connie's space

            T-shirt and shorts? 

            Check.

            Sleeping attire? 

            Check.

            Toiletries? 

            Check.

            U.S. flag? 

            Double check!

            When you’re going to the Olympics, the usual luggage packing takes on a bit more meaning.

             I always knew those teaching supplies for my U.S. Government unit  would come to greater use some day.  My full-sized American Stars-and-Stripes certainly proves it. 

            If you’ve been keeping up on this blog, you know this was a spur-of-the-moment decision.

            I had no hotel accommodations.  No venue tickets.  No detailed plan.  I just decided I’d go, even despite what I’d been reading.

            I must say, reports of popping in on the Games and seeing an event have not been encouraging.

           The first day of sales in China had people waiting in line for 24 hours.  Police were everywhere, trying to keep order.  When the booths finally opened, the rush to grab up tickets was a madhouse of pushing and shoving.  They sold out in a few hours.

            The tickets themselves have been carefully guarded by the government. Opening and closing ceremonies require a person to register their name and ID number before being issued a pass.  Tickets are metal coded for scanning and can only be transferred twice, although I’m not sure how that can be enforced. Who would know how many times a ticket had been passed along to another?

             Then we have the scalpers, who are threatened by several years in a labor camp if caught.  On the second day of the Olympics, I read 135 arrests had been made for illegally selling tickets.  Still, there are many scalpers hiding in the shadows or leisurely walking around the main venues.  They “psst!” desperate individuals over to their corner for a secretive purchase.  Prices range from $100 to $1,000 or higher.  Even the most undesirable sports events are bringing in big bucks. 

            In China, it seems years of possible wealth outweigh years in a labor camp.

            These ridiculously high prices are also forcing many venues to remain empty.  Scanning the spectator areas during the live coverage, there are entire sections devoid of occupants.  To the public, it appears there must be plenty of tickets to be bought but in actuality, the ruthless scalpers have total control over these seats.  They remain empty because few can afford to pay for them, nor are scalpers willing to come down in price.

            Visitor frustration is high among everyone, including the Chinese who have come to Beijing to personally support their athletes in the stands. 

            For many fans, it just ain’t happenin’.  

The Search for a Hotel

            For fear of being stuck with a hotel I couldn’t afford, yesterday evening I made a few phone calls to Beijing.

             My usual Beijing accommodation is a Chinese chain motel, the Ru Jia (Home Inns), which is comparable to a Super 8.  When I first stayed there 17 years ago, it was the Bei Wei Hotel, a couple notches up from the backpackers’ haven.  Rates were as low as $15 a room.  After the chain hotel’s refurbishing in 2003, I paid a reasonable $36 for a small suite last year.  A real bargain considering the hotel is situated just 25 minutes’ walk from Tiananmen Square, 10 minute’s walk from the Heavenly Palace park, and tucked away in a quaint Chinese neighborhood with cheap restaurants and a lot of local color. 

            My Friday night phonecall to the front desk left me astonished:  1,800 yuan ($260) or the cheaper 1,400 yuan ($200).  

            I expected this particular Home Inns to be high but not that high.

            I debated landing at the airport and trying my luck but a few Internet searches sent me to a familiar site,  Holiday Inn Express. 

            In China, I never stay in American hotels due to the high costs but it was listed under “cheap rates” so I called.

            The disappointment of the same Home Inns prices  registered stongly in my voice.

            I pleaded in Chinese.

           “Anything cheaper?  It’s just too expensive for me.”

             There was a slight pause.  The woman at the reservations desk seemed to be thinking.

             “We have a special rate offered by the manager. 60% off,  non-refundable, if you charge to your credit card.  868 yuan ($125) per night with breakfast.  I can only offer to you now.  If you call back later, that offer is maybe finished.”

            I hesitated.

            “This is the best price in the city,” she added.  “All our guests paid full price.  And you are very near the Olympic venue, only 20 minutes by bus, 10 minutes by subway.”

            Oh, heck.  What’s a credit card for, anyway?

            So that takes care of one difficulty on my worry list.

             If nothing else, I have a good place to stay in the city proper, high-speed Internet room access, and a free breakfast.  If I don’t manage any venue tickets, I’ll just enjoy the atmosphere and embrace the Olympic moment. 

            After all, isn’t that what the Games are all about?

            From Chengdu, soon to be leaving for Beijing, here’s sending you  “Ping An”!

              My Chinese friends and former students in Luzhou have sent a few messages, wanting to see photos of my last few days in the States before returning to China.  I had emailed them about some special events, including get-togethers with my university swimming teammates and high school classmates. 

            “We want to see pictures!” they replied. 

            So before you launch into the next photo album, I’ll just give an update about what you’re seeing.

            One Saturday morning, my high school classmates and I met for brunch at our local state park restaurant.  We were a small crowd, just those from nearby coming together, and numbered 9 women and one guy.  Everyone brought pictures of family, which was interesting for me since I’d not seen anyone for 25 years.  Catching up was a lot of fun.

            But the best reunion took place a few days before I left.  Ray Padovan, my swimming coach from Eastern Illinois University, was finally retiring after 43 years of coaching.  For a year, one of our former EIU swimmers and swimming team graduate assistants had planned and organized a team reunion coupled with a retirement party.  I hadn’t seen Ray or my teammates since I graduated from college in 1987.  To visit with those I hadn’t seen for almost 20 years, and also celebrate Ray’s big night with both him and his family, was too much to pass up.  I made sure to stay in America long enough to attend this special gathering of swimmers, divers and fans from Ray’s past and present.

            I really had no idea how many would attend this event or who I’d see.  I was a bit concerned that no one from my four years as a university swimmer would even show up.  Would I even remember them? 

            No fear in that!

            Familiar faces popped up everywhere as soon as I walked into the reception area. There was almost no need for nametags. 

             After being warmly embraced by all those who shared the same swimming lanes with me years ago, I and my mates sat together at one of the university ballroom dining tables.  Here we joined over 300 others spread throughout the hall, all of them Ray’s fans, colleagues, swimmers, friends and relatives from throughout the U.S.  It was a grand showing of love and respect for a man who has gave so much of himself to his coaching profession and our alma mater, EIU.

            The presentation following dinner was quite moving.  Many of Ray’s former swimmers and colleagues spoke of his antics in the past and praised him profusely.  A final honor was bestowed, which was the renaming of our university swimming pool, the Ray Padovan Pool.  The cost for this was paid for by our donations to Ray’s gift fund.  We were also invited to sign the displayed proclamation poster which was later given to Ray to take home. 

            Aside from visiting with my former swim mates and Ray, it was also wonderful to see  my former swimming companion, Gail.  During my first two months as a freshman on the team, one of our swimmers was in a horrific car accident.   Gail was a junior on the team.  She wasn’t expected to live but her fight to continue onward in this world was a strong one.  It took many years of therapy after the accident for her to gain back a bit of her previous life.  Seeing her in her wheelchair, smiling and joining us in the celebration, really made me so thankful I had attended this special gathering.    Her recovery is a testament to her strength of spirit and love of life.   Gail is definitely one of God’s miracle survivors.

            Other photos in the new album include the last picture of our growing baby doves, who flew away two days later, myself in my town’s swimming pool where I spent countless summers at swim practices, life guarding and giving lessons, and both friends and family shots.

            It was a great summer in America but it seems it’s going to be an even greater summer’s end in China. 

            Yes, I’m off to the Olympics! 

            After watching the spectacular opening ceremonies here in my Chengdu apartment, and  seeing the exciting sports events take place on TV daily, I just can’t help myself.  At the spur of the moment, I’ve booked a Beijing hotel and have my airplane ticket in hand.  I’m ready for an unforgettable adventure in the capital city, starting on Saturday afternoon when I land around 2 p.m.  I’ll be returning on Tuesday morning but hope to keep everyone updated during my stay.  I will have Internet access in my room and plan to take my computer along for blogging purposes.

            The animals? Jalin and her friend, Chris, have promised to take care of Little Ghost and Little Flower while I’m gone.  They’ve both spent enough time in my apartment, watching the Olympics with me, that they are very familiar with my pets.  LG and LF are also quite fond of the two girls so there shouldn’t be any problems.

            And having said all of that, I’ll just add to watch this space for upcoming Olympic Games coverage by yours truly!

            From Chengdu, here’s sending you as always a “Ping An” for your day.   

           The U.S. Olympic articles  are full of surprise and praise:  how welcoming, how kind, how gracious are the Chinese athletes and people toward the Americans!

            But foreigners who live here, and the Chinese people themselves, would expect nothing less from this country of 1.3 billion. Chinese are very hospitable.  They follow their Chinese etiquette well, even those who are from economically poor backgrounds. 

            This is one of the first things I noticed when I arrived in China.  Fitting into another culture requires a good eye at noting, remembering and performing that country’s social graces.  And although I’ve lived in China for many years, I still take diligent mental notes when it comes to etiquette.      

              This happened to me yesterday evening when Jalin’s mother’s friend brought over her 16-year-old daughter to visit me.  I wasn’t expecting guests but the doorbell rang and in everyone came —  Jalin, her mom, mom’s friend, and friend’s daughter. 

            Before  I could even hustle about to find enough chairs for everyone to sit on, my hands were weighted down with 3 huge bags of apples, plump purple grapes and bananas. Fruit is the customary gift when visiting someone’s home, even if the person isn’t well-known to you.  However, the amount of fruit was incredible!  This was enough for a family of five, not of one. 

            When I visit someone, I often have difficulty knowing just how much fruit I should bring. I always thought it was too showy to over-do but maybe over-doing shows respect to someone and also gives some apology in having burst in without asking.  As always, I made a check of this in my mind that next time I visit someone, I’d better bring more than just a few apples and pears, my usual offering.  

             Everyone was quick to position themselves on chairs at my warm embrace to visit my home, which is yet another thing I’ve learned from the Chinese.  Unexpected drop-ins are customary and it’s important to treat these as if they were on your calendar.  Bring out the tea right away, pull out your stash of wrapped candies or chocolates, slice up the fruit you’ve just been given so everyone can share in the gift, display family photos for all to see, keep the conversation flowing  and make everyone feel as if you’ve known them for years.

            Before I spoke Chinese or knew what I should do, I found these visits awkward.  I felt somewhat put out that no one had informed me of their visit beforehand so I could properly prepare.  I didn’t know what to do with all the fruit so I just left it there on my table.  I sat in silence, waiting for translations. 

            I really dreaded those visits when I first came to China.

            Now is a different story.  It’s fun to have people drop in suddenly, especially now that the Olympics are taking place.  We all have our TVs on so when someone pops in, such as yesterday, we have something to watch, cheer for and discuss.

            After initial introductions and a short sit, the moms left  Jalin and “Chris” (the 16-year-old) with me to watch women’s volleyball, tennis and swimming semi-finals.  It was a good opportunity for Chris to practice her English and for me to have company for the Games.

            As a good hostess, I had already shared a lot of the fruit with those who had given it, but this morning, I still had a lot left.  I wondered who did I know to give some fruit to?

             My immediate thoughts turned to the swimming pool where my daily swims have me always chatting with the locker room attendants.  We have such a good time together, sharing stories about our families or what’s going on for the day, that they would be the perfect candidates for a fruit gift.  Since grapes don’t last long, I loaded up 2 huge bunches and off I went to the pool.

            I arrived at just the perfect time for a fruit dessert, which was noontime.

             The staff are always served lunch from a canteen that brings over a selection of stir-fries placed in a huge cart.   Everyone from lifeguards to cleaners to pool attendants takes turns loading up containers with rice and different dishes.  These they share with one another back at their stations.  You’ll see the off-duty lifeguards sitting alongside the pool while eating, the ticket staff digging into their overflowing bowls strewn across the counter and the locker room ladies picking over the dish selections they’ve each chosen as well.

            When I gleefully pulled out my grapes in the locker room, everyone was  surprised.  I explained about my guests the previous evening and all the fruit I’d received.

             “I have apples, bananas, grapes . . .It’s too much for one person,” I said.  “Please, help me eat these!”

            The ladies were very pleased and thanked me again and again.  I was happy  they’d have a nice finish to their meal and also that the grapes wouldn’t go to waste.  We all seemed satisfied as I walked out to the pool deck for my work-out.

            Two hours later, I returned to find four of the attendants soundly sleeping on benches with two more waiting on us swimmers.  As I was dressing, suddenly over came my grapes, placed in a bowl full of water.

            “Eat!” one of the attendants told me. “They are now washed.”

            Of course, this would be the custom.  A fruit gift is to be shared with everyone and since I was the giver, I should get first pick of enjoying my grapes along with everyone else. 

            I quickly dressed and brought out the bowl, which I set on the counter. 

            “Come on!” I called out to my waiting crowd.  “Let’s eat.”

            One of the ladies carefully handed me the plumpest grape in the bunch.  Then we all hovered over the bowl, picking out grape after grape.   We peeled off the thick skin, popped the juicy grapes into our mouths, and spit out the seeds onto newspaper.  Everyone commented  how sweet and tasty these were, adding they were probably from the west’s Xinjiang province, which is well known for grapes and watermelon.

            I eventually took leave of everyone and let them enjoy the rest.  It was fun sharing the gift of someone else with yet another group of friends who then, in turn, shared that same gift with me.   

          Everyone in China is always telling me how much they can learn from the West:  western dress, western technology, western way of thinking.  But China has just as much to offer us in America, and I’d definitely put the custom of hospitality gift-giving at the very top of the list.

            From Chengdu, China, hoping your day is once again full of “Ping An” (Peace).       

          My excitement of returning to China was apparent in the taxi ride I took across town to pick up Little Flower two days ago.  I was full of stories from home, my anticipation of soon picking up my pet, the upcoming Olympic opening ceremonies that evening and a wide range of other topics.         

          Since the ride was about 20 minutes, I figured I might as well get back into the swing of things by getting in as much Chinese practice as possible.  The driver was certainly entertained by the chatty foreigner and added his comments as well.

            Eventually, I turned to the recent strong earthquake aftershocks that have once again been hitting the area.  While I’ve been gone, we’ve had magnitudes of 6.1, 5.8 and a few others which have caused landslides, collapsed homes and even a few deaths.

            “Do you feel safe?” I asked the driver.

            He laughed at the question. 

            Everyone in Chengdu is now used to aftershocks.  People don’t go running outside at every shake like they used to or camp outdoors in fear of something terrible happening.  But where the children are concerned, it’s a different story.  The recent upswing in earthquake activity is fine for the adults, but my driver wasn’t taking chances with his only child.

            “I sent my 4-year-old son to stay in Xinjiang province, with my parents,” he replied.  “That place is much safer.  No earthquakes. And very beautiful.  The fruit there is really good, especially the watermelon and the grapes.”

            “Jiu-shi (yes),” I answered agreeably in Sichuan dialect, yet in my heart, I debated his decision.

            Xinjiang Privince, to the far west of China, is currently undergoing a great deal of unrest among the Uighers, a Muslim minority who have never been happy with the Chinese.  Much like Tibet, that region is not as stable as the government would like.  In the past 4 months, in major Xinjiang cities, reports of  two bus bombs,  a hijacking of Australian tourists and last week’s deadly Kashgar border patrol clash  between Muslims and police have been reported.  Chinese troops by the thousands are in the province, trying to stop any further disturbances during the Olympic Games.

             Then we have today’s Chinese news announcing of several explosions in the southern Xinjiang city of  Kuqa.  Many are injured.  Several are dead.  

            Thinking back a few days ago, I can’t help but wonder how my driver is feeling now about sending his son to Xinjiang Province for safety.  When it comes to Sichuan’s aftershocks or the West’s terrorist activities, maybe our city isn’t so bad after all.  

            From Chengdu , here’s hoping today’s  “Ping An” (peace) can be felt by more than just those reading  this Sunday blog from China.

Tales of My Absence

           The rain poured down last night in buckets, just at the moment I was about to head out the door to pick up Little Flower from her babysitter’s home.  I’d have gone earlier in the day but Mrs. He wasn’t off work yet so no one was home.  Due to the storm, I had to postpone the LF pick-up until this Friday morning.

            That rain yesterday evening was a welcome relief to the sticky humidity of August that hit me as soon as I exited the airplane here in Chengdu.  Whew!  Illinois hadn’t been much better.  It was leaving one steamy sauna and landing in yet another.  Not too pleasant. 

            Rebecca (Zhang Ou), my house sitter, had taken excellent care of Little Ghost while I was gone.  She thoroughly enjoyed being here with her friends, watching movies and hanging out, but wasn’t exactly used to keeping an apartment clean.  University students in China are not as independent and able to be on their own as much as our U.S. students.   Parents look after them during summer months, doing all the cleaning, washing and meal preparations, so Rebecca had some difficulty knowing how to actually keep such a “big place” (her words) in proper order.   I had showed her all the cleaning supplies before I left but I should have had a tutorial on what to do with them.   Basically, no dusting or sweeping of floors had been done in a month. 

            Bless her heart, she apologized that she hadn’t done very well yet remedied that by helping me tidy up after I arrived.  It didn’t take long with two of us scrubbing down floors and getting up the filth accumulated after a month.  No hard feelings and the place was satisfactorily put together in no time.

            Rebecca had some interesting stories to relate after our cleaning session had ended and we were able to sit for awhile.  I had left for the States before she arrived in my place.  When she came in that Friday afternoon, Little Ghost was nowhere to be found.  She looked for her everywhere.  She called for her.  She searched high and low yet no kitty. 

            At that point, 21-year-old Rebecca burst into tears, thinking she’d lost the foreigner’s cat.  She worried it had escaped somehow when I had walked out the door or managed to slip through some hidden window opening that led outside.  One plan was to call my former dean, Cathy (Li Xiaolian), who is a good friend of mine, and have her  call me in America to inform me about the cat.   

            But Rebecca had a much better Plan A which won out:  When in doubt, call your mum. 

            Thus a sobbing Rebecca phoned her mother to ask what to do.  Her mom calmed her by telling her to first check with the neighbors (the Yangs) and maybe they knew something about the kitty.  Rebecca immediately ran next door where Jalin and her parents suggested she leave food out.  Little Ghost was at home but probably hiding.  When she’s hungry, she’ll appear.

            Rebecca did as they suggested, then sat anxiously waiting  for LG to appear.

            It took awhile but, sure enough, she saw a white face and furry body make a food appearance around midnight.  She could at least get some sleep that first night, knowing she hadn’t lost the foreigner’s cat. 

            Rebecca said it took a couple of days for LG to get used to her but eventually, everything was fine.  LG made up to Rebecca and all her friends coming and going.  This included my Luzhou students (Diana and Agnes) who stayed for a week while attending a Sichuan University conference to prepare for a huge English language contest near Beijing.  LG also enjoyed the company of an 18-year-old high school graduate, the son of Rebecca’s mother’s friend, who likewise stayed here for 10 days.  He was taking English language classes at Sichuan University in preparation for his freshman year abroad in the States.  According to Rebecca, he really loved LG and even allowed her to sleep with him at night, quite unusual for Chinese who never allow animals in the bed with them. 

            While Rebecca and company took care of LG, Little Flower had her own adventures with Mrs. He and her family.

             After I trudged up the 7 flights of stairs to her apartment this morning, I could hear Little Flower barking eagerly at my approach after I called out to her.  Mrs. He flung open the door and there was my very happy little dog, a lot plumper than I remembered her being.  Mrs. He, her daughter and husband all have a habit of giving too many snacks to whimpering, pathetic-looking hungry pets.

            LF also doesn’t get much exercise with Mrs. He’s family.  Since there is no elevator and they live on the 7th floor, treks downstairs to the outer apartment garden area are limited.  Usually, the dogs just  use the restroom on the apartment’s rooftop balcony. 

            LF was certainly ready to go home.  She quickly jumped into her carrier and waited there patiently while Mrs. He and I did the obligatory social chit-chat before it was time to depart.  We have made arrangements for a farewell dinner sometime in the next few weeks before I return to Luzhou.

            After LF and I returned home, Little Ghost greeted us by pouncing on the dog and then tearing around the apartment, happy to have her playmate back.   LF had a bath and nail clipping, then it was a walk around the neighborhood to see all my Chinese friends.  LF trotted along, enjoying her visit with the international foods’ store staff, the bakery helpers and finally the hotpot restaurant owners who gave her a chicken leg to chew on.  Everyone was happy to see our return and said how much they missed us.

             It was a good feeling to be back in my China home among all my Chengdu friends.  It will be hard to leave them soon but for now, I’m going to enjoy their company to the fullest.

The Hourly Countdown to The Olympic Games

            Now that the apartment is clean, the animals settled back into their normal routines,  my noon swim is finished, and primary groceries purchased, it’s time to address the greatest excitement of all today:  The opening ceremonies, just hours away!

            Everyone I meet has had the same thing to ask: “The Opening Ceremonies start tonight at 8 p.m.  Are you watching them?”

            On my taxi rides around Chengdu today, the drivers and I were discussing the Olympics.  One driver was lucky enough to be off tonight while another was proud to point out his taxi was equipped with a small TV screen above the dashboard.  Those two will definitely not miss out on the fun.  My other drivers, however, were stuck in their taxis, driving people about.  They’ll have to watch the re-runs along with many others who have night jobs.

            On our walk along the streets, LF and I spied our usual family-run convenience stores, lining our small alleyways, busily positioning their TV sets on top of high counters for a better viewing.   Even the store across from my apartment complex gate had dragged down the family’s huge color TV to watch the games as they take care of customers.

            At the swimming pool, the locker room attendant ladies were disappointed that they’ll be missing a lot of the games because they don’t finish until 10 p.m.  By the time they return home, it’ll all  be over.  Only one woman was smiling happily.  Her shift ended at 6 so she’ll have plenty of time to settle down for the opening ceremonies this evening.

            As for myself, I’ll be next door with Jalin to watch the grand show on her family’s TV set.  It’s a lot bigger than mine and will be more fun sharing the moment with others. Her parents already have a small TV in their store where they can also see, along with the rest of China, this spectacular event. 

            Needless to say, we’re all very excited to be able to witness China’s exciting 4-hour affair unfold before us live.  There’s to be a very special bit included in the dance routines about the Sichuan earthquake.  For those of us here in the earthquake zone, that will be an especially poignant moment.   

            One thing’s for sure:  Seeing the Olympics in China will certainly be something to remember. 

            Sorry you all can’t join us in America.  You’ll most likely be getting everything second-hand, a full day later.  It’ll still be just as impressive, though.  Enjoy!

           On that last upbeat note, from Chengdu, here’s wishing you “Ping An” (Peace) for your weekend.