Back To School & The Forbidden City

A lot has happened since last we caught up… where should I start?

Mandarin classes were… difficult, complicated, I came away with as much Mandarin that I started with however the teacher was adorable… I do hope someone doesn’t give that as the only compliment to me as a teacher though! During the lessons I was just thinking of how I would have run this lesson or that to keep the children engaged – I was just pumped to get to the school and get started.

When the teacher moved on to money and numbers I had that familiar dizzy spell and stomach churning feeling… I think I made the right decision when I forged my Mum’s signature to get out of math in year 11… It was best for my mental health!

We also had a class in Tai Chi, which I will NEVER take up! So, the teacher is asking us to put our arms shoulder height (please note it is 31 degrees with 65% humidity), she then proceeds to walk around to each of the students, pulling at our middle finger, flailing our arms demanding that we ‘RELAX… RELAX’. Then, asking us to lean on one leg but put the gravity in the other…

1.       Biologically speaking, to hold my arm up I need to make use of muscles… my muscle cannot be relaxed while holding up an appendage!

2.       Unless Newton was incorrect, humans do not have control over gravity – if we did, I’d be bouncing happily about the place all day all week

So, after 45 minutes, leaning, ‘relaxing’, stretching, holding and ignoring the sweat dripping from head, to chin, from shoulder to back and knee to toe… the entire class collapsed while nursing our bottles of water.

The calligraphy class was fascinating. The teacher spoke no English so sweet Mary, whose glasses cover 90% of her face, translated for us. The teacher explained the history of Chinese characters, having originated from actual imagery that reflected the item, for instance house would be a box with a triangle on top. Over time the images became more ‘simplified’ because language was becoming more complex so they needed more characters and to spend less time on each of the characters to make up the sentence. Unfortunately this means that the image now can not so easily be interpreted by just looking at it.

For instance, I chose an image that I thought looked like a happy cat. I figured that this character was, infact, a happy cat. The teacher came over… “oooo very good”, oh I was chuffed, I was a natural, practically a Chinese calligraphy artist… “This means sad”… Sad?... “This is a happy cat”, I responded, sweet Mary explained. The teacher laughed, “oh yes! How you do it, it looks like a happy cat!”. So, crossing this off as my artistic talent.

Finally we had “Teaching TEFL” lessons. I immediately took issue with my teacher – there were some similarities to my most recent ‘boss’, so when she tried to provide ‘constructive’ criticism, I (on the inside) snubbed my nose to her and continued to do as I saw fit. Lets just say I reverted to my teenage self in a class environment, which in a way, has been useful as I can empathise with the students I’m now teaching.

I cannot believe how quickly I connected with the other interns. I became part of a few different groups, while still doing my own thing. It felt so natural with so many and for that alone I am grateful for this experience.

My first afternoon with time available myself, two poms, a scot, two Irish, an American and an Aussie headed to the Forbidden City. Two hours squished on a train, praying that we’ll be able to push our way off when our stop presents itself. A fun fact of China, do not wait for passengers before you get on, just pile on, push past those getting off – it is every man for himself!

One of the most difficult things to get used to is what is considered rude or inappropriate in my culture, is just normal, natural and not an issue in Chinese culture. For instance, my sister can attest to my negative reaction to any natural bodily noises, here, it is quite ok to belch allowed whether you’re on public transport or in a restaurant. Also, feel free to light up a smoke at the desk of a concierge, in a shopping centre or coffee house. The hocking and spitting… I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. Even in an elevator, hock… wait til you get out of elevator, spit.

I’ll tell you about the three year olds with trousers that have a split at the most convenient of places another time.

Anyway, back to our Forbidden City outing. Finally arriving at the correct station we elbowed, hipped and shouldered our way through the crowd in order to get into line, six persons wide, forty persons long which was then needed to elbow, hip and shoulder our way through.

When you go into pretty much any pubic space you need to have your bag x-rayed, like as if you were going on an international flight. Bag off, pop it on the conveyer belt, walk through the human x-ray and get felt up by the security guard with a metallic want then grab your bag at the other end of the conveyer belt before it slips down the slide. If you are carrying a water bottle you need to take a sip infront of the security guards.

Forty Kwai and we were in to Tiananmen Square (Yuan can also be called Kwai, like a pound can be called quid, or a dollar a buck). I looked through the spouting water to a giant picture of Moa. The space is vast to say the least. There is a museum that covers the history of the square but I didn’t get a chance to visit this time. When I’m next in Beijing (it’s only an hour from where I’m living now), I’ll make sure to take my time here in particular.

We wandered through the parks surrounding the Forbidden City, the manicured gardens provide a moments respite from the busy goings on of Beijing. The bark of the trees was bizarrely smooth, like a caricature of a tree, not a tree itself.

We took in the ancient buildings, wandering reverently over marble floors, taking a moment to interpret stone carvings along pathways and stair cases. We considered the ornamented awnings, the intricate designs above shuttered windows, the carved stone walls and jutting dragons that erupted from them. We wandered through a museum that included a system of ancient bells, made reference to the Romans’ conquest to the East. I wish I could tell you more about the museum, unfortunately it was all written in Mandarin, so it was really up to our interpretation. I loved looking at the tapestries and paintings though, this significant realist art, their ability to convey their stories and emotion, just profoundly beautiful and mesmerising.

Unfortunately by the time we got to the gate of the Forbidden City itself, it was closed. They stop new visitors from entering once they reach 80000… yes… eighty thousand. Apparently pretty much every day they reach 80 000 visitors! Again, when I head back to Beijing I’ll get in early and experience this historic place. Not to mention, sometimes its easier to travel on ones own, taking everything in at your own pace.

On the way out myself, the American and one of the Irish were approached by a sweet looking Chinese lady. She asked what we were doing, ‘oh!’ she expressed, ‘I’m a teacher too!... can we have coffee? Have tea?’. We went to the other half of our convoy and most agreed (apart from one of the poms who was certain that this was a plot to steal our money!).

Getting to the tea house we all ordered our beverages, and immediately paid for our beverages, apparently much to our hosts disappointment. One of the most common Western schemes is to approach said Westerner, take them to a tea house of your choosing and order drinks upon drinks and food and what ever is available on or off the menu. The Chinese host will then depart, leaving the Westerner with an excessive bill that they have to pay or will be reprimanded by the Tea House and/or their associates. The host and the tea house are always in cahoots’.

Fortunately we had been made privy to this during orientation week, so were quite wary with who pays for what when (in my case, I just didn’t want to have the ‘lets split the bill’ conversation which is tedious in any country, culture or language).

As we’d all finished our drinks a great argument erupted behind us. There was an Indian looking man, seeming a little worse for wear – potentially having been plied with alcohol during his meal – he had paid on card an exhorbidant amount, the host had disappeared and the tea house lady was demanding he pay for the host as well.

Our host quickly ushered us out of the tea house, I imagine in the hopes we didn’t clock on to what she was up to!

So that was all rather exciting.

We then headed to the night markets where we watched starfish sizzle on a skewer, cockroaches roasting over coals, bees and bugs and insects galore ready for your taste buds to explore! There were animals made of liquid sugar, and live scorpions wriggling endlessly in the hopes of escape!

There were seahorses split for consumption… Seahorses… I have no words.

I stuck with some fried shrimp while one of the Irish girls indulged in a grass hoper.

Wandering through the markets if you stopped too long admiring a thing the shop keeper would come to start bartering with you. It’s less intense than Bali though, they don’t immediately grab you when you are just wandering past, so that was a relief. 

For me though, all the items looked factory made, plastic and similar from one stall to another. A couple of our group purchased bits and bobs, but when I came back from the UK I sent a suitcase full of bits and bobs for gifts back to Australia, when it arrived it had been ransacked! So… I have no given up on buying souveneers for myself and for others, instead, if I accomplish something or there is a special moment, then I’ll buy something – it will have more meaning attached to it and I wont (hopefully) be supporting child labour!

I was ready to make my way back to the Uni but dear Mark (the Scot) wanted to see the Olympic Park… and as a lover of sport I also thought this was… hang on? Whose writing this? I did NOT want to go, so I quietly pouted as we made our long way there.

Unfortunately my pout immediately turned into a smile when I saw the delight of architecture mixed with changing lighting. The 2008 Olympic Park is a sight to be seen (please note, do not go during the day… the lights make it what it is). The aqua park looks like a rectangle of giant bubbles, the main stadium has giant pictures bouncing between giant bars, off in the distance is a mushroom like tower that you simply cannot take your eyes off.

What’s more is that there were family’s and groups of friends wandering about, playing with bubble guns and laughing and running, there were kites and the little lit-up borballs you sling-shot into the air and try to catch. The atmosphere was so vibrant and friendly.

The night was getting on and we needed to catch the late train (being 11pm – after that it seems they stop running). However as we crossed the road we heard the clanging of a bin, the drawing of a string and the sizzle of some other instrument we’re not familiar with. There was a group, a very large group, of people dancing. Men and women of all ages dancing to a make-shift band, the dances with great fans and streamers in their hands. These people, their faces were bright with delight. One of our group were dragged into the melle by one of the dancers and we all stood and enjoyed the reverie.

We finally arrived back at the uni, a successful day all round with new adventures to begin in the morn. My feet ached and my heart expanded, my mind dizzy with the wonders of a culture so far removed from my own.

I still had three more days in Beijing, next stop… the Great Wall of China.