Homeward bound...

I'm packing and figured I'd stop real quick to let you know I'm headed home tonight. It's been a bit rocky the last few days. I flew from Urumqi to Beijing on Wednesday and started to feel a burning and rumbling in my digestive tract that turned into a pretty nasty bout of food poisoning. Fever of 102.5, severe headache, intestinal distress. It was no fun. But that's exactly why I travel with antibiotics, so I was able to get some crackers, a sports drink, take Cipro, and ride it out. I also have to say that I have the best doctor in the world. I emailed him to let him know I was sick and see if he thought it was bad enough to call a doctor here. At least it's Beijing, so I could have seen a trustworthy doctor, but my Doc in Boston said that I was doing everything I could and that I should feel fine in 1-2 days. He even knew that my upset stomach was because of the potassium in the sport drink, and sure enough, when I diluted it by half in water, the nausea went away. By the time I woke up yesterday the fever had broken, and I was a little tired but back to normal. I stayed in to rest which is fine since I've seen enough of Beijing on previous trips. I'm sure it was something I ate. I'm not as careful as maybe I should be, but you can be super super careful and still end up sick. I ate at a dinner theater buffet Tuesday night and had a bit of street food over the last few days, so it could have been any of that. My fellow travelers in Kashgar didn't get sick though, so I don't think it was that round of street food. Perhaps the milk tea for breakfast in Urumqi. Oh well, one can never really tell...

Anyway, I'm going to finish packing and perhaps walk around the zoo for an hour or so before I have to leave for the airport. I hope you're all well, and I'm looking forward to seeing and talking to folks when I get home. I've missed everyone. Best wishes...

Back in Kashgar

Amy and I got up early Sunday to go to the Livestock Market, which was one of the main things I wanted to visit in Kashgar. It's on the edge of the city and easy to find if you follow the truck loads of sheep, cattle, and donkeys. It's an open dusty lot that's actually quite well organized - halters, riding, and feed equipment in the front row followed by nursing cows and calves, large breed bulls, smaller breed bulls, sheep, and a few goats. The sheep are lined up flank to flank and tied off in a row of looped rope. Most of them at least - there were a few herds that were loosely corralled with a ring of rope, but those kept escaping and having to be chased down and literally tossed back into the pack. The corralled ones seemed to be awaiting a good shearing, since they were thickly wooly and were being handed off one by one to a pair of women sitting on the ground with one animal at a time an a pair of big shearing scissors. The sheep's feet were tied together, and she had her leg pressing its neck to the ground to keep it still. Back in the far corner are the donkeys and horses, and about half the length of the lot is reserved for "test riding" the horses. That was great to watch. A lot of these men are real horsemen, so watching them ride and inspect the animals was a treat.

It's a working market, so it's bustling with men (this is "men's work") wearing jackets and round Hui hats or square Ughyur hats. They all know each other and greet each other with warm handshakes, and then it's down to business. There is a lot of handling of the animals and a lot of talking, often in groups of 6-8 men, and they'd move from one animal to the other. Once in awhile the negotiations seemed to get a bit heated, and we witnessed a fight break out, but it was very peaceful for the most part. I have read that the haggling can last all day, and I believe it. In two hours, we only saw about 4-5 transactions completed. We only stood in about four places the whole morning. We'd stop and watch the men haggling over bulls for 20 minutes or so, move on to the sheep for another half hour-ish, and then back to the donkeys for a lengthy while. Amy and I both liked to really watch what was going on and not just storm through taking pictures and being obnoxious like most of the rest of the tourists. And we were much more accepted for that. Several people smiled and invited us over, but we just hovered on the periphery watching and snapping the occasional quick photo from a distance. And then there are the rest of the tourists. I'm embarrassed to be a foreigner sometimes. First there was the woman wearing short shorts and a halter top with her shoulders and half her back exposed. In a Muslim area where that's not acceptable. Then there were the large groups that plowed through the market in waves of 20 minute visits toting their e-freaking-normous zoom lenses but still insisting on getting right up in people's faces. One woman in particular didn't seem to care that she was interfering with business when she insisted on taking a photo of a group of men negotiating, even though they repeatedly tried to wave her away. Another pair of Americans (one Chinese American who spoke no Chinese) were walking around with a video camera and a translator trying to interview people for some unknown reason which seemed a little intrusive and annoying. But my favorite were the tourists wearing facemasks and frowning at the dust and smell of animals and manure. Don't go to a livestock sale if you don't like the smell of animals.

From the livestock market, we made our way over to the Sunday Bazaar which is a lot like many of the other markets in Asia only a lot bigger. It wasn't as crowded as it should have been. The street in front should have been shoulder to shoulder from one end to the other, but there was plenty of room for car traffic. I think the increased security checks probably make people feel like it isn't worth the hassle. The market itself seems to have two main sections - the local goods section with household items and local clothing and the tourist souvenir section with the overpriced furs, carpets, and trinkety things. Amy and I decided to try to blend in a little better by buying head scarves from one of the local stalls. The woman helped us tied them correctly, and we spent the rest of the day wearing them. It felt comfortable, and it opened people up to us a lot more. Where people were friendly enough or at least passively accepting, suddenly we brought smiles and surprised stares. One man even walked right up to Amy and stuck his face 6 inches from hers to stare in the front of the scarf at her face. A few others almost stepped out in traffic or ran into things trying to get a look at us. But they all seemed pleased that we were making the effort to integrate.

So then we walked down the row of stalls purveying dried fruit and nuts and stopped to chat with a young man in his 20s who looked smiley and friendly. The whole conversation was in Chinese with Amy, but she summarized a translation for me later. The guy had asked where we were from, and she said "America" to which he replied "I hate Americans." Great, I thought. It's not the first time I've heard that one. He said he hates the American government and American people because we support our government. Amy corrected him to say that the American government and the American people are separate, and that a lot of Americans (including us) do not support our government. He was genuinely smiling and friendly but was also completely frank and honest with us, and he told us that he had no issues with us - that we were friends and guests, and he didn't hate us. Comforting. I can understand why there is anti-American sentiment in this part of the world. Our country hasn't exactly done a great job of engendering good relationships with the Muslim world. I'm just glad that individual people can have the open mind and kind hearts to judge each person as an individual and not lump us all together in one big hated category.

Lunch was at the outdoor food market. We ate a sampling of all sorts of street food that was yummy. I had cold rice noodles with shredded cucumber and cabbage and some sort of spicey sauce and a couple of fried yummies. One in particular was addictive. It was a fried loose pastry thing that came out of the oil looking sort of like a bird's nest, and it was stuffed with sugar, raisins, and almonds. Oh my goodness yummy. Another of my favorite Ughyur foods is samsa. It's a rolled out dough pastry pocket stuffed with lamb meat and fat, spices, and onion, and then it's stuck to the inside of a brick kiln to bake. Yakupjan says that the bricks are made from the salty clay in this area, so as the samsa cooks and crisps, the dough absorbs some of that salty goodness. Awesome. The weirdest thing I've tried is sheep lung. Yep, that's right. Lung. I only took a bit. One of the gals had a big bowl of broth with chunks of sheep lung and slices of a sausage-looking thing that was flavored rice-stuffed intestine. I knew it was lung, and she asked if I wanted to try it. Why not? It didn't taste like much, and I successfully convinced that gag part of my brain that it was a hunk of fat. Not sure why that's psychologically so much better.

From the market, we wandered through the old part of the city to the top of the hill with the big mosque. The city is so active and alive, so that was a nice walk. The mosque itself is yellow tiled and surrounded by a big square. It's really beautiful, and we got there in time to hear the call to prayer. I sat in a spot by myself on the steps to listen to the low somber chants and watch the men stream like ants through the doors. Ughyur women do not enter the mosque, and while foreign women are allowed when there are no prayers in session, I didn't feel it was appropriate. I did speak with a German man who entered and took some pictures, and it seems very nice. The entrance is very plain without a lot of ostentatious decoration, and the prayer area is centered around a big wooded garden. It looked so peaceful in the pictures. There is a covered walkway circling the perimeter that is carpeted with prayer rugs, and this is where the men go for their prayers. So natural and beautiful.

Then to break that natural beauty, Amy and I had to go and get ourselves hit on. We were walking to the bank when a man walked up to us, all smiles and with very broken English. He was from Tajikistan and was a truck driver vacationing in Kashgar. He asked where we were from, unsuccessfully asked for Amy's phone number, and then made a gesture of "you, you, sleep". Pointing at each of us and trying to get us to come back to his place. Uhhh, no. He wasn't creepy and walked away politely and quickly when we said absolutely not, but it is indicative of the opinion of American women. This isn't the first person I've come across who has watched the movies and seen scantily clad Americans with their loose morals and thinks we're all easy. Sorry to disappoint you, but these Americans are not into the girl on girl on Tajik. Even with that spectacular full set of gold uppers.

That is one strange thing about Kashgar - there are a half dozen dentists on every corner. I asked Yakupjan, and he said that gold teeth are a sign of wealth. There are a lot of folks walking around with fully coated (or replaced) gold teeth, and it's quite impressive. I got a few pictures of some spectacular dentist signs as keepsakes.

The Olympic torch relay is in Kashgar tomorrow (Wednesday), so I'm glad I got the heck out of dodge when I did. The streets are lined with Chinese and Olympics flags, the car antennae are all sporting mini flags, there are banners plastering the railings of the sidewalk, and the security precautions are impressive. Though no information seems to be accurate or forthcoming. Yesterday, when I returned to Urumqi, I was told that the torch would be here today and that the streets would be blocked to cars from 8 pm last night until 2 pm today. I was also told that the campus would be closed so that if you left you couldn't come back in, and that I could watch what's going on from my hotel room but couldn't open the window. None of this ended up being true. Certain streets were closed in the center of the city where the route led, and the gates of the university were closed, but they were still letting people in and out. The shops were all open, and it wasn't on lock down, but there seems to be a lot of concern and paranoia around here. Maybe warranted, maybe not. But I heard all of the same precautions about Kashgar, and I feel like those might actually be more accurate. I'm fleeing the torch though and heading back to Beijing tomorrow. Then I'll have one full day in Beijing, and it's back to Boston on Friday. Looking forward to being home!

Yak Attack

We got up and out the door Friday morning for the four hour drive to Karakul Lake in the mist, smog, and low clouds. It wasn't great weather for appreciating the scenery, but it at least kept the sun from beating down so hard. I still managed to get a significant amount of color, though thankfully I'm not the familiar shade of "Cooper Red" - more of a dusted rosey beige. It’s in a fabulous farmer tan pattern. And somehow my big American schnoz is a shade darker than the rest of my face.

The landscape from Kashgar starts as flat plains of small to midsized rocks and rises through sandy plateaus and low hills to iron-rich red mountains to a ring of dark mountains dusted with white sand dunes surrounding a shallow lake and culminates in the dramatic glacial peaks of the Pamir Mountains. The Karakorum Highway connects China with Pakistan over the highest mountain pass in the world, and while we were stopped at the side of the road perusing billiards tables spread with geological treasures and taking in the majestic scenery, we were passed by a convoy of about six trucks from Pakistan all draped with green canvas signs that read “Relief Assistance”. It was really a moving sight. I think particularly because the Western media gives a somewhat mistrustful portrayal of China and often presents a decidedly negative image of Pakistan. It was a small glimpse of a humanitarian gesture of assistance that just made me smile and feel happy with the world for a while.

We arrived at Karakul in the early afternoon, were shown to our yurt, and collapsed into a high altitude-induced coma for an hour or more of recovery. The lake is at about 3000 meters, and you really do feel it. Walking 100 meters takes the wind out of your sails and makes your heart beat quickly, and I developed a pretty raging headache – probably partly because of my sinus issues from a few days prior. The yurt was awesome. And I just love the word yurt. Yurt yurt yurt. Ours was a more traditional yurt than the modern concrete structures and was shaped as a rounded tent with molded bare tree branches as the frame draped in camel hair felt. The door is covered by a flap of felted camel hair to block out the cold, and the roof has an opening for the stove pipe. It was really quite cozy, even into the bitterly cold and windy night, and we had a nice fire in our little stove fueled with dried yak poop. The smokey dung fragrance provided some authentic ambience to the experience. It was actually a remarkably good sleep considering there were five of us together on the floor of a yurt not meant to sleep five. I kept singing in my head “5 little Indians sleeping in a bed. One falls out and the little one says, Roll over. Roll over.” Fortunately when you’re already on the ground, there’s no way to fall out of bed.

Some of you have previously noticed my obsession with “the toilet situation”. This is a very common topic of conversation in this part of the world, and any backpacker will ask another when returning from the toilet “How was it?” Chinese toilets are generally ranked on a scale of 1 to 10 based on whether it’s a squatter or Western, whether there are actual stalls or if it’s communal, the amount and type of bodily excretions visible, the smell, the presence of a sink, soap, and a hand drying device. The vast majority of toilets rank below a 5 - smelly squatter coated with nasties and no place to wash you hands. Therefore most foreigners are thankful that a squatter means they don’t have to touch anything and keep a “toilet pocket” well-stocked with tissues and hand sanitizer. The one at our yurt site was about a 1.5 on the Chinese toilet scale. In Amy’s eloquent choice of words, it was literally a “brick shit house” – past the three grazing camels and on the left. This is common for rural toilets – a small brick structure divided into the men’s side, and the women’s side slightly elevated above the pile of waste with two “stalls” each (a 2 1/5 foot wall dividing but no door). You squat over a slit cut in the floor and do your business. Right over everyone else’s business and usually a swarm of flies. So instead we opted for the great out doors. But there are no trees or shrubbery in these mountains, so we stood guard over each other behind the biggest rocks we could find. You lose any sense of shame pretty quickly in this place.

Our hosts were a Kyrgyz family who live in the yurt cluster during the summers and have a winter house over the mountains. They were a warm and welcoming family, and it helped that my fellow travelers speak Chinese so that we could have a real conversation. The family is held together by the matriarch – her husband passed away years ago. She has three sons and two daughters, and the middle son runs the tourism business. He was a cute and smiley young twenty-year old who seemed to love the company of foreigners and was eagerly attentive to our every need. The mother was a very kind and quiet woman, a little plump with a round face and deep-set eyes. She makes camel hair Kyrgyz carpets by hand, and they were the most beautiful rugs of their kind that we’d seen on this trip. The colors were vibrant, and she takes great care in her work. So three of us each bought a small rug. It’ll be a nice keepsake from the experience, and I’m going to pretend that mine was made of the hair of my own personal camel, since it has not been proven otherwise.

Speaking of my own personal camel – we got to ride camels around the lake! Camels are awesome. They’re so expressive and funny. If llamas are sarcastic (as I hear they are), then camels are sly. It’s the eyelashes that give them that coy look that they’re up to something – like eyeboogering your knee when you least expect it. Amy’s camel must have developed an itch that could only be cured by a vigorous rubbing of eye snot and camel hair. Lovely. We didn’t have to drive our own camels – four of the guys went with us, and they took turns leading and tying groups of camels off to each other in a caravan. At one point our friend Jonathan was in the lead of our caravan, and we were joking that he was leading his harem of wives to our new home. There is a remarkable amount of camel innuendo what with the humps and camel toes and all.

The next morning we awoke to join the family for “bagels” (circular nan with a hole in the middle that looks and tastes remarkably bagel-like) and salted yak milk tea. Yaks are such useful animals. The yak milk made the tea nice and creamy, and the salt helped combat the effects of the altitude and dry air. From the lake, we drove further south into the mountains to Tashgarukan. That leg of the trip was only marginally worth it. The famous site is an old stone fortress that supposedly marks the mid point on the old Silk Road between Europe and China. There’s not much more than a pile of rubble left, but it was cool standing at a site that has been around since something something BC. My favorite part was the grasslands to the east of the city. The river coming down from the mountain glaciers opens up into the Tashkarugan Oasis that is a sprawling field of emerald grass at the base of the mountains, dotted with livestock herds and white yurts. Standing on the edge of the grassland, you hear the giggle of children, people shouting at their animals, and the low rhythm of drum beats. The grassland itself is kind of boggy, and we each took turns carefully staggering over carpets of thickly woven patches of grass suspended over water that truly felt like stumbling across a waterbed. Fortunately no one fell through. It was great fun, but I would really hate to know what the water underneath looks and smells like, and I'm not sure how deep it could have been.

While the vast majority of ethnic minorities in Xinjiang are Ughyur, there are pockets of other groups like the Kyrgyz family we stayed with, the Kazakh family across the lake, and the Tajiks in Tashgarukan. On the way back, we stopped at the home of a Tajik family – just for a short visit. We all felt a little weird invading their space until we realized the driver knew them, and they were thrilled to have us there. There was an older woman with her two daughters, a teenage grandson, and a younger granddaughter. They made us take lots and lots of pictures and kept squeezing our hands and touching our elbows. They seemed just as interested in us as we were in them, and it was a nice moment of sharing without the ruining tourist experience of someone demanding money. My travel buddies are going to try to get prints of some of the pictures in Kashgar and send them back with the driver the next time he passes by their house. They had a large collage of various family photos on the wall, so I think they’ll like to have copies of our pictures. I thought they were beautiful people. A lot of the Tajiks have very different features from the other minorities since they're Persian rather than Turkish – very sharp angular noses and jawlines with narrow and long faces. It’s kind of fun trying to figure out what ethnicity different folks are, but there’s a lot of gray where features run together in the middle.

Security in Xinjiang is definitely higher than anywhere else I’ve traveled, and we had to pass through two police checkpoints on the way up and the same two plus two more on the way back to Kashgar. We returned on Saturday, so I guess the heightened security was because of the increased number of people flooding into Kashgar for the Sunday market. The two permanent checkpoints required us to get out of the car and present our passports for inspection, and they recorded our information. No big deal except that the last one on the way up had a machine gun nest perched on the top of a building. Empty, but still not so comforting. Whatever. On the way back, we stopped at the third checkpoint, and four officers surrounded us wanting to inspect our bags. They nosed around inside, and I just didn’t so much like the idea of some strange guy poking around my belongings with all of my valuables. I’d packed a clean change of clothes in my small day bag, but we didn’t get a chance to clean up or change, so they were still in there, and my undies were on top. So when the guy came to me, I politely unzipped my bag and pulled out the undies. The guy just said “Okay, okay” and walked away. No bag search for me ☺

But the absolute best police checkpoint ever in the history of the world was the last one leading into Kashgar. Same story as the one before – the van stopped at the lowered gate, and we were surrounded by police officers wanting passports and wanting to search our bags again. This time we rolled up next to two donkey carts pulling piles of neatly stacked onions. As the officers asked us to get out of the van, the second donkey suddenly mounted the onion cart in front of him. At first we thought he was trying to eat the onions until we realized that he was having a lustful moment with the voluptuous pile of produce. We all started laughing so hard my eyes were tearing. The officers turned around to look at the ruckus behind them, were absolutely mortified, and before we knew it the gate was raised and we were on our way into Kashgar. Thank you, donkey!  Now I wonder who actually ended up buying those onions...

Happy happy Kashgar

I have arrived safely, and of course within 15 minutes of landing met 3 other Americans and a Belgian, 2 Singaporeans, and a Malaysian who all speak English. I've been adopted by the American-Belgian "gang" which rocks since a) they're a lot of fun, and b) they all speak fluent Chinese since they just spent a year studying in China. One would think the latter would be uber helpful, given we're still technically "in" China, but there are surprising few people in Kashgar who actually speak Chinese. The local language is Ughyur. There are a crazy number of Americans here. Americans don't generally travel, but 6 of the 10 foreigners I've met on this whole trip have been American. And I'm the only one who doesn't speak Chinese. How can I feel so uncultured amongst my own generally uncultured countrymen? These guys are giving way too good of an impression of Americans. Folks are going to start thinking we're all worldly and culturally sensitive or something...

Kashgar is a fantastic city. It was swelteringly hot this afternoon, so we spent a good while hanging out in a coffee shop, but we did visit the largest mosque in China - from the outside only since we weren't sure if prayers were in session. Foreigners aren't allowed in the mosque when prayers are in session. It's a big concession to allow us in at all, since even Ughyur women are not allowed to visit mosque - only men. Apparently during prayers, the women all wait outside. They're supposed to pray at home. The clothing is very Central Asian. The men are mostly walking around with long beards, but no chops - kind of like the Amish beard but with a mustache. They wear the long shirts and loose pants that you see a lot of Pakistanis wear on television and rounded edge square small hats. The women are mostly in long skirts, long sleeves, and head scarves, some with only the eyes showing, and a few with something that looks like a coarsely woven, slightly intricate brown towel completely covering their hair and face. One woman who followed us closely for a few blocks this afternoon pulled her face covering aside a couple of times for just a brief second, and her face was ashen pale. As in a little bluish gray. I'm not sure if she had whitening makeup on, or if her face has truly rarely seen the light of day, but it was really breathtaking. Again, only for the briefest of seconds, and I tried not to look directly at her so she wouldn't get startled.

The women with only the eyes showing are captivating. The eye color here ranges from glacial lake blue to jade green to chocolate brown, and there is something about only seeing a pair of strikingly beautiful eyes that is stunning. I don't think I totally agree with people saying that scarves are repressive. I think it's alluring to see only the most expressive and beautiful part of a person's face - if the covering is elective and the absence thereof doesn't mean punishment including death. Of course it's difficult to tell facial expressions and mood from just the eyes, so I sometimes don't know how we're being received by the locals. Never with any animosity, but the emotion seems to range from curiosity to mild nervousness to warm welcome.

The kids are the best, but then the kids are the best everywhere. They follow us through the streets saying "hello hello" and something in Ughyur that rhymes with "hello" and ends with something sounding like "jello" in a sing-song sort of voice. Must remember to ask Yakupjan what they're saying, because it seems widespread amongst the school kids. And they all love having their picture taken and crowding around to see the screen. The cutest has been this little boy of about six with fire engine red hair missing his two front teeth. He gave me his blackened grimy hand to shake (how could I resist?) and posed for a handful of toothless photos before running off into an alley. Speaking of teeth - do not ever visit a dentist in Kashgar. I'll leave it at that.

What else - donkey carts selling melons and turnips, mud and straw coated brick square homes for blocks and blocks with narrow twisting alleyways, beautiful and enormous Chinese/Central Asian architectural doors with large round door pulls, open doorways leading to courtyards with terraces of grapevines providing shade (and seasonal treats), a huge and intricately carved teak doorway leading into a home housing a pidgeon colony in the rafters (intentionally), Ughyur nan (bread) in the shape of bagels and tasting better than a bagel, street stalls of men getting shaved and bicycles being repaired, and people everywhere. Can you tell I like the doorways? I'm taking a lot of pictures of doors and architectural details.

National identity

I was just leaving the hotel for the lab when I ran into two folks (brother and sister) from Camaroon. I've gotten in the habit of smiling warmly at people who are obviously not from around here, since there aren't so many of them to be seen. So they stopped to chat for a bit. The guy what convinced he'd met me before, but I think it was just an easy ploy to engage me in some idle chit chat for awhile. He asked if I was at the Pepsi commercial. That made me laugh, because I'd just heard about this commercial from Eric - one of the two Americans I met up with last night. It was apparently filmed here a few months ago, and it sounds like the scraped together every ethnic looking person they could get their hands on to create the imagery. Here a description of the commercial, roughly in his words, which I swear sounded just like he was a marketing exec trying to sell the commerical idea to the company...

Imagine a giant stadium, supposedly evoking the spirit of the Olympic games (even though it's a 48 hour train ride from Beijing to the edge of Urumqi). The stadium is full of avid fans of many nationalities cheering their athletes to victory. You have the scantily clad Brazilian women (who were originally supposed to be cast with Ughyur women until the film crew realized that perhaps putting a Muslim woman in a bikini was a *tiny* bit of an issue), the Germans wearing Viking helmets and playing tubas (uh, what?), the Africans playing an assortment of hand drums (this must have been where the guy from Camaroon was cast), the Americans - girls dressed in cheerleader outfits and guys in London polo shirts (again, what?) and sideways baseball caps, and the Han Chinese. Everyone is cheering wildly in their "traditional" dress and custom except for the Chinese who all seem a little lost with no identity. Until suddenly, a Chinese man from high in the rafters looks across the stadium to see his countrymen unable to appropriately cheer for their team. He looks at his bottle of Pepsi, twists the cap, takes a long drink, and leaps off his perch in the nosebleed section, aided by guidewires in a very Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon prolonged and unrealistic flying acrobatic way. He touches off the heads of a German and a Japanese until finally landing gently on the grass of the stadium. Suddenly Pepsi for all of his Chinese compatriots, and they finally have their national identity and enthusiasm to adequately compete with the masses! Hooray for corporate capitalism!

The conversation last night with Eric and Nolan was delightful. Eric is a PhD student at Indiana University in Eurasian studies, and he's here for a year studying Ughyur language, linguistics, and the relationship between minority languages and cultural identity. Nolan has his masters in English education and is finishing a two year sting in Urumqi working as a contractor for the US State Department in their language exchange program. They both had lots of stories to tell about living and working in China, and you can tell that they love Xinjiang, hate the journalistic inaccuracies of how this place is portrayed, and long for the province to maintain its ethnic flair without being too over-run by Han Chinese settlers. From what little I've seen, I think that's going to be a challenge. But that's for another blog post or a personal discussion over beers sometime. I've learned a lot from being here...

The bar we went to is a neat place. It felt like home. I even had a hot toddy upon arrival, which felt really nice to my poor sick throat. The bar is a homey and comfortable place - a grouping of couches at the front with a couple of high def TVs that featured the Russia vs. Spain soccer match. It was well attended late into the night by the local Russians and who I think were possibly Kasakhs cheering for Spain - likely just to rile the Russians. The walls are panneled with oversized bamboo-esque tiles aged with a gold tint, and there are tasteful faux ivory beaded curtains draping the doorways. It's appropriately dimly lit for a nice bar and has a great atmosphere - until the cigarette smokers increase in number, and my sinuses scream for clean air.

One of the owners and the manager were there, and we chatted for a bit about life in China. Sounds frustrating. They're swell enough guys, but they still do everything "the Western way". Even while I was sitting there, they lost their temper a few times with their staff over the placement of plants on the patio and the fact that the tables weren't getting the appropriate condiments for each meal. One of the Chinese gals leaned over and said "he has a very bad temper" about the guy from London. I made a brief cultural observation about the difference between Westerners (emotional) and Chinese (reserved). That turned into a very interesting conversation. She was a sweet gal. The Chinese may not be direct about many things, but they are very direct about personal observations. Such as "You are very beautiful, and you smile alot. But if you smile too much, you will get too many wrinkles". I had a really good laugh at that one :)

I am off to Kashgar at the ass crack of dawn tomorrow morning. I waited until a little late to book my flight, and the only available seats were at 8:35 am. Blech. So I was going to catch a cab until one of our senior colleagues insisted on arranging a hired car from the university motor pool to pick me up at 7 am and take me to the airport. Not necessary, but okay - very nice gesture. But *then* another colleague insisted that poor Yakupjan wake up and meet me to escort me to the airport and make sure I get checked in and off okay. I told him he didn't have to do it, but with a very long face he said "no, I have to or I'll get in trouble." I think I forgot to mention that I'm flying solo on this little excursion.  I wanted Yakupjan to accompany me, in part so that I would have an authentic experience with a local companion but also because he's become quite a good friend.  Unfortunately he just finished his bachelors and has to stay behind to finish collecting the plethora of bureaucratic red stamps that will make his graduation official. I'm having to make up a teensy white lie to ease my colleagues minds by telling them that I have a car arranged to pick me up in Kashgar and have booked a tour service for my sightseeing. That's partly true, except that I'm taking a recommended shuttle bus from the airport to my hotel and will be hiring a car and guide for an overnight trip to Karakul Lake. Oh well, they won't be there to watch over me, so what they don't know won't annoy me ;)

A final note on time zones.  I'm used to doing the mental math when calling folks between time zones back home, but this is ridiculous.  The People's Republic officially functions under one time zone for the entire country - from the vast expanse of east to west.  But Xinjiang, being an autonomous region, also functions on its own time zone - 2 hours behind Beijing time.  It makes sense since we're so far west, and it means that the sun rises and set at times that feel more reasonable.  The problem is that the hotel, the airlines, and several of our Han Chinese colleagues function on Beijing time while local offices and the Ughyurs adhere to Xinjiang time.  This has been the source of some confusion between me and Yakupjan when he tells me "we'll meet in the lab at 4" when he really means 6 (Beijing time - that's what my watch is set to so that I don't accidentally miss any flights!) but that means that I just ended up sitting around the lab for an hour wondering where everyone was until I realized my mistake.  Whoops!  Hopefully the hired car shows up in the appropriate time zone tomorrow morning...

More from Kashgar...

Green Monster Slime

No, that's not a new feature of the Boston Red Sox mascot.  That's what happened in my sinuses last night.  I seriously could have remade the star of "The Blob" with what came up, down, and out.  I woke up yesterday with a really sore throat, swollen glands, and the inability to swallow without some pretty intense pain.  Figured it was because I was a bit stupid and ate chocolate right before bed the night before.  But no. I went down to the hotel desk to the ladies who speak a little bit of english and asked them to write something in Chinese that I could take across the street to the pharmacy to get for my throat.  Good move - the pharmacist spoke no English at all.  We had a delightfully entertaining exchange of gestures where we managed to communicate that it was all in my throat, not in my nose, and she gave me a box of mysterious green packets that I was supposed to mix in hot water and drink 2-3 times per day.  It's amazing how much you can communicate through pantomiming, and it's hilarious that we all insist on talking anyway, even though we know the other can't understand.  I think part of it is just the feeling that somehow you're getting your point across anyway - inflection or something.  Or it's just being used to having to speak to be understood.

The stuff ended up looking like bee pollen and tasting like honey with cloves and camomile, so that was nice.  Not sure it did much.  While I was out with my pals, I procured a bag of salt.  So late last night, I boiled some water, let it cool, mixed in some salt, and did my favorite thing in the world when I've got a sinus issue - nasal rinse!!!  Some of you have heard me rave about this.  Well, let me tell you that I wish I'd taken pictures of what came out of my head and throat.  That could make medical history.  I was impressed.  It ranked right up there with the green nasties that came out of my head after my first trip to China.  Yes, this is my third time in China and my third sinus/respiratory issue.  What is *with* this country?!?!  And the air in Xinjiang is quite nice, so I can't even blame the pollution.  But I can't seem to come here without being colonized.

Yesterday was the belated birthday celebration with Yakupjan and Meripet.  When we were last together, we discovered that our birthdays are all in May, so we agreed to get together again upon my return.  It was a nice evening - we just walked around for a long time, wandered up to the downtown area, and then ended up at a really nice Ughyur restaurant.  I'm bummed that I wasn't able to eat - stomach too sour and too wiped from over-walking.  We spent a little bit of time carpet shopping.  This is an excellent place for purchasing rugs, so I thought I might pick one up for our living room.  They've got some really good quality, tightly woven (read - the cats will have a harder time destroying it), wool rugs - machine made in Turkey - for about $150 for 5X7.  And that's before bargaining.  It's not like one of those cool "you could only buy it traveling" rugs that is hand woven by a villager somewhere.  I asked about those - they range from $1000 - $3000, too rich for my tastes, but they're *beautiful*. But even the machined rugs of this size and quality would be about $400 in the US.  So we'll see.  I could lug it home on the plane - it doesn't weight that much.  And our living room floor is pretty bare and cold right now.  

I'm about to run out the door to meet a couple of Yanks that I met in an ice cream shop yesterday.  They're both PhD students in Eurasian culture and live in Urumqi.  It's funny how easy it is to pick out an American - no matter where you are.  Even before I heard them speak, there's a certain body posture that screams "American".  One of them was sitting slouched back in his chair with his arm dangling over the back, and at that moment I realized I was doing the same.  So I'd read online about this bar in town that's owned by an Irishman, a Kiwi, and a Japanese guy, and it's supposed to be a great expat/backpacker hangout.  I'm meeting them there in about an hour.  I'd kill for a slice of pizza and a good beer at this point.  They've got *real* imported beers.  Not the Chinese "near beer" stuff that has formaldehyde in it (no joke) and tastes like assed Budweiser. A real beer than I can enjoy the taste of while sipping at a reasonable pace without having to "show my happiness" by slamming the whole glass.  And a beer in a pint glass instead of a little juice glass. Marvelous.  I haven't seen a pint glass (or a fork!) since I left home. And it'll be nice to hang out with my fellow countrymen for awhile.  One of them just got back from a visit to Kashgar, so I can get some travel advice, speak English at a normal pace and talk about topics where we have some common ground.  I love travel and meeting new people from unfamiliar places, but after nearly 6 weeks here (and these are the first Westerners I've seen in more than a month), it'll be refreshing to have a little bit of home.  Then it's off to a *real* cultural experience in Kashgar!  I got "approval" from one of the senior professors who said it's no problem for me to go to Kashgar, so I'm planning to leave on Thursday for the weekend.  I'll stay in touch!

Ode to the razor blade

I had a hilarious email exchange with my dear friend Professor Jenkins the other day about "things not to forget when packing for field work".  It's a little more important for him, since he heads off to the Artic where forgetting something means death or at the very least going without for as long as you're there.  There's no "I'm just going to run to the store three freaking thousand miles away for a bar of Speedstick" happening up there.  I always forget something.  It's probably because I tend to make a pile on my living room floor for about a day before I leave and then pack it all the morning of.  That said, I'm quite well prepared - pocket knife, headlamp, sewing kit, basic medicines, first aid kit, sunscreen, bug spray, etc etc etc etc.  But this year I forgot to bring a razor.  And the boys here are shy about "women things" - apparently a razor is in that category.  Weeks ago, I mentioned needing to get a razor to one of the guys, and he got very very embarrassed and said "you don't need to shave.  "Uh, dude, you're Chinese.  I've got hairier legs that you do."  So I went without.  No offense to my French friends out there - love you guys, but I was starting to feel a bit like one of you.  So needless to say, I'm quite thrilled right now. We are back in Urumqi, and the first thing I did with my new found freedom and independence was going out and buy myself a razor. After 5 weeks of feeling like the newly planted clear cut hills of western Washington, my legs are once again seeing the light of day.  Hallelujah.  

  Note added in proof:  In reading about the history of the razor blade, I just learned that the modern disposable blade safety razor was invented in the US in 1901 by King Camp Gillette and William Nickerson.  I guess it's obvious why the second guy's name didn't stick in marketing.

  I'm sitting her writing this listening to the wedding processions out my window.  Xinjiang University is right in the heart of the Ughyur neighborhood, and it's Saturday evening - lots of wedding parties.  Weddings here seem like such cool affairs.  After the ceremony and dinner, the whole gang piles into their cars and heads down the road behind a cart with musicians playing traditional horns and drums, and stringed instruments.  It's hecka cool.  But I hear that Urumqi isn't even the most culturally interesting city in Xinjiang, so I am on a quest to travel south to Kashgar.  Since our work ended early, and I've got almost two weeks before I fly back to Boston, I thought I might try to spend next weekend doing something fun and exciting that I'll never get another chance to do.  Kashgar is supposed to be a far more international city than Urumqi with the largest international bazaar in all of Asia that touts the wares of folks from all over central Asia who still come to China as a big trading center.  So my Ughyur friend, Yakupjan, and I are potentially going to hop on a train or airplane south to Kashgar sometime mid week.   The train versus plane decision will be based on whether I want to spend about $300 on two roundtrip plane tickets (since I'll cover his travel as well) versus $60 and about 24 hours on the train.  I'm thinking of forking out the cash. This is probably the only place in the world where I can truly experience the Middle Eastern/Central Asian cultures without fear for my own personal safety.  And with the added benefit of local companionship.  It is really nice to experience these cultures through the guardianship of someone *of* the culture.  I visited the Minority Folk Museum and Xinjiang University when I first arrived in Urumqi, and learning about culture like that at a museum or with a tour guide not of the community feels a little condescendingly voyeuristic. 

  

It's a good morning...

There's nothing I can say that's better than this.  It's a glorious thing to wake up to on the other side of the world.  Read the whole thing.  Come back to it if you don't have time now.  It's worth it.  No matter what side of the aisle you lean toward, everyone must admit this is a moment *all* Americans should be proud of. This is truly an historical day.

P.S.  If you'd like to donate to the campaign, I'm making it easy for you.

Remarks of Senator Barack Obama

Tues., June 3, 2008 19:02:11 ET

Tonight, after fifty-four hard-fought contests, our primary season has finally come to an end.

Sixteen months have passed since we first stood together on the steps of the Old State Capitol in Springfield, Illinois. Thousands of miles have been traveled. Millions of voices have been heard. And because of what you said -- because you decided that change must come to Washington; because you believed that this year must be different than all the rest; because you chose to listen not to your doubts or your fears but to your greatest hopes and highest aspirations, tonight we mark the end of one historic journey with the beginning of another -- a journey that will bring a new and better day to America. Tonight, I can stand before you and say that I will be the Democratic nominee for President of the United States.

I want to thank every American who stood with us over the course of this campaign -- through the good days and the bad; from the snows of Cedar Rapids to the sunshine of Sioux Falls. And tonight I also want to thank the men and woman who took this journey with me as fellow candidates for President.

At this defining moment for our nation, we should be proud that our party put forth one of the most talented, qualified field of individuals ever to run for this office. I have not just competed with them as rivals, I have learned from them as friends, as public servants, and as patriots who love America and are willing to work tirelessly to make this country better. They are leaders of this party, and leaders that America will turn to for years to come.

That is particularly true for the candidate who has traveled further on this journey than anyone else. Senator Hillary Clinton has made history in this campaign not just because she's a woman who has done what no woman has done before, but because she's a leader who inspires millions of Americans with her strength, her courage, and her commitment to the causes that brought us here tonight.

We've certainly had our differences over the last sixteen months. But as someone who's shared a stage with her many times, I can tell you that what gets Hillary Clinton up in the morning -- even in the face of tough odds -- is exactly what sent her and Bill Clinton to sign up for their first campaign in Texas all those years ago; what sent her to work at the Children's Defense Fund and made her fight for health care as First Lady; what led her to the United States Senate and fueled her barrier-breaking campaign for the presidency -- an unyielding desire to improve the lives of ordinary Americans, no matter how difficult the fight may be. And you can rest assured that when we finally win the battle for universal health care in this country, she will be central to that victory. When we transform our energy policy and lift our children out of poverty, it will be because she worked to help make it happen. Our party and our country are better off because of her, and I am a better candidate for having had the honor to compete with Hillary Rodham Clinton.

There are those who say that this primary has somehow left us weaker and more divided. Well I say that because of this primary, there are millions of Americans who have cast their ballot for the very first time. There are Independents and Republicans who understand that this election isn't just about the party in charge of Washington, it's about the need to change Washington.Ê There are young people, and African-Americans, and Latinos, and women of all ages who have voted in numbers that have broken records and inspired a nation.

All of you chose to support a candidate you believe in deeply. But at the end of the day, we aren't the reason you came out and waited in lines that stretched block after block to make your voice heard. You didn't do that because of me or Senator Clinton or anyone else. You did it because you know in your hearts that at this moment -- a moment that will define a generation -- we cannot afford to keep doing what we've been doing. We owe our children a better future. We owe our country a better future. And for all those who dream of that future tonight, I say -- let us begin the work together. Let us unite in common effort to chart a new course for America.

In just a few short months, the Republican Party will arrive in St. Paul with a very different agenda. They will come here to nominate John McCain, a man who has served this country heroically. I honor that service, and I respect his many accomplishments, even if he chooses to deny mine. My differences with him are not personal; they are with the policies he has proposed in this campaign.

Because while John McCain can legitimately tout moments of independence from his party in the past, such independence has not been the hallmark of his presidential campaign.

It's not change when John McCain decided to stand with George Bush ninety-five percent of the time, as he did in the Senate last year.

It's not change when he offers four more years of Bush economic policies that have failed to create well-paying jobs, or insure our workers, or help Americans afford the skyrocketing cost of college -- policies that have lowered the real incomes of the average American family, widened the gap between Wall Street and Main Street, and left our children with a mountain of debt.

And it's not change when he promises to continue a policy in Iraq that asks everything of our brave men and women in uniform and nothing of Iraqi politicians -- a policy where all we look for are reasons to stay in Iraq, while we spend billions of dollars a month on a war that isn't making the American people any safer.

So I'll say this -- there are many words to describe John McCain's attempt to pass off his embrace of George Bush's policies as bipartisan and new. But change is not one of them.

Change is a foreign policy that doesn't begin and end with a war that should've never been authorized and never been waged. I won't stand here and pretend that there are many good options left in Iraq, but what's not an option is leaving our troops in that country for the next hundred years -- especially at a time when our military is overstretched, our nation is isolated, and nearly every other threat to America is being ignored.

We must be as careful getting out of Iraq as we were careless getting in - but start leaving we must. It's time for Iraqis to take responsibility for their future. It's time to rebuild our military and give our veterans the care they need and the benefits they deserve when they come home. It's time to refocus our efforts on al Qaeda's leadership and Afghanistan, and rally the world against the common threats of the 21st century -- terrorism and nuclear weapons; climate change and poverty; genocide and disease. That's what change is.

Change is realizing that meeting today's threats requires not just our firepower, but the power of our diplomacy -- tough, direct diplomacy where the President of the United States isn't afraid to let any petty dictator know where America stands and what we stand for. We must once again have the courage and conviction to lead the free world. That is the legacy of Roosevelt, and Truman, and Kennedy. That's what the American people want. That's what change is.

Change is building an economy that rewards not just wealth, but the work and workers who created it. It's understanding that the struggles facing working families can't be solved by spending billions of dollars on more tax breaks for big corporations and wealthy CEOs, but by giving a the middle-class a tax break, and investing in our crumbling infrastructure, and transforming how we use energy, and improving our schools, and renewing our commitment to science and innovation. It's understanding that fiscal responsibility and shared prosperity can go hand-in-hand, as they did when Bill Clinton was President.

John McCain has spent a lot of time talking about trips to Iraq in the last few weeks, but maybe if he spent some time taking trips to the cities and towns that have been hardest hit by this economy -- cities in Michigan, and Ohio, and right here in Minnesota -- he'd understand the kind of change that people are looking for.

Maybe if he went to Iowa and met the student who works the night shift after a full day of class and still can't pay the medical bills for a sister who's ill, he'd understand that she can't afford four more years of a health care plan that only takes care of the healthy and wealthy. She needs us to pass health care plan that guarantees insurance to every American who wants it and brings down premiums for every family who needs it. That's the change we need.

Maybe if he went to Pennsylvania and met the man who lost his job but can't even afford the gas to drive around and look for a new one, he'd understand that we can't afford four more years of our addiction to oil from dictators. That man needs us to pass an energy policy that works with automakers to raise fuel standards, and makes corporations pay for their pollution, and oil companies invest their record profits in a clean energy future -- an energy policy that will create millions of new jobs that pay well and can't be outsourced. That's the change we need.

And maybe if he spent some time in the schools of South Carolina or St. Paul or where he spoke tonight in New Orleans, he'd understand that we can't afford to leave the money behind for No Child Left Behind; that we owe it to our children to invest in early childhood education; to recruit an army of new teachers and give them better pay and more support; to finally decide that in this global economy, the chance to get a college education should not be a privilege for the wealthy few, but the birthright of every American. That's the change we need in America. That's why I'm running for President.

The other side will come here in September and offer a very different set of policies and positions, and that is a debate I look forward to. It is a debate the American people deserve. But what you don't deserve is another election that's governed by fear, and innuendo, and division. What you won't hear from this campaign or this party is the kind of politics that uses religion as a wedge, and patriotism as a bludgeon -- that sees our opponents not as competitors to challenge, but enemies to demonize. Because we may call ourselves Democrats and Republicans, but we are Americans first. We are always Americans first.

Despite what the good Senator from Arizona said tonight, I have seen people of differing views and opinions find common cause many times during my two decades in public life, and I have brought many together myself. I've walked arm-in-arm with community leaders on the South Side of Chicago and watched tensions fade as black, white, and Latino fought together for good jobs and good schools. I've sat across the table from law enforcement and civil rights advocates to reform a criminal justice system that sent thirteen innocent people to death row. And I've worked with friends in the other party to provide more children with health insurance and more working families with a tax break; to curb the spread of nuclear weapons and ensure that the American people know where their tax dollars are being spent; and to reduce the influence of lobbyists who have all too often set the agenda in Washington.

In our country, I have found that this cooperation happens not because we agree on everything, but because behind all the labels and false divisions and categories that define us; beyond all the petty bickering and point-scoring in Washington, Americans are a decent, generous, compassionate people, united by common challenges and common hopes. And every so often, there are moments which call on that fundamental goodness to make this country great again.

So it was for that band of patriots who declared in a Philadelphia hall the formation of a more perfect union; and for all those who gave on the fields of Gettysburg and Antietam their last full measure of devotion to save that same union.

So it was for the Greatest Generation that conquered fear itself, and liberated a continent from tyranny, and made this country home to untold opportunity and prosperity.

So it was for the workers who stood out on the picket lines; the women who shattered glass ceilings; the children who braved a Selma bridge for freedom's cause.

So it has been for every generation that faced down the greatest challenges and the most improbable odds to leave their children a world that's better, and kinder, and more just.

And so it must be for us.

America, this is our moment. This is our time. Our time to turn the page on the policies of the past. Our time to bring new energy and new ideas to the challenges we face. Our time to offer a new direction for the country we love.

The journey will be difficult. The road will be long. I face this challenge with profound humility, and knowledge of my own limitations. But I also face it with limitless faith in the capacity of the American people. Because if we are willing to work for it, and fight for it, and believe in it, then I am absolutely certain that generations from now, we will be able to look back and tell our children that this was the moment when we began to provide care for the sick and good jobs to the jobless; this was the moment when the rise of the oceans began to slow and our planet began to heal; this was the moment when we ended a war and secured our nation and restored our image as the last, best hope on Earth. This was the moment -- this was the time -- when we came together to remake this great nation so that it may always reflect our very best selves, and our highest ideals. Thank you, God Bless you, and may God Bless the United States of America.

"Daisy, Daisy..."

"...give me your answer do." Tonight I was belting out "A Bicycle Built for Two" while perched precariously on the back of a bicycle and clinging to Shaoyuan's shoulders.  I got a lot of laughs and funny looks from the locals, but was actually quite fun.  Sort of like one of those "trust" exercises that some companies do for team building.  It was much needed to repair our fragile relationship after a *HUGE* fight yesterday, but now we seem to be all good.  I'll spare you the gory details, but it centered around a poor little jerboa with its foot snapped in half, dangling with the bone sticking out.  Oops, I guess those *were* the gory details.  Shaoyuan adamantly refused to euthanize it, and I thought at the time that he was just taking an attitude with me (which sometimes happens).  We talked about it all today, and it turns out he felt sorry for the little guy and wanted to get medicine to treat it.  I'm sorry, but no concoction of Chinese herbs is going to fix a bone sticking a centimeter through the skin, and the little guy was clearly suffering.  So now I understand that he had gotten attached (it was just a baby) and didn't want to kill it, whereas I also felt sorry for it and wanted to put it out of its misery.  I ended up killing it myself, and now that we've discussed the situation and come to an understanding, all seems to be much better. Anyway, back to the bicycle - that was quite an experience riding side saddle on a wire luggage rack.  There are speed bumps on the way into town that weren't too kind to my tushy. And I've got some cushion - I can't image what it feels like for some of these skinny kids who ride like that all the time.

Additionally, I seem to have been "adopted" by one of the women who works here.  She has a daughter a little younger than myself who speaks quite good English, and she spent a long time encouraging her daughter to finally come talk to me.  So several days ago there was a knock at my door, and the two of them were standing in the hall with the most delightful bowl of plums and apricots I'd ever seen in my entire life.  I hadn't had fruit in about a month, and it almost brought a tear to my eye.  Then last night I was sitting outside listening to some music with one of our students, and she came to me again - this time with a package of tiny little strawberries.  She is currently my favorite person on the planet.   With fresh fruit, delicious sweet milk (hooray for finding real whole milk!), and dark chocolate that actually tastes like the real thing, I'm feeling quite decadent these days.

I had a really interesting and heart wrenching conversation with one of our students last night.  I've written about him before - Yakupjan, the Ughyur student.  He's a really neat kid, and we get along well.  His English is quite good, so it's easy for us to talk.  I can almost talk at a normal pace, and he picks up most of what I say without me having to repeat myself. Anyway, I was sitting outside listening to my ipod when he came back from dinner, and he joined me for a listen.  He suddenly started to get a very pained expression on his face, like he was struggling with something in his mind, and pulled out a little ring box.  He started to tell me about the arranged marriage that his parents have planned for him, so we went for a long walk and talked about it.  I really feel for him.  He's in a tough situation.  He just finished his bachelor's degree and is planning to start his masters in the fall.  After that he wants to try to go abroad to study.  His parents are worried that if he goes away, he'll never come back, and he's the youngest of 4.  He said that his parents have picked a girl for him to marry, and he hasn't met her.  I told him maybe he'd feel differently after he meets her, but he said that if he agrees to meet her then it's expected that they will immediately become engaged.  I just didn't know what to say.  I know that he looks up to me and is asking for advice and support, but we have *such* different cultures, and I have no experience with such things.  I just tried to give him the pros and cons of dating versus arranged marriages and explain the parents' point of view that they know they are getting a daughter-in-law that will get along well with the rest of the family - an attribute really important in a culture like this.  He's got a crush on one of his classmates and bought the ring as a gift for her, but now he's struggling with whether or not he should give it to her.  He's only just turned 22, and he supposed to meet the girl his parents have picked when he goes home this summer.  Ugh.  I'd hate to see him abandon his studies to take care of a new wife at his age.  He says he has a good relationship with his parents, and *maybe* he could talk to them about his feelings, but I think it would be a very difficult conversation. He's in a really tough spot, and I hope it works out well.

Work wise, things are trucking along.  We're getting tons of animals every day, but we're passing the peak of embryo availability.  The great thing is that this is a fantastic location for collecting this species.  We're right on the edge of a wildlife preservation area (the desert to the north) with fantastic vegetation and vast expanses of farmland in this immediate vicinity, so the animals seem to be very healthy and very well-fed.  I think this is the gold mine of rodent hunting.  The folks working for us are doing an excellent job catching them, and I think we're developing a great relationship.  I'm really glad for the carton of Marlboros I picked up in the duty free shop on my way here.  A pack of those as a gift every once in awhile seems to be well-received and a good signal of non-verbal gratitude.

If the guys go out tomorrow morning, I might get to go along.  I think they're starting to relax a little bit about me going with them now that we're nearing the end of our collection.  At this point, if I were to get in trouble with the police and get sent back to Urumqi, at least the work is just about done.  So I got to go a couple of days ago to help collect and re-set mouse traps.  That was quite fun and satisfying.  The guys here have very different expectations for women than do Western men.  They fuss over me getting too hot, getting lost (20 feet away from them), getting hurt, etc etc, and it's a little irritating for a fiercely independent woman like myself.  Shaoyuan knows me a little better since working with me last year, but he still isn't entirely over his gender biases.  I got a little miffed when they all seemed condescendingly surprised that I can set a mouse trap.  So then I took it as a personal challenge and set them faster than any of the guys. These are impressive mouse traps, too - not the little dainty wooden things you get at the hardware store for house mice.  These are some industrial high gauge spring traps that could take a finger off. Anyway, we might go out tomorrow morning to try to dig up burrows, but I have a feeling the guys are going to sleep in.  They just left with a couple of the locals to go chasing after a different species that Shaoyuan is trying to collect and are likely to be out really late.  We'll see - hopefully I'll have some interesting field stories for my next posting...

Things are finally turning around

I've learned something very important about Chinese people on this trip.  They're often *very* shy.  Painfully so sometimes.  If you've been reading along with my adventures (or lack thereof), you'll probably have noticed that I mentioned very few here, outside of my team, speak English.  That's actually not true.  Most of the students working here actually do speak English.  Several of them quite well.  It turns out they've been watching me and listening to me speak with my colleagues too scared to approach me themselves.  For two weeks.  Two solid weeks of wanting to say "hello" but being too afraid to get the word out.  One girl confessed that even once she decided she wanted to talk to me, it took her three days of actively trying to get up the nerve.  Her mother also works here at the field station and is the one who eventually forced her to come to my door.  They went to the market and brought me a beautiful selection of plums and apricots.  The first fruit I've had in weeks.  It was delightful and so nice of them.  So now I have new friends and get to sit at the "cool kids table" for meals when the rest of my team is out in the desert.  I don't have to be the leper anymore. Though there is still one girl who looks like she wants to faint or vomit every time she sees me.  I've heard she's the last hold out, so I'm waiting for her to build up the courage.  I just keep smiling when I see her so maybe she'll decided I won't bite ;)

We also have several other new friends that we met in town yesterday.  The guys and I walked into town for ice cream after our rodent fest, and while we were making our selections and paying, an older man walked up to me, stood there for awhile, and just stared.  It was a little awkward until Shaoyuan started talking to him.  He's an 80 year old Korean War vet, and it took me a while to realize that he was a vet on the *other* side of the war from the American vets.  He said he was outside the market when someone told him there was an American walking around, and he had to come see my "big nose" for himself. He'd heard that all Americans have big noses.  He determined that yes, my nose is big.  I thought that was funny. Then on our way out of the market, a young guy hanging out on his Honda scooter started asking Shaoyuan a bunch of questions about life in America.  The guy has watched too many movies.  He has the common misconception that a lot of people in developing countries share.  They think that all Americans are rich and can afford whatever we want.  He said that because American salaries are so much higher than in China, we must have a lot of money.  He and Shaoyuan argued about it for awhile, and then I was brought into the conversation.  I told him how much we pay for rent in Boston, and the poor guy almost fell over.  He thought that must be for a luxury apartment in downtown and couldn't believe when I told him, no - that's for fairly beat up old place in a residential area a half hour bus ride from downtown. Then he hit me with the doozie.  He said that he thinks all Americans must be able to walk into a hospital and be treated for free.  I feel a little bad about how hard I laughed at that one.  I think I made him feel a little bad, but it was just so absurd hearing that impression when we have one of the most expensive and poorly managed health care systems in the world.  Anyway, we ended up on a conversation about music, and it turns out he's a musician.  So we talked for awhile about different types of music.  I'm glad I'm in the nation of piracy, cause I just downloaded a p2p program and am in the middle of acquiring a significant collection of American music to burn for this guy.  He came by the station tonight and brought me an assortment of his favorite discs - an Uzbek trio of young women, a Kazakh band, two discs by a famous Ughyur musician, and a copy of his own band's CD.  He's a super nice guy, and you can see a bit of quiet frustration in his eyes - a sort of sadness.  He's really passionate about his music, even lived in Moscow for a year searching for inspiration to create something unique.  His band's disc is actually quite good, but it hasn't sold well, so they're all in a bit of a depression over it.  He sounds like he's got a good attitude about continuing to do it because he loves it though.

On a different subject - food. I finally got real milk!!!!!!!  Turns out the sour milk Shaoyuan brought me is very popular in China, so he thought I'd like it.  I felt a little bad about that.  I do sort of like it, but it isn't quite what I was craving and had in mind when I said I wanted "milk". Americans and Chinese just have very very different tastes on a lot of things.  But I did get pure, real, normal milk today, so that rocks my world.  What doesn't rock my world? Bitter melon.  That was on the dinner plate tonight.  Stir fried bitter melon and pork.  I couldn't even pick out the bits of pork, because they tasted like bitter melon.  Which is the foulest, least edible plant to the planet.  If you're not sure if you've tried bitter melon, you haven't.  If you had ever had the stuff, you'd never forget it.  You know how your tongue is divided into the different tasting centers?  Imagine that every single taste bud *except* for the ones that detect bitter have been obliterated, and the bitter ones have overcompensated for their absence.  Imagine the complete absence of the taste of anything *but* bitter.  And then amplify that 100,000 times.  It's shudder inducing.  Lemons are not bitter.  Lemons are sweet by comparison to bitter melon. There is nothing I can think of that is even close enough to evoking the experience of bitter melon. It's almost worth a trip to your local chinese market just to buy one and try this experience.  I've seen them in the US.  Go ahead.  Try it.  You know you're curious...

Crazy Going Slowly Am I

I had to look back on previous posts to see when was the last time I left this immediate vicinity.  May 14th.  That was two weeks ago today.  I've walked to the nearby town a couple of times, but that's it.  And to add insult to injury, I was talking with the vice chair of the field station today who was shocked that I'm stuck here.  He assured me that this area is fine for foreigners to visit with no problem.  He said there's no reason for me to be stuck here all day - they have international visitors every year and have even had people go wandering off to work in the depths of the desert by themselves with no Chinese colleagues with no trouble.  He very kindly offered to take me up to the mountains tomorrow when he and his team go to collect data, but I had to turn him down since our rodents arrive in the mornings.  He said that if any police question me for anything, it would be to make sure that I'm safe and haven't been robbed or anything, because apparently the police would get in trouble from their supervisors if anything happened to me.  He thought the whole thing about me being stuck here was hilarious and offered to speak to Professor Zhang about it and reassure him that I am fine to travel around this area, but now I'm afraid of offending anyone if they felt questioned about the decision to keep me here all of the time.  Apparently no one actually spoke to anyone at the field station about me traveling in the area - I'm stuck here on the paranoid gut instinct of the retired professor in charge of our team. I respect him enough to not question his decision, but it frustrates me knowing that I don't *have* to sit in my room all day.

  *BUT* at least I'm not stuck with three other people on the international space station with no functioning toilet in zero gravity.  Things could be *far* worse :)

So yeah, that's it.  The rodent collections are going fabulously well.  We've encouraged the economic development of a Kazakh family who runs a collection of desert field sites under the Ministry of Forestry.  They live about 60 km away deep in the sands.  There are about 8 men, and they've got 4 all terrain desert four-wheelers.  They've gotten quite excited about this whole rodent catching business, and they seem to be perpetually on a mission to better the previous day's numbers.  The first day they got 4.  The second day they got 14, but they were all killed fighting amongst themselves, so we paid only a pittance since the understanding was that the animals would be provided alive.  They learned their lesson after losing so much money, and so by the third time they captured a bunch and housed them all in individual compartments so that we got 20 live animals.  Last night they caught 30, and tonight they're hoping for 40.  Of course, they're getting paid about $7 per animal which is not a bad deal for them.  So we all win!

If you wanna see something *really* hecka cool, this is a pic of the Mars Phoenix lander being photographed by the Mars Orbiter.  I've seen it online described as "a speeding bullet being photographed by another speeding bullet." Science rules.

P.S. to Jenna:  We might *actually* have to get on Facebook now that the Chinese Prime Minister has his own profile.  Or we could set the standard to "I'll do it when Cliff gets his." :)

Unsatisfied cravings...

Sometime last week I wrote that I was thrilled to have gotten instant coffee and a Chinese confection impersonating chocolate.  The Nescafe is doing its job of staving of my severe caffeine withdrawal (which I just learned Johns Hopkins considers a psychiatric disorder), but it's just not the same shiver-inducing satisfying experience as a authentically good cup o'joe.  The Dove tastes like chocolate-flavored soft wax, but the "French" sounding chocolate is actually somewhat satisfying.  Unfortunately it comes in two wafers each about five microns thick, so that's pretty much gone already.

My new craving is dairy.  Probably because I haven't *had* any (other than the occasional ice cream) for about two weeks.  I want a tall ice cold glass of Grade A Vitamin D Whole Milk.  Or a big bowl of plain yoghurt with fresh berries and granola.  Or a selection of smelly cheeses. If you read in my blog entries way back to sometime around October of 2005 when I was in Vietnam, you'll see the effects of the last time I had such a craving.  I went about a month without cheese (travesty!) and finally landed myself in a seat at a decent Western-style restaurant near the water front in Hoi An.  They had an appetizer listed that was a selection of five different imported cheeses.  Each was only a small wedge, but it really should have served at least three or four people as an appetizer.  I consumed the entire thing by myself as a main course and was "backed up" for days.

So the boys, in their kindness, brought me about a dozen tetra pack cartons of "milk" last night.  I got all excited and took two to the kitchen this morning to have them put in the fridge to chill.  Thrilled with anticipation, I unwrapped the cellophane from the straw, punctured the little foil dot, and took a long draw.  There's nothing worse than your taste buds expecting one thing and being met by something *completely* different. Of course I can't *read* the Chinese to see what they brought me, but this is not milk.  It's something "like milk" thats incredibly sweet and flavored in some key lime sort of way.  And not in a natural, "mmm, tastes like key lime pie" sort of yumminess.  In a chemical, saccharine, this-isn't-quite-right-in-any-dimension sort of way.  So bummer again.  Maybe I can go with them to Fukang for the next fueling and hit up the grocery store for something more like dairy.  I remember from backpacking through Asia before that you can at least find the "Laughing Cow" cheese wedges in most places. I'm Dying Here!!  But no fear - I have my daily multivitamins, and I'm eating well, so I'm not getting nutritionally deprived.  Just have an itch that needs to be scratched.

Thanks for all of the birthday wishes.  It was a nice, peaceful day.  I was a little bummed for most of the day thinking that I was going to be all alone.  I ate all three meals by myself for the first time since I've been here.  Usually the gang is here for at least lunch or dinner.  So I'd gotten into my jammies, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and settled in to read myself to sleep when there was a knock at the door.  Shaoyuan had gotten a beautifully decorated cake and arranged our group of guys plus 4 other folks working here to join in the celebration.  He asked me to bring my bottle of scotch and whiskey left over from the other night, so I did, and I had to go around the table one by one and toast each person.  I survived that experience better than I'd expected.  We found ourselves doing whiskey shots a few nights ago (which is why the bottles were "left over"), and that didn't end so well.  Word to the wise - don't drink with Chinese.  It's a competitive sport here.  For a country with such a high incidence of alcohol sensitivity, those who can drink do so liberally.  Every conversation over booze starts with "how much can you drink?"  and ends way downhill from there.  But last night was nice and tame for me.  I managed to take just sips while the rest indulged.  Unfortunately my translator, Shaoyuan, got a little too smashed to continue translating for me, so the night ended up like watching a foreign language comedy with no subtitles.  At least it was a comedy and not a bad war drama :)  To the best I can tell, the men were all trying to challenge the young masters student, Shutao, to woo the other lady at the table - a spunky young student who was coyly laughing at the whole thing, but you could tell she was getting a little annoyed by their persistence.  There was something about the guys trying to get Shutao to give her one of the sugar flowers from the cake top.  It went on and on and round and round until she finally scooped up both flowers herself and stabbed the plastic knife through the center of the remaining cake with a very triumphant "There! Now shut up already!"

Show this woman the door...

...and shove her through it.  This post isn't going to be about me or China or anything related to travel.  It's going to be one self-indulging political rant about the US Democratic primary race. Because I just woke up to this spectacular gem:

When asked why she's staying in the race, Clinton's response was, "My husband did not wrap up the nomination in 1992 until he won the California primary somewhere in the middle of June, right?  We all remember Bobby Kennedy was assassinated in June in California. I don't understand it."

Then she apologized saying she didn't mean her comments to be offensive.  Really?  For reals?  I mean, you invoke the assassination of a well respected and rallying political figure as a reason for staying in the race, and even if I give her the benefit of the doubt that she didn't mean that she's holding out hope that Obama gets assassinated, that's still one of the most cynical reasons I can imagine for staying in the race.  Never mind the fact that at this point *if* something horrible were to happen, she'd be the clear and obvious choice for the party's nominee *even if* she had bowed out weeks and weeks ago. And if she'd done so a little more graciously, and that awful scenario had played out, she might have had a chance to win the general. 

It's not until very recently that I've taken this opinion of her.  I started out in this race pro-Obama but willing to vote for whomever the nominee turned out to be.  I've thought that the unprecedented voter turnout in states across the country and the fact that now people realize that Puerto Rico, Guam, and the US Virgin Islands have a say in the primary races have been very positive for political activity in this country, and I've quite enjoyed the fact that every state is having a say for once rather than just the ones that go first.  But that was before she got desperate.  I'm tired of her and her supporters shouting "Sexism!", and I'm tired of women vilifying other women for not voting for the woman candidate.  I saw a beautiful blog posting from a young woman recently who said it really well - modern feminism means that I can vote for whomever I want to, because I do know that we've reached a point in American politics where gender is not going to keep a woman from holding office.  Her progress in the race to this point has evidenced that.  But I don't want her in office just because she's a woman, because she's not the woman I want to reflect on when 20, 30, 40 years from now I'm thinking back to the first female president.  

The remaining needed delegate count stands at Obama: 56 and Clinton: 246.  I have a feeling we're going to see a significant shift after the news lull over the holiday weekend, hopefully involving some previously pledged Clinton supers swinging to Obama to make a statement and shrink his numbers further, and I hope *that's* what makes it clear to Clinton that her time is up.

Still not much to say...

Hey folks. Me again. I'm really just writing to let those of you following this know that I'm still here and still alive. My days are otherwise not all that interesting. Let me introduce you to my little routine:

I wake up, go to breakfast, eat alone, come back to my room, read emails from folks in the US who were awake and active whilst I snoozed away, get some sciencey reading and writing done, read my book for awhile, doze off again, go to lab to process embryos that were collected the previous day, go to lunch, then come back to my room to read again while the rest of the team naps all afternoon. Finally, when Shaoyuan wakes up enough to help with the rodent killing and dissecting, we process the animals for the current day. Then it's dinner time, and I come back to my room to read some more before falling asleep again. Rinse and repeat.

It is nice that after a week and a half here, people are finally starting to warm up to me. Shaoyuan is the only person in our group who speaks English well enough for a conversation. The masters student and our driver speak about as much English as I do French (stop laughing, Patrick and Jerome :) The semi-retired professor doesn't speak any English, so we communicate through smiles and head nods. I guess this is a good opportunity to introduce you to the crew. There's Shaoyuan, who many of you know or have heard of. He came with me from Boston and is a graduate student at Harvard. Then there's the masters student, Shutao, who is a funny kid. He has an awkward habit of laughing at things that one wouldn't find appropriate to laugh at. I think maybe it's a nervous thing. And when he laughs, his mouth gets big, and his eyes squint shut, so he looks kind of like an anime character. I know that the driver's family name is Ma, but I don't know his given name. He and I were never formally introduced, but he's been very nice. He's young - early 20s - and is one of those guys who is so skinny it's like there's a black hole in his belly button. I think he's actually concave. He plays a cool eclectic mix of music in the car, so that's fun. He and Shui Tao brought me flowering cutting from some desert shrub yesterday. It was very sweet of them, but the thing smelled so strongly that it gave me a headache, so I had to carry it outside and get rid when they weren't looking. The retired professor who is an "expert in rodent ecology" is Dr. Zhang. He kind of reminds me of Yoda - very smooth skin, loose jowls, and hooded eyelids. And he's the wise master. He seems to talk very prophetically and with emphasis but quietly. And he's funny. Or at least he seems to be - I can't understand a word he says, but he seems to get everyone else in stitches.

So that's the team - five of us. Add to that another two dozen people who are working at this field station. Only one of them has been able to speak to me. I don't know who he is, presumably a professor somewhere. He speaks pretty good english though, and he came into the lab the other day while I was working. But I haven't seen him since - he appeared one day and seemed gone the next. I think more people speak english than they let on. Every once in awhile, I hear someone say "sorry" or "you first" when we're jostling around in the kitchen, but no one has had the nerve to come up and talk to me. Chinese people are very very shy with foreigners. I think it's because the schools here teach English reading and writing, but not speaking and listening. So a lot of people know a fair bit of english but don't have the practice and the bravery to approach a native speaker. So when "the guys" are out in the field and leave me here by my lonesome, I usually go to the cafeteria for my meals and sit alone, feeling like that kid in the school lunch room who has "cooties" so no one want to sit with them. At least I've moved to the smiles and nods with most people. They don't ignore me but don't quite feel comfortable enough to join me. I understand. So I take my book with me and try to read while maneuvering chopsticks and do my best to avoid slopping meat grease all over myself and the pages of my book.

Nothing like rodent carcasses before bedtime...

Yep, just spent the last 3 1/2 hours killing and dissecting rodents, all by myself, ironically listening to "Modest Mouse".  I didn't even think about that coincidence until now.  You see, we've had a routine established here.  A routine that seemed to be working quite nicely.  Since Shaoyuan seemed to make it clear that in China, animals don't have any rights and therefore he wasn't going to put much effort into finding an IACUC-approved method of euthanasia, I'd decided to let him handle their writhing, kicking, and screaming little bodies.  Then he does his morphometric measurements and hands them off to me to cut open and see if there are any embryos.  It was a fairly efficient assembly-line type system.  But then today I wake up, and the guys are all gone.  This happens. Alot. So I had breakfast alone. Again.  They showed up for lunch.  Then after lunch, I went into the lab and started to process the specimens that we collected yesterday thinking Shaoyuan would appear at some point, but he must have decided to nap.  By 4 o'clock I had a pretty raging headache so decided to come back to my room, pop a couple of Advil, and drink a bottle of water.  Next thing I know they're all gone again without a word to me. Crap, we had 11 rodents, all female, that had to be processed today.  So I figured I'd wait until dinner to see if they return.  No show.  So by about 9:30 pm, I'm up to my knuckles in rodents. And swatting mosquitos.  To the science folks - be thankful most of you aren't being eaten by mosquitos while working at your microscopes.  I have a bite on each butt cheek, one on my wrist, another on my face, my ear, two on the left elbow, and one on the right.

So I've killed my share of mice before.  Even had to cervically dislocate a mouse on our kitchen floor who escaped a snap trap injured but not yet dead.  It sucks.  Not much fun, but I can do it without getting too squeamish about it and without getting upset over feeling them struggle under my hands like I used to.  But the screamers are no fun.  At least mice don't scream.  Jerboas scream. "Do you hear the lambs, Clarice?"

A-n-y-w-a-y.  Enough of that.  At least it's done.  Aside from that, it's been a pretty somber day.  I guess you all heard that the three days of mourning started today.  It was pretty surreal to see it all on TV.  We're kind of in the middle of nowhere, so there wasn't much fanfare here, but apparently at 2:28 pm in every city all across China, everyone stopped whatever they were doing for 3 minutes of silence.  The news has shown throngs of people with heads bowed and the mournful sound of sirens, train, boat, bus, and car horns. And tonight there are candles lit all over the country.  There are a half dozen outside our dormitory.  Not sure who lit them, but I just saw them as I was coming back in from lab.  This catastrophe has really hit the national psyche hard.  Everyone is talking about it.  The same news program is on 27 of the 46 satellite TV stations that we get here showing the destruction and the rescue efforts 24 hours a day.  There was a 24 hour telethon that ran over the weekend.  Apparently a lot of people took the weekend to drive supplies to Sichuan to try to help. It's pretty remarkable.

A word on the earthquake...

I don't know what you guys are seeing back home, since I'm only able to access the cable news websites and not see foreign news television. I really wish I understood Chinese right now, because all I can convey is my impression of the images. The devastation is breathtaking. Entire villages without a single structure intact. The death toll keeps rising, and I saw on CNN online today that they're predicting 4.8 million homeless. That's equivalent to the entire population of the state of Colorado. If that's too much land mass to wrap your head around, it's also roughly equal to the combined populations of the cities of Chicago and Houston.

Say what you will about the Chinese military, but there is one huge advantage to having an efreakingnormous domestic military presence - mobilization. This is what you call a "top down" approach - a far cry different from the bottom up "It's not my fault. You should have asked for help" approach. It has been five days since the earthquake, and the response is phenomenal. Every image on TV shows scores of uniformed personnel literally crawling all over the place. They're busting tail to rescue people, assist the survivors, and contain this situation - air dropping supplies and parachuting people into regions that aren't accessible by road (due to landslides and destruction). There must be hundreds of thousands of troops on the ground there. And the news is showing crates and crates of supplies, medicines, people donating blood. It's a huge force.

Then add to that the moral and public support. Both President Hu Jintao and Prime Minister Wen Jiabao have been on the ground meeting with the local people and the rescue teams. Not flying over and surveying the destruction in an "Air Force One" style jet. Not driving through the streets in a motorcade. Walking. Through the rubble. Talking to people. Seeing the devastation first hand. You can see on the faces of the people what that means. You can see the old woman in the wheel chair realize that her president actually does care. It's not an all smiles photo-op. It's a comforting moment of support between two humans.

Then add further on top of that the nation-wide support. Again, I wish I understood Chinese, but in the last 24 hours I've discovered two different telethons being broadcast. One was on last night as I was drifting off to sleep and is still on 12 hours later. They've had T-shirts printed, signs made, dances choreographed, songs written, slide shows generated, and all the while a phone number ticks across the bottom of the screen. People I'm with here have been talking about how to help. This is one of those disasters of such an unfathomable scale that it's comforting to see a place where it can be handled with grace and efficiency.

Now contrast that to the gut wrenching and heartbreaking conditions in Myanmar right now.

I. Have. Nothing. To. Say.

You know those days where you find yourself completely alone until relatively late into the day.  Maybe you've been cleaning house all day, or writing your thesis, or just decided to stay in bed all day watching movies or reading books, and no one has called? Then finally you find yourself needing to go to the grocery store or your partner or roommate comes home, and you discover that you've forgotten how to speak?

I may not post for a few days until I have something worth saying.  Know that I am fine.  I'm not going anywhere, I'm not sick, and I can't see a way of getting into an accident unless I slip on the stairs or choke on a fish bone.  I'm not particularly sad or upset.  More like overwhelmed by melancholy. Which I believe technically means the same thing but carries a bit more of a positive connotation according to the American Heritage Dictionary Definition Number Two: "Pensive reflection or contemplation."

Welcome to our town...

I'm not actually sure of the name of this place.  The research station is owned by the Chinese Academy of Sciences and is located in Fukang County.  The county seat, Fukang, is about 20 km to the south, in the foothills of the Tian Shan Mountains.  I haven't really seen it - we stopped for lunch on our way here the first day, but since then have been here in this "village" of sorts.  This area is considered an "oasis" even though it's on the edge and not technically *in* the desert.  It's interesting - if you look at the satellite maps of this place, there are a bunch of little rivers and streams that come down from the north face of the mountains to feed this area.  So there are all of these little "river delta" looking fans that are populated with farmland.  There is a desert to the north and another to the south of the mountains, and it seems that every inch of farmable space along this razor line is populated.  And this area isn't what you think of as "traditional" farmland.  It's all "collective" farmland.  So this town is one of those collectives.  There are a dozen or so little shops along the "main street" (read: only street) and the big enclosed market with produce vendors, and hair salon, and a mishmash of other shops.  Then the rest of the area consists of several dozen five-story apartment buildings.  They're the sort of apartment complexes that you would seen on the edge of any big city in the US, but they're literally in the middle of nowhere and house the farm workers. There's a sizeable school that probably has several hundred students.  I asked if I could help with their english classes but was told that I wouldn't be allowed on campus.  They're no so fond of strangers - just like any school in the world, they're just protecting their students.  Too bad - I've heard that most students in China don't practice spoken English, and many of them are learning English from Chinese teachers who themselves may have never spoken with a native English speaker. 

All around the perimeter of this town there is the old collective housing - single story row houses made of brick and mud falling into a dismal state of disrepair.  It appears that there are still quite a few people living in them.  The new housing must be full or too expensive and not subsidized or I can't imagine why people would choose to continue living in a home that looks at risk of collapsing around you.  Many of them already have been reduced to a pile of amorphous rubble.

The fact that this is a farming collective serves to be a bit of a problem for us.  We had great plans to hire a lot of local people to work in shifts collecting rodents for us at night.  We're paying per animal, but it's apparently not enough compared to the farming salary.  So there are a few workers at the forestry bureau who have been working for us.  I hope this lasts.  It's really hard work chasing after crazy hopping rodents for four hours in the middle of the night, night after night.  I can't blame them if they decide that this is for the birds, but it's really our only way to get them alive.  They're apparently trap-shy and won't walk into live traps, and kill traps sort of defeat the purpose of collecting live embryos.  Wish us luck.  So far we've gotten about 35 animals but only 9 embryos.  That's not a great percentage, but for some reason the majority of today's capture were boys.  Hopefully tonight will be better. I'll stop there at the risk of this blog turning into a repeat of my lab notes, which I can imagine that very very few of you are remotely interested in reading.

So that's it.  A grand cumulative one square mile of dense housing with not much to do.  I ran the entire length and back again this morning.  I'm trying to go running in the mornings to keep the stir-crazies away.  It made me feel a lot better.  Just a bit of time outside by myself where I feel a bit more free.  Even if my shock collar will likely off me if I cross the invisible barrier.  Oh well.  The birds here are cool.  There is some species that I can't identify that sounds like a cuckoo clock.  And there is some flowering plant somewhere that has the most amazing perfume.  

A note added in proof - I have chocolate and coffee!!!  Okay, so I never ever ever thought I'd be excited by the idea of Nescafe and will probably gag a bit in a re-reading of this post once I return to the land of espresso roasts, but it's quite a feat to even find instant coffee in this place.  My plan of bringing a small coffee pot and ground beans from home fell through when other plans took priority at the last moment.  But even instant will do for now.  As for the chocolate, we'll see.  I got two bars of "Dove", but they're made in China and something with a French-sounding name, but that's also made in China.  I do hope it's not like the gag-inducing Indian chocolate I've had.  Lab folks, I'm sure you remember that bile-flavored putridity.