The Escape

Last weekend was Qingming festival 清明节, a day to remember the ancestors where tomb sweeping and spring outings are the most popular activities.

One of the Chinese language teachers once told me about the custom of putting miniature objects on the ledge of the tombs in order for the passed away to have a more comfortable after life. Those included things like little cars, fridges and tellies; keeping my face straight at the thought of the after life being exactly like the present one, i.e totally obsessed with material acquisition, was a real struggle. So last week I asked our interpreter (a lovely guy who is currently experiencing all sort of blushing as the only man in the gynae department) about this custom. He looked at me in disbelief and mumbled ‘I don’t think so’. I wasn’t surprised. I made a bleak attempt at asking where the nearest cemetery was but the alarmed look I received made me realize that finding out for myself about the mini fridges and tellies was not worth the hassle.

I remember having dinner with the only other language student left at the end of January and him venting his frustration at not being able to get the same answer from the three language teachers who all seemed to have different opinions on everything. It gave my fellow student searching for ‘best way’ a lot of grief; that same grief I have experienced when trying to look for definitive answers in Chinese medicine. China and anything Chinese related does test my patience on a daily basis.

The Foreign Students Group (us) took advantage of this holiday to flee…not only the Enclosure but Harbin! Trepidation was in the air; we were about to leave what someone defined as the ‘armpit of China’.

The quick stop in Shenyang was packed with a visit to two lovely friends (thank you for the unexpected lush continental breakie!) and a couple of the major touristy things which were worth a visit  (the Imperial Palace and Beiling Park). For the rest, Shenyang seemed like an incredibly heavily industrialized city constellated with monstrous construction sites. I am glad it wasn’t our last stop.

Instead, our real destination was Dalian; because of the holiday period we had to compromise on the train time and go for a 2am night sleeper which meant a few hours to kill after dinner. What followed a rather lovely meal at the oldest dumpling place in the city was the encounter with two local institutions, the bai jiu 白酒 (literally translated ‘white wine’ but truth is that my uncle could make something that tastes better at the back of his garage) and the KTV (karaoke tv). Now, the combination is lethal and not one I want to repeat any time soon especially when followed by a night train with people I have only known for a month. But trust the Brits to get their best side out with a little alcoholic help.  So in a sparkly world of mirrors, lights and various props which resembled nothing of the dodgy karaoke cubicles in London Soho, we wailed away for hours and the following morning, getting off the train, we felt a bit more friendly to each other despite the pounding headaches and radioactive breaths.

A grey, cold and windy Dalian greeted us despite the Qingming festival usually marking a rise in temperature. For a place called the Chinese Riviera I was expecting blue water and idyllic settings. Instead we were never too far from some sort of ugly building being built and the omnipresent sound of human phlegm being powerfully dislodged.  It nevertheless provided respite from the urban setting of the previous months and we indeed managed to find some quiet spots. Cycling along the sea on tandem was fun especially when charging groups of Chinese strolling around, revenge time.

After a shaky start which involved almost walking into the typical tourist scam of being taken to the wrong place for a ridiculous price things started looking up. Until we chose the wrong place for dinner; unknowingly we must have walked into Gangster Land. I had heard about the feistiness of the north easterners before but I wasn’t quite ready for this type of fighting at the dinner table. Full teapots smashed on each other heads, plates and glasses flying and waitresses hiding behind us Westerners. It ended with a pool of blood on the floor and one person being driven to hospital with half an ear hanging off his head. The resigned look on the waiters’ face mopping up the battlefield hinted that he had seen it all before.

Nasty and needless to say it left a bitter taste in our mouth and no desire for food any more. And for an Italian, that is not a good way to end the day.

So…I cannot really bring myself to say that leaving the Enclosure was a pretty experience but it was certainly an eventful one. And that is China for you. Or at least for me so far. 






If you are planning a visit to Dalian,  the best time is probably around May, when the weather is milder and the city is not yet inundated with people on holiday. Dalian is a young city and has very little history so it wouldn't be my first choice where to be based. But if that is not important, it indeed seemed like a rather pleasant and clean place and certainly to be taken into consideration if you want to learn Chinese as the language I heard in the street was close enough to standard Mandarin.

Good accommodation in Dalian: Yijia Express Apartments 

The life of a Chinese student (part 1)

Sucks. I initially thought.
Being based on the university campus has the disadvantage of leading a somewhat artificial life within the Enclosure; everything to meet basic needs is within short walking distance so going behind the gates (and encountering manic traffic) always feels a bit of an effort. We (the foreigners) are in a different derelict building and thank god for that. Living in a squalid, tiny room with other five students and sharing a bathroom with many more is not appealing.
However being on campus has many ups, such as cheap meals and quite a few free classes. But so far the real privilege has been being able to observe the daily life of a Chinese student. Their chores seem to be never ending; I see students up and about from 6am, we leave them behind at the hospital when it is lunch time and in the evening quite a few are still in the classrooms studying when I am more than ready to chill out.
I recently sat in a couple of lectures on the Shang Han Lun. Perhaps breaking into is more of an appropriate term as those classes were not part of the scholarship deal. But learning justifies it all (and having italian blood helps too). On top of that I do need to get some adrenaline rush from somewhere since my coffee making attempts  without a gas hob have been so far pathetic to say the least. 
It all began with a nerve wracking interrogation from the lecturer who would call out random names. The selected victims were expected to recite out loud verses from the original text; the tension was so palpable that from my hiding place I started worrying I would hear my name.  After the torture was over, a few students at the back collapsed one by one and literally went to sleep and I started sweating as they were my shield. The studious ones at the front continued frantically taking notes while I kept trying to deal with a language that was beyond my capabilities and all my gadgets at once (camera to take pics of slides, recorder and dictionary) without being seen. A painful but interesting experience. 
Students got fed information, more than the average Western student will ever dream of, like a mass production of foie gras. No space for discussion nor questions, unless they came from the teacher.
That same subdued atmosphere applies to the hospital settings; students don't say a word unless requested but follow the doctors/teachers around. While I appreciate the value of being quiet and learning from observation, I also often witnessed the shortcomings of relying on memorisation alone as the main studying method.  
I was expecting this sort of set up but I nevertheless found myself more than once wanting to shake the sharp looking ones in an attempt to bring them back to life. But then I had to remind myself that Chinese medicine is no novelty here and they are just (very young) students and as such probably only trying to go through hoops in the least painful way.

So, up to a certain point, I thought looking at those overworked and lifeless Chinese students living in s*** holes…your life sucks…
Until I went to the ‘ Crazy English Club’.
To be continued…