Race Day

I squatted on the track, baton in hand, staring at the white line in front of me and trying to focus on the next 400 meters. My legs were aching from the exhertions of the day before, including 100 and 200 meter sprints, a 5000 meter (3.1 mile) race, all followed by two hours of intense ultimate frisbee. A great day, but I was going to pay for it now in this first leg of the 4 x 400 relay. But there was no use thinking about those things, it was time to focus on the present, run the best lap that my legs would allow. We might not be able to win, but my competitive nature was still pushing me to run the best race possible. Not much time, I thought, need to get in the zone.

"Herro!"

My thoughts were interrupted by a man sitting to my left wearing a maroon suit. "Hi," I replied with a glance and a small nod, and quickly looked back at the track. Just my luck to get put in lane 1, next to the race official anxious to practice his English.

"Where are you fromah?" he continued. "America." This time I said it without a smile, hoping to discourage him. No such luck; by not saying 'Russia' I had caused him and those around him to murmur in excitement.

"Do you wantah to talk aboutah Boose?" he ventured next. I didn't understand, probably because I could see the man loading the gun that would start the race. "Boose?" I said. "The president," he clarified, with a probing look in his eye. I couldn't believe it. This man wanted to start a political conversation in the final seconds before my race.

"Bush? No! I want to think about this race!" I spoke fast and I doubt he caught the whole meaning, but it didn't matter because the gun had been lifted.

"Get set...!" I raised up on my fingers and toes into starting position.

Boom!

I was off and running in my final race of the meet. We lost horribly to several other very fast teams, all of them in particular. I wish I could blame the race official's interest in politics, or my tired legs, but I suppose I should just say we were way out of our league.

My roommate Jin Chao snapped a picture during the last moments before this race. See my head turned towards the maroon suits?




The track meet process began a few weeks ago with a vague posting on the wall in our dorm asking if anyone wanted to participate. No one seemed to know what it was all about, but a few of us figured it would be fun and signed up for a few events. That was all we heard until last Thursday, when we were called to a meeting in the foreign students classroom building. Three of us Americans from the CET program attended, along with about 15 other students of various nationalities.

At the meeting, we were lectured about the importance of this track meet. It was not to be taken lightly, and by signing up we had implied that we were good at our respective events. A few years ago, a foreign student soccer team had won the school tournament, bringing honor and glory to the 50 countries represented in the department. Achievements were hoped for at the track meet as well. Not showing up to an event would be embarassing and cause everyone to lose face.

I looked uneasily at the other two Americans who had attended this 'mandatory' meeting. We had assumed the meet would be a casual affair and signed up for the fun of a group activity, not for the glory of our country. Our attitude could be summed up by attendance level at the meeting; three out of more than ten who had signed up. In accordance with the seriousness of the track meet, we were all issued baby blue track uniforms with "foriegn student center" printed on them, and some pretty spiffy warm-ups to go with. Here's our group photo wearing the uniforms; notice the diaper-like shape to our short shorts.


Saturday morning, the few of us with a masochistic sense of duty went to the track at 6:30am to be a part of the opening ceremony. This time 4 of us showed up. The comparatively good turnout might have been due to a promised 20 kuai to pay for breakfast. If so, that extra person is probably disappointed because I haven't seen any of the advertised cash. Still, we shouldn't complain. The crowds of students filling the stadium and creating a wonderful atmosphere of excitement were in fact required to be there, all day, from 7:30am until late in the afternoon. I doubt they were getting any breakfast money.

We assembled outside the stadium and were issued helium balloons. Thank goodness the other international students had more of a sense of responsibility than most of us Americans. Most of the foreigners about to parade into the stadium weren't even going to race, and yet here they were at the crack of dawn. It would have been embarrassing to have a poor turnout when all the other groups, representing every department at the school, had around 100 students each. After waiting around for more than an hour, we paraded into the stadium. We were a ragtag bunch, but we had spirit. Sort of. You can't see me in this picture, but I'm there.


For a good laugh, compare us with the other departments in the pics at this website: http://news.hit.edu.cn/articles/2007/05-26/05184915.htm It's possible that we were given the balloons on purpose to make us look like fools. As if we weren't different enough already.

After the parade, we all stood in the infield and listened to the Chinese national anthem as they raised the flag. Surprisingly, it was my first time listening to the national anthem here with a large group of Chinese people. I found it very eerie. I felt like a total outsider in a way I haven't since my first couple of weeks in the country. Here was an entire stadium full of people solemnly respecting a flag that to me symbolizes the political part of China, the part with which I have the most problems and disagreements. I tend to focus on our common ground, but it was hard when listening to the heroic communist march music and watching five yellow stars on a red background rise majestically into the air.

The crowds of students sat with their respective departments and generally filled the time by reciting slogans that they'd made up to represent their department. I only remember part of one of them, chanted incessantly all day by the school of management. I had one of the teachers explain the meaning to me:

"the bird opens his wings,
the morning sun rises in the east,
you and I manage well...."

I forget the last line, but you get the idea.

The stadium was crazy. There was too much going on to take in. Each section was labeled with the name of a department, and usually a banner with their slogan. Lines of balloons were tacked up all over. Huge red helium lanterns floated 50 feet high along the edges of the football field. The chanting of different slogans blended together into a drone with the various noisemakers issued to many groups. Plastic hand clappers were popular. One very annoying section had whistles and used them liberally. It was all right because we were all the way across the stadium, but I pity the group sitting next to them.

In addition to the track and field competitions assiciated, we were treated to endless packs of peppy dance troups in the infield. There were groups of all kinds, mostly girls from different departments at the school, but also middle aged women and even senior citizens. Each followed the same basic pattern, sporting colorful costumes, prancing and waiving their arms in synch to various pop songs. Pom-poms were not uncommon. Basically, high school drill team without the mandatory kick line. The dances were going non-stop throughout the day, at the same time as the competitions. Sometimes there was more than one group dancing at the same time. It was a lot to digest.


My races, other than the 4 x 400 relay, were all on Friday. Friday there were no crowds, as it was mainly for preliminaries. My 4 x 100 relay team was crushed, as was I individually in the 2oom. However, during the 5000 meter race I made the discovery that there are not many HIT students who go running. Although my own 5000 speed is pathetically average when measured against people who do serious running, I took third place against HIT's student body. I should clarify; my competitors were only average students, not the real athletes that compete for the school. One such athlete took part in the race and lapped me twice, but luckily he didn't count so I slipped in at third. In any case, they gave me a cool medal and the leader of the foreign student center was really happy for the honor I brought to the department.


Lots of people were curious whether we have track meets like this in the US. All I could say was, no, not really. But how to describe the difference? Our WSU track meets are more serious than the HIT meet, because all the athletes are very good and compete with other schools. But we're also much more casual, because people aren't forced to attend and chant slogans all day. I could almost compare this to homecoming, with friendly competitions between student groups, but the races at HIT were taken more seriously than any homecoming competitions I've been to. In almost every race, no matter what the length, at least one competitor would fall to the track with their face twisting in agony. I never saw a real injury come out of this; I attribute it to the fact that dropping out from over-exhertion is more honorable than finishing near the back of the pack.

The track meet may have been ridiculous in many ways, but it was fun nonetheless. Despite the vast proportion of the crowd being forced to be there, they were resigned to their fate and seemed to enjoy themselves. It was Mandatory Fun. We use the term at the strict summer camp I've worked at. It means that you're forced to be there, and it's a lot of fun. Mandatory Fun is an oxymoron, and oxymorons are very common in China. Here are a few of other oxymorons that are used: Democratic dictatorship. Liberate Tibet. Oh yeah, and Communist China.

I don't know how the people stay sane living with all this confusion. It's been a year for me, and I guess I know more about the place now than when I showed up, but I still don't understand it. The oxymorons are too abundant. Maybe once I'm home, I'll be able to piece together a more coherent analysis of China. Until then, I have a paper to write and another ping pong lesson this Tuesday.

A rat, and Kobe on the Chinese New Year

A few nights ago I was walking back to the dorm after dinner. It was dark out, but still early so there were plenty of people out for a stroll. A couple of guys ran past me laughing. I saw another guy up ahead dart out into the street from the sidewalk, and I figured the three of them were playing a game of tag. As I continued walking, another couple walking ahead of me also made a sudden lateral move out into the street. I became aware of a sqeaking noise, and was confused for a brief moment. Enlightenment came in the form of a large black rat springing into the air at my feet, forcing me into the same sideways shuffle maneuver I'd just seen performed by my fellow pedestrians.

The animal was insanely energetic. I turned and watched as it scurried back and forth, unable to find its way around the short wall at the edge of the sidewalk. It was constantly changing directions, and squealing like a Dissmores shopping cart. Tracking the dark shape against the shadowy sidewalk was like trying to keep an eye on a ping pong ball at the Chinese national championships, before they changed ball color from white to yellow and increased the diameter to 40mm. Every few seconds the streaking horizontal motion was punctuated with a leap straight into the air. It was during one of these leaps that I became aware of the rodent.

The rat reached knee height and the motion was all vertical, as though caused by a sudden jerk on a string from above; for all you engineers and physicists, the motion of the rat was purely in the x-y plane one moment, and parallel with the z axis the next. I know we all like our physics problems to contain only simple one and two dimensional vectors, but it was very startling behavior in a rat outside weekly homework assignments. The thing would land on the exact spot it left the ground from and resume scurrying without missing a beat. It was probably scared with nowhere to hide, but a scared rat just doesn't inspire the same sympathy in me that most other animals would.

I stayed long enough to watch a few more unsuspecting walkers make the discovery. I thought about warning them, but decided against it. Most people here are startled when I say "Hello, I'm from America" in passable Chinese. Who know's how they'd react to some white guy shouting from the street, "look out, a leaping rat!". If the rat itself wanted to give someone a heart attack jumping around like that, fine, but I didn't want that on my own conscience.

Warning: new, unrelated topic. I keep wanting to mention the NBA in a blog, but it's not enough for a post of it's own and I always forget to add it. I know it's anticlimactic after the rat, but that's just too bad.

I knew the NBA would be well known in China before I ever came here, or at least that Yao Ming would be a big deal. What I didn't realize is just how popular it would be. I've found that almost everyone has a favorite NBA team, and more often than not it's a team other than the Houston Rockets. I guess things would be a little boring around here with hundreds of millions of Rockets fans. It makes sense that they'd branch out. When I first introduce myself to people without a good grasp on American geography, many times it goes like this:

Me: I'm from Washington State.
Them: Oh, the capital of the United States!
Me: No, that's Washington DC. It's confusing, America has two places called Washington.
Them: (look of confusion)
Me: I'm from near a city called Seattle.
Them: (head scratching and squinting)
Me: NBA, Seattle Supersonics.
Them: (grinning with recognition) Ah, NBA! The Sonics! I like the Mavs...hey, you know what? You look just like that guy Nowitzki! He's awesome!

Apparently, basketball is popular enough here for the NBA itself to take notice. At the Chinese new year, some big names were featured in a spot on CCTV5. Yao Ming, Tim Duncan, and Lebron James could all be seen sitting in a big armchair, smiling warmly and saying "Xinnian kuaile." You just don't expect those words coming from a guy like LeBron James. To my even greater surprise, the final representative was Kobe Bryant. While the others were fairly reserved as they spoke, Kobe really got into it. He broke off from the "Xinnian kuaile" pattern, instead saying "Bainian, Bainian" which to me is a more advanced version of happy new year. Instead of just sitting, he clasped his hands together and bowed several times with a big smile. His pronounciation was not bad, and it came of as really genuine. Way to go, Kobe. Now all you have to do is start scoring 60 points a game instead of 50, and next year the Lakers could make it to the conference final. With enough of China supporting you, it might even be possible.

Friends

Everyone wants to be my friend. I like making friends, and lots of friends is sure better than none, but it can get overwhelming. With people here, especially the younger ones, making friends follows a bit of a different track than I'm used to. When I make a new friend back home, it's generally done without the word 'friend' being mentioned at all. We talk about things we have in common, maybe joke around...you know, get to know each other. It's a casual affair. Here, people are serious about being MY friend, and they need to do it quick before I disappear around the corner.

It's not their fault. I'm probably the first foreigner they've spoken with, and they need to move fast to capitalize on the opportunity. I truly respect their initiative. It takes a lot of guts to approach a stranger, much less a foreign stranger, strike up a conversation and seal the deal by asking for a phone number. Now that I think of it, these high schoolers would be really good at getting numbers in bars if they chose to apply themselves in that way. The problem is, I am only one person and as such it is physically impossible for me be good friends with everyone I bump into on the street. I stopped giving my cell number to people who I talk with for less than five minutes quite a while ago. However, I'm not a mean person and I will give one of my email addresses to pretty much anyone who asks.

Last blog, I wrote about tree planting day. That was last Sunday. On the bus back, a few high schoolers were sitting nearby and started talking with me. Below are two of the emails I got within a day of the planting.


hello!~ Andy
My name is wind .Maybe you have already forgotten me but I remember you.
Today we went to Taiyang island to planting trees . You and Nancy were talking all the time.
When you look me I said : Excuse me may I know your E-mail adress ?
haha do you remember me ?
I want to make friends with you Because you are from America . Haha,my English is very poor so I
think you may help me and have a friend from another country is my dream
Let's make a friend with each other .
OK?

Best Wishes
Your Wind


Andy,
How are you doing? How about your visit? Where have you been? I think the photo i sent to you runs into some problems. This time, I think you can open it.
I really want to make friends with you. what's your Chinese name? Wei * rong. I forget the middle, so sorry. My Chinese is very stardard! I think we can study together and make progress.
My English name is Barry, and Chinese name is ZhangChao. My cellphone number is [5555555], call me or massage me when you are free. Wish your reply.
Take care and have a nice week!
Barry.

Here's the picture Barry sent along.

They're so danged sincere, it really breaks my heart that I can't fulfill their 'dream' of having a foreign friend, but 1) I don't have time and 2) I'm not supposed to be speaking English which is a big part of what they want. Usually I'll send back something like:

I had a great time talking with you, Wind. It was fun planting trees together. I wish you well in school!

Hopefully they won't be too heartbroken.

Actually, I'm complaining here but I don't want to give everyone the wrong idea. Having millions of people dying to meet you is very beneficial and gratifying. If I find someone interesting, I can approach them to talk, confident that they will be happy to do so. It also makes for some interesting conversations with cab drivers and such. I'm always up for a chat, it's just that prolonged friendship with the entire city's population is not sustainable. Allow me the pleasure of a little grumbling here, so I don't have to tell it to Wind or Barry.

Tree Planting and Changchun

Lunch yesterday was interrupted by a confusing phone call. Someone started speaking English at me, and I couldn't figure out who it was. Normally when I pick up my phone and hear English, that means family, but I couldn't quite make out the voice with the chatter filling the restaraunt. It was male at least, and when I asked who it was I could swear they said 'Sam' (my brother) so I went for a big 'heyyy, how's it going, great to hear from you'. Turns out it was a Chinese guy named Stan and he was calling from the Harbin TV station.

Long story short, I found myself in a taxi this morning at 7:30, heading out to plant some trees on TV. I was accompanied by David, a CET classmate who like me decided to hang around Harbin for spring break instead of heading off to some remote travel destination. When we got to the Dragon Tower (the TV broadcasting tower), we were a little surprised by the scene confronting us. All we knew was some guy named Stan, who had gotten our numbers from yet another friend, wanted us to go out and plant some trees with the tv station for 'Tree Planting Day', the equivalent of Earth Day over here. We didn't know that half of Harbin would be going with us.

Stan was waiting in the parking lot with some other foreigners who I didn't recognize, and behind them a sea of Chinese faces in red baseball caps. It turns out Stan is the host of an evening radio show teaching English, and hangs out with the foreign crowd quite a bit. There was a tall white guy standing in the parking lot with Stan, and next to him a girl who looked Chinese but wearing fairly western style clothes. I introduced myself and got their names as John the Canadian and Becky. They obviously knew each other, so I assumed the girl was also Canadian. I was even more convinced when she started speaking great English and cracking jokes definitely outside the range of Chinese humor; for instance, several cars straight out of 'Fast and the Furious' whipped past us into the parking lot, slammed on the breaks and performed those screeching, 180 degree stops which I've never seen outside of a movie. Becky laughed along with us, commenting "oh my god, they think they're sooo cool". For those of you who haven't been to China, that's an unusual phrase coming from a Chinese person.

Nonetheless, I soon found that Becky is Chinese, born and bred. Her westernization came through intense study, a gift for languages, and a three-year relationship with John the gregarious Canadian. Becky's English is the best I've ever heard from a Chinese person who's never been out of the country. Fooled twice in two days. She and John are getting married and going to Canada this summer, but that's another story. Our small group was rounded out by the Auzzies Boyd and Adam. Boyd is a big guy, very talkative, plays rugby and the guitar. He wanted to know if the crazy stories he's heard about American frats are true. Adam was a nice guy as well, although smaller and more hung over. Stan had thoughtfully provided us with gleaming white baseball caps, a nice contrast with red-capped hordes. It was nice of him to give us the same color as the leaders, but then again we didn't the help sticking out.

We piled on to the waiting busses - 5 or 10 of them - and headed for Sun Island Park to get planting. It was my second trip there, so I already knew that it's a huge fake nature complex where the tickets are expensive and people get wedding pictures taken. I wrote about it in one of my earliest blogs. Just before we arrived, Stan told us that his friend had a radio program going right then, and could we be good sports and sing a song into the phone so it could be on his friend's show live? We obliged with a patchy but heartfelt rendition of 'The Lion Sleeps Tonight', thanks to David's quick work coming up with a good one we all knew.

The tree planting was at best questionable, at worst a tv stunt which wasted a lot of willing labor. The area chosen was on the bank of a river which is low at this time of the year, but will rise much higher at other times. There were already piles of good dirt laid out for us to use filling the holes. I soon found out why. The bank of the river, like the rest of Sun Island Park, was manmade not long ago and was actually landscaped using sand with a very thin layer of dirt on top. I'm no botanist, so perhaps my instincts were off, but....can willow trees grow in sand, and survive being submersed in water for significant parts of the year? That's not even all of it. The process we were to follow planting the trees ended with giving them a good watering. But, that water was not allowed to come from the river due to pollution. I'm not clear on how the trees will be able to survive in a few months submersed in this water, but can't stand a bucketfull right now.

Call me a coward - I prefer diplomat - but I neglected to raise any of these issues as I was interviewed several times throughout the morning. I stuck with the vanilla propagandistic stuff that I thought they were hoping for: Yes, I think planting trees is a wonderful activity and should be practiced no matter what country you're from or in. Yes, I've planted trees before in the US. I think that the American attitude towards helping the environment is very much like the Chinese attitude I see today; everyone wants to do what they can. It's something we all have in common. Yes, I'm very impressed by the number of people who showed up today, and I've never been to a tree planting on such a large scale. All this was followed by a reprise of 'The Lion Sleeps Tonight' for the TV cameras, after I coaxed David and Adam up onto the stage for backup.

Us foreigners were given the royal treatment. We didn't really work that hard, just talked to people and dug a few holes while we were at it. I had the feeling this was a really relaxed thing for everyone until Stan came up when I was talking with couple of student reporters. He really cracked the whip, telling them to get back to work and not be so lazy talking to me. Apparently interviewing me was fine, but they should get on with it and get back to the shovels. I was shocked by the hard line Stan took with them. He apologized for interrupting my conversation, but he obviously wasn't sorry for interrupting their conversation. The Chinese seem to treat people very differently depending on the relationship. Bosses, friends, and those you can boss around of all get shown vastly different personalities. As a foreigner, I got the red carpet treatment. The student reporters were lower than Stan on the totem pole, so he was free to lay down the law with them.

I'm getting tired and I need to go to bed, so I have to summarize the rest of the day quickly. I'm only at noon so far. The tree planting ended, and this afternoon I hopped on the train with Jin Chao and we made the three hour ride down to Changchun for a little change of scenery. The train ride was made awkward by a shouting match between Jin Chao and a stubborn guy on the train who didn't want to give us our seats. We won, but the guy's ticket was right next to us so we had to sit together the whole time. After a couple hours, he actually fell asleep and snuggled onto my shoulder for a few minutes before coming around.

That brings me to now. It's 12:30am and I'm in an internet bar next to the shower house we're staying at due to a lack of better sleeping options in the neighborhood. We had some excellent Korean food tonight with Jin Chao's cousin who goes to school here, and her Mom who's visiting for a while. If today is any indicator, the next couple of days in Changchun should be pretty interesting.

break plans and ping pong progress

I got my one-on-one teacher's phone number today. Unfortunately, my one-on-one teacher is no longer the cute 25 year old of last summer, but rather a guy about my dad's age who today explained to me the reason his face is crooked: in the heat of the summer a few years ago, he left a fan on too long blowing from his left. The next day when he looked in the mirror, his left eyebrow was cockeyed and his mouth shifted slightly right. That sounds to me like something one of my uncles told me once, after he pretended to pull of his nose, all to my wide-eyed astonishment. At the time, I was 5 years old, and since then I've been pretty good at picking out those rascally uncle types trying to pull one over on me. As far as I could tell, my teacher was completely serious.

I actually really like this teacher. We have good learning vibes. In my one-on-one classes, I tend to ask incessant questions and get obsessive with language details. This guy digs that, even though it throws off his lecture and we end up only getting through half of what he's planned. We also chat about other things. He's pretty fit for fifty-something, and once told me about his morning routine of jogging and pull-ups. 'I can do thirteen pull-ups' he said, and stuck out his muscular forearm for me to sqeeze. Feeling inadequate in the pull-up department, I told him I'm more of a jogger; my legs are ripped, but the upper body could use a little work. Staying positive, he jumped up and came around the table to give my calf a squeeze, nodding respect. I know feeling another guy's leg in the states is a little fruity, but I think it's ok here. I've had my abs poked as well. When I told him I'd be staying around Harbin for spring break next week, he wrote his cell number on my midterm paper and said, "Give me a call if you've got time, we can go out and have a drink. I'm busy Wednesday and Thursday nights, any other time is good." I might just do it.

Next week is going to be my last mid-semester break in China. This time, instead of running around China like a chicken with my head cut off, I'm going to take it easy around Harbin. My roommate Jin Chao has a reasonably light class load right now, so the two of us will probably take off and check out one of the nearby Northeastern cities I haven't seen yet, maybe Shenyang or Changchun. I figure, why spend money on a plane ticket to the far corners of China, accompanied by Americans, then come back to to school feeling like the moldy towel that would be riding in my pack all week? The alternative: spend time with a native chinese speaker and friend, explore Harbin and surrounding areas, come back to school refreshed. I do feel a little guilty wasting a travel opportunity because I know how many people would kill for a week traveling in China, but I've got to face facts: I'm traveled out after last summer, fall, and winter breaks. Maybe in a few months I'd be ready to go again, but right now I'm looking forward to wandering Harbin and squeezing in a few extra ping pong lessons. And possibly drinks with my Confucianism prof.

Major breakthrough last time with the ping pong teacher: he backs up from the table and sends me some long ones to smash back. It's been weeks now practicing the most basic motions possible, half-hour forhand, half-hour backhand. Actually, this last time he only broke form for about five minutes, but I can hardly describe how good it felt. I don't even remember what it's like to play a real game anymore, I've been hitting against my ball-machine style teacher for so long. It's good exercise anyway. The sweat dripping off my chin leaves a puddle on the floor; it's a puddle because my chin doesn't move for an hour, held in place by the absolute regularity of my teacher's returns.

I want to retire like this guy

Today we sat down with a 72 year old retired teacher and chatted about his life. I already knew China had been changing a lot in the last fifty years, but he really brought home the positive impact many people have felt here recently. This guy is an extreme example, but the numbers he gave us were stunning.

The talk was an activity for my Special Topics class. We've been studying the aging problem facing the Chinese; the baby boom of the 50's and the one-child policy of the 80's have teamed up to do a real dropkick on their average age. That's an interesting problem in itself, but it basically boils down to there's going to be a ton of old people soon and no one knows what to do about it. We'd already covered that in class, so what I found most interesting was the incredible increase in quality of life this old timer has experienced in his life, particularly after retirement.

Born into a farming family, he managed to get to college, graduated in 1957, and got a job as a middle school teacher. His salary was apparently pretty good for that time, 62 yuan per month. I don't know much about currency value back then, but that number is pretty low by western standards. We didn't discuss what happened to him during the Cultural Revolution, which I regret, but figure that he probably didn't feel much heat. Despite being a teacher, being born into a peasant family would have helped a lot during the madness when they were attacking the non-peasant classes. Anyway, he told us his salary stayed at that same level, 62 yuan, all the way until 1982. That's a long time without a raise, by my standards anyway. He changed jobs a few times and I didn't understand them all, but I think they included middle school teacher and principal, high school something, a beaurocrat of some sort, and finally teacher at the university level. In the early 80's, his salary started increasing incrementally. In 1985 the place he lived with his wife and two sons was only 23 square meters (200 plus sq feet by my rough estimate).

That's when things started to get interesting. The main point of his talk was that at least some old people in China get taken care of very, very well. He said that such good care reflects the level of respect for the elderly in the culture here. I've also gathered that teaching is a pretty good profession to be in, so this old guy probably got some of the best treatment around during the last 25 years. I'm going to throw out the numbers we got. Just think about the ride this guy had after his 50th birthday. The ages are rough:

• 1985, age 50. House, 23 sq meters. Salary, around 100 yuan/month.
• .......lots of salary increases.......
• 1995, age 60. Retires with stipend equal to final working salary of 1300 yuan/month.
• 1996, age 61. Government gives him another apartment in addition to the first, this one 50 sq meters (total 73 sq m).
• 2000, age 65. Stipend is increased to 1600yuan/month.
• 2002, age 67. Gov't declares all teachers/former teachers should have at least 90 sq meters of living space. Figures he's got enough room already, so accepts cash compensation for the extra 17 sq meters: 70,000 yuan.
• 2006, age 71. Stipend increased to 2400yuan/month.

Wow. Now that's a serious increase in standard of living, much of it after retirement. I haven't even mentioned the free family vacations every year, free monthly home medical checkups, and free activity room equipped with exercise equipment, games, and reading material which is shared by the 16 retirees from his old work unit. Also don't forget, it's just him and his wife around the house these days - the sons have big places of their own.

China reserves this kind of treatment for government workers, which explains why so many people want to work for the government. Our old friend was up front with the fact that people living in the countryside get squat, and people living in the cities but not working for the government only recieve a basic living expenses stipend, about 250 yuan/month these days. But before you cry foul, remember that this guy was born a peasant. He could be the poster boy for equal education and upward class mobility in China...not that they'd call it that.

The system now is grossly unfair. But, at least there's some money here to create an imbalance. The Chinese people genuinely want to see the new wealth distributed. That is, at least on a collective level; the old teacher didn't say anything about sharing his salary with less fortunate retirees. Things will probably continue to get better for everyone as time goes on, and that's what individal people seem to really care about. With good reason, as far as I can see. Who argues with a big raise and seventy thousand bucks for quitting work?

Yabuli

Looking back, the ski trip was pretty decent. We hopped on a train at 8am Saturday morning for Yabuli, the famed resort that I've been hearing about since I got to Harbin last June. People come from all over China to ski there, people like the CCP high up muckymucks and important business leaders. The train was two and a half hours on hard seats, not too bad - the "hard" seats are just bench seats, there's cushions though and it's comfy for a few hours. After that, we got on a bus for a half hour and arrived at the base of the mountain about 11:30. We knew time would be a little tight with our train leaving that evening so we had packed lunch and decided to waste as little time as possible on things other than skiing. Two agonizing hours later, we finally got on the chairlift. The delay was due to them being poorly set up for large groups, and our rental gear coming from two separate places; one happened to be back down the road about 10 minutes. Only in China.

There was a single chairlift,which I am thankful for, but I had let myself have somewhat higher hopes for this most famous of ski resorts. t's possible that there was another on a nearby mountain we didn't have access to. The mountain was about as high as the one at Snoqualmie summit, not exactly the Alps but enough for a satisfying run anyway. Plus we only had about 2 and a half hours, so there wouldn't have been enough time to go exploring a bunch of other runs anyway. My skiing predictably sucked after a long draught of three or four years off the mountain...did I really add that up right? That's a long time. The snow was not groomed and really heavy, making it even tougher to get into a good rhythm, but by the last run I was feeling alright. I'm definitely going next winter, I won't be letting the amazing US mountains go unused for another year.

Since we couldn't buy the same-day return train tickets until we arrived at Yabuli, there were no sitters left. It was a slow train too, which meant three and a half hours instead of the two and a half going down. I passed the time standing in the aisle talking philosophy with one of the Chinese roommates; we wedged ourselves between sitting passengers every 10 minutes or so to allow the food cart to pass. Luckily we had only skied for a couple hours so standing wasn't an undue burden on our bodies. I couldn't help being a little disappointed at a 13 hour ski day that only involved two and a half hours of skiing. But hey, it was a great bonding experience and the skiing was fun while it lasted.