20 September 2009
Happy birthday to Mizmom from Shanghai. That is, happy shengri to Mizmom. Also, a belated and blessed Rosh Hashanah to all. May peace and forgiveness guide you through the High Holy Days.
So, yesterday, we strolled over to the International Students area to meet the same guy who took us to China's Got Talent. We loaded up on a bus full of kids from Baoshan Campus (one of our university’s three campuses [campi, Stewbot/Magistra?]). They had all decided to take one seat each, which meant, instead of them moving to be with their friends, we got split up into
seats next to a bunch of people from Turkmenistan. This would have been fine, had they been the least bit personable, which they weren’t. No worries. Anyhoozers, we dunder-headed American students were under the impression that we were going to some sort of University Togetherness Day, but it turns out that yesterday was the Mid-Autumn Festival, which is a big deal here. So first we drove for half an hour to this really old district with a beautiful house. It was a more traditional Shanghai street, and I, along with John, Wayne, Rob, Ned, and a few other international students (liuxuesheng) participated in a tug o' war with the residents of the street. They beat us the first round, which remains entirely puzzling, because, in the next two rounds, we rendered their efforts into tiny, mote-like particles. We then shuffled inside for arts, crafts, and dancing. I should have liked to participate in painting a few characters, but since my arrival, the locals have decided I am a wonderful target to practice their shoving on. The photographers and video cameras following our mostly white crew around all day didn’t help my matters any. I believe they were in league with the folk from the Metro and RT Mart. Well, as it turns out, the entire day was a publicity stunt for the University and the communities we visited. I suppose it’s nice to do what I can for the University, though this was twice in a week. They should spread their exposure out so the people don’t get tired of looking at a load of quailoumen (honkies). We left the quaint street and ventured to a fairly new apartment complex. 
Writer’s/Editor’s/Witness’/Concerned Individual’s Side Note:
Now, when I say “apartment complex” I do not mean one tower of roughly 20 stories. To the Chinese, that is but a child’s afternoon with a set of Legos. No, no; their idea of an apartment complex is 10 to 12 buildings of roughly 40 stories each, and, say, four to six rooms per floor. These buildings are set about a beautiful communal garden/playground/park in a roughly ovular, mostly amoebic fashion. They are, as my generation says, hardcore.
We were greeted there, taken to an activity room in which they showed us the flowers that women from the community cut and arrange weekly. In the next room, lay a pretty parlor piano; Louesa and I naturally had to investigate a potential musical outlet. She sat at the piano and played a few notes. I can only muster one image vivid enough to truly describe the violent flood of aforementioned photographers into this small sitting room, and, regrettably, it only applies to LOSTies.
-This is where those who don’t watch LOST ought to skip ahead past this segment-
Here goes. Recall the scene toward the end of season 3(?) in which Desmond and Charlie head to the underwater station to discern whether or not the large tanker on the horizon is paid by the penny of Penny Widmore. Charlie discovers that it, in fact, is not her boat. –LAST CHANCE TO STOP BEFORE THINGS ARE RUINED—Before he can escape, though, Crazy Fellow From Earlier blows the porthole to the next life and gallon after gallon of salty ocean cascades into the tiny room and offs poor Charlie.
Guess who got shoved around again. This time it was into a table. Eventually, Lou looked back at me and told me to play some, so I moved forward to sit down at the bench. I have never in my life seen a room clear so fast. Turns out they just wanted to see a pretty white girl exhibiting a bit of talent. As soon as short and scruffy moved in, it was as if the ebola virus had been released in that room. Turns out that my beard, fascinating as it may be, is not suitable to be on the six o'clock news. We spent some time with a host family and eventually went downstairs to the communal basement, which was revealed to be a top of the line recreation center. Oh man. Great pool, nice gym, and a cool ping pong room to boot. We ate all manner of things for dinner (it was a smorgasbord buffet) and then went back to the common room where Lou and I were shoved to the front row seats, and lucky John got dropped in the middle of four Irish girls, also on the front row. We settled in to watch the coming variety show. It was so much fun. There was a "clown" which was actually a Chinese man dressed like Charlie Chaplin who did all sorts of hilarious things and acrobatics. Then Lou and I got dragged from our seats to compete in a three-legged race against two of the Irish girls. We lost. Could be that my left leg is kind of messed up right now. Could be that I'm terrible at three-legged races; just ask anyone at Eakin Elementary between the years of 1995 and 2001. We just ended up hopping 3/4 of the way, ha. Then we watched some adorable little girls perform the Swan Dance from Swan Lake, wicked crazy acrobats, and then some dancer/acrobats that were good. Then we had to leave again. We headed to another festival. Upon following our teachers (laoshimen), we discovered that we had been dragged to yet another version of China's Got Talent. Joy. Eventually, we couldn't take anymore evidence that China, in fact, has no talent and gave our seats to some older women. They were very grateful, and showed us by thanking us and then shoving us out of the way to get the seats. This was the nth time I'd been shoved by someone half my size that day. Joy. We made our way out to the street and moseyed about for roughly an hour. On our way back, we got stuck in the midst of a dazzling parade where--guess what happened--I got shoved around by myriad pint-sized Chinese folk. We made it out and found the rest of our group and went to the front/first stage to watch a few of our fellow students perform. Remember the Irish girls I mentioned earlier? Well, the one called Katie and I had become fast friends. She begged and pleaded with Lou and I to join their traditional Irish dance on stage. For some reason unbeknownst to any sane person, we agreed. They went through a couple rounds on stage then beckoned us on. We traipsed up the steps, joined hands, and began our jig. Despite our best attempts at imitation, our clumsiness had to have made Everard Grindley shiver in his grave. I am so ashamed. It was loads of fun, though. They swore their friendship forever for "mortifying" ourselves on stage for their sake. We all left shortly after the Turkmenistan kids caused a miniature dance party at the festival. The bat-kaka insane Chinese teacher I described in the last post danced with my fellow students and a couple of kids that got tossed onto stage by their families in a hilarious, rhythm-less fashion that one would expect from a loony. And I do mean “loony” with an appropriate amount of respect.
That concludes the dreamlike day that was the Mid-Autumn Festival in Shanghai this Year of the Ox.
I am truly sorry for all of these posts being so delayed, but, to write about events, they must happen. In addition, I have to take the time to actually sit and write them out. Then there’s a whole mess that involves my horrid penchant for being scatter-brained and forgetting to actually post my writings. So this brings me to a question and an uncharacteristic streak of democracy:
Would you, my doting fans and admirers, prefer more day-to-day, everyday-life-in-China posts, major events (they seem to keep occurring, and I don’t foresee an end), or a mixture of both?
Please submit your opinions in the form of a comment. Thank you all.
Signing off from Cheery China,
Toufa (hair, esp. of the head)
Happy birthday to Mizmom from Shanghai. That is, happy shengri to Mizmom. Also, a belated and blessed Rosh Hashanah to all. May peace and forgiveness guide you through the High Holy Days.
So, yesterday, we strolled over to the International Students area to meet the same guy who took us to China's Got Talent. We loaded up on a bus full of kids from Baoshan Campus (one of our university’s three campuses [campi, Stewbot/Magistra?]). They had all decided to take one seat each, which meant, instead of them moving to be with their friends, we got split up into
seats next to a bunch of people from Turkmenistan. This would have been fine, had they been the least bit personable, which they weren’t. No worries. Anyhoozers, we dunder-headed American students were under the impression that we were going to some sort of University Togetherness Day, but it turns out that yesterday was the Mid-Autumn Festival, which is a big deal here. So first we drove for half an hour to this really old district with a beautiful house. It was a more traditional Shanghai street, and I, along with John, Wayne, Rob, Ned, and a few other international students (liuxuesheng) participated in a tug o' war with the residents of the street. They beat us the first round, which remains entirely puzzling, because, in the next two rounds, we rendered their efforts into tiny, mote-like particles. We then shuffled inside for arts, crafts, and dancing. I should have liked to participate in painting a few characters, but since my arrival, the locals have decided I am a wonderful target to practice their shoving on. The photographers and video cameras following our mostly white crew around all day didn’t help my matters any. I believe they were in league with the folk from the Metro and RT Mart. Well, as it turns out, the entire day was a publicity stunt for the University and the communities we visited. I suppose it’s nice to do what I can for the University, though this was twice in a week. They should spread their exposure out so the people don’t get tired of looking at a load of quailoumen (honkies). We left the quaint street and ventured to a fairly new apartment complex. Writer’s/Editor’s/Witness’/Concerned Individual’s Side Note:
Now, when I say “apartment complex” I do not mean one tower of roughly 20 stories. To the Chinese, that is but a child’s afternoon with a set of Legos. No, no; their idea of an apartment complex is 10 to 12 buildings of roughly 40 stories each, and, say, four to six rooms per floor. These buildings are set about a beautiful communal garden/playground/park in a roughly ovular, mostly amoebic fashion. They are, as my generation says, hardcore.
We were greeted there, taken to an activity room in which they showed us the flowers that women from the community cut and arrange weekly. In the next room, lay a pretty parlor piano; Louesa and I naturally had to investigate a potential musical outlet. She sat at the piano and played a few notes. I can only muster one image vivid enough to truly describe the violent flood of aforementioned photographers into this small sitting room, and, regrettably, it only applies to LOSTies.
-This is where those who don’t watch LOST ought to skip ahead past this segment-
Here goes. Recall the scene toward the end of season 3(?) in which Desmond and Charlie head to the underwater station to discern whether or not the large tanker on the horizon is paid by the penny of Penny Widmore. Charlie discovers that it, in fact, is not her boat. –LAST CHANCE TO STOP BEFORE THINGS ARE RUINED—Before he can escape, though, Crazy Fellow From Earlier blows the porthole to the next life and gallon after gallon of salty ocean cascades into the tiny room and offs poor Charlie.
Guess who got shoved around again. This time it was into a table. Eventually, Lou looked back at me and told me to play some, so I moved forward to sit down at the bench. I have never in my life seen a room clear so fast. Turns out they just wanted to see a pretty white girl exhibiting a bit of talent. As soon as short and scruffy moved in, it was as if the ebola virus had been released in that room. Turns out that my beard, fascinating as it may be, is not suitable to be on the six o'clock news. We spent some time with a host family and eventually went downstairs to the communal basement, which was revealed to be a top of the line recreation center. Oh man. Great pool, nice gym, and a cool ping pong room to boot. We ate all manner of things for dinner (it was a smorgasbord buffet) and then went back to the common room where Lou and I were shoved to the front row seats, and lucky John got dropped in the middle of four Irish girls, also on the front row. We settled in to watch the coming variety show. It was so much fun. There was a "clown" which was actually a Chinese man dressed like Charlie Chaplin who did all sorts of hilarious things and acrobatics. Then Lou and I got dragged from our seats to compete in a three-legged race against two of the Irish girls. We lost. Could be that my left leg is kind of messed up right now. Could be that I'm terrible at three-legged races; just ask anyone at Eakin Elementary between the years of 1995 and 2001. We just ended up hopping 3/4 of the way, ha. Then we watched some adorable little girls perform the Swan Dance from Swan Lake, wicked crazy acrobats, and then some dancer/acrobats that were good. Then we had to leave again. We headed to another festival. Upon following our teachers (laoshimen), we discovered that we had been dragged to yet another version of China's Got Talent. Joy. Eventually, we couldn't take anymore evidence that China, in fact, has no talent and gave our seats to some older women. They were very grateful, and showed us by thanking us and then shoving us out of the way to get the seats. This was the nth time I'd been shoved by someone half my size that day. Joy. We made our way out to the street and moseyed about for roughly an hour. On our way back, we got stuck in the midst of a dazzling parade where--guess what happened--I got shoved around by myriad pint-sized Chinese folk. We made it out and found the rest of our group and went to the front/first stage to watch a few of our fellow students perform. Remember the Irish girls I mentioned earlier? Well, the one called Katie and I had become fast friends. She begged and pleaded with Lou and I to join their traditional Irish dance on stage. For some reason unbeknownst to any sane person, we agreed. They went through a couple rounds on stage then beckoned us on. We traipsed up the steps, joined hands, and began our jig. Despite our best attempts at imitation, our clumsiness had to have made Everard Grindley shiver in his grave. I am so ashamed. It was loads of fun, though. They swore their friendship forever for "mortifying" ourselves on stage for their sake. We all left shortly after the Turkmenistan kids caused a miniature dance party at the festival. The bat-kaka insane Chinese teacher I described in the last post danced with my fellow students and a couple of kids that got tossed onto stage by their families in a hilarious, rhythm-less fashion that one would expect from a loony. And I do mean “loony” with an appropriate amount of respect.
That concludes the dreamlike day that was the Mid-Autumn Festival in Shanghai this Year of the Ox.
I am truly sorry for all of these posts being so delayed, but, to write about events, they must happen. In addition, I have to take the time to actually sit and write them out. Then there’s a whole mess that involves my horrid penchant for being scatter-brained and forgetting to actually post my writings. So this brings me to a question and an uncharacteristic streak of democracy:
Would you, my doting fans and admirers, prefer more day-to-day, everyday-life-in-China posts, major events (they seem to keep occurring, and I don’t foresee an end), or a mixture of both?
Please submit your opinions in the form of a comment. Thank you all.
Signing off from Cheery China,
Toufa (hair, esp. of the head)
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