Dali

The bus chugged onwards, darted around a corner, and before my eyes was the most incredibly breathtaking scene I had witnessed in my 19 years of life. Green rice fields reaching out gracefully to the mountains in the distance. A town spotting the land. Sunshine breaking through silvery-gray rainclouds, showering the mountains with light. This all on a road far enough in the distance and high enough on the hills to feel as though one were spying on the farming town on the wing. And as the bus continued to chug onwards, a mound of dirt would block the view--a tantalizing moment before the break of glory once the hillside swept away.

After the third or fourth time seeing a scene equally as stunning, equally as moving, I began to get suspicious. It seems that maybe China has discovered how to control their weather to make for the most captivating landscapes. Must investigate later.

Dali was an interesting city, although I could have used more time to get a feel for the place. There was a strong presence of weed here, and of Westerners. Managed to nab an honest-to-goodness Western breakfast (eggs, bacon, and bread), which was very nice.

A highlight in Dali was, surprisingly enough, a bar. We had all headed out to find the typical "Bar Street" of Dali, and came across a place with fairly inexpensive drinks and a nice atmosphere. Sitting down to order, we were chatting, and generally having a great time, when suddenly, the lights turn off, loud dance music begins to play, and the chairs are moved from the bar area, revealing a good-sized dance floor. The rave lights start a-flashing, and the bar is almost instantly converted into a dance club. The thing was, however, that no one was dancing. Easily remedied by us outgoing Americans, who all commandeered the area and slowly dragged in a small Chinese crowd as well. Haha, what a great night it was! While most people keep ample distance between themselves and other dancers on the floor (specifically the Chinese), simply moving their bodies to the tempo, our group was positively racy with one another, choosing to instead mold our bodies with beat and fellow bodies, test boundaries, explore the fluctuations of musical eroticism. Nothing fishy, just dancing, total security, shocking China.

Dali Highlights:
DVD Store--$1 DVDs, may or may not work, may or may not be in English, definitely illegal, but the least expensive, and most adventurous, way to see and own movies you're bound to find. Anywhere. DVD stores are EVERYWHERE, but this is where I first encountered them. Hello, bootleg DVD.
Deep-fried mouse-sized whole crabs--Delicious. Eat the shell and everything, chomp!
Foreigner's Street--Western food, Western folks, Chinese twist
The scenery--words can't describe.

Too short a stay, in my opinion... Would love to have explored more than I had the opportunity to. Off to Kunming, an even shorter stay, before heading back to good ol' Beijing.

Lijiang

Like spider webs on the skin that you can feel but can't see, I imagine this is how my reiterations will be of the events following Chengdu. It's been a long time since meandering along the stone paths of historic Lijiang, since the entrancing bus-ride to Dali, since the haze and confusion of Kunming. I'll do my best, but forgive me if the glitter doesn't reflect the illumination.

Traditional Chinese architecture, ethnic minorities selling scarves, necklaces, clothes, yak yogurt, combs, silver doodads, artwork, craftwork in booths lining worn stone pathways, soft light, cold mornings, spontaneous rains, and tourists--Lijiang is not a place that can be summed-up with ease. Within the "old city," one will find the aliens (Chinese and waiguoren alike.) Just beyond this, one stumbles upon the poverty, the agriculture, the animals, the markets, the China of which many of us had dreamed. We stayed in this city for the majority of our trip: about 3 days.

Here, I tasted baijiu for the first time. Baijiu, before being largely replaced by beer, was the staple and indigenous alcohol of the Middle Kingdom. It is described by the Chinese as "la," meaning "spicy," for its punch and aroma. Spicy, although a fantastic play on words, is not exactly how I would describe baijiu, as I feel its taste is more similar to petroleum than chili. It is the choice drink for inebriation as 4 kuai-(about $0.80-)worth will knock you on your ass for about a day and a half. I haven't yet brought myself to try baijiu with any seriousness, since then.
Here, I rented a bicycle and adventured with a very small group into agricultural villages nearby, ate small whole fish fried on a stick, pet beautiful small ponies being walked by some of China's most rare ethnicities.
Here, I wandered the streets aimlessly at all hours of day and night. There is no grid pattern for these roads, and the unique landmarks in the depths of the old-city are few and far between, with the redundant shop after shop after shop selling craft after craft after craft (all the same, but all hand-made by each owner).
Here, I listened to traditional Naxi music played by the last-living musicians (most in their 70s and 80s) whose fingers danced across erhu, zither, flute, bell, and drum as exquisitely as only my childish enthusiasm would have let them. I met the master of the orchestra, who had been imprisoned for over 30-years as a result of the Hundred Flowers Campaign.
Here, I remembered my studies; I lived within history.

I definitely recommend you try the yak yogurt. Avoid the small round pastry-looking breads with sesame seeds on top--they are composed entirely of dry. Get out of old city--the real world is outside the tourist trap. Get lost. Don't be afraid to fall into mystery.

“Like all great travellers, I have seen more than I remember, and remember more than I have seen.”
--Benjamin Disraeli

Bittersweet farewell, as we all crowded onto a bus for a long, long drive to Dali.

INTERMISSION

Hey everyone!

I'm going to interrupt my retelling of old tales to bring you some up-to-the-minute news on my return to Beijing.

Last year, when I first applied for this program, I was told that I knew too little Chinese to take the Chinese Language Immersion courses at Beida. This, I found out within the first few days of my being in China, was an inaccurate report. So, I switched. Instead of taking Politics, Business, Philosophy, and Chinese language, I, as a martyr to a fire, am throwing myself into Chinese language, full-time. Monday through Thursday, class commences at 9AM, and ends at 12PM; class begins again at 1:30PM, and ends at 3:00PM; we then have one-on-one sessions for thirty minutes per person. Fridays, an hour-long review commences at 9AM, and a large comprehension test and oral interview caps off the week. The oral interview and comprehension test accounts for fifty percent of our overall grade. To top it all off, we have, by entering into the program, agreed to sign a language pledge, which bars us from speaking English for the next three months, excepting, of course, conversations with family members and American friends. Every infraction will cost us 1% of our overall grade.

NOTE: The language plege, although quite firm in its almost Biblical "thou shalt not speak English", is in reality saying that we are forbidden to get caught speaking English. Although I am grateful for their expertise in language immersion, I do enjoy my tidbits of conversation with my classmates I so dearly adore.

Can I hear a YIIIKES from everyone, please?

It sounds rough, yes; however, I like to think of it like this: Time flies in Chinese class, mostly because it's so mentally intensive and also so fun. Similarly, the studying I need to do (which is actually quite a lot...) isn't so much work as much as talking to myself for however-many-hours. And it's not even so much like talking to myself, because I really don't know what I'm saying just yet, it's more like competing in a scavenger hunt so that I can express myself. Like charades!

Like charades all day long.

I found myself, the first day, leaving class with a goofy smile on my face, conjuring sentences in my head, constructing lists of phrases, words, dialogues that I needed to learn... I've had an incredible time. Things got harder as the days progressed. On Tuesday night I signed my language pledge, and then I truly knew the dangers of being unable to express oneself. I have studied between three and seven hours every night, depending on how exhausted I was from the day's lessons.
After today's test, I contentedly spent the last two hours with my headphones in, chatting online with my "American friends", and in general ruthlessly drowning out any traces Chinese around me or in my head.

I'm really sick of Chinese--I think this immersion thing is working so far!

Chengdu

Plane ride. Landing. Scary.

It was night by the time we arrived in Chengdu, it was completely dark outside, and everyone was beat. One idiosyncrasy of this particular adventure (the two-week trip around China) was that the origins of my classmates and my fatigue were almost entirely unclear. Were we still struggling with the acclimation of the 12-14-hour time change? Was it because we had stayed out until ungodly hours, the previous night? Was it because of the strenuous physical activity, which included but was not limited to dragging around a stuffed backpack, trekking over large distances by foot, bicycling, dancing, hiking, and the occasional romp in the bedroom for those who brought their boyfriends/girlfriends along? It was constantly up for debate. Two things were certain: 1) We were all almost always tired, 2) We all almost always wanted to skip sleep in order to do other interesting things.

Chengdu was... unusual. Enormous, gritty-looking buildings loomed all around, and the sky was overcast for almost the entirety of our stay. Although we broke our second rule and did go to sleep once getting to the hotel, the next day we awoke bright and early to go see the Chinese National Treasure, the Great Panda. Cute? Check. Fluffy? Check. Languid? You betch'ya. Everything you ever imagine when you think of a panda, I saw... and then some. They also had RED pandas, which were possibly even cuter. It was ridiculous how cute they were. Ridiculous. Did I mention they were cute? There's really not a whole lot more I'm willing to say on the matter. You ought to go see them.

After that, we all came together to try the infamous HOT POT. For those of you who don't know, HOT POT is characterized by the large bowl of boiling hot soup-like liquid in a hot pot (very intuitive), usually very spicy soup-like liquid, in which you dip raw meats and veggies to cook. The meats and veggies are infused with the flavor of the hot pot soup-like liquid, and you have a delicious bite. After many bites, this is considered a meal. It was delicious! Also, it was very funny to watch all of my classmates sweat in their seats from the heat of the chili in the dish. Don't get me wrong, I got my ass kicked as much as the next American; however, I had the distinct advantage of eating green chili at least once a week for the last 19-or-so years. (Shout out to mom and pop!)

Now, I had spend the first day and a half in Chengdu dancing in my seat, listening to techno and hip hop tracks in my head, because I had, for two weeks, skipped my Wednesday dose of dancing/singing at Wild Horse. At this time, I began to tap my new-found friends on their shoulders and suggest a trip to a Chengdu KTV, the Chinese karaoke chain/franchise (another constant of the trip: there was a KTV on practically every corner of practically ever city we visited). After praying that the taxi drivers (both of them, as we needed two cabs) knew how to get us to the KTV, we poured out into a karaoke paradise where one could purchase a room furnished with chairs, tables, three microphones, a karaoke machine, and 40 beers for a shamelessly low price. Four hours later, we poured OUT giggling like crazy, singing different tunes (I was Madonna for the evening), and decided to walk back to our hotel however-many blocks away.

Needless to say, my karaoke prescription was filled.

The next day we were up and out by 5 A.M. and on our way to Lijiang.

Xi'an

My previous experiences with trains: Metra (Ogilvy-Kenosha) in Chicago and the Chunnel in France.
My most recent experience with trains: Beijing to Xi'an, overnight expedition.

For over twelve hours, the other BeiDa students and I shared what was two or three cars on an overnight train to Xi'an with many-a Chinese local. Very new experience. The beds were small, stacked in three-echelon bunk beds, and were pretty uncomfortable. Everyone was packed together. Incredible asian scenery and cityscapes flew by through average-sized windows. The bathrooms..? We'll save the bathroom talk for when you're a little more warmed up.

Luckily, I got a bottom bunk, and the bed across from me was also posessed by Sam, a girl in our group, SO we confiscated the area and used it as a gathering-place for whoever felt the urge to chat. Myself and around 8 other students sat and talked for hours, and I can easily say I have never been in such a large group of interesting, intelligent, kind, humorous, and adventurous people in all my life (this is a recurring theme in my adventure so far--the Americans and one Swede who make up our group are becoming many of my favorite people.) After the long chat, I amused myself with a dance of jet lag: Listen to music, sleep for an hour, wake up, watch outside the window for as long as I like, listen to music, sleep for an hour, wake up, watch outside the window for as long as I like, etc. Finally, when we pulled into Xi'an, I heard many people echo my first thought: "This is exactly what I imagined when I thought of China."

There is a huge city wall encasing the center of Xi'an, and a load of traditional-looking architecture to match the wall's stately appearance. The hustle and bustle was insane, so many bodies packed into such small places. Here, we saw some of our first beggars. Here, we saw the sizzling street food and aggressive vendors. Here, we rode bycicles on an enormous wall overlooking the city of Xi'an. At night, the city lit up with technicolor neon signs adorning almost every building and business. The night life was hopping, as was the daytime--I had some of my first haggling experiences here, and let me tell you, in China, shopping is as close to a game as it can get. The game goes something like this:

Me: How much does this cost *Holds up something shiny*
Vendor: 100 Kuai.
Me: Whaaat? Hm... I don't know...
Vendor: Listen, this is the special price. Special price for [Insert "best friend," "first customer," "student," "someone who speaks some Chinese," "second cousin" or the like]. It doesn't get any lower than this.
Me: Well, I actually saw it over THERE for 80 Kuai.
Vendor: What? Okay, I'll sell it to you for 80, but that's my final offer.
Me: No, no, thanks. I'm a student, I have very little money!
Vendor: Okay, okay, just let me see your price. *Holds up a calculator for me to type in my price*
Me: Well, I don't knoooow...
Vendor: What's your price?
Me: Well... I really can only afford.... *types in 40 Kuai*
Vendor: 40! Are you CRAZY? I can't sell it for that. This is a very special price, I can't go any lower. *Types in 75*
Me: No, I really can't. Thank you, anyway.
Vendor: What's your price?
Me: Weeeeeeeeell.... *Reluctantly types in 50 Kuai*
Vendor: *Shakes head in disbelief* No, no, no, I can't sell it for any less than *Types in 70*
Me: Really, I just can't. Thank you, have a nice day. *Make a move to walk away*
Vendor: Wait, wait, okay, okay, final price, 60!
Me: Sounds good, I'll take it!

And then we have an exchange of smiles, money, and product, and go on our merry ways. You can get just about anything down to a fraction of the starting price, depending on your skill, your valor, and the amount of time you're willing to invest into the transaction. There are multiple methods, some more harsh, others more coy--I am only a novice, but plan to perfect my technique by December. The vendors seem disappointed, or even insulted, when this game isn't played. Fun, fun, fun.

NOTE: This scene is excluding the clumsy Chinese and/or English exchanged between parties. And believe me, it is clumsy.

I spent the majority of my time exploring the city, socializing with the many BeiDa students, and tagging along on the one or two adventures planned by our advisors. We saw a beautiful mosque, trekked along the city wall, and ate an enormous meal of dumplings (fourteen different types of dumplings, one after the other, finished with a dumpling soup. It's amazing I didn't gain ten pounds off of that little stunt. We were all hurting from that one.)

Now, let's do the bathroom talk.
In China, it is advised that one always carry one's own toilet paper. This is because hardly any of the bathrooms, public or otherwise, have toilet paper provided. The standard bathroom type is a squat-style toilet, with a flusher (hopefully). For me, this has been fairly uncomfortable, althoug not undoable. Cultural differences are part of the excitement, after all! But where oh where can one find a western-style, sit-down toilet? Just look for the blessed stick-figure-sitting-on-3/4-circle symbol, because there is a sit-down toilet in every handicap stall in China. Here, it's a fact that American restroom habits are disabled. Go figure.

I departed Xi'an very excited to see what lay ahead, on an airplane to Chengdu--the capital of Sichuan Province.

Holy Cow. Yak, rather.

The study trip around China is close to conclusion--I'm in Dali now, will be in Kunming tomorrow, and the following day will be heading back to Beijing where my language skills will be tested, and classes will begin. I'm currently sitting at an Internet Cafe, sucking up bandwidth and electricity at $0.60/hour.

You may be wondering "Why would Kelsey be at an internet cafe if she has her laptop, and there's wifi in a hundred million places in China?" Well, my friend, there has been a blight upon my electronics! Minor, but deadly. First, I need a three-pronged adaptor for my MacBook charger, because the outlets are ridiculous here. Second, even if I did have an adaptor, my charger is fried for some unknown reason, so it wouldn't do me a whole lot of good. The only Mac store is in Beijing, so until I return I am doomed to sit at Internet Cafes, typing on sticky keyboards.

BUT the journey itself has been nothing but phenomenal. From Beijing to Xi'an, Xi'an to Chengdu, Chengdu to Lijiang, Lijiang to Dali. You can only imagine my distress over not keeping up, because I would hate to have an uber long post attempting to divulge as much of my experience (which is really, for the most part, unable to be articulated) as possible to you, consequently taking up large portions of your time, consequently costing me many more cents for internet, consequently not doing a decent job of immersing you in my China adventures... It really is a predicament, and for that, I'm exhasperated.

The solution to my problem is as such: I'm going to divvy this up into multiple blog posts. One for each city, mmkay? So, read at your leisure, and hopefully this makes sense to all of you and solves my problems as well.

:)

It's like a whole different country, over here.

My new roommate, her boyfriend, three other folks we'd nabbed on the way out, and I were scuttling across the long crosswalk. Honking. More scuttling. Let me just say I doubt the chicken would have crossed the road if he'd been in Beijing.

Risking my life and the lives of my new classmates all for one lowly purpose: to get to the golden arches. I know, I know--my first meal in Beijing and I'm running for McDonnalds? It may seem ridiculous, but when you speak very little Mandarin, and have 15 minutes before the three-hour mandatory info-session Mickey D's is pretty much your only option. Luckily for me, it was indeed a cultural experience. From the Chinese characters wallpapering the restaurant walls and countertops, to the loud and aggravating music booming outside (from the venue, into the street), I knew I wasn't in Kansas anymore. There were no lines--survival of the fittest--and I managed to splurge out some of my very weak Mandarin and nab a meal before being splattered across the linoleum.

It tasted the same, although it cost less. 21RMB, which is a little less than $3.

After the information session, my fatigue almost unbearable, I returned to my hotel room. Also interesting. The bathroom is one rather large shower, with a toilet and a sink (very difficult to find a place for your clothes to stay dry while showering). The bed reminded me of camping with my dad out in the mountains--basically some wood with a thin mattress over the top, low the the ground and short. I felt deeply for the many tall boys who I met in the lobby, earlier that day. Surprisingly, though, when I finally managed to pull myself away from my computer, I slept very comfortably, and upon waking up found myself wondering why we, in the USA, insist upon having an extra 7" of fluff on our beds, when really the three that I had did me just fine.

Earlier today, when on the prowl for lunch, I came across a small lingerie store, lined with bras. Small bras. And let me tell you, for a small-breasted woman, seeing small bras will stop you in your tracks, which they did. On sale, probably about half-off, I found a bra set that I thought might fit me, so I went into a dressing room to try them on, promptly followed by the saleswoman. Awkward? Sure. Helpful? Actually, yes. She wasn't modest by any stretch of the imagination, and I found that her confidence was contagious, making the experience very pleasant and thrilling. She took it upon herself to dress me, arrange my breasts in the cups to look particularly alluring, and had me try on several different colors and shapes of the sexy lingerie. "Hao," which means good, couldn't quite cover my feelings over the perfect fit of this usually quite illusive garment for a woman like me, so I settled with "Tai hao le" (extremely good) and "Feichang hao" (holy cow, good), and left the store with a very inexpensive and very uplifting purchase. I don't plan to do much shopping here for a while, and hope to reserve my yuan for after I get to know the city better, BUT I think this is a fine exception to my expectations. A bra, in my perfect fit, in one of my favorite colors, on sale, in Beijing. I even got to use some of my Mandarin. This has got to be a good omen!

I'm surprised to say that I know more Mandarin than most of the other students here! I'm younger--my roommate already calls me a "baby" whenever she gets a chance--but I make up for it in the devotion I've given to Chinese studies for the last two years. I think I surprise some of them by how jazzed I am to be here, which quite frankly surprises me. I imagined myself sticking out like a sore thumb, being only 19, but nobody seems to notice, except when I say so! I'm also surprised by the ease of making friends among these 53 USA students, and am feeling completely accepted and comfortable with the group. I suppose I'm being surprised by a lot of things, which is one of my favorite states of being, so I guess that's okay.

Knock on wood, but I think the next four months are going to be amazing.

I'm pretty exhausted (as it's only 4:39PM here, I think this is jet lag a-knocking), so I'm going to skedaddle before I write anything too silly or incomprehensible.