Presidential Scholar - Wofford College

Autumn

No beating around the bush. I have fleas. Go ahead and laugh. I have no idea how I got them, or if I will be able to get rid of them short of a complete shave, but hopefully it will be done soon. So, you ask, how exactly did you get fleas? Good question.

I am in Yunan through the cooperation of a school. This school is foreign run and funded, but is for the Chinese. It is a school that teaches activism and community organization. The grauduates, fluent in English, know disease prevention and treatment, economics, education techniques, agriculture, and a host of other topics. They volunteer to go into rural China and help small communities. This is in large part a health initiative, focusing on sanitation first and foremost, but has also quicly become the front lines of epidemic treatment in the areas they serve. The volunteers team with physicians and international NGO's to help combat aids, malaria, tuberculosis, etc. And they do so in the communities themselves. So I volunteered to help and became a drug mule (totally legally, I assure you). Given a pack of various prescrition medications and instructions on how to meet my group, I was set loose on the local bus system.

I met my group in Daxi, a small mountain town. We were four, two men and two women. For the next four days our job was simple, and one that the other three had been living for the past two years. We would be journying from village to village in the mountains and delivering medications, checking to make sure that the schools were up and running, and checking in with the local project leaders to see if any extra aid was required. I was new to the area and so was unprepared for the beauty of the mountains. Or the weather. I won't say it was raining for four days, because for me the verb "rain" has an active connotation. Instead there was a constant state of heavy fog, with spurts of showers. And it was cold. But it was worth any discomfort to be in these mountains at this time of year. The slopes are one primeval forest of pines and lush equatorial species. It is into this saturated green of palms and bamboo that I had journeyed to walk and experience rural China. Before we began my group gave me a glass of tea and introduced themselves. Then we got up, shouldered our packs, cut some bamboo staves, and locked the door behind us.

For four days I journeyed with these heroic men and women. We climbed up and down mountains so steep and and convoluted as to mythical. There were times we followed dirt roads that were churned to mud by the feet of the goats and buffalo driven on them to pasture. These were the easy stretches. At other times we climbed up streams as they gushed over rocks and roots. I waded through mud up to my knees while holding my pack and the medicine above my head, all the while praying that I wouldn't lose a shoe. We slid down slopes of mud and of scree, both intentionally and not. And through all this we were wet and cold. Eventually everything we carried and we are ourselves became covered in the blood red mud that was the soil of these mountains, but we did not wash it off, except where nature did it for us.  

I lost count of the villages we visited, villages where everyone knew my companions and where we were welcomed warmly and graciously. In each village we visited the school and I gave a quick lesson in English, mostly just so the students and teachers could hear a native English speaker, more than that they would actually learn anything from me. We distributed the medications where necessary. But at most we only stayed an hour or two, before it was time to once again shoulder our burdens and return to the road. It became all too easy in the cold and damp air to tell when we approached a village, as the acrid smoke from their wood fires and the pungent scent of the drying sheds full of tobacco quickly overcame the natural cleanness of the forest. Which did I prefer more? The warm and heavy scents of habitation, overlaid with animal and human, stong and steady, or the clean, subtle scents of the forrest? It is impossible to say. I do miss the scent of pine needles crushed underfoot, the pricklyash leaves in the wind, spicy and refreshing... but also do I miss the warm scent of the corn filled front rooms of the homes.

We slept where we stopped at sunset. Building a fire and constructing a makeshift leanto out of branches and the broad leaves. We ate only what we carried and what the villagers gave us. Therefore we lived on a diet of vegtables and oatmeal, cooked in rainwater. Once we stopped for fifteen minutes and feasted in the rain on gooseberries. Twice we were in a village for a meal. Once we helped a widow make traditional dumplings filled with grass and egg. The other time we were fed roasted dog. I am not proud of eating it, but it would have been socially unacceptable to refuse anything from these people who have so little. So, no I am not proud to have eaten dog, but I am proud that I gave something to these people. Even if it is something as ephemeral as my presence and something as commonplace as the stength of my back.

I learned of the herbs and traditional medicine from people who walk the forest daily. I ate and collected specimens of various herbs, carefully noting their properties and method of use. I saw people afflicted and wasted with AIDS refuse modern drugs in favor of these herbs. I cried those nights.

Crossing across terraced fields awaiting the scythe, I heard the people singing the songs of harvest. I had feared that I would miss my favorite time of year, autumn, on this trip. Instead I have eaten rain-cooled apples picked fresh from the tree, smelled the scent of woodsmoke on damp, crisp air, and sat close to a fire drinking tea and telling ghost stories under the vast canopy of a forest through which one can see a glittering expanse of sky. When the wind shifts the fog and the sun breaks through the cloud cover to briefly illuminate a deep mountain lake and the slopes of tossing trees, what can one do but stop, take a deep breath and just absorb it?

These people are not Han - the cultural majority of China - instead they are an amalgamation of minorities that in some cases do not exist outside of these mountains. And so my experience was not that of the monolithic "China." My experience was simple and profound. I went into this experience troubled by the petty issues of altitude sickness and a fever. Perhaps it was the herbs I was given in the various villages, perhaps it was the cool of the rain and wind, or perhaps it was none of these, but I am not bothered by these problems anymore. Instead I have something new to think about. Perhaps it is something about which I will someday be able to convey the majesty and singularity.

So, yes, somewhere in the midst of that I got fleas. Really puts these little exoparasites into perspective doesn't it?

Going for the emic point of view

Not sure why this post didn't take the last time, but we'll try again. Just mentally backdate it... thanks.

When one reads anthtopological literature - which I have been doing quite often recently -there is a resounding theme: the search for an emic point of view. Apparently any researcher worth his or her salt is able to gain this insider point of view, or at least gain access to someone who has it. So in that spirit, I am going to break one of the cardinal rules of my own chosen discipline (Biology, for those of you not paying attention); the time has come for some serious self-experimentation. After all, even if I could have deep discussions with the patients and practitioners in their own tongue, how could I be sure that cultural differences aren't altering the perspective or tainting the results? So, in the name of good science, I have jumped into life at a hospital of traditional Chinese medicine (TCM) full force. I am hoping for some powerful and disgusting herbal infusions in the near future, aren't you?

Chinese hospitals aren't bothered with pesky things like HIPPA or physician/patient confidentiality, so anyone can go anywhere in a hospital, even walk into an exam room and just watch or start asking questions (incidentally, I apologize to all the people I offended whilst gathering my research), but I warn you, if you do it, you will be intruiged. And not being one to forego satisfying my curiousity, I decided to get hands on. Cut to me sitting in an exam room after convincing the most respected doctor in the hospital (I mean, why not go for the best?) that I was serious and wanted to get the full kanbing, or TCM diagnosis. Consisting of looking, listening, asking, and palpating, kanbing allows a practitioner to get to know the patient and their body as a whole, before focusing on the reason they came to the physician. Far more than just reading the body's twenty pulses, a physician examines the patient in depth - going as far as getting up close and personal and smelling the patient and as nuanced as noticing gait and speaking manner. Overall, I found the procedure relaxed and comfortable. Plus, the hospital smells of cinnamon and cloves, so who wouldn't like that? But after a half hour or so, I got this diagnosis: I am overweight. (Pause for emphasis) Okay, I am not easily offended and it isn't like I wasn't aware, but come on, after a few millenia of practice, this is the best they could come up with? Especially considering that for the past five days I have been running a moderate fever, beencongested, and dealing with a wicked case of alititude sickness. So, I asked for an explanation.

According to the doctor, my hair is healthy. And my skin and my eyes are clear. I don't suffer from an overproduction of earwax. In fact, other than that my tongue seemed a little pale, he said my face seemed energetic and "thriving." This was belied by my energetic speech and authoritative movements. I smelled fine (his opinion, not mine, considering I hadn't showered in about a week) and his palpation hadn't noticed any unduly tender spots on my body. My pulses were smooth, which could bear the connotation of balance, but they weren't as strong as he would have expected given the rest of my attributes. Hence his diagnosis.

Allow me to clarify: Chinese medicine is all about balance. Sometimes the problem is not acute, despite clinical presentation, and therefore should be treated with the restoration of balance as the goal of treatment. Perhaps I am balanced and not in need of treatment. Or perhaps my imbalance is itself in balance, and causing my body to be healthy, yet not as healthy as it should or could be. This seemed to be the doctor's point of view, as he declined to give me an herbal prescription. He, however, did refer me to an acupuncturist. So I went upstairs, for some needling.

At this point allow me to reiterate that Chinese hospitals lack confidentiality. If you decide to receive treatment, the doctors and nurses will feel free to treat you like a life-sized doll. I was stripped in the middle of a treatment ward for acupuncture, along with approximately fifteen other patients - all in various states on undress and co-ed. Thankfully, I am not modest, though my interpreter almost left the room. The human body has 369 (depending on the practioner's style) acupuncture points. These points are all independant and unique, and stimulation of any individual point or group thereof will produce different results depending on needle depth and tension. I received twelve needles along my bladder meridian - along the inside of my thighs - to generally detoxify my body. I also received eight needles along my southern axis - my knees and calves - to help with my circulation. And lest my upper body feel neglected, I also received a total of twenty needles in my chest and face (covering various meridians and groupings, these needles are to promote general health). Recap, there are forty needles sticking out of me. However, this was not unpleasent. Indeed, even the de Qi sensation - the tingle of the needle entering the skin and affecting the Qi - was pleasent. So why not attach some electrodes? For thirty minutes I received varying electrical shocks through the needles, and despite the random twitching of my muslces, found it extremly relaxing. (Please note, as this is a family friendly blog, there were no photos taken of this procedure. However, I did talk them into placing four of the needles back in my leg once I was clothed for documentation. Enjoy)

I have also received relfexology treatment. In this massage based treatment, the foot is representative of the whole body, with different regions corresponding to the rest of the body. For example, manipulation of the inner portion of the arch would be beneficial to detoxification and stimulating the intestines. The treatment was actually a little painful, as the dimunitive women who perform it have inordinately strong hands, but all night I have been relaxed and do feel better. This is not uncommon, as scientific research suggests that simply the act of massage causes the release of endorphins. Further, superficial massage (not a style targeting accupressure points or deep tissue stimulation) is shown to cause an increase in circulation to the whole body. Deep tissue massage has its own benefits, which are the topic of another post. (For more research on documented health benefits of alternative practices, a good and concise resource is Integrative Medicine: Principles for Practice edited by Kligler and Lee. It is written for physicians as a reference on alternative practices and can direct an interested party to more in depth articles.)

There are so many more procedures and practices which I am excited to try, but they will have to wait. For the next few days I will be backpacking through the mountains of central Yunan with a group of community organizers and volunteer medical staff. Take that altitude sickness. All the best!

Beijing: day 1 and then the last day

Beijing is nothing like Shanghai. But let me start at the begining, just for the sake of clarity. I took the overnight train to Beijing. It was certainly an experience. Not willing (or able thanks to scheduling problems) to splurge for the sleeper car, I ended up in the seats. If you remember the movie 'Titanic', I would compare it to the Irish section of the ship's parties - packed and rowdy, but free-spirited and fun. There were card games (which were too complex for me to follow, but drew quite a crowd among the Chinese passangers), styrofoam boxes of chicken feet, whole ducks, screaming babies, ipods, computers, cell phones, and reunions of old friends, all conducted at top volume. Certainly not conducive to sleep, but also an experience that was awesome to have. I just sat back and watched it all, eventually watching Project Runway on the guy-next-to-me's computer (he was a student designer, and wanted to know if I could read the Chinese subtitles - which I couldn't, but as a sponge of all inane pop culture knowledge I didn't need that particular skill to understand / remember the show). And is there anything in the world as fun as just walking from one end of a moving train to the other? Or even sitting and staring out the window into the dark, catching only the sights barely illuminated by the stars - flashes of water and the ocasional reflection off a window - and then the surprising and blindingly bright lights of stations and the nuclear power plants. It is was altogether picturesque, romantic, and somewhat apocalyptic. Very much a cross between Agatha Christie's Murder on the Orient Express and Hitcock's North by Northwest (though without the murder and the intruige, of course). The ride back was a little more sedate - or at least seemed that way to me, as I crashed in my seat with my sunglasses on and my ipod on.

Upon arrival in Beijing, I immediately went to the Olympic stadium (ergo my disheveled look in the photos) and was awed by it all. Also, despite my best efforts, it is impossible to buy a gold medal on the market (black, gray, or legitimate). I mean, Phelps could share the wealth, right? But he doesn't. So I had to settle with seeing the Crow's Nest and the Water Cube (which is one of the sweetest buildings ever, and it changes colors). I suppose, that is good enough...

I went to Beda (Peking University) and met up with the local CIEE director. It was a great opportunity to discuss in depth the difference beteen Chinese and Amercian culture, though I also learned a significant amount about the differences between the Shanghai-ese (an elitist city) and the Beijing-ites (a city of commoners). It placed the future of China in perspective, and presented me with a lot of details that I didn't know that I didn't know. After a few hours of that I made my way to Be-wai (or the University associated with IES in Beijing) where I met up with the two Wofford students currently studying in China (Spenser Smith and Emily Phillips). They and their fellow students invited me into their circle for the weekend and I really appreciate it. It was an awesome experience, what with sight-seeing, long discussion filled dinners, and time under the umbrellas. Not to mention a few wild nights at the clubs (at least the Chinese appreciate my dancing skills). Also, in particular, I would like to thank Spenser and his homestay dad, who invited me to dinner and rolled out the red carpet. I couldn't eat any more if I tried, despite the fact that I really wanted to do so and the fact that Julius kept shoving food into my bowl. But the best part of that dinner was the fact that Julius is a retired college professor in sociology (having taught in China and in the U.S. at SUNY). Where the CIEE director focused on the future of China, Julius focused on the past. I feel much more grounded and aware of what I have been living through and experiencing. Which reminds me, when I return to America I am supposed to write to my congressman about the electronics trade embargo with the Chinese... But anyhoo, if you want to get to know a culture, I advocate doing two things: 1) eat dinner in a home with a family, and 2) use public transportation. I can check both off my Chinese checklist!

Food wise, it ran the gamut, from a night of hot pot (thankfully, unlike the neighboring table we kept ourselves clothed), to peking duck, street food, noodles, and even bitter melon. Tofu juice is just as disgusting as it sounds - and to add insult to injury, is served warm - but the twar is delicious and the dumplings are spectalar.

Communism is treating me well so far, though the closest I got to Mao was his giant picture on the gate to the Forbidden City, as his maosoleum was closed on the day I went to visit it. And though the uniformed guards and I don't speak the same language, I got the impression that someone important was on route - it might have been the literal unrolling of the red carpet on the stairs of the Great Hall of the People, but let's not judge until we have all the facts, right? Coincdentaly, I didn't stick around to see who it was; the only propoganda I wanted to experience was the disco (oh, yeah, I used the term "disco") at wu dow koe. But despite that bad timing, the weather was really nice (the pollution was hardly noticable and the sun even broke through the cloud cover every once in a while).

I know I am leaving stuff out. It was an action packed weekend, but what can you do? I apologize for my brevity - though the use of 'brief' concerning this post is laughable at best) but it was altogether too amazing. I must also apologize for my butchering of the Chinese language, thanks to the patience of those around me, I am getting a few words down but when writing them I am only going with the phonetics. What more can you expect from a wai gouren?

Okay, I am not sure when I will next have internet access. I know at least for the next three days as I am on a train to Kunming I will be incommunicado. After that who knows. But until the next time, you have all my love and my thoughts.

Hao de.

Shanghai: day 13

Here is the plan, I am leaving Shanghai tonight aboard a train (it is very Cary Grant and I am very excited about it) to go to Beijing for the weekend. I will be checking in with the Wofford students currently studying abroad in China, because they are my friends and because I can, and checking out the Olympics stuff, which coincidentally is opening to the public this weekend. I am returning to Shanghai on Monday, but only to catch a train to Kunming (which is in Yunan). From Kunming I will catch a ride (hopefully...) to Yuxi where I will meet up with Elisabeth - the nice Danish woman who directs an education program in the town - and Xia Lin, my native tour guide and mewest project. In return for their hopsitality and time I am suppossed to speak only in English to Xia Lin, as her bare fluency is not enough for her to further her aspirations. Conveniently, I speak English and have no problem speaking in only English. I am not sure how long I will spend there, but it isn't worht traversing the whole of China to catch my flight out of Shanghai, so I'll figure it out over there. As long as I get out before my visa expires I should be fine, right?

Other than that, stuff is pretty much the same. I am not going to lie, yesterday was pretty bad (just a lot of minor stuff built up to make my day suck) so I decided to take matters into my own hands. Elizabeth (this time a young woman from Wisconsin who is staying in the same hostel as I am, and who also had a bad day yesterday) and I went to the nearest Starbucks (forgive me father, for I have sinned...), drank coffee and just talked about nothing in particular. It was glorious. And sure, it wasn't cultural or educational but it helped me stay sane and I really only consider it a venial sin. We made up for it by then spending the night being absolutely cultural, though not in a Chinese fashion. We went to a club opening - being on the list is one of the perks of Elizabeth's job - and salsa danced until dawn. I am tired right now, but also feel totally refreshed. If that makes any sense...

This post will also serve as the potential last post until I get to Siem Reap, since I am not sure about my internet connectivty options. If I can update, I will, but if it is a few weeks, I apologize. I hope all is well back with you.

Shanghai: day 10

As I sit here in a local bar (for the free wireless and the ability to interact with my new European friends, as Chinese people avoid the western-type establishment) I am reflecting on the content of my last post and I feel slightly bad. I did not discuss the medicinal properties of fauna. In part this is because I have yet to encounter anyone willing to talk about these practices (as if I am an undercover PETA member…). However, if you look into the literature, the use of animals and their byproducts is certainly a common practice, but one from which I will refrain from commenting upon until I experience it first hand. Also, I neglected to mention one of the major differences of most traditional medical practices: lacking the ability to dissect the body – or rather, the ability to then put it back together after having done so – one of the most significant facts about shamanic healing is that it deals with the whole body as an entity. For the practitioners of such medicine it is entirely plausible that a problem in the stomach can be cured with foot massage, that a spiritual disturbance can cause a physical illness and therefore a spiritual act can cure the sickness.

So with that in mind, I had planned on traveling to Tibet. Sure, I want to see the Roof of the World as much as the next traveler while I am over here, but as a bastion of Buddhism, Tibet is also home to a very spiritual society which has some unique healing practices relating to this spiritual focus. (Though it is worth noting that Tibet is not some mythical theocracy, as their armies have been effective in the past and at one time they were the center of a small but powerful trading empire). But thanks to some inside information, I am going to have to postpone that trip until a later date. It is currently unwise for American citizens to travel to Tibet; ergo I will not be going there. Instead I am going to Yunan province where I am going to meet a very pleasant Danish woman who runs a traditional hospital and school which focuses on the culture of Yunan. (By the way, you can really meet some interesting people in hostels if you want to.)

But, since I have already done some of the research on Tibet, I am going to present it to you, just for the academic pleasure of it all. Tibetan Buddhism is distinct from other forms of the faith, though it has its roots in Vajrayana. Central to Tibetan belief is the concept of the spirit being able to focus the physical plane and to lift an individual above physical concerns, including but not limited to sickness – indeed, it normally means to go beyond perception of this reality at all. Recently, this spirituality has come to popularity in Western cultures, where a variety of monks and nuns have published works which limn the principles of these practices and their benefit to any practitioner. In the soothingly titled book The Art of Happiness, the Dalai Lama offers excellent advice on everything from the true meaning of happiness to the importance of avoiding self-created suffering. He speaks elegantly and eloquently, with a sly and surprising humor. His observations are deliberately simple not because they lack complexity or are anything short of profound, but because many of life’s greatest mysteries have very simple answers. And I say that if you’re going to take life advice from a stranger, go with the guy who is regularly bedecked in robes the color of sunshine and wine! According to his Holiness, “If you desire happiness, you should seek the causes that give rise to it, and if you don’t desire suffering, then what you should do is to ensure that the causes and conditions that give rise to it no longer arise.” Simple, see? In other words, life goes by very quickly, and a wise soul does not sleep in itchy pajamas.

Other than being slightly upset about not getting to climb some mountains and visit monks in snow cloaked monasteries, I am excited and upbeat about this upcoming trip. I am told that Yunan is a beautiful and somewhat secluded place (with a population of only 4 million). But I’ll write more once I find out more details, I only bought the train ticket today…

Oh, and it isn’t that adventurous, but if you want a taste of China you can make your own thousand year old eggs. Just place an egg in a jar, boil it and then leave it buried underground for one hundred years. It looks disgusting (black and brown eggs not being my definition of visually appetizing) but it tastes like you expect an egg to taste, although stronger and a little more sulfur-y.

I hope all is well.

Why?

One of the annoyances/fun parts of this trip is that I am constantly introducing myself to new people, which often necessitates an explanation of why I am traveling—believe me, in comparison to some of these people, my story is tame and boring. Normally this will lead to a discussion of my research topic (almost everyone has an opinion) and I am often called upon to justify myself. Sure, indigenous medicine itself is interesting, but what does it do for ‘modern’ society? Why waste this opportunity (with the silently implied ‘and money’)? So I figured I might do the same for y’all back home and provide a little justification and background.

Roughly sixty percent of modern drugs are derived from natural products. Plant ingredients valued in excess of eight billion dollars are included in a quarter of all prescriptions dispensed from pharmacies in the United States and Canada. Globally the annual sale of plant based pharmaceuticals exceeds seventy billion dollars. There are over one hundred twenty clinically useful prescriptions derived principally from under only one hundred species of higher plants—forty-seven of which are native to the tropical rainforest—in use worldwide. The majority of these (let's say three-quarters) were discovered in a folk context. To prevent seasickness we stick a patch containing scopolamine behind our ears. This compound is derived from the potato family and is traditionally used as a medicine (and a narcotic) by Indian shamen. Diosgenin (the essential ingredient in the first contraceptive pills) was isolated from the wild yam of Mexico. Aspirin was first synthesized by Bayer, but the main ingredient, salicylic acid, is found in willow bark and was used by Native Americans to treat headaches. The Amazon and the eastern Andes have provided a cornucopia of prescriptions: pilocarpine, the main treatment for glaucoma; d-tubocurarine, a muscle relaxant; and of course, quinine, the antimalarial drug that has saved more lives than, arguably, any other. Of the 3,500 new chemical structures discovered in 1985, over 2,500 were isolated from higher plants alone. And to date only about five thousand of the estimated three hundred thousand higher plant species have been studied for medical value! For example, though seventy percent of plants with known antitumor properties have been isolated in the rainforest, over ninety percent of the plants in the American rainforests have yet to be given even a superficial chemical screening. Worldwide, fewer than fifteen percent of the higher plant species have been examined for anticancer properties. (As a side note: if the medical applications of botany interests you, please see Dr. Splawn in the Wofford Chemistry department or senior Cassie Pavy, who is conducting a study concerning cancerous human cell lines treated with chemicals she has isolated from various plants to examine possible anticancer applications.) This botanical medicine is the modern distillation of knowledge collected over centuries, a gift to the modern world from the witch-doctor and the herbalist.

And, if we shift our focus from ourselves, meaning the developed world, for a moment there is a much more staggering statistic. According to the World Health Organization, approximately ninety percent of the population of the developing world relies on traditional medicine for their medical needs. The ways of the hedgewitch and the naturalist are still in use in the majority of the world. And they work. I don’t doubt the power of penicillin (though being allergic to it, I also avoid its use) but there are alternatives. And who knows these alternatives better than the people and cultures that have practiced them for centuries. Most indigenous cultures have something we jet-setting Americans do not, a connection to the land. It is the intricate knowledge of the places, plants, and animals gained through uncounted generations which allow them to survive wherever they may live. Anthropologists are fighting a frantic battle to try and preserve this knowledge and culture. Even if you don’t find the culture unique and beautiful in its own right and thus worthy of preservation, perhaps it should become a question of self-preservation. As the traditional cultures of the world fade away we lose the benefit of their knowledge. We lose the possibility of their unique worldview and awareness benefiting our own in a meaningful way. And I am not only talking of prescriptions. If we had to subsist on a diet of cultivated plants indigenous only to the U.S.and Canada, we would only be able to eat pecans, cranberries, Jerusalem artichokes, and maple sugar. That wouldn't be appetizing. If one could only eat the foods indigenous to one's own land, Switzerland would have no chocolate, Ireland would lack potatos, Hawaii would not be lush with pineapple fields, Italy would not have tomato sauces, Indian curries would not contain eggplant, North Africa would have no chili, and none of us would have vanilla or corn. There would not be anything worth eating. And let's not even begin to consider the arts!

I am not a terribly big conservationist—I mean, I barely recycle—but I have had too much biological education to not shudder at the loss of biodiversity. This trip has demonstrated that in our age we are facing more than just the loss of undiscovered flora and fauna. We are on the precipice of losing the biodiversity of the human race.

Sorry... I will step down from my soapbox now. On a lighter note, I am doing well. It rained last night and the haze of pollution and mist cleared for a little bit this morning. Beneath, and perhaps because of, the detritus of the 11 million of individuals living here, Shanghai is like no where I have been before. I have been getting away from the ‘foreign areas’, going where I stop traffic (literally) and get followed with cell phones to capture a picture of the crazy white guy. I am not yet sure if I like it, per se, but I am appreciative of the patina of life that this city has. Plus, the food is out of this world.

Again, sorry for the rant. Cheers.

(Bibliographically, the above facts come from a variety of sources, chief among them the WHO website, the writings of Dr. Wade Davis, Michael Flocker, Mary Roach, and conversations had with fellow travelers.)

A surplus of stimulus

Alright, it took a few days but I am less scared of China now. I still have no gift with the language but I'll deal with that. I would however, like to express my extreme gratitude to the Wofford Chinese Department and Paul Wood. Paul (who just graduated last spring) is currently over here pursuing work in computer programming. And since he was also a Chinese Major - and studied abroad in Beijing - he is proving to be my personal savior. Yesterday he took me out into the city and really showed me around and provided me with the means to survive on my own and actually get some stuff done while I am here. So, kudos and thanks.

In that same vein, yesterday was an awesome day. To be honest, I am really intimidated by China (it is definately the country that I am most nervous about visiting on this trip) but getting out with Paul really opened my eyes to the culture and got me more used to moving around in it. Sure, I might have gotten lost on the subway, but the silver lining is that I got to jam myself into a train during rush hour! How much fun! (Though if you looked at the faces of the Chinese among which I was forcing myself, they probably weren't finding it as enjoyable...) And sure, I stick out, but at least it is easy for me to find Paul and for him to find me. We went to see all of the normal tourist sites (including the tallest building in the world, which vaugely resembles a can opener) and I am glad to have gotten all of that done with someone who nows the history and can get me in and out fast (not being that much of a picture taker). I am leaving out a lot, but that is because there is just too much and I don't want to bore you. I mean, do you honestly want to hear about my being offered a live chicken on the street as I was walking home? I doubt it. Let's just say that overall I spent the day wide-eyed and repeating, "This is just soooo different!"

Shanghai seems a little grey. The buildings are either in a studied state of dilapidation or are towering behemoths of steel and glass. Colorwise they are a little drab and the so far the ever present mist (both a product of nature and the pollution) isn't really helping things. However, there is a surprising level of humidity, so that is nice, and I think that should the haze ever lift the city would be breathtaking. I got a little bit of that walking around last night when everything was lit up with neon and the masses were just easy going and enjoying themselves. The splashes of color also helped to illuminate the fashion of the city. Which I don't understand at all. I just don't get the draw of Hello Kitty for grown ups.

In conclusion, I am getting used to the city and I think that eventually I might even be able to - kinda - fit in, though obviously as a foreigner. Hopefully, the people I pass on the street will stop staring and maybe smile back. But if I can't have that perhaps they will just stop offering to sell me fake Rolexes...

All is well and I miss you all.

P.S. I apologize for not being as scholarly as I should be - as pointed out by several readers - but the anecdote contained in the previous post about using the eppiglottis of a wolf that has been dried in the sun as a cure for hiccups came from Li Shih-chen's masterwork Chinese Materia Medica which first appeared in print in the sixteenth-century. Li Shih-chen was a noted naturalist in China and his work stood for centuries as the standard of Chinese homeopathy, even today it is still consulted. Hope that helps you do your own research if you would so desire!

Shanghai: day 2

I am going to let you all in on a little secret: I do not speak Chinese. That might not be a secret; I am pretty sure I never claimed the ability, but it is proving to be a handicap. Whatever. It is only day two and I shall persevere! After all, as Dr. Dunlap pointed out to me, "China requires stamina."

Indeed, it does. After the remote and easy going Aussies, my experience in China is a near 180. There are just so many people. Yes, I am aware that I am currently in one of the most populous cities on the planet (with 11 million people in Shanghai alone), but still it is shocking. Add to that the replacement of the drawled English spoken by the Australians (which I understood despite lingo differences) with the completely unintelligable (for me at least) and fast paced Chinese... I feel a little over my head. To put it in perspective, I had to cross the entire city to get from the airport I landed at to the hostel I had booked. It took two hours - mostly thanks to my ineptitude. When I finally did get there I enjoyed a nice, relaxed night. While it is bigger than any of the previous hostels in which I have stayed on this trip it was a little more "B&B" in milieu. Unfortunately that did not last. Last night I also gained my frst experience on this trip with bed bugs. I have since relocated - yes, I could survive the little critters, but why would I do that if I could just move? - to a much larger hostel just down the street.

So I am going to spend the next few days figuring it all out and I will report in again later.

Oh, and here is a nice little research related tidbit: while there is a preponderance of differnet choices for any ailment in traditional Chinese medicine, if you have - let's say - a prolonged episode of hiccups then according to Li Shih-chen - one of the first of the ancient practitioners to record his methods in writing - then the best treatment is to hunt down a wolf, kill it, dry its epiglottis in the sun and then powder the tissue and eat it. Yes, that seems a little... I will try and be politically correct... out there, but if you give it some tought, it should also work. I mean, by the time you have hunted down a wolf, killed it and then allowed the sun to dry its epiglottis, even the most pernicious case of the hiccups should be cured. However, please note that I offer the distinclty American alternative of a spoonful of peanut butter. But, it is your choice.

All the best.

Another goodbye

So this is officially it for my time in Australia. In a few hours I will bid adieu to the land of ugg boots, Steve Irwin, and Aussie rules. I am thankful to all the people I have met here and all that I have learned. And I don't only mean that which I have learned concerning my research. Australia has helped me prepare for this whole experience in a way that I desperately needed. It was a baby step to begin with (they are after all an English speaking, developed, Western country) but it didn't remain that way. Australia overhauled my people skills and helped me hone (or arguably create) my field personality - that part of me that remains focused on my work and my well-being despite the distraction that is the rest of this new life.

I am leaving Australia very differently than I expected, but at least on schedule. Not that I want to. Unfortunately I am curious about so much more now. With the deadline stretched so perceptibly in front of me I find there is so much more that I want to know, so much more that I want to experience here. But... that isn't really an option. I must go on; it is the commitment I made when I agreed to this crazy endeavour. I comfort myself with the thought that it will be like this at the end of every stop and that while I might not get used to it at least I will be able to handle it better in the future (or let's just agree to believe that for the near future, okay?). Plus, if nothing else, I can come back!

I guess what I am trying to say is that I am reluctant to leave, but more optimistic than I was at the beginning of it all. This is hard, but not as hard as leaving home. Indeed, I am that much closer to home now, and I know I can handle it. What began as an academic and intellectual exercise has become a challenge in which I can truly envision myself competing. Basically: here we go again.

Also, it should be pointed out that I know nothing about what I am walking into as I enter China. So I apologize if I end up cut off for a while. I will try to stay in contact as much as possible, but I make no guarantees.

It will be good. All the best.