Getting Flash Quotes.

This is the main task of a flash quote reporter and I find myself failing to perfect this.  In our practice runs, I can't write quick enough to retain the majority of the slur of words emitted.  I messily scribble words and fragments of sentences, but I need more practice, which is thankfully what we will be doing for five hours tomorrow during training.    

Flooding.

Yesterday was the celebration of yet another Iowa summer birthday.  Fighting off a cold, I left early at 10:30, I emerged from the basement joint to find the streets flooded.  It had been an hour tops since I had entered Pyro's and within that time the water had collected and had risen to mid-calf level.  I ran back inside to alert Shanti to bring her camera and we began a short documentary of the chaos.  (Reporting live from Beijing, flooding in the streets, as I get closer you can see the waves rolling toward us.)   Spectators crowded the sidewalks, but cab drivers continued to slowly push through the milky coffee colored water.  

I know I said when the Iowa River flooded, I would not trust the sanitation, but the water of China, well, you really could grow an extra arm.  

This, however, is what happens when Beijing tries to emit missiles into the air to tame the air pollution, by making it rain.   

Just as different and unique each interior of a cab is, lace, seat belts with missing clasps, etc.,  so are the men, occasionally women, who drive inside them.  Today we rode with my favorite driver of the summer, by far.  Although we had been told that most cab drivers of Beijing would be taking English language lessons to prepare for the large mass of foreigners entering the city, in our experience, we had found this to be very untrue.  If they knew hello, it was a great surprise.  Yet this driver made an effort to speak English, but this wasn't the reason of his charm.  My respect for him came when he pointed at Nick, sitting in the front seat, and said you beautiful.  Fearless, he grabbed Nick's credentials and focused on his picture and said, this not.  Diane and I giggled in the back seat.  This guy was funny.

I thought it was funny...

A cause of the homesick blues mixed with a bad case of China complaints had been drifting from person to person (some people, however, keeping it longer than others).  During the past week, I had finally caught the bug, with the combo of a real sickness involving a sore throat and nasal congestion (possibly a side effect from the increased smog of the past weekend).  After looking at pictures from the past month and a half I realized, maybe for the first time, just how much I really did like China.  Still it has its hiccups, the general lack of manners, the dirtiness of it, and what we can only get mad at ourselves for, the lack of communication, at times.  But China has a charm to it that can only be explained as, that's China.  As I was explaining this epiphany to my friend, Diane, on the cab ride to work, mid-sentence, the driver hacked a major loogie.  We just looked at each other and laughed.  Definition China.  

Seven blocks away from the tennis venue, before the cab driver turned, he flung over his seat beat in an attempt to make it look like he was wearing his safety belt in front of the security guard and the police officer.  I guess he trusted his driving enough that he would never get into an accident.

On the ride home from our office, the tennis venue, we were chatting about two guys in our group and their characteristic independence.  Just after that statement, I looked across the street and both of them were standing on the sidewalk with their bikes idle in their hands.  I rolled down the window to say hi. As I was waving, a passing taxi pulled up beside and with a big smile, blew me a kiss.  It was quite funny.  I guess he thought our excitement was for him.  Five seconds later he drove off with an even bigger smile and his parting words, buh bye.  

Immediately once inside my room, I hopped onto my computer to check my email.  Inside my inbox was an email from the photo editor of China Daily.  Judy, the journalism professor who was responsible for our China trip, had told her my photos were great.  The editor kindly told me my photos would make China Daily more interesting.  I knew my photography had improved greatly over the past year, but I was still shocked that one of China's biggest newspapers would be asking for my photo submissions.  The greatest irony of it all was that the day prior, my roommate and I (both journalism majors) had discussed how great it would be to get published by an international publication and that the China Daily, an English daily newspaper, would be the icing on the cake.  

Still in a good mood after Judy's birthday dinner when she told me my writing and photography would be great for a regular blog on the China Daily website, I went for a celebratory run.  I hit a cross roads, and since I was not yet tired, I continued my jog. I ducked under the dimly lit bridge.   Flashing lights approached and I darted over the railing to avoid the oncoming car, as it honked inches from my crumpled body.  I hadn't realized there was a ditch dividing the sidewalk and the road I was on before and in my leap over my foot slipped inside the wet murky water.  My ipod, still playing, sang the words, "I've got my new shoes on and everythings going to be alright."  

I brushed myself off and continued on my run, deciding it was indeed time to return back home, with one mud coated shoe following the other.        

  

Photo at the Zoo.

Pander Zoo

Seeing the panders, for real.  I had to be work at 1:30 today, but rather than sleeping in, scouring the internet.  Diane, Stacie, and I went to the Beijing Zoo.  We were told China's zoos are extremely depressing because the animals do not have proper sized cages and the sanitation is another issue.  I went expecting the worst, imagining caged lab animals.  What I saw instead was surprisingly better than previously pictured, except for the large cats display of tigers and lions.  

We spent aproximately two hours there, in that time, Diane touched a zebra.  Something that would never happen in the U.S.  We decided before we even got to work it was a good day.  And I guess it was the attitude that kept giving because at training we practiced press conference questioning and writing.  For the first time this summer I felt like I was actually doing the job I came thousands of miles to do.   

Test One, Two.

We had our first of two tennis test events.  Set up to check the security of the venues and to make sure everything, and more importantly, everyone knows what they are doing.  This includes me, an ONS flash quote reporter.  

It seemed odd that the first time I was watching a live tennis match was sitting behind the press tribunes (the blue desks where I should be seating, however, the seats were missing) at center court at the Olympics watching two unknown Chinese athletes painstakingly rally.  It was miserably hot, even sitting in the shaded area of the stadium.  I felt my concentration waning as Sandra, our tennis expert, explained passing backhand shots, break points, and other key game turning moments.  My notes were sloppy, but my understanding of tennis was starting to become clear.  The match ended unexpectedly, however, at one set.  All the flash quote reporters bolted from our sluggish shells and ran down the stairways to the air conditioned basement to meet the players at the mixed zone.  We missed the winner, Li, but managed to stop Sun before he fled to the locker room for a much needed shower.  Because Sun only spoke Chinese, it was interesting asking questions using a fellow Chinese volunteer as a translator.  The flash quote reporter taking down the words, nervously shook as she quickly scribbled.  I can only think of the nerves we will have at our first real tennis match.  

Day Off.

Elena told us we had one more day off before we had to dedicate the rest of our days to tennis and BOCOG.   I woke up early to make use of these precious 24 hours.  The day started out with my usual yogurt, granola and fruit salad at Lush.  I broke from my routine when I ventured out on the subway on my own.  I took the new blue line, number ten, to the Llama Temple stop.  I felt like a true Beijinger, if only for a moment, as I confidently moved through the transfer without a posse of friends following.   Though this wasn't difficult as I wanted to visit the Llama Temple, which is conveniently named a metro stop for its proximity to the station.  Outside in the humidity, I looked up and saw the decorated walls of Beijing's famous Buddhist worship site.  Walking the streets before the entrance, tourist shops dominated.  Inside were laughing Buddhas, bundles of incense, and smiling Chinese faces.  Come inside.  I resisted buying the incense.  Inside I saw that many did to respectfully worship Buddha by burning, as requested by the signs, three sticks of incense.   As the second temple that I have visited in China, this one was distinctly different.  The Llama Temple was filled with actual Monks, although filling jobs as security over the many Buddhas, rather than actually worshipping.   People were deeply engrossed in praying, despite the many tourists hovering around the arsenals (that would include me).  To try to preserve the last scrape of sacredness, the Llama Temple prohibited photography inside the temples.  Having enough, I left through the emergency exit door (no alarm sounded however).  

It was miserably hot by this point.  Imagine Iowa's humidity trapped in a small bubble.  That is what Beijing is like as a result of its horrible pollution.  I walked across the street, pass the shops with big bellies of Buddhas, and followed the sign of a Beijing Hutong.  The narrow road winded around the corners of the old homes.  I found an ice cooler with Magnum ice cream cones to cool off, for a cool price of 5 kuai.  The road ended and opened into a bigger roadway, one wide enough for two cars to pass by simultaneously.  A big red lantern caught my attention and beside it read a sign for classical music and a tea courtyead.  I was curious and at first thought, my dad loves classical music.  I should have known, I'm in China, their definition of classical music is going to be very different.  And it was.  Classical refers back to old Chinese instruments.  Inside I found a woman playing on a harp-like instrument.  I listened as I ordered my tea and sipped to the afternoon's delight.  It was another check on my summer's to-do list.  

I followed the corridors of the hutong back to the subway to meet with some girls at the Beijing Blue Zoo.  Given directions through the phone, I navigated myself half-way across the city to meet them at the gate of the aquarium.  Apparently, I'm only directionally challenged when I'm sitting in the passenger seat of a cab trying to communicate in Chinese.  It turned out that the aquarium wasn't worth the 75 kuai we spent, but seeing the mermaids inside the shark tank made it worthwhile.

We walked back to the subway, they went home, I changed subway stops to go to the real zoo and met up with someone else.  Only after we did find the zoo, it was just ten minutes before closing.   We tried to explain using motions of taking pictures and saying the word pander, that we would be quick, but they didn't back down and the mass of people leaving the gates told us we should leave too.  Plush pandas are sold everywhere, China's iconic symbol.  But because Beijing has an accent r in their Mandarin when they pronounce panda it comes out more like pander.  Now almost daily I use this word.  "Pander, pander."  

Disappointed, we occupied the time by taking the subway to Tianamen Square to see the lowering of the flag at 7:30.  We arrived at 6:15 and already rows of Chinese were lined up against the fence facing the flag pole, waiting.  We people watched until the guards closed off the busy intersection of traffic and marched swiftly to the matched beat.  Half an hour the lights turned on to set Mao glowing.  This was our cue to get back on the subway to Wangfujing to go to the night market.  

Across the street and a block away, rows of street food vendors await.  Tucked inside the somewhat hidden food mysteries are all kinds of meat and creatures on a stick.  With encouragement, I tried scorpion, seahorse, squid, and chicken.  Halfway through, I wanted to become a vegetarian.  Diane, my fellow food critic, was already one and just laughed at my looks of disgust.  The night vibrance was fun and you just have to smile when vendors poked you with still moving scorpions dangling on a stick.  My suggestion of advice, stay away from the one kuai meat.  It can't be good if that is half the price of a one way ticket on the subway.  

We ran to catch the last returning subway home to Wudaokou station at 10:45.  Overall a very successful day.  Hopefully I'll get one more of these before the real craziness of the Olympics sets in.   

The Doomed Ride.

After I woke up, I knew it would be a bad day.  My head was hurting and I couldn't fall back asleep even though it was only 7:30 and I didn't have to be at training until 1:30.  Yet, I tried to think positive and when a few girls invited me to go shopping at the market Yashow, I agreed to go with them, even though I had already personally sworn off the market madness.  (It only makes me exhausted and regretful.)  

After a cab ride across town, I shopped for two hours, purchasing a Coach wallet (getting the pengyou/friend price) and beef and pepper slosh that tasted worse than the cafeteria cuisine.   Ready at the prescheduled meeting time I waited in fuwa heaven in the Olympic store to meet two other girls to leave for the Olympic Green Tennis Venue.  Still waiting on their fitting for their custom made business suits, I left alone, anxious to get to training on time.  Only that part didn't happen, despite my effort and haste.  

Feeling annoyed, I hopped in the idling cab waiting by the sidewalk of Yashow.  In my lack of Chinese language, I pointed to the Chinese characters on the back of my press credatation.  With my arms, I made the motion of tennis racket swing.  The driver still looked confused, but my arms stretched out in archery form convinced him enough to start the fare and move into the conjustion of traffic.  Onward bound.  We glided in the cab, for what seemed like a long extent of time, on a roadway toward Badaling.  The same one we took for the Great Wall, out of town.  I let my doubts rest in the back of my mind until I saw the tennis grounds pass by under the overpass and the driver looked at me in utter shock.  Now what do we do?  

He decided to pull over on the future exit of the Olympic green.  The one that isn't open.  Speaking in harsh Chinese he explained to me for five minutes what I could only guess meant, get out of the cab.  I wasn't going anywhere, not even when my parents were mad at me could they kick me out.  I could hear the ticking meter adding up.  This was going to be an expensive tab.  

Finally after my friends called me back, I got the number of my bi-lingual Chinese supervisor on the phone and she explained the correct way.  75 kuai (double the largest amount I have ever paid for a cab with others splitting) fare later I was a 15 minute walking distance from the security gate and already 15 minutes late.  

Outside the ticket gate, a rainbow of umbrellas sat on the blocked off road, waiting to purchase tickets for the tennis finals.  Even though the wait would be more than 24 hours until the release began for the 31 available tickets.  Already there were more than 50 people looping around the decorative shrubbery.  

Usually I don't get overwhelmingly homesick.  Today I wanted to cry for familiarity.  Mom, Dad, Ingrid, Kelsey, stay close to your computers and expect a phone call from Skype very soon.  

  

I'm leaving on a jet plane...

...soon.  I changed my flight to arrive August 28th, rather than on the 30th.  Two days earlier which means less jet lag for my first day of school on the following Tuesday and more time to enjoy Whiteys.   The flight change only cost $71 and the only question the friendly voice on the other end of the skype line was whether the air quality was the same in Beijing as it shows on the t.v.  I told her, most days, yes.   

798

My last known free day, I made another check on my to-do list by visiting the 798 art district.  Located outside of downtown Beijing, Diane, Emily and I made use of the recently opened subway line.  It was like riding first class.  There was room to sit and t.v. screens on the line that played Olympic commercials or sport tutorials.  I brushed up on my field hockey knowledge.  

798 is a contemporary art mecca.  It is new and quickly emerging.   Because art was stalled during the Cultural Revolution and the 100 Flowers Period, only recently have people started to enjoy this freedom to create without the fear of being imprisoned or sent to the countryside.  I only wish I had a more extensive background of Chinese history to understand some of the critiques behind the art pieces.  Mao was certainly there in different art forms.  

A little more than a decade ago artists started moving their art galleries into old warehouses that were being evacuated.  Since then it has become the place to see art in Beijing.  You will not find ancient scroll art or calligraphy writing, but rather, all contemporary, new paintings, sculptures, and figures scattered throughout the green.  My favorite was the photography of Tibet Buddhism.  It followed Henri Cartier Bresson's Decisive Moment in true photojournalism fashion.    Women carrying boards worked together with the shadows of their bodies to create crosses on the dirt road.  

Working Woman

Today I had my first day of work and I wish I could say it went without a hitch.  That would be a lie however.  It began when we started walking to Wudaokou.  We caught a cab, which unusually wasn't hard today, despite the new rule that kicked half of Beijing's cars off the road.  Nick, in the front seat, pointed to the Chinese characters saying Green Olympic Venue on the back of our credentials.  Whether the driver didn't understand then and failed to tell us or discovered it as he started driving, he never made it there.  Instead after a 22 kuai ride, he dropped us off at the Bird's Nest, also known as the National Stadium.  We continued to walk in what we thought was the direction of the tennis venue, but we made it to the International Broadcasting Center (IBC) before a phone call from a friend told us we should get another cab if we wanted to make it to training on time.  Elena, our supervisor, spoke hard, fast Chinese to the driver to explain the correct location. I guess I could consider it a scenic tour, as we sped past the Olympic village, marked by the impressively lavish gate.  Further distinguishing it was the gold, silver, and bronze Olympic metals decorating the iron fence.  We arrived five minutes early outside the gate.  Security, however, was sure to make us late.  After placing our bag in the scanner, just like the ones recently installed in the subway.  We walked through the security doorframe and heard the annoying beep.  Out came the wands.  In addition, we were asked if they could check our bags.  Each item and pocket was examined.  I was asked to use any questionable items, including my camera (take a picture), my phone (push a button), and because I was almost out of water, I was saved from taking a drink.  The security was thorough, but excessive.  Most of the volunteers working behind the scanners spoke English, but many of their phrases seemed freshly learned with only a surface of understanding.  

Once inside, I have to admit, I was very excited.  We walked down to the basement, under the Center Court.  We were surrounded by media outlets.  Photography headquarters (of tennis) was only a few doors down from our ONS (Olympic News Service) office.  After introductions of the flash quote reporters (half Chinese, half American, and one Mexican), we did a short tour of the main court and the mixed zone.  Before we left the room, however, Elena tested our Wimbledon knowledge by giving us a quiz over the tournament's highlights.  I did so/so, but after our supervisor announced our schedule it sounds like I don't have to worry about being weak on my tennis trivia.  We will be spending the next few weeks (one or two days off) studying all the athletes coming to the Games.  This includes their names, countries, and tennis background.  I don't think I'll mind looking at Federer though.  Just checking to see if you are reading this dad :)  We have yet to get our uniforms, however, because they are mysteriously missing five of the uniforms.  Maybe better luck tomorrow!  

Security

The Olympics are here.  Or so it feels.  Volunteers clan with Olympic symbols and blue uniforms have invaded every public corner.  They are ready to help with directions, figuring out the subway, and security at the Tsinghua University gate.  Most of these jobs don't look very pleasant. 

The newest addition to security is the sign in at the entrance of our dorm.  Right next to the elevators, they are positioned so no one sneaks by.  Being that we have lived in this dorm for the past month, the front desk ladies who greet us with a smile and a ni hao everyday.  We know they know us.  Most of the people in our group slide past the table and jump on the elevator as quick as possible.  Only the first time did they try to stop them.  The annoyance is that they don't actually  check your passport, they only want the passport number written down.  Emily resorted to writing Thisisdumb as her name.  Why be a rebel in China?  Because the unnecessary is annoying.  I don't know.  

I added a picture of my media credentials as well.  My ticket to access.  Without I can't get into the Olympic Green, with it, I feel a step closer to being a journalist.  

Ritan Park

Stacey, my 908 Tsinghua roommate, and I ventured to the Subway once again to explore an unseen spot of Beijing, Ritan Park.   On the way, we were stopped by a free sample of California Breeze, frozen yogurt blended with frozen fruit.  Pure Deliciousness.  We then felt obligated by its great taste to get some.  I got cranberry on the first stop and blackberry on the way home (two and half hours later).  Carrying our frozen yogurt a man on the corner stopped us again.  This time with the promise of cheap DVDs.  We should have known good things don't come within pairs.  The mysterious man led us up a series of dirtied stairs which spilled into a decaying nail salon.  There weren't any customers (for good reason, it seemed you would get a fungus if you stayed), but the man told us to sit in the felt velvet chairs as he brought out his selection.  As the cigarette in his mouth dipped he dumped ash over the cheap black suitcase he carried out.  We should have left then, but instead we stayed with our melting California Breeze as we browsed his load of this summer's blockbuster hits.  I bought Walle (which I discovered later didn't work).  Stacey's choice, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, was actually recorded but the result was a mix of English, Russian, and Spanish with a laugh track and nonsensical English subtitles that didn't match.  Rather than saying, "She doesn't like me" it read "Im a machoman."

Needless to say, we lost most of the movie in translation.   

We did make it to the park.  We found an outdoor climbing wall, young boys with their fathers fishing, and a carnival.   

Houhai Lake

Old men in speedos, ducks in the lake, rickshaws encircling the water, Mao entrusted bicycle shops.  Observations of a Saturday spent at Houhai Lake in the heart of Beijing.  A day off means a day out so three other friends and I wandered to this spot to enjoy a stress-free day.  Since I had already been here for our first week of study abroad orientation it wasn't a new site, but I realized a little too late that it is better at night than day.  Most of the doors were padded with locks, even though some of the shop signs read that they were open.  

 As we walked, looking at the sleeping men in store fronts, carts, and sidewalks, we stayed silent as well.  Not admitting it to each other at the moment, but we all knew we were thinking of the same thing.  Home.  As fun as it is to enjoy a day exploring Beijing, a day at the lake isn't the same as a day getting wet at an outdoor pool.  Looking around, we saw the signs of summer and we knew we were missing a great Iowa summer now that the flood waters have subsided.   Pictures on facebook are enough evidence.  In a month, when we do arrive home, the sweet corn will have been eaten, watermelon will be past its prime and pools will be closing.  

We avoided the topic to stay positive and to enjoy our lunch of spicy beef with green beans and sticky white rice.  Later we found the snack alley and savored syrup candied fruit on a stick.   Because if you can't be home, you might as well immerse yourself even more in the current local favorites.    

Catching up on some journaling.

A week ago, BOCOG gave us a "Welcome to Beijing" tour.  It was supposed to be three days of tourist sightseeing of the cultural capital of Beijing for the 300 international Olympic volunteers.  What BOCOG chose to show us was something else.  

The first day we visited a waste sanitation plant.  Why?  I'm still not sure.  It was more than an hour drive outside of Beijing.  Arthur, our volunteer tour guide walked us through the plant and showed us how all our poop wastes from Tsinghua University are circulated here and transformed into tap water.  We walked over the swirling brown liquid and tried to act interested.  Most people in the group didn't even do that however.  

Next, we loaded up in our exclusive University of Iowa/Tsinghua University tour bus to the next oddity.  A rural farm.  I had been excited when I first found out that we would be visiting a farming village in the country.  "Rural" was not true.  The place was designated as an Olympic tourism village (China's propaganda.)  The village contained a temple with large Buddhas (we weren't allowed to take pictures to preserve its holiness), a nursing home (where we visited the oldest woman of the village, 102 years old, as if she were a toy on display), and a golf course.  We toured some of the homes and were allowed to look inside.  Many people became frustrated because it felt like a made up village with fake people set inside.  Later we found out that many of the residents are actually Americans or Europeans who rent out homes for periods of time.  

The two hours bus ride back to Beijing during rush hour brought us to another sampling of the famous Peking duck.  Free food still didn't make up for the dire day.  

Day two:  We left early again on another near 100 degree temperature day.  This time we left the city for the Great Wall, to the most tourist section open to visitors.  Inside the gate was a Starbucks.  Really?  

It was more congested than usual that day because the el presidente of Mexico was visiting.  Arthur told us he was reserved the highest security and as a result half of the wall was closed.  In the middle of the summer, on a Saturday, with the addition of 300 international volunteers, it unmanagable.  We only made it to the second tower before we decided to turn around.  It was unbearable, especially on this sweat clinging summer day.  I wasn't as disappointed as many of the volunteers from other schools because I had already climbed the Great Wall at a different, less touristy location.  Another letdown by BOCOG.  That afternoon we visited the nearby Ming's Tombs.  This was also less than expected.  The best part about this historic attraction is the descent in the ground where the tombs are located.  However, it loses most of it's magic because the actual tombs are not there, only poorly created replicas.  We finished the day with another massive feast at a restaurant in Beijing.  

Day Three: We visited the ruins of the Emperor's winter palace.  Destroyed twice in it's history, now it is comprised of only erased memories.  Inside most intriguing is the temple with the winding maze leading to it.  Arthur explained that this is where the emperor played with his many concubines.  The only men allowed inside were castrated.  Arthur told us to guess how many women.  It included as many as 3,000 concubines.  Luckily things have changed since then. 

We left early and continued to the Summer Palace for our second visit.  We ate lunch served by "authentic" costumed women of the Qing dynasty.  Their shoes, most surprisingly, had it's flat heel in the center of the shoe.  After another stuffing meal, I opted to paddleboat in the lake.  It was an enjoyable afternoon.  We left to return to Tsinghua to shower for the Beijing Opera.  I somehow scored VIP tickets so I got to sit in the balcony overlooking the show from above.  I had no idea what to expect of the show, but it was a lot of scream singing that was not very enjoyable.  Exhausted from the activities of the weekend, I managed to fall asleep over the belting cries of those on stage.   Our crazy tour ended with our bus ride home as we passed the glowing Forbidden City at night.  It may not have been an ideal way to spend the weekend, but it was a free way.  

Adjusting.

The days are going by fast and it's already mid-July.  I don't notice the deep throat hacking of passing Chinese men, as much.  It still sends a chill.  I don't just jaywalk, I walk between taxis, bikes, and trucks, waiting on the middle dividing yellow line until a space opens to allow me to pass across.  There aren't $70 dollar jaywalking tickets here (unlike Iowa City).  The walk sides are usually just used as a suggestion, one usually ignored.  Bikers follow zero rules.  

I think I am adjusting.

Today after we took the long transfer to Xidan, we window shopped in the district.  The only thing I purchased was a coffee oreo blizzard at DQ.  After leaving the very opulent shopping mall with floor levels organized by sporty, crash, sexy, etc.  we wandered around to the cheap Chinese markets.  We landed in knockoff land.  It was five levels of random thrown together.  On the bottom was a Chinese bakery.  The Chinese love their bakeries, usually French (Tous Les Joures, Paris Baguette), although this was the first Chinese bakery I had seen.  The difference was a lot more questionable baked bread goodies stuffed with meats and dried seasonings.  The next floor was Disney madness.  Once again, the Chinese enjoy "cutsey" fashion, Hello Kitty, Mickey, it's all cool.  I found it strange that they had a Nightmare before Christmas store included (the goth alternative.)  The floors above this were more of the same.  Knock-off fashion, not as good as the markets we usually frequent boasting Nike, Adidas, Coach, Jessica Simpson, Prada, North Face.  Anything name brand they have.  If it is a truly good fake, they have a hidden stock in the basement.  You can pick your style and color by the picture books they have waiting in their makeshift store.  The quality at this market was not even comparable.  It looked like the clothing would fall apart just by trying it on.  The top floor housed what could be described as a Claire's warehouse of the jewelery that wouldn't sell.  It was a bazaar or bizarre.  In this case, both spellings are correct. We hadn't even been in there ten minutes before we descended down the five levels of the escalators.

Outside we bought some more bottled water and kept walking.  A little boy surrounded by his parents squatted down with his crotchless pants and peed on the ground.  Fully exposed to everyone, yet no one seemed to pay any particular attention.  Four weeks ago, I would have gawked, sputtered, and thought, "What, did I just see that?"  Today it was just another quirk of China.  Just like the public make-out sessions of young adolescents experimenting with their new freedom.  In the bakery, a couple passionately kissed for half an hour as we sipped on kiwi smoothies and the birthday girl ate cheesecake.  

Behind the massive shopping plaza, partly hidden we discovered some more hutongs.  My favorite part about Beijing.  The capital city's history lies in these homes of yesterday.  On the outside walls, some homes have been converted into shops selling food and gifts.  One home had skewers poked with lettuce, tofu, mystery meat, and so many obscure foods.  It housed more food on a stick than the Iowa State Fair.  Disappointed that I forgot my camera I just had to take a mental picture.  (The picture above is from Shanghai, I love photographing China's street food.)

CNN video.

Check out this link for the video CNN did on our arrival to Beijing.  They did some great editing.  It's interesting to see what is actually shot to what makes it in the segment.  All of the walking is staged and when they asked if it was our first time to Beijing, I was smiling because the broadcaster had already asked us, but the cameraman wanted a reshoot.  

http://edition.cnn.com/video/#/video/world/2008/07/14/chang.china.olympic.volunteers.cnn?iref=videosearch

If that link doesn't work for you.  Check out the link on the right side of my blog.  

Getting Ready.

Beijing's getting dirty.  As in literally there are dirt piles on the streets, sidewalks, and in the subway steps.  It's last minute crunch time for Beijing.  They only have one more week before all construction must stop.  Like any city weeks before the Games kick off, Beijing is working around the clock to accomplish the best games of this century.  Despite their current record of supporting Darfur, human rights issues, and their struggle with pollution, they are putting on a good face.  More sidewalks are being created.  In the last week I have witnessed the addition of trash cans every 5o feet.  They even attempted to be environmentally friendly with a recycling option on the trash cans.  To make all of this happen, it has been havoc, with electric drilling by the cross walk and the subway entrance.  Although if you venture away from the heavy tourist attractions, you can see that not all of Beijing is getting it's makeup put on.  

We are told, the additional subway lines to the Olympic venues will be ready in time.  I'm still waiting, until then I will have to find multiple connecting bus routes to train at the tennis venue.  As of yet, it is not open so I haven't had to worry.  The closet I have come to the Bird's Nest (the iconic stadium holding the opening ceremony and track and field) and the Water Cube (swimming) is across the highway, behind a fence.  I can still feel the Olympic excitement as the electronic countdown on signs throughout Beijing show the numbers shrinking.  

Witnessing Jude Shao's release shows that China wants to show a different policy.  One that is fair and doesn't have to make excuses about human right issues.  

The air is clearing up.  The first blue sky, I didn't think would ever come back, but it has for a straight week.  Soon small factories will be closing in addition to show China's guests that China is changing and learning. Blue sky patched with clouds still hides some of the smog that is still there, as Beijing failed five out of its six initial environmental test.  One of my friends has developed a severe cough.  A possible side effect of running?  It's only a guess and a very preliminary one at that.  But it still stands that marathoners still have a warrented worry.  

In a week, Beijing will still even bigger changes.  The roads will be less crowded as half of the cars will be forbidden from driving.  Some days will be even days (license plate numbers) and others will be odds.  Carpooling will be implemented and the subways will be packed more so than they already are.  

Some of the volunteers from Iowa that aren't flash quote reporters like me are working in the IBC (International Broadcasting Center) are helping get ready.  They have been checking signs for their English accuracy.  Rather than disabled on the bathroom stalls they changed it to handicapped.  Other tasks have included installed toilet paper in the bathrooms.  This should not be their jobs.  They are very frustrated that they are using overqualified foreign volunteers to do these minimal tasks.  Most of them are frustrated because they are journalism students and were originally promised flash quote reporter jobs.  While I will be watching tennis and interviewing athletes during the Games, they will be working behind a desk directing people to the bathroom.  I am very lucky to be working at the tennis venue and doing something related to journalism.  

It's getting more interesting everyday, One World One Dream, China's almost ready for you.  

Dislocated.

Yesterday we finished our last flash quote reporter (FQR) training at the Mengxi Hotel, three other girls and I decided to walk home.  Usually we just taxi it because it is close, but far enough away that walk is long in the heat.  Since we had gotten out three hours early we were feeling a little more ambitious.  Before that we walked around a Chinese mall which consists of many cubicles with much of the same cheap, confused English t-shirts and dresses.  Each young shopkeeper laughed as if I was joking when I asked for my shoe size, si shi er (42).  High heels in China don't come in that large of a size, try 10 sizes down.  We left with nothing, but our RMB (Chinese currency) we came with.  As we began walking home, the sun was shining directly above and the sky was a clear blue.  I'm not sure if we experienced very foggy weather the first week we landed in Beijing, but China has been clearing up.  It should continue to get better as factories begin to close in anticipation of the Olympics.  Needless to say, it was hot and I didn't have water, but we walked anyway.  Soon we were wandering in places that were unfamiliar.  But we knew from an instinct feeling, that we were close to our dorms, somewhere across the railroad tracks.  It felt like another world.  There were smells so bad I know Kelsey would have gagged.  It seemed untouched by the western world.  Three malnutritioned horses pulled carts in the dirt road wide enough for 1 1/2 cars.  The houses had curtains as doors.  Those without doors, you could see inside that men and children were fast asleep.  I didn't know how they could sleep in this intense heat without air conditioning.  It was smothering.  Hints of western trends were visible if you looked, however.  A fake Orlando jersey passed by on a young, lanky boy.  A pair of nikes sat on the window still of a brick home.  As we got closer to our University, the scenery became worse.  It wasn't the rural Beijing, BOCOG (the Beijing Organizing Committee of the Olympic Games) a.k.a. my boss, showed us on our Beijing tour.  They took us far outside the city to a farming village.  The people living inside showed us their homes and let us use their western toilets.  I don't think these people even had squatters.  (China's toilets where you push your pants to your knees and squat as you pee, always important to bring your own toilet paper.)  The houses here had metal sheets as their roofs and a few bricks in the corners to hold it down.  I knew it wasn't a temporary fix by the close surrounding neighbors that had the same model.  As we tried to find our way back home, we stuck out like a sore thumb.  No one said anything, but you could read their faces.  "What are you doing here?"  I have never seen America's overconsumption in such a contrasting light and it was only across the tracks from our host, Tsinghua Univeristy.  Ten minutes later we found the tunnel under the railroad and just like that we had stepped out of the time capsule.  

(It reminded me of TongLi, the poor village we visited on our trip to Shanghai.  The picture above is included as a close comparison.)  

Shanghai cont.

Walking, walking, walking.  

Geared with two guidebooks, one China, one Shanghai, we just started walking, first to our hostel.  It was quaint.  For my hostel experience, I have to admit that I was very impressed.  We got a three person suite with a private bathroom for the low price of $13.  The hostel was located only a twenty minute walk from the metro and conveniently located five minutes away from our favorite cafe in China.  We made a breakfast stop here at Waggas everyday for egg spinach baguettes and fruit salad with greek yogurt.  When certain foods (such as spinach) are few and far between, it was too good to pass up.  This is also the place where we met Jude Shao.  Look him up.  He was frequenter of the New York Times and he has his own website called Free Jude Shao.  It was an odd occurrence.  First he asked if we were Americans and if we could talk to him because he hadn't talked to any for a long time.  We didn't realize that he meant ten years because he had been unrightfully contained in jail.  We left after he offered to show us around Shanghai.  

Back home in Beijing.

Update: More photos from the trip are up.  

Back from Shanghai.  It has been quite an adventure.  As usually things are in China.  We spent our three days exploring the city and took the train to Suzhou where we took the bus to a small village called Tong Li.  It was truly eye-opening.  

As we were landing in the plane, from high above, I could see Shanghai would be much different from Beijing.  My first tip off was that I could actually see the city outlines below.  In the days I have been in Beijing, the smog has been engulfing the city in its toxins.  This in turn has created a more humid atmosphere because it has been trapping in the heat.  

The Shanghai sky was a vibrant blue and for the first time it felt like summer with the sun beating down in 95 degree weather.  

For background, Shanghai is best described as a European Asian city.  The Bund, the historic district is characteristic of a scene in Paris.  Across the river, however, lies the financial district.  Full of corporate buildings it has the look of New York City with it's glamourous night glow.  Situated by it is the iconic symbol of Shanghai, the Oriental Pearl.  To enjoy Shanghai in its best hour, we took a boat cruise at dusk.  Sandwiched between the two districts on the river, we viewed a spectacular sight.  Up in the sky, the moon was glowing.  We had hit jackpot.  

To be cont. later today...

I'm going to a market today to work on my bargaining skills, getting a pedicure (from all the walking we do our feet are permanently stained dirt) and going to the biggest English language bookstore, the Bookworm.  

Tomorrow I'm going on our Beijing tour (#2) for our boss, the Beijing Organizing Committee for the Olympic Games.  We will be touring the Great Wall again as well as the Summer Palace and eating some more famous Peking Duck.  In addition we will be seeing the Peking Opera and going to Ming's tomb.   Most excitingly, we will be meeting the other international volunteers on this tour.  

Packing for Shanghai

I should have been in bed two hours ago.  My flight leaves at 8:30 and I am getting up at 4:30.  Here are my parting thoughts.  Things to blog about: attitudes of Beijing/China, Hutongs, Markets, Hooters on Independence Day, Navigation, getting ready (not ready for the Olympics).  Good night and happy fourth!

Language barrier

Complications.  It was a bad day.  Language barriers can cause that.  After a long day of lounging in the air conditioning, avoiding the 98 degree heat, we made the move to get pedicures.  First bad move.  The greeting lady escorted us to a private room.  It looked more like a love zone than a place to get your toe nails painted.  We soaked our feet in boiling water.  A man scuffed the old skin off my feet with a disgusted look.  We paid our twenty kuai for the pedicure.  Then we were left for an hour to sit.  We tried to communicate to them using motions and simple words, but it was useless.  She spoke fast and our Chinese language was not enough to comprehend it.   Frustrated, we left.  

A similar situation occurred next door while at Bridge.  A cute cafe with sandwiches, pasta, and Italian desserts.   We waited again.  We had to wave down our waitress.  Our food was out.  Our ticket never came.  Two hours later we left, paying more than we intended and feeling wiped from misunderstandings. I need to study more Chinese.   

Climbing the Great Wall...

The first week has been tourist city.  We toured, in total, the Great Wall, Tiananmen Square, the Forbidden City, the Temple of Heaven, the Summer Palace.  My favorite was a toss up between hiking the Great Wall and the Summer Palace.  The winding granduer of the wall was eye-catching.  I loved the physical aspect of climbing the endless steps. 

 To be continued...

Ice Cream

Ask my dad, he eats cereal everyday.  The same grapenut mixture for fourty years.  It rubbed off on me.  Everyday, no fail, I eat cereal.  This is how I start a good day.  Usually a mixture of Golean crunch, special k berries, granola, fiber one, and whatever wheat enriched cereal that may be on sale.  

In China, the closest I have gotten to cereal has been rice Cheerios.  It isn't the same.  The taste is a dryness that makes you stop after your first o.  The lack of milk or dairy products in general is also disappointing.  As a result, I have sought my dairy out elsewhere.  Ice cream.  The Chinese aren't particularly into desserts so this makes it difficult.  However, side street vendors with blue coolers can usually be found with cones and fudge dipped ice cream sticks.  Yesterday I divulged and ate a waffle cone at Baskin Robbins.  Espresso and cream with berry baseball nut.   

Some things just can't be sacrificed while abroad.

Travels

I am leaving July 5 my time, July 4 yours, to Shanghai.  I have always wanted to see the vibrance of a large Chinese city.  I am really excited for this three day journey.  I have booked airfare and a cheap 13 dollar hostel in the heart of downtown.  Before I leave the area, I am going to Suzhou.  It is notable for being the Venice of China.  I will have two fellow travel companions with me.  If you have any suggestions for Shanghai, let me know!

Silk Market

We wandered to the silk market yesterday.  I mastered the subway to get there.  Transfer lines at the blue and then take the red line for 6 stops, past Tiananmen east and west.  Pinyin doesn't trip me up anymore.  We live in where it could be considered the boonies.  Beijing is a large city.  The largest I have ever lived in, and yet, I feel comfortable here.  The staring doesn't bother me.  I, too, like to people watch to see the collage of characters surrounding me.  China offers a much better backdrop than Logan.  Most interestingly, babies' butts are exposed to avoid diapers.  They waddle around with their butt cheeks bare to the world.

An hour later of riding the subway, we climb the stairs out of the stop to look across the street to a six story building.  Banners on both sides announce to everyone their purposes.  Silk and Pearl Market.  Tour buses line up outside the expanded parking lot.  This is not what we imagined from the guide book's description.  

Inside is chaos.  Their are hawkers, as I call them, waiting and preying on passing customers.  "Hey lady, hey lady, come look at my clothes.  You know you want them.  Hey, where are you going?"  The name of the game here is bartering.  Never take their original, steeped, price.  They slide a calculator over to show you what they want you to take.  However, with minimal talking you can reduce that to 75 percent of that.  I made one purchase.  A gift for someone and I made the mistake of not bargaining further.  Walking away will make them angry and you will get your desired price.  

Even if you are not interested in an item at their makeshift cubicle.  They will poke and prod you with their speciality item.  Be that shoes, purses, jewerly, watches, and etc.  If you don't want to be harassed be sure not to make eye contact.  Otherwise you run the risk of being forced into a purchase or called a mean person.  

The most impressive aspect of this market is not the knockoff purses labeled Prada and Goochi, but the language skills of these hawkers.  Fluent in Spanish, Emily, a member of our group pretended not to speak English to see the vendor's reaction.  Her Spanish response was shocking.  Beside speaking English, Chinese, most can speak Spanish, Japanese, and Korean.  It is truly mind boggling that their language skills are being put to use at this market.  Outside, minutes later, the cab driver looks puzzled at the directions we give.  Many in the city are not to that level yet. I must give the hawkers a bit more respect.  Even if they did call me "Hey lady" and worse many times.  

Food

Dining out in China is a communal experience.  A great way to dine for an indecisive person like me.  Each person has a small plate and in the center of the table is a lazy susan.  The food spins, giving each diner a turn to sample a little of everything until eventually it all disappears.  I no longer have the guilt of wishing I ordered what the Jones' got  Our experience, however, has been quite wasteful as we have not adjusted our digestive systems to finish all the delicious and sometimes disgusting delicacies. Using my somewhat refined chopstick skills, I pluck away a little of everything.  Although it takes me a few attempts to successively manuver the food from plate to plate.  I force myself to try it all.  Even if it looks like the insides of my stomach. My taste buds are awakened to crunch jellyfish, juicy pork dumplings, and a a green something I never found out what it was.  And that was just day one.  We discover duck, duck brain, duck feet, duck skin with sugar, and duck eye.  Outside of that is so much more, sea cucumber, a slimy texture that is not favorable to me.  Chrysanthemum tea, a floral taste that smells just as good as it feels going down.  A plain salad with a tangy dressing, cooked spinach with a crunch spice, and seasoned spicy lamb.  Big bowls of eggplant noodles that disappear before all the dishes are carried out.  Mysterious meat that fills rolls of fried dough that usually never tastes like chicken.  I am reassured however that if dog is included it is listed on the menu.  A delicacy such as that is usually expensive and is chosen, not accidental.  Dining can be expensive, like a five-star restaurant in the United States or can be as cheap as a handful of kuai. Depending on the currency exchange and the decreasing value of the dollar, this is usually equivalent to one George Washington.  As a group of college students, we prefer to keep it thrifty.  Either way, I haven't left a Chinese restaurant hungry yet.