Muddled

I just returned from the beautiful coastal city of 青岛 Qingdao. It is famous throughout China for its quaint German architecture and for being the birthplace of Tsingtao beer. A few friends mentioned they were going, and I jumped on the opportunity. Beijing is suddenly starting to get a chilly, and I couldn’t turn down the chance for beaches, sun, and quality beer.

Friday after class, we rushed off to take what would be my first Chinese train. It was a surprisingly pleasant experience. Because I purchased my tickets after the rest of the group, my seat was two train cars away. While at first I was disappointed, it was actually a blessing in disguise.  I offered the man sitting next to me one of my snacks, and in no time we were talking up a storm. By the time the train pulled in to Qingdao station, we were good friends and he had invited me to visit his home in Nanjing if I were ever in the area. One of my favorite things about China is how open and friendly complete strangers are if you break through the initial layer of formality.

I met up with my other friends and we set out to explore Qingdao. Despite having 7,000,000 people, Qingdao still retains a small fishing town ambiance. Whereas Beijing’s every street corner overflows with people, Qingdao is relatively peaceful. It is a town perched on and nestled into hills that roll into the rocky Yellow Sea. Countless stands sell wild pearls harvested straight from the sea, and a boardwalk winds a weaving path around the entire Qingdao coastline. It’s a very clean city, and because the Germans controlled it during the late 19^th century, has very little traditional Chinese architecture. In fact, Qingdao projects a strange aura. When looking out across the red-roofed houses, German imperial-inspired buildings, and Protestant churches, you think you’re in Bavaria. Then you’re hit with the smell of stinky tofu and the catchy beat of the next Mando-pop tune, and you’re knocked back to the Chinese reality.

It was wonderful heading off to the beach, which was pleasantly uncrowded because all of the Chinese thought it was too cold to swim. You don’t know what cold swimming is unless you’ve been in Lake Tahoe, or January’s North Floridian Atlantic. Qingdao’s water was perfect, and the view was astounding. On one side, steep cliffs of granite, on the other, towering ultra-modern skyscrapers. It was quite a site to behold. Even more fun than swimming were the beachside bumper cars. I don’t think American regulations allow bumper cars that accelerate so fast or hit with such force. I had a terrible headache by the time I stepped out, but it was by far the best bumper car experience of my life.

Qingdao did have some peculiar oddities. On the beach, we witnessed the filming of a Chinese game show that looked very similar to MXC (Most Extreme Elimination Challenge). At one point, a team of four trying to run a relay race in giant snow skis collapsed into a jumbled pile. It was a highly entertaining sight. Qingdao also seems to be a magnate for the “Wedding Photography” market, in which recently married couples go to beautiful places to take pictures in wedding attire. This doesn’t sound all too strange until you realize the scale of the phenomenon. In one picture I took of a seaside cliff, I count twenty-seven wives fully decked out in wedding dresses.

At the end of the day, going to Qingdao was an extremely fun weekend. I truly feel that it is a one of a kind city. Somewhat absurd, but a great place nonetheless.

Adjusting to life and class in Beijing has been quite the experience, and I believe this may be my first day of relaxation since arriving. I have been dreading writing this post because of the overwhelming amount of things, people, and, sights I have encountered over the last month. I cannot possibly describe life in Beijing, but I will try.

I am studying at Beijing University (Beijing DaXue), or Beida for short. Every day I have to remind myself of how amazing an opportunity this really is, because Beida is “The Harvard of China”. Not only is it the most prestigious university in China, it is also the most beautiful. Walking onto the campus, you’re greeted first by the largest library in Asia, built in a neo-Chinese imperial style. Before it was a university, Beida’s campus was the estate of a wealthy imperial official in the Qing Dynasty, so it is scattered with ancient trees, traditional oriental architecture, pagodas, quaint courtyards, and a picturesque lake.

This semester, my entire schedule is composed of Chinese language classes, and they are extremely strenuous. From Monday to Thursday I have class from 9:00am to 4:30pm with an hour and a half lunch break, and every Friday we have a test. My first day of class, I probably understood 15% of what my teacher said—and that’s being generous. It can definitely be discouraging studying Chinese, because it feels like such a monumental and impossible attempt. It’s a rough road, but last week I’d say I understood 85 to 90% of class, and that improvement keeps me going.

My apartment is a 30 minute speed walk from campus on the 11^th floor. The complex is really interesting because between every building is a small park with workout equipment where people regularly congregate. Every morning, I pass by elderly Chinese practicing Taijiquan—a sort of daily exercise—and sometimes strike up conversations. It’s a very nice place by Chinese standards, but it’s not without its problems—mainly involving the bathroom. I literally have to crouch to take a shower, considering it was made for someone a foot shorter than me. The water pipe broke and flooded three times since I arrived, and I have to manually refill the toilet with water every time I flush.

The apartment’s neighborhood—called Wudaokou—has so much to offer. It has a subway line, countless restaurants, bars, clubs, cafés and stores. The wide sidewalk functions as a street market and the district is littered with street vendors selling all manner of apparel, trinkets, and best of all food. I have developed an intense love for Beijing’s street food. Not only does it usually cost only two or three kuai for a meal (35 to 40 cents), but the food is simply addictive. Some of my favorites are: Baozi (steamed dumplings filled with your meat of choice), Jianbing(thin pancakes filled with pork, spices, fried egg and sauce), roasted sweet potatoes, candied fresh fruits, and chuanr(marinated and grilled skewers of meat or vegetables). There’s no better way to start your day then to grab five pork baozi for the walk to class.

Because of the 30 minute walk, I decided to invest in a bicycle. Now, you may think I’m crazy for attempting to bike through the chaos that is Beijing—and you’re probably right—but boy does it make life easier. While I fear for my life every time I hop on, since dropping 290 kuai (45 dollars) for a new bike, I’ve been able to explore Beijing like never before—and sleep 30 minutes later every day.

Living in Beijing is a little unnerving because you never know what to expect. Every day is another mini adventure. Here are a few random experiences I’ve encountered or things of done:

– Hiked a mountain around the Great Wall.

– Joined the Beida Volleyball Team

– Unwittingly ate dinner with the Triad crime ring

– Sang KTV(Chinese Karaoke) with

– Watched a snake be slaughtered and served on the street

– Learned a hacky sack game called Jianzi

– Inadvertently told someone I wanted to kiss (pronounced wen with an up tone) them when I really meant I wanted to ask (pronounced wen with a down tone) them a question. Sometimes I hate Chinese tones.

– Taught a crowd of Chinese how to do the Macarena

– Used my terrible Korean skills to get free Danishes and laundry

– Tried Baijiu—the 57% alcohol traditional Chinese hard liquor

– Enjoy 60 kuai (10 dollar), 90 minute massages.

– Befriended an elderly Chinese woman in my apartment block.

– Been asked by way too many Chinese if “I curl my hair every day”.

– Every other day get told I look like some Russian tennis champion

– Accidentally ate “meat floss”. It’s like pork cotton candy.

There are many more, but right now I don’t remember. This weekend I’m off to Qingdao—a beautiful coastal city.  I’m determined that my next post won’t take a month to write.