An Anniversary

I've been stuck in somewhat of a blogging rut for these past two months, probably because I was directing all my creative energy elsewhere. More on that to come. But today I felt the need to share with you my experience of living in Nanjing on this, of all days. You see, today was the 75th anniversary of the Nanjing Massacre, also known as the Rape of Nanjing.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with what happened today, a brief explanation:

The Nanjing Massacre was perhaps the greatest war atrocity of the Second Sino-Japanese War. On this day in 1937, Japanese soldiers captured the city of Nanjing and proceeded to rape, murder, and mutilate hundreds of thousands of Chinese civilians. As I personally find the details very disturbing, I am not linking any text to the Wikipedia page and instead will leave it to the reader's discretion to search it on his or her own. Anyone with further interest in the Nanjing Massacre can search out Iris Chang's definitive historical account, The Rape of Nanking. 

Tellingly, Chinese people refer to this incident as the 南京大屠杀 Nánjīng Dàtúshā, which, literally translated, means the Nanjing Holocaust. There is a memorial here in the city whose campus may be just as large as Nanjing University proper, further evidence of how large a presence this incident has in the public psyche. Part of the reason I was so worried for my Japanese roommate during the anti-Japanese hysteria over the Diaoyu Islands dispute was because she was a Japanese girl in Nanjing. I was equally worried today. However, judging by her demeanor today, and the demeanor of my three Japanese classmates, there seemed to be nothing to worry about. It was actually very odd.

Every year on December 13th, the city government sounds air raid sirens across the city. I didn't know about this ahead of time, so when the sirens started going off during a break between classes this morning, I was taken by surprise. Growing up in Nebraska, I heard tornado sirens every first Thursday of the month, so when these sirens began, I actually expected to feel a pang of homesickness. But these sirens were different from the ones at home. I don't know how to explain it, maybe it's due to all the WWII movies that make use of the air raid siren motif, but these sirens made me feel afraid. Even though I knew they were commemorative sirens, even though I have had no personal experience being the subject of a military attack, the sound of these sirens made me want to hide and cry. Imagining the fear Nanjingers must have felt at the sight of Japanese troops 75 years ago only made it worse.

I looked around at my classmates as the sirens continued, wondering if any of them were as deeply affected. My Italian classmates were; one was clutching her rosary and had her head bent down in prayer. My Kazakh classmate seemed contemplative at the very least. My Japanese classmates (one elderly gentleman and two girls my age)... continued to chat and joke around even as the sirens were wailing around us. I'm still trying to figure out how I feel about that. My Korean classmates weren't in class today, nor was my Iranian classmate, so I don't know how they felt.

Anyway, since today was such a meaningful day for the city of Nanjing, I knew there would be interesting ceremonies around the city, and wanted to try to find one. Unfortunately, I had class today from 8-4, so I had to wait until it was already dark outside before venturing out.

I decided to go to the Nanjing Massacre Museum, even though I knew it would be closed by the time I got there and even though it had started to rain outside. I had been delaying my visit until after I finished Iris Chang's book myself, but on a day like today I felt compelled to go. 

Oh my goodness that place is huge.

I don't know how to feel about this either

I saw this glowing white statue really far away, so I decided to keep walking towards it, hoping I would see people holding a candlelight vigil or something. Nope. No people, but I did discover the extent of the memorial as I had to walk all the way around it to see her properly. Here she is:

As I made my way back to the "front" of the memorial, I felt disappointed that I hadn't seen anything commemorating the 75th anniversary. No signs, no flowers, not even litter. Where was the evidence of the events I had seen in news releases?

That's when I looked down. Just on the other side of the memorial's barricade fence, someone had tossed a small bouquet of white flowers. It was a very poignant sight.

After contemplating those flowers for a little while, I moved so that I was directly in front of the memorial's main statue. I saw even more flowers at the base of the statue's feet.

The first time I glanced at this statue, I was preoccupied with getting to the lady in white that I had seen earlier, so I didn't stop to look at it too closely. Besides, I thought it was fairly obvious that it was a woman representing the pain the victims endured at the hands of their captors.

This second time, I stared at the statue a little while longer and realized I was only half-right. The woman was representing the pain felt by the city's victims, but she was doing so by holding her slaughtered child in her hands.

Maybe it's because I was taken by surprise (again), but staring at that statue and then suddenly recognizing the shape of an infant in the woman's hands maxed out my emotional responses for the day. I contemplated the statue a little longer, and then I went home.

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in memoriam

Death by Applications

I came here to spend a year finding what exactly I wanted to do with my passion for studying all things China, and to indulge in some serious cultural immersion.

Unfortunately, I was a little too efficient with the former, and now I'm immersed in application essays instead. Seriously. My life is a 24-hour cycle of class, food, class, writing/editing in some café, food, more writing/editing (sometimes in another café), room. I am so thankful to have found an answer about what I want to do with my life, but I will be so glad when my applications have all been completed and I can get back to immersing myself in the world right outside my window.

So close.

(Another) Nobel for China

Well this is awkward.

Today the Nobel Prize for Literature went to Chinese author 管谟业 Guǎn Móyè, who goes by the pen name of 莫言 Mò Yán. This is both awesome and, like I said, somewhat awkward for the CCP. On the one hand, it's an accomplishment to be proud of, as Mo Yan is the first Chinese person to win the prize for literature while still a Chinese citizen. It's an award that validates modern Chinese literature as being able to contribute to the global literary culture. More importantly, at least to China, it signifies the spread of China's cultural influence and prestige to the rest of the world.

China's pride and excitement over the award covered the internet shortly after Mo Yan was announced the winner. Within half an hour of the announcement, Mo Yan's name was mentioned over 30,000 times on 微博 Wēibó (China's version of Twitter). As I check now, another half hour later, the number has climbed to 70,000.

Even the articles published by Chinese newspapers are celebratory in nature, calling on the rest of the country to congratulate Mo Yan for bringing pride to China. For those literate in Chinese, take a look at this op-ed written for the People's Daily shortly after the award was announced. It starts off by congratulating Mo Yan on bringing China its first Nobel Prize for Literature. Then, in a style that seems to criticize China and the West simultaneously, it complains of how China, the land of such a rich literary history, birthplace of Confucius, Lu Xun, and Cao Xueqin, has waited so long for someone to finally receive this award. The article continues to say that finally being able to put a Chinese citizen on the list of recipients is, "comfort, proof and affirmation [of Chinese literature]; moreover, it is a new starting point."

So... why is this awkward?

Remember this, China's first actual Nobel Prize? It's still being categorically denied by the government, and the recipient, Liu Xiaobo, is still locked up. Mentioning the words "Nobel Prize" in China will almost inevitably remind people of this, and the drama that was the Nobel Peace Prize of 2010 (for those who heard about the drama, at least). So every time China celebrates Mo Yan's big accomplishment, it is also tacitly reminding people of two things:
     1. This is the second, not the first, Nobel Prize to go to a Chinese citizen.
     2. The recipient of the first prize is in prison for the very same reason that he won the prize.
In a way, the Committee's decision to award this second Nobel Prize to a Chinese citizen so soon after the Liu Xiaobo controversy could be construed as a subversive maneuver to embarrass the CCP yet again for its policies and treatment towards Mr. Liu. Or at least, I could see the government saying something that inane if it really wanted to. However I think the government is perfectly happy stoking people's national pride and letting all thoughts of Liu Xiaobo be forgotten.

That's the big news of the day. On a more personal level, did you see how I totally read that op-ed in Chinese with minimal-to-substantial help from my online dictionary? I really do love validation. :)

Day Trip

One of the perks of living in Nanjing is that there are high-speed trains to Shanghai leaving every 30 minutes, most of which will get you to the western edge of the city within an hour of boarding the train.  From there, you can catch one of two metro lines that will give you access to the city's expansive metro system, making logistics easy even for the most directionally challenged of us (not that I would ever label any of my friends as directionally challenged).

I took advantage of this perk the other weekend when Barney was in Shanghai taking care of business. I spent the lunch hour and early afternoon wandering Nanjing Street (somewhat like Fifth Avenue, except not really), and then met up with Barney around 2:30. After a brief discussion of our options, we decided to check out this shopping area in Shanghai called 田子坊 tiánzǐfāng. I didn't really take pictures because I was so caught up, but here are some Google Images that might be of interest. It was the coolest shopping area I've ever been to in China. For people familiar with Beijing, it's somewhat of a hybrid between 798 and Nan Lougu Xiang. It had art. It had crafts. It had old-school hipster glasses. It had kitsch. It had jewelry. And oh my goodness did it have food. Barney and I didn't have a lot of time, so we didn't explore as thoroughly as we could have, but from the various cafés, Thai restaurants, and New York pizzerias that I did see, Tianzifang is definitely a place for people craving international cuisine. I guess Shanghai in general is a good place for that too.

Harry Potter and a Chicken

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Sorry for the excessive amount of time that has elapsed since my last post. Applications, Chinese National Holiday, and the world's most fickle internet connection conspired to keep me from doing anything more complicated than reading the home page of the New York Times.

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The evening started off normally enough. I was restless (as usual) and tired of shuffling back and forth between the coffee house and my room every day. In trying to figure out what to do cure my restlessness at least for a while, I realized that I had never finished an old goal of reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone in Chinese. I had intended to bring the book with me to Nanjing to read in my spare time, but somehow it didn't make its way into my suitcase. And suddenly, I really very much needed to have it.

I obviously wasn't going to buy the book again when I had a copy at home, but I couldn't shake the need to read some form of juvenile Western literature in Chinese. The Hunger Games wasn't going to work because it had a bunch of strange words that I didn't want to deal with translating. I know, I know, wingardium leviosa and expecto patronum aren't exactly ordinary either, but to be totally honest I really really want to be able to discuss Harry Potter in Chinese, and what better way to do that than to read the books?

America for Toddlers

Today in our 口语 kǒu yǔ (spoken/colloquial language) class, the teacher asked for student volunteers from Italy, Korea, and the United States to go to a special preschool attached to Nanjing University and give a twenty-minute presentation on our respective countries.

I'll give you three guesses as to who was among the first to volunteer. 

Our assignment is to prepare a power point presentation that will give the young students a gentle introduction to our respective countries. The teacher suggested that we include as many scenic pictures as possible. After we present, the students will ask us questions about our countries that they prepared at home with their parents. I'm so excited. 

The only problem is... I don't know how cautious I need to be when describing America or American culture. For example, would it be acceptable to show a picture of the Statue of Liberty? Or Mount Rushmore, which celebrates our elected leaders? They're both somewhat important to America's image, and easily searchable on Baidu and Weibo, so it shouldn't be a problem to show them. But there's always that uncertainty. 

I wonder what else I should show them. New York, obviously. Washington, D.C. The Florida Wetlands? The Nebraska prairie? The Rockies, of course. The Bay Area. Navy Pier. The pueblos of New Mexico? Do I dare show them pictures of any of our Chinatowns? Maybe some pictures of cowboys... As one might surmise, I'm still in the brainstorming stages. Suggestions from my ever-loyal audience are always welcome. :)

Diaoyu

For those who haven't picked up the news lately, tensions between China and Japan are running pretty high, all due to a collection of rocks in the southern waters of the East China Sea called the Diaoyu, Tiaoyu, and Senkaku Islands by China, Taiwan, and Japan, respectively.

photo courtesy of Wikipedia

The islands themselves are of little importance, but the ocean floor around them is rich in natural resources (read: oil), making ownership of the islands highly desirable. To complicate the issue, the islands have changed hands some five or six times (read a cartoon history here), so both China and Japan have a somewhat legitimate claim to ownership.