Are We Human or Are We Dancers?

Do it in Chengdu. This is the path and motto Dan and I have chosen. After always opting for the unexpected and ditching established plans for newfound ones, I have found that taking that fork in the road you hadn't seen a couple of feet back in the road and somehow stumble upon mysteriously is more often than not rewarding and full of welcome surprises.

Being offered free room and board at the Sunshine International Youth Hostel in Sanya where we originally were staying as guests in exchange for daily English lessons was one of those forks in the road I happened upon. Deciding to stay was a pleasant walk down this forked road, my eyes constantly peeled for new sights and passerbys. After 1 month at this hostel, I can confidently say that the stroll was well worth it. I have made my very first friends in China at this hostel, both foreign and native, and I was surprised how sad I was to leave my temporary home in Sanya.

There were so many unique and silly experiences I encountered on my 1-month stay that come with traveling and random plans. If I hadn't decided to nest for a little bit at the Sunshine Hostel I wouldn't have been able to dance my ass off at the barbeque party that ended up with Jason lighting up a pyramid of mixed drinks on fire while everyone danced with glow sticks in their hands. I also wouldn't have been able to enjoy my first Chinese Valentine's Day when the hostel set up a game night for couples to play.

The first game (well, icebreaker) included a version of “Hot Potato” in which we passed around a Tigger stuffed animal until the music stopped, at which point the person holding Tigger would have to pop a balloon containing a dare written on a small slip of blue paper. I ended up piggy-backing Kevin while running in a circle, watching Mio kiss a table 5 times, smacking Lao Mu's butt (he had to go around the circle and have everyone do this to him), listening to Lao Mu sing in an admittedly very nice voice, laughing at Sylvia who had to pole dance on Kevin (everyone knew Kevin had a crush on her), and watching a guest get his head flicked by everyone in the circle. There were a couple of other games such as a version of Charades, but a verbal kind. By the very end, Dan and I, Alice and Damien, and a Chinese couple were tied to win... The winner would get a special 4-course Valentine's Day dinner (dishes that are uncommon in China-- mashed potatoes, cream of mushroom soup, black pepper chicken, vegetable salad, mango pudding with raspberry puree, veggies wrapped in bacon, and garlic bread) and lychee margaritas. They had me at mashed potatoes. The prospect of such a dinner fueled my competitiveness. For the finals, each couple had to come up with an impromptu 3 minute show whether it be dancing, singing, or whatever. It was a close match. Damien and Alice wooed the crowd with some MJ-imitation dances, juggling, and mock boxing. The Chinese couple did a martial arts skit. Dan and I took the prize though with our matching horsehair cowboy hats, the Macarena, and YES the only freeze I know how to do. The meal was fucking awesome, worth every embarrassing dance, butt-balloon maneuvering, and penguin imitation. It was all worth it for the mashed potatoes.

The days were just as much fun as the nights when we would lay out on the beach and I would attempt day by day to surf, secretly afraid a shark would chomp on my dangling legs. If I had continued any longer, I would've ended up swallowing the ocean whole in failed attempts and nosedives. I love living close to the beach where going for a quick swim in the ocean is always an option and you can feel the sun seeping through your skin, warming up your insides like a fire warms cold hands.

On our last day in Sanya, Dan and I spent the afternoon shopping for gifts for the staff and eating Korean with Damien and Alice for lunch. For dinner, we pigged out at our favorite street barbeque where they make the best grilled veggies, fish, and noodles. A meal can be as cheap as $3. Back at the hostel, some guests, staff, Jason, Dan and I started the night off with a power hour, my first successful one in China and Alice and Damien's first ever. Jason insisted Dan and I could drink beers for free all night since it was our farewell party. He even made us B-52s which were a little intimidating to drink because they were on fire and we had to use straws which went right through the flames! I could've done mine faster... Once we got through that the night ended up with dancing (of course), a Chinese game called “007”, free Sambuca shots, a late night swim/surf session in the ocean, ramen, and free dumplings. Perfect. Free dumplings or not, it wouldn't have been the same without the people that made the hostel what it was, and what it meant to me. Each staff member and guest at the hostel were always so kind (Ina made sure to give me constant medicine when I was sick), so curious (Jason always asking about the American way of saying things), so cute (Mio's way of saying “OH MY GOD”), so funny (Damien's sense of humor and his exchanges with Alice), and so damn memorable (holing up with everyone during the 5 hour blackout during the typhoon). I've had a lot of once-in-a-lifetime experiences in Sanya, the kind that make you feel alive; it was a wonderful introduction to my life here in China, and the potential of friendships and the unlimited kindness of some special Chinese.

Sitting here in Chengdu I can't help but wonder what everyone is doing back at the Sunshine hostel. Kevin is probably up for the night shift. The people in the 8 person room are probably sweating their body weight since the AC is broken. Alice and Damien are probably awake because of the snoring man in their room. At the same time I'm more than excited to start my life here in Chengdu. By life I mean my settled life. Before this I was roaming around China, exploring its nook and crannies, but now in Chengdu it's time to settle down and work out my life here. That means a job, an apartment, a cellphone, a new bank account possibly, yadda yadda.

There's one thing I've really learned from Sanya though, and traveling in general. I'm continuously reminded of this particular lesson the more I travel: you can never judge a book by its cover. People will amaze you, people will anger you, people will make you laugh or cry, and people will surprise you, but they won't be able to do any of those things if you don't give them a chance first. We've all been told this time and time again in our lives, but we're human and we forget sometimes, and we see someone and we automatically make a judgment. It's like a reflex, you can't help it. People are too complex for a quick judgment without context and conversation. We're not that simple, and because of that we deserve more. I've always been working on this, and I truly think I've gotten better, but there are times when I slip. There are specific people I think of who I know I judged too quickly in Sanya, but I'm too embarrassed to write about it here in fear they will eventually read it and figure out it's them. Once I gave them 10 minutes though, I quickly found that I was wrong about them. All I have are apologies, an apology for thinking I knew who they were and what they were about, when in reality I didn't know the first thing about them. I short-changed them. Traveling and meeting new people is quite humbling in this aspect. Like I always say, everybody's got a story.

Lao Mu

This story is adapted from an interview with Mu Rui Chen, or "Lao Mu" (Old Mu) as we fondly call him at the hostel. He's the chef at the hostel and he's 22 years old. This is his story:

Lao Mu's Specialities. Yes, Lao Mu's Specialities. It has a nice ring to it, don't you think? The name even sounds tasty, like how a double fudge brownie with chocolate chips and sugar powder sprinkled on top would taste. Maybe I'd bake those at Lao Mu's Specialities. Girls would love that-- they're suckers for sweets, and especially chocolate. Why do you think I want to open up Lao Mu's Specialities? For the girls! My flabby stomach that screams “I LOVE FOOD! NOM NOM NOM” sure isn't going to win over any girl right away. It's gotta be brownies, cookies, and cake. Alright I'm not that girl obsessed; I've got another love. Cooking. I've always loved cooking. I remember frying my first egg when I was 8. It wasn't the kind of fried egg that just anyone would be proud of, it was a little burnt and took the shape of a manatee, but to an 8 year old, it tasted like a miracle, and by the time I was 17 I realized I wanted to cook as a career. So that's the muse behind my current dream: Lao Mu's Specialities. It would be a small restaurant in Beijing where I'd cook Chinese food, Western food, and anything else I think tastes good or I can cook well. A restaurant is the dream of most chefs because cooking for yourself is satisfying, but cooking for others is rewarding. I want to share my dishes with other people and give them the flavors and spice of Lao Mu. If you want to get at the root of it though, my true speciality is baking and that would be the real gem of Lao Mu's Specialities.

I love baking the most for three reasons. The first reason is that girls love it! Like I said before, girls are a sucker for baked goods, so why not be a sucker for the baker? I'd make a girl very happy with my lemon mousse. Lemon mousse is the best because of its sour taste. Now, you get easily sick of chocolate mousse because it's oily and very heavy, but not the lemon mousse. You could eat that day and night, and then some. The second reason is that my grandparents are Muslim so they originally wanted me to find a place to cook where I wouldn't have to cook pork. It's hard to find a place like that, but with baking it's really easy to avoid meat. I'm a Muslim myself, but a bacon-loving kind (I know there are more of you out there), so I don't know what that makes me. The third and last reason is that I have the most experience in baking. I've only been studying cooking for 5 years, and I originally started making regular Chinese dishes, and had only been making desserts for a year before I started my job at the international school in Beijing where I was the pastry chef for 2 years. My chef friend heard about the job from his friend, but my friend can't make desserts so he thought of me and introduced me to the job. I went for it thinking I'd take a big bite of the sweet glazed doughnut that is life.

Life was simple and straightforward working at the international school. I'd make croissants and doughnuts in the morning, and in between breakfast and lunch I'd have snacks available for the kiddies. The teachers also had a party every week and I'd make pastries for their parties. Once I made chocolate cakes in the shape of spiders for Halloween, they looked so life-like some kids were afraid to eat them! After 2 years though I decided to leave the job when my friend, Terry, told me about the job here in Sanya. I came here for the freedom. There's more of it here. If I want to add something new on the menu, I can just put it on. I don't have to consult my boss. In the international school the boss controlled my dishes, and wouldn't let me add certain things even if I wanted to. At the most basic level, I'd want to add certain garnishes to make the dish look nicer, but my boss would order me not to, and would tell me to add something else. I didn't have complete control of the foods I cooked, which is important to me. I cook for the reactions of the people who eat my food and say “DAMN, this tastes good!” and if I don't have control it feels like the dish I ultimately serve isn't my own. These kinds of comments are really important to me because they make me proud of my work. Even if I'm dead tired, making food that I know people are going to like restores me. Cooking and food itself are energizing because food to me is both freedom and growth.

Cooking and my conception of food have evolved the more I study it. You know, I didn't go to college. I started working and studying cooking at 17, and have learned a lot since then. After studying Western food, I started thinking about food as a way to stay healthy, especially when I was studying the salad. The Chinese don't have anything like the salad, which tastes good and is healthy. The only bad thing I've come to find is that sometimes when you eat Western food, you can't get full, but maybe that's because my stomach is home to a troll who eats all my food and leaves nothing for my own stomach. I've also learned that although Chinese food tastes good, some of the food is too oily and it's not good for your body. I think I could improve Chinese cuisine with a lot less salt and oil. Also, a lot of people in China use sewage oil to save money, which is disgusting and a disgrace to the food they cook. Those peoples' hearts are black. I could never use sewage oil because I'd be disrespecting my dishes and those I serve my food to.

The art of food is so vast and you can go to so many places with food, locations that both exist and don't in space; there are so many types of cuisine to be tasted and studied! If I ever get a chance to go abroad, I'd want to go to France and Turkey to learn their cuisine. I really want to learn French, Turkish, and even more of Chinese cuisine. If I have any time, I'd learn in Beijing because there are a lot of French restaurants where I could learn how to cook French food. French food is extremely exquisite, and they pay a lot of attention to the aesthetics of food, which I really like and want to incorporate into my own cooking. I'm not a personal fan of Turkish food, but I know that people really enjoy it and the way they make food is very good.

Everyone has a natural talent, and I think I've found mine in cooking. I think anybody can cook, but some people are more natural at cooking than others. In my case, I'm able to pick out a couple of things and add a little bit of this flavor and a little bit of that, and I can achieve what I want just by relying on my senses and not by anything I've learned in particular. The beauty of cooking is that you can always tweak something and improvise, and end up with something you even surprise yourself with, something completely unexpected.

The Bitter Draught

Since the Norwegian bombing and shooting spree, many writers have commented on several aspects of this bombing. Some have remarked that we should use this incident as a reminder that domestic terrorism is just as a prevalent threat as “Islamic” terrorism. Others have pointed out how initially it was believed that Al-Qaeda perpetrated the attacks. Glenn Greenwald and others like him noted society's tendency to immediately think of “Islamic” terrorism when the word “terrorism” comes to mind. Still others have remarked the usage of the words “extremism” and “terrorism”, and how in this case it's extremism, not terrorism. Others have said vice versa: it is indeed still terrorism.

A lot has been said about this devastating tragedy, and the man behind it, but I haven't read much on the anti-Muslim sentiment and multiculturalism hate that drove this man to commit such a heinous deed. Indeed this NYT article describes how Anders Behring Breivik “was deeply influenced by a small group of American bloggers and writers who have warned for years about the threat from Islam, lacing his 1,500 page manifesto with quotations from them, as well as copying multiple passages from the tract of the Unabomber.” This passage highlights the most striking facet of this incident: the feeling the perpetrators of 9/11 had towards America is the same motivating force behind Breivik's actions. That feeling is hate. 9/11 and the Norwegian incident are by no means the same in origin, magnitude, or religious motivation. I'm not saying they are the same. I'm pointing out that both events do, however, share one thing in common: deep-rooted hate. Some might say that the Muslim world has a right to hate us because America has always treated them poorly with no respect. No matter how true or untrue, America did not deserve what it got on 9/11, and in the end hate is hate, no matter what justification someone comes up with. Sadness still feels like sadness, happiness like happiness, and anger like anger. The hate that drove the airplanes into the World Trade Center is the same shade as the hate that planted the bombs in the Norwegian government buildings and pulled the trigger that unleashed bullets on many innocent children. Hate comes with a cost, and we Americans have drank that bitter draught. We paid for that hate with lives, but we're blind to see that our own hate is also costing lives. Our hate is also killing. Our hate is ruining us, and the country. We hate just as much, if not more, than the terrorists hated us on 9/11, and probably still do. What good is this hate, especially when we target innocent Muslims who are being punished daily for their belief in a certain ideology? They didn't even do anything. What are we teaching other people? Well, it seems to me that we now know. We're teaching people like Breivik that it's okay to hate and feed our hatred to others through blogs, conversations, the shadows of our lives, and etc.

Some people have blamed these anti-Muslim bloggers for the tragedy in Norway, but I believe Breivik already had this hate instilled in him prior him reading these kind of blogs, he wanted an echo chamber. These anti-Muslim bloggers fanned the flame though, and showed Breivik there are others that hate just as much as he does, and that Muslims are indeed something to be hated, and worthy of their hatred. Another awful thing about hate is that it spawns more hate, more lives, and more pain. It's usually innocent people who must suffer the consequences of hate and intolerance. The bloggers might not have directly caused the bombings and shooting, but their hands are not entirely clean either. Then again, the hate that your grandmother, your barber, your dry cleaner, or your teacher has for their Muslim neighbor also makes their hands dirty. The hate that provoked Breivik was enflamed by these bloggers, and made it seem okay to hate Muslims, perhaps even making it seem that it was okay to bomb and shoot innocent civilians for this hate-- to get attention to his cause. In the end, I'm not blaming the bloggers for Breivik's actions, he alone must be responsible for his own actions. What I am sure of though is that hate and intolerance against Muslims (which has been normalized in American society), or anyone else for that matter is dangerous and costly, and if we want to avoid events like the one in Norway and 9/11, we must teach and show our peers that it's not okay to hate. We must try to love, and treat others like we would want to be treated ourselves.

Terry

I'm planning on starting a blog project. The project will consist of several posts, each on someone I've chanced upon meeting during my travels in China. I believe everybody's got a story, and I intend on sharing theirs with you, here. This is the first.

Dan and I interviewed Yu Chen (aka Terry) today for about half an hour, which is how long it took me to read off the questions I had written for the occasion, and for Dan to translate my questions to Chinese and Terry's answers to English.

I adapted this story from that interview with Terry who currently works at the hostel. Terry is 22 years old, and this is his story:

I thought he was mad. The insane kind of mad. At the time his suggestion seemed impossible, yet the words stared at me, blazing from the computer, both challenging me and provoking my will. It turns out later that I was the crazy one, taking his suggestion and leaving my well-established barbeque stand in Beijing to head to Sanya on bike with the very man who had dared to test my will. The journey would total 6,000 kilometers and would take about 2 months. The numbers didn't scare me though, in fact they kind of electrified me. My friend and I had carefully planned out the route, making sure to hit up several large cities on the way. By no means did we take the shortest route. We all learn in geometry that the shortest route is a straight line between two points, but the one we were taking was zigzagged-- looping in and out of the vastness that is China. If we were going to do this at all though, then we had to do it right. RIGHT? We weren't taking this trip for comfort or luxury. We were going to bust our balls, so we chose the scenic route, however much longer it may take. Bikes aren't allowed on highways in China so we had to take the country roads. I was on my fixed gear yellow bike and he on his orange mountain bike. I would be the first person in China to make this trek from Beijing to Sanya on a fixed gear. This thought alone excited me, and drove me to this madness. That and my friend's suggestion of course. I had even met this friend in a peculiar way.

We had only known each other for about a week, but we became fast virtual friends in that time. Through our online conversations, I found out that he was a 30 year old reporter. It's common to meet friends online in China. After about a week of chatting, he proposed the idea of biking together from Beijing to Sanya. Ten days after his proposal, I found myself on the road, pedaling with Beijing's skyline on my back alongside my new friend. We left on April 19^th. We would wake up at around 8 AM every day and bike until it became too dark to navigate, biking around 8 to 10 hours every day. We didn't stop except to eat and to rest. We would always try to set up what hotels we would be staying at for the night in whatever city we would be in. If we didn't do this, we would be roaming around the dark looking for one and this was very dangerous.

It took about 4 to 5 days to get from one city to another so I found myself sleeping in townships many of which were a lot dirtier, messier, and more dangerous and corrupt than bigger cities tended to be. I didn't carry anything to protect myself with, but my friend was strong so I felt safe with him. You'd think it would've gotten lonely with just 2 people, but we met so many new friends along the way that I never felt such loneliness.

In Chengdu, I had talked to a person living there before and had planned ahead to meet him when we arrived. He was part of a biking team, and when I arrived he welcomed me and introduced me to his favorite spots and good friends. We traveled with him for part of the way, and to this day we're still very good friends. For most of the cities, I'd try to get in contact with local biking groups. These groups aren't prevalent in big cities, but I tried to get in contact with a group in each city before we set out from Beijing.

I would be a liar if I called the journey easy; there were many bumps in the road [pun intended]. My bike had a lot of issues because the country roads can get really bumpy and a lot of foresight was needed to plan in order to avoid problems like the one we experienced in Kumming. We had been on the road for 12 hours traveling west from Guiyang to Kumming and the sun had already set, which was an issue because we hadn't found a place to sleep yet. We were already exhausted because we had been biking uphill for most of the time, which is difficult on a fixed gear. Fixed gears are much more fitting for riding through cities, not for biking cross-country like we were doing. Anyway, we kept looking but we couldn't find a hotel. We ended up stumbling upon a really poor village where there was a shitty shack someone rented out to us for the night. A lot of people think I'm crazy when I tell this story because I could've easily taken a plane and gotten to Sanya in a matter of hours. But I say fuck that! What's the fun in that? It's too easy to take other forms of transportation, you get to your destination in a couple of hours or a day. On a bike, you get to take in the sights better and so you get to experience a lot more. You get to feel every place's atmosphere, truly feel it on your skin, in your bones, but when you're in a car you just pass right on by a place and don't even notice it. Biking such a distance seemed crazy, but it also seemed right for me. Biking is not exactly a special interest for me, it's just something I wanted to experience. I'm not particularly good at it either. I mean I biked every day in Beijing since the city's so crowded and because I wanted to preserve the environment.

Doing this biking trip was just one experience I wanted to have, and there are still so many others. It was a great experience and I knew it would be, and that's why I committed myself to this 2 month 6,000 kilometer trek. I like to do things that people haven't done before. Right now I haven't done anything that other people haven't, except this bike trip on fixed gear, but I plan on continuing endeavors like this: things people haven't done. At the moment I'm planning on being a good surfer and learning how to surf here in Sanya. There aren't many good surfers in China. I think there are about 100 good surfers in all of China and considering the population, that's nothing. In 4 or 5 years, I want to be snowboarding as well. I don't do these things in hopes that surfing or snowboarding will become more popular in China, I do it for the sake of my own experience. Life is just a collection of these experiences-- the bolder the better, the newer the more exciting, the less tried the more satisfying.

I stayed in Sanya for a little when I finally made it to the tropical island some call the “Hawaii of China,” and stayed at Sunshine Hostel where I met the owner, Jason. He is, in ways, just as ambitious me – I like that. The staff was great here, really friendly, and I found out that they didn't have a permanent chef here. The cogs started turning in my head... When I returned to Beijing from Sanya, I stayed there for only 10 days, which was enough time to convince my friend (and practicing chef) Mu Rui Chen – or Old Mu for short – to return to the island with me. He had some experience cooking at an international school, and even worked at a restaurant in Beijing, and I knew he would light up at the offer to work in a quieter, cleaner, and sunnier city than Beijing. I knew he'd be a perfect fit for Sunshine Hostel. I made the arrangement with Jason before I left: I'd set them up with a new chef and Jason and I would practice surfing together.

I returned to Sanya because it was too coincidental and I took it as a sign from above that they didn't have a chef. I believe in destiny; I think it controls everything. If I hadn't come to this hostel, I wouldn't have met you guys, and if I had stayed at a different hostel, I wouldn't have been able to bring Old Mu back as the new chef. The bike trip had everything to do with who I am and where I am at this exact moment. Now I'm going to be in Sanya for 1 or 2 more years, practicing surfing every day and working at the hostel. I'm making money and saving it to do things I like to do. I really like traveling. I want to travel all around the world. I don't even know where I want to go to the most. Everywhere is beautiful. I want to go to America eventually and do a cross-country road trip. My biggest dream is to sail across the world. I read a book about a guy who did that. He set out from Shangdong, and his trip took a little bit more than 1 year. I think that's very special, but it's pretty dangerous to do it all by yourself. I really admire him because it's dangerous and there's a lot of things you can't expect. But I bet he took this trip for the very same reason I took mine: to make a lot of new friends and see a lot of new places, and most of all, for the experience.

But seriously

[Before you read this, I want to assure you all I won't be deported or get in trouble by Chinese authorities. I asked a Chinese computer software developer staying at the hostel if it was okay to write about such things in China even if it's about the United States. He said it's fine as long as I'm not rallying people in China to do this here, which I'm not. The most serious thing they'll do is delete this if it even gets to government-level, which he says is very doubtful so don't worry.]

I secretly want to start a revolution in the United States. Those who know me well know this about me. This desire stems from wanting to change the broken system that serves nobody but the powerful and the rich and continues to trample on everybody else's rights and needs. I could go on and on about specifics, but if you understand this desire, then I think you also probably know what I'm talking about. Just read the news. It's everywhere. We have become a greedy nation with no morals and conscience, and we live by no principles. We live by a Constitution which is interpreted for individual benefit and gain. Our president, a Constitutional scholar, could even use some brushing up on some of the basics in the Constitution. Our voting system creates the stupid two-party gridlock we're currently stuck with. Our votes are just pieces of paper, we still don't have any power over what's going on over there on Capitol Hill. Legislators are too protected by their long terms. There are many institutional fractures, and only institutional changes and creating a new system will remedy the failures of our current system. The problem is that the institution itself sure isn't going to make these changes, they benefit too much from the brokenness. The only way is if we demand it, and show those in power that governments can't suppress the power of the people. They work for us. Changing the system. Reform. What a feat. Impossible some would say, but I'm an idealist and my mind just doesn't function in this way. If you start out thinking that way, then it truly is impossible, you leave no room for possibilities and potential. I think this is how they want you to think.

I've been inspired by people like Howard Zinn and his “A Power Governments Cannot Suppress”, and I'm currently reading Henry David Thoreau's “Civil Disobedience”. They believed reform is possible and that governments exist to serve the people, and not the other way around. I will show no respect for any institution that doesn't deserve it. A government can't just command respect and obedience from its citizens: it needs to give us reasons why we should respect it, and why we should support it. As Thoreau points out, it is our duty to “... make known what kind of government would command his respect, and that will be one step toward obtaining it.” Of course there are many people, journalists like Glenn Greenwald (much respect) who already do this, but there are plenty who write about it, and gripe and pleasure in griping about the injustices of the government, but not one who stands up and demands for revolution, for reform. Not one who marries her words to her actions. Thoreau has helped me realize this. To our credit, it's difficult. It is true there is no built-in way in which revolution is possible in the Constitution or in the American system. Revolutions can be tumultuous, but not all revolutions require blood to be shed for it to be complete. What the Constitution does allow is the right to petition. But I ask what good does petitioning do? How much does it do? A petition will not force the government to do what the people want it to do. I think this is a disadvantage of the Constitution-- it doesn't provide an avenue for true reform. The government is too stubborn to acknowledge that it is failing for a lot of people. I think once something fails, like our current capitalist system did, that it's time to see what went wrong and change those things. It's hard when we have a system as entrenched as ours currently is, but we're humans, we keep on adapting-- that is how we survive. Thoreau puts it in this way:

How can a man be satisfied to entertain an opinion merely, and enjoy it? Is there any enjoyment in it, if his opinion is that he is aggrieved? If you are cheated out of a single dollar by your neighbor, you do not rest satisfied with knowing you are cheated, or with saying that you are cheated, or even with petitioning him to pay you your due, but you take effectual steps at once to obtain the full amount, and see to it that you are never cheated again.

If the government refuses to listen to its people who demand basic services like healthcare (a human right), then how can a citizen respect this government when the government barely respects its citizens. The government asks and asks of us, asks us to pay taxes so it can shed blood and strengthen the military machine, and it asks us to be loyal, but without giving us any reason. We're like servants now, providing an allegiance to our country and even fighting in a war that perhaps our heart does not find true-- in a war that's disguised with lies, a war in which the government does not mind sacrificing a soldier's life if it means we have more oil. The government can't even be honest with us. A government that can treat its people like that deserves no respect. Thoreau again: “the mass of men serve the state thus, not as men mainly, but as machines, with their bodies.”

I know what a good government would look like, although I'm not entirely sure on how to go about it. A good government would respect its people, protect them, not send them away in a fruitless war to secure oil stores. A good government would wants its people healthy and happy, and would ask the richest, most privileged to help provide happiness and security for those who cannot. A truly good government would “anticipate and provide for reform” (Thoreau). Most importantly, the government would “encourage its citizens to put out its faults, and do better than it would have them.” Yet it doesn't listen to us, we're not men and women, but subjects. I'm not happy with what our government does, and so I want to stop providing allegiance and support for it because I cannot agree with its principles or actions any longer. But how? What does a 21^st bloodless revolution look like in America? Thoreau offers these statements in “Civil Disobedience”, which I will leave for you as food for thought:

“Must the citizen ever for a moment, or in the least degree, resign his conscience to the legislator? Why has every man a conscience then? I think that we should be men first, and subjects afterward.”

“Action from principle, the perception and the performance of right, changes things and relations; it is essentially revolutionary, and does not consist wholly with anything which was.”

“Let your life be a counter-friction to stop the machine. What I have to do is to see, at any rate, that I do not lend myself to the wrong which I condemn.”

“If a thousand men were not to pay their tax bills this year, that would not be a violent and bloody measure, as it would be to pay them, and enable the State to commit violence and shed innocent blood. This is, in fact, the definition of a peaceable revolution, if any such is possible.... When the subject has refused allegiance, and the officer has resigned from office, then the revolution is accomplished.”

Now I ask you this. What can we do? How can we start a revolution? How can we speak as one nation, and demand a better government? Don't say we can't. Look at the youth in Egypt who overturned their government, look at the inspiration of people like Nelson Mandela, or Martin Luther King Jr. I'm sure countless people told them it couldn't be done, but it was done. I have a whole year in China to think about this. Thoreau suggests an action like not paying your taxes, even if it means you'll go to jail for it. Just men can be sent to jail. Yet for a mother or father who has a family to worry about, how can this be asked of them? Or someone who is trying to finish college? It seems almost impossible... but there will be those who will anyway. If not this, what other ways? What would we want? What do we need exactly? I'd appreciate your comments and thoughts on the matter. These are questions I am thinking about myself and will continue to do so. I know reform like this doesn't happen overnight, it requires careful thinking, consideration, and planning, but perhaps something can be done. By no means is America's government the worst. In fact the government and its origins is a rare thing, and it was built upon strong, admirable ideals, but we've come a long way from those initial intentions and America deserves better. I think the American people deserve a better government, a more honest one-- one with a conscience. I don't want to complain anymore like Thoreau cautions against, I want to take action.

“Cast your whole vote, not on a strip of paper merely, but your whole influence.”

Seeking Bridges

I'm an island on an island. Or that's how I feel most of the times, at least. I'm talking about my inability to speak and communicate with others in Chinese. Before coming here I knew that it would be difficult for me to sustain conversations that went beyond statements like “It's so hot!” or “I like dogs!”. You get the idea. But I couldn't actually imagine how I'd feel because I've never been in this kind of situation. I've traveled to many countries, but even in Kenya where the common tongue is Swahili, I at least had 25 other Americans to share my story of the loose bat in our hut that kept on flying and flapping around the room the entire night (we were all too scared to get out of our mosquito nets and open the door to let it out), and the time I woke up my roommates, convinced I had seen a snake in my bed when in reality it was a dream and way too dark to see anything (this was their common sense argument which satisfied me and lulled me back to sleep). In Costa Rica, my 9 years of studying Spanish more or less pulled through when I was able to chat with taxi drivers and get around the country, and once again, there were 30 other American students I could converse with.

Here, in China, things are a lot different. There is no large group of Americans I can carry on meaningful conversations with, or joke with. I can barely string a sentence, and the ones I can are painfully obvious (someone gives me a huge piece of mango to eat, I say: “Thanks. It's so big”) and lead to dead-ends. This doesn't stop me from trying. I try and I try and I try. Initially I depended on Dan who would translate all my questions and comments, but then I came to realize that this is no way to carry on. I could depend on Dan, but where would that leave me? A seemingly brainless turd. I don't want to have to rely on Dan that much anyway. Chinese lessons were more frequent during our stay on the farm, and here I've begun using flashcards to learn new words, and learn new phrases from Dan. I try to piece together sentences, although grammatically incorrect most of the times, that will lead to more conversation, although usually 80% of that conversation is lost in meaning. It's even harder when the other party can't speak any English, and can't bridge us two islands.

Words are important, everybody knows that, but it's only now I realize just how important words really are. People say actions speak louder than words, but I'm not so sure of this anymore. I can see where this can sometimes apply, but I think intentions are more important. You won't understand the person's intentions behind a misconstrued action if she doesn't have the ability to explain or express the particular feeling and thought behind that action. Actions can be interpreted in many ways, and so you need to be able to explain why. Sometimes an action can be an island, floating along in the middle of a blue sea. Even more importantly, what is a person without words? How does an individual convey personality, spunk, thought, or emotion without words? I think you can to a certain degree, but not enough. How do you become friends with someone without conversation? Sure, you can become friendly with someone, but you don't get below the surface, and forming a connection becomes that much harder. So I'll be honest. Even though I'm surrounded by 5 people, I can feel pretty lonely when I can't understand what's going on and then I wonder if I'll ever learn Chinese well enough. Chinese is not a joke, it's a difficult language-- I mean look at it! The same word can mean 10 different things based on tone and what not. Chinese writing looks beautiful, like a form of art, and I want to learn it, it's so new, so unfamiliar. I want to be responsible for that kind of beauty. The way you even set up a sentence is so unlike English, Spanish, and Korean that I wonder if it'll ever feel like second nature to me. There's a lot I need to learn to be able to express nuance like I know how to in English. Thankfully through teaching English, I talk a lot with Ina, and with Jason (we have the same birthday!), although a little less. The staff is so friendly too, a local girl in particular named Mio is so eager to learn English and her eagerness itself makes me feel better. I haven't met a mean person yet in China, believe it or not. It seems like most people here are genuinely kind and thoughtful. What a change from America where you are guaranteed to run into a mean-spirited person at least once a week, if not more.

Through talking to Ina, Dan and I found out that Jason used to own a bar in Beijing called “Beer Station.” It was the first graffiti bar in Beijing, and was known for playing Tom and Jerry in the background. Tom and Jerry, what a great cartoon, understood in any language, at any age (it's often played here as well). Anyway, he was kicked out of high school for starting trouble and smoking cigarettes, and it was then that he decided he'd be the world's best bartender. He'd frequent night clubs and bars, trying to become familiar with the ins and outs of bartending and nightlife. Then, Jason and Ina moved to Singapore to study and to learn English at Ina's suggestion, and it's there where Jason entered a competition for bartending. He didn't tell Ina because he was certain he wouldn't advance, and even his friends insisted he would lose because he wasn't Singaporean. All of the competitors were representing the bars they worked for, and were given alcohol to use for the competition because everyone had to bring their own. Jason was representing himself, and had to secretly take alcohol from the bar he was working at, keeping it in plastic water bottles while everyone else had expensive bottles. Like any true underdog story, Jason made it all the way to the finals, surprising both competitors and judges. It was only when Jason made it to the finals that he told Ina about the competition. By this point the judges had taken a liking to Jason's style and his flyer skills (he could juggle 4 bottles of alcohol like it was nobody's business), and they started supplying him with alcohol and garnishes for his drinks like cucumbers and shit. I saw his performance in the finals, he was juggling bottles fluidly, shaking drinks with flair, and exuding a confident personality, which none of the other bartenders were doing. The others were simply pouring, mixing, shaking. Unfortunately, Jason didn't win, which he attributes to subtle racism-- him being Chinese, and everyone else being Singaporean. BUT WAIT! It doesn't end there. One of the judges offered Jason a place in a bartending competition in Cuba, but Jason would have to represent Singapore, not China. Jason refused because of his patriotism. Luckily for him though, someone from the Ritz Carlton was at the final and offered Jason a bartending gig at the Ritz so that's how Jason started working at the fancy schmancy Ritz Carlton in Singapore before he opened up this hostel in China. It could honestly be a fucking movie. I admire Jason. He did everything on his own, and stood by his principles. He might have been kicked out of high school and passed up on a great opportunity in Cuba, but he's still happy here doing what he's doing, and he never would have been able to imagine this 6 years ago. Life will certainly take you by the balls, only if you take its first. Here's to taking Chinese by its balls, the 4^th language I will have learned.

Freeloading is Fun

Dan and I got to Sanya 2 days ago after a 4.5 hour bus ride from Linggao county where we WWOOFed at Guo and Niu's farm. Sanya is the southern city in Hainan where many Chinese tourists and foreigners come for the beautiful beaches. So far, I can definitely see the appeal.

I never thought I'd be grateful for the existence of Conrad Hilton, the creator of the Hilton hotel chain, but here I am in Sanya, Hainan feeling incredibly thankful for his ambition and appreciation for luxury so thanks Mr. Hilton! Much thanks.

Yesterday Dan and I went to Yulong Bay and used the private beach belonging to the Hilton hotel at the suggestion of one of the hostel owners: sweet, eager Ina. Sanya Sunshine International Youth Hostel is owned by a Chinese couple, Ina and Jason, originally from Beijing. She claimed that Yulong was her favorite beach out of Dadonghai Bay and Sanya Bay because it's frequented by less people, and hence a lot cleaner. I liked the sound of this, but didn't really think what it would mean to "go through the Hilton", which is how she stated it. It would take us 30-40 minutes to get there on bus, and midway en route we stopped by Dadonghai and grabbed a Western lunch of burgers and french fries. The food was much needed after a night of Chinese drinking games (difficult when your ability to count in Chinese is that of a 5 year old's) and a lot of free beers with the guests, workers, and owners of the hostel. Jason, Ina's boyfriend, apparently is a renowned bartender (although I'm sure her praise was a little biased), which proved to be true after making us the most delectable cocktails I've ever tasted: Manhattans, Singapore Slings, whiskey sours, and this apple chili cucumber concoction. We ended the night strumming on my uke and their guitar and enjoying the company of the workers at the hostel, including the cleaning lady who showed up later after having danced at a live show in a park. Let me just say I've seen the cleaning lady do everything from drinking, singing a song of praise to Chairman Mao, videotaping Dan and me, to hanging out with every guest here. Everything but cleaning the hostel (although it is, strangely enough, very clean). She's kind of crazy, but good crazy, and I like it. Everyone was forced to sing at Jason's demand, and boy, do Dan and I have terrible voices. They sure didn't seem impressed. We were put on the spot and so I made up a song about farting and pooping (very mature, I know, but I was feeling silly at the moment) hoping they didn't know enough English to figure out what I was singing about. Later Dan and I realized we should've just sung the theme song of the Fresh Prince of Bellair, one of the few songs we know all the lyrics too. Maybe another night.

Anyway, back to that Western lunch in Dadonghai. I knew after the first bite of our lunch and tasting that delicious melted cheese and crunchy fries that that day was going to be a good, good day. I was sure right. We hopped back onto a bus that would take us to Yalong Bay, which turned out to be a secluded area with a lot of high-end resorts. The driver let us off near the Hilton at our request. We walked down a deserted road with trees lining the sidewalks and freshly cut grass past the Marriott until we reached the Hilton: Sanya Resort and Spa.

DAMN. As soon as we entered the premises we were surrounded by a lush green landscape with flowers and trees of every kind. The entire place smelled like money. We walked up the driveway into a gleaming marble lobby and were pointed in the direction of the beach. Just like that. No questions. No suspicion. For all the workers at the Hilton knew, we were coming back from a day in town. The upkeep of this place was ridiculous, nothing was out of place, everything was manicured and immaculate. We walked down the path past 5 pools with turquoise water and beautiful shrubbery, a volleyball court in a sand lot, a water bar, cabanas with Chinese kids on their iPads, and down to the glorious beach. The water was 3 shades of blue, each shade different as the water got farther away from the shore, but all were a beautiful hue of clear blue. To the right and left of us were grassy mountains and few skyscrapers were to be seen. The shore was dotted with reclining beach chairs and umbrellas, lifeguards, chubby Russians, and Chinese families. Dan and I used as many of the free Hilton facilities as we could: we borrowed a volleyball using a fake room number, raced each other in the pool, saw who could hold their breath longer underwater in the pool, played a quick 1-on-1 game of volleyball on their sand court, used their plush sea-green towels, bodysurfed in their exclusive part of the beach, laid out and ate fresh lychee poolside on their reclining chairs, and rinsed off in their outdoor showers. Economists would call us “freeloaders”, but we were just taking advantage of what was there. I think Conrad Hilton wouldn't mind too much, and plus I'm fairly certain he's doing quite well anyway without the expense of two others, heh heh. But economists also claim there is no such thing as a free lunch, and we definitely paid the price. At around 8 o'clock we decided to head back to our hostel, so we asked the concierge where the bus stop was (the bus driver before had just dropped us off where we asked, it wasn't a real stop) and to our dismay he told us that the particular bus we wanted had already stopped running. Mistake number 1. The second mistake came when we got into one of the taxis that was waiting outside the Hilton, which for some reason had a flat rate of 35 RMB, which is around $6. This flat rate is absurdly high for a Chinese taxi, usually it's around 5 RMB, but it must've cost more because it was on retainer for the hotel, and consequently assumes everyone who gets into these taxis is loaded. GAH. We got dropped off halfway, which cost us $14 (insanely high), and took the bus the rest of the way. Despite this small annoyance Dan and I had a great first full day thanks to Ina's suggestion and Conrad Hilton. We'll definitely be going back there again.