A New Subjectivity

So, I got out of Tsin's class a few hours ago. Since I've been in China, I've taken Chinese language classes, but we also have 2 classes just for us UNC students: Tsin' course of the varying perspectives one can take towards different social issues in China, and the other by a Professor Li from Xiamen University that is kind of a primer for China. Tsin's class is the far more interesting one, not just because it meets 2 times a week, but because it's discussion based and we get to pick the brains of our professor and each other. Some great conclusions are discovered.

Professor was about a "rejuvenating" China and how "a new subjectivity" is trying to be established. In the wake of all these economic changes and the upheaval caused by, say, world wars, korean war, vietnam war, cultural revolution, deng xiao ping, and all that jazz, Chinese people are trying to move into a more modern way of existing. By a modern way, one has to hold this idea next to the "old way," one where relationships are tied to kin, work units, etc, instead of new way where one must become an individual (not tied to all these factions) in order to succeed in the new modern society. The new subjectivity is different from the new individuality because subjectivity includes both being independent along with being able to put oneself into the greater rubric of society, i.e. he must see himself as standing alone while in connection to others. Basically, he asks the himself, "who the fuck am I and where in the hell do I belong?"

I agree with our professor's statement, but the concept seems strange to me. While most people go through an "identity crisis" or sorts, I feel that Americans, while negotiating their identity, never feel as disconnected to their "place" as Chinese people must. For example: as a gay/black/poor man, I tried to figure out who I am in a heterosexual/white/middle class society. However, throughout all my internal conflicts, I knew that where I belonged existed. I knew other people like me where out there, just out of reach, but knowledge of these groups were easily available via television and literature (not yet the Internet--it was the 90s). Chinese people who are looking to define themselves AND to receive acceptance from a group who thinks like them often times might come up empty handed. The sub-cultures of the US are fairly vocal, wealthy enough, and at times have political clout and power. In China, this is not the case. While people are indeed carving out an individual identity, once it is achieved, what can be done with it?

Just a thought. Any ideas?

Authenticity

I have just finished reading one of the greatest books I've ever read: Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. The book takes place during the Biafran War against Nigeria, and discusses how the Igbo, in response to being murdered in the Northern territories, decided to secede and become a sovereign nation. The act is important because it stresses the need of self-determination, resisting prosecution, taking charge of one's destiny in the face of sadness, the strength of the human character, and above all else it describes how a state such as Biafra, not supported by any other foreign nation other than Tanzania, stood up against systematic annihilation in order to map out and define what rightfully belonged to them--equality, justice, security, and free will.

The book has made me sad for the couple of days.

While reading the book, I was completely immersed in a story about people who are confronted with tough decisions, make heart-wrenching choices, and leap blindly into their future. The author did not spare a single detail about the horrors of war, and some of the images within the pages--truths--will be etched upon my mind forever.

In China, after reading a book like this, I'm forced to examine my own mortality and that of others, and I have come to the conclusion that I lack the strength displayed by these characters. At a time in my life such as this, where the familiar no longer exist, people die and are born within the same breath, and the future looms gloomily in the distance as the present encloses me more finally than ever before, a book like this that utterly pulls me into a universe divided causes me to consider my place in the midst of things. I am not at war, yet I am in a conflict that threatens my current life and my future, and the thought of proceeding from such a state grips me with a fear that is metallic and cold. Sometimes I see my image in the mirror and feel like I'm misplaced.

Why am I here? What am I fighting for? Where has this complacency come from? Why doesn't there seem to be a way out? Was this the best decision, and if it was, how much worse could the alternative have been, and what could I do to make the end justify the torment I've put others through by my foolish decisions?

This blog isn't supposed to be introspective, but supposed to be a view into some of the sights and sounds I've come experienced. Unfortunately, I've been looking inward for the past 2 weeks, and what's come out has been, until now, not worthy of the digital printing...

I'm changing, growing, and becoming something I don't completely recognize. China does that to a man.

未来

The “future” is quickly approaching, and it’s time for me to claim my destiny, and in turn claim my victory.

Or maybe it’s not that extreme, but my time abroad in lazy Xiamen was supposed to be when I focused what sort of job I would like, where, how, and to really consider what it means not to go directly to grad school, and not to take the GRE, and to really decide to face the world with my new college diploma (God willing) and a dream. Instead of joining in discussions with my friends about what schools offer what programs, where is the best location, and of course, after acceptance, how we would afford such a venture, I will walk across the stage in May and, supposedly, walk right into the job of my dreams.

I’ve decided not to worry about the situation and do my standard “just trust God” routine, but I believe I’ve taken that mean not do anything at all. I’ve been paralyzed, it seems, when it comes to doctoring up my resume, and even the most standard things such as location (CHINA!) are now up in the air. After what has happened with my Grandma, and with the importance of family and close ties to friends an every constant, I have to consider what it means to leave it all behind and to venture out into the world permanently, without the luxury of a return date.

There’s also the questions of my majors—Chinese was a good decision, and just in the knic of time since my love of Japanese has faultered, but International Relations, I’ve come to the ultimate conclusion, was one of my biggest mistakes. A major without any sort of focus or true preparation for a future career, I’ve never experienced such a mindless collection of classes and lack of cohesion in my entire life. What does one do with an International Relations degree besides work for the UN anyway? I’m not jumping on a sinking ship at this stage of life, and I will not spend my life cloistered in some broke-down part of New York, waiting for my ship to come in (Amber, of course, you feel me on this).

Yet, soon and very soon, not only is Jesus coming back but college loans are coming in, along with having to do what I promised my mom I would do when I was a “tiny tot for Christ”—assume all of my own expenses. My insurance(s), bill(s), loans and what not will all become my own responsibility, and while Caribou is fantastic at this stage of my life, I’m sure that my current salary and hours will not be able to cover the debt that my mom complains about along with standing up with my desire to be fabulous in clothes, pursuits, and standards. In fact, instead of writing this entry, I should have my resume on this screen, cutting and buffering up, and be posting that bitch on-line along with a bang-ass photo so that prospective employees can marvel at how fantastic I am at doing absolutely nothing the last four years.

Well, maybe it’s not that extreme, but the writing is on the wall.

Thanksgiving

I want to travel this Thanksgiving break (who cares if OEC gave us only Thursday off and not Friday?). I'm thinking about the following locations--

The cheapest--Fuzhou (This province's capitol)
Xi'an
Beijing
Guilin

Either way, I want to go North. I think if I go North, I'll meet cuter men (taller, more manly, and in love with the dark chocolate) and eat better food, and I'll sound more authentic since I talk with a Northern accent, and people will stop laughing at me. Beijing is too far (imagine--Florida to Vancouver), but I already have friends there. Xi'an is the leader thus far, inspired by the handsome hostboy at the club I went to earlier. It also has cool Muslim shit, which seems to be all the rage with me these days. I think it'll be good to possibly be by myself since, well, it'll be Thanksgiving without Grandma's cooking, and without Grandma.

Btw, hot song I'm listening to on constant repeat:

Amy Winehouse - Take the Box

Never mind the crappy-ass picture--it has the best quality.

Naughty

Being abroad makes you lose your damn mind.

Whether you're me in China, Amber in Korea, Bobby in Spain...there's no end in the cycle of debauchery that takes place.

I've been a naughty boy while here. A very, very naughty boy. Most of my exploits can only be discussed in private emails and facebook messages with people who I've known for years. I'm afraid for them to get out, or even worse, I'm afraid that I take too much pride in them.

Only those who are really secure with themselves can sustain any sense of normality while abroad because the temptation to be bad, away from the eyes of parents and the same lot of friends, is too tempting to resist.

With that said...how about mailing me a Bible and some holy water:

Caiqingjie Building Room 901
Overseas Education College Service Center
Xiamen University
Fujian Province
PRC 361005

Allow several weeks for delivery.

^-_-^

Where you been? I've been missing you...

I fought the Beast and claimed the victory.

I've climbed structures built to prevent me.

I retreated to my hiding place.

I've communed with men older than time.

I've seen the news written on the wall.

Word cannot describe it.

quanzhou prt dos

Hindu spire at a Buddhist temple.

Wicked Muslim man hawking wares at the temple. Good as wares.

People long dead.

The shrine of the great man who started the cemetary.

Too lazy to bring flowers for your loved one's grave? Girl, all you gotta do is bring a cactus!

The second day in Quanzhou started off quite well. Our hotel rooms were fantastic, and the threat of dangerous “service” averted, I slept well on the large, plush mattress and the crisp white sheets. I looked over at Jon. He was still asleep, and he looked cuter when asleep than did Luke. Check below for a picture…just kidding.

We work up and went down stairs for breakfast. It was Chinese style: porridge, unknown meets, greasy bread and soy milk, but thank God they had coffee. I munched that down, and from there we headed out to what was supposed to be a museum… but we got lost en route, so our tour guide just randomly pulled over to the nearest tourist attraction: a cemetery. But to her credit, it wasn’t just any cemetery, but a Muslim one, and the grave stones and what not were particularly beautiful. The headstones had a mixture of Arabic and Chinese on them, and every once in a while there would be angels and other bits of religious paraphernalia. Moreover, a characteristic of cemeteries and graves in this area is that they are above ground, or at least there are a series of stone slabs that came up from the ground to denote that someone was below. The cemetery was nestled on a green hill after a series of stairs, and along the way we passed a rock that had been blown by the wind that it was precariously placed on the edge of a cliff. Who knows—a super-strong typhoon or a few more centuries and that rock will fall off and kill someone.

At the top of the cemetery was a worship alter for the Muslims there. Inside were stone tablets with inscriptions in Arabic and Chinese, but the must striking feature was the incense in the middle in front of a portrait of one of the most influential to the Islamic community during their years of exploration in the area. It was told to us that people, Christians and Muslims alike, would set up resident in wherever they landed after months at sea, and on that rock they would build a church so that the gates of Hell could not prevail against it. Or something of that nature. Either way, the incense is definitely not a Islamic ritual usually, but a Buddhist one, so seeing the two religions meld so nicely was good indeed.

After that, people started tripping the fuck out, so when we arrived at our next destination—a maritime museum—it turned out to be our last destination. I was really feeling the place—particularly the tombstones from the different religions that had settled in the area (including Hinduism), which had translations helpfully provided in English—but since people wanted to go home so badly, we left and went back after only an hour (I mean, really, an hour in a museum?!) and returned home.

A fact about China: convenience is not the top priority. When you’re on the interstate, and you have to use the bathroom, about how many gas stations, rest stops, convenience stores and exits do you pass that will allow you to stop? In China, this is not the case. If you’re going on a long ride, leave the fluids at home. One of us had to use the bathroom, and she gave full notice to the driver that she had to tinkle, and our driver, Zheng, looked for one. 20 minutes later and no bathroom, we pulled to the edge of the road, and our lady pulled down her trousers and did her business in the bushes. Gangsta, but a fact that people should know before coming to China. Always carry a packet of tissues or you’ll be screwed later on.

Quanzhou At-a-glance

Muslims are awesome. At the Cai compound.

At the Cai compound. Great architecture.

The temple we stood outside of. I'm sure it's even better inside.

This mosque is old as hell. And pretty as fuck.

Muslim's be wild'n'out in Quanzhou

Quanzhou Day 1

This past weekend, I went with the class to Quanzhou 泉州. It was better than I expected.

At first, I was scared since our professor told us that Quanzhou was known for its sexual tourism and neglected to mention other things. He talked about how you can go to most hotels and you'll get a call from downstairs asking would you like any special 服务 or "services." Of course what they're selling is not just the shoe shines and the massages, but a special massage...where you need it the most.

My feelings of dismay weren't relived when we got there, and all you see for the first 30 minutes into the city are rocks, quarries, more rocks, cranes, and the billboards of oil and mining companies that are in the city. What the fuck is the wasteland, i asked? We pulled over once to go potty, and stopped at some broke-neck gas station with dirty ass toilets that smelled suspiciously of propane. I smoked a cigarette and courted death.

And battled my stomach. Grace's birthday was the nice before, so we celebrated by going to a fantastic Indian restaurant called "Indiano Jones'". Great food, but not the food one should eat before going on a busride, without coffee, for a couple of hours.

We made it into the city, which at the time was unimpressive, and stopped at some old Muslim place where this guy explained to us about the Muslim communities and heritage of the area. Our tour guide kept getting the translation wrong, so the Chinese Americans in our program helped us get a richer understanding, and by richer I mean perfect. The building we saw allegedly built by the same man who's name is stamped on our building. Apparently, he was a somebody important. Neat stuff about the place: the roofs were flat and the houses built of stone. It was great learning about how Muslims built stuff as opposed to hearing about how people other than the whack-ass Europeans do shit.

We ate a whack ass lunch in a hotel where you could rent rooms for 2 hours for only 60 kuai. They had a western-style toilet, but no toilet paper. After that, we went to a temple, stood outside of it because we couldn't go outside, and then went to the city mosque. Amazing, and I believe it was build around 1089 or something, so it was probably the oldest structure I've been around after some of the classroom buildings at UNC. We bargained with a Muslim man for some glamourized birdseed, lost, but Chloe won when she bargained since she's ruthless...kind of a pitbull when it comes to negotiating.

We went to dinner, and then the hotel. At this point, seeing the rich history of the place along with urbanization had changed my opinion of Quanzhou drastically. Our hotel, the 明发酒店 was luxious, and put our hotel/dorm at Xiamen University to shame. Luke and I went swinging, so I stayed with Jon and he stayed with Paul. Jon and I as roommates--good times. In our search for coffee and also ways to pre-game for an eventual night out, we went in search of a convenience store. The one the hotel provided was whack, and the dead-eyed 14 year old girl behind the register, and her absolute fear of a bunch of foreigners speaking Chinese, made us search for another. We took a series of stinky underground stairwells to the main street near our hotel and Jon stopped for bao-zi. We went from there, went to a super market, and then bought some shit. Phebe, Megan, and Claire all hung out in our room, and we enjoyed coffee, 四特酒 (Four-specialities liquor), orange juice, and green tea. We ate mochi, and later on Phebe and I went shopping for fruit to get for Grace's official birthday on Sunday.

Our hotel had a dance club, karaoke rooms, and suspicious women all on the 3rd floor. We could hear the bass deep into the night, although Jon and I didn't sleep much since we were talking about everything under the sun. I'm glad I'm not his roommate because I'd never get any sleep, but our time together really helped me understand what sort of person he is. His intentions are good, almost admirable, even if he is a heathen. I don't think he reads this, although if he did, he should know I think fondly of him, even although I missed my roomie terribly.

tbc

Around the Harbour

Part III

"Whut chu lookin' at, foo!?"

Mountains and humanity in 沙田.

Lights, Karaoke in Mong Kok

Ben, doing something seedy in the seedy cafe near our hostel (this is what he gets for not reading my blog!)

"Fuck on Hoe"?

HK Fever

Part II

Hong Kong has always been a fantasy place for me. From the movies. Like I mentioned before, it was the Hong Kong movies that really got me interested in Chinese cultures when I was full-steam Japan ahead. Some of the neighborhoods we walked down the second day look like sets from those movies--cramped but clean, lots of unknowns around every corner, the clatter of Cantonese in the air, temples and high-rises close virtually falling on top of one another. It was awesome.

Hong Kong boys are also cuter than mainland boys I've scene (outside of Beijing)--people there have a slight pout of their lips, kind of like the French are notorious for, and their smart fashion sense make them severely attractive.

In Hong Kong, the streets are not paved with piss like in Shenzhen, but are paved with cobblestones or even concrete. The neighborhoods are all connected to one another across the SEZ (Special Economic Zone) and the island proper by a network of MTR (aka metro) called the Octopus because of its main ring and legged shape. I have my octopus card still, so if anyone wants to buy it from me he or she is more than welcome to.

The second day was spent mainly touring the different districts. The air was hot and sticky, and a few times there was a slight rain that never got to heavy. We walked along the edge of the harbor where you can see the habour being swept by the winds of YET ANOTHER typhoon--Typhoon Higo. We ate at several places, none of them as authentic as the place the day before because, well, we live in China to different degrees, and I've gotten my fill of searching for authentic Chinese cuisine when it's about 2 feet away from me in my little town of Xiamen.

Later on that night, I went to a pub/KTV called Tony's just outside of our hostel that catered to a special clientele. I met somewhere there from Britain, and we went to his place way out in the middle of no where so he could show me more of his Hong Kong. It got late, and I came back via taxi and had a chance to drive over the bridge to the SEZ (before we had taken a metro), and I saw the whole city buslting by moon-light. I'm glad I have a memory like this to myself, for me alone, and can remember the conversation I had with the cabbie who a) spoke English, b) used to live in Austrailia, c) cut the price in half, and d) let me pay in the mainland's currency, RMB.

I told the British dude that when I think of HK, I'll think of him. The specifics of our meeting are available by email if you ask and I trust you enough.^_^

A hand grenade that explodes guts. In a mall near a Ms. Field's ^___^

Me on the Habour.

From the ferry on the way across (Good idea, Daegan).

Buddhas with spray-painted faces? I think it's a sign from the Triad! >_>

A rope of incense in a random temple.

Hong Kong is dabomb.com

Day 1

In the hostel: (l-r) Ben, Daegan, Diadra

In the hostel: (l-r) Daegan, Diadra, Derek

Neon lights speak of civilization

Where we ended up.

Blissful in HK. And look--no one is staring at me~!

Hong Kong is amazing.

And saying that it is amazing is an understatement. Not because there are opportunities for cultural learning, prices are cheaper, and I can live my days filled with delicious Chinese food...but because it was if I had died and gone back to a cooler America.

Not even America. I mean, I have love for Chapel Hill and Durham (not so much Roxboro), and family, friends, responsibility, income, opportunities, familiarity, but Hong Kong provided all the internationalism I needed. It was diversity lite—the outer trappings of Asia were still there, but it was all under the familiar western rubric which made me feel comfortable. And I didn’t get stared at like I did hardcore like in Shenzhen—I was able to blend in, and I was treated almost equally, just like the good old days back in the states.

But getting to Hong Kong was an adventure in itself. Diadra and I had to find the bus stop for the K533 which would take us to the metro station. We missed the minivan at the stop the first time, and then once it came again, I had to powder my nose, so we missed that one as well. Finally, we hopped on the bus and made it to the metro station, where we entered, went through customs twice, and took a 40 min train to Hong Kong. Diadra and I checked into our hostel, a busted ass place named Mirador that smelled of mildew and depressed lives, and then headed out and killed some time until Ben and Daegan arrived. When they arrived, we ate some delicious vegetarian food with a host who was from the 大陆, and we (I) made the mistake of letting him know that we could speak Chinese. He served us well, recommended some great dishes, and showed us great hospitality. He also really liked Ben, but then again, who doesn’t?

On the way to the restaurant, we rode the elevator. When we were in the elevator, the door opened, and we were confronted with another door. It kind of sums up the labyrinth that is Hong Kong.

Later that night we hit up Prince Edward Road (太子） and looked at flowers and all sorts of pets that were fortunate enough not to end up in cages. There were albino turtles and hairless guinea pigs. It was fun, although the smells got to me after awhile.

After that, we went back and dropped off some stuff, then headed out to the bars. The bars in our area, near Nathan Road, were not really up to par, catered mainly to foreigners, and were as expensive as fuck. We went to one particular tower of bars, and while listening to really load and off-key karaoke, I had my usual Black Russian, Ben some vodka on ice...I scared a woman when I came back from the bathroom.

After some more searching, we gave up eventually and went back to the hostel. Then a South Asian man fell asleep in the hallway, blocking our retreat. All in all, a lazy evening due to fatigue and sickness, but it just set the stage for better days ahead.

More to come!

Scenes from Shenzhen

Shenzhen Part 2

Diadra and I went out today. We were going to check out the zoo that’s close to our area, so we got up fairly early and headed out to the bus stop that would take us closer to the zoo.

We couldn’t find the bus stop.

But it wasn’t for a lack of trying. Diadra had a good idea of where it was, so we went to that one first. After some time, we asked a man near the place whether were at the right one. He said we had to go to one further down the road. So, we asked a policeman, who confirmed what the man had said. We went to the suggested one, and once there was asked a very smug gentlemen who sounded like a freaking alien (or Lil’ Wayne) were we at the right stop, but he told us that such a bus didn’t come by that area (he then followed up by asking me where I was from…like every person in the damn world). We went back to the first one, and after about 20 minutes of waiting for the bus that’s supposed to come every 20 minutes (like the P2P), we gave up.

There was a park/conference center near the bus stop, so we took pictures in front of a man with a hammer, then bought an Ethernet multi-port for Diadra’s house (fun in Chinese), then went shopping for groceries and other lovely necessities. We ate lunch at a big ass ritzy coffee shop in the neighborhood and ate a stew of cabbage, tofu strings, mushrooms, and other goodness from the earth. Diadra had a taro drink, which came out in a pleasant shade of lilac. After that, we came back and rested up for dinner. Naps were to be had by all. Dinner was at a shop near her apartment, and by that time my insides were back to normal (thanks Korea~!) and I could enjoy the excellent service and big ass bottle of Tsingtao. Pleasant conversation, Hong Kong television, and this bomb-ass soap called 情锁 (Love on Lock?) where I learned how to refer to a man a generation my senior, or as Diadra put it, “the man who your mom is screwing” （叔叔）all in one evening.

So, a lazy day after a week of headaches and heartbreak. This is what vacationing is all about. We would be preparing for Hong Kong today, but Daegan has a case of the hibbie-jibbies or something, so she and Ben cannot make the flight down here from Shanghai (poor thing). No biggie—today, Diadra and I are going to find the bus stop to get to Hong Kong, without our luggage in tow, so we won’t have the Bus Stop Blues. Hong Kong tomorrow come hell or high water.

Apparently, in this little section of Shenzhen where nothing happens, I really stand out. What’s really cute is that around here is that at the elementary school where Diadra teachers they have English classes, so every time I see a group of children, they say “Hello~!”…and nothing else. Or, like the ones at the restaurant last night, they say, “Hello! How are you? I’m fine, thank you! Bye-bye” which is adorable when you’re not trying to eat, and when they say it once or twice, not 27 times. But, it’s even cuter when they follow up with “哇！他那么黑啊!” (Wow, he’s so black~!). Kids in my city, Xiamen, can’t say shit, and kids in America can barely speak English, so I’m proud of this little hellions and they’re burgeoning multi-culturalism, and the fact they find me neat as opposed to averting me.

Shenzhen Part I

A month and a day in China. What’s going on?

I’ve traveled and have made it successfully to Shenzhen. After sleeping only an hour or so, and after having a thrilling late night conversation with Phebe on the balcony facing the mountains about Koreans, drinking, and life in general, I chugged some of Luke’s Pepto (I’ll owe him about 4 bottles by the time we get back to America), and stood outside and hailed a taxi to the Xiamen International Gaoqi Airport.

Sidenote: If you have to do extensive traveling, take care not to eat spicy Korean food the night before. While you may be able to stand the taste and don’t have problems getting it down in that regard, it’ll really impede your mobility for the next few hours/days. It’s a lesson learned, and Korea has officially smacked me in the face.

The more I travel and the more I get out and about the more I notice that China is a multi-lingual society. I mean, I always knew that China was multilingual and technically multiracial, yet on the surface most of the people look similar to each other in that they’re all Asian. The difference isn’t as stark as it is in the US. Moreover, when I was Beijing, since the standard language is also the city language (the standard language around China, also known as “Chinese”, is the language of the capitol), I didn’t really notice a difference between the language; furthermore, I didn’t know enough Chinese at the time to realize that people were speaking something besides what I learned in the classroom whenever they did speak a dialect—I just assumed they were speaking too fast.

At the airport there were three announcements in Standard Chinese, English, and Minnan (a language closely related to what the people in Taiwan speak when they don’t speak the Standard Language). I would listen to the language, and it sounded like “Chinese” in that it has tones, follows and similar structure, and has some words that are familiar to one another; however, I couldn’t understand it. Later, after I got on the plane, the languages were English, Minnan, and Standard Chinese until we got closer to Shenzhen, where the languages switched to English, Standard Chinese, and Cantonese.

People speak Cantonese here, and they only whip out the Standard Chinese when they are conversing with people from outside of the area including foreigners, tourists, people from other provinces, and strangers. I got an earful of it when I took the 1 hour, 150 kuai cab ride from the airport to my friend Diadra’s home. The driver would speak to me in Standard Chinese, but when he was talking to his superior to determine the route to this relatively unknown area of the city, he would switch to Cantonese when he didn’t want me to hear something. I have a special affinity for the language since it was in movies from this region (South China and Hong Kong) that first created in me a love of Chinese culture. If not for films, notably by Wong Kar-Wai 王家卫, and the themes presented that are unique to these locales, I would be well into my 6th year of Japanese and not be working for this Chinese major. Even though I’m not learning the language spoken here and the in the movies, Cantonese, because it’s a) impractical outside of this area and b) its not taught at UNC, I can still go to these areas because in Hong Kong they speak English (more or less) and Standard Chinese from school…just like Americans can speak Spanish…

So, I met up with Diadra and, after talking for a moment with her, went and took a nap on her full-sized, fairly soft bed (I sleep on a hard, twin-sized mattress at school). Five hours later when I woke up, I promptly locked her out of her home because of my super paranoid yet wise nature (a great way to greet an old friend). We at some KFC (fries since she’s a veggy-head), did a little shopping at this complex I’ve never heard of called Jia-hua 佳华, and came back and looked up places to go since she lives in the middle of no-where and there really isn’t much to see here. We went to dinner at a little Chinese restaurant near her apartment and were surrounded by cute annoying children. They said “hello” a lot. And “how are you.” And referred to me, in Chinese, as “Mr. America.” The kids were probably some of the ones who go to the school across the way, and while I enjoyed their love of English and innocent curiosity of me…I was freaking eating dinner with a friend. And they kept saying “bye-bye” with a wave of the hand and all that like they really were going to leave…but they didn’t. Damn.

Tomorrow we plan to hit up a zoo—excuse me—a wildlife refuge, and will see a Buddhist temple in order to go to their vegetarian restaurant.

Pictures…not many yet. When I’m lazy or anxious, I don’t take out my camera. I’ll make up for it tomorrow with pictures of giant pandas or something along those lines. Oddly enough, the lesson in the Chinese book is about giant pandas, and the refuge they mention in the textbook is photographed in my travel book. The name of the professor who conducted research of the panda’s has the character 石 in his name, which is also in the first part of Diadra’s address. So, the lesson here is that when I go to class, I learn shit.