Cloudy in Beijing Blogging about my time in China

So long Harbin

The taxi driver laughed when we told him it was cold.

"What are you talking about? It's warm," he said. "The weather has been much better these last several days."

True. Relatively speaking Harbin's weather has been warmer than the -2 Fahrenheit temperatures it usually sees in January.

"It just takes a few days and then you get used to it," the taxi driver told me.

I looked at myself. Two sweaters I had on, which were then covered below a thick winter jacket. I then wore a double layer of pants, as well as double layers of socks and gloves. A long gray scarf wrapped around my neck, with a red winter cap topping things off. And still my bloated body of warmth could feel the bitter cold seep in whenever I stepped outside.

My ass you get used to it.

Harbin is a very exotic place. The city has a whole industry devoted to the building of ice sculptures. The ice itself is created at the nearby lake, and chopped into blocks by a machine. Our taxi driver said the ice festival gets bigger and better every year. "During this winter, the ice was especially thick," he added.

When you look back into the history of a city in China, you often find buildings constructed in the style of Chinese traditional architecture. But in Harbin, that's not the case.

Harbin is located so far north that the city once had a large Russian population during the early 20th century. This is a picture of St. Sophia Cathedral, a former Russian Orthodox Church.

Many of the buildings in the city have a certain Russian/European flair to them. This is a picture inside a Russian restaurant. Russian souvenirs are also very popular in the stores here. I bought some vodka.

Just outside of the city is a Siberian Tiger park. For some extra money you can watch the keepers feed the tigers a live chicken, lamb, or other animal. I decided to forgo the tiger feasting so kept my wallet closed.

They call this the "Kill Pig Dish" or 杀猪菜, an unnecessarily violent name when said in English. Popular in Northeastern China, the dish originated as a way for farmers to celebrate the coming new year. They would kill a pig and then boil it with some pickled Chinese cabbage. Nothing too fancy, but hearty.

Harbin also possesses some very sad and horrifying history. About 12 miles south of the city are the remains of what could be perhaps called China's version of Auschwitz.

The site was where a Japanese military division called Unit 731 researched and developed germ warfare during World War II. They did so by performing experiments on captured test subjects, many of who were Chinese.

According to the museum based at the site, at least 3,000 people were cruelly terminated in the unit's laboratories. Prisoners were often infected with a disease and then had their internal organs removed for study. At least 300,000 people were also maimed or slaughtered by the germ warfare the unit produced.

One of the signs at the museum reads below:

"Early in the 20th century, the Japanese militarists flagrantly flouted the international conventions, and clandestinely plotted biological and chemical warfare in an attempt to realize the political ambition of dominating Asia and ruling the world. Very quickly such weapons were used in the battlefield, making the Japanese militarists the most vicious Fascist war criminals in human history."

This is a picture of bombs Unit 731 created. The designers made sure to make the casing ceramic, perhaps so that the bomb would shatter and thus spread out the the germs encased inside.

These were hangers used to hold up dissected remains of test subjects.

The original site of where Unit 731 worked once covered a vast campus of buildings. But at the end of the war, the Japanese soldiers abandoned the facility and destroyed many of the buildings. Now only a few remain. Real estate developers have already built on parts of the original site.

Still, the museum is quite intent on preserving the past. As one sign reads below:

"Forgetting about the history means betrayal. By exposing the criminal past of unit 731, we want to preserve the facts in order to warn future generations. Let history usher in a peaceful, civilized and progressive human society, and prevent a recurrence of historical tragedy."

I can only imagine how awkward it would be for a Japanese person to visit this museum.

I left Harbin last night, saying a goodbye and perhaps a tiny bit of a  good riddance to this ultra-cold city.  But indeed, this place is quite special.

Now I've returned to Beijing, where temperatures are at 45 degrees Fahrenheit. Feels like winter is ending.

Ice festival

For most of the day, I couldn't feel my hands or feet. My face could barely even smile when I posed for a picture.

At times I've felt like a frozen zombie as I've walked through this frigid city. Harbin has to be the coldest place I've ever been too. I don't know why people live here.

Still, it has a pretty awesome ice festival.

Harbin has an annual snow and ice festival, which has become the main attraction for the city during the winter. The structures are made out of blocks of ice with LED lights giving them color.

The place reminded me of Disney Land. The builders even carved this giant ice slide which people could ride on.

These people were forming a conga line as music played from a concert floor. I don't know how they could dance. I could barely move my body.

Harbin

It may seem kind of stupid, but I've decided to take a short trip to even colder place than Beijing.

Today, I arrived in Harbin, a city up in China's northeastern corner.  Harbin is infamous for it's extremely cold winters; the average temperature in January is -2 degree Fahrenheit. My landlord told me when he went to Harbin, one of his ears froze and now he can't hear quite well from it anymore.

In spite of the temperatures, Harbin is a very pretty city and well-known for its ice sculptures. All across the city streets are statutes and art made out of blocks of ice.

While exploring Harbin last night, my classmate and I came across this statue of a Pac-Man. Sadly, we found no ice ghost statues chasing after it.

When I arrived in Sunday, the temperature was warmer than usual for Harbin. Still it was quite cold, at about 16 degrees Fahrenheit. It was somewhat painful to take these pictures, since it meant I had to take off my gloves and expose them to the cold air in order to properly hold my camera.  This picture is of Central Street.

I came to Harbin to meet several of my classmates already here. Tonight we visited an ice bar. The entire building was basically an igloo, with all the walls, tables and chairs fashioned out of ice. The makers had even carved an ice piano at the bar. As can be expected, it was quite cold in there. I felt a little sorry for the bartender.

The apartment

This past week I finished my finals (feeling: good), and bid farewell to a few of my departing classmates (feeling: sad).

I also had to pack my things and move into a new apartment. Now that I'm finally here and settled, I have to say this feels like I landed a nice deal: a ten-minute bike ride from my classes, an own room to myself, and pretty cheap. A definite upgrade from living in the school dorms. It also has some pleasant views.

I decided to move off campus so that I could better immerse myself with Beijing's local culture. Below my apartment is a supermarket 齐天府超市, along with some barbershops.

I also have a new roommate named Max, who happens to be from Germany. I've only met him once; recently he returned back to his home country to see family.  Apparently, he may be gone often because he works for Hainan Airlines.

The apartment is a bit worn and feels old. The doors to elevator are a faded green and they grudgingly pry themselves open when a passenger needs to enter. Sometimes I'm not sure which elevator button I should press  since a few of the coverings have fallen off; today I figured out which one closes the elevator doors.

There's also a small table in the corner of the elevator with a phone placed on top of it. A sign located on the wall says: "If the elevator stalls don't panic."

My apartment, located on the tenth floor, also has an old man sitting on the steps leading to it. Next to him is a pile of collected trash, which he sorts. Once done, the old man bundles them up and heads down stairs.

With this past semester done and now in a new apartment, it feels like a new chapter is beginning for me (although New Year's has long passed, the Chinese one is just around the corner.

I do feel lucky to have found this place, especially after having to deal with apartment hunting in Beijing. That itself was an experience I hope I don't have to go through again anytime soon.

Normally you would say "no" when you've found an apartment that has no bathroom. (Instead you had to go walk out and use the public facilities. That or go to the local McDonalds.)

You'd also say "no" if you found out it took an hour to get from your apartment to your school. (Traffic in Beijing sucks).

And you would also want to avoid dealing with an apartment agent, since they just add more to the cost. (Some of the shadier agents have also been known to cheat unsuspecting people for their money my Chinese friend warned.)

But this is Beijing, where cheap apartments aren't easy to find. Working with my budget, suddenly the no bathroom apartment didn't look too bad.

Thankfully, I caught notice of an ad at The Beijinger, an English-language magazine which has a forum geared toward foreigners. No need for an agent.

Apartment hunting in Beijing has also made me realize living in the school dorms wasn't bad at all. To get to class, it only took a 3-minute bike ride. My classmates all lived nearby. The cafeteria food was cheap and sometimes good. Even the housing staff cleaned my room every other day.

Still, it had its rules and restrictions, a few I thought absurd. Hot showers in the morning were only allowed from 7 to 9 am. Who willingly gets up that early, I do not know.

Visitations from friends living outside the dorm were also barred after 11 pm. Why this was put in place, I can guess, since the school probably doesn't want any late night partying. Still, I was recently offended when I was forced out of another neighboring dorm due to the curfew. In response, I secretly snuck back in with the help of six of my classmates who devised an elaborate plan to distract the housing staff. Heheheh...

Now I'm off to live in a new place and excited. It has two bedrooms, a kitchen, living rooms, and of course bathroom. But in no way can it compare to how housing is like in America. A classmate of mine, who is returning to the States, brought up an interesting point. In Beijing, nearly everyone lives in an apartment, and some are faced with rather cramped spaces. But when my classmate returns to America, he'll visit his parents' suburban home. Though their house might be typical for America, compared to the average urban homes in China, it's a near mansion.

I guess one advantage of living in Beijing, is that I'm only paying $161 a month for rent here. Perhaps I'll never live in a place cheaper.

Michael the Diva

One thing that people love to do in China is karaoke.

Last week,  my classmates and I went to one of the many karaoke clubs in the city. Apparently, I got really into it at one point. I think I'm singing Back Street Boys in this picture. Oh Lord... what is my hand doing?

End of a semester

My semester at Tsinghua University is coming to an end. Tomorrow I'll have my first finals. As this picture above illustrates, my classmates and I are all quite exhausted.

For almost the past five months we've attended classes from 8 am to noon. Each week we seemed to learn hundreds of new Chinese phrases and characters, only to forget and re-learn them for the tests. I'd say we all deserve a good break once winter vacation rolls around.

But soon we'll have to say goodbye. Even though I'll be continuing one more semester at the university, sadly, some of my classmates won't.

We are a diverse bunch. They are those like me who hail from America. But I've also had the pleasure of making friends with students from Hong Kong, Korea, Japan and even all the way from Uzbekistan. As a result, Chinese has become are main mode of communication between each other. Our friend from Uzbekistan can even rap in Chinese.

They've been a great group to hang with, and have helped me explore and learn more about Beijing.

Outside, my part of Beijing is still covered in snow, with the temperature feeling like its zero degree Fahrenheit. Still, I've had to venture out in this frozen mess. These past weeks I've been looking for a new place to live off campus. Worst timing ever.

A friend back home said the weather here sounded like it was "colder than a witch's tit." Indeed it is.

The roommate

In the last post I mentioned chasing after a naked man running in the streets. That man, unfortunately, was my roommate.

I wish this were a funny story, but it isn't. John, my roommate, tried to kill himself this week.

It's hard to make sense of all this and I struggle to put down my thoughts into words. Still I want to try.

John is a good guy. He was about what you'd expect from an 18-year-old just starting college. When I first met him back in September, he was beaming with optimism. He talked excitedly about one day becoming a diplomat and he admired at how pretty the girls in his homeland of Korea were.

Later on I learned that he loved to sing, especially Michael Jackson, though he was not quite good at it. (Imagine someone on the verge of tears while singing "You are not alone," their face totally in anguish. Oh man...)

Once he threw shaving cream on his face and pretended to act like the Joker from Batman, just for my amusement. It was hilarious.

He shared his candy with me, gave me a seat cushion as a gift, and reminded me of a younger more idealistic version of myself. I remember feeling lucky to have a good roommate.

But things gradually changed as the semester went on. After mid-terms had come and gone, John had told me he was afraid he might fail a couple of his classes. He was still optimistic, smiling and saying that his classmates would help him with his work. But his cheery attitude began to wane and he seemed withdrawn. Much of the singing began to stop. And in its stead, John had begun talking to himself.

These were not just short bursts of inner dialogue. But long conversations as if he were talking to an invisible friend. He spoke to himself all in Korean, so I had no idea what he said to himself. But I was concerned and asked him on several occasions why he was talking to himself. "I'm okay," he said in response. "You don't have to call the doctors," he joked.

At another time, I remember asking him once again. He gave me the same response, but this time with more annoyance. "Don't worry," he said as if trying to avoid me. Then he immediately switched back into Korean and starting talking to himself again.

I let it slide, thinking he was just stressed out and needed to sort out his thoughts. I asked my classmates what they thought. Instead, we joked about it.

By then I had started to care less about John, my own life already overwhelmed with work, and so I decided to just let him be. This is Tsinghua University after all, one of the best schools in China. John had a lot of studying to do and I didn't want to disturb him too much.

Earlier this week, with finals coming, I could tell John was depressed. Although he had started talking to himself less, it had also seemed like the soul had been sucked out of him. Most of the time I saw him planted at his desk, his entire life devoted toward his studies. But he was growing more and more worried about passing his tests. Still, I didn't know what was going on with him exactly. When I asked how he was doing, he'd say something like, "not good," and leave it at that.

On Tuesday, he grew desperate and for the first time asked me to help him with his math homework. I looked at the assignment, and had no idea how to even go about it. "Your not going to help me?" John later pleaded.

I told him he needed to relax more. To help him, we had planned on going swimming later in the week. I was also going to take him to party my classmates were holding on Friday. Some fun would hopefully lift his spirits I told him. But in my head I complained: "This is the last thing I need. I'm so busy. Why can't he just take care of himself?"

On Wednesday I came back to the dorm a half past noon. John was studying at his desk. I asked him how he was doing. He didn't really respond. I let him be. But soon after, he opened our room's window. Then he jumped up on top of the ledge.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I thought to myself. I came up right behind him, ready to pull him away. But thankfully he climbed back down himself. He closed the window and turned to me. I came up with some light-hearted chit-chat to see if he was okay. John just glared at me, his face completely emotionless. Then he suddenly looked as if he began to cry. He came up to me for a hug, and so I put his arms around him, telling him things would be fine and to relax.

I told him to sit down on his bed, but he refused. Instead he spoke.

"Michael, please kill me."

After he spoke those words, I scrambled to look for the right phone number to call, while trying to make sure my roommate wouldn't do anything dangerous. But once I found the right number, I was reluctant to dial the number, afraid that John might freak out. At the same time, in the back of my head, I thought: "Why is this happening to me? Do I really have to go through this?"

It didn't matter what I wanted. As I tried to figure out what to do, John slowly exited the dorm room into the hallway. He pulled off his shirt. And then began taking off his pants and underwear. I grabbed him and pulled him back into the room."What the hell are you doing?" I yelled.

He then proceeded to take off all his clothes, until he was naked with his shoes and socks gone. John stared at me hard, moving himself closer to the door. I stood in his way.

"Michael let me do this. Don't stop me," he said.

"No John, what the fuck are you doing?" I yelled.

He tried to run past me to get out the door. I grabbed him, pulling him back into the room. We pushed and shoved at one another. Then John punched me in the face. With me off to the side, he ran out the door naked, heading down the stairs. He looked mad, determined to do whatever it is he wanted to do. I followed, wearing only my flip-flops, trying to keep up and hoping to God this would not end badly.

"Help me!" I yelled throughout the stairways as I chased him down. There was no one in sight.

We then came down the first floor into the lobby, John running right out the door. I was not far behind, seeing two school security guards outside, who were in the path of John. "Stop him!" I told them in Chinese. "He wants to kill himself."

The security guards tried to block him. One of them even attempted to tackle him down. But John was just too fast, and too uncontrollable, squirming out of grasp, and getting past the two guards. My roommate then headed out to the streets, looking like a feral animal who had just escaped. We chased after him, running on the road as cars in both directions passed by.

John circled around the area, trying to avoid capture and maneuvering past cars, as we closed in on him. Eventually we had him cornered and tackled him to the ground, pulling on his arms and pinning him down on the snow. Still, he was strong, and in a complete rage. "I want to die," he yelled as we grabbed at him.  "Do you have a gun," he asked the security guards. "Give it to me. I don't want to live."

More guards eventually came, and we finally had him restrained. "Think about your mom," one of the guards said as he tried to calm him down. "What about your sisters. Don't give up your life." John was then taken into a van, where he was transported back to the university. After putting his clothes back on, the school had him taken to an office where teachers, students and I tried to speak with him. He had calmed down at this point. But for much of the time he only wanted to stare out a nearby window in the room we held him in.

We speculated on what could have made him this way. "He was really worried about school," I told the teachers. "I think he had just too much pressure."

After that I had to spend the next day and half watching over him. His mother was on the way from Korea, but in the meantime I, along with a few students and teachers, had to make sure he didn't do anything dangerous. It was hard. John had not only become suicidal, but it seemed he had developed mental problems. He'd easily forget situations that just happened, and then ramble on about nonsensical things. One moment he'd be calm, in the next he'd try to run from us, by even kicking and shoving. "You don't trust me Michael," he said to me "Why don't you trust me?" I didn't get much sleep that night.

On Thursday I thought he was getting better. He was speaking more and opening up toward me. He told me that he felt weak and that he was afraid of being a failure. In response, I told him so much about how good of a person he was, and not to give up, and that he was just facing a difficult period in his life. It seemed like he understood, nodding and even smiling at a few points. But in the end, all my wisdom and experiences couldn't convince him that things would be all right.  In the afternoon, John tried to escape the dorms again. I chased him down the stairs and tackled him onto a sofa in the dorm's lobby. "Goddamit John!" I yelled. "Shut the fuck up!" I had just about had enough.

Teachers and students came to help restrain him. Still John wanted out, and tried break away again. Finally we were able to put him in an empty dorm room. The teachers then immediately decided it would be best that he'd be put in hospital. But as that happened, John decided to go suicidal again, wanting to throw himself out the dorm room's window. Thankfully, we were able to pull him back, and confine him to a more secure room.

By the end of Thursday afternoon, John was on his way to a local hospital, where his mom was waiting. I was burnt out, the past two days a nightmare. I limped back to my dorm room, my legs and arms sore from having to chase down and grab my roommate so many times. At night, I thanked God that John wasn't able to hurt himself.

In the day after I tried to make sense of things. Could I have done more to help my roommate?

John is 18 and I'm 25. So there's been times where I've felt like I've acted more like a big brother to him. I remember once I gave him some tips on how to meet girls, even pressuring him to give a classmate he liked a box of chocolate. He reluctantly did so.

I've also thought back to my own college experiences when I was just a freshman. I remember I was quite lonely during that time, with really no friends. Later I became depressed, feeling like a victim of my own shyness.

John's struggles seemed to parallel my own, only except that I eventually overcame mine. I wasn't sure what would happen to John. All I could think was that my roommate had really gone crazy. In no way could he come back to school, at least not any time soon.

This morning I woke up thinking, "I don't really want to see my roommate again." I had already felt pretty drained, and the  sight of him would probably just stress me out even more.  Frankly, I didn't think I would feel safe being around him again, considering his mental instability.

"Really, there's nothing else I can do for him, and he's not my responsibility," I thought.

In spite of this, my roommate came by the dorm room with his mom today. John was subdued and quiet,  a sad glance hanging on to his face. He walked in slow, and sat down in the bed, looking wounded.

I could tell he felt guilty for all the trouble he caused me. But seeing him again, reminded me of who John really is: a good guy who just went through a hard time. I smiled trying to lighten up the mood, though I could hardly think of anything to say.

He told me he would be leaving back for Korea tomorrow and that he'd be packing up his stuff soon. I told him that was good, since he'll be able to rest. We exchanged numbers and emails, and he told me that I should come and visit him in Korea.

"Michael, I think this is the last time," John said, in reference to how he was leaving China.

"It's okay," I replied. "We can still keep in contact."

He paused for a moment, looking at me as if he wanted to apologize. John then smiled.

"You saved my ass," he said.

After a hug, John then left saying he would come by again to pick up his belongings.

It's been a long week for me. I hope to get my routine back to normal soon; in the last few days I've had to drop everything I was doing and so I have plenty of catching up to do.

I'm happy to say though, that I think John will be fine. I don't know if or when he'll come back to China, but I get the feeling he'll be back to normal eventually, and if anything he'll be stronger from this experience. He was a good roommate and I wish him the best.

Anyways, this post has little to do with China. But it certainly will be one of the most memorable experiences I've had here, even though part of me wishes I could just forget it.

The year has just started and I'm exhausted. Onward we go! Right after I take a long nap.

The New Year

Today I chased after a naked man running in the streets.

There was snow. It was cold. I wore flip-flops.

I'd write more but It would cause embarrassment for those involved.

It's been a long day. Great way to start the new year.