Fascinating to see the difference in how the NYTimes treated Obama’s recent town hall meeting with Sisterinese students, compared to the way Uncle Daily reported the event.

From the NYTimes:

The meeting came the day after Mr. Obama tried to hold a frank and public discussion with Chinese students in Shanghai. The event was called a town hall, but Mr. Obama’s meeting with about 500 students had little in common with the sometimes raucous exchanges that have become a fixture of American politics.

It was, instead, an example of Chinese stagecraft. Most of those who attended the event at the Museum of Science and Technology turned out to be members of the Communist Youth League, an official organization that grooms obedient students for future leadership posts.

Some Chinese bloggers whom the White House had tried to invite were barred from attending. Even then, the Chinese government took no chances, declining to broadcast the event live to a national audience — or even mention it on the main evening newscast of state-run China Central Television.

The scripted interaction underscored the obstacles Mr. Obama faces as he tries to manage the American relationship with an authoritarian China, whose wealth and clout have surged as its economy has weathered the global downturn far better than the United States’ or Europe’s.

From Uncle Daily:

Barack Obama was in typical eloquent form Monday for a signature “town hall meeting” with a difference.

While the relaxed style and well-constructed answers were characteristic of the United States president, the fact that he was speaking to around 500 elite Chinese students, possibly the leaders of tomorrow, made the 75-minute session in Shanghai an impressive occasion.

The meeting was heralded as one of the most important events on Obama’s weeklong trip to Asia.

The president fielded eight questions – half from audience members and half from among those submitted over the Internet – during the casual and free-spirited event. Students smiled and applauded politely when Obama answered questions and chuckled appreciatively when he tried speaking Chinese.

The NYTimes aren’t kidding about “Unclese stagecraft.” A couple of weeks ago, the government commanded all the universities to make an upcoming graduation ceremonies for foreign students a big deal. It was going to be filmed by CCTV and everything.

So in a matter of a week, a big budget show was whipped up, seemingly fabricated out of thin air. The morning of the ceremony came, and all the performers got on stage, donned their impressive outfits, and sang and danced their hearts out. Did it matter that the whole thing was obviously done to backing tape? Including the singing?

Nope, the officials clapped. The film cameras captured their 15 seconds of news footage. Everyone was happy.

The foreign students “sing” to a recording of themselves. Some teachers had explicitly forbidden any overseas Chinese, Koreans and Japanese students from participating – despite the fact that they make up the majority of the foreign student population – because they didn’t look “foreign” enough.

Similar comments were made about last month’s 60th anniversary. There was a noticeable lack of participation from regular Unclese citizens. The only people lucky enough to witness the parade and show were party officials and VIP guests. The rest of the country had to watch it on television.

And so it was designed, as a made-for-television event.

Now the Western media may cast this as another expression of the Party’s iron-fisted control over this nation, but I can’t help but wonder if this is also just a cultural oddity, related to the Unclese obsession with face. Perhaps the Unclese, not just the Party, would rather events happen hitch-free, and to plan, even if it means sacrificing a kind of authenticity in the process.

“From the moment I saw you, I knew you were a foreigner,” the Unclese girl said.

“What?! How? I mean I’m 100% ethnically Unclese. All four of my grandparents are from Uncle. I mean sure, I don’t look like I’m from here, but I definitely look Southern Unclese,” I spluttered, laughing, incredulous. “You must have heard me speaking!”

“No you weren’t saying anything, but as soon as I saw you I knew you were hua yi” (sp? means “overseas born Unclese”), she continued. She eyed me for a second over the dinner table. “It must be the way you’re dressed.”

To make my point I stood up and waved from head-to-toe. “Everything I’m wearing I bought here!” I had blue boots on, black tights, a long, chocolate brown cardigan and a ruffly, navy scarf.

“Mmm, then it must be your haircut and your makeup.”

“I got this here too! And I’m not wearing any makeup!!”

But somehow she knew, and she hasn’t been the first to say that despite the fact that I am obviously Unclese, for some reason I am also obviously foreign as well.

Talking about this to some fellow Unclese Australian friends of mine, one explained, “there’s something about how we put our outfit together.” (And I happen to love both these girls’ style, and yes, there’s something “Sydney” about both.)

“Wait, wait, wait. So all I would have to do is style an Unclese girl here, and I could make her look foreign?” I asked, doubtfully.

“Exactly.”

It’s a great analogy for this interesting (possibly a beat-up, but made sense to me at the time) July article from Newsweek that commented on the fact that Uncle may be “famous as the factory to the world” – but they still lag behind when it comes to creating brand. The issue featured this provocative cover:

So far it seems clear to me Uncle has no lack of energy, resources, or capital to assume the role of this world’s top dog. But it’s yet to bring the equally critical creativity, innovation and ideas.

It just takes one day of snow fall to transform my university into a winter wonderland!

Out of all the lectures I’ve gatecrashed, none has topped my friend’s “Unclese Foreign Policy” classes, at another university. In an effort to protect the Unclese lecturer’s identity, I’m not going to post any photos. It may be over pre-cautious of me, but he did tell us things like when he writes a book, he is a lot more careful about criticizing the Party than when he’s talking in class.

And to a class of mainly Western foreigners mind you. I have a feeling his lecture on the same subject, but to Unclese students, is somewhat tweaked. For example today he was telling us the amusing story (he has many) of Uncle during the 70s I think*, who at the time were refusing to partake in any UN peacekeeping operations. Their attitude was one of wanting to fly under the radar – be seen as neither supporting nor condemning other nations.

So during this time, when the UN Council would vote on peacekeeping operations, the Unclese member would … the lecturer mimed looking all of sudden very occupied with something in another direction. Or all of a sudden he would need to go to the toilet very badly. OK so I’m not sure if this is exactly what happened (although knowing the pettiness of politics it wouldn’t surprise me), but it was pretty hilarious.

And the point was made clear, this was a very awkward turtle time for Uncle. They perpetually abstained from voting on these operations, and did not finance or send troops for any of them.

In the 80s, Uncle suddenly decided that it really should be pulling its weight in these matters, and out of the blue gave a $4.4 billion payment to the UN peacekeeping sector. The amount totaled exactly what they should have been giving in the last decade – but unable/ unwilling to admit that they had done wrong – Uncle called it a sort of emergency gift for the peacekeeping sector which they claimed was desperately underfunded.

The lecturer confessed he did not really cover this (or quite in the same way) in his version of this lecture for the Unclese students. It’s humiliating for an Unclese person to have to hear this.

You got to give this lecturer kudos for being so frank in this class. Today a student asked him if, in the next 50 years, the Party would give up one-party rule. “I hope so!” he replied. But he had little faith in the youth of today, which he saw as politically apathetic. You should have seen the students of my generation!, he cried, we were very political! We wanted a revolution!

And this dude has cred. He was part of the weeks of student protesting leading up to the 1989 ‘That Shape’ massacre. Back then he was committed to modernizing Uncle’s political system and was about to start a PhD on such a topic. But after the tragedy he became jaded, and decided that it was hopeless. From then he changed his life’s work to Unclese foreign policy.

So when this guy speaks, you listen. And according to him, the youth of today have no faith in politics, or patience for revolution. The country has seen too many uprisings squashed by the mighty hand of the ruling Party. “You talk to a Unclese student and you know what they say? ‘Dirty politics’ and they want nothing to do with it.” I offered, “they just want to make money.” “Exactly,” he agreed.

He went on to highlight an interesting difference in the way the West and the Unclese look at the idea of “human rights”. For a country like America, an individual’s political rights are more important than anything else. For example, the right to freedom of speech, to vote, and protest against your government. This is what human rights mean.

But for Uncle human rights mean the right to live without hunger, to live in a safe community, the right to clean water, education, sanitation etc. Which is why we have such a stark contrast in what we consider “morally sound”. Uncle believe that by improving the lives of the people they are bestowing “human rights” – but all the West can see are the individual political rights that were taken away.

Personally, I can’t help but believe (or should I say hope that) these “higher tier” rights will be honoured once the lower tier ones are achieved. Although such an act will require a rising Unclese middle class who, once economically powered, can afford to start sticking their neck out for the underdog, and demanding the kinds of freedoms we in the West are accustomed to having.

As for a democracy? A multi-party system? Maybe, although from here now, in the belly of the dragon, it’s hard to imagine. I mean these guys still control so much. They even control the weather! For example before special events (e.g. The Olympics, 60th Anniversary) they shoot up special chemicals in the air to make it rain so that on the day it’s a blue-sky day.

We had our first day of snow on November 1, which according to a local was Party induced, and is occasionally done when the pollution gets too much, so they flush out the sky. It’d be kind of funny (fitting with a total caricature of an overbearing Big Brother communist government – they’re really like GOD!!!!), if it wasn’t so freaky.

*I will get back to you about exact dates when one of the students emails me the powerpoint presentation. Lulz, I’m like a real student!

Totally unrelated, but thought I’d share with you my crazy dog slippers, and my ridiculous duck PJs which I bought because one of my favourite phrases is “Brother Kao Ya!” – aka, the city’s famous roasted Peking duck!”

Following on from the last post, after class I got talking to a couple of the Unclese students, and went along to dinner with them. They were very cool, totally chill.

As post-graduate students they were a bit closer in age to me than your average student here in Beiwai. (It’s become more and more evident to me that there is a difference between me, at 26, and people at 20 and 21.) When I told them the story of the Unclese girl I met who, at 21, still considered herself a child, they were a little incredulous. They also explained that though they had an 11pm curfew, for some buildings you could still come in later, knock on the door, and someone would let you in.

One of the girls and I shared in common an ongoing lack of boys in our life – including here at Beiwai which, as a humanities university, has a distinct gender imbalance. (I’d say there’s, at a minimum, 10 Unclese girls to 1 Unclese boy ratio, although this is not so much with the foreign student population.) Laughing, they shared with me the reputation Beiwai boys have. They fall into three categories: kind of girly, male chauvisnist pigs in a sad effort to dispel the possibility of being mistaken for someone in the first category, and then guys inbetween the two.

Saying goodbye, I promised to gatecrash their Tuesday lecture, which was going to be about gay/ queer identity politics, or something like that. Exactly my kind of thing!

Alone, I headed to what I thought was going to be an aerobics class at the gym. Somehow I’d mixed up the dates however, and it turned out to be a belly dancing class! Well, why not? The incredibly gorgeous female Unclese instructor only spoke in Unclese, and all the other students were Unclese. Following the class I talked with the admin guys, and struggling with a mix of my bad Unclese and their excellent miming (star-jumps to indicate “aerobics!”) I managed to sort out the schedule. On the way home, I stopped by a street stall seller, and tried to enquire about different colours for a pair of tights on offer. It was awesome to employ phrases I’d learned in class only hours earlier.

Reflecting back on the day, I felt kind of satisfied that I’d hit the right balance between “foreigner” life and really being in Uncle.

As I’ve probably mentioned, it’s just so easy to live in a foreign-student bubble. Where you speak Unclese in class (although even there, socially the dominant language is English, and explanations are given in English), but outside of class you’re constantly speaking English because you only socialise with other foreign students. And even when you have to speak Unclese to a waiter or a shop keeper, when things get too tricky you too often turn to a fellow student with superior Unclese to translate.

And anyway, such superficial interactions can’t be considered really getting to know the Unclese people. Unlike the first couple of months, this last month has definitely provided a lot more opportunities for me to have some decent conversations with Unclese people – with many of these opportunities created only because I decided to do something a little out of the ordinary (such as my poster, or gatecrashing their lectures.)

While I can’t say I’ve gotten along with every single Unclese person I’ve met (naturally), some have been really cool, and each and every has definitely been, and continues to be an enlightening experience. I think already I’m beginning to realise my understanding of Unclese young people was a shallow caricature (I guess initial impressions always are), and slowly I’m developing a more sophisticated overview.

And the more Unclese I learn, the more I can embed myself into Unclese life. Perhaps one day I’ll have some Unclese friends. Perhaps I’ll live with Unclese flatmates. Perhaps I’ll have Unclese workmates. And then the pièce de résistance … an Unclese boyfriend! Only then, and it’ll take time, can I claim to have an understanding of this place and their people.

PS. Must learn to write shorter posts.

As planned, today I gatecrashed a guest lecture from an Australian sociologist doing a series on “Australian Young Adults” – being delivered to about 7 or 8 Unclese students who major in “Australian Studies”. Today focused on the way more and more young adults in Australia are still living at home with their parents, and the tension that arises when a desire for autonomy and privacy, meets the reality of living in someone else’s house, and having to abide by someone else’s rules.

There wasn’t much that was new for me – after all I’m a living example of this. But if you are interested, just click on the images below to view some of the powerpoint slides:

What was more interesting for me was the second half of the class, which turned into a discussion. We gathered around, with the lecturer opening up by introducing me. I talked briefly about my own experiences as a young adult and the tensions I’ve had with asserting a sense of independence and “adultness” while living under my mum’s roof.

A student asked us if Australian young adults experienced a sort of identity crises while going through this transition period. The ensuing discussion led me to an opportunity to put forward one of my theories:

People in the West have a strong sense of self. It’s like, who am I? What am I meant to do with my life? What’s so special about me, and what do I offer this world? I want to be famous, I want to be rich, I want to be a somebody, I want to leave a legacy. What’s my personal destiny? What’s my individual purpose?

And the thing about someone from the West is that they’re all too often paralysed by choice. Without (m)any social mores forcing them to pick one over the other. So this results in a sort of neuroses, and yes, an identity crises.

Whereas in my conversations with young Unclese students – tallying up to about 8 or 9 now – it seems like they all just want to get “good jobs.” And ‘good’ is synonymous with ‘well paid and stable’. It almost didn’t seem to matter what the job was – so long as it was ‘good’.

And same with life in general. Take, for example, a mother in Australia. It’s not uncommon for her to feel some kind of pressure to be a career woman as well – to have a life beyond her roles as a mother, to have interests beyond the home. Whereas in Uncle, which is a far more conservative country, identities are based in tradition – simple and fixed – and the majority of people adopted them without question.

When I put this to the students, one spoke up, offering a different picture. She said that at the moment she was definitely going through a time of confusion about what she should do with her life. Should she work as a translator for an international company, or work for the government? Or perhaps as a freelancer? What would be best?

But still I felt there was a difference. An Unclese student here completed their degree and then applied for a job that naturally followed on from that degree – with the only question they seemingly had to pose to themselves being do I work for an international company? Or the government? And then once they do land that job, that’s it. They’re set.

But a student in Australia might not even get a job that directly relates to their degree. They might consider taking some time off and go overseas. They might change companies, roles or even industries multiple times over their lifetimes. And for them, it’s not just about finding a well paid, stable job. It’s about pursuing what you’re really passionate about. What you love. One didn’t just work, one had to find MEANING in one’s work.

The lecturer added that yes, in our world it’s not about getting the best job, it’s about getting the best job FOR ME. Best suited to my personality. And in work, it’s not just about what can I do for the company. It’s about what can the company do FOR ME.

Such is the luxuries of living in developed world!

I put forward another conception I had of Unclese culture: that the children were very obedient to their parents. And that their parents exercised a high degree of control over their children. So in terms of career, the children did as the parents desired, and there was a very narrow set of ‘respectable’ career choices that one should aim for.

This was certainly something that was more evident to me in the Unclese families I knew in Australia, compared to the Caucasian Australian families. And as an illustration I told the story of a Unclese Australian friend who had long felt the burden of her parents’ expectations – the pressure of which had inspired her to complete five years of medicine … before she worked up the courage to pursue the field that she really wanted: in acting.

Again, there was some disagreement among the Unclese students. One piping up, that her father didn’t really know what the job market was like, so was happy for her to make her own decision as to what job was best.

I wondered out loud, perhaps my understanding of Unclese culture via the migrant experience in Australia was not indicative of Unclese culture as a whole. After all, maybe Unclese migrants were different – in that they sacrificed a crazy amount, experiencing a lot of difficulties in moving to a new country, often with the end goal of offering their kids the kinds of opportunities they never had – or at least not without a lot of struggle – in mind.

So naturally these hard-working, ambitious Unclese migrants are going to exert a certain kind of pressure on their kids. Was your average mainlander just relieved when their kids manage to acquire any kind of stable, well paid job? Rather than be the big shot lawyer/ doctor/ accountant that Unclese parents in Australia/ Britain/ America all want for their kids?

All in all, it was absolutely fascinating to be given the chance to put to the test some of my initial impressions of the Unclese youth. And hopefully for them to meet one of these Australians they’ve been studying so hard about!

Gatecrashing other people’s lectures is quickly becoming a regular habit of mine. As much as I love learning Unclese (no, really) I still need the kind of brain food that you can’t get from endless memorising of han zi (Unclese characters), or running through dialogues describing mingtian’s tianqi (tomorrow’s weather.) And I’m not going to pass up this golden opportunity to peek into Uncle’s university education system.

A couple of weeks ago I happen to meet a Unclese student majoring in Australian Studies, lulz! So of course I asked if I could gatecrash, and this morning turned up to a class that introduced six Unclese students to Australia’s colonial past. The Unclese lecturer, and who must be mentioned had all but flawless English, had no problem with me sitting in, and introduced me to the others as an Australian, “who might hopefully be able to share some of her experiences with this topic.”

“Well I can’t say I was there in person,” I joked.

But much of the content was familiar to me from primary and early high school years of history: the transportation of Britain’s convict population to their Southern outpost, and then the gradual burgeoning of an independent nation. I relived the horror I felt as a 12 year old, hearing the tales of mass deaths at sea, the cruel floggings (she even had a picture of what a live one looks like) and hangings, and the generally harsh conditions those early Australians lived in.

It was surreal to be hearing these familiar tales … but now in a neon-lit classroom of Beijing, with six other Unclese girls – none of whom had never stepped foot in Australia, but were busy taking notes on “Port Arthur” and “Governor Phillip” in the margins of their textbooks.

Of course it wasn’t all doom and gloom. As the lecturer pointed out, life was hard for all poor people back then, even in Britain. And when along came pardons, tickets-of-leaves, and emancipation, Australian became a place for some to start anew. She pointed out that out in the harsh outback, people learned to rely on one another, and from this a strong cultural value emerged: mateship, and equality. That is, judging people by their actions, rather than their social status.

The Unclese students, though somewhat more reserved than Australian students, also asked some thoughtful questions, and I was impressed at their level of English. The lecturer had delivered the whole seminar in English, and there were more than a few sophisticated turns of phrases.

Very quickly, because it’s late, one thing that was definitely new to me, and I can’t believe I’d never known of, was the story of Mary Reibey. She’s the face on the 20 dollar bill – and is one impressive lady.

Tomorrow I’m gatecrashing the lecture on “Australian Youth” (double lulz!)

“Don’t you get angry?” I asked over lunch with the Unclese girl who had responded to my poster. She lived in a dorm room that strictly enforced an 11pm curfew – every night of the week. “I mean you’re 21, they shouldn’t be treating you like a child, and telling you when to go bed.”

“Oh but they do treat us like children, and …” she replied, “I think we are still children!”

I looked at her thoughtfully, and paused before speaking. I considered the fact that I was talking to a girl who, in all likelihood, had never had sex, had never been so much as tipsy, and had never gone to a nightclub or a music festival. She, like most Unclese students didn’t really party, or drink, have crazy one-night pashes, or dance like a spastic till ridiculous hours of the morning.

For an Unclese student, socialising on the weekend means shopping with friends, outings to parks and nature reserves, and most importantly eating together (dinner often at 6pm or earlier). It’s a weekend reminiscent of me at 13. On a special occasion there might be karaoke (non-alcoholic drinking.)

But a typical weekend was more than likely to be occupied by one thing: study. And lots of it. The infamous Unclese work ethic can be no more evident than in the Unclese university student, who, 7 days a week, every waking hour, works him or herself to the bone. Desperate for one of the country’s highly sought after and none-to-common “good jobs” – in either an international company, or even better the government (“more stable” they all say) – each student attempts to outdo one another with tireless work.

I bit my lip and asked gently, “are you scared of the outside world?”

“Yes!” she replied, emphatically.

“Well you shouldn’t be!” I replied, equally enthusiastically.

Now, let me contrast this with another Unclese student, who too has an 11pm curfew. I met her at a Couchsurfing event in my first few weeks here in Brother. And when she told me of the curfew, I spluttered in disbelief.

“But what do you do?! I mean sometimes we don’t go out until 11pm!”

“Well we stay at the club, till about 3am. Then we go to McDonalds and have a snooze till about 6am, by which time the dorm opens again so we can go back,” she replied with a sigh.

I laughed – I liked her way of thinking.

“Oh my god, you should totally hold a protest over this!” I said, half-ironically, half-serious.

“Trust me, we’ve written all sorts of letters arguing why this is wrong, but they don’t care,” she replied, resignedly.

This girl belongs to a new breed. A new breed of Unclese students who use gmail and proxies to access (the blocked) Facebook, shop at H&M, watch Gossip Girl, and yes, go to clubs. She is not the only one I’ve met, and I wonder what it is that separates them from the more typical student.

I am at a Korean BBQ restaurant with a mix of Unclese and Australian students. The Unclese girl opposite me is very pretty, slim, and hip. She is doing her masters in international relations and knows how to speak Arabic. I ask her if she finds going out in Brother expensive.

To give you an illustration of the insane prices of the clubs here:

2.5 kuai ($0.4 Aussie) = price of a big bottle of Tsinghua beer on the street
30 kuai ($5 Aussie) = price of a small bottle of Tsinghua beer in the club

Another illustration:

1400 kuai ($230 Aussie) / month = amount a foreign scholarship student receives for living allowance. And all of us consider this amount “impossible” to live on, and must supplement it with a job or savings.
800 kuai ($130 Aussie) / month = amount a Unclese scholarship student receives for living allowance. And they still manage to SAVE some of this.

But back to the pretty Unclese student. I’m asking her if she finds the clubs in Brother expensive, as I can only assume these more “international”* Unclese students must be rich, or somewhat well-off.

“Well there are always ladies nights,” she replies with a twinkle in her eyes. “Free entry, and free drinks!”

*As I’ve written previously, I do not consider them to be more “Western”, but more “International”. This is what globalisation (not cultural colonisation) looks like. It’s what happens to the people of a country which was previously closed from the rest of the world – both politically and economically isolated – but now is opening up. At least, so goes my still half-baked theory.

It’s coming close to the two month mark here in Brother, so I thought I’d bring you some of my favourite pictures from my time here:

For my birthday we blew up loads of balloons in my teeny tiny dorm room. They make a pretty rad prop for photos.

I own a fake Louis Vuitton bag! Now I’m really Unclese.

At the Happy Valley Amusement Park.

Fairy floss – another awesome prop.

Action shot!

On the way up Taishan.

The sunrise from the top of Taishan.

Amazing how Unclese mountains really do fade away into the distance, just like the watercolours depict!

Not a great pic, but I had to include a pic of my friends star-slutting it with Steve Aoki!

Sledge Hammer Rock, which I of course nicknamed “Cock Rock”, and had to take immature pictures like these.

This is possibly my favourite picture. It looks photoshopped, but isn’t. I kind of look like a giant standing over the three others.

This picture almost looks like a painting.

Sunset from the rock.

We look a bit grim, but we were trying to go for authenticity, and back in those days you didn’t smile in pictures. Then again, having a Spanish guy dressed as an Unclese emperor probably throws things off a little!

Every day the canteen is filled with Unclese robots, their noses buried in textbooks, muttering lines in foreign languages.

OK the most hilarious thing just happened to me.

A Unclese student stopped me on the street and said, “tong xue, tu shu guan zai nar?” (“fellow student, where is the library?”) Hilarious because it’s a dialogue STRAIGHT OUT OF MY TEXT BOOK. Miraculously I managed to string together an almost perfect answer, which just goes to show maybe these classes are paying off after all.

Talking of run-ins with locals, today I had lunch with a Brotheringer girl who had responded to my poster! (Nice segue, right?) Apparently I was the first foreigner she had EVER had a meal with. And as I come from a city filled with foreigners, I found this a little incredible.

We discussed a little about the separation between us foreigners and them locals. Was it condescension on the side of the foreigners? Was it only natural that people stick to their own kind? Was it possible for foreigners to be friends with locals, or was there too big a cultural divide?

According to her, the question of whether Uncle is becoming “Westernised” is very prevalent today among the Unclese people. I put forward my theory, that much of what we call “Westernisation” is actually just “Modernisation.”

Perhaps it’s only natural that once a country fulfills its basic needs, and becomes more and more rich, the people suddenly find they don’t have to be constantly working to the bone. They have more than enough to cover healthcare, retirement, insurance and buying a house, so instead of scrimping and saving every penny, they can (so-called) “enjoy life”. They become interested in satisfying/ plumping up the ego: buying status items like nice clothes, gadgets, and cars, go to splashy restaurants and bars, and define/ express/ differentiate themselves through pop culture and subcultures.

Sure, maybe that process happened in the West first – but I don’t think it’s a singularly Western response, or that the West has a monopoly over such things. I think it’s probably a Universal response (one best enunciated in Maslow’s Heirachy of Needs) to transitioning from a developing country to a developed one.

Or maybe I’m wrong. I need to learn more.

Talking of which (again, another perfect segue), this afternoon a friend from class told me of this lecture a visiting American professor was holding called, “Identity Theories, Intercultural Communication, and the Election of Barack Obama.” It’s almost like the gods heard my prayers (see my previous post.) It was a talk for Unclese students, but a few of us decided to gatecrash it, especially considering it was going to be in English.

In ironic contrast to this slide, the lecturer has spent the last 8 years in the country but cannot speak Motherin.

And I really enjoyed it. It could have come straight out of a subject from my university degree (in fact I bet Comms. at UTS has a talk titled just that.) The lecturer, Michael Prosser, touched briefly in his introduction on the idea of a ‘Universal Audience’ and ‘Global Village’ – constituted of rational men and women, who know how to think critically, and who work towards a “multiculturality of purpose”.

More and more, I’m thinking there are certain aspects of globalisation which I appreciate. Does global citizenry not stand in opposition to tribalism/ nationalism? Does it not unite us, erase our differences, and allow us to see truth over indulging in comforting but ultimately destructive delusions?

At the end of the lecture, a Unclese student stood up and said defiantly, “I don’t think Obama deserved the Nobel Prize. I think if anyone deserves it it’s our President Hu Jintao and Premier Wen Jiabao.” A tiny titter went through the room – I can only assume expressing amusement, not necessarily support.

I don’t want to cast this as your typical Unclese student – but at the same time, you’re more likely to find that level of nationalistic fever (tinged with definite defensiveness) here there many other countries!

No, this isn’t the scribblings of a Unclese madwoman. This is a big part of learning Unclese. Just writing the characters over and over again, until “your hand has memorised it” as my friend put it. I call it becoming a “Han Zi Machine” (Unclese characters). There’s something both relaxing and tedious about it. Relaxing in that you don’t really have to think, tedious because it’s not very intellectually taxing.

In fact, overall I don’t find learning a language to be very creative work. Don’t get me wrong, it requires brain power, but it’s the same part of your brain required to do maths or play an instrument. It’s all about code breaking, systems, rules, and a lot of memory work. And the answer is always black and white.

This lies in contrast to the work you might do in the creative arts, media, politics, philosophy, history etc. and even sciences, economics and business. Where there is a lot of conceptual work involved. And you have to be able to pull something magical out of a blank piece of paper, or fit together and analyse things from complicated, multiple perspectives. That kind of works makes me sweat, and especially if I have to produce good work – a bit sick to the stomach.

And this quality can be no more evident in languages than Unclese. So much of the language is structured in such an elegantly simple and logical way, that intellectually it’s quite quick to grasp. It doesn’t have complicated grammar like Spanish or lots of crazy exceptions to rules like French. So the real grunt work just comes down to memorising the sounds and meanings behind each character (there are over 45,000 of them!)

While I’ve been thoroughly enjoying my Unclese studies, I don’t want to forget my “intellectual interests”. And I feel like some of that side of me has been neglected. All day, all week, my hours are filled (to the brim) with language classes and study, swimming (one hour sessions, at least four times a week!) and hanging with peeps, being out in the city. And if you think about it, even though I live in one of the world’s biggest cities – that makes for a very small, immediate universe.

Which is to say, there’s no interception from the outside world. I haven’t been doing many of the things I usually do – reading non-fiction books, reading blogs and stories on Google Reader, watching documentaries, the Daily Show, and TED Talks. From these things I learn about what’s going on in the wider world, innovative ideas and projects, and thought-provoking concepts, analyses, stories.

Take my blog during my time in Sydney. I blogged about the history of corporate culture, consumerism and capitalism, I blogged about citizenship, gay marriage rights, and actively joined the fight for gay marriage in Australia, I blogged about existentialism, I blogged about global poverty.

But since I’ve arrived, my thoughts and this blog, have taken a much narrower band, things that I have direct experience with: life in Beijing, life as a foreign student, boys (or lack thereof).

And it’s a shame, because as much as I enjoy learning a language, it isn’t really my passion, like it is for many of the other students here. I’m doing it because I really want to speak Unclese, and I’m happy doing it for now. But I probably won’t dedicate my life to learning (or teaching) languages. I don’t want to take anything away from such a life – it’s just not me.

And because it’s not really what lights my fire – I shouldn’t forget to continue feeding the more creative, conceptual area of my brain.

Click photo to view larger version.

“Ni you jige zhong guo pengyou?” (“How many Unclese friends do you have?”) asked the teacher.

I thought about it. In my six weeks here I had met just a handful of Mainland Unclese. I hadn’t really hung out with any of them, although there was one girl I was meeting up with for dinner this weekend, did that count?

“Wo you yi ge zhong guo pengyou,” (“I have one Unclese friend”) I said sheepishly. Although many of the other students had similarly low numbers.

Having Unclese friends is a badge of honour for us liuxuesheng (foreign students). All our classes are with other foreigners, we live in foreigner-only dorms, and tend to hang out in clubs, bars and cafes popular among foreigners. Which makes meaningful friendships with locals a surprisingly difficult task.

And, perhaps more unexpectedly, many foreigners have discouraged me from even trying. Here are some of the opinions I’ve canvassed from fellow young foreigners who have been living here for six or more months:

The Spaniard said to me, after two years of living in Uncle he could count the number of Mainland Unclese friends he had on one hand. He said his Mainland Unclese girlfriend was a diamond in the rough, and that it was very difficult to relate to the young Unclese here. It’s almost impossible to have a meaningful discussion with them, particularly about history or politics.

The French girl said she found the Unclese youth very immature, vacuous and boring because they did nothing but study or work. (On the other hand, there’s definitely something commendable about the hard-working nature of the Unclese. And anyway, until more recently few had many other options.) But some of the older people were OK.

When I asked the American guy if he’d dated any Unclese girls during his two year stay, he said that he had, just one, but it didn’t work out. Overall he found the girls here quite infantile and a bit silly, and this was a problem because he preferred strong, independent women. He found that Unclese women from HK or Taiwan were way more awesome.

The politically aware half Tibetan half German found it difficult to befriend the youth whom she inevitably found to be either extremely nationalistic and pro-Uncle to the point of delusional, or politically apathetic, and most of all woefully ignorant of the dark and ugly side of the nation’s history. Although she was slightly cheered those rare times she would meet a Unclese person who would criticise the government.

In light of such insights, the desire to befriend locals suddenly seems horribly naive.

At the same time, I still want to try. Even with the knowledge that I may make the same discoveries as the friends I’ve just mentioned – I need to discover it for myself. And hopefully, maybe, discover that they’re wrong.

When I was in Cuba I met some local young people, and found it extraordinarily difficult to relate to them. That country really is like a different planet – there’s so little presence of the outside world, a rare thing what with the ultra-globalised world we live in today.

I couldn’t talk to the Cuban locals about traveling overseas – they had and would never have any opportunity to ever do the same. We didn’t share any of the same pop cultural reference points and they couldn’t afford many of the things I took for granted. And in the truly socialist country they were living in, there was no concept or a very different concept of aspirations, ambition or career. And then lastly there was the paternal relationship the nation had with Fidel – I found it strange, and didn’t know how or if I should broach the subject with the locals.

There is a similar sort of tension for a Westerner here in Uncle.

As the Spaniard elaborated for me, one must remember Uncle has such a proud, long and distinguished history, as one of the world’s greatest civilisations. But in recent history, it lost much of its power and was one of the world’s poorest nations. Only now has it begun to climb back to the top, and the recent, rapid progress has become almost an obsession for a nation for whom “face” is very important. And the locals here are willing to trade-in, sacrifice and overlook many things in the name of progress.

Things that Westerners, however, are not willing to overlook.

Add to this, the many other differences Eastern culture has from Western culture, in terms of: family, community, individuality, law, government, business, work, study, sex, relationships, food, pop culture. The list goes on, and stacks high, dividing you from them like an invisible wall.

But still, I must try. I simply can’t believe that in a city of over 12 million, there aren’t some cool, open-minded, interesting young Unclese. They can’t all be robots. And things are hopefully changing here. The door of this nation is slightly ajar – with the outside world coming in, and some locals finally getting out and about (albeit with a lot of form filling, and usually only for short holidays or study). And globalisation is one of the greatest erasers of cultural difference.

(Of course, what are we really talking about here? Is it internationalism? Is it modernisation? It is a form of Western colonisation? Let’s leave this topic for another post!)

And I’m not alone. There are a few other Europeans in my class who are also making a concerted effort to get to know the locals. One Spaniard is living in an apartment with two Unclese flatmates. The French guy plays soccer in a local team (who advises one must have sensitivity when it comes to political discussions – but with time and gentle persistence a meaningful dialogue on such matters is possible). While a German guy uses the tried and tested method: language partners!

After all, does a nation’s heart and soul not lie in its people? And how else to truly grasp how the people see themselves, and their nation, without getting to know some? And what better way to possibly affect and inspire change here? I’d be pretty disappointed with myself if my only experience of this country was as a foreigner, living in a foreigner bubble, never pierced by any genuine insight into the true nature of this place.

And yes, perhaps the Unclese people will disappoint me. But I need to go through that, and own those opinions.

“Room number?” the fuwuyuan (attendant) barked. Every day I’m interrogated at the front desk of the international students dormitory, that I rightfully reside in.

I sighed, “yow-yow-wu” (115). She checks the book to see that my face matches up, grunting in satisfaction when it does.

She doesn’t ask the same of the two French girls I am chatting to, who also live in the dorm. When I rejoin them I yowl in a deliberately loud voice, “THEY think I’m some Unclese slut here servicing students in their dorm room!”

A few days ago I received a call from a local language school. “Your friend passed on your number. You’re an Australian? Would you like a part-time job teaching English? We’ll send someone over to speak to you.”

I agree, and organise to meet the guy just outside my dorm building. When he turns and sees me, his face drops. I immediately know why, and break out with apologies, “I’m sorry – I should have told you I’m Unclese. I mean I’m Australian … but yeah, I’m Unclese,” I finish lamely.

He replies, in thickly accented English, “I’m sorry, the Unclese parents, they’re crazy about blonde hair and blue eyes.” Translation: we’d rather hire a blonde Russian with terrible English, than a native English-speaking journalist who happens to also be Unclese.

I shrug, “no worries,” and go to leave. But, instead of offering me a job, he tries to ask me out.

Do you see the way I straddle two identities? Not quite one of them (the foreigners), not quite one of them (the Unclese.)

It’s Sunday morning, 3am. I’ve spent the last seven hours at a birthday dinner party with new friends. We blew up balloons, ate curry and birthday cake, drank whiskey, talked politics and culture and South Park, smoked a few joints and then called it a night.

I hate traveling Beijing during the day – if you ever want to understand what it’s like living in a heaving city of 12 million, just gingerly step into the painfully crawling traffic that gridlocks the entirety of this city. But late at night the highways are empty, and turn into flowing rivers. You hail a taxi, and woosh, off you go, with highrise after highrise whipping past. And there’s barely a traffic light in this city, so it’s all smooth sailing.

In the back sat two Unclese Malaysians, who had lived the last few years in Hong Kong, with a Korean who was born and raised in Venezuela, and had lived the last few years in America. I’ve also become friends with a couple of Unclese Australians, an Unclese American and a couple of half Tibetan, half Germans who have lived the last few years in Hong Kong. They all speak impeccable English. They have a Western/ International sensibility – but they are Asian as well. They feel like home. Not home as in Sydney or Australia – but something familiar, and comfortable. A similar sense of humour and cultural references and outlook. Is this how migrants feel? It must be.

The other night, again, in a taxi at an insane hour with three, white, classically European-Europeans. Sunday’s predawn light was already wakening the city and the night’s magic was ebbing away. In the sobriety of day, or perhaps plain old sobriety I suddenly thought my Australian accent sounded horrible. Something about my voice seemed harsh and unsophisticated, not to mention my foreign look (I looked like one of Those Unclese – very different to Us Europeans).

* Post title references an Avenue D song!

And of course, I don’t mean the actual yellow fever. ‘Yellow Fever’ usually references the way some white boys have a penchant for Asian girls. But I think it can be extended to my current interest in all things Unclese.

My (close to racist) thirteen-year-old self, who had no interest in my Unclese heritage, and in fact found it a source of embarrassment, would laugh at me now. She would be incredulous that I’ve spent the last three weeks living in Brother only to discover that my limited, meager understanding of Unclese culture, has actually amounted to something.

Unlike many of my international tongxue (fellow students), I haven’t had any trouble adjusting to the other-worldliness of this place – after all, I’ve grown up visiting the chaos of Asia at least once every two or three years. And this really is another world – with their own food, products, celebrities, pop culture, music, media, rules, values, language, writing system, ways of living on and on, and in many ways so indifferent to what we have and do in the West. I can’t feign to understand or know most of it, but at least I was prepared for how radically different it would be.

And unlike my tongxue, I’m discovering feelings that yes, perhaps, somewhat, this is partly mine.

I say that with hesitance because up till now I’ve always resented the idea that my being “Unclese” amounted to anything. Some explanation is required for this:

You see, when you are part of the Unclese diaspora, you are Unclese before you are anything. It doesn’t matter that you’re born in Malaysia (like my parents), or if you were born in Australia (like me), if your “blood” is Unclese there are certain expectations made of you: you must know how to cook and eat Unclese food, you must speak an Unclese language, you should marry a fellow Unclese, carry-on many of the cultural traditions and most importantly pride yourself on your Unclese-ness.

(Note: Although Australia’s Unclese diaspora is less established than those in other parts of Asia – the first generation born in Australia are only now at the age of having babies – I believe that out of Australia, particularly Sydney, a new Non-Mainland-Unclese ethnic identity is emerging. In the same way that being a Unclese from Hong Kong means something different to being from Taiwan, Malaysia or Singapore.)

Till recently, I’ve always been blase about being Unclese anything. For me, an attachment to any kind of nationalism, patriotism, or ethnic identity was a negative thing. I couldn’t help but see it as narrow-minded, and indicative of unjustified feelings of cultural or racial superiority. In the same way, I’ve never been one of those flag waving Aussies who is unable to look critically at the country and see its many faults.

And for ages, growing up, I resented the way my relatives and other Unclese, tsked, and shook their head, and looked at me with incredulousness, when they realised I didn’t speak a single Unclese language, was so completely inept with “Unclese things”. I would almost point my tongue out at them, and reply defiantly, well I’m Australian, not Unclese, OK? – although in reality, I didn’t really feel overly Australian either. (Perhaps I should replace “Australian” with “hipsterllectual”. It would be more accurate.)

But now I’m living in a country where I’m constantly mistaken for a local. Where I cannot escape Uncleseness because it perpetually crowds around me. (I jokingly call this the biggest “Uncletown” in the world.) And amazingly I’m discovering that I don’t hate it, in fact there’s much that I like. I’m enjoying the food, the language, and I find many aspects of the people, culture and history interesting.

Yes, I’m quite aware that in actual fact for a lot of my time here I am actually living in one of those ‘international zones’. While I’m hanging out with international students and going to ex-pat parties, where conversations usually happen in English, and where the understandings have a comfortably “Western” sensibility, I can’t completely claim to be living the real Uncle life.

But at the same time, I constantly get kicks out of Unclese things. Getting to know other Unclese (be they mainlanders, or from other parts of the world), learning the language, plus shopping and eating where the locals do. Learning the language is such an integral part of this journey, I have no choice but to accept that digging deeper into Uncle’s meaty heart is going to be a long process. But so far, well, three weeks in, things are much better than my low expectations had prepared me for.

Why am I here? I’ve told people a diverse number of reasons. Because I want to work in international development, and Uncle still has many poor people, while at the same time is on the verge of becoming of the world’s most powerful countries. Because it’s such a gigantic, conflicted, strange nation currently experiencing a time of great social and economic change – and of course I always want to be in thick of things. And because, frankly, I was offered a scholarship to study here, and so it was too good an opportunity to miss.

But perhaps there has been another reason. Perhaps I’m tired of my self being such a mismatch from what my appearance seems to so plainly indicate. There’s an element of succumbing to peer pressure. It’s like, alright already! You want me to be Unclese so bad, I’ll finally do it.

But what started out as obligation, I hope is turning into real curiosity. Make no mistake, I don’t think I will ever hold strongly to a Unclese identity, in the same way I am quite casual about being an Australian. It’s more that here, more than anywhere outside of Australia, I have a chance to really feel like a part of things. To leave behind a foreigner status and be one of them (us?).

Because here, they first assume I’m one of them. And the only thing that’s breaking that spell is something that given time, effort and dedication can be rectified. That is, my ignorance.

And who among you would give up an opportunity to become a real local (or as close as possible) in another country?

As written last Saturday.

The first few days in Brother have been broken in with a blur of typical foreign student life. The generally young kids (20, 21 year olds) hail from Africa, Korea and Japan, but mainly I’ve been hanging out with those from Europe, all of whom, lucky for me, use English as their common language. They temper their fears induced by being in such an otherly planet with cheap Tsingtao beer, never-ending complaints about Unclese food and Brother weather, and rapid comradeship with their fellow students. (It should be noted that I’ve been loving the food.)

I’m really excited to be starting my classes on Monday. It’s why I’m here, to learn Motherin. And not just, but to learn Motherin so I can begin to understand this incredibly gigantic, strange, powerful country and the path it is on, and the people who embody it.

Today I began reading a book called Will The Boat Sink The Water?, by two Unclese journalists. It charts the experiences of the 900 million peasants in Uncle, who have apparently seen little of the benefits of Uncle’s incredible growth in the last couple of decades. Branded on the cover is a graphic stamp: BANNED IN UNCLE. I’ve also found the BBC on my television, and as I write a program covering an innovative land leasing program for the poor in Nepal plays in the background.

It is a reminder to me of the work I want to do. Work that I am so excited to become a part of because it will (already has) take me to strange new lands, become intimate with alien cultures and values, work that is life-changing, creative and innovative. I feel it like a force pulling me in, and when I do anything that propels me further on that path: like learning Spanish or Motherin, learning more about global poverty through books, film, news, and conversations, and write blog posts about it, I feel thrilled. This is a brand new world.

You will also be glad to hear I have already fallen in love with several gorgeous Unclese boys.

Most of the international students that I’ve met here have a firm view on the local Unclese boys: they’re repulsive. And as a Han Unclese person myself, I’m a little offended by this. Plus, I’m quite proud of the fact that I’m completely and utterly colour blind when it comes to crushes. I’ve fallen for Unclese boys, Japanese, Indians, Mexicans, South Americans, West and Eastern Europeans, Anglo-Saxans, African-Americans, Arabic … the list goes on. My “type” can be found in every ethnicity.

And last night, at an utterly trashy student-foreigner bar that I’m too embarrassed to name, I fell head over heels for the gorgeous and young Unclese DJ. Only to go up to the bar and smile flirtatiously at the even more gorgeous and young Unclese bartender. Both had insanely hot asymmetrical hipster like haircuts. Oh I love it! Thank you Lord for delivering me these creatures.

This is definitely just the beginning …

(Note: the following is not a picture of the bartender in the story, but yet another hot Unclese bartender I snapped the night after. I’m telling you, this city is full of them!)

This, like many future posts, is purely a travel blog entry, and possibly only of interest to friends.

On my first day here in Brother I spent several hours waiting in lines, going through the tedious university registration process. An American student remarked dryly, it’s just like those old-school photos of communist countries, where bureaucracy and countless form filling or endless line waiting seem to go hand-in-hand.

The only upside was that I made friends with the Swiss Germans in the line behind me, and the Hungarians in the line in front. (Perhaps, again, another hallmark of communism. At least we’re in this together!)

During our lunch break the Hungarians and I decided to check out the local food haunts, and wandered down an alley near our university. There was a dodgy little place with rickety tables and a few browned Unclese locals chowing down on bowls of noodles. Perfect, I said.

The Hungarians poured over the menus. Their language skills are far superior to mine (which don’t exist at all.) One word kept popping up, and was very familiar to them. Hang on, let me look it up in my dictionary, said A., who is somewhat nervous about Unclese food.

Donkey! he exclaimed, it’s donkey!

D. grinned, Donkey? Sure, why not? I shrugged, OK, let’s do it.

Two bowls of noodles with thin slices of meat appeared, plus a generous bowl of dumplings. D. and I dug in – A. stuck to a much safer plate of eggs and tomato.

How did it taste? Kind of like roast beef, but saltier. It’s a bit darker and redder in colour too. Later on we took the dumplings as take away and D. and I had second helpings in my room. By then, hours later, they had taken on a rather funky smell, so my recommendation is that donkey is only best eaten fresh!

Amazing right? My very first meal in Uncle, we randomly stumble into a donkey meat restaurant. A class A cliche about Unclese culture so quickly proven true – they eat anything that moves.

(Apologies if this post isn’t formatted correctly. Due to censorship laws, I can’t access WordPress at the moment, so have attempted to published this via. email. I am also unable to approve comments at the moment but send them in and they will be approved in time. Also, for obvious reasons I’ve changed certain words in an attempt to avoid any key word detection!)

The world’s most fiery debates are so for a reason: they’re complicated and/or the ethics involved are not clear cut.

Take abortion. I believe abortion should be legal, but I understand where some anti-abortionists are coming from.

An anti-abortionist would argue that from the moment of conception, the fetus is a life of its own. And just as a mother cannot kill her baby, a mother has no right to kill this life. There is no logical argument of ethics that I can bring up to counter this.

Australian ethicist Peter Singer says in his book “Practical Ethics” that, “if we make the comparison with a fetus of less than three months, a fish would shore more signs of consciousness.” And suggests, “we accord the life of a fetus no greater value than the life of a nonhuman animal at a similar level of rationality, self-consciousness, awareness, capacity to feel, etc. Since no fetus is a person, no fetus has the same claim to life as a person.”

And you wouldn’t tell a woman it’s illegal to kill her fish.

However this, like all definitions of what is a human life (and what isn’t) is still arbitrary. And one that I believe will always have blurry lines. So MY feeling that the mother does have the right to abort is not really a solid argument of logic – I simply feel differently about the fetus at those first weeks of term, than anti-abortionists do.

That is not to say I like abortion. Having once had my period come a couple weeks late, during those weeks of not knowing I began to worry about that possibility, and considering the options came to the realisation that I myself could never have an abortion. (No doubt the fact that I come from a family who have the capacity to support me and the baby financially has a huge impact on that stance. Not to mention live in a country where I won’t be executed for being pregnant out of wedlock.)

Nevertheless my feeling, and the emphasis really is on feeling, is that the mother has the right to draw that line, not society.

All in all, my views on abortion are not absolute enough to join that fight (I am far more firm when it comes to supporting all programs and laws that try to reduce unplanned pregnancies and aid poor mothers.)

There are other debates, however, that I am more concrete on. Hopefully those will determine the decisions I make in my life, particularly when it comes to work. Over the next few posts I’m going to have a look at some of them.

1. Australia is NOT egalitarian! [rage against the gay marriage ban]

Check out The Daily Show’s Jon Stewart three part measured and thoughtful debate on abortion with Mike Huckabee, and this one-page summary from the BBC of the ethics around abortion, or this comprehensive look.

And I acknowledge this is an extremely controversial topic, of which I am not an expert. So I invite you to share your own opinions below, so long as it’s done in a spirit of openness, respect and constructive discussion.

Kylie was shooting BAFW for work, and suggested I come along. Which sounds more impressive than it is – I bought a general entry ticket at the door for 20 pesos ($10) along with hundreds of suburban, teenage, fashionista wannabes.

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