tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3172768000534402152024-03-18T21:26:42.067-07:00Xiao Long BaoJinnaBobeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00426326623295154546noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-317276800053440215.post-73368782869951156712014-08-17T17:00:00.000-07:002014-08-17T17:00:04.429-07:00The HAPPIEST Moment of My 22 Years Old Life<div class="MsoNormal">
Oftentimes in life, perhaps on a first date, or an interview
of some sort, we are asked the question: "What was the happiest moment of
your life?" The respondent then usually struggles to pinpoint an exact moment
of "happiest." Indeed, it is difficult to point to any happy moment
in one's life, which consists of hundreds, if not thousands of happy little
moments, and declare one moment the exact pinnacle of happiness. The answers to
this question also trend toward the same few categories: college graduations,
wedding days, and the birth of one's children are among the most popular (as I
deduced via a 30 second Google search).</div>
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I, however, will no longer be one of the people who struggle
to answer the question "What was the happiest moment of your life?"
Without having experienced matrimony or the birth of a child, I, at 22 years
old, can clearly and most decisively identify the exact happiest moment of my
life thus far. I am so overwhelmed with joy at the thought of this moment, that
I penned this piece to share my joy. </div>
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The Happiest Moment of My Life </div>
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In the summer of 2014, I checked off a big life to-do -
graduating from college! After which, I embarked on a standard post-grad Euro
trip, frolicking through some of well-toured cities of Europe. We basked
in the 4am sunshine in the happiest city on earth (Copenhagen), watched
the brutal Spain v. Netherlands World Cup game at a sports bar in Amsterdam, gorged on frites and waffles in Brussels, and lost ourselves in the delicious rich
flavors of the duck confit in Paris. And no, none of these happy little moments
are THE happy moment. That happiest moment, happened to happen in Paris' Charles De
Gaulle Airport.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgla-Z2oMMZ4nNkNgpHy_2acKUxPxxmShsoTl3dVqPlUJiW7OiPJNM-Mx4w5rG8UOl7SIrCCuK6L37JCRE8n8yjH41Y4i3oVR33X-nubpMvq4-kLhtNgxu7aknj1zTDKDw455Q0ZLoDEd4/s1600/Copenhagen+Colorful+Houses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgla-Z2oMMZ4nNkNgpHy_2acKUxPxxmShsoTl3dVqPlUJiW7OiPJNM-Mx4w5rG8UOl7SIrCCuK6L37JCRE8n8yjH41Y4i3oVR33X-nubpMvq4-kLhtNgxu7aknj1zTDKDw455Q0ZLoDEd4/s1600/Copenhagen+Colorful+Houses.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The happiest city on earth is also colored like Easter</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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After more than a week on the road, I was physically
exhausted, pretty sleep deprived, and ready to board the plane and return to America, the land of SUVs and Seamless. I had spent my cash down to the last few Euros,
and as I walk to the boarding gate, I see a souvenir shop/convenience store
about 20 feet from our gate. </div>
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"Perfect!"I thought " I'll use up
all my Euro coins on snacks for the plane ride." We still have 10 minutes
until boarding began which gives me plenty of time to shop.</div>
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I peruse through the convenience store's selection of
snacks. Chocolate? Nah. Beef jerky? Too chewy. Peanut M&Ms? Normally a yes,
but no. I'm picky about snacks for the plane ride. </div>
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I browse and browse until I found a solid airplane snack
choice - Pringles...but PAPRIKA flavored. We can't even get these back in the
states! Which is a shame because paprika is such an awesome flavor. As exotic
as it may sound, paprika is just a mildly flavored dried chili powder. Okay, the
Pringles are definitely a go. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="160" 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" 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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paprika</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But as I start to make my way over to the cash register, the
ONE catches my eyes. Gummy sour strings. A biiiiiiiiig bag of gummy sour strings. These sugary delights have been my favorite since middle school. Side note: in
ancient Chinese food therapy, sour foods have long been heralded as a must have
for travelers. Sour foods are thought to jump start the appetite and energize
the body. I could definitely use some appetite jumpstarting and body energizing
after this week long backpacking trip. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To make it even better, these are not just any ole' regular
sour strips. These were the king of all sour strips - the four flavor combo
pack. The long strips of yummy sweet and sour gummy goodness covered
in a sea of tangy sour crystals. The strings come in four colors: red, yellow,
green, and blue - corresponding to a world of fruity flavor possibilities.
Cherry? Banana? Apple? Raspberry? Or watermelon? Pineapple? Kiwi? Mystery
flavor? No matter what the flavors could be, this, in short, was heaven in a
bag. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWWLNsQtUMdsWZGW9IQxi4AcrpyOBhOaBttGS1v1mNpg1is9iNB1MSooWtShFL9nDQAxSQeE_VmbY1rnOFxWKuOtlC7mXIhhzi3vDibRMQw4w5gbREfPv_m96qRmR4D5tLTqd7WyLCeio/s1600/Sour+Strings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWWLNsQtUMdsWZGW9IQxi4AcrpyOBhOaBttGS1v1mNpg1is9iNB1MSooWtShFL9nDQAxSQeE_VmbY1rnOFxWKuOtlC7mXIhhzi3vDibRMQw4w5gbREfPv_m96qRmR4D5tLTqd7WyLCeio/s1600/Sour+Strings.jpg" height="400" width="347" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heaven in a bag.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Triumphantly, I continue my walk over to the cash register
when it occurred to me that I should check how much cash I actually have. The
Pringles were <span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21.280000686645508px;">€</span>1.5 and the Sour Strings <span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21.280000686645508px;">€</span>2.2.<br />
<br />
I search through my coin purse, and piece together a mere <span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21.280000686645508px;">€</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21.280000686645508px;">1</span>.8. <span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21.280000686645508px;">€</span>1.8! It is enough to buy the Pringles, but
definitely not enough to buy the sour strings, and there is no way I would
board that plane without a bag of sour gummies to snack on. Actually, I was not
prepared to give up either of my treasures.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwslQ8XbFZALJoxO5QGE1fyTsDwJbfropsbWU5wG3RQ34cxpEnjwRNF3TGbhEUXg4fyfkv5Gv4L0lZ0cWHZikEA_L_n7cRSi1TC_dhN7mvuQudtrfVBMsgANfVC4MhvEJ0bb5H7ASrQGY/s1600/Sadness.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwslQ8XbFZALJoxO5QGE1fyTsDwJbfropsbWU5wG3RQ34cxpEnjwRNF3TGbhEUXg4fyfkv5Gv4L0lZ0cWHZikEA_L_n7cRSi1TC_dhN7mvuQudtrfVBMsgANfVC4MhvEJ0bb5H7ASrQGY/s1600/Sadness.jpg" height="298" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tragedy strikes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Boarding for Air France flight number 40 is beginning
at Gate 19" the overhead speakers blared.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dig through my coin purse again. Pennies? Quarters!
Useless here in my pursuit of sour strings. I need Euros, and fast. Only Euros
will buy me the snacks that will ensure a plane ride of contentedness and joy.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"B, do you have any Euros left?" I ask my travel
companion, who became slightly terrified at the urgency of my question.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Err...no. Sorry" B replied.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I panic, and proceed to pace up and down the aisles of this
small convenience store. "I won't leave without either!" my thoughts
raced as I paced. "What do I do?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You, the reader, by now must have thought of a simple and
elegant solution. Why not use a credit card? Silly Jinnabobeena. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You see. In my sleep-deprived delirium, I somehow had it in
my mind that 1) I must use all my Euros and 2) It is a sign from above that if
I were meant to have these snacks, I would somehow have enough change to pay
for them. If I did not have enough cash on me, then I wasn't meant to have
these snacks. It's crazy, but that was my thought process at the time. So using
a credit card was not an option for me (even though it was a completely valid
option). </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Will all passengers who are boarding Air France flight
number 40 please come to Gate 19." the speakers rang once more.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was running out of time. Somehow I had spent way more time
in this store than I originally planned. Time flies when you are in a snack
crisis in an airport convenience store. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I cursed myself for buying that Orangina out of the vending
machine earlier on. It was a very mediocre drink! And with that money, I would
be swimming in Sour String and Pringle land by now. Bad, bad life decisions.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I continued to pace up and down the aisles of the small
shop. B, my ever-so-patient travel companion, is now looking at me with a
mixture of sympathy and bewilderment.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Err...Jinna? I think we should board soon.
Like...now." B prompted as gently as he could.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"But I NEED these snacks!" I cried. My adrenalized
fervor for top-notch airplane snacks cannot be stopped.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Both of us search our pockets again. Nothing. No coins.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Exasperated, I looked to the ceiling, for a sign, for
anything. I was literally looking at the ceiling. Was I really not meant to
have these delicious snacks?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As a last hail-mary of sorts, I search through my coin purse
again. Keeping in mind I had searched through it at least three times already
during my time at the airport, for the drinks vending machine and at the gift
shop. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But wait...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is this? A shiny two-Euro coin smiling at
me, in its full silver and gold glory. I held it between my fingers, unable to
believe my good fortune. This is impossible, I had almost given up but, here it
is, two Euros. Two Euros will buy me BOTH the Sour Strings (my 1st choice
snack), AND the paprika Pringles (my 2nd choice snack). I am the luckiest girl
in the world!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had always believed in miracles, but I had never witnessed
a miracle happen in real life until that moment. B was also stunned, but I,
JinnaBobeena, was beyond ecstatic. No, ecstatic is not the word. I was an
uncontrollable ball of joy and cheer and every happy feeling in the world. I
probably literally glowed with the sheer amount of happiness I was
experiencing. I might have even teared up a little. Have you had a moment when
you got exactly what you wished for? Well that was me! Times two. I got the
exact TWO things in the world that I wanted, seconds after when I thought it
was impossible. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I bounce toward the cash register with my Pringles and Sour
Strings, ready to claim my prizes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"I would like to pay for these two items please!"
I beam at the cashier, a stout blonde woman probably in her mid-forties. She probably
didn't understand English. It doesn't matter. She knows what I'm there to do.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk6XzIv51CAL0X4ZT3_V8ukFcUEXOIJg9inmp0_9s-4gz-xOevXC6wGWf3katTFuV_BxAkGVVPWQLjHesI4-RN-r9_xp2rYbEKJzgDIH6x82EHxEYmIKlDLR7bA9u5pUSk2vwd0j3b8Is/s1600/BIG+SMILE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk6XzIv51CAL0X4ZT3_V8ukFcUEXOIJg9inmp0_9s-4gz-xOevXC6wGWf3katTFuV_BxAkGVVPWQLjHesI4-RN-r9_xp2rYbEKJzgDIH6x82EHxEYmIKlDLR7bA9u5pUSk2vwd0j3b8Is/s1600/BIG+SMILE.jpg" height="345" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was this happy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The cashier lady seemed scared; nay, terrified, when I
smiled at her with a level of joy equal to the white hot intensity of a
thousand suns. She has probably never seen someone so happy. I have never seen
someone else this happy. My smile is a Cheshire Cat's grin,
combined with the unstoppable joy of a Miss America contestant seeing a slice
of pizza for the first time post-pageant. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The transaction went swimmingly. As I held my snacks in my
hands, I remember remarking to myself. "This, is the happiest moment of my
life." </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And the rest is history. We made it to the gate still with
ten minutes to spare, phew! (There were still people boarding! We weren't THOSE
stragglers holding up the plane) On the plane ride back home,
I devoured my snacks with gusto, even sharing some with B. He agreed
that these two snacks were both excellent choices. I have a hunch that everyone in
our vicinity were intensely envious of my Sour Strings, as they should be. Even at the last bite, I still couldn't
identify the four fruity flavors by taste, but they were all oh-so-delicious.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
JinnaBobeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00426326623295154546noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-317276800053440215.post-80848609373722263912013-12-30T18:18:00.000-08:002013-12-30T18:18:07.959-08:00New Year's Eve is the Worst;How You Can Make it Better!New Year's Eve is the worst holiday, yep, I said it. It usually sneaks up on you in the midst of your cozy winter break away from reality: one minute, you are snuggled up on your parents' couch watching the 18th episode of Law and Order in a row; next thing you know, tomorrow is NYE and you have Lousy Plan A and Lousy Plan B to choose from.<br />
<br />
Let's talk about Lousy Plan A: Have an extra $1,095 lying around? Perfect, that will get you a table at...TGI Friday's, complete with champagne for two! Have a slightly smaller budget? No worries, here's Lousy Plan B, entrance to a pizza-and-well drinks open bar at Artichoke's Pizza will only cost you $125. Comparatively, a slice normally runs you $4.50. That's almost 28 slices of fatty delicious pizza you'd be spending on NYE alone.<br />
<br />
The hyper-inflated prices for most parties result from the work of one company, Joonbug. The company capitalizes on everyone's <i><b>need</b></i> to "go out and have a good time" on holidays like Halloween and NYE by colluding with any and all venues they can find, charging insanely high entrance fees in this near <i>monopoly</i>. By locking down all venues from TAO to the AMC movie theater, to go out on NYE will be an expensive way to get entrance to a loud, crowded room while the party glitter haunts your hair for days to come. Expectations are usually set way too high and almost always let down. I think I'll pass.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9E49Cz6rNdgEC0wkQFSbHvLXpqpVWp75Wef_4JYejhxuCZtDAiNxJ5j4VPV5uxvjSoUuNQsmnW7nDt3G_0ziuDHtsYUeHNhQVuUG0IkrFRD5qoGaGjkCCT8NFYgxAgwlKwK3f14RkwY/s1600/DallasBBQ_NYE2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9E49Cz6rNdgEC0wkQFSbHvLXpqpVWp75Wef_4JYejhxuCZtDAiNxJ5j4VPV5uxvjSoUuNQsmnW7nDt3G_0ziuDHtsYUeHNhQVuUG0IkrFRD5qoGaGjkCCT8NFYgxAgwlKwK3f14RkwY/s320/DallasBBQ_NYE2014.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">A Steal at $175!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
As I was grinching and grumbling about my hatred for NYE to my friend K via Facebook chat, she gently reminded me that NYE is a time for reflection, a time to reminisce over 2013 memories. Instead of the wild year-end blowout bash that the media has ingrained as our ideal NYE, the last day in December provides a perfect period for reflection. Instead of asking yourself the panic-inducing question: "<i>Where did the time go</i>?" ask yourself and your friends: "<i>What were some of your favorite memories from 2013</i>?" My perspective suddenly shifted as the question I asked changed.<br />
<br />
For me, 2013 was a year of many milestones and happy memories, from a stressful 2-day trip to Paris, getting lost in the mountains outside Barcelona, to landing my first big-girl job, I'm grateful for all the opportunities and experiences. I'm thankful for the million little butterfly effects that have brought me to today. And for you, in order to jog your fuzzy memories for all of 2013, Facebook's Year in Review is super helpful!<br />
<br />
Perhaps New Year's is not so bad after all, as long as there's plenty of noisemakers and even more champagne. Happy (almost) 2014!JinnaBobeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00426326623295154546noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-317276800053440215.post-30792675660520531852013-08-31T11:14:00.000-07:002013-08-31T11:14:09.928-07:00What I Wish People Told me as a Fresh(wo)man!Hey there, NYU class of 2017! It is now the end of Welcome Week, and time to begin #RealLife as a newly minted NYU freshman. To help you navigate your freshman year, I've put together a list of tips that I wish someone had told me when I was a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed freshwoman, ready to tackle on big-bad-Stern and get a 4.0 GPA (Ha!).<br />
<br />
<b>Category: School</b><br />
<br />
Take a filler class! - I know that y'all are super excited to take all major classes and graduate in three years, but the reality is, college is hard! When I was a freshman, I was busy battling the Stern curve for some A-minuses and getting some solid B-pluses instead. Trust me, once the workload piles up, you'll really wish you had one easy class to fall back on. It's always good to take a fun class to take your mind off other stress!<br />
Plus, the added smaller booster to your GPA really makes the difference from a 3.4 to a 3.5 when it's time for junior year recruiting.<br />
<br />
Jinna's Recommendations: Group Vocal, Individual Vocal, Intergroup Dialogue (Spring only), and Metalsmithing.<br />
<br />
<b>Category: Friends</b><br />
<br />
"Where do I make friends?" you ask. Truthfully, freshman year is the easiest time to make friends during your time at NYU. Everyone is willing to "friend-settle" since almost no one comes in with a build-in circle of friends, and everyone is open to meeting different types of people. The question really is: "Where can I meet them?"<br />
<br />
Dorm Floor - Many of my closest friends to this day are from my freshman year floor. (Founders what what!) If you just keep an open door, friends will literally flock in. Be nice, share your hangers, lend a hand with moving boxes. Since people spend most evenings at home, it's so easy to swing by and make casual plans, find a dinner buddy, or someone to do homework with! Make your dorm friends early so you have friends to come home to!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQsjtD8FMvEHzhSPRXIsHjTf0QxR-1PxZSxY1kiF8wFNDf8N1wsnmOjCFYZAjBLMBJ-7nAzv1WWLib-TgOfDPPfNsoTG5VRWNv2x0YhnLyZOupUvr0NRv9SZ-msXT_fIItEdjLqNe9-S4/s1600/47119_1606857535825_6895276_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQsjtD8FMvEHzhSPRXIsHjTf0QxR-1PxZSxY1kiF8wFNDf8N1wsnmOjCFYZAjBLMBJ-7nAzv1WWLib-TgOfDPPfNsoTG5VRWNv2x0YhnLyZOupUvr0NRv9SZ-msXT_fIItEdjLqNe9-S4/s320/47119_1606857535825_6895276_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first floor meeting! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Student Clubs - The easy part: Go to Clubfest, sign up for any listserv that remotely interests you, attend a meeting here or there. The emails keep you updated on what events the clubs have planned, and you can easily unsubscribe at anytime. My freshman year, I went to Coles and collected fliers like <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b6yYd6Pq7Ic">Buddy the Elf</a> on Christmas. I think I signed up for <a href="http://www.nyu.edu/clubs/cms/eboard/index.html">Chinese Mei Society</a>, Chicken and Rice Club, Violet Circus Arts, and at least 20 other things. No matter how strange a club might seem, just show up to a meeting and give it a chance. The people are super welcoming, and there's usually free food every Thursday/Friday evenings!<br />
<br />
The harder part: You should also apply for "E-board" positions ("E" stands for Executive) for a club you are interested in. As a part of the E-board, you go to weekly meetings and work with 10-15 people to make the events happen. I've found that it's a great way to get involved, and meet upperclassmen who really take you under their wing. I found my first club family at NYU by interviewing for a freshman rep position. Although the idea of an interview might be scary or seem unnecessary, it is really well worth the investment. Great to put on your resume!<br />
<br />
School doesn't have to be the only place to meet people either. Get involved in some outside organizations either through a church group, find some odd jobs on Wasserman, or volunteer! Small opportunities will eventually lead to bigger ones and you find lots of amazing people along the way. It's super important to meet people in different schools and different communities, it will keep you sane and grounded as you get sucked into the inevitable quarter-life crisis. If you're in Stern, make some Tisch and Gallatin friends! If you are in Steinhardt, meet someone in nursing!<br />
<br />
<b>Category: Partying</b><br />
<br />
I remember coming into freshman year all ready to parrrr-tay! And then I was like: "Oh wait, I have to be over 21?!" Instant bummer. Although 18+ parties exist, they are usually just a watered-down, overly-crowded version of what an NYC club should be like (save your $20 dollar cover charge and skip them, and avoid this promoter Amanda Sarah at all costs).<br />
<br />
At times and especially on the weekends, it did seem like there was segregation between those with fake IDs, and those without. It is easy to feel left out when you are not one of the privileged few with a look-alike and understanding older sibling (or IDChief). But as a senior, when I compare my freshman experiences with new friends, it seemed that with or without an "over 21" ID, we all found different ways to thoroughly enjoy our freshman year - from shooting pool at Rubin, getting busted playing dorm room beer pong, schmoozing our way into Avenue, or making 2am halal runs. So really, don't feel like you are missing out on much. And if you wanted to order IDs, do it early on.*<br />
<br />
Here is a list of fun things I would rally people to do:<br />
<br />
-Eating trip in Flushing (another Chinatown in Queens)<br />
-Camp out for Saturday Night Live<br />
-Plan a dessert trip (Chikalicious, Big Gay Ice Cream, Butter Lane, Magnolia, Georgetown Cupcakes)<br />
-Take advantage of discounted tickets at Ticket Central! Save $$$ and go buy nice stuff.<br />
<br />
<b>What you DON'T have to do:</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
DON'T smuggle dozens of cookies back from the dining halls, unless you think the freshman 15 looks good on you.<br />
<br />
You DON'T have to come in knowing what investment banking is (everyone calls it "banking," but it is NOT the people you see at Chase counting money). Google it.<br />
<br />
You DON'T have to read all the books in your Texts and Ideas or liberal arts classes, choose excerpts and know those excerpts well. Then cite those passages to support your thesis.<br />
<br />
DON'T even buy all the books! At least a few people on your floor will have the same books, borrow and read a few excerpts (see above).<br />
<br />
DON'T get stuck in high school drama, even over the internet. It could be such a time and energy suck! Shake it off and do your own thing.<br />
<br />
DON'T feel like you are doing something wrong if you aren't having the time of your life. College is hard, meeting new people could be exhausting, and so is managing your own schedule. Cut yourself some slack.<br />
<br />
With that, have a super freshman year! Upperclassmen friends, do you have any cool tips for freshies? Leave a comment below!<br />
<br />
<br />
*This blog does not support the use of fake IDs, since they are illegal you know. That being said, the earlier you order, the more value you get out of them.<br />
<br />
<br />JinnaBobeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00426326623295154546noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-317276800053440215.post-89505186130941684692012-12-22T21:16:00.001-08:002012-12-22T21:16:09.512-08:00It'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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
It's good to be home.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Wishing everyone a merry Christmas and a wonderful holiday season! <br />
<br />JinnaBobeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00426326623295154546noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-317276800053440215.post-81755684260275064792012-06-13T20:55:00.000-07:002012-06-13T20:55:13.413-07:00I'm turning twenty!<br />
<br />
Which means...I will no longer be a teenager. (Cue the melodramatic music)<br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
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."<br />
<br />
Peace out teens! I will welcome my twenties with open arms :) <br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWvR3PqGJqXsRgVi6GvJTkBZc4FEwoHV5GYGL8oFvYMwnJNQrSiS8_9rvkI135soqs9P6-SghxIjGr8k8VTIxALpVbDWpDwFy9u0cmAzG1SVX7RUYY9SMG_KmWWTDu9WgRskfWKQfwtgE/s1600/love+makes+the+world+go+round.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWvR3PqGJqXsRgVi6GvJTkBZc4FEwoHV5GYGL8oFvYMwnJNQrSiS8_9rvkI135soqs9P6-SghxIjGr8k8VTIxALpVbDWpDwFy9u0cmAzG1SVX7RUYY9SMG_KmWWTDu9WgRskfWKQfwtgE/s320/love+makes+the+world+go+round.jpg" width="237" /></a></div>
<br />JinnaBobeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00426326623295154546noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-317276800053440215.post-28388814823181610952012-05-11T05:58:00.000-07:002012-05-11T05:58:04.945-07:00<div class="MsoNormal">
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.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsSYCDOOs8OzWk_Drie7VrDnClFP0ipNauMFt5mM3ru9Jq7SimJr4sn316mw8uVlo8GhlOaRCk0kVI5WVJ2a1nV2EPYwkWk2QHB53nSWsw2iUavM534cemoGdjm7Te9OiO0qiLJlgOUOo/s1600/sunburn.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsSYCDOOs8OzWk_Drie7VrDnClFP0ipNauMFt5mM3ru9Jq7SimJr4sn316mw8uVlo8GhlOaRCk0kVI5WVJ2a1nV2EPYwkWk2QHB53nSWsw2iUavM534cemoGdjm7Te9OiO0qiLJlgOUOo/s320/sunburn.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>JinnaBobeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00426326623295154546noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-317276800053440215.post-64103397781708002502012-03-08T20:35:00.001-08:002012-03-08T20:35:07.538-08:00<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<b>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.</b></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<b>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.</b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i> The Basics</i>: 左转 zhuǒ zhuǎn Turn left</div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
右转 yòu zhuǎn Turn right</div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
直行 zhí xíng Go straight</div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
在这靠边 zài zhè kào biān Pull over right here</div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i> The Harder Stuf</i>f: 不要绕弯 bú yào rào wān Don't loop! (my attempt at translating)</div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
要不然举报你yào bù rán jǔ bào nǐ Or else I will report you!</div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<b>Next up, food.</b> <b>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.</b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<![endif]--><span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-size: 12pt;"> (这个)...有猪肉吗?(zhègè)...yǒu zhūròuma? (Does this)...have pork?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-size: 12pt;">(这个)...有牛肉吗?(zhègè)...yǒu niú ròu ma? (Does this)...have beef?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-size: 12pt;"> 这个里面有肉吗?zhè gè lǐ miàn yǒu ròu ma? Does this have meat inside?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>The Harder Stuff</i>: </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-size: 12pt;"> 可以不放猪肉吗?ké yǐ bú fàng zhū ròu ma? Can you take out the pork?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-size: 12pt;"> 可以不放牛肉吗?ké yǐ bú fàng </span><span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-size: 12pt;">niú</span><span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-size: 12pt;"> ròu ma? Can you take out the beef?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-size: 12pt;"> 可以不放肉吗? </span><span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-size: 12pt;">ké yǐ bú fàng </span><span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-size: 12pt;">ròu ma? Can you take out the meat?</span></div>
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<span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>Finally</b>,<b> 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:</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-size: 12pt;"> 你干什么?nǐ gàn shén me? What are you doing?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-size: 12pt;">这是排队的!zhè shì pái duìde! There is a line!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<br /></div>
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<b><span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">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! </span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div>JinnaBobeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00426326623295154546noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-317276800053440215.post-88273727651579343952012-02-26T08:08:00.000-08:002012-02-26T08:08:55.324-08:00It 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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."<br />
<br />
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!JinnaBobeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00426326623295154546noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-317276800053440215.post-1928641689925604962012-02-19T21:41:00.000-08:002012-02-19T21:41:51.310-08:00So 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellspacing="5" class="the_content"><tbody>
<tr><td nowrap="nowrap" valign="top"><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword"></span> </span></td>
<td>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>JinnaBobeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00426326623295154546noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-317276800053440215.post-29781799282827694512012-02-06T02:29:00.000-08:002012-02-06T02:29:17.102-08:00I'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!<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<span class="st"></span><br />
<span class="st"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrzrZB-nNtIGte4QD8rFBIxpwSB-T8KGgOymvk9BrL7P1eQJwzRqb0YPHXTLXi04WqvQtkClR5p-RKBsozBuXmczn6ELbeZjDbkaV3k5I-oU63WlxuNF0eE9aFYXWTTM6sSQXbNgFXJNw/s1600/Jinna+in+China+102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrzrZB-nNtIGte4QD8rFBIxpwSB-T8KGgOymvk9BrL7P1eQJwzRqb0YPHXTLXi04WqvQtkClR5p-RKBsozBuXmczn6ELbeZjDbkaV3k5I-oU63WlxuNF0eE9aFYXWTTM6sSQXbNgFXJNw/s320/Jinna+in+China+102.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
If you want to see if you made the mark, here is an approximate conversion: 155 cm<span class="st">≈5'1", and 160 cm </span><span class="st">≈
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.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="st">In America, a typical dating site profile might read something like this: "</span>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. <br />
<br />
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."<br />
<br />
Will heightism fade with time as China become increasingly globalized? Or is it entrenched in Chinese culture along with the preference for pale skin? <br />JinnaBobeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00426326623295154546noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-317276800053440215.post-2880039419423540592012-01-14T17:53:00.000-08:002012-01-14T17:56:28.884-08:00Oh 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.<br />
<br />
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<i> someone</i> 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?<br />
<br />
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. <br />
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<br />
<br />
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.JinnaBobeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00426326623295154546noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-317276800053440215.post-44866924689702644372012-01-12T13:03:00.000-08:002012-01-12T13:03:34.986-08:00Who 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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Enjoy my blog!JinnaBobeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00426326623295154546noreply@blogger.com2