Saturday, March 14, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
At Least the Mess Resides Outside My Gated Community
For three days, my morning walk to school has been made uncomfortable by two things: freezing wind and a gallon juice jug full of donkey droppings.
Given the proximity to Russia and the promise that our building will be heated until May, the face-numbing wind is expected. Sometimes I get little icicles on my eyelashes. It snowed yesterday. It's cold in Eerguna. I'm over it.
I'm even growing accustomed to the endless piles of donkey poop. And the fact that the tractor-turned-seemingly-reliable-automobiles seem like an upgrade from a miniature horse-pulled cart.
It's not advisable to walk with one's head held high in Eerguna--even after one's class of kindergartners just mastered "go to bed" and "good night." Pedestrians need always been on the look-out for piles of turds surely underfoot.
But what I really can't get over is the gallon jug full of donkey poop that has rested across the street from my gated community for three days.
First, how did it get in the jug? Did someone fix it to the donkey's behind and hope the jug caught it? Did one person actually take the time to spoon it all into that jug from the road?
Second, why? The other drivers all seem to leave the droppings where they lay. So why, in the middle of winter, is one guy trying to hold on to this crap? I could almost understand saving it during planting/growing seasons. Manure is useful in that capacity. But now's the season for ice and snow and those doesn't need fertilizer.
Third, and most importantly, if someone wanted those turds and made the effort to save them, why are they lying in a juice jug across the street from my house? Why leave that jug to get hit by a bike or stepped on by another donkey, thereby allowing a fiercer eruption of odor that the community must encounter daily? Why waste what must have been so painstakingly gathered?
I have a lot of unanswerable questions regarding Chinese small-town way of life. This, somehow, seems the most pressing. Regardless, I won't have to walk to school until Monday and I'm sure someone will find that jug of gold by then.
Given the proximity to Russia and the promise that our building will be heated until May, the face-numbing wind is expected. Sometimes I get little icicles on my eyelashes. It snowed yesterday. It's cold in Eerguna. I'm over it.
I'm even growing accustomed to the endless piles of donkey poop. And the fact that the tractor-turned-seemingly-reliable-automobiles seem like an upgrade from a miniature horse-pulled cart.
It's not advisable to walk with one's head held high in Eerguna--even after one's class of kindergartners just mastered "go to bed" and "good night." Pedestrians need always been on the look-out for piles of turds surely underfoot.
But what I really can't get over is the gallon jug full of donkey poop that has rested across the street from my gated community for three days.
First, how did it get in the jug? Did someone fix it to the donkey's behind and hope the jug caught it? Did one person actually take the time to spoon it all into that jug from the road?
Second, why? The other drivers all seem to leave the droppings where they lay. So why, in the middle of winter, is one guy trying to hold on to this crap? I could almost understand saving it during planting/growing seasons. Manure is useful in that capacity. But now's the season for ice and snow and those doesn't need fertilizer.
Third, and most importantly, if someone wanted those turds and made the effort to save them, why are they lying in a juice jug across the street from my house? Why leave that jug to get hit by a bike or stepped on by another donkey, thereby allowing a fiercer eruption of odor that the community must encounter daily? Why waste what must have been so painstakingly gathered?
I have a lot of unanswerable questions regarding Chinese small-town way of life. This, somehow, seems the most pressing. Regardless, I won't have to walk to school until Monday and I'm sure someone will find that jug of gold by then.
Friday, March 6, 2009
The Day We Didn't Get Hustled
While Mike observed Eerguna's FREE HOT WATER FRIDAYS with a long soak in the tub, I had a chance to reflect on the day spent in Hailaer.
Our assistants told us that a taxi to Hailaer would cost 30RMB per person, while bus tickets were 27RMB each way. When looking at a two hour trip, it seemed obvious and simple to fork over an extra 3RMB for the luxury of the taxi.
So, we caught a black cab near Eerguna's only bus station. We got in and sat there for about thirty minutes before we realized that it's only 30RMB per person IF there are four people in the cab. Before coming to this realization, we had acquired a front seat passenger who filled the trunk up with loaves of Russian bread. Once we figured out the deal, we offered 45RMB each and, finally, we hit the road.
The driver was wearing a jacket with official-looking police patches on both arms. But I think he went about 100kmph and stopped once to pee on the side of the road and stopped a second time to let Mike do the same. Something tells me I could probably own a police jacket, too.
After two hours, we arrived in Hailaer, the Pittsburgh of Hulun Beier, on the prowl for two things: fast food and cheese.
During my previous trip to China, I was warned by a tour guide named Rock that one should "only eat Kentucky in an emergence." Regardless, Mike and I pounded the pavement searching for some Original Recipe goodness.
And we found it.
And we spent nearly 130RMB (roughly $20US) enjoying three mashed potatoes, two chicken sandwiches, two chicken wings, two Dragon Twisters, two egg dessert tarts, two fruit and ice cream parfaits, two sodas, two coffees, a small popcorn chicken, a large popcorn chicken, and a large french fry.
I'm still largely ashamed of what feels like cement churning in my stomach, but also quite fulfilled and happy to feel really American.
After giving our regards to the Colonel, we found a Friendship Supermarket to complete our second mission of the day: cheese. In Eerguna there is a distinct lack of cheese. China's dairy capital fails to function in this creamy, delicious arena of my diet staple.
Luckily, the Friendship Supermarket had both regular and black pepper flavor, all individually-wrapped for my convenience. The supermarket also had butter and fabulous-looking loaves of dark oatmeal bread that we simply couldn't resist.
And, to complete what was obviously turning into a craving for grilled cheese, we upgraded to a heavy, almost cast-iron skillet of a pan that shouldn't burn everything we cook.
Stomachs full of grease and bags full of dairy, we headed back to the bus station an hour early for our bus. Some guy kept telling us to get on to one leaving sooner. So we did because he kept insisting even after he saw our tickets with the bus number and time on them.
So, we boarded the bus, hit the seats in the back, and had a short jam session to the illest beats and Auto-Tuned remixes Hulun Beier has to offer.
It took the bus driver about twenty minutes to figure out someone was on the bus who shouldn't be. And, then, another ten to figure out it was us.
The whole bus was laughing at us as the driver and the man who urged us onto the bus tried then to get us to pay for the tickets again.
We yelled at the man who told us to get on the bus, but it didn't really matter. We got off with ample time to get on the bus we were supposed to be on in the first place.
Did he really think we were going to pay for tickets again just to make him look like less of an idiot? Did he really think he could hustle us, the kids with all the cheese and butter? The kids living in the good graces of the Colonel?
Our assistants told us that a taxi to Hailaer would cost 30RMB per person, while bus tickets were 27RMB each way. When looking at a two hour trip, it seemed obvious and simple to fork over an extra 3RMB for the luxury of the taxi.
So, we caught a black cab near Eerguna's only bus station. We got in and sat there for about thirty minutes before we realized that it's only 30RMB per person IF there are four people in the cab. Before coming to this realization, we had acquired a front seat passenger who filled the trunk up with loaves of Russian bread. Once we figured out the deal, we offered 45RMB each and, finally, we hit the road.
The driver was wearing a jacket with official-looking police patches on both arms. But I think he went about 100kmph and stopped once to pee on the side of the road and stopped a second time to let Mike do the same. Something tells me I could probably own a police jacket, too.
After two hours, we arrived in Hailaer, the Pittsburgh of Hulun Beier, on the prowl for two things: fast food and cheese.
During my previous trip to China, I was warned by a tour guide named Rock that one should "only eat Kentucky in an emergence." Regardless, Mike and I pounded the pavement searching for some Original Recipe goodness.
And we found it.
And we spent nearly 130RMB (roughly $20US) enjoying three mashed potatoes, two chicken sandwiches, two chicken wings, two Dragon Twisters, two egg dessert tarts, two fruit and ice cream parfaits, two sodas, two coffees, a small popcorn chicken, a large popcorn chicken, and a large french fry.
I'm still largely ashamed of what feels like cement churning in my stomach, but also quite fulfilled and happy to feel really American.
After giving our regards to the Colonel, we found a Friendship Supermarket to complete our second mission of the day: cheese. In Eerguna there is a distinct lack of cheese. China's dairy capital fails to function in this creamy, delicious arena of my diet staple.
Luckily, the Friendship Supermarket had both regular and black pepper flavor, all individually-wrapped for my convenience. The supermarket also had butter and fabulous-looking loaves of dark oatmeal bread that we simply couldn't resist.
And, to complete what was obviously turning into a craving for grilled cheese, we upgraded to a heavy, almost cast-iron skillet of a pan that shouldn't burn everything we cook.
Stomachs full of grease and bags full of dairy, we headed back to the bus station an hour early for our bus. Some guy kept telling us to get on to one leaving sooner. So we did because he kept insisting even after he saw our tickets with the bus number and time on them.
So, we boarded the bus, hit the seats in the back, and had a short jam session to the illest beats and Auto-Tuned remixes Hulun Beier has to offer.
It took the bus driver about twenty minutes to figure out someone was on the bus who shouldn't be. And, then, another ten to figure out it was us.
The whole bus was laughing at us as the driver and the man who urged us onto the bus tried then to get us to pay for the tickets again.
We yelled at the man who told us to get on the bus, but it didn't really matter. We got off with ample time to get on the bus we were supposed to be on in the first place.
Did he really think we were going to pay for tickets again just to make him look like less of an idiot? Did he really think he could hustle us, the kids with all the cheese and butter? The kids living in the good graces of the Colonel?
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
EERGUNA: Where Everything is Better, Sometimes
Before arriving in Hulun Beier's small town of Eerguna, we were told by our host, Uncle Sam, that everything is better in Eerguna. "The fish is better. The tofu is better. The air is better," he boasted in a manner befitting a hometown kid. When I asked if life is better, he grinned and nodded.
The truth is, though, I've moved to China's West Virginia.
People are constantly asking me about Mongolia. This would be a fine question to ask if I lived in Mongolia. But I don't. I'm living in Inner Mongolia. It's essentially the difference between living in Virginia and West Virginia, with the exception that Mongolia is another country and not simply another state. (So, please, guys: I'm from WEST Virginia. I'm living in INNER Mongolia.)
The women here are mostly larger than in the rest of China. The men seem to be roughly the same size as their other countrymen. Still, the bigness conjurs images of West Virginia, one of America's most obese states. While the Chinese certainly aren't obese, the Mongolian influence is definitely strong through the torso and the thighs. There's also an unfortunate amount of permed hair.
One difference I've noticed between the local ladies and me is where we wear our diamonds. I wear mine on my fingers; Eerguna girls wear theirs in their teeth.
Another difference is that while the rest of America thinks West Virginians roll around on horse-pulled carts, we don't. We leave that to the hardcore Menonites of Sugarcreek, Ohio and Lancaster, Pennsylvania. In Eerguna there are more small horses and donkeys than I-70 has domestic pick-ups.
This is the most traffic I've seen in Eerguna:
Also, notice the streets in the photo above. One thing Eerguna can hold over West Virginia's head is that they save tons of taxpayer dollars by not clearing off the roads. They just let all the ice compact itself into a hard, slippery slope. It's kind of charming in a dangerous way.
To be fair, they do clear off some roads. Really, it's just one block at a time,
but in a city with about twenty streets, why do it all at once? And why really remove it when it's just as easy to pile it up on the sidewalks?
Plus, it's so cold, most people are too bundled up to notice the mess anyway.
But, even I've had enough with my complaining. When it all thaws (sometime in May, I've heard), the grasslands of Inner Mongolia are a source of nothern Chinese pride. From my apartment window I have views of rolling hills and the Eerguna River, just like I used to see from my houses in Wheeling.
Also like West Virginia (but excluding Moundsville) the people are overwhelmingly warm, bordering on an intrusive sweetness. They swoop in for a better look at Mike's blue eyes. They want to order the most delicious foods for us when we obviously can't read menus. They invite me out dancing at the Russian disco. They buy us beer and toast to us.
On second thought, the hospitality shown to me is greater here than anywhere I've been in West Virginia. I guess I just wish the Mountaineers were warmer and less stand-offish to foreigners.
On a happier note, like West Virginia, Eerguna breeds the love of simple things. In West Virginia, it's the joy of catching a fish or eating at legendary independent restaurants. There's a certain happiness in Eerguna's Free Hot Water Fridays and taking showers in the sink. But there's another indefinable joy in receiving a hot water heater on Saturday morning.
Still, I'm not totally sold on Uncle Sam's idea that life in Eerguna is better. I will concede that it's not bad. It's actually pretty good. And the tofu is delicious.
The truth is, though, I've moved to China's West Virginia.
People are constantly asking me about Mongolia. This would be a fine question to ask if I lived in Mongolia. But I don't. I'm living in Inner Mongolia. It's essentially the difference between living in Virginia and West Virginia, with the exception that Mongolia is another country and not simply another state. (So, please, guys: I'm from WEST Virginia. I'm living in INNER Mongolia.)
The women here are mostly larger than in the rest of China. The men seem to be roughly the same size as their other countrymen. Still, the bigness conjurs images of West Virginia, one of America's most obese states. While the Chinese certainly aren't obese, the Mongolian influence is definitely strong through the torso and the thighs. There's also an unfortunate amount of permed hair.
One difference I've noticed between the local ladies and me is where we wear our diamonds. I wear mine on my fingers; Eerguna girls wear theirs in their teeth.
Another difference is that while the rest of America thinks West Virginians roll around on horse-pulled carts, we don't. We leave that to the hardcore Menonites of Sugarcreek, Ohio and Lancaster, Pennsylvania. In Eerguna there are more small horses and donkeys than I-70 has domestic pick-ups.
This is the most traffic I've seen in Eerguna:
Also, notice the streets in the photo above. One thing Eerguna can hold over West Virginia's head is that they save tons of taxpayer dollars by not clearing off the roads. They just let all the ice compact itself into a hard, slippery slope. It's kind of charming in a dangerous way.
To be fair, they do clear off some roads. Really, it's just one block at a time,
but in a city with about twenty streets, why do it all at once? And why really remove it when it's just as easy to pile it up on the sidewalks?
Plus, it's so cold, most people are too bundled up to notice the mess anyway.
But, even I've had enough with my complaining. When it all thaws (sometime in May, I've heard), the grasslands of Inner Mongolia are a source of nothern Chinese pride. From my apartment window I have views of rolling hills and the Eerguna River, just like I used to see from my houses in Wheeling.
Also like West Virginia (but excluding Moundsville) the people are overwhelmingly warm, bordering on an intrusive sweetness. They swoop in for a better look at Mike's blue eyes. They want to order the most delicious foods for us when we obviously can't read menus. They invite me out dancing at the Russian disco. They buy us beer and toast to us.
On second thought, the hospitality shown to me is greater here than anywhere I've been in West Virginia. I guess I just wish the Mountaineers were warmer and less stand-offish to foreigners.
On a happier note, like West Virginia, Eerguna breeds the love of simple things. In West Virginia, it's the joy of catching a fish or eating at legendary independent restaurants. There's a certain happiness in Eerguna's Free Hot Water Fridays and taking showers in the sink. But there's another indefinable joy in receiving a hot water heater on Saturday morning.
Still, I'm not totally sold on Uncle Sam's idea that life in Eerguna is better. I will concede that it's not bad. It's actually pretty good. And the tofu is delicious.
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