From Paris* to Venice*

I'm departing Shanghai for Suzhou, described by visitors all the way
back to Marco Polo as the "Venice of the East" for the canals
encircling and criss-crossing it. (Historically speaking, Suzhou is
one of the oldest settlements on the Yangtze, so perhaps we should
instead call Venice the "Suzhou of the West.")

I'm planning to stay just one night before continuing by boat on to
Hangzhou, thought by many to be the most beautiful city in China, on
the edge of West Lake. There's a saying in China about these twin
cities: "In heaven there is paradise, on earth Suzhou and Hangzhou."

__

*of the East

Cultural Mystery Challenge #1: Crickets

Okay, participants and students of Chinese culture, or wikipedists
with mad skills: I need your help.

A couple of days ago, I stumbled into a market with birds, fish, and
turtles for sale, along with thousands and thousands of crickets. Most
of the folks in the market (hundreds by my estimate) were hunched over
little jars or other containers, each containing a single cricket. One-
by-one, a jar would be opened, the little cricket would be prodded
with a slender stick, the lid would be replaced, and on to the next one.

I asked my new Chinese friends about it -- showing the pictures I
took, drawing a little cricket, even attempting my first cricket
impression -- to no avail.

So my challenge to those of you who choose to accept is this: explain
what was happening in this market and with these crickets. Post your
answers in the comments. And thanks for your help!

KFC is taking over China...

...and China is taking over the world, so...

(Seriously, there are KFC's everywhere in Shanghai, and they are
wildly popular. It is becoming a serious public health concern. I'll
leave it to you to speculate on how the Col. has been re-packaged for
this market.)

You haven't seen Shirley Temple...

...until you have seen her in Chinese (thanks to the Old Film Cafe).
Seriously, the overdub performance is convincingly a child's.
Unfortunately, she really nailed Shirley's obnoxiously shrill moments,
in particular.

4,000 years of history

Today I peered at a 4,000 year old statue that represents one of the oldest artifacts of Chinese history in the Shanghai Museum, and also got to see a vision of Shanghai's future, leading up to its hosting of the 2010 World Expo. This vision, presented at the Urban Planning Museum (they just have to fend folks off with a stick from that one), is laid out under headers translated into English as "Master Plan." The exhibit seems to be preparing the locals for some radical changes in Shanghai in the next couple of years (something Shanghai is no stranger to), with exhibits "Relocating Factories" and "Relocating Populace."

 

Today's juxtaposition of old and new leads me to imagine having connection to a place that meaningfully extends more than 200 generations. Sure, we've all got that to Planet Earth, but as the child of immigrants, the closest I've been able to come to that sense of rootedness in specific would have to be my 2005 visit to Norway. As powerful as that experience was, it was a different feeling. I was seeing the place for the first time.

 

I try to imagine the depths of identification, tradition and pride that come with a 4,000+ year history. It makes me suspect that, as China continues its ascent in world affairs and influence, we are in for an interesting ride over the next generation or so. Joss Whedon might not be far off.

 

Speaking of rides, folks in Shanghai are especially fond of two-wheeled transports. The motos are all (seriously, I have not found an exception) equipped with the beefiest engine guards I've ever seen, often reinforced with metal plating that wraps around the rider's legs. The message appears to be: when, not if, one will need them. One interesting traffic rule might explain part of that: scooters and electric bikes can ride on sidewalks and pedestrian malls. And do they. Fast. The first time an electric bike came up behind me, I jumped: they are eerily silent and folks are very comfortable weaving through waves of gawking tourists in lock-step. Thankfully, they have also appeared to be ready to stop fast if needed. This photo is from Shanghai's most prominent pedestrian mall (or at least, non-auto mall), the Nanjing Donglu.

Day and night in the City of Lights (of the east)

Shanghai is often compared with Paris, and it's not hard to see why:
the Pujong riverfront is home to the Bund, a legacy of colonialism and
forced Western trade deals after the Opium Wars. That side of the
river features the columned facades you'd encounter in many European
cities (or wannabes). The other bank, pictured here, expresses more of
Shanghai's distinctiveness: from the unfathomable pace of development
(the area was farmland in 1990, but now makes Minneapolis' downtown
look like a model train set, with not one but three of the world's
tallest buildings (the last of which is still under construction), to
the range of utilitarian and outrageous pleasure craft plying the
Pujong's waters, to the ever-present smog that results, to the
cacophony of eye-catching lights and signs. (It's worth mentioning
that one of those giant buildings bears more than a passing
resemblance to the Eiffel Tower, and it too is an antenna for wireless
communication.)

Any concerns I had about being able to communicate with the locals
have been completely allayed, at least while I'm here. Every hundredth
or so person you meet (there are 20 million here during the day, so it
happens often) speaks English at least as well as I do, and yet is
eager to continue practicing, and so will strike up a conversation
with, "welcome! Where are you from?" This morning, after having my
morning tea in a bamboo grove with many shirtless, smoking, conversing
old men (yeah, there's more to that story), I was greeted by a tiny
elderly woman with a smile as big as her face, who stepped away from
her ballroom dancing (one variant of the prevalent morning tai chi
sessions) to meet me, then personally escorted me blocks and blocks to
show me her favorite area nearby to get Chinese-style breakfast (which
turned out to be an open-air market blocks long in which it's quite
possible I was the only whitey).

Not an hour later, sitting in a park preparing for a plunge into
museum-land, I met three students from Qingdao (home of the
eponymous but poorly transliterated Tsingtao beer). Park
conversation led to tea, which led to lunch, with led to a day-long
adventure criss-crossing the city with the most gracious tour guides
cum new friends you could ever want to meet.

Suffice it to say, the place is enchanting, the people are charming
and my feet are killing me. Just what I'd hoped.

Over the North Pole by aeroplane

I'm on the ground in China! Next I take the mag-lev train to town,
which costs about $10 and cruises a few millimeters above its track at
270 mph.

Being too accustomed to Mercator projections, I was surprised to
discover that the flight path from Chicago to Shanghai is due north,
as long as there's more north to go to.

This image is pretty fuzzy, but the map shows our plane inching into
Santa territory, which it turns out is big and flat and white. Hard
not to ponder what it would mean to land down there, especially with
the ice being so anemic these days. Worse than finding yourself on
Hoth sans taun taun.

The plane is full of students from all over the country, getting ready
to start study abroad experiences with the new semester. Encountering
them has reminded me how powerfully in college I was drawn to the idea
of studying internationally, but never managed to piece it together:
figuring out where and how, covering the costs and, most importantly,
really committing to do it, taking the leap. I spent hours perusing
program brochures in the campus international study office, and
daydreaming about it. I didn't talk about it with anyone, though.

It's strange how problems that at one time seemed intractable can
later lose their mysteriousness, even become cliche (which is not to
say easy or trivial) with perspective and distance. I'd like to think
that if I'd explored my co-occurring curiosity and uncertainty about
doing a semester abroad more fully back then, it would have been clear
that the most important decision was whether to want it. (Some say
ethics is deciding what you want to want...)

I also see many ways this same sitch plays in my life today: getting
mired in uncertainty, ambivalence or inertia, often aided by or
disguised as analysis. I wonder what would happen if Eric-today could
sit down with Eric-then to talk this whole study abroad option
through. What would Eric-then think? Would he find himself on a flight
like this? Would he listen to an older (possibly wiser) version of
himself that these big challenges can be sometimes be resolved just by
committing to a decision, however uncertain it might remain? Or --
since we're digging in here, why not go all the way -- would this
solipsistic fantasy conversation cause the universe to explode?

Off!

What you leave behind

If this is what I'll carry with me for a month, can someone remind me
why I have so much other crap?

Accolades of ambiguous intent

Did the author of this sign not feel comfortable giving direct
feedback, or simply not want to take the credit for giving praise? Or
perhaps this is the inverse of the panopticon: when no one knows who
is being lauded, we all behave more laudably?

A long ride spoiled

Once a year, I have an opportunity to golf as a fundraiser for the
Minnesota Coalition for the Homeless, thanks to some patient and
generous colleagues who lend their clubs and tips on technique, and
offer supportive comments about my percentage of connecting swings.
It's a good time, and a good cause, even if not good GOLF...

Before and after, or...

Eric H. and I had fun playing around with his new pen tablet and the
liquify filter in Photoshop, delaying our planned bike ride. Wicked fun... And a much more intuitive way to interact with the software.

Asa's trip to the Humane Society

My darling nephew Asa's language skills are increasing by the day.
Nathan pointed out that he's already learned to lie about his age,
too, saying he's "eighteen months old". (Next Saturday, he'll be
twenty months.) Precocious, that little one.

My next destination...

For the month of September, I'll be traveling up the Yangtze River
(Chang Jiang) through the Three Gorges, demonstrating how one six week
course in Mandarin leaves me somewhere... um... short of fluency, and
hopefully also proving that most of communication is nonverbal, anyway.
Wish me luck!

2,272 miles astride the Iron Rooster

I have just returned from the most amazing and arduous motorbiking through the Dakotas, Wyoming, and Montana, en route to Kristine and Steve's wedding with my favorite riding club. It is was my fourth overnight trip on the bike, and I passed the 5,000 mile mark (as a rider, for this season, on the Rooster) in western North Dakato, just leaving the Mountain time zone.