Arrival

Mr. Meng had told me by email that I'd be housed in the "Beijing Shejin Hotel," and this is what I dutifully recorded as required in my visa application and on the immigration forms on entry to the country. But it turns out I'm actually staying at the Beijing Shooting Hotel, which might sound slightly ominous, but has its name simply because it's the hotel used to house foreign visitors who compete in the sport of marksmanship. Chinese competitors, including China's Olympic team (whose members are now in Australia), are housed right nearby. I'm told the 1992 Olympic gold was won by a Chinese female. We also have a shooting range here which I haven't explored yet, but Mr. Meng says one of these days we'll have a group outing and I might be able to do some shooting myself! (Mr. Meng is Executive Dean of the International College of Beijing (ICB) where I'm teaching.)

With space scarce at ICB's East campus, this hotel last month became ICB's new West campus. I'm on the third floor, male students are on the fourth floor, and female students on the fifth. There are about 150 students here. Classrooms are on the first and second floors.

ICB can't locate just anywhere -- it has to be a place where foreigners are permitted to stay (since ICB uses foreign teachers to teach English). Naturally, I inquired what it is about most places that makes them impermissible for foreigners. (State secrets or what?) The answer is that most facilities are too poor -- that a minimal standard is required before the government permits a place to be used to house foreigners. This standard was already met by the Shooting Hotel.

When I was first conducted to my room, I was less than blown away. The Hyatt it ain't. The room is smallish, less space than a standard room in a typical economy class hotel. My bed is not the queen I'm accustomed to but a single. And so on. And as these things were registering, it was mentioned that the hot water is available from 8 to 11.

Errrr.... let me get this straight.....

I am being treated with great courtesy, and accordingly must at such times maintain an equable demeanor. On the other hand, I am accustomed to the fairly ready availability of hot water where I live. Stammering but slightly, I politely asked: "That's 8 AM? Or ... PM?" 8 AM to 11 PM? I could live with that, I guess.

"8 PM to 11 PM," came the answer. Ah. I see.

It is a long, long time since I ever began a day without a shower first thing. I briefly entertained the hope that the water would be lukewarm outside the golden 8 to 11 period -- I had little trouble living with that once, somewhere on a brief Caribbean holiday. But the hope was soon dispelled. The cold water is cold. I had dinner with a student who said he sometimes takes these cold showers, so I tried it. I nearly went into cardiac arrest.

Cosseted as my Western life has been, I initially didn't even know as a matter of physical mechanics whether it is feasible to shave with cold water. (It has turned out to be a reasonably comfortable shave.)

After being shown my room, I was also shown the student quarters upstairs. Entering one of the rooms, I thought: This isn't too bad at all -- pretty much the same as my room, except a bit of extra furniture. Then I realized that there are six students per room -- six students living in the same amount of space that I have to myself. Moreover, their rooms never have hot water. That's only available to them at some outside facility (which I haven't seen yet).

Anyhow, I mention these material conditions only because they're the most immediately palpable difference here. Simply put, China represents economic reality -- a much closer reflection of how most of humanity lives than what we know in the West. But my reason for being here, of course, is to escape the intellectual and social Siberia that North America has become, and in that I have been amply rewarded. Time will tell whether this is merely a honeymoon phase, but so far everyone I've had any dealings with has been utterly congenial. Mr. Meng has been a model of reasonableness (not just because he's copied on this message), as well as exceedingly pleasant. I am being given the freedom to do a good job -- the only thing I ever asked of all the nitwits I worked for in New York, and, in my four years there, practically never got. There is perhaps some irony, and lessons to be learnt, in the fact that one can find so much more freedom to excel in a Chinese state university than in most major American corporations.

As for the students, they are a delight as human beings.

Again, I stipulate these are first impressions. I'm conscious of my position here and am aiming not to be gulled by the fact that I'm evidently benefitting from a level of social treatment well above the norm. But even with each other, these students seem immensely friendly, courteous, open, good-humored, secure, free and easy. And -- I don't know if they've been specially bred for ICB -- but they defy the characterizations of Chinese college students that I've been reading, including fairly recent accounts (on the Internet) by foreign teachers. They are definitely not shy; they do have individual opinions; and they're not afraid of expressing them openly, in class. For example, in making class conversation I asked about things they did not like about the college. One young lady piped up to say she found it unfortunate that, given that their academic program involves spending a year in England, they are being taught by an instructor with a Canadian accent. I explained to the class that England is just an unimportant little island, and that the USA, of which Canada is a part, is where the action is; but I wondered how often audacious comments are directed to instructors in typical Western classrooms.

Indeed, I've been puzzling over the extent of the cultural differences. I've become fairly anti-West in recent years (which doesn't mean pro-East), but I don't want to be unscientific in drawing comparisons. The fact is, I have to concede I simply don't have the knowledge to make apple-to-apple comparisons. ICB, at least at this campus, fosters sociability with its small number of students who more or less remain together with their year-cohort for all classes. I'm not really familiar with similar undergraduate academic programs in the West.

While I can't speak to the extent of differences, it does seem at this point that the young people here are actually innocent -- the way young people are supposed to be. In the West, saturated as it is with its poisonous electronic media, this is becoming, or has become, impossible. The hope is that China will have the sense to use state power to limit the Americanization of its culture. Undemocratic government does have some advantages. American government, by contrast, is helpless to shield the culture from corporate pollution, since challenging the business sector is political suicide.

Anyway, having seen multiple accounts suggesting Chinese students would be clammed up and (initially) incapable of producing any independent ideas, I came here prepared to be a bit of a terrorist, forcing participation by singling out individual students in class and grilling them to elicit opinions. I have been doing this a bit, but what reticence I've seen is mainly due to their limited English.

It's also noteworthy that classroom discussion topics are limited only by good taste. No topic appears to be off-limits politically.

Of course, this happy, carefree little oasis is presumably not representative of China as a whole. ICB students represent a privileged elite (how much so I don't know at this point). And even if they in no way reflect the Chinese stereotype, the story outside ICB may well be different. The accounts I've read may accurately depict other situations.

But for now, I'm having a most pleasant stay at ICB. In fact, having arrived on Sunday (Sept. 10), I haven't even ventured off campus yet, except to visit offsite restaurants with my hosts.