Why Do More Women Study Abroad?
This is the title of an interesting blog post by Tyler Cowen, an economics professor. There are a few hypotheses:
1. Women are more concentrated in humanity majors (i.e., history, literature, social science), and there are simply far more exchange programs available for humanities students than for natural science majors.
2. Women, even at the ages of 20-22, instinctively feel that once they become mothers such travel opportunities will be more difficult. Therefore, they have a greater incentive to get their overseas experience out of the way while they can.
3. Women are concerned about their physical safety while abroad and therefore prefer to join an organized program rather than travel on their own.
Each of these hypotheses are interesting, though I think number 2 is the least plausible. Do that many college-age women think ahead and predict that their travel opportunities will be limited by marriage and motherhood?
I don't know about number 3, either; while fewer women do seem to travel alone, I've met many groups of two, three, and four women traveling around together. Not all of these groups came on a university-sponsored exchange programs.
My own experience suggests number 1 is most accurate. I went to the University of California, San Diego, and spent my third year as an overseas student in Italy on a program that drew students from the entire UC system. I remember trying to persuade my friends to go overseas as well, but because many of them were engineering or chemistry majors, they felt that they simply couldn't afford to put off their degree a year. At UCSD, most liberal arts majors (like me- international studies) graduated in four years without much difficulty. Most engineering majors needed a full five years to graduate, and spending a significant period overseas simply would have made this impossible.
I don't want to get into a Lawrence Summers-like controversy here, but my memory suggests that far more men than women pursue degrees in engineering and hard sciences, and more women than men pursue degrees in liberal arts.
As years pass and overseas students turn into long-term expatriates, the gender ratio tilts into the other direction. In Kunming, for example, the population of male expatriates grossly exceeds that of females.
Any other suggestions?
Shenzhen
Here I am in Shenzhen...ground zero of China's Gilded Age. Thirty years ago, Shenzhen literally didn't exist; it was a typically stagnant Chinese village that happened to border Hong Kong. Now, it is a city of ten million, none of whom are from here. There are no old buildings in Shenzhen and I'm unsure if there are any old people. The city exists for one reason only: to do business and to make money. There is scant culture, no history, and little charm; unless greed counts as charm.
Think about the clothes you're wearing now; they were probably stitched here. Many of the items you own may have been manufactured here as well, shipped from the port a mere 800 meters from where I type. Many of the young men and women toiling in Shenzhen factories are migrant laborers, coming not from a foreign country (as in the US) but from the poorer inland provinces of China. These migrant workers- of which there are over 100 million in China- receive no services from the state and often live in ramshackle apartments that dot the perimeter of the city.
Thirty years ago, China closed the book on Maoism and began considering economic reform. They saw Hong Kong, shining like a beacon just beyond its border, and decided to emulate it. Thus Shenzhen- and four other cities- were born as "special economic zones". A fishing village in my lifetime, the city is now larger than any in Europe and all but two in North America. In ten years, its port will likely surpass Singapore in size and become the busiest in the world.
Perhaps from my description you picture a dystopian nightmare, but from my limited experience here much of the city is quite pleasant. The area around Shekou port resembles San Francisco's Fisherman's Wharf, a tourist trap I avoid when home but find oddly reassuring here in China.
I spent an hour or two clothes shopping, hoping to find bargains on items that are eventually destined for the shops of the developed world. The Chinese I meet all seem shocked that I speak their language, as few of the expat businessmen have reason to learn Mandarin. I make a point to ask them where they come from; and they all oblige- Guangxi, Henan, Hunan, Shaanxi, Shanxi, and Hubei natives have all spoken to me. When they describe their home, they speak with wistful pride, perhaps knowing that their future is thousands of miles away, here in the buzzing Pearl River Delta.
Perhaps I should explain what I'm doing here; I'm tagging along with my two supervisors as they do business with port operators, businessmen, and government officials. Tomorrow we're off to Hong Kong, and I'll be certain to have a thing or two to say about my favorite SAR.
The Lovely Dali
I just got back from a now-annual pilgrimage to Dali, my favorite of Yunnan's many tourist towns. In bad weather, Dali is pleasant and relaxing. In good weather, which Jascha and I were lucky enough to have last week, Dali is spectacular.
Taking advantage of the ample sunshine, we had an unusually active two days. On Thursday, we took a cable car halfway up Dali's western mountain and hiked 10k to a Buddhist temple, nestled in a pine forest. As we neared the end of our walk, we found a friendly cafe that offered lattes and carrot cake. We sat down without hesitation.
The cafe was run by a woman who spoke near-flawless English with an Australian accent. She chatted with us and another pair of travelers as we sat and looked at the stunning view over Erhai Lake. She had grown up in a small Bai village a mile or so away from the cafe, distant from the Australia she would later call home for several years. I remarked how pleasant it must have been to grow up in such a beautiful place.
"Actually, when I was small we were poor and worked very hard. It was only later that we realized how lovely Dali was. In the past it was just another poor village."
Dali has been on the tourist map for a number of years, and in the summer its streets are thronged with Chinese package tourists wearing identical hats and following a colorfully-dressed native guide. In May, there are fewer tourists, and thus a clearer picture of local life emerges: for the first time, I noticed that the vast majority of people there were living their lives, seemingly unconcerned about the two Californians wandering about.
Dali is but one of many towns situated in the valley between the mountain and the lake, and during our hike we had an impressive aerial view of the region's layout. On the second day, we decided to explore these other towns by bike.
Jascha and I had pinpointed a town on the map where the main road converged with the lakeshore, and both Lonely Planet and our tour guide estimated it was sixteen kilometers from Dali's old town. In the end, we rode and rode and never found the town, instead ending up at a "pleasure boat" dock some twenty-five kilometers away. While there, we munched on cold udon-like noodles and Dove chocolate bars, needing energy for what turned out to be a rather grueling journey back. My legs and bottom still has not forgive me for the 50k of cycling.
On previous visits I had enjoyed Bad Monkey, a chilled-out bar that always had an interesting crowed and good music. On this occasion, most of the patrons were bombed out on booze and grass, and one drunk Chinese woman made a rather awkward pass at Jascha. The other foreigners didn't look lively or entertained, but rather stared blankly into space while the music blasted on around us. I found it difficult to believe Bad Monkey was the venue I chose to watch Italy defeat France in the 2006 World Cup final.
Quite a few foreigners in Kunming go to Dali to zone out, and hey- I'm hardly in position to deny them their pleasure. But for a city commonly viewed as a refuge from gritty China, Dali has an enormous amount to offer. Even if our bodies need ample time to recuperate.
Lonely Planet Plagiarism?
According to the Guardian, a Lonely Planet travel writer who worked on guidebooks to several Latin American countries has admitted that he didn't even visit some of the places he wrote about, and that much of the information he provided was lifted from travel brochures and the Internet.
Writing for Lonely Planet seems like the ideal job: get paid to travel! See the world! Yet having spoken to a few researchers myself, the work tends to be stressful, underpaid, and tedious. I met an LP researcher in Portugal who said she never spent more than one night in any city and would spend hours walking around, poking her head in the doors of guesthouses and restaurants, and basing her review on one fleeting impression.
In China, a travel writer for Le Routard I met in Kunming told me he was responsible for covering Yunnan, Xinjiang, Tibet, and Qinghai Provinces- a swath of land nearly as large as Western Europe, without the latter's finely-tuned transportation network. He said if he had to take another rickety 14 hour bus ride in rural China, he would turn homicidal.
So- take what you read in Lonely Planet with a grain of salt. I find LP useful for its maps, its practical information (Visa regulations, etc.), and its mostly accurate estimations of travel times. As for sights, hotels, and restaurants? Use the best travel resource mankind has ever known: word of mouth.
The Guardian article does contain one paragraph I found quite funny:
In one extract he writes: "The waitress suggests that I come back after she closes down the restaurant, around midnight. We end up having sex in a chair and then on one of the tables in the back corner. I pen a note in my Moleskine that I will later recount in the guidebook review, saying that the restaurant 'is a pleasant surprise €¦ and the table service is friendly'".
Maybe being a guidebook writer isn't so bad, after all.
Airplane Tidbits
If, you, like me, are not afraid of flying you might agree that the worst part of long flights is the boredom. The San Francisco to Beijing flight takes 12 hours, for example. I like reading magazines, but not for 12 hours. I like watching movies, but not for 12 hours. I like listening to music, but not for 12 hours. In fact, even if I were to divide my time evenly between these three activities, I'd still find myself crushed with boredom.
So on this most recent flight I made a point to jot down as many observations as I could, just to stave off the boredom. Here are some:
-I love the maps and statistics they show you, and I even find it thrilling to know that on the San Francisco to Beijing flight the plane crosses the Bering Strait. But one stat annoys me: the outside temperature. Does anyone, save the odd mountaineer, care how cold it is at 35,000 feet? Wouldn't it be more interesting to know what the temperature is in Alaska in January? Why can't airplanes give you that information, but instead tell you that it's 70 below high above the clouds?
-Five or so years ago I was sitting in the last row on a cross-country flight, New York to San Francisco. Just before take-off, the stewardess approached the guy sitting directly in front of me. "Sir, are you traveling alone?"
"Yes"
"Would you object if we moved you to first class?"
Before she finished her sentence he had already grabbed his bag and practically skipped up the aisle, triumphantly flinging open the curtain and taking his seat amongst the privileged passengers. I sulked and stewed- for the whole flight.
This, the stewardess approached me and asked me if I could move, as they wanted to put a family of four all in the same row. I asked, cheekily, if I could be moved to first class. She giggled in the Chinese way that means "you're not as cute as you think you are" and said, "No". Another effort to sit in first class foiled.
- I sat in front of two Chinese grandparents and a little boy, maybe three or four years old. The boy was predictably restless and noisy, much to the consternation of the cabin. The grandmother attempted to put him to sleep, but her method was questionable: she repeatedly shouted "sleep!" "sleep!" to the boy. How soothing!
-Jerry Seinfeld famously asked why all airplane bathrooms have used razor blade dispensers. I consciously looked for one this time, and couldn't find it. Did the airlines get embarrassed and remove them? Although pace Seinfeld people sometimes do shave on the plane, they always use an electric razor. I'd love it, though, if someone were to slowly shave in the bathroom while a line of people waited impatiently to pee.
- Everyone hates airplane food, and I'm no exception. But for some reason I love eating on the airplane. I devour every meal, no matter how disgusting, with the fervor of a condemned man. I love the whole ritual, actually: the stewardess offering pork or beef, the tinfoil wrapping, the little bread rolls neatly contained in plastic and the miniscule stick of butter. On this last flight, I even asked the stewardess when the next meal was coming and became quite excited when she said "a minute or two". It amazes me how I relish every bite of a terrible meal. Boredom does have its virtues, I suppose.
- Here's a suggestion: why not junk all the seats in coach and just install sofas and coffee tables? It'd create a convivial atmosphere, not like the prison-style set up we use today. Just turn the flight into a 12 hour cocktail party- now that wouldn't get boring!
Election for Travelers
People have asked me whether or not it's safe to travel in certain countries due to the danger of anti-Americanism. I've always believed that being afraid underestimates the ability of people to distinguish between American travelers and American government. After all, when the US attacked the Taliban, we didn't march to Fremont and smash Afghan shop windows, did we?
Turkey is the only Muslim country I've been to and I didn't feel the least bit unsafe there, and this was of course under the current US regime.
Bush's re-election surely will be unpopular around the world, especially in areas in which the US involves itself quite heavily (such as the Middle East). Should he engage in brinkmanship with Iran or Syria, then I think world opinion will metastisize against the US.
As sensitive travelers, it isn't difficult avoiding these sorts of problems. In some ways, by being intelligent, thoughtful, knowledgable, and respectful toward other cultures, you can often shatter foreign stereotypes of Americans. That was always rather gratifying for me- though disheartening to see how little respect most foreigners have of us.
I don't think a Bush re-election will change much in the way of making travel unsafe for Americans. And if it does, well, then that's a big quality-of-life detriment for a lot of us.