I'm at Yale now and it's a profoundly strange place. I'm not a skull yet, at least to the best of my knowledge. Would even I know if I were a skull. I'd probably figure it out after several sitting presidents and members of congress started urinating on me. That's what skulls do to the new ones. I heard that somewhere... Alright.
Specifically, this place is so darn weird because of the internet. Al Gore, the inventor of the internet, attended this school, and setting it up has been counterintuitive in the extreme. In short, I had to admit defeat before I succeeded. Is this one of, "there is no spoon" things, a la The Matrix? From where I'm sitting, it smells like one. Extreme frustration, not an hour ago, gnashing of teeth. It was difficult, you see, because I figured it out. BBC was starting back at me. After successfully navigating the housing manual, finding the page that instructs you on how to get online yourself, and, haha, navigating the menus, I was surfin' the net. Astonished triumph. I never read the instructions, and one of the reasons why I never succeeded at science is I cannot for the life of me follow instructions. I hate them. Nevertheless, I was very definitely surfin' the net.
Then, I decided to restart the computer, without a real reason, but rather from a vague desire to consolidate my gains. I don't know why. Why did Hitler invade Russia? Some things can't be comprehended. I think I just compared myself to Hitler. Forget about that. It will ruin my 2026 congressional bid. Forget it now. I'm on the fast-track to SKULLDOM, and it doesn't matter what I say, and I can hyphenate as I please.
For whatever reason, my restarted computer was unable to surf the net. I lost my figurative marbles, perhaps that hints too strongly at insanity to convey the depth of my anger at this machine, on which I am now typing, but there was a distinct strain of purple insanity in my anger. Marbles is the right word. After a worthless and potentially embarrassing bit of shouting and gesticulating that lasted the better part of two hours, I gave up and resigned myself to a restorative dinner of high-sodium noodles, it helps me forget. When I slammed the door angrily, I was not the member of any network, literally.
Down into the 1920s era, stunningly beautiful, dining hall building, down into the hot, dark basement. Motion sensor lights. The motion sensor lights in the kitchen did not work. I ate in peace, relative peace, in the dark, until a woman walked in. I scared the bejesus out of her. Now she thinks I am the creepy guy who hangs out in the dark kitchen by himself. I'm getting a reputation here, and the disconcerting thing is, it's not much different from the one I have in DC, and China for that matter. I hate myself. Then I returned to my room and my internet was working perfectly.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Sunday, August 17, 2008
An act of impropriety
I was hot and tired and worried about time in Qingdao when I was heading back to Hangzhou for one more night before flying back to Hong Kong on the way to the U.S. I didn't know why the taxi to the airport was taking so long. I couldn't understand what he was saying, and I hoped that I would not have to visit an ATM again. I spent more than I meant to, about 300$ more. Thankfully yesterday I got my tax rebate (with other assorted bills and unpleasant things in the accumulated month of mail at home) so I can blow it on an XBOX 360 and not worry about spending too much in China. Back at the airport I was distressed. I didn't know which counter to go to, I didn't understand why the guy at the door to the airport, not the security line but the door to the outside world, was screening my bag. My whole state of mind was bad. After sorting it all through, with much anguish, I finally approached the almost nonexistant security line, confident that my trials were about 99% finished, and this would be a formality.
A quiet man approached me, smiling, and launched into a Chinese explanation, with much pointing at signs and then at my bag and then back at the ticket counter. I knew immediately that he wanted me to check one of my bags, and this airport, for some reason, would only let you carry on one bag no matter what airline you were on, but as I stood there, exhausted, nerve wrought, I realized that I had to figure something out. To play for time I did what I do best: played dumb. I made him explain it about 3 times. He spoke no English and I pretended, if it is possible to believe this, that my Chinese was worse than it actually was so he would keep explaining. I would like to say that I came up with something that got me through, I didn't. A woman came up who spoke English. Before she started talking the man explained to her the situation, in Chinese, and he said my Chinese is terrible, which is true, unfortunately. However, I did understand it when he said it was terrible, so I guess that sort of evens things out, perhaps it doesn't.
The woman started speaking to me and said that she could speak to her manager. Perhaps I had something valuable in the bag? I blinked, realized there was some light she was letting into the situation and said yes, I do have expensive things in there. I suspose there actually were valuable things in my bag, cameras, and a few pearls for my mom and sister, but the real reason I wanted to hold onto my bag, and carry it on the plane myself was that I was tired. My bag was in my hand and I did not want anyone taking it from me. Maybe if I had been better rested, or hadn't wasted so much money on junk that I didn't need, or if the taxi ride hadn't lasted so long, maybe I would have complied and walked back to the ticket counter. Strike a blow against the old ugly American stereotype and play by the rules. But she was giving me a way out. Yes, there were valuable things in there. She said that if I were a VIP I could go through. Was I a student at Qinghua University (arguably the best or the second best university in China). Another flash of light, this time it was blinding, and I couldn't see that it illuminated a path I perhaps should not have walked down. No, I was not a Qinghua student, but I go to Yale. It was a magic word. Her face lit up. Well then, of course you are a VIP. Do not worry about checking your bag, follow me, this will be no problem. Do not tell the other passengers. They might get angry.
I don't know what this makes me, but this was a shameless exploitation of a name to get an unfair benefit.
A quiet man approached me, smiling, and launched into a Chinese explanation, with much pointing at signs and then at my bag and then back at the ticket counter. I knew immediately that he wanted me to check one of my bags, and this airport, for some reason, would only let you carry on one bag no matter what airline you were on, but as I stood there, exhausted, nerve wrought, I realized that I had to figure something out. To play for time I did what I do best: played dumb. I made him explain it about 3 times. He spoke no English and I pretended, if it is possible to believe this, that my Chinese was worse than it actually was so he would keep explaining. I would like to say that I came up with something that got me through, I didn't. A woman came up who spoke English. Before she started talking the man explained to her the situation, in Chinese, and he said my Chinese is terrible, which is true, unfortunately. However, I did understand it when he said it was terrible, so I guess that sort of evens things out, perhaps it doesn't.
The woman started speaking to me and said that she could speak to her manager. Perhaps I had something valuable in the bag? I blinked, realized there was some light she was letting into the situation and said yes, I do have expensive things in there. I suspose there actually were valuable things in my bag, cameras, and a few pearls for my mom and sister, but the real reason I wanted to hold onto my bag, and carry it on the plane myself was that I was tired. My bag was in my hand and I did not want anyone taking it from me. Maybe if I had been better rested, or hadn't wasted so much money on junk that I didn't need, or if the taxi ride hadn't lasted so long, maybe I would have complied and walked back to the ticket counter. Strike a blow against the old ugly American stereotype and play by the rules. But she was giving me a way out. Yes, there were valuable things in there. She said that if I were a VIP I could go through. Was I a student at Qinghua University (arguably the best or the second best university in China). Another flash of light, this time it was blinding, and I couldn't see that it illuminated a path I perhaps should not have walked down. No, I was not a Qinghua student, but I go to Yale. It was a magic word. Her face lit up. Well then, of course you are a VIP. Do not worry about checking your bag, follow me, this will be no problem. Do not tell the other passengers. They might get angry.
I don't know what this makes me, but this was a shameless exploitation of a name to get an unfair benefit.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Back in the States
Sitting in Nantucket now with my family. Jet lag affects me worse than most people. I don't really know how long I've been back. Five days, six? It all kind of blends together, like I'm emerging from some sort of swamp. I do remember getting back, and wanting to go to bed at about 3p.m., but forcing myself to stay awake. In the mornings I was wide awake and wanted to take very long bike rides, the mornings in America. I woke up at 4 a.m. for a few days. Now I can stay up 'till midnight and I wake up about 7:30. I still want to nap at about 3 p.m. Somewhere there is a line between jet lag and my natural sloth. I don't know where it is.
My last week in China was exhausting. I went to Qingdao with Stacy. It is full of German architecture, because it was a German colony. German architecture in China is a strange blend, but it works. It's right on the ocean, the street food is excellent. Really relaxed place. Hangzhou is uptight, beautiful, worth it, but up tight. In Hangzhou there is minimal street food. There are Porsche and Rolls Royce stores. Qingdao is about the same size and poorer. Qingdao will host some Olympic sailing events, so I saw Olympic stuff everywhere. Neon lights, huge roads, and the "One World One Dream" sign.
Hangzhou was a great experience. I miss the place and the people there. Yale starts in about 2+ weeks. The first thing I do at Yale is a 2 week long orientation. During my aunt's grad school orientation, she was sent to an island in the middle of a lake for several days with no food. The idea was that she would learn self-reliance. So if I don't post anything for a few weeks, you'll know what's up. I really don't want to go to an island in the middle of a lake. There I said it, does that knock my manliness down a peg?
My last week in China was exhausting. I went to Qingdao with Stacy. It is full of German architecture, because it was a German colony. German architecture in China is a strange blend, but it works. It's right on the ocean, the street food is excellent. Really relaxed place. Hangzhou is uptight, beautiful, worth it, but up tight. In Hangzhou there is minimal street food. There are Porsche and Rolls Royce stores. Qingdao is about the same size and poorer. Qingdao will host some Olympic sailing events, so I saw Olympic stuff everywhere. Neon lights, huge roads, and the "One World One Dream" sign.
Hangzhou was a great experience. I miss the place and the people there. Yale starts in about 2+ weeks. The first thing I do at Yale is a 2 week long orientation. During my aunt's grad school orientation, she was sent to an island in the middle of a lake for several days with no food. The idea was that she would learn self-reliance. So if I don't post anything for a few weeks, you'll know what's up. I really don't want to go to an island in the middle of a lake. There I said it, does that knock my manliness down a peg?
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