When YOU’re the one stopping traffic

Ok, well a continuation of the bus story below is actually more on the positive side. I ended up getting to Chicago on an Amtrak train a few hours later than planned.

For those of you ignorant, like me for the first 24 years of my life, and might never have taken a train, or any form of public transportation for that matter if your from the ‘burbs or a smaller town, allow me to enlighten you. After probably close to 100 train rides during my 1 year in China I want to share with you some differences to see how behind, or in some ways just different, the trains are in the US compared with China. I was initially only going to state the negatives in America’s train system, but after looking around I realized there were some things to be proud of as well.

It can’t compete with China because it…
• Putters along on the rickety train, not possibly going more than 25 maybe 30 mph. Doesn’t have much on the 260 km/h train in a few place in China!
• One train the whole day with a total of 4 cars, compared with many cities in China that have dozens going to the same destination each train holding approximately 1500 passengers

• Not able to buy tickets in the station and have to reserve them by calling ahead or going online

• Doesn’t have to slow down in towns and stop for 45 on end when there is “congested on the tracks” (build some more track for crying out loud!)

• No postings as to when the train leaves/arrives (although the old man on the cell phone with the conductor of the coming train was pretty cool)

• There’s no ultra-convenient “Air Sickness bags” (No joke) with the seat in front of you, fully to the task as trash bin, notepaper, or oh yeah, if you can get yourself “air sick” on a train it catches those blowing cookies like no other

But it does have…
• Conductors that see me as a person, not just another number, or job to be completed who won’t even look at you (like it is in China). On my trip to Chicago the conductor actually told me I had to have a reservation or I’d have to pay more money. To which he responded, not getting mad or asking me for the full price, but rather initially telling me a number to call and then just calling it himself, making a reservation, and charging the reservation price that is $13. Now that’s American customer service!

• Pillow for each and every seat

• Emergency and Handicap accessibility, something unheard of in China

• Luggage racks above the seats that were easily twice as tall as those in China

• More space than I knew what to do with! One guy on the train layed across the two seats (see picture). Only half the car filled, if that (much different than my experiences in China during Chinese New Year: See picture!)

• Power outlets (120 V!) for my laptop so I can type this blog and still be charging my battery!

• More diversity of passengers than I’ve ever seen on any train in China (easy to notice since everyone wasn’t staring at me)

• Views of the forest and farmland of Indiana at a comfortable pace, the first time in my 24 years of life in the US - priceless!

So before you travel to a destination within a few hours, before mindlessly jumping in your gas-guzzling SUV where you’ll probably spend $100 at the pump this weekend, why not consider a ride with Amtrak! Cheaper than a ride in your car, reliability that even though its not flawless trumps Greyhound every day of the week, and I’ll guarantee right now, they will be plenty of space for you!

And the best part of all: Going through towns where you’re not the one stopping when the railroad gates go down over the road, but you’re the one stopping traffic!

Greyhound gets another strike

I rolled out of bed a few minutes before 5, groggy and not happy to be getting up so early when I didn’t really need to be Chicago so early in the morning. But I was flexible with my schedule in order to catch the 5:45 AM bus. I arrived a half hour early because I knew I had to buy a ticket and when I had been at a Chicago station the month before there was a line. As I walked up to the lobby of the station it didn’t look very promising, no cars in the parking light and absolute silence. I pulled on the handle, wet as it was damp from the morning dew. Nothing happened. I said goodbye to my friend and told him that I’d call if there were any problems. After 15 minutes of waiting, another guy pulled up in his car and waited along with me. It was 5:45, 5:55, 6:05. He went and checked another street where he found a city bus. He asked that driver about a Greyhound bus and he said “Oh yeah, that pulled out about 20 minutes ago up there on 3rd street!”

3rd street! For some reason due to the bus not being able to turn around very easily, the bus decided to stop a couple blocks totally out of view of the current station. There was no sign about lobby hours, change of location, even a number to call if there were any problems. I even tried calling the Greyhound station in Chicago and what was I told? Nothing because they never picked up the phone. Frustrated I told my friend to come back and pick me up because I had “missed” or rather, never seen, the bus. The only saving grace about that experience was that knowledgeable of Greyhound's less then stellar track record, I didn’t book the ticket online, so I wasn’t out any money, just a few hours of sleep and inconveniencing my friend.

It wasn’t until an hour later when I returned to the same station, (shared by Amtrak, there was a train up to Chicago) that I found out that day was the first day that Greyhound was stopping their lobby service in Lafayette. “Oh, why that’s convenient to know”, I thought. Sure enough as I entered the station I saw a sign inside the building about 4 x 6 inches saying “Greyhound buses are boarding on Third Street until further notice”. Next time. Well maybe there won’t be a next time. I’ve now lost all confidence in Greyhound to deliver service, punctuality or certainty of having a seat. If I do have to travel long distance and flying is too expensive in the future I’ll either go Amtrak or Megabus-a new express and cheap bus service that opened a few years back.

“If I was in China this NEVER would have happened! I’d be lining up, or mobbing, behind 500 people waiting to get my ticket punched, down the platform and onto the train. And if I ever miss it, in 30 minutes time there’s bound to be another train/bus going the same place.

Oh well, just over 3 weeks and I’ll be back in the land of bike armadas perusing the streets, cattle chute train station lines, early morning taiqi in the parks, and color-enhancing pollution-sure to take any uneventful journey on the road and turn it into a ride through exhaust pipe (the picture was taken after a 3-hour leg of a weekend bike tour in China). 中国加油！

a peek into the life of an International student…in America

“Wo bu zhi dao, shi zai na li,” (in English meaning:”I don’t know where it is”) was the speech I heard from a tall, Chinese-looking student on the phone as he was walking down the sidewalk on Purdue’s campus. Somewhat taken aback because I felt as if I was back in China, I intentionally shortened my strides a bit. I gathered that he was on his way to the library but didn’t know where it was. After he got off the phone I asked him if I could help him and then, speaking Chinese asked where he was from. In hearing the Chinese he quickly taken aback and asked if I spoke Chinese (always a funny question given I just spoke a couple lines of Chinese to him). After helping direct him to the right place on campus, after talking to this guy for less than 5 minutes, I was asked for my phone number so we could hang out some time. Interested in finding opportunities to speak Chinese myself, I gladly gave it to him, but mentioned I was going to leave the area in just a few days.

Luckily the next day I wasn’t very busy, so we were able to connect with him in the afternoon. We talked for quite a while in his new apartment, absolutely bare except for his laptop (within his first 4 days in the US he had already bought a new one since the US is the cheapest place in the world to buy them, please friends, no complaining), a bag of Oreos, and an opened suitcase filled with clothes and food from his hometown, in Jilin province in Northeast China. It was an apartment for 3, but since classes didn’t start for a few more days, both of his roommates, whom he hadn’t the slightest notion who they would be, still had not arrived. As we began talking it wasn’t too long before he attempted to turn on the air conditioner, quickly asking me what a reasonable temperature was since he had never heard of Fahrenheit before. Also before we left his apartment he was sure to give me several plastic packages of dried squid (not fresh of course, but dried, salty and crunchy fishy-flavored goodness) and a few small Mooncakes. Both of these were special foods from his hometown in China that his mom, like any Chinese mom, or as I think about it any mom anywhere, would give his son before he takes off to the other side of the world.

Jack was only a sophomore college student abroad for just one semester. Studying architectural design, this opportunity he had to study in the US was possibly once in a lifetime. One that he said he would take advantage of by seeking to understand more of American’s open-mindedness and views about the world. One where he’d travel from East coast to West coast, visiting landmarks and buying what he deemed to be better quality technological and acoustic equipment for his band. Ultimately though I was seeing by all the uncertainties and questions on his mind, a step into the unknown.

I glanced at his class schedule filled with abbreviations which was all Greek to him. So, I offered a few words of wisdom on the classes that might be more difficult or rather simple. Then he asked about the computer he bought online and whether or not he had to call the company after it was delivered to him. That’s what you do in China, he had no idea if you did the same here. I listened to him and a group of other Chinese students that evening share their fears about how they talk to Westerners. What if they don’t understand what I’m trying to say? What if I totally miss the meaning of their answer? What about all that slang they use? Do they really laugh after everything they say and is it really that funny? Language especially is a very difficult thing that I didn’t personally realize how fast, culturally-specific, and idiom-filled it was until I was in China and began speaking to my American friends while my Chinese friends were present. Even someone who speaks fluent English but hasn’t been in an atmosphere of those who speak like college students do, might not have a clue what the meaning is. And when they don’t how encouraging are we as Americans to move to that person’s level and explain it in words that person will understand?

We talked for a couple hours, first in Chinese and then both realizing his English was better than my Chinese, in English. We talked about life, sports, food, technology, and faith. Honestly, not too much unlike my time in China except with the roles reversed. Instead of my Chinese friends wanting to look after me to make sure I knew where things were and that I was safe, I felt the same kind of responsibility for him. It was amazing to me as I pondered, “This guy is coming over here taking classes just like any other freshman here at Purdue. He’s got a class schedule, orientation, apartment, and buying books and gadgets just like I was my first year at college. He isn’t really that unique anymore. That’s just part of what society looks like today. And yeah, why not go travel and see different sights of interest in the US, maybe it’ll be his only chance.”

He is one of 800 Chinese students at Purdue and one of tens of thousands that comes over every year, or every 4 years since many attend all 4 years in the US. And though China is the largest country with possibly the most students, there are dozens of other countries with similar motivations and programs.

We also went back to my friend’s house to hang out for a while and Jack’s curiosity in the house included anything and everything. All the pictures and awards on the wall, couches on which we sat, and size of…well, everything. Jack was lucky, in the fact that he had been in the US for less than a week and had already been in an American home. Something the majority of students never get to see in the 4 or more years in which they study in America.

I couldn’t help but think how many more “Jack”’s there were around the world. Students who were leaving their home countries and cultures in search of a better education and way of life in the West. You here how common it is today and that over 80% of Chinese students who come over to work/study never return. But what effect does that have on the economy? I’m sure it pushes, or should push, the average American to be more dedicated in their studies since the competition gets stiffer, especially in disciplines of hard sciences and technology. Its great that students from abroad are coming here, working in Western companies, and primarily benefiting our economy. But it almost doesn’t seem fair to their home countries. Isn’t it great that many people desire to come to my home country of the US for under- and post-graduate studies. When might come a time when there will actually be better opportunities educationally and vocationally in one’s home country?

And what should our response be as Americans to this? And as a child of the King? Will we welcome them with open arms and share our culture and lives with them or will we have feelings of competition or anger for the jobs they might take or awards they will win. I’m not trying to open a huge can of worms or suggest any real changes that should be made. I am hinting that the America of the 21st century will truly become a continually larger global society. I’m also pointing out the realities of what life is like for one, “Jack”, and many others who leave their home countries in search of a brighter future elsewhere. Will they find that future that gives them that much sought after joy and satisfaction? Or only be in a neverending competitive fight with the next one who’s smarter and richer. In so doing sacrifice much in familial, relational, and social aspects of life that they will look back and say 50 years from now, despite the increased material rewards, and say that it actually wasn’t really worth it? And what impact will you have in them going through that process?

When all hope seems dashed… Olympic Torch Relay

Everyone knows the tradition of the Olympic torch passing through many
cities on the way to its final destination and beginning of the games.
Today my friends and I had the chance to go see it in.

Knowing that big crowds are anything but rare in urban China and how
excited everyone is about the Olympics, I was prepared to not get the
best seat in the house (I mean “by the street”) this morning when I
only left an hour before the torch was supposed to pass by. But after
walking outside my house and turning I saw the 2nd of 3 barricades
where officers of the law would not allow anyone to pass. Even at this
point we were 100+ meters from the road where the torch would be
carried.

We soon learned that the only people they allowed through were those
that arrived before 6 AM (although most arrived by 4 AM) and had an
official company registered team or volunteer status. Having arrived
well after 6 AM and with none of these credentials, even the most
flowery Chinese language and jokes I could come up with wouldn’t
budge those in charge.

After about an hour and failing to get through 3 different barricades,
we despairingly headed back for our apartment. Then, just as we were to
enter our apartment’s gate we noticed a stream of people running
through the 2nd barricade towards the torch route! We joined hundreds
of others in this mass movement of people as we hurried through the
barricade and dipped under a couple more pieces of caution tape before
reaching the street. We were delighted to have gotten so close to the
street and soon looked anxiously for the arriving motorcade.

As we were waiting for the torch, I was personally disappointed that
despite the hoards of people with flags, headbands, and Olympics
regalia galore, there wasn’t any kind of cheering. Bound to fix the
problem, I leaned over to my friend and asked if he thought I should
begin a cheer. As I weighed my options: the amount of staring and
humiliation I might bring upon myself if the cheering failed, I quickly
realized: “I already stand out like crazy in this mass of people and
I frankly don’t care what these people think about me.” I then
quickly proceeded to let out my loudest “Zhong Guo…JIa You”
(literally “China, Add Oil”). Within a matter of about 20 seconds I
had a huge group of Chinese around me echoing my cry of “Zhong Guo”
and a lot of entertained fans!

In a few minutes time, the torch came and went and that was it. A great
experience of cheering on the home country in preparation for the
Olympics in just 6 days!

For specifics on the torch relay se: http://torchrelay.beijing2008.cn/en/

China's Ramen

Everyone’s heard of Ramen noodles and knows that it’s a hit with college students that are needing a cheap filling meal or a midnight energy boost to finish a paper. But what you might not know about is Ramen’s big brother in China: Fang Bian Mian (in Chinese), translated “Convenient Noodles.”

They sure are convenient too. At any train station or at the end of any train car is a large container of hot water always ready to turn the next bowl of dried noodles into a hot, tasty, nothing but carb snack. On the many train rides I’ve had the chance to take in the last 10 months, it didn’t take me long to notice that whether its lunch, dinner, or even breakfast the food of choice is always Fang Bian Mian.

One of the most telling influences that Fang Bian Mian has on China is evident in its grocery stores. Filled from the top shelf to the ground on the better part of an aisle, the myriad of rainbow colors of all the different boxes is quite a sight.

The ready-to-eat variety usually packaged in paper bowls approximately the size of one very large, cereal bowl, is a noodle block usually enough for a whole meal. Coming in many different tastes (meat and vegetable flavors) and varieties (the purple one I had last time made me drink a liter of water), there’s always a new type to try. When opening Fang Bian Mian, the most surprising thing is probably the inclusion of a small fork, rather than chopsticks. Though initially a major shock to me, especially given the fact that forks are next to never available at restaurants, I realized that given the diameter of the bowl, the 3-pronged fork was the way to go. The image on the outside packaging is quite deceiving as there isn’t actually fresh meat or vegetable inside, but plenty of salty sauces, noodles, and artificial flavorings to keep anyone’s tastebuds on full alert.

Ocean Bound

So, myself and an Australian, Canadian, Chinese, and one other American friend got up last Friday morning and left at 7 on what was supposed to be a 550 km (about 400 mile) round trip ride to an ocean resort city and back. We were fully prepared with our "Zhongguo jia you" (literally "China: add oil", which is what fans cheer during sporting events and translates loosely as "Go China"). After getting through an hour of rush hour traffic and missing our first turn, we had our first repair of the trip (a couple screws had popped off the the front wheel). Luckily we had just the right thing to fix it, paper clips! It did the trick in minutes and though it was somewhat disheartening to already be fixing a busted bike, we continued on in full spirits. It was the first of only two repairs during the trip. The forecast had said it was supposed to be 100 degrees that day and we started to feel it by mid-morning. It wasn't the ride we had quite expected, with several big trucks flying by us every minute, sometimes dropping stones, coal, or other remains from the bay of the truck (truck drivers over here don't know anything but filling their bays to the brim, and then some).

By lunch the second day with our bottoms thoroughly sore, foreheads caked in dirt, and numerous body parts aching in pain; one of the gang planted a very tempting idea in our minds. "What if after getting to our destination tonight we don't turn around and get up the next morning at 7 to ride back, but take the train back the next day instead?" It didn't take very long for the rest of us to jump on board and soon we were filled with hope during the rest of that day's ride, as we knew it would be our last. The last part of our trip was the highlight, as we rode along a beautiful, yet still not completed, highway along the beach, where the temperature fell to the 50s and mist
surrounded us all. We felt like we were in some kind of video game as the cloudy, misty glaze fell over our us, creating a mystical atmosphere. We continually had to move back and forth to the sections of the road that were already completed and tried to ignore the inquisitive stares from the construction workers (not an unusual phenomenon for us by now). The second night concluded with being rejected by a half dozen hotels, who for some reason didn't want to give lodging to foreigners. Then, after a little bargaining, our 24-hour, 2-day bike trip covering 200 miles came to a close.

The last two days were much less uneventful, as we put our bikes to rest and enjoyed seeing a few sights and exploring the coast on our own. It was fun to be able to spend some time getting to know the guys and giving each other a hard time about all of our different English accents. Traveling alongside people in the countryside gave me a better glimpse of the sights, sounds, and smells of what is experienced there. It made me appreciate the life in the city, away from the beaming hot sun all day long, where farmers have little to no equipment to farm. It made me appreciate cars and the privilege we have to drive in comfortable, convenient conditions, without getting covered in dirt from head to toe.

Emperors Exert Their Power

It was a usual day playing our Friday afternoon game of basketball. The
weather was considerably warmer, so outside joining us around the
basketball court was a group of a half dozen 6 and 7-year old boys
playing with their cards, guns and dirt. Given the ample places to play
around the basketball court, we didn't consider starting a full-court
game of basketball to be a problem. Even after an hour and a half of
playing (being occasionally careful to avoid the little ones) there was
really no problem (though there were several close calls. Then, on one
breakaway, there was a little boy who stepped right in the way of a big
guy as he was backpedaling and fell down. Everybody was ok, but boy
that little kid was furious. He got up and started frantically yelling
and swinging his right arm round and around as fast as he possibly
could. I didn't hear until later that he was also giving some choice
words to these guys at least 3 times his age.

At that point, all of us playing basketball were in a tough position
because we felt bad for the kid, but their moms were right there
watching us play and didn't ever tell the kids to be careful. The kid
was also so mad at us he probably would have gone ballistic if we tried
to comfort him. So after several minutes of not much happening, and one
of the mom's suggesting we play half court. It was the most indirect
situation I've ever seen with no one saying anything or really doing
very much, just kind of shrugging their shoulders and not sure if they
should change their game and comply or just continue playing as before.

I finally stepped in and decided we better comply and play half-court.
As we took a few minutes to regroup and split up into smaller teams,
the situation went from weird to absurd. The kids understood which side
of the court was theirs and they began to play. But quickly they
lost interest in their own fun and took more delight in getting revenge
on the evil basketball players who were taking over their kingdom. They
ran over to the side of the court and began taking the clumps of grass
and dirt and throwing them onto our court. After it was too dirty to
play in we moved back to the other side of the court. To which the
kids, predictably, by now, responded by littering that side of the
court with grass clumps as well. We soon realized the hopelessness of
the situation and stopped playing altogether.

I was appalled at their behavior and the grins on their face, but even
more so by the lack of discipline from their moms who were watching
them from a very close distance the entire time. They didn't have any
sense of responsibility for their kids' behavior, and even seemed to
take joy in the actions of their children!

It was at this moment that I realized what the term "little emperor" and
this new "Me Generation" looked like. Complete disregard for what might be
the right way to act or treat others, and total indulgence into one's
childish nature of anger, whining, and revenge. These children are the ones
being served and they are not learning the word "no". Parents only have one
child, so their desire to give their "little emperor" anything he wants is
great and to punish him too severely is dangerous. My friends all agreed that
they were spoiled and needed to learn some lessons, but no one was taken
aback as much as I was by the situation. They know that's just what kids
are growing up like these days. But, "What are these kids being taught?" I ask.

That I'm not sure, but I am sure if they continue in their behavior, they will
have a tough "reign" ahead of them.