Culture Corner: First Culture Corner

This is the very first culture corner post I made.  Prior to moving to Wuxi and beginning a job at Jiangnan University, I cut my teeth in the Spartan conditions of Nanjing Normal University.  Without further ado, here it is:

Many of you have asked what exactly I do. I am an employee of Nanjing Normal University.  (Don't ask what "Normal" means.  I just know there is a plain Nanjing University.  Does that insinuate mine is abnormal?  You figure it out.)  My official title is "Foreign Expert" - at least according to my Chinese visa, though I am just a teacher.  I teach at the university's central campus - it has several throughout Nanjing - and it is beautiful.  If you want to see photos, go to: www.njnu.edu.cn.  All of its buildings are old and have roofs with the architectural style I  associated with China prior to arrival: curved green tile with eaves upturned at the corners like the prows of ships. 

The inside of the buildings are far less ornate, however, entirely opposite, in fact.  My classroom is a concrete shoebox with white-washed walls that echo, and is entirely bare except for desks and a chalkboard.  (Yes, I teach using a chalkboard.)  It's a bit drafty, and as the heating system is… non-existent, we've had class this winter in our jackets and gloves.  The plus side of my building’s interior is that on the floor above are the fine arts for music rooms.  All class long, the tinkle of classical piano and strains of violins can be heard in the background, which does something to ease the chill.

I teach almost 20 hours per week, Monday through Friday, needing only a few more hours outside of class for preparation - I am an "expert" after all, and all of this at the fantastic rate of $6/hr.  (By the end of my ten months here I will have grossed about $4,000 USD.  $400/month, not bad!!)  

My class is composed of seven, sometimes eight, sometimes nine, sometimes two students who want to study in an English speaking country next year, but first need to pass an English entrance exam.  This is where I come in. I'm responsible for their English, with my main goal being to improve their speaking and listening skills.  I do this by speaking and listening.  Aside from this, four of the twenty hours per week are used for "English Culture", which pretty much gives me free reign.  As I am always trying to get them to speak, I use this time to satisfy my curiosity by asking them questions about their own culture and then compare their replies to Western culture. I have learned a lot this way.  (Ground tiger bones are apparently a good aphrodisiac.)  Thankfully they have a Chinese teacher to teach them grammar and vocabulary, otherwise they'd be teaching me.

My students speak fairly good English, some are better, some are slightly worse, and as I see them almost every day, they have become my family.  It remains to be seen if they'll pass the entrance exam, but all of them could feed and shelter themselves in the Western world if thrust into it; we are always able to - at the very least – communicate something, anything, a word, a sound, a grunt.  At first they were shy, but now they are a fun group who are discovering their freedom in much the same way we did when we were first out of high school and starting university.  And as they love to laugh, it works out well, because as you know, I tell bad jokes.

 

Their English names are Yoyo (she knew it was a toy), Kevin (a girl who wanted to keep the name even after I told her it was a boy's name; I now think nothing of calling her Kevin), Cherry, Fred, Peter, Stephy, and Waylen (he was the only one who didn't have an English name, so I gave him a list of choices, the singer of the Dukes of Hazzard theme being the inspiration for my/his choice).  If he feels like coming and is not ultra-confident he'll pass the exam (he won't), C.S. will also join us.  And, if his father breathes down his neck, Hank will also make a once per month appearance.

Their Chinese names are even better, believe it or not.  Like Native American names, they actually mean something, unlike, for example, John Anderson.  (Son of Ander, whose Ander?)  When translated, I have a Yellow Happy-Continent, Leaf Favor, Post Very-Happy, Display Quiet, Circumference Meteor-Shower, King Clever, and Line Snow-Beautiful as students.

So that's it, the basics of my life as a teacher.  Any questions?  (See, that was one of those bad teacher jokes.)

Review of "The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch" by Philip K. Dick

Perhaps Dick’s most misunderstood book, The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch is not wholly an examination of the reality of reality.  Despite that the characters’ experiences often transcend concrete objectivity, the book is more than metaphysics.  It is an exploration of morality, and if may be surmised from the parallel events of Dick’s own life, perhaps even an act of catharsis.

The universe of Three Stigmata... is not as we know it.  Global warming has turned Antarctica into a beach and humans inhabit the solar system.  Colonists living on other planets – often drafted like soldiers to leave Earth – participate in communal fantasies augmented by a drug called Can-D to escape the spiritual desolation of their lives.  Channeled through Perky Pat and Walt dolls (like Barbie and Ken), the dolls, drugs, and fantasies are supplied by Perky Pat Inc. at great profit.   Barney Mayerson, the main character, is a pre-fash working for the company, and under the authority of his greedy boss Leo Bulero, must identify items before they become popular so that they can be marketed as Perky Pat accessories.  Things are going well for the company until Palmer Eldritch, missing from the galaxy for 10 years, mysteriously appears on the scene, bearing Chew-Z, a drug that threatens to overtake Can-D and Perky Pat Inc.’s market share.  

Plot structure, however, takes a back seat in the novel to the characterization of Mayerson.  Having several years before divorced his wife and agreed to have their first child aborted in order to maintain his position at Perky Pat Inc., the guilt of this decision hangs palpably in his day-to-day life.  He mopes, lives lasciviously and erratic, and out of spite even undermines his ex-wife’s attempts at making her way as a pottery artist.  These events seeming to come from the pages of Dick’s biography (see his 1960 relationship troubles), Mayerson spends the majority of the novel trying to come to grips with his past, and ultimately upon his moral orientation.  Confusing matters highly -  throwing things into a violent spin, in fact - is Eldritch’s new drug Chew-Z, which seems to allow for escape from reality through interminable imaginative wandering.  The trouble Mayerson has clawing his way through reality and drug induced hallucinations – one often seeming like the other – is the emotional impetus fueling the story, and ultimately what makes the novel well worth reading. 

In the end, fans of Silverberg, Heinlein, and perhaps even Hunter S. Thompson, will enjoy The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch.  Furthermore, those who enjoy a good mind twist – reality extremely slippery underfoot – will also undoubtedly enjoy Dick’s portrayal of Mayerson’s uncertainty, there being several moments when the reader is unsure what is real, hindsight the only benchmark.  Readers who value highly stylistic novels should be warned that “lush” is word that has never been used to describe Dick’s prose.   He is an ideas man, and in The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch the metaphysical moves to the ethical in a fashion that will have you thinking long after you’ve finished.   ...how could I not have seen that religion and hallucinogenics are both based on the idea that true reality is perceived, yet, unperceived, somewhere in the middle, located between…

Review of "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?" by Philip K. Dick

There are a variety of ways in which a books lingers with the reader after they’ve finished.  Emotional impact, imagery, character empathy, the message, and a variety of other reasons have the opportunity to impress us to the point we may be unable to forget a book despite that plot details may fade with time.  Philip K. Dick’s 1968 Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? caused this kind of reaction in me.  None of the aforementioned elements, however, are the reason his 37th novel hangs in mind after reading it.  It is simply the questions he asks and the myriad implications that follow.

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? is the story of Rick Deckard, an android bounty hunter, who experiences a crisis of faith as the emotional proximity to those he is supposed to be “retiring” becomes clouded.  Set in a post-apocalyptic future, man has begun inhabiting Mars to escape nuclear fall out on Earth.  Most cannot afford to emigrate, however, and remain on earth.  As a result, androids, artificially intelligent beings whose only discernable difference with real humans is their lack of empathy, are sent alongside emigrants to help in the colonization.  However, some escape and return to Earth where they live on the run from bounty hunters.  Seeking to fulfill a contract on a group of eight escapees, Deckard’s problems accumulate the farther he moves along the list, each android drawing the meaning of “retire” and “murder” closer and closer together.

Anything but polished or descriptive enough, Dick’s writing style is sparse, presenting only a bare minimum of details to paint the scenes and characters.  And so while the bleak picture of Earth Deckard inhabits suits the story, it, along with the other backing elements, deserve to be fleshed out in a longer novel.  That being said, however, the novel does not lack for much more, the plot moves at a good pace and is well structured.  Fans of Blade Runner will undoubtedly find more than what the film offered in the way of background content and side-stories, all of which go a long way toward highlighting the theme Dick was aiming at.  

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? is recommended for anyone who enjoys literature which poses profound questions about the nature of life and of being alive.  Though simplistic on the surface, the direct manner in which Dick tells his story will give anyone a moment to ponder.  For those who prefer more literary presentations, be warned that Dick is not a stylist.  He is an ideas man, and that is what will have you thinking about the book long after.

Best reads of 2011

Regardless of publishing date, the following are the best books I read (or re-read) in 2011.

The Master & Margarita - Mikhail Bulgakov

Bulgakov’s testament to the power of the written word over oppressive government contends for the title of greatest satire ever.  Satan, talking cats, and naked witches have never had so much literary bite.

Anathem - Neal Stephenson

Perhaps top 10 science fiction books ever written...  Science, space, alternative perspectives on reality, adventures, and so, this book has everything that makes the genre worthwhile.

Beethoven - Barry Cooper
The music scholar’s biography, Herr Ludwig’s music takes on new meaning with the subtleties of his major and minor works dissected in technical fashion. 

The Terror - Dan Simmons

Life in the cold deep of the arctic has perhaps never been novelized as well as this fictional ending to the lost Franklin Expedition of 1845.

The Malazan Book of the Fallen - Steven Erikson

The longest haul I’ve ever made (10,000 pages!!), this series takes fantasy literature in new directions.  Both rolling in and shaking off genre, Erikson transforms Napoleon’s idea to honor the sacrifices of the anonymous in war into a 10 book series that’s got it all, action, humor, magic, drama, and tragedy.

Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde – Robert Louis Stevenson

The perfect novella, structure, theme, characterization, prose - everything about this short work, shines.  It is idiomatic for a reason.

A Canticle for Leibowitz - Walter Miller Jr.

Perhaps the most moral of post-apocalyptic novels ever written, the themes of science, religion, technology, and how they are applied remains as poignant today as 50 years ago when the book was written.

Don Quixote - Miguel de Cervantes

Having dug deep to expose what is at the very roots of being, this book will never grow old as long as humans remain human.

Rendezvous with Rama - Arthur C. Clarke

An advantage of science fiction is that it can multiply the scale of setting in the blink of an eye.  Clarke uses this to contrast the fragility of the great unknown in unparalleled fashion.

Lord of Light - Roger Zelazny

Such a brilliant interweaving of Hindu and Buddhist myth with far-future science, the reader never knows where one begins and the other ends.

The City & the City - China Mieville

On the surface an homage to detective noir, at deeper levels this work addresses cultural pre-conception and the limits is places on society.  Orwell would have been proud.

Heaven, Earth and Man in the Book of Change - Hellmut Wilhelm
Beyond the sense of fate and prophecy typically associated, this scholarly effort went a fair distance toward informing me of the cultural and historical aspects of Yi Jing.  

River of Gods - Ian McDonald
Lord of Light for the 21st century, Ian McDonald adds a social conscience as well as wonderful tech to a mythic storyline jam packed with characters and action.

The Man in the High Castle - Philip K. Dick

By creating an alternate history wherein Japan and Germany win WWII, Dick explores the relativity of cultural juxtaposition in terms of art, the self, and worldview.  Stylistically his best work.

Cryptonomicon - Neal Stephenson
WWII, cryptology, and security of modern business all rolled into a big, fat story that pays out in spades.  I hate to include two books by Stephenson on this list, but Cryptonomicon is too good to pass by.

Gateway - Frederik Pohl
A science fiction idea perfectly employed in an otherwise realist narrative, books like this are what make the genre worth reading. 

Culture Corner: Vietnam

This past winter break I decided to take a trip to southwest China, Vietnam, and Laos.  Laos was easily the highlight of the trip, but as it was perhaps only touching on a personal level, the experience is difficult to describe in a way you may find interesting.  This is not the case with Vietnam, however.  With the warmth of hearts and severity of greed constantly tugged me in opposite directions, my final opinion is left sitting on a fence.  Unable to say whether or not the country deserves the blessings of the gods, I will nevertheless pass along one experience that exemplified my time there and let you be the judge.

As some of you know, my father was in the Vietnam War (or the American War as the Vietnamese call it), and while I did not travel to Vietnam on some soul searching, Hallmark quest for spiritual salvation on his behalf, I did think amongst my travels it would be interesting to visit where he was stationed amongst the other things I had planned to see while in country.  And so it was one morning that I rented a motorbike and headed for a place called Chu Lai.

A mere speck on the squiggles and dashes I'd somehow wrangled from the internet (Vietnamese road maps not as readily available on Google as airport security plans), Chu Lai proved to be more of an area rather than a town.  An extremely rural location, the land was a former military base, runways now roads, bunkers drifted over with sand dunes, grasslands now rice paddies, and palm trees and little villages occupying what was once undoubtedly a more active place.  As a result, It took me some time to figure out the layout as I wound my way on gravel drives and dirt paths.  Though feeling lost, in fact I was where I wanted to be.  While riding in Vietnam, it had become my habit to stop for a break and have a beer or a smoke, and upon coming to the realization the fields, villages, and palm trees were as civilized as Chu Lai was going to get, I pulled over at a Vietnamese "café" to see what it was like. This is where the real story begins.

The café was beachside, waves rolling steadily in, a couple cows wandering through the sand, and warm sun shining all around.  (It in fact turned out to be the most pristine section of beach I've encountered in some time, miles and miles of white sand, village huts and children playing, the area completely unknown to tourism.)  As I put down the kickstand and  brushed the dust from my t-shirt and shorts, what should walk out from beneath the thatched roof of the café but the most beautiful girl I'd seen in Vietnam.  Not the least afraid, she smiled and invited me to sit down and served what I pointed at in the little glass counter.  The choices were: one kind of beer, two brands of cigarette, one water, and two kinds of soda.  As I drank my beer and rolled a smoke, I was completely amazed at how unabashed this girl was, even the Vietnamese I met in Hanoi (a city of four or five million with thousands of tourists) were often shy and embarrassed at the sight of a foreigner.  But she in her country comfort was not the least concerned, sitting down beside me in her café's rickety, homemade chair, eager for contact.   As I spoke no Vietnamese and she no English, everything between us was smiles and finger pointing.  I had a guidebook with a few phrases in Vietnamese, but since "Does your restaurant have baby seats?" had little practical usage, the only real pieces of information I could get was that her name was Tao and she was 19.  As there were no other customers, for an hour we had the ocean breeze and cool shade of the café to ourselves, nothing but fun and laughter in our outlandish attempts at communication.  

After a while her mother appeared to relieve her for noon break, and so Tao invited me to her house for lunch.  Getting to her house we rode amongst the most pastoral scenery I'd seen in Vietnam, lazy rice paddies, dirt paths hardened by bare feet and the simplest of square concrete homes open to the warm sun, dogs and ducks sitting in the shade.  Her father greeted me enthusiastically (the little devil), and after taking off our shoes, brought me inside to sit down and eat.  

Myself already three beers deep, her old man pulled out the booze after we began eating, and soon enough, shot after shot of rice wine was burning its way down my throat.  A half hour later, our meal finished, his literal 50 pound frame, unable to handle the bottle we'd knocked back, began its propositioning: I should marry his daughter.  Tao seemed a little hopeful about this, but I had to disappoint and answer 'no.'  He repeated his offer, but I held firm, causing him to shake his head disappointedly at my answer.  

This is where the story takes a drastic turn.  Tao’s father upped the ante:  I didn't have to marry his daughter, I could just have her for money.  Tao got up and left the table.  I'm quite certain she was afraid her father's bid might be taken, men in their traditional culture having such power over women.  But I refused these repeated offers as well.  There was a period of silence in which I tried to change the subject, but the father was still focused.  Wavering and red faced in intoxication, he then propositioned killing one of the dogs nearby, miming slitting its throat and taking a big bite out of its hindquarter.  As I'd already seen that kind of dog used as food (and eaten some!), I'm 99% certain he was serious.  Certainly he viewed it as the cherry on the cake in exchange for his oldest.  I refused this as well.  More shots, and things deteriorated further: he asked directly for money, the hand gestures for this universal throughout the world.  I asked him why, pointing at the food we'd eaten with a shrug.  But the only reply he could come up with was to continue to rub his thumb and forefinger together.  He simply wanted me to give him money.  Quite a guy, huh?  Well, he gets better.  

After seeing I wasn't going to marry his daughter, sleep with her for money, or give in to his begging, Tao’s father drunkenly figured he was down to one last hope to take advantage of this exceedingly rich foreigner who'd magically landed in his lap that afternoon: he proposed we go to a local brothel (the sign language for this equally well known around the world).  I'll be the first to support the traditional cultures of this world, but as I cannot combine them, I simply got up from the table and went off to find Tao, uttering a simple 'goodbye' and 'thank you' to the man for his food and wine.  

Saddened at her prospects for the future, I found Tao with her mother back at the beachside café.  We sat around in silence for a while.  What do you say after such bargaining ended with bitter feelings on both sides?  I had a little chocolate with me, so I gave it to her and wrote a note in English that said something to the effect she needed to somehow continue her education and escape her father's clutches if she were to have any hope of enjoying life.  I hung around for a bit more, wandering on the beach and thinking of various possibilities, but after a while I just got back on the motorbike and puttered off, leaving nothing but confused, opposing ideas behind.

So, that's what Vietnam was in a nutshell: moments of extreme beauty, the mountains and hill tribes in the northwest, Halong Bay, and the children playing amongst the noodle stalls in the quiet back alleys of Hanoi, mixed with moments of extreme ugliness, the rapacious manner in which money is sought, the dust and grime covering everything urbanized, and the lack of self respect so many of them had in their mannerisms towards tourists.  I don't know what to think of it all.  Maybe you should go to make up your own mind?

Culture Corner: Cartoon Arm Condoms

There is an episode of The Simpsons wherein Homer gets in a feud with the head of the Springfield Sanitation Dept., ends up running for the office, and of course, wins. (What else would they base the episode on?)  While campaigning, Homer’s slogan is: “Can’t Someone Else Do It?” in reference to all of the dirty tasks, like taking out the rubbish or cleaning the toilet, we perform on a regular basis.  Having to hire so many new employees to do these deeds, he quickly runs the city budget dry, causes fights, and so on.   It’s The Simpsons.

Well, Homer’s campaign slogan effectively sums up the overwhelming majority of Chinese people’s thinking when it comes to keeping their environment clean.  As a result, it’s most a filthy country.  I’m not only referring to city life, which can also be quite dirty in the west (check out the less glamorous parts of New York or Boston and you’ll know what I mean), but also Chinese lakes, rivers, mountains, etc.  And it all starts with the Chinese government.  Attempting to develop the country at a break-neck pace without heed of the environmental damage they are causing, the people follow suit, waiting for somebody else to clean up the rubbish.  (I believe that person is Father Time, but perhaps we won’t like his methods.) There is so much dust in the air that after it rains, you can see a literal ring of dirt around each car that has washed off since it previously rained.  I could dust my apartment three times a week and never keep it clean. And I know three people who wear contacts that have gotten minor eye infections, all from the incredible amount of construction occurring in Nanjing.

And I know the same thing is happening in every other Chinese city. We’ve all seen
Asians (and now others around the world) wearing cloth masks over their mouths and noses when going about their business in a city. I used to think this was because of the pollution in the air.  But no, it turns out the pollution is secondary to the bacteria and viruses floating in the air. After spending some quality time mutating in the pools of stagnant water and rivers (also known as waste disposals) around the city and fueled by the perpetual addition of chemicals and rubbish generated while developing the country, these microbes apparently float through the air attached to the dust and are a threat to health.  From what I have seen, there is nothing being constructed in the way of environmental control measures to counter this, only more office buildings to “carry China into the future” - no matter how many cough, hack, or keel over.  Population control?

Last autumn I climbed Yellow Mountain, a nature preserve purported to be the most popular destination for Chinese tourists and the most beautiful place in China. Well, while the Appalachian Trail in America has little white stripes painted on the trail every one-hundred feet or so to guide you along, it is likewise impossible to get lost at Huangshan.  Despite numerous rubbish containers, there was a literal trail of rubbish leading me from the bottom to the top. I witnessed scores of people (some wearing high heels) jettisoning things like a space shuttle launch, water bottles, ponchos, skewered duck meat all sent arching through the air.  With banners of red plastic and cheap yellow raincoats flapping from the beautiful umbrella pines atop the rocky spires, the art of photography is taken to a new level: how to block out the Chinese bunting?

Everyday in Nanjing I see at least one person toss rubbish - cartoon style - over their shoulder, or out a bus window. Seeing this happen when walking with Chinese friends, I used to ask: “Why did that person just chuck their half-finished Slurpee on the street”, to which I would always receive the same answer: “Oh, somebody will clean that up. Don’t worry.” Well, that “somebody” does exist in China the form of street cleaners, but in nowhere near the quantity necessary to handle the amount of trash generated by the believers in Homer.  It goes without saying, the reason you take off your shoes when entering someone’s house is not because of millennia old customs. No, it’s because nobody wants you tracking any of the thick layer of grime on the streets into their house. Because, for some people – unfortunately the poorer - the street is literally their rubbish bin. I’ve been told today’s Nanjing is nothing compared to the scene ten years ago, which I can’t imagine.

Most interesting of all is that most Chinese people are quite hygienic and clean. Laundry and bathing are priorities. Thus, in order to move about in their filthy environment, people carry newspapers, not to read and distract themselves from the mess, but as a barrier in case they should desire to sit somewhere, anywhere. More advanced protection measures are taken in what I can only describe as “cartoon arm condoms.”  Featuring Tweety Bird, Bugs Bunny, Mickey Mouse and the rest of the illegally merchandised cartoon gang, all ages of females can be seen wearing these elbow high cloth protectors to prevent the attachment of dirt to their jacket or shirt sleeves.  It begs the question: how they can want so badly to keep themselves clean but not the environment in which they live?  Truly, it is a paradox only humans could create.

Story time.  I was in the grocery shop the other day, and in front of me in “line” (for those who have been to China, you know why I put “line” in quotes) was a man carrying some groceries in his arms. Spotting an ever-so-thin layer of dust on one of his items, he began shouting at the clerk and pointing at it.  She calmly took the item, wiped the dust off with her sleeve protector, and handed it back to the man. Thinking she was essentially throwing it back in his face, I waited for the explosion.  But none came. He smiled, paid, and went on his way.  It was then I realized the power of the cartoon arm condom.  (I assume after consuming the item, the man threw the wrapper on the ground.  It’s a good thing he spotted the dust, otherwise the ground would’ve gotten dirty.)
 
Working on my second cold in six months, this culture corner has been nothing but negative, so in the next I hope to expound the virtues of the Chinese people, as there are more of these than negatives.

Culture Corner: Mirror Scope Viewing Procedure

Long story short, seven or eight years ago I needed a colonoscopy to discover the source of an intestinal problem I was having.  Whilst probing about and eventually finding the source of my troubles: an intestinal infection, they happened upon a malignant polyp and removed it, a lucky coincidence for me.  As I'm too young for such things to be found, my doctor has since recommended I get a colonoscopy every five to seven years.  As it was at times interesting, I'm going to pass along my resulting colonoscopy experience here in China.

In order to begin the procedure, I was told to go to the hospital and make an appointment.  It was my first trip to a hospital in China, and like the remainder of the country, was in relative chaos.  People milled in all directions, and after running the gauntlet that is the Chinese registration process - from this counter to that window to pay the registration fee, from this window to that booth to have blood drawn, from this booth to that window to talk to a nurse, to that window to pay for the blood test, to this booth to talk with someone else, to that counter to have a doctor sign a piece of paper, to that window to collect the blood sample, to go back to the doctor to have him sign the blood sample, to pay another registration fee, to this window to register – you get the picture, I held in my hand an appointment for the following week to have a "mirror viewing scope viewing procedure", and all for 274 RMB (Chinese dollars), which is roughly $50 US.  (I've been told a colonoscopy in the US costs between $2000 and $3000…)

Now, the colonoscopy I had in the US was done while I was an in-patient, so I don't know how much of the pre-procedure you're allowed to do at home.  All I know is the night before I was given a vial of fluid – literally neon green – and told to drink heartily so that my insides would be clean come the next morning.  And early, early at three o'clock I was given another taste of the foul tasting stuff just for good measure.  "We want your intestines squeaky clean" I remember the nurse telling me.  Not only did the stuff taste terrible, but its effect was quite rough: by the time I would make it back to my bed I was already running back to the bathroom, weakened stomach muscles quivering and contracting involuntarily.  What they gave me here in China was also green, but not neon: it was a small package of leaves anonymously wrapped in paper with instructions to brew like tea and drink the night before, which I did.   Though I am a supporter of herbal remedies, I can objectively say the leaves were much gentler on my stomach and intestines than the lethal neon green concoction, all the while inducing the same result.  I was never exhausted, in pain or in a hurry, and at noon entered the Chinese hospital with intestines squeaky clean, once again.

A lot of people before coming to China have the impression that poverty is like a blanket smothering life here.  But the truth is, while poverty is certainly omnipresent, there is also a significant portion of society with the same amenities as Western countries, this disparity supposedly being the largest in the world.  (I once saw a BMW – 7 series - beep at a donkey pulling a cart to get out of its way.)  So, upon seeing the room where I would have the procedure, I think most Westerners would remark: "Well, it looks a little grungier than I'm accustomed to, but the equipment seems state of the art.", which it was.  Unfortunately, while 274 RMB does pay for a colonoscopy, it does not pay for anesthesia (which must be really expensive in the US to make up for the cost difference).  In the US I was happily anesthetized and have no memories of the procedure.  However, fully awake in China, I have… uncomfortable memories.  Truly painful only upon a few occasions, the rest of the time I was just in general discomfort.  A plastic and metal tube being twisted, wedged, shoved, yanked, and prodded along the full length of the large intestine is not exactly Coronas on the beach. 

When all was said and done, I walked away from the hospital smiling as I was in possession of two color photographs of my intestines (talk about a souvenir!), not to mention no further polyps were found.  Having not eaten in 22 hours, my next stop was the nearest restaurant to devour the most delicious meal I could order, the disparity between American and Chinese cuisine as settled on my mind as that between the cost of their health care systems.  Thus ended my mirror scope viewing procedure.

Culture Corner: Student Cover Letters

Not as funny as the their resumes (found here: Part I, Part II, Part III), nonetheless here are some quotes from my Chinese students' cover letters, the former McDonald's waiter taking the cake.  (Certainly Google’s translator was working overtime for these assignments.)
 

"I believe I can become a successful to this society.  So, I want to get this job.  Please give it to me.  I will return you a surprise!"

"When services the computer, exchanges the computer better operating procedure and the maintenance method with the technical personnel."

"I thinking work in an organization can contribute much better to a better understanding of the solutions of the question and problem." 

"In spite of being very busy thanks you read my resume, gave me one time to advance to the successful opportunity!  Chang Ting some people sighed with emotion some good luck to arriver causes him on with the before dissimilar life.  What but I thought: He the day has now all are the results which actually strive for diligently."

"I am sincere and trustworthy person is the basic norms"

"I think I can apply you company require and I will work Well."

"Pass all the subjects." (On his resume, this student listed a GPA of 1.8 out of 4.0.)

"Have helped plan some minor cases, the successes of which have failed so from the benefits."

"Work on KFC for a half year.  I only clean table and pull the floor.  It was not very tired.  I think it was well.  So I worked there for a few time."

"Assistant superrisor IN McDonald's Wuxi – Fire potato chips"

"I graducated from Lambton College, my specialty are Financing and Banking."

"Work experience AS a waiter in McDonald (2 weeks, no pay, write menu, carry things, dancing outside the door)"

"Worked as a typist in a company for two months in the summer holiday.  It's very busy over there, but I keep unremitting."

And finally, one girl whose cover letter needs to be included in its entirety:

            "I want to go to a company.  The company called Calvin Klein.

            I am a gril.  I like fashion very much.  In the every day life I always watch tv or surfing the Intrnet to look the everything of fashion.

            I most like prfume.  I know more and more kinds of perfume, I not only know the kinds, but I also know the efficacy of them.

            I think if I join some cultivate the regular.  I think I will overall know the knowledge of perfume.  I also love this work very much, if I get this job, I will do the best."

"Play vollege" and "Dress myself" were the skills this student felt pertinent enough to list on her resume.

THE END

Culture Corner: Student Resumes - Part III

And the final post of excerpts from the “Skills and Experience” section of my students’ resumes (Part I is here, and Part II is here):

Outstanding enough to make new friends

know how to help others to solve terribles

Know some features about girl and how to get along well with the other people.  It's an important "technical".

Talent skilld of communicating

Have a good taste of grape wine

Can fix litter machines (This inspires so many jokes about China...)

Have many unforgettable experience

I want to many places.  So I know many about tourism things.

Understand our specialized course and powerful with judgment

Eat all delicious food  

Humor make people happy

Also to be the header of people

Designed the blue paiting of the near future (Amazingly, Carlos Santana is not on any playlist I found in China...)

"Supported my friends decisions" which was immediately followed by: "Persuaded my friend to change her idea"

Studied hard hometown language from my roommate

Evaluated employees in their jibs  (Isn't 'jib' a sailing word?)

Controlled my emotion in enticement (Morals count for something, don't they?)

Wrote some information clealy

Some basic practice for food

Have worked for a toggory for two month at summer holiday ("Toggory", anyone?)

Nail color

Let other people in suitable occasion render you evaluate (Yes...)

Can use discarded material to make clothes (I suggest this girl arrange a date with the litter machine repairman.)

I can dance new-style  (Who can't?!?!?)

The purity of Chinese university students has never been on such display as it has these past three posts.  On one hand it's easy to poke fun at their lack of experience and ability to relate to the "real-world", but on the other, who wouldn't want to live so easy and free, floating dreamily along in a cloud of innocence, life nothing more than the friends around you and the fun you're having...

THE END

(Part I is here, and Part II is here)

Culture Corner: Student Resumes - Part II

More excerpts from the "Skills and Experience" section of my students' resumes.  (Part I is here and Part III is here.)

Make less about loss

know much about knowledge (Radical skeptic?)

 

Keeping a functional state (Just covering the basics…)

I had got two praises

Good at showing interesting something (My curiosity is piqued, yours?)

Do odds and ends in a posh restaurant

Work in Mickey department (Who doesn't?)

Can do very well at breaking stubborn thinking

Carry something in a factory (Modest or arrogant?)

Be confused in myself  (Also found on George W. Bush's resume...)

Active in gentle exercise

 

logicality diffusing nature thought

The ability of dealing with burst errors is great

Roller coaster (This is literally all the student wrote under "skills".)

Fixed some broken things (Electron microscopes or mouse traps?)

Possess a wide range of knowledge about almost everything (Almost, almost…)

The character is strengthened

Persuasion of words (Isn't it obvious?)

Know the fashion news about how to dress the clothes

Jurisprudence

To do everything in mind

Introduce the chocolates' delicious

Keep sober when I n trouble

Attend to face a new evening party to Bike trial to perform

Everyday I decorate a few homework and then discover his defect

The society respects

Know how difficult my parents get wage

The fifth in drag of war of university's sports meeting

Go to geracomium to help old people (I tried a few online dictionaries, but I couldn't find "geracomium."  Either this student has a brilliant imagination or their electronic dictionary is a bit scrambled.)

Worked as a ordinary worker

Sketch a picnic

Had a little knowledge about driving. (Dare we ask where it went without stirring up bad memories?)

End of Part II

(Part I is here and Part III is here.)