Chaoyang Dwelling

The Labor of Fruits

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Sat, 19 Sep 2009 18:49:00 +0000

Anytime you live someplace new, you take away little things in your daily life that indicate you have changed somehow. They aren't big changes but they are sometimes important changes.

One of the most alluring things I remember about China is the single-mindedness and care exhibited by Chinese women as they are cleaning fruit for the people important to them. Before you go and get your panties in a ruffle, please note that I'm not talking about alluring in a sexual manner. It's more of a mesmerizing action because there is such focus on the simple act of washing fruit and an implicit knowledge that this is really important.

Whether for family members, colleagues, boyfriends or just friends, I have many memories of every single fruit being individually run under the water, inspected for blemishes and then scrubbed to ensure cleanliness. It's a shame that the water was probably a greater source of contamination than anything that might have been on the fruit.

Before, I generally cleaned fruit by running a whole bowlful under the water, shaking it around and then letting them all air-dry. Most of the people around me did the same. How has China changed me? I am now very careful about how I wash my fruit.

But ... You're not Chinese

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 23:14:00 +0000

Stupid Ch!n3s3 Great F!r3w@ll. Making me type stuff like this just so I don't get censored. *grumble*

Anyway. In the United States, once you become a citizen of the United States, everyone considers you to be American. This is your right no matter what color, race, religion, mentality or ethnicity you belong to. Anyone calling a passport holder not American is occupying the fringes (or extremes) of American society. People may complain about immigrants (legal and illegal) but citizens? Not so much.

Why is this important? Let's take the current situation in China with SinJyang (yes, I do know how to spell it correctly!). The native Wegers (again...) are passport holders of the PRC but they are not treated like full citizens. In Beijing, I met a lot of people who you could consider moderates or progressives who would say things like,"Well, you know they're not really Chinese." I heard this enough that I think this could defensibly be called a mainstream view about Wegers in China. What these people are really saying is, "These people are not Han Chinese." Convenient way to confuse the concepts of nationality and ethnicity.

The US is fixated on finding ways to make sure that new citizens want to call themselves American. In fact, many immigrants will start calling themselves American far before they get the passport because they want it so badly and they know that they will eventually be Americans. China seems fixated on finding ways to let the Wegers know that they are not Chinese. The problem is that by also teaching this to the general Han Chinese population, they've now convinced the Wegers that they will never be Chinese.

A country that keeps a significant population inside its borders from whom it witholds full citizenship has two options:

Kill them (e.g. Native Americans in the US) or
Lose the country/territory (e.g. Israel, various western colonies).

I'm not sure China has decided on a course of action but they'd better start planning...

Really Love Your Peaches (Wanna Shake Your ... )

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 23:14:00 +0000

Tao Zi (桃子) - peach

The peach is an amazing bundle of joy that never fails to bring a smile to a child's (or an adult's) face. Actually, that's not true. Your average westerner buying a peach for the first time in China will definitely not be smiling after that first bite. Peaches in China are have a crispy texture that would make an apple grower proud.

It took me a while, but I eventually learned to appreciate the crisp, tart flavor of chinese peaches. I also appreciated that I could eat a peach without having the juicy contents invariably dribble down my chin if I was lucky (or down my shirt if I was unlucky). I finally asked some locals about this and they said that they were aware of "American Peaches" and how juicy they were.

On woman mentioned that she had once, at great expense, bought a juicy peach for her daughter to try. While her daughter loved it, she thought it was horrible! The next time you're after peaches, please be careful about which tree you shake.

A Mother Gives Up

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 03:25:00 +0000

Question: What, exactly are these photos of?
Some people may say, "Oooh! Someone took a normal screen door and painted some pretty flowers on it." That is what it looks like but that's not what it is.
These are pictures of what happens when a mother abandons all hope regarding her son's intelligence. I am referring to a son who has walked through the screen door one too many times (the latest time while carrying a set of dishes; not all of which survived the encounter).
I can only say one thing to this mother, "I'm sorry for the screen door and for your deep disappointment."

Quality...

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 14:39:00 +0000

Marketing is an amazing (and funny) thing. Consider the plight of The Midland Certified Reagent Company, manufacturers of quality oligonucleotides. I don't care how nerdy your clientele is, I would imagine that trying to produce an ad for these guys must be quite a challenge. Here's the small text ad they came up with in the 03 Feburary 2006 issue of Science Magazine.

"Quality ...

is like buying oats. If you want nice, clean, fresh oats, you have to pay a fair price for them. Oats that have already been through the horse come a bit cheaper."

I don't care what you think, it takes a creative mind to come up with this tagline and their management had to have some balls for approving it. Think of it, in Science Magazine, they just managed to characterize their (cheaper) competitors products as sh*t ... and they got away with it. *genius*

Orchestra??

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Tue, 26 May 2009 01:18:00 +0000

Main Entry: or·ches·tra (courtesy of Merriam-Webster)
Pronunciation: \ˈȯr-kəs-trə, -ˌkes-\
Function: noun
3: a group of musicians including especially string players organized to perform ensemble music

I've had orchestras on my mind lately. A variety of reasons. A few years ago, I was lucky enough to visit Taiwan along with my family for one of my dad's conferences. On the conference program was a performance by a local high school orchestra. I was completely unprepared for what I saw.

It started out normally. Big auditorium, lots of students sitting in the normal half moon arrangement. Truthfully, I wasn't paying that much attention. The conductor walked out and started going through the familiar setup for the performance. As soon as the first note was sounded, I had A Shift (you know, where your perception of the world changes). I realized that while this looked like a "normal" orchestra, I didn't recognize a single instrument the students were playing. It was a wild and exhiliarating concert.

The definition of orchestra is vague and ambiguous (as it should be). It had never occurred to me that you could have an orchestra without most of the traditional western instruments. Looking back, it's an amazingly silly assumption for me to make.

One last point, I'm not sure if you could see this in China. The only orchestras I saw there had mostly western instruments. Taiwan seems to be carrying the torch for these "Traditional Chinese Orchestras." It's one more piece of evidence that the historical culture of China is actually being maintained by the people in Taiwan (since they didn't go through 50 years of the government trying to stamp out religion and cultural heritage).

Here's a few links with some orchestras:

Anuj Attempts a Eulogy

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Wed, 20 May 2009 01:48:00 +0000

At my grandfather's funeral last weekend, my mother had asked me if I could say a few words. I agreed but I know that I'm an emotional guy so I was a bit worried about being able to get through a "few words" while maintaining any coherent speech patterns amidst the sobbing and sucking in of air. Difficult, but doable.

About two minutes before the ceremony, my brother pulls me aside and tells me that our mom has asked him to be the MC and that he has decided that I'll be giving the main eulogy. I gave him a murderous look (I know, odd given the circumstances) and set to work expanding my "few words." Here's what I came up with.

"My grandfather was an honourable man. I know this from the stories other people told me about him and from what I remember of him. Some have said that perhaps he was too honourable. That at some points in his life, he was honourable to the point that other, less honourable people took advantage of him. Be that as it may; he had a vision of who he was and how he would live his life. He wouldn't let the dishonour of others control how he lived his life. I believe he was in control of his life until the very end when all he'd lost control of was his death.

I never saw him frown. Sure, I've heard stories about him being angry or being stern, but I never saw it. I only remember his smiles and laughs. The closest he came to an even-set face or sadness what when he talked about the injustice of being allowed to see the death of a daughter-in-law and a grandson.

Last of all my grandfather was really very cool, mischievous and had a sharp mind. He wasn't above using his grandchildren to make life difficult for his own kids. I remember coming home from University with my hair starting to grow long and sporting a new earring. My parents were not judgemental but both he and I knew that they assumed it was a phase that I would grow out of (and maybe I would have). When I saw him, he sat me down. He told me that when he was my age, he had his ears pierced (both of them!) and wore these long earrings. His sabotage was successful. I still have my earring."

My Set Is Now Complete

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Tue, 19 May 2009 01:57:00 +0000

Some people have a knack for using just the right phrase to make an impact. Here's a story my brother told about my grandfather at his funeral this past weekend. Of course, I have paraphrased his speech due to my inability to remember everything.

"For those of you that know me, you know I'm a fairly private person. One example of that is that I don't like to make a big deal about my birthday. I would rather the day just passed without the big party or all the attention. While I was in college and graduate school, I had roommates who always seemed to know when my birthday was coming and threw a party. It took me a long time to figure out how they knew since they never really knew the exact day of my birthday.

My grandfather's name is very easy to remember, Dr. Hom Chand. My roommates would simply wait for a large, brightly colored envelope which had a return address with the name Dr. Hom Chand. Then they knew my birthday was near. I've saved every birthday card he sent me and now, it seems that my set is complete. Even though there won't be any more cards, I will always remember that he will be close to me on my birthday and he always had a way of making sure that those around me also celebrated my birthday with me."

I'm Moving In

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Mon, 11 May 2009 23:21:00 +0000

I've just moved in to a new, permanent apartment and it has sucked down all sorts of time, heartache, sorrow and energy. I'm living in the Post Rice Lofts. (On the left side, click on "Select Desired Community" and scroll down to Post Rice).

Here's a link to some photos on Flickr if you're in the mood to see the before and after shots. Of course, this means before my stuff was delivered and then immediately after my stuff was delivered. I haven't even come close to cleaning up yet! More info on what's going on in a bit.

Photos on Flickr.

It's Good to be the Count

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Thu, 07 May 2009 22:34:00 +0000

Seen several times on drive from London to Stonehenge. I don't know what "Countess Services" are but they sound a bit naughty. And I want some.

Where Am I?

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 23:35:00 +0000

Based on popular demand, here are a few photos of where I've spent the last few months.

HOME:

I've been living in a temporary housing situation (month-to-month rent for a furnished apartment) that has worked out quite well. It's a small 1+ bedroom house in the backlot of a street where the owners manage almost all the properties on that block. Great people. These first two photos are looking from the driveway at the house. On the left you can see my car (which is now in the shop getting its windows fixed *grumble*).

Here's another photo of the view looking back out at the street. You can see how far back this house is.

WORK:

Here are some images of my workplace. Before you go and get me into trouble, let me make sure you understand that these are pictures of my building and pictures of the view from my office. Anything you see inside my office is entirely incidental and not at all indicative of my true work environment or any secret Schlumberer information. Can anyone tell that I've had a run-in with management over secrecy within the last year? :)

Here are some images of the outside of the building. You can see that one of them was taken from my car with the door open (the windows don't work, remember? That's why it's in the shop!).

Following are a few pictures from the inside of my office. For those of you in Beijing, it's a fairly clear day but not as clear as it could be. I love having the long, uninterrupted views of my surroundings (not to mention being able to look down on the peasantry).

In case you're wondering, I am writing this from the office because I have to take the bus (and/or walk) home tonight and I'm procrastinating. Why? My car is the shop!! If you're prone to sympathy, I currently live about 10 miles from home but the bus system in Houston leaves a lot to be desired (namely, more buses).

... Book By It's Cover

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Mon, 23 Mar 2009 00:45:00 +0000

China has a blind spot. Almost everyone who is Chinese, looks Chinese. To 95% of the people in America, it's amazing to think of a country where 95% of the population is a single ethnic group. Unfortunately for many overseas Chinese, many people in China also think that if you look Chinese, then you must be Chinese. (That's believing an invalid converse for you logicians out there.)

Of course, the Chinese know better but just because you know better, doesn't mean you act that way. Overseas Chinese have difficulties because local people just don't understand how they can be American. To make matters even more interesting, I've had Chinese people asking how Indians (meaning me; remember this, it's important later) or even black people could call themselves American. Here is one of the great powers that America wields. Looking at someone doesn't imply that you can tell if they are American. Even more powerfully: Looking at someone doesn't imply that you can tell if they are not American. Pretty cool, eh? (Logically, this means that someones appearance has no relationship to whether or not they are American.)

There are two sides to every coin, however. Recently, I've had the following conversation several times in Houston:

  Them: You just moved to Houston? Where did you come from?
  Me: China.
  Their brain is obviously working furiously for a few seconds and they don't want to make the next statement, but then they do.
Them: So... you're ... Chinese?

Apparently, Americans are so comfortable with ethnic identity being separated from national identity, that they ... make statements like this. They know that many other countries are ethnically homogenous (relative to the US) but they can fail to act on that knowledge. While Chinese people tend to judge a book by it's cover, Americans absolutely refuse to do so, even when they really should.

The innate foolishness of mankind still shines through. Brings a tear to my eye. *sniff*

P.S. If I've made some technical error in my use of formal logical terms, please remember that I didn't do very well in my (many, many) college classes on logic. However, this did not prevent me from basing my dissertation on very complicated logic theorems.

Indifference and Insult

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 03:29:00 +0000

In my recent post on my activities in China, I left out one item that I wasn't comfortable posting at the time. Here's what I really should have posted:

I found myself defending China to people in the United States.
I found myself defending the United States to people in China
I discovered that no one really cares about India except as a source of good food, movies and beautiful women.

For someone who originally thought that China and India were somewhat equal partners on the world stage, it was harsh to have China keep reminding me that this just isn't true. Let's get a little context before I start to sound really bitter.

Let's take the 1962 Sino-Indian War. I don't want to get into who started it or who was at fault. There are two sides and each side thinks that all the blame lies with the other party. What's more an issue is that this was a really important event in Indian history. India was caught off-guard with the Chinese strength and my mother tells me that many Indians thought that the country was finished. The story was that the Chinese army was basically advancing almost as fast they could move and that nothing was stopping them. Then, suddenly, the Chinese stopped and left. It was almost as if they said,"We might as well take our toys and go home."

I asked some Chinese friends about what they were taught about the war and they looked at me like I was crazy. "What, we fought a war with India? No way; you must be mistaken." Finally, I found one guy who said he remembered a history textbook which mentioned the war as a minor skirmish for about one sentence (or maybe one paragraph at the very most). What?! A paragraph ... at most?? A minor skirmish?

The final victory for the Chinese in the war was that they got to ignore it completely while it left a giant scar in the Indian psyche. India had been invaded and the only reason it was still a nation was because the invaders, of their own accord, just ... stopped and went home. This experience really taught me the harsh power of indifference. Indifference (more than hate or anger) can be one of the most insulting responses. While I'm not saying it would better if the Chinese hated India (many of them love India), it would be nice if there had been some impact on China for all the trouble.

Life on the Farm

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 02:57:00 +0000

I remember reading an article in one of the Beijing expat magazines. This article was about an elderly couple that were making a living in Beijing collecting scrap paper for recycling. They had previously been farmers in the countryside and now earned about 600 yuan/month (about $70 at the time). This means that they were living in Beijing on 20 yuan/day. That they could support two people on this amount is just astonishing.

I was further surprised when they apparently told the reporter that they loved living in Beijing. They said it was so easy and they had free time and could even choose to take days off. This all left me wondering,"What must life have been like in the countryside to make you love living in Beijing on 20 yuan per day (for two people!)?" In my time in Beijing, I kept thinking about this couple and it reminded of how lucky I am and how little it really takes to keep yourself truly happy.

This came to mind recently when I read an article about the falling value of recyclable materials in China. Apparently, the prices have tanked with the economic downturn. I wonder how this couple is doing. I hope they have managed to find another source of revenue or somehow continue their life. I know that they were enjoying their 600 yuan lifestyle but I'm pretty sure there wasn't much leeway in their income.

Prejudice and Stereotype (I) - I Buy a Car

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 01:41:00 +0000

I recently bought a car. (!!) For those of you that know me, this is a really big deal. For those of you that don't know me, well, I can tell you're not impressed. It was a big task, choosing a car. I started by deciding I wanted a used car. Then I decided the car needed the following characteristics: 1) Nice, 2) Reliable, 3) Sporty, 4) Manual Transmission, and 5) 4-door.

The first two items meant that I could easily ignore all American brand cars. As I looked at different cars online I decided it was time to upgrade and look at luxury car models. After comparing a few car models (based on looks), I settled on buying a 5-8 year-old BMW 3-series or 5-series. I just kept drifting back to those cars. I took two weekends to visit various private sellers (the dealerships kept being closed on Sundays and their prices were out-of-sight). After some false starts, I found what I was looking for, bargained hard (to no effect) and drove away $8000 lighter but in a blue, manual 2002 BMW 325i.

Now, these aren't pictures of my car but they are just like photos of my car. I decided that these photos are better than any I might take. I'm really happy with the car and the only thing that broke within the first week was the automatic sun-roof.

What does all this have to do with prejudice or stereotype? I'm getting to it. The first inkling I had that anything was wrong was when I was visiting people to look at the BMWs they were selling. Almost every one of them was South Asian (even the guys with names like Sam). I'm a little slow so I didn't get it at first. After I bought the car and showed it off to some friends, a few said, "Great car. All Indians choose BMWs."

Hey!! I didn't know that! I looked around and sure enough, a lot of BMWs on the roads with Indians in the driver's seat. How did this happen? I do know that when I was figuring out which car to buy, I seemed to naturally gravitate to the BMWs. Most of the competitor models just didn't hold my interest. I thought back to my upbringing and my parents didn't have a BMW. There aren't a lot of BMWs in India (and certainly not when I was younger). I simply can't figure out what in my cultural upbringing pre-disposed me to these cars.

Despite this, this is the car I wanted. Culture can be a funny thing. Stereotypes are even more subtle than people may imagine. Somehow, culture can affect you in ways that you can't trace and can't even recognize until you make a certain choice. I like my car and I don't know why. Maybe the styling is evocative of the design on the chariots in the illustrated version of the Ramayana. Maybe??

Cooking and Cleaning

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Tue, 24 Feb 2009 03:29:00 +0000

I've just spent my first week at a temporary apartment after my hotel stay ended. So, my real life in Houston is just starting. I spent the first few days doing normal things. You know, cooking food (and eating it) and wearing clothes (and tossing them in a pile). After a few days, I began to notice something.

Many days had gone by and the dishes in the sink weren't magically putting themselves into the cupboards (cleaned, of course). Even worse, the dirty clothes were still there. What was going on? I eventually figured it out. I hadn't involuntarily done dishes or washed clothing for over three and a half years. My ayi, Ai Hua, had been with me for my entire time in Beijing and she just took care of everything.

I thought about this long and hard ... because I wasn't about to start washing dishes! While I did miss having all the housework taken care of, that wasn't the real issue. Ai Hua had become a dear friend over the years and she not only treated me well, but anyone who stayed at my house was also treated like a family member. After my mother visited me, she confided that meeting Ai Hua had relieved a lot of her fears about me living alone in China.

So, in the end, what I miss most about that situation is that I knew that it was Ai Hua that was spending all that time in my house. It wasn't the housework; it was having someone in my home that I trusted, respected and just plain liked. I will miss her.

Oh yeah, one more thing; I will always smile at the memory of coming home early one day and catching her ironing my shirts topless. (Not that I actually saw anything, just screaming, flailing arms and fast movement).

Where's My TPS Report?

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Mon, 23 Feb 2009 13:23:00 +0000

You know that your life has taken a slightly wrong turn when you watch Office Space and you realize that your current identity most closely correlates not with the plucky engineer but rather with the TPS Report Boss who carries around a coffee mug all the time.

Like White On Rice

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Mon, 16 Feb 2009 04:45:00 +0000

I've recently started eating brown rice again and I've discovered a problem. There is no way that brown rice and white rice can both be called rice. They taste nothing like each other. It's as non-sensical as callling a daikon (白萝卜) a white carrot (萝卜) . As you can see, the Chinese already do this but that still doesn't excuse this problem with the rice.

I don't care if they come from the same plant and one is a processed version of the other. After all, pork changes it's name to ham and bacon as it gets processed. I don't know who is getting the greater disservice, but I still maintain that they can't both be called rice.

Bad Acronym Decisions

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Mon, 02 Feb 2009 03:46:00 +0000

I know that I should be making inciseful and interesting observations about American culture since I've just moved back to the United States. All of that will have to wait until I get the following off my chest.

My new office building in Houston also houses a company called Financial Analysis Group.
...
I would do anything to not have that be the acronym for my company.

... Because It's Time To Go

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Sun, 01 Feb 2009 13:09:00 +0000

I've just left Beijing after three and a half years. Of all my emotions, I want to remember everything I've done and all of the good and bad experiences of my life in China. In the shortest format possible, here is the first installment (items in red are late additions thanks to friends reminding me):

I have a friend whose monthly income equaled my hourly wage
I have a friend whose monthly income equals my yearly wage
I sailed in a yacht race in Hong Kong and Shenzhen
I climbed a mountain (okay, just the Fragarant Hills)
I swam in QingHai Lake with my best friend ... and we both got yelled at
I got to visit Harbin, the KangXi Grasslands, Wu Yuan, ShangHai, Taiwan, NingXia, Inner Mongolia, Xian, DaTong, Hainan, Tibet, Qing Hai, Hong Kong, Shenzhen, QuZhou, Guilin and XinDaiHe (and I still have so much to see in China)
I was given a Chinese name and I loved it (周阿牛). I love it because it always brings a smile to peoples' faces and it has so much meaning to me on so many different levels.
I spent one night at a desert oasis
I went out for a while with an actress/model
I broke some hearts
I had my heart broken
I got divorced
I learned to love myself (in general, of course)
I learned to hate others (selectively, of course)
I learned that Chinese people (as I expected) are just like everyone else. They want to have a good job, enjoy life and spend time with their friends and family (the only difference is that many of them spit ... a lot)
I found myself defending China to people in the United States.
I found myself defending the United States to people in China
I realized more ways in which I am actually Indian.
I made many mistakes. To those I affected (and you know who you are) ... I'm sorry.
I managed to do a few things right. I know this because a few people told me so.
Despite my best efforts to avoid it, I still have some regrets about the path not taken
I loved living next to "crap alley". The people living in that hutong were wonderful.
I was followed around by camera crew for a few weeks
I learned to sail ... a little bit
I learned to ride a motorcycle from a teacher that spoke no English
I learned enough Chinese to feed myself and get from point A to point B
I can read 200-300 Chinese characters (simplified, of course)
I can write about 100 Chinese characters (again, simplified)
I had a maid for 3 years that came every week for 16 hours and made me 1 meal a week. I cried the last time I saw her (as did she).
I was a judge for an international modeling competition. Apparently, I was better suited to be a judge instead of a contestant.
I was (slightly) involved in a bar fight
I had to drag a friend home after s/he was poisoned by bad alcohol
I learned to dance salsa ... 3 times ... and I still can't do it right
I tried to sing karaoke ... and ended up embarrassing a friend from work. I tried again and ended up embarrassing myself.
I went snowboarding for the first time
I got my picture in a local magazine for providing my views about women's fashion
I got my picture in a local magazine after dressing up like a cheerleader for Halloween (I just missed being a mummy)
I got to be the MC for my company's Annual Dinner
I got to play the role of a bumbling security guard in my company's music video
I got to do the Axe Dance from Kung Fu Hustle for my company's Annual Dinner
I did some voice recording for a Chinese audio textbook to teach English to junior high kids. I really hope they recover from the experience.
I participated in a friend's birthday auction for charity by offering a motorcycle ride and a home-cooked dinner. I was sold to another man for 100 yuan.
I participated in a charity bachelor auction to raise money for kids affected by the SiChuan earthquake. An evening with me is apparently worth 500 yuan (after frenzied bidding support from my friends).
I impersonated an editor at a major fashion magazine for a public event
I am not at all bitter about the fact that after I devoted 7+ years to my project at work, I didn't even get a farewell lunch. (How's that for passive/aggressive?)
I had a haircut that almost reduced me to tears (and I wrongly yelled at my friend who recommended the hair stylist)
I had the cheapest dinner I've ever had (and I didn't even get sick afterward)
I had the most expensive dinner I've ever had (and was ridiculed by a local, Chinese friend)
I ate some things that I would never have otherwise put in my mouth; and loved them
I found my limits on what I will willingly put into my mouth a second time (and sometimes not even the first time)
I had four friends who lived at my house at various times
I often stayed out all night ... and danced
I used my in-line skates to get all over Beijing (and rightly scared some people in the process)
I got to live in a 30th floor apartment (and eventually was banished to the 7th floor when the landlord decided the apartment was so nice that he wanted to live there)
I spent one Golden Week Holiday completely by myself and wondered about where my life was heading
I once sat in a park and cried during a particularly difficult time
I once sat in a park and tried to sleep off the alcohol
I started drinking beer (without making a face or psyching myself up)
I spent a vacation living in a yurt in Inner Mongolia
It took me one year to start texting. By the time I left, I was up to 1000 texts per month.
I celebrated many birthdays and attended several weddings.
I found some kindred spirits and keep wishing that I had spent more time with them.
I have such fond memories of Beijing and the people I know from there. I already miss it and them.
A new definition of "A Life Well-Lived": I cried for the friends I left behind when I came to China and I cried for the friends I left behind when leaving China.

If the United Nations Really Cared...

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Thu, 18 Dec 2008 09:41:00 +0000

Here's my rant about the United Nations. I know that they are working hard on the BIG problems in this world in order to improve our lives. However, in working on the BIG problems, they miss the small problems that really make our daily lives difficult. In China, these are the things that make my life difficult and I would love for the UN to step in and fix things:

All electrical appliances would accept the following voltages: 100-240v, 50-60Hz. Without exception. This would improve my life immeasurably and would probably reduce manufacturing costs as well.
Flogging (or death) for people that violate the "walk left-stand right" rule on escalators and moving walkways (there's even a website).
All water faucets must follow the "left hot, right cold" rule. For circular handles, it's "counter-clockwise hot, clockwise cold".
All cell phones (and any battery-powered electrical appliance smaller than a toaster) would be rechargeable using a USB charger. Oh wait, the Chinese government already mandated this for cell phones! Thanks for nothing UN.

Awww... Nuts

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Wed, 17 Dec 2008 09:00:00 +0000

Foreigners often try to find foods they know well when they've grown tired of Chinese or just need something familiar. In particular, they get easily fooled by Hua Sheng (花生). When you order this dish off the menu, you get a small plate of shelled peanuts that look close the right color but are strangely wet. It seems like a manageable difference.

However, it seems that the Chinese like their peanuts much more "raw" than westerners. In fact, they are so raw that you quickly associate the peanut with beans (which they are) instead of nuts (which peanuts are not). It's always fun to see the first bite from people who are visiting.

Me? I didn't like them at first but now I've really grown to enjoy them. They taste more fresh, have less salt and are much more amenable to the chopstick grab and toss (as in down your throat). The western peanuts are starting to taste too salty, too hard and way overcooked. Are my taste buds starting to go native?

The Westernisation of Food

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Wed, 17 Dec 2008 08:38:00 +0000

The rage around the world these days is to complain about how the "Westernisation" of food has caused people in the developing world to become fat, lazy and dangerously obese. I see this a lot in the Chinese press. This is an interesting viewpoint. Actually, what I mean is that it offends me as both an American (the western evil food pusher) and as an Indian (the poor developing country at the mercy of evil). What do I mean?
As an American, I'm offended by the idea that the idea of being "western" is so wrapped up in the idea of over-eating fatty and fried foods. There are plenty of western nations where this is not true and frankly, people are responsible for what they eat.
As an Indian, I'm offended by the idea that we have to rely on foreigners to figure out how to make those super-tasty, super-bad-for-you foods that everyone loves to eat. Indians already have lots of tasty snacks that are completely home-grown and absolutely guaranteed to increase your weight. We don't need to rely on McDonald's for this type of creativity. And we've got stuff that makes Pork Rinds look like health food.
Basically, I don't like the confusion between "Westernisation" and "Modernisation". Just because your society is modernising, don't give all the creative credit to the West! Just because they became modernised first, don't give them ownership by calling things westernised. All societies that are modernising will have similarities that exist because of increased incomes. Don't allow yourself to become confused with cultural westernisation and economic modernisation.

The Food Process Issue

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 01:46:00 +0000

This is the first in a series of posts about food ... in China and elsewhere. To start with, you'll hear many Americans and many Chinese talk about how Chinese food is healthier for you (than American food) because the Chinese eat more fresh vegetables and naturally grown foods. Let me be clear -- THIS IS A LIE.

I have never seen foods as processed as I have seen in China. The foods for sale in China would make an American food executive blush. Not blush red with embarrassment, but green with envy. They would think "Wow, can we do that to food and still sell it? People will eat that? They like what kinds of flavors?." They would think they had died and gone to processed food nirvana.

I have seen meats and vegetables sliced, diced, pureed, liquefied, freeze-dried, vacuum-packed and then combined (you know, for kicks) and then sold to consumers who love it. Some of the processed meats that are sold here make spam and beef jerky seem like organic, natural food. I have even seen spam in a German restaurant listed on the menu as "meatloaf" (I was not amused).

Is this bad? Am I complaining? No, not really. I have tried a lot of new foods and you'd be surprised at what's tasty after it's been processed. Is the fact that it's processed bad? No, not really. People should be given options on what to eat. It's their responsibility on when to choose healthy and when to choose pure, fully-adulterated pleasure.

Anyway, in China, it's not the processed foods you need to worry about. It's those pesky unprocessed foods that can make you sick (another friend fell victim to a bad salad last week) or ... make you sick (half-formed chicken embryos on a stick, anyone?).

Nv Ren Bu Huai - Women aren't bad

noreply@blogger.com (agoel) — Wed, 19 Nov 2008 03:16:00 +0000

Nv Ren Bu Huai, Nan Ren Bu Ai (女人不坏男人不爱) - If women aren't bad, men can't love. Recently heard from a friend who was not happy with ... men. The translation in English doesn't quite convey the full meaning and judgement behind the saying but it's the best I can do. It's a great summary of the standard impression that women have of men. :) What kind of response can a man make to this kind of statement (other then a lame attempt to switch the men and women in the sentence)?

I'm trying to make sure I live my life in Beijing in such a way that I never have to hear this comment directed at me.

Updates are red: I got some comments that the saying includes an "if" that I neglected in my translation. As you can see, the "if" makes a big difference and totally changes the meaning of the sentence.