A Peace of China: March 2013

About a week ago, Bailey and I were told about our department taking a trip, leaving Friday afternoon, and to reschedule those classes. One week’s notice is a lot of time by Chinese standards; usually we’re in the dark about what’s going on. But, we’re often not the only ones confused. When we ask about specific information, like: “When does the semester end?” we get a different answer from everyone. Bailey is a contract teacher, a recent graduate; here with Drake U’s teach in China program. Unlike me, she’s paid and she gets a nice apartment. We are the foreign teachers in the large Department of International Relations.

modern rural life (with a concrete make-over),
Bailey walks outside the building where we slept

This trip turned out to be one of those “What? Wait, what?” weekends with so much culture, my head is still spinning.

In the back of the bus, of course, sat Bailey, me, and Dr. ---, a teacher new to SISU this year. I really like talking to him for his Chinese perspective on life, students, teaching, China, or whatever. We set off for a 3 hour trip out of Chongqing with Bailey reading and me sandwiched against the window with Dr. on the other side. Personal space is nonexistent here and I could barely breathe, but I kept up a 3 hour conversation. At one point, when we were talking about North Korea, he actually made an argument for the benefits of war to which I made some weak counterarguments. I’m better at asking questions.

farm where we ate

We arrived at a small, rural, Chongqing town about dinnertime. The attraction? Fields of yellow Rapeseed flowers blooming, but where to eat, where to stay? No place obvious that I could see. Arrangements had been made for us to eat at a farmhouse and stay within walking distance in some buildings with basic, semi-dorm rooms around a mahjong table on each floor, and 1 disgusting no flush toilet per floor. That night, the teachers had some rowdy, no-alcohol game playing.

The next day, the plan was to see a cave, walk around, have lunch, drive to a lake, stop for dinner, and then go back to school, and that’s mostly what happen.

path through the fields

All together we set off for the cave, walking very, very slowly, so slowly I felt like I was barely moving. I was already irritated by the constant, fussy attention of a young teacher the dean assigned to take care of us: “Watch-out!” “Are you cold?” “Take care!” “What do you need? I’ll get it.” On and on and on. This overbearing concern is very Chinese, but I wasn’t in the mood for a 25 year old guy trying to take care of me, even as sweet as it is.

Plus, the teachers were talking about Bailey and me, in a curious way. They assume we cannot understand Chinese; they have no idea that I speak enough to get the gist of many situations and conversations in Mandarin. They call us the blonde girls or just “pretty girls,” a common Chinese phrase. By the end of the trip Dr. gets that I have some understanding and says, “Oh, you know a lot of Chinese.” “Not really, but don’t tell anyone, it’s more fun for me.” I say.

rapeseed, used to make canola oil

So, Bailey and I tell our babysitter that we’re going for an exercise walk around the town and we’ll see him at lunch. That worked out great. At lunch, it happened that Bailey and I were the only females sitting at one of the drinking, smoking, men’s tables. The women in China generally don’t smoke or drink. By the time I noticed, it would have been awkward to move to the already crowded women’s tables. I thought what the heck, I’ll have a beer. Hours later, and only one 3.3% alcohol beer for me, the guys are pretty drunk from all of the toasting. The Chinese toasting tradition is to empty the glass. There’s an order, a protocol for toasting based on the hierarchy with the department’s party secretary at the top. Bailey drinks peanut milk, I fill my glass with water before any guy can fill my cup with more beer. Basically, I take dozens of shots of water. Our babysitter gets so drunk he can barely stand and shouts everything, including “I’M DRUNK!”

old village house

Finally, back on the bus about 3 p.m., I erroneously think that the drunks will just fall asleep. Not a chance. Our drink-happy leader is on our bus and wants to sing, wants everyone to sing or lead a song and everyone enthusiastically complies. I tell them (in Chinese!) that I can’t sing, I don’t know any songs, that I sing badly.

Then, we drive and drive and drive to a dam and to its reservoir, take pictures, get back on the buses and drive some more. And get lost. Lost? These are chartered buses. Do they not have GPS? By the time being lost gets sorted out, we have a choice to stop and eat or keep driving and get back after midnight, making for an 8 hour return trip.

killing and cleaning the chickens during breakfast

Everyone wants to keep going, so the leader buys a ton of junk food and water with a promise to take everyone out to hotpot. And, that’s exactly what happened. The buses stopped outside of a hotpot restaurant about 12:30 a.m. and unloaded. Only those teachers with solid excuses, like classes in the morning, left to go home. Bailey and I tagged on the leaving group with me saying, “I’m meeting students at 7:30 to climb Gele Mountain.” Amazingly, I did get up that early and meet my students.

chicken soup for lunch, see the foot, claw in the center?
we got EVERY part of those chickens, including the blood.
It makes me laugh because this situation was a PC interview
question: "What would you do if..."
My response: "Not eat it."

Dr. gets some rice

bee boxes

some dam

some reservoir

PCVs Ben and Christine stayed over Friday night. In the morning I made us oatmeal, one of the few organic, maybe, grains I can find. I was about to dump some honey on top when Ben said, “Have you heard about Chinese honey?” My head snapped around, “What?” I asked, knowing the news would not be good.

When Ben talks, I listen; he’s only 27 years old, but when it comes to China and world politics, he knows what he’s talking about. He’s an American born Chinese ("ABC"), his parents were born in China, and he majored in Chinese and politics. He’s thoughtful, well read, and calls it like he sees it, a trait that spills over into his wry sense of humor. “Just look it up,” he said, derailing breakfast as Christine and I did a quick search.

The problem: “honey laundering,” (I can’t type that without laughing), currently still an international issue. Chinese honey producers came up with a scary non-honey concoction to pass off as 100% honey to the world. It’s no surprise that this non-honey also contains toxins. The European Union banned Chinese honey and the United States imposed a high tariff on it, so China sends its honey to India or other Asian countries where it’s then exported. Now, the EU has banned honey from India. What’s the US currently doing? Well, not much.

With my honey jar in the garbage, we finally ate oatmeal, and talked about other China food safety problems.

do I risk it?

Another huge problem is milk. Almost immediately after I arrived in China, I started hearing about tainted, toxic milk. This hits me hard because I like milk in my coffee and I like yogurt too. In 2008, Chinese companies produced contaminated milk that contained melamine, making hundreds of thousands sick and killing at least 6 babies. Two people were executed in connection with the practice. But, milk in China continues to be of questionable quality.

milk substitute

I find it odd, that for all of our PC safety and security training, major food contamination problems weren’t discussed. However, we were taught how to clean fresh fruits and vegetables, advised to stay away from meat, and cautioned to be very careful about eggs (because of possible SARS).

In Chongqing, vegetables and fruits are plentiful and cheap, both very good for my health and my budget, but they take time and energy to clean because they are not safe to eat. Chinese farmers liberally use pesticides and herbicides. Heavy metals and bacteria are in the soil and air.

Basically, the rule is: peel it or cook it. No salad! Do you hear me crying? That’s right, in 9 months I haven’t had a salad …sob.