Nanjing Massacre Museum

January 6, Sunday, Virginia’s birthday

I went with a guide today, after several weeks of trying, to the Nanjing Memorial Hall, http://www.nj1937.org/english/default.asp , the museum commonly referred to as the Nanjing Massacre Museum.  I am relieved that the Canadian government is not allowing to happen with Winnipeg’s Asper Foundation Human Rights Museum what has happened here.  It is not possible for me to judge whether the intent is to memorialize the atrocities and trauma of the event, or to ingrain hatred of the Japanese.  My student is generally a fair minded lad, I think, and sensitive.  But he too is unforgiving.  Taiwan is China, Tibet is China, Diaoyu Islands are China.  What is not China? 

How are the events of the Japanese massacre, over the course of a month from December 13, 1937 to January 14, 1938, of some 300,000 Chinese civilians different from the Tutsi massacre of Hutus in Rwanda, the Ukrainian Hlodomor, the German Holocaust of Jews?  I hope I would have the courage, in similar circumstances to kill myself before I would do such horrific things to others.  What is done to people’s minds that they will laugh as they kill innocents, or for that matter those they belief to not be innocent.  Farmers crossing a field with hoes in hand, 3 year olds gunned down, old women, young women raped, and murdered. 

My guide commented that he was brought to the “old” original, and much smaller museum as a primary student.  At that time the archeological remains of mass graves, which he referred to as the bones room, was a part of the display.  There were then some photos too.  He said the children, boys especially, just used the open areas to run around in and he had little lasting impression.  But I cannot think it an appropriate place to bring primary students.  Those mature enough to understand much, or those imaginative enough, would surely have unanswerable nightmares.  And for those not so, it would be a waste of time.  As middle school students and seniors, yes. It has value provided it is dealt with in a way that focuses on human rights rather than promoting hatred.  Considering my reading of articles around the recent Diaoyu Islands debate, the rhetoric and “news” carried such inflammatory language, I hesitate to believe that human rights would be the focus.

The guide asked me what was the part of the museum that I was most impressed by.  Certainly the photos of masses of unidentifiable bodies was impressive.  Why were so many of the bodies naked from the waist down?  Not only women, but men and children too?  And the 2 “bones” rooms, one in the original area and one in the new, spacious, hauntingly gloomily lit new museum, were impressive.  Skeletons unearthed, some whole, some not; some just jumbles of seemingly random human bones. 

But most impressive to me were the narratives and videos (even though I could not understand them) of women who survived the “Comfort Women’s Centres”.  To constrain the wonton raping of Chinese women in the months and years following the Japanese occupation, the Japanese commanders decreed that Comfort Women’s Centres be established in each major city so that the sexual appetites of the Japanese soldiers could be sated.  Anywhere from 5 to 50 women would be abducted from their homes and brought to the comfort centres for institutionalized humiliation.  Most were teenagers.  They did “chores” during the day.  At one cited centre the 6 women housed there used their daytime hours to hand wash the laundry of 100 men, and at night they were systematically raped and/or gang raped between 5 and 20 times, depending upon how attractive they were.  After 2-3 years, if they were still alive, and the majority were apparently not, they were either so sick and infected by multiple venereal diseases, or pregnant and therefore no longer sufficiently comely to be desirable, they were “released” to the streets, to find their way to whatever might be left of “home”, or to die, beyond Comfort. 

I had not realized it but as my guide pointed out, the Qing Dynasty, collapsed in 1911 and in the ensuing years while the National Peoples Republic was rebuilding the country, there was rampant poverty, the army was weak and there was inadequate military might or strategic foresight and skill to defend against the attacks that began in 1931.  At that time the French owned/controlled bits of China, and the Brits, too.  But, he said, it seemed the Japanese wanted to take over the entire country because of their dire need for additional resources.  And, perhaps, had it not  been for the intervention of the Russians and WWII, they might have had it.  And just as is the case in Africa, why did the West not intervene?  I guess they might have, but on the side of the Japanese because of the Red terror that was China.  Thanks be for the Russians.  The ongoing Diaoyu Islands debate simply keeps the fires of hatred burning.  They are tiny islands, but the brand of the Japanese is on them despite history’s claim that they are Chinese.  I do not know the history but I know the rhetoric here is very inflammatory.

There are many very poignant sculptures on the grounds which are wide open graveled spaces, speaking to the unnamed horrors that lie within.  The museum covers not only the Massacre itself, but the WWII years as well, until the Japanese were repelled, and leaders executed or long imprisoned as war criminals.  One could not be tried, the uncle of the Japanese royal Hirohito family whose members it was agreed would not be prosecuted.  The Japanese referred throughout to that month of killing as an “incident”, and therefore, their view, captives need not be treated with the respect the international community required to be shown Prisoners of War.  Thousands were beheaded, or individually shot and toppled over the banks of mass grave pits.  Toward nightfall, anxious to be done the day’s job of killing thousands, machine guns might be used.  Then, so that their deed was hidden, the Japanese would spend the night using heavy machinery or shovels to cover the graves.  A few, by hiding under bodies, feigning death, surviving multiple bayonet stabbings, or hiding in rivers and caves, did escape to the refugee centres established by the German Nazi John Rabe, (https://www.google.ca/search?sourceid=navclient&aq=&oq=nanjing+massacre+rabe&ie=UTF-8&rlz=1T4ACAW_enCA353CA378&q=nanjing+massacre+rabe&gs_l=hp...0i30j0i8i30l2.0.0.0.5347...........0.mT_vDbryzbg) by American and British humanitarians, who complained often and as forcefully as they dared about the raping, pillaging and murdering that was going on.  But to little avail.  One commander’s order sheet read “Kill them all.” 

As a side note, some of the heaviest fighting took within 2 km of my school at Purple mountain where Sun Yat Sen’s mausoleum is.  It boggles my mind and breaks my heart to imagine the scene.

Happy 2013 - December 31, 2012

Dec 31, 2012

Happy New Year, as Joy said, the year of our Lord, 2013; as the Chinese (will) say, on February 9, the year of the Snake. Yesterday, December 30, was a day of epiphany for me. I lit out by train from Nanjing to Suzhou, alone with myself. I had thought about the journey for several days without making any concrete plans, that is to say without booking train tickets or a hotel. But finally, on December 28^th, it had to be done. Either I would go somewhere to celebrate the New Year alone with my own company, I or would stay alone in Nanjing. Kevin, my young acquaintance and after-rental service assistant turned friend, encouraged me by helping me plan the Virginia and Valerie China excursion, and I mentioned my desires at work. He volunteered to get my tickets for me but it really is something I must learn to do for myself. Linda, a young energetic and kind colleague mentioned that train tickets can be purchased at the Jin Ling Hotel, in English, with a small added commission of 5 Y per trip ticket. I went there, bought the tickets and returned home to book a hostel. The Chinese arise early, and so did I, on the day of departure, December 30, Sunday, so that I would arrive at the train station early enuf to get my bearings. Kevin recommended a half hour; I got there an hour early, planning 45 minutes early. But the Metro trip only took 15 minutes compared with the estimate of 40 minutes.

The train trip itself was uneventful. But I did see the industrial area south of Nanjing. Though local educated workers are paid enough to live comfortably in suburban apartments, many people come in from the countryside seeking factory work and are housed within the factory compound. They have heard and dreamt of work that allows them to get ahead. But they are paid a pittance in real money, if at all, with the majority being coupons that are only valid currency within the factory where goods are over-priced. They are little more than indentured servants, the real currency being insufficient to result in significant savings.  

And I saw how land is so efficiently used. Rice paddies in fields adjacent to the tracks, soil erosion on the banks prevented with concrete horseshoe shaped plantings. Burial mounds dot the low rises of naturally growing trees, with true natural forests rising from the steeper grades. Where there are saplings and more mature tree growth they are not forests at all, but tree gardens. This is what our landscapes will resemble as our forests are stripped and “developed”; neat rows of tree growth with none of the beauty and tangle of undergrowth, nor the canopy of old growth. There are few birds’ nests, and nary a bird to be seen.

Arriving in Suzhou I was immediately accosted by tour promoters selling tickets to the famous and beautiful gardens I later was later false told at the official Tourism Information office, are closed for the winter. And subsequently for a taxi at 60 Y to my hotel, the address of which Kevin had kindly translated to Mandarin. I knew the offered price of 60 Y had to be greatly inflated and refused, offering 30 Y. He came down to 45 easily so I knew it was a “no go”.

There was a train information officer handy and I asked her, in the presence of the taxi securer, what the price ought to be. She could not tell me that; to do so would have betrayed the integrity of the securer. Nonetheless, she recognized that I knew there was an attempt being made to exploit me. I knew that the train station was in the core of the city, as was my hotel. I also knew that any taxi within the core could not possibly exceed 30Y, so that was the price I stipulated. The securer refused. But the train information person invited me to follow her, and led me to the lane of black, and therefore classier cabs waiting in a queue, as opposed to those driving into the “stop and start” lanes. These black taxis do not display a taxi sign or logo, thus preventing passengers the "shame" of advertising that they are using public transit as by far, the majority of privately owned cars are also black. The driver next in line indicated he did not know where the hotel was and consulted with four colleagues. Confidence in arriving in a timely fashion eroding, I again offered 30Y, but said I required a receipt.

When I got into the cab, I again said I needed a receipt and he gave me one - from the previous passenger - for 32 Y. After we got underway, I asked if the metre was working and he admitted it was. I again said I would need a fa piao (receipt). We arrived at the destination, and I asked for the fa piao. It was 19Y. He happily accepted my 21Y. My thinking was thus. A 10% tip was an acceptable compromise. In the first place he would have been happy to exploit me. Second, tipping is not the Chinese way yet I know that taxi drivers are grossly underpaid and thus also exploited. Still, I do have some discretionary income, but am neither a generous tipper nor stupid. Everything in China is complicated. In Canada, I usually tip 10%; for me 15% is for good service. Overall, the bargaining went thus Taxi – 60-50-45-30-32- with correct receipt 19 Y, with 2 Y tip 21Y total! Perhaps I ought to feel some compunction at having dishonoured my offer of 30Y, but I don't considering the circumstances. In any case, not only was there no argument, but the driver was gracious, helping me with my bags, and ensuring we were at the correct destination by asking a local on the street, and smiling happily.  

It is difficult to know where one is expected to bargain, and where the prices are “firm”. I know that the local Suguo (like a small Safeway or Sobey’s) offer firm prices as do the restaurants and street food vendors, tourist spots and upscale clothing stores. But at all of the street markets and most of the independent stores, bargaining is “de rigueur”, and several sellers admired by ability to bargain effectively.   

I have been tempted to do some crocheting or needlework to while away some time. What extra time, I ask myself in saner moments? I saw some lovely chenille type “wool” priced at 20 Y/skein. She was willing to sell it for 15Y, but then I thought, hell, I’ll never knit/crochet it anyway. In desperation, she pulled out a sample of what the scarf would look like, already made up. At the time, she was teaching her daughter to knit, and I admired her learner and her teacher, “nide mama hen haude lau shir” (Your mother is a very good teacher.) And she was, patient with the clumsy and slow work of her learner, yet a fast knitter in her own right. She asked 50 Y for it, and happily sold it to me for 45 Y.  This tells me the price at 20 Y a skein was grossly overpriced.  But her work was worth at least the price of a skein. 

On the trains one is allowed to carry 2 bags weighing not more than 20 kg. Each. With the clothes I have purchased here in Suzhou, I needed something to carry them in. I bought a Ferrari knock-off athletic bag. The seller started out asking me 60 Y. I smiled, offering 30 as I walked away. She called after me 50 Y. I paused, again offered 30 and took another couple of steps. Then she called after me, ok, 40Y. And I bought it, knowing locals would probably only pay 25-30, and that I have bought the same thing in Canada at a ValuVillage for about $2.50 (20Y).   I don’t mind being exploited a little, but I refuse to be bilked unmercilessly. “You bargain well,” she commented admiringly. “Where are you from?” But I told her it was my papa who taught me to bargain.  As a knock-off, the bag is not worth more than 30, so she made a good profit, and I got the kind of bag I needed.  It is not, as the vendor claimed, piao leung, pretty, but it is gong dzou, it works. I am much less concerned with beauty than most; very beautiful, “hen piao leung” is absolutely the top selling feature - best quality is second.

I needed an extra bag in which to carry my unanticipated purchases of clothing.  The pants I bought were ``on sale`` at a department store.  They had the original price marked, and the discount was applied at the till.  I asked for an extra 10% off, and got it!  I had tired of being told the stores have no women`s pants with my gigantic waist size (34``) so asked if they had men`s pants in that size.  The clerks searched diligently and came up with 4 pairs, 2 blue jeans and 2 brown pairs.  I had to buy the 35`waist in order to skirt my hips on the way up, but at least now I have some jeans to wear. The clerks were laughing hysterically at me as I left with my men’s pants.  Any inkling of homosexuality is met with derision; young women dress to the nines most of the time, in stiletto boots, and faux fur trimmed ski jackets or with lace frills.  Mr. Yang, the tailer, will make me some dress pants for work, minus the lace, thanks very much!  I also bought a fuchsia sweater that I could not resist on the way out the door.

My celebration of the incoming year was pretty low-key.  After watching a movie, I started to hear the familiar, pop, pop, of distant firecrackers at about 11:15.  The Chinese invented gunpowder, and have not forgotten it a day since, I’m sure.  Every wedding consists of fireworks at 6:30-7:00 a.m. when the groom picks up his bride for a day of photos, etc., and again at 6:30 at night as the reception commences.  I went out to see what there was to see.  A young man was talking yet another picture of his beloved, and I offered to take their picture together.  I wished them Happy New Year, and struck up a conversation with the young lady.  Her fellow asked, “Do you know each other?”  “No,” we agreed.  I think he though me strange.  But that’s ok.  He is definitely not the first if that is the case.  I walked about a km, hearing periodic pop, pops.  Finally, in the distance, was a tremendous fireworks display that went on for at least 15 minutes, starting just before midnight, usually 3-4 at a time.  I surmise that wherever the fireworks were occurring was also where all the people were as the streets were mostly empty.  All the food stalls open till 10:00 usually, were gone, the gates down on all the store fronts.    I returned to my room and drank the ½ cup of bijiao I’d bought earlier, unable to find any western liquor or wine.  Although I’d paid 10 times the price of the cheap stuff of 20 years ago, it did not taste any better.  My goodness, it is awful stuff!  Next time, I’ll try to remember to go without if it is my only recourse. 

Overall, though I am not learning as fast as I’d wish, I can again carry on a basic conversation in Mandarin.  However, the ability to explain anything complex or solve any difficult problems eludes me.  Still, I am not dissatisfied with my progress as I can at least, make myself understood in what I do try to communicate.

Somebody, Anybody, Nobody Dec 28/12

December 28, 2012 

Several days ago, I noticed Jim in conversation with the Foreigner liaison staff about his concern with the frayed and jumbled wiring that extends from the various teacher desks to the hub at the back of the room. It is dangerous. Not only might someone trip over it and fall on the ceramic floor, but such an event would cause havoc with the wiring. “Somebody ought to do something about that.” Jim commented he has been trying for five years to get someone to fix it, which reminded me of this little story,

 

“about four people named Everybody, Somebody, Anybody, and Nobody. There was an important job to be done and Everybody was sure that Somebody would do it. Anybody could have done it, but Nobody did it. Somebody got angry about that because it was Everybody's job. Everybody thought that Anybody could do it, but Nobody realized that Everybody wouldn't do it. It ended up that Everybody blamed Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody could have done.”

 

Looking around, I agreed with Everybody that the entire office was an unholy dusty mess. There was a stack of drama costumes and accessories that has been sitting in one corner for five years, one of the returned teachers noted. It is the perfect home for the mice and rat that live in the walls. “Somebody ought to do something about that,” was said.  But nobody wanted to take the chance of coming across evidence of Anybody living in the stack.  As it turned out, they’d left a few pebbles behind, but thankfully, no babies lived there. 

There was a bookshelf at the desk behind mine, full of teaching materials and junk from the past 5 years. The teacher whose desk it is has only made one 5 minute appearance in our office in the past 4 months, preferring to use his desk at another building where the Chinese principal also hangs out the majority of the time. The principal also has a desk where he uses the phone every couple of days. The Chinese math teacher has, over time, spread his belongings across 3 desks. His primary desk has enuf space where ancient unmarked student work has accumulated for his phone and day book. A second desk with a computer that I have never seen used has a stack of old school publications dating back 5 years. And the third has on it the computer that is the tower for the printer. There, the Math teacher spends the bulk of his non-classroom time watching internet movies or playing video games. The microwave ovens, one filthy and unused, one new and functioning, sits on an old desk in which the drawers do not function properly.

So, I decided that somebody would do something about it, and spent an afternoon doing it. I boxed up the drama costumes that the drama teacher had volunteered 6 weeks ago to take home and wash. I moved the paper cupboard, and filled it with the three cases of paper stacked around. I asked the Chinese principal whether it would be possible for me to use the bookshelf for English teaching and learning materials. He said that would be fine and he would ask the teacher whose materials they were to look them over and decide what he needed or could be stored or discarded. I boxed them up, in order, with spines visible and moved the shelf behind my desk. I moved the unused microwave up high on another shelf, out of reach. Anybody could see I was struggling with the weight and bulk of getting the microwave onto that high shelf, but Nobody wanted to be blamed if a body didn’t like the changes. I moved the bookshelf that had been on my desk and with Jim’s permission, put it on his desk to hold the eclectic stack of fiction he likes to read, but which is stacked so high it was in danger of falling off. In fact, when we moved the desk to the hallway, they did topple off.  I reassured Jim that I had carefully re-stacked his books in just the same sequence as they had been so that he could find them easily. He caustically noted that the big red one was out of place, and I replied that that one did have to be stacked as “oversize”. I could put up a “go to” note, if he’d like! But alas, he thinks he can remember its new place. I turned the printer desk around, and placed it against the wall so that there is a safe walking space.  It still shows lots of movies, but I haven’t noticed games lately!

And low and behold, when I went to the Suguo store in the evening they had been doing some renovations and there was a strip of aluminum that I harvested to encase the cords. So the following day, I untangled that mess, replacing the frayed cords with two that were in better condition and had been going nowhere. And I coiled the three cords that were among the mess, but also unused. Now the cords are enclosed, protected, and not a tripping hazard.

Jim left a note on my desk, I paraphrase, “It needed doing. And somebody did it. Thanks, Somebody.” When the Chinese principal came by, he commented that the office looks much better now. I have no idea when or whether the boxed books will disappear. I'd give it five years, till the next "Somebody" comes along.

 

The next day my principal dropped by and, hardly able to contain himself, noted there was a desk in the hallway and would we like to have it moved into that empty space at the back of the room.  "No, Charlie.  No, Charlie, definitely not."

 I recall a similar thing in The Pas in 2001. My long 17000 square foot pie shaped lot was bisected by a driveway leading to the garage doors off the back lane. I thought this a big waste of backyard space and decided the doors of the garage ought to lead from the front street. So I made the plan, hired a contractor to install a front garage door and fence a gate and yard space where the driveway had been. Mark next door was amazed to see a casual conversation transformed to reality in the space of two weeks. I never knew really how to interpret Mark’s comment, as male chauvinism or acknowledgement of my feminist independence. In any case, when I told this story to Jim, he had a different take, saying that’s what a little education does. Of course, getting to know Mark better showed me his comments could not have been chauvinistic at all as he is one of the most liberated men I know.

Till next post, stay well, send comments and questions, and take care. Happy 2013 to you all.

Bad dreams and scary realities Dec 8/12

December 8, Saturday, 2012.

From the time I figured out how to contact my boys, and prior to the past two weeks, I spoke with Che at least once a week.  However, the last I heard from him was about the 24^th of November, when he commented that it was the last day of regular classes, as he looked forward to study week and exams.  The last I heard from Xian was November 11.  I get very concerned about them both when I don’t hear from Che weekly, and Xian bimonthly.  Twice in this past week, therefore, I have had bad dreams, yes, I would say nightmares, about their safely.  I dreamt that Xian was in prison on a drug charge, and I was completely unable to find his exact whereabouts, let alone be of any assistance to him.  He was either in China, the Middle East, or Africa.  Che, on the other hand, had been involved in a traffic accident and appeared in the dream as a bloodied broken mess. 

Today I was again called to question the existence of God, and certainly to believe in a cosmic force.  My phone battery was low on Friday morning, and in a non-routine action I took my charger to work and at the end of the day, forgot it there.  Although it may have held sufficient charge over the weekend, I know I will want to use it tomorrow, Sunday, and decided that after shopping at Times Grocery and Skyways Bakery on Shanghai Lu, I would take a route home via the school to get the charger.  I missed a turn and cycled an extra few minutes to get back to Gulou Metro station and Beijing Dong Lu where the school is located.  At Gulou, I stopped to buy a red bean coconut tea and drank it in the park there, chatting with a man and his dog.  I picked up the charger, and headed home.  At the intersection a small group of people had gathered, and a person was prostrate with her left arm hooked over the rear view mirror of her downed motorcycle.  I was going to ride on by; I actually thought she was dead.  But I did stop and noticed that she was breathing heavily, though unconscious.

 I stood by my bicycle for about 3-4 minutes, from about 4:27,  but noticed no one on a phone and no one was attending to her, though someone did release her arm from the mirror.  And I did see a young man who was there when I arrived on a phone.  As she regained consciousness, she attempted to roll over, and moaned in pain.  At that point, I could not stop myself from going to her.  I began speaking to her soothingly, and stroking her face, I put slight pressure on her hip to help her understand she should not move.  She began to shiver slightly and I knew she was going into shock.  I removed my car coat length ski jacket, and covered her.  I continued to talk to her and to stroke her face, and hold her hand.  Suddenly, I remembered that babies relax when you massage their bellies, and knowing the Chinese love massages, I lightly massaged her belly.  At about 4:50, the police finally arrived, parking nearly a block away, and ambling to the accident scene. 

Before going to her aid at all, their concern was solely to establish whether there was a witness, and what had happened.  The young man who had been on the telephone described the accident.  I understood from his hand motions that she had been cut off by another biker (e-bike or motorcycle), whose bike had hooked her mirror and knocked her over.  This bike was nowhere to be seen.  He had simply carried on his merry way, no doubt speeding up.  The police radioed for an ambulance and it arrived at a couple of minutes past 5:00.  The poor woman had been on the cold pavement for 35 minutes.  She faded in and out of consciousness.  The police attempted to get her name and she tried to tell them who to call, but she was not able to do that.  They must have told her help was coming, and she again lost consciousness.  The police officer thanked me and motioned for me to move away just before the ambulance came.  At that point, the young man took off his jacket and replaced mine with his.  I returned to my bike, but stayed until the ambulance attendants loaded her.  When they arrived they removed his jacket, and without doing any sort of assessment, put the sandwich board around her, and loaded her. 

All the while I was trying to comfort her, I kept glancing back at my bike to assure it stayed put, together with my groceries.  After a couple of minutes of being with her, I started hearing “lau wei ..., lau wei ...” and occasionally, “nan wei”, as people noted the old foreigner providing care, and recognized that I was probably “lau shir” (teacher) from the sweatshirt I was wearing, a part of my school’s casual uniform.  As he replaced my jacket with his, the young man bowed his thanks with the “prayer gesture” of respect that people here use; before I left the police officer came to me and said “thank you”, and a couple of other bystanders also came directly to me, making the same motion and saying “thank you” or “xi xi nie” (thank you very much).  As I stood by my bike, waiting for the ambulance to arrive, many of the bystanders gave me a thumbs up, and expressed their strong approval.  Their gratitude brought tears to my eyes, as sometimes and in some ways, foreigners are thought to be taking advantage of good times in China, and not ``giving back``.  I am so glad I learned the other day the difference between `bu ka chi`` (don`t be so polite) and ``mei si`` (it`s nothing, really``).  I had multiple occasions to repeat `mei si`, ``mei si``.  I almost wish I had been wearing a Canadian flag!

Later, though, my student explained that too often, people giving unsolicited aid in such situations, end up the brunt of reprimand and interrogation.  He told me the gap between the rich and the poor has become very great in China, and people are said to fake accidents in order to solicit payments from an alleged perpetrator.  I have heard of this several times.  I explained our ``good Samaritan`` or ``duty to rescue`` principle in law.  I am glad I went to her aid.  I think I provided the comfort she needed.  But how did I come to be there, at that place, at that time?

 

Seven Generations - Small World Nov 11/12

November 11, 2012

Twenty years ago in Xuzhou I stayed overnight at the Nanjing Teachers University in the Foreign Experts accommodations. In the common area we had a conversation with an older gentleman, about 70 at the time, and got into the usual conversation about past experiences. He had studied Philosophy, at Queen's, as I recall. Who was your prof,`` we asked. Yup, his prof was none other than Tony Mardiros. And I recalled, fondly, that Tony was the best teacher he`d ever had because his questions and discussions were so thought provoking.

A week ago a colleague of mine, a Physics teacher, and our school`s revered token PhD, mentioned he was from Prince Rupert, among many other places he had lived, taught, and worked. I thought he might have run into David, and asked if the name Mardiros meant anything to him. Yes, he said, it was a name he thought of often. There had been an esteemed philosophy prof at the University of Alberta in whose home he had had the honour of visiting while he was heavily involved in the Ban the Bomb campaign. Dr. Jim Johnson has been teaching here at the Nanjing Foreign Languages School for about 5 years now, and remembers Tony very fondly.  

Jim mentioned the time was the early '60's and recalled a little RCMP statuette Tony had on the dining room table because he had just learned he was on their "watch" list, and wanted to tell others of the regard some other Canadians held him in. In fact, Tony noted, he was held in such esteem that there was regularly an RCMP plant in his classrooms, not the green kind but the very blue Tory kind.

Jim is a delightful fellow.  He has a very dry quiet sense of humour, is very reflective, observant and cryptic.  He reminds me of Eric.  He wastes no words. 

Transportation tidbits -October 16

October 16/2012

I heard from a friend who referred to traffic while she visited China about a year ago as “hair raising”.  Twenty years ago in Xuzhou, I would have said the same thing.  In that city, at that time, bicycles, cars, thousands of company vans, buses and 2 ton lorries all vied for territory in the vehicle lanes.  The only time my husband got hit by oncoming traffic was when he stopped obediently at a crossroads where there was a crosswalk, a stop light, and a traffic officer.  Bicycles and pedestrians shared the bicycle and pedestrian walkways about equally.  Now, at least in Nanjing, I have come to the view that traffic here is only slightly more hectic than in a western city at rush hour.  The difference is that rush hour begins at 7:05 in the morning and ends at 8:00 at night on weekdays;  traffic is heavy on Saturday until 2:00 a.m.  In fact, on Friday or Saturday nights, it is difficult to get a cab anywhere that I have been in the city. But really, I have been primarily within the old city walls, the core.  So, this description of transportation focuses on the city core. 

Office workers work five days a week, but the stores are open 12 hours a day, 7 days a week, banks 8:00-6:00, 7 days, albeit with only teller cash service on weekends.  Many small street stores, and markets, are open longer, some from 6:00 in the morning till 10:00 at night.  And all those people have to get to work.  

Street sweepers work from daylight - probably a 10-12 hour shift.

Delivering recyclables to the depot.

Recycle truck at the depot.

 Peasants have to bring their products to the streets and markets. 

Citrus in season, 6 species of oranges.

Street vegetable vendors.  Light on right is the open market.

You will see people from their mid-20’s to seniors with a wooden or bamboo pole supporting heavy loads, carrying their goods on the subway or on foot.  People pulling heavy carts of garbage and recyclables to central points for truck pickup.  E-bikes and bicycles haul construction materials, furniture, pipe in 20 foot lengths, toddlers, the groceries, cages of poultry, turtles or crabs, and the family.  Apparently, e-bikes are not supposed to carry passengers, but no one pays any attention to that silly rule. People take their chances, of necessity. I have seen fellows hauling everything from a wife and child on an e-bike, with bags of shopping bouncing along and the vegetables or the dog on the floorboards, while talking on a cell phone.  It is rare to see a car driver using a phone, which is encouraging.   A two year old on dad’s lap, balancing with his hands on the handlebars.  Beautiful young women wearing 4 inch spike heels with a coat worn back to front as protection from the wind and dust, mothers in lovely skirt suits or dresses on e-bikes are too common to be noteworthy, except for the lovely mom with grandma on the back, holding a sleeping babe in her arms. 

Helmets are not uncommon on motorbikes, but I have never seen a Chinese wearing a bike helmet.  In fact, the only e-bike or bicycle rider I have seen who wears a Helmut is a 31 year old colleague who nearly met his Master while teaching in Thailand last year.  Jim, my 70 something, colleague, also says he would not feel comfortable without his.  Personally, I think I will get one soon. 

 For the first 2 weeks I was here, I took the public buses.  It was hot out, and the Chinese capitalist claiming communism government recognizes people’s needs and desires.  Therefore, the fee to ride an air conditioned bus is twice that of a non-A/C bus, to whit, 30 cents vs. 15 cents.  And there is a definite pecking order for priority in traffic, buses, taxis, trucks, vans, cars, motorcycles in the vehicle lanes, e-bikes, motorcycles, bicycles and often pedestrians in the cycle lane, and pedestrians, dogs (now oblivious to distractions, while in heat) trees and stationery construction equipment in the pedestrian lanes. 

Building a traffic separating barrier.  Shrubs come later.

But, once I realized the only way I would see much of the city on my own terms, get an extra 45 minutes of sleep and still get to my 7:45 classes in good time, was to become one of the cyclists.  I knew I was ready when I was able to smile indulgently when my bus cut off several cars in one trip, and pulled closer to the light by getting into the left turn lane to proceed back into the right lane in front of two other buses when the light changed.  But traffic moves relatively slowly in any case and accidents are rare, usually fender benders.  

7 speed Giant Momentum - double locking, one for hind wheel, one to the fence.

I tried to buy a “used” bike, but was unsuccessful within my time line.  I wanted one before the Mid-Autumn Festival holiday the first week of October so that I could do some sightseeing.  One of my students works part time at a Giant shop and, showing  admirable character, sacrificed his potential for a commission at his own shop to help me get one within my price range at another shop.  He was pleased with my generous gift of thanks.  I thought I was getting a modest machine so that it would not be a “thief magnet”, joining the thousands of single lock bikes tossed into collection trucks, heading for the “used” markets.  Three staff members had their high end bikes stolen in the two weeks preceding the holiday, obviously a high need time for transportation.  When I showed off my bike to my elderly neighbour, with eyes big and round, his jaw dropped.  Regaining his composure, he very generously offered me his bike for those times when I need a bike and am not simply commuting to work.  He gave me a set of keys for the two locks, and said simply, if the bike is not in the garage, I will know you have it.  And if you don’t find it there, you will know I am using it.  But in fact, the next person to use the bike will probably be his 12 year old grandson, now five.    

Recently I commented that I was grateful to know how to render lard.  Now I am grateful for all those joyous hours of herding cattle on horseback.  The same principles apply commuting to work.  One must “ride actively, alertly”, as Garth Butcher would say.  Last week I was sharply reprimanded by the guy who cut me off from behind.  I swerved to avoid hitting the rider to my right, and trying to reassert my balance touched him.  Thankfully, I don’t know exactly what he said.  When I asked my students what I could say in Mandarin to express my frustration and anger, a very polite and shy student suggested I “use that word that starts with “f”.  Everybody knows that English! 

At the end of my first week of commuting, I had reason to question the degree of my own emotional response.  I still don’t know whether I feel guiltier to have been riding the wrong way in the bicycle lane, or angry at the red car going the correct direction while blasting his horn as he insisted on forcing cyclists out of his way.  I still feel the guilt, but no longer bother much about it.  The fact is that there are many stretches where the only choice is to ride in the pedestrian walkway, or the wrong way in traffic because it can be hundreds of metres to a crosswalk where one can navigate into the correct lane. 

I made a stupid mistake today, wearing a dress that was too slim for bike riding.  Pulling up to a stopping point, the fabric of my dress, hoisted up enough to allow me to pedal unimpeded, became hooked on the back of the seat.  When I tried to put my foot down to steady my bike, we fell.  The e-bike managed to stop alongside me, say “Ay-oooh” in surprise and awe, while I gazed at his front wheel five inches from my face.  I skinned my knee, ran my stockings, thanked him for his concern, and tried to look non-chalant in a very Asian effort to save face as the light changed and traffic moved forward.  I am happy for any scratches on the bike; the less new it looks, the better, but I’ll save the dress for walking jaunts! 

Speaking of lights, now that’s an interesting concept!  In morning and evening rush hour, the traffic cops or crossing monitors will not allow cycles and pedestrians to begin crossing the road until only about 4 seconds remain on the vehicle’s “go” time.  Such a loss of travel time!  Should one disobey, one gets a shrill whistle blast.  When the cops are not out, however, cycles and pedestrians begin to move as the traffic thins, or when there are anywhere from two to 12 seconds left on the light.  But it is frustrating when cars try to force their way through us.  Yesterday, my 70ish PhD-Chemistry colleague, a cyclist, was so peeved about car traffic in the cycle lane near the school that he was standing in the middle of the lane as I approached, following a car, pointing and directing peeved motorists into the vehicle lane.  He was, characteristically apparently calm but authoritative, and they obeyed without running over him as I saw him later at work, whole and hearty.  Did he miss his calling? 

I learned later that it was his letter to the mayor of the city, the Education Ministry, whose offices are located next door to our prestigious school, and translated for the local newspaper, who was largely responsible for implementation of that “bicycle” lane.  He says he often directs traffic at that spot.

The principal and his wife are still taking taxis to work.  Most take the metro (subway) and/or the bus.  Of we female expats on my staff, only myself and a 20 something colleague are cycling though several of the guys are.  Riding partway with a colleague the other day, he complemented me on having the fortitude to ride a bike in Nanjing, saying “it’s not for the faint of heart”.  I don’t have to worry on that score.  Riding a bike in Nanjing I get much the same high as I do riding my Harley or alpine skiing back home. 

As usual, all questions, comments and encouragements are welcome.  It’s heart warming to hear from each of you.  I’m looking forward to my sister and niece’s visit in February, and a cousin has expressed an interest in seeing China while I’m here.  Anyone else? 

Home and Hearth, October 4

October 4, 2012

My last update responded to questions about my teaching job. This time I will respond to a question about circumstances of daily living. So many of you have been to so many places, exciting, isolated, impoverished and developing. China is some and all of these, in different places. Here, Nanjing is a modern thriving metropolis with 2500 years of history. In short, this is a very different culture. I write these posts as much to keep myself keeping track of my experiences as anything, with the faint hope that someday I might make more of it. Still, whether I do or not, I enjoy this way of keeping track, and I hope you do too. My posts are also on the inappropriately sub-titled http://lemonsrsweet-thnk-write.blogspot.com/ . I have posted my photos there, and on Facebook.

So many things we take for granted as being the way things are, are not. Many are such small things, but when put together in a day, are a lot to get used to, and can be stressful. It’s different if the changes are things one notices and that, in a week or two, will return to “normal” when you “get home”. They are the little things one must adapt to. They reach into every nook and cranny of life. It may take several entries, over time, to cover them all. Reviewing past updates, I see that I went on and on. So, I will try to focus on one area of existence in a posting. This time, my apartment and getting food.

My apartment is really little different in many respects from what one would be in a Canadian city. (see photos). But the payment of rent, and negotiations with the landlord are different in many respects. That being said, it’s been a long time since I was a tenant, dependent on someone else for any changes or improvements, so maybe things have changed in Canada, too. To begin, I had to pay four months of rent, or the equivalent thereof, in advance. Three months was rent, .5 month was the damage deposit, and .5 month was the real estate agent’s finder’s and maintenance fee. The School actually absorbed this last cost. My apartment is 98 sq m, the same 1054 sq ft area as the house I co-paid for in Mill Woods in Edmonton, and nearly 300 sq ft. bigger than the Bonniedoone house I shared with Che and Xian, main floor only mind you. The landlady claimed the place usually rents for 6500 Rmb, whereas I am paying 5000. My neighbour tells me the 5000 is much more in keeping with the market, even at this complex which was built in 2005 and then made quite a splash on the market. It is still nice, but not flashy, except for the grounds.

Back walkway

Usually there is also a “management fee” as well, but in my case it was waived. As with many costs, the management fee is a set rate. However, upon arrival, foreigners seldom know this fact, nor the amount, and can be exploited. Initially, for example, I was told the management fee would be 600 Rmb. However, I was also told it was 2.5 Rmb/sq metre. I was more recently told that it is 1.8 Rmb/sq m. What the actual rate is, I cannot say. My neighbour told me the latter.

exercise on the back entrance walkway

Pretty Posies

Considering the grounds at my complex, I would gladly pay 1.8 or even 2.5 if necessary. They are lush with trees and flowers, water features with fish hiding, labyrinthine walkways, exercise spots and three communally fed cats, Orangey, Gray Tabby and Splotchy.

Gray Tabby at the Tennis Basher's and Tai Chi spot

My Master Masseuse, 3 beds,
10 hrs a day, 6 days a week,

Gate and Guard, some polite and welcoming,
some dour and bored

They belong to no one, nor do they wish to. They graciously eat what is left for them, but have no desire to be beholden. There is even a playground for the children of whom there are some, though not as many as one might expect. From 6:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. one will see women quickly walking the paths, doing TaiChi in the open spots, and an elderly man who bashes a tennis ball on an elastic leash several times a week. The complex is 10 high rises of about 54 apartments each on 18 floors accessed via a gate guarded 24-7 which is very common, and includes a 400 sq m penthouse in each building.
Within five minutes’ walk along any of three side streets are shops selling everything from household goods to sweaters, florists, tailors, masseuse, fruits, bakeries, and the best chestnut roaster in all of Nanjing – or so we claim.

Chestnuts, the best in the area

There is always a line-up, that I do know, and they are delicious hot out of the oven.
There is a major marketplace just below street level which, in addition to household goods, also sells fresh produce and meat, dead or alive, butchered on the spot if you want. Unfortunately, there is little ventilation and the most unappetizing smell from those tiny bits of super-aged meat that falls in cracks and crannies wafts, unappetizingly, out into the street. Nonetheless, curiosity got the better of me and I braved descending into its depths, to find fresh meat and veges, and very friendly venders calling out hello, hello, and what is your country?

Fresh, fresh veges

Crammed Crabs

Only the hooved animals have been butchered before arrival at the market. Though I am not yet a vege convert, those poor forlorn crab, fish, turtles, ducks, chicken and rabbits have me eating much less meat than usual. Still, I could not resist three pork tenderloins for a total of 23 Rmb (or $3.58 Cdn). I froze them immediately and just don’t know when I’ll get around to eating them. The local Suguo Community Store caters to the middle class Chinese market, but also carries many western goods and manufacturers with a presence in China, Coca-Cola, Crest, Tide. Recognizing the logos and colours becomes critical to knowing what you are buying, since the packaging is Mandarin. Community Store is really what we would think of as a Convenience Store; there seems to be one in every neighbourhood.

seafood, florist, households

Suguo, family arrives for shopping,
3 to an e-bike very common

In Canada, a tenant has the initial 30 days in which to revise the damage inspection report. Being impulsive, and anxious to get settled in before school started, and just thankful this place was still available three days after seeing it, I took it, noticing only a few things that were problematic. Contrary to claims, the walls were not clean, nor the hood fan, and the fridge leaks. Apparently, Nanjing cooking is known for its oil, a fact that was noticeable in my first cleaning job!

First cleaning job, cleaning the clean hood fan

It is typically sold in 5 litre jugs, though smaller one litre jugs are available at the BHG Market for foreigners. The fridge would be a small repair job as I’m confident all that’s wrong is that the drain at the back is plugged. Still, the landlady is replacing it. On the other hand, I noticed drawer pulls missing on the bathroom vanity, but neglected to pull the drawers out. Too bad! They are misaligned and do not close properly, aside from simply being ugly. Though I mentioned this within 30 days, the landlady, supported by the real estate agent, say if I want it replaced, I may do so. And I just might. I saw something at IKEA last week that is much more modern and attractive and would do just fine. She also says she will not paint the walls but I’m waiting for my copy of the inspection report as I believe I did note that. Nanjing is largely an industrial city, and dust and dirt seeps in from outside. Que sera sera. I love the apartment, and for the time being, am quite content with my home.

Floors are marble looking, ceramic perhaps, stone even. My neighbour is appalled that I often go barefoot, saying I will catch my death from walking on these cold stone floors, but I do not find them cold at all. To conserve electricity, I often have my a/c set to 24 degrees, quite warm really, and so the floors are approximately that temperature too. I turn it to 21 degrees by times. People keep a supply of flip flops or slip-on footwear for guests. One leaves one’s street shoes outside the apartment one visits, and wears the guest footwear inside. Seeing that I had only one pair of slippers, Tian Lillian brought me two more pairs, gifts, and was happy when I turned off the air conditioner. Insensitive, I did not think to realize she would be cold in my 22 degree environment but I did turn off the a/c when she said she found it cold.

When you enter and switch on the electric lights you note the “up” is off, and “down” is on. When you finish using the washing machine, you turn off the power supply in the wall outlet, simply to conserve latent electricity to the unit. You turn off the air conditioner while you are out, and the heat in the winter. So, when I get home from work, I turn on the air conditioner/heater and go out shopping while it cools off, or in the winter, until the apartment heats up. Though many if most Chinese shut down the electric breakers when they leave for the day, typically expats like myself, do not.

The kitchen is small and poorly lit from a heavily screened recessed window in an alcove. There is no oven but rather the stove is what is referred to as a two burner gas “hob”. Cupboard space is very minimal as most people obtain the bulk of their meals in the street, and little.

Indeed, I most often get breakfast on the way to work, red bean steamed buns, or sesame covered fried ones, and lo and behold, tho a little out of the way, bing, the wonderful honey sweetened bread we used to have daily in Xuzhou so long ago, baked clinging to the walls of a 45 gallon cooking drum, blackened and scraped clean with a coiled steel scrubber after each baking.  The fridge is half freezer. A colleague bought a portable but full oven, most buy toaster ovens, the principal in his 6000 Rmb two floored suite has a full oven. I haven’t decided what I will do, but I am surprised at how much I miss baking. I’d got to the point with the B&B that I thought if I never baked another muffin, it would be too soon. But I was given a delicious homemade pumpkin and raisin muffin yesterday; it was soooo good it made me yearn for my own rhubarb royales. But then I saw rhubarb at the market today. All brown it was and the yearning expired.

The dining area and living room form the common area of the apartment, about 3.6 m X 7 m. The bedrooms each have a closet and plenty of room to get around the queen beds. There is a washing alcove in the hall preceding the toilet/laundry room. The toilet, thankfully, is a non-aiming, non-squatting, western standard, i.e. no bidet. There are sufficient lines and hangars on the balcony for several loads of washing, the products of the apartment sized front loading washing machine. The middle class do not have driers; wash boards are sold for 20 Rmb so I count myself very lucky indeed.

Living room seen from entry,
slipper and shoe rack

Living room, desk and a/c

Dining Table and grape juice

Bedroom, and walk around.

Kitchen with "hob"

Washing Alcove

I so look forward to your feedback, and any questions or comments you have.

elaine