Gatecrashing other people’s lectures is quickly becoming a regular habit of mine. As much as I love learning Chinese (no, really) I still need the kind of brain food that you can’t get from endless memorising of Chinese characters, or running through dialogues describing tomorrow’s weather. And I’m not going to pass up this golden opportunity to peek into China’s university education system.
A couple of weeks ago I happen to meet a Chinese student majoring in Australian Studies, lulz! So of course I asked if I could gatecrash, and this morning turned up to a class that introduced six Chinese students to Australia’s colonial past. The Chinese lecturer, and who must be mentioned had all but flawless English, had no problem with me sitting in, and introduced me to the others as an Australian, “who might hopefully be able to share some of her experiences with this topic.”
“Well I can’t say I was there in person,” I joked.
But much of the content was familiar to me from primary and early high school years of history: the transportation of Britain’s convict population to their Southern outpost, and then the gradual burgeoning of an independent nation. I relived the horror I felt as a 12 year old, hearing the tales of mass deaths at sea, the cruel floggings (she even had a picture of what a live one looks like) and hangings, and the generally harsh conditions those early Australians lived in.
It was surreal to be hearing these familiar tales … but now in a neon-lit classroom of Beijing, with six other Chinese girls – none of whom had never stepped foot in Australia, but were busy taking notes on “Port Arthur” and “Governor Phillip” in the margins of their textbooks.
Of course it wasn’t all doom and gloom. As the lecturer pointed out, life was hard for all poor people back then, even in Britain. And when along came pardons, tickets-of-leaves, and emancipation, Australian became a place for some to start anew. She pointed out that out in the harsh outback, people learned to rely on one another, and from this a strong cultural value emerged: mateship, and equality. That is, judging people by their actions, rather than their social status.
The Chinese students, though somewhat more reserved than Australian students, also asked some thoughtful questions, and I was impressed at their level of English. The lecturer had delivered the whole seminar in English, and there were more than a few sophisticated turns of phrases.
Very quickly, because it’s late, one thing that was definitely new to me, and I can’t believe I’d never known of, was the story of Mary Reibey. She’s the face on the 20 dollar bill – and is one impressive lady.
Tomorrow I’m gatecrashing the lecture on “Australian Youth” (double lulz!)
“Don’t you get angry?” I asked over lunch with the Chinese girl who had responded to my poster. She lived in a dorm room that strictly enforced an 11pm curfew – every night of the week. “I mean you’re 21, they shouldn’t be treating you like a child, and telling you when to go bed.”
“Oh but they do treat us like children, and …” she replied, “I think we are still children!”
I looked at her thoughtfully, and paused before speaking. I considered the fact that I was talking to a girl who, in all likelihood, had never had sex, had never been so much as tipsy, and had never gone to a nightclub or a music festival. She, like most Chinese students didn’t really party, or drink, have crazy one-night pashes, or dance like a spastic till ridiculous hours of the morning.
For an Chinese student, socialising on the weekend means shopping with friends, outings to parks and nature reserves, and most importantly eating together (dinner often at 6pm or earlier). It’s a weekend reminiscent of me at 13. On a special occasion there might be karaoke (non-alcoholic drinking.)
But a typical weekend was more than likely to be occupied by one thing: study. And lots of it. The infamous Chinese work ethic can be no more evident than in the Chinese university student, who, 7 days a week, every waking hour, works him or herself to the bone. Desperate for one of the country’s highly sought after and none-to-common “good jobs” – in either an international company, or even better the government (“more stable” they all say) – each student attempts to outdo one another with tireless work.
I bit my lip and asked gently, “are you scared of the outside world?”
“Yes!” she replied, emphatically.
“Well you shouldn’t be!” I replied, equally enthusiastically.
Now, let me contrast this with another Chinese student, who too has an 11pm curfew. I met her at a Couchsurfing event in my first few weeks here in Beijing. And when she told me of the curfew, I spluttered in disbelief.
“But what do you do?! I mean sometimes we don’t go out until 11pm!”
“Well we stay at the club, till about 3am. Then we go to McDonalds and have a snooze till about 6am, by which time the dorm opens again so we can go back,” she replied with a sigh.
I laughed – I liked her way of thinking.
“Oh my god, you should totally hold a protest over this!” I said, half-ironically, half-serious.
“Trust me, we’ve written all sorts of letters arguing why this is wrong, but they don’t care,” she replied, resignedly.
This girl belongs to a new breed. A new breed of Chinese students who use gmail and proxies to access (the blocked) Facebook, shop at H&M, watch Gossip Girl, and yes, go to clubs. She is not the only one I’ve met, and I wonder what it is that separates them from the more typical student.
I am at a Korean BBQ restaurant with a mix of Chinese and Australian students. The Chinese girl opposite me is very pretty, slim, and hip. She is doing her masters in international relations and knows how to speak Arabic. I ask her if she finds going out in Beijing expensive.
To give you an illustration of the insane prices of the clubs here:
2.5 kuai ($0.4 Aussie) = price of a big bottle of Tsinghua beer on the street
30 kuai ($5 Aussie) = price of a small bottle of Tsinghua beer in the club
Another illustration:
1400 kuai ($230 Aussie) / month = amount a foreign scholarship student receives for living allowance. And all of us consider this amount “impossible” to live on, and must supplement it with a job or savings.
800 kuai ($130 Aussie) / month = amount a Chinese scholarship student receives for living allowance. And they still manage to SAVE some of this.
But back to the pretty Chinese student. I’m asking her if she finds the clubs in Beijing expensive, as I can only assume these more “international”* Chinese students must be rich, or somewhat well-off.
“Well there are always ladies nights,” she replies with a twinkle in her eyes. “Free entry, and free drinks!”
*As I’ve written previously, I do not consider them to be more “Western”, but more “International”. This is what globalisation (not cultural colonisation) looks like. It’s what happens to the people of a country which was previously closed from the rest of the world – both politically and economically isolated – but now is opening up. At least, so goes my still half-baked theory.
ninemsn
Steven Soderbergh’s “The Girlfriend Experience” is a portrait of an upscale Manhattan call girl called Chelsea, who services her clients with more than just sex; she simulates a romantic relationship, too. The film is less a story, and more an impressionistic sketch of her life, assembled with moments taken from five days in late 2008.
ninemsn
“The Soloist” is based on a series of columns written by “Los Angeles Times” writer Steve Lopez. Set in 2005, with the newspaper business crumbling around him, Lopez (Robert Downey Jr) happens across a homeless man beautifully playing a two-stringed violin.
ninemsn
In a sweet homage to “The Little Mermaid”, Hayao Miyazaki’s latest film is about a little, red goldfish called Ponyo, who falls in love with a human boy.
