Season’s Greetings.

(Yes, I’m a little too obsessed with my students.)

Wed in China

Oh the fast pace of Shanghai life. So much has been happening these past (four?) months and I feel like I never get the chance to sit down and write one darn thing about ‘em. So I’m gonna venture back a few months and tell you about one of the funnest events I’ve experienced during my time here on the mainland – a Chinese wedding. Last year one of my fellow Furmanites was lucky enough to be invited to the wedding of his Chinese roommate’s cousin… and ever since, I have lived in envy. I made it my personal mission to be the one attending a wedding this year, befriending anyone I meet who claims they are in a serious relationship solely so I can bribe my way into being at their ceremony of sacred Chinese love.

I don’t know why exactly I wanted to go to a wedding so badly. You’d think I’d be more eager to celebrate the 60^th Chinese National Holiday or the upcoming 2010 Shanghai World Expo or the grand opening of the Krispy Kreme down the block. A wedding certainly doesn’t have as much prestige or as many free donuts as these other events. But I guess there are a few things that intrigued me about the fabulous world of weddings here in the Far East. 1) Every day I preview how splendidly tacky beautiful Chinese weddings can potentially be. Downtown you see wedding festivities occurring on a daily basis. Usually it just involves seeing couples engaged in ridiculous wedding photo shoots, complete with the stereotypical ponytailed photographer and the couples all dolled up and twisted into poses that should probably only be seen in Vogue. Seeing the get-up these couples are wearing is reason enough to go. There’s no way that two people wearing that many sequins are going to something boring. 2) After being woken up many mornings by the unexpected blasts of wedding fireworks erupting in my courtyard, I felt someone owed me. 3) Marriage is a huge deal in China. And of course it is in other countries too. Weddings are fun celebrations everywhere. And I thought the added dimension of cultural confusion could only make them better. But I’ve also realized there is a much heftier amount of stress placed on marriage in China than I’ve experienced in the US. Especially now that the One Child policy is in place, marrying off your one and only son or daughter is a big deal. Our generation is intent on finding the right match. Once you see a man pitching a tent in the line 7 subway car with a sign reading, “I do not want to be deprived of the right to marriage because I have no apartment,” you’ll understand.

Gettin to the good stuff, this September I found myself extremely lucky to come under the employment of one Miss “Shirley,” foreign coordinator at my Kindergarten and, most importantly, soon-to-be Mrs. Shirley. Score. After hearing this glorious news I spent the next few weeks in fevered excitement at the prospect of finally being able to attend a true Chinese wedding. And my time had come. One Wednesday afternoon I was hand-delivered an invitation to the Shirley wedding… which was Friday. Ok, a little short notice, but no matter. I was ready. I arrived at the huge Chinese hotel on Friday night with my dancing shoes on, ready to see how Chinese culture gets down. I walked in to meet Shirley right in front, wearing a massive hooped and bedazzled white wedding dress, Mr. Shirley in tow. The other foreign teachers and I took at least an entire roll of pictures with the bride and groom, and then were frantically rushed through the very very pink reception room to our seats. Surprisingly enough, we found we were placed at the same table as the bride and groom. In American weddings this is usually a place of honor, right? Reserved for family and the closest of besties. But there we were, sitting next to the maid of honor and best man while the parents were placed at a completely different table in the back. Is this a normal custom in Chinese weddings? No clue. But it was obvious we were considered guests of honor to good old Shirls, which was sweet of her. After sitting around for a while, taking some more pictures, watching a delightful slideshow of the couple’s photo shoots together, and listening to the same cheesey Chinese song over and over and over again, the ceremony finally began. But it wasn’t exactly a ceremony in the traditional sense of the word. I think the more accurate description would be Decathlon of Love. It was incredible. And long. In fact, it was four weddings in one:

1. The Western Ceremony. The lights dimmed and the traditional “Here Comes the Bride” song sparked up over the loudspeaker. We turned to see beautiful Shirley gliding down the aisle to her groom. They met in the middle of the room, under a massive arch of pink balloons, and Mr. Shirley bent down on one knee and proposed. Hey, better late than never. After that they walked up to the stage and had a host give a good 15 minute speech about the Shirleys neverending love for each other. You may kiss the bride. They then proceeded to pour Champagne into a large glass tower, and cheers each other with red wine (during which I cringed, imagining red wine pouring down Shirley’s beautiful white dress). The music sparked up and they strode hand in hand down the aisle, out the door, off to their honeymoon… or so I thought.

2. The Chinese Ceremony. After a nice ceremony, all the guests sat back and began to feast on the plates and plates and plates of food coming out. About an hour went by during which everyone gorged themselves on delicious Chinese food. I saw many an empty bottle of bai jiu (the Chinese equivalent of Everclear) being replaced at tables. Yes, this party was going to get good. I was anxiously anticipating the moment I would get to see these inebriated elderly Chinese break it down on the dance floor. But then the lights dimmed and the music sparked up. We turned to see Mr. Shirley walking in, with a massive red ribbon, leading Shirley down the aisle again. This time she had changed into a gorgeous red qipao and had placed a huge red bag over her head… hmm a little confused. One of my fellow teachers explained to me that in traditional China, the arranged marriage brides would dress like this. The groom would never have seen his bride until the moment he unveiled her from the red silk bag at his wedding. Mr. Shirley led Shirley blindly through the crowd, up to the stage, and then took a large stick and flipped the veil over to reveal his new bride! Surprise, It’s Shirley!! Then the parents came up to stage. A long succession of bows occurred and the couple was given the families’ blessings. The Shirleys then walked out again, and we began to eat again.

3. The Duet. After eating for another hour or so, the other foreign teachers and I were informed that we were to hurry to the lobby because the next part of the wedding was about to begin. Apparently, we had been cast into this wedding without knowing it — but we were happy to participate and ran to the front to meet the Shirleys. We were given tea candles to hold in each hand and instructed to walk slowly out into the darkened reception room and make a lit path for the couple. We stood on either side of a walkway and the Shirleys walked out holding hands and microphones, singing to each other a beautiful Chinese love ballad. Shirley had changed clothes and hair again and now looked like a mysterious blue Renaissance princess. They sang a few songs to each other, everyone applauded, and we walked around passing out candles to all of the tables. Of course, all of the guests took advantage of this moment to take as many pictures with us as possible. It was a dream come true. Not only was I able to go to a wedding, I was part of the wedding!

4. The Bike Ride. After the song portion of the evening, we sat back down for a little while. I had no idea how long this would go on, but I guess this is the custom with modern Chinese weddings. The small ceremonies keep occurring over and over, with the bride changing into different fabulous outfits Diana Ross-style and coming out until they decide to stop. But I think Shirley kept it appropriate with only four parts, this last time coming out to the wild applause of the guests on a massive white bicycle, driven around by Mr. Shirley. They did a few laps around the room and then the toasts began. Apparently in China the tradition is not for the couple to be toasted, but for them to toast all of their guests. They slowly walked around to each and every table, offering a glass up to their families and friends. But after that, the couple was subject to the cruel whims of these people. If they were told to drink more, they drank more. If they were told to take shots, they took shots. If they were told to smoke out of what I can only describe as a cigarette chandelier, they smoked out of the cigarette chandelier. Needless to say, by the end of the night the Shirleys had celebrated their wedding to the point of physical exhaustion. All of the guests were full after having eaten for hours. A few scattered uncles were passed out at tables. The wedding was a success. I left very very full and very very happy for finally getting to attend my dream wedding. And despite not having any dancing (no dancing?!), it definitely ranks in my top 5 of the funnest nights I’ve had in China.

I (heart) Shanghai.

OK, so I know I haven’t been the best about updating this. But I promise you, dear reader, that I am going to do better in the future. I feel I have finally settled into my life here in Shanghai. I was thinking the other day about how this time last year I was about leave China and come back to Furman to finish my senior year. Now, I’m in the same place but the story’s changed a little. I’ve finally begun to feel like Shanghai is my home instead of a temporary travel stop. And as crazy as it is, this city is slowly growing on me. I’ve never been a big city gal, and I don’t think living here is something I’ll ever get used to. Every day I tread across this huge city, having to travel at least an hour to get anywhere, being shoved through writhing crowds and endless construction, overstimulated by the smells of stinky tofu and the shouts of a language that, as much as I try and try, I still can’t completely understand. Shanghai is a crazy place. But lately, I’ve found that those moments of peace and contentedness have become more common. Those moments where I stop and think — Wow, I really like this place. Could I be using the big L word in the future? Who knows? But for now, Shanghai and I are gonna take things slow and see what happens.

To make up for my lack of blogaliciousness in the past, I’ve smacked together a little flavor for ya’ll. Check out this Flickr slide show to see how I’ve been keeping busy while not working. —– Life in Shanghai

A Sweet Drink (or a Beautiful Nightmare)

I love coffee. Any coffee. Starbucks coffee. Leopard Forest coffee. Folgers coffee. Coffee from the closest BP. Old Furman Dining Hall coffee. Brew it, and most likely I’ll drink it (I know this doesn’t say much for my taste). But here in Shanghai I have come upon one of the most beautiful, supernatural uses of the coffee bean I have ever encountered — coffee Vietnamese-style. Has anyone ever heard of this? I was intrigued by the “Vietnamese coffee” at a new coffee shop today (Cafe Mojo on Taikang Lu — excellent) and ordered it only to be told it would take FIFTY minutes to brew. Say whaaaat? But man was it worth it. Apparently, this strong Vietnamese coffee is freshly ground when you order it, put in a specific filter which resembles a tin top hat, and then combined with hot water to drip ever-so-slowly over a cup of sweet condensed milk. After waiting so long I probably would have enjoyed anything that remotely tasted like coffee, but within the next 20 minutes of sipping this incredible concoction I experienced sweet sweet caffeine-enhanced nirvana. In fact, in honor of Vietnamese coffee (and probably because of the caffeine high I’ve been on ever since), I’ve written a song for it, sung to the tune of Beyonce’s Ego.

It’s toooo bold. The milk’s white. It’s toooo strong. I want a sip.

It’s too much. Can’t drink enough. It tastes like this cause it’s from Vietnam.

Ok so that wasn’t particularly creative, but it does go to show that this coffee has inspired me. It is now my coffee muse upon which many future coffee tastings will be judged. Can’t wait to go to Vietnam in February and taste the real thing!

It’s a Jolly Holiday with Monkeys

While life in the crazy city of Shanghai has yet to prove dull, we recently craved a relaxing retreat from the insanity of being pushed, pulled, honked at, and/or constantly HALLOOO-ed at by the rowdy Shanghainese crowd. So we left the huge city for the peace and tranquility of… another huge Chinese city. You know, it really is very difficult these days to find what one would describe as a “small Chinese city.” While the traditional images of small rural oases where skyscrapers are replaced by rolling karst mountains and crowded streets are traded for rice paddies are definitely out there, they have been a fairly rare sight in my journeys so far. I guess the effects of economic development have made Chinese villages more meccas for new shopping malls and KFCs than teahouses and old Chinese courtyards.

The wonderful thing about Chengdu is that, while being a huge city in China and having all the signs of recent economic growth, it has still preserved a lot of good ole traditional Chinese charm. In fact, the entirety of what I believe to be the delicious, crunchy nougat-core of Chinese culture is fully encapsulated in this great city.

For our seven-day break over the Chinese National Holiday, three other friends and I ventured out to Chengdu and traveled around western Sichuan province. The first two days consisted of enjoying the beautiful city of Chengdu. For centuries, Chengdu has been known for its delicious spicy food, friendly people, and laid-back atmosphere. It’s what I like to think of as the ATL of China. We spent our first few days there taking in some local temples, getting much needed massages, and, actually, doing pretty much nothing at all. But that’s the beauty of Chengdu. Coming to Chengdu and planning out non-stop activities would be an injustice to the atmosphere of the city. Instead, we lived like the locals – sitting around in teahouses and enjoying the weather, some green tea, and a good hand of cards. Sooo nice compared to the hectic pace of Shanghai.

We spent a good majority of our time trying out the notoriously spicy food. Sichuan food is known for liberally employing what I call “tongue-number” – a peppercorn which isn’t so much spicy as anesthetic. A few bites of food in Chengdu and your tongue will start to tingle. Then you’ll curse yourself for accidentally ordering a dish with tongue-number again as your entire mouth turns numb. I’ve never enjoyed this sensation before, but after this trip to Chengdu, I have to say I kind of miss the strange spicy numbing flavor.

One of the nights we spent in Chengdu was the Chinese Mid-Autumn Festival. I think this is the closest equivalent of our Thanksgiving – families get together, eat good food, and then “gaze at the moon.” We managed to do two of those things. Luckily, Stephanie has family living in Chengdu, so we were hospitably welcomed into their home for the evening. We had a great time – spending hours making about 10 pounds of big dumplings from scratch and then gorging ourselves. I didn’t count how many dumpling I ate, but if I had to put a number on it, I would say about 21? Yikes. Her family was super nice and even pretended to understand my limited Chinese.

The next day we ventured outside the city limits to see the big Buddha in Sichuan province. Carved into a rock cliff on the side of a river, it is supposedly the largest Buddha in the world. I offered some prayers, so if you’re a friend or family you’re good and blessed for the next year or so.

We then travelled out to Emei Shan – one of the holiest Buddhist mountains in China. This place definitely makes top 5 in the places I’ve been in the country. While the bottom and top of the mountain are swarming with tourists, the hikes in between were absolutely breathtaking and blissful. Our first day, we got up in the wee hours of the morning to hop on a bus to the mountain. After two hours of ascending up and up, watching the sun slowly rise and the dew collect on our rainforesty surroundings, we arrived at a bus stop about halfway up the mountain and started our trek. Now ya’ll, hiking in China is drastically different than hiking in America. I’ve visited three different mountains in China, and at every one, the trails up to the top are basically just long, steep, never-ending series of stone steps. AKA misery. So for about two hours we huffed and puffed up to the summit, climbing stair after stair, stopping only when the Chinese tourists asked us to take pictures with them. However, the pain was definitely worth it. We got up to the Golden Summit, a peak with a beautiful golden statue of buddha Puxian and some temples, and saw only a sea of clouds below us and blue sky above. We grabbed a restorative lunch of corn-on-the-cob and meat-on-a-stick, and we vegged out, taking in the beautiful scenery that China is known for.

The next day, we spent some more time hiking around the bottom part of the mountain. Here we were free of the main tourist crowd to take in the beautiful rainforest solo. It’s so rare here to see any piece of land that hasn’t been taken advantage of commercially, so being in the middle of the woods alone was wonderful. We hiked around for hours, occasionally running across a small temple or a noodle stand. As it started lightly raining, we ducked into the main hall of one temple, completely dark and abandoned save for one monk chanting his mantras. As we sat listening and watching the rain come down, I wondered if some of the mountain’s residents had ever ventured out of these woods before. On the way there, we saw many hired men carrying heavy loads of supplies down the forest trails and into these small temples and houses. Had the people living there ever had to visit the outside world before? Or did they only know the forest and the occasional tourist group peeking in at their doorways? I guess it’s most likely they had been out many times and were actually listening to Britney Spears on their knock-off iPhones in the back. But at the time, the romance of this ignorance was pretty enviable.

Last but not least, we encountered the monkeys. We had heard rumors of the legendary “Monkey Zone” on Emei Shan. But not until we had monkeys swinging from our backpacks did we realize how intense it would be. Along our hike, we had many Chinese tourists stop us and tell us to hide all of our food and water in our backpacks. “There are monkeys coming up,” they would say. Uhhh ok. Rounding the corners of the mountain we were on constant look out for surprise simians – laughing awkwardly as we realized that we were all holding our breath, legitimately scared of the impending encounter. Later on in the hike, we heard screams on the trail ahead and braced ourselves. We walked up to find a good three-foot tall monkey glaring at one frozen Chinese girl, a whole ripped in her poncho where the monkey had tried to go in for the goods. We speed-walked down the trail, narrowly avoiding attack until one lunged at my hand. But we got through ok. It was only later that we realized we would have to walk through the Monkey Zone again to get home. There was no other way. And this time we weren’t so lucky. Liz actually had one huge monkey jump on her back, and she had to swing around violently to fling it off of her. One elderly Chinese lady, who we later realized worked there, screamed at us WALK WALK WALK in Chinese and then accompanied us bodyguard-style down the rest of the path. At one point she stopped, walked into the woods, came back with large stones, and then made us get together in huddle formation as she passed out stones and counseled us on what the rest of the trail would be like. Unfortunately we didn’t understand a word of this. Walking on, I looked back to see Liz’s latest assailant, the old grandpa monkey with one arm. He had been silently stalking us. As we walked quickly on, I realized the one-armed monkey was gaining on us, gimping faster and faster down the trail. At last when we crossed the wooden bridge near the end of the trail, I looked back to see the monkey hobbling full-speed across the bridge at us. I yelled THE ONE-ARMED MONKEY IS COMING and we all proceeded to scream humiliatingly loud as our bodyguard chucked rocks at it. Lucky for us she was there because the monkey ran past us and down the path, leaving us extremely embarrassed but nonetheless untouched by his one greedy monkey hand.

So there it is. My week in Sichuan. We also managed to throw in some pandas and hot springs for good measure, but I think this entry is about as lengthy as need be. The week was absolutely wonderful and it made me truly realize how happy I am to be back in China. Until next time, check out Flickr for more pictures – including Halloween fun with the kiddies!

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For One Marian White.

Qie Zi

Originally uploaded by betsy.gass

… Eggplant ai ni.

For those unfortunate souls who have never had the great fortune to taste the beauty of the Chinese eggplant dish, I would recommend you drive over to Great Wall II immediately and demand they whisk you up some ‘Yu Xiang Qie Zi’ ASAP. They will most likely laugh and then turn you down — not because they just don’t have it on their menu and not because the tones you just used to say that made it sound like you were ordering a “surprised-looking penguin” — but because gas stoves in the US can’t even get hot enough to cook this delectable dish the way it is done every day, in every restaurant in China. In thus lies the beauty of Chinese eggplant. While I never particularly enjoyed eggplant in the US, here the beautifully-steamed then stir-fried til it’s oh-my-lawd-so-good vegetable is a weekly staple to our Chinese cheap-eats diet in Shanghai. We discovered the beauty of this dish last year, and as an update for the Fall in China 08 crew: It’s still good.

I won’t go into more detail lest I get hungry, but my fellow eggplant-lover Stephanie has cataloged more about the beauty of ‘qie zi’ including a recipe for the brave — stephanieliu.wordpress.com.

Too Much Catnip?

Occasionally when I’m surfing through preschool lesson planning websites, trying desperately to find something for my kids to do in the coming week, I run upon things that make me mildly uncomfortable. Here are some coloring pages for the theme CATS that… just make me cringe a little.

“Cat Dad and Son”

“Boxing Cat”

“Fat Cat Family”

Maybe it’s just me and my aversion to all anthropomorphized objects, but if I was given those to draw as a child, I would cry.

More updates soon on my amazing Natty Holiday and continuing education! BG.

Shaq-a Claus

Being sick in Shanghai is no fun. Not only do I have to inhale extra particulates in the Shanghai air every day, but now I have to do so on a sore throat. Booo.

However, nothing makes my day better more than adorable photos of pandas… especially when they’re held by Shaquille O’Neal. Thanks to Stephanie for this gem of a photo, which when paired with Sudafed made my cold much more bearable. I love the way Shaq’s blue robe looks like a hospital gown, as if he were the proud father of a newborn baby panda. Congrats Shaq! My only question: why has celebritieswithpandas.com not been created yet?

Get This Party Started.

Walking down the streets of Shanghai is a constant battle for me. As I’m forced to awkwardly bound across the gaping potholes and wet cement sidewalks every morning on my way to school, I silently curse the Shanghai government for their decision to host the 2010 World Expo. I wish I could tell you just exactly what the World Expo is — but to be honest I haven’t quite figured that out yet. All I know is that it involves the importing of ridiculously weird buildings, a weird Gumby look-a-like mascot named Haibao, and an obscenely obnoxious amount of traffic construction. It literally takes me hours to walk anywhere as I have to renavigate my walking route to bypass road work.

But recently the construction has been stepped up a notch for the impending celebration of the 60th Anniversary of the Founding of the Communist Party this Thursday. This is a super big deal in China. Imagine if the Fourth of July was turned into a week-long, ultra-patriotic, MSG-heavy, American Idol-esque, military-style block party that over 1 billion people participated in. And there were no restrictions on fireworks. That’s the best way I can think of to describe how insane the National Holiday is here. Chinese people love China. And to protect the Chinese people who do love China from the Chinese people who don’t love China, the police force will be expanded and pretty much all foreign Internet will be blocked. Don’t expect to hear from me for the next week or so.

In the mean time, I will be traveling to Chengdu – capital of spicy food and pandas. We’re planning on seeing the largest stone Buddha in the world as well as hiking a famous Buddhist mountain complete with awe-inspiring Chinese peaks and kleptomaniac monkeys.

If you’re interested in seeing some pictures of National Holiday preparations, this website has a pretty good photo-montage of the madness. Oh China, you so crazy…

So You Think You Can Dance…

Fuxing Park Dancer

Originally uploaded by betsy.gass

It’s a rainy, smoggy, nasty, ugly, altogether no good lousy day here in Shanghai. But that’s ok because it gives me a good excuse to sit in a coffee shop, splurge on a 20 kuai hot cup of joe, review some Chinese, and blog a lot. My days up until now have been go, go, go with little slow, slow, slow. But getting into my fourth week of teaching here in Shanghai I am finally beginning to fall into the lifestyle of routines and weekly traditions that I have missed.

Every morning I rise and shine and give Mao my glory, glory at the wee hour of 6 AM. I have my green tea caffeine fix and some oatmeal, then head out to teach my chittlens around 7:30. From 8 til 12, I’m dancing, singing, and spoon-feeding the Kindergarteners and then I’m out for the day. I get the entire afternoon and evening off — a pretty good schedule in comparison to some of the other English teachers.

I’ve realized that the precious sunny weather of the autumn is going to be short-lived in Shanghai, so I’ve been trying to spend lots of time outside. That means many trips to my nearby park, Fuxing Park. Being able to see an almost-entirely-green space in the midst of the urban jungle is nice, but the best part of the park is the people-watching. I’ve always been an avid participant in the sport of people-watching, and I have to say that this place is comparable to even the outstanding arenas of the Atlanta aiport and Lake Winnepesaukah. At this park you can witness the tamer pursuits of kite flying competitions and jogging backwards. Or you can see some of the more extreme activities — tree slapping exercise is a good one. Apparently some older Chinese locals think that violently spanking a tree with various parts of their body increases blood flow and stimulates the muscle fibers. I’ll take their word on that one.

My favorite thing to watch is the impromptu dance parties that spring up in the park every afternoon. Sitting in the park from about 3 to 4 in the afternoon, one is bound to suddenly look up and see an elderly Chinese DJ sitting directly in front you. He cranks up his speakers with some Chinese oldies and couples spring to life in seemingly expertly-choreographed tangos and waltzes (minus any hip movement).

This video was taken the first time I witnessed this blessed miracle of boogie. Apparently one man was so assured of his dance skill that he believed a partner would only hold him back and thus embarked into the sea of salsa solo. Many times. What William Hung did to singing was nothing compared to what this guy does to dance. But I applaud you and your uncalled-for confidence, random Asian dude. If only I could have summoned up that much energy when asked to dance by a random middle-aged Chinese man shortly after this video was taken. While I was eventually forced to accept his invitation, what proceeded was an extremely frightening succession of being twirled and dipped very rapidly and then given a pile of business cards by the man and his friends.

Since then, I haven’t gone to the park alone. But my outings to Fuxing Park are still highly enjoyable and hopefully my visits there will become more routine. My next step is to buy a kite and learn the tricks of the trade from one of the seasoned pros. I just need to ask the man with the glow-in-the-dark-light-up kite for advice on where to get one equally as awesome…

More photos of my Kindergarten class on Flickr! Peruse at will.