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Student Travelogue Index > Travelogue Julianne Hing Entry 8: It takes courage to make mistakes Entry 7: Camping at the Great Wall Entry 6: Drive-by language lessons Entry 5: Experiencing Inner Mongolia by train, bus and camel Entry 4: China’s TV news reveals and conceals Entry 3: In Beijing, a lesson in American race and culture Entry 2: Encountering the other Great Wall: Language barriers Entry 1: Fear of the unknown transcends time It takes courage to make mistakes Beijing, Aug. 8, 2005 This is the beginning of my last week in Beijing, and I’m having a hard time believing how quickly the summer has gone by, and how much I’ve learned along the way. I have gotten to know a very touristy, commercialized Beijing, a very quiet Beijing weighted by tradition and history, and even a quirky, irreverent Beijing. But the city was so overwhelming at first and very unlike any other place I’d visited before.
But I remember six weeks ago, the first time I went to an Internet café to try and send these entries home. I couldn’t understand a word the worker at the counter was trying to tell me. I remember so clearly her frustration with me as I stood there at the entrance with what I’m sure was a desperate but blank look on my face, waiting for some kind of help that she had probably already given me but which I couldn’t comprehend. I remember my humiliation and impatience with myself at not being able to understand her, leaving the café ten minutes later and bursting into tears on the sidewalk, sobbing on the street as I let out all the pent-up frustration from similarly embarrassing interactions I’d been having all week. I can’t say those kinds of incidents don’t still occur, but I’ve accepted foolish moments as part of the learning process, though I never have been able to return to that same Internet café! Oddly enough, as my Mandarin skills multiply day by day, so does my courage to make mistakes.
Spending the summer here has had a profound effect on not just my Mandarin skills, but also my world perspective and identity. I’ll be leaving the city with both my luggage and my mind laden with all the new impressions, memories and souvenirs I’ve picked up in China. Even though there are so many highlights and corners of the city I never got to explore, I’m comforted by the fact that I’m certain I’ll be returning to China in the future. Camping at the Great Wall Beijing, Aug. 3, 2005 Our second weekend excursion with the Education Abroad Program was to Chengde, a city five hours outside of Beijing that was a favorite summer resort destination for past emperors. It was easy to see why: The weather was perfect, with none of the humidity or pollution that chokes Beijing, and only the quietest breeze grazing our shoulders in the afternoons. A day and a half of hiking up through picturesque mountains, visiting several temples, and strolling through the sprawling gardens of those ancient rulers gave me a glimpse of a very different side of China than I’ve gotten to know in Beijing. But the best was yet to come.
Jinshanling is a remote stretch of the Great Wall an hour and a half from Chengde in Hebei Province. My first glimpse of the Great Wall caught me off guard; I expected that all the beautiful, wide-angle photos of the wall I’ve seen in textbooks and National Geographic magazines would have desensitized me to the point where seeing it in person would be anticlimactic, or even disappointing.
Saturday night, about fifty students from the group packed up our sleeping bags (and for some, bed sheets they borrowed from the lodge) and hiked back up the mountain to sleep on the Great Wall for the night.
Drive-by language lessons Beijing, July 27, 2005 One of my favorite ways of picking up new Chinese phrases and practicing my Mandarin is a bit unconventional: I’ve started chatting with taxi drivers. Most drivers have a gruff exterior and are accustomed to sitting in silence through the ride, but when I’ve mustered up the courage to talk with them, they’ve revealed different sides of their personalities. Most are quite willing to chat, and my foreigner status is an easy conversation starter.
After I’ve told them what I’m doing in the city and how long I’ve been studying Mandarin, I usually end up playing a guessing game as the driver tries to figure out my ethnic makeup and nationality. I’ve heard quite a few guesses: Korean? Japanese? From Hong Kong? Is your father Caucasian? Correctly identifying my background is not easy for most people so I’m never offended. But when one taxi driver started naming off provinces in southern China where he thought I might be from, I took it as the highest compliment, thinking that I could actually be mistaken for being from the mainland based on the hundred or so words of Mandarin I had spoken to him. That is, until I learned that the provinces he named have a reputation with some for poor Mandarin!
But spending a night in a yurt, which one of my friends aptly described as a “furry igloo,” was exciting. The yurts were raised several feet off the ground, and the sheep and yaks that lived in our compound grazed below us. At night the air, clean and inviting compared to Beijing’s smoggy heat, got nippy enough to remind me of San Francisco. A few times in the night I heard horses close by neighing and stomping the ground, and when I woke up and stepped outside my yurt the next morning, I was greeted by a camel.
Taxi drivers are not just friendly conversationalists, they’re also very forgiving and patient Chinese teachers who will correct my pronunciation and grammar even when I don’t ask for their help. It’s with taxi drivers that I’ve practiced my Beijinghua, the local Mandarin accent, and learned very useful colloquial expressions. On more than one occasion as I’ve stepped out of a cab, I’ve thanked the driver for both the ride as well as his help improving my Mandarin. But taxi drivers have surprised me in other ways. On a night out last week my friends and I started singing a love song that’s very popular in China right now. As we were stumbling through the words to the song, our taxi driver, an older man who had been silent until then, stunned us when he corrected our lyrics and proceeded to sing a few lines with us. A few weeks before that, I was in a cab with friends and our driver happened to be a younger man who had installed his own compact disc player in his cab. He was playing the latest album of one of China’s most popular Taiwanese pop singers, and my friend commented that she really enjoyed the music. She asked him the name of the album so she could pick up a copy for herself, but when we reached our destination, he reached into his glove compartment, pulled out the album’s liner notes, ejected the CD, and handed them both to my friend. I was floored and couldn’t get over his gesture for days. I wouldn’t believe these stories if I hadn’t been in the taxi at the time and witnessed for myself the generosity, kindness and humor of the cab drivers. And I get so caught up in the moment that it’s not until later that I recognize these are a few of the rare experiences that I’ll always remember when I think of my summer abroad. Experiencing Inner Mongolia by train, bus and camel Beijing, July 20, 2005 If I had stayed in the U.S. this summer, I probably would have spent last weekend sleeping in, catching up with friends at the beach or taking in a movie with family. But instead I’m spending the summer in Beijing, and so last weekend I was nowhere near a movie theater, a beach or even a bed. I was with the UC Education Abroad Program students and staff … dancing, eating and hiking my way through Inner Mongolia.
The weekend was full of exhilarating highs (a night of dancing under the stars with locals after an outdoor cultural performance) and sobering sights (passing a painted sign in a rural village that discouraged female infanticide). We had a chance to spend time in both the dry, windy desert sand dunes and rolling green grasslands of Inner Mongolia. I definitely enjoyed the grasslands. True, we had to walk with our heads down to make sure we avoided the fresh piles of animal poop everywhere.
It was great to get away from Beijing for a few days, and I know I won’t have another experience quite like my weekend in Inner Mongolia, but I was never so relieved when we finally reached Beijing Monday morning. It was probably the least comfortable trip I’ve ever been on, but ranks as one of my most memorable. China’s TV news reveals and conceals Beijing, July 13, 2005 One of my routines that allows me to regularly explore Chinese culture doesn’t require a map, my sunscreen or even a pair of shoes. I chanced upon it in my efforts to stay informed about world affairs and U.S. politics while away from home. Because I’m barely literate enough to handle a Chinese restaurant menu (let alone a newspaper!) and my Internet access is very limited,  I usually end up turning to the television in my room for some hint of the state of the world on the other side of the ocean. I watch the Chinese Central Television English language channel, CCTV 9, for daily news. But the news hour also offers a glimpse of Chinese media culture and allows me to compare Chinese and American media outlets.
I can usually expect much of the hour to be occupied by some variation of tedious footage of Chinese General Secretary Hu Jintao or Premier Wen Zhaobao with a foreign diplomat at an international summit or seated among a panel of politicians. There is never any substantive news attached to these segments, they are merely regurgitations of government rhetoric and the politicians’ daily itineraries. Business news varies little; most every segment ends with an optimistic reminder of the current frenzy of unparalleled growth in the Chinese market. International updates, though, are the most interesting news segment. Back home, I don’t often see segments about Africa, South America, eastern Europe and southeast Asia integrated into the regular news hour. I sincerely enjoy Chinese television for its comprehensive reporting and intellectual analysis of current world affairs, something that I feel is hard to find in American TV news. It is also especially interesting to hear about American politics from another nation’s perspective. But Chinese news is very different from American news, both for what it includes in its programs and for what it does not. According to CCTV 9, poverty isn’t a problem in China, or at least a problem the state-sponsored channel feels comfortable talking about. Corporate crime apparently doesn’t exist in China, and neither does limited access to education, jobs or social services. There is never any discussion of local crime – ever. Coming from the U.S., where reports of child molestations and serial killers dominate the news, this was initially very jarring to me. (At first I naively wondered if it was possible that nobody in China was ever murdered, abducted or sexually assaulted.) In that way, the refusal to dwell on harrowing, bloody, or disturbing current events in Chinese news is also very different from sensationalistic American news. If a person were only exposed to these state-sponsored outlets, it’d be very easy to be lulled into a sense of complacency about the nation and keep only the rosiest, least critical view of China. The news reports that the number of cars per capita in China is rapidly multiplying and that this is a good indicator of a comparable increase in personal wealth, but what is the reality? Does everyone benefit from China’s business boom? And what is the environmental and ecological cost of all of this economic growth? Is there no homelessness or social inequality in China? I only need to take a stroll around the streets of Beijing to see answers to those questions, but I could never find that information in the news. So while I can’t rely on CCTV9 as my sole source of news, I always learn a lot watching it. Chinese television is a good reminder to always read and hear media-delivered news with a critical eye, and to take the time to consider the motives of the party that controls the dissemination of that information, regardless of where I am in the world.
In Beijing, a lesson in American race and culture Encountering the other Great Wall: Language barriers Beijing, July 1, 2005 I’ve learned that the acculturation process for foreign exchange students requires several rites of passage. They include:
In my time short abroad, I’ve tried to circumvent this initiation, but come to realize that the only way to become thoroughly acquainted with China is to submit myself to this frustrating, taxing and awkward process. There just isn’t any way around it.
Fear of the unknown transcends time Irvine, Calif., June 22, 2005 I will be studying Mandarin for six weeks this summer in the Intensive Language Program at Beijing Normal University. It’s supposed to be a grueling summer session with demanding coursework, but I’m really looking forward to studying Mandarin in Beijing. Unlike many of the courses I currently take, the Intensive Language Program was entirely optional to me. I have long relished the possibility of being completely immersed in Chinese society while learning Chinese; the idea of living the language is very exciting. And because the application and planning process for the Education Abroad Program began all the way back in December, the current prospect that I’ll be halfway across the world by the end of the week is also a bit surreal. My flight for Beijing leaves in a few days and I feel much more than excitement. I’m also terrified and nervous, but I think I can safely blame most of my anxiety on the usual pre-departure butterflies. After all, traversing an ocean on a 13-hour plane ride is a little like taking a trip to the end of the world and back to the prehistoric era. It might seem like a stretch to compare the two experiences, but I honestly believe navigating a foreign country is not unlike negotiating the uncertain world of the earliest human beings. Just as fur-wearing, club-wielding Neanderthals carried out human communication with grunts and body language, I expect that once in China I will often be reduced to expressive hand gestures and a whole lot of pointing due to my lack of fluency in Mandarin. And both prehistoric peoples and world travelers quickly learn(ed) that when in an unfamiliar area, people ingest their food and venture into the natural environment at their own risk. In a foreign country, as in the age of the dinosaurs, familiar resources are few and self-awareness and strong instincts are of utmost importance. It’s for all those reasons that I’m both anxious and impatient to get this adventure underway. Of course, I am by no means some pioneering adventurer roaming a young Earth. I will be studying in Beijing with other UC students and traveling with many of the comforts of home: extra strength DEET bug repellent spray, emergency Imodium AD, a Lonely Planet guidebook, and an international mobile phone. However, the fear of the unknown and the apprehension about a new locale is something that transcends time, regardless of the creature comforts or space-age technology that I carry with me. I’ll send along another smoke signal (ahem, travelogue chapter) soon when I’ve settled into my new cave (Beijing Normal University dorm)! |
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Julianne Hing Year: Junior Major: Social ecology Hometown: San Francisco Summer travel: Beijing, China through Education Abroad Program, to participate in the Intensive Language Program at Beijing Normal University Travelogue entries #1 Fear of the unknown transcends time (06.22.05) #2 Encountering the other Great Wall: language barriers (07.01.05) #3 In Beijing, a lesson in American race and culture (07.07.05) #4 China’s TV news reveals and conceals (07.13.05) #5 Experiencing Inner Mongolia by train, bus and camel (07.20.05) #6 Drive-by language lessons (07.27.05) #7 Camping at the Great Wall (08.03.05) #8 It takes courage to make mistakes (08.08.05)
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Lately I’ve been wondering: Was it really just seven weeks ago that I was hiding in my dorm room, feigning jetlag so I wouldn’t have to face the city? So afraid of Beijing and too self-conscious to use my beginner’s Mandarin? I remember the way I’d hide behind friends who were fluent speakers, confident they’d convey my restaurant order, the correct directions and the group’s concerns, so I wouldn’t have to use my Mandarin and risk making a fool of myself. I’m so glad I quickly thought better of it and explored the city on my own by subway, bus and taxi. When I’m by myself or with friends with similar proficiency, no one becomes the crutch for the whole group, and there is no one else to turn to. Swallowing my pride and taking this route has improved my Mandarin immeasurably, while also allowing me to experience very different sides of the city on my own terms.
But instead, seeing the Great Wall took my breath away. The structure itself is very imposing; standing next to the Wall with its stone archways and high barricades made me feel both secure and intimidated. And inside each of the towers, windows on all four sides gave unobstructed views of miles and miles of green mountains and wooded valleys. Jinshanling was a great place to be introduced to the Great Wall because with practically no other tourists around, we could wander up and down the wall as we pleased.
Everyone picked their own spots to set up camp. Some built tents on open squares of the Wall, some settled into the enclosed towers and drove out the bats that were living there, but my friends and I picked a flat section of the open passageway to sleep on. At 10 p.m., the park lights that led us up to the Wall were turned off and we could only spot each other through the occasional flicker of a flashlight. When we felt drops of rain and saw flashes of lightning my group got ready to pack up our gear and head back to the hotel. But just as we were about to start our descent we decided sleeping on the Great Wall was worth enough to risk getting drenched by the rain for one night. It was the right decision; it was an unforgettable night and the real downpour held off until the early morning. I never thought that in my life I’d find myself skipping around, laughing with friends, and catching winks of rest in the middle of the night on the Great Wall. And I don’t think I’ll ever forget what the Great Wall looked like then: a graceful, snaking silhouette floating in a totally black night. After a weekend of beautiful views, it was the perfect sight that night right before I dozed off to sleep.
But spending a night in a yurt, which one of my friends aptly described as a “furry igloo,” was exciting. The yurts were raised several feet off the ground, and the sheep and yaks that lived in our compound grazed below us. At night the air, clean and inviting compared to Beijing’s smoggy heat, got nippy enough to remind me of San Francisco. A few times in the night I heard horses close by neighing and stomping the ground, and when I woke up and stepped outside my yurt the next morning, I was greeted by a camel.
By the time we got to the sand dunes, I was so weak with exhaustion that I only remember a few things clearly from the rest of the trip, such as the unique pain of riding a camel on a decline with blinding wind sweeping sand into my face. My friends and I quickly realized why camels spit so much when we started chewing sand and had to hack it out of our throats. There were moments when I wished I had not gone at all. We couldn’t take showers for the first two days of the trip because we were staying in the grasslands where there was hardly enough running water in the communal bathroom’s sinks for people to wash their hands. After almost three days of train and bus rides and hot afternoons spent on both the Mongolian grasslands and desert sand dunes, the whole group oozed a stench of sweat, grease, dirt, bug spray and sunscreen. And the bathroom facilities were so unimaginably filthy and uncomfortable that for many students, using the open grasslands was the preferred option. Once we left the grasslands though, these bathrooms were unavoidable. I also came down with a high fever while I was there and suffered alternating chills, sweats and coughing fits in the 90-degree heat.
On my second day in Beijing, I got a crash course on the average Chinese person’s perceptions of Americans in, of all places, the electronics department of a seven-floor shopping complex. A couple dozen students from the
It’s now been two weeks since I’ve been in Beijing, but from time to time I’ll revisit that afternoon and smile at the memory of it. After lots of laughing and chatting with the two salespeople, they offered us their business cards and told us to call them if we needed help around the city in the future.
We thanked them for the great time but decided we couldn’t buy what we needed that day. Just before we were about to gather up our bags to leave and the gathering of salespeople started returning to their posts behind their counters, one of our new friends challenged Jacob to an arm wrestling contest. Jacob lost. 
I’ve only been in Beijing for six days but already experienced so many of these special moments that I feel like it’s been much longer. Negotiating a price to buy an international phone card and then figuring out the directions (entirely in Chinese) on the back of the card was such an ordeal that when I heard familiar voices pick up the phone back in California I nearly jumped off my chair out of happiness. And I swear that the meals I’ve managed to order by myself end up tasting so much better than it normally would for all the effort it takes to communicate my order to the wait staff. As a student in Beijing, these tiny achievements are momentous and cause for celebration.
