Kunming, Week 5

Afraid I don't have much to report this week, except for a really amazing Saturday. So, of course, you can expect an odd ten thousand words on whatever mundane nonsense I've been up to here in the PRC.

Before I recount my week, I ought to tell you about my Chinese family visit last Saturday, which I neglected to mention. In a certain way, these visits are wonderfully uneventful. I went to a Chinese household, they made us dinner, we watched TV and a movie, not much to say. But of course, with the cross-cultural and language elements, there's always something of interest. This time, the family visit took place at 4 PM, so I was actually refreshed and in a good mood and chattering away in bad Mandarin. I love to be able to crack jokes and schmooze in Mandarin, which I can do to a limited extent. We watched a panda climb a tree on TV, and I commented that I admired the panda's lifestyle: eating, sleeping, eating. Being able to say stuff like that, as inconsequential as it is, is what I really enjoy. We also watched a few minutes of a familiar looking Chinese show: Chounu Betty. It's fun to see familiar schlock in other cultures. The daughter of the family is our age and is clearly enamored of having American wards, she has an incredibly endearing manner about her, and apparently loves cartoons (although she might also be canny enough to pick out stuff we have a shot in hell at understanding), because she had us watch My Neighbor Totoro. It was my first time seeing the film (Totoro's name, in Chinese, btw, is rendered as dalongmao, big dragon cat), and it was sort of odd seeing it for the first time in Chinese, and somewhat disappointing to watch the grainy bootleg print she had, but nevertheless, typically charming, simple Miyazaki. Dinner was very pleasant. I had brought pictures of my family (prompted by a plan formed by my classmate Michelle, not born solely from my ego) and the host family said that my sister was very beautiful, I looked like both my parents, and that they thought both of my grandmothers were very lovely, and that my maternal grandmother looked especially glamorous (sorry, Grandma Suher, the picture of you had you in a sweatshirt, not your best). I had another fun moment walking back, when I heard "Kiss Kiss", and explained in Chinese to our host daughter that Chris Brown was a bad person because he hit his girlfriend. Michelle asked me how I knew, and to my surprise and joy, I quickly responded in Chinese, "Everyone knows! How do you not know?" It's that kind of natural thing that are easily the joys of using the language here.

In one of those jarring China moments, the host family's father asked me if I missed home. I said I did, sometimes. He said, when he was away from home for a long time, about ten years, in the country, in the seventies, he missed his mother's cooking. Piecing it together, I asked if he was a sent-down youth, and he said, yes. It's the kind of insane thing which is common in this country. When I thought about it, it made sense, if you did the math. I knew he was older than my parents, which meant that he was a teenager during the Cultural Revolution, and so just about the right age to be sent down. That's the kind of thing that fills this country: ask a few questions, and everyone has this sort of story.

So, the language element this week, as it goes, yue lai yue hao, getting better and better. Drilling is rough, and depending on the day, I'm often just about ready to check out. I received a compliment, however, that my teacher feels that I grasp the language well, and that cheered me up. I do manage to communicate well, most of the time. We've all broken the language pledge here, to varying extents. I feel guilty about it sometimes, and some days I do try and make an honest effort, but some days, like Saturday, I just don't seem to be in the mood to use Chinese at all. When socializing on the weekend, it simply falls by the wayside, since we would be so limited using Chinese. In any case, when everyone's sort of agreed to let it go, it's hard to fight the current, even if you wanted to.

Two movies this week, a documentary on Tibet (Tibet: Cry Of The Snow Lion) and a special screening of a documentary on a small village on the Burmese border called Transformation. Actually, there's not much to say on the Tibet documentary; it's one of those propaganda flicks that reminded me of many Progressive Forum meetings back in high school, and that my contrariness has never reacted well to. In general, although I sympathize with the Tibetan cause, I have to think there's a better way to achieve its goals than by continually describing the Tibetans as a "spiritual people".

The other documentary was actually fairly intriguing, and the director was there, so we got to do a Q and A. This guy had made a lot of money in advertising, and then went to spend seven years in a minority village on the Burmese border, taking hundreds of hours of footage while the village adopted modern agricultural techniques (switching from slash-and-burn agriculture), built new houses, and installed electric lighting. The film is hypnotic. You spend most of the time watching the mundane routines of traditional life, the farming, the sacrificing, the labor and the rituals. The changes come not as stereotypical jarring conflicts of tradition versus modernity, but as ideologically devoid simple improvements that subtly change life without the villagers or the viewers realizing. I was a fan of the documentary, although I also should mention that I did suspect that certain scenes were staged, though I can't say for sure, and really hope that wasn't the case. The documentary certainly made choices that emphasized a "noble savage" outlook, but succeeded despite the ideological goals of the director.

I only met with my language partner once this week. She had a recessed tooth, and so had to get it taken care of, so she was out of commission for most of the week. From my language partner, and some of my classmates who have been more unfortunate with food than I have, I gather that medical care here resembles the "Theodoric of York" SNL sketch. The Chinese doctor's solution to every problem is an injection, and there's no guarantee that the needle will be clean. In Kunming, with the highest AIDS rate in China, that makes medical care a dire last resort. My language partner explained that she had let the cavity go as long as possible because she feared an AIDS infection from dirty dental equipment. Yeesh. In any case, despite all that, she was in as good a mood as ever. Our topic this week was cheating, and she gleefully explained to me the myriad strategies Chinese students use to cheat in this test-obsessed educational system. She also brought a map of the US, and I pointed out places of interest in at least some sort of proximity to the University of Oklahoma, where she hopes to study abroad. One thing that I've noticed and that sort of embarrasses me is that I am less interested in finding out about China through her than I am in representing America to her, and I get a little bit disappointed when she isn't as interested in America as I am. Her first question, when I say that Obama's making America better (of course he is), is whether he'll make it easier for Chinese students to come to America; the Chinese, as always, are most concerned with things that affect the Chinese (remind you of any other society?). Of course, I shouldn't expect her to be inordinately interested in America, but at the same time, I think I do have a general interest in China, and wonder why she's not more curious about America.

Speaking of, courtesy of a set of bootleg DVDs, I've started to get into Battlestar Galactica this week. Hoo boy, what a show. I'm completely hooked. For a politics buff, this show has everything, legitimacy, freedom vs. security, ethics of war, you name it, with great writing. Ron Moore, whose TNG episodes were always the best, has really made a great show. It has me looking forward to studying for Chinese, if you can believe that.

Like I said, this Saturday was really quite neat. We went to a geological formation called the Stone Forest, and then a Sani minority village. The Stone Forest is overpriced (the highest ticket price I've seen for any attraction in China) and just kind of weird, but you can't knock the sight: a breathtaking example of karst topography, resulting in columns of limestone that resemble, well, a stone forest. The Chinese tourists come in droves, and whenever that happens, it's the usual madness of flocks of Chinese behaving badly. Here, there's an extra weird little touch, since the guides are dressed in minority clothing (although some of them aren't even minorities) and there are places where you can pose in minority clothing in front of the rocks. Once you get away from the central loop, however, it's alright. I do have to admit however, I miss my silent solitary revelries, even though I'm glad not to be out on my own.

The minority village was especially rewarding. This village, though I imagine it was nicer than others, was still the real deal: ramshackle houses, rudimentary plumbing, pigs in a shed in the backyard. I saw where they embroider all the tourist crap they sell near the Stone Forest. We were served an amazing meal by the villagers in the village head's house, and not only that, but the villagers insisted on singing special Sani drinking songs while dressed in native costume (we unfortunately could not drink the baijiu, which was in a water cooler like container with a snake inside, a common practice that's supposed to make the liquor more potent). At our professor's insistence, we also sang songs. I was prompted to do a solo, the first song, a very off key rendition of Lefty Frizzell's "Gone, Gone, Gone". I am told a recording exists; so long as I am alive, it will never see the light of day. We also performed "Build Me Up, Buttercup", "Amazing Grace", and "My Heart Will Go On". Oh, American culture, so rich.

After lunch, we went outside to see the village common facilities, mostly built during the Cultural Revolution. There are basketball courts, and grim stone ping-pong tables with rusted copper nets. Also tied up out back: a beautiful ox, apparently bred to represent the village in the annual ox fighting tournaments held at the Sani Torch Festivals. Graffiti on the walls tells the village that "family planning is every citizen's right and duty". We went inside and asked questions of the village head and his family (including a girl our age who looked about fourteen and speaks fairly good English). Hard to say how accurate a view we got of minority village life, since these people have obviously been coopted by the system, but according to them, it's pretty good. The government is moving the whole village in order to restore the area around the Stone Forest back to nature, but offering pretty nice compensation terms. Han Chinese moving into the village? No problem, we get along fine. Han Chinese bastardizing Sani culture, posing as Sani? It's cool, at least they're representing Sani culture. Everything is rosy according to these folks. The reality is probably something in the middle. I am often convinced that the government is generally smart enough to not cause unnecessary grievance to people, but the Sani also do, according to many things I've read, face prejudice. I find the minority situation in China interesting. As I mentioned to the Sani girl who was showing us around, the situation of the Sani represents the situation of the Jews in America in some ways: for example, the grandparents speak Yi, the parents speak a little, the grandkids speak none. It's a similar situation of acculturation and a reaction of difference.

Well, that was my week. Over here, it's pretty late, and I've got a big week ahead. Take care, I'll post pictures when I have time, I'll write next week.