One of my favourite comedians is John Pinette. He was a heavy guy like me, and so a lot of his humour was about eating, buffets, and the trials and tribulations he had to go through. One of the things that irritated him the most was idiots in front of him in lines at restaurants, dithering about what to eat while he was starving to death.
"Get out of the line!" he would say.
In line at McDonald's, he would wonder why these people were looking at the menu and deciding what to have. "It's McDonald's! I knew what I wanted before I parked the car!
"Get out of the line!"
Or at KFC, "You know what they serve? Chicken! You know what else they got? Chicken!
"Get out of the line!"
I have been similarly afflicted in line by mooks dithering about. Given the chance, I would treat them like the Soup Nazi.
"No soup for you!"
And then ban them for life.
I remember one time when I was waiting in line at the university cafe. It was early in the morning, and I needed to get coffee and get breakfast and get to class. But between me and my goal was that most dreaded of obstacles, a group of females.
The thing about some people is that when they're at the head of the line you would never know it, because they stand 3-4 feet away from the counter, not looking directly at the menu or the cook, and chatting away about this or that instead of taking care of business.
And then it's a lot of, "I don't know what I what I want. What do you want?"
"I don't know. What do you want?"
I approach standing in line like I approach shopping. I want to get in, get my stuff, and get out. I can't stand it when I get stuck behind mooks with no morning agenda other than to mook about like they've all the time in the world.
Get out of the line!
When I was in Korea, I got used to the rudeness of the average ajumma, and learned to keep my elbows up and ready whenever my Spider-sense started to tingle.
Here in China, there's a funny kind of schizophrenia about queuing for things. Sometimes, when I'm approaching a door with a group of colleagues, everyone becomes like Chip 'n Dale.
"After you."
"No, no, no, after you."
"Oh, I couldn't possibly, after you."
Oh boy.
But when we're in the cafeteria, it's every man for himself, and you'll get mooks elbowing you out of the way to get to the food. And God help you if you're caught going late, after the students are lined up. I've seen more order in a shark feeding frenzy.
I guess the fact that there's a billion people all trying to get the same thing as you means that for some people, there is no time for manners. I'm usually polite and wait my turn, but I'm always on the watch for that one mook who doesn't know that his place is behind me.
Get out of the line.
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Saturday, February 21, 2015
A Clumsy Oaf
I am a bit of a clumsy oaf sometimes. I have good days and bad days, and the bad days are really bad. I channel my inner Kramer, and things go smash.
But sometimes, my clumsiness gets a pass, and I dodge a real bullet.
This is my computer setup, featuring a look at where all the wires go. My monitor is at the back on the right, and just in front of it, on the corner of my desk, is a 2 terrabyte storage device, That's the tower down on the floor, with the wireless router next to it. All of the plugs go in a power bar just underneath the corner of the desk.
I think you can see where this is going.
There was a glass of water on my desk just about where the Canadian flag is, and as I was reaching for the on/off switch on the monitor, I knocked it over. The water went under the storage device and down on to the floor where the power bar rests.
And nothing happened.
Not one device was affected by the water.
I switched everything off and pulled out all the plugs before going in there and wiping off all the water. When I plugged everything back in and switched everything back on again, it all worked just as well as before. I thought, when that glass went over, that things were going to short out, blow up, and never work again in a million years.
But I dodged a bullet.
God looks after fools, drunkards and small children.
But sometimes, my clumsiness gets a pass, and I dodge a real bullet.
This is my computer setup, featuring a look at where all the wires go. My monitor is at the back on the right, and just in front of it, on the corner of my desk, is a 2 terrabyte storage device, That's the tower down on the floor, with the wireless router next to it. All of the plugs go in a power bar just underneath the corner of the desk.
I think you can see where this is going.
There was a glass of water on my desk just about where the Canadian flag is, and as I was reaching for the on/off switch on the monitor, I knocked it over. The water went under the storage device and down on to the floor where the power bar rests.
And nothing happened.
Not one device was affected by the water.
I switched everything off and pulled out all the plugs before going in there and wiping off all the water. When I plugged everything back in and switched everything back on again, it all worked just as well as before. I thought, when that glass went over, that things were going to short out, blow up, and never work again in a million years.
But I dodged a bullet.
God looks after fools, drunkards and small children.
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
What the... Chinese Postal Service?!
Arriving in China with just a coupla bags and a 'puter was a little different than when I first arrived in Korea, lo those many years ago. When I got to Korea, I had the feeling for the first few weeks of, "What the fuck have I gotten myself into?!"
When I arrived in China, however, I was an old veteran of foreign travel, and it would have taken a lot to faze me. It helped a lot that the people who met me were (and still are) very nice, and not a sick bunch of twisted weirdos out to squeeze every last unit of money out of the poor deluded soul they tricked into accepting employment with them!
But I digress.
(Flint and I have pretty extensively ranted about Korea elsewhere)
I wasn't able to bring everything that I thought I would need over here, not by a long shot. I am here for quite a while I think, and I need certain things (maybe too many things) to set up housekeeping, and live in the style to which I have become accustomed.
So, towards the end of November, I asked my parents to send me a few things: textbooks about teaching, some towels and sheets, and some Canadiana from the Dollar Store to use as Christmas presents for my students. The story of that parcel's journey is long and twisted, so bear with me. All of the dates and times were obtained by submitting the tracking number to Canada Post's website.
The parcel was accepted at the Sundre, Alberta Post Office at 1645 on November 25, 2013. On Nov. 27th, it was processed in Calgary at 0019, and then in Richmond BC at 0735. It left Canada that same day at 1315, and arrived in China on November 30th at 1811.
On December 1st, it was in transit at 0102, and it arrived at the Chinese Post Office at 1005. It took until December 5th at 0717 for it to be deemed successfully delivered at its address, which was plainly marked on the package as my school.
However, I was not the recipient. Just who had it is still not clear. Time passed, and as Christmas grew closer, I started to wonder just where the package was. My parents aren't young anymore, and things tend to slip their mind. I finally e-mailed them about a week before Christmas just to make sure they had sent the package.
They assured me that it had been mailed okay, and that I should have had it by then, considering how much money they'd spent on the postage. They sent me the tracking number, and I found out all the information described above. The question was, Where was my package?
I tried to contact the Chinese Post Office, but I couldn't find a legitimate phone number, much less someone who spoke English. I turned to my co-teachers, which I don't like to do, as they all work like dogs anyway. Adding this burden to their workload was just one more thing to distract them, but I was adamant. I wanted my package.
Dealing with the post office went on for weeks. Every department said that they didn't have it, the other department had it.This went on for quite some time, until all of the departments in the post office had denied at least twice that they didn't have my package.
Finally, the last week of term arrived, with no sign of it. On January 13th, the post office was informed that my school was going to the police to get some satisfaction on the issue. Someone came to the school the next day to see some letters that I had received to check the addresses to make sure they were proper.
Wednesday was the last day of term, and I left the school without my package or anymore news.
But later that evening my supervisor phoned and told me that she had the package (or at least it was at the school). She delivered it into my hands a couple of days later. Just where it had been, and why it took so long (as well as a threat) to get it to me, is still a mystery.
But be warned: if you are going to send me something, keep track of it, and if it's valuable make sure it's insured. The Chinese Postal Service has not satisfactorily explained what happened. Not to me, anyway.
When I arrived in China, however, I was an old veteran of foreign travel, and it would have taken a lot to faze me. It helped a lot that the people who met me were (and still are) very nice, and not a sick bunch of twisted weirdos out to squeeze every last unit of money out of the poor deluded soul they tricked into accepting employment with them!
But I digress.
(Flint and I have pretty extensively ranted about Korea elsewhere)
I wasn't able to bring everything that I thought I would need over here, not by a long shot. I am here for quite a while I think, and I need certain things (maybe too many things) to set up housekeeping, and live in the style to which I have become accustomed.
So, towards the end of November, I asked my parents to send me a few things: textbooks about teaching, some towels and sheets, and some Canadiana from the Dollar Store to use as Christmas presents for my students. The story of that parcel's journey is long and twisted, so bear with me. All of the dates and times were obtained by submitting the tracking number to Canada Post's website.
The parcel was accepted at the Sundre, Alberta Post Office at 1645 on November 25, 2013. On Nov. 27th, it was processed in Calgary at 0019, and then in Richmond BC at 0735. It left Canada that same day at 1315, and arrived in China on November 30th at 1811.
On December 1st, it was in transit at 0102, and it arrived at the Chinese Post Office at 1005. It took until December 5th at 0717 for it to be deemed successfully delivered at its address, which was plainly marked on the package as my school.
However, I was not the recipient. Just who had it is still not clear. Time passed, and as Christmas grew closer, I started to wonder just where the package was. My parents aren't young anymore, and things tend to slip their mind. I finally e-mailed them about a week before Christmas just to make sure they had sent the package.
They assured me that it had been mailed okay, and that I should have had it by then, considering how much money they'd spent on the postage. They sent me the tracking number, and I found out all the information described above. The question was, Where was my package?
I tried to contact the Chinese Post Office, but I couldn't find a legitimate phone number, much less someone who spoke English. I turned to my co-teachers, which I don't like to do, as they all work like dogs anyway. Adding this burden to their workload was just one more thing to distract them, but I was adamant. I wanted my package.
Dealing with the post office went on for weeks. Every department said that they didn't have it, the other department had it.This went on for quite some time, until all of the departments in the post office had denied at least twice that they didn't have my package.
Finally, the last week of term arrived, with no sign of it. On January 13th, the post office was informed that my school was going to the police to get some satisfaction on the issue. Someone came to the school the next day to see some letters that I had received to check the addresses to make sure they were proper.
Wednesday was the last day of term, and I left the school without my package or anymore news.
But later that evening my supervisor phoned and told me that she had the package (or at least it was at the school). She delivered it into my hands a couple of days later. Just where it had been, and why it took so long (as well as a threat) to get it to me, is still a mystery.
But be warned: if you are going to send me something, keep track of it, and if it's valuable make sure it's insured. The Chinese Postal Service has not satisfactorily explained what happened. Not to me, anyway.
Saturday, January 11, 2014
The End of Term
The end of the first term has finally arrived. Friday was the last day of classes. This Monday and Tuesday, the students will write their final exams, and on Wednesday the parents will attend a meeting with the staff of the International Department.
On Friday evening, the teachers of the department, the middle school teachers, and your humble scribe attended a dinner to celebrate making it this far. The whole affair was presided over by the school's headmaster, or Principal. I'm not exactly sure of his duties, but he comes around to visit every once in a while, and he makes a well-received speech whenever there is a school assembly. His looks remind me of Chairman Mao a little bit, and his gestures sort of bring echoes of the great man.
At his right hand sat the vice-principal in charge of the middle school and the International department. She is another person that visits every once in a while, and she has some English, as well. I have been training her and the other teachers in my department to stop turning the lights off all the time. I think they are trying to save money, but as I have trouble reading in the dark, I am urging them to let them burn while I'm in the staff room. I think they might be a little embarrassed about it, especially when I whip out my flashlight to see my way down the stairs.
Besides myself, there are four teachers in the International department. Linda is the supervisor, and she teaches some English classes every once in a while. She is kind of hard to take sometimes, as she has a tendency to get over-excited and distracted at times. When ever I need something from her, I have to make sure I have her full attention before making my request, or she will brush me off with a "Yeah, yeah," and then not get it done.
There is a tendency over here, and I noticed this in Korea too, to let me know what is happening last. I am told the day before that things like a report or a lesson plan are due. They aren't too worried about what I submit, as long as it's something in English. I have a suspicion that whoever sees this material just looks at the words, doesn't understand them, but gives them an official stamp anyway.
But all of my bosses have been very nice to me, and try to make my life here as pleasant as possible. I'm grateful for their patience with me.
My three co-teachers are a great help, as well. "Annie" co-teaches History with me, "Ocean" helps out with Geography, and Mrs. Zhang does the English classes that I or Linda don't teach. Mrs. Zhang also takes care of the discipline, and she has a very sharp tongue. Every once in a while, she will bring a naughty student (usually a boy) into the staff room for a dressing down. They don't use sticks on the students like they do in Korea, but they're not above giving them a real hard pinch or a slap.
The International class only has twenty students at this time. One of them, who's English is very good, is leaving for Canada soon, to attend classes in the Upper Canada District School Board.
I am the one full-time foreign teacher at the school so far. There is an Englishman who comes in on Fridays to spend time with the other classes. His name is Adam, and I don't know that much about him, as our paths don't cross very often. My school is out in the boonies, across the river from the main part of Harbin, so I rarely see any foreigners at all. And when I do, they are usually Russian.
But I digress.
I was talking about our dinner. With the rest of the middle school teachers, we were about twenty, seated around two big round tables with lazy susans in the middle crammed full of delicious food. There were many toasts, and it was kind of like many a dinner I attended in Korea. There, the director of whatever school I was working at would usually take us out for an evening of burning meat, cup after cup of soju, and many a toast to us, them, and everyone else in between.
The difference between those meals in Korea and these in China is that the toasts themselves do seem to go on for an extraordinarily long time. My glass is raised, and raised, and raised, and I wait and wait and wait to drink, and still the speechifying goes on and on. The people I work with are very long winded when it comes to making a toast. It wouldn't be so bad, but I don't understand much of what is being said, and I will admit to being bored after a while. I was sitting at the table with the principals, and it looked like the table with the teachers were having more fun, so that is where I ended up before long. I was sitting next to the English and Math teacher, who seemed determined to get me as drunk as possible.
I let him.
Heh.
So now I'm looking forward to six weeks off. The Chinese Lunar New Year, or Spring Festival, is coming up, and I look forward to seeing a lot of things blow up real good. Harbin is famous for its Ice and Snow Festival, which started on January 5th, and goes on for weeks. There are fantastic ice and snow sculptures all over town. There are some really nice pictures on the web, if you care to look for them.
And, of course, I will be heading down south to a much warmer place. I plan on going to Sanya, on Hainan Island, which is described as "China's Hawaii." But more of that another time.
On Friday evening, the teachers of the department, the middle school teachers, and your humble scribe attended a dinner to celebrate making it this far. The whole affair was presided over by the school's headmaster, or Principal. I'm not exactly sure of his duties, but he comes around to visit every once in a while, and he makes a well-received speech whenever there is a school assembly. His looks remind me of Chairman Mao a little bit, and his gestures sort of bring echoes of the great man.
At his right hand sat the vice-principal in charge of the middle school and the International department. She is another person that visits every once in a while, and she has some English, as well. I have been training her and the other teachers in my department to stop turning the lights off all the time. I think they are trying to save money, but as I have trouble reading in the dark, I am urging them to let them burn while I'm in the staff room. I think they might be a little embarrassed about it, especially when I whip out my flashlight to see my way down the stairs.
Besides myself, there are four teachers in the International department. Linda is the supervisor, and she teaches some English classes every once in a while. She is kind of hard to take sometimes, as she has a tendency to get over-excited and distracted at times. When ever I need something from her, I have to make sure I have her full attention before making my request, or she will brush me off with a "Yeah, yeah," and then not get it done.
There is a tendency over here, and I noticed this in Korea too, to let me know what is happening last. I am told the day before that things like a report or a lesson plan are due. They aren't too worried about what I submit, as long as it's something in English. I have a suspicion that whoever sees this material just looks at the words, doesn't understand them, but gives them an official stamp anyway.
But all of my bosses have been very nice to me, and try to make my life here as pleasant as possible. I'm grateful for their patience with me.
My three co-teachers are a great help, as well. "Annie" co-teaches History with me, "Ocean" helps out with Geography, and Mrs. Zhang does the English classes that I or Linda don't teach. Mrs. Zhang also takes care of the discipline, and she has a very sharp tongue. Every once in a while, she will bring a naughty student (usually a boy) into the staff room for a dressing down. They don't use sticks on the students like they do in Korea, but they're not above giving them a real hard pinch or a slap.
The International class only has twenty students at this time. One of them, who's English is very good, is leaving for Canada soon, to attend classes in the Upper Canada District School Board.
I am the one full-time foreign teacher at the school so far. There is an Englishman who comes in on Fridays to spend time with the other classes. His name is Adam, and I don't know that much about him, as our paths don't cross very often. My school is out in the boonies, across the river from the main part of Harbin, so I rarely see any foreigners at all. And when I do, they are usually Russian.
But I digress.
I was talking about our dinner. With the rest of the middle school teachers, we were about twenty, seated around two big round tables with lazy susans in the middle crammed full of delicious food. There were many toasts, and it was kind of like many a dinner I attended in Korea. There, the director of whatever school I was working at would usually take us out for an evening of burning meat, cup after cup of soju, and many a toast to us, them, and everyone else in between.
The difference between those meals in Korea and these in China is that the toasts themselves do seem to go on for an extraordinarily long time. My glass is raised, and raised, and raised, and I wait and wait and wait to drink, and still the speechifying goes on and on. The people I work with are very long winded when it comes to making a toast. It wouldn't be so bad, but I don't understand much of what is being said, and I will admit to being bored after a while. I was sitting at the table with the principals, and it looked like the table with the teachers were having more fun, so that is where I ended up before long. I was sitting next to the English and Math teacher, who seemed determined to get me as drunk as possible.
I let him.
Heh.
So now I'm looking forward to six weeks off. The Chinese Lunar New Year, or Spring Festival, is coming up, and I look forward to seeing a lot of things blow up real good. Harbin is famous for its Ice and Snow Festival, which started on January 5th, and goes on for weeks. There are fantastic ice and snow sculptures all over town. There are some really nice pictures on the web, if you care to look for them.
And, of course, I will be heading down south to a much warmer place. I plan on going to Sanya, on Hainan Island, which is described as "China's Hawaii." But more of that another time.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
People Are In A Hurry!
I don't often see the people in my building, except in the elevator. People riding the elevator are on the way to somewhere, whether they are coming in or going out, with little time to chat. Except for two ladies who always have a nice little natter with one in the hall and one in the machine, holding the door open until they finish.
I did meet the guy across the hall after I blew the fuses in my con-apt, though.
My washing machine is in the bathroom. Everyone who's lived in Korea or China will know what I'm talking about when I say that when I'm doing laundry, I have to stretch the cord across the room and up near the ceiling to plug it in. Well, one day I was stepping over the cord, lost my balance and came down hard on top of it. The cord pulled right out of the plug, but the wires touched long enough to overload the circuit breaker.
It was a struggle to get things back in order, I can tell you.
At first, I couldn't find the fuse box. There just wasn't one in view, and I didn't know if it was in another part of the building or what. I called my supervisor to ask for some help, but just trying to explain "circuit breaker" over the phone to her was enough to lay me waste for the rest of the day.
But I plucked up my courage, and knocked on a neighbour's door. He couldn't have been nicer, and he even spoke a little English. He found the fuse box hiding behind the wardrobe, reset the breaker, and then reset another breaker in a power closet next to the elevator, That restored the power. He even rewired the plug for me.
But, I digress.
I was going to talk about how much in a hurry the people in my building are, as demonstrated by their behaviour in the elevator.
When ever they get on, they always push the "door close" button as soon as possible. I have yet to see someone not push it. I've even seen someone push that button first, and then the button for their floor. Impatient much?
I have never worried about the door close button before. It would have to be an uncomfortably long time in the elevator with the doors open before I would think about pushing it. So when ever I get on, I only push the button for my floor. If I'm alone, the doors close after a second or two and I'm on my way, but if somebody else is on the elevator with me, they will push the close button for me. I've even seen someone pushing the door close button as the doors are closing!
That would be enough for me to award the prize, but the person who takes the cake was a woman who rode down in the elevator with me last week. As we arrived on the first floor, and I swear I am not making this up, she started pushing the "door open" button.
GENTLEMEN, WE HAVE A WINNER!!!
I did meet the guy across the hall after I blew the fuses in my con-apt, though.
My washing machine is in the bathroom. Everyone who's lived in Korea or China will know what I'm talking about when I say that when I'm doing laundry, I have to stretch the cord across the room and up near the ceiling to plug it in. Well, one day I was stepping over the cord, lost my balance and came down hard on top of it. The cord pulled right out of the plug, but the wires touched long enough to overload the circuit breaker.
It was a struggle to get things back in order, I can tell you.
At first, I couldn't find the fuse box. There just wasn't one in view, and I didn't know if it was in another part of the building or what. I called my supervisor to ask for some help, but just trying to explain "circuit breaker" over the phone to her was enough to lay me waste for the rest of the day.
But I plucked up my courage, and knocked on a neighbour's door. He couldn't have been nicer, and he even spoke a little English. He found the fuse box hiding behind the wardrobe, reset the breaker, and then reset another breaker in a power closet next to the elevator, That restored the power. He even rewired the plug for me.
But, I digress.
I was going to talk about how much in a hurry the people in my building are, as demonstrated by their behaviour in the elevator.
When ever they get on, they always push the "door close" button as soon as possible. I have yet to see someone not push it. I've even seen someone push that button first, and then the button for their floor. Impatient much?
I have never worried about the door close button before. It would have to be an uncomfortably long time in the elevator with the doors open before I would think about pushing it. So when ever I get on, I only push the button for my floor. If I'm alone, the doors close after a second or two and I'm on my way, but if somebody else is on the elevator with me, they will push the close button for me. I've even seen someone pushing the door close button as the doors are closing!
That would be enough for me to award the prize, but the person who takes the cake was a woman who rode down in the elevator with me last week. As we arrived on the first floor, and I swear I am not making this up, she started pushing the "door open" button.
GENTLEMEN, WE HAVE A WINNER!!!
Saturday, December 14, 2013
Why I Teach ESL
There is a funny website, engrish.com, that features the misuse of the English language by those who are not native speakers. Since I have been in China, I have seen many more examples to add to their site.
The area I live in is the site of a lot of new building, and there are billboards around the construction that advertise how great they are going to be when they're finished. Some of the English that they use is unintentionally funny.
But why use English at all? It isn't that prevalent here. I have met only a few who speak it, so it's a mystery why a developer would want to use it to advertise their product. Do they think that the people who see it (but can't read it) will be impressed?
But I digress.
One sign reads: "The Great House is on the Eastern City Hall and the Northern River." This is on a complex near the building that is North Harbin's City Hall, and it is close to the river.
Another building site's sign says "Deposit Gold Silver Than Save Shop."
?
Another sign on the same site reads:
"Great Appreciation of Space
Wealth is in our hands."
That's how it looks on the billboard, so I'm not sure if it's supposed to be one sentence or not. It makes a little more sense as two sentences, but as one... what is "Space Wealth?"
Yet another development sign advertises itself as "Water's Fragrant Dike."
Okay.
Here is a picture of a local business' sign:
Now I realize they are probably in the real estate business, but what if they are selling real property? Can you buy fake property, too?A restaurant across the street is the "Lotus Fishing Restaurant." I went there to eat with some of the department heads (both from Canada and here in Harbin), but we weren't asked to catch our own dinner.
Another restaurant is named "Splendid Restaurant" on the front, but "People Restaurant" around the corner. Which is it? And do you feed people, or serve them up? Whatever, I am going to be careful about walking near it.
Other businesses I have seen are: "Love's Witness," "Her Dress Box," "Happy Hour Time Hotel" (probably similar to the "love motels" I encountered in Korea), "Bird Nest Business Lnn" (my italics), and an ice cream parlour that tells us to "enjoy delicious enjoy life."
When I was taken to a hospital for a physical, I left my urine sample on a tray that had a sign:: "Leave urine after duct inserted on top of the shey." Boy, I hope I did it right.
I found a de-motivational poster featuring this backpack:
Heh.
Even my students are exposed unwittingly to poor English, in the form of the notebooks they use. One has this printed on the cover:
The area I live in is the site of a lot of new building, and there are billboards around the construction that advertise how great they are going to be when they're finished. Some of the English that they use is unintentionally funny.
But why use English at all? It isn't that prevalent here. I have met only a few who speak it, so it's a mystery why a developer would want to use it to advertise their product. Do they think that the people who see it (but can't read it) will be impressed?
But I digress.
One sign reads: "The Great House is on the Eastern City Hall and the Northern River." This is on a complex near the building that is North Harbin's City Hall, and it is close to the river.
Another building site's sign says "Deposit Gold Silver Than Save Shop."
?
Another sign on the same site reads:
"Great Appreciation of Space
Wealth is in our hands."
That's how it looks on the billboard, so I'm not sure if it's supposed to be one sentence or not. It makes a little more sense as two sentences, but as one... what is "Space Wealth?"
Yet another development sign advertises itself as "Water's Fragrant Dike."
Okay.
Here is a picture of a local business' sign:
Another restaurant is named "Splendid Restaurant" on the front, but "People Restaurant" around the corner. Which is it? And do you feed people, or serve them up? Whatever, I am going to be careful about walking near it.
Other businesses I have seen are: "Love's Witness," "Her Dress Box," "Happy Hour Time Hotel" (probably similar to the "love motels" I encountered in Korea), "Bird Nest Business Lnn" (my italics), and an ice cream parlour that tells us to "enjoy delicious enjoy life."
When I was taken to a hospital for a physical, I left my urine sample on a tray that had a sign:: "Leave urine after duct inserted on top of the shey." Boy, I hope I did it right.
I found a de-motivational poster featuring this backpack:
Heh.
Even my students are exposed unwittingly to poor English, in the form of the notebooks they use. One has this printed on the cover:
LONELY HEART
I stood in the memory of
the entrance
A collection of my left chest
Go Ballistic loneliness
Naked loses
Stick out a mile.
So I can not say tears
Because of hair
I walked along the fate of
the arrow
But moving to the next
You could make the case that it's poetry, because it works for me on that level.
But the best, the one that I absolutely love, is this paragraph written on the back of car parked in front of the apartment building next to mine. It reads:
JUNCTION PRODUCE
High Lovely Salloon Gallery
We, coordinate brand for "JUNCTION PRODUCE" of VIPCAR, are proud of be fed back aggresively to make full use of sensibility the tradition for as much of austerity. eeriness. rambunctiosness and austere elegance in which only prestige carhas. By so doing. we, junction Pproduce Would like to aim the way to the pinnacle of VP dress up and we want to be only the first and last memory keeper of by succeeding this point from everlasting to everlasting.
It's complete gibberish. It's fantastic gibberish, and I fell in love with it the moment I saw it. I mean, you can't make this stuff up!
What is the company selling? Cars (VIPCAR)? Produce, as in vegetables? Or clothes (dress up)? Who cares?
What is the company selling? Cars (VIPCAR)? Produce, as in vegetables? Or clothes (dress up)? Who cares?
As long as there are signs like this, my job is safe.
Friday, November 29, 2013
Why Do Chinese Cross The Road?
When I first went to Korea, I couldn't believe how poorly they drove. It was like they were given cars without being told how to use them properly. But I have written about that on "What the Kimchi?" I did not think that there worse drivers.
Then I went to Vietnam.
I find somewhat the same situation here in China. They just do not drive with any care or attention. I have been in cars where the driver will make a turn or change lanes without signalling or even looking to see if anybody is there. And the result is plain to see. It seems like every time I have been out on the road, I have seen an accident, or its aftermath. Most of them are simple scrapes and fender benders that could be avoided if the drivers hadn't been trying to one-up each other.
I have seen vehicles driving the wrong way, just to avoid making a little detour. Our bus driver has to avoid these idiots at a certain point on our trip to school each and every day.
So I have made it a rule, I am not going to jaywalk. Even crossing in a crosswalk with the light, I have had to avoid drivers making what in Canada would be illegal turns. You have to keep your head on a swivel or risk certain death.
But the average Chinese are braver (or stupider) than I am. They jaywalk at almost every opportunity, and turn their noses up at safety devices like crosswalks and pedestrian overpasses. They will cross wherever and whenever they want to, despite the traffic. Sometimes I think they are even trying to mess up traffic, like when they wait to cross until just after the light has changed against them.
In front of my apartment building, there is a huge traffic circle, which I have to cross on the way to the bus stop. There are pedestrian underpasses that I use all the time, but the average Chinese will avoid. They would rather cross the road just above the underpass, rather than take the few extra steps. I took the following pictures just in the time it took to go around the circle a coupla times.
Here's one of the underpasses:
Here are two men, walking in the street, RIGHT NEXT TO the underpass:
and then crossing in between speeding vehicles:
Here's another coupla mooks walking on the road:
and crossing straight towards the underpass.
I MEAN, IT'S RIGHT THERE! ARE YOU BLIND?!
A woman walking on the road (at least she's facing traffic. Many people don't):
Here's a woman actually using the underpass, the only person I saw doing so that day, though there were some tracks in the snow:
She walked on the road rather than the sidewalk, with her back to the oncoming traffic:
and she crossed the road while I took the underpass:
I don't know, maybe she thought I was the crazy one.
But how did the population of China get to be so large, with poor judgement like this?
Then I went to Vietnam.
I find somewhat the same situation here in China. They just do not drive with any care or attention. I have been in cars where the driver will make a turn or change lanes without signalling or even looking to see if anybody is there. And the result is plain to see. It seems like every time I have been out on the road, I have seen an accident, or its aftermath. Most of them are simple scrapes and fender benders that could be avoided if the drivers hadn't been trying to one-up each other.
I have seen vehicles driving the wrong way, just to avoid making a little detour. Our bus driver has to avoid these idiots at a certain point on our trip to school each and every day.
So I have made it a rule, I am not going to jaywalk. Even crossing in a crosswalk with the light, I have had to avoid drivers making what in Canada would be illegal turns. You have to keep your head on a swivel or risk certain death.
But the average Chinese are braver (or stupider) than I am. They jaywalk at almost every opportunity, and turn their noses up at safety devices like crosswalks and pedestrian overpasses. They will cross wherever and whenever they want to, despite the traffic. Sometimes I think they are even trying to mess up traffic, like when they wait to cross until just after the light has changed against them.
In front of my apartment building, there is a huge traffic circle, which I have to cross on the way to the bus stop. There are pedestrian underpasses that I use all the time, but the average Chinese will avoid. They would rather cross the road just above the underpass, rather than take the few extra steps. I took the following pictures just in the time it took to go around the circle a coupla times.
Here's one of the underpasses:
and a woman crossing RIGHT NEXT TO it:
I MEAN, IT'S RIGHT THERE! ARE YOU BLIND?!
Here's a woman actually using the underpass, the only person I saw doing so that day, though there were some tracks in the snow:
Here's a woman that I followed around the circle:
But how did the population of China get to be so large, with poor judgement like this?
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