Global Engagement, and the Importance of Foreign Languages

As the world reaches a critical juncture in policy and global exchange, I am thankful that I am facing it prepared with the education I got at UC San Diego's School of Global Policy and Strategy.  I am glad for the focus on quantitative data, and for the in-depth background I have on the Asian theater. But I am especially grateful for the advanced language classes tailored for economic and political policy that I took -  a scarce commodity in the US.

Simon Kupor wrote in the Financial Times[1] that primarily monolingual English speakers in the US and UK are at a fundamental disadvantage precisely because English is the language of international exchange. He likens living in an English speaking country to “living in a glass house… foreigners know us much better than we know them.”  He speculates that this imbalanced communication made the US elections an easy target for Russian hackers, and give the UK a much weaker hand in negotiating Brexit. 

The implication is clear. For regional experts and international affairs professionals, language proficiency is not optional.

Before arriving at GPS, I studied Japanese for a number of years. I could maintain basic conversations and function in daily life.  But I did not have the language skills to be competent in a professional setting.  At GPS Japanese classes, I learned the expressions and style needed in giving business presentations, and I learned how to formally debate political topics – both of which were an immense asset during my summer internship during which I presented policy analysis to Japanese bureaucrats.  My language classes also taught me how to write professional correspondence to colleagues, which I do now daily in my current job.

Beyond being able to use language in my job, I am now able to get my news from foreign publications.  Reading about the American healthcare system and the internment of Japanese Americans in Japanese magazines has been a sobering experience.  Reading government policy papers from the Japanese government has given me a great deal of clarity on what is going on in Japanese society now.

Language has given me a grounded perspective on America’s role in the world, greater capacity as a researcher, and the ability to be taken seriously by colleagues. I would not have been able to reach this level had I not taken classes at GPS.

When deciding whether to move back to the US to complete my Masters degree, I was concerned about whether I would have to sacrifice my language skills that I had worked so hard for. At GPS, my skills didn’t suffer but expanded.

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[1] Kuper, Simon. “The problem with English.” The Financial Times Magazine, January 12, 2017
https://www.ft.com/content/223af71a-d853-11e6-944b-e7eb37a6aa8e

Meiji Style Tokyo

One of my personal favorite periods of Japanese history is the Meiji period.  Tokyo really came into it's own during the Meiji period, and thanks to a thirst for modernizing combined with some horrific fires, much of modern Tokyo was rebuilt then.  Here are some examples of Meiji style buildings I came across this trip.

Tokyo Station

Emperor's Palace

National Museum

The End of the World

I went to Shizuoka to see a friend.  Shizuoka is the town right at the base of Mt. Fuji.  The order of the day was catching up, but we went to Tanuki lake which is supposed to reflect the image of Mt. Fuji.  This is what we saw instead.  It makes me think of what the world would look like if it was flat and you really could fall off of it.

Kaifeng Revisited

For two weeks this last summer I went back to Kaifeng.  It still has a certain chaos to it that Shenzhen has been orderly removing from itself.

Note the monkey

I'll Have a Venti

Xingbake, or as it's better known in America, Starbucks, has not yet made its way to Henan province.  But the richer cities of China are no strangers to them.  Though all the English translations are idetical to the American versions, Chinese speakers need not worry about the difference between a tall, venti, and grande.  The Chinese version roughly translates to "
medium cup" "big cup" and "really big cup."

 

 

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Patriotic Beijing

I have wanted to post this for a long time.  These pictures were taken in December.  Beijing, being the capitol, is under more scrutiny than most places.  A few images.

Training For the Job

It's a little funny to think that I just finished training for a job I already have been doing for almost a year.  Being a foreign language teach in Kaifeng consisted of three easy steps: 1) be foreign.  2) show up in Kaifeng. 3) don't cut class often enough that your students complain to the higher ups.  I think the five of us last year managed to set the bar a little higher than that - but we would all readily admit that we had no idea what we were doing.  Our goal was to make coming to class more worthwhile than cutting it.  That was all the structure we had.
We arrived in Beijing on August 2nd.  August 3rd we had orientation.  On August 4th we began our daily schedule for the next two weeks - 1 hour of teaching, 3 hours of TEFL classes, 2 hours of Chinese, 1 hour of group meetings and information about Shenzhen.  After group meetings there was lesson planning and coordinating with the group of teachers you shared students with in order to make sure there wasn't too much overlap.  It was tiring.  But we learned.  We got advice on how to deal with problems.  We were taught a framework to put our class lessons on in order to create structure and goals.
Aside from the 24 hour train ride, we haven't had any days where we could sleep in.  I'm looking forward to that in the next few days.

At the Foot of a Sacred Mountain

The Dragon Gate

Toilets of China

On the left is the Ladies room, the right is the Mens

This is one I've been wanting to do for a while.
Toilets, like light switches, are one of those things that you really don't think about.  Everyone has a basic idea of what to expect, and though there are varying degrees of clenliness, you seldom find any surprises.  But, as it does in many other aspect of life, China surprises you when you're not expecting it.

A Restaurant Restroom

Most public facilities in China have what is called a squatting toilet.  To be fair to China, lots of countries besides the US have squatting toilets.  My mother says she first encountered one at a tourist venue in Paris.  In Japan they are considered more hygenic than Western-style sitting toilets.  No matter how disgusing the toilet, or who might have used it before you, you don't have to put your body in contact with anything someone else had contact with.  It doesn't prevent some public toilets from being quite disgusting.  But I at least have enjoyed the freedom to not have to worry about seat covers.

Foreign Language School Ladies Room

In most public rest rooms, there are stalls for privacy.  At Henan University, there was no such privacy in the stalls.  Everyone would squat over a trough, and politely avert their gaze while going about their business.  Each teacher had a different level of comfort with these bathrooms.  I know for myself, after being a little shy my first few times, I got used to them.  Students were often very social and would talk a lot in the bathroom, to an extent greater than I think there would be if the stalls were closed off from each other.

Foreign Language School Toilet

The norm in China is to not flush your toilet paper.  Every facility has a waste paper basket to use instead.  No ever facility provides toilet paper.  Most people carry with them packet of tissues for that purpose.  There is enough of a market for tissue packs that you can find packs decorated with popular cartoon characters or otherwise personalized.
But not every toilet is like this.  There are some rather classy toilets as well.  If you are planning on going to China, and you are not sure how comfortable you would be with public restrooms, I shall pass on some advice from my grandmother: "Relieve yourself at every opportunity."

Private Bathroom at Hutang Hostel, Xi'an

One Week To Go

In one week I head off to Beijing to begin my TEFL training.

Nervous, excited, rushed, and feeling a little cocky.
Most of the other people in the program I joined have never been to China before.  The farthest south I've ever been has been Hangzhou (if you compare China to the United States, Hangzhou is around where you'd find Washington D.C. in the US).  But I have lived in China.

I've not done much language practice this break.  Mostly, I've just been relaxing, enjoying the fact that I'm now speaking the native language, and checking off what errands need to be run in the US.

シーン: Sound of Silence

In Japanese, there are a number of sounds for things we don't think of as having sounds in English.  Pika pika means flashing lights.  Fuwa fuwa means something fluffy.  And Shiin means still silence.  The following are all pictures from vacation which I associate with Shiin.

Osaka Castle Park

Summer Palace in Winter

National Museum in Beijing

若草山焼き
Wakakusayamayaki
Burning Wakakusa Mountain

Kidneys Behind Their Eyeballs

It's St. Patrick's Day.  I'm planning lessons to talk to my classes about Ireland.  The Chinese for Ireland, 爱尔兰 (aierlan), happens to start with the character for love.  St. Patrick's Day is a time when I remember my grandmother Sally.  Not only was she Irish, but she passed away right around St. Patty's Day about eight years ago.  Like most Americans, I'm a mix of several different countries, none of which I have any real solid claim to.  But a little sliver Ireland has been passed through, though I cannot be sure how much of it is my grandmother and her quirky personality.

It times when I have been in distress, my father or my aunts and uncles would say to me sayings that Grandma Sally used to say to them.  Many of these are things that don't make much sense the first time, or have a wry, slightly crude humor to them which I have been told is very Irish.  But they stick with me, and over time have given me strength and wisdom.  “Do the best you can, it's all a horse can do.” Don't worry about getting everything perfect, you have limits.  Just do your best.  And the one that I have been thinking about the last few days, “The Irish have their kidneys behind their eyeballs.”

This last one was explained to me as meaning that Irish people are sentimental and emotional and dwell over what they've lost in a mournful wistful way.  I once read someone describe a requiem this way.  You're sad, but you feel good feeling sad.

I am embarrassed to say that my knowledge of Irish history is sorely lacking.  I have had the chance, in preparing for class, to read a bit more of history and I feel like I'm getting in touch with my roots.  In describing St. Patrick's Day, and in describing why the Irish left Ireland, and how Irish Americans feel, I feel a great deal of pride and emotion.  Were I in the United States, around various Irish American organizations, or even just home with my family, I would say I am not the most Irish person.  My Dad, whom I take after, is more Norwegian than Irish.  Which, a family joke, needs explaining.  Even among caucasians in America, there is a deal of surviving cultural distinctions that still exist in communities.  Depending on the community, that ethnic origin has come to be associated with regional traits.  The Dakotas, Minnesota, and Montana were settled by many Norwegians, and those Norwegian cultural traits in America have come to be associated with the area even more so than the ethnicity.  Other communities, like in New York City, can be distinguished by neighborhood and has a bit of a stronger sense of country of origin because that neighborhood is trying to remind itself and its neighbors that they are different from the Italians or the Polish neighborhood just next door.  Growing up, when I would visit my aunt and uncle in Fish Town I would see Irish flags flying next to American flags outside people's houses.  It was much the same way I would see Italian flags outside the houses in South Philly, where I went to middle-school.  So who can be the most Irish or the most Norwegian out of a set of brothers and sisters?  Though I don't think any of us have a serious definition for it, I would say it's a combination of personality, stereotypes, and what we tell ourselves it means to be Irish or to be Norwegian.  So though in Fish Town I don't think I would be very Irish, I feel very Irish right now.

I have been listening to Irish songs I have either heard second hand that my grandmother used to sing, or have read about once when I was younger.  There is a feeling of longing and sorrow.  There's “Down By the Glen-side,” about remembering the brave young men of an Irish rebellion.  The singer does not say that he/she saw them himself, but heard of it from an old woman humming to herself.  “Green Fields of America,” a series of letters are sent out to a man who has gone to America.  He and his family grow up.  Time passes.  And though the family is glad for him, thankful for the money he sends them, have great affection for the family he has started, they miss him very much.  They keep asking him to please come home to visit.  It would be good to see him again.  And I cry when I hear them.  And I listen again.

It feels good to cry.  It feels good to feel sad about the things that have been lost, the things that will be lost.  And though I feel like I'm making the right decision, I still feel sad.

I never like saying goodbye.  I hate saying goodbye to friends.  Thanks to the internet it is easy to stay in contact with people.  We don't really have to say goodbye to people so long as we have a computer.  But there still can be emotional distances between people.  And though we hope it is not goodbye forever, we know it will not be the same.  I will miss my students here very much.  But at the same time I feel that I have to go.  The more I learn about Shenzhen, the more I think about the future there, the more certain I feel about the decision I have made.  But I still wish I could have my cake and eat it too.  I wish I could keep everything I like and carefully cut around the unpleasant things.  But I can't.

I can accept that.  But I feel a good cry is in order.  And a good cry is in order, in honor of Ireland, and my grandmother whom I wish I had known better.

The Road Not Taken*

There are a number of different people reading this blog.  Most of you have met me in person.  We are friends from high school, or college.  We are family, or friends of family.  You may even possibly be a former professor.

Those of you who spoke to me last year, around this time, might have heard me talk about making a decision about where to go.  I was torn between coming to Kaifeng, and going to Shenzhen, another city in China.  While Kaifeng is nearly two thousand years old, it is considered 'off the beaten path.'  There are few foreigners or tourists.  It is one of the poorer cities.  Shenzhen on the other hand was a small village until 1979, and has since sprouted into the fourth richest city in China.  Between trade, and its close proximity to Hong Kong, there are no lack of foreigners.  When seeking advice as to which city to live in, I kept hearing both cities are incredibly different, but I would gain a valuable experience in both places.

After vacation, I felt I needed to plan what I will do for the next few years.  I will spend one more year in China.  Then I will go to graduate school in International Relations.  Last semester I told many people, including some people back home, that I intended to spend next year in Kaifeng.  But I have applied to the same program in Shenzhen, the one I chose not to do last year, and they have accepted me.  I have not made a final decision yet.  But I find myself getting more and more excited with the idea of going to Shenzhen.

There is one thing that holds me back.

I will miss my students.  Today I taught reading for four hours, and in a few minutes I will teach it for two more hours.  I teach Minsheng, which I have described before.  And it is truly a pleasure to teach them.  I will miss this kind of relationship with students, where we are more like peers.  I really enjoy teaching these classes.  I may find a joy in teaching younger students, but that is still somewhere in the future.  It is unknown.  And this is familiar, and precious.  Some students I have become close to, and consider friends.  I know I will keep in contact with them, even if I do leave.  But I will not be able to stand in front of the class and explain Brave New World and Playdough in the same lesson, with several jokes and questions in between.

I have a little more time before I have to decide.  There are many things I believe Shenzhen can offer.  One of them being that it is so different from Kaifeng, I may be able to use that experience to further my grad school education.  I will have seen different parts of China, and will be able to compare them.  And frankly, as you may have noticed whenever I bring up Japan, I love comparing things.

Unlike Robert Frost, I would be backtracking down the road less traveled by in order to see the road, just as fair, but slightly more traveled by.  I wouldn't be able to set down further roots where I am, which would be a shame.  But I would be able to come back and visit friends and colleagues I wish to keep in touch with.  And so I will take the other road, and see where it takes me.

*This post I had meant to put up for some time.  I have since decided to go to Shenzhen next year.  I still would like to share this piece.

Nothing But Time: Exploring in C

Originally written in early February

Half Recovered Photo of Buddhist Monks

This is a bit of a tangent essay.

Just a few short hours after deleting my vacation photos, I wrote on here, as well as on facebook, bemoaning my stupidity.  Well, on facebook several friends were kind enough to point me to PhotoRec, a freeware program that recovers your lost photos.  I will not get into the specifics of how it works.  But after I got back, I downloaded the tar file for it.  Unfortunately Archive Utility would not unarchive it.  I would keep getting told “Error 2- no such file or directory.”  The best thing about freeware is that you can fiddle with it yourself.  The worst thing is that if you don't usually fiddle around with your computer, you can be more than lost with no customer service.

I would say my computer literacy is maybe a little bit better than my Chinese, though not as good as my Japanese.  That is to say, I've done some cool things in conjunction with classes where teachers would do the hardest parts and I could always double check to make sure I was doing the right thing.  It's been over six months since I've done any kind of programing, and I've forgotten the syntax for C.  I don't remember how list the files in a directory, but I know how to get to understand the contents of the help manual.  So right now I am spelunking through C, trying to see if I can unpack my tar file.  I know I have done all of this before once, but only once.

I will say, one of the great things about liberal arts is that you have the chance to try some crazy things unrelated to your major.  My last semester I took a class on data compilation for Physicists which involved learning the basics of C (a language not too different from Java, which I studied in high school, one of the basic languages many people start out learning).  C is a little bit less pretty and user friendly, and unlike Java, I don't think it can quite flow in a way that English speaking brains can intuit.  But it works.

I've found that I don't have the motivation to learn programing as an end to itself – I have to have some sort of goal, something I want to make.  Similarly, I don't think I would have the patience to learn a dead language – something that can't communicate with live people.  I admire people who can, I just don't think I could do that myself.

When I stop worrying about how much I've forgotten, and what a newbie I feel like, I learn quite a bit.

Though at times it can feel like you are just bashing your head against the wall.  Would that be .bash?

A Force for Evil

This is just looking at a pair of characters and how character simplification works.  In spite of the ominous title, I don't have any philosophical story, or even anecdote around this theme.  I just think this is fun.

There are three sets of 'Chinese characters' 汉语、漢字used in the world today, Traditional 繁体字, Simplified 简体字, and Japanese Kanji （日本語の）漢字.  All three are based on the same set of characters.  Traditional characters have remained unchanged.  Though what words are used most often have changed, the way of writing words is no different.  Think of it like the difference between Dickens and Rowling.  Words have taken on new meanings, but the spelling is more or less the same.  Kanji underwent slow changes over a thousand years, and a few new characters were invented.  Then after World War II, the Japanese education system was reformed, standardized, and a number of characters were simplified.  Mainland China also simplified its character system.  In order to explain further how they were simplified, I would have to get into what makes a character and how do you read them, which I feel should be in another post.

One of the main things I've noticed, coming from Japanese to Chinese, is that most characters in Japanese fit into one set or the other – they are either the same as simplified or the same as traditional.  I found it interesting that one character, the character for evil, has turned out different in all three.

惡 Traditional  繁体字

悪 Japanese  漢字

恶 Simplified  简体字

On the other hand, the character for demon/magic (usually appearing as a pair with the word 'evil') is the same in all three.

(惡, 悪, 恶)  魔

Same combination, three ways of writing.  One changes, the other stays the same.

I guess the devil is in the details.

Travel Journal, Beijing, January 13th

I kept a notebook with me during my trip, and when I had free time I would write about whatever I was thinking in various places.  This will take me a little while to type these up, so these will be in episodes.  Accompanying photos will be added soon.

I am an 中山公园. In the spring I'm sure it's very beautiful- full of flowers and people.  Right now it has a much quieter beauty- full of evergreens, stones, and ice.  A few people walk through, but their conversations are drowned out by the crows calling to each other.

I am sitting outside the teahouse, listening to a recording of a biwa.  I can hear when the player plucks the string and moves his fingers. When he lifts his fingers while the string is still resonating from the previous note.  I think of my violin.  For all my complaining, and the many many days I didn't practice, I miss it now.  The bare, singular biwa notes remind me of the trees – without foliage, naked, exposing their branches.  They are natural and random.  Logical and asymetrical.  Cold, but honest and elegant.

It may sound a little silly but for the my first two days I haven't eaten much Chinese food.  For breakfast, there's a great little 包子 place I have been frequenting, but otherwise I've eaten Korea, American, and now Italian.  Yesterday, the Korean place was one that Ting's friend recommended, and Pizza Hut because Ting confessed she really wanted to go there.  Today I'm at a surprisingly inexpensive Italian place nearby my hostel because I've secretely been imagining spagetti and it's only 10 块 here.

What Was Once Lost Has Now Been Found

Thanks to Eaaf, to whom I am forever grateful for many many things, I now have my photos back from vacation.  I went to Beijing, Harbin, Mingshui (a small town nearby Harbin) and Osaka.  Over the next few weeks I will share stories about travels mixed in with stories about the new semester.  But without further ado, here is what I wished to share with you.  Please click on them to open them up to full size.  That is the only way to do them justice.

Pink Carnations and a Caterpillar

In Japan, amidst Valentines Day sales and decorations, in Kyoto station I found a gift store selling key chains, folders, and other paraphernalia – the sort that Japan is so good at making, pretty and practical enough that you almost can't resist buying it as a gift for someone – all with the Very Hungry Caterpillar on it.  And I thought of my mother.

My mother is a unique person whom I have often tried to describe, but I don't think I have every really been able to capture her.  I have described her to friends, and occasionally one might say, 'I bet your mother would...' and say something that to me sounds so completely unlike her that I think I must have been unable to portray her.  She is very civilized, in a way which I have always thought of as being European.  Every morning even on the weekends she is very well put together, but she is not a clothes horse or fashion conscious.  And, though this is my own quirk not hers, I remember her favorite books and cartoons from my childhood better than my own.

My mother loved Eric Carle.  Now that I am older, I can see the artwork with a mature eye and see why, but at the time I thought it was a dull book.  I was in first or second grade, perhaps too old for it when she read it to me and my younger brother, who would have been at the perfect age for that book.  I have been told that I was a slow reader in first grade, and by the end of second grade I consumed them.  But I don't remember it.  I don't remember any of the books that I read then, or the books that I liked though I'm sure I had strong opinions about them at the time.  But I remember that green caterpillar.

When other people talk about their favorite cartoons as a child, my contributions are usually followed by, “that was one of my mom's favorite cartoons.” 'Batman Beyond,' 'Dexter's Laboratory,' 'Rocky and Bullwinkle,' I know there were other shows.  I do remember them.  But they are never the first ones I think of.  And rarely to I get as excited remembering them as I do those ones.

And usually when people ask my opinion on Valentines Day, the first thing I think of is not mine, but my mother's.  I remember one year my mother telling me that she had decided to no longer celebrate Valentines Day.  But we all brought her cards and flowers anyway.

I remember in middle school we could buy white, red, and pink carnations.  We could send them to other students, or keep them to take home.  I would buy one or two and take it home, make a card with a large heart and glitter, and give them to my mother.  Because even if she wasn't celebrating Valentines Day, I wanted to say 'I love you.'

I know it's been many years since I bought you carnations.  I know my memory is not clear, and things may have happened in a different, less poetic order than I think they did.  But standing in that decked out for Valentines Day store, staring at that hungry green caterpillar, I thought of those pink carnations.  I and just want to say, I love you.

仕方が無い Nothing You Can Do

We have been on break these last few weeks.  Many of us have decided to go traveling, myself included.  I went to Beijing, Harbin, Mingshui (a town outside of Harbin where Ben, Ben's old friend Garth, and I stayed with a friend, Casey's family for new year), and now, Osaka Japan.  I bought a new camera with money I made from tutoring and made sure I had it with me for this trip.
Though I know I haven't put up photos nearly as often as I intended, the original idea for this blog was a place for pictures.  I really love taking pictures, and take great pride in them.
Today, in a moment both of great distraction and even greater stupidity, I erased all the pictures on my camera.  I have not taken my computer with me for this trip, and none of the pictures I've taken these past few weeks were backed up. 
I'm not going to lie.  I literally cried when I realized what I'd done.  I had to then walk a great deal in order to get back to the train station, which helped a great deal.  I've managed to think of a good many philosophical things to console myself.  And fortunately, I was already planning to go to Beijing again in the Spring.  As for Harbin, I will just wait till Garth and Ben upload their pictures to facebook and look at them if I want to remember.
In lieu of showing them, I am just going to describe a couple that I wish you could see.  It may sound a bit silly, but I feel this is the best way to say good bye to them.
I took a panorama shot of the Great Wall, the section beyond the "do not enter" sign, which was overgrown with weeds so high you could easily hide a fully grown person.  From there, outside the brush, you could see older parts of the wall, parts that have not been repaired and are too dangerous to climb.
I took a short video of Ben lighting a firecracker and throwing it.  Casey had shown us how to take apart a string of firecrackers, light an individual section with a cigarette, and throw it before it exploded.  We walked and threw mini-fire crackers in temperatures below zero Fahrenheit.
I took a picture of my friend Ting eating Korean barbecue, looking incredibly happy, even though we spent the afternoon talking about uncertain futures in romance and careers.
I took a picture of my friend Dana, eating pizza.  She is busy studying advanced Japanese.  As always, she is full of stories that are almost to incredible to believe.
I took a picture of my friends Risa and Yuko, as we ate okonomiyaki together.
I took pictures of Lu Xun's house in Beijing, pictures of strange varieties of goldfish in Zhong Shan park, pictures of various turtle statues in the Forbidden City and in museums.

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Just before I returned home from Japan, two years ago, my hard drive crashed.  I lost all of the photos from the whole year in Japan.  I remember thinking at the time that I at least had the memories.  I can still hold onto that.  There's really nothing else I can do.