Becoming a China Expert

I never in a million years would have imagined myself debating China and democracy in a bar, talking about Chinese parenting issues over lunch, or explaining the complex China-Tibet relationship while waiting for dinner. And yet, all three of these scenarios have happened over the past few weeks.

We have every Wednesday off, and last Wednesday, I had the privilege of interviewing Sister Angela Theresa for my final project: a paper placing a Chinese person's life story in the context of modern Chinese history. I had originally planned to interview one of the English-speaking priests at the Church I've been going to, but they were busy preparing for the New Year celebrations. Instead, Father told me that I needed to talk to Sister Angela Theresa and  led me to the office next door. He put his arm around the elderly nun and smiled as he told her: "This young lady here wants to know about how the cadre has influenced your life." I sat down and quickly discovered that she didn't speak much English. Problematic, since I can barely speak Chinese. After struggling for a few minutes, I managed to tell her that I'd come back with a translator. So back I came with a wonderful Singaporean friend from Brown who graciously took three hours out of her day to help me, even though she had her own project to work on. Sister Angela Theresa, I found, was just as sweet and kind as she seemed. But I was amazed: at 80, she has been around longer than the Chinese Communist Party, living through civil war, the Great Leap Forward, the Cultural Revolution, the Tiananmen Massacre, and everything else in between. Jackie wants to transcribe the interview, so I'll post that whenever she's done.

Me, Sister Angela Theresa, and Jackie after the interview

But even though I could barely understand a word, I was fascinated just listening to Sister speak, telling us her thoughts and opinions and telling us about her life. At the beginning of the interview, she gifted me with an old bound case of Chinese/English pamphlets, detailing the history of the Catholic Church in Beijing. It's sitting on my bookshelf now, next to my Bible and my other books for class.

The Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception (among various other names)
was originally built in the 1600s by Jesuit missionary Matteo Ricci

The case of pamphlets on my bookshelf 

We finished our first class block last week, and tomorrow, I will be diving straight into Modern Chinese Literature, while the other half of my track starts Chinese Government and Politics. There are 18 people on the Contemporary Issues track, while the rest of the 60-ish people here are on the Language Intensive track. The CI program was the only one I was eligible to do, since it doesn't have a language prerequisite, but I'm really glad I'm on it. It is a lot more work than the LI program, but the amount of information and range of topics we're covering is pretty incredible. It often feels like all I'm doing is studying, however. I am in my Area Studies class (Which is Understanding China, Modern Chinese Literature, China in International Affairs, or Ethnicity in Contemporary China, depending on the block) for 2.5 hours four mornings a week, before my 2 hour Chinese lesson and half hour one-on-one three afternoons a week. I don't finish until 4 pm, when I have to start thinking about the next day's readings and vocab quiz (twice a week), so it's been pretty overwhelming at times as I settle into a rhythm.

For the first block, "Understanding China," we spent ten classes getting a general overview on Chinese history, politics, and social issues, ranging from censorship and corruption to gender, poverty and ethnicity. Our teacher is the director of the IES Beijing Center, has lived here for over 10 years, occasionally writes for The Economist, and is an extremely passionate and knowledgeable lecturer, even if his jokes sometimes try to hard. I was nervous that I wouldn't enjoy being in Humanities classes for so long, but I am participating as much as ever and have managed to remain mostly engrossed in the topics at hand. I guess the real test will come when everyone at home starts asking about my opinions on China...

But it brings me to something I've been pondering lately, thoughts inspired by my classmates, teachers, and even the homilies I've heard at mass. When I go back home, what am I going to do with all this knowledge I've acquired? I came here mainly for my own personal growth. I needed to go far away from home and figure out how to survive in a new place. I wanted to open my eyes to the world and get a broader my perspective on life. I yearned to explore my Asian heritage, speak a new language, and learn about this major world power. But all those things are so focused on me; I really never thought beyond that, being understandably preoccupied with the fact that I was going at all. Being a planner and a problem solver, however, it's been a struggle for me to not know exactly how I'm going to apply the things I'm learning in class right now, when my future plans don't really involve China at all. So I've been working on the acceptance that it's ok not to know. I just need to have some faith that someday down the road, be it months or years, my understanding of the Great Sparrow or Hundred Flowers Campaigns may prove useful.

<3 Myks

Hold On...

...to me as we go, as we roll down this unfamiliar road, and although this wave is stringing us along, just know you're not alone, Cause I'm gonna make this place your home. -Phillip Phillips

It's a strange conundrum, being able to blend in perfectly with a crowd and yet feeling so out of place.

On my hour long commute to church each Sunday, I can't really  do anything other than be alone with my thoughts.  I'll pull out some homework if I can find a seat, but most of the time, I stand squished between  my fellow passengers,  holding on the pole as the subway lurches back and forth. The subways are awesome and so convenient (and I can navigate them on my own, yay!), but being mechanically operated, breaking is anything but smooth.

Back at home, I don't often think  about the fact that racially, I'm a minority (except for when I'm thinking about auditioning for plays; race can limit the roles you play, but I accept that and have no more qualms about it). Even at Whitman, mockingly called "White Man College," it doesn't really register with me that most of my peers are in fact white. (Interlude: one of my fellow Whitties here mentioned Whitman in his Chinese homework, and our teacher corrected it to "white man." It makes me giggle.) Maybe it's because my friend circle is relatively diverse, but I also think that I'm just used to it. I've assimilated into Western culture to the point that I'm more comfortable among my American friends than in a group of Vietnamese people, I'm sad to say (perhaps I'm ashamed of my slipping command of the language, but maybe it's mainly that I can't fathom being completely immersed in an Eastern culture. Which is partly why I'm here...). It's telling that the only two white girls on the CI track are two of my best friends here, although I'm pretty close to my fellow Asian ladies as well. Of course, I'm intensely proud of my heritage and love to teach people about the traditions and values that set my family apart. I refuse to go by my English middle name no matter how many times my mother asks me if I'm sure, and I'm here in Asia for the first time, exploring what being Asian means to me. Which I don't think is actually answerable, but I'll let you know how that goes.

So as I stand alone on the subway, I am confronted with this Asian heritage. Without a group of conspicuously foreign students surrounding me, jabbering away in English, I appear to be just another Chinese person. It was a weird moment when I realized that while I still tended to be on the shorter side, I was no longer at chest level with everyone else around me. I could even kind of see over people's heads! I keep getting differing opinions as to whether or not I look Chinese, but that doesn't matter: when roaming the city yesterday with my tall Singaporean friend, I was the one that kept getting approached for questions. I still remain amused at my limited grasp of the language, but I wonder what they're thinking when I just smile and nod before walking away or letting a more fluent friend take over. Do they judge me? 

Coming from America's melting pot, it would be extremely hypocritical to assume that every non-Caucasian cannot speak English. Here, it makes sense that Oriental Asians are assumed to speak Chinese, and everyone else is assumed not to. At the English mass, I was indistinguishable from the English-speaking Chinese church-goers. Maybe what I'm actually uncomfortable with is being homogenized? Of getting lost in the crowd, but no longer because everyone else towers over me.

So my brain whirs as I stand silent, analyzing and processing the conflicting multitude of thoughts and emotions about my experience on this side of the world so far, and it is during these times that I get homesick. I usually don't get homesick, but I guess being in a foreign country for an extended period of time will do that to you. As my fellow subway riders (along with most of Beijing) roll out their suitcases and journey home to celebrate the Lunar New Year, I think of how my own family has gathered to do the same since before I was born. I think of how I will not be there for the third year in a row. How I am waking up as my family goes to bed, and falling asleep as they start their day. But it gives me something to hold on to as I grapple with being out of place in a place where I look like I belong: Hey, I think, I celebrate the Lunar New Year too! In America, it is a symbol of my unique cultural heritage; here, I embrace the fact that even though we don't speak the same language, the whole country is shutting down to  celebrate with me. It's a reminder that despite the differences, our cultures are intertwined, and gives me hope for a sense of home here these next 3.5 months.

Still missing this though (and by this, I mean singing with Owen, my pretty, pretty guitar. Those other guys are alright too, I guess):

<3 Myks

Finding the Beauty

At first glance, Beijing isn't really what you would call a beautiful city. For one thing, there are times when you literally can't see past all of the dirt and pollution. And even on a clear day, you really only see buildings of various heights crammed together on either side of the huge and chaotic street. Most of the buildings here are built for functionality and not for aesthetic value, which means that many of them are tall, have lots of windows, and are either tan or gray. It is not sleek or modern, even with construction happening everywhere, and the buildings are at different levels of up keep. I guess what I'm trying to say is that the city has been around for a long time, cobbled together under various influences, and it shows.

At Prince Kung's Mansion, beautifully restored
and preserved. I can't wait to revisit in the spring,
when the huge gardens will bloom with flowers.

Which doesn't mean that beauty does not exist, of course, only that you have to look a little harder for the beauty. The parks hidden around the city are beautiful, and in addition to the historical sites, sometimes building blocks have traditional, intricately painted and sculpted exteriors. It's sad that so much of the beauty and history of the city has been lost, but I suppose after all the power struggles and fighting and rapid urbanization that has taken place in this 3,000-year-old city, that's to be expected.
On Tuesday, Kaiser Kuo, a Chinese American who has been living in Beijing for over ten years and has become an important business man, writer/talk show host, and musician, came in to talk to us. When asked how he has thrived here in an environment that is so different from the one where he was raised and one that is often frustrating policy and politically-wise, his answer really struck me. He said that in addition to enjoying having a different opinion and going with the flow instead of complaining, he actively searches for the good and beauty of the people around him. I find that this has also been necessary for me so far.

The way my program works is that in addition to my afternoon Chinese class three days a week for the whole semester, I have three blocks. During each of those blocks, I have one class four days a week. Right now, we're in the introductory block, taking a class called Understanding China. We're taking ten days to cover the basic issues and history that has formed what we know as China today. And therein lies the struggle: China is a land full of contradictions. There are some wonderful things, and not so wonderful things, but even if I don't agree with what's happening, I can see why they're happening. I feel like for much of my life, because of my family background and heritage, my gut reaction is to summarily dismiss anything to do with communism. But I'm learning to understand, to step back objectively though it's hard. And not necessarily in the way you would think. I'm confronted with the mistakes America, the country I consider my own, has made, mistakes that go against the values it claims to have. I see that if we had better understanding  of China back then, the topics covered in this class would be immensely different. This is a class in which we're asking, what is modernization? Why does it have to look like westernization? What does it mean for China to be fully Chinese and fully modern? Which is the big question China doesn't even know yet, but has been trying to answer for the past few centuries with varying results.

So I sit in class, taking it all in, debating and discussing while my heart breaks. This country has had some pretty terrible things happen to it. Its people have done pretty terrible things to each other. And some pretty terrible things are still happening in it now. When I see the videos and propaganda labeling the west as evil imperialist powers, I'm get defensive because they misunderstand! But then again, we don't understand them either. And sometimes, I feel helpless because these problems are too big for me, too vast to even begin to tackle. These problems are affecting literally billions of people, and there is no easy way to fix them. So when I start to question why I'm here, in a place where things can seem so backwards to me, I look for the beauty. In a sea of unsmiling faces (to smile is to show discomfort), I look for reasons to smile, because when a Chinese person decides to open up, they will go a hundred extra miles for a stranger.
And if all else fails, I'll create some funny moments on my own:

I call this one: Four Whitties in Beijing with Matching Blue Puffy Jackets.

<3 Myks

P.S. Despite the more serious tone of this post, I am having a blast. Don't you worry. :)