Roll up those taxi windows, drag your bags through security… this only comes every ten years. Beijing’s bitter wind welcomed 2270 delegates yesterday to shine their shoes and take their seats in a room booked for the “18th National Congress”. While the U.S. lets out its breath to enjoy another four years under Obama’s leadership, China prepares itself for a new president and premier (7 of the 9 current Politburo Standing Committee members are retiring this year). Xi Jinping, the likely candidate to replace President Hu Jintao, emphasized four main questions to be addressed at this year’s conference, namely: What flag will we wave? What path will we follow? And in what state of mind? To continue advancing towards what kind of goals? (我们党将举什么旗、走什么路、以什么样的精神状态、朝着什么样的目标继续前进) Specific, I know. Citizens wait eagerly to see what solutions the committee generates for problems like insufficient health care, inflated real estate, and the growing gap between the rich and poor. As news stations flash snippets of animated discussions over round mahogany tables, the mysterious lure of the national government grows in the eyes of the people. Local and provincial governments may be corrupt or unfair, but loyalty towards the national government is a tradition that stretches back thousands of years, born from the people’s innocent dependency and undying hope in a power that remains faceless. Just as religion presses followers to have faith in what they cannot see, a government too can round up millions of supporters if only by providing a mirage of hope.

The farther I verge beyond the warm waters of academia, the more evident the importance of blogs– and cultural blogs, in particular– becomes. After spending four years at Brown University, one of the most open-minded 143 acre plots of land in the world, my attitude towards unknown cultures or stereotypes changed from being naturally judgmental to honestly curious. Rhode Island, after all, maintains a kind of quirky love for individual freedom after going down in history as the first state to declare independence from Britain and the first center of religious and political tolerance in the 17th century.

My Chinese coworkers often ask what sets Brown apart from other Ivies or colleges in the U.S., and above all, I say, that its students, professors, and campus culture is one of the most “宽容” or accepting. I’m not claiming a lack of social cliques– exclusive groups of likeminded people arise no matter what the environment– I’m talking about an overall vibe, whether it be the diverse perspectives covered in lectures, the ridiculous traditions (naked donut run, SPG), or even the way kids dress around campus, that vitalizes a spirit of individuality and in turn reinforces a necessary acceptance of that which is different, foreign, or initially unsettling. Once upon a time, religions used to encourage acceptance among all people, but somewhere along the road, that ideal was lost amidst petty political fights over abortion, marriage law, and immigration.

I came to China in 2012 with a straightforward goal: to do whatever I can to increase understanding between China and the U.S. People call me crazy. Literally. An elderly neighbor once asked, kindly, if I had a mental illness and thus decided to move to China. Friends, coworkers, and general acquaintances of my parents constantly give them grief about their daughter’s decision to move to China and date a Chinese man. They say things like, “Chinese students only come to the U.S. to steal our ideas, bring them back to the mainland and COPY, COPY, COPY. Why would your daughter work to help Chinese steal spots in our most prestigious academic institutions?” Even my own friends poke fun, asking how my Chinese lover is possibly “capable” or if I “throw fortune cookies” in large crowds so that Chinese scatter and clear a path for me to walk. These jokes are cruel, overflowing with stereotypes, and frankly, racist. It’s 2014, and yet to me, many Americans’ vision of China is no better than it was towards Japan in the ’70’s and ’80s, when counterpart businesses in Japan were making major inroads into U.S. markets.

Yeah, the New York Times has a PhD in reporting on China’s negative air quality, human rights abuses, corruption, underdeveloped legal system– the works. Yet I challenge that politicized company to explain the bizarre happiness that persists among those who are worst off in Chinese society, or to understand the incredibly complex tapestry that lies behind some of the world’s most loyal, unshakable relationships in China. See, a culture isn’t like an app that you spend 15 minutes to “get the hang of”. A culture is something that you spend a lifetime trying desperately to understand, and then some. Heck, it wasn’t until after moving to China that I started to see my own culture in a new light. We are continually blinded by conflicting information, a perpetually transformative present, and an infinite sea of perspectives. The key, then, is to go out and experience the world for yourself.

Humans are imperfect. Our pursuit to objectively transmit information is inherently restricted by the fact that we have natural opinions, agendas, and, well, jobs to uphold. There’s no need to point fingers, yet we cannot keep tricking ourselves into assuming we know it all. We need to be more willing to identify and admit the knowledge that we still lack. It’s just as impossible to describe something as complex as “culture” in words, for example, as it is to capture a complete moment in time, what with sights, smells, tastes, sounds, and feelings. Thus, the “resources” that we use to understand the world– whether they be newspapers, magazines, documentaries, or even academic research– are helpful but incomplete representations of reality.

To me, then, the only way to form true opinions of the world is through personal experience, and even then, those opinions almost instantly expire, as the present is merely a flash in time.

First-hand experiences that allow us to interact with other cultures offer the best opportunities for untainted informational exchange. This includes extended travel, frequent conversations with classmates, coworkers, or friends from diverse backgrounds, and, most importantly, a persistent desire to listen.

In the name of one of Lu Xun’s greatest literary works, I’d like to take up a second “call to arms”– a call to listen, to think, and to accept.

Imagine this: You book a vacation with a tour agency in China hoping to save the hassle of finding transportation and hotels in a foreign city. Having heard that China’s tour guides receive no salary other than a percentage of what their tour group spends on trinkets and “extra” excursions, you’re savvy to the fact that you’ll be dragged to numerous souvenir shops only to be approached by ferocious sales associates looking to close a deal with the tour agencies and leave you with a slender wallet.

The day began with our tour guide explaining that she would take us to China’s leading company in green innovativation, “The Bamboo House”, which uses bamboo to create clothing and personal products of the utmost quality… or so they said. The woman above was our sly sales associate, who led us to a classroom where we sat and listened to an hour-long infomercial about bamboo washcloths that can repel oil and braces that use natural minerals to bring a healing warmth to sore joints. When we first arrived, my coworkers and I used a harsh skepticism to shield ourselves from the intrigue of the saleswoman’s words. However, as the minutes ticked away and we were allowed to touch and try out the products for ourselves, the wall of doubt that had previously blocked any desire to consume slowly crumbled amidst a growing perception that these truly were “one-of-a-kind” products whose value exceeded their price.

The photo above depicts one of our company’s secretaries (left), who after rolling her eyes throughout the first fifteen minutes of the presentation found herself dumbstruck and in awe of the heat she felt on the back of her neck after testing out “The Bamboo House” neck brace. One can also see the pure evil in the saleswoman’s eyes… to be discussed soon.

It’s hard to describe exactly how I felt while sitting in the classroom letting the woman’s words infiltrate my mind. It was as though my conscious was dying to give in and trust her while something in my subconscious questioned why she felt the need to emphasize the fact that “the company’s address and phone number can be found on each product, and you may return any product before 40 days if you are not fully satisfied, no questions asked!”. At one point in the presentation, another one of my coworkers turned to me and said “完了” or, “I’m finished”. He said he planned to spend at least ¥1000 on these products— gifts for his family and friends.

If my subconscious felt a bit funny during the presentation, it is nothing compared to how I felt when walking aimlessly through the store afterwards. It was like a never-ending Walmart— a maze of merchandise hanging from the ceiling to the floor and trinkets colorfully piled on tables as far as the eye could see. Hundreds of sales associates stood by, ready to pounce if they caught your eyes lingering a second too long on a particular product. After walking relatively fast through the store, I suddenly had the notion that I was walking in circles, stumbling across products that I had already seen once, twice, three times before. The stale, monotonous air suddenly made everything feel like polyester, not bamboo, and my mind spiraled into the kind of claustrophobia kids feel in clothing stores.

When I finally rounded the last corner of the store and burst through two swinging brown doors, I found myself face to face with the scene below: 
That’s right folks— store number two… another winding maze of thousands of “genuine” pearl necklaces, earrings, bracelets. It was here that I was told not to take any photos, heaven forbid somebody ever try to warn future tourists about this monstrous marketing hell.

I should say now that while these pictures may resemble a mall, the building we initially entered looked more like a modern museum or factory— sleek and white with the kind of precision that reminds one of an operating room. To discover room after room of products waiting to win one over with mysterious allure gave one the sensation of being brainwashed, though I now see that that is indeed what was happening.

Approximately two hours after entering the building, I was the first of the group to stumble drunkenly into sunlight. Hands free of packages, I looked around to see that I had fared quite well— almost 90% of other tour groups clutched shopping bags, some large some small, and everyone stood expressionless against the backdrop of the white building. The majority of tourists were retired, likely short on money to begin with but easily attracted by the “bargain” of purchasing 48 towels for ¥48 instead of one towel for ¥12.

After returning to the bus, we waited almost 30 minutes for two of our coworkers to return— one of whom was the guy who had warned me he was “finished” and planned to spend a wad of cash on what he had convinced himself were worthy products. It was then that one of my good friends handed over his cell phone with a thread of online posts about this so-called “Bamboo House” company. The following is one true account of a tourist who came before us:

公司2012年9月6日组织去桂林阳朔旅游。全公司180来号人。9月7日上午去了桂林市阳朔县葡萄镇（此地址不知道真假，而且也是产品上面最详细的地址了）里面是一个工厂，名称叫旭日集团。其商标名称为班豪斯，走进去之后是先是给我们做洗脑，讲解产品的功能。 然后带领我们去购物。购物期间是不许拍照。里面的产品有很多种。 其中负电位纳米能量杯子168元RMB ，一条内裤128RMB 一套磁疗保健护具380RMB。本人总共是花了3百多。女朋友花了7百多。公司其他同事不知道花了多少。每个人都是大包小包的买。里面的产品不知道有多少是假货。但磁疗保健护具这个东西绝对是假货，说里面是托玛琳，可是我去网上查，里面是放了辣椒素，用舌头舔很辣很辣。 脖子有点汗把这个东西贴上面三秒，拿下来，直接就辣的好痛。她说这是身体有湿气。当我发现这是假的之后，我立马下车去准备退货，结果呗导游看见了。我跟他说这是假货，他说 这是真的我做了这么多年怎么可能是假的也没有人要退货的。我也就这样相信他了。导游肯定和那边有勾当。全公司被骗有上万元了也许上十万了。。现在不知道还有多少人在我们之前或者之后被骗。现在我的小票还保留着的。 请你们一定要把这伙人端掉。 要还我们公道。赔我们的血汗钱。

Translation: “Our company went to Yangshuo, Guilin to vacation on September 6th, 2012. Our company has over 180 people total. On the 7th of September, we went to Guilin Yangshuo “Grape Village” (I’m not sure if this address is real or fake, but it’s also the address listed on the products). There was a factory inside, called “旭日集团” or “The Bamboo House”. After entering we were first brainwashed and told about each product’s use. Then they led us to shop. One is not allowed to take pictures when shopping. There were many different products inside, some of which were a magnetic mug- ¥168, a pair of underwear- ¥128, and a protective brace- ¥380. I spent over ¥300 in total, my girlfriend spent over ¥700. I don’t know how much our company’s coworkers spent in total, but everyone left with bags, big and small. I don’t know how many fake products were inside, but the magnetic brace was certainly fake. They told us the inside of the brace had tourmaline, but when I went online to check, I learned that this company actually puts hot pepper flakes inside, which are extremely hot to the tongue. Once your neck is a bit sweaty, apply the brace directly to the neck for three seconds and when you take it away, your skin will be painfully hot. Our saleswoman claimed this feeling was due to “moisture”. As soon as I went online and found out the products were fake, I immediately got out of the bus and prepared to return the products, but I was seen by our tour guide. When I told him the products were fake, he disagreed and said they were real, asking “how could they be fake when I’ve been taking people here for years and no one has ever returned the products?”. So I just believed him. That tour guide definitely has made some kind of deal with them. Our company was cheated into giving almost ¥10,000, maybe even ¥100,000. Now I don’t know how many people have been cheated in the past, but I still have the receipt from my purchase. I’m asking you all to please take these terrible people down and bring us justice. We have lost our hard-earned money.”

Yeah, so… remember when that coworker of mine started to believe them when her neck turned warm after using the special brace? Turns out it was just hot pepper flakes irritating her skin. Below are more photographs from other scheming businesses we were taken to during the same trip.

Later that day, after visiting the bedding company above, our tour guide brought us to a park. I was relieved to have the opportunity to tour and vacation instead of listening to infomercials. Towards the middle of our tour, we were led into a room and told it was used for “doing business with Taiwanese and Japanese guests”. To me, the room was far too ordinary to be used for either diplomatic meetings or high rolling businessmen, so I listened to the tour guide half-heartedly. Then a man entered saying he was from Hong Kong and told us that our tour guide had specifically asked not to take us to another shop to buy things— we had already been to far too many that day. He then invited us to watch a special ten-minute film, which he claimed would narrate the concept and importance of “feng-shui” in China, but turned out to be another obvious attempt at brainwashing/marketing. After the propaganda film ended, we were led into a room filled with Buddhist stone bracelets and told that we were “special guests” who could enjoy 50% off everything.

It was at that point— approximately our 6th experience dealing with marketers on a two-day trip— that I lost my temper. The fact that these people were lying to our faces and promising that they would not try to push us to buy more things made their marketing attempts simply insulting. I ran out into the park and told my coworker, who had long escaped outside for a smoke after the first minute of the film, that I was furious with the tourism industry in China. Had our company honestly paid money for a travel agency to make things easier for us only to empty our wallets on them again during the actual vacation? More importantly, our day literally consisted of touring two mediocre parks and suffering through four different marketing attempts.

That night, my coworkers and I vowed never again to book a vacation through a travel agency in China. It is a surprisingly lucrative business, however, even if it does happen to tug at the moral fiber of tour guides, sales associates, tourists, and the entire society as a whole. The truth is that there is rarely a truth in China— locals habitually doubt the quality of nearly everything they buy, and even the merry park-goer must question the legitimacy of a flowering tree (often times a beautiful blooming bush is the clever artistic result of plastic petals). One can say it’s just a business, but it’s hard to deny that this level of legal acceptance of fraudulent behavior will have significant repercussions on Chinese society and its reputation worldwide.

So yesterday afternoon almost generated a new post about tropical fruit after my workday disappeared somewhere between juicy pomelo pulp and sticky fingers. Unfortunately, posting about the fruits below didn’t feel 1) exciting enough or 2) “deep” enough. I mean, anyone can go online and search about fruits in southern China and how much they’ll prevent cancer or aging or the common cold. I suggest taking milliseconds to enjoy the colorful pictures and meet me at the next paragraph asap.

1) Dragonfruit

2) Pomelo

3) Lychee

4) Durian

5) Mangosteen

6) Longan

It’s almost the Chinese New Year— lanterns have been strung wherever and on whatever has the ability to hang objects. But this year, along with traditional holiday greetings, comes a new phrase from the government: “厉行节约、反对浪费” or “Be economical; Oppose waste.” The second half of the phrase is especially catchy because it happens to rhyme in Chinese. Whereas every government industry and military unit used to host a new year’s celebration with vibrant performances, amateur singers, and way too much red, this year, citizens will need to find a new program to fill their living room televisions on the 9th of February. In a new government campaign to limit “wasteful expenditure”, Chinese government officials are pledging to be mindful in personal expenditures while encouraging local citizens to do the same. All local Chinese New Year stage performances or extravagant parties have thus been cancelled. It may sound like the government’s crashing the party, but most Chinese seem okay with the idea to the extent that they don’t have to participate in such drab performances and are spared listening to another pretty-eyed neon gown screech out inadvertent insults to the art of Mongolian melody. It may help to note that Chinese television is comprised of 5% weather, 15% news, 20% soaps set in traditional Warring States time, and 60% stage performances or game shows— another New Year performance would just be lost in the mix. Still, this article provides an interesting look into the meaning behind the government’s newest catch phrase: http://www.infzm.com/content/86082

Confucius, by far the most influential individual in Chinese cultural history, once said that “君子之德风，小人之德草，草上之风必偃”: “The morality of gentlemen (aka government or high officials) is wind, the morality of small people (average citizens) is grass; the wind must lie on the grass below.” Thus, morality starts with those above and can only be spread through proper example. Still, average citizens too have a responsibility to generate civilized habits, which starts with something as simple as ordering what you can finish at a restaurant, instead of buckling under cultural pressure to be an impeccable host or maintain “face” in the presence of others— two other powerful forces at work in Chinese society that, like Confucius, stretch back more than 1,000 years. Consider the photograph below, which depicts the remains of tables at a 5 star hotel in Guangzhou after a government conference:

There were over 70 tables total at the event, each table’s bill totaling over 3900 元, or over $625.

Southern China welcomed my parents to its humble shores this past week, leaving them with one critical question among many: Just how many red Chinese lanterns are produced every year for the holiday? I’m waiting for their thick roll of film to be developed into hundreds of fascinating images and lots and lots of red— every hotel, home, and highway are speckled with round paper lights during the New Year. My parents have always fallen into the “adventurous” category, if there was ever reason to sum people up by adjectives, and they continued to prove their endless love for the unknown on this trip, where a sketchy taxi ride, snake shops, and raw fish found their way into my mom’s travel journal and hopefully many future conversations. Thanks for making the trip guys!

Now on to the numbers… here’s a list of stats published recently that may give you a glimpse into what life’s like for the average, decently-educated Chinese citizen over here, according to a reader’s poll conducted by 南方周末. A translation follows below:

45.94% of readers fear that their friends and family will ask about their salary when they return home for the New Year.

65.15% of readers plan to return home to their parents’ house for the New Year.

84.13% of readers don’t know that trains can’t offer meals under ¥15.

78.96% of readers chose to buy train tickets online this year.

47.05% of readers are riding a train home for the New Year.

36.59% of readers plan to watch the New Year Gala on TV this year, even if Zhao Benshan (a popular sitcom actor and director) does not participate in the performance. (There was some conflict between Zhao and the new director of the show this year, leading to Zhao’s refusal to participate.)

88.14% of readers are not optimistic about future policies directed at air pollution.

82.95% of readers do not have a sense of security.

83.04% of readers don’t know how to apply for technical training (for their career) or public employment services provided by the government.

20.05% of readers believe that the biggest change brought about by China’s accession to the WTO is the growth of career opportunities in exporting.

64.75% of readers say that they come into contact with second-hand smoke nearly every day.

70.17% of readers say that today, eating enough is not a problem, but trusting what they eat is still difficult.

72.77% of readers are busy making a living and are rarely concerned with the drafting of legislation.

I’m not sure how many readers participated in the survey… it is good to note that this newspaper is one of the more sophisticated and liberal in China, so readers tend to be well-educated and better-off than average citizens. I have no doubt that the answers are a fairly accurate representation of the general consensus in Chinese society, though how such sentiment will influence future policy is still unknown.

哦，卖糕– which in Chinese sounds like: oh, mai gao!– something like “Oh my God!”. It’s intentional. There’s no better reason to shout, “哦，卖糕!” than hearing that the Chinese government (or the court, technically, although the two are synonymous) forced a Han Chinese citizen to pay 160,000 RMB to a Xinjiang Uighur who ripped him off….. on cake. The story’s redder than the communist sun painted on the backdrop of China’s eight model operas, and 微博 (Weibo), the Chinese version of Twitter, is about to implode with millions of posts about this “cutting cake” escapade. To top it all off, “哦，卖糕” translates “Oh– sell cake!”… gotta love the brilliance of the Chinese language.

Our story begins with the words: “切糕”, which is now a well known phrase among Chinese for being a kind of synonym for “cheat”, although it literally translates “cut cake”.
The story takes an interesting turn thanks to the role of these guys featured below. They’re Uighurs from Xinjiang province who travel the streets of China selling cake. You may remember the conflict between Han Chinese (who comprise 91.5% of China’s population) and the Uighurs (one of China’s 55 minority groups, comprising only around 1% of the total national population) during the Urumqi Riots in July, 2009.
The socioeconomic status of Han Chinese far surpasses that of the Uighurs, contributing to frequent conflicts between the two nationalities that often result in the government stepping in on behalf of one of the two groups. It is precisely this economic strain that encourages Uighurs to sell the densest dessert on the planet (the average cake weighs over 5, 500 pounds!!!) and rip people off in the process.
Ask them for a small slice, and you’ll often find yourself with a slop of nuts and sugar costing over $100. While I assumed getting out of the deal would be a piece of cake, my coworkers informed me otherwise. Apparently, if you order a slice and realize it’s far above your budget or that they’ve heartlessly ripped you off in the clumsiest way possible, there’s no way to walk away empty-handed without a few cuts and bruises. These Uighurs are cake-sellers one moment, gang-members the next, and will call over a group of “friends” to put you in your place and put money in their wallet… no matter what. The police can’t control the situation and rarely intervene, save for particularly extreme conflicts, such as the one that occurred three days ago.

The story goes that a man got ripped off, like almost everyone else who tries to buy this cake, and then proceeded to retaliate, destroying the Uighur’s cake and motorcycle in the process. After taking the issue to court, the man was asked to compensate in the form of paying 160,000 rmb to the Uighur, who the government would then send back to Xinjiang. Apparently, damage to the motorcycle and all wounds inflicted accounted for about 40,000 rmb, while the cake that was destroyed would have sold for 160,000. The problem most people have with the court’s ruling is that it assumes the cake is truly worth that much money— about a third of the cost of a car. Moreover,  wasn’t it the Uighur who started the feud in the first place by ripping this guy off and sending thugs to beat him up?
The answer lies in the government’s desire to maintain harmony among Han Chinese and ethnic minority groups. Already, ethnic minorities enjoy legal privileges that Han Chinese don’t— such as receiving a boost in 高考 marks when applying for colleges or the right to have more than one child— all in an effort to compensate for any discrimination or disadvantages that they may experience as a minority group.  Situations like this with the cake are no different— the government has definite incentives to act on behalf of minority groups to preserve national stability.

To end on a happy note, the meaning of the phrase “切糕” has been transformed within the past few days to indicate great affection between loved ones. It goes something like this, “I would cut the cake for you”.

I sit on my bed at around 8:30 pm, wondering why, after devouring my nightly dark chocolate, there is still a nagging restlessness tugging somewhere deep within my stomach. And then it hits me— that old blog I used to write.
The thing is, this post was meant to be published right after the Mid-Autumn Festival last week, when I took a stroll from my apartment down to the oceanfront to snap a few photographs of the full moon. The walk turned out to be much longer than expected, and on the way, I had plenty of time to ponder just how ridiculous China would appear in the eyes of sane aliens. I say aliens because well, humans are exposed to far too many headlines related to China’s “booming economy and development” that we are essentially numb to the idea that construction in China is at all noteworthy. Yet perhaps the following account will cause some to stop and see the reality that is currently striking China as we speak, and striking hard.

Alright, this first photo’s no big deal, right, just more construction of a building that will soon block my once heavenly-like view of the Hong Kong mountains. Every morning at 6 am, the buzz from this construction project reminds me that all good things must slowly come to an end, level by level, beam by beam. It’s actually been one of the slowest, most dramatic experiences I can remember, but moving on…

Three BMWs sitting in a row; would be more, but my camera lack flo’. Truth is, this whole complex is wealthier than one can fathom. If not BMW then we have Rolls-Royce or Mercedes-Benz. Toyotas put their tails between their legs and called it a day long ago in this town. Saving on gas? Pshhh, c’mon, it’s showtime.

Here is a lovely real estate advertisement for a property in this area. 11,500,000 Chinese Yuan for a four bedroom, two living room, 176 square meter apartment. That’s one million, 800 thousand US dollars. (1,879,330.00 USD) 

Here it is, folks: the waterway leading to the ocean that lures all the big shots into wasting their money on mounds of concrete in exchange for a place to call home. Something like an Erie Canal equivalent, but here, it’s worth more than gold.

The above is another view of the walkway leading to the ocean, with Hong Kong mountains in the distance. I usually run along this path in the mornings, whenever I get around to it. You know.

A’ight. So modern China is all about liberal economic policies and “socialism with Chinese characteristics” (a phrase that is so overused and misunderstood it makes me sick). Front page news today was that Shanghai announced plans of allowing Facebook access in the hope of “making foreigners feel more at home”. Well that’s nice. One thing China can’t seem to give up, however, is its obsession with “be-good” signs. I invented this term while writing the previous sentence, but I think it’s a great catch-all translation. See, since the founding of the PRC on October 1st, 1949 (remember to celebrate National Day next Tuesday!) promotional, inspirational, and instructional slogans or banners have worked to unify and harmonize the 56 ethnic groups that make up the enormous, diverse country of China. Hung in schools, offices, dance studios, construction sites, subways, bus stops, and even on crumbling brick walls in the middle of God-knows-where (like what I saw in Ningxia), these colorful “be-good” signs are relentless. Whenever I raise my head above my personal headphone-cell phone-thought consumed bubble to read the signs and actually register their meanings, I’m struck with immense guilt at my failure to, well, “be-good”. The phrases on the signs relate to everything: one’s study habits, family relationship, personal hygiene, work ethic, moral behavior, citizenship, and even environmentally-friendly habits, which I’ll get to in a moment. The sign in the photograph above reads, “劳动” or “labor”. The side characters translate: “Chinese energy; Chinese image, Chinese culture; Chinese expression”. The bottom line, “最美的旋律” translates “the most beautiful melody”. In a sense, China is encouraging its people to believe that “labor” is a uniquely Chinese cultural element to be proud of. As I walked by the sign, situated perfectly in front of a massive construction site, I couldn’t help but wonder how labor could make China proud when most citizens I speak with can’t wait for factories to move OUT of China— to less-developed countries with even lower costs of labor. Sure, China’s 劳动力 or “labor power” is huge because of its large population, making it difficult for the country to progress from a primarily industrial economy to a service-oriented economy, yet apparently, Chinese should be proud of this fact… or at least learn to accept the reality while it’s happening.

“A drop of sweat is worth a piece of grain.” There is also a short poem by the bottom right, written by someone with the same name as one of my coworkers: “一日不吃饿得慌, 一季不收饿断肠。手拍胸膛想一想，节约粮食理应当。” The poem in Chinese rhymes quite cleverly, but the English is intriguing enough without rhyme: “Don’t eat for a day and you’ll be nervously hungry; don’t harvest for a season and you’ll be devastated by hunger. Beat your chest and think for a moment; economize food as you should.”
And the last one (well, last “be-good” sign featured here, there are over 20 different slogans along that particular road): “地球只有一个：There is only one Earth.” The bottom part reads: “Protect the environment; it starts with me”. I really like this sign. I think it’s great that China tries to spread positive behavior via reminders on large billboard-like signs. It’s better than private advertising, right? Just a bit contradictory, again, given all the construction in the background.
The above is a photograph of construction workers’ temporary dorms set up during the duration of a project. Most are required to live in close proximity to construction sites, as the work day usually spans from 6am-10pm and doesn’t pay well enough to enable workers to afford transportation for a daily commute. These workers toil under the hot Shenzhen sun every single day (save the holiday last week, though I did catch one man climbing the rafters in the afternoon). I sometimes watch them from my window, moving back and forth like little lemmings on a mission. During my morning runs, I always find a group of construction workers having breakfast together on the street— fried egg tortillas and cartons of soy milk. They chat happily, and I always look forward to running past that corner, letting the rich aroma of freshly-cooked eggs and hot sauce overwhelm my morning senses.
On my walk to the ocean shore during the Mid-Autumn Festival, I noticed some construction workers walking along too, sharing the night with coworkers and friends, unable to make a trip home.

 “Expect Sunny Seaside”. Still under construction, one shouldn’t only expect sun but should look forward to apartments sold for over 2 million US dollars. I really wonder what the construction workers think when they walk by Shenzhen’s real estate price advertisements. I mean, an Ivy-League college grad is doing well to buy a house for $300,000, right? But 2 million? What the hell is the world coming to? These are not mansions, these are 175 square-meter APARTMENTS. This is a world that seems functional only in dream.
The next photos show the “irresistible” oceanfront view that is supposedly the cause of such high housing prices— I’ll let readers decide whether China’s facing a real-estate bubble or not.

Whew, finally made it to the full moon pics. Here’s Shenzhen Bay Park at dusk, when dozens of families came to enjoy the night together under the round, warm light of the moon. The bridge in the photo above leads straight to Hong Kong, and the view of the mountains (not visible in this photo) is incredible.
That night, walking back home, everything felt a bit jumbled. The full moon seemed to be creating a kind of “eye of the storm” optical illusion, in which the pure insanity of China’s development stopped for 24 hours while everyone enjoyed the holiday break together. At Shenzhen Bay Park, I watched as the families living in million-dollar high-rises stood side by side with construction workers under one full moon, looking up. The tradition weaved into a country hanging by the threads of a unifying nationalism may be fading under the spotlights of construction sites while modernity, materialism, and money flash like disco lights on the horizon, but on that night by the waterfront, watching a sea of dark heads bob together in unified awe, it sure felt like the moon shone brightest of all.

First ladies rock the socks off countries. Eleanor Roosevelt, Jackie Kennedy, Hillary Clinton, and Michelle Obama go down in history not for silent poise but for their relentless voice. As China welcomes a new president to lead the country through problems of poverty, pollution, and corruption, you may struggle to conjure up the face of the man who now governs almost 1.6 billion people, not to mention his wife’s. Ironically, most people first knew of President Xi Jinping as “the husband of that famous singer”, Peng Liyuan. China’s first lady just happens to be one of the most respected folk singers of her time, and undoubtedly one of the most well-known vocalists in Chinese history.

Peng first gained recognition from her performances on CCTV’s New Year’s Gala, where she almost always sang the finale, ending the show on a high note. She joined the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) vocal troop in 1980 when she was only 18— a prestigious position for any talented artist looking for a secure opportunity to develop a long-term career in the arts. Peng is often categorized as a “folk” singer to the extent that she sings about ethnic or rural Chinese themes, tuning in to the sentiments of rural citizens. She is highly respected by the Chinese populace, and is currently president of the Chinese People’s Liberation Army Institute of the Arts, one of the country’s top art universities.

President Xi and Peng Liyuan have been married for over 25 years.

This year, Peng chose to step out of the limelight as first lady and opted not to perform at the annual New Year’s Gala. As her husband trudges onto the diplomatic battlefield, Peng appears to be carving a political road for herself as well, recently joining the 11th National Committee of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference. Still, it is Peng’s grand presence on stage that has won the hearts of families nationwide and forged a bond with citizens that may potentially shield the couple from political criticism later on.

This past week we took a few days off from class and ventured to Xi’an (西安), a 13 hour train ride west of Beijing. Most people recognize this city for its Terracotta Army (兵马俑), an array of stone soldiers and horses built for the first Qin emperor of China around 200 BC.

Skipping ahead though- because you know I’m never as interested in museums as one would expect– this vaca was insanely, crazy good for other reasons. Today I have room for story number one of two:

Hopefully you’ve heard a little about the recent feud between China and Japan which started on Sept. 8th when Japan detained a Chinese fishing-boat captain near a set of disputed islands in the East China Sea. Since then, the historic tension between the two countries has worsened, both heightening Chinese nationalism and making our time abroad infinitely more interesting. On Saturday we were lucky enough to stumble across one of many anti-Japanese protests erupting around the country. We had been leisurely wandering the streets to find a park and get in a round of mahjong when a wave of marching chaos descended upon us. Three hours later, there were more people crowding the main roads than vehicles, and the bus that had previously held the intention to drop us off at the train station by 7 pm was completely out of options. Instead, the whole lot of us– 60 ACC students with luggage draped across every limb of our bodies– maneuvered 2 miles on foot through infamous China traffic to catch our ride home.

article: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/19/world/asia/19briefs-PROTESTS.html?_r=1&ref=china

Definitely check out the video below. But also notice that while protesting Japan was important to most of these young people, taking photos of foreigners was a close second… if not obvious first.

It’s Sunday morning near Hong Kong’s Central Station. Hundreds of Filipino women gather on cardboard boxes and blankets to enjoy brunch together on their only day off from work. Shoes thrust aside, the women devour homemade flavors and reminisce moments with their own children who wait anxiously for their return thousands of miles away.

China has become one of the most popular destinations for Filipino maids seeking work overseas as Chinese families are willing to employ them for better household services and for their fluency in English. These women are often the primary breadwinners for their families and send most of their earnings back home to their husbands and children. There are around 200,000 Filipinos living in Hong Kong today.

For those interested, be sure to check out the documentary (Money and Honey, 2011) filmed and directed by the talented Lee Ching-hui. The film explores the lives of Filipino women working in a retirement home in Taiwan and dividing their time between speaking broken Mandarin, caring for elderly Taiwanese, and exchanging silly home videos with their loving husbands overseas.