Lanterns and Birthdays

I still can’t quite believe that I have turned forty. Some of you reading this will say, “Oye, you’re getting old!” and others will think, “What’s your problem…you are still young!” I suppose the reality of age is objective (I’m 40, and this is empirically undeniable), but how one experiences it is indeed relative. Yet, with all things relative, one should ask, “Relative to what?...”

Despite some personal challenges in my life right now, I am incredibly grateful that I had the opportunity to celebrate such an important birthday in China! I feel very blessed. As it so happened, my birthday fell on the same day as the Chinese Lantern Festival, the last day of the Spring Festival. I was supposed to be on a train to Nanjing on that day, but I’m happy Providence had other plans. My new friend and colleague emailed me the day before, saying she was planning to head into Old Shanghai (where Yu Yuan is located) to see the lanterns at night and was wondering if I’d like to join her. Sure! What a fun way to celebrate my birthday. I now associated turning 40 with the coming of spring, with celebration of new life, with shaking off the hurts and disappointments of the (recent) past, and looking with anticipation to the promises of life to come.

I had no idea what to expect. As night fell on Shanghai, the people came out in droves, all walking around to celebrate the Lantern Festival with friends and family. The city was one big party. We grabbed a taxi and immediately hit serious traffic. Busses, cars, cabs, scooters, bikes, and pedestrians crowded the streets, seeking out restaurants, clubs, and street fairs. The driver got us as close to Old Town as he could, and then we participated in one of Shanghai’s favorite pastimes—strolling. There is so much unique local flavors in Shanghai that one simply must stroll around and drink it all in. We could hear firecrackers popping in rapid succession, and occasionally a little child screamed with glee as a colorful bottle rocket burst in the air. The side streets were filled with a smoky haze and the smell of black powder.

Eventually, we arrived at the outer walls of the Old Town. Excitement pulsed through the air. Old Town only looked old, but it felt vigorous, electric. Squeezing through the crowds, we purchased our tickets and entered into the brightest, most colorful birthday celebration I’ve ever had. Ok, they weren’t celebrating my birthday, but I was. And it was as if the town was one huge birthday cake. Every major street and minor side alley was full of people, and hanging overhead were hundreds and hundreds of large, brightly lit red and gold lanterns. In the middle of major squares, there were huge new year displays all lit up. It was like Disney’s Magic Kingdom, only this was authentic.

By this time we were quite hungry, so we found a restaurant upstairs in one of the old buildings, and we enjoyed a nice feast of some traditional Chinese dishes (nothing like what we get in Chinese restaurants in the States). We toasted the Lantern Festival and my birthday with some Chinese liquor, loosely translated as “Tipsy Spirit”, and let me tell ya, it’s appropriately named. As is most Chinese liquor, it is made from rice alcohol, and it is very strong. This particular libation was 104 proof (52% alcohol). Yikes. It’s no wonder they served it in little thimble sized glasses. Happy birthday to me!!

After dinner, we walked around Old Town some more, taking in the sites, and enjoying watching so many people filled with such joy. On one street, people were clustered in groups, staring up at the lanterns. “What’s going on?” I asked my friend. The lanterns have riddles written on them, and on this particular street, people were reading them and trying to figure them out. I had so much fun just watching different groups laugh, discuss, and joke with each other over the riddles. I had no idea what they were saying, but on some level, joy and laughter is universal.

We ended my birthday bash by heading into a recently renovated area of the former French Concession (used to be a French area during colonial times). Here, some traditional Shanghai buildings have been preserved and restored, and a large block has been turned into a trendy area with high-end shops, restaurants, and clubs. The area is called Xin Tiandi, and it is really cool. Apparently, a lot of expatriates like to hang out there, in addition to young people from Shanghai and trendy folks visiting Shanghai. After a quick walk around, we settled on a jazz club called Jazz, Wine, and Cigars. An American jazz group was playing, and we enjoyed some music with a nice cigar and a tall glass of Guinness. Ah, a most memorable birthday, indeed.

Click to see some pics (scroll down to “Lanterns and People”).

Smoky Hopes for a Prosperous New Year

Fresh off a relaxing and contemplative journey through Old Town and Yu Yuan, I decided today to take a quick trip to the famous Jade Buddha Temple. One normally associates peace and tranquility with Buddhism, yet these were not the emotions I experienced. This temple is active, and it is particularly busy during the New Year festivities, as supplicants come to pray to one of many deified manifestations of Buddha. (Of course, the historical Buddha never claimed to be a deity, and worship of him as a god developed much later. There is also a diversity of mythologies surrounding the worship of Buddha, and in China alone there are at least two major classifications of this form of Buddhism, with various sects in each.) I travelled by taxi from the more affluent portion of Shanghai to a rather poor, older portion of the city. Riding in a taxi in Shanghai is quite an exciting experience. There really is no such thing as pedestrian right of way, even if they have a green arrow to walk, so taxis veer into pedestrian crowds and force their way through. (However, in the downtown area, there are official crossing guards who maintain the flow of pedestrian and vehicular traffic quite well.) Taxis weave in and out of traffic more notoriously than they do in NY, they make hair-raising left turns into on-coming traffic (forcing the passenger to hope the breaks in the oncoming trucks and cars are in good working order), and they bully around obstinately slow bicycles and scooters that share the roads.

In the middle of a busy, crowded section of town, the temple stands out in bold contrast, surrounded by high yellow walls. However, these walls do not seem to contain a sanctuary of peace so much as demark a bastion of tourism. If you can tune out the blatant tourist aspects, you can indeed enjoy the architectural and artistic splendor of the temple. The pavilion architecture and altar designs are stunning. Many Buddhist (and non-Buddhist) visitors and tourists use the various altars in the two main halls, burning large incense sticks and offering up what appear to be earnestly frantic prayers in the hope that maybe one of the mythical Buddhas will grant their wishes for the upcoming year. The altars and large idols are highly ornate, almost garish, seemingly striving to satisfy a deep spiritual longing with excessive material expression. I wondered, can the physical or the material ever really address, let alone satisfy, the spiritual? And, if the spiritual longing is innately personal, can the woodenly impersonal ever satisfy? It left me much to contemplate, indeed. The truly beautiful highlights of the temple are the two jade Buddha statues, each carved from an individual piece of white Burmese jade. The sitting Buddha (of which pictures are not allowed) is about six feet tall, and the reclining Buddha is about three feet long. These statues were brought to Shanghai in 1881, and in themselves they are amazing feats of artistry and beauty.

Click to see pics of the Jade Buddha Temple. Scroll down to “Jade Buddha Temple Main Pavilion.”

Friendly Stroll through Old Town Shanghai

Compared with other Chinese cities, Shanghai is relatively young. Before the nineteenth century, it was mainly a small fishing village, and after the First Opium War of 1842 with the influx of Western commerce, Shanghai became a cosmopolitan center, reaching its pre-communist heyday in the 1920s-1930s. However, what the old city lacks in “cosmopolitan sophistication” it more than makes up for in cultural charm and architectural intrigue. Today, King PITA took a much needed friendly stroll back in time, to Nanshi (Old Town) and a 16th century Ming Dynasty style rock garden called Yu Yuan (Garden of Peace and Comfort).

A Chinese colleague who teaches in the Communication Arts program at the Nanjing campus was kind enough to take time out of her hectic week to take me around Nanshi. She is from Shanghai, and after a fifteen-year sojourn in America, she is pleased to be back in her home town and to reconnect with her familial and cultural roots. She is in the process of finding a new apartment and moving in before the semester begins (in less than a week), so she is clearly extremely busy, and I was grateful that she took the afternoon off from her apartment search to stroll with me. Over lunch in a charming restaurant in the heart of Old Town, she shared some funny real estate agent stories (apparently, another human universal). I was curious, though, why she was securing an apartment in Shanghai, two hours by bullet train from the Nanjing campus, when faculty apartments are supplied on campus. In answer to this quite logical question, she relayed some fascinating details about living in Nanjing that, somehow, nobody told me…. Being that she grew up in Shanghai and has lived in New York City, she is quite used to cosmopolitan life. Nanjing is nothing of that sort. OK, fair enough; this I knew. There is a TV in the apartment, but no cable connection; that is, the TV makes a great modernist artwork and serves as decoration only. That doesn’t bother me, really, since I wouldn’t understand the Chinese programming anyway. (However, I have surfed the channels at my hotel, and there are some really amusing sitcoms, old kung fu movies, and what appear to be rather melodramatic soap operas.)

So far so good. The other main problem is that if you are not careful, you will “run out of electricity.” Excuse me? How does one run out of electricity? Well, quite simple. The local communist municipality doles out electricity in prepaid packets. It’s a lot like purchasing a cell phone with a set amount of minutes, only with the electricity, you don’t know how many kilowatt hours you have. “Is there a meter in the room to let you know?” I asked. “Sure,” she said, “but you don’t know how much you have and when you will run out.” For example, the hot water heater uses electricity, not gas, so you have to turn it on in the morning and turn it off when you finish your shower. If you forget to turn it off, the meter is running, and before you know it, you are out of electricity and CLICK all the power shuts off in your apartment. This happened to her a few times, and it took what seemed an act of the People’s Congress to get her more power. So, this semester, she is planning to train in to campus, teach a few days in a row, and then train back to Shanghai and live in the comfort of undisturbed electrical service. Nice. I’ve learned that there will be a vacant apartment on campus across from mine. Being an enterprising King PITA, I will secure access to that apartment as well, so if in the middle of living I use up my allotment of electricity, I’ll scurry across the hall and wait until I get more juice.

After laughing about some of her experiences and discussing the students in Nanjing, we set out walking around Old Town in search of Yu Yuan. Old Town is aptly named. It’s as if you’ve been transported back in time. Sure, you can hear the traffic noise of a modern city, and you can see the skyscrapers of Shanghai looming all around, but the atmosphere is completely different. Some of you have remarked that you were surprised at how Western Shanghai looks; well, that is downtown and Pudong. If you are looking for that exotic (for the Westerner) scene, you’ll find it in Old Town. I was still a target, even though I was walking with my Chinese colleague. The merchants and hucksters just ignored her and pressed me. She just laughed and told me to ignore them and move away quickly. (In the taxi ride over, I shared with her some of the scams I encountered, and she had not heard of them. I guess she wouldn’t, since she is Chinese and they don’t try to scam locals….) I really can’t describe Old Town in words. OK, I could, but it would not do it justice. Please check out the photo album, and I think you, too, will be deeply moved and transported.

We eventually wandered our way to Yu Yuan. Since the Chinese New Year festivities are still in full swing, the streets are decked with celebratory lanterns and lights, and in front of the Gardens is a colorful display of mythological and folkloric Chinese scenes, floating on a small pond. Though hundreds of tourists from all over China (and the world) are here for the New Year, the Garden still presented a relaxing locale for quiet reflection, people watching, and creative photography. The Garden has a classical Ming Dynasty design, and is a maze of different courtyards, rock gardens, bridges, and pavilions. Again, descriptive words do not do it justice. Please enjoy a sampling in the photo album.

Click to view the photo album (scroll down to “Old Town Shanghai). Enjoy!

Bells of Grace

The adventures have been exciting and many encounters sweet. Yet, being outside ones Court without the constant companionship of friends, advisors, and jesters can try even the most valiant of knights. There is much to love and embrace in Shanghai, yet there is also much forsakenness that lurks in the shadows, creeping out vampirically for the sake of destruction, masquerading in the guise of innocent happiness or offers of quality merchandise “very very cheap.” I was exhausted by being relentlessly pursued by various types of hucksters (I am a rather obvious target in the crowd, being that I tower over most people here). Also, I was a bit saddened by being King Chump for a day and then having to force myself to be cynical of human kindness. (I can see why pessimists and cynics are usually in such a foul mood all the time…and I don’t like it one bit.) My lodging provided a nice sanctuary of rest for a day or two.

Early this Sunday morning, I awoke to the last sound I ever expected to hear in China. Church bells. Earlier in the week I had walked past this large, beautiful cathedral that sits opposite the communist municipal building, adjacent to the People’s Square. It was gated and locked, with a large sign stating the church was an historical monument under the “protection” of the municipal government. I assumed it was closed and inoperative. The kindly old man with the poor eyesight I chatted with a few days earlier had mentioned in broken English a church with bells where people went to pray. I hoped that maybe he was talking about this cathedral, but I must admit, I had little faith of it being open (my cynicism was strong at work). Oh, ye of little faith. This morning, boldly and beautifully, the loudest church bell I have ever heard sang out a glorious call to worship that echoed off the communist municipal building and filled my room with promises of light and grace. Then, two hours later, the bell rang out again. After breakfast, I hurried over to see what I could see.

The solitude of my own room was but a dim foretaste of the sanctuary offered by this cathedral. The gate was open, and throngs of people were entering. A kind man welcomed me in the courtyard, informed me that a Chinese service was taking place, and ushered me to one of the few seats vacant in the balcony. The cathedral was filled to capacity (easily over 300 people), standing room only. I arrived during the sermon, which was delivered with apparent passion, conviction, and good humor. I wish I knew what the Pastor was saying, as she certainly had the room’s attention. Judging from where people had their Chinese Bibles open, she was speaking on a New Testament text. Though again separated by language, I felt the oneness and fellowship of the saints, and I quietly meditated upon my week, bringing the good and the bad before the Lord, offering up my private confessions and praises as fragrant incense before the Lord, and joyfully received the forgiveness, love, comfort, and grace of God. After the sermon, the congregants stood and sang out loudly and boldly a hymn in Chinese. I hummed along and stood in awe as their voices echoed through the cathedral just as the bell had earlier resounded across the People’s Square, recalling the promise that indeed every tongue and every nation will sing praises to the God of grace.

There was much I did not expect this week, but this was the most precious and blessed of them all.

King PITA Fills in for King Chump

Thus far, I have seen the ultramodern portions of Shanghai, and I desired to take a glimpse into the past. Just east of my lodging, about a 20-30 minute walk, winds the Huangpu River, separating Shanghai proper from the New Area or Pudong. Along this river is a mile-long stretch of property known as the Bund or Embankment, where in the 19th and early 20th centuries many Western countries opened banks, hotels, and trading houses following the Opium War of 1842. After the communist takeover in 1948-49, this area fell into disrepair. Over the past few decades, there has been a new surge to modernize and to open up markets in China (economically, communism is failing miserably so they are turning to what works--commercial capitalism). Shanghai is a major focus in this modernization process, and the Bund is being transformed into a beautiful tourist attraction (for the Chinese and foreigners alike), complete with a promenade that offers a wonderful glimpse of the past (the Bund) and a breathtaking view of the modernized present and the hope of China’s future (Pudong, which lies across the river).

To reach the Bund, I had to cross the Pedestrian Mall, otherwise known as Times Square of Shanghai. This mall area is packed with affluent visitors and shoppers from Shanghai, Pudong, other parts of China, and across the globe. There are high-end stores and very expensive restaurants, and this area really comes to life at night, offering entertainment from the tame to the outlandishly unsavory. In many ways it is quite decadent (needless to say, Mao would not approve, and on some levels, rightfully so), and sadly (in my humble opinion) Shanghai is well on its way to recapturing its inglorious past reputations. As I meandered through the throngs of tourists and shoppers, trying to make my way to the Bund, I was constantly accosted by seedy black market merchants. I later learned that as Shanghai is modernizing and bringing in legitimate shops and merchandise, the police are cracking down on merchants peddling copies and knockoffs of purses, watches, DVDs, CDs, and the like. So, many of these stores have moved underground, and the merchants move through the crowds with laminated booklets illustrating their forged wares. If you show interest in something, they will take you through winding back alleys, up through usually someone’s apartment, to a secret store with stacks and stacks of fake items. Wanting to avoid that scene, I fended off countless offers for watches and DVDs.

I thought I was doing pretty well avoiding the scams. Not so. Apparently, King PITA has on occasion been King Chump. Indeed, some of the people I have encountered have been genuinely kind people just interested in chatting (like the old woman, the old man, and the students in the park). But, the nice “tourist couple” who invited me to a tea ceremony was just drumming up business for the tea house and the acrobatics show. I have since learned that this is a common ploy, but I did have a nice time and no harm done. And, on the way to the Bund, I fell for another common scam: the art students selling their work for scholarship money. I must admit, that is a good cover. They give you a story about being art students showing their work, and they take you to a nice gallery. They show you work supposedly of their professors (much of it quite nice, at least what I saw), then show you “their work,” and pressure you into buying over priced art. I did suspect I was being scammed on this, and at least I haggled down and bought only a few items that I can put up in my office. I did not spend anymore than what I was comfortable spending, but I’m sure I paid more for them than what they are worth.

As I continued to be harassed throughout the day, I became more and more convinced that most of these nice people were just scammers. Today, I searched through my tour books and finally found small sections on scams. (A bit hard to find, and one book didn’t even list scams in the index--I had to search and search and finally found a small paragraph in the “Health and Safety” section.) Yep, tea ceremony invitations and art students are common scams. I think these tour books should highlight these scams a bit more, but I suppose I should have been savvier as well. Live and learn. It’s really too bad, because now I am suspicious of any kind person. I really loathe being cynical, but too often in this world as it is, cynicism is a necessary protective measure….

Despite the scams and constant accosting, I did enjoy the Bund, when I finally arrived. I wandered down one direction and started to get a bit lost. I overheard two British backpackers asking a police officer for directions, so I slowly approached and chatted a bit. They were a nice, young couple backpacking through China, looking for a cheap hostel. (Hopefully, they don’t wake up and find themselves in a horror movie….) They had just come from the People’s Square, through the Pedestrian Mall, and had no desire whatsoever to go back through there (where I had to go as my hotel is located on the other side of the Mall). They helped me get my bearings and we bid each other safe journeys. I found the promenade or boardwalk and took some really nice pictures and video of the Bund and Pudong.

I must say, though, I’m rather weary of the scams and constant attention. I think I’m going to stay in and rest for a few days. I’ve seen just about everything that I want to see near my hotel anyway. There are a few other sites reachable by taxi I’ll take in early next week right before I head off for Nanjing.

[Click to see new set of pics. Scroll down to “Shanghai Times Square” Enjoy.]

The Ministry of Kind Souls

Friendship and romantic love are indeed universals. (Nothing quite like stating the obvious right off the bat.) I’m sitting in the Pacific Hotel lounge, sipping Jameson, puffing away on some robust English tobacco (Shanghai is civilized and allows a nice pipe in pubs, unlike some east coast American cities who fancy themselves “progressive”), and watching hundreds of people pass by on the street below. In the midst of the Chinese New Year celebrations, couples stroll hand-in-hand, many of the women carrying bunches of roses. Yep, it’s Valentine’s Day even in China, and while many scurry to various tea ceremonies (one of the three major festivals for the Chinese New Year), the adoring beau buys roses from a street vendor and gives them to the young woman on his arm. Who knew St. Valentine touched hearts here in Shanghai (thankfully, though, minus the Hallmark advertising blitzkrieg). It’s charming and heartwarming to see such tender affection in the young and the old alike.

We often think that high adventure comes through action. I discovered that sometimes the sweetest of quests comes from inaction. After visiting the Shanghai Urban Planning Center (which is far more impressive a structure outside than what it offers inside), I was feeling rather disappointed and a bit glum. Spending a vast majority of my time essentially alone in my own thoughts, isolated from the mass of humanity swirling around me due to language and culture differences, is quite a challenge. And for other reasons, King PITA was feeling rather lonely on this Valentine’s Day. So, I took my book and my pipe and headed for the People’s Square, found a quite bench by a small pond, lit me pipe, and began to read (for those interested, I’ve started Cancer Ward by Aleksander Solzhenitsyn—quite an interesting book, indeed). Ah, this was nice, just enjoying the moment, reading, and piping as Shanghai lived on around me.

“Hello there! How are you?” I looked up, and there were two smiling, giggling Chinese students. “I’m fine, thank you, how are you?” And suddenly I was out of my isolated thoughts and establishing human connection through broken English. Like myself, these two young women were visiting Shanghai. One was studying English education, and the other had graduated from university with a degree in business. They were on holiday in Shanghai for the New Year. They asked me what I did, and when they found out I am a professor of English, their eyes got big and they shook my hand with great reverence (boy, I can get used to this…). We talked about festivals, sights to see in Shanghai, what I’ve seen thus far, what they have seen, and they gave me some nice recommendations while I warned them not to pay too much for a tea ceremony since they are on a student budget. They wanted to know if I knew of Arnold Schwarzenegger, and we talked about some of his movies. They also described the plots of various American movies they’ve seen, and I tried to guess the titles (one was Big Mama’s House starring Martin Lawrence). I then offered up Jackie Chan and Jet Li, and there were so excited that I knew who these Chinese actors are. “They are, how do you say, world famous,” the one woman noted.

As we were talking, an old woman peeked around a bush, slowly waddled up, sat down next to me on the bench, and joined our conversation. (She got a kick out of my pipe.) The two students had to be going, but the old woman tried to persuade them to stay, since her English was not so good. They politely said their goodbyes and wished me a fun time in Shanghai, and there I was sitting with this delightful old woman who could barely speak English. Through broken phrases, elaborate hand gestures (she was fond of the thumbs up), sighs, and lots of staring as she explained things in Chinese, I learned that she used to be an acupuncturist but is now retired, and in her spare time she is trying to learn English. One of her daughters is married and lives in San Francisco, and her other daughter married an Italian man and lives (I think) in Rome (she made many gestures of praying and making the sign of the Cross, so I assumed she was referring to Rome and the Vatican). She was also making breast stroke swimming motions, so maybe her son-in-law has a nice swimming pool? I don’t know, or she could have been talking about how beautiful the Mediterranean Sea is?... Oh yeah, and this daughter who married the Italian man has a baby, whom this delightful old woman loves very much. Suddenly, an old man all bundled in a coat, hat, and gloves came over. I’m not sure if this was her husband or just an interested bystander. His English was a little better (very little), and they consulted in Chinese and he tried to translate. Again, my being a professor was a big hit. We discussed some of the sights I’ve seen. I pointed to my tour book to show them, and the old man’s eyes must have been bad, because he would thrust his head about one inch from the page and then say, “ah, ah, ah, yes, in Chinese we say….” After a while, they bid me farewell, and off they shuffled.

My heart was becoming full, and I resumed my reading. A couple of pages later and, “Hello!” I looked up and didn’t see anything. “Over hear!” I looked over to my right and there was another young woman smiling. “How are you?” “I’m fine,” I said, “how are you?” Then a young man came over, and two of their friends (another young couple). “You look like a teacher, because you are wearing glasses,” she said. “Yes, I’m a professor of English.” Well, that was just the bomb. (That seems to be the key. Just say you are a professor, and you have fast friends.) The young man lit up, “Hemingway! He’s an American writer.” And he made a gesture of putting a gun to his head. “Yes,” I said, “sadly, he killed himself with a rifle.” “Old Man and the Sea,” the woman announced. “We have read some American literature,” she said with a big smile. They, too, are students visiting Shanghai for the New Year. We talked about the sights we have seen thus far, and they recommended some other places to visit. Bidding each other a fun stay in Shanghai, we said our farewells.

God is indeed gracious. In my moment of quiet isolation and loneliness, I believe He brought kind souls to grant me an afternoon of human connectivity to remind me that He fashioned us to be relational. Despite the barrier of Babel, deep down, people are people and we long to connect. If we are willing, different languages and cultures do not have to be walls that divide but, instead, can be curious obstacles that, in the striving, become bridges that connect, if only for a moment, in a chilly, quiet park in the middle of Shanghai.

[I’ve added some pics to the Web photo album. Click to view. New pics start at “In case you didn’t believe,” which is a short video of the five motorcycles in the cage. Enjoy.]

China's Holy Grail Found in Shanghai

I don’t think King Arthur’s men had it nearly this easy. On just my second day of the quest, I think I found China’s Holy Grail. The Shanghai Museum is stocked full of Eastern treasures, and quite a few Dutch realist treasures as well. Curious how I had to voyage to the Far East to find some of the greatest paintings of Rembrandt and other 17th century Dutch masters.

After a quick breakfast of shrimp vermicelli, dumplings, and hot tea, I wandered my way over to the Shanghai Museum. The building itself is a work of art (but nothing compared to the Shanghai Grand Theater—that building still hath me enthralled…sorry, yet another Keats reference, but what do you want, I’m a Romanticist). Meandering through the People’s Park, around a rather imposing communist municipal government building where it seemed dozens of angry farmers were seeking an audience with some government officials and were being controlled by local police, I crossed through an underground pedestrian passageway and emerged to behold the wondrous site of the Shanghai Museum. I spent most of the day gazing at Chinese artifacts in various exhibition halls, including bronze works dating back to the 21st century BC, sculpture from the 5th century BC to the 3rd century AD, ceramics from the 8th millennium BC through the 18th century AD, a coin gallery with coins from the 8th century BC (when metal coinage was modeled after miniatures of farm tools), classical Chinese painting and calligraphy, folk art and clothing from the 50 different ethnic groups of China, and a furniture gallery. As I left the museum, I was treated to some of the best works of Rembrandt and other 17th century Dutch masters on loan from Amsterdam.

I was totally overwhelmed by the vastness, diversity, elegance, intricacy, and antiquity of this land. I’m also struck by the overt kindness and curiosity of the people here, particularly the women. It’s only the second day of my quest, and I’ve had several people just strike up conversations with me—Where are you from? Why are you here? Are you an artist, because you look like an artist? I like your hair. You have a beautiful nose and nice eyes. My friends are going to a traditional celebration, would you like to join us?... Either they are sincerely curious, or they are trying to scam questing kings. After talking to a nice woman named Kiki, her cousin, and her ancient aunt who couldn’t speak any English but just smiled at me a lot, I sat down in the People’s Park, had a nice pipe, and watched some old men fly some really cool kites. I’m now finishing up my late lunch of, yep, dumplings and soup. I really like this Chinese diner called East Dawning. By the end of my journey here in Shanghai, I will have sampled everything on their menu. The food is very tasty and ridiculously cheap: 20-60Y (3-8 dollars) for a filling and delicious meal.

[Time lapse]

I just got back from the acrobatic show. My new friends were a no-show, but I enjoyed the performances. It’s nice to be back in my lodgings, as I had a long day.

Click to see a few pics from my quest at the Shanghai Museum and the acrobatics show (the closest thing to court jesters I’m probably going to get, and much more exciting). [New pics show up toward the bottom of the album, following the previous set of pics, starting with "Breakfast of Champions".]

The Quest is Engaged

On departure day, King PITA was a king more than just in title. While waiting for my (air)ship to depart, I was treated to the Air France lounge, complete with French wines and cheeses, fruit and pastries, gourmet sandwiches, and a small buffet with smoked salmon and tandoori chicken. Then on the plane, I experienced what seemed like a waking dream. The China Air Eastern crew treat business class folks like, well, kings. It was as if I were surrounded by delicate fairies, catering to my every need, softly speaking a fairy tongue (OK, it was probably Chinese, but I couldn’t help but think of Keats’ knight and his fairy child; thankfully, my fate was far better than Keats’ knight). More wine, more food, dimmed lights, and I was in a fairy dreamland. I slept for about twelve hours (yeah, insane), woke up to more food, and then we landed. Sweet.

Getting to the hotel was a trip. The driver was very nice, but couldn’t speak a word of English. Thankfully, my sovereign gave me the address of the hotel written in Chinese. We drove through Pudong morning traffic in silence, while I gawked and snapped pictures from the rear of the van (you’d think King PITA had never seen a city before…). When we arrived at the hotel, no porters awaited his lordship (bad form, you know), so the taxi driver made a fuss, clapping his hands, and shooing two porters toward the van. As I settled the taxi bill, the receipt printer freaked out and started to print apparent nonsense (it was all nonsense to me, since I can’t read a bit of Mandarin, but judging by how the driver was smacking the machine, turning it off and on, and waving his hands in frustration, I’m pretty sure he thought it was nonsense too). Some other taxi drivers took interest in the possessed machine, but their smacks and hand gestures didn’t work either. Finally, after we exchanged some made-up sign language that neither of us understood, he found his paper receipt book and wrote a receipt. I bid him farewell and tried my hand at saying thank you in Mandarin. He made a bit of a face, shook my hand, and drove off.

After a nap (believe it or not, even though I slept twelve hours on the plane, I was again exhausted--maybe I should have done some more quest-endurance training before I left) and a shower, I was off to find more food. When in China…so I ate some authentic spicy beef noodles with hot and sour soup. Wonderful. Finally, my quest had begun. I was on a walkabout around Shanghai, and I was certain I was going in the right direction, toward the People’s Park where I wanted to scout out some attractions. I walked and walked and walked. My map didn’t have many streets listed, but I was sure I was going the right way. Nope. After several blocks I realized I was going in the opposite direction than I wanted. (When in doubt, look up at that big gaseous ball in the sky--I was heading west when I should have been going east.) I stopped at a Starbucks (yep, they are everywhere, even in the medieval wall surrounding Canterbury Cathedral in England), and had a medium caramel macchiato that cost more than my bowl of spicy beef noodles. Go figure.

I finally found People’s Park, and guess where it was. Directly across the street from my hotel. Oye. At least I got to see a lot of Shanghai. Wandering through the park and snapping pictures like a tall, goofy American on holiday, a young Chinese man asked me to take a picture of him and his friend. I obliged and thought that would be that. But, they started asking me questions about my visit in Shanghai and before I knew it, we were on our way to a traditional Chinese tea ceremony. Two had joined my quest for the afternoon. It turns out Peter is a middle school English teacher working for an education company training teachers, and Liu Fei (that is her simpler name) is his friend and colleague. When they found out King PITA is an English professor, they fell over themselves showing me honor and respect (wow, how different than in my country…). The tea ceremony was very interesting. We learned about six different types of teas and how tea drinking is deeply cultural and philosophical, drawing from Buddhist, Taoist, and Confucius thought. Very interesting and tasty. Our host did not speak any English, so Peter translated for me, and he was excited to be “the professor’s professor” for the afternoon. Even when clinking our tea cups before each round of drinking, they made a point to hold their cups lower than mine out of respect for my rank of professor. It was astounding. As we were leaving the tea house, I felt like I was one hundred years old and feeble--they were cautioning me down the stairs and holding my arm so I wouldn’t fall. That was sweet, but come on, I’m a professor, not an ancient relic… Anyway, we are set to attend an acrobatics show tomorrow evening, and that should be fun.

Click to view photo album.

In Need of a Good Scop

Alas, this is no age for Romantic quests and heroic adventures. Vassals are pretty much a thing of the past, a distant fancy, a luxury of old. So, I spent the whole day packing myself. Can you imagine King Arthur dragging out his trunks and saddle bags from the basement of his castle and frantically filling them with tunics, capes, and armor (or would that be "armour")? Nah, me neither. But there I was, King PITA, rummaging through boxes and bags, trying to find suitcases among the clutter of my Freddy Krueger basement. And what of the days when a questing knight rode gloriously out of the gates of his kingdom in search of honor, glory, and adventure (avoiding as many quixotic windmills as possible...), traversing borders at will, into unknown lands (well, unknown to themselves, for the folks living there seemed to know them quite well)? Gone. Now, adventurous kings must wait in line at consulates (a curious modern invention, useful, I suppose) to get a visa and submit to horrific little photographs to go into passports. Really, that is just too MUCH. But, all of that is done, and "my papers" are in order (at least I hope so...).

The worse, of course, is the absence of fanfare, raucous celebrations in the Mead Hall (you can't even find a good Mead Hall these days), and the court scop spinning audacious verse extolling your bravery, virtue, and certain victory. Man, they sure knew how to send knights and kings off to, well, usually, certain doom. But, that's a different blog. However, my favorite clergyman (and dear friend) and family certainly surpassed the hospitality of the Mead Hall, sending me off with prayers, laughter, and, I must say, a few tears (mine, mainly, as they are finally free of King PITA for a few months...ha ha). And, my sovereign (yes, kings these days have bosses) gave me a wonderful parting gift to remind me of home--a fantastically fat cigar in a glass case. He assures me that more awaits me in the East, possibly even some that are considered contraband here in the States (you cigar lovers know of what I speak). Also, my family and many friends have extended their prayers and good wishes--that is a great comfort, indeed.

It was bad enough that I was forced to pack myself, but I looked around for my scop or even my court jester to spin me a nice lyric in honor of the quest. Gone. Nowhere to be seen. Walking through my empty halls, I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror and thought, hey, that fool will just have to do. So, I made up my own parting song. I call it "Shanghai Awaits." I'm not sure what to expect in that legendary city, and I'm nervous yet excited. Here it is if you are interested. Remember, though, I'm no scop, nor am I a musician. At the prodding of some of my friends (who themselves are amazing musicians, by the way), I have been putzing on guitar. In the absence of a good court musician, this will just have to do. Here it is, "Shanghai Awaits."

By God's grace when I make it to Shanghai, and if I can get Internet connection at the Inn, I'll let you know how the good folks there are treating King PITA. The nice thing, of course, is that they have no idea who I am. Nothing quite like a clean slate when making new acquaintances and friends.

Campus Slate Seeks Audience

The local town crier, otherwise known as The Campus Slate (NYIT's student newspaper), recently sought an audience with King PITA to discuss his upcoming quest to China. The Slate interview will be published in the coming weeks; however, we (that's the royal "we," thank you very much) are providing the official record of the full interview, graciously provided by the court of King PITA.

Campus Slate: Have you ever taught at any of the other NYIT global campuses?

Dr. Hogsette (aka King PITA): No, I have not. When I was in grade school, I lived in Saudi Arabia, and I really enjoyed that experience (of course, times were much different then than now). I've heard some wonderful things from my colleagues Dr. Moylan and Dr. Quigley about our campuses in the Middle East. Who knows, maybe I will revisit that area of the world sometime in the near future. Right now, I'm excited about going to China. I've always wanted to visit the Far East, and NYIT is providing me this wonderful opportunity to further our educational mission while also "seeing the world."

CS: What are you most looking forward to in your experiences abroad both inside and out of the classroom?

DH: In the classroom, I'm excited by the challenge of teaching Chinese students our curriculum. They are used to one kind of educational model, and they are very interested in learning in the American university tradition. I'm really looking forward to helping them experience a classroom experience that is a bit more dialogic than what they may be used to. This will be a great learning experience for both me and the students. They are used to a presentational model of learning. My challenge will be to introduce them to more group work, in-class discussion, and hands-on learning. There will be some interesting cultural differences to negotiate here. I'm hoping to engage them in learning how to ask good questions, explore various answers, and formulate their own well-informed positions. The significance of individual voice may be a new concept for them (or, at least a concept that is not usually evident in public settings or educational contexts), and I hope to encourage them to be independent thinkers.

Outside of the classroom, I'm hoping to learn more about Chinese culture and custom. Of course, I'll be mainly in Nanjing, and that represents only one "slice of life" in China, but the Chinese students and faculty will have much to show and teach me. My plan is to visit Shanghai, Nanjing, and Beijing. There is so much rich culture and history to explore, and I can't wait for my adventure to begin. From U.S. media and my own education, I have certain expectations and preconceptions about China. I'm interested to see aspects of that county through my own lived experience and to compare that knowledge with what I've been taught thus far.

CS: Although the students are required to speak and write in English, what challenges do you think you might face teaching in another country? How have you prepared?

DH: Of course, the main challenge will be language, and cultural uniqueness expressed through language. Yet, on some level, "people are people." I hope to make special human connections with students. It is my belief that all people have special value and significance because we are created in the image of God. That is our link or connection. Part of that divine image is mind or soulishness and freewill (with the accompanying desire to be free). I'm looking forward to connecting on these levels. However, there is also diversity in that "Imago Dei"; the richness of the Creator's creativity is witnessed in the vastness of cultural expression, and that will present wondrous challenges in teaching. For some, culture is self-defining and ultimately self-isolating. It is my sincere desire to experience culture as connective, a venue by which individual souls can meet in fellowship of mind, thought, and expression. I'm sure there will be cultural barriers that will seem alienating at times, on both sides. Yet, instead of seeing cultural difference as walls of separation, I hope to embrace cultural uniqueness as avenues of interaction. I will have to learn and adapt to them, just as they will need to learn and adapt to me. In this intellectual exchange within the context of culture, I hope that we both will develop on the level of mind and soul. I have prepared by talking to professors who taught there last semester. However, I'm aware that what these professors shared with me are their own experiences which may ultimately differ from my own. It will be interesting to see what develops, and what doesn't...

CS: How long will you stay in China?

DH: I will be in China for about three and a half months. I will visit Shanghai for a little over a week, then teach in and visit Nanjing for twelve weeks, and then visit Beijing for about a week.

King PITA Announces His Quest

Hear ye, Hear ye! Let it be known that King PITA will commence his China quest on February 11, in the year of our Lord, 2008.

Oye, enough of that.

I finally set up my blog for this trip, and I'm hoping I can maintain it while scurrying about in the Far East. As most of you already know, my college (NYIT) somehow saw fit to send me to teach at our new campus in Nanjing, China. We have partnered with the Nanjing University of Posts and Telecommunications. (Eesh, that's a mouthful--let's just say NUPT. Yes, yes, I know. "Neeit" and "Nuupit" sound silly, but there it is...) NUPT is NYIT's next venture into developing its global programs, and I'm really very excited about teaching there this spring. I'll be teaching writing about literature and the research paper, and it should be quite an academic and culture experience (for both me AND them...). It's not like I'm going to stick out like a soar thumb or anything. I'll just be that 6'1" pale American with long(ish) hair and a goatee cruising around campus on one of the few sanctioned bicycles. Also, I don't know a bit of Mandarin. I have a dictionary and some CDs. Have I listened to them yet? That's a big negative. But, I do have a 15 hour flight. Maybe I can learn a few words and phrase, you know, like: "Where am I?"; "I'm hungry."; "Which way to New York?"; or "Do fries come with that egg role?" Ok, ok, seriously, though, I do hope to learn some Mandarin. But, my brother gave me book to read on the plane, and a good friend recommended a bunch of Russian SF books to read, so my flight over is already pretty well booked (sorry, couldn't resist that nauseating pun). When I get on campus, I'll be sure to post some pics. I'm really excited.

Most of you are probably relieved that I'll be out of your hair for a good while. (I sometimes wonder if I'm being sent into temporary exile by my college. After all, I will be much closer to Siberia than ever before...) I'll be gone from Feb 11 to May 31. King PITA will be Asian Dave by the end of the spring. I'll be in Shanghai from Feb 12 to Feb 21. For those paying attention, I'll turn 40 in Shanghai. Now, how many people can say that? (Um, well, according the Lonely Planet guide to China, about 15 million, but who's counting?) Then, I'll be in Nanjing from Feb 21 to about May 23 playing professor. Finally, Beijing will have to tolerate me from May 24 to May 30. By then, my transformation into Asian Dave should be complete.

OK, I gotta go figure out Picasa so I can post pics online. (Thanks, "Milla," for the recommendation.)

Oh yeah, some of you may be wondering what's up with this King PITA business. Two dear humans blessed of God have been further blessed with the (mis)fortune of befriending me (really, what were they thinking?...) During an absurdly difficult time in my life (still a thorn in my side, but the wisdom of St. Paul on thorns is quite helpful), I stumbled and fumbled my way into their lives. Why they keep letting me back in, I'll never know. They would say it's evidence of God's grace, and they are probably right, because Lord knows they wouldn't do so by choice (that begs the larger question of "choice" and "freewill" but we won't go there...ha ha). But I digress. Anyway, over the past two years, I've become known affectionately by them as "King PITA." Two of their children just call me "Professor Dave" or "Crazy Man." Their youngest (who they've named Caleb but who is really Frodo--he is a total hobbit) knows me as "Gandalf." But their parents know me mainly as King PITA (i.e., King Pain in the Arse). It's all good.

OK, really, off to figure out Picasa.

Stay tuned.