You Know You’ve Lived in Kunming Too Long When…
1. You bring beers to business meetings- in the middle of the afternoon.
2. You complain when you have to pay more than 8 yuan for a Tsingtao at a bar
3. You think the notion of working more than 20 hours per week is crazy
4. You have heated discussions about which cafe serves the best cappucino
5. You refuse to eat anywhere that doesn't allow smoking
6. You develop a strong dislike of virtually every other city in China
7. Everyone knows you....in Dali. And Lijiang.
8. Your Chinese atrophies
9. You lose the ability to relate to people who don't live in Kunming.
10. You begin sentences with, "Back when I lived in the real world..."
Recipes
As a culinary region in China, Yunnan doesn't have the same cache as Sichuan, Hunan, or Guangdong. That doesn't mean, however, that Yunnan food isn't good. In fact, some of the regional specialties are absolutely delicious and difficult to find outside of Yunnan. These include "Grandma's potatoes", a mashed potatoes dish that's spicier than what your mom makes for Thanksgiving dinner, stir-friend broccoli with goat's cheese, and Yunnan-style hash browns.
Fortunately, these dishes aren't too difficult to re-create if you're far away from Yunnan. Here's a recipe for Grandma's potatoes, (courtesy of GoKunming). Scroll to the bottom of the entry for links to other recipes. Follow them, and you won't be disappointed.
Ganja in China
Tim Johnson has an amusing riff on the news that an ancient marijuana stash was found in a Xinjiang tomb. Within his post, Johnson notes that my very own Yunnan Province has quite a reputation for pot-smoking, and a reader of his refers to the hamlet of Dali as the "Amsterdam of China".
For the record: marijuana plants are abundant in Yunnan. My friend and I saw several beside the road while hiking outside of Kunming last weekend, and expats who were here a decade or so ago report that plants used to grow freely beside the city's train tracks. Apparently, the local police grew wise that smoking the reefer constitutes a crime, so plant sightings are slightly rarer than they used to be.
Nonetheless, pot smoking remains pretty common here. Among my first memories in Kunming was walking past a local pub and seeing a foreigner-one who later became a friend- spark a hash pipe on the pub veranda. Certain pubs in Kunming- and certainly in Dali- allow patrons to pass joints around. You can't walk more than five minutes in Dali without an old woman dressed in a traditional Bai costume whispering "smoke ganja?" in your ear.
What I find funny about all of this is how the ease with which one can get stoned here goes against the whole "China is an oppressive police state" perception that exists outside of the country. In many ways, China is pretty lax provided one doesn't mess with the wrong people. I can walk down the street drinking a beer, something I can't do in California. Unlicensed 烧烤 vendors can set up shop with their kebabs and do business without undue fear of incarceration. I buy pirated DVDs in a shop located immediately next to the local police station. And so on.
Oh- by the way. The old man smoking the bong in the photo in Tim's post likely isn't smoking ganja- old men everywhere in China like smoking tobacco out of those long cylindrical pipes, something I found disgusting even when I used to smoke cigarettes.
Strange Days
I was running late this morning so took a taxi to work. We hit traffic, so the taxi driver calmly pulled into the bicycle lane and continued driving. Unfortunately, our path was slowed by bicyclists who understandably could not travel particularly fast. My driver found this frustrating.
"Why are they all in the way?"
"Well, it IS a bike lane"
"Yeah, but I've got a car so I should have right-of-way anywhere"
"I don't know...doesn't sound very safe"
He then pulled back into traffic and someone let him in. As we approached my office, I wondered what would have happened if a motorist pulled a similar stunt in say, suburban California. First, two or three police cars would rush to the scene and arrest him for reckless driving. He'd lose his license. Then, he'd face the opprobium of hundreds of pissed-off cyclists, horrified drivers, and others who couldn't believe that he would possibly try such a thing. The story would be a regional news item, and political organizations would make him the poster-boy of why cars should be banned (or something).
Here it happens every day.
Then, a few hours later at Carrefour, I saw an actual fistfight between a man and a female employee in which she smacked him with a broom at one point. They were both red in the face and screaming and shoving each other around, and the woman was in the process of kicking the man's ass when I wandered along.
Nobody else did a thing.
Can You Be My Friend?
The other day I walked into a little çƒ©é¥ joint near my office for lunch. The place was chock full of young Chinese people, most of whom students from the nearby high school. As I took my seat, I took out my iPod and book and waited for my 宫ä¿é¸¡ä¸ç‚’é¥. A second later, a guy in his early 20s came and sat opposite me. He said, "Excuse me? I want to improve my oral English. Can we be friends?"
My response:
"Can we be friends? Heh Heh...well, I suppose in a technical sense it would be impossible to rule out. I'm sure that, given a certain set of circumstances, we could, yes, become friends. But I think you mean that you want us to become friends immediately. That, my friend, is an entirely different matter."
"What constitutes a friend?" I continued. "Perhaps one with whom I have things in common, or perhaps one whose personality attracts me. Given that I've only just met you and don't even know your name, it is simply premature to ascertain whether we have what it takes to make it as friends. I take it that you, unless you somehow have been stalking me, also know nothing about me. Therefore, in a logical universe you too would deduce that becoming my friend would be impossible to tell at this point."
"But there's something else. You don't have to know me. All you know is that I am white, and you made the (understandable) assumption that I speak English. Congratulations, you guessed right. I do speak English, and what's more, I'm even a professional teacher with experience teaching people just like you. But friends? I strongly suspect your only motive to be my friend is to improve your English, and, to quote many an ex-girlfriend, I feel used. Would you approach me if I looked Chinese? Would you pursue this line of inquiry if I were Russian? Or French? Aren't you discriminating against all the other people in this restaurant on the basis of their nationality? In fact, wouldn't it be likelier that you would have more in common with them, both being from the same city?"
"In fact, I'm just like you. Just another guy living in Kunming, trying to make a living, trying to get ahead. That I'm foreign matters little- we're just men, you and I. I'm sure you have many friends; people who like you because of your personality, wit, or whatever else. I have many friends too. I don't choose them because of their skin color, or ethnicity, or native language. I would find that troubling, wouldn't you? So no, sir, we can't be friends. Not just yet, anyway. Perhaps if we meet again, doing something of mutual interest, a friendship could blossom. But by forcing the matter, you're making it less and less likely that I'll give in. I'm sorry"
In fact, as you probably have guessed, I said none of this. I made a feeble suggestion that he place an ad looking for an English teacher, to which he nodded but appeared not to understand. I then repeated my suggestion in Chinese, which he understood, but ignored. He then asked me for my phone number.
These situations are always awkward. He seemed like a nice, harmless guy. Furthermore, I confess that I take advantage of my otherness here in China when convenient, so perhaps I'm being hypocritical here. Then again, it's difficult to live in a place in which your very otherness is your most salient characteristic. If combating that means disappointing a brave young person, then well..so be it.
The Two Kunmings
A friend of mine recently told me that, if the US presidential election were decided amongst American expats in Kunming, Obama would win by about a 10 to 1 margin. I thought about it for a minute, and then disagreed. "You're forgetting the people on the other side of town," I said.
Unlike cities like Shanghai or Shenzhen, there are very few foreign businessmen on fixed contracts living here. Most of the foreigners can be broadly divided into two camps: the Christians and the Bacchanalians.
I, it goes without saying, am firmly planted in the latter camp. This has little to do with my actual religious beliefs (I'm an atheist, for the record) but more to do with my lifestyle. The foreigners whom I know and see regularly typically hang out in one neighborhood, filled with restaurants, cafes, and bars. Most are single, though some are married. None have small children. Most are between 20 and 40, though there are some in their 50s and 60s. Most drink, some heavily. Many smoke. Some do hard drugs, others don't. Most enjoy smoking cannabis. Most are left-wing. Few are religious. Most are well-traveled, well-read, and sociable conversationalists. Some are obnoxious and disagreeable.
Many of the expats I know seldom stray far from this scene. Several live, work, and play within a 2-mile radius of Yunnan University and venture out only on special occasions. These are the Bacchanalians.
Yet there's another tribe, if you will, that also lives in the city. Most of these people inhabit the more modern apartment complexes in the city's northern end, or around the western part of the second ring road. I would guess that the median age would be about the same as in the Bacchanalian tribe, but most in the Christian camp are married with children. Life is centered around church, and a couple of cafes/restaurants in their neighborhood. Unlike the hangouts around YunDa, these watering holes do not serve alcohol and prohibit smoking. While the Christian types work and study with the Bacchanalians, they tend to keep their distance from us. They are mainly conservative politically, temperate, and non-smokers.
When I first arrived in Kunming I wanted to do an investigation of the Christian community, as many of them are quietly (and illegally) missionaries. The ones I met were polite but extremely cautious; they understood that they had to shield their religious activity somewhat from authorities. The writing project got nowhere, perhaps because they could smell my skepticism of their life choice. One of the challenges of being a journalist is covering a story in which one feels a strong emotional pull. I believe that moving to a foreign country to spread religion is deeply wrong. It disgusts me that people think that the Chinese to whom they proselytize are somehow in need of spiritual salvation. What arrogance!
That, I suppose, is what keeps the two camps so far apart. And with an election on the horizon, this sort of tribalism will be evident.
Bicycle
Recently I wrote about how the fast-food chain KFC has different cultural significances in China and in the US. In the former country, KFC represents modernity, cleanliness, worldliness, and sophistication. In the latter, the restaurant signifies poor health, cheapness, and simplicity. And yet the restaurant itself is nearly identical in both countries, though as Matthew Stinson points out, KFC does make an effort to introduce Chinese-friendly items on their menus here. Nevertheless, a KFC is a KFC is a KFC.
This got me thinking; what other objects change meaning depending on cultural context? Bicycles come to mind.
Outside of New York, San Francisco, and a handful of other large cities, you absolutely need a car to get around in the US. Bicycles are great, of course, but not when you have to commute 100 miles each way to get to work. Bikes also don't help much with grocery shopping or other similar errands.
Typically, the only people who ride bikes in the US (excepting kids in the suburbs) are bicycle enthusiasts. These types will own a fancy bike, have state-of-the-art accessories, and restrict their cycling to organized journeys. Few Americans, I suspect, think of bicycles as a mode of transportation. Instead, bikes signify affluence, sophistication, good health, and concern for the environment. Bicycling is almost exclusively a hobby.
Here, in China, the vast majority of bicycles are little cheap claptraps that could fall apart at any moment. While cyclists in the US ride as fast as they can for the exercise, many of the people I see on bikes here ride at a leisurely pace, simply making their return home a little more pleasant. Most bicycle commuters would happily trade their two-wheeler in for a proper car if it were affordable. On the other hand, a lot of cyclists in the US can, and do own cars; these they use for transportation.
Then again, perhaps times are changing. The other day I was cycling home from work when I encountered a steep hill. I went for it, but only made it about halfway before I had to step off and walk the rest of the way up. Suddenly, I heard a loud "åŠ æ²¹!" from the left, and saw three middle-aged Chinese men, wearing bicycle vests and helmets and riding expensive bikes, zooming past me up the hill.
And so I thought, "here is the American ruing the fact that he doesn't own a car, slowly trudging home from another work day. And here are the Chinese indulging in their favorite hobby, happily tackling the same hill that I regularly curse."
Why China Is Different From America (Colonel Sanders Edition)
This is hardly an original observation, but nonetheless remarkable: KFC is more expensive than 95% of all restaurants in China. Perhaps in Shanghai nowadays this ratio is closer to 60%, but in smaller cities (like Lianyungang, where I lived long ago) KFC was the most expensive restaurant in a city of 700,000 people.
In America, KFC is the most forgettable of the main fast food chains. McDonalds at least has the novelty of being first, as well as having the most publicity. Burger King wins by virtue of being slightly less disgusting than McDonalds*. Wendy's has the square burgers, Taco Bell the distinction of serving Mexican food (sort of), and Jack in the Box the novelty items like Teriyaki bowls. KFC is just, well, there; it seems to exist only as a last resort on long road trips, or a guilty pleasure after a couple of bong rips.
The elitist Bay Area effetes I dearly refer to as my friends** wouldn't dream of eating at KFC. And, who can blame them? Fried chicken isn't the healthiest of foods in any form, but KFC buckets are lethal. I defy anyone to eat four chicken breasts, a pound of mashed potatoes, and a couple of buttered rolls and walk out of there without a raging stomach ache. If you're prepared for the stomach onslaught, at the very least you can go to an authentic country-fried joint where you can at least pretend to be open-minded.
My friends (and parents, siblings, etc.) will spend a fortune getting "real food". This I define as items from the Whole Foods supermarket chain, or from farmer's markets. Everyone knows good restaurants buy everything fresh, and everyone is suspicious of places with long lists of items on the menu.
And yet- this is what average restaurants in China offer. Near my office is a restaurant called "country cooking", or something like that. As you walk past in the morning, you see the staff sitting outside dicing and preparing fresh vegetables bought an hour or two earlier. These vegetables are organized into large bowls and placed beside the meat, tofu, and spices that complement the meal. As I wait for my food, I watch the restaurant chef frantically throwing everything around in a oversized wok, bringing it out to my plate in less than ten minutes. I eat. It is delicious. And I walk out, paying around half of what I would pay for a "value meal" at KFC.
Today, I thought, this is the sort of meal people would pay a fortune for in the Bay Area. All natural ingredients (don't forget MSG is naturally occurring), freshly brought, instantly prepared, and delicious. In China, KFC is a fancy joint; clean, smoke-free, orderly, efficient, and foreign. In China, there are farmer's markets. Nobody thinks they're anything special, nobody would plan a Sunday morning around them if they didn't have to. In fact, these markets are how the vast majority of the country- hundreds of millions of people- feed themselves on a daily basis.
I suppose none of this is particularly remarkable. But it's amazing how a restaurant like KFC- whose whole business plan is to replicate the same experience in every one of its franchises throughout the world- is perceived totally differently in different parts of the world.
*My grandparents spent a lifetime preparing and eating delicious, homemade food. But when they reached their eighties, they would actually drive a half-hour on the freeway just to eat at a particular Burger King, which they swore was better than the dozens of outlets closer to their house.
**This is of course the subculture I would belong to had I not left home for China
***A stray footnote here- I realize the Bay Area doesn't represent America as a whole. But it's the America I'm most familiar with, so with apologies I'm using it as a proxy in this post.
Swimming Pool
Summer days in Kunming are usually rainy and disconcertingly cool, but recently the sun has made a few token appearances. A friend of mine spotted a nice, big swimming pool in the north of the city and I've lately been going there as much as possible.
Swimming pools in China are like pools anywhere, but there are some interesting little differences. Many pools are very strict about swimwear, particularly with men. Once in Fuzhou I got into an argument with a sour-faced old woman who insisted my knee-length suit wouldn't do because they were shorts. She suggested I wear a Speedo, which I gravely informed her was an unacceptable proposition. Eventually I just pushed past and dived in. Problem solved.
Many pools are also finicky about swimming hats, which I actually like because they make me feel like I'm in a Monty Python skit. This is a more reasonable request, but the swimming pool I go to doesn't insist. This is nice.
The swimwear choices here are, to say the least, odd. In California, young women typically wear fairly revealing bikinis while men dress in more modest trunks. In China, it seems to be the opposite. Even the beautiful wear fairly shapeless frocks that would have looked fashionable in say, 1934. The men, meanwhile, preen in their Speedos. Yesterday a group of young guys were trying to impress the assembled swimmers with a rigorous weightlifting routine. Is this Kunming, or Venice Beach?
Sun worshippers are also few and far between. When we laowai lie out to tan, the Chinese typically look at us as if we were a pack of daredevils. They typically ensconse themselves under umbrellas. One woman I saw yesterday walked around wearing a mask that she might have stolen from a Mexican wrestler.
And the locker rooms- my god. Dingy, smoky, and usually wet. I actually saw a guy simultaneously showering and smoking a cigarette, for what purpose I couldn't ascertain.
But, for what it's worth, the water is nice and not too warm or chlorinated, people are always friendly, and there are always enough available lanes. And if this cloud passes over right now, I'll be right back over there.
Being a Foreign Woman in China and Japan
The conventional wisdom for the issue of female laowai in China is that finding a relationship can be frustratingly difficult. Why? Because while few Western women find Chinese men attractive, quite a lot of Western men find Chinese women attractive. This, at least, jives with my own observations as well as from countless conversations with Western women.
When discussing this with Rebekah yesterday, she remarked that her foreign friends who lived in Japan had it even worse. In addition to the white guy/Asian girl phenomenon found throughout the continent, Japanese women:
1. Tend to be less traditional and thus more willing to engage in relationships with foreigners
2. Come from a wealthy, developed country and thus have less motivation to go out with a foreigner because he's rich
3. Are far more familiar with Western culture than their Chinese counterparts and thus have an easier time relating to foreigners.
According to Rebekah, the situation for foreign women in Japan got so bad that most stopped caring about their appearance, as if in total surrender.
For those of you who have experience as expats in both countries, could you shed any light? How true are Rebekah's friends' observations?