quelquefois

If there’s anything I’ve learned in my time here, it’s to get everything down in writing. Whenever I retell the rather inane details of my day to a Chinese friend, followed with “So he promised he would…” The Chinese friend immediately fires back, “You got that down on paper, right?” Usually, I would respond with something about how I could trust the person, that their word is good enough, et cetera. And usually, it was true.

However, this last event has changed the way I look at promises made by Chinese people forever. While searching for a new apartment, I stumbled upon a little 50sqm gem right between 东四十条 Dongsishitiao and 东直门 Dongzhimen. I asked the agent whether there was a couch and other furniture included, and he replied, “Yes, of course.” The next day I went in to sign the contract, and asked the landlady when she could move a couch in.

She responded, aghast, “I never said there would be a couch!”
“But the agent told me that you would provide one? Where am I going to sit?”
The bickering continues for several minutes. To which the agent interjects and says, “I will buy you a couch, okay?”

My situation was complicated. I was originally leaving China, but received a job offer that would keep me here for a little longer. By the time I realised I should find a new place before I went home, the pressure was on to find a new place and move everything in in less than 72 hours (yes, it’s possible). Thus, I signed the contract, moved in, took his word, and left for two weeks—in theory giving the agent ample time to secure the right couch.

I return to China and call him after settling in. ”Oh, hi,“ he begins, “I will work on it, it’s been busy here, I’ll get back to you later this week.”
He did not.
I called him on Friday, and asked, “So…how’s the couch search coming along?” He said he needed some extra time. Fine.
No word from him all weekend. Then I call six times on Monday and he does not pick up. I call him ten times on Tuesday, then switch phones and call. He picks up immediately. I say, “Why are you ignoring my calls? Do you not have any respect?” To which he responds, “Hello? HELLO?! Hello?” And hangs up on me. I proceed to frantically call him back-to-back-to-back until he finally turns his phone off.

Consider this lesson learned.

Karma will get him back, and I may expedite that process through one or more of the following:

• Post his number on personal ads as a beautiful single Chinese woman wanting to marry a rich, white male;
• Advertise “special services” with his phone number;
• Make stickers advertising the purchasing of your unwanted pharmaceutical drugs and post them everywhere ;
• Or find out where he works and punch him in the face

Yes, I am working with limited resources here (his phone number, his name), but if the 人肉搜索 human flesh search engine has shown me anything, the power of Google can never be underestimated.

Chinese people do not know any limits. This, of course, has both positive and negative connotations.

One day in November, when only 2 elevators in my 40-storeyed apartment worked (which is often the case), I decided again that descending 11 flights of stairs is not a strain. However, when I reached the dark stairwell around floor 2, I almost stomped into a  huge pile of shit.

Seriously? You’re almost home. I understand the urgency associated with having to wait for the elevator, but–excuse my description–if it was still a recognizable mass, it really couldn’t have been that bad, could it? And let’s not mention the time in Harbin when I saw a grown woman crouching at a bus stop during rush hour doing you-know-what. Oops, I just did.

Public urination and defecation should really be censured and discouraged. If not by the government, then at least by passersby who I am sure find it just as uncomfortable to watch as I do. This applies to other nasty habits that Chinese people exhibit, from public spitting to cutting in line to smoking inside the elevator. It’s not Western cultural imperialism, it’s basic respect for other people.

Though on the positive side, their knowing no limits means they can replicate sections the Great Wall in chocolate and likely pull it off in a kitsch-tastic manner , and like my coworker demonstrated earlier this week, they can come into work immediately after the last final exam of their undergrad career. They can erect buildings with cunning speed, they can they persist and maintain positivity through tumultuous times, all while remaining relatively modest about their achievements.

Ten days ago I was certain I was going home. I had mentally prepared myself, started allocating things (i.e., throw away versus keep versus donate), and listed things I needed to do before leaving Beijing (yes, going to the Forbidden City for the first time in my life is one of them).

Two days ago I bought my one-way return flight back to China. In the past week or so, I got offered a job that promises professional development and is challenging. So I accepted. Looks like I’m in for another year.

Let today be known as the day the Chinese government impaled the internet with its mighty spear of technology and added Flickr, Twitter, Hotmail, bing.com, live.com to its repertoire of blocked sites. Other sites blocked in China include: Blogspot, Tumblr, YouTube, WordPress, China Digital Times, and Huffington Post.

56minus1 speculates this may have to do with Ai Weiwei joining Twitter. Lostlaowai says it has to do with that special 20th anniversary on Thursday.

Whatever the reason, this isn’t making my “I hate China” week any better.

Edit: an exhaustive list of all the websites “down for maintenance” has been compiled. Check it out here.

I am notoriously bad at writing about events when they are relevant. But hey, at least it’s still April (barely). On April 1, I called my mom and told her that I was recently released from prison, and had to leave the country within 7 days. To say the least, she believed me and started to worry. Eventually, I said in a shaky voice, “可能是 (Perhaps it’s)。。。是因为 (it’s because)。。。APRIL FOOLS!”

She screamed at me, and later told me that her legs were shaking for me, because she knows that something like that could actually happen. Last year, I did something similar, when I told her that I joined the Army and would be deployed to Iraq after I graduate. I know, it’s cruel. I’ll think of something less nerve racking next year, even though she told me she wouldn’t fall for anything next year. We’ll see.

But my mom made a good point the following day: that things like this are possible. It was a stark reminder to indeed watch out for what I say and write.

My roommate and I arrive in Wuhan (Wuchang, specifically) and try to find a cheap place to stay that’s close to the train station (unfortunately we both ended up taking trains from the other train station on the other side of town, about a 40 minute drive away). We find this “hotel” (after seeing the bathrooms/showers at this place, though, I don’t know what to call it) that must not see many foreigners. Here is a conversation I had with employees at check-in:

Hotel staff (Chinese): May I have your 身份证 (shen1fen4zheng4, identity card)?
I hand over my passport.
Hotel staff: What is this? Where is the number?
Me: I don’t have a national identity card; that’s my passport. I’m an American citizen.
Hotel staff (to a co-worker): What do we do? Where’s the number? Where’s her name? What should we put?
Me: Can’t you just input my English name and passport number?
Hotel staff: You’re sure you’re not Chinese? Do you have any other form of identification? What’s your Chinese name?
I go on to show them my school ID from last semester, as well as my work ID, neither of which are acceptable. I have no idea what they ended up doing, but I have never seen anyone so confused to see an Asian wielding a foreign passport before.

My photographs of the aftermath of the TVCC fire in Beijing in February have gotten the attention of Far Eastern Economic Review (FEER), and they’re going to feature some of my photographs on their slideshow about it soon. I will report back when it’s up. Unfortunately I’m not paid for it, but I’m happy for any publicity.

My roommate: Yeah,  _______ wants to go to Laos while in China. It’s like, _______, take out a fucking map of Asia. Jesus. It’s like you’re in Boston and well, while we’re in the area, why don’t we go to Honduras?

Two days ago, I went to the bathroom at a mall in Wangfujing. As I came out to wash my hands, an elderly woman was hunched over next to the toilet paper dispenser (some classier malls provide toilet paper for their bathrooms, though there is only one large dispenser before you enter the stalls). I continued to lather and rinse my hands and watched in the mirror as this woman continued to pull toilet paper out of the dispenser. Even after I finished washing my hands, she continued to pull on the seemingly endless roll. Finally, she had accumulated about 1000 feet and was satisfied, so she head into the stalls.

Another woman was waiting to grab some toilet paper. She looked at me with astonishment and said, “What is she doing with all that toilet paper? Is she going to eat it?”

Well, it was funny to me at the time…