Fever and Flood

     I wish I could claim that my three week absence from blogging was entirely due to being caught up in an amazing adventure, too immersed in the real world to stop for the virtual one. As it were, though, of the last twenty-one days, ten of them I spent being horrendously, dreadfully ill, in pajamas for days on end trying to remember what health felt like. After developing enormous lymph nodes, a very high fever and body aches, I went to an international clinic, where the doctor diagnosed me with a cold. After a week of bedrest and constant hydration, I wasn't anywhere close to being better, and so went back to the clinic, only to discover that I actually had strep throat. While I enjoyed a movie and TV marathon, being sick away from home, especially in a foreign country, was a really long, miserable, and lonely experience which I do not recommend and do not want to repeat. It was also especially disappointing to spend days on end feeling that the world was going by without me--I missed out on going to work and gallivanting in Beijing with my roommates Sha, Ricky, and Calvin (who have all since left).

With Sha, his dad, and Ricky

Walking around the Olympic facilities at night

Water Cube

With members of the Wellesley Club of Beijing

     I'm back on my feet now, though, and have been doing a host of fun things like touring the US Embassy with the Wellesley Club of Beijing, going to see Brave, eating out-of-this-world ramen, attending a solo swing dance class with Clare, gorging myself on Russian food with Wurihan, and of course staying busy keeping up with the news.

  This last weekend's news was fairly monumental, though as everything unfolded I had no idea of the scale. I had planned to spend last Saturday finally having a "treat yourself" day, complete with souvenir-shopping, delicious food, a much-needed massage and pedicure. Thus, that morning I was very disheartened to look out the window and see--nothing. A thick haze had engulfed the city, making it impossible to see past one block. I checked the air quality index--in the 370's ("Hazardous", according to the monitor)."Not in my lungs," I thought, and with that my self-indulgent day out on the town turned into a much less thrilling day cooped up in the apartment. I was glad to when rain started falling that afternoon, hopeful that it would clear up the air.

Remember this photo from last post?

Same view, this time with heavy pollution

      Little did I know that as I sulked at home, Beijing was facing its heaviest rains since 1951. While my neighborhood was relatively fine, some areas of the city were desecrated by the flooding. There have been a stream of pictures and videos of collapsed roads, cars barely visible above the waters, houses turned to rubble. The aftermath of the rains has caused an uproar online; microbloggers are bemoaning the antiquated city sewer systems, which are to blame for much of the flooding, and also expressing doubts that the government is being honest about the death toll (officially reported to be 37 people dead). Many are angry that a government which has spent billions on glamorous projects like the Olympic facilities would neglect something so fundamental as infrastructure. 

     ABC visited one of the villages that was hit the hardest, and I wrote an article about the scene: In Beijing, Doubt Grows as Thousands Struggle to Rebuild After Floods. Wading through piles of muck, we spoke with locals who saw their homes and livelihoods swept away before their eyes. Looking at the destruction, I had no idea how one could even imagine the rebuilding process--there seemed to be neither beginning nor end to the mess. When asked if the government was doing enough to help them, all of the residents we spoke with immediately said no. They'll be sleeping on cots in tents in a schoolyard until they have a place to call home again, and it's really impossible to know when that will be.

In The News:

North Korean Mystery Woman Is Leader Kim Jong Un’s Wife

Death by Dirty Oil, and Then Some

At Tina's farewell lunch

     Last week was somewhat characterized by stops and starts, just like the news. For one, the office is a lot quieter: Tina, my fellow ABC intern, had her last day on the job--she's moving on to an internship at Vogue in China--and multiple team members are (or soon will be) on leave for assignments. They have encouraged me to travel around, though traveling is hard to fathom right now, as I'm only just now feeling like I'm getting my Sino-legs.

Because I, like many foreigners in Beijing, have quickly become obsessed with knowing (and bemoaning) the air quality, here's the compulsory update: last week's weather was beautiful, with clear skies, sunshine, and a rainbow (see the picture!) I even went on morning runs that are now just a figment of my memory, currently obscured by a very literal haze. The last two nights, there have been intense storms that I thought would clear things up again for a morning jog. My hopes were quickly dashed a few mornings ago when I checked the air quality index:

06-20-2012 03:00; PM2.5; 338.0; 388; Hazardous (at 24-hour exposure at this level)

Hazardous?! That's nearly four times the level of what's unhealthy.

And the current reading: 

06-22-2012 15:00; PM2.5; 160.0; 210; Very Unhealthy (at 24-hour exposure at this level)

So while that's an improvement, it was probably wise to bag those earlier plans.

     This last weekend was another fun one. I went straight from work to meet Sha and Jerry (who also goes to my old high school) for dinner and a movie. They chose Men in Black III, which, while perhaps not being the movie I would have picked first, greatly exceeded my expectations. (Later they told me they chosen MIBIII because it was the only one playing in English!) I was telling them about my cravings for jianbing guozi, a Chinese street food that is like a crepe with egg cooked inside, then served with lettuce and delicious sauce, when they educated me about digouyou. Here's the short version of digouyou:

(c) Chinese Media Project 2004-2012

Digouyou, or swill oil, is oil that is made by distilling waste fished from sewers. That Google Translate translates digouyou as "cooking oil" perhaps speaks to the stuff's prevalance; a Chinese food professor estimated that one in ten meals served at Chinese restaurants (i.e. in China) is cooked with digouyou. I wouldn't actually have a huge problem consuming swill oil if it were a healthy result of a sustainable recycling process--but you guessed it, it's the farthest thing from it. The China Daily reports, "A deadly toxin found in swill-oil is aflatoxin, which is among the most carcinogenic substances ever known and is 100 times more poisonous than the forbidding white arsenic."

     The next evening, Sha and Travis and I met at Nanluoguxiang, a "new-meets-old" area where designer boutiques are interspersed among the scenery of traditional courtyard homes. We snacked on street kebabs (I know after that last paragraph you're asking yourself, "Why, Audrey, why?") and a new favorite of mine, shuangpinai ("double-skin milk"--it's so much better than it sounds) while cruising the street before dinner. Afterward, Sha placed a few bets on the outcome of the Eurocup soccer tournament happening right now. When I asked him what happens if he wins, Travis chimed in, "He takes us out to dinner!" I joked that if he won a little bit, he could take us out for jianbing guozi. "But I'll probably have to start gambling to pay for our hospital bill."

Hint: the shopkeeper told us the first step is "3-1-1..."

     On our way back to the subway station after dinner, we came across a crowd of people staring at a sign with a Chinese question and numbers on it outside a clothing store. Sha and Travis explained that it was a math problem, and anyone who could solve it would get a discount on the clothing at the store. I was totally amused--imagine if answering the SAT Question of the Day could get you better deals on at your favorite stores? Would smarter people be better dressed?

And in case you're itching to attempt the problem, here it is:

     
     3 1 1 4 5 2 0 6
     Insert only minus and equals signs to make all sides equivalent

     On Sunday, I ventured out in search of a Catholic church, and found Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception in Beijing. I believe the bishop there is one of the few in China officially recognized by the Vatican--to find such a place at all in largely-atheist China is fairly remarkable. First constructed in 1605, four cathedral reconstructions later it has survived earthquakes, fires, the Boxer Rebellion, and the Cultural Revolution. The service, held in English, was pretty unremarkable except for the sweltering heat and the hymns, which sounded like a juxtaposition between Chinese 80's pop hits and Gregorian chant. The effect was very karaoke, enhanced by the scrolling lyrics on the TV screens mounted inside the cathedral, as well as a live electric guitarist and synth keyboardist duo.

     The next morning before heading to work, I met Wilson Hailey, who is an alum of my high school who has lived in Beijing for at least five years, I think. Between some combination of learning and teaching during that time, he has gotten to know the city and the language like a pro. He invited me to his apartment to have pancakes with his roommates, and so I met him at the subway stop bearing bananas and orange juice. What I wasn't expecting was for him to pull up on his motorcycle to pick me up from the station! The way back was even crazier--after a delicious breakfast (that included salsa!) he informed me that he was dropping off one of his friends to her work, so it ended up being the three of us on the motorcycle on the streets of Beijing. It was definitely a tight squeeze and a wild ride as a passenger, but luckily I made it to work without incident and a lot of built up adrenaline.

     This week I wrote my most popular story yet: Sex Toy Fools Chinese Villagers*. It was hilarious to write, as what happened was a goofy series of events that lent itself to a goofy article. In short, Chinese villagers had no idea that the thing they stumbled upon while drilling a well was a sex toy, and after consulting their local news station, came to the conclusion that it was a rare and fabled mushroom that was said to bring immortality. What made this even ridiculous was the young, cute, and totally unaware reporter's serious report on said mushroom finding that aired on the station's investigative program. (Check out my article if you're curious!) Anyway, it was amazing to see the response it got, including this gem from Twitter:

It's also a relief to write a story like that because there is so much news that highlights the worst parts of the world and people in it, and I was definitely getting a little depressed last week. After all, Pakistani women were sentenced to death for dancing at a wedding, and Chinese women were having their pregnancies forcibly aborted, and there is this ethnic and religious clash happening in Myanmar, and don't even get me started on Syria...Writing silly stories where I can throw in the word "probe" takes the edge off the negative stuff.

     *The title I originally proposed was "Sex-Toy Resembling Rare Mushroom Thrusts Chinese Villagers, Reporter into State of Confusion" but it was scrapped in favor of this one. Maybe it was too long. Maybe it was the word "thrusts". We'll never know.

In the News:

Suu Kyi wins pop star reception in Europe

China's Ai Wei Wei Says Tax Hearing is Unfair

Chinese spacecraft docks with orbiting module

Waters of Beijing, Friendship, Death, and Potatoes

     This weekend was my first real weekend in Beijing, and I was dreading it. I knew I shouldn't curl up in my room hiding from the world all weekend, but it was so tempting, given this city's overwhelming size and population. There are so many places to explore here--Beijing seems to never end--but the planning and energy required to go anywhere new, especially as a solo traveler, almost made kicking back in my "studio" with good music and Jon Krakauer's Into Thin Air the obvious choice. Ultimately, though, my boss' suggestion to explore Beijing's hutong, as well as my room's lack of air conditioning, provided the necessary impetus to get out of my bubble and face the crowds.

Beijing's drum tower

      Hutong are the narrow alleyways formed by the walls of traditional courtyard homes, and are especially associated with Beijing. As hutong are regularly demolished to make way for new construction projects,  historical movements have made a push to preserve areas of Beijing that still have these courtyard homes. Karson, the ABC producer, recommended that I check out the hutong around the Beijing Drum and Bell Towers, and so come Saturday that is what I did--or tried to do, at least. I invited Kazumi to join me, and knowing only the subway station of where we were heading, we set off in search of a delicious lunch place and the towers. After spotting the towers from afar, we decided to take a pit stop in a Vietnamese-French fusion restaurant before wandering around the area. It's good we did--as soon as we ordered it started pouring rain, complete with thunder and lightening. After a few hours, the rain had diminished to a slow trickle, and so we ventured out to the towers through the alleyways. By the time the rain had stopped the towers were closed, but not being able to enter didn't diminish the overall effect--especially since lightening was still streaking across the sky in the distance. (Unfortunately, I don't have a tower-with-lightening picture--you'll just have to take my word for it).

The first sky I was able to see since arriving in Beijing

     To interject: this weekend brought two seemingly small developments that that were major game-changers for my quality of life, and one was the rain. I had woken up a few days earlier barely unable to speak because of the poor air quality. My nose was clogged, my throat was clogged, my brain was clogged...later in the day I regained my voice, but my hacking cough (and the symptoms that go with it) don't seem to be going anywhere. In That week, the air quality index (AQI) in Beijing was in the upper 200's, according to US Embassy measurements, which are posted hourly via Twitter. To put this in perspective, the US Environmental Protection Agency considers an AQI over 100 unhealthy. Most cities in the US don't exceed double digits on this scale, which takes into account the number of pollutant particulates in the air. Scarily, the upper 200's is nothing unusual for Beijing--apparently a few weeks ago the AQI was over 500 (exceeding the limit of the US scale!) Right now in China's Hubei province, citizens of seven cities have been instructed to stay inside because a thick yellowish haze of pollution has engulfed the area--the AQI there was a whopping 589 yesterday. But back to the rain--it cleared everything up, and the AQI here was in the single and double digits for a few days! In other words, I have been able to see the sky, buildings in the distance, the sun, etc. for the first time since being here, and the weather has been glorious. In Beijing, one cannot take these things for granted.

Holding on for dear life in the motorized rickshaw

     Kazumi and I started back after taking requisite pictures of the area, but soon found that we had no idea how to get back to the station, and that the people we asked weren't so sure, either. After several attempts to get directions, a rickshaw driver assured us that the station was a far walk and offered his services. We were wary at first--after all, we had walked from the station earlier that day--but seeing as we had no idea where to go (and frankly, I was intrigued by the idea of riding in a rickshaw) we accepted his offer. This turned out to be a fantastic choice, not only because we had been walking in the wrong direction, but also because the experience of being ferried by a driver on a motorized bike weaving through (and often narrowly missing) traffic was exhilarating. Motorized rickshaw is my definitely new favorite mode of transportation.

     After hutong-ing, I rushed off to Beijing Concert Hall to meet my dear friend Grant. Grant and I go back to the days of high school All-State Orchestra, and coincidence of coincidences, his college orchestra toured China this summer. I showed up an hour in advance of the performance, and had the following exchange with the venue's [Chinese] employee:

Me: "Hi, I'm with the orchestra! Where should I go?"

*pause*

Employee: "What is an orchestra?"

I was amused that Grant seemed to know I was taking his picture from afar.

Once we got that subtlety cleared up, I had no issue finding Grant and picking up my ticket. The performance was overwhelmingly fantastic--I had no idea his orchestra was so talented!--and equally enjoyed the Chinese speeches Grant and his conductor gave introducing the group and the pieces they played. At the first Chinese greeting, the audience burst into a huge cheer, and enthusiastically applauded each piece on the program, which included a range of works, from Shostakovich Symphony 5 to a work by a Chinese composer. The orchestra finished off the night (after two calls for an encore!) with the audience-interactive Mambo from Bernstein's West Side Story. It was a magnificent concert, and so lovely to see Grant.

At the lake at Beijing University.
Not pictured: the stone boat we're standing on.

     That was only the beginning of seeing dear friends from the past! I found out that weekend that my friend John was passing through Beijing on his way to a language program in Harbin, China, and so we met up for lunch. He only realized a few days ago that I was in China, and so our meeting was quite auspicious. John and I have some uncanny overlaps--we both have intense interests in Japanese and Chinese, and play violin. In fact, we met in Tokyo in 2008 because we both were studying abroad there. So on Sunday, we got noodles, walked around the lake at Houhai, then went to Beijing University and walked around the lake there, caught up on each other's life, lamented the difficulties of learning and functioning in Chinese with a Japanese-language background, and so on. Talking about the rain, the lakes we were circumambulating, and expense of supporting one's "bottled water habit" in Beijing (where tap water is potentially toxic) we joked that the theme of our visit was "Waters of Beijing."

I met John at Yaoji Chaogan, which is an
extremely authentic Chinese restaurant
that rose to fame after US vice-president
 Joe Biden ate there. The meal he ordered
is apparently now known as the bai-deng.

John and I saw a line of fishermen with these
exceedingly long poles around the lake at Houhai.
Given the relatively small size of the lake,
we had no idea what creature they were
hoping to catch that would require such big poles.

    














     While I'm living with a host family right now, two other Beijing families have quickly become my support network. The families have sons Travis and Sha who are and were students at my old high school (Sha just graduated!) Even before I arrived, these families have been taking care of me--Sha's family is hosting me in their apartment later this summer, and Travis' dad picked me up from the airport when I first arrived and got me a working phone. If that wasn't enough, Travis' family took me out for Peking Duck, a local delicacy that roughly equates to a Chinese taco, and Sha's family treated me to Shanghainese food. They've been incredibly kind and helpful, and having friends in Beijing makes the entire experience so much less daunting. Even if I were their indentured servant, I don't think I could properly repay them--all I can hope is that I'll be in a position in the future to help them out!

With Travis and the Peking Duck chef, who is obviously thrilled to be in this picture

     I know you've been on the edge of your seat wondering what the other recent development that has turned the tides in my favor could be, and so I'll mollify the curiosity that has been plaguing you this entire post: the road by my host family's apartment is now paved! Never have I been more happy to see asphalt. Before being paved, the path was abominable--the best way I can describe it is to say that it seemed to actually be made of pollution. The path was not quite dirt, not quite gravel, uneven and strewn with garbage. Basically, it was a nightmare for walking, especially if you liked the shoes you were wearing...Although the new street already looks like it will soon be worse for the wear, not having to dodge potholes in addition to the constant flow of rogue motorists is a welcome treat.

     Last night was a night of bonding with my host Xu Yuan and Matt and Taylor, the two American guys living with me. I was reading in my room when I heard traditional Chinese music from the street. Xu Yuan then knocked on my door, asking if I wanted to go see something fun. Assuming it was a street festival, I jumped to my feet and searched for my camera as Xu Yuan told me to hurry up. When I told him what I was looking for, he said, "No! Don't bring it--this is a funeral!" I was a little bewildered--I tend to think of "something fun" and funerals as mutually exclusive--but followed him and the guys out the door, sans camera. We chased down the music (which featured cymbals and an instrument that I can only describe as Chinese bagpipes), only to see a crowd surrounding a man lighting a fire in the middle of the street. After parading down the street with hired musicians, the relatives burn paper representing anything the deceased may need--from paper houses to "hell money". The music ended abruptly, and the crowd soon dispersed as the fire died downed and backed-up drivers honked angrily. Xu Yuan told us that what we had witnessed was a traditional-style funeral rite that was now rare and in fact illegal.

     Later in the evening, the four of us were sitting around a table when somehow our discussion subject turned to ancestry. Xu Yuan asked us about our ethnicities, and apparently unsatisfied with the answer "American", was mystified that our ancestors would have moved from foreign countries to the US. Matt and Taylor have predominantly Irish heritage, and so we explained the history of the Irish potato famine to the intrigued Xu Yuan. One of the two guys made the comparison that potatoes were to Ireland what rice is to China--namely, a food staple. "So Irish people left to eat America's potatoes?" Xu Yuan asked us. "Kind of," we answered, "What would you do if there was sickness in Chinese rice?" Xu Yuan thought about it for a moment. "I'd probably go eat the American potato, too."

In The News:

US Embassy warns of "particularly poor" air quality in Wuhan
Nepal 'Himalayan Viagra' harvest droops to record low
China changes patent law in fight for cheaper drugs

The jazz club from last post--
Kazumi and I ended up going!

Houhai, where the jazz club was, is
known for its nightlife