LAST DAYS OF SHANGHAI'S SUMMER

If my weather sources serve me better than daily astrologers (and what are they doing about the Pluto controversy?) than it seems we are winding down from a recent walk out the door sauna or if you prefer furnace blast of diry damp air that hasn't bothered me over the last month while others complained. I thought they were whining until I spent the longest time I've ever spent waiting for a taxi, on Yan An Lu (under the elevated highway). The smell of diesel and exhaust, the heat, youza! Then the only cab driver around to pick me up after a baffling, how will I get home, where do these buses go, was smoking so I cracked the window for some breeze.

I thought he didn't have air until we swung by my street and Mr. F. hopped in - He knew the word for air conditioner and when it went on, said to me, "He must have thought you were crazy to pull down the window!" Several minutes later we were at the nearest thing to Mexican food in Shanghai and then more than a little startled by the jarring sound of rev themed Mexican and southern american bands. It made LA life more real than here and I could see how upset Mr. F. was, like it was better then, "it was my old life" and in a way it was better for him. But here we are, estranged from the streets of LA, two years to the day, the end of August, the end of summer.

On a bright note, a great meeting with colleagues today about what we'd do with our classes on certain issue - it wasn't top down from the manager, but she listened to everyone's ideas and then we decided. Colleagues who, by age grew up "in the day." When she said, "we won't be having classes the afternoons when they do their political classes, history of the Party, Marxism, etc." I thought, this could never happen where I come from, where not so long ago, nasty and ugly treatment of not nearly as controversial progressive voices in faculty. But here, we were discussing these things "business-as-usual."

Balthasar Gracian and other stuff

I read, re-read Balthasar Gracian's "The Art of Worldly Wisdom" on the bus ride out to the "new campus" forty-five minutes outside Shanghai. The disturbing quote, "Life is a warfare against the malice of others." Privately, in my twenties, I thought I was arrogant to believe that life was about "How to survive in a world of dangerous and often powerful "morons" - a bit naive about deliberate hatred, and deliberate and systematic action against others that has nothing to do with being stupid but being bad to the bone.

It would seem that just appearing to be happy is enough to arouse the contempt of others, not just my in-laws, some of whom admit to be "jealous" of our life as expats, but others who seem barely able to conceal the frothing at the mouth, the seething that is reflected in the worst of bad manners from people who pride themselves on such. Won't be seeing them in the near future. Others who have had privileges of the bourgeois variety their entire lives and then say they are "jealous" of us. Who made you conform? You decided to play it safe! You decided to have children, marry and had security and pleasures and privileges I never had! Now, in my new life, suddenly so many people are as jealous as the one sin of my youth, was being young and working very hard to stay fit to a decent degree of attractiveness, not stellar, but enough to bring out the animosity and cattiness of much more privileged friends, relatives and colleagues!

The good news is that the work on this new extension of a European campus through a joint venture here is finally reaching a threshold - the new campus is built as part of the site of another large university-- the "old universities" in town have moved to cities or clusters of newly built campuses that are a pain for faculty and staff to get there, but lovely buildings and facilities for the paying parents and students.

To be respected by my colleagues, proven in their field, is quite different than the obscene and deadly pettiness of the k-12 scene in Shanghai to which many uninformed parents are subjected. Many know they or their companies are being taken for over-inflated tuitions but so many of the teachers are sick f***s who should NOT be around children. And there are great people too, but the exception in my year here.

I am working with Europeans, Chinese and other nationalities, all of whom, thus far, have proven to be very professional; in a discussion on a British text that actually spelled out the "n-word" without astericks, they saw my shock, I explained the sensitivity to people of color and the reversal of calling them minorities in the U.S., how people prefer to name themselves, the adjective of disability not preceding the identify of the person, etc. I was surprised that the Chinese English teachers were sincerely grateful about my comments on incorrect language in our texts and other things that, as an expert on my own culture, they want to know to communicate to the students. This is quite different than being made fun of by Western colleagues on the "P.C." politically correct discount.

It's hard to believe what a difference this is. Yes, I've had my salary slashed, but there is room to grow where I am now. Mr. F. has taken a demanding job I hope he'll find rewarding, that bumps up his income a bit. One day his toddlers had parents and " aiyis" and the next day they were gone. A bit abrupt I think. Today he held a two-three year old until it fell asleep. A first. I don't think I've ever done that. Sweet thought, but will he want to do this next year?

I dreamed I was Sydney Bristow in Shanghai

Today I was ALIAS' Sydney Bristow, "in my mind" as comedian Eddie Izzard, once repeated in a show ("Sexie?") First I did a "dead drop." I went to my old employers' office to get a copy of my Foreign Expert's Certificate which my new employers (got the university job as well as part-time training!) wanted to process my new visa. I needed to wait because I arrived to a scene reminiscent of my early time in China.

A youngish teacher with a Brit accent and wild African hair was saying,"W, you just don't get it!" He was shaking his head to himself in private futility. W. is a well-intended liason for payroll and banking matters, apartments for teachers hired from abroad (part of the package), distributing invitations from the invisible Taiwanese owners to holiday parties you couldn't not attend. He was so exasperated and I had been there with the frustration of doing business here.

She was doing her best to calm him down but offered an answer I'd heard before that seemed "typical"! "Next year, you can get another apartment, Shanghai has so many good apartments." That made him crazy, as it had me, the first time I heard, "Next year..." to solve a current crisis. He seemed completely "out of his mind" was frustration! "W., I know you mean well, it's a lovely apartment but for a month now, this woman has been LYING TO ME, I want to move out!"

Someone came to get W. and she disappeared with a pile of papers. "No, Windy, you are not understanding me!" After she left he literally was writhing on the couch with his hands over his eyes. In between us was the copying machine. I took my lawyer's intern's card from my card case and, when none of the three Chinese employees could see me do it, I put the card on the corner of the copier cover. When he looked up at me, I indicated by moving my eyes to look at the card. He picked it up as he was leaving, and said, "Thanks!"

Of course, I'd asked Stephen by telephone and email for Windy's direct line or to let her know I was coming the next morning. He did nothing but she was so very helpful, she copied the book and gave me advice about the process for my new employer!

Next, off to give the papers to the University employers. They had a letter for me to take to the visa office, the "Immigration Building" in Pudong. While I was there, the C.E.O., with whom I'd had an interesting chat when introduced yesterday, began to speak about some areas in Italy and soon we were talking about Lombards, Vikings, Gauls, Franks, and the research of Cavalli-Sforza.

By this time, it was 11:30. The assistant who'd provided me with the letter to get my visa extension said, "You better not go now, their lunch is until 1:00" - actuallly 13:00 in these parts. So, I wandered off, looking for a subway station, but this part of Yan An Xi Lu is partly under the overhead highway which goes on forever and I couldn't get my bearings. It was a really hot day and bright, but I had my umbrella. After awhile, I hailed a taxi to take me back to Xuijiahui, which I have mentioned is one interesting subway station, having 14 ways to exit or enter, that is literal.

Just as the cab was arriving, I got a call from the man who had hired me Friday for part-time in-house training work - oh, no! He had a job starting right away and I hadn't told him yet that I'd taken four days a week at the university! This job would mean teaching at a famous hospital 4PM-6PM twice a week. I felt like a flake but explained my situation. I didn't think I could get back from the campus outside the city until 4:30 or 5PM.

He said he'd see what the client wanted, whether the time could be moved. This job was not one class twice a week, but two different classes once a week. I had to end the conversation when my cab pulled up to Xujiahui. I talked to Mr. F. for about half an hour from inside the multi-level mall and realized that with so many, many malls with many shoppers, this really must be a city of double-digit millions.

I had my photos taken for my official documents in a shop below street level, by a "Premier Market." I didn't want to wait twenty minutes for processing because I wanted to get going to Pudong and the Immigration Building.

I couldn't find the juice bar and snack bars I was looking for. A piece of fruit for breakfast and no lunch, but the heat, or dinner of butter-tabasco sauce popcorn and cookies 'n cream ice cream to celebrate my job before payday the evening before had cut my appetite.

When I got out of the Shanghai Science and Technology subway station I was confronted with a serious front lawn, a flagpole with the red flag wildly waving in a breeze, and the most elegant grey glass building with unusually subtle fixtures on the edges that I must go back with camera when I go back to pick up my passport. I thought, "Wow, the PSB is right here!" But no one was coming up or down the stairs. I noticed an iron moveable gate that completely obstructed the entrance. I walked a ways and then found a young man who spoke English giving me directions, when a woman taxi driver pulled over and I decided to go with her. I had the address, "Immigration Building" written for me in Chinese.

This was not the Department of Motor Vehicles in Los Angeles! It was the deluxe public service waiting room of a dream, excepting the wait. Absolutely new, good plastic chairs, counters with pens, neon numbers above the counter where the police officers processed immigration issues. Very chill, very relaxed.

Now, no one said I would have to fill out a form. Nor that it required a picture! Oh, no. I was f'd. Then I remembered whist cleaning the other day I'd seen a few loose photos that are flattering from a picture of me in 2003. Why hadn't I waited the twenty minutes at the photo place? I looked around my bag, hope against hope I had some, but no.

In Dalian, where I was one of few foreigners, I put my picture in the window on the back of my "kid's phone" thinking if I lost it, with no address (I never knew our home address in Chinese there) that this was one way to possibly have it come back to me.

There was glue on the counter meant for photos which meant, I needed one. I had none. I was going to have to come back. I pried the casing around the photo on my phone. It wouldn't budge. How did I get it in there?

I remember watching ALIAS that Vaughn said in an episode in season three, "Sydney, you're the best person at improvising I know, but ..." I thought, "I must be stupid, I can't figure out how to get this photo out." Suddenly I saw a depression in the plastic on the top of the phone, as if to push it! It worked! The back came off, this was for changing SIM cards, but it also meant I could get to the photo. Glued it, hoping it would look enough like me now for my processing to work. The things you can learn from television.

Mr. F. had told me that one great thing about the place that there was a very good coffee bar downstairs where I could go while I waited. Indeed! Real expresso. But hardly anything for snacks. The cappuccino was very good and the butter cake alright, but still I wasn't hungry, I just didn't want to be faint. I never enjoyed a coffee less before, I do not know why.

I went back upstairs. I was supposed to meet "Que" at 3PM at a nail salon halfway across the city; going to the salon with a friend was something she introduced me too, but I was still in Pudong when she finished school for the day. I think about the time I was to leave to meet her they called my number. She cancelled our appointments.

The police offer was a young woman whose English was quite good. She asked me to make a copy of a document at the "business center" around the corner from the seating area, and I rushed off, paid a kuai to a smiling woman about my age or less, raced back to the police officer who said she'd give me a month's extension and to come back for my passport on Monday. I complimented her on her expediency. It only will cost the equivalent of $20.00.

As I was wandering around this very new area of public building after public buildin, some older by the insignia of either the party or the country, I should know, over the doorway. I was under my umbrella/parasol, like almost all the women I saw, in the sweltering bright day, dazzled by the buildings, when the phone rang. The hospital people do want to see me for a meet t'mro - if they buy two classes of private training, the Training Company will have me do one and get another trainer.

In the absence of a system in place, as a new employee, I must ask the University for a particular day off in my four-day schedule, hoping they can guarantee it right away, unlikely, hopefully it will be Monday. Until this gets worked out, how can I do the in-house training?

Mr. F. wanted to go to dinner at "Paul's," the English name for a great Shanghainese restaurant of kickass cuisine, but we ended up ordering Mediterranean food, he spoke to the Israeli owner. We had the "Bagdadi" sandwich, which tasted better than it ever had before. Inside the pita bread is egg, eggplant, hummus and sweet pickles, a dream.

I must go to watch more of ALIAS, as Mr. F. is reading while I write and we are in the middle of a season, as expat teachers here are prone to be on occasion.

Pictures from Pudong when I pick up my passport, next week!

BLINK

Tomorrow I have to do a demo class for a university position, so I wasn't able to write today/tonight. Mr. F. met me on Hong Mei Lu, where I'd had my nails done, near the time we were finishing work. We went to City Shop, the refuge for those who miss the American/Australian/English/European food market stock. There was nothing comporable in Dalian. During our first visit there, I burst into tears when I got to an aisle and I saw furniture cleaning brands with which I was familiar in the U.S. !!! There's so much more I'd like to write but I have to teach early t'mro morning.

The Buildings ARE Populating DSCN3696

The Buildings ARE Populating DSCN3696, originally uploaded by RED WEDDING.BLOGSPOT.

This is a night view of the same buildings that appear in the left of the previous photographs. It seemed for months that they would remain unoccupied, but you can see, that is not the case.

Beauty in Concrete - Shanghai DSCN3690

Beauty in Concrete - DSCN3690, originally uploaded by RED WEDDING.BLOGSPOT.

Grasp this if you can. If you find beauty in concrete, it is here. This is the balcony of our living room. When we moved in, nearly a year ago, the building in the center of the picture had internal structure but the exterior was finished from the top down. I see sparks if I look out at night. To each side, look at how deep the rows of buildings are. We hear that the square meter price is about 12000 yuan, which is $1500.

For months we watched the buildings dark at night, with hardly an occupant. Now, almost all are becoming populated.

I can't imagine how so many people can afford these! This only represents a TINY PART OF THE CITY, about 5 minutes drive from the "ring road" that represents the greater metropolitan Shanghai area. See the field across from us? We anticipate noise in the near future but see no evidence of any projects.

Recently razed side of Guyang Lu

Recently razed side of Guyang Lu DSCN3689, originally uploaded by RED WEDDING.BLOGSPOT.

We returned the 29th of July to discover that the entire row of low buildings across the street from our apartment building had been razed. While it isn't surprising, it was startling. We had shopped last year at a pharmacy and an office supply shop where you see this rubble. We liked taking our business to the local merchants rather than the ubiquitous Carrefour. I remember the kind face of the elderly man who sold us extraordinary hand-made gift wrapping paper sheets. The pharmacy was open one day, closed the next and then never reopened. All along this street were bars which, unlike the other businesses, had no open windows, just advertising that including western style ads with product names in English, "Chivas" and smaller neon writing in Japanese. We heard that this was where many Japanese men went for women (other than their wives). In the lower left corner you can see construction worker housing that took all about two days to put up. One wonders why people in other parts of the world live in buildings that are run-down, infested and otherwise inadequate for living, when at least temporarily, this could give clean shelter.

CHINESE SOAP OPERAS IN THE SAUNA ON LCD SCREENS

I hope, dear readers, that you will read Henry A. Giroux, and others to whom I will provide links. Particularly, his own description of his vision, a few posts ago, which sadly, I pasted in small blue font.

Yesterday, I described my post-emotional-combat therapy, a quick visit to Xiao Nan Guo bathhouse, where I was scrubbed, bathed in perfumed water, jacuzzied, and watched "period piece" Chinese soap operas on a big LCD screen in the sauna.

Later, I took what seemed to be a very long taxi ride to my appointment/interview, I think I was near Peoples' Park.

To sum it up while bath water is drawing, I got the job. I'll be doing in-house training to clients of an international firm that provides customized English business programs. I have a copy of their "intermediate" book, looks rather high level to me. Anything more specific might identify more than any "back office" information by which the computer can identify me. I was in a daze as I wandered down the street for a few minutes, with my brain computer needing to be defragged. I saw where I was, spectacular, navigated towards where I thought I could see subway signs, and found my way back to my favorite stop without having to change, Xiujiahui. I think I spelled it correctly! It's like a circle with about six exits, all taking you up the street to different department store or mall corners.

Outside the Grand Gateway was a promotion, not unusual for Xiujiahui, the subject was. It was a South African travel promotion.

Mr. F's colleagues want to meet during "Happy Hour" on my most dreaded street to venture forth in Expatistan, the walking street of foreign restaurants. Life could be worse!

"The world is so full of a number of things, I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings." Was that Robert Louis Stevenson? Does that mean, so long as you're not in a struggle to survive or maintain a good mood?

Dr. Henry A. Giroux - When Hope Is Subversive

Tikkun piece.pdf (application/pdf Object)

Feature: Henry Giroux Class Casualties: Disappearing Youth in the Age of George W. Bush

Feature: Henry Giroux: "Class Casualties: Disappearing Youth in the Age of George W. Bush"

Critical Pedagogy on the Web: Henry A. Giroux

Critical Pedagogy on the Web: Henry A. Giroux

Giroux describes his work in this way: "My work has always been informed by the notion that it is imperative to make hope practical and despair unconvincing. My focus is primarily on schools and the roles they play in promoting both success and failure among different classes and groups of students. I am particularly interested in the way in which schools mediate--through both the overt and hidden curricula--those messages and values that serve to privilege some groups at the expense of others. By viewing schools as political and cultural sites as well as instructional institutions, I have tried in my writings to provide educators with the categories and forms of analyses that will help them to become more critical in their pedagogies and more visionary in their purposes. Schools are immensely important sites for constituting subjectivities, and I have and will continue to argue that we need to make them into models of critical learning, civic courage, and active citizenship" (Contemporary Authors).

Private Satisfactions and Public Disorders: FIGHT CLUB, Patriarchy and the Politics of Masculine Violence

Dr.Henry A. Giroux-Online Articles: "

Private Satisfactions and Public Disorders:
Fight Club, Patriarchy, and the Politics of Masculine Violence"

Dr.Henry A. Giroux-Online Articles - Animating Youth, the Disneyfication of Children's Culture

Dr.Henry A. Giroux-Online Articles

One day I could buy toys for the children in my family, the next day, everything was product. I thought I coined the term, "Disneyfied" but here it is.

French theorist Jean Baudrillard provides an interesting theoretical twist on the scope and power of Disney's influence by arguing that Disneyland is more "real" than fantasy because it now provides the image on which America constructs itself. For Baudrillard, Disneyland functions as a "deterrent" designed to "rejuvenate in reverse the fiction of the real."

Henry A. Giroux

THE BEAUTY OF INVISIBLE INK - Bathhouses

Yesterday, I cut and pasted into my blog from an e-mail, something I'm usually against on principle. None of it showed up, just my editorialized comments at the beginning.

I thought that because I was having formatting problems with the "create post" font function that the reason I had this long omission was because Blogger had some positive privacy issue about cut and paste from e-mail. Bravo, I thought, despite the inconvenience.

Later, Mr. F. had his AOL screen open to news, where they were scrolling (whatever the appropriate term) through images of couples breaking up. Notably, there was a story of one rocker and his wife posting their problems publically through myspace.com. Okay. This gave me the idea that airing my real dialog with my mother might benefit from reconsidering.

Part of me was "go with the moment, don't hold back, this is truth, forget about what anyone thinks, let the outrageousness speak for itself." And another part of me was saying, "this demeans me, as if to repeat or respond to my mother's engagement in character assassination made me look immature.

Now, these considerations are not unique to me, and particularly, having investigated the gendered silences of women. There is a thesis of over 100 pages with a "lit review" that I am not going to sum up here. I'm tired, I slept less than I wanted.

But the reason that these comments did not appear was no high road on the part of Blogger, nor what Mr. F. thought, "cut and paste" issues in Firefox -- that only happens to me in our www.excite.com account, and they warn you.

Mr. F. is my one subscriber, I signed him up when I showed him how I had started to reconstruct the site with tools from www.feedburner.comI highly recommend that anyone with a blog use their services, I'm a fan of their tools, their tone and their speedy customer service.

I used some html script to build a subscriber sign up box which you can see. It works and I had to do so little! When I went into the e-mail delivered to me when I post, there was all the text from the e-mails that didn't show on the web site screen. "That's because what you pasted was black." Meaning the font. !!! (Need icon for electric light bulb.) My template background is black (not as a statement or aesthetic preference of the moment but because changing templates is a drag), and I'd cut and pasted from e-mail typed in black.

I think I will repost, but I have to go for post combat therapy. This means going to a bath palace, a phenomena here in China that is widespread and wonderful, but only comparable as high-end day spas in the U.S. I discovered one in Dalian. I had no bathtub that year, and I thought they would have one. They didn't but after a lot of staring and laughing at my Putongua (Mandarin) I agreed to have a massage. This was a turning point in my life here. They used a white towel and scrubbed the dead skin off, and for an extra $2.50 equivalent, gave me a deep tissue massage.

I looked everywhere in my neighborhood in Shanghai for a place that would do the same, but it took over six months before a colleague told me about a place that did the scrub. (This involved many frustrating communications at many places. It also involved us finding what we thought to be the spa sign, a sign with a water themed graphic, like a beach, and followed the arrows. There, we knew something was awry when the guard who opened the door seemed unnerved. The brusque attendant announced that women were not welcome.)

The place I go to has a few foreigners, but most Expatistanis go to the Western upscale places that offer far less and they do not know what they are missing. Chinese people come in groups. You can get private room, spa treatments, meals, a gym, a pool. You can even pay a few RMB more to stay over night in the resting rooms. !

You enter the building, behind the restaurant of the same name. It has a large lobby where you can look up and see several floors offering different services. An automatic player piano plays constantly. When you walk in there is a staff to take your shoes. When you go to the locker room, there is a woman whose only job it seems is to lift a panel of fabric to let you pass. Many attendants are in the locker room, in the shower and sauna/jacuzzi rooms. Many attendants. When I go it is usually not crowded and I wonder what it is they think about or talk about, standing, waiting to offer a towel or a cup of cold water. Many service places are like this in China. A lot of people standing around, employed, underemployed. Oh, if you want to leave the first floor, everyone gets floral pajamas and paper underpants to walk around in. There are women whose job it is to give you this as you emerge from the sauna and jacuzzi area.

On the first floor, one can use a sauna with an LCD screen, individual jacuzzi, group jacuzzi, scented water soaking pool, outside water pool. AND GET DEAD SKIN SCRUBBED OFF, you can see these sheddings when you turn over. If you want they'll also give you warm milk to rub in afterwards, salt scrubs and the like. I wish I could bring in a mini camera because of modesty issues. Actually, maybe now is the time for the upscale phone I spoke of in a prior entry last week. People can either shower standing up, but some people prefer to make their ablutions on a stool with a hand held shower head. Okay, I have to go, I'm losing my connection to Blogger.

NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP. MY ONLY ADVICE. I am buoyed today by the quick reply from my dear long-time friend that I emailed yesterday with my plight and distress. The best. I count my blessings and he is one. And by the encouragement and response to "Am I ever going to be joyous again?" by Mr. F. who said, "Don't speak in absolutes." So much of day to day life can dissolve into mundane banter that too often I take for granted and forget what a sharp cat Mr. F. is! "Go to Xiao Nan Guo if you can't go back to sleep by 8:00.

And never underestimate the power of grooming. My grandmother and her sister seemed to take an extraordinary interest in their long painted fingernails. I guess if you're in your eighties, as they were at the time, this is something in being well put together that offers gratification.

I'm off to Xiao Nan Guo, the palace. If I told you the value of the services and the prices, you might understand why I am not in a hurry to leave this place.

MIDNIGHT IN SHANGHAI

I can't sleep. I went out on the patio, where there's a superb breeze. If you can find beauty in concrete, it is here. The skyline again a wonder, so clear to peruse the view. We live in the air, reclaimed space. Barbara Kingsolver wrote somewhere that the population of the planet made a transition from the natural habitat of humankind changing from rural to urban, silently in 1996.

Mr. F. sits out on the patio, it's small but with a great view, on a chair or stool he brought from Dalian; there popular, it folds, small and low, simple made of wood and twine. The older men and women sit outside on during the summer months. I don't see that here, but Dalian took on an outdoor spirit in the summer.

He got into the groove with these things while I was too busy worrying about this and that, he rode a bike in a city with hills. Here we have lanes and a garage for bikes downstairs in the building. It's a labyrinth, we came about some animals and realized someone was living down there in a room.

Nowdays, I sometimes come out to see him in the morning, still smoking, bent over with his arms on his knees, waking up. Seldom looking happy, but he says it's just being half awake.

Tonight I sat in the chair and I smoked! That kind of a day. I'm glad he's excited about the year he wants to make for his students. I remember I had that excitement before several years of public school. It came back last year in the months preceding our move here, but from the first day at school, I was undermined. From so many directions. I had terrible insomnia all year, never Friday or Saturday nights, only when I had to go to work, not knowing which one of the discontents, the competitive expats would say or do something upsetting. I have never worked with so many nutcases in one place before. It really distracted me from doing my best, but most of the parents thanked me and were genuinely happy.

I keep promising to add pictures to my posts, but I've gotten out of the habit of carrying around the camera. A hard day. But the wind is blowing through the skyscrapers. We have double doors on the windows. The buildings are concrete. Sturdy for storms. Back to the sleep project.

Intersting quotes from interesting people!

Intersting quotes from interesting people!

Thanks to Mr. F. who is starting his first classroom of his own this week. He found these quotes about education, from a variety of sensibilities.

One of my favorite people is Albert Einstein. He wrote,

'It is nothing short of a miracle that the modern methods of instruction have not entirely strangled the holy curiosity of enquiry'


Enjoy!

None of the e-mail, nor my interlineated remarks published

Maybe Blogger's posting software didn't recognize the text from copying from the e-mail, nor my interlineations. It was a painful thing to experience, much less write, now I'll have to do it t'mro by hand.

STEVIE WONDER - I JUST CALLED TO SAY I LOVE YOU RINGTONE

I was adding Stevie Wonder to my list of links and discovered you can get I JUST CALLED TO SAY I LOVE YOU as a ringtone (sweet) And more. Check it out.

I can't yet, my little Nokia is described as a "kid's phone" by critical consumers here! This entry level price is also used by some of my Chinese colleagues, so shame on those who make unkind remarks about those of us who don't need to impress with bells and whistles. The status symbol value becomes even weirder when you consider prices and salaries; last year when I shopped for my phone, even with a Chinese person along to negotiate, the prices were Western prices paid by people with Chinese salaries!

There are laws now in the U.S. about driving while talking on your cell, here, you can see that people drive or bike while talking on the phone.

And, biking while smoking. The smoking is the worst part of being in China for me, aside from the discomfort of being foreign, and not having more diversity. We consciously avoid going to Chinese restaurants at the busiest times.

I haven't found this as bad in Shanghai as I did in Dalian, where it seemed 95% or more of the men smoked. In restaurants with their children, wives and mothers beside them.

One day we walked through the French Concession, an area that once belonged literally to France. There are lovely trees that give shade and cover and many old villas still exist. There was a bus stop with a bulletin board with a poster; there was some graphic information to make the target of the campaiagn obvious, including a head and body split vertically, with one side of the body in flesh and the other decrepit and skeletal.

In Dalian, the middle school school students had to answer the question, "Should people be allowed to smoke in restaurants?" on their final exam. The kids had the information, so the adults do, too. Even if they were trying to please me, not one thought it was right.

Mr. F. still takes his after-dinner cigarette outside, and every time, he is informed that he's allowed to smoke inside. And everytime, he reminds them about second-hand smoke's effect.

A challenge here is not to be condescending, but I know the information that smoking is dangerous to your health is out there! I know this has to do with legislation and consequences from my own experience. As recently as the late eighties, smoking was conditionally allowed in Los Angeles office buildings. Several of us working in a large multi-leveled, multi-national law office contacted the appropriate city government agency, we "threw down" about the "smoking floor"; Someone on the inside was willing to collude with our employers, but eventually they passed laws that said smokers at work had to go outside the building.

I see a lot of workers from Anhui, one poor adjacent province - they live near us in temporary housing, as I mentioned about 30-40 buildings going up within a mile,and wonder if it is a cheaper alternative than food, it does cut the appetite. We've heard some rumors about disinformation about smoking put out that I'd rather not repeat on my blog.

I think some more workers are about to find jobs, or transition to new projects, right across the street. This Sunday I will take pictures to post of the contradiction of our block, we still have a nightime street market, with vendors of food, clothing and other items setting their wares on the ground, while in the background new high rises loom.

For the last year, directly across the street there was still an old row of low, one story buildings with shops. We used an office supply and a pharmacy that quietly disappeared.

Within two days this week, the row was razed, and now these temporary living quarters for workers are being built. Many of the 30-40 buildings in progress are near completion but there is a field directly across from us, we knew when we moved in that it was only a matter of time before it would be developed. We expect that soon, we will be hearing a lot of construction at close range.

But I digress. I know I do that a lot. You can also get other ringtones from Stevie Wonder's official site!

GPS COORDINATES CONVERTER

We were on our way to the gym after watching "just one episode" of a J.J. Abrams TV series when I showed Mr. F. www.feedburner.com. This became a several hour journey into the land of the yet to be known as we both tried to understand RSS feeds better.

We saw the "Optimize Your Feed" tab and looked at "Geotag Your Feed." We remembered that Master D., our nephew had shown us Google Earth, which we downloaded, a very cool program I recommend. Get Google Earth.

We found our very building, on the Google Earth free version at that! Our closest intersection has only appeared on our English version of the Shanghai Tourist Map since we've moved here -- we're not really "in the burbs," just 10 minutes by cab or bicycle to a subway or light rail station. We live just outside a ring road, which probably defines "Greater Metro Shanghai." What is a never-ending marvel to behold is that there are no less than 30 new high rise buildings within a mile area across from where our windows face.

Once we found our GPS coordinates, we found that when we entered them, we were requested to get values in decimals. Now this is new territory for us.

After a long web search, Mr. F. found a site, "Sanidumps.com" where there was a very easy to use converter and we were able to do this!

We don't actually see anything new that would indicate this information on this site, nor in the html for the template, but we had a lot of fun eating dinner (we ordered in) and trying not to get the computer greasy while we worked.

Later, we evaluated the wisdom of putting out our location on the Internet.

BLOGGER DOMAIN NOW ACCESSIBLE FROM CHINA VIA DIRECT DIALUP

When I first moved to China in September of 2004, I couldn't get directly to my feed, nor to Blogger. We had a DSL dial up connection when we lived in Dalian; for a grandiose second I thought that I, "Red Wedding" had been blocked, but I realized the "Blogger" domain had been blocked by doing a work around using my AOL software. By the way, this doesn't display well in AOL. I prefer Mozilla as a browser, where it looks just fine!

But back to the censorship issue -- I moved to Shanghai almost a year ago to the day. Same thing, could get to blogs through AOL, not directly from our DSL connection and a browser.

However, I discovered yesterday that, without going through AOL, I can reach this site. I'm really excited about this. I think that says something about relaxing restrictions. At any rate, I couldn't imagine why "foreign" colleagues* here seemed to enjoy the anti-C drama of discussing censorship when major foreign newspapers were always accessible for those who could read English. When we go to hotels, in fact our first temporary place here had CNN, the BBC and a major Hong Kong TV station.

(Yes, I know about the dogs slaughtered and because I live here, I really get it, the way things are done, the mindset. ) It wasn't just on AOL's news, it was on China Daily or Shanghai Daily's site. Which I'll put on the list of links when I remember the HTML I used when I set up this site.

For most of the last year I have been too busy reading Henry Giroux, Patricia Hinchey, Carolyn Heilbrun and Tillie Olsen, to name a few, and finishing a paper to blog, ironically one that has writing in the title. Writing about writing, how strange. And other reasons, laziness, watching TV series to relax from the "mundane stress" of living here, exacerbated by a really "toxic" workplace. I hate cliches but to save time since I'd like to go to sleep before 2:30 AM tonight, I'll use that one.

To those of you reading my blog, I wish you would decloak and tell me what it is you find interesting and I'll give you more. Perhaps you can comment and use anonymous e-mail addresses. We (Mr. F. and I) often send each other articles from the NY Times using outrageous domain names we invent, and I'm sure we're not alone.

In fact an acquaintance in private equity was speaking to me and casually said in passing, "Back when China was "C"... confirming what I already understood. This becomes annoying when I hear people talk about this place as if it were the "Cold War" era. The mother-in-law, "Don't you feel afraid to live in a "C" country? I don't know where I could be safer these days, with respect with being able to walk around and not live in fear of physical hart or violence like most of my fellow Americans must. We feel isolated when it comes to peers who share our cultural references and perspective, but it is hard to think of where we would go that would be as safe as here.

One of the first meetings of the CCP, which took place in a Shanghai home, now a museum walking distance from the trendy Xiantiandi area, a complete contradiction. But there are wax figures depicting the founders of the Party sitting around a table, and in English, their defined objectives, one of which was clearly stated, dismantling capitalism. So with the boom here, I really don't think the economic component requisite for the C definition is in place, so why do people think it's a C country "boogy-man" country anymore? Because the name of the Party? I will say that I found in my recent legal dispute vestiges of leveling power relations in employment law. I liked that. Our salary is divided into a share for housing, something once provided by the State.

How did I grow up so ignorant of the geography of this place --American education. Once you are here and realize you don't know the names or locations of cities with populations in the millions you see that something important is not being taught.

I am offended by friends who say, "But, no,they can't own musical instruments!" when I discussed how overworked my Dalian students with busywork homework and endless private lessons, music, English, Confucianism. I've been to the stores, you can buy Western musical instruments. This is not the era when the piano was fought for. I'll have to write about my visit to the island of pianos, once an International Settlement with 14 consulates on one square mile.

But these overworked children. I was a professional figure skating and so much of my time as a child was taken up by hours of practice. Here I see the same imbalance in the lives of children, en masse. What is this doing to human development? No siblings, little play that is interactive developing problem-solving skills, with the proliferation of computer games and other isolating electronic devices. By your six grade exit exam, the pressure's been on to get into the right middle school.

Internet cafes of hundreds of computers with most young patrons playing video games. It sickens me. The self-absorption I see is scary. I'm not a Luddite but the effects have been better documented than I can do. "Making Connections - Learning and the Brain" the Caines.

I realize I just wrote yesterday that Shanghai is not China, it is and like the States, many provinces, many dissimilar provinces, cultures. It ain't just the food. So we have stereotypes of New Yorkers, people have stereotypes of Shanghainese (and they are not kind) as they do about people from Dalian, etc.

One last thing before I sign off. If you are a working stiff, and not for a multi-national with accountability, beware. People here need us, but many employers or management in education, (not the older international schools, but the younger ones, with more unabashed mercantile objectives.) Their business depends upon finding and employing native speakers, but -- and this has happened more often than not to us, and to people we know who have worked here several years -- they take advantages of newcomers with the "but you're in China, not the U.S." card. They often do things that would be illegal in their home country. I don't exagerate. That is to say, don't think because your boss is American or Irish or Australian that they have any intention of observing labor practices in their own country. I won't make that mistake again!

Things change quickly here. Thank you to whomever I should be thanking for making it possible for me to reach Blogger and other sites through direct dialup.

*meaning Westerners, or more accurately, those of European, North American descent, "Northerners."

BACK IN MY LITTLE TOWN -- SHANGHAI

I just arrived back in Shanghai after a month of travel. We returned to a breeze and cloudless bright skies so clear and that the skyline looked etched.

The first week of July we went to Koh Tao to learn to dive, something Mr. F. long wanted to do, an incentive to quit smoking. That didn't really work yet, but I am certified, and ate my share of pad thai noodles.

I had just come off a successful but draining litigation to get out of my two-year contract. It came out better than the events leading up to the decision would have predicted, but I'd been subject to excessive amounts of adrenalin for a protracted time, and the diving course was too accelerated for any relaxation. (It seems to be the modus operandi of open water courses at many places around the world.)


We took a boat and train to get to Bangkok, since we couldn't fly after diving for about 18 hours, that was cool, I had a beauty treatment before we left for Shanghai, with Dr. Nan in a luxury mall, while Mr. F. walked around. We got home to Shanghai in the early morning, did some banking, paid the rent in the less than 12 hours to get ready for our trips to the States.

We were in Los Angeles for a blurred week. Almost every evening scheduled by my mother for some activity with the nieces and nephew, which was okay, because they're bright and dear and I used to be close with them.


A great evening with Mr. F's former boss, Ms. G., an exceptionally fine wise and warm woman long ago from the Islands (Trinidad) for whom Mr. F. worked in Valencia, along with Mrs. V. from India -- we drove out to her home where she'd cooked homemade Indian food.

One thing I miss here -- the homogeneity of the population and lack of diversity makes me feel something is missing and having grown up in L.A., I feel more at ease with people from all over the world. I hear that of the double digit millions here, there are 300,000 Taiwanese and 70,000 other -- meaning Aussies, North Americans and Europeans for the most part. The entreprenuers, the multinational careerists.

Maybe you can only understand the joy of looking forward toa few "everyday" comforts only if you've lived a middle-class life and move to such a different culture...a haircut by people familiar with hair that isn't like theirs, shoes and t-shirts that 1) fit and 2) don't have sequins, beads and English thrown on them in strange, usually meaninglyess or embarassing permutations.

I don't know how many people wait months and get excited to go shopping for J. Crew tank t-shirts, but I was, since I can't buy much of things made here - we made several searches for shoes, because I can't get my size (8 1/2) anywhere, unless it is a fluke. Mr. F. got running shoes.

After dinners in Los Angeles, we spent hours at night online trying to book a flight to Ohio and come home via Cancun, to see the in-laws who hadn't pressed the reply button when we said we were coming. "We" as in they were gushing the first time Mr. F. went back on his own in January, and I had to come back here to work. I didn't want to go, but his 93 year old grandmother was in the hospital and just because of them, I thought she shouldn't be punished.

As compensation for what I knew was going to be dreadful, we worked in a "multi-city" itinerary and a vacation on the Riviera Maya after that -- with jet lag and evenings on the Internet, we sort of missed being in LA.

While my parents are in constant communication and excited for our being here, even admiring, his parents haven't acknowledged us in the last two years, nor thanked us for holiday or birthday gifts. By their own standards as "decent people" they have fallen quite short.

On the day of my birthday dinner, my mother sent me to her hairdresser, presumably to blonde me again, after having my hair fried in Asia for over two years and abandoning the "gentle lightening" effect. I went along with it, I had a feeling she wanted me to look good for the enemy.

The in-laws behaved worse than we could have expected. Jaw-dropping, rude, nasty, mean.

I was born on Bastille Day and I'm left-handed. What a coincidence, if you get my meaning. We left early with a note.

We did see "Granny" who died yesterday, we found out this morning. The trip couldn't have been timed better. We saw her twice. However, the rural northern Ohio I saw gave me the creeps, it was so homogenous, eerie.

We tried to relax on the Riviera Maya but our digs were in Tulum, a bit far south on the coast, in a little posada, pleasant but we had to schlepp everywhere in the heat without a car because they wanted too much of a deposit and we didn't really plan ahead or shop around.

We were both upset about the badly behaved in-laws.

We did buy a time share for a very small deposit, so from now on we'll be able to stay in some great places that we exchange for our unit, for less money than we've payed for more rustic places that suited our taste just fine. Now I just need a new job!

We left Tulum on the morning of the 26th and with the day lost to the date zone, traveled for two-what seemed like three days. We didn't think to break up the trip. We spent five hours in Inchon's sterile transit lounge.

We overextended but we can't complain being lucky enough to do so much. We came home and watched DVDs and slept for two days.

Shanghai is not China, it is it's own scene, and I've heard the same sentiment from others informing me! Whatever, it is such a thriving economic environment, for many, although we see our share of poverty -- but it ain't Bangkok or the Sudan or India, we feel lucky to be here, whatever the hardships.

It is so disconnected to the LA life I knew and sometimes miss. The less said electronically about the scene the better, but there is some good info at www.chinastudygroup.org.

After being away, so many details of living become more conscious again, to be articulated in another post. Navigating daily life, I often feel as if I live, not on the other side of the planet, but as a guest on another planet. I don't really get what's going on here.