Yesterday, Sunday, was registration day. I gathered my big sheaf of documents, feeling nervous and yet also pleased that the waiting was done and I would finally have some sense of official connection with the university. I found the place all right. There were volunteer helpers who even spoke some English. I imagined myself volunteering in a corresponding capacity and felt amused.
Of course, I imagine most U.S. universities simply have a Chinese students' association to help with that kind of thing. Not here, though--probably there simply aren't enough long-term Western students. There were special areas for Japanese and Korean students, though, the latter of which are impressively numerous. For Americans and Europeans, there is the international student communication association (or something like that), which does some liaison work. It was pleasant to interact with them, as they were clearly all people who are interested in international students. They also had a form to fill out in order to join, and claimed they would provide a free Chinese tutor. I filled out the form, though as a rule I'm not a club-joiner, just so as not to seem too surly.
The paperwork went smoothly enough, though with a few hitches. One of the ladies asked my Chinese name. I told her, and she wrote it down and then shook her head over it, muttering to her neighbor. Zapaper, what kind of name is that to give to an American. I interjected that my father is Korean and that it's my real name, and she seemed mollified. My surname always says "Korean" to everyone. I think my Chinese given name (a sinified version of my middle name) is a grand and odd name with mythical associations--kind of like naming someone Phoenix. Some people think it an unusual but pretty, others find it pretentious. Oh well. In giving me this middle name, my parents probably didn't realize I would be using it every day.
I did not fully pass the medical exam, and thus couldn't move on to the residence part, because I didn't have a Chinese medical form. Well most people didn't. Fortunately I had the Fulbright form that had my chest X-rays and HIV test results, so I got out of that. But, they said, I must go to the specified medical center to get an printout of my heartbeat and a general physical examination. Do this tomorrow afternoon, they ordered sternly, and then I was done.
The communication association was offering a tour so I went along on it. It had some useful features, such as information on how to use the cafeterias--we are allowed to. We just have to buy a temporary card. They also told us where to do that, so that was cool. Of course, most rudely, the majority of the students were so busy getting to know one another that they barely listened to the halting English monologue. But I listened carefully whenever I could and asked questions in Chinese. I learned where the gym is, where to apply for computer access, and that almost none of the people around Nameless Lake are actually Beida students--they're mostly tourists. Except at night, one of them said. At night it's where couples come. (Wink, giggle, nudge.) There's a joke, one of them said, that you don't see the couples around Nameless Lake. You just hear them. (More giggling.)
Ah, romantic. I can hardly wait for Colin to get here so we can sit there too. Of course then it will be the middle of winter, bitter cold and probably frozen over. Well, Colin's such a radiator we'll be fine. We'll probably just have the place to ourselves.
After the orientation, I came home and got around to returning a phone call from a friend of a friend who is supposed to give me advice about the academic side of things. He is a graduate of Beida, now at Harvard, and he was explaining the strengths of the place. He sort of half-offered to introduce me to some professors, but with a certain chagrin added that he is extremely busy finishing up his summer reading list and will be leaving the country in only about a week or so. Still, we talked for a long time and he suggested several interesting-sounding courses that are taught every year, which I might want to sit in on.
Later, I called a fellow FBer and former Middlebury classmate, CMc, and we agreed to meet in Wudaokou for coffee. Wudaokou is where most of the foreign students live. It is a lively place, too far really to walk but only a short bus or taxi ride. This was my first time to go there and I found it--well, very different from my own neighborhood. It was definitely more ex-pat oriented, a feeling that was both more seedy and more student-y. I should add that there are about five or so universities in close proximity, and quite a lot of their students live in Wudaokou. Fair enough, but I sort of enjoy being the only Westerner in my building, and living in a less foreigner-oriented milieu. Though it only exacerbates my stick-in-the-mud tendencies. If I were more in on the ex-pat scene, I would probably get out more.
The café where I was meeting CMc--when I finally found it (my sense of direction is so embarrassingly bad)--was called Sculpting in Time. It was a quintessential expat place, and cool in that funky expat way. Served Western food, like spaghetti and milkshakes. Had a warmly glowing wood interior, and shelves of English and Japanese books. It was a hangout spot where you'd buy a cup of tea and stay all day. That's what CMc does, she said. It's just where she studies day in and day out. It's funny about being an expat: some people are expats just because they dig the expat lifestyle for its own sake, and there is a certain sameness to it the world over! I really knew I had "gone native" so to speak when I found myself thinking that for the price of a $2.50 cup of tea at Sculpting in Time I could get three square meals in my neighborhood. But that's Chinese food of course. Some people just have to have Western food, which as far as I'm concerned means they should have gone to Europe, or at least Japan, to live the expat lifestyle. But oh well.
By the time I left the café it had started to rain. I had taken a cab there because I wanted to get there on time (I was still late) but CMc had suggested taking a bus back. So I found a bus that had Beida on its list of stops and got on. The lady reading the stops, however, was completely incomprehensible. She also somehow ignored me and refused to take money, even when I offered. During all this distraction, I missed my stop and ended up (again!) out by the Fifth Ring Road. Why is taking buses always such a disaster for me? After muddling about, wandering back and forth, looking and my map book, and getting pretty wet in the process, I ascertained that I just needed to pick the right bus and ride one stop back. For some reason, this took forever. I waited at the bus-stop for one of the two or three buses I'd decided would serve…and waited seemingly endlessly. I was amused to see a little girl in split pants. I didn't realize kids still wore split pants. It's a cute alternative to diapers (or maybe training pants) if you don't care too much about street hygiene--the kid can just squat and go. This particular kid didn't, and maybe they're encouraged to use the bathroom, but I had to admire the convenience--and probably comfort--of the system.
Well I finally made it back to campus. If I'd had a better idea of where I was, I probably could have just walked it--maybe twice over--in the time it took me to find an appropriate bus. But oh well. At least for once I got a bus to actually take me where I wanted to go.
Time for one last errand: explore the computer city and see about getting a new camera. I did a lot of camera research only a few weeks ago, the LAST time I was looking for a brand new camera... so I pretty much knew what I wanted. And what's the point of getting a crappy one, since even crappy ones are expensive here. Might as well just get the one I want. I explored the computer city top to bottom, and that's saying something. Most places were selling just the same old crap, though. Optical mice, wireless cards, MP3 players, printer cartridges. It was kind of like the shopping place in Seoul, each little stand run by different people, hundreds of stands crammed into each floor. This building had several exits, though, so didn't feel like quite so much of a death-trap. On the fourth floor I finally found a place that was selling a camera pretty much like mine, 1500 RMB or thereabouts--that is, about the same price as in the U.S. Grumble. I had the money, but it was pretty much all my ready-cash, so I decided to wait until after Labor Day in the U.S. (a half day later here) and I could get my ATM situation straightened out better.
From there I dropped by the little restaurant where I'd had my first lunch in this area--the one with the checkbox menu. This time, adventurously, I ordered a random assortment of things to see what I would get. I did my best to ignore the weird looks that the serving people gave me. What I ended up with was sweetened tofu pudding, a kind of chewy Chinese donut, and some rather salty steamed balls of vegetable/herb and rice. Okay, it was a kind of weird combination no matter how you slice it. But interesting.
After that I wandered into the nearby bookstore. I had a thorough look at it this time and was kind of unimpressed. Not much in the way of scholarly books, or English books either. Not much to interest me anyway. All the same, I ended up spending an immense amount of time in there, exploring all the floors, looking for things that might be of interest. By the time I came out I was dropping with exhaustion, and barely managed to drag myself home and crawl into bed. Yeah, I went to bed at about 7:30 PM. But unlike usual, I didn't get up at 4 AM but instead slept straight through until 6:30--so you know I was pretty darn tired!
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