limited...er...non-existent Japanese, the disasters that other gaijin had encountered, and my fear of the standard Japanese girl haircut, baby steps had to be involved.

My friend Red has two friends, one who was a makeup artist and speaks Japanese--Emiko--and some English, and one who used to work at Vidal Sasson in Tokyo--Yuki--who now owns a beauty salon a couple hours north of me. Red, who also hasn't had a haircut in several months employed these two comrades and we both made appointments with Yuki and were bringing Emiko along for translation.

Armed with photos of American girls with stylish haircuts, and photos of Japanese girls with bangs, and wispy strands with big, red "X's" on them, we began our adventure.
Where things went wrong:

1. We forgot the beautiful color photos we had so carefully chosen.
2. Our attempts to take photos of magazines and people on my palm pilot failed because I had yet to install the software to view said photos.
3. Our translator, Emiko, bailed on us.
4. We seriously misjudged how long a haircut takes.
5. I blow-dried my hair that morning to straighten it, not realizing that Yuki would think it was my natural hair, later being horrified to find it curled when wet.
6. Because we hadn't had haircuts in so long, we chose drastic cuts.

Things that went right:

1. Yuki is fabulous in every way.

Halfway through cutting my hair, Yuki realized my hair was curly. The delay is due in part to the fact that when she cut my hair, it was dry, and then she wet it to shape and style it. That is when my hair turned into a fro and she looked panicked, "Uh, eto ne, uh, sumimasen...," she sounded confused and distressed as she held up my locks, curling tighter and tighter by the second. In the end it was decided that I needed a straightening perm.

The coolest part was being worked on by three ladies. Yuki was the main stylist, and made sure everything was fitting into the master plan. Then there were two girls in charge of straightening and peroxide application. I suppose technically there was a fourth girl who washed my hair each of the three times that my hair needed rinsing/washing.

In the end, while my hair is the shortest I can ever remember it being, I like it the cut. I don't have bangs, or wispy strands as is the standard Japanese girl cut. In fact, I had to convince Yuki that I wanted my hair as short as I did. I can't believe how non-horrendous this experience was! Red liked her hair also (I like hers better than mine), and the whole 4-hour ordeal was rather reasonably priced. Cheaper than going to the movies in Japan, even.
I think I may have started a habit! Three cheers for Yuki, Hip, Hip Hooray, Hip, Hip Hooray, Hip, Hip Hooray!

***all names have been changed in this story