As the
date of my return to the United States draws nearer, I often reflect on the time
that I have spent here and all of the wonderful experiences that I have had. It
is not hard for me to do this because in addition to the hundreds of photographs
that I have taken, I also have kept a detailed journal that covers almost every
day of my life abroad in Asia. I have never shared too much about my early days
in China but the first few weeks I spent in Asia, including my travels in
Beijing and Shanghai, were some of the most exciting days of my life. The
following paragraphs were taken directly from a section of my journal that
describes my time in Beijing. This segment was written on the go and is mostly
unedited so please excuse any small grammatical errors.
Back
in August of 2005...
My
friend Shirlene (from Singapore) had asked me if I wanted to have dinner with
her at a restaurant that served Beijing’s famous Roasted Duck. I heartily agreed
to this proposition but told her I needed to first buy a train ticket to
Shanghai. Since there was a great distance between our hotels, she and I decided
to be dropped off at the train station (where our English friend B. Levington
was being dropped off) so that I could buy my train ticket and then we could
both proceed to the Duck Resturaunt. In the end, I am very happy that she
accompanied me because the atmosphere at the train station was a bit hectic.
There were people everywhere and the scene was very chaotic. Fortunately,
because she spoke Mandarin, she was able to speed up the process. It was while I
was with her that I discovered that people in Beijing (or at least at the train
station) had no idea what it meant to “wait in line.” We had to push our way up
to the window. The man behind the window informed us that there were still some
“soft sleepers” available and that it would cost me about 457 yuan. I looked in
my wallet and discovered that I was short on Chinese Yuan. I asked if I could
use American money. The man smiled a wicked grin and said that it was possible
but that the exchange rate would be 1 to 1. Well, since the exchange rate was
8.1 to 1 officially, there was no way I was going to buy the ticket.
Fortunately, Shirlene intervened and lent me the extra money that I needed. I
purchased the ticket and we left the train station area. We went to McDonald’s
where I bought her a drink, and then we went to an ATM where I withdrew some
money and paid her back what she had lent me. After that, we hopped on a Subway
that would take us in the direction of the famous restaurant which served
roasted duck.
The meal
we had that night was heavenly. The duck meat was a bit different in terms of
taste but nonetheless delicious. The duck arrived at our table with everything
but the head. We watched as a chef (wearing a mask) cut into thin slices and
placed it on two serving dishes. It came with vegetables, buns, and tortillas,
which we used to make duck burritos (or sandwiches). We ate until we couldn’t
eat anymore. It was excellent cuisine. In the end, we paid all together about
201 yuan which we split between ourselves. The meal was pricey but definitely
worth the money. I am salivating even now as I think about it.
I said
goodbye to Shirlene that evening in front of the restaurant and we both went our
separate ways. She hopped in a taxi and I went to the nearest subway station.
When I emerged from the subway station, I had to use my GPS to find exactly
where I was in relation to my hotel. I had to do this all week because I still
wasn’t exactly sure where my hotel was. I knew where everything else was but not
my hotel. This was due in part to the fact that the streets in Beijing changed
name periodically. Everytime a street crossed another busy street it would
change its name. This made it very confusing for people like me who were new to
the city. Nonetheless, my GPS was able to point me in the right direction and I
found my way without any problems. I enjoyed my twenty minute walk from the
subway station to my hotel knowing that this was my last night in Beijing.
The Next Day…
The day
didn’t go by as slowly as one might have expected. I was engrossed in my journal
writing and before I knew it, it was time to start looking for how to get on my
train to Shanghai. Nothing was in English but fortunately I didn’t need to read
Chinese to be able to tell that the big screens were directing people to
different waiting rooms. All I had to do was find my train number and next to it
was the waiting room number which in my case was 4. Four was towards the back of
the building and when I arrived there were hundreds of people crammed into the
waiting area. It was wall to wall people and luggage. I was thankful that I
wasn’t claustrophobic and that I didn’t have long to wait. About a half an hour
before departure, the doors opened and people began flooding out of the room
onto the stage area where the train to Shanghai was sitting. I had to walk down
the stage a little ways to find my car. Someone in the waiting area had been
nice enough to point out to me where the car number and seat number was on my
ticket. I found the car number and entered the train. To my surprise, there were
little rooms up and down the length of the train. Each
room had four beds inside along with a little tea table. My bed was number ten
which I quickly located. I hoisted all of my luggage up onto the bed. I then
took a little walk to locate the bathroom and the washroom which on the train
were too separate areas. Outside of our rooms there were soft seats by the
window so that we could sit until it was bedtime. At first it looked as if I and
a Chinese man would have the room all to ourselves. But the Chinese man began
talking with another Chinese man and soon the other Chinese man decided he
wanted to come in and stay with us. Apparently, this wasn’t allowed and a rather
large argument ensued between him and one of the female attendants. I didn’t
have to understand Chinese to comprehend the situation. She said that she would
have to call “security” and apparently he said “go ahead.” I heard her talking
on the radio a little while later on…
Nathan Ryan on nathanryan.com
May 25th,
2006
The following story occurred on Sunday, April 23rd, 2006 3:35 PM
I paid the taxi driver 12 RMB, grabbed my bag, and exited the red vehicle. I quickly walked in between two apartment buildings and made a left turn into my apartment area. I had been gone since 9:30 AM. In the morning, I had taught a few classes at our downtown training center and then hurried over to a gym to play
badminton with a student from Yangtze University. In the afternoon, I had eaten lunch with a few friends near the university and then I had joined in a fun game of baseball; foreigners and Chinese students participated.
Now I was anxious to relax and maybe grab a nap before I had to head off to my two evening classes. As I walked into the entryway of the cement steps that led to the floors above, I was happy to see that my motorcycle was still tucked safely away under the first stairwell. Two weeks earlier, someone had tried to steal my motorcycle in front of the apartment complex by jamming an object into the ignition. Their attempts were unsuccessful however but I had been forced to replace the ignition. After pausing for a moment to glance at my motorcycle, I dashed up the first set of cement steps but I stopped before I reached the landing. Something was wrong. Very wrong. My door wasn't closed. It was almost closed but definitely not all the way. In slow motion I approached the door and took a closer look at the lock apparatus. I couldn't believe my eyes. The two solid prongs that protruded from the locking device were both bent at about a 45 degree angle. The side of the door was disfigured. Someone had pried the door open by destroying the lock and broken into my apartment. I stood there for a minute not wanting to believe that what I was seeing was truly real.
My first instinct of course was to call the police. I pulled out my phone with the intention of dialing 119 (yes, that is the number to the police station in China) but I stopped. My Chinese isn't anything to brag about and I would probably have wasted a
lot of time trying to explain to the police who I was and where I was. Instead, I called my boss, who was on his way back from an out of town trip and calmly explained to him what had happened. He sounded very concerned and promised that he would send someone right over. He suggested that in the meantime, I should go in and take a look around.
After I hung up, I stood there for another minute staring the door. I wondered for a moment if perhaps the thief was still inside? Should I really go in? In the end, my curiosity won the debate and I quickly entered my apartment. As soon as I entered, I saw the first sign of the break-in. Right in front of the door was a large cupboard that I never used; the doors were wide open. One quick glance at the entertainment set told me that the DVD player was gone. The television itself was quite nice but it was probably to heavy to carry off. I hesitantly stepped into my bedroom and for the second time in 5 minutes I was completely stunned. While I readily confess that my room is not always a bastion of orderliness, the sight that met my eyes was beyond my imagination. My room had been ransacked. Papers were strewn across the room, drawers were lying sideways on my bed, and boxes that contained receipts and instructions for my electronic devices littered the floor. It was just like you might see in a movie only in my case they were not looking for an important file or secret password. They were clearly looking for money and valuable items. Fortunately, I had not money at my apartment. I had been paid for weekend hours a few days earlier and for the first time ever, I had deposited that cash into the bank. My happiness at not having lost any money, however, was short
lived when I discovered that my digital camera had been taken. While I was looking for my camera, I realized that while I still had a printer and a monitor, the CPU was missing from its usual place under the desk.
The only money that was missing was some paper currency that I had brought home from Laos and Thailand. The thieves must have been excited when they saw a 10,000 Kip bill laying in one of my drawers. I’m sure they were
devastated, however, when they found out later that 10,000 Kip is only worth about 1 American Dollar.
When I discovered that my camera was gone, I was infuriated. It wasn't so much the value of the camera that upset me but rather the fact that I had taken some great pictures from the past two months on the memory card. Not only did they steal the camera but they also stole some memories.
It was good that I had a few minutes to survey the damage before the police arrived. Had they
come right away, I probably would have been speechless. When they did finally
arrive, along with school personnel about ten minutes later, I had sufficiently recovered from my shock enough to give them as much information as I could.
The police response was impressive although I found out later that this was mostly due to the fact that I am a foreigner. At first, two uniformed officers arrived to do a preliminary survey. Later, however, a fingerprint lab technician arrived and began dusting the place. A photographer also came to take pictures of the deformed door as well as my disorderly room. It was quite a scene in my apartment; a fat cigarette smoking detective, a
photographer who snapped photos furiously, my boss in his white suit, the young technician dusting for prints, and me standing there still trying to believe that this had happened. For a brief moment, I thought about what a great photo the scene would make and I went to find my camera only to painfully remember that I no longer had a camera.
Later, I sat down with the detectives to answer questions with the help of one of my friends who interpreted for me. The questions pertained to the time of break-in and the missing items. This brief interview was for me reminiscent of my last month in Mexico when I was witness to a family fight and I had made a deposition to the local police. Like in Mexico, the police here were very courteous and the process went quite smoothly.
From the minute I had discovered the break in, two suspects had immediately popped into my head. TO BE CONTINUED…
Nathan Ryan on nathanryan.com
April 12,
2006
I had just
signed an 11 month contract to work at Yinghua Bilingual School in Central China
and I remember how excited I was. I was quite confident that I had found a great
school located in a fascinating and culturally rich area. I was relieved that
the search was over since the process had been fast and furious. I had received
numerous offers from all over China and many of them were very attractive. I
spent hours researching the advantages and disadvantages of every offer that I
received. In the end, however, I chose Yinghua Bilingual School in Jingzhou City
because of its close proximity to the Three Gorge and the Yangtze River, a good
salary, a decent accommodation package, and the chance to live near an ancient
city that was well known throughout China. As I signed my name on that contract
last summer I was sure that I had thought of everything. I had asked dozens of
questions and all of the answers that I received were more than satisfactory.
A month or so later, as I was
packing my bags and preparing to leave, it suddenly occurred to me that there
was a major issue that had completely slipped under my inquiring radar. I had
never asked any of my contacts in China what the weather would be like in
Jingzhou. Perhaps for some people the issue of weather might be of little
concern but for me it was very important for the simple reason that I detest
cold weather. One reason that I loved Southern Mexico so much was that almost
every day I was there the temperature was above ninety degrees. While it is true
that I have lived in Michigan for the past fifteen years and have survived some
very cold winters, this experience has only heightened by dislike of snow and
freezing temperatures. As I folded clothes and tucked them in my suitcases I
couldn’t
believe that I had not asked one question about the weather nor had I done any
research on the matter. When I did finally send a question to my contacts in
China, it was too late of course to change my decision to work there, but I
still needed to know. The answer that I received was that in Jingzhou I would
experience four seasons but that thankfully the winters were not too cold. While
I was not happy to hear that the winters were even cold at all, it made me feel
better to see that a heater was included inside of my apartment.
Now after living here for
almost nine months I think I can describe the weather here using two words that
most of you will be able to understand; Michigan Weather. There are definitely
four distinct seasons here. When I arrived in the summer, it was in the upper
nineties every day. As we approached the end of September, the weather cooled
down considerably although we continued to have hot days occasionally. If I
thought when I was coming to China, that somehow I was escaping the cold
winters, I have since come to know better. While it is true that the winters
here do not reach the same extreme temperatures that are often felt in Michigan,
the winters here are cold and they involve the same weather phenomena that many
of you know so well in Michigan; nasty sleet, snow, ice, and freezing winds. I
should know. I drove around in it on my motorcycle. But it isn’t
just the winters here that remind me of Michigan. Let’s
talk about this week for example. Today is Wednesday. On Monday, it was a
beautiful sunny day with temperatures in the eighties. In the afternoon, I took
a nice little run along the colorful banks of the Yangtze River in the
countryside of Jingzhou. This beautiful weather continued into Tuesday morning
but on Tuesday afternoon the weather took a turn for the worst. In fact, as I
was teaching my last class yesterday, I remarked to my students that the color
of the skies and the feeling in the air reminded me of what the conditions are
like in Michigan during a tornado watch. A few minutes after I said that a
powerful thunderstorm hit our area and it hasn’t
stopped raining since. The roads were flooded last night, a strong wind swept
through the area sweeping debris off the tops of buildings, and now the
temperatures are back in the fifties. The weather here, like the weather in
Michigan, changes on a dime so one can never be sure when a hot sunny day will
be transformed into a nasty, cold and wet day. The fickleness of the weather, as
I have just described it, has been my experience with this area from the first
week that I arrived and I am sure that I will continue to observe this in my
last two months here. While I know many people who really love the variety that
four seasons bring, I myself prefer constant hot weather.
In closing, I
could not be happier with the experience that I have had here in Jingzhou so in
a way I am glad that the issue of weather was not foremost on my mind when I
decided to come here. If I had done some research on the weather before I signed
the contract, it is likely that I would have chosen some place in the south of
China. While I detest how unpredictable the weather is here, at least I am not a
stranger to it.
Nathan Ryan
on nathanryan.com
April
5th, 2006
I place my hand on the controls. I put my foot on the brake. I start the engine. I rev it up a bit to make sure I am good to go. I zoom out towards the exit and make a left hand turn onto the street. I drive on the left side of the road, dodging incoming traffic until I can safely merge in with the traffic on the right side of the road. As I begin to speed up, the cars behind me honk their horns and move around me. Soon I am flying down the road and that¡¯s when the fun begins. As I go to make a left hand turn, a bicycle shoots out in front of me and I have to swerve quickly to avoid it. As I pass a bus stop, one of the large buses moves slowly into my lane and I find myself driving into incoming traffic. As I merge back in, I approach a pedestrian crossing and two ladies walk out in front of me; one of them is on their cell phone. Neither of them looks as they walk into my lane. They walk nonchalantly as if they are taking an afternoon stroll through the local park. After slowing down to avoid them, I move into the right lane to let a taxi pass me. Just as I make that move, another taxi shoots into my lane from one of the side streets and the front corner of his car narrowly misses me as I swerve back into the left lane. Just as I return to the left lane, I see a car heading straight towards me. This car is passing a horse and a cart filled with straw. Quickly I have to swerve back into the right lane to avoid a collision. Throughout the rest of my journey I am dodging students, street sweepers, animals, slow moving vehicles, and objects that are zooming towards me in my lane. Are you wondering what the name is of this exciting video game that I am playing? Would you like to play it too? Well then come and join me in China for a week and you can share in my fun!
I never intended to buy a motorcycle when I came to China. In fact, when I surveyed the traffic situation during my first week in Beijing, the thought of driving seemed downright frightening. I had lived and traveled throughout Central America and I had always thought that the traffic there was about as bad as it could get. After my first week in China, however, I discovered that the transportation system was much worse in China than anywhere I had ever visited. A friend of mine from Michigan, who like me has spent time in both China and Central America, agreed with me that the traffic in China is five times worse than the traffic in Mexico City for example. If you¡¯ve ever been to Mexico City then you can understand partially at least what it is like here.
There are traffic lights here but it would seem that many drivers are colorblind. At least the intersections are big enough so that you can take a good long look before you proceed. Cars seem to fall under some police scrutiny but motorcyclists are free to do whatever they feel like. Motorcyclists do not have to stop for red lights, they can drive on the opposite side of the road for as long as they wish and if a street is too congested, they can hop on a sidewalk and continue along their merry way.
Perhaps the most frustrating and dangerous aspect of the traffic situation here is the indifference that pedestrians show when crossing a street. People here in the city where I live do not seem to value their lives very much. While in America most children are taught at a young age to ¡°look both ways before crossing a street¡± many of the pedestrians here are looking everywhere but to the left or to the right. Whether they¡¯re talking to each other, dialing a phone number, or admiring the beautiful blue sky, people here appear to consider very little the lethal metal machines that are moving towards them at high speeds. Some people seem to even suddenly forget that they were crossing the street and so you see someone just walking down the middle of the road or standing between two lanes with a blank look on their faces oblivious to the traffic whizzing by them. The drivers also show a sort of indifference as their vehicles dodge around pedestrians as if they are potholes barely missing them at times. While at the end of the day the machines will always be the physical winners, drivers here know that no matter what the circumstances are, if they hit someone on the street they will pay a lot of money. In this respect it is difficult at times to truly know who rules the streets; is it the pedestrians or the drivers?
I would be remiss if I didn¡¯t make at least one bitter complaint about the bicycles here. While bicycles continue to be one of China¡¯s most popular modes of transportation, especially in the rural areas, they are also one of the biggest annoyances that someone like me on a motorcycle faces. In terms of not obeying traffic laws and doing whatever and whenever, bicyclists are far worse than motorcyclists. Recently, I stood at a busy street corner near my apartment and shot video as the lights changed. While a majority of the cars and motorcycles came to a stop at a red light, the bicyclists that I observed pedaled their way right through the light as if there was no intersection at all. At night it is hard to know where the bicycles are because many of them do not have reflectors and of course they are very quiet machines. During the day, it is not uncommon to see a bicycle going down the street the wrong way not because they have to but because that side of the street is sunnier or something. And bicyclists are often just like pedestrians. They don¡¯t look where they are going. Who knows what some of these people are thinking. Of course, it is true that bicycles were around long before motorcycles but you would think by now that people would know how to use one safely.
I have asked myself and many other friends why the Chinese people seem to be so unconcerned about their bodily health. I have received various answers such as ¡°we really don¡¯t care if we die¡± and ¡°people in China were never taught that crossing a street is dangerous¡± but I really don¡¯t buy any of those answers. One possible answers that I heard recently is that people assume that a driver will stop. People here know that most drivers in China cannot afford to pay their medical bills. Yet I see so many close calls that I wonder if this really true either. From what I have observed, many people have a mentality that is not unique to China; that mentality being that it ¡°can¡¯t happen to me.¡± When people cross the street here it seems that being hit and dying is the last thing on their minds. They are thinking about one thing only; reaching the other side. This frustrates me to no end because I think that this attitude is very inconsiderate on the part of the people walking on the streets. In a healthy society, people have to work together to solve problems. If the responsibility of safety rests solely on the shoulders of the vehicle drivers, then the rest of the traffic population will do whatever they want making for a very dangerous situation.
With all of this said, many of you are probably asking why in the world I decided to buy a motorcycle. The answer is simple really; it is the easiest way to get around this town. As I said earlier, I never dreamed of buying a motorcycle here but in the end I was convinced that having one would save me time and money. I was right. I also wonder some times if it is safer to be walking on the street or riding a motorcycle. I think the answer to this question is a toss up. If you are walking on the street it seems that vehicle drivers don¡¯t always pay so much attention to you. I think that vehicles pay more attention to each other than to pedestrians. I would much rather be on a motorcycle trying to cross a busy intersection than on foot.
Have I ever had a motorcycle accident? Yes. One. But it was right after I purchased the motorcycle and I ran into a building. It was my fault. I didn¡¯t know how to operate the machine properly. As far as other accidents are concerned, I have witnessed very few and I do not believe I have ever seen a fatality. While the traffic here seems much worse than the situation in America there is a factor that may help the situation. From what I can tell, drinking and driving, and drinking while stoned (pardon the expression) is virtually non existent here compared to the U.S. Most of the drivers that I encounter on the road throughout the day appear to be alert and responsive. Of course, I never take my safety for granted and I help myself by obeying the traffic signals and not driving like a maniac. Just like in the U.S., defensive driving is the key here to being a safe driver.
Will I be a better driver or a worse driver when I return to the U.S.? I think I will be a better driver because my experience here has helped me to develop faster reflexes! It has also helped to appreciate more the technique of looking hard before you make a move such as crossing a busy intersection or turning out into a busy street. The experience has also helped me to realize that the responsibility of transportation safety in any society should be shared equally by pedestrians and drivers. Whether I am driving a motorcycle or walking down the street I know that it is my responsibility as much as it belongs to the next guy to protect myself.
Nathan Ryan on nathanryan.com
March
27th, 2006
Everyone has had that strange feeling of meeting a person for the first time but yet it seems like there is something very familiar about them. Throughout my travels in Central America and Asia I have experienced this phenomenon time after time and whenever it happens I have always been left scratching my head. I know that I have never met these people before. I know that the cultures that these people belong to are in a thousand ways completely different than mine. So why have I met so many people here and abroad that remind me so many of my friends back in the United States? I was just thinking that I could sit down with a list of my friend¡¯s names in the US and for each one I could write down friends I have here who have personalities and mannerisms that are almost a perfect match! What is even more interesting is that the people here who remind me of people back home often have the same facial features as well and even their voices sound similar. The resemblances are so striking that it¡¯s a bit scary. I know that you probably experience this every day in the U.S. but maybe it is not something that you would expect to happen so much in foreign countries. Some people may assume that in a country where the culture is so different from ours that the personalities and behavior of people will be unique and strange. I am finding out first hand that this is simply not true. Wherever I am around the world, I find that despite some cultural oddities and beliefs, people are pretty much the same. People here in China struggle with the same issues that we all struggle with: chasing dreams, finding love, trying to enjoy the little things in life, and so much more. During my time here as well as my days spent traveling through Thailand, India, Laos, and Nepal, I have seen the best and worst of human nature. Much of what I have observed is nothing new because I have also seen it in the United States. Human nature is not something that changes from country to country and culture to culture. It is one of the true constants in our world today and as a result I run into people around the world who remind me of others that I know or perhaps even myself at times!
It cannot be denied of course that ostensibly there are major differences between people of different cultures. Yet whether it is in the way that people dress, or in the food that people eat, or in the way that families are raised, the differences are not so great to hide a simple truth. That truth being that we are not called the human race simply because we stand on two legs and were smart enough to figure out how to civilize ourselves. We are all part of this human race because we were created so alike yet also with some small variations. I am convinced that our Creator has distributed personality and characteristic traits equally around the world so that life is never dull and so that we can learn from each other and also help each other.
Nathan Ryan on nathanryan.com
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