Lyle’s Blog

几个月前我被一位“经济半小时”记者采访一次。当时记者没详细地解释为什么要采访我，只说是关于“手机漫游费”。因为对漫游费那个说法不熟悉，我就赶忙地研究到底是什么意思，然后到了我单位的楼下去跟记者见面。结果是我被采访的那一部分上节目了！哈哈。。。如果你们好奇的话就点击下面的链接，然后点击标题右边的影片 （我是在6分30秒左右出现的）。

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-小马

Well folks, I know I made grandiose assertions about weekly updates in Chinese, but alas I have failed miserably. Much has occurred in my absence however, chief among them being my recent departure from the world of advertising, which was an interesting, albeit eye-opening experience for me (more to come on that later). Anyway, just here to say I’m back from the shadows and hopefully will begin to provide you with more consistent updates about my experiences in China, in English and Chinese of course. But for now, its nice to be back.

两周前，我女朋友带我去看两个台湾歌手的一场歌友会（有点像中国的MTV)。节目正式开始之前，负责人让我和我女朋友还有几个比较上镜的人坐在舞台最前边，为了国际化他们的节目（实际上是因为我是在400歌迷中唯一的白人）。当时我一直害怕主持人会注意到我，让我做一些丢人的事情。节目过了一半时，主持人果然注意到了我，而且所有的镜头也对准了我的小脑袋。最可笑的是他问我,“你来这里为了看谁?” 我连她们的名字都不知道，我怎么知道我要看谁，所以我狡猾得回答 “都看！”哈哈。

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看的时候，希望大家可以选择以下哪个更搞笑：1）看到我那么傻的样子，2）我女朋友彻底失态得笑音！(因为这段片是我看电视的时候用我的录像机录下来的，所以会听到我女朋友的反应）等待你们的回答！！！

-小马

这是一篇关于恐怖分子的文章。我是上IUP的时候写的，但我还是觉得跟现在的国际政治情况有关的。欢迎你们的评论。。。

毫无疑问，9/11不仅震惊美国而且还震撼了世界。9/11的结果让一些一直被掩盖着的问题暴露出来。美国人害怕的是：这件事是不是预示世界永无宁日？。这件事情的确让很多美国人忧虑。

9/11发生后，随着恐怖活动的策划被揭开的同时，为数不少的专家发表的关于恐怖分子来源的文章越来越多。专家看法因人而异，但大部分都提出一个共同的理论：大多数恐怖分子都出生于落后地区。那么，恐怖分子出生于贫穷的国家跟他们将来沦落为恐怖分子有什么关系呢？这是一个关键的问题。专家提出很多原因，其中之一说因为恐怖分子的国家很穷，无法跟发达国家抗衡，所以容易让他们感到绝望，就像手脚绑住一样。在心理一直笼罩着这种阴影的情绪之下，当地人易于被极端宗教组织所鼓吹的“打击邪恶西方帝国家”的宣传所迷惑。还有理论说是因为该国感到自己文化自从80年代遭到的外国“全球化”冲击和侵略而产生一种反叛感，使当地人对西方国家，尤其是美国，带点鄙视滋味。许多调查说明，有潜在制造恐怖分子的国家倾向于把外国垄断公司，比如麦当劳，和该公司国家政府的不良动机结合起来。换句话说，把它看作一场“文化战争”。有掉超说明很多人一看到麦当劳或Nike的标志就潜意识的把它和破坏本国的文化传统联合起来。虽然这听起来有点极端，但在不少落后国家这种思想确实存在。

另外，不能避免的是另外一个引起许多中东国家的火气是：美英等国进军伊拉克,并且在全球推行强权政治。　因此，美军进行恐怖袭击, 既能获得伊斯兰极端教派的支持, 还能得到其他同情弱小的人们的理解。可见，9。11事件发生之后，不少中东国家就有很多同胞对那大悲剧幸灾乐祸. 通过这场景就能感觉到中东人的确恨美国。我承认伊拉克战争把美国能博得其他国家好感的能力给淡化了，而且激起了穆斯林国家的愤怒。但不管怎么样，我认为恐怖分子是危害世界和平的一颗毒瘤,是全世界爱好和平人士的共同敌人。不管为何成为恐怖分子，到最后，他们是以杀人为推动自己极端想法。在这点，不管目的对他们来说多么有正义性，他们的行为就把任何合法性就给破坏。

我认为大部分恐怖分子的来源是跟经济有关的。许多调查说明大多数恐怖分子来自经济落后的国家。所以我希望我可以进行一场大规模的实验：把美国政府现在抱着即霸道又煽动的对中东政策取代于一种即和平又宽容的政策。把那些飞机投掷的炸弹取代于经济援助。换句话说，不用武器来压倒他们而获得胜利，而用经济帮助让他进一步摆脱贫穷，然后看将来会有什么样的效果，看能否殊途同归。这不仅与美国现在政府的观点泾渭分明，而且还应该有不少人说这样的话是空中楼阁，但谁能否定这不能把现在的情况给好转了呢？如果一个国家能摆脱贫穷，同时能坚强教育，福利和医疗的制度，你觉得一些极端的宗教所鼓吹的“打击西方国家”的那套宣传还会跟以前一样有那么大的说服力呢？谁能否定这种诱惑还会那么容易吸引老百姓？

当然我所说的话只是“陋见浅识”，还值得我们多去探索。而且我是个美国人所以虽然发表意见时尽量客观得想问题，我也承认我站在美国的立场上。当然，关于这些问题的来源有一个起码的了解还是很重要，所以希望大家不抱着一种暮气态度而积极得去了解这个问题。

-小马

我最近开始喝”泥浆”，但中国人给它起个名叫中药。我喝它的原因是自从来到中国以来就开始有头疼的问题，常常会头疼但没有办法减轻症状，只能吃三立Advil才能忍受。但在我女朋友建议下，我决定接受中国的传统疗法——中医疗法，看能不能帮我治本而不治标。

经过1个小时的检查，（包括一个C.A.T.检查）之后，医生给我开药，让我每天两次喝药。他说过不了多久头疼症状就会越来越轻了。遗憾的是他没告诉我该做好准备喝我有生以来最难以下咽的东西的心理准备。拿着装满够喝七天分量的两大袋子药，我满心欢喜的回到了家，仿佛能看见我病好的样子。可是这种心情仅维持到开始煮药之前，因为折磨即将开始。我女朋友回家便把各种各样的根，叶子和石头块儿放在一口锅里开始煮。从厨房冒出的味已够让我倒尽胃口了，更别提看到锅里的深咖啡色的汤，更是让我有想吐的感觉。大约煮了20分钟以后经过过滤的浓汤就像一个变异生成的黑色怪物嘲讽着对我说“你敢喝我吗？”没办法，只能咬着牙一口气把它给喝完。值得骄傲的是我连续7天都能持之以恒消灭掉这些药。最让我高兴的是发现药不是白喝的，折磨不是白受的，因为自从开始喝它以来，一点头疼症状都没有。真是出乎我的意料。看来中国这种独特的医疗方法在中国五千多年的历史中真可谓是体现了这样一个泱泱大国独特的文化精髓之一。

医生说我还得坚持喝三个星期才会有长期效果。真不知道我还能坚持多长时间。

-小马

如果你对我有完全的认识，你知道我爱上了我的岛，叫做“Whidbey Island”。 我是在这个岛出生的，长大的，而且将来我很可能在这里定居。它是在美国所有岛中最长的。岛上的人朴实，大方，讲究仁爱及关心他人。你一到就将为它完好无损的森林和海滩而倾倒。我每次回这里，生活节奏很快就放慢下来。我所有的忧心和愁苦被我淡忘了。可能是因为它与世隔绝的感觉我才能完全轻松下来，或者也许是因为它人口很少而感觉能放宽心。反正要是你们有机会来华盛顿州旅游的话就必须顺便坐下面的船来看我漂亮的岛，领略一下什么叫大自然。

-小马

今天的“西雅图日报”有一篇文章关于Whidbey Island的 “自然分子”。最让我高兴的是在这篇文章中有我妈和姥姥的照片！看一下。。。

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在文章里的照片地方，翻到第二张

-小马

北京最典型的堵车场面。

If you guys are wondering what a 6 o’clock traffic jam looks like outside my apartment building…..

Traffic

-小马

我自从来到美国以来，我很快就发现一个现象：不用中文三个星期会让你的中文水平很快就退步！所以我才下了决心，不妨试试开一个汉语的blog。这样我可以锻炼我写中文的能力，还有让我所有的能看得懂汉字的朋友了解我的现状两不误！可以说是一举两得。但我必须警告大家：我写中文时一定会犯很多错误，所以希望你们能对我手下留情。（尤其是任何IUP老师，对不起！)

为了让我久违的朋友知道我最近干什么，我要说几句话。我现在在美国，已呆了三个星期。这次回国的经历不错。我已经看了很多好久没看得朋友，参加我朋友的婚礼，跟我妈和姐姐一起去野营，还有跟我爸一起去做他租的一个船（下次我会附上一些照片）。我每次在西雅图（Seattle)的附近出去旅游时总是自言自语得说“西雅图太漂亮了”！可能是因为我已经住在天气一直被污染遮住的北京两年了，所以我才会完全欣赏西雅图的美丽。我还打算呆两个星期然后再回北京，开始找工作。不过现在我不想考虑找工作的情况，我只想继续过这种无忧无虑的生活。明天我要去西雅图看我姐姐和爸，后天就要去看一场棒球比赛（西雅图队比波士顿队。。。西雅图队没戏！）。 下个星期再联系。

马利明 (-小马）

p.s.我欢迎你们的评论！

The trip started out by leaving the “Goose and Duck Pub” in downtown Beijing after watching the Seahawks-Panthers NFC championship, and being an avid Seahawks fan, I was on cloud nine knowing the team I had cursed, yelled at, and all but neglected for years had finally made it to the Superbowl. Jeff, my roommate, Cole, another fellow IUP classmate and I took a plane to Harbin because train tickets during Chinese New Year vacation were impossible to come by.

Our itinerary was to spend 4 days in Harbin, then take an overnight train to Dandong, Liaoning Province, my girlfriend’s hometown, for a week to spend Chinese New Year with her family.

For people who don’t know where Harbin is, if you take a look at a map of China it one of the last major cities in the northeast part of the country, close to Russia.

Being so far north, the temperature during this time hovers around 0 degrees F with wind-chill of -10F - long johns are must. We arrived at our hotel, “Luo Man Di”, which means “The Romantic” in English, at about 6 that evening. After seeing the name, we were half-expecting to see heart-shaped beds with rose petals sprinkled on the pillows, but it had all the sights and smells your typical mid-range hotel you would find in China - rock-hard beds, cigarette stained carpets reeking of ash, and of course, incessant telephone calls asking if we want “An mo” or “Massage” in English, but if you’ve done any traveling in China, this is code name for prostitute.

That evening we walk around the neighborhood next to our hotel to scope out restaurants. The restaurants in Harbin have a ranking system endemic to the city: different colored lanterns are hung outside the restaurant to signify what kind of food they serve; Blue for Muslim minority, Red for traditional Chinese, and White for Russian. Harbin, as you might imagine, still has a very palpable and robust Russian culture, evidenced by the large swaths of Russian architecture peppered throughout the city.

One characteristic that eluded me until I arrived was the pockets of Muslim minorities doting the city. Almost everywhere you turn you see Muslim restaurants, bars or shops. If I were staying longer I would have wanted to investigate the history of Muslims in the area.

We stumbled upon a Russian café as we were strolling around the downtown area, and decided to try our hand at Russian cuisine.

Russian food, for better of worse, is not exactly bursting with flare. It basically consists of potatoes, beets, sausage, beef and pickled cabbage. Nonetheless, there was something novel about sitting in an ostensibly authentic Russian restaurant listening to classical Russian Opera and stuffing down Borscht.

The next day we were treated to lunch. Jessie’s dad, who is the equivalent of a Lieutenant in the Chinese military, had called up some of his army buddies in Harbin and asked them to get us three train tickets to Dandong. This was no small feat considering the day we wanted to leave Harbin was the busiest travel day of the year in China, the day before Chinese New Year. But, as is always the case in China when train tickets in China are “sold out”, you call up someone in a place of power and wha-la the tickets magically appear. Not only did her father’s friend want to give us these train tickets, they wanted to treat us to large banquet lunch.

We should have known what was in store for us – getting treated to lunch by an entourage of military personnel and local policemen, in the part of China most notably recognized for their drinking prowess. Perhaps it was the fact that Cole had a cold that day and had starting blowing his nose and making audible sniffling noises at the table that made me erroneously belief we would be free from the pressure to drink. How foolish I was.

Luckily they only ordered beer, albeit a crate of beer, and not Baijiu, the Chinese equivalent to Vodka, except with absolutely no redeeming qualities. Ss the beer flowed and various plates of seafood came to the table, we became more and more intoxicated. We were being toasted left and right, with the usual words “Liu xue sheng, gan bei!”, “foreign students, drink up!” After a short amount of time it became clear that our main culprit, our arch nemesis really, was the lone female at the table. She was toasting us with relentless tenacity. Something had to be done, she had to be stopped. We were getting blindsided left and right, and it was up to us to put up a fight. Jeff, Cole and I started fighting back, coming at her with three rounds of relentless toasting. In sticking with the mores of Chinese drinking custom, we made sure to say interject a perfunctory “to good health!” or “to youth and beauty!” to mask our full frontal alcoholic assault. It was working. She started slowing down, picking up her chopsticks in an attempt to deflect our toasts. Jeff gets up from the table and starts cracking open more beers, physically walking over to her chair and filling up her glass - a gesture of respect in China, which is when I would hit her with another toast.

By this point she is getting a little tipsy and starts lamenting about the gloriousness of China. “Women Zhongguo juyou zui youxiu de rencai, zui reqing de jingshen, shi bu shi”, “China has the smartest people, people with great spirit and passion, isn’t that right?” “dangran le!”, “But of course”, we reply, which is followed by hearty eruption of laughter and pounding of the table. I kept on thinking to myself “How much can this lady handle?”. I start taking the initiative and toasting her myself, knowing it was up to me to finish her off. I was “taking one for the team”, a custom that would be put to use many times among Jeff, Cole and I on this trip. We formed our own cabal, and during the whole vacation we were our own support system to combat the drinking pressure. After the uproar had ended, we stumbled out into the crisp frigid air, thoroughly intoxicated, but achieving our mission of returning the favor to our drinking culprit. One of the other men in the entourage hands us our train tickets, and after some congenial goodbyes, they get into their inveterate government-stocked black-tinted Audi sedan and drive away. We walk towards the city center shell-shocked and drunk, but happily amused by the raucous display we just encountered.

We made our way to the Church of St.Sofia, a Russian style church in the center of town complete with a green-tiled dome and a ostentatiously lavish Gothic exterior.

The church was beautiful. Inside was made into a museum housing old pictures of Harbin in the early 20th century. After walking around a little longer, we were all getting cold and feeling the after affects of the beer, so we went back to our hotel for a nap.

That night, we took a cab across the river to the main attraction of Harbin in the wintertime: the Ice Sculpture Festival.

From January to March, Harbin is inundated with Chinese tourists, all flocking to see these larger than life ice sculptures. The displays boast life-sized models of the Great Wall of China, a large Buddha, Big Ben, tanks, castles, and Russian churches, just to name a few. Upon closer inspection, you realize they were all constructed out of huge blocks of ice with neon lights strategically placed inside. At night the place just comes alive, it feels like a carnival of ice.

Cole and I decided to try our hand at one the “rides” that they offer, which was a bobsled-style ice slide. And bobsled-style it was, except with absolutely no safety precautions. The only directions they gave was to lay down on a cracked piece of plastic they called a “sled” and hold on to two ropes attached to the front of it.

What followed was 30 seconds of pure adrenaline, mostly because you were afraid that at any moment you were going to break an arm or a leg. It shoots you down a wet-down ice tube, and it took me all of about 10 seconds to realize you basically become a human bobsled, hitting the sides of the wall as you go barreling down this ice tunnel to what feels like your harrowing death. Then crash, you smash into a big pile of snow and are whisked away by a grizzled Chinese carni and thrown to the side so the next guy doesn’t come crashing into you. I gotta say, it beat any disneyland ride I’ve been on, if for nothing else than the sheer “risk of broken limb” factor.

Unfortunately the festival was overshadowed by being in a constant state of cold, which we realized hit the toes the hardest. After about two hours of walking around, our toes were so frozen that they were beginning to get painful, so we took a cab back to the hotel and called it a night.

The third day we decided to trek out the “Japanese Germ Warfare Base”, about 20 km from the city. A little history of the base: In 1939 during the Japanese occupation of Northeast China, the Japanese army set up a top-secret germ warfare research centre in Harbin, where medical experts performed gruesome experiments on Chinese, Soviet, Korean, and Mongolian and British prisoners of war. Over 4000 people were killed in the process: some were frozen or infected with bubonic plague, others were injected with syphilis and many were roasted alive in furnaces. All these war horrors were on display, including grim photos and sculptures illustrating various tortures. Although I have never been to any of the holocaust memorials in Europe, I imagine the feeling inside the place was something eerily similar.

While the actual evidence of experimentation was rather unimpressive, leading one to ask how many of the graphic experiments actually did take place, there is no doubt that the facility was used for horrific and gruesome medical experimentation. It was a good educational and historical experience and recommended stop for any would-be travelers to Harbin.

The next day was spent sightseeing and walking the streets of Harbin to get a glimpse of the Russian style architecture and gift shops. Cole is getting his PHD in Architectural History from Harvard, so you can imagine he was interested in taking pictures of the Russian and Chinese architecture around town. That evening we made our way to the train station to leave for Dandong. The train station was, as one would imagine, packed with anxious travelers waiting to make it to their respect hometowns to celebrate the New Year. This was the biggest traveling day of the year in China. It is estimated some 400 million will be on the move on this particular day, habitually topping the charts as one of the biggest concentrated mass movements in single day in the world. We boarded the train on time, which was a miracle because we had just witnessed 3 trains in a row before us be delayed with lines of people standing impatiently. Not long after, the lights in the train went off and we took our places in our hard sleeper bunks and went to sleep.

We arrived at 9 am the next morning in Dandong. Jessie and her cousin greeted us at the train station. After going to Jessie’s parent’s apartment to drop off our stuff and introduce Jeff and Cole to them, we made our first visit in Dandong to the famous “Museum to Commemorate US Aggression”.

Cole, Jeff and I were all really curious to see how they portrayed America and its actions during the Korean War, and we weren’t surprised to see us portrayed in a negative light. With everything from statistics to shrapnel, this museum documented how the Chinese and North Koreans, if I can quote the opening plaque as you walk in, “honorably resisted the attack of the Imperialist Americans forces and it’s running dogs in order to aid the Liberation war of the Korean People” Its safe the say the tone of the entire museum did not veer too far off the initial grand opening statement. It was, however, one of the most well-funded, thorough museums I have ever come across in China. Whoever put the museum together put a lot of time and money into it.

Through all its biased and slanted depiction of the events that took place, I did find it well put-together and insightful. To be sure, it was pure and blatent manipulation of the facts, but I liked it for novelties-sake alone. Where else can you see such a vastly different side of the war? Certainly not from any American history textbook.

Later that day we took a boat ride along the Yalu River, which separates China from North Korea. I wanted to let Cole and Jeff experience a glimpse of North Korea, as I had done the same thing last year when I visited. And after all, it is probably the closest any American can get to North Korea without actually stepping foot inside, so I figured it was worth a trip.

Besides smoke stacks and trees, there wasn’t really much to see…

but it was amazing to see with your own eyes the juxtaposition between the soaring skyscrapers of Dandong on the Chinese side, and the impoverished, dilapidated buildings on the North Korean side. At night, the whole North-Korean side becomes eerily dark, while the Dandong lights up like some Chinese-style Las Vegas, practically mocking its poor neighbors across the river.

That night we were taken out to dinner at a restaurant on the waters edge over-looking North Korea. The food was great, and the first of many tests of our drinking abilities began. We went through the typical explanations of where we were from in America, what we are studying, and if we think Chinese woman are pretty (those seemed to be the first three questions we were asked, in that order).

The next day was Chinese New Year. In Jessie’s family, the tradition is to go to her Uncle’s apartment for lunch, then spend the traditional new year dinner at her Grandparents place. So at 2pm we headed over the her Uncle’s cramped apartment to begin the orgy of feasting and drinking that characterizes Chinese New Year.

These are not any ordinary meals however. They are the best and most expensive dishes the family has the offer, usually involving 2 to 3 days of preparation before hand. Because Dandong is right next to the Yalu River, seafood is the staple of Dandong cuisine, so the table for lunch that day was full of shrimp, clams, fish, and muscles, as well your typical Northern-style Chinese cuisine.

And the meal wouldn’t be complete without the best, most expensive Baijiu in town, the famous Chinese hard liquor made from rice.

Now a word must be said about this drink. The last year I came to Dandong, I had drank more than my share of baijiu to show my respect for their hospitality and to confirm to Chinese tradition of drinking when being toasted to. I remember not liking it then, but being able to handle it temporarily. This time, however, it became blatantly obvious to me that I loathed the stuff. To me, it was the most caustic, rancid drink I have ever tasted, and I was beginning to wonder how long I could keep dissembling my distaste for it. I tend to liken it to a mix between kerosene and rubbing alcohol. To me, it has no redeeming qualities, except maybe the temporary burning sensation it causes when going down. Why the Chinese chose this drink to represent the best of their countries alcoholic beverages is mystery. I have had many conversations with Chinese who say they hate the stuff, and only drink it because they don’t want to ruin the atmosphere. So I have a working theory that in fact, many Chinese do like the taste, but see it more an indicator or willpower and loyalty, and machismo litmus test if you will. After all, the women never drink it, its only relegated to an activity among the men. My experience is, if you’re a man, you’re drinking, no questions asked. The host will count how many men at the table, and pour that amount of glasses full of baijiu. That seems to be the tradition here, I’d be curious to know if this is customary in Southern China as well.

So after drinking quite a bit of the stuff the night before, I was weary about starting so early in the day. Once we sat down at the table, and I saw her Uncle pop open “the best Baijiu in town” as he says, I knew I was doomed.

There is a whole host of unspoken rules when it comes to drinking and toasting. Usually how is works is after the host says a few new years’ wishes, we watch the toaster for cues on how much to drink. If he drinks the whole glass, you have to follow suit and drink the whole glass. If he sips, you sip. It’s like an unspoken game of cat and mouse.In addition, you ALWAYS toast the hostess or anyone older than you below his or her glass. Its a sign of respect. I made this mistake many times the first time I was there, until my girlfriend finally clued me in. And these toasts usually start at the beginning of the meal, before any food is eaten, so on an empty stomach you usually already have had a few shots in you before you start eating.

The food was great, and the toasts were constant throughout the meal. I was trying to take smaller sips of the stuff to pace myself, but her uncle wasn’t having it. “Um Lyle!” I hear him hollar from across the table as he eyes my glass, “why are you drinking so slowly? Come on, bottoms up!” There was no escaping.

I felt like a field rabbit being stalked by vultures, there was nowhere to hide, and you knew your eventual death was imminent. Jeff however, surprised all of us by his drinking abilities. He was taking toasts left and right, and before we knew it had probably downed 3 full glasses of the stuff. I quickly realized that was backfiring on me; it was apparent he was drinking me under the table. In their eyes, I could see them saying “look at how much Jeff is drinking, can you match that Lyle?” My better judgment won in this instance and I politely declined to engage in the battle, because I knew what the result would be – face down in the alley - so I let Jeff take the lead. He was taking one for the team. We finished eating about 2pm, and then went back to Jessie’s parents’ house to rest up for the dinner that night.

It was about this time I realized the complexities of the drinking culture of Dandong. I had, over the course of my year and a half in China, developed a stomach problem similar to an ulcer that became aggravated when I drank hard alcohol. I had initially wanted to come into this situation in Dandong with the prerequisite that I would only drink Baijiu very lightly, or none at all. But during that first dinner in Dandong with all her relatives, even after I had told them of my situation, it became very clear to me that not drinking was not going to be an option for me. Drinking has so many hidden conations in Dandong, or at least with Jessie’s family. For one, it’s a sign of your manliness. There is a strong undercurrent of male dominance in her family, perhaps owing to the fact that many of the men in the family come from military backgrounds. Baijiu, I realized upon getting there, is intimately tied into this concept of manliness. Another aspect is this word “ganqing” or “qifen”, which mean “feelings” and “atmosphere”. Their belief is that if you drink Baijiu with them, you are in a way showing that you think of them as your friends, that you have a special bond with them and you are reciprocating their friendship. If you decline to drink, it is regarded as a refusal of their hospitality. In essence you are saying you don not feel close enough with that person to drink Baijiu with them, and this produces a “sense of distance” at the table. I remember asking Jessie’s father why he drinks so much when it is apparent he has severe stomach problems (similar to mine) where his stomach lining is probably all but stripped away from heaving baijiu drinking. He looked at me earnestly and says, “qifen” meaning “atmosphere” or “ambiance”. In other words, he was saying he is willing to seriously damage his health, all at the expense of maintaining the good nature of the meal. He even admitted he doesn’t even like drinking the stuff. In a sense it’s the same Chinese custom that has been a hallmark of China throughout its history - subverting your own wishes for the betterment of the group, and in this case, it’s to uphold the atmosphere of drinking. This concept is almost antipodal to my American concept of freedom of choice and individuality.

Another element of drinking that I didn’t realize until this particular occasion, was this concept of “saving face” and how it is tied into Baijiu. If I were to reject drinking with them, it is a subtle way of “losing face”. Not only would I be losing face for myself however, I would losing face for Jessie’s father as well. I am his daughter’s boyfriend/potential future husband, so I am a part of the family in a sense. In this capacity I am representing her father. When we go to dinners with his colleagues, which in most cases are other military personnel or policemen, I am there to give his father face, which I do through the form of drinking. What this amounts is a catch-22 predicament for me, drink and save face, or abstain and offend everyone.

When we arrived for dinner that night at Jessie’s Grandparents apartment, it was the usual scene of food being prepared and family members reconnecting. They were used to having the standard 12-15 relatives present for the festivities, but this time there were 3 “Yang Gui Zi’s”, or “Foreign Devils” invading the festivities, so the place was packed to the brim. Jeff, Cole and I were able to escape the chaos in the living room for a while and went to play cards in the guest room. At 6pm we were beckoned in for another meal - table full to the brim of every kind of Chinese dish imaginable…

As we starting giving toasts, I attempted to try my hand at a Chinese proverb I had memorized the week before. I was little nervous I would forget it, especially because I knew all eyes would be on me to see what clumsy words would come out my mouth I managed to blurt the whole thing out and the family all erupted in cheer and clamored their glasses together, visibly surprised I had made an effort to say something in Chinese with some eloquence. The Baijiu flowed again, but this time with less severity than the lunch, much to my elation. I was still recovering from that afternoon, and was hoping I wouldn’t get pressured to drink that night as well. Instead, after a ¼ full glass of Baijiu was consumed, they started pouring me some beer. At that point it was like the nectar of the gods - cold, watered-down wonderfulness.

Among all the questions we would typically get from her family members, one question that I thought was interesting was this question of race. Almost every time Jeff would meet a new family member, there was this question “where are you from?” The reason is because Jeff is half Chinese and half Caucasian. Jeff’s typical response was “I’m American”, but that answer never seemed to suffice. “But you don’t look white?” they would say, as if to imply only a person who looks Caucasian would suffice. After he explained his father was Chinese, there was this sense of satisfaction in their eyes. They just had to get to the bottom of it; they couldn’t just take the “I’m an American” answer. I realized that many Chinese attatch great importance to outward appearnces. So even though you say what country you’re from, they still want to know where your parents, or parents parents were from originally. We tried to explain that, in America, identity is very different than in China. In America, there is no one culture and no one look that is particularly “American”. We tried to explain that America is not like in China where 90% are of the same Han heritage. Although we tried to explain this concept to them, they seemed to have a hard time getting it, because they kept on making comparisons to you’re typical “American” look.

After dinner we watched the Chinese New Year Gala on TV, which is basically like “Dick Clarke New Years Eve” in the states, but on a much, much more grandiose scale. Its 4 hours of comic skits, acrobatic shows, and musical performances. It was virtually impossible to hear however, because of the stentorian din coming from the fireworks exploding outside the window.

It was just deafening, you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts. I think Jeff’s comment was “It’s like Beirut out there!”.

One of the funnier moments of the evening happened at the end of the dinner. In Dandong, they have these baskets outside their windows to put frozen goods, because it stays below freezing all winter there. Jessie’s grandparents had put a huge pig leg outside to freeze. So Jeff got up to go the bathroom and noticed something on fire outside the window. Sensing this was out of the ordinary, he polity calls Jessie over to the window and asks her “Is this some Dandong custom to have things burning outside your window unsupervised?” “No!” exclaimed Jessie as she ran over and opened the window. Apparently some firework had flown into the basket and the pig leg had caught of fire. Immediately more people came to help and soon we were all just beating this pig leg as hard and fast as we could to extinguish the fire, using every household item they could find – broom, blanket, mob – until we finally tamed the beast. The aftermath was a charred remnant of its former pig self, and a lot of ashes and soot in the apartment. We all joked afterwards that at least we didn’t have to cook the pig, it was already roasted!

At midnight, we all gathered around the table once more for the traditional eating of Chinese dumplings. Jessie’s grandma had spent almost a day preparing and wrapping all the dumplings for this occasion. There were probably upwards of 500 dumplings to be eaten.

The specialty of these dumplings is that you have a chance to receive Chinese coins, which were randomly placed inside some dumplings in the wrapping process. If you bite into one and get a coin, you will receive good luck for the coming year. Jeff, Cole and I never did get any coins though. I think that’s just a tactic they use to get you to stuff yourself silly in the process.

The cohesiveness amongst Jessie’s family is very strong. I couldn’t help but make comparisons to families in the States; especially in the sense that families in the states are much more fractured and disjointed than in China. There is a sense of “family” in the states as well, just not nearly as strong and tight as with Jessie’s family. For this New Years week, you spend virturally every waking hour around family. You can feel the support of the family just by being around them, and it’s really easy to see how the family structure is the foundation in many Chinese peoples lives. Everything is built around family. In this regard, I was touched to see how warm and kind they treated not only me, but Jeff and Cole as well. For that week, we felt like family as well. It was like they had accepted us into their homes and lives. The hospitality from her family towards Jeff, Cole and I, was truly touching. In every instance they would go out of their way to make us feel special, and to show how warm and considerate the people of Dandong are, not even saying anything about taking us out to the best restaurnants in Dandong everynight. Also, my Chinese had improved a lot since the last time I had been there, so I felt like I was able to communicate and connect with them on a level that I couldn’t attain the year before. I felt more accepted by them, and I felt like my ability to communicate was instrumental in that new development. Besides that, I was reminded of how important family really is in peoples lives. I was particularly impressed by the respect for their elders. At every turn, the kids were at the elder’s side, making special toasts to them, making sure they felt honored. It made me realize that there is a general lack of respect in the states for the elderly, which I think is shame. Although the Chinese family structure is something I’m not accustomed to, I had to respect their un-abiding support respect for each other, and how every family member looked after one another in a very loving and earnest manner. Of course, this close-tight bond also has some not so pleasant unitended consequences as well, for example a pension for over-supervision and meddling in other family members personal lives, but that is another topic.

The day after that I came down with a fever and a cold. I was hoping this wouldn’t happen because I knew from experience that getting a cold around Jessie’s family seemed to present problems in the form of “Lyle can’t drink anymore”. We got taken out to lunch by Jessie’s father’s colleague, who is the local police chief in Dandong. I knew from the start it was going to be a problem - me going sick and having to make all these excuses as to why I couldn’t drink in front of the chief of police and all his big-wigs- but Jessie’s father really wanted me to attend. When we arrived, they did the usual introductions of me, and then they immediately ordered two bottles of Baijiu. I politely declined, saying I had had a fever the night before and wasn’t feeling very good. They persisted “oh come on, just a little??” They look over at Jessie’s father as if to say “what’s up with your daughters boyfriend, is he some kind of lightweight or something?” Her father starts making excuses for me “yeah, he usually drinks a lot, but today he’s feeling a little under the weather, lets just get him some beer” By this time I am getting rather annoyed at this exchange, and with this obsession with drinking. Even though they knew I was sick, they wouldn’t let up with the pressure. All I really wanted to do was drink some tea. I look over at Jessie to see if she could help me convince them that I wanted to take a break from the alcohol. She gave me a look like “Sorry, I am helpless here”. So I let them pour me a glass of beer. Maybe it was my mood that day, or maybe it was the fact that I was under the weather, but the whole lunch was a rather unpleasant experience for me. The men were getting drunker and drunker, and the more they got drunk, they more they kept on asking me to drink Baijiu with them. I stuck to my beer sipping and nibbling at the food, none of it was appetizing to me. But the conversations at the meal started to get under my skin. They kept on making comparisons with America and China. But these comparisons weren’t the kind of genuine curiosity comparisons, they were the kind that had a goal in mind. “Do you have this kind of fruit in America?” “Yes”, I responded. They didn’t seem to believe me. “I bet you can’t find this kind of atmosphere in America, this kind of good food huh?” To which I responded “Well in some places you can, it just depends where you are.” It was if they were trying to find ways to say how much better China is then America. Normally I would just go along with it, but for some reason it started to bother me how much they were trying to talk up China in relationship to America. Then Jessie’s mother starts trying to talk me up, saying how that although today I’m a little sick and tired, that I’m a “good guy” and that I “treat Jessie really well.” It was as if she had to make excuses for me because I wasn’t eating and drinking a lot this time, and that this was somehow a reflection of my moral character. Then she starts asking the policemen if they like me or not. I’m thinking to myself “ this is probably not the time or person you should be asking that question to, seeing as how I just rejected their offers to drink”. They respond by saying “hai keyi” which means “yeah, not bad”. I just didn’t really want to be there, I wanted to be out of the spotlight, but they seemed to pick the absolute worse time to psycho-analyze me. It was at that point that I notice Jessie’s mom constantly speaking on my behalf, saying stuff like “oh Lyle doesn’t eat a lot” when I am asked to eat more, and “Lyle gets sick a lot, he doesn’t have a very strong immune system” when comments came up about me being sick. I wanted to say “Yeah well that’s what happens when I get forced to drink copious amounts of alcohol for 5 days straight!” This is followed by her mother talking about what a bright future I have, and that I will definitely “make a lot of money”. I couldn’t help but feel bothered by these comments. “What if I didn’t make a lot of money?” I thought to myself. “Would I lose face just like I lose face for not drinking enough?”. Then Jessie’s father launches into this story of how he was sick once, and took a 13 hour train ride, standing the whole time, holding Jessie in one arm and holding the luggage in the other. The moral of the story? I should suck it up when I’m sick, not show any signs of weakness, not “dao le” which means “lay down”. “Nanzi han”, he exclaimed as he pumped his fist into the air, which means “strong male”. Finally, about two hours after we had finished eating and listening to Jessie’s father and policeman chat up a storm, we left the restaurant. The torture was over. I knew that Jessie’s parents didn’t mean any harm by what they said. I realized that I was hoping I could just blend into the crowd; be a casual listener, sip some tea, and wait till the lunch was over so I could go lay down, but that is very hard to do in Dandong.

The next few days went a lot better than that experience. What follwed was just more of the same in the sense that we were, almost everyday, taken out to Dandong’s finest restaurants for lunch and dinner. It was really something to be treated to so many nice meals; I started to feel a little guilty actually. A typical day would consist of getting taken out to lunch and dinner by Jessie’s various relatives, most of who still live in the Dandong area, and being forced to eat and drink more than we wanted. I think the phrase we heard more than anything else was “duo chi, duo chi”, which means “eat more, eat more!” I feel like we all gained about 5 pounds just in the week spent there.

Our last dinner was spent in one of Dandong nicest restaurants. This time many of Jessie’s relatives that I hadn’t met before came out, so I got a chance to meet some new family members.

I had a splitting headache by this time however, that hadn’t gone away since the night before, so that was kind of hindering my enthusiasm for engaging in conversation. After we finished dinner they broke out the karaoke machine for some good old’ singing fun. It just so happened that one of Jessie’s relatives was a professional operatic singer, so she got up to showoff her stuff. She just belted out this Chinese Communist song, practically blowing us out of our seats, just an incredibly powerful voice.

After that performance, we were beckoning to sing. “Waiguoren! Lai yi ge ba!”, which means “Foreigners, lets see what you got!” We all look at each other like “Are you kidding me, how are we supposed to follow that?” Luckily Cole got up some courage and stepped up to the mic. He chose “I can’t help falling in love with you” by Elvis, a fitting song for the occasion I think.

They loved it, and kept clapping and cheering him on after all the choruses. Cole was taking one for the team.

Before we knew it our week had ended and we got on a train back to Beijing. I made sure and said some special words for Jessie’s parents and grandparents, whom I felt I had gotten a lot closer to in the past week. They of course, in their usual fashion, loaded us up with way more boxes of fruit and seafood than we could carry, and we boarded the train. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little relieved to be coming back to Beijing and escaping all the chaos of drinking and eating, but there was also a part of me that would really miss Dandong, which in a sense has turned into my home away from home. As the train jolted to a start and the coal engine began to rumble, I had time to reflect on my experiences that week. I came to the conclusion that the all drinking and fanfare, all the pressure of being under the spotlight, was really something that I have to accept if I wanted to be with Jessie. As the famous Chinese saying goes “Ru Xiang Sui Su” - “When in Rome, do as Romans do”. On one hand you could look at it and see it as pressure filled, but on the other you could see it as just a sign that they really cared enough to look after me, to include me in their family. As far as the drinking is concerned, I look at it this way: that is the price I have to pay if I want to be with Jessie, it’s not going to change. And for one week a year, I think its something I can handle.