Camera Etiquette for Dummies

Took a walk around the grounds of Zhanshan Temple on Monday with a couple Bavarian friends from the building and came across the above sandal and Buddha aficionado. The process he's undertaking in the photo is remarkable, and although I stopped short of asking the sale price of those straw woven sandals next to him (because I don't know how to ask that in Chinese and the pair looks a bit too small for me anyway), I thought it'd be nice to at least take a picture. Others, I believe, had asked him if they could, but since I haven't the faintest idea how to ask I just tried to be discreet by holding the camera at waist level, looking up at the sky, and snapping away from the belt in hopes that I'd come away a winner. As fate and a little luck would have it, this is the forth or fifth photo I took and the only one that came out. His scowl shows that he clearly caught on to my gimmick by this point, and boy did my little indiscretion jar the tranquility right out of him. If I'd had the gall to take pictures of the ensuing scene, you would've seen a shouting Monk in a really sore and fiery state. Maybe next time.

 

Other than the shame that comes with disquieting the most peaceful man I've maybe ever been in the presence of, I've been having a big time becoming acquainted with the city and making friends around campus. I have a good oldfashioned red-as-a-boiled-lobster sunburn from swimming too long at the beach, I've made my feet sore from walking along the piers and marketplaces, and I've given myself a headache trying to learn the language. Yesterday was the first day I received tutoring from one of my neighbors, a Russian exchange student who's working on her master's in Chinese. She told me she thinks it's a good idea to learn the characters alongside the pinyin; I told her I didn't have much faith or interest in learning characters, but who am I to disagree and turn away her kindness? Accordingly, I bought a very elementary Chinese character workbook that allows me to trace the most basic of characters about twenty times over. I suppose the idea is that tracing builds muscle memory or something, but so far I've rendered that theory bunk. Wait till my Russian friend comes back today and sees the disaster I've made in the workbook. Also, I find it both funny and bizarre that I'll be speaking Chinese with a Russian accent.

 

With the semester fast approaching, I'm feeling very grateful for the transitional period I've had. Classes start this coming Monday, Sept. 2, and I'm anxious to meet my students. The Dean of the International School stopped by my place yesterday morning to give me the low down on my teaching assignment. I've been assigned to teach three sections of reading and three of writing, and while I don't know how many students are in each section, I'm guessing I'll have around 150. Anyway, exchange and foreign instructors don't teach from textbooks here, so I'm at liberty to choose all of the course reading materials. I couldn't be happier about it.

 

That's about the size of it. Zai jian and until next time.

Shiver My Timbers

Ramen noodles, chocolate chips, pineapple juice, and beer--that's the extent of my dietary intake thus far in Qingdao, yet I feel like a million bucks. In fact, I've got such a spring in this ol' giddy-up that I'm planning a bus excursion this afternoon that, if all goes according to plan, ought to take me to Jimo Lu (a huge bargaining market) and Beer Street (after all, the Qingdao Beer Festival is supposed to be spectacular and near the beach). Time permitting, I may even follow up with a stop at the supermarket and buy something to eat that's of more substance.

A quick note, though, on my reticence to stray from the convenience store in my building for grocery purposes: The shop owner clearly gets a bang out of the items I'm buying. In turn, I get a kick out of his enjoyment, and though I can't make heads or tails of what he says to me, and vice versa, we are able to share a laugh about how preposterous my purchases are. I spill the chocolate, noodles, juice, and beer on the counter, and when I peer up and meet his eyes, we both break out in laughter. Also, twice I have walked downstairs to find him catching a snoozer on the sofa in the lobby, and when he hitches that eyelid up and spies me, he bolts upright, guides me to his store front, unlocks the gate, and ushers me in. While I recognize that I'll eventually want to stray from the premises for food, the mere thought of taking my business elsewhere seems like rotten betrayal just now.

These excursion plans to the market and Beer Street are in abeyance, however, until the maintenance man, whose English name is Frank, I believe, returns to fix up the bathroom and the ceiling lights. I'm mighty proud to have solved the perplexing washing machine issue on my own. Turns out I just have to slink the drain hose through my apartment to the sump pump looking hole in my bathroom floor and let her blast away. Who knew? Finding that solution taxed every ounce of my problem solving ability.

The embedded picture is of the mote surrounding the Forbidden City in Beijing. . . . And no, it has no connection to anything in this post, but boy ain't it pretty to look at! Till next time.

P.s.: Happy birthday, Ma! Wish I could celebrate with you in person but know I will be thinking of you.

The Filet of the Neighborhood

Ni hao, yo! I'm new to blogging and a bit technologically disadvantaged for my age, so please hang with me for a few weeks while I labor through my blogging struggles. I started this blog because I'm teaching English as an exchange instructor in Qingdao, China and want to share experiences, mishaps, and accomplishments with friends and family.

Having just arrived in Qingdao from a tour of Beijing, I find myself missing Herbert, the tour guide and master translator who took me around Beijing, from the Chinese acrobat show to the Great Wall. The embedded picture is of Herb and me, palling and hot-rodding around the hutongs in a rickshaw. I was fascinated listening to him talk--all of his anecdotal offerings were filled with symbolism and metaphor. This won't be as eloquent as Herb's version, but here's an example: in teaching me to (more effectively) use chopsticks, he shared the story of how he learned. His mother suggested to him that he is the top articulated chopstick and they (his mother and father) are the foundational bottom. The key is to navigate distance: not too far, not too close.  I like the take-away about balance. Herbert also shared that he works for twelve months on as a guide in Beijing and twelve off as a father, husband, and fisherman in his rural hometown. I asked what he fishes for. He said a buzz. 

I'm now in Qingdao and in an apartment that needs some serious tending. Levi, if you can hear me, I need your help, brother. The air conditioner is down at the moment, and I feel like I've puddled into the recliner. Additionally, the gentleman who lived here last has jerry-rigged the appliances and plumbing; that is, I imagine my digs will be grand once I disarm the booby traps. To flush the toilet (upon which a cracked and duct taped seat and lid sit), I pull up on two chopsticks that are tied to the rubber stopper in the tank. To use the washing machine, I have to move the drain hose around the bevy of bowls and pans pocking my kitchen floor. Yellow water rockets out when the machine drains, I learned last night, much like it does from a gardening hose when thumb is clamped over the hose end. I take such challenges as an affront to my virility, to my ability to be handy and be a man. All that to say, in short, I'm actually looking forward to the coming weeks of repairing and settling into the apartment. (On another positive note, there's an incredible vista beyond my balcony, and there's a group of Bavarians living on my floor I'll become fast friends with.)

In closing, I've really been enjoying myself, I'm looking forward to my year here, and I'm very grateful to Missouri State for the opportunity. I have every faith that my students will be like the Chinese folks I've encountered thus far--really patient, reserved, and curious about me. I reckon this will make teaching easy. I'm glad people have taken an interest in me because I am anxious to connect with them, too.

Zai jian for now.