Half(baked) Week in Review

Oh how my blogging energy has been eaten up/away by Christmas shopping!

First: some pretty little vegetables. I have been eating a lot of salad composed of cucumbers, bell peppers, and cherry tomatoes, carefully rinsed in boiling water and then dressed with vinegar, sesame oil, and black pepper. Somehow I find this very fresh and satisfying.

As for the week so far in review--Sunday: alternating dissertation work and Christmas shopping. Here is an example of the kind of nastiness I face in undertaking this task. I went down the little pedestrian street near the Haidian Book City, searching for interesting/unique something or others among the street vendors there. There was only one item that caught my eye. I asked how much it was, and heard "4 RMB." Then I asked about another bigger one, and I thought he said he would give me the big one and the small one for 10 RMB. Sounded fair. I looked through all of them. He kept suggesting an especially ugly one, which made me angry but I didn't show it. Another person came by and asked about the small ones, and was told "3 or 4 RMB," then wandered off.

I made a decision about the big and small one that I wanted, only to have him demand some 30 RMB! I protested, and he said that the particular large one I picked out was more expensive for such and such reason. (How about this ugly one? It's much cheaper…) Okay, I said, then I'll just have the small one. I took out my 4 RMB, and he said, Not 4, 10! In Chinese they sound similar, but I know he said four to the other guy who inquired, because you say "3 or 4", not "3 or 10." He knew they sounded similar and was preying on my linguistic insecurity. I felt really pissed off and started to walk away, saying sharply that that was a rip-off. "I'll give it to you for 5" he called after me, and if I weren't so eager to finish off the shopping, I would have just kept on walking, but I conceded to 5 because 1 RMB is not worth the time it takes to bargain for it. Neither is 5 I suppose when it comes to that. But the whole thing left me feeling completely disgusted.

Speaking of disgusting, I confess that I also had lunch at McDonalds. Why? Because I was really curious to try their taro pie. I had a fondness for McD fried apple pies when I was little, so I somehow was tickled that Chinese McDonalds has fried taro pie instead. It was good, but in a disgusting, excessive sort of way. I had a chicken sandwich instead of a hamburger, and I know that it's still supporting the evil McD empire, but it's slightly less bad I hope. Actually the chicken sandwich was darn good, not ground up and reconstituted but actual, you know, chicken in its original texture--with spicy sauce. Pretty tasty, I mean, for McDonalds.

Monday I spent all day alternating between classes and grabbing stuff from the library. I am getting warmed up with this research topic that I'm working on with YHz. Poor YHz, she finally lost it today and gave the rude immature kids in her class a good dressing down. The really deserved it. They were acting like middle school kids, talking during class, so you could barely hear her lecture, passing notes, and so forth. Sigh, they give Koreans a bad name around here, do these kids. I have already been told they're basically kids who couldn't get into college in Korea, and Beida takes them as cash-cows. They are, it must be admitted, not very dedicated. Not all that interested in Chinese culture either, as far as I can see. Very cliquish and childish and thinking everyone must find them adorable.

Anyway, YHz poured it on thick, especially when she got to the part where she said that students like them are ruining Beida's good name, and making her feel ashamed to be a Beida professor! How many hard-working students in this country would give anything to get into Beida, and here these kids are wasting their time here, not learning anything, constantly talking… if they don't like this class, they don't have to take it, but so long as they are taking it, they could have their private conversations after, not during, class. And so forth. All perfectly true and well-deserved, albeit rather uncomfortable. They surely had it coming, though.

I felt very sorry for YHz. Last week, she had mentioned to me how hard she finds it to endure teaching this class, how when she looks out at them there is just a sea of blank faces, so different from teaching Chinese students where at least there is some indication that they are learning something, that she's not just talking to herself…

After class, I asked if I could meet her the next day to discuss some questions I had. She had very much encouraged this and seemed pleased. We chatted a little about how it might go as we walked back toward her office and the library. I thought, seeing how upset she had been, a fairly neutral and pleasant topic would be best. And she did seem rather excited and eager to be thinking about the research instead of the little brats. As I've said before, it's research that she herself is rather interested in, but can't do for one reason and another--a good situation.

I continued on to the library, then the copy shop, then the library again… this sort of thing all day, collecting documents and like the busy ant preparing for winter. Took a brief break for ZM's class. He spent most of it discussing the homework assignments he had just graded. It was actually quite pedagogically interesting: he addressed very specific points, so that everyone could learn from one individual's failings or successes. When discussing successes, he would also mention the individual's name, which I'm sure made them very proud. I was particularly interested by the nonchalant way in which he dealt with plagiarism--a problem that so many professors in the U.S. sweat blood about. ZM just said, "There are some places where I can tell that it's not your own work. Please add citations for these. It will not influence your grade. Also, I am more interested in your own ideas." Of course, this was addressing individually plagiarized sentences, not entire papers. Still, there was something to the idea of treating plagiarism as something almost beneath notice, a disappointment rather than a judicial issue.

It was a bitter cold night. I was waiting for something to finish being copied, so I went to a little restaurant near the library and had a big pot of beef stew. It was good, though too much for one. Also, it was the type of stew where there's a thick layer of oil on top, making it very rich, not to see greasy even. The oil is interesting, though. It is not only for the purpose of making you put on the pounds and ooze grease out of all your pores for days. It is for the purpose of sealing in the heat. So you can have your privilege of burning your tongue on the last bite, as well as on the first. (Ask me how I know!)

Tuesday, I didn't make it to the 8 AM class. I am getting very lazy here. My internal seasonal rhythm tells me it's already Christmas break, even though there's no such thing here. At 10 I met with YHz. It is a joy talking with her. She has so many good ideas, and creative ideas. She also said she felt very regretful about yelling at her class. I told her they totally deserved it, and that the only thing she should be sorry about was not having done it at the very beginning. I said she's used to Chinese students, but students in other places can be very different! She seemed somewhat reassured, but still said she felt it was really not worth it. I agreed it wasn't worth her getting angry, but worth scolding them without getting angry about it. This sounded much more humorous in Chinese and made her laugh. They just don't care, she lamented. It's true, I said. We must teach them to be "fond of study" (a phrase that has Confucian associations). That got a laugh out of her too, though I could tell she still thought the task impossible. But they're no worse than some of the students I've taught in discussion section in the past, and some of them turned out okay.

More squirreling books and papers into my bag. In fact, by the end of the day my bag got so heavy I think I strained something carrying it. My bag was crammed to overflowing with books--I felt like a bookworm Santa Claus!--and today my shoulders have been dreadfully sore…

Speaking of Santa Claus, I had a post office adventure. It turns out that the post-office has a needle and thread station. I never noticed it before, but today somehow for some reason needed to use it in order to complete their postal business. The one (count her, one!) counter lady spent about five minutes trying to thread the needle. The eye was too small, the thread--really it was string--was too large. She got it partway through once and it started unraveling. Frustrated, she started rummaging around in drawers looking for a bigger needle. The line got longer and longer. I decided to be proactive, and offered to try my hand. They all looked dubious; I explained I used to be good at this when I was little. Then I used my special needle-threading powers (i.e., twisted the string very hard in the direction of its spiral, so it got wound tight, would be thinner, and wouldn't unravel) and actually managed to do the deed.

This helpfulness proved useful later on.

When you want to send a box but don't supply your own, the post office lady casts a hawk-like eye over the things you want to send and selects the absolute perfect size from a large series of finely graded boxes. She assembles, tapes, and packs if for you, and then there's a special machine that wraps tightly with a sort of ribbon to prevent against bursting and such. It looks like suspenders for boxes.

I was so intrigued by this process that I forgot to put the cards in with the presents. When I realized my error, I thought I might just glue the cards on the outside. No, no permitted! said the window lady. Too bad I didn't find out until after I glued them on. I had to rip them off--fortunately the outer envelopes were expendable--and beg the counter lady to open and reseal the boxes. But happily, she was well-disposed toward me because of the needle-threading incident, and didn't object at all.

Here is a photo I took while I was crossing the little residential island in the middle of campus. It is a cat-world--dozens of cats, very few people. Also the round gate made me think of hobbits!

Barely did I get home when I had to leave again, this time to a dissertation support group meeting. I arrived late because I left late, and my increasingly rickety bike slows me down a lot. We had Subway sandwiches and cupcakes. People are really wound up right now. Everyone talks at once, no one wants to listen, words just tumble out desperately. I found it wearing but okay. I mostly listened!

On the way home, I was struck by this peculiar sight: the blueish green Santa Claus castle I guess. How peculiar it looked, though, almost crossing the line between ridiculous and down-right scary. Definitely not my idea about Christmas! It looks radioactive.