An (originally) short comment about facebook. I hate it. It's slow, it's annoying, and as every sane person, i don't like getting idiotic messages, not to mention the eternal "this and this made a quiz about that and that".
At the same time, i enjoy reading people's statuses, which always brings the most human and at the same time most creative of people, and even the looking at their pictures. Moreover, I do believe in it's ability to maintain relationships, and bring people together.
People are quick to criticize the “fake” friendships, which are based on nothing more than two people knowing each other names. Some are so. But i cannot wonder, how deep do "real" personal friendships really go? I am not talking about the most intimate of friendships (how many of these can an average man have? I'd say no more than 10), but of the ones with other people, who are in the same social circles long enough to be defined as "personal friends". These also can of course be very rewarding, but during my life, I have gotten (and certainly given) the cold shoulder from people regarded as personal long-time friends, and on the other hand, received great help from people who barely knew me.
Take my time in China as an example. Now i have a kind of a house in China, but there was a time i only had bags to move from bed to bed. More than half of it (Beijing, Yinchuan) was spent in other people's (4) houses. Only one of them did I know before coming to China, and also only shallowly. Nonetheless, they have let me into their house. This is, in part, thanks to the world created by networks such as facebook or couchsurfing, according to which, if somebody is a friend of a friend, he's probably also your friend.
Going back to the example i wrote about recently - the guy who is in a "Arab hating" group. with me as a friend, and with the friends i have, i wouldn't rule out the possibility that he's a mere three friend \ Kevin Bacon degrees from a guy in a "hate Israelis" group. Facebook has actually brought them closer together. Us optimistic "friends" can hope it's a matter of time before they realize that - whether they like it or not, whether it be real or virtual - they are part of the same network.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Swine flu has made it to Beijing!
no, it's just me. but i do enjoy a good swine, when it's still alive and snorting.
so i've made it back to big b, after a long night of hard seat traveling with the rest of us country bumbkins. hard seat costed a hundred yuan less that sleeper class, and i told myself "it's not my first day in China, i can make it", picturing myself happily sleeping despite sitting (i am proud about the unfussiness of my sleeping ability). little did i know that darkness is a luxury kept only for the sleeper class. as in an experiment, everything was left lit, enough reason to push the number of non-sleepers to a majority, which (in a democracy as a democracy) was glad to exert its rights by smoking, laughing, shouting, and of course - loudly playing bad quality music in horrible quality sound out of cellphones. now that's one chinese habit the world could do better without.
but i did manage to sleep, and made it back to the good old warm city, the improved version of the menacing cold city, to which one pale february afternoon a young ambitious traveler came, equiped with nothing but a fully-stamped passport and a dream of studying Mandarin (three-months-old nostalgy... how pathetic can you get?). now it carressed me with its giant buildings, reassuringly showing me how small i am, and with its huge yet already familiar transport system, in which i sat sorrounded by various bejingers, all of them just too cool for school (in comparison with the kaifengers' "too poor for school"). there's nothing as efficient as an underground system in order to remind me how far i am from home.
meeting again with local friends - amongst them the great teacher Zhang, sure was a treat, on top of it new friends, such as the nice mister Ping, who ran into me in this nice Taoist temple, "White Clouds Temple", and showed me around. he has spent a year in Israel back in 1990, studying its agriculture.
so all in all it's been a refreshing two-day experience. tommorow i probably get a new passport, and head back to Henan.
so i've made it back to big b, after a long night of hard seat traveling with the rest of us country bumbkins. hard seat costed a hundred yuan less that sleeper class, and i told myself "it's not my first day in China, i can make it", picturing myself happily sleeping despite sitting (i am proud about the unfussiness of my sleeping ability). little did i know that darkness is a luxury kept only for the sleeper class. as in an experiment, everything was left lit, enough reason to push the number of non-sleepers to a majority, which (in a democracy as a democracy) was glad to exert its rights by smoking, laughing, shouting, and of course - loudly playing bad quality music in horrible quality sound out of cellphones. now that's one chinese habit the world could do better without.
but i did manage to sleep, and made it back to the good old warm city, the improved version of the menacing cold city, to which one pale february afternoon a young ambitious traveler came, equiped with nothing but a fully-stamped passport and a dream of studying Mandarin (three-months-old nostalgy... how pathetic can you get?). now it carressed me with its giant buildings, reassuringly showing me how small i am, and with its huge yet already familiar transport system, in which i sat sorrounded by various bejingers, all of them just too cool for school (in comparison with the kaifengers' "too poor for school"). there's nothing as efficient as an underground system in order to remind me how far i am from home.
meeting again with local friends - amongst them the great teacher Zhang, sure was a treat, on top of it new friends, such as the nice mister Ping, who ran into me in this nice Taoist temple, "White Clouds Temple", and showed me around. he has spent a year in Israel back in 1990, studying its agriculture.
so all in all it's been a refreshing two-day experience. tommorow i probably get a new passport, and head back to Henan.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Just another Kaifeng morning...
“Oh, who is that, rushing on his bicycle through the hutong, almost knocking-off the baozi stand?! Is that little Zhao, or the beautiful yet humble Mei-li? Oh no, that’s 光华. Probably late for class again. He comes from that faraway land where they talk Arabic and fight all the time... you know, somewhere next to Pakistan. I heard from old-man Zhang that he’s been taking his showers at the campus pool, and noise-hard-sound-loud sucking on noodles like there is no tomorrow – so cute, he thinks he’s Chinese! He was so happy to settle in Kaifeng, but seems he will have to schlep soon all the way to Shanghai or Beijing, exactly the monster-cities he has ran away from. No, it's not tourism – he has seen the Wall, as well as the Forbidden City, and couldn’t really care for Shanghai… it’s the visa stuff that urging. Ha-ha-ha, these funny foreigners! How they stream-strong-river-long rush into our Middle Kingdom, without even looking at their papers before that. Yes, he has initially spent three weeks in Beijing, enough time to renew his passport 7 times (not to mention a year and a half back home before that, where he wouldn’t have to pay 450 rmb for issuing a new one). Must have been too busy learning useless literary Chinese vocabulary, or yelling ‘I don’t eat meat, I don’t meat!’ at amazed waiters, to take a look at his passport, just this short little glimpse, and realizing ‘hey, I got no pages left’. Guess those Jews are not as smart as we made them to be after all. Get the
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Two tales for one independence
*******************
As I came to Qingdao, I met this young Israeli traveler in the hostel. I could easily see by the way he spoke and dressed that he was fresh out of the army. He seemed pretty happy to meet me. We had a breakfast together (I bought him sesame sauce, better known has tahini in our places, and gave him a feeling of home). He told me about his life in the north of Israel, the high-tech job he was newly fired from, and the upcoming studies. We didn’t touch politics, and with our farewell we exchanged, as common nowadays, our names so that we become facebook palls. Two weeks ago I ran into a list of facebook groups you get for right “hate arabs” on facebook. Despicable stuff, ranging from idiotic teenager racism ("i hate them, they are so fucking stinkyyyyyyy!! @#$@$") to downright Nazism (“kill all the Arabs \ drop an atom on Gaza!"). Just as in the movies, i went into one on the more "moderate" pages, and there pops my friend's picture as one of the group's members. I immediately wrote him something in the likes of “what the fuck?!”, and he answered, polite as always, that he has tried to been a good guy, but eventually realized most Arabs don't want us here. well, he's right at that.
I don’t really know what to make of these two stories, just wanted to tell them. My opinion about the future of the land is likewise obvious and obscure, but is based on the (maybe too) simple idea that both people will either die or live together - israelistine is not a zero-sum game. I am hopeful enough to believe that people will eventually have to face it.
Regarding the actual state of Israel (with 61 of age, not a kid anymore, but a very annoying adult) – it’s hard to love a state that is doing the things i've seen, and in which i can find so many faults. But hey – this is what I have, and I am sure happy it's still there, despite great efforts by both Jewish and Muslim radicals to destroy it. Who else will save me once the Chinese get furious for me eating all the rice, or the Germans get mad again? At which other country can i allow myself to sit in prison for my beliefs? And honestly, I have a thing for Bibi, not of today.
If all that isn’t enough, I think I'll continue to be happy about it existence thanks to the wonderful power of spite – a state so widely and thoroughly hated (including by some of my friends) must have something to it. An israelless world would be just too boring, wouldn’t it?
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Springing Kaifeng
Same dusty old town, new refreshing weather. My travels have taken a complete turn, and within a couple of days I have found a school, (probably) a job, and an apartment. The latter still looks like a construction site, with a bed and my things around it, but the fact that it’s on the upper store of a cafe-bar (the one I grew to like and wrote about back then) is enough to rate it “cool as fuck” in any teenager\hippie lexicon.
Right now, I am sitting in the bar downstairs. A rock show is held by a group of excited young pimpled students, surrounded by a handful of enthusiastic classmates. Outside the front window, simple people on their way home from the daily peddling have gathered and are gawking in with big smiles. Wonder if that’s how it felt in the early 60’s.
Leaving that comparison in mind, let me add it’s an off-campus apartment, steps away from Henan University, one of the greenest and liveliest campuses I’ve seen. Everywhere you go – from the sport courts (oh, are the Chinese students into sport, or at least into "sportiness"), to the paths, main square and the food markets around every gate – things are seething with activity. Even my Chinese, now that I have a Chinese roommate and a stable friend circle, finally feels like a language should - feasible and functional.
And so, like during my first stay in town, yet dazed by the blooming season, my mind overflows by daydreams and inner promises about a glorious future supposedly coagulating in front of my eyes: "I am telling you, this place is going places, and if you wish, it won’t be long till the message gets around". Kaifeng rocks.
Right now, I am sitting in the bar downstairs. A rock show is held by a group of excited young pimpled students, surrounded by a handful of enthusiastic classmates. Outside the front window, simple people on their way home from the daily peddling have gathered and are gawking in with big smiles. Wonder if that’s how it felt in the early 60’s.
Leaving that comparison in mind, let me add it’s an off-campus apartment, steps away from Henan University, one of the greenest and liveliest campuses I’ve seen. Everywhere you go – from the sport courts (oh, are the Chinese students into sport, or at least into "sportiness"), to the paths, main square and the food markets around every gate – things are seething with activity. Even my Chinese, now that I have a Chinese roommate and a stable friend circle, finally feels like a language should - feasible and functional.
And so, like during my first stay in town, yet dazed by the blooming season, my mind overflows by daydreams and inner promises about a glorious future supposedly coagulating in front of my eyes: "I am telling you, this place is going places, and if you wish, it won’t be long till the message gets around". Kaifeng rocks.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
What's an Yinchuan? \ A Tale of 5 Cities
"Then it dawned upon me – yes, Yinchuan! this place i (and 99% of you) never heard of, capital of a lost kingdom up in the north. With only one million inhabitants, there is no mistaking about this place: it’s a village, and therefore my next destination."
I wrote these (unpublished) lines almost a month ago, back in the much bigger as expected Xi'an. Now, before I am leaving Yinchuan, i feel it would do injustice to this city not dedicating writing about it. Well, Yinchuan is the small (China-wise) and big (desert-wise) capital of the far-off tiny province\autonomy of Ningxia, just on the brim of the giant, empty province of Inner Mongolia.
Two months ago, still deep in the Beijing jungle, i presented in my Hebrew blog about 5 places I have chosen as potential places for "part B of my time in China - settling-down a bit": Beijing, Qingdao, Kaifeng, Xi’an and Yinchuan (of which I only inadvertently heard). I never thought i would made it to all of them, but each one seemed good, yet none perfect, and my indecisiveness and stubbornness brought me always forward.
Beijing has many foreigners, culture, history, high prices, subway-system and the feeling of a world-town; Qingdao has history, beautiful beaches, great buses, a nice foreign community, a sweet hostel and a lot of style; Kaifeng has Jews, a nice university, very cheap prices, history, old-China feeling; Xi’an had another sweet hostel, many foreigners, history, and a huge building boom.
Yinchuan has none of the above. It’s just a simple, nicely developing city in the middle of nowhere China, with great air and good people. But i was wrong in what i wrote above - it is a city for all its worth. Many people, wide avenues, markets, a skyscraper or two, big hotels, malls (don't worry, folks, the Chinese buying spray is still going on, the world is saved!) and only Chinese. Almost no foreigners come here, and the ones that do all retell their path to here in a semi-mystical tone, as if it was a scene out of “Close Encounters of the 3rd Kind”. Something led us here.
(Something weird happens, by the way, when one spends three weeks roaming the streets and seeing only Chinese: the contrast is gone, and people don't really look Chinese anymore)
Back to the fivesome. The average modern Chinese, who dislikes small towns and yearns for dazzling touristic places, would have rated these 5 cities as follows: 1. Beijing, 2. Xi’an 3. Qingdao, 4. Yinchuan and Kaifeng (regarding the latter, there was mostly astonishment when people heard i love it enough to want to live in it. i can imagine how would people react to the former). At least at this period of my travels, i'd have rated it exactly upside upside-down, maybe with Beijing a bit above.
But they are all good, and offer their share of living. And indeed, as i made it here, knowing my road ends here and it's decision time, every one of the five was back on the table, an alluring possibility. That's why i didn't right a lot recently, there was really not much going on, other than endless calculations and deliberations. i hate it when i become "that guy".
But now i'm set - it's back to Kaifeng for me. I think. Pretty much sure.
I wrote these (unpublished) lines almost a month ago, back in the much bigger as expected Xi'an. Now, before I am leaving Yinchuan, i feel it would do injustice to this city not dedicating writing about it. Well, Yinchuan is the small (China-wise) and big (desert-wise) capital of the far-off tiny province\autonomy of Ningxia, just on the brim of the giant, empty province of Inner Mongolia.
Two months ago, still deep in the Beijing jungle, i presented in my Hebrew blog about 5 places I have chosen as potential places for "part B of my time in China - settling-down a bit": Beijing, Qingdao, Kaifeng, Xi’an and Yinchuan (of which I only inadvertently heard). I never thought i would made it to all of them, but each one seemed good, yet none perfect, and my indecisiveness and stubbornness brought me always forward.
Beijing has many foreigners, culture, history, high prices, subway-system and the feeling of a world-town; Qingdao has history, beautiful beaches, great buses, a nice foreign community, a sweet hostel and a lot of style; Kaifeng has Jews, a nice university, very cheap prices, history, old-China feeling; Xi’an had another sweet hostel, many foreigners, history, and a huge building boom.
Yinchuan has none of the above. It’s just a simple, nicely developing city in the middle of nowhere China, with great air and good people. But i was wrong in what i wrote above - it is a city for all its worth. Many people, wide avenues, markets, a skyscraper or two, big hotels, malls (don't worry, folks, the Chinese buying spray is still going on, the world is saved!) and only Chinese. Almost no foreigners come here, and the ones that do all retell their path to here in a semi-mystical tone, as if it was a scene out of “Close Encounters of the 3rd Kind”. Something led us here.
(Something weird happens, by the way, when one spends three weeks roaming the streets and seeing only Chinese: the contrast is gone, and people don't really look Chinese anymore)
Back to the fivesome. The average modern Chinese, who dislikes small towns and yearns for dazzling touristic places, would have rated these 5 cities as follows: 1. Beijing, 2. Xi’an 3. Qingdao, 4. Yinchuan and Kaifeng (regarding the latter, there was mostly astonishment when people heard i love it enough to want to live in it. i can imagine how would people react to the former). At least at this period of my travels, i'd have rated it exactly upside upside-down, maybe with Beijing a bit above.
But they are all good, and offer their share of living. And indeed, as i made it here, knowing my road ends here and it's decision time, every one of the five was back on the table, an alluring possibility. That's why i didn't right a lot recently, there was really not much going on, other than endless calculations and deliberations. i hate it when i become "that guy".
But now i'm set - it's back to Kaifeng for me. I think. Pretty much sure.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
China-man (or: it's a wonderful China - part 3 and last)
你是哪国人？(direct translation: “you are which country man?”).
No matter how heavy the accent or weird the dialect, foreigners in China always understand this question, simply as it is usually the first one thrown at them.
(actually, it is almost always on top of the list at any international encounter. This leads many to believe that nationality is an obvious matter. Yet if I let people guess mine, even westerners rarely say “Israel” within the first 10 guesses)
Anyway, as someone sick of consistently answering 以色列 (Israel) to this question, I occasionally answer 中国人! (China-man!). That’s a old and lame joke, which is used by western travelers all over the “south of the world”, usually (well, in India at least) rewarded with a gust of healthy laughter. However, simple Chinese don’t react so straightaway. Maybe it's because they are not into jokes on first acquaintance, but also because their definition of China-man might be pretty loose, they don't know how to face my answer.
不可能! (this can’t be!) exclaims the old lady running the restaurant I came into, and adds something about my face not looking Chinese.
可以吧,新疆人 （oh, it can be. he’s Xinjiang man）, tells her one of her waiters. She was appeased.
I don’t exactly know why, but this makes me feel good. These people for example originally come from Sichuan, also a relatively far and different province. Yet their life is so simple and their country so vast, that they can still believe that the green-eyed light-haired person in front of them is a Chinese.
It is no coincidence that Chinese are the biggest people in the world. In stark contrast from their neighbors to the east (or from their "neighbors" in the Middle-East), they are very inclusive in their national perspectives. Even their foreign rulers – the Jurchens (Jin Dynasty), the Mongolians (Yuan Dynasty) the Manchurians (Qing Dynasty) – eventually got considerably assimilated, and defined themselves as Chinese. This is also reflected in today’s attitude, for better and for worse: for most Chinese, if you’re from Chinese descent, then you’re Chinese. If you are Uighur, Tibetan, Mongolian, Manchurian or any other minority on the premises – you’re not Han, but you’re Chinese.
And if you speak some Chinese, you are well on your way (no, that was just my heart wish speaking).
No matter how heavy the accent or weird the dialect, foreigners in China always understand this question, simply as it is usually the first one thrown at them.
(actually, it is almost always on top of the list at any international encounter. This leads many to believe that nationality is an obvious matter. Yet if I let people guess mine, even westerners rarely say “Israel” within the first 10 guesses)
Anyway, as someone sick of consistently answering 以色列 (Israel) to this question, I occasionally answer 中国人! (China-man!). That’s a old and lame joke, which is used by western travelers all over the “south of the world”, usually (well, in India at least) rewarded with a gust of healthy laughter. However, simple Chinese don’t react so straightaway. Maybe it's because they are not into jokes on first acquaintance, but also because their definition of China-man might be pretty loose, they don't know how to face my answer.
不可能! (this can’t be!) exclaims the old lady running the restaurant I came into, and adds something about my face not looking Chinese.
可以吧,新疆人 （oh, it can be. he’s Xinjiang man）, tells her one of her waiters. She was appeased.
I don’t exactly know why, but this makes me feel good. These people for example originally come from Sichuan, also a relatively far and different province. Yet their life is so simple and their country so vast, that they can still believe that the green-eyed light-haired person in front of them is a Chinese.
It is no coincidence that Chinese are the biggest people in the world. In stark contrast from their neighbors to the east (or from their "neighbors" in the Middle-East), they are very inclusive in their national perspectives. Even their foreign rulers – the Jurchens (Jin Dynasty), the Mongolians (Yuan Dynasty) the Manchurians (Qing Dynasty) – eventually got considerably assimilated, and defined themselves as Chinese. This is also reflected in today’s attitude, for better and for worse: for most Chinese, if you’re from Chinese descent, then you’re Chinese. If you are Uighur, Tibetan, Mongolian, Manchurian or any other minority on the premises – you’re not Han, but you’re Chinese.
And if you speak some Chinese, you are well on your way (no, that was just my heart wish speaking).
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