The Road to Shanghai

The Next Road

I love all the Bing Crosby-Bob Hope "Road" movies -- Road to Morocco, Road to Bali, Road to Utopia, etc.

]]> My love for the movies was my inspiration in entitling this weblog "Road to Shanghai." At the time, I didn't realize that Terry's and my experience would track Hope's and Crosby's in one critical respect: like them, we never reached our destination (at least not in the way we orignally planned), but we had an amazingly eventful and enjoyable time along the way. You see, Harlan's orignal plan was to send me to Shanghai for three years. When I could see that a decision was slowing down over the high cost of entry in Shanghai and uncertainty about how to get started, I said, "We already have an official representative office in Nantong. Why don't I go there for a year, and then we'll move to Shanghai?" Jim and Jamie said that was great. We hired people and made other plans with that long-range plan in mind. Along the way, though, things changed and Harlan's presence in Nantong (and, thus, mine) became more permanent. As I think Terry and I have both said before, in hindsight we wouldn't have wanted it any other way!

Watch out for the coming attraction: Road to Harvard.

-- Norty

last days

Tomorrow (August 8), we will leave China -- for now.

]]> The last few weeks have been pretty intense. Two out of three nights we've been out for "good-bye" dinners with well-wishing friends. Having notified friends in the States of our imminent arrival there, we are getting a flood of "welcome back" messages from that side of the Pacific. I finally printed, and delivered, photos for several special local friends. One of my favorites is Mr. Han, the guy who has serviced my bicycle for the past two years under the shade of a tree at the corner of Gongnong Lu and Wenfeng Lu. I didn't know his name until I asked a couple of weeks ago whether we could take a photo together. He beamed and said it was ok, as long as I gave him a print. I brought him two prints the other day. I also had him repair a flat and tune up the bike, which I am giving to a colleague at work. Mr. Han wouldn't let me pay. I promised to visit him when I am back in Nantong. He said he will be in the same place. We also took several photos of Ms. Shen, the Pharmacy boss, and her son and employees -- including a few shots of "our" sign over the new branch pharmacy -- "Enjoy Long Life Pharmacy." (See previous entry. Terry and I wrote the English version of the sign.)

Two days ago, we finally made it to the Nantong Abacus Museum. We went with Dr. Chen and her daughter, Tingting, after a great lunch at Da Wan Mian (big bowl noodle). We had seen signs for the museum for about two years, and I finally passed it on the road last month, so I knew where it was. It is an interesting museum in a bright new building, but we were the only visitors. I hope the sparse attendance was only because of the heat. We arrived at 1:00, but surprisngly the museum was closed until 2:00. I think this was a long lunch break, which many companies and government offices have. We took the time to stroll through a small park I had wanted to see and to visit the hospital where Dr. Chen worked until she retired a couple of years ago.

Packing has been an interesting experience. We shipped most of our things by ocean container several weeks ago, but we still had much that we thought we need for life before we leave or immediately upon arrive in the U.S. After stuffing six suitcases with as much as the airlines will allow us, we are sending what is left by a combination of ocean container (our Swedish foam mattress pad will pass as a "foam insulation" sample); 2-month parcel post (stuff we needed in China but don't urgently need in the U.S.); and Fed Ex. We also have accumulate lots of things that don't work electrically in the U.S. or are not practical to ship for other reasons, and we are distributing them among our friends Liu Sheng and Tao Hong, our landlady, and my employer.

Even after two and half years in Nantong, there are things we haven't done. I've heard that every Sunday morning there is an outdoor opera in a park a few kilometers from our apartment, but I never actually made it to the park on a Sunday morning. I wanted to go to the neighborhood office of the bottled water company, Dayu, and meet the woman from whom I've been ordering water once a month since we arrived. About six months ago, she started recongizing my voice -- and remembering my address -- when I callled. I determined today that the office is too far out of the way for me to fit in a visit at the last minute. Somewhere in Nantong, there is apparently a Buddhist temple with a vegetarian restaurant. Ms. Shi from the big development zone almost took us there a few weeks ago, but she ulitimately said we'd better not go there in the summer, because the restaurant isn't air conditioined. So, we have activities (not to mention friends) to come back for.

-- Norty

hutongs of Beijing

There are books and photo albums with this title. Although dictionaries define a hutong as a lane or an alley, there really is no exact English equivalent.

]]> A Chinese hutong is typically part of a network of hutongs. From above, the entire pattern (which can take up half a square mile or more) would resemble a labyrinth. These narrow streets are sometimes straight, sometimes winding, sometimes intersecting. They include a variety of homes, shops, and street vendors. While other Chinese cities have hutongs, Beijing's are the most famous.

Last weekend, we went to Beijing for our third trip. Each time, we've liked the city a little more. Compared to Shanghai, there is more of China to see and feel in Beijing. We went mainly for me to interview two more people for my dissertation research, but we also had plenty of time to attend the local liberal synagogue (Kehilat Beijing) Friday evening and to tour during the day Saturday and Sunday. On Saturday, Terry wanted to return to the Pan Jia Yuan "dirt" market, where she had previously bought a couple of jade Buddhas for her sister and I had found a couple of Lei Feng posters. This time, we bought a few more gifts for friends and relatives. On Sunday, I wanted to visit the former home of Liang Qichao, one of the leading reformers in the late-Qing dynasty (later 19th / early 20th century). Liang was a colleague of Kang Youwei, whose home we had previously toured in Qingdao.

Liang's home did not appear on previous tourist maps, but is on the latest one. So, I assumed it had recently been renovated and opened up as a tourist attraction. All we had to do was get there. The home is shown on the map at the intersection of two unnamed streets, but not too far from a couple of major streets. I navigated us by bus from our hotel to the intersection of the two major streets, then we started walking and asking directions. Replies were inconclusive, uninformative, or contradictory and the weather was hot, so we hailed a taxi for what we assumed would be a five-minute ride. I showed the driver where we wanted to go. He could see that we were very close, but he wasn't sure how to get "from here to there." He entered the hutong area and began asking directions. Altogether, he stopped to ask directions seven or eight times. We did a considerable amount of reversing course and retracing the same route, not to mention detouring to avoid a delivery truck. After 20 minutes, we finally found the builiding, only to have a neighbor inform us that it was not open to the public! All of us (the driver, Terry, and I) took the news in good spirits. For about $4, we had had a delightful tour of Beijing's hutongs. We then had our driver take us back to a great Indian resaurant near our hotel.

-- Norty

Thief !

In the recent hit movie "World without Thieves," the Andy Lau character and his girl friend effortlessly steal dozens of cell phones, to a background musical score, as their owners pray in front of a Buddhist temple.

]]> I was remined of that scene two weeks ago, when a similar "artist" stole my cell phone. As I was sitting on the bus, riding to work, I happened to glance down at my cell phone holter and noticed that the phone was not there. Did I forget to take it from home? I hoped so. I suddenly had a vague recollection, though, of being bumped by someone. Could such a bump have been the occasion for a thief to grab my phone? As soon as I got to work, I called Terry and determined that I had not left the phone at home. Next, I dialed my own number. I got a message that the phone was shut off. I had watched this sequence with a friend who had his phone stolen. The first thing the thief does is turn it off, unilt he can install a new SIM card.

About this time, my memory sharpened. I recalled fighting my way onto the bus, in typicall China fashion. I recalled a big, young guy to my right, who bumped me side-to-side. I'm pretty sure that guy has my phone. Next, I reported the theft and got a replacement SIM card, keeping the same phone number, from the phone company and borrowed an extra phone from a colleague. I was back in business, without too much loss. My new SIM card still had the cash value that was on the old one, and I had taken the precaution of copying all my contacts' phone numbers onto my Palm Pilot. For my last few weeks in China, I am tying a bright green piece of twice to my phone at one end and my belt at the other end. It doesn't look good, but it is safe!

As for the thief, I am sure he is disappointed. My phone was an old, non-name brand model. If the thief had a charger (which he may not be able to find), he could sell it for no more than 100 rmb. The experience reminds me of my only similar (mis)adventure in China. Several months before we moved here, I made a short trip to make personal and business preparations. During a lunch in Suzhou with my friend and colleague, Liu Sheng, a thief stole my shoulder bag from the chair next to mine. In that case, the surely disappointed thief got two Chinese lanauge textbooks and a $100 camera. Liu Sheng, meanwhile, had important business documents and about $1000 in his bag, which the thief didn't target.

-- Norty

New restaurant in the neighborhood

We probably could have used this title during any of the 132 weeks we have lived in Nantong.

]]> It seems that there is always some restaurant within a 20-minute walk of our apartment that is opening, closing, or just rennovating. Sadly, one of the recent changes was the destruction of the entire block of buildings that housed a Japanese-style habachi restaurant we used to eat at periodically.

Anyway, a few weeks ago, I noticed a bright green sign over a small new fast-food restaurant on Xue Tian Nan Lu, just across the street from the main gate at the rear of our "xiao qu," or apartment compound. The resaurant looked well-lit and clean, and the sign announced (in Chinese, of course), "Open 24 Hours." The name is Da Wan Mian, which means "big bowl of noodles." It is part of a chain, though I don't know how many locations they have or where. Terry and I went for dinner last weekend, and the experience was great -- good food, good service, low price, clean environment, not too crowded. The speciality, as you might guess, is noodles, but they have other dishes as well. Four 16 rmb ($2), we got 2 big bowls of noodle soup with cooked green vegetables, a big plate of "su ji" (chicken-textured dofu), and a bottle of beer. We will have time for at least one more trip to Da Wan Mian before we leave.

If I were not embarking on a new career in academia, I think I would try to represent a restaurant like Da Wan Mian or Da Niang Shuijiao (the dumpling restuarant I've mentioned previously) in the United States.

-- Norty

Changes

This is the tenth year of my ten-year plan for changing careers, from business to academia.

]]> We had initially planned to stay in China through the end of 2006, but we will instead return to the U.S. on August 8 (a "good luck" day -- double 8 -- in China). I have a half-time job as adjunct History lecturer at Morningside College in my hometown, Sioux City, Iowa. The location of the job was a surprise. I happened to be at the right place (that is, contact the right person) at the right time. The other viable option was piecing together a series of one-class adjunct jobs at various colleges and unviersities within a one-hour drive of Kansas City.

Discussions are in progress, but it appears that I will also continue working a few hours a day for Harlan, "telecommuiting" between Kansas City and Sioux City -- perhaps selling to customers in the Sioux City area. The teaching job is just what I need (along with the Ph.D. I should get by the end of the year) to fill out my curriculum vitae and energize my search for a full-time teaching job. There are only two negative things about the job. First, it is more likely that Terry will find a decent job in Kansas City, in which case we will live apart for a year. Second, if Morningside likes me and has a full-time opening, w will be conflicted, because Terry didn't like living in Sioux City the last time she did it. I've promised not to impose Sioux City on her, no matter what! Anyway, getting a full-time offer is a long-shot anywhere. It depends, first, on there being an opening; second, on beating out all the other candidates.

-- Norty

We contribute to a Chinese business sign

Have you looked at our Photo Gallery, linked to this Weblog? Terry has filled an album ("Say What?") with photos of Chinese signs with English translations that might sound odd to the ears of native English speakers.

]]> Well, this past weekend, we gained some sympathy for the composers of these would-be bilingual signs. We dropped in on our friendly neighborhood pharmacist, Ms. Shen, to get a refill on Terry's traditional Chinese herbal concoction for lowering blood pressure. (Terry has been neglecting her weblog responsbilities, but the short story is that this medicine tastes terrible but works great, to her pleasant surprise.) Ms. Shen and her son, Ji Yang, showed us a drawing of their planned new business sign. The Chinese characters were written boldly across the top, followed by slightly smaller pinyin (characters in phonetic form) text below. Ms. Shen proudly crossed out the pinyin and told me she wants to replace it with an English name for her pharmacy. The only problem was that she didn't know what English words to use; nor did Ji Yang, even though his English is at least as good as my Chinese. So, they asked Terry and me to provide the best translation we could. Hmmmm. The last two characters were no problem -- yaofang is one of several names (depending on size, I think) for a pharmacy. I was not familiar, however, with the first two characters -- xiang3 and shou4 (that's "xiang" with a third tone and "shou" with a fourth tone). One of the problems with written Chinese is that there are no firm guides as to which characters go together to form 2- or 3-characters words. In this case, for example, the two characters CAN be construed as one word -- but the dictionary meaning is "at the age of." So, we split the characters and came up with "enjoy" + "longevity." Terry and I discussed the options and finally settled on a recommedation of "Enjoy Long Life Pharmacy." Ms. Shen and her son seemed quite pleased. We are looking forward to taking a photo, as soon as the sign is finished and installed. -- Norty

holiday travel in China

My company’s chairman, Jim Kaplan, and machine shop manager, Jeff Weston, were in Nantong the week before this year’s May Day holiday. Jim wants to learn how to travel between cities by himself, and I said I’d teach him. Instead, we all learned some different lessons. (Skip to the end, if you just want the lessons.)

]]> We anticipated heavy holiday traffic. So, I bought bus tickets a day ahead of time for the 2-1/2 to 3-hour trip from Nantong to Shanghai, instead of letting Jim buy his own just before the trip, which is the normal way. (Buses run every half hour.) I gave him notes on how to interpret the tickets, especially distinguishing between the gate number and the seat number. I typed out for him a Chinese message he could show a taxi driver in Shanghai, asking to go to the bus stop in front of the Railway Station for the #5 shuttle bus to the Pudong Airport. My plan was to stay with Jim and Jeff until they got to the #5 shuttle bus stop, in case anything went wrong, but to let them do everything themselves. I expected to catch a noon or so bus back to Nantong, work for an hour or so, then ride my bike home and have it for the weeklong holiday.

Leaving Nantong at 8:40 am, we got our first inkling of trouble. Instead of the usual 15 minutes, it took almost an hour of fighting traffic to get out of the city proper. The ferry across the Yangzi River and the highway driving to Shanghai were normal, and we relaxed. Then, we hit terrible traffic on the outskirts of Shanghai. By the time we got to the bus station in Shanghai, it was 12:40, instead of 11:30. Jim’s flight was earlier than Jeff’s, departing at 2:55 pm. The shuttle bus normally takes 45 minutes to get to the airport. We decided to skip the rest of the travel lesson and take a taxi to the airport. I went along for the ride, in case of any problem. Initially, I asked the driver whether we could get to the airport faster if he took us to the high-speed magnetic train, which goes right to the airport. He said that would actually slow us down, and I believe he was right, since he would still have to drive us out of downtown Shanghai and across the Huangpu River into the Pudong (East of the Huangpu River) section of Shanghai, where the train starts. He assured us he’d get us to the airport in less than an hour, and he did. Jim later told me it was close, but he made it onto his plane in time.

Ready (I thought) to relax, I caught the #5 shuttle bus back to downtown, walked 15 minutes to the bus station, and approached the ticket window to buy the next available ticket to Nantong. There, I heard the ominous words “duibuqi, meiyou piao.” Sorry, no tickets. The next available tickets were the following morning. I took a few minutes to weigh my options – spend the night in Shanghai, including dinner, and catch a bus home the next morning; or, take a taxi or unofficial taxi home right away. I figured either option would cost about 500 - 600 rmb ($60), so I tried to hale a taxi. There were 10 would-be passengers competing for each taxi, so I paid attention when a slick, well-dressed guy asked where I wanted to go. He told me the normal meter rate to Nantong was 700 rmb, and that’s what he would charge me. He might have been right, but I counter-offered 400 rmb. After ten minutes of negotiating, we settled at 500 rmb and he would give me a “fapio” (the formal Chinese invoice I needed for my expense report). That’s probably the market rate even on a normal-traffic day, but this guy came out ahead by taking multiple passengers. Initially, he loaded a young woman into his clean, black VW Passat and dropped her at the Hongqiao Airport (the older, domestic airport on the west end of the city). Before we got that far, though, he insisted that I pay him in advance. I was just as insistent that I would pay him upon arrival at my home. He asked to see my money, and I said my wife had it. He didn’t trust that story, so I had him to take me to an ATM, where I withdrew 500 rmb. He again asked me to pay him, and I again refused. While I was making my withdrawal, the driver got really lucky and found another young woman, this one with a baby, who wanted to go to Nantong. She signed up for 600rmb to go to Tongzhou, north of Nantong. About this point, I realized that I really didn’t have the option of staying overnight in Shanghai: I hadn’t thought to bring my passport, and you can’t stay at a hotel in China without either a domestic ID card or a foreign passport (not a bad policy in the age of terrorism, I think).

After we dropped off the first woman (a high school teacher, who was interested to know that my wife had been teaching English at Nantong University), the ride went smoothly for an hour. Then came the next surprise. The driver parked on the far side of a toll booth and told us, “I have to meet a friend. I’ll be right back.” I saw him randomly trying to flag down cars and realized that he had some special plan. I assumed he wanted to find another Nantong-bound passenger to occupy the empty front seat. After half an hour passed, I started lobbying my travel mate for the three of us (including her baby) to get out and try to find a legitimate taxi to take us to Nantong and Tongzhou. By splitting the fare, we’d have both saved money. Just then, our driver showed up with another guy and told us we were going to “huan che” (change vehicles). Ah, so this was the plan! Our driver found someone who was going to Nantong anyway and who had room in his vehicle. The new driver had an even more comfortable mini-van. I’m pretty sure he was a professional company driver, who had just delivered someone from his company to one of the Shanghai airports and saw a chance to earn a little extra money. Yet again, the first driver asked me to pay – “don’t worry,” “no problem” – and yet again I said I’d pay (now, the new driver) as soon as I got home. I couldn’t count the bills, but the second driver paid the first one at least 400 rmb. Except for the fact that he drove over 130 kg/hr a lot of the time (I think that’s almost 90 mph) and that the ferry was backed up so badly with traffic that we had to go all the way west to Wuxi and cross on that bridge, the rest of the trip was actually fine. The baby was extremely well behaved. I got home at 10:00 pm, and Terry had a nice dinner waiting for me.

The two lessons of this day: 1) Don’t travel in China during the three national holidays, unless you really can’t avoid it. 2) Always carry your passport when you leave town. (As to #1, we traveled during two holidays in China without this degree of trouble. I guess we were lucky.) -- Norty

Dog Bites Man

In the United States, “Dog Bites Man” isn’t newsworthy. It isn’t in China, either – for Chinese. For me, though, it was another new adventure.

]]> Two weeks ago, I left our factory office building at the end of the day and headed for the bicycle parking area. On the way, I passed the two dogs that belong to our landlord (who uses one of the two factory buildings in our compound). The dogs were not in their usual spot. The big one was on a chain, but one of the landlord’s employees seemed to be playing with him, so I just walked ahead, not trying to avoid the dog (which I could have done). Well, the big dog lunged at me and bit my leg – not seriously, but just enough to break the skin on both sides.

Next, I learned how China deals with the threat of rabies. The country does not compel dog owners to routinely update their pets’ rabies vaccination, as is the case in the Unite States. Instead, each city has a special rabies clinic, and everyone who gets bit by a dog and doesn’t want to worry about getting rabies goes to the clinic for a series of injections. I had never detail firsthand with a rabies threat, and I knew the situation was potentially serious, so I didn’t want to rely on my own Chinese and the presumably similar English of the clinic doctors to clarify decisions about treatment. One of my colleagues, Xi Jingyou, accompanied me to the clinic and explained a course of six injections I could get. First, the doctor directed my colleague to wash my leg with soap and water for ten minutes. This episode was interesting. The soap was a communal bar. The basin was a rusted enamel sink. When I finished, I looked for something to dry with, and the doctor gestured to a stiff gray rage that was hanging from the window guard. I went with the drip-dry method instead.

Xi Jingyou then said the doctor wanted to know whether I thought I needed the injections. I replied that I was relying on the doctor for good advice. During 20 minutes of back-and-forth discussion, I was getting phone calls from my colleagues tao Hong and Liu Sheng, from my boss Jim Kaplan (who was in town) and from my wife. Terry was on the internet and wanted to know why I wasn’t getting offered immunoglobulin. Finally, I signed up for the injections and got the first one. But the consensus at work the next morning was that Chinese dog bit victims do get immunoglobulin. So, Liu Sheng took me back to the clinic, where a new doctor was more informative and gave me that (fairly painful) one-time injection. I had to sign a statement acknowledging that I understand I was going to be injected with a “blood product.” (You sign statements like this in the U.S. whenever you have surgery or go skydiving – “Shit happens, and if it happens to you, it’s not our fault.”)

For injections #2 and #3, I successfully got to the clinic on my own. I always enjoy successfully doing something new independently. The first time, I had yet another new experience “shunlu” (literally, “on the way”). After I had waited half an hour, the number 13 bus still hadn’t arrived, and I wanted to get to the clinic before it closed down for a 2-1/2 hour lunch break. So, I finally caved in and accepted a ride from a “modi.” There isn’t anything exactly like this in the U.S. A “modi” is a guy (I’ve seen only guys, so far) on a motorcycle who hangs around bus stops or supermarkets, offering to provide transportation at a lower cost than a taxi. (This was the first day of the May Day holiday, and there were no taxis available.) So, I hopped aboard, told my driver where I wanted to go, and arrived with no problem. He provided a “helmet” of a style that is popular in China – sort of a hardhat with a short bill. (There are also good motorcycle helmets, and the “modi” drivers usually wear them.)

The landlord is paying for my medical costs – a little over $200, about half for each kind of treatment – and I don’t have rabies yet. So, the outcome is fine. -- Norty

airport efficiency

One of our bags didn't arrive at the Shanghai Pudong Airport when we did, but the Airport staff resolved the problem smoothly.

]]> We check three bags on Midwest Airlines in Kansas City, all the way through to Shanghai, with a transfer to Northwest Airlines in San Francisco. Fog in SF delayed our first flight by an hour, living a little under two hours for the luggage transfer in San Francisco. We think that cause the problem. Anyway, when we arrived in Shanghai, I went to a Luggage Claim counter. A young man immediately located the bag ("still in San Franciso"), filled out a form for me to sign, and said the bag would arrive in Shanghai the next day and someone would deliver it to us in Nantong. He also gave us a $25 discount coupon for a future Northwest flight. We received a call the next day, and the following day someone delivered the bag right to our door. (The delivery man rode a inter-city bus to Nantong, then took local buses to our apartment. Terry and I were really impressed by the efficiency with which the airport people solved the problem.

- Norty

the cycle of life

Life (and death) go on in the United States, even while we are in China.

]]> Terry and I made two trips to the U.S. within the past two months, both mainly because my father was dying. During the first trip, I spent a week with Dad, while Terry and two of our kids came for a weekend. The second trip was for the funeral. My father lived to be 84 and had a full and eventful life. For about 25 years, he made two trips a year (2-3 weeks per trip) to East Asia (with a few trips to Europe and South Asia) to buy fishing tackle. He was vicariously enjoying my experience living in China, showing great interest in every new photo or weblog entry.

During the first trip, Terry spent more time in the U.S. and visited our new grandson, Elliot, in Tucson. Elliot was born to son Travis and his wife Karen last October. I finally met him at the funeral. He's a cute kid, and we're looking forward to lots of hugs and outings in the future. We also got the exciting news that daughter Inga is pregnant and that our second grandchild will be born this October. (We don't know yet whether this one will be a boy or a girl.)

The final life cycle change is my career. Putting a more precise schedule to a plan that I've been working on for the past ten years, I've arranged to return to the United States at the beginning of August, at which time I plan to start a year of adjunct teaching. That experience, along with earning my Ph.d. (by the end of 2006) will give me the credentials I need to compete successfully for a regular full-time college or university teaching job.

- Norty

Guangguang Hankou (strolling around Hankou District of Shanghai)

Today was my second day in Shanghai's old Hankou District, where 30,000 Jews found refuge during World War II. (See: 1/17/04 entry, "acrobatics, silk, Jewish history.")

]]> Tomorrow morning, I leave on a U.S.-bound plane. Terry has been in the States for two weeks, visiting 3-month-old grandson Elliot and others. (In case we haven't posted the fact to our mostly-China weblog, Elliot was born to son Travis and his wife Karen, a few months after Travis's visit to China.) I'm busy at work and with my dissertation, so I wasn't planning to go until a few months later. My father's health is failing, though, and I want to spend a week with him.

In the past, I have stayed at an over-priced Marriott hotel near the Pudong Airport, at a U.S.-style Jingjiang Motel nearby, and at the New Garden Hotel near our synagogue in Shanghai. Staying near the airport is boring; you can walk out the door, but there's nothing to do. So, to try something different, I stayed at a Home Inn (another $25-a-night motel) near Lu Xun Park in the Hankou District. I enjoyed strolling through the park and surrounding neighborhood for several hours this afternoon. There are lots of architecturally interesting buildings from the early twentieth century. In the park, hundres of mostly older people were relaxing - singing, playing musical instruments, playing cards or xiangxi. I ordered a bowl of vegetarian noodles in a snack bar inside the part and had the usual problem - "Oh, sorry, yidiandian (just a little) meat." The woman in charge took pity on me, though, and specially made up a tasty REALLY vegetarian bowl of noodles for me.

Lu Xun (along with Gu Morou) was one of China's two most famous 20th-century authors. Though not a party member, he sympathized with Mao and the communists. (I'm not sure, but I think not having been a party member may have prevented him from being condemned by anyone during the various factional battles since 1949. Dying in 1936 probably helped, too.) As a mature adult, Lu had an incredibly interesting face, so it was fun seeing the hundreds of photos, with bilingual inscriptions. Copies of his books, translated into many languages, were also on display. Like Checkhov, Lu initially went to medical school, but decided he could contribute more to society as a politically engaged writer. He became radicalized during the May Fourth Movement of 1919, which aimed to resist foreign (mainly Japanese) imperialism and to modernize China. He studied in Japan for several years, up to the 1911 Republican revolution, and maintained lifelong friends there. He was quite an internationalist, also collecting woodcuts by German artist Kathe Kollowitz and being the first to translate science fiction into Chinese, two of Jules Verne's novels.

I also located the bus stop where, at about 6:30 tomorrow morning, I need to catch the #4 shuttle bus to the airport. Getting directions was a by-now-typical experience. (To be fair, I've had similar experiences in the U.S.) The hotel clerk conscientiously walked out to the sidewalk with me, pointed me to the left, told me to make three left turns, then a right, then ask - 15 minutes in all. She suggested I take the #47 local bus and get off at the second stop, instead of walking. The route seemed strangely circular, but I checked it out. In fact, there is a shorter, simpler alternate route - go to the RIGHT after exiting the hotel, then one left and one right turn - 5 minutes total. I think I understand why the hotel clerk gave me the instructions she did. I believe she thought about my question only in terms of bus routes, and I noticed that the #47 local bus does in fact follow the route she suggested. Needless to say, I'll take the shorter route.

- Norty

Pizza Hut comes to Nantong

Nantong had 2 MacDonalds locations and (I think) 5 KFCs when Terry and I arrived. When a new front was revealed for the totally rennovated Nantong Department Store at the beginning of 2006, we realized that Nantong now also has a Pizza Hut.

]]> Every time I have passed by on my bus ride home from work, I have seen a line of dozens of people snaking onto the sidewalk. If the crowd thins out in a month or two, we'll give the new Pizza Hut a try.

Actually, I'm more interested in the new Da Nang Shuijiao (Old Auntie's Jiaozi, or Dumplings) that has an equally flashy new front on the west side of the building, to balance Pizza Hut on the north. Jiaozi are sort of like ravioli, but plumper. They are stuffed with various combinatins of meat, vegetables, and egg. The vegetarian jiaozi are delicious. There appear to be dozens of branches of Da Niang Shuijiao, must in Nantong, but this is the only one with an upscale appearance. So, we're curious to see what it looks like inside. Stay tuned.

- Norty

Small blow against corruption

I may have mentioned earlier that a "gang of three" local officials extorted about $800 from my company shortly after I arrived in Nantong at the beginning of 2003.

]]> At the time, I was faced with so many other problems, that I acceded to their unreasonable demand for $400 for a trip to Nanjing to file papers to change our office's address and another $600 for a non-existent "security system" for the office building where we were housed. The rationale for the latter was that normally foreigners are not allowed to rent offices in the downtown of Nantong. The leader of the gang, Mr. Huang, though, told me he had found a way around this problem.

This incident really irritated me, and I kept in the back of my mind the notion that I would try to do something about it. My first attempt (see entry "Edited in the East") was to allude to the incident in my article for the local newspaper, but that attempt failed. Next, at a meeting for foreigners about public security in Nantong, I asked whether there are any restrictions on foreigners renting offices or factories in certain locations. A representative of the city government replied, "There are no restrictions. Foreigners have the same rights to rent as local people."

Armed with new information, I took my next chance. Last fall, there was another meeting for resident foreigners - this time to solicit "golden suggestions" for improving the quality of life in Nantong. While others mentioned things like traffic congestion, air quality, and lack of schools for children of expatriates, I mentioned "corruption." I carefully couched my comments in the context of a well-publicized national campaign against corrupt officials, said that I did not think the problem was prevalent in Nantong, and provided an overview of my incident (but without humiliating Mr. Huang by mentioning his name). Just as I hoped, after the meeting a young assistant to the Vice-Mayor approached me and asked for more information, so that the Vice-Mayor could make an investigation. I was prepared, with Mr. Huang's card and copies of the receipts he had given me.

I heard nothing further until a few weeks ago. It was time for another change of address. One of my colleagues had to see Mr. Huang and get his "chop" imprint on our application. He complained to her three times that I had caused him to be investigated - but he charge only a reasonable fee of 1000 rmb this time (about $125). I am gratified.

- Norty

paint

Paint is like drinking water in China - that is, something you can't take for granted.

]]> I learned last year that all (or at least most) apartments are painted inside with oil-based paint. It takes six months for the walls to air out to the point that the apartment is livable. A dishonest landlord tricked one colleague into making a deposit on renting an apartment that wasn't ready for tenants yet. The weather was nice the day she showed the apartment, so the landlord opened the windows. Then, when my colleague Ding Binbin tried to move in, she discovered that there was a terrible smell from the paint that wouldn't go away for 4-5 months. She ended up negotiating a settlement that left the landlord with some of her deposit. This week, Ding Binbin ran up against the same problem in a different form. Our company has moved into a new factory and office complex. We bought several new desks for office workers. But I learned today that, because the paint on the new desks hasn't fully cured, we can't have very much heat in the offices where these desks are located.

I suppose the reason for all this is that oil-based paint is cheaper than water-based paint, but I'm not certain.

- Norty