In case you're not sure where Hefei is, here's a useful Google map of the region. It begins at the main campus of the University of Science and Technology of China. Keep clicking on the minus sign on the upper left of the map and step by step you'll move outward until you recognize something familiar -- like the East China Sea. Our old friend Shanghai is a few hours by bus to the east.
Hefei is a hot city. How hot is it, Johnny?! Well, today it hit 100 F. But the "heat index," or the way it actually feels, is 126 F. And that's in the shade. It's been like this all week. Oh, and if you follow the Chinese lunar calendar, it's already fall!
In case you're not sure where Hefei is, here's a useful Google map of the region. It begins at the main campus of the University of Science and Technology of China. Keep clicking on the minus sign on the upper left of the map and step by step you'll move outward until you recognize something familiar -- like the East China Sea. Our old friend Shanghai is a few hours by bus to the east.
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For a more "objective" account of my days in Hefei and USTC, click here for a student-written story -- with full-color pictures!!
Call me Dr. Frankenstein. For I have created a monster. Not that that’s a bad thing… Last night was the going-away “party” for the 30 scientists who have been attending a conference here at USTC for the past 12 days. I gave a talk on the last day about adapting to differences between Chinese and Western culture and how to make and develop friendships. For some of them, this was woefully too basic. One guy had once lived in Denmark for seven years. Another had spent two years in Wyoming. Nevertheless, some hadn’t been to the West at all. I spent a little time going over the art of handshaking, which is a hit-and-miss affair in China, based on my experience. There’s the over-eager grab that leaves someone shaking the tips of your fingers. The arm extended halfway across the room in anticipation. And, of course, the endless shake that makes you think this guy expects to pump water out of your nose if he stays at it long enough. I also entered the minefield of hugging, particularly hugging friends goodbye after an evening out. I solicited a volunteer (okay, the group finally forced one guy to go up front) and during a series of bad-hugs/good-hugs, worked our way through this oh-so-unChinese act. They were intrigued, if not a bit aghast. One young lady asked in all seriousness how she could refuse a man who wanted to bow down and kiss her hand. I told her that wasn’t too likely to happen unless she was visiting a count on the Mediterranean coast of France. Another woman asked if it was all right if she wiped her hand off after a man had kissed it. I advised her that should this rare, rare occasion arise, suck it up and let the spittle dry. Apparently the hugging lecture found some fertile soil, I discovered at the going-away party. For the many of you who have never been to a Chinese “party,” it’s not a group of people mingling on their own, holding cocktails or beer, listening to a good mix tape. Chinese parties are organized (everything is organized!) and there are two emcees, male and female. The entire party (this one lasted almost four hours) is choreographed. Games, testimonials, karaoke songs. Anything but free time. And not a drop of alcohol present. Well, the first “game” they had planned involved handshaking and hugging. (I’m not sure what the actual rules or purpose of the game were, but the intensity of physical contact increased as it went on, until one man finally got down on a knee and kissed a woman’s hand. Nirvana!!!) The Polish grad student Agata and I were asked to begin the series of hugs in order to inspire the group. The rest, as they say, is history. Click hereto read more...
Last night I attended what was billed to be (and described by colleagues as) traditional Hefei opera. Unfortunately, it wasn't all that. It kind of reminded me of long ago when you'd find a very cheap "Beatles" LP in a cutout bin and buy it, only to discover the tiny print after you'd get home: "As interpreted by the Clyde Singers Five."
I went with a new foreign grad student who arrived in Hefei a few days ago from Poland, Agata Pienkosz. (More about her unlikely appearance at a later date.) As she and I were walking with the student who brought us to the theater, the student told us of the first time she'd gone to the opera. Her grandmother had brought her, but the affair proved too much for the child and she fell asleep. "My grandmother was so mad at me," she said. Then, years later, the student returned the favor and brought grandma to the movie theater to see "Harry Potter." And, yes...grandma fell asleep! In her defense, grandma said, "All that flying around and magic...it's just nonsense!" I feared I might fall asleep during the opera because some Chinese traditional opera can go on for many hours. Supposedly there's a difference between, say, Beijing opera and the kinds native to other regions. I can't tell much difference. The dialogue is mostly sung, in a very nasally fashion. Agata is a huge opera fan back in her native homecity of Warsaw, where there are four major opera houses. What we got, however, was not a play. Present was the ubiquitous host of all Chinese entertainment, who would come out from backstage wearing a strapless blue dress and announce the next song (all in Chinese language). Then a performer would come out. One guy was dressed in a pastel dress shirt with a cheap tie. Not exactly traditional unless "Death of a Salesman" has passed into antiquity. Toward the beginning, two men and two women came out and hopped around to a song that they were lip-synching. I looked over at Agata and saw on her face pure astonishment. Later, she leaned over and said, "This is the strangest opera I've ever seen." Well, it wasn't really an opera. It was only certain "hit" songs excised from various plays and sung to the audience (which was very, very receptive, I should add) at deafening decibels. Anyway, click here for the jump and a few pictures. The picture below is from yet another opening ceremony I attended. I draw your attention to the translated title of the course being offered. It truly is a pity that USTC doesn't have an American editor on staff who could smooth the wrinkles out of these things.
Well, even as the Graduate Summer School on Theory and Practice in the Frontiers of Intellectual Property Rights grinds on at the university, a block away a sales mecca of bootleg CD/DVDs thrives. Multiply this by, oh, 100,000 more bootleg meccas and you understand why one summer school session just doesn't cut it.
Who says the Chinese can't innovate? (Umm, I do fairly often.) Well, one Chinese company has unveiled plans for a "drive-through" bus. See the company's concept picture below. The first one will be in Beijing. Me, I just look at it as one more dangerous, out-of-control object on a Chinese street hellbent to run me over.
From today's South China Morning Post in Hong Kong:
"Also on Wednesday, Shenzhen media reported that the anus of a mother who gave birth in a Shenzhen hospital was sewn up by a midwife upset that the woman's husband failed to bribe her properly. Both the hospital and Shenzhen medical authorities later disputed the claim but admitted the midwife breached regulations and volunteered to tie up the patient's bleeding hemorrhoid. The husband has since told state media he was threatened by hospital officials to remain silent. " Tomorrow is an opening ceremony for a two-week symposium organized by the USTC School of Public Affairs. That's the school I'm working for. I'm much more prepared for this opening ceremony than the last one. Clothes-wise, that is.
A week ago I was in my school office and a young woman on the staff entered, obviously stricken. There would be an opening ceremony the next morning, and the dean had asked that I come, she said. Okay, I thought, no need to be so worked up about that. Then she got to the hard part. It was about my shirts. I favor pattern shirts. I wear them all the time. She tried to describe what I would need to wear instead but became too flustered to completely describe it. She departed. Minutes later, Mr. Li, who is what I'd describe as my direct supervisor, entered to talk to me about my shirt. "Do you have any shirts that are not so...?" He pointed to my shirt and could not contain his laughter. The correct shirt, he told me, would be plain and of a light color. I told him I had no such shirt with me and I'd have to go buy one that night. "Short-sleeved or long-sleeved?" I asked. He looked at me rather amused, like, why would anyone care what sleeve length you wore? And so, I came to acquire a cream-colored shirt not at all to my liking, which I wore to the opening ceremony of the "Graduate Summer School on Theory and Practice in the Frontiers of Intellectual Property Rights," which was about as long and confusing as its title. After the jump: The shirts in question! |
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