Sunday, July 24, 2011

Sweat, Gossip, and Ping Pong: a Peak Inside a Chinese Fitness Club

After almost six weeks in Harbin, I'm really starting to look forward to certain aspects of my American homecoming. I wouldn't say it's homesickness...more like "western food, normal toilet, air-conditioning" sickness.

But I've found that one of the best ways to combat these feelings is by frequenting my Harbin home...Not my dorm or the international student building, but good ol' Meili Fangzhou--Fitness Ark. When I bought a 2-month membership card for the gym, little did I know that I was also buying my golden ticket (actually my card is red--what else would it be?) into a place that could be a sauna, a living room, a cafe...basically a peak into real life in Harbin.

But let's take a step back.

About half a mile from our dorm you'll find a sketchy alleyway. It's pretty big--for an alleyway-- but it's constantly undergoing construction, which means that it usually has the pleasant smell that accompanies open manhole covers in China. If you look past the piles of sand, bricks, and wooden planks, you can see a door. No, not that door. That door leads into a supermarket. The other one...Perfect.



Hopefully you've found the right door, which will lead to the elevator. But before you push the elevator button, make sure to check the door for a sign. The elevator is pretty spotty and every once in a while it's broken, which means a hike up to the 5th floor. I would say "Awesome! What a great warm-up for my run," but I'm pretty sure you could contract tetanus, asbestos, or something far worse in those stairs. So, cross your fingers and hope the elevator is working.

Success! It is! Step in and ride on up to the 5th floor. Once you get there, turn left into a large room filled with treadmills. Before you approach, however, make sure to give your card to one of the women who are permanently seated at the desk. They'll swipe it and hand it back, before quickly returning to their engrossing conversations with gym regulars.


Now, walk over to the treadmill. There are about 20 treadmills and a handful of ellipticals. If there is a person using the machine, odds are they're walking about 5 km/hr, or 3mph. If that doesn't mean anything to you, it's a pretty comfortable, even leisurely, pace. But notice that all of the people are sweating. And not just a little bit. BUCKETS. Everyone is drenched in sweat, wiping their faces with towels while sweat literally drips off of them.

Did they just finish an intense workout?

Nope. It's just that hot in here. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention: when you get off the elevator, expect to hit a wall of heat. Humid, heavy heat that makes it hard to do anything BUT sweat.

Knowing that the sweat will flow, you climb onto a treadmill and begin to run. And as you run, heads start to turn and fingers start to point. Old ladies sitting on the couches in the corner begin to whisper and glare at you. A group of loud teenagers hanging around a table will start to chuckle and imitate your arm motions. Why? Well, it is partly because you don't look like them, but it's also because you are running. And people just don't run on treadmills here. They walk, trudge, shuffle, and sometimes run for 1-2 minute intervals. But running for an extended period? Now, why would anyone want to use a treadmill for that?



At this point, however, you're pretty used to the stares and the gossiping women. So you tune them out and focus your attention on the large TV screens in front of you. Usually one will provide you with some great, unbiased news per CCTV--China Central TV, or as I like to call it Crazy Communist TV. If you're lucky, the other TV might be showing a Chinese TV show. My two favorites so far are the soap opera-esque show about the Chinese army in the mid-20th century and the slapstick sitcom whose main character appears to be a large bottle of baijiu.


During a commercial break on TV, you might as well take a peek at the epic battle on your right. We're talking Deathly Hallows, Return of the King, Avatar epic. People will unsheathe their weapons and soon there will be casualties. Once in a while, a stray shot might even cause a civilian casualty.

But this isn't just any epic battle. This is an epic ping pong battle. Large (usually shirtless) men bring their personal paddles and covers (who knew that you could buy ping pong paddle covers?). Then all hell breaks loose. Grunts, groans, screams, moans. Blood, sweat, and tears. You never know what will happen when two people draw paddles and play begins.


All of a sudden, a women climbs onto the treadmill on your left. Fine...but, wait. Is she wearing flip flops? And JEANS? Oh yeah. Fitness center fashion in China is in its own category entirely. In the US, most gym regulars would either wear their high tech, moisture wicking, synthetic Nike tops OR an old, free T-shirt that was white at some point in time, but now is more of an off-yellow. In China, anything goes! People come straight from work and, why bother changing? So you'll see flip flops, loafers, slacks, dresses, jeans, etc...


By the time you process all of these distractions, you realized that you're done with your run. You cool down and stretch (people are still glaring), and then head back towards the elevator. As you ride the elevator back down, you let out a sigh...the place is really starting to grow on you. Or maybe you're not sighing, but wheezing as your body tries to react to the buckets of sweat it just poured out. Either way, don't worry! You can come back tomorrow and see all of the familiar, gossiping friendly faces...
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Saturday, July 23, 2011

Old Harbin: Noms and...PUPPIES

This past Saturday, CET scheduled a trip to Old Harbin. When I heard the name and was given a map with highlighted "preserved streets," I assumed we were headed to Harbin's very own Williamsburg--we would see old buildings in mint condition and perhaps (my fingers were crossed), a few Harbiners clothed in fashions from the early 20th century.

Expecting to find the Chinese Williamsburg, I was slightly disappointed when the bus dropped us off at a busy intersection, with the driver screaming at us to get off as people honked from behind...maybe not historical China, but certainly AUTHENTIC China.


Anyway, we hopped out across from a large, blue mosque. And when I say blue, I mean sky blue, baby blue, aqua blue...a pretty color, sure. But the color of a mosque next to an intersection in Harbin? Maybe not...

Passing by the mosque, we continued to walk along streets lined with old buildings. Despite the demarcation of "PRESERVED" on the map CET gave us, the buildings were run-down and decrepit. Some of them clearly had been beautiful and impressive at some point in time, but now they were sad and even kind of pathetic. The buildings continued in the same style until we peeled off into a smaller alley filled with food carts.



There were vegetable carts, fruits carts, seafood stands, butchers, bakers, etc...I love going to food markets at home and seeing fresh produce and goods with the people who make them. But China makes the experience even more real: crawfish crawling out of their containers, butchers slitting chickens' throats, ducks roasting over fiery flames. Obviously we were the only foreigners in the alley and most of the salesmen got a kick out of guessing where we were from: Russia? Canada? Sweden--Do Chinese people even know what the stereotypical Swede looks like? Because I'm pretty sure it's NOT me.






Exiting the alley, we continued down the road and headed out to the riverside. Moseying down by the river we walked through the "bird and fish market." By bird and fish, it really meant grimy little newts and tadpoles. Tupperware containers filled with water and small fish lined the street. The fish salesmen sat on sofas behind the containers and in front of enormous glass fish tanks. Given that the fish were so tiny, I can't imagine who would buy tank that could fit 3-4 people in it. Umm... WEIRD.



After we passed through the fish, we came to a puppy section. Let me repeat that: PUPPIES. As in tons of puppies of every kind playing, barking, nibbling, napping, etc...As in my heart melted and I turned into a sappy mess. I'll admit, I sniffled a bit when a saw a few that reminded me of Kim J (Oh, my Kim J)...but the small huskie nibbling on my finger made it hard to stay sad for too long.







We took forever in the puppy section and only left because we realized we had to rejoin the group for dinner. Still babbling about the puppies, we headed for dinner.

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Wednesday, July 20, 2011

I Left My Heart in the Paws of Kim J: Dandong Part 3

TWELVE WONDROUS, RESTFUL HOURS LATER.

After what might be the best sleep I have ever gotten, the next morning we headed to the Tiger Mountain Great Wall. The actual wall has been restored and lacks the remote locale and ancient feel of other sections of the wall. However, this area's biggest draw is that its peak looks out onto North Korea. We climbed stair after stair along with busloads of Chinese tourists. Yet we made it up much faster than any of them. I was starting to feel so accomplished...that is until I looked down.


I had come prepared to hike, wearing nothing less than my very stylish running shoes. The Chinese women, on the other hand, were wearing sundresses and heels. Not like cute little wedges, but pumps--4 inch heels that would cause me to lose my balance on flat ground. If foot-binding is really a thing of the past, why on earth do these women insist on torturing their feet?


Well, largely due to what I guess would cause slight (read: EXTREME) discomfort, most of the Chinese turned around after reaching the highest point. Not us. We continued on the path down the other side of the mountain--the side that faced the Yalu River estuary. The trail quickly morphed into an obstacle course, with bad footing and tight squeezes that required all of our attention. We were so focused that we didn't even realize where we were until we were up against a barbed fence. The fence was marked with a sign, proclaiming that this was the National Border of the P.R.C. and the D.P.R.K. Past the fence was the river and the North Korean side's fence. After asking my friends whether the the river could be considered North Korean land (they said yes), I sprinted down towards it and placed my foot in it (really my shoe: I want to go to North Korea, not get some freakish disease from contaminated water. Duh). So my right foot's been to North Korea. Has yours? Didn't think so.





I might have stayed there or waded out deeper into the water if I hadn't spotted a small hut a couple hundred meters inland on the North Korean side.

"I just saw two people move in that hut" 魏德 warned.

My first reaction was to ignore him...that is until I remembered a line from my Lonely Planet guidebook: "Close up, the border fence on the DPRK side looks like a less-then-effective barrier, but don't try to test it; a gun-toting soldier may suddenly appear"...Yeah, I think I'll pass on that gun-toting soldier. So I removed my foot and headed back onto the trail.


The trail weaved alongside the river, eventually bringing us back to the parking lot, where we hailed cabs and headed back to Dandong. After lunch and an intense Tesco run (15 hours on a train=breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks), we walked to the buxing jie, Dandong's pedestrian street. The street was filled with people shopping and old Chinese people dancing. Halfway down the street was a zhenzhu naicha--Bubble Tea--stand with literally hundreds of flavors, including Watermelon, Blueberry, Coffee, Peanut Butter, Green Tea, etc... Being the indecisive person I am, it took me forever to decide on a flavor. And obviously I chose the original flavor...it's name is even diyi weidao, #1 flavor.


Sipping my tea and strolling down the road, my eyes zoomed in on a crate holding 4 balls of fluffy adorableness: PUPPIES! Eyes wide and mouth open I ran over to the dogs and began to blubber about how cute they were. My mind was moving a million miles a minutes, and pretty soon I had my plan all figured out:

I would name the dog Kim J--the obvious choice--and he would sit on my lap for the 15 hour train ride. Then I would hide him in my dorm in Harbin for four weeks. I'm pretty sure my budget for food under the Light Fellowship could cover Kim J and I, so that would be no problem. The no-pets rule at the dorm could be overlooked because I would hide him in my backpack whenever I took him outside. And when he starts to grow, I can transfer him to my massive hiking pack. He would have to be quarantined once we returned to the US, but after that we would live happily ever after in my dorm back at TD...

"BUT..."

With that fatal word, my dreams of happiness were crushed by my so-called friends. But it would be too difficult. But I would get in trouble. But the 15 hour train ride would be impossible. But, but, but, but, but....

(SIGH)

After a long, painful, parting embrace, I kissed Kim J goodbye and walked away, leaving my heart in his adorable little paws.


Though still heartbroken during dinner, I began to feel better when we returned to the waterfront to see the light and fountain show. This was Saturday night and even more people were out along the water, dancing and sending red lanterns up into the sky. Yet, however brighter and louder Dandong was, the North Korean side appeared that much more depressing (well real it didn't appear at all...there were still no lights to be seen).

Later that evening we returned to our wonderful beds and said goodnight.

THREE WONDROUS, RESTFUL HOURS LATER.

Yeah, not quite as nice as 12 hours. But our train was at 6:40AM, so we had to be up to check out at 5:30. We got to the train station and the time to board arrived. The miserable ride to Dandong flashed across my mind and my entire body winced. You know those scenes in horror movies where you see the characters open the door and walk into what's obviously a haunted house, and all you're thinking is, "Don't do it! How could you be so stupid?"...Well that's what my conscience was saying as a sat back down in my yingzuo hardseater.

The ride, though much more tolerable than to Dandong, was still 15 hours. I went through the phases of discomfort, stiffness, cabin fever, delirium, and finally ecstasy when we finally rolled into the Harbin station at 9:30PM.

Overall, the weekend was incredible in every way. I didn't make it into the heart of Pyongyang, but I saw North Korea (and my foot entered the country). All I know is when it comes to Dandong, I'll be back. And until then, don't mind me if I create a DIY North Korean passport stamp.

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Monday, July 18, 2011

Aggressive American Imperialists and North Korean Fembots: Dandong Part 2

With my friends and new identity--Amelie from Paris--I set off for the Museum to Commemorate the War to Resist American Aggression and Aid Korea (try to say that name 5 times fast). The museum sits atop a large hill on the outskirts of town. The height of the hill is exaggerated by the large monument perched on its top.


The monument, a sort of obelisk surrounded by statues of soldiers in action, is a rather blunt reminder that this is, in fact, a war museum. Yet instead of the solemn or even proud faces seen in most American war monuments, these soldiers seemed to glare and scream. One soldier's mouth was wide open, as if screaming while he wound up to hurl a giant rock at some enemy. Another soldier, wearing a Russian-style hat, was hurtling his sword over his head, about to decapitate the soldier below him. His eyes were wide, mouth was open, and he was apparently moving with such momentum that even the flaps on his hat had flown up in the air.



From the moment we entered the museum until when we left about 75 minutes later, we did not see another non-Chinese person. Most were in large tour groups, but the six of us were able to dart through the groups (obviously not without glares and stares) and managed to make it through most of the museum, largely aided by the English translations on all signs and labels.



The English translations, based on my efforts to look at the Chinese signs, were pretty accurate...but that only made them more disconcerting. I'm not so naive that I think American war museums are free from bias, but this took bias to a whole new level. The word American or enemy never stood alone; there was always an accompanying epithet like, "imperialists," "arrogant," or "aggressive." The Americans were an army, while the Chinese were "volunteers" who still managed to "annihilate the arrogant enemy" and win the war.

I'm not an expert, but that's definitely not what I remember from history class.

The thing is, right and wrong aside, it would be tough to walk out of the museum and NOT despise Americans if that was the only story you knew. Hence our new personas. The visitors to the museum were being fed a steady diet of anti-American propaganda, which made me feel like instead of the usual "ooh, foreigners" look, we were really getting the "ooh, arrogant imperialists" look. And it's not a very nice look.

Walking out of the museum, we were all a little quiet and more solemn...that is until 裴佳诗 and石柏峰 eyed the playground of old war planes an bombers. Their eyes lit up and jaws dropped in unison. Both reached for their wallets and sprinted for the field. The various rusty and outdated pieces of equipment kept them occupied for about 45 minutes, at which point we headed back down the hill to the Pingrang gaoli fandian--the Pyongyang Gaoli Restaurant. The Pyongyang restaurant is owned by the North Korean government, or the Dear Leader Kim J himself. The restaurant was easy to spot because of the DPRK flag above its entrance.

I knew from reading about the restaurant that it was a propaganda attempt, an effort to make North Korea seem more impressive to its Chinese neighbors. So my thought was, if you have one shot to impress a country, you had better go all out, right? I figured there would be light shows, opera singers, million dollar paintings, and 3-star Michelin food. WRONG.

The restaurant was really a small, bare room with a single picture on the wall. The sterile environment was only made worse by the North Korean robots waitresses. These waitresses were all strikingly beautiful, but their faces were totally lacking any sort of emotion. They spoke very little Chinese and even moved in a slightly unnatural, jerky movement. I was half expecting them to be like Dr. Evil's fembots and knock us unconscious with sleeping gas that would come out of their...well you know...


Frightened by the robots, uncomfortable in the waiting room-esque environment, and overwhelmed by the pricy food, we ordered 2 dishes and agreed to get 包子 elsewhere afterwards. The two dishes were sliced beef and dog meat.

Hold on. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.

I'm just as carnivorous as the next person (see my Tiger Attack post), but I draw the line well before dog. When the food came, the general consensus (of which I was not a part) was that the dog was okay...a little chewy, but nothing too special. BLECH.


We quickly evacuated the room and took a deep breath, out of reach of the North Korean fembots' deadly clutches. We found a small stand for a real dinner of delicious 包子, after which we headed back to the Yalu River. At this point it was dark out...well, except for the park alongside the river. Groups of people danced, red lanterns floated through the sky, the bridge flashed red, green, blue, and orange neon lights, music blasted from speakers, and a light and waterworks show spurted out from the river about 5 yards from the walkway.


What's the occasion? Oh well, you know, it's just another night in China.

I was so distracted by the lights and sounds that it took me a few minutes to realize that there was absolutely NOTHING on the North Korean side. No lights. No sounds. If I hadn't known that there was already land there, I would have guessed that it we were looking out on open ocean.

It really brought a whole new meaning to the Dark Side.

The comparison between the two sides--already pretty striking during the day--is incredible at night, thanks mainly to the spectacle that China throws alongside the river. It's as if China throws it for the North Koreans, but doesn't invite them. More like a tempting and taunting, "Look what we have that you don't." So much for good Chinese-North Korean relations.

Exhausted, we headed back to our incredibly comfortable hotel rooms. It was time to rest and save up strength before we headed to Tiger Mountain for our last full day in Dandong...
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Sunday, July 17, 2011

B.O., Bieber, and oh yeah, NORTH KOREA: Dandong Part 1

Way back in June, my heart was crushed by the Chinese consulate in New York City. Why? They gave me a SINGLE entry visa, which meant that a trip to North Korea was out of the question. Although I was devastated, my parents seemed quite pleased, since for some unknown reason, a trip to North Korea seems like a bad idea to them. Anyway, I'm pretty sure my parents have some 关系, guanxi, and pulled strings in the Consulate to ensure that I could NOT go to North Korea. Mom and Dad, I don't know how you did it, but touché.

Fast forward 6 weeks: guess who beat the system? :) What now Chinese Consulate?

Through the right mix of luck, Chinese skills, and planning, five other kids in my program and I headed to Dandong for the weekend. Dandong is a pretty large city that sits on the Yalu River--yalu jiang--right across from NORTH KOREA. Chinese people can go into the DPRK with much more ease than Americans, so there is trade between the two sides over the river, though it's pretty one-sided.

So on Thursday night at 9PM the six of us boarded a train armed with snacks and yingzuo--hard seat--tickets for a 12 hour train-ride. Yingzuo tickets were cheap ($9 for a 12 hour train-ride? Chris Christie, if you're reading this, take note), and we figured, how bad could they be? Maybe I should have taken the hint when my teacher laughed at me after telling her that we had hard seaters. But nevermind that.

We boarded the train, and BOOM! We hit a wall of B.O., half-naked men, and more people than should be crammed in an sort of enclosed space. EVER. Each of us shoved through waves of sweaty skin and found our seats, which had 6 random Chinese people sitting in them! Apparently there are yingzuo tickets, and then there standing tickets. Some people take the standing literally--hence the pushing through waves of people--but there are also people who will do ANYTHING possible to sit down. Which means that people sit on top of the seats or bring their own stools to sit on the floor.








Somehow we could all tolerate the people whose butts were essentially in our faces, but one woman would not leave. She parked her stool between our benches and sat. First she just sat between our legs, giving us the quintessential "ooohhh, foreigners" glare. Then she asked to touch my hair and 魏德's hair. The woman refused to believe that 魏德's short black curls and my thick, unmanageable waves were real, so she turned to 乐然, who was sitting across from us, to gossip about our hair and how it was actually fake. OH HELL NO. You can't just sit on my feet and insult my hair. My instinct was to go Jerry Springer on her, but I ground my teeth and ignored--that is until she decided that the spot above my head was an ideal seat. Really? REALLY? Sputtering in Chinese I began to scream, but it was no use. 魏德 joined in giving her a fierce glare and shouting in a voice about 3 octaves below his normal one. 下去吧! Maybe it was his voice, maybe his potentially fake, black curls, or maybe his fierce, Zoolander-esque Blue Steel glare, but 魏德 scared her and she sat back down. Moral of the story: don't mess with a 耶鲁大学生. With hair and debating skills infinitely better than your own, they will come out on top. End of story.

Detente continued until the woman exited the train, though the rest of the train is just an uncomfortable blur in my memory. I know it was long. My feet cramped. My ankles were swollen. And I was delirious. But at 9AM on Friday, we FINALLY reached the promised land: 丹东--Dandong.


A giant Mao Zedong statue welcomed us with open arms at the train station. If I could have, I would have kissed him (and would likely have been promptly arrested). We hailed cabs and within minutes were at our hotel which was on the waterfront, ie across from North Korea.

Let me repeat that: ACROSS FROM NORTH KOREA.

Dandong, a reasonably sized Chinese city, has tall buildings, wide streets, and a beautiful park along the river. Horns honk, people talk. It's a happy little city. Now let's look across the river: a few dark, creepy buildings and smokestacks. No sounds or lights. It looks like a deserted town with a ferris wheel. The ferris wheel, clearly an attempt to make North Korea appear like a happy place, just adds to the eeriness. It doesn't move at any time of the day and it sits across the river from a bigger Chinese ferris wheel that turns all day. Basically it's like a scene from a horror movie or a deserted fairground.


We check out the river and plotted our afternoon, so that after a much-needed nap we headed to the wharf on the Yalu River. We negotiated with a boat driver and then the six of us pulled on life jackets and hopped into a small motor boat.

Ignoring one jittery passenger (I'm looking at you, 白若诗), our driver simultaneously sped up and turned up some dance mix music. Circling around the Short Bridge, which was blown up by the Americans during the Korean War, we slid up a few yards from the shore. The shore was most notable for its rusty boats, men in military uniforms, and old, broken-down buildings. Excited by our proximity to North Korea and intrigued by the surreal scene next to us, I ignored our driver's warning against taking pictures. After I snapped a few shots, he saw me and and began to reprimand me.

I gave my most innocent smile: 对不起，我以前不知道--Sorry. I didn't know. Obviously he couldn't stay mad very long. As the Chinese say, 重男轻女, or value men over women. I figure, if the belief exists, I might as well use it for my own purposes :)


As we continued to float along the shore we did our best to be goodwill ambassadors and waved to as many North Koreans as possible. Most waved, some glared, and one flashed a large gun. UMMM....Hey there Kim J! It's good to know that you're such a welcoming host.


After about 25 minutes, our time in the boat was up, so we flipped around and slowly sped up. As we began to speed up, my heart began to patter and a smile spread across my face. Why? What better way to leave the North Korean people behind than by blasting one of the defining songs of our generation: Justin Bieber's "Baby."

"You know you love me,
Kim J you care,
Just shout 你好,
And I'll be there.
You want my labor,
It breaks my heart,
because my country says we'll always be apart.

And I was like, Kim J, Kim J, Kim J, ooooh..."

Okay, so maybe not those lyrics. But we sang with Biebs and rapped with Luda, dancing and waving wildly to the North Koreans who stared. FOR REALS. I think I saw a few North Koreans dance with us, but 白若诗 swears they were just reaching for their guns. I prefer to think that Bieber diplomacy can work wonders, so I'm sticking to my story.


We pulled back into the dock with Bieber-infused adrenaline pounding through our veins and hopped out. With only 2 days in Dandong, we had to head straight to our next destination, the Museum to Commemorate the War to Resist American Aggression and Aid Korea.

Haven't heard of the War to Resist American Aggression? What about the Korean War? One in the same. Just as the museum's name suggests, there's no bias to be found anywhere at the museum (note: sarcasm). So we agreed upon non-American identities (my name is Amelie and I'm from Paris, France) and headed to the museum...
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