长城

     There is something I've wanted to do since I was a kid. Well actually there are plenty of things I've aspired to since I was that little loner of a child. One of those very dreams finally came true last weekend. I hiked a part of the great wall.
   However, as the quirks of a history major go, I first wish to write about the history of this monument. The Great Wall itself started as several smaller walls during a time when China was broken up into multiple dynasties. The first uniting emperor of China(Qin, 200B.C.) ordered that some of the walls be connected to combat the Huns. However, it wasn't until the Ming dynasty ( circa 14th century, also the Golden Age of China) that large scale construction of the wall began. This would bring the total distance (keep in mind the Wall is actually in many different sections) to almost 5000 miles.
    Now the section I have been the most excited about is the Jinshanling sectio. It is secluded, not touristy, and its last renovation was in the 16th century. It is also two hours outside Beijing, and I wanted to see the sunrise. Myself, along with 9 other people, awoke last Sunday morning at 3am so that we would make it by six. I had all the preperations ready. All the information was correct, and I was excited. After all my very thorough research, I discovered all the to dos and not to dos. Just one thing all the sites and books I read didn't mention: no taxi driver wants to drive two hours north at 4am.
   Over and over we tried, always getting the same shake of the head, and a cloud of CO2 coming from the retreating taxi. Not only was I immensly emberassed by all of this, I was feeling incrediably put-off. I woke everyone at 3am, keeping from them a night that which they would have gone to sleep at that time instead, and here we were unable to get to where I wanted to go. I bit my pride, and told our taxi driver to take us to the most dreaded place of Great Wall hikers: Badaling.
   Badaling is an hour drive (if that) from Beijing, and as such is the spot most attractive to tourists. I was leaning on two facts however, that might make everything work out. 1) It would be 6 in the morning when we arrived there and 2) It was below freezing on a wintery, February Sunday. Not too many people make those two things meet, except for ten very grumpy and sleepy college students.
   We finally arrived, and dawn was slowly approaching, as if the sun too was reluctant to shine upon this tourist hell we were in. The Wall didn't open until 7, so we waited in the taxis, and I negotiated with the drivers about waiting for us. The misty morning upon the mountains was brilliant, yet it was too dark for me to work my settings on my camera, and honestly too cold. Even as I tried our driver came out and kept on calling me crazy, saying "leng le"(cold!). Even as i took pictures, and he looked through my camera, he would give me a toothy smile and say "Crazy!" and walk back to the cab. Whether I was actually crazy for being outside at that time or not, I'm fairly certain this is the only word in English he knew.
   Regardless of my sanity, seven rolled around, I bought everyone coffee, and we walked to the gate.This is the first site that greeted us, other than an empty courtyard.

    We were finally here. The Badaling section has two different directions to go, so we chose the one that rather than having 5 people, had none. It was incredibly steep, and winding its way alongside the mountain. I had hopes of walking it to the top of the mountain range in the distance, but only the restored part was allowed, the rest would be tresspassing; which my rebellious nature took as an invitation and I hoped the wall and hiked with Coby, my Canadian friend, for a bit before returning to the others. We walked back to the center, by this time, quite a crowd was gathered on the other side. As i gazed at this part of the wall, I realized that the crowd ended at a certain point, but a trickle of people continued on, and even fewer people beyond that. My eyes finally found the blocking point, where only one person sat, and only a few were walking torward.
     Five of us endeavored that hike, the others going to eat. It was a painstaking walk, many times literally climbing up stairs. At long last, after five miles of hiking, we arrived at the very end, and turning around I saw all that we had done.

It was a great day, despite the complications and problems that arose. At the end of it, as the five of us stood, panting and looking out over this monument and testament to what humans will do, I smiled. It was vain of me to have this thought, and untrue perhaps, in a logical perspective. But for the first time since I had arrived, I finally realized, I was here. I was in China.

The Middle Kingdom

At last I have arrived! After months of hairpulling preparations and fiascos, I am a student of Tsinghua University Language Program. Getting off my plane and getting my luggage was routine. Queuing for the taxi was simple. The “black taxi” drivers were there as well, trying to lure me in. But one thing I’ve discovered to differentiate between legitimate taxi drivers and the black taxis is the fact that no real taxi driver speaks English.

After a fairly long ride I was on the campus. A few more fiascos later with the foreign office I had my keys to my room. By this time it was well into the evening, and I’d not eaten. I chose KFC in Wudaokao (a shopping mini district inside the Haidian district). After eating my first KFC meal ever (and probably my last) I returned to my dorm and moped around, waiting for sleep to overtake me.

The morning dawned and with it came my 20^th birthday. Most people say that 20 is a very dull celebration, for it lacks any sort of milestone, but to spend it alone in a strange land was even worse than a dull night out with my close friends.  

At this point I again have to say I am abbreviating. For the next few hours is indescribable. In the dull roar that was the student coffee shop, over a dozen different accents could be heard. I shook hands with people from around the world; all brought together by the desire to further study Chinese. The Canadians with their funny o’s were easy to hear. The Dutch kids, speaking rapidly to their newfound friends from the same country. Australians and their “English”. There were Finnish, Swiss, French, Columbians, Malaysians, Chinese, Russians, Koreans, and a smattering of Brits and Americans. It was an amazing experience just to feel and see and hear all these cultures interact and form friendships in a matter of minutes, and now, over a week.  Not only was everyone amiable and  sociable, but once word got around that some American sap was entering his third decade of life that very day, a cry for celebration was called for. Everyone seconded and third this notion, and all of a sudden, I had a birthday party in front of me.

This hospitality has continued on to this day, a week after I arrived. As would be expected, it is less of one big group and many more small groups have formed.  It is not clickish though (save for the group from Georgia that came together) and everyone is always happen to have a few more people join them in whatever endeavor they happen to be on at that moment.  I myself have made good friends with a Brit, a Canadian and one person from Indiana.

Having brought my blog up to speed with the current events, I would like to do a small “thinking” section, and not just talk about happenings. China is a very odd country. Besides having no traffic laws other than “every man for himself” and a discouraging lack of manners, I mean. I can see the oppression at work, but then not really. For the most part, it is easy to see the fact that it is hidden, behind this facade of capitalism. It is very difficult to understand, but even harder to explain. Cameras are at every corner, a soldier wearing a color I have deemed “party green” is present every so often, guarding nothing more than a patch of grass it seems. Facebook, YouTube, as well as googling the word “liberty” are all blocked, yet nearly every city person has access to all of these, without consequences. Books denouncing the evils of the west can be found at nearly every book vendor, who is probably sitting next to a McDonalds, Nikon, and Vera Bradley stores, whilst a massive screen above him advertises Coca-Cola and American movies.

                I will continue to watch and understand China, or at least Beijing. I am extremely anticipating going outside the city and to see mountainous areas. Until then, I have 30 degree weather with a fantastic wind-chill and less than 0% humidity.

South Korea

I left my family on a quiet Sunday morning early February. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world; I am for the most part an adult (at least on paper). But it had an odd bitter sweet taste too it. My family includes my parents and other relatives, as well as my good friends, and a comfortable city which I had grown to appreciate and enjoy. My dreams of learning a new language where finally about to be thrust into the forefront of my priorities however, and how eager I was for that to happen. As a young kid I would sit in the library listening to the German tape our middle school had, trying to grab a sense of the gibberish being spoken. I once “borrowed” a book from my father about learning Latin. But now, at the age of twenty, I was finally making a decision to become serious about learning languages, and gathering an understanding of the world outside my little valley.

      But first, I was to first journey reunite with a recently travelled family member: my brother. The flight to Chicago was routine. The international terminal security was so speedy and efficient that I was not at all frustrated by the time I had to nearly undress and walk through the X-Ray machine bare naked three times. Upon entering the plane and checking the rows, I found out I would be sitting in the middle seat of the middle row. As I approached my number, I saw a rather large man sitting on the aisle seat of the middle row. Rather large is a wee bit of a nicety. I did a quick little prayer to the airplane seat gods in desperation. They seem to have been busy that morning though, and grudgingly I took my cramped seat next to him.

        The fourteen hour plane ride proved not to be terrible. Both of my partners in uncomfortabelness were nice, and small talk was easy to come by. The free wine made also made it more bearable.  The plane descended and soon I was in my first foreign country: South Korea. It was dark, and I was not able to see much. I did however manage to acquire a ticket in very broken English to Gwangju in the south. I had two seconds to spare before the bus left, and was not able to tell anyway where I was or tell my brother when I would be at the bus station. This was solved at the pit stop two hour later (yes a fourteen hour plane ride then a four hour bus ride). After yelling frustratingly at the complicated payphones, I finally figured out through my jet lagged fog how to use one of them. Two hours later my brother picked me up, and we went to his place. Midnight now, I passed out.

This is all an abbreviated version of what happen, and I hope my China posts are a little bit less formal and stiff. I have not had time to sit down and write in some weeks, due to the excitement of everything. My first day in Korea was very enjoyable however. Gwangju was what Logan and I called “a big little city” Not extremely busy, the hustle and bustle of other major cities seemed absent. What were not absent were shops. More specifically, bra, shoe, and coffee shops. Never have I seen such a great number of bras and shoes in a small area. I mean they were E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E. There could not be even that many girls to buy all that, it was insane. And the coffee shops were so populous they made orange on a UT football game day seem rare. I did find one I liked, and studied there while my brother was at work.

   Seeing Logan was definitely a great way to start my adventure. It had nearly been a year and was thoroughly happy to stay with him. We had never been particularly close until I went to college. But now our interests and age had grown closer, and we (well I at least) were able to enjoy my week there. My favorite memory of Korea was walking through a completely silent Gwangju at one in the morning with Logan. Snow had fallen for the past two days, and was still continuing to at that time.  All was silent save our footsteps in the snow, crunching our way back home. The lights illuminated the drifting snow, and no cars broke the scene. It was a serenity I had never seen nor felt before.

For my birthday, Logan had booked tickets to tour the DMZ between North and South Korea. I knew virtually little about the history between the two, but was greatly educated by the tour. I learned all about how Korea was only a pawn for the USSR/US cold war. And now, one side has no trees and we worry about even today, and the other is a flourishing society. We learned all about the hope for unification so one day families could be reunited. By far however, seeing the actual guards at the border and being able to step into North Korea was an amazing experience. It was by no means truly dangerous, and even though it was only a few feet, it made me realize that it was still only a few feet. It amazes me what humanity will do to protect a few yards or so, just because. WE squabble over this tiny Earth, and even though I know some alliances cannot be made, and some damages repaired, I wish we have the foresight to prevent such horrible atrocities such as massive wars all because of a mineral or resource. Some would say (and I would probably agree) that that is too naïve or innocent, but it is a wish nonetheless.

 Sunday afternoon I hugged my brother goodbye, and hopped onto a plane taking me to my true destination: the ever changing world of Beijing, China.