Post the Seventeeth: Harry Potter and the Purple Potato Fruit

Intersection near our campus. I almost died taking this shot.

Notice the bus has BOTH DOORS OPEN.

Okay, it's official. I am really quite awful at blogging. I blame final exams. I blame the economy. I blame the expanding economic gap between the rich and the poor (came up every business class). Anyways, so a couple weekends ago I went to see the 7th Harry Potter film on Zhongyang Dajie. I t was a hilarious experience. My two friends and I got some of the last tickets to an English version (with Chinese subtitles), which meant that we had absolutely abysmal seats (theaters in China have assigned seating). Anyways, the movie experience was SPECTACULAR since it was in 3D (probably some sort of gimmick by the Chinese version of Hollywood) and the 3D glasses that were supplied were actually the worst I've ever used in my entire life. They were reminiscent of Cyclops' visor from X-men, though his visor probably doesn't limit him to sitting down with his head slightly tilted to the right in order to get the full effect of 3D. I also couldn't understand why so many Chinese people had showed up to watch the English version of the movie as there were five Chinese dubbed movies for every English one. Also does Harry Potter make since when it's translated? So much of the content/names/spells are derived either from English or Latin, so I'm not sure my Chinese companions found it as entertaining as I did (which explains why my three friends and I were the only ones to clap at the end of the film). Whatever, the movie cost us about five USD and was a thrilling end to my childhood (sob).

Super Mum: Alliance Restaurant.

Mmmmm, tasty tasty!!

This had GMO written all over it.

Sailor Venus. Unclear if these guys know that she's actually Japanese (cue torches and pitchforks).

On Wednesday evening, all of the CET students had to give a 5-8 minute oral presentation about their 1-on-1 topic to a panel of Chinese teachers. The student then had to field questions from the teachers for another 5-7 minutes. This would have been totally fine except the teachers are known for asking totally off-topic questions and taking points off if you secretly didn't know that they were asking you about DNA because they used the long Mandarin version of the word instead of the commonly accepted "DNA". In some regards I got luck since my topic (Chinese Healthcare System and Coverage Reform) was not something any of the teachers were familiar with --> I could have told them literally anything if I said it with enough conviction. I was lucky in that I didn't have to make anything up since I had one of the best 1-on-1 teachers in the program, Sui Laoshi. Just to give you an idea of the scope of the presentation, here are some of the vocab words I had to memorize:
~ 耐多药肺结合: multidrug-resistant tuberculosis
~ 合作医疗保障制度: Collective Health-care and Coverage System
~ 化学疗法: chemotherapy
~ 终末期肾病: end-stage renal disease

My one-on-one teacher and I. I'd just finished explaining HIV-related complications in treating multidrug-resistant tuberculosis in Mandarin Chinese, hence why I look like a hot mess.

So glad it was over.

Anyways, I'm going to try to put up some more pictures.

魏德

Post the Sixteenth: Salons and Bites and Rabbis, Oh My!

One of my roomie's many great shirts.

Hello my peoples! I realize that I've been doing a terrible job of keeping up with this blog and I do apologize. The only excuse I have to offer is seeing the latest Harry Potter movie (SOOOO GOOOD and I'm a book loyalist) and writing a 2000+ character summary of the Rural Chinese Healthcare System (yes, all of it). Anyways, here are some shots of Harbin to make up for all of that.

Downtown Harbin. Notice there is NO CLEAR TRAFFIC PATTERN.

The last time I took a cab, our cab drive honked at a police officer before cutting him off and speeding away.

Some things:

• Haircut in China: I got my hair cut about a week and a half ago and I can tell you right now that getting your hair cut in China is one of the scariest and simultaneously rewarding experiences ever. My mother's side of the family is all of African descent, so I have dark curly hair that could be described as "nappy" or "just like a brillo pad" (even though it doesn't). Getting a hair cut from someone who has experienced my type of hair in the US can be enough of a challenge, so getting it done China was almost ludicrous. When I walked into the hair salon, the hairdressers/barbers all took one look at me and called for the owner of the shop. As he walked forward, I calmly (though it probably came out sounding downright scared) asked him if he has ever cut my type of hair before. He did not respond. After examining my hair for a few minutes, he turned to me, his expression grave, and told me that I would have to give him directions. Great. My fear ended up being unnecessary, however, since he did exactly what I told him: make it shorter, don't try to use any special hair products, don't try straightening it, just make it shorter. Scissors in hand, he began to cut my hair to exactly the length I wanted. When enough progress had been made to predict the final result, both of us sighed in relief and began talking to each other (typical "where are you from?" "are you sure you're an American?" "why on earth are you in Harbin?" questions all came up). During this discussion, some of the other hair-people in the shop came by to play with the fallen chunks of hair lying on the floor or else watch our conversation. In the end, I ended up paying $1.25 for a wonderful haircut, a relaxing head-wash, a delightful conversation, and an overall hilarious (in retrospect) experience.
• The Battle of the Night: Every evening at around 11PM, it begins. I'm finishing my last assignments when I begin to notice an itch on my leg. I scratch it absentmindedly, concentrating on the last character strokes of my composition essay. After shutting off the computer and turning out the light, I lay down in my bed and lay my mind to rest. Just as I'm losing consciousness, it happens. Bzzzzt. In an instant I turn on the light and sit bolt upright in bed, my eyes scanning the room. My leg itches again and, after closer inspection, I notice three little pimple-like bites arranged neatly around each other. MOSQUITO. Thus the war begins. It can last anywhere from 15 minutes to two hours and always ends in the death of the offending party. I silently (totally unnecessary) creep around the room while waving a pair of flip-flops near my head (NECESSARY) lest my head or neck get attacked. I check each walk. I check the bed. I check the ceiling. I check my dresser. No part of the room goes without survey. Finally, FINALLY, I find the little bugger. Adrenaline rushes. My heart pounds. I'm am breathing manually. I quickly stalk forward and POUNCE. Two hits usually does the trick, one from each shoe. As the creature twitches in death, I cry in triumph (in Chinese of course) before returning to bed and smiling myself to sleep.
• Last weekend I went to the Jewish quarter with two fellow Yalies. The quarter was really more of a single-building affair: the Jewish Museum. Inside the museum was split into three levels: the first floor with pictures and paintings of old Harbin (though they could have been of any city in China and some of them were definitely done in watercolors), the second floor of actual information (mostly facts about how nice the Chinese were to the incoming Jews), and the third floor made up of a wall of famous Jews (Einstein to Oppenheimer to Spielberg to Olympian Mark Spitz) and an assortment of Jews who had at one point or another come to Harbin. The museum was interesting in itself, not because of the factoids, but due to the very Chinese approach of self-congratulation while talking about something else.

The outside of the Jewish Museum.

Entrance plaque.

A photo of a meeting from the early 20th century taking place in the museum.

Jews arriving in Harbin. Apparently the Chinese were very, very nice.

Here's a reminder of what this museum is all about.

Here's another (Star of David).

Some of the captions were hilarious. This one describes how the Harbin Jews were "very choosy" about their living room displays.

In the West, Jews are stereotyped for being good with money. In Harbin, Jews work "economic miracles".

Note: none of these hundred or so people had ever visited Harbin. I actually doubt any of them had ever heard of it.

Water-bikes!!

Dr. Joseph Rosenfeld helped out the Chinese Army during the 1940's and 1950's by performing life-saving surgeries. I kind of want to be him.

You really can't make this stuff up. Caption reads: "When Xenia Steingard was young and dead in 1939".

Einstein had a little shrine behind a staircase on the way out of the museum. There may or may not have been a word or to about knowledge in his hair.

Tonight I give a five minute presentation on the Rural Chinese Healthcare system to a panel of teachers before cramming for my three finals on Thursday and Friday. Less than a week left in China!

魏德

Post the Fifthteenth: The Wall and the Great Wall (Dandong 5 of 5)

Continued from Part IV...

The fence on the PRC-DPRK border.

Part V: The Great Wall

On Saturday morning, we woke up early to go to the eastern terminus of the Great Wall at Tiger Mountain. After buying water at the foot of the mountain (the price increases exponentially as you climb the wall), we set off under an overcast sky. The climb itself didn't take that long and we soon found ourselves panting on the highest observation tower on Tiger Mountain. After taking in our fill of scenery (the weather didn't really permit much to be seen), we climbed down on a different path to get a closer look at the Yalu River and North Korea.

The Wall. Apparently it was restored recently, which is funny because there are still gaping holes in the stairs.

Looking down at the foot of the mountain, the entrance to the Wall, and the parking lot.

And I used to complain about the stairs in the Chemistry Building. I also like that they left a giant non-movable rock in the middle of the stairs and decided to call it a dragon rather than admit that sorry, this was too heavy to move and we ran out of dynamite.

View of the Wall and Tiger Mountain from the other side.

Whatever you do, don't fall.

On our hike down the wall, we were captivated by the view of the DPRK. The expanse of land was uninterrupted except for one field and a group of "houses", which were really more just huts. Of course, there was not a soul to be seen. Adding to the creepiness was the presence of music on the other side in the village. Was it for them, or for us?

A North Korean field. The Yalu River is at the bottom.

More fields.

Fields.

A sentry outpost hut in the DPRK. There was a man inside who was watching all the people climb down the wall.

All of sudden, the six of us found ourselves at a break in the fence between the DPRK and the PRC marked by a sign warning of the border and requesting that we not wave, call to, exchange gifts with, or communicate at all with anyone on the other side. It was both exciting and sort of lame. Here we were, five Americans, on the North Korean border. At any moment a group of rifle-slinging soldiers could pop up and demand we move away or risk being shot. Then again, it was just a piece of land that looked exactly the same as the land on which we were standing on our side of the river. In the end, we took a bunch of photos and listened to the eerie music play from the village before hiking on to the entrance of the Wall.

The barbed wire is pretty welcoming, isn't it?

The village on the other side. Like I said before, not a soul to be seen.

More of the village.

Do these houses have air conditioning? Running water? Television providing state-sponsored programs?

The gap in the fence.

All in all, I'm very pleased that I got to get out of Harbin for a bit and explore a different city. The experience was quite eye-opening and the difference between bustling China and almost deserted North Korea could not have been sharper. It almost makes Harbin feel like a first-class city. Then again, any city that cannot offer me a burrito is unworthy of that title. Find me a Chipotle and then we'll talk.

I'm guessing this includes high-fives...

No matter what you do, don't you dare dabble!

Anyways, only two more weeks left in Harbin! How the time has flown!!

魏德

End of Part V & Dandong Posts

Post the Fourteenth: Robots (Dandong 4 of 5)

Continued from Part III...

Downtown Dandong

Part IV: The City of Dandong

Just like any other city in China, Dandong is a bustling metropolis (see TOO MANY PEOPLE) full of chain stores and small shops alike. The thing about Dandong is while it is much less internationalized and developed than Harbin it still manages to be somewhat cleaner and friendlier. Even two weeks later, I'm still not sure why.

View of downtown Dandong from the Korean War Museum.

A view of the mountains from the Korean War Museum.

After the museum, we went to Dandong''s pedestrian street (apparently every major city in China has to have one area where people can walk around and shop for overpriced goods) to look around. It was sort of a poorer imitation of Beijing's Wangfujing or Harbin's Zhongyang Dajie, though just as lively. The typical banks and foreign stories were there, as well as cheaper Chinese imitations of said foreign stores. The street is home to one of the best bubble tea stands in China. For four kuai (about 60 cents), you could get one of 50+ flavors of milk tea with tapoica pearls. DELICIOUS.

Length-shot of Buxing Jie, Dandong's pedestrian street.

Another shot of Buxing Jie.

Yes, it's totally normal to wear one's jeans on one's head.

Even superheroes weren't spared by the economic recession.

Zhen Ai, or Real Love, is a nightclub in Dandong. The only reason that it's cool is due to the fact that it has a spring-loaded dance floor.

For dinner on Friday, we decided to check out the Pyongyang North Korean Friendship Restaurant in Dandong. The establishment was built by the North Korea government as a diplomatic bridge between China and North Korea. The restaurant itself is run by a team of North Korean androids waitresses and a lone North Korean director computer programmer manager. It's a bit odd since there aren't any windows, only half the tables are ever full and the place is unnervingly clean (compared to the dirt and grit outside on the street).  The waitresses are all naturally slim and gorgeous (North Korea obviously doesn't have any malnourished ugly people) and most of them can't speak Chinese.

They can't speak Chinese.

Each waitress, who is probably the daughter of some North Korean political big-shot, gets to come to China to work in the restaurant for a maximum of two years. Prior to coming to China, the women do not receive any Mandarin lessons. I'll tell you right now that trying to communicate to someone in a language that neither of you speak is one of the most frustrating things ever.

Anyways, back to the story...

When our (obviously American) party of six strolled into the restaurant, we were immediately greeted by a non-smiling young woman who led us to a table (with four seats) and left us to pull up two more chairs. Another young woman (also emotionless) stepped forward with a menu and stood by silently while we pursued about 20 pages of overpriced Korean fair. Besides dog meat, we had no idea what to get so I turned to the woman and asked her, in Chinese, to recommend a few dishes. She just looked back at me. I asked again. She sort of shook her head and pointed at the menu. "But which things are good?" "Ummmmm..." We went back and forth in this manner for some time, and eventually ended up pointing at the most tasty looking pictures. Our waitress said nothing at all, though she semi-pursed her lips when we ordered the dog meat. While the food was okay, the fengshui was a bit creepy so we quickly paid our bill (I had to ask about three times since she didn't understand me) and went down the street to an open-air barbecue restaurant for dumplings and meat kebabs.

Entrance to the China-North Korea Friendship Restaurant. Notice the blinds are closed.

The presentation seemed almost half-hearted. It's not like it's the only flagship outlet of North Korean cuisine and culture or anything.

Some kimchi, some Korean beef, and some dog meat. Stringy and plain, do not eat.

The restaurant was definitely a weird experience and left me with a lot of questions. Do the waitresses ever go out? What do they think of their Chinese customers? Of their American customers? What happens when they go home to the DPRK? After living for two years in China were there are loud advertisements, cell-phones, and South Korean pop music, do they want to go back?

End Part IV...