The apartment is shaping up nicely. I got throw pillows, which, as you may know, are important to me. They look good, too. I'll try to get pictures or a video up this week. I'm using black to tone down the unabashed green-ness of my furniture. It's bright, bright green.

I watched I Am Legend last night. The Professor got the dvd the other day. I thought it was alright, but I didn't like the graphics of the movie. It felt to me like a video game or something. At this point, friends, we can do better. Jurassic Park still looks better than the newest moster movies. You know why? They didn't CG everything. It was a good blend. I thought the story was kind of unsatisfying, also. The end is kind of like... what? I also watched The Great Debaters last night. It's ok, though nothing outstanding. An all-black cast that is (shockingly) executive produced by Oprah. It goes kind of like you'd expect. Lots of racism and a triumphant ending. Interesting point of the movie, though is that in the background, the train people mention "Texarkana." The acting was good in the movie, and the story was ok, but not much better than a tv movie, I'd say. A Denzel Washington tv movie.

Yesterday at the international fellowship an African guy rapped in French. It was outstanding.

Happy New Year!

T

Today I made my teacher smile. I was chatting with my American classmate while we were on mid-class break this morning. He asked me if I'd bought my plane ticket for the holiday yet. I told him I've bought the one to Bangkok but not back. It went on like this for a few minutes. We two Americans were speaking to each other in pure Chinese. My conversation teacher, who is actually the master of this class (as in, the teacher-students observe his class), I noticed was listening intently. Then, when I finished a particularly nice sentence, I noticed his grin. So I asked, "Did you like that, teacher?" But I asked it rhetorically. He then told the whole class that he is happy that Americans are speaking to each other in Chinese because that's why we're there. That is, to learn to speak it.

Turns out we get a four-day weekend for New Years. New Years! How ridiculous is that? They spit in Christmas's eye, but New Years gets us two prime class-days off! I know why this is, and you can deduce it. It makes me kind of mad.

Today I went and purchased a couple of pieces of art in the Silk Market. They're laquered paintings on some sort of wood-like material. I think they're nice, and I got them for a decent price, though I'd rather not say what. Every time I say how much I paid for something, someone immediately tells me they got it for half as much. It ticks me off. I hate it when people under-price me on things. It's not that I'm mad they got a good deal. Much the opposite. I wish I, too, had gotten the bargain basement deal. For example, I was told this week that the girls bought the same figurine set I got the Professor for Christmas at a different place for a quarter of what I haggled down. They paid 15 and I paid 60. It is irritating. Anyway, so I bought some art, and it's nice, and I'm happy.

Tomorrow we're actually going to IKEA and the art market. I didn't go on Christmas because my roommate is too lazy. But it's ok. We're for real going tomorrow. It's hard to buy art here because anything I buy either has to be small or cloth. I can't buy large canvases (though that's what I want), because it would be a waste of money ultimately. I plan to keep what I buy here.

Tonight, after my Silk Marketeering, I met the Professor for dinner at a Russian restaurant. The food was bland but hearty. I guess it was realistic. Potatoes were involved. At 8 p.m. the floorshow began. It was awkward. My integrity did not let me stay to see if it got better. I've honestly never seen women wearing angel/bellydancer outfits writhe about to techno music while dancing with enormous golden wing things. It was weird. Our exit was hasty.

Happy New Year! Xin nian kuai le!

T

May your days be merry and light

I'm American. I like new stuff. And I love Christmas. The whole thing is wrapped up in God and family and presents and food and time to relax and special songs and claymation tv events from the 60's.

We have special Christmas plates at my house. I know those plates will still be around when I get home, but it kind of strikes me how we might not need them. I am really curious to see what Christmas will be when I am in charge of it. I wonder, actually, if I'll ever be in charge of my own Christmas. Will it suck? When I grow up I want square plates in black and grass green. Can you have turkey on that, or does it beg something else? Ham? Greek salad? Who even knows?

For the record, I'm not an antitraditionalist. I like traditions. I just like to create my own. I view traditions as I view socks. We all need them, but I don't really want somebody else's. I'd like to break my own in, thanks. Maybe I'll retain a good deal of those of my predacessors. Maybe I won't. At Granny's house we have gumbo for Christmas. Those are fairly new socks, actually, and I think they are kind of flashy. I like them.

For me, traditions draw people together. They give something to look forward to and something to reminisce about. Remember the time that the tree fell over on Christmas day? Yeah, it kind of messed with a tradition (that is, we usually choose when to take the tree down), but it actually created a memory as a result. I like the flexibilityand fluidity of the unknown in the way we live these things year-to-year.

So, as I'm going to buy some new-house stuff at IKEA for myself for Christmas tomorrow, I'll think about you all. I'll know that Santa is slipping things down chimneys and through keyholes. I'll be aware of your turkey dinners and pecan pies. I'll even long for a hot cup of cider and a cheesy sweatshirt to make fun of. And, in the end, I'll be there next time. So, yes, I am breaking tradition this year. I'm living in a country that doesn't even have Christmas besides a sales ploy. And even so, I know that this day will be special.

It's only once a year, after all, that I tell Jesus happy birthday. May I never forget to thank Him for coming. Some traditions are bigger than others.

T

Christmas Eve Gift!

Now you all owe me a small present. I said it to you first!

This weekend has been interesting. Saturday the Usual Suspects and I came to the new apartment to get keys and for me to drop off my first bag of stuff. Afterwards we boarded the subway and rode to the family's house. We all had a Christmas party together, and it was loads of fun. We played ridiculous Christmas games (I won a bag of Chee-tos), and we ate ourselves silly on some catered Christmas food. We also did a Secret Santa exchange, and I recieved some scarves and gloves. Now I have choices and will never be cold. The Professor was my Secret recipient, and I got him a set of clay soldiers that replicate the ones found in the tomb in Xi'an. They're pretty cool, and they are what he actually wanted. I am also planning on getting him a book, but I haven't yet.

Yesterday we went to our normal international fellowship. It was a family day, so the kids were all out with the big people. I find these Sundays interesting because it's cool that everyone is together, but it's also kind of weird because then the teaching includes puppets. Puppets don't usually tackle deep matters. Christmas is a very deep matter, or it could/can/should be. They talked about the incarnation, and I think the point was that a child could understand it, and that's good. The rest of us, though, might have been a little left out.

After we left there, we went to the hutong. That's where we stayed when we first hit China, and let me say that it is even better today. We stumbled across a shop called Grifted, and I've read about it in that's Beijing magazine. They sell fantastically irreverent China-themed things. Plush communists from around the world, "No Spitting" t-shirts, Confuscious garden gnomes, you know, that kind of thing. I got a t-shirt (my first Chinese clothing purchase) that has a map of China on it and the stars from the flag over it with the big star over Beijing. It has "Beijing" printed at the bottom. I also bought a present for Jem back home, because it's exactly what I knew I'd get him here, and they sell this particular thing in the hutong. The Professor and I got some hand-made leather bracelets, so now we're apparently best friends forever.

Funny story about that actually, yesterday, during the "welcome your neighbor" I tried to give him a hug, which, of course, he blocked. This is normal behavior. So I shook hands with some people, and one man was wearing an Eagles (football) sweater. From behind me I hear "Don't shake his hand! He's an Eagles fan." The Professor is from Dallas, you see. Team rivals and whatnot. I turned around to him and said (loudly) "You're a Calvinist and I gave you a hug! I think I can shake hands with an Eagles fan!" Butterbean's family in front of us convulsed with laughter.

Back in the hutong we had lunch in a wonderful little restaurant called Fish Nation. We had fish 'n chips. I had a Greek salad, as well, and it made me happier than any other single food I've had since I've been here. It was amazing.

Then we hopped in a taxi to get back to the dorm. The Professor was supposed to meet his tutor in Zhongguancun to shop for a wireless card or something for his laptop. The wireless in his laptop is broken. So I needed to go to Carrefour for bedding for our new place. I had withdrawn money earlier in the day for this purpose, but the hutong had snuck up on me, so I was lower than should've been. I bought some of the bedding, but ran out of cash. So I wondered around for an hour and a half looking for an ATM that would take my card. Finally I found a Citibank, and they did it. So I spent another 30 minutes walking back to Carrefour only to be told I couldn't bring a bag into the store. Ok... so what does one do with such bags. There wasn't a counter check. I discovered electronic lockers for this purpose. Instructions in Chinese only, though. I watched for a good solid 10 minutes until I saw how it works, and then hastily shoved my stuff into a locker. I walked back into the store and found what I needed, bought it, and came home. This whole thing took from 3 until 6:30 yesterday afternoon. I bought two sheet sets with duvet covers and two duvets. That's it. It also took most of my patience and a bit of angry muttering.

All of that leads up to this, though: I am now living in the new apartment! My first apartment is actually in China. My life is weird. I am amazed that this place, which is 3000 times better than the dorm, is actually considerably cheaper. It's just silly like that. I'll give you a tour later, when we're settled in. It's nice. And the bedding I bought is nice looking, to boot.

Right now I'm a bit cold, though, I do admit.

T

Billy Joel talked about this, kind of.

I know how bad this sounds. I've wondered in the past six months away from the US whether or not China has a soul. Don't get me wrong. I know the people have souls. No doubt. But it sometimes seems like the soul of China is suffocating under it's current social, political, economic, creative, and moral situations. When these things team up, it's hard to see past them. The Professor pointed out that our dorm room walls are painted that terrible pink color as a combination of communist blandness and Chinese red. He may be right. Things in the homes are the wrong colors, each a bit too bright or too... artificial.

While journeying alone in this artificial world yesterday, I went to Xidan. I go to Xidan a lot, though mainly because there are two Starbucks which are a very short walk from one another. Yesterday, after I'd gone to my particularly favorite Starbucks in Xidan I went in search of a particular tourist-ready China gift that my secret Santa giftee mentioned to me he (or she) would like. There are stuff markets in Xidan, and I never realized how many. These are like the fabled Silk Street market, but less aggressive, for which I'm thankful. I've learned that one never stops moving in a market situation unless he is positive he wants to explain what he wants or doesn't. So I briskly walked through two markets (about 10 levels in two different buildings) and then in the third spotted something I liked. Now one must understand that in these markets are all the knock-off clothes from designers one might ever want. One should also understand that these clothes are not a good quality, and they will not last long. This over-abundance of counterfeit makes me shudder. I wonder if my life doesn't so often look like that. The only thing missing is someone screaming "looka-looka" and pointing out the wonders of a life spent chasing things which may not be what they appear.

Don't get me wrong, this isn't an existential crisis. We've already had that. That's so two months ago. And we're getting to the soul I discovered. Past the calculators and fake jade carvings, I found a small, unostentatious stand selling Chinese paper-cuts. Most were the Chinese zodiac, and, though beautiful, I couldn't care less about them. Then I found a mask. You may or may not know this, but I am a budding mask collector. There is something intriguing to me about the faces we put on, and, not to be too deep, they're pretty. These sets of paper cuts I found were sets of the traditional faces worn in the Peking Opera. The faces have deep, understood significance. When a person who is versed in this artform goes to take in a piece, the faces tell them which characters are which before a word is sung.

The people who developed this are the soul I'm looking for in China.

I may be too late, but I don't think so. I know we're all made in the same image. I see the beauty around me, even in this pulsing struggle of a city. I want to find the soul underneath the pressures. I want to see the smiling faces of the people who thought "what if..." and created the hutongs and the Imperial Palace. I want to uncover the spirits of the people who are not so bogged down with studies and money and today that they might stop to do something beautiful. I want those people to be my brothers and sisters.

If I can tell you a secret I've learned lately, it's this: some of them already are.

T

snapping scammers in half... mentally

I went shopping in Wangfuing the other day. Saturday, it was. While there, three different women approached me in order to scam me in some way or another. The first one tried to stop me on the sidewalk and I just walked past her. She pursued, but I just kept walking away. Next, I walked up the sidewalk, and another woman tried to stop me. At this point in my walk I was in no mood to be swindled.

The woman said, "Hello, where are you from?"

I stopped walking and turned to look her dead in the eye. "Listen to me," I said, "I know I'm in Wangfujing. I know who you are.
But I'm not a stupid tourist, and I'm not going anywhere with you."

She looked at me, stunned. "Bye bye."

Later, as I was waiting to take the video as seen in last time's blog, an exceedingly short woman came up to me. She asked me where I'm from. Beijing, I told her, though I didn't turn to talk to her. She asked if I was a student, and I replied that I am. Then she noticed how I was really and truly intending to ignorer her. She just told me ok, goodbye.

I don't like being taken advantage of. It drives me crazy.

Today I had pancakes for dinner. It was wonderful. For my (free!) dessert, I'm having a banana split. Can you say score?

Good evening.

T

Dear Ethan,

I know that the pictures of the mushrooms in the bathroom were kind of scary. They scared me, too! I want you to know that not every mushroom comes from the bathroom. I'm pretty sure that if your Mom or Dad has mushrooms to eat, they aren't from the bathroom. We threw those away. I hope that you'll try mushrooms again. I promise they won't be from the bathroom.

I actually went out today to take pictures of different fruits and vegetables in outdoor markets for you.





I even found mushrooms for sale, and the man who runs the stand let me take pictures. I told him his vegetables were very pretty. I hope you think so, too.



Your friend,

T.

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In another bit of news, I took video of the Adidas ad I complained about last week. Here is the actual video.


The picture itself is quite striking, though.


T

Fishbowl surfing

I've learned that human beings are intrinsically curious. This isn't news, per se, because I grew up in the American south. Everyone wants to know everyone else's personal business. In my current locale I might as well be a goldfish in a glass bowl. The wall I'm leaning on is glass, and it is directly opposite the doors of the elevator. People pool to wait in front of the elevator doors (oh, no, Chinese people do not queue!) and while they are waiting, well, they want to know what foreigners look at online. Yes, sir, I'm chatting on Skype and typing a blog. Unless your English is better than most, this is going to be a boring show to watch. It is more obvious when people spot me as they exit the elevator and walk out of their ways to look at my screen. This is amusing. I recall a time a couple months ago when I was reading A Clockwork Orange on the Beijing subway. A woman who was with her boyfriend really wanted to know what I was reading. She kept leaning over to look at my book's page. Then she squatted down and turned her torso sideways to see what the cover said. I grew a bit tired of this bizarre spectacle, so I flashed the cover of the book at her. She looked at it quizzically for a moment and then proceeded to hang all over her boyfriend. I don't know why we do this. We always want to know what others are thinking and reading. What are we all listening to in those awfully ubiquitous white earbuds?

Why do I want to know?

I think we probably identify ourselves by what we think. That, in turn, is heavily influenced by what we take in. Are my thoughts better than yours? Where do yours come from?


-----

I'm reading an anthropological book right now. Bear with me. It's called Purity and Danger and it was written by Mary Douglas.

T

Impossible is Nothing

I once took in a lecture about the use of religious and mythological symbolism as employed by Nazi propaganda. I realize that in saying this I sound better educated than you. I don't know if that's true or not, and in all honesty, my life isn't that exciting. It just sounds it. Back to the point. Here in Beijing the Olympics are coming. I know that the whole world knows this to be true because of some random news story here or there. It is my reality. I've never been to an Olympic city before the event, but at the current rate of advertising and excitement, the city will be re-fashioned from a single set of concentric rings to a chain of five interlinking circles with cartoon characters super-imposed over them on metro maps. There is an Olympic merchandise retail outlet on every street corner. You can get key chains and coffee cups and toenail clippers and scale replicas of the Olympic venues. I kid you not. And it's all over-priced and slightly tacky. This is what we call "Olympic Fever" and generally follow with copious exclamation points. I have noticed lately that there is an advertising campaign by Adidas that shows Chinese Olympians poised to win gold in their respective sports. One of the most prevalent in this series is a diver. This diver is poised to jump from a height like a normal high dive, except this one is built out of Chinese people who are holding him up. There he stands, spread eagle atop a mountain of his countrymen. He is a be-Speedoed Christ figure bringing glory and honor to the host country as his duty commands. I wonder at the subconsious workings of a proclaimed atheistic culture. Religious symbolism is still heavily employed.

There is something about human nature.

T

After I dropped some cash in the import grocery store (I was buying Festivus supplies) and refused to buy one of their reusable bags because I had brought my own, I sauntered over to Starbucks to get on my tiny, Apple laptop and use the free wi-fi internet. Halfway between the grocery store and the vanilla latte I realized I might have become one of "those people."


I am an expat. I'm someone who lives in China not as a Chinese person, but as someone who lives around Chinese people on their home turf. It's a different thing altogether.


I like going to this section of town called Jianwai SoHo. It makes me feel like I'm exploring my own little section of this big ol' city. It's the only well-planned area I've seen thus far.

T

It snowed this morning. Hooray!

I am seriously living in Narnia. In China it's always winter, never Christmas. It seems this spell just can't be lifted.

I haven't had a proper haircut since I left the States six months ago. Also, I'm growing a beard because it's Beard Season! That's right. December is here, and so has my facial hair begun to return. Indeed, I once again look like my passport, except less portly in the slightest bit.

Bangkok bound plane tickets have been purchased. That's right. I'm flying to Thailand on January 23. The problem of return trip remains, though we're working on that. Looks like maybe a train ride is in my future. Oh, boy.

I didn't go to class today because my lunch was apparently too greasy for my stomach. I had the dudes a little bit.

T

Swing Swing

I realize that the biking video did not properly load, and that is unfortunate. Also unfortunate is my utter lack of patience to wait for it to upload again at this moment. I promise you will live.

I know I've been somewhat distant lately. This is not really a conscious decision so much as the way the dice have rolled. In two weeks my address will change into something with only squiggly lines and numbers instead of something that can be written in letters recognizable. Just ask my parents about that. My view will also change into something entirely more urban and less... slummy. I'll miss seeing the mountains once in a while, though. I'm moving a couple miles to the southwest, and it seems like a different world altogether.

I had a very strange mood shift on Saturday. I went out to breakfast with my normal cohorts plus my roommate-to-be, and I called my parents while I was there. So I was separated from those guys because it was too loud at the table. While I was talking on the phone, some other guy came in, sat in my place at the table, and drank my cup of twice refillable coffee. Who even knows why this made me mad, but it certainly did. I don't know the guy. I think it crossed some sort of personal boundaries that made me really upset. This spoiled my mood, and so I decided that I did not want to accompany the Professor and Cowboy to their daytrip out to see some Buddhist temples. I just didn't want to be crammed into a subway with a billion Chinese people pressed up against me for an hour in order to transfer to a likewise cramped bus for 20 minutes to see temples to not-God. So I abandoned those guys and walked around south-west Beijing until I found something I could navigate from. Then I got onto the subway again (I know, it's self-defeating) and rode to Jianguomen, because there is a Starbucks I like there.

I noticed in this directionless walking that when I'm upset things become very geometric. I noticed that the cheap tiles in the underground street crossings were rising to hit my feet like the L-shaped pieces in a game of Tetris or the allowable moves of a knight in chess. I noticed the iron star shape inside a circular ventilation opening in that same underground. I thought about the irony of this, and then I let it pass. Perhaps I noticed so much because I walked through this crossing twice in three minutes. I either decided that the woman with a headset and guitar was singing incredibly well that moment, or that I needed to uncross the street. Most likely it was the latter.

I walked across a bridge on Saturday, and I pulled a withered petal off a rose and let it fall off an overpass. Why roses are blooming in the middle of cold weather in China I shall never know.

After I walked into the Starbucks, I ordered my Caramel Macchiato and then noticed my friends Jeff and Steph (or Jeffanie, as we like to call them). I spent the subsequent couple hours commiserating with them about life in Beijing and the craziness of taxi drivers. It was a nice coincidence that we would be in the southeast of the city at the same Starbucks when we all live in the northwest. Those two are Americans, one from Norther California, the other from Southern California. They claim there is a difference. I find this dubious at very best. California is California, and that's it.

____________

I've been reminding myself that sacrifice and offering are related. That I cannot offer a sacrifice that costs me nothing. That there's pain in the offering. That sometimes stuff sucks, but it's for the best in the long run, essentially.

____________



Today I got to hold Butterbean and sing Christmas songs with a couple thousand of my brothers and sisters. Beat that.

T