Friday, December 31, 2010

Eating My Way Through Asia

OR A LIST OF ALL THE TASTY, INTERESTING BITS I HAVE HAD IN CHINA







  • fried scorpions

  • donkey meat

  • Bacon stuffed with red bean paste, then fried in batter and dusted with sugar

  • Chicken feet*

  • Pig ear*

  • Chicken kidney

  • Chicken heart

  • Rabbit head

    • Brain

    • Tongue

    • Palate

    • Cheek

    • Eyeball

  • Sheep stomach*

  • Sheep intestine*

  • Sheep congealed blood*

  • Chicken "soft bone"

  • Sheep feet

  • Pig feet

  • Shrimp head*

  • Noodles that are the consistency of Jell-o


* I had this food at a Chinese wedding in Da Tong. Rarer parts of the animal (i.e. internal organs, eyeballs, etc) are considered more special, so they are the main attraction at special occasions, like weddings.

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Christmas (Pictures)

RURAL CHINA STYLE



I'm a Christmas elf!




I bought a tree and wrapped me up some presents.




Here's a plastic wreath I decorated with bits and bobs I found at a Beijing IKEA.




My students gave me a Christmas cake.




And lots of Christmas apples, some of which were wrapped up like presents.




Nong Da establishments tried to decorate for the holiday season.




To celebrate Christmas Eve, we decided to all be Santa's helpers.




Elves hard at work.




Following family tradition, I watched The Santa Claus, with Tim Allen.




A Christmas miracle: our cats are getting along.




Alexandra's student came over and created this calligraphy piece for us. It will say "Merry Christmas" in Chinese. It is now hanging on our wall, above the cat food bucket, ready to bring Christmas cheer during any time of year.

Monday, December 20, 2010

Just Rolling in It

OR ONE PERSON'S RESPONSE TO LIVING IN THE 9TH MOST POLLUTED COUNTRY IN THE WORLD

Almost a year ago, I was sitting in the Feve, tired from a long day of TESOL training, and having a drink or two with my Shansi co-fellows. Julia, one of the Indonesian fellows, hands me a book, entitled Coal.

You should read this.

Why?
I ask.

Well, you province is mentioned at least 10 times in the index. See?

You know when an Environmental Studies minor hands you a book on pollution, and your new home is prominently featured, that you just may have a problem on your hands. Perhaps a respiratory problem. Or a trash problem. Or a sad, dying planet problem.

I never guessed that my biggest problem would be one of dust.

In Shanxi province, the province I now call home, coal is money. Our reputation is based on it, our wealthiest are involved in it. We heat our houses with it and we get electricity from it. We mine it and use it in abundance. And it certainly shows. The most polluted city in the world is in our province. Wearing white here has become dangerous. Owning things in it is dangerous. Expecting anything to stay that color is dangerous. White and all things clean are very ephemeral states in the 9th most polluted country in the world.

Cleaning is downright depressing. White on gray -- the coal dust coats all of the newly plastered walls. The walls color and crack every year or two, and soon a new coat of white will be forced upon these tired surfaces. So they shine when the new teachers arrive.

But forget about your floor, your clothing, and everything else. When we sweep, we rid ourselves of dust bunnies, but never of the ingrained dust that stains every crack in the fake wooden floorboards. When we do laundry here, the water turns black every time. If you leave something out for too long, the next time you pick it up, it will soil your fingers. Black spots at every connecting point: fingers to phone, fingers to guitar, fingers to everything.

The air has a near constant reek to it. The radiators have turned on, so the coal plants must work overtime. And then there's the fires -- burning leaves (little to no public leaf disposal systems), burning plastic (little to no public trash disposal systems), and burning trash. Once I thought my neighbor's house was on fire. Nope. It was just time to get rid of some trash. The noxious fumes and the white, billowy smoke scare me. Outside my classroom window, students come to light fires. They burn piles of leaves. As my students work, I watch the small flames and the huge clouds fill up all 100 meters of space between me and the fire: space between trees and the curves of the building. I always make the students close the windows on these days. But sometimes they strongly protest and there's a constant pattern of open and close, open and close.Did I mention that everyone smokes here? Could someone remind me what smoke-free restaurants are taste and smell like?

So how do I cope? Well, by becoming an ardent environmentalist, of course. As a suburban-MD-resident-by-birth and an Obie-by-degree, my surroundings have been relatively pollutant-free. It wasn't until Ghana that I witnessed blatant anti-environmentalism. In the rural parts, the dirt roads are paved with squashed water bottles. The trash disposal system is as simple as Use-and-Drop. The ground is a trash dump.

In China I because I can respond, I must. So, step 1, I changed all my light bulbs to florescent bulbs, warm ones. This was a more impressive task than you might imagine. Normal, blue-tinted florescent lighting is extremely common is China. Finding something that doesn't make your home look clinical is very hard. The installed lighting in my house is overhead florescent tubular bulbs, the kind you see at the doctor's office or average office place. Homey, right? So I bought some lamps, took trip after trip (3 trips into town with many language barriers and much help from Chinese friends), and somehow found a bunch of warm bulbs. Though I had to pay 10 times more for these bulbs than their incandescent counterparts cost, I made my side of the house incandescent-free. Since I cannot drive (and will not for safety and sanity reasons) in this country, I don't pollute with car exhaust. I compost my extra food in a compost pile started by another fellow. I buy my food from local vendors. I try to keep my electric heater off when I can. I bundle. I bike.

I never paid much mind until I lived somewhere that looks positively post-apocalyptic because of coal pollution. I don't know how much I can change but at least my hands are becoming more and more coal-free.



Next step...solar electricity?

Friday, November 12, 2010

Some Days I'm Glad I Brought My Teddy Bear

ON THE THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT

In America, people say a lot of things about my new country. They whisper in hushed tone about evils of Communism. They wonder why this place does so well economically. They worry about how they now own America's debt. They especially don't enjoy the idea of communal-ism. "How can we trust a country where no one can think for themselves?", they'd say to me.

Now, I've seen the documentaries, I know this country is not the freest place to live. But people here are not automatons. People here feel and think as radically as any American. How they channel their feelings is a totally different matter. But China has a history, for better or worse, of the youth trying to create radical change through non-violent and violent means, much like the States does.

Did you know that not everyone here is a registered Communist? You have to apply, and many people get turned down. Did you know that people here do not consider this country a Communist country? It is Socialist nation. Did you know that Chairman Mao is not worshiped as the ultimate conceiver of social utopia? People think Mao only started the job and perhaps got some things wrong. Hence all of the reforms. And did you know that plenty of people, in the quiet of their homes, with the companionship of their American friends, are really quite skeptical of the government? Its corruption, greed, connections, and bribes. (A side note: By people here, America is considered the freest place on earth. Somewhere where anything goes. And this assumption is passed on to Americans, who are expected to act in pretty crazy ways (and get away with it) and be accepting of just about anything that is told to them, because we come from such an accepting country.)

But sometimes things happen here that really scare me. Every fall the freshman get on-campus military training. Every day during September and part of October, I woke up to their war cries. They would train all day, practicing marching drills and ingesting plenty of propaganda. Anyone could go and watch this process because it took place on both the small and large athletic fields.

Censorship here is a real thing. The Google search engine for mainland China no longer exists because Google refused to be so censored. If you want to use Google, you use the Hong Kong version. Usually very different webpages come up if you compare Google.com's and Google.hk's results. Gmail and Google.hk are the only sites I use daily that I don't need my VPN for. This blog cannot be read via Chinese internet. But that does not mean that people here don't notice this censorship. Just the other day, a random student came into my class -- which is a pretty normal occurrence considering how popular learning English is -- with a strange request. During the break, he beckons me over. "How do you use YouTube and Facebook in China?", he says. I just blink at him. Who is this kid? Would it be bad if I explained the concept of VPNs to him? (Many of my Chinese friends have one, though maybe this is because they know us, the Americans, who all have one.) Would it be bad if I outed myself to him as having one? Is he a party member? Is learning how to use YouTube and Facebook the only reason this guy came to my class? In the end I decided to play it safe. "Don't you know? You can't use those sites in China," I say. "Oh. Okay," he says, accepting my obvious lie to save my face. I haven't seen him since.

Religious oppression is also quite a real thing here. Only government-registered religious organizations may be worshiped at. That means that all home worship is illegal, irregardless of the religion. A bible study group made up of Nong Da underclassmen was arrested and fined for holding a bible study in a room in a cheap hotel right outside campus (in North Yard) just a few weeks ago. The foreign teachers have a few Christian friends, which is how we found out. No local or school news published anything about these arrests. (A side note: the only negative news reported about in a Chinese news channel or newspaper occurs in foreign countries; only positive stories occur in the nation.) The best part of this story is that the parents of the arrested kids petitioned the government, because the Constitution guarantees freedom of religious worship. Apparently constitutions don't hold quite the same weight here as they do at home.

What spurred me to write this post was an article I was sent on another disturbing trend here, the institutionalization of dissenters. Can you imagine putting sane people in mental hospitals, treating them as if they were mentally unsound, using treatments circa 1950s (i.e. electroshock therapy), just because they complained to the government about something as minor as a land dispute? Read on to see what I mean ("Assertive Chinese Held in Mental Wards", New York Times 11.11.2010).

Lowering Your Voice to Strengthen Your Argument

OR HOW I LOSE MY VOICE DAY IN AND DAY OUT -- AND I'M NOT SURE I LIKE THAT

I have heard it said that "lowering your voice strengthens your argument" (Lebanese proverb). So losing your voice must be even better, right? Well, I'm going to have to agree with Henry Wadsworth Longfellow when he said, "The human voice is the organ of the soul". I need my voice to project myself into the world. No voice, no soul.

Problem is, I seem to keep losing this precious tool. It happens in small ways. Like last night, when I spent over 2 hours talking to one of my best friends in America. It happens in large ways too. The English slang I use now is not the slang I came to China with, the enunciation I love in my voice is fraying at the edges, and to top it all off, my English spelling has become a daily blackboard embarrassment.

Whenever I enter a new language community, the presentation of my voice shifts very quickly, and very unconsciously. I can never hang on to words or gestures for too long -- whatever is most commonly used, I, without fail, begin to imitate. The worst part, or funniest, is that I don't seem to notice the shift until someone points it out or it gets me into trouble. After spending part of every high school summer in upstate New York, I always came back home to Maryland with slang nobody understood. After living with a British family for a few weeks, I tried, in broken English and rusty French, to ask a Brussels waiter for a table for one for dinner. I ended up at the bar, very hungry, with a piping hot cup of black tea. Most recently in China, I now end many of my informal sentences with the word "hotness", a Dan-ism.

Not only must I lose my slang, I seem to be losing my enunciation skills too. Singing and acting have made me very aware of how I can play with the pitch, intensity, volume, and speed of my voice. Now I have trouble maintaining general pitch arcs in my spoken English (i.e. at the end of a sentence, raising your voice for a question or lowering it for a complete thought). All my students speak in complete monotone. Plus, Chinese cares more about word pitch (i.e. tones) than sentence arc pitch. Both of these trends are rubbing off on me. Lastly, all the fellow American here, including me, speak "ESL-teacher English" which is slow, simple, and rhythmically jarring. Goodbye theatre voice.

Did you know that it is possible to lose your ability to spell? Pinyin, the spelling system which puts roman letters to Chinese sounds, has messed with all my use of vowels in English. Did you know that English and Chinese have cognates (words that sound similar or the same across languages, but may or may have the same meaning)? Take for example the sound "joe". Joe is a name, right? In Chinese, the "joe" sound is spelled zhou, and one of its meanings is wheat/grain porridge. Or let's take a more controversial sound, the "n-word". A sound no one should ever make, right? In Chinese, the "n-word" sound is spelled nei ge, and its meaning is that one (as opposed to this one).

When I came to China, I also lost something even more dear, my ability to speak the hegemonic language of the community. I know speaking it is a gift. Many people in the States struggle with our low tolerance of non-English speaking in schools and on the job. My privilege in one place is my oppression in another. But I'd take China any day. In America, people pick on others simply because of their non-native accents. In China, people go out of their way to help me speak. They don't make fun of my wrong tones or absurdly small vocabulary. They make sure to prompt me with words or gestures so that I can answer affirmatively or negatively, and not have to remember the difficult vocabulary myself. Would these small kindnesses happen in America? Would a MacDonald's or Starbucks worker let me take three times as long to order my food as everyone else? Would the other people in line? In America, would people treat me with respect and dignity if all I could do in English was count and say "this one" or "that one"?

Before China, I took pride in my academic writing and verbal stage presence. Today, if I can buy a few items at a store without help, I feel like a rock star. Every day that I feel positive -- it is simply amazing how much your mental attitude and current emotions make or break your ability to speak a second language -- I can say a little more, with a bit more confidence and clarity. But I know I will never bring myself up to speed in Chinese. This is the plight of the second language learner, especially those of us who start late in life -- Chinese (almost definitely) will never be my mother tongue, will never be the sounds I make to make meaning our of all of life's (potential) meaninglessness. Chinese is the sound I make to get by, and maybe one day to express myself, not to understand every and all micro- and macro- trends and details life has and will throw at me.

This "lowering" of my voice, I pray, will help me strength my "argument" -- though what this argument is I'm still in the dark about. I can't say I won't miss my strong, loud voice, but I hope that it meets me on the other side of this fellowship, unscathed and perhaps all the better for having a two-year vacation.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

That's One Small Step for Man

ONE GIANT LEAP FOR RAY GERGEN

I did it. My errands. All alone. In the span of 15 minutes I bought 4 items from 3 different vendors -- who don't speak a lick of English. And I didn't just point either. I spoke some well-practiced verbs, recited pre-crafted sentences from a well-worn notebook page, and listened hard for you/mei you [have/don't have], numbers, and small talk. Tonight's interactions with the grocery man, the congee lady, and the fruit vendor proved to me that my Chinese is actually improving.

Scenario 1: Running Errands in the PAST

I point at something.

Seller: (some number) kwai.

They now hand the item over. But if they have to bag it, they wait until after they've got my cash.

I hand the money over -- usually in the form of a bill that is rather larger than the amount I think is asked for, just in case I am translating wrong.

I leave quickly, in case they start asking me questions.




Tonight's conversations all went like this second example, which actually happened this evening.


Scenario 2: Running Errands TONIGHT

Me: Wo yao zhe ge (points at light bulb in my hand). [I want this (points at light bulb in my hand).]

Me: Dengpao? [Light bulb?] I have no idea at this point if "dengpao" is "light bulb" or if I have just completely made up this word. The last time I tried to say "light bulb", I ended up saying "small knife".

Seller: Says unintelligible things in Chinese at me which I guess means "Do you want this same exact bulb?"

Me: Zhe ge. [This one.] I again point at the light bulb.

Seller: Says more unintelligible things in Chinese at me which I think mean "What wattage/voltage do you want?"

Me: I have no idea how to answer this question in Chinese. No vocabulary whatsoever.

Seller: ??? kan kan ???. [unknown words see see unknown words, which I translate to "Let me see it."] Upon seeing my confused face, he motions to me to give him the bulb, then he gives it to this student-customer next to me. She reads the voltage and wattage. I can tell this because they say something like "200" (v) and "40" (w).

Me: I start nodding emphatically.

Other Seller: 40 ??? ma? [40 unknown word?]

Me: I keep nodding emphatically.

Me: You mei you Taigu bing? [Do you have this type-of-bread-snack-thing-I-happen-to-eat-for-breakfast?]

Others: Confused looks all around.

Student-Customer: Taigu bing? [said in totally different tones than the ones I used.]

Seller: Grabs the bing off the shelf. 4 kwai.

Other Seller: Hands over the light bulb to the first seller.

Seller: 5 kwai.

Me: I pay with a 10, because I don't have the correct change. Zai jian! [Goodbye!]

Seller: Zai jian! [Goodbye!]



To think I can now understand or infer this much meaning in Chinese blows my mind. I finally feel a little more back in the game. In Germany, I bought lots of stuff all by myself. And the only German I knew was "please", "thank you", and the "numbers 1 through 5". Finally, 2 and 1/2 months in, I can finally ask for a light bulb that's hidden in a box somewhere in the back of the store.

Why did this take this long? Well, tonight I realized that speaking another language voluntarily is pretty much the scariest scenario I can do on a regular basis, legally. I think I jumped to task so quickly before because either I spoke German or didn't get to eat or find my train. With bucketfuls of American teachers and English students, I rarely am forced to take linguistic risks. Now I have to choose to take these risks, or else I will never improve. I must choose to stick my head into this Chinese storm alone, and trust that everything will be fine. Irregardless of public embarrassment or humongous misunderstanding.

And after every one of these trials by fire, I like China a bit more. Now that I order alone, I eat the food I want, when I want it -- which, for many reasons, is a rare gift in my China. I get to buy what I need when I have time, not when someone has time to take me. And out of the many small instances I have ordered alone, I've only gotten the wrong thing once. It's as if China herself were giving me a huge pat on the back. She says to me, after I order, "Ray you did butcher that grammar and those tones, but I see that you are trying. So against the odds, you will get that soup that you've been craving all week."

How do you like them apples?

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Halloween, Taigu-Style (Pictures)



The day started out with some pumpkin carving at Robert & David's house.




I threw a carving party to show my students and their friends how to not cut themselves and create something beautiful...




Or scary!




Lynn's guinea pig came along, and everyone loved him.




The students carved splendidly!




Alien pumpkin?




Awesome!




This is my creation...a cyclops-vampire pumpkin!




We decorated my porch with the pumpkins.




...and more pumpkins.
(Left to right: Dan and Lynn)




We also decorated Dan & James's porch.




Nice.




It's a ghost! Or James Barnard.
His costume kicked off the dance party that night at Dan & James's house.




I'm a SUPERSTAR.
(Left to right: Me and Alma)




Dan's a basketball star, with tacky tattoos drawn by your's truely.
(Left to right: Dan and Crystal)




I HEART MOM.
(Left to right: Me, Alma, and Dan)




How dark.
(Left to right: Gerald and Daisy)




The two-headed woman.
(Left to right: Lynn and Me)




Here's David and Alexandra looking good.




We closed the evening and the dance party the usual way: a sing-a-long to the theme song of the TV show, "Family Matters".



Thank you to Alexandra Sterman and Daniel Tam-Claiborne for donating pictures to this post.

Friday, October 29, 2010

A Chinese Sense of Humor

OR HOW GENRE IS A SLIPPERY FISH -- NOT QUITE THIS, NOT QUITE THAT

Recently, I got thrown a question about Chinese comedy. What makes the Chinese laugh? Or for those Relativists in the crowd, what do I perceive to be the vehicle of comedy and its source of power for the students I teach in China, specifically in Shanxi province, specifically in Taigu City, specifically in Nong Da campus, specifically the small handful on undergraduate English majors and the rather large handful of graduate students with varying majors, granting truth to the fact that any theory I suggest will inevitably be solely based on my educated viewpoint and not match the locals' opinions on the subject with any reasonable certainty? Well readers, I do not know. The Chinese (i.e. China-Shanxi-Nong Da) funny bone is an elusive prize, similar to the holy grail in Monty Python and the Holy Grail: very alluring but at this moment totally unattainable. Like the knights of lore, I have sense glimses of it...while teaching. This past week I taught my students about movies and genre. I saw the grail in the game "Guess the Genre", where my students had to create a dialogue in a secret genre I assigned them. They would perform the dialogue and the rest of the class had to guess which genre it was. Amidst the giggles, I noticed some patterns that I will share with you, so that you can laugh and also wonder to yourself, "What is this crazy comedy thing anyway?"

[Author's note: I ad-libed most of the phrasing in the dialogues. The general sense of each scene is preserved, but my students did not necessary use the words I gave them in this post. I did not record the scenes nor do I have a written transcript of them, so ad-libing is the best I can do.]

Scene 1: Comedy
A male student stands with his back to the audience, waiting alone. A group of students stand away from him, starring at him from behind.

Boy 1: Hey, look at that hot girl.
Girl 1: She's so beautiful.
Girl 2: Wow, she's so hot. Let's go talk to her.

Alone boy turns around to face the audience.

Boy 2: Where is the hot girl?

The other students stare at him with shocked and stunned faces.


*Everyone in the audience laughs.*


Scene 2: Comedy
One female student stands next the teacher's podium on stage right, four student "monkeys" stand in a line across from her on stage left.

Girl: I'm a journalist. There are 5 monkeys in the room. What do you do monkey?
Monkey 1: I eat, sleep, and beat Doe-Doe.
Girl: What do you do monkey?
Monkey 2: I eat, sleep, and beat Doe-Doe.
Girl: What do you do monkey?
Monkey 3: I eat, sleep, and beat Doe-Doe.
Girl: What do you do monkey?
Monkey 4: I eat and sleep.
Girl: Why don't you beat Doe-Doe with your friends?
Monkey 4: I am Doe-Doe.

*Everyone in the audience laughs.*


Scene 3: Comedy
A washing machine and laundry basket are drawn on the chalk board. One student enters the classroom and sits in the front row.

Student: I want to see a movie.

The student plays some silly, cartoon-like introductory music off of her cell phone that plays for 30 seconds. Two other students enter. One is playing a little kid and other is playing the little kid's pet.

The little kid plays with her pet, and makes cartoon noises instead of words, sometimes saying something that sounds like Mama.


(offstage) Mom: Do your laundry!

The little kid puts (or has put already) her pet into the laundry basket. She dumps the laundry basket into the washing machine. The pet spins in front of the picture of the washing machine.

Girl: Mama.

Mom enters.

Mom: Where's our pet?

The pet is found by Mom in washing machine, presumably dead by drowning.


*Everyone in the audience laughs.*



Scene 4: Comedy?
A male student is standing alone in the center of the stage. Another student approaches him.

Student 1: Who's this?
Boy: What?
Student 1: She's very pretty! Bye.

Student 1 exits. Another student approaches him.

Student 2: Would you introduce me to your girlfriend?
(pause)
Student 2: Hi Emily!
Boy: Who's Emily?
Student 2: You're lucky to have such a pretty girlfriend. I have to go.
Boy: No one's here! I don't have a girlfriend.
Student 2: Bye Emily!

Student 2 exits. Another student approaches him.

Student 3: Hi Emily.
Boy: No one's here!
Student 3: Emily is such a good girl. She is very smart, and polite, and beautiful...

Boy freaks out.


*Everyone in the audience laughs.*

[The intended genre of this scene is horror. I seemed to be the only one in the room who did not know this.]


Well what was that about, folks? I'm still not sure. Give me a few more months of living here before those seem at all funny.

From here on out, this post is a smorgasbord of entertaining moments from or colored by my movie-themed classes. Enjoy!



* * *


Here are some honorable mentions from the "Guess the Genre" dialogues. I like these moments for being amusing, imaginative, and awesome.

  • Conducting an adorable Romeo and Juliet scene played by 2 boys (genre: love story)

  • Flashing the overhead lights and mysteriously opening and closing the classroom door, hand-free (genre: horror)

  • Getting bribed by your own cook without realizing it (genre: comedy)

  • Pulling out a cell phone while saying "This is a time machine!" (genre: science fiction)

  • Playing a violent police scene with guns, burglars, and arrests with an all-female cast (genre: action)





* * *


Most Frequently Mentioned Movies by my Students in my Movie Classes
For better or worse and in no particular order
Harry Potter
Avatar
2012
Kung Fu Panda
Forest Gump
Titanic
Twilight (which is pronounced "Tweee-light")
Toy Story
Mr & Mrs Smith
Hands Up (Chinese movie)
Shrek
American Pie
Resident Evil
Transformers
August Rush
The Matrix
The Ring
The Pursuit of Happyness



* * *


I had my own comedy occur in my own house a few days ago. In the spirit of understanding comedy, here is a scene from my my comedic documentary of a life:


Genre: Comedy

Setting: My house

Main Actors: Alexandra’s 2 desks,
Chinese handymen, Us the housemates

Plot: The house lost electricity.
So handymen came and stoond on this innocent bystander (the desk) to fix the electric wires in the ceiling. Well we went to class, crossed our fingers, and prayed for electric heat and Internet. And the power came back on, but the desk was no more: important parts had come apart. Later the same day, the same handymen come barging into Alexandra’s room, and start emptying her desk. They then start pulling and pushing this dead desk. The once small but terminal crack breaks more and more inch by inch as the handymen pull the desk out of the house. By the front door, the poor desk is in 3 pieces. Upon reaching the truck, it’s in 5. At the same time, a new desk is magically swept in. In a 15-minute flash, life is suddenly back to normal: power, desk, and all. Alexandra and just couldn’t believe our eyes.


Thursday, October 28, 2010

On Thick Clothes

HOW TO STAY WARM IN CHINA

In China we don't have warm clothes. We have thick clothes. Literally. When I packed lots of pairs of standard-issue long underwear, I thought I'd be fine. But since none of the buildings on campus are heated until Mid-November and it's already in the single digits here (in centigrade of course), simply having your long underwear on hand does not cut it.

Lynn took me shopping for thick clothes. They sell long underwear that has a 1/4 of an inch thick layer of fleecy material lining it. And you wear these thick clothes under shirts and pants. They also sell these adorable little dresses that are similarly thick. Can you imagine it? A sleeveless dress that is supposed to act as an indoor jacket?

An "indoor jacket" is not an oxymoron here, in all the restaurants it is too cold to take off your outdoor clothes. In my classroom and my own home, I can only take off one of my many layers.

What is my usual outfit? Long underwear (top and bottom), pants and a top, wool socks, an insulating jacket, a heavier jacket, a hat, scarf, and gloves, and sometimes boots so my feet do not get cold. This may sound like a lot for the low forty's, but let me point out that you've probably never spent time in buildings that were not heated at this temperature. Winter is a lot more bitter when it's allowed to follow you inside. Luckily I have an electric heater, but as soon as I leave the room it's heating, it's back to "being outside" again.

Lynn and I finally found me something suitable to help me stay warm: a bright red, part-wool pea coat with little pleats that spins as well as a skirt does, complimented by a punk-y black and white star scarf. My students and fellow English teachers think I look super Chinese now. Upon entering one of my classes wearing the coat, I received "ooo"s and "ahhh"s and "pretty girl!". I like my coat, and I love that I am now not constantly shivering.

Bring it, winter!