Just got over tonsillitis in the middle of no where China

Tonsillitis sucked. Being sick in China sucked. Not knowing what is going on sucks.

I had no idea what was wrong with me. I went out with friends out night...some spicy hot pot...and I noticed my lymph nodes were starting to tighten up. What am I fighting? No mind...bring on the spicy food. But not too spicy. (I, of course, order the non-spicy sauce to mix with the spicy food because my tolerance for the spice is below average, needless to say. 我还没习惯了很辣的菜。。。在美国没有吃).

The next morning was death. No, death came later. The next morning was so bad I had to cancel my morning job and go directly to the hospital. The doctor looked down my throat, "Yep, there's a problem in there," and prescribed me to an abundance of pills, none of which works. By Tuesday, I was back at the hospital, cursing to myself and crying by myself. That fucked doctor. Fucker, didn't even bother to take my temperature or nothin'. god dammit. miss western medicine. fuck.

So I see another doctor, and by this time my tonsils have formed white spots. Large white spots that start on my tonsils and work their wayd down deep deep deep to where I can no longer see them. Are they lining my entire esophagus? What the fuck is this? Every concievable illness went through my mind - mono, tonsillitis, strep, gonorhea of the mouth - Everything. I researched for days, probably knowing just as my much as my 20-something doctors. Yeah, that's right, my doctor's were probably my age. One of my doctors was actually 20. I couldn't believe it and still can't. Obviously they aren't schooled the same way American doctors are. In America, if you're a doctor, you have reached the pinnacle. You have worked hard, studied hard, and now the rest of your life will pay off with fat checks, bomb ass cars and private schools for you kids. China. No Way. Way Different. The doctors are paid like 2000 RMB a month starting out, at least here in Sichuan. It's not such a prominent position.

Anyway, so they sorta figured out what my disease was (accute tonsillitis and upper-respiratory infection, although I dont believe that upper-respiratory infection shit and think they just rationalized it themselves out of convenience. You know...American who is used to fresh air suddenly arrives in China and CANT BREATHE). I went to the hospital daily for IV injections of anti-virals and anti-infections, and finally I am sure but with a hefty hospital bill to pay off.

Demonstrations of Racism in China

The other day I brought a bunch of magazines to class (yes, a "bunch," the classic American counting-word, as my British friend jokes). My parents had sent me a package with magazines and different movies. I told them I desperately needed American entertainment and that I also wanted to show my students magazines, books and movies from back home. The must-have magazines are, of course, In Touch and Elle and a few other girl-ish magazines. Bright pictures of Britney Spears showing off her newer, fuller figure, children and more children surrounding Brad and Angelina, what magazine could be a better way to teach Chinese students about American culture? And I had an idea of just how to do it - they would read the magazines together, in groups, and then their groups would come to the front of the classroom and present an article, advertisement or picture that interested them. Simple enough, yes?

Unfortunately, I only had a limited amount of In Touch magazines (5 I believe), then Homes and Gardens, National Geographic (they kept calling it National Geography), Readers Digest, Conservation Today and then The New Yorker.

Sorry...brief pause. I just got a call from my boss's assistant, Tony, who asked me to come over to talk with him and Rod at the hospital. Rod is "sick," and sice Tony cannot understand his English, I had to go translate into Chinese and Chinglish so that Tony could comprehend the mysterious ailment. (Rod is always ailing. He is plagued and no one can understand him.) This experience at the local hospital is worth noting, not for my sake, but for Rod's. I experienced his culture-shock vicariously. I did not feel the shock of being in a Chinese Western Hostpital, nay, Rod did, for I have spent time in Chinese hospitals in Shanghai, where I was amazed at the smokers in the waiting rooms. Anyway, Rod insisted something is wrong with him and that it might be diabetes. He continued to question why the doctor wasn't diagnosing him with something and the questioning why the doctor did not either check his blood pressure or check his urine. It's because no one understood him! He was shocked, and out of the street, to me, he said, "And that's a Western hospital, right? I mean that's not where they practice traditional medicine, and yet they give me this paper drinking cup to piss in?" So it goes at Chinese hospitals.

Back to my story about racism and magazines.

So I dished out the magazines. One magazine, one group. And then they got to work. I went around to each group to discuss some of the different pictures and advertisements. Some of the magazines were harder than others (National Geographic and The New Yorker), and so I spent extra time with the students reading from those magazines, and also reading from newspapers (both USA Today and the local Bristol Herad Courier). For the easy magazines, I simply told the students, "Ok, for your presentation, you can simply do a skit of buying or selling some of these products, or maybe you want to take a survey of who likes which model more or which movie is the best." The New Yorker did not have much for struggling learners, but they managed with the few pictures and comics the magazine does have (though I seriously doubt they understand joke-pictures such as a man walking in front of a camera saying, "That's my mockumentarist." Ha.Ha.Ha.) Anyway, there did happen to be an article about China in this issue (February issue with John Updike's stories and life after his death), and in this article race and the treatment of blacks is stressed. Really, the article is through the eyes of a Nigerian businessman who has come to Guangzhou for import-export business, but in this giant city (the largest in the south), an African inevitably has to deal with racism. As the article notes, the taxi drivers call an area of blacks, "Chocolate City." The article talks a lot of about violence to Africans over the years, such as in Chinese Universities in the 1980s, and the article also goes in depth about racism present today in China, in Guangzhou, where blacks don't trust Chinese, and Chinese don't trust blacks. I imagine a lot of this distrust is rooted in money. They're trying to rip us off. Those shrink-eyed Chinks. Those filthy niggers.

Ok. Now, here, me, pondering this article after I read it. I am in shock to a point I almost can't breathe. I want to cry out because of all the ignorance and misunderstandings in the world. My throat closes up and my eyes start to water, just for people who fail to recognize something beyond themselves. But what good does trying and trying to understand do? Racism is ingrained in their minds. They have been taught about racial hierarchies throughout their brainwashed lives. I know they are brainwashed because I witnessed it. I witnessed my college students (COLLEGE STUDENTS) preaching about the greatness of their country and the greatness of the government and its policies. Sure, they spoke about the expedited action when the earthquate struck this very province, but they still never question. They truly believe in an omniscient, omnipresent service. The People's Republic and its actions. Can you imagine not questioning things? I am constantly told by Chinese people what is right, what is healthy and what is wrong. Yet when I ask, "Says who?" or "Who told you that?" They get this confused look on their face, like that isn't a question to be asked. I have been taught that, and therefore what I am telling you must be true. The Tiananmen Square Massacre, by God, it's the fault of the students.

Anyway, a slight tangent, but racial typologies exist and will continue to exist - in poetry, in old literature, in culture, in society. It is all there. When they were young, they read the timeless words 4th century B.C. Zuozhuan, who talked about those of a different color having a different mind and those with fair skin having more intelligence. They read poetry about the Shijing princess who had fingers "like blades of the young white grass." Sure, when Mao came along, these racial typologies were challenged, but they still remain today. This is what comes of a closed country, and one day China will suffer from it!

So, I just wanted to let my students know just how racist they are. Sure, you're nice and sweet to me, but, deep down, you are a die-hard racist, and if a nigger walked into this classroom right now, you would call him poor and be distrusting of him. You would think I am rich, as I am a white American, and if this nigger were from America, you would question it. I wanted to let my students know that they're racist Chinks.

And so, as some of my students browsed boredly through The New Yorker (a fabulous piece of literary journalism), I opened to this very passage and dictated. You see, Sally, this article talks about how Chinese people are racist. Do you know what that means? Do you see this picture? These are Nigerians working in Guangzhou. Yes, they are working alongside Chinesemen. What? You don't think they're businessmen? Well, dammit, they are. Just because they're from Africa does not mean they aren't businessmen. Anyway, the article goes on to talk about how racist China is and how it is engrained in your system since...well...since forever. But it also goes on to say that racism is getting better. You, in fact, are starting to like black people more.

And I am just as racist. I make too many points to defend black people here. I have all but convinced my classes that Rihanna is my favorite singer, both her and Beyonce. One of my students didn't like Rihanna because she "doesn't like that type." What do you know - she likes the milky-white complexion type. This is coming from a girl covered in pimples who wears acid-washed, dirty jeans.

I read this article

Suining, China - no man's land

I will further write about my experience in Suining, Sichuan, a medium sized city of 300,000 tucked nicely between Chongqing and Chengdu. 我会在这里当一年的老师, 我学校教四川职业技术学院. I will teach English the remainder of this semester, break all summer, and then teach next semester. I'm here alone.

---

Suining is really an interesting place, touched only by Western thought through commercial goods. There is little Western-living they can imitate, as there are no Westerners living here. (Western is such a bad term, but I use it when speaking of, oh I don't want to say it, I guess the developed part of the world. Japan included.) As I have said, I am one of 3...now 4...foreigners in this city. There is Rod Stevenson, an Englishman who spent the past 5 years teaching English in Thailand. Then there's Dahai, a Canadian whose real name is Gilles, but since he is married to a Chinese woman and seems keen on staying-forever in China, we all call him Dahai. Btw, his Chinese is horrendous. And now, there's a black guy named James. I no little about him, only that either his mother or father is from America and the other is from Cameroon. I am not sure what his native language is, but I am pretty sure it is not English. He kept leaving out important verbs in sentences, such as "to be." Then again, that could have been the alcohol.

Okay, now, it is clear I am not a journalist. I have nothing newsworthy to write about. I can only compare 2 cultures - mine and this backward, timewarped China. And my reflections are noteworthy, mind you. Mind you, you haughty Westerner who has flown to Shanghai, to Beijing and to Hongkong. You haughty Westerner who has stayed in 5 Star hotels and experienced only the best delacacies of China with your English-speaking host. (I am joking. But you may be better groomed than I.) I can only afford to live here, and yet my experiences are immense. What I have gained just by seeing China life as it really is can be a lifetime of cultural knowledge for your average person. I do not know what I am trying to say. But the difference of living between here, Suining, and Shanghai is different.

But there are always just your poor, Chinese men. They exist everywhere, and their lives consist of maintaining a living for themselves and their family. (My previous post comments on living-wages in China and the importance of the family when it comes to living.) Today I realized that I haven't recognized him enough...this simpleton...this average fellow. I have not recognized the tri-cycle man with his worn tennis shoes.

Or maybe he has new tennis shoes, shoes that are white and clean and do not seem to match the rest of his tattered outfit and tattered look. His shoes are new and white, and his pants are gray, rolled up, revealing dirty, tanned legs. His fingers are dirty, as he lifts and cigarette to his mouth and scans the crowd. He is looking for a customer. He is looking for a man, woman or child to board his tri-cycle for a 5-10 minute ride. His pay will be 2 yuan.

I have not thought of this man enough. Aye, I am that haughty Westerner. I walk around with my headphones in my ears. I keep a fast pace. And I wear nice clothes...nice clothes that match and could be expensive...I mean they look expensive. That is because I do not go out of my way to be showy or flashy. Chinese people simply do not realize the paradox of the clothes they wear. In wearing expensive looking jewels and lots of colors, they actually look poorer. The need to understand the age old lesson of "less is more." But, as I was saying, this does not matter. This materialism I obsess over does not matter. I need to consider the poor Chinese man more.

and if the man needs to be considered more, the woman certainly does

Wages at KFC go further in America

Back to what I was saying about love of motherland. Maybe the students aren't brainwashed. Maybe their speeches about their love for China is simply the easiest thing they know how to say. I find myself doing that often, when speaking Chinese. I say, "Yes, I liked that movie," when what I really wanted to say was, "Well, I don't really like action movies...I prefer movies with nice imagery and good dialogue." So, maybe, the students couldn't fathom how to say words such as, "Every country in the world is great if you have the right mindframe."

They wanted to say, "So long as you are happy, your country, your people and everything around you is happy." Sure...that's what they wanted to say.

But nah, they are brainwashed. They saw no reason to compare their country to any other country. They see no reason, zero, to question anything. They don't even read the news. Hell, who is to blame them, they can't read the news.

I am beginning to understand China though. I am really starting to get a grasp of the culture and emphasis on family. It call comes back to the population. The population of China is over 1.3 billion. The population of America is 1 billion less. Imagine that! One billion less! For countries similar in size (actually America is slightly larger at 9.8 km2 and China at 9.6). Population can strain a country and its people...jobs, living spaces.

I have pondered living wages here and what they afford compared to that of the states, the the difference is phenomenal. I will demonstrate the living standard discrepancy by comparing wages at an organization in both countries: KFC. Here, a worker makes 4.2 yuan an hour. In the states, around 7 dollars an hour. Now - what can a little over 4 an hour buy you here in China? A toothbrush. 4 rolls of toilet paper. A stack of vegetables. A noodle meal. 4 apples. Next, what can 7 dollars an hour buy you in America? A meal at an inexpensive restaurant. Toothpaste and a toothbrush. Maybelline Foundation. a six-pack. The hourly wage goes further in America than in China! This is appalling. When my student told me about her job at KFC, she talked about it in a positive way. She said, "Actually, KFC isn't such a bad place to work. They give you the day off on your workday and let you have free food." Yeah, great. That is well and great, and I am not trying to make a point about the working conditions. My only point is about the hourly wage and what you can do with that hourly wage.

Since it's been established that you cannot do as much with your money in China, I will go into the importance of the family. Family is needed. You cannot live by yourself living off KFC wages, really. You need to work together with the rest of your family, accumulate your wages, and then, only then, can you have a proper lifestyle. Workers go to America, not to improve their lives, but to improve the lives of their families. It would be a wonder to meet a Chinese American who has completely amputated himself from his or her Asian ties.

China is choking on growth.

After it rains, the mountain behind my apartment complex is startingly clear. I can see the texture of the trees and the temple and everything around. It's sad that only happens once in a while. Most everything around me is always a dreary gray. Fits my mood.

Seriously though - this country is hugely polluted and the environment is no where near the forefront of people's minds. I am not much one to speak, but now that I am faced with tragic proportions of pollution, I cannot help but be outraged. Yes China is growing stronger, better and is modernizing. But at what cost? And are the people really becoming more educated? They still litter and smoke and pay no mind to the world around them. All they care about is themselves and their families and making money. And here I was thinking I was apathetic.

I dunno...just some thoughts. I am going to go running. Here I go - through the air and dust and smoke and hopefully I will reach the finish line.

If I hear "just so-so" again I think I could scream!

The past 2 days have been horribly stressful, and as more and more people get my phone number, stress will only be added and multiplied. I should stop giving it out, perhaps.

It's the girls. They're on my back, wanting to carry my shit, see me to the toilet, buy me things, carry my vegetables, and walk really really terribly slow. The list goes on ad naseaum, and I am but forced to see these girls, these 20-something children, every day because they are the ones who most want to hang out with me and improve their English. Now, there are a few girls I like. The girls I like do not insist on holding my hand or on telling me to be careful when I walk down a flight of stairs. They're usual more relaxed, and chill, relaxed Chinese who aren't impressed by me.

Oh, if only I weren't so impressive. Me. With my bulky figure, fast-paced walk with my swinging arms, my big sunglasses and cleavage showing. I bring stares and smiles and smirks and Hello's from any corner of the supermarket. I attract crowds of old people, all of whom think I am Russian (modern China's closest, big-time companion, the golden age of Communism before the 1950's). No, I'm not fucking Russian. Oh, just stop already.

Anyway, but what else can I do? I like being alone. My disposition won't change, and I will never find these people endearing. I will never take joy in walking slow and holding hands and exchanging words such as, "I hope we are friends forever!" I might say such things, but I will never ever think them.

Today I fantasized about a Western girl coming to live here in Suining. Oh we would be best friends! I would cling to her like the Chinese cling to me - but only for a few minutes. We would laugh and curse the Chinese and their ways as we walk down the street, and then we would drink beer out of the bottles.

The the boys! The Chinese boys! ZERO HOT ONES. Well 2. But honestly, their hair is a bit different from what I am used to. It's either spiked up, or just sticking out every-which-way in the most undesirable fashion. The black hair looks very thinning and like it has dead ends, and you just want them to trim it short. And then, sometimes, they have this disgusting facial hair growing on a greasy, pimply face. Enough to make a girl gag.

I'm so naughty. So mean, so cynical, so rude, so wrong for coming here. Just NOT so-so. If I hear the word "just so-so" again, I think I could scream. Every response that should be "Pretty good" (according to me and my use of English) is "Just so-so." How is your day? How is your semester? How do you like college? God! It's such a depressing answer, and sooo soooo annoying. Fucking Chinglish is stuck in my head every day.

So today I met with my students, and we went to this temple. It was dreadfully hot, but actually they didnt' cater to me as much as I thought they would. They let me walk up the steps on my own, down the steps on my own, and they didn't even insist on buying me water or something to eat. Only later, when we were at the vegetable market, did I have to fend off a girl wanting to carry my potatoes.