It's Good to be Home: Happy Holidays!

Sitting in the backseat as my dad's Toyota 4Runner pulled into our driveway, I couldn't help but smile upon seeing our little suburban house all aglow  in Christmas lights, decked out in a mish-mash of tinsel, window stickers, and yard decorations that could very well be considered as antiques by now.

It's amazing how Christmas decorations survive throughout the years - I spot a cartoon deer plank sticking out of the front lawn, the very same one I picked out by hand when I was ten years old. A snowman that I made in arts-and-crafts lives on, next to a bundle of mismatched Christmas lights on the shrubbery.

It's good to be home.

I hadn't even realized how homesick I was until I arrived. The stress of the city melts away bit by bit as I reacquaint myself with my parent's house. The amenities are fabulous: the long, cozy couch, a fully stocked fridge, cable TV, a platter of fruit right in the middle of the dining room table, really accentuating the differences between an actual home and a college student's apartment.

For sure, it's been a tough semester. Between classes, networking, case-competitions, recruiting, job interviews, finals, it felt like I've barely had a moment to breathe. The days blurred together as stress wore off the smiles of even the most good natured persons. But that's over, at least for now. I am beyond thankful to have this sanctuary to come home to, and parents who are so glad to see me, doting on me the way Asian parents know best, with piles and piles of delicious home-cooking. It's really good to be home.

As much as New York City has stolen my heart, driving is something I will always miss about living in the 'burbs. Tomorrow, I will be out on the road first thing in the morning, picking up bagels and visiting friends. Oh it is so good to be home.

Wishing everyone a merry Christmas and a wonderful holiday season!

I'm turning twenty!

Which means...I will no longer be a teenager. (Cue the melodramatic music)

My friends will be the first to tell you I've been more than agitating about it all-with the constant: "I'm not ready to grow up!" and "OMG I can't believe I'm gonna be so OLD!" I could not wrap my head around the fact that I will be twenty, and no longer nineTEEN. I will have lived through two decades, and will be starting a third. Craziness!

But even though it's been really difficult coming to terms with no longer being a !teenager, I am really thankful to have had the typical high school experience/ typical teenage experience- driving around aimlessly at night in a car over crowded with friends, late night Taco Bell runs, pep rallies and catching a ride to a diner after, chicken fingers and root beer floats, foot ball games on Sundays decked out in green and white,grabbing a towel and heading straight to the beach in the summer...meeting new people who never fail to impress me in college, catching a moment of peace in Washington Square Park, dancing my heart out at Meatpacking/amidst a flash mob/in my room all with my amazing roommate...and NYU Shanghai was definitely the craziest semester of all! As amazing as it all was, the sheer awesomeness of my teenage years will exist better in my memories, as I step into another stage of life, and the twenties are awesome, or so I heard!

So...as cheesy as it sounds, Katy Perry speaks my soul: "No regrets, just love/We can dance, until we die/You and I, will be young forever."

Peace out teens! I will welcome my twenties with open arms :)

Hi friends! It’s been quite a while. Amidst the absolute madness of my time in Shanghai, the spontaneous adventures, the wild parties, amazing spring breaks (one of which involves a very nasty sunburn-see below), playing impromptu games of volleyball, hosting the NYU variety show, or simply sitting on the campus quad enjoying the sunlight, wasting my time in a way that time does not feel like it’s being wasted, I have not found the time to update my blog! And I feel very, very guilty about it right now.

I absolutely wish that I had kept closer tabs on my time here, and, as we get closer to the end of the semester, time has taken on the quality of a fistful of sand: the more we desperately try to hang on to it and grasp it, the faster it slips away in our fingers. My time spent in Shanghai, the good times, and the bad times, shall be kept in a special box in the back of my mind, to be visited when I’m back in the hustle-and-bustle of New York, drowning in the stress of junior year recruiting.

You might be wondering to yourself: “Why is Jinna going so sentimental on us? What is up with that?” Well, my mood has been strangely nostalgic lately. I am about to hit a big milestone in life right now, in exactly 34 days, I will no longer be able to call myself a teenager. Twenty…the big 20…I will be two DECADES old! DECADES!

I guess what scares me is the inevitability of aging. No matter what I do, or how much I want to stay young, the day that I turn 20 is fast approaching, and there is nothing I can do to even slow the passage of time. Being twenty seems to come with a dose of responsibility that I'm not so sure I am ready to take. 

In the last month of my teens, I am committing myself to documenting each and every day. Written diaries were never my thing, so I am starting a photo diary. I will actually lug my DSLR everywhere I go, taking photos of every scene in my life, the crazy as well as the mundane. I am announcing it here, on my blog, in an effort to hold myself to my promise. I will do it guys! Keep updated on my photo diary, going up on Facebook very soon!

As promised, here is a post about some phrases you might be dying to know in China, but just can't seem to find in any guidebook.

First up, directions. Specifically, taxi cab directions. I've felt that same helplessness you feel the moment you get into a taxi cab, say the memorized address for school or your internship or whatever, and just hope to God that the address you gave won't be misinterpreted and that the taxi driver won't loop around some back alleyways to charge you extra money and waste your time.

     The Basics:         左转 zhuǒ zhuǎn  Turn left

                                  右转  yòu zhuǎn  Turn right

                                  直行  zhí xíng      Go straight

                                  在这靠边  zài zhè kào biān Pull over right here

     The Harder Stuff:  不要绕弯  bú yào rào wān   Don't loop! (my attempt at translating)

                                  要不然举报你yào bù rán jǔ bào nǐ  Or else I will report you!

Next up, food. Many of my friends here have various dietary restrictions: some cannot eat beef, some cannot eat pork, and some cannot eat meat altogether. With these phrases to help, you can have crazy gastronomic adventures in China with added ease of mind.

  The Basics:   

   (这个)...有猪肉吗？(zhègè)...yǒu zhūròuma? (Does this)...have pork?

   (这个)...有牛肉吗？(zhègè)...yǒu niú ròu ma? (Does this)...have beef?

   这个里面有肉吗？zhè gè lǐ miàn yǒu ròu ma? Does this have meat inside?

The Harder Stuff: 

          可以不放猪肉吗？ké yǐ bú fàng zhū ròu ma? Can you take out the pork?

          可以不放牛肉吗？ké yǐ bú fàng niú ròu ma? Can you take out the beef?

          可以不放肉吗？ ké yǐ bú fàng ròu ma?   Can you take out the meat?

Finally, I bring you a phrase that could help with a very commonplace, and extremely irksome situation in China- line-cutting. Whether you are standing in line at either the KFC or the movie theater, people really just waltz on over and cut you in line without any sense to address you.In my experience, this occurs even more often with old ladies, who really feel so entitled to cut you in line without any apology, and here is what you should say:

 你干什么？nǐ gàn shén me? What are you doing?

这是排队的！zhè shì pái duìde! There is a line!

Well, that was all I had to offer in terms of helpful phrases. If you would like to know how to say something else, please feel free to add a comment below!

It was Friday night and I was standing in line. No, not at the hottest night club in Shanghai - I was waiting behind ~200 people for a taxi in the Suzhou train terminal.

It's strange what kind of people you see waiting in queue at midnight: three person families from the countryside carrying large produce bags with all their belongings inside, trendy guys with dyed longish hair, skinny jeans and sleek luggage, middle aged men in a flock all dressed in drab gray and black. There was a little girl, too. She was by herself. She wore a pink jacket and a cheap pink plastic headband to match. She carried a plastic cup from KFC and asked, no, charmed money out of the people waiting in line. She worked the crowd like a young Richard Dawson from the old Family Feud. To all the girls, she called them "美女," which translates roughly to something like "beautiful woman" or "sexy lady." She told all the men how handsome they are. Sometimes she sang a song. Someone slipped her a 10 dollar bill. She was very successful. She also looked no more than 6 years old.

I couldn't help but wonder what this little girl was doing. Obviously, she was making money. But she couldn't have been making money by herself - who was she working for? Was it her parents? What kind of parents would make their toddler work at this hour of the night? It was midnight, any 6-year-old should have been in bed for hours by now.

So when she came around to my side of the line and asked for money, I asked her what she needed money for. She seemed to have an answer prepared already as she pulled out some beef jerky from her front pocket and loudly exclaimed: "For snacks of course!" She was so adorable that everyone chuckled and gave her money. I did, too.

If I was a good investigative journalist I would have tracked down the people she was working for, uncovered a large-scale kidnapping ring who turn kids into street beggars, defeated this underground mafia, alerted the police, and saved the lives of countless children. But I didn't, I got in a taxi and was on my way to grandma's house. Only later, did I find out that the right(?) thing to do is to not give them any money in order to discourage adults from using children as tools to make money. The same situation occurs in many parts of China, India, and I'm sure it occurs in many developing countries as well.

So there really isn't an ending to my story. I wasn't the hero and I did not save the day. But I will leave you with a little lesson I learned traveling through China alone at night. When I got off the train in the middle of the night, I knew that all public transportation would have been shut off, so the only option in mind was to take a taxi. As soon as I stepped off the platform, a middle aged woman stopped me asking if I needed a taxi. I was just about to say yes when my gut instinct told me to walk away. Another man stopped me to offer me a taxi, then a third. These people are very aggressive! So I put on my New York face and speed walked away. Later, on the line for taxis, I asked the guy in front of me why he would rather wait for 30 minutes on this line than take those "taxi pimps" up on their offer. He said that those cars are "黑车," unlicensed and unregulated in any way. They will take you on the highway, loop for hours and overcharge you, some instances of kidnapping have even happened with these "black taxis."

So, when you've arrived somewhere in the middle of the night. Resist the convenience of "黑车," and wait for a regular taxi. Next up, some posts about survival Chinese in Shanghai!

So I haven't posted for a while, for a combination of reasons I guess. The events that have been happening in my life are perfectly perched on the line between eventful and unnoteworthy that I debate over whether or not to cover them quickly in this blog. Usually, my lazy side wins. But today, I had a moment in the subway that inspired me to write, as cliché as it may sound. But first, a quick run through of the past few days.

Calvin Harris concert: pretty crazy, but not as crazy as it could have been. I'm pretty sure I saw some people in the crowd who could not have been over 12 years old. Calvin came on around midnight and the music was good until 2am-ish.

Motorcycle Taxi: Friggin' awesome! You are really risking your life when you go on one of these. Seriously. These "taxis' are not regulated, at all. Usually you find flocks of guys on motorcycles hanging out near a shopping center or a crowded area, and you just approach them with your intended destination.You really have to haggle with them since people have been charged anywhere between 10 RMB to 50 RMB. I must say that sitting on the back of a hog while watching the driver weave through traffic and blow past every single red light was an experience I'll never forget.

So back to the subway story. I had an easy day today so I set out on exploring a bit after an interview in the morning. Being in the subway station, I thought I had gotten use to seeing homeless people in New York, but apparently that was a lie. There was an old lady, who looks about 60/70ish, snow-white hair and a bit over weight, kneeling in full kow-tow position on the ground with a piece of cardboard next to her describing her story. If the story is true, she is very sick, very very sick and unable to work and her children have abandoned her and now she has nothing, really. Can you imagine being so old, so lonely and so completely vulnerable? I couldn't possibly. It was a gray day outside and I don't know why but this moment just struck me very hard. I gave her some change but really I was feeling helpless as well. There must be thousands more like her in Shanghai alone, nevermind the nation.

I remember that in my NYU application short answers, I wrote about a vision I had. And I had almost forgotten it until today. I dreamed of opening an orphanage of sorts, but for old people - the ones abandoned by their children in China. The Chinese are used to filial piety. They often save their earnings for years in order for their children to afford a house, perhaps in a major city. Few have retirement accounts or medical insurance. They really don't have much besides the trust that their children will take care of them in their old age. When their money is gone, some are thrown out of the new house by their sons or daughters. It's hard for me to imagine anyone being in their position, but still, they exist.

I'm unsure of how I can make this vision come true, and I'm also unsure where this post is going. Sorry if this bit of thought has proved to be a bit too depressing, but it was just one of those days.

I'm back!!! After a long hiatus away in internet-free land at my grandparents, I have rejoined civilization on Facebook, Twitter, and now Blogspot. Huzzah!

Over the last 10 or so days, I've gotten over most of the culture shock- drivers who won't yield for pedestrians, people talking inside with their outdoor voices, toddlers peeing in the street, the crazy amount of people on the subway, the bus, etc...but one thing that still confounds me is the Chinese people's obsession with height- or, more specifically, tallness.

Back in the U.S., height has it's benefits- maybe it could help you get into a trendy club, or maybe it gave you an extra boost in basketball- gratifying, but inconsequential. But in China, height could determine whether or not you land a job, or even whom you settle down with for the rest of your life.

To be an airline stewardess for Air China, women have to be above 160 centimeters. Waitress at a high class restaurant? About the same. Even to get a job as a waitress at this bakery I passed by, women had to be above 155 cm, and men above 160cm. Many jobs hire taller people for appearance's sake, since height almost directly translates to attractiveness. Or, some hypothesize that the height restriction is a way to limit the number of applicants, in the world's largest country by population. But one thing is for certain, it's good to be tall in China.

If you want to see if you made the mark, here is an approximate conversion: 155 cm≈5'1", and 160 cm ≈ 5'3". In China, where the average height for women is 158.6 cm, over half of the people are disqualified before even being judged on their other attributes.

In America, a typical dating site profile might read something like this: "So I’m not the Internet-dater type. But I'm sick of the bar scene, so I thought I'd try this out. I like Italian food, Labradoodles, and long walks on the beach. I'm looking for a man who'll make me laugh; who won't mind taking spontaneous excursions to warm weather. So if you think we might just click and you are up for dinner at any of Mario Batali's restaurants, let's get in touch!" The ad is cute, fun, and attracts potential dates based on personality and common interests. Where as in China, a typical dating ad might look a little something like this: " Female, 27 years old, 165 cm, college educated, pale-skinned and attractive. Looking for a male above 175 cm, Master's Degree or above." I can begin to understand how girls might be looking for a taller guy, but even males, are looking for taller wives, perhaps in the hopes of having tall children. The Chinese hope that when the child grows up and recruits for a job, an extra centimeter or two will be an added advantage.

So height translates to attractiveness, but does height translate to $$$? Chinese hospitals offer limb-extension surgery for anywhere from $3,000 to $12,000 that can extend your legs by up to 9-10 cm. Not only is the surgery extremely painful and intrusive (it works by breaking the leg bones over and over again), but as with any other good, what you pay is what you get, since the market is largely unregulated, botched operations are commonplace. Patients can end up with damaged nerves, uneven growth, brittle bones, and many more negative psychological effects.The market is saturated with various medicines and remedies claiming to help one's child grow taller. Chinese parents fork over handfuls of cash for these medicines all claiming to have discovered "the secret to miracle growth."

Will heightism fade with time as China become increasingly globalized? Or is it entrenched in Chinese culture along with the preference for pale skin?

Oh the Packing...

Six more days until I hop on a plane to the other side of the world, crazy isn't it? As someone who has been to China before, I thought I'd share a bit of my unconventional packing wisdom.

Ladies, the one thing you absolutely need but probably don't have enough packed away is...TAMPONS. TAMPONS, buy them now, cram them in your suitcase, and you'll be thanking me later when it's May and you want to head over to tan on a beach. I have yet to see Tampax in stores in all my excursions to China. Really, none. It's like Chinese people have some weird secret vendetta against them or something. Now, you might be thinking "ewwwwww I don't want to think about that now" in your head, but someone has to get down to the nitty-gritty of it all. Look, I even did the math for you. Let's say you need 4 tampons a day, times 5 days =20, times the 4 months that we are abroad=80! I bet that's a lot more than you thought to pack, right?

And as for the gentlemen (and ladies), bring your own supply of condoms if you plan on falling in love in Shanghai, or even meeting a one-night fling at one of the clubs that are so all the rage(who knows?) From one of my Asian friends, I heard that Chinese condoms are pretty different than American ones. But that's no reason to bring up that age-old stereotype now.



What not to bring: No need to bring that stuffed animal from your ex-boyfriend, it will only bring unpleasant memories. But if you have a current beau, do bring a little reminder of him/her with you, a picture takes up a lot less room than a stuffed bear. Leave your shampoo/conditioner/lotion at home, you can usually find the same brands in Chinese drugstores. Leave everything behind that you can, and be ready to start anew when you arrive at Pudong international. I know I will.

Who am I? What is this? Wha-whoah?

I have toyed with the idea of starting a blog for quite a while now. With my impending study-abroad semester, I started this blog to journal my daily interactions with the people, food, nightlife, and culture of Shanghai. That way, I will have something to look back upon at the end of the short five months, and others who read my blog will glimpse into what life is like as an American student in Shanghai.

As someone who moved to the states when I was ten, many people question why I would choose China as my study abroad site instead of somewhere I haven't been, somewhere like the culturally elite Florence or sunny Madrid. To this, I give two reasons.

Reason one is obvious, I miss my family. Aside from the small sub-pod of my mom, my dad, and me living in America, the vast majority of my family permanently live in various cities across China - including many aunts, cousins I'd grown up with, that crazy uncle (everybody has one), and my amazing grandparents who raised me. With the added pressure of securing summer internships and full-time offers creeping up, this study abroad semester would be my best chance of seeing them in a while.

 Reason two is a bit counter intuitive. The thing is, I "feel" more American than I "feel" Chinese. Although I moved here at a relatively late age, I was immediate submerged in an area of Long Island where the population was evenly split among whites, blacks, and Hispanics - leaving room for about four Asians in my entire high school. I never realized how NOT Asian I was until coming to college. In high school, I'd always been the "Token Asian," the one who gets good grades and eats with chopsticks at home. But being Chinese is not all about A's and chopsticks, and my new Asian friends at NYU quicked pointed out how different my upbringing was and how non-Asian I still am. I don't listen to K-Pop and I don't even know who Jay Chow is, I don't play the piano or the violin and I've never been made to miss a party to study for the SAT. I often wonder, what would my life be like if I never came to America? I would be a full-fledged Chinese girl, also in her second year at university. Would I still have the same interests and wear the same style of clothing? Would I be cooler? Happier? Studying abroad in Shanghai is my chance to answer these questions for myself.

I am most interested in the delicate and interesting details of everyday life that make Chinese culture so different, yet similar to American culture- Chinese ideas on consumerism, standards of beauty, and how it ties into and evolved from American/Western concepts. Look out for lots of blog posts about these.



Lastly, what is xiao long bao? Xiao long bao is a dish from Southern China, also known as soup dumplings. They have become very popular in America, and is a traditional dimsum dish. Many people wonder how the soup is put into the dumpling - do they use a syringe? How is this possible? Oh my this little pastry is simply magical! Here, on my blog, I will reveal to you the secret as to how the soup is put into the dough. Are you ready for this? The chefs...freeze the soup first! After the bun is steamed, the soup naturally melts back into liquid form.

Enjoy my blog!