I spent the fall of 2012 teaching English at the
primary and middle school levels in China. Before my three-and-a-half-month
sojourn there was over, I had taught at two schools in two different provinces:
Hebei Province in central China and later, Guangdong Province in the country's
extreme southeast. This is the journal I kept during my stay in China. My
reasons for recommending that one should stay out of that country will become
apparent in these notes. -- KD
September 1, 2012
Saturday
Beijing – Arrived last night. San Diego-Seattle on
Alaska Air (2 ½ hours), and then Seattle-Beijing on Hainan Air (11 ½ hours.)
Arrived Beijing 4:20 p.m 8/31, which was 1:21 a.m. California time.
Much ado about getting out of the airport in Beijing of
course, But Li jia Li (aka“Linda”) from the Zhuowen Cultural agency, which
brought me over here, met me in the concourse once I’d gotten through customs.
After an interminable taxi ride, she deposited me at a fleabag motel, where I
was to spend Friday night. Getting out of the airport and loading the cab was a
chore, as I had packed a ton of stuff with Carla’s assistance before leaving
the U.S. : two suitcases (heavy with books), a carry-on and my ever-present
backpack. Didn’t want a repeat of last year’s trip to Tbilisi, when I packed
like I was escaping a fire and showed up in Georgia lacking basic necessities.
This time I found myself lacking the most basic necessity,
however: money. When I went to my first Chinese ATM, I found that I had a bank
balance of $6.32. 7,000 miles from home, and penniless. Learned later, however,
that this was (what else?) a computer’s fault. I hadn’t notified my bank that I
was leaving the country, and when Mission Federal Credit Union’s computer
system saw someone in Beijing trying to use my debit card, it shut down my
account. Carla had to call the bank and get this straightened out.
Settled into the fleabag, took five Benadryl and slept from
7 p.m. to 7 a.m.
Beijing in late August: much like Washington, D.C. in late
August. Hot, humid, overcast. And I was standing at the baggage claim wearing
two layers of clothing, an undershirt and the Boston Red Sox jersey I had
donned to make me easy for Linda to spot. The baseball jersey was polyester,
which doesn’t “breathe,” so I was sweltering.
Awakened about 6:30 a.m. by the sound of construction
outside the fleabag. Couldn’t see out the window what was going on, because the
window of my room directly faced a brick wall three feet away. The wall outlet
didn’t fit my coffeemaker, of course, so I made coffee by heating water in the
electric teakettle the Chinese provided, which I then poured through the
grounds into my cup. The room was so small that to get to the bathroom to take
a shower I had to step over my luggage. But I’ve suffered fleabags before, so
that wasn’t really a surprise. The room did have a western-style toilet,
something which, in this part of the world, you can’t take for granted. I’ll
grant them that.
September 3
Monday
Xingtai City – A three-hour train ride through the
rain to get here on Saturday. Met in Xingtai by Feitao (aka “Fay”) who works
for the school where I will be teaching here. Fay, a pretty Chinese girl of
about 25, took me to my temporary apartment, which is large compared with the
dump I occupied in Tbilisi, but dirty, and contains just a few sticks of
furniture and not much else. There is a large TV that doesn’t work. The bed is
a box spring with a straw mat on top of it.
Fay took me out for a Chinese dinner, where I met the
principal of my school, a skinny character who wore a short-sleeved white shirt
(all the time, I would learn) and spoke no English. After dinner she left me at
the apartment. Read Stendhal on my Kindle, then slept for about 12 hours again.
Fay returned in the morning and took me to the school. It was Sunday, and I had
not expected to be taken to the school on a Sunday, but they do have Sunday
classes. Felt out of place: due to the heat and humidity I was wearing a polo
shirt and swimming trunks. Sent Carla an e-mail from Fay’s office; met the
principal again on my way out. No greeting; he simply warned me in Chinese not
to be late for class on Monday. Fay took me to the school dining hall, where we
held up metal bowls to have some tasteless slop poured into them. Felt like
being in a prison movie. The slop was indeed bland, but in a place like this my
only requirmeents of food are that it fill my belly and not make me sick. At
one p.m. Fay took me back to my apartment. Read for a while, then, having
nothing else to do, finished unpacking and flopped on my cement-bag bed, where
I slept off and on for 14 hours.
Up at 4:30 a.m. Made Nescafe by boiling water on the two-ring
gas burner that is my stove. No one cleaned this place before I occupied it.
The whole place is filthy, as is the pan they left me in the kitchen to boil
water in. There is also a wok that when I looked closely, had old, used cooking
oil in the bottom of it. Breakfast was some dry bread that I bought yesterday,
plus two Granola bars that I had bought in California prior to my departure for
the mysterious east.
Got to the school at 8:30 a.m., expecting to teach a class
at ten. But Fay screwed up: the school runs on a two-week rotating schedule,
and this week is on its “week one” schedule rather than “week two” – during
week two I have no Monday class until 2:40 p.m.Went to the grocery store, where
I had to wrestle with being unable to read the labels on the packaged food and
can only buy what I recognize, which aside from fresh produce isn’t much. Soon
I’ll be out of smokeless tobacco, which they don’t sell here. Cigarettes are
for sale everywhere. The Chinese smoke the way the Americans used to: all the
time and everywhere. But I gave up cigarettes ages ago.
September 4
Tuesday
My electricity went out last night, and as of this
writing (6:45 p.m.) is still out. I’m writing this by flashlight. Fay said she
would get my power back on, but Fay is not that reliable.
This is not a “power outage” as we understand the term. The
way they do things here in China, you buy a “power card” somewhat like a Metro
card or a bus pass. Once your card has no more money money on it, they shut
your power off. The telephone service in Tbilisi was similar – there was no
monthly bill for phone service; you went to a machine and “put money on your
phone,” and when your phone ran out of money, you ran out of phone. It would
seem that the people who lived in this apartment before me left me with more
than just trash and unwashed pots; they also left me with a power card that was
about to expire. So here I sit in the dark.
My second day of teaching today. Four classes, mostly the
sixth grade. Some fifth. Classes have eight periods, the last being 5:20 – 6:00
p.m. On my week one schedule I have classes at 10:10 a.m. and then at 3:30,
4:30 and 5:20. That’s cool with me. I came here to teach, and I certainly don’t
have much else to do. At the moment I’m doing that not-much-else in the dark.
September 6
Thursday
Yesterday Fay took “Scott” and me (Scott is another
foreign teacher here) For a required medical going-over. For some idiotic
reason known only to the inscrutable Chinese, this checkup was to take place in
the city of Shi jia Zhuang, about 90 minutes from Xingtai.
We got there okay, despite rain and some complaints from the
rattletrap Nissan in which we were being driven. The checkup went without
incident, and afterward Fay took us to KFC for lunch. The Chinese seem to think
that foreigners like KFC; I’ve been in this country for six days and have been
taken to KFC twice.
It was the trip back to Xingtai that became an adventure.
The car overheated and broke down. We sat. We moved. The car broke down again.
We sat on the highway shoulder. Fay made about 1,000 calls on her iPhone. We
continued to stand on the highway shoulder. I was insouciant; after all, no one
could blame me for this, nor for the fact that I was missing a class. I paced
up and down, joked about the situation. Fay wasn’t so cool, although I did get
her to laugh. Presently a tow truck showed up. They charged our driver 600 RMB
to tow us to the next exit. It was decided that we should return to Xingtai by
bus, but despite more waiting, no bus seemed forthcoming and we made the trip
back to Xingtai by taxi.
We got back around 7:30 and had dinner at the same
restaurant near our school where Fay took me to dinner last Saturday. I caved
in to her cajoling about food and agreed to eat donkey meat. Evidently donkey
is common fare here. It was served in an eggroll—sort of a donkey burrito—if I
hadn’t known what I was eating, I wouldn’t have known what I was eating. Fay
drove me back to my apartment, where there was still no electricity, but not to
panic, this was a “normal”power outage. The lights came back on in about ten
minutes. Someone paid the electric bill, then the lights went out by
themselves.
Fay seems very nice. She’s efficient, cooperative,
good-natured and speaks good English. She’s 24 and actually rather pretty. She
would be quite pretty except that her nose has that broad flatness you see so
often among Asians. Chinese women who are spared that feature of countenance
can be quite striking—I’ve already seen a few beauties here, all of them, like
Fay, young enough to be my daughters.
There is a beautiful park across the street from my
apartment. Manicured lawns, strategically-planted trees, shrubs and plants;
paved, winding paths for walking or cycling; a large artificial lake with boats
for rent; open-air pavilions and amusement park rides for kids. This is very
Asian, it seems to me, this carving-out of a sylvan space amidst big-city
bustle. Took a walk in the park this afternoon. Sky very gray, and toward the
end of my walk it began to rain. I should buy an umbrella; the weather here is
as fickle as in Chicago or Moscow.
Pleasant surprise this morning: an e-mail from Carla
confirming that I have more money in the bank than I thought.
September 7
Friday
Last night the water cooler in the kitchen leaked all
over the floor, and the drain hose from the air conditioner in the bedroom did
likewise. This morning the toilet wouldn’t flush. Fay sent a workman over, but
he didn’t fix it. Reported this to her in the afternoon; she called this
building’s owner and he’s supposed to come over later, “around seven,” to try
and fix it. Failing that, I’ll have to do what I did all day today: haul my ass
down to the school and use the toilets there. I have a schedule of classes
tomorrow, so I’ll be there anyway, but the school’s lavatories have the same
disadvantages that those of my school in Tbilisi had: “Turkish” toilets, (read:
a hole in the floor) and, as in Tbilisi, the john does double-duty as a smoking
room. Go in there to take a shit and as likely as not you’re going to see three
Chinese guys puffing on cigarettes.
Had just one class today, at 2:40. “International” class,
local codespeak for “these kids’ parents are paying extra money.” It’s not
really international; the kids are all Chinese. But these classes are a
pleasure to teach; the kids tend to be sharper, quieter and more motivated than
than the general student body, which is rife with “average” kids, e.g. kids who
don’t like to sit still, won’t shut up and quite often just aren’t interested
in learning.
Scott and I got the results of our “physicals” this morning.
According to the Chinese doctors, I have a cyst on my left kidney. First I’d
heard of it. Until it begins to actually hurt, I’m not going to worry about it.
Between my perpetually sore neck and a left knee that bothers me when I climb
stairs, I have enough aches and pains as it is.
ReadingThe Charterhouse of Parma. Previous attempts
to read it, years ago, failed. I’m slightly more than halfway through it, and
though I will soldier on, I’m afraid I find myself generally in agreement with
Hemingway, who said of this book that its vivid description of the Battle of
Waterloo was essentially an accident in a book that contains “much dullness.”
September 8
Saturday
Had five classes today, 10:10 a.m.- 6:00 p.m. with a
three-hour break between 11:40 and 2:40. Extreme fatigue, and the toilet in my
apartment still doesn’t work.Fay is now promising that they’ll come and fix it
tomorrow morning. They had better do something—I’m not going to
continue walking all the way to the school to use the toilet.
Speaking of the bathroom, I “bathed” today for the first
time since my arrival from Beijing a week ago. How? I boiled water on the
stove, dumped it in the bathroom sink, cooled it off and splashed it all over
myself (and the floor.) “Roughing it” this way could get old quickly.
September 9
Sunday
Stayed in bed until almost 8:00 this morning. Was so
exhausted after my long day yesterday that I fell asleep on the couch while
listening to Tristan. Awoke hearing Tudor church music—iTunes had moved
along—then moved to the box-spring-with-straw-mat that I use for a bed here.
Fay had said she would be here with a workman at 8:30 a.m.
to take another shot at fixing the toilet. They showed up at 9:00, went at the
toilet with a plunger (which I’d already tried), and accomplished nothing. Fay
got into a heated discussion on her iPhone with my landlady, who, like
landlords everywhere, tried to fix the blame for the problem on me and didn’t
want to do anything about it. It was finally agreed that she would send a
plumber over later. I’ll probably have to pay this guy if he shows up at all,
but Fay said that if I bring her a receipt, the school will reimburse me. She
admonished me to “be careful,” which got my hackles up a bit; she was implying
that I had indeed thrown something into the toilet that I wasn’t supposed to.
“I nearly snapped at her: “I didn’t get to be 57 without knowing how to use a
toilet!” Poor, beleagured Fay; I hastened to add that I wasn’t blaming her for
any of this. Then I packed up my toilet paper and soap and headed back to the
school to subject myself to the inconvenience of its Turkish toilets one more
time.
Back here, read some more in Stendhal and had breakfast:
hard-boiled eggs, bread with jam and honey and a little orange juice. Threw out
that filthy wok this morning, so now I only have one pan. I use it for making
coffee, boiling eggs, bathing and shaving. Feel like some member of the 101st
Airborne, washing and cooking out of his helmet.
Another walk in the park this afternoon. Hot and humid. More
crowded than on Thursday of course. Even some kids on the rides, which on
Thursday were deserted. Stopped at a lovely little western-style bakery here in
the neighborhood to buy some bread; also stopped at the high-end
liquor-and-wine place next door, where I’ve already gotten friendly with the
girls, who seem perfectly happy to sell me low-end items like drinking water
and pineapple juice.
September 10
Monday
On this, the eighth anniversary of Lynn’s death, the
“toilet caper” was solved. A plumber came up here this afternoon, ripped the
toilet out of the floor and discovered … my plastic container of dental tape. I
certainly had not thrown it in there, but there is a shaky shelf above the
toilet, and things placed on that shelf have a tendency to fall into the toilet
bowl when I’m not looking. A few days ago one of my razors plopped into the
toilet and had to be fished out. The dental tape container had fallen into the
john undetected and clogged the pipe. The plumber cleared the pipe, put the
toilet back in place and caulked it. I threw the dental tape into the trash.
FinishedThe Charterhouse of Parma yesterday.
Obviously a bad translation, for which Stendhal couldn’t be blamed, as he could
likewise not be blamed for Amazon Kindle’s unforgiveably sloppy “free editions”
of classics. Filled with misspelled words and slipshod punctuation, this
electronic text was obviously the work of some computer weenie who never heard
of Marie-Henri Beyle. But the foundation anyway, was Beyle’s work, and aside
from a rather tedious plot, I found it riddled with the exaggerated
“sensibility” that we associate with the Romantics: someone is always “in
tears” or “exploding with rage.” People start crying, or vowing murderous
revenge, over things Voltaire would have smiled at. There is some irony:
Stendhal obviously wants his readers to taste the hypocrisies and cruelties of
small, provincial absolutisms in the Biedermeier period. Obviously he wanted to
make some jokes about the stereotypical hot-blooded Italians as contrasted with
the more blasé French. But the whole stew was a bit too Romantic (with a
capital “R”)for my post-adolescent self, let alone my aging self.
Began another attempt at Flaubert’s Sentimental Education once I had put
down Stendhal’s work. Impressed as usual by F.’s passion for relevant minutiae
of the sort other writers (Stendhal, for instance) might overlook: “The awning
made of ticking formed a wide canopy over her head, and the little red
tassels of the edging kept trembling in the breeze.” That’s good.
September 11
Tuesday
I have a little girl in one of my fifth-grade classes
named 天使.It’s
pronounced something like “An’chi.”It means “Angel,” and “Angel” is what I
intend to call this pudgy-faced, smiling little treasure. She is as sharp as a
new switchblade –whips out her English lessons quicker and with more accuracy
than any other kid in that class. And she does it with enthusiasm,smiling
and waving her hands around as if learning were fun. I love this kid.
Yesterday was “Teacher’s Day” here. We all received flowers,
and throughout the day my children gave me other small gifts: tea, cookies,
more flowers. One of my girls, Zhang shan fei is her name, gave me a little
blank sketchbook inside which was written: “We all like having you as our
teacher. You have our respect and gratefulness.”
I’ve only been here 11 days and these Chinese kids are
growing on me like crazy.
Up at 4 a.m. Just couldn’t sleep anymore. They say old age
is like this, but I had the same problem at thirty.
Fay dragged us to the police station. which turned out to be right near my
apartment, to “register” with the police. Apparently visiting foreigners here
in China have to register with the police, or they’ll get arrested for just
standing around. (What’s a libertarian like me doing in a place like this?)
Must admit the cops were nice enough; one of them spoke a little English and
offered Scott and me a cigarette.
Fay wanted me to go back to my apartment after that and wait
for a man to come and deliver my washing machine, although of course she had no
idea when he would actually get here. Got bored with that after an hour and
decided to do some shopping. There’s a good-sized grocery store located on the
second floor of an office building not far from here. Checked that place out,
then strolled down to the boulevard, where there are at least three bicycle
shops, to look at bicycles. Fay had told me that I could get a good one for
about 1,000 RMB, which is about $250. She was either wrong or she’d been
shopping somewhere else. They do have good bicycles here, imported models of
course. (The days of the ubiquitous Flying Pigeon, the standard Chinese bike of
the Mao era, are over) For anything of quality, however, you’re going to spend
at least 2,400 RMB –about $400 – and from there they go up. Scott told me that
he intends to look for a used one, but after all these years I still remember
Bill Nelson’s advice to me when I was a teenager: “If you buy something used,
you’re buying somebody else’s problems.”
September 12
Wednesday
No classes today because the school was having a
party in the afternoon, which I declined to attend. I don’t go to parties if
it’s the slightest bit avoidable. They delivered my washing machine this
morning, then later a guy came to install it. There wasn’t any place it could
go except the bathroom, the bathroom being the only room with the necessary
pipes. So now the small bathroom is more cramped than ever, but at least I can
wash my clothes.
Continued to explore the neighborhood this afternoon.
Browsed the sidewalk faience bazaar across the street from the
school.They have many elegant porcelain vases, tea sets, etc. Prowled some of
the side-streets as well, including one which had at least five hairdressing
places. Wandered into one of them and chatted with the girls for a while. Of
course they couldn’t understand me, but that didn’t stop me. I’m my father’s
son: I talk enough for everybody. Later I made two Chinese friends in the space
of an hour. While taking a sunset stroll in the park, I got to talking with a
rather strange young man named Jong, whose English was halting but we
understood each other nonetheless. I gathered that I’m the same age as his
father. He’s a software engineer, so we talked about that, and I talked about
my days at RDA.
Then, entering the bakery downstairs from my place, I met a
young woman with braces on her teeth. Her name was Liyang. She spoke a little
English and said she wanted to improve hers, and she gave me her phone number.
September 13
Thursday
Took Benadryl last night and didn't get out of bed
this morning until 9:30. But that's okay; the school is closed until Monday.
Don't have much to do until then except read and go for walks. I have plenty of
reading; between my Kindle and the roughly 20 paper-and-ink books I brought to
China with me, I won't lack for reading during the stay and I won't find
myself, as I did in Tbilisi, with a couple of months left on my contract and
nothing to read.
Still, I do need to do something besides teach school, go
for walks and read. In the past two years I have begun, and abandoned, three
books I was writing. Perhaps I should take one of them up again.
Had I seen this four-day hiatus coming, I might have
arranged to take the train back up to Beijing for a night or two. Linda did
promise to show me the Forbidden City. But as they always do things around
here, I got no warning about the mini-vacation: I was told at the
11th-and-a-half hour that the school would be closed until Monday. Thank you,
inscrutable Chinese.
September 14
Friday
Bought a bicycle this afternoon, a Giant hybrid. You
probably couldn't find a Flying Pigeon in China now if you went looking for
one. But all shapes and makes of imported bikes are available. Mine cost 1,678
RMB -- about $250. They threw in a bike lock for free.
Spent the afternoon running back and forth to the store for
cleaning supplies. Treated myself to a cup of real coffee -- not Nescafe
-- at Lichee Village, the bakery three doors down. Another walk in the park
later. The usual sights: people dancing in groups, old people doing T'ai Chi;
one woman doing some sort of routine among the trees with a Chinese sword. I
borrowed it from her and did my version, provoking merriment. The Chinese seem
to find me amusing, and I find them quite friendly. We don't understand each
other of course, but when I wave at them and smile they usually wave and smile
back.
September 15
Saturday
A walk in the park this morning, coffee at Lichee
Village, and later a bicycle ride on my new wheels. If China has such a thing
as autumn, I wish it would hurry up and get here. I'm tired of summer. Re-read Death
in Venice for maybe the 40th time since high school. The heat and humidity
around here got me thinking of it. The story itself reached age 100 last year,
and Helen Lowe-Porter's translation is showing its age, with its archaisms like
"thither," of which I'm starting to get tired. Similarly, as I
continue to read a translation of Flaubert's Sentimental Education which
dates from 1922, I'm getting tired of seeing "Tis." No one has talked
that way in English since Edward Dowden, whose 1913 translation of Goethe's West-Eastern
Divan was one of my "precious fifty," preserved through two
liquidations of my library only to vanish in the Acropolis Storage fiasco of
last spring. It seems as if, every time I stop and think, I remember another
beloved book whose loss grieves me. I bought that translation of Goethe when I
was seventeen.
September 16
Sunday
Spent much of the day with "Jong," my
slightly out-of-focus Chinese friend. (I would be surprised if a software
engineer weren't out of focus.)
I was up at 5:30 and out early, as were many Chinese. They
start their day early here. At 7 a.m. the park was already teeming with people
playing badminton and ping-pong; there was an outdoor ballroom-dancing class
going on, and some old guy with a microphone was haranguing a seated and
respectfully-attentive audience. All this at 7 a.m.? Some local musicians were
playing folk instruments down by the lake; two with some sort of flutes were
serenading an elderly man in a wheelchair. Nearby, another virtuoso was playing
some sort of squeaky bull-fiddle that he held in his lap. I stopped and
listened. The locals were friendly as usual -- one old lady took some pictures
of me with her digital camera, obviously amused by my presence.
To Lichee Village for a cappucino, then wandered up the
street to a hairdressing shop where the kids know me. As we sat on the stoop,
Jong happened along. He's probably with the Chinese CIA and has been assigned
to keep an eye on me, but what the hell? I mean, what do I care? If the Chinese
CIA wants to watch me go to the store and walk in the park, let 'em have their
fun. We got on the bus, Jong and I, and went to "forest park," which
includes a zoo. I got stared at almost as much as the animals. Broke my
sunglasses yesterday and wanted to buy a new pair, so Jong came back around
later and helped me find a place that sold them, then no doubt reported back to
his masters. ("Then folliner, he buy sungrasses.")
Jong and I also stopped at a restaurant, which strangely
enough was open although they were not yet serving food; in fact the cook had
not arrived. But this is China -- there were some nice young girls there who
served us soft drinks and, since they had no cooked food, popped down the
street to a bakery and brought us a loaf of bread. One of them had a couple of
decks as playing cards, and as we sipped fruit drinks and visited, I played a
round of solitaire.
My new sunglasses cost 30 RMB, about five bucks. Home at
6:30.
September 17
Monday
Just one class today, in the afternoon. They were
terrible, the most ill-behaved bunch of sixth-graders I've seen since coming to
China. Noisy, boisterous, inattentive, throwing things at each other. I
complained to Fay about them after class. Told her to speak to their regular
teacher. Had lunch at the school and then went out for ice cream with Nick and
Lindy, a young Mormon couple from Idaho spending one semester here as volunteer
teachers.
Bought a saucepan and a frying pan this afternoon. I think
when these people finally pay me I'm going to invest in a wok and some new,
clean dishes. I might also pick up a couple of Chinese vases to dress this
place up a little bit. Lindy and Nick went with me across the street to the
sidewalk bazaar where they sell these things. We priced a few. Of course you
can dicker with the vendors here as you customarily do not in the U.S. Fay told
me this morning that if I had taken her along when I bought my bicycle, she
might have been able to talk them down to a lower price.
My usual walk in the park at sunset. When I was there
yeterday morning, some guys were busy with what seems to be a popular pastime
in the park: writing Chinese characters on the paving stones in water, with a
big brush at the end of a short pole. One of them lent me the brush and I
showed them how to draw a Marching Armand.
September 18
Tuesday
Four classes today, one in the morning and three
after lunch. Would not eat the lunch that the school served today, however. The
meat dish, whatever it was (I don't want to know) was nothing but tiny bones.
After picking them out of my mouth for ten minutes, went back to the apt. and
heated up what was left of last night's slumgullion. Electricity out again this
morning, after I had plugged an American 110V power strip into the wall, and
the power strip promptly exploded, knocking out the breaker switches. Turned
the breaker switches back on, but the power remained out. Fay had to send a
repairman over. She was not pleased. Still, when I discovered that China's
communist government forbids blogging, and found that my access to Night
Thoughts At Noon was blocked here, and threatened to move, Fay took me
seriously. She seemed discomfited and reminded me that I had signed a contract
for the full academic year. Assured her that I was only joking, but my
displeasure with this, my first-ever bumping-of-the-nose with a totalitarian
regime, was real, and should I wind up going to another country besides China
during the next academic year, Beijing may rest assured that this particular
free American will devote some time next summer in California to ripping
Beijing's yellow-red bastards a new asshole, on his blog.
September 19
Wednesday
Paid to get the Internet today. But this is China: I
was told that the Internet would be provided by the company that recruited me,
Zhuowen Cultural Exchange, and I was prepared to hold them to that promise. But
as things turned out, Zhuowen paid only 650 RMB and expected me to pay the
rest, an additional 350 RMB.
One class today, at 2:40 p.m. Fay came by at 5 p.m., having
borrowed Sylvia's electric bicycle, to take me down the street where I could
pay for the Internet. So I have a modem now, but must wait for someone to come
and install it.
A walk in the park at 5:30. Feet hurt. Early in the evening,
finished Sentimental Education. We who grew up in the 1960s and '70s are
so accustomed to the idea that hypocrisy and judgmentalism are to be
universally abhorred, that it's always an eye-opener for us to be presented
with a picture of a world in which such things were the rule and not the
exception.
September 20
Thursday
Today one of my sixth-graders handed me a live mouse.
Cute little thing (the mouse, not the kid.) White, It tried to crawl up my arm.
Handed it back to the kid, hoping he wouldn't kill it. "Take good care of
him," I said.
One class today, and only one tomorrow. Then I have five on
Saturday. Weather still sultry; when will autumn come to China? I've had
two e-mails this week from someone interested in recruiting me to teach in
South Korea. I'm not going to break my contract here, but as I told Carla in a
letter that I will e-mail tomorrow, I'm no longer as anxious as I was for most
of my adult life about being unemployed. There is such a steady demand for
teachers of English, particularly here in Asia, that I think I could find
another teaching gig fairly easily if I had to. This is a new sensation for me,
the idea of my skills actually being in demand, rather than my having to go
around with my hat in my hand begging some asshole to please give me a job.
Screw the assholes. I'm a teacher, and teachers are needed all over the place.
Furthermore, having neither wife nor children nor a mortgage, I can manage on
little. Teaching: the simple life. Closest I'll ever come to monasticism, and
it's fine with me.
September 21
Friday
Awake at 2:30 this a.m. I hate that. Dragging all
day, but only had one class, at 2:40. Went to the school at 11:00 thinking I
would have lunch, but they were serving the same thing they served on Tuesday,
some meat that was just bones. To hell with that. Went back to the apt. and
made an egg salad sandwich. Some rain this afternoon. Fay handed me 1,000 RMB
this morning. "Your food allowance," she said. Spent some of it this
afternoon on a new wok, having thrown out the filthy one I found here when I
moved in. Planning to do a stir-fry tonight with it: bell pepper, onion,
carrots, snow peas and...mystery meat. I don't know what it is and I don't want
to know.
Have moved back into reading up on the history of
philosophy. Went back to vol. 1 of Copleston and am starting over. Was T.S.
Eliot having a joke at the expense of the pre-socratics when he wrote in Four
Quartets about the deaths of air, water and fire? Oh, probably. Around 6
p.m. I got a phone call from Li Yong, my new Chinese friend whom I met in front
of the bakery recently. She wanted to go for an evening walk together, but I'm
so tired that I asked if we could go for a walk tomorrow evening after I'm
finished teaching. She said she would call me.
September 22
Saturday
Five classes today, 10 a.m. - 6 p.m. Decided that I'm
not going to eat at the school anymore. I hate the food: it's bland, it looks
horrible and it smells worse; furthermore, I don't know what the hell is in it.
The dining hall itself is airless; they never open a window, and once they cram
2,000 kids in there, it's stifling. Also, I don't like the company. I'm going
to start steering clear of the Chinese. I love the children, but I hate the
adults. They all have sticks up their asses. My apartment is only three minutes
from the school by bicycle -- to cycle home at noon and make a sandwich is
preferable to eating in that dining hall.
September 23
Sunday
Shopped for porcelain this morning. Bought four
Chinese vases and a portrait of a Chinese princess which, since it is printed
on porcelain, is too heavy to hang on the wall. But I saw this princess, fell
in love and had to have her. I think I paid 250 RMB for all this stuff, the
equivalent of about $40. Rode my bike later; stopped and bought a pullover
shirt which, despite its being labeled XXL, turned out to be too small for me.
Why are the Chinese so damned small? People here are astounded by the size of
my feet -- they think my feet are absurdly large. If they ever saw my nephew
Joey's feet, they'd die. Joey's feet are bigger than mine, bigger than those of
anyone I know in fact. Weather still sultry -- will fall ever come to
this place?
September 24
Monday
Well, they dropped a bomb on me this morning. Seems I
have to leave the school. Linda gave me an "official" reason, which
smells to me like week-old collards: she says the police have decided to
enforce some chickenshit regulation that only allows the school to have one
foreign teacher. They already have Scott Hemp so I have to go. Why do I suspect
that there's a hidden agenda here? I have my father's trusting nature, I guess.
I have been told to report to Beijing after the national holiday Oct 1, where
they will find me a new school. I have a sneaking suspicion that Fay is behind
this. She and I do not get along that well, and the Chinese are a sneaky bunch.
September 25
Tuesday
I was dead-on right. Fay was behind it. Is. She
doesn't like me. Talked with her this morning. The Chinese can't take a joke,
and that's putting it mildly. They take themselves far too seriously. Decided
to try and patch things up with her and sent her a dozen pink roses this
afternoon. Then, two hours later, "just to be a prick," as my father
used to say, I bought a lrage watermelon, lugged it to the school and dumped it
on her desk. "Here, have a watermelon," I said. She like unto shit.
Hilarious. Well, we are who about to die salute you. With our middle finger. I
love Chinese children, but I hate everyone in this goddamned country over the
age of 14. I don't trust any Chinese adult any further than I could
throw the U.S.S. Ronald Reagan.
September 26
Wednesday
It looks as if my sister back in the U.S. is in a
pickle somewhat similar to mine. She e-mailed that one of her subordinates at
the hospital had given her the proverbial chiv between the shoulder blades,
reporting untruthfully that Carla had told her to falsify information
concerning a patient who died. Carla denied it of course, but she's been placed
on suspension and expects to be fired. I thought such treachery only happened
to me. At the moment, however, I'm not expecting to be fired, just
moved. But it's odd how these things seem to happen in groups. What will the
third one be?
As for yesterday's watermelon, Feitao didn't want it,
(although she kept the roses) so I cut it up and fed it to my sixth-graders in
the afternoon. They were thrilled. Ate every bit of it.
September 27
Thursday
After two classes this morning, the second of which
was only 20 minutes long, my kids took their luggage, which was piled all over
the hallways, and scattered to begin their vacation, which begins officially on
monday and commemorates the anniversary of the glorious 1949 revolution which
brought the glorious Chairman Mao to power, who in turn spent the next
quarter-century killing 26 million people whose descendants now worship him.
What an endlessly-interesting place this funny old world is.
September 28
Friday
I've only been here four weeks, but I'm already
thinking seriously about getting the hell out of this country. Fay called me
this evening to tell me -- get this -- that "somebody" had reported
seeing me drinking a can of beer on the street. Now, I asked Fay weeks ago if
drinking a can of beer on the street is illegal here, (because it is illegal in
America) and she told me that no, it isn't. I reminded her that she had told me
that. "But you are a foreigner," she replied. Well, why didn't she
tell me in the first place that this country has one set of rules for people
who have yellow skin and slanted eyes, and another set for rules for those who
dont? It's Asian racism, pure and simple.
I think this is going to do it. I don't like being watched;
I don't like living in a communist country, even if it's only nominally
communist; in fact I don't like communism or communists and I have pretty much
decided that I don't especially like China and I certainly don't like the way
the Chinese conduct their relations with so-called "foreigners."
Jong just knocked on my foor, but I don't think I want to
see him anymore -- I didn't answer.
September 29
Saturday
Turns out that the "somebody" who saw me
downing a Tsingtao beer on the street, and then raised hell about it, was the
school's headmaster. I already mistrusted that skinny little prick; now I really
don't like him. The "beer incident," combined with Fay's general
dislike of me, is the reason I'm being kicked out of the school.
Fuck 'em. Had a long chat on Skype with Linda this
afternoon. I offered to go back to the U.S. "I'll leave tomorrow if you
want," I told her. If I leave now, I can be home in time for the World
Series. I don't have enough life left to put up with this bullshit. She
demurred. I don't think she wants me to stay here, but she doesn't want to go
out and hunt up another teacher, either. Talked with Fay as well. She seems to
be coming around to my side, but I think we're rearranging the deck chairs on
the Titanic here. The skeletal moron who runs the school wants me gone,
and that's that.
I'm sick of this shit.
September 30
Sunday
My electricity went out (again) early this afternoon,
and now (5:15 p.m.) it remains out. It will be getting dark soon, and all I have
is a flashlight. Fay is off on her holiday, to the beach somewhere.
Didn't want to get mixed up with Jong again, but with Fay
out of town and me unable to speak Chinese, Jong was my only hope of getting
anything done about the power. Called him on my cellphone from the park. He
returned my call a few minutes ago as I sat here in the gathering dark, but
there wasn't much he could do. So here I sit in the gathering dark. Fuck China.
