Midterms and Red Leaves

Salutations!

The few weeks following National Week have been relatively uneventful--hence the lack of a new blog. I didn't really feel like there was a whole lot to report on. But I suppose I have a few stories...

After National Week we finally resumed a normal schedule, meaning that classes were Monday-Friday and that the weekends were ours once again. The Chinese have this less than wonderful practice of giving you days off during the week only to have you come in for part of/all of the weekend. Personally, I'd take a full week or just a three day weekend instead of coming in on Saturday and Sunday. But regardless, we've put those sorts of schedules behind us for the next several months.

The weather has decidedly turned for autumn. Overnight temperatures have flirted with freezing and afternoon highs have ranged from 45 to the high 50s. An interesting observation about temperatures in Beijing: back home, when they say a high of...say, 65, that usually means that you'll have a few hours in the afternoon when it will be 65 degrees. Here in Beijing, however, the mercury touches the high and begins its descent. Almost to prove that it could. The most accurate metaphor that I've come up with so far is someone jumping to touch the ceiling; you might get a finger on it, but you immediately start plummeting towards the floor. That said, this weekend was quite gorgeous, with highs jumping back into the 60s. None of this would be of much consequence but for the fact that the heat does not turn on for another two weeks. Thankfully, my apartment has an electric radiator that is good enough to keep the side of one leg warm if you park it directly next to you. Needless to say getting out of the shower and getting out of bed are not the most pleasant activities these days.

We have three midterms this week, one of which is an oral exam in front of the class with a partner. Here's where it gets interesting: my partner is from North Korea. There are two North Koreans in my class; these two gents are significantly older than the rest of us (i.e. in their 40s) and aren't the most chatty characters. That said, the one who I'm paired with is friendly enough to chat with during breaks--I don't want it to sound as though they scorn social advances. Both of them are also in the speaking elective course that I have Friday afternoons. Discussions during the last two sessions have yielded some interesting fun facts about both fellas. They are both from Pyongyang and like ping pong and volleyball (I'm still working on the bigger picture). The quieter one (not my partner), mentioned that his oldest friend of over 30 years (hence my assumption that he's in his 40s) used to be a teacher, but now has a position in the government.  My partner, whose Chinese name is Guang Zhe, majored in physics and now teaches physics at Kim Il-Song University in Pyongyang. The other day as we talked about where he worked we somehow managed mention Kim Il-Song, Kim Jong-Il, and the heir-apparent, Kim Jung-Un. We were in a group that included a German, a Malaysian, another American, and myself; neither the other American classmate nor I were gutsy enough to ask pointed questions about the leadership in that setting, though I hope to at some point. My expectations for his response are not particularly high. I'm more interested in what his perceptions of America are. Either way, I joke that I'm at the forefront of American diplomacy whenever I talk with Guang Zhe about anything more substantive than our upcoming exam. The other exams are written and cover the multitude of lessons that we've blazed through in the last two months, so there has been plenty to study.

This past Friday my friend Casey (the aforementioned American classmate) and I ventured west to Fragrant Mountain because we'd been told that all of the trees out there turn red with Fall and are really pretty. Conveniently, one of the bus routes that stops right at the south gate of campus goes all way out there. It just stops about 20 times along the way. The bus was packed and we had our personal space violated just about the whole way out there. We finally arrived and joined the throngs of people making their way towards the park. By this time it was after 3 o'clock, so there were more people leaving than arriving. But that was all relative. The park has structures that date all the way back to the 12th century, though most of what we saw was constructed in the mid 18th century by the same emperor who built the Old Summer Palace that I visited several weeks ago. Unfortunately, many of these structures suffered the same fate as the Old Summer Palace at the hands of the Anglo-French forces during the Second Opium War. We came across several plateaus where there were visible foundations and signs that explained what used to be there. After climbing for a while, we turned around and, thanks to the relatively clear day, were able to see most of Beijing. There was still a visible wall of haze in the distance, but we could see the Summer Palace in the foreground and were even able to make out the area surrounding the Olympic Green. Because the weather has been on the fence about making the full commitment to fall weather, many of the trees were still very much green...but that allowed those early bloomers to stand out that much more. (Check out the attached pictures at the bottom) We made our descent back down the mountain and saw a few more gorgeous trees and pretty alcoves, including one housing a waterfall that fed a small aqueduct that dates back to the mid-18th century.

After we exited the park, we made it down the road that leads up to it; this narrow street is lined with all sorts of stores and stands selling food, clothing, ancient weapons, cowboys hats, you name it. It was definitely a colorful display. And we were definitely the subject of many stares, being two of the few foreigners in the crowd. After getting turned around a bit we finally found a bus route that would take us back to Wudaokou. If we thought that we had been crowded on the way out there, we were dead wrong. My saving grace was being a head taller than most of the other passengers, but that did not change the fact that there were points where I could barely move my arms. I had thought that rush hour on the subway was bad enough, but pack a bus full of people who elbow and shove their way on, add abrupt braking and potholes and you've got a whole new ballgame. I've decided that people back home riding the DC or New York or Boston public transit systems have no room to complain about rush hour. Mercifully, two-thirds of the way back we reached a subway station and a number of people poured out of the bus. There was room to spare again. It was beautiful. Then we hit traffic. We realized that we were only a couple of blocks from Wudaokou at this point and we weren't even going fast enough to be categorized as "crawling," so at the next stop we bailed and walked (faster than the bus) back to Wudaokou. We grabbed a tasty dinner at a local restaurant where we were just as excited to finally sit down as we were to eat. After the long week and an afternoon of hiking and being manhandled on the public transit system, I slept like a baby.

No planned adventures coming up, but after midterms I'm sure I'll be looking to explore more of the city, so I'll keep all of you posted.

Red Leaves

Reflections of Fall

Everlasting Tranquility

Camping on the Great Wall

Hello! The National Week holiday is wrapping up, but I still managed to have a pretty awesome adventure on the Great Wall.

On Monday afternoon a classmate, Robin, and I made our way across town to a bus station to catch one of the public buses that goes out to the city limits. We were pleasantly surprised to discover that the bus depot was contained within the subway station; we got on the bus two minutes later, marveling at how easy things had gone so far...and wondering when the hiccup would occur. We made our way out of town, the only two foreigners on the bus. After a period of time that did not seem long enough to have already reached our destination, we reached a stop and the driver's assistant told us this was our stop and that we had to get off. Needless to say, we were a bit confused. After a circular conversation with the driver and his assistant (and rising tempers of the passengers who didn't care what the foreign devils were doing) we figured out that the bus was headed northwest from this point, while we wanted to head northeast. More importantly, the part of the wall we wanted to begin at was in neighboring Hebei province--beyond the service area of Beijing public transportation. Naturally, several cars for hire were waiting at the bus stop--eager to rip off unsuspecting foreigners. This is where Chinese language skills really come in handy. We were originally quoted an absurdly inflated price, but after about 10 minutes of bargaining and negotiating, we settled on a more reasonable fare to get us the remaining 70 kilometers.

We made it out to the wall without anymore issues. The driver was, in fact, quite friendly and talkative, so we chatted for most of the drive. Quick history of the section of the wall we were started at: Jinshanling, was built in the 1570s during the Ming Dynasty and is 10.5 kilometes long. The area near the ticket off has been touched up for tourists, but the remainder of the wall towards our destination, Simatai, has been left to withstand Old Man Time and Mother Nature on its own. This means that stretches of the floor are littered with broken stones and some walls are now missing. It also means that far fewer tourists visit this section of the wall.

Once we arrived at the wall we bought our entrance tickets, grabbed a couple more [overpriced] bottles of water, and started making our way up the hills to the wall. Armed to the teeth with peanut butter and nutella sandwiches, water, and the finest sleeping bag/sleeping pad that the Walmart Super Center had to offer, we began our adventure. Because of the national holiday, there were a good number of Chinese tourists there, but by this point it was about just after 4 o'clock, so most were heading in the opposite direction. Not long after we got up to the wall this one Chinese girl (maybe 9-12 years old) remarked as she approached us, "Oh foreign people," to which I quickly replied, "Oh, Chinese people." This elicited a hearty laugh from the family members who she was with...and a look of surprise from the girl. We laughed and continued southeast down the wall.

The late afternoon sun was casting shadows over parts of the wall and parts of the valleys around us, but it was still plenty warm. At this point, the most pressing piece of business was to ditch the Chinese tourists and find a suitable tower to call home for the evening. These days the sun calls it quits a little after six o'clock, and we discovered a prime location just as the sun began to dip behind the distant mountains. (See below photo) The sunset was beautiful. Being over 160 kilometers outside of Beijing really does wonders in terms of visibility. We figured out which part of the tower was least susceptible to crosswinds and unrolled our weapons-grade sleeping pads and sleeping bags. I'd brought four pre-made peanut nutella sandwiches, while Robin had brought a loaf of bread and a small jar of peanut butter. We had our "dinner" and started made a small fire. Vegetation around the wall is lacking to say the least, so making a fire ended up being a matter of principle rather than an actual source of light or heat for any extended period of time.

At this point it was dark and Robin glanced out the door towards the east and noticed a flashlight not far away--and coming towards us. Not knowing if it was another hiker or some sort of warden/ranger who would be less than thrilled about us being there, we grabbed our things and, quiet as two ninjas, made our way down a path that was conveniently located at our tower. (I should probably take the time to explain that you can secure a permit to camp on the wall for a price, but nobody ever does. But without knowing for certain if there was one man who made a nightly sweep for tourists, we decided to take the prudent route and clear out.) We hung out on this path until we saw the flashlight several towers past us and could no longer hear any voices. Not knowing who, exactly, that was, we decided we'd just keep the flashlight usage to a minimum. I should also add that the stars were incredible. You could see thousands of them. The big dipper was enormous and you see countless satellites as they made their orbits over northern China. We could also see Venus. It was beautiful. After straining our eyes against the dark from both the eastern and western doors, we decided that they wouldn't be anymore mystery travelers that evening. We finally hunkered down on our flimsy sleeping pads and tried (unsuccessfully) to stretch out in our sleeping bags that were never designed for persons of our height. The options were to either adopt a fetal position and be fully wrapped up, or stretch your legs out and pull the bag off your shoulders. As for the conditions, it was a bit breezy and a stone floor half a millennium old is not particularly forgiving, so it wasn't exactly the best night's sleep of all time. But it was still worth it.

I set the alarm for five o'clock so we could soak in the sunrise. We hadn't taken the time to look up what time sunrise actually is, so we had a good bit of time before the sun finally reared its head over the mountains. But when we first awoke the window directly above us (see below photo) framed a crescent moon and the orange glow of pre-sunrise light behind the mountains. Breathtaking.

We set off for Simatai as the sun revealed its full self from behind the eastern mountains. As we looked back on the tower that we made home for the night, we could see the sunlight filter through the valley, burning off the fog that had collected in the hills. We passed a few more towers before stopping on a nice set of stairs to have breakfast. More peanut butter and nutella sandwiches and water in the sunshine as we marveled at what stretched before us and the enormous efforts required to construct it 500 years earlier. If the trip had ended there, it would've been great. But as it always seems to happen, things got crazier.

A few more towers past our private breakfast nook, we happened across a few Americans who had camped atop another tower. These characters were James, who lives/teaches here, and Mike and Meghan who were visiting him and his family. After visiting with them for a while, James offered to give us a ride back to Beijing. We gratefully accepted, helped them break camp, and made our way towards Simatai together. However, soon thereafter, we were intercepted by three Chinese men (only one of which was wearing a uniform), who said that Simatai was closed and that could not go that way. (We had known that Simatai was closed for repairs, but we were not venturing past the exit point, so we figured there shouldn't be a problem.) None of our new friends spoke Chinese, so I became the translator/negotiator. The issue was that, because that stretch of the wall was closed, there was no one there to sell us tickets. After half an hour of hyperbole about how Mike's bum knee would result in his death if we had to turn around, numerous reiterations that James' car was near Simatai, and offers for the "guards" to accompany us, James shoved 100 RMB at the one wearing a uniform (they initially wanted more than 150) and we said goodbye. And I may or may not have told them that there were six more Western tourists only a few towers back who had not paid an entrance fee. And they may or may not have went off looking for said tourists.

Thinking we were in the clear, we made our way through the last few towers, across a foot bridge over the Simatai Reservoir, and up the last few hundred stairs--only to be met by two more guards. One of these characters was holding a piece of paper that explained in Chinese and English that the wall was closed for repairs. I told him that we'd just talked with some of his colleagues, paid them 200 RMB, and that we were leaving. Goodbye. He stopped us and said that he was going to call them. We were quite literally standing at the exit, so I emphatically reiterated that we had been stopped by his friends, paid them, and that we were leaving. Goodbye.

We made it back to James' car, had a few more snacks, and then loaded up the car and headed back to Beijing. James invited Robin and me to come over for some food, so we all headed to his house, where we met his wife and three adorable little girls--who speak Spanish, English, and Chinese. Oh, and the oldest is six years old. Crazy. After hanging out for a few hours, we were invited to stay for dinner. We ended up staying until nearly midnight, at which point we desperately needed to go home, shower, and go to bed. We exchanged contact information and said our thank yous and goodbyes to the new friends that we had met only 14 hours earlier.

Chalk it up to another awesome adventure.

Sunset

What we woke up to

Ruins

View from breakfast

The second guard who wanted to stop us at the exit

Looking back after crossing the Simatai Reservoir

Ruins, Classes, and Stereotypes

Hi everyone. Sorry this entry is so tardy. Classes started and all that free time went the way of the Dodo. But I'll get to that in a bit. This entry is going to be a bit on the long side, so grab a tasty beverage, kick up your feet, and let me tell you a tale or two. Or three. Or a baker's dozen. We'll see how it goes.

Last Saturday (The 10th) I went to check out the Old Summer Palace. This is different from the Summer Palace that I saw two years ago. The Old Summer Palace is five miles northwest of the Forbidden City and--conveniently--only a few miles from my apartment.

Initial construction started in 1707, but things really took off in the middle of the 18th century. The structures and their vast gardens served as the home for "day to day" imperial business (the Forbidden City was only for ceremonial business). An interesting twist for these gardens and the palace buildings, however, is/was their architecture. The emperor at the time, Qianglong (one of my favorites), had a sweet tooth for exotic things and architecture; as a result, some of the structures followed the Baroque stylings from Europe. These buildings only comprise a small percentage of the total structures within the grounds, but they do demonstrate the increased interaction between the East and West during the 18th century.

Things were going pretty swell for all parties for a century or so until the Second Opium War came along in October 1860. French and British troops had marched inland to Beijing; the respective forces initially looted the grounds despite each one telling the other that they had done nothing. Then two British envoys, plus nearly twenty British, French, and Indian troops were captured, tortured and executed by the Chinese. In retaliation, the Anglo-French troops destroyed the palace. It took 3,500 British troops three full days to torch the palace. Most of the structures were destroyed. Those that survived were later destroyed in 1900 during the Eight-Nation Alliance (Austria-Hungary, France, Italy, Germany, Japan, Russia, Britain, and the United States) invasion.

Fast forward 110 years, rewind a few weeks, and you've got what I saw last weekend. The man-made lakes were filled with lilies and were ringed by trees and hills built with the dirt excavated to build the lakes. What remains of most of the structures conjures images of the Parthenon--a few columns columns remained standing, but many ornate carvings laid on their sides or leaned precariously against their neighbors. Today, the destruction of the Old Summer Palace serves as a tangible example of foreign aggression and humiliation in China.

That following Monday (the 13th) was my first real day of classes. They start bright at early at 8:30 each morning (ugh) and consist of four 50 minute blocks. We have reading and writing courses, listening and speaking courses, and once a week I have an elective speaking course. Each section is taught by a different teacher. So far I like the reading and writing teacher the best. She's the only one who never uses English and pushes us through the material. I have her for at least half of every day--twice a week I have her for the full four hours. After four years of college where I had a class here...a class there...where a nine o'clock class was considered inhumane, jumping right into things at 8:30 has taken some getting used to. Especially when you know you're going to spend the next four hours sitting on a small wooden seat that was designed for something considerably smaller than you are. But I digress. Seeing as BLCU is an international student university, my classmates hail from all over the place. So far I've met (in no particular order) Spaniards, Japanese, Russians, Ukrainians, Romanians, French, Brits, Canadians, Swedes, Colombians, Mexicans, Tunisians, Egyptians, South Koreans, and even a few North Koreans. The crazy thing is that with a considerable number of these students, we're best off conversing in Chinese--either because their English isn't very good or because I have no idea how to speak their mother tongue. (I've used my rusty Spanish a few times, but we don't need to dwell on that.)

Last Friday I was in my speaking elective and we were discussing social customs when one goes to a friend's house for dinner. I was grouped with a Japanese girl and a Tunisian girl. The text we had read had the guest referring to his friend's parents as Uncle and Aunt. When it was my turn to describe customs in 'Merica, I explained that we just refer to friend's parents as Mr. and Mrs. so-and-so. Here's where the real kicker comes in: I was telling these two girls that we would customarily bring a bottle of wine, salad, or dessert if we were going to someone's house for dinner and as I was reaching for other possibilities, the Japanese girl asked, "Bi-sa? Pizza?" I said, no. Not pizza. "Mai-dang-lao? McDonald's?" No, not McDonald's. "Han-bao-bao? Hamburger?" No not hambur--do you really think that's what all American's eat? The response: yes. I had to take a detour from the prescribed discussion to set this girl's mind right. The teacher came and sat with us and I told her of this misconception. She didn't seem to think it was all that ridiculous. I explained to her that it was a bit off base; I also told her how Chinese practices such as picking up your plate/bowl and shoveling food into your mouth with chopsticks wouldn't fly at a typical American dinner table. "Really? What do you do?" We keep our plates on the table and use a knife and fork. "So you don't pick up the plate?" No, it's impolite. "Oh!" So what did we learn today class? Americans eat more than just pizza, McDonald's, and hamburgers and we don't pick up the plate to finish off that last tasty little morsel. Cultural exchange at its finest.

We have the rest of this week off for the Mid-Autumn Festival, which marks autumnal equinox and the end of the summer harvesting season. For some reason, however, after having no class Wednesday through Friday, we'll have class Saturday and Sunday. After next week we'll have a full week off to celebrate the inception of the PRC on October 1st.

No plans yet for the break, but I'll keep you posted.

Getting further acquainted

This Monday I had to go get a physical as part of my registration with the university in order to ensure that I wasn't bringing anything like bad breath or AIDS to China. (They actually test for the latter, though I don't believe they expel anyone anymore if they are, in fact, HIV positive or have the AIDS virus.) The clinic was a considerable hike northwest from my apartment, which is surprising since I'm already rather far from the center of the city. But with a population of 22 million I suppose it needs to be somewhat sprawling (the entire municipality is nearly 6,500 square miles). By the time I reached the clinic, the mountains were much closer and, despite the smog, quite visible. You could pick out old temples and shrines sitting atop the foothills of the ranges that provided a natural barrier to the city for so many centuries.

After being processed and tested with all of the other foreigners, I hailed a cab to head back to wudaokou. This cabbie was friendlier than most and was more than willing to speak with a foreign devil such as myself . Conversation was started when we were sitting at an intersection and a car came screaming to a halt two lanes over from us--having not noticed that the light was red. This sparked a discussion about different driving habits in our respective countries. This somehow transitioned into a political discussion. This particular cabbie thought that President Obama was "not bad/good," but admitted that he didn't know all that much about him. But he put him on the same level of endearingly "not bad/good" as current Chinese President Hu Jintao. I asked him if he was more fond of the PRC's founder, Mao Zedong, or his successor, Deng Xiaoping. He leaned more towards the latter. I told him that it seemed as though people of his generation or younger thought more highly of Deng Xiaoping, whereas the older generation that might have been alive during and immediately following the revolution still revere Mao. He agreed and said that under Deng people had more food and money than under Mao, referring to the Cultural Revolution and Great Leap Forward that left anywhere from 500,000 to three million dead. (The body count wasn't part of the discussion.) In comparison, Deng opened up the economy, which allowed people to make more money and put more food on the table. The one Chinese president that he was actually disenchanted with was Jiang Zemin--Hu Jintao's predecessor. He got the thumbs down. The central thesis of his feelings: he just didn't do all that much. I asked about how Jiang encouraged more international trade and opened markets to foreign business, but he made the valid point that he's a cab driver--what difference does that make to him? Score card: Mao, not bad. Deng, good. Jiang, thumbs down. Hu: good. (Zhou Enlai--the one with the awesome coke bottle glasses--only got lip service, but wasn't bad either.)

I asked if the economic crisis had had any noticeable impact on things in Beijing--from his perspective. He laughed and said that he had not felt any impact because he was laobaixing--Old Hundred [Sur]names. Laobaixing is the working class, the commoners--the "ordinary folks" who have the the hundred most common surnames (not actually the top 100, but you get the idea). These people are cab drivers, street food vendors, street sweepers--in short, they hold jobs that would not see and dramatic effects of the global economic downturn. So from this laobaixing cabbie's point of view, the economic crisis wasn't anything worth losing sleep over.

Before I knew it we had arrived at my apartment. I thanked him and said goodbye. Most cabbies in Beijing aren't as eager to talk to the foreign devils, but the ones who are can supply some of the most interesting conversations in town.

Weeks Two and Three: The search continues...and ends

Hello! Well, it's been a long, crazy last two weeks and classes are just about to start. Here's a recap of what's happened over the last fortnight...

First and foremost was the house hunt. In my last entry I mentioned this great place that I was seriously considering. On that rainy Saturday I told the agent that I was seriously considering it and that I'd let him know soon. On Monday I called him to say that I wanted to rent the place and we agreed to meet with the landlord the following evening to start signing papers. Here's where the plot thickens: Tuesday afternoon, hours before I was to head north to meet with the agent and the landlord, I received a call from the agent saying that the landlord had rented the apartment to someone else because they paid more. Needless to say, I was far from happy about this landlord's poor integrity. Lesson learned: verbal agreements mean nothing. Now back at square one, I returned to wudaokou Wednesday morning to resume my search. I saw a few more places with the same agent. One was a two bedroom place that was reasonable, but I didn't want a second bedroom. The landlady was there and didn't seem to understand my lack of a need for a second bedroom. Her suggestion: a reading room. Yes, because I'll need a library this year. No thank you. The next place was essentially a studio, was smaller than the place we'd just left, but was priced just the same. At first the landlord seemed agreeable enough, but wouldn't budge on the price. His reasoning: Americans have lots of money. I asked him if he'd heard about the economic crisis, but he just waved his hand dismissively. I continued to ask why I'd pay more for a smaller apartment where the arm of the couch was touching the pillow on the bed; his explanation was that the apartment faced south. While "fengshui" is an important element of Chinese culture, I didn't need it dictating the price of my apartment. I continued to bargain, until he remarked that Americans don't have an understanding of reality. I'm not quite sure exactly what that meant, but we parted ways soon thereafter. On Thursday I decided to cast my net a bit farther by employing several agencies. Long story short, it yielded nothing. As I was walking towards the subway, Brian texted me the number of an ad that he saw on the Beijinger that seemed reasonable. The man on the other end of the line agreed to meet me the next morning.

The next morning, after seeing one more wholly underwhelming prospect with another agent, I rendezvoused with this mystery man. He was definitely a character, but at this point I was wary of just about everyone in the real estate business. We saw a couple places that were alright, and then made our way to a high rise not too far north of campus. It was a beautiful place, very clean, but most importantly, this guy wasn't charging a finder's fee like the agencies do. (The typical finder's fee is the equivalent of one month's rent). We saw one more place that wasn't bad, then I told him that I wanted the previous apartment. We agreed to meet that night with the landlady to make a deposit and get the ball rolling. I wasn't about to lose another place. Brian came with me that evening to meet with the landlady. She was very nice, spoke a considerable amount of English. We met Emily for dinner at a great local Japanese place, and we all went home, where I spent one more night at their place. The next morning we went to Ikea. Yes, you read that correctly. There's an Ikea in Beijing. As luck would have it, the former tenant, a nice German guy who I met when I saw the place, was a fan of Ikea. A big fan.
Now that a place has finally been found--and secured, I've just been exploring the neighborhood and studying in preparation for the placement test that is part of this weekend's registration process. Classes start on Monday, so I'll be sure to keep you all posted on how that goes.

More soon.

Oh, and I've got a great view of the sun setting behind the mountains to the west...smog permitting.

Week One: House Hunting

Hi y'all,

Sorry it's taken so long to write. At first there wasn't a whole lot to report and now...well, there's a little bit more. My first morning here began the hunt for an apartment in the BLCU neighborhood: WuDaoKou (五道口). The first few mornings were spent poring through a website called The Beijinger, a site similar to Craigslist. I arranged to meet a few of the people who had posted ads and see the apartments that were advertised. Lesson learned: posted ads and reality don't quite overlap. I'm not sure if I ever saw the actual apartments that were listed, but what I know for certain is that these individuals don't heed your expressed price range. I agreed on a price with each one of these individuals over the phone, but once we were standing in some apartment, the monthly rate was several hundred more than what we'd agreed to. It was as though they figured that when presented with a high rent I would simply say, "Yes, of course I want to pay more than I originally agreed to!"

After two days of frustrating dead ends, I decided to bail on the individual searches and employ a real estate agency. I went to one that Brian had used and recommended. After telling an agent what I wanted, my price range, etc., we were ready to go check out a few places. He then asked me, "do you know how to ride a motorcycle?" I paused, confused and wondering why this was remotely pertinent to looking at apartments. I replied that I had ridden on one once or twice, but had no experience operating one. Why? We walk outside and he starts showing me how to get his scooter going and I just look at him and ask, really? As cool as it seemed to ride a scooter, I knew that 1) I don't have a license to do that sort of thing here, and more importantly 2) with Beijing's crazy traffic, I'd probably end up pancaked on the side of a bus. (I know a few of you back home would be less than thrilled if I had gone through with it). Needless to say, I ended up riding on the scooter but not operating it. Now back to the story. We checked out a number of places in one high rise building with one of them being rather promising...just a bit more than I wanted to spend. (Side note: I have discovered that my original price range won't get me very much at all in this neighborhood, so I've had to adjust my expectations accordingly.) This agent was very friendly, spoke a small bit of English, and wasn't a total sleezeball. After seeing a few more places, I told him I'd be back the following day. In the name of diligence, I decided to stop at another agency just down the street to see what they had in their bag of tricks. Silly me. Where agency #1 had been quite professional and polite, I got stuck with a used car salesman at agency #2. We looked at some real dumps and other places that were just not at all what I was looking for. He had a very thick Beijing accent and yammered on about this and that. After a few bleak prospects I told him that I had to meet a friend and that I'd call him the following day. He asked for my number, but I merely repeated that I'd call him. Don't call me, I'll call you.

Saturday: Rain, Chicken, and Apartments

So much for Beijing's dry climate. It poured just about all day. Today I was fortunate to have Emily for company/help as I continued my search for an apartment. We donned rain coats and quite literally did laps around one part of WuDaoKou as we saw place after place. After parting ways from one particularly slimy agent, we went into a mall/indoor market which houses some of the tastiest chicken known to man. For $1.47 you get a whole mess of rice, some veggies, and a huge piece of amazing boneless chicken. Oddly, it doesn't really taste Chinese at all...the closest thing I could compare it to was roadhouse barbeque. It seems out of place in Beijing, but it was delicious. And it gave us a break from the rain. After that we returned to the first agency from the previous day and resumed our search with the same jovial agent. At one place the owner asked us to put on plastic booties on our shoes since it was wet and messy out. Me being a big foreign devil, my shoes didn't really fit in the booties and they were stretched and torn by the time I got them around my shoes. Apparently she didn't want to rent to foreigners because as a race (since all foreigners are the same) we're noisy and inconsiderate. I didn't want to rent from her anyways. We trudged to a few more places, including the high rise places that I'd seen the day before. Rather than making a decision right then and there, I decided to return and check out a few more places. If none of them spoke to me, I'd go with the high rise apartment that spoke to me. No need to be hasty.

So that's where we are at the moment. Keeping my eye on one place, but remaining open to other options.

The hunt continues. I'll keep you posted.

Greetings from China!

I'll be here for the 2010-2011 academic year studying at Beijing Language and Culture University on a scholarship from the Chinese Embassy. Classes don't start for another couple of weeks, so in the mean time I will find an apartment, get settled, register with the university, and most importantly try to get my Chinese back up to speed.

The flight from Newark yesterday was pretty uneventful. I had an exit row seat, which meant more legroom than I could ever need, which was great. The only bummer was that the sound on my TV (that offered over 150 movies) didn't work. I somehow passed the 13 hours of flight time, made it through customs, got my bags, and got on the subway towards Beijing. A friend of mine, Brian, from when I was in Xi'an two years ago lives here now and I am staying at his place until I get settled in.

After finally getting some real sleep last night I woke up a little after six o'clock local time. Today is going to be all about getting a working cell phone and getting the ball rolling on finding an apartment. I'll write again soon with an update.