Pronounced: gǒu pì
Literally: dog fart
Means: b.s.; nonsense.

I know what you were all thinking: Hey, it’s almost December! Where’s our dose of propaganda for November??!

Well here you go, straight out of our very own ‘backyard’:

实施旧管网改造尽心为群众办实事!
shíshī jiù guǎnwǎng gǎizào jìnxīn wèi qúnzhòng bàn shí shì!

“Implement the old pipe network remodeling with all your heart to benefit the masses do actual work!”

The migrant work crew before last installed some new pipes under the road, and the neighbourhood eat watermelon drink tea committee comrades strung banners all over the place when they left. Every household is supposed to pay them (the neighbourhood committee) 10 块 (kuài) a month ($1.34 CDN), but I know at least one retired guy who avoids paying whenever he can.

It doesn’t say “made for women” in Chinese on the box, but it does on the store’s sign. The only thing we can figure is that it’s implying women don’t have to cook dinner for their families if they order pizza instead.

This post is rated PG (hey, Ruth, just fyi!)

There are many Chinas. This country is huge in terms of population, land mass, and variety of social standards. Tianjin is a huge city, but socially and culturally it’s sort of conservative… I guess. At least, it’s not Shanghai.

I’ve seen this ad on bus stops and in hole-in-the-wall restaurants, along with different ads that are doing the same thing. I think they’re an interesting snapshot of what apparently passes for an acceptable level of sex appeal in marketing:

The women are dressed modestly compared to what they’d be wearing were this ad targeted to an American audience. Notice that their cleavage is strategically covered. We’ve seen a few ads that use breasts to sell products while conspicuously (to us) covering up the cleavage. Coca-Cola wants to show rich, good-looking young people wearing clothes that show some skin, perhaps even deliberately drawing attention to their breasts, without actually showing the skin (I’ve seen this more prominently in other ads). It looks to me like they’re walking a fine line at the edge of some perceived limit of sexualized advertising, or perhaps they’re obeying the ‘letter of the law’ of some advertising regulation that is actually enforced.

Now, compare that with this giant billboard, taken from our yáng tái (阳台) window, on our route to school:

It’s for some sort of ballet performance (I think), and it has some ballet dancers doing their thing in white, form-fitting, see-though underwear (the artsy dancing kind, not the sexy kind). As you can see, the people are giant-size. But what you can’t see because I didn’t take a close-up is that – despite the inhuman amount of Photoshopping that usually goes into ads around here – when you walk by it’s hard not to notice a lot of subtle details that you wish you hadn’t noticed. Which in this case aren’t really subtle at all, but glaringly obvious, especially since the figures are giant size. When biking past I’ve seen other cyclists stopping and pointing. I think it would provoke some mild eyebrow raising even in the West.

After passing our first summer in Tianjin, I have to say there was a distinct lack of cleavage compared to North America. That’s not to say the girls don’t wear skimpy clothes, but aside from night club xiǎo jies (小姐), we rarely saw women showing off their cleavage.

Coca-cola goes out of their way to avoid showing a bit of cleavage that probably wouldn’t even get noticed in the West, and some other company allows stuff that would get censored in many Western venues? I don’t get it. But, we don’t get most stuff around here. I wonder, though, how many years back this stuff wouldn’t have been allowed, and how quickly cities like Tianjin will become how permissive. These two photos shown here were taken within a mile of each other.

Some days I’m just stunned, amazed at what is happening in our world as it shrinks and people from vastly different human experiences come into increasingly closer proximity.

Other days, it all just looks like blaring, inescapable, absolute utter nonsense in the midst of which we’re all slowly losing the ability to think. Do you ever feel that way?

I’m not sure which applies most to these pictures and the social engineering project they represent. They’re from an Olympics display that was up recently at the new soccer stadium. They put English on there, so I assume this is part of the China that ‘They’ want you to see. The title at the top of the photo on the right says something like “…explain civility, establish a new atmosphere: Civilized etiquette” (讲文明树新风 文明礼仪), but you don’t want to take that translation to the bank.

We have yet to personally witness any of the behaviours showcased in these photos. And conspicuously absent were the photos of people learning “to spit in a more civilized manner” or stop cussing each other out in Beijing dialect.

But speaking of spitting, I had my first China spit this morning when we were out walking through a parking lot and I ended up with a big loogie to spit on account of a lingering smoker’s cough (even though I don’t smoke). So I just aimed for a manhole cover. But many (most? but not all) locals don’t just spit whenever they feel the need; they go out of their way to produce spit to spit, especially in the mornings. One interview I saw with a guy charged with the job of getting people to change their spitting habits said he wasn’t trying to get people to stop spitting, but just to make sure to use a garbage can or a handkerchief. I suspect there is some kind of general feeling about it not being healthy to swallow spit, or something. Once I can figure out a way to ask someone without making them feel bad, I’ll let you know what they say.

Can’t believe I almost forgot to include this cute 30 second anti-spitting video from the 1950’s:

Note the saluting.

We both tagged along with the Bright Future class this week. This was the birth control lesson, where the 27 students were split into groups and each given a different kind of birth control to examine and read about before giving a report to the class on how it’s used, what it does, and its advantages and disadvantages. It’s mostly listening practice for me, but it’s fun to spend time with the students. Jessica’s been going every week, and this was my second time.

To give you an idea of where these students are coming from regarding sex ed, here’s an excerpt from an article written this week by Chuck, the Bright Future intern:

“How many students have received sexual education in their schooling?”

Two hands went up.

“How many have talked to their parents about sex?”

Three more hands tentatively went up…

“How many haven’t ever received any formal sexual education?”

Almost all hands were in the air.

It’s difficult to imagine that most of the students in the room were sophomores in one of China’s top universities…

As development and western influences change China at a breakneck pace, China’s youth are often left trying to navigate tumultuous times with no compass or map. Youths’ exposure to more sensitive issues… are, at best, sporadic and terse even in the most modern cities. When asked about where students get information concerning relationships and sex, one male responded, “We mostly come across these ideas through media and what we see on TV and movies.” Others nodded in agreement.

There is also an anonymous question box for the students. In Chinese culture, peer pressure can be greater and saying “no” can be harder, for various reasons. Here are some of their questions from the week before, which was a “refusal skills” class where they discussed and practiced refusing unwanted sexual advances:

• Someone said, “Men hope to be a women’s first love and women hope to be a man’s last love.” Is there logic behind this? Do men really care about being a woman’s first love?
• If the other person is “clutching their ears,” continues to make requests, won’t give up after being refused, then what should I do?
• Can a woman ever forget her first love?
• What is the attitude of university women towards dating? What are those who are in relationships thinking? Do they really just date in university in order to have the experience? Do they really care about things like wealth, height and background?
• Sometimes I think that when you directly share your opinions and give suggestions [in refusing someone], it still doesn’t always help you reach your goal. Sometimes the other person simply won’t accept your point of view. So what is the best way to indirectly refuse someone?
• Are males less “pure” than females?
• Do men really care about their partner’s sexual history?
• Does starting sexual relations early have negative physical effects?
• How do become more confident when refusing other people?

In this photo (click for big size), Jessica talks with a bunch of the girls after class got out.

Pronounced: tán liàn ài
Literally: to “discuss love”
Means: to date; to be dating

去约会

Pronounced: qù yuē huì
Literally: to “go to an appointment/engagement”
Means: to go on a date

We don’t often see people here choosing to spend time alone. One book we read said Chinese are more likely than Westerners to equate being alone with loneliness. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I do know that after eight months in Tianjin, the only people I’ve seen choosing to spend large amounts of time alone – or any amount of time, for that matter – are old men who fish. I don’t know why, and I don’t mean to imply that the quote below gives an appropriate explanation. But if I ever got to choose from among the locals who to sit with and listen to for a long while, these old men and the stories they could tell would be at the top of my list.

Throughout Chinese history scholars and mandarins have traditionally taken up fishing when they were disillusioned with what the emperor was doing. Fishing suggested a retreat to nature, and escape from the politics of the day. It was kind of a symbol for disenchantment and noncooperation.

- Jung Chang, Wild Swans (2003 ed.), pg. 287.

Click either photo to see it full size.

The “floating population of China” – the tens of millions who leave grueling peasant life behind to take their chances with a quasi-legal existence in China’s cities – wears many different hats in Tianjin, but construction crews or factory workers are probably the most typical. This is the second time work crews have pitched camp literally right outside our stairwell entrance. Most of these photos were taken just last week from the kitchen window (click the photos for a larger view).

Workers often live at their temporary job site in big green tents. Most of the ones we see are tucked in neighbourhoods like ours, digging up pipes, installing manholes and fire hydrants, or in this case, TV cable, which you can see in spools littered on the lawn and piled outside the tent’s back right corner. The striped tarp wrapped around the tree and light pole may have been the bathroom.

The banner announces that the “Great Wall Broadband” company is doing work in the neighbourhood, and politely asks everyone to pardon the inconvenience.

Their camp is a few notches above the previous work crews’, as evidenced by the washing machine. Since these are country guys, their stares at the foreigners are more blatant. I had these guys targeted for a language practice session, where I prep some specific grammar and vocab and then go try and use it on people that it would fit more naturally, and was really looking forward to properly meeting them. But they didn’t stick around too long. As usual, when the job’s done they throw everything on a truck and drive off:

Peasants can’t just up and move their hù kǒu (户口 – legal residence) from rural to urban districts. The whole hù kǒu system was originally designed to restrict population movement in the first place. This puts migrant workers at a distinct disadvantage when it comes to urban social services, such as getting their kids into schools, though it’s reported that things are being done to address these problems. China’s cities need the cheap labour for the unbelievable amount of building going on, but can’t fully accommodate the extra population. Migrants are ineligible for many social services available to registered urban residents.

Here’s a look inside their tent as they were packing up:

You can see the beds, some playing cards strewn on one of them. This was their home for two weeks in our neighbourhood. I have no idea how long they’ve been living in this tent, or how long they’ll continue to live in it. They might not even know either.

It’s estimated that at it’s peak, roughly the entire population of Canada migrated into China’s cities every year. However, there are only so many working age people in China’s countryside, and the numbers of new migrants are dropping. This means that cheap labour will start to become not quite as cheap, and rural areas are already noticing the lack of younger, able-bodied farmers.

Getting your hù kǒu (户口) changed is not always easy, even if your request is legal, as we witnessed a local friend trying earlier this year. It requires filling out the various forms of different relevant parties, which in the West can be annoying but is still guaranteed to go through if you fill out the forms properly and you qualify. Not so for our friend. Submitting forms means anticipating the need to convince the various relevant administrators to actually care enough to “chop” (red official stamp) your paperwork. Any one of the people involved could quite easily block the process for virtually no reason without fearing recourse if the applicant is merely an anonymous member of the public. Our friend prepared a large sum of money in advance in addition to the set administrative fees and his travel expenses, so he’d be prepared to present “gifts” at the appropriate times. His story of successfully transferring his hù kǒu (户口) to Tianjin is one of navigating the bureaucracy by eventually relying on some guān xì (关系; “connections”) to get the job done. That means and old associate put in a word with someone who knew someone of consequence in the relevant department, and his paperwork made it through after a few twists and detours. Migrant workers from the countryside, however, are not eligible to apply for urban residency.

It’s not uncommon for us to see the occasional flaming pile of paper and wood in or near intersections. There’s no container; it’s just an open fire or an abandoned pile of glowing ashes on the road or sidewalk. This happens for funerals in Tianjin (Taibei did it differently). These first two photos show people burning funeral paraphernalia smack dab in the middle of an intersection, and what it probably looked like before they burned it: a typical funeral arrangement in our area, which involves lots of flowers, black ribbons with white writing, and in this case, a paper litter and cow(?) all arranged outside the stairwell to the apartment of the deceased. (Click any of these pictures to see them full size.)

But last weekend there were dozens of people all around our area out in the evening burning piles of paper money. It’s Thursday and you can still see the black scorched spots everywhere; the third photo is from right outside our complex on my way back from school around noon today – each black smudge was a small fire. Surely there weren’t dozens of simultaneous deaths right in our neighbourhood. Even if there were better days to die on in the lunar calendar, it’s not like people would go out of their way for one (I hope).

So I asked around and turns out there was a special day on the lunar calendar: 十月一送寒衣 (shí yuè yī sòng hán yī), ultra-literally: “10th month send cold clothes.” Saturday (November 10 to us) was the first day of the tenth month in the lunar calendar, which is a special day for sending money and winter clothes to one’s dead relatives in the underworld. In addition to special “paper money,” which you can buy at any vegetable market, people also burn special paper clothes so their dead relatives won’t be cold in the underworld. In the folk beliefs that are prevalent here, winter comes to the underworld around the same time it comes to regular world. Every intersection and T-section on my daily routes between home, school, and the office were littered with literally dozens of burnt spots – I assume people find it easier to burn many little open fires than trying to have one great big one.

Sorry there’s no photo of the fires. I had the perfect photo op Monday night around 6pm right at the entrance to our neighbourhood. But it was cold, and I was biking with one hand on purely symbolic brakes while swinging a plastic bag full of hot soup (my dinner) in the other.

(07 December 4)
Some neighbours were out burning again two nights ago. Our apartment building is in the background of the first photo:

I found out this morning that one of my Chinese teachers and a bunch of his single friends celebrated November 11 by going to karaoke, eating out, and playing poker. In Canada we mark November 11 a little differently. But China’s 11-11 is a fun and probably inappropriate example of how words, dates, and numbers can be played with in Chinese culture.

November 11 is unofficially “Singles’ Day” in China, according to my teacher. In Chinese it’s called 光棍节 (guāng gùnr jié), which ultra-literally would read, “single/bare/naked stick festival” (more on that below). I had no idea that there was a Singles Awareness Day (S.A.D.) with Chinese characteristics. Apparently it’s a young peoples’ deal and was popularized on the internet, so not everyone knows about it – at least that’s the impression I got from my teacher. Can you guess why they’ve chosen November 11th? (Hint: it has absolutely nothing to do with millions of Westerners killing one another).

11-11… look at all those single digits; just a bunch of single ones that wish they were twos. So 11-11 is the day when all the singles get together and have fun. At least, that’s the G-rated version I got in the classroom.

Although my teacher said that 光棍节 is for both men and women, other locals and some of our recent culture readings note that the phrase “bare stick” (光棍) is gender-specific, meaning “bachelor” but with traditional negative connotations like “hoodlum” or “scoundrel” – basically, an adult male who isn’t doing the socially acceptable thing by having or pursuing a wife and family. “Bare stick” can be used pejoratively against a man who doesn’t have a woman. I’ll let you the connect the underlying innuendos yourselves between bare sticks, bachelorhood, and the shape of the number one.

The 11th of every month is also when they practice queuing in Beijing (I am kicking myself for not stopping to take a photo of the signs at the bus stops when we were there, but at the time we didn’t want to embarrass our hosts). China is infamous for its lack of queuing at bus stops, ticket booths, elevators, escalators, train stations, restaurants, etc., and Beijing caught on that it will be pretty embarrassing to have Olympic visitors and media experience the usual shoving crowds. So every 11th people are supposed to get in line, and to remind them there are signs with two cute, happy little ones standing in a row (a.k.a. the number eleven with happy faces drawn on the digits).