I'm 23 and China's 4281

One of the reasons I haven't updated this blog in a while is that I was waiting for something truly interesting to post about. Thankfully, I now feel that I have accumulated enough material to put together a half decent blog entry.

I mean, it's gotta be entertaining right? I'm just not popular enough to bank on sheer curiosity that people might have in my life. There has to be a few jokes thrown in here and there, maybe a silly dance routine for the kids....

In this episode of "China 1, Tommy 0", the following items shall be covered:

1. Birthday, Beer Pong, and Funky Town
2. A Confusing Game of Volleyball
3. A Boy Becomes a Teacher
4. Tommy Gets Sick....With Disco Fever!


Birthday, Beer Pong, and Funky Town:
September 9th, oh how I love thee. It's brought me nothing but go-kart racing, chocolate cake, and good good times. The 2006 version was no different. Well, to be honest, it was completely different, but the good good times were still there.
My birthday started out familiar enough-- with a few hearty games of Beer Pong. There was something incredibly odd about playing Beer Pong in China. In a way, I felt like a foreigner who was engaging in some sacred cultural tradition of his homeland. This is our game, this is how American's get drunk!
What made it even more bizarre was that one our students decided to join us. His English name is Tony and he speaks English much better than almost anyone else we come into contact with. Because of this, Tony has made the decision that he's going to spend as much time with us foreign teachers as possible. This includes dinner invitations every other night, random visits during the day, and bum rushes when he sees us on the street. He's really nice of course, but it's starting to get a tad bit imposing for my taste. The again, it's hardly a problem and as I sometimes say: If it's the worst thing that I encounter this week, it's been a very good week.
ANYWAY...Tony decided to join us for this rousing game of Beer Pong and it clearly caught him off gaurd. It makes sense I guess. When you look at it from an outsider's perspective, it is sort of a silly carnival game.

This is Team Sucky. They technically won this game, but Tony used Chinese trickery that included fireworks and dragons.

This, of course, is Team Awesome. As you can see, I'm taking defeat like gentleman.

As this picture demonstrates, the happy juice was in full effect before we left the apartment. What you can't tell from this picture is that I'm doing my impression of Jimi Hendricks playing the "Star Spangled Banner," complete with Jimi's famous light the guitar on fire stunt. I still maintain that it was worth it. Andrew and his second degree burns disagree.

What did we do next you ask? We went and did ourselves a little KTV! What's KTV? It's just about the coolest thing you can do in all of China. Ask any Chinese person under the age of 30; they will definately tell you just how cool it is! In stupid people terms (yeah, I'm talking to you!), KTV is Kareoke...except its quite different than its American version. Instead of performing in a bar-like setting (in front of a respectively large audience), KTV has you sing your heart out in a private room. Seeing as how you only get to sing to the people you showed up with, the spotlight isn't nearly as bright. However, what makes this so great, is that everyone gets to sing at least 7 or 8 songs a piece.

Here are some further reasons why KTV is incredibly strange, but also pretty sweet:
-In every room, there is a collection of small instruments like tamborines and shakers. Just because you're not singing doesn't mean you can't join the fun!!!!
-For every song, a "music video" plays on the television screen. I put the word "music video" in quotes because it's really just a few F-list actors acting out the words to the song verbatum. For instance, if you were to sing "Bridge Over Troubled Waters," there is a very good chance that the video would include a ton of shots of a man walking across a bridge.
-The private room itself was basically one big leather couch. This makes it not only comfortable, but also completely acceptable to get very intoxicated (shut up, it was my birthday) and bounce around the room like a pinball.


This is an amazing picture for two reasons: First, I'm dashingly handsome. Second, if you click the picture, you not only get to see what song I'm singing, but you actually get to see which amazing part of that song is coming out of my mouth. Ahhhh, look at that commitment. Hold that falsetto!

This is Sam. He's from Colorado. Also, he's been in China for a few years and has sort of become an older brother for us naive children. This picture does nothing to support this claim however. I'm not sure what song he's singing, but it looks like it was something HARDCORE!

Do I know who these girls are (besides Anna)? No. Did they speak English? Hardly. Did we all have a rockin' good time? Indubitably.


A Strange Game of Volleyball:
Ok, so this isn't the greatest story to tell, but it sure left me awe struck for quite some time. I was walking home from one of the canteens that I usually get my lunch at when I saw a men's Volleyball practice. There was a very intense coach blowing his whistle and barking orders at his troops. Each player was in full athletic garb, sweating perfusely, and taking each drill quite seriously. Now, there doesn't appear to be anything strange with scene, except for the fact that they were using a basketball.
I realize it's possible they were using the basketball as part of a specific drill, but I explained this to a friend of mine (who plays quite a bit of volleyball herself) and she's never heard of anything like that. Also, if you think about, Volleyball is a finess game, so using a differently weighted ball doesn't seem to have any advantages. I may be jumping to conclusions, but it sort of looked like they were using the basketball because they didn't have an alternative, or because they didn't know any better. It's a rash judgement I know, but you have to understand that organized sports here in China are relatively new. Who am I kidding, I have no idea what was going on...all I know is that it was one of the strangest scenes I've seen here so far.


A Boy Becomes a Teacher:
Classes have finally begun at the Hunan International University of Economics. This leaves me with little free time, but also has given me a sense of purpose that I didn't even know I was looking for. I feel quite useful and productive after a day of teaching. I think I'm a pretty good teacher if I do say so myself. I keep the students interested and they seem to be learning. More importantly, I enjoy what I'm doing so I'm able to keep the energy high. It sounds strange, but that is easily the most important job I have: maintaining enthusiasm.
My students are ok. Some participate, some don't. Each class I teach has about 60 students, so I fight the battles I can win. I know this sounds bad, but nearly all of my university students are very immature by American standards. Then again, this isn't necessarily a bad thing. For instance, if I have a boy and girl do a role play situation together, there isn't one person in the audience that can refrain from giggling. If I decide to do a role play in which the students pretend they are boyfriend and girlfriend, it's complete pandemonium. Remember that these are university students.
Learning my students name's was an adventure in itself. I'm not sure why this is, but for every Jessica or Mark that I encounter, I am also introduced to Watermelon and her friend Eleven. Furthermore, there are a fair number of guys sporting names like Rosemary. They apparently didn't get a memo or something. Many students asked me to help name or re-name them, which I politely agreed to. Of course I have relied heavily on my friends and family for inspiration. In my class, there is an Eve, a Daneesh, a Jean-Christoph, a Brigit, and so on. Seriously, if you are reading this, you probably have a Chinese counterpart running around in one of my classrooms.
I could write a novel about my class experience so far, but I'll save more for another post. For now, I'll show you some photos I took on Friday:

This is where I do battle. Without any students...it almost seems peaceful.

I took this picture as quickly as I could. I was hoping to catch them off gaurd and unable to pose (peace signs, ect). This was accomplished somewhat. Had I announced that I was taking a picture, everyone would have been on their feet hamming it up for the camera. The right side of the room is cut off because I was planning on taking two pictures, but my camera ran out of batteries right then and there. This pissed off my class considerably. You can't just take one picture. It's simply not allowed. Also, I might as well have murdered the parents of the students to the right. Getting your picture taken is a pretty big deal here.
Ok, here's a game: Try to find the bad-asses in the class who try to pretend they don't give crap. "Too Cool For School" I believe is the correct phrase. That girl in the blue shirt with the sour face...oh man does she give me problems. No joke.

Interesting note: when the Chinese throw out the peace sign, they are actually intending it to mean "V for Victory"; a victory over Japan that is.

This is my view from the classroom window. When I get some free time, I love watching the never ending games of basketball. Basketball has recently become HUGE here in China, in part because of Yao Ming. He's really the first super-star that China has produced. Any other "Chinese" celebrity that you've heard of (Jackie Chang for instance) is usually from Hong Kong or Taiwan. Without going into the political backstory, these places don't really count when trying to claim native sons and daughters. Because basketball is a recent phenomenon, tons of boys play, but very few of them are actually good. The courts in the picture are empty compared to what I'm used to seeing. Also, most basketball complexes hold 10-12 courts. Suffice to say, there are a lot of basketball complexes on this campus. Every day I see rows upon rows of basketball games, each with players boxing out and swinging their elbows like an NBA champ, yet they never seem to hit a shot. It's a strange sight. Don't get me wrong, some are good. Some.


Tommy Get's Sick....With Disco Fever!
I am so incredibly sad to report that I have no pictures to supplement this topic. I'm sorry because if there was ever a topic that needed a visual representation, it would be this one. This past Friday night I went to a Chinese Disco. The street it was located on featured an impressive amount of Dance Halls. The Golden Years, The College Scene, The Soho...if it had an English name, or featured anything to do with NYC, you could bet it was a Disco. As soon as we entered we were greeted with the familiar "BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM!" that one comes to expect from a techno club. What I did not expect however, was the....ambience. The place looked like a combination of cheap carnival and acid overdose. Any attempt to further describe this incredible place would simply cheapen whatever your imagination can come up with. I'll try to get some pictures soon.
We joined some new friends at a private booth (one you would expect a mafia boss to sit at) and were relieved to discover that they spoke English. When this is not the case, Friday nights become a considerable challenge. The table they were using was a collage of ciggarettes and shot glasses. There must have been at least 20 shot glasses, each filled to the brim, and two or three large bottles waiting to replenesh them. I was a bit taken aback to be honest...that is until I tasted what was in these glasses. It was a combination of juice and vodka. Although, I hesitate calling it a combination. It was more like Fruit Juice sprinkled with vodka (I'm honestly trying to think of the adjective that would describe the least amount of liquid as possible). I really think the liquid was so dilluted that you could get far more drunk if you took shots of beer. Nevertheless, we had a great time toasting to various things and dancing the night away.
I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but in China, I'm actually considered to be a pretty good dancer. No joke. If you aren't snickering to yourself right now, you have reached this page by mistake somehow. I think it has something to do with the fact that China doesn't exactly have a long history of "getting down". I can't imagine that these Discos have been open for more than 10-15 years. While the Chinese folk become newly aquainted with the concept of shaking their Bon-Bons, I stand out as someone who actually has rythm. Long story short: I had an amazing time, shook my booty with some cute girls, met some cool new people, and was able to briefly convince (lie) to myself that I was getting a buzz.


Well, that's all for this installment of China 1, Tommy 0. If you do decide to comment (which I supremely hope you do), please leave your name so I know who is checking in. You lose all your "oh thanks for making the effort" points if you don't.

Also, I know I promised that I would tell you a sweet story that inolved Andrew and the word cunt, but I'm waiting to get the pictures for that. Haunting.

Tommy T

I'm Friggin' Sorry

Dear faithful readers: I'm so friggin' sorry that I haven't been able to put up a new post. Classes have begun and they are absolutely wiping me out. Also, I've yet to take any decent photos lately.
There will be a post that shall knock your stinking socks off SOON! I promise. Also, I'm still playing around with some video possibilities, so look for that.

Tommy

The Case Against Andrew Olson

For those of you who don't know, Andrew Olson is my good friend from Carleton who also happens to be conquering China with me. Having friends with me during this experience is truly priceless. You have no idea how refreshing it is to be able to make a South Park joke when basic communication is a never ending struggle during the rest of your day.

That being said, I have decided to share with you all the reasons why Andrew Olson is a deusch bag of a travel partner. Don't worry, he's going to be the first person to read this.

Reason 1: Andrew sucks because he has taken on the impossible task of trying to be the only white guy who has ever been mistaken for a native China-man. For those who know him, this should come as no suprise. If it is associated with America in any way, he hates it. If it is some ancient tradition that only small pockets of rural China still practice today, he friggin' loves it. "No, you guys can go to Mcdonald's. I'm going to go find some extremely nasty food that forces me to swallow faster than I can taste because it helps me experience the real China." Go blow it out your hole! We're here for an entire year and I want a Quarter Pounder!

Reason 2: Andrew sucks because local customs often force us to get incredibly drunk, but Andrew likes to pretend he's as sober as a priest. Basically, it goes like this: when you're in rural China, you drink. You drink at lunch, you drink at dinner, and sometimes they invent new meals just so you drink at that time too. I'm not talking about a smooth glass of red wine. You can either have beer (if you're a pussy), or (if you've got a pair) the Chinese equivilent to Everclear called baijiu. I've literally been asked, "For lunch do you want alcohol or beer?" It must be noted that this is not considered to be an option. While I was eventually able to fanagle a Sprite every lunch or so, getting drunk at 1pm and getting hammered at 8pm is something that is expected of you (I'm exaggerating things slightly for dramatic effect, but the heart of what I'm saying is true). I honestly don't know how some of these people return to their jobs. The way they force you to drink is by going "glass for glass" with them. It's sort of like a game. They'll look at you, raise their glass, and pronounce "Gambei" or "Bottoms up." This isn't like cheers. Cheers is more of a celebratory option. This is more, "drink it all, or you are disrespecting me." If you put up a enough fuss, eventually people will leave you alone, but you might as well be slapping them in the face if you don't have at least a few glasses. For this reason, Andrew and I got drunk quite often. Except, like his American heritage, Andrew enjoyed pretending that he wasn't drunk. I'd be flopping in my chair, telling people how the Chinese are all "Silly Pants", while Andrew showcased perfect posture and attention, as if he were sitting front row at some lecture. Oh, I knew he was drunk! Hell, he announced it to me when he was hammered! He just never felt the need to share this new way of being in such a teactrical way as I did. What a dick!

As this picture shows, there was clearly a heavy amount of alcohol flowing that night. I mean, for christ sakes, look at that guy's red face. Seriously, click the picture for its full effect! Now, to the untrained eye, Andrew might look sober here. Namely, he still has his shirt on. Don't let that fool you however. Da man be drunk! He plays it cool, while I'm left looking like a freshman sorority pledge.

Reaons 3: Body Odor.

Reason 4: Andrew sucks because he put me through one of the most hellish experiences of my life. The story goes a little something like this. Place: Downtown Beijing. Time: 6pm. Date: I think it was a Tuesday. So Phil, Andrew, and I were wandering the streets of Beijing, looking for adventure, taking every chance that came our way, when we recieve a call from the family we were staying with, telling us to come home right away so we could all go out for dinner. At that point, I suggested we hail a cab. Cab fare, like most things in China, is very cheap and we had wandered a significant distance from the apartment complex. "No," Andrew said, "I'm a big deusch and I say that we are going to walk all the way home. I've only been here for three days, but I am positive that I know the way without any help from anyone." I was a tad bit skeptic, but I decided to see if this marvel of a man actually knew what he was talking about. And so we walked. And we walked. And we walked. We took 6 left turns in a row. We literally walked through the Beijing equivilent of someone's backyard. Every two minutes or so, as things looked more and more bleak, I would ask Andrew if we were lost. "No, no," he replied, "See that mailbox? I remember something about a blue mailbox. I know exactly where we are. We'll be home in about 45 seconds." Eventually, however, I began to doubt his fearless leadership. I suggested we take a cab. "It would only cost about two US dollars," I said. "Also, that way our host family won't continue to worry about us. In fact, I'll do your laundry for a month if you let me get a cab Andrew; that's how nice I am. You see, my feet hurt from all the volunteer work I just did and I'd really like to give them a rest." Andrew replied by saying "No! I'm the boss-man around here and I'm not going to let you do anything you want! I heard that cab drivers cut off your penis when you get in their car and I'm way too big and strong and manly to let that happen." And so it went like this for at least 6 hours. I'm sure Andrew will tell you it was more like a half hour, but seriously, that guy's a deusch. Eventually, our traveling band faced a... shall we say... interesting obstacle. I had to go to the bathroom. BAD! Like, I just drank 5 cups of coffee bad. Also, I'm not talking the cool kind of "going to the bathroom" that makes every guy proud to be one. I'm talking about the "go to the bathroom" that sucks for all genders (I can't just say it, there are kids who read this blog!). So, as you might imagine, the concept of finding a public restroom just wasn't in the cards. We had no way of asking for such a thing, plus I'd rather make out with a donkey than use a public restroom in China. It involves squatting and a kind of messiness that can only be found around a toilet. So naturally, you'd think the boys would let me get a cab and relieve myself of this (yet another version of) personal hell. OH NO! They knew exactly where they were THIS TIME! I was about to pop (from anger I mean). At that moment, I was incredibly miserable and flustered to the point where I decided it needed to be documented. I made this decision so that Andrew could remember 20 years from now, just how pissed off I was at that time. This is the product of that documentation:

This picture has become affectionately known as my "poop face". If you look closely you can actually see my brain transforming Andrew from a friend to an enemy. Now we eventually did get home, (inspiring the quote from Phil, "If you get to where you are going, you are never lost,") and I did manage to destroy the host family's toilet in time. However, when we first arrived, our host mother promptly asked, "Why didn't you guys just take a cab?" I nearly crapped my pants, litera--ahh you get the idea.

Reason 5: Andrew sucks because he spoiled the one chance that I had to take revenge upon his soul. This was it! This was fucking it! After all those times of having Andrew shove his far superior skills with the Chinese language in my face! After all those times of watching him scarf down goat intestine, while I desperately searched for the sweet and sour pork. After all those times where he dressed like he going to meet the President of China and I was left looking like a boob in my Co-ed Naked Bullriding shirt (please tell me you know this is a joke). This was fucking it! You see, one morning we were all riding in a van, off to some strange govornment location that I'll talk about in a different post, when all of a sudden it became very apparent that Andrew had too much to drink the night before. I was doing fine on the other hand. I let everyone believe that this was because of my high tolerance, when in reality it was because I yacked up a boot the night before in the privacy of my own hotel room. Andrew, on the other hand, was left clenching his stomoch and had to eventually request that the van pull over. He hopped out of the van and I hopped out right behind him. I had to witness this--Andrew the super traveler was about to be reduced to the stupid American that couldn't hold his baijiu. I had my camera waiting. I was going to relish in this moment. Guess what? It never happened! Instead, I was left with this:

FUCK YOU Andrew Olson! Look at that stupid ass face! The bitch of it all is that I think the other people in the van thought he had just hopped out for a pee break or something. He ruined it. He ruined my moment for redemption. That picture is quite literally 2 seconds after he was hunched over, ready to blow. My camera was supposed to capture that blowage, not some Fonzi pose! Eh-Yi (that's the Fonz's "Hey").

So there you have it, the top 5 reasons why Andrew Olson is a deusch bag of a travel partner. I'd list more, but the internet only has so much bandwith to spare.

This is very important to note: in my next post, I will tell (what I find to be) a VERY funny story about how I actually did manage to get my revenge on Andrew Olson. It involves 200 Chinese people and the word cunt. Stay tuned for that one!

Thomas Henry Helgen

P.s. You fuckers better comment! No joke. As I told Caitlin Johnson very drunkenly the night before: blog comments are my love food. I need them to survive.

Chickity China, The Chinese Chicken. Have a Drumstick But Your Brain Keeps Ticking

You know, before I left for China, those were just words to a song. But now...well, now I know what the Bare Naked Ladies were singing about. I live those words every day. I don't expect you Americans to understand. I mean, Chickity China! It's as true today as it ever was. God damn, those boys knew what they talking about!

So guess what? I've been in China for about 4 weeks now and I don't have the slightest clue how to fill you all in on what's been going. It's been life changing. It's been hard. It's been a lot of fun. There are too many stories to try and pack into my first post, so I'll save those for a later time. Right now, I've decided to put some pictures up and let them tell a few stories along the way.




Holy Shit! It's the Great Wall of China! This is one of the first places I visited upon my arrival, so you can imagine that the bar was set very high early on. I can honestly say that the Great Wall is one of the few famous places that I've been to that completely adds up to the myth surrounding it. If the photos don't show this then I suck as a photographer. The girl next to me and the guy next to Phil are two highly capable people that used the same contact person as we did to make their China dreams come true. The contact person is a lady named Kate, who we think is in control of something like 50 kids scattered across the country. During the first few weeks, it seemed that we always saying "hello"to a new face, or saying "goodbye" to a person we barely had a chance to meet.




Just because I'm in China, don't mean that I gotta end the flavor and stop being a B-Boy 4 Life. Seriously though.




Just Cold Chilling, Great Wall style.




So I'm going to let you all in on a little secret. I haven't really told anyone about this because I'm a little embarrassed, but the truth is, I'm not in the greatest shape. I know I send out this vibe that I'm a totally fit super-athelete, but that's just a front I put up. Anyway, for those that are curious, yes the Great Wall (or the GW as the locals call it) kicked my fat ass all over the place. I died a little with each step. This picture should give you an idea why, if I were a Mongolian and somehow managed to scale the wall, I'd still give up on account of too many hills.




On the plus side, since I basically got a chance to witness my own personal hell, my masturbation count is down to an all time low. I only did it twice at the Great Wall. Look at that god damn picture! That's no trick photography. Those are some steep stairs!




And then it happened....
I went into cardiac arrest right there on the Great Wall. Since they don't have machines in China, there was no helicopter that could come and get me. Andrew had to pound two stones together to emmit the sparks that shocked me back to life. This Chinese dude was all like "Hey man, you gonna pay for those stones?" So what did we do? Well, we threw him off the Great Wall of course. That's the thing about the Great Wall, you're always three feet away from death. Ohhhhhh, I'm just joking! They've got a few machines tucked away Beijing somewhere.




This is especially for Brad Wolfram: GOD DAMN MONGOLIANS!!!
Do I know how to ruin a stunningly beautiful scene or what?




I don't have a lot to say about this picture. I'm sure you're all losing your minds right about now. To think, we actually occupied the same tram bubble that Bill Clinton once did. That's like only 8 years away from actually meeting him. What can I say? I'm a lucky dude.

A lesser man would have made a Clinton sex joke. I, on the other hand, am too classy for that shit.

So that about wraps things up. There ya go...the first decent post. I only used eight of the billions of photographs that I took at the GW. As beautiful as it is though, there are only so many angles that you can show a wall. Now that I've got everything set up, more updates should follow quickly. I've got some good stuff saved up for you guys, so do stay tuned.

Oh, also...I fixed the comments so that everyone can leave one without any requirements. Please do, it lights up my life. I would love love love to hear from you.

Yours Truly,
He Zheng Jie (That's my Chinese Name)