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.