Unusually for my ayi, she broke silence on politics long enough to tell me that the whole affair was America's fault, as America always wants to fight, and to poke its nose into the business of others. She described America as 'the world's policeman', and not in a polite sense... She followed this tirade up with telling me emphatically that Scottish is not a nationality. Apparently as Beijing folk should introduce themselves as Chinese first, and then as being from Beijing, so should the Scots introduce themselves as British, then Scottish. My careful explanation that some Scots feel that the word 'British' has connotations they do not like fell on very deaf ears...
My host father meanwhile sat in the corner and muttered something about how the governments of North Korea and of China have quite a lot in common.
Monday, 29 November 2010
Throwing Snowballs at North Korea
This was a trip that started with a snow storm and thunder and lightning so loud I initially thought North Korea had made good on its threats to annihilate the South, and finished hurtling down a motorway back to Dalian as the snow continued to fall on the already covered road.
In other words, the trip to Dandong was pretty good.
Dandong is a small town of perhaps 700,000 people which also just happens to be the closest you can get to North Korea without actually being in it. It faces North Korea across the Yalun river, with a narrow road bridge connecting the two countries, next to the remains of the former road bridge which was bombed accidentally by the Americans during the Korean war. As one of the few links between the two countries, a substantial proportion of trade to North Korea passes through Dandong, lending it quite a bustling feel, and a fine selection of Korean restaurants. There is also a substantial tourist industry more or less devoted to spying on North Korea, as well as a few military bases to do the spying a little more professionally...
Hence, myself and Ellen spent a happy snowy day more or less staring at North Korea. We made tracks in the fresh snow off the Broken Bridge and threw snowballs off the end North Korea-wards, spied through the convenient telescope placed in the window of the coffee shop we breakfasted in, took a boat on the river to see closer still, and listened for the sound of artillery fire from the top of the mountain we climbed up.
North Korea appears in fact to be a little bleak. I'm aware that the snowy landscape, blue grey skies and frozen water may have helped leach the colour from the landscape, but in contrast to the high rises of the Chinese side stood just a few solitary buildings, a folorn ferris wheel looming behind them. The few people we saw mostly looked cold, and were busily unloading packages from rusty boats. Having seen it, it definitely doesn't look like a country ready to live up to belligerent fighting talk.
In other words, the trip to Dandong was pretty good.
Dandong is a small town of perhaps 700,000 people which also just happens to be the closest you can get to North Korea without actually being in it. It faces North Korea across the Yalun river, with a narrow road bridge connecting the two countries, next to the remains of the former road bridge which was bombed accidentally by the Americans during the Korean war. As one of the few links between the two countries, a substantial proportion of trade to North Korea passes through Dandong, lending it quite a bustling feel, and a fine selection of Korean restaurants. There is also a substantial tourist industry more or less devoted to spying on North Korea, as well as a few military bases to do the spying a little more professionally...
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| The two bridges, lit up at night. |
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| The Broken Bridge |
North Korea appears in fact to be a little bleak. I'm aware that the snowy landscape, blue grey skies and frozen water may have helped leach the colour from the landscape, but in contrast to the high rises of the Chinese side stood just a few solitary buildings, a folorn ferris wheel looming behind them. The few people we saw mostly looked cold, and were busily unloading packages from rusty boats. Having seen it, it definitely doesn't look like a country ready to live up to belligerent fighting talk.
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| From the end of the Broken Bridge, looking towards North Korea's ferris wheel |
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| On the left, China and on the right, North Korea |
The other attraction of Dandong was the easternmost section of Great Wall, which was deserted and beautiful amid snow covered mountains, save for the in true Dandong style, turned out to be closer still to North Korea than Dandong proper. Having thrown snowballs off the Great Wall (as you do), we discovered that the North Korean border was just a few metres away, the Yalu river being somewhat more narrow here than at the city. The border was marked with signs declaring 'Just One Step!' and rather more ominous ones telling you not to converse with people on the other side, and beware the barbed wire. Slightly less ominously, much of the barbed wire on the Korean side had fallen down, and it was so tempting just to wade over...
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| The Great Wall leading down the hill |
Tuesday, 23 November 2010
Public Speaking Doom: Part Two
Dear Mercat Tours,
Well, as it turns out, I probably do owe you a debt of thanks. Although you rendered me incapable of NOT attending the speech competition, you are probably also responsible for ensuring I turned in a respectable-ish performance when placed in front of my entire year group and told to speak. People laughed and even did so when I intended them to, and all appeared to understand what I was saying.
I do have a slight bone to pick however: as it turns out, a year working for you also means when faced with a group of people staring at me awkwardly, I start to improvise. This works very well in English, where grammar comes naturally, but produced a few awkward moments in Chinese, as my teacher pointed out that entertaining as watching me attempt to improvise in Chinese was, grammatical it was not. Turns out learning a speech word for word is actually quite a lot of work, and the adrenaline rush off public speaking in a language which is not your native one is quite something.
It was all in all a very Chinese affair. From 8am - midday, we sat in a lecture theatre, listening to students deliver three minute speeches on subjects ranging from 'My Chinese Experience' to 'How to Study Chinese', with varying degrees of success. The only variety was provided by the beginners, who were not trusted to lecture in Chinese, and therefore either sang songs or dressed up as chickens and did a little dance instead, and the occasional performance of particular note (one guy delivered much of his through the medium of song). I didn't really pay a huge amount of attention - prior to my speech I was entirely focused on delivering it, and after delivering it, I almost instantly relaxed into reading Harry Potter in Chinese again...
However, it was definitely an interesting experience, and I now have a red velvety furry certificate thing which states that I attended the 21st Speechmaking Competition of DUT International School, and was placed into the third group within my category.
Yours sincerely,
Hannah Theaker
Well, as it turns out, I probably do owe you a debt of thanks. Although you rendered me incapable of NOT attending the speech competition, you are probably also responsible for ensuring I turned in a respectable-ish performance when placed in front of my entire year group and told to speak. People laughed and even did so when I intended them to, and all appeared to understand what I was saying.
I do have a slight bone to pick however: as it turns out, a year working for you also means when faced with a group of people staring at me awkwardly, I start to improvise. This works very well in English, where grammar comes naturally, but produced a few awkward moments in Chinese, as my teacher pointed out that entertaining as watching me attempt to improvise in Chinese was, grammatical it was not. Turns out learning a speech word for word is actually quite a lot of work, and the adrenaline rush off public speaking in a language which is not your native one is quite something.
It was all in all a very Chinese affair. From 8am - midday, we sat in a lecture theatre, listening to students deliver three minute speeches on subjects ranging from 'My Chinese Experience' to 'How to Study Chinese', with varying degrees of success. The only variety was provided by the beginners, who were not trusted to lecture in Chinese, and therefore either sang songs or dressed up as chickens and did a little dance instead, and the occasional performance of particular note (one guy delivered much of his through the medium of song). I didn't really pay a huge amount of attention - prior to my speech I was entirely focused on delivering it, and after delivering it, I almost instantly relaxed into reading Harry Potter in Chinese again...
However, it was definitely an interesting experience, and I now have a red velvety furry certificate thing which states that I attended the 21st Speechmaking Competition of DUT International School, and was placed into the third group within my category.
Yours sincerely,
Hannah Theaker
Thursday, 18 November 2010
Soundtracks
Most shops in China appear to believe that blasting out the lastest hits via loudspeaker onto the street is an infallible way of attracting custom. Sadly, the definition of 'latest hits' is sometimes a little off. In China, Blue, Aqua and Westlife still reign supreme, whilst the young and hip kids are often just discovering Greenday. The Chinese charts are full of anaemic pretty boys, who could give the likes of James Blunt, or Will Young a run for their money, but who do provide employment for several armies of backing dancers. The alternative often tends to be dodgy hiphop, or worse still ethnic pop, which tends to feature either Tibetans or Mongolians singing pop songs faintly based on traditional tunes and/or the praises of the motherland. The youth are given martial brass bands to march to, whilst the tigers of Dalian zoo were regaled with a saccharine arrangement of My Heart Will Go O, all day long - surely a fitting accompaniment to the practice of selling tourists live chickens to toss down to them.
Solace has been found however. Say what you will, but my local Starbucks plays Jan Gabarek. I may have to go there more often, simply to relax surrounded by spaced out saxophone for a change.
On an entirely more sinister note, in Sichuan I did walk into a deserted underground supermarket with flickering lights to find that their piped music of choice was none other than Nick Cave... I fled that place, very fast.
PS I would like to state that I have faith there is a more interesting Chinese music scene out there, and the little knowledge I do possess is entirely superficial. Its just that I have not yet encountered it. There has got to be one. Recommendations greatly appreciated.
Solace has been found however. Say what you will, but my local Starbucks plays Jan Gabarek. I may have to go there more often, simply to relax surrounded by spaced out saxophone for a change.
On an entirely more sinister note, in Sichuan I did walk into a deserted underground supermarket with flickering lights to find that their piped music of choice was none other than Nick Cave... I fled that place, very fast.
PS I would like to state that I have faith there is a more interesting Chinese music scene out there, and the little knowledge I do possess is entirely superficial. Its just that I have not yet encountered it. There has got to be one. Recommendations greatly appreciated.
Wednesday, 17 November 2010
Autumn in Dalian
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| The church of KFC |
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| Giant random saxophone |
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| The black building is part of my university, the others I believe are student dorms. In standard Chinese original naming protocol, the big back building is called 'Big Black Building' |
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| North Mountain, to the north of DUT |
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| Near the military university that I climbed into (as the guard watched), having gone a little off the path up North Mountain. |
What Chinese Students Do For Fun
In Britain, it is probably a rule of thumb that the greater the density of coffee shops and pubs, the closer you are likely to be to a university. Certainly, the streets surrounding Edinburgh University are crammed full of coffee shops, pubs, bars, vintage and charity shops and would probably scream student even without the actual students who populate them.
Conversely, Dalian University of Technology is probably located by the number of cheap food outlets which cluster the nearby streets (so like almost anywhere else in China, then), and ultimately by the sign on the entrance to campus saying 'Dalian University of Technology'. There are admittedly two coffee shops, but these exist more or less solely for the amusement of the foreign student population, but there is not a bar for miles. The student supermarket says it all really - it contains one solitary shelf of wine thickly covered in dust, which proved on closer testing to be not so much wine as an unsual kind of vinegar.
As a result, I've been wondering for a while what exactly Chinese students do to amuse themselves. The answer appears to be 'not much'. They live in dorms, which from my experience of Chinese student dorms are likely to hold 4-6 students to a room, and come minus facilities such as hot water. Unlike Edinburgh where a mulitude of student societies vie for your attention, the only ones here are either solidly career enhancing, government endorsed, or purely for the glorification of our fine university (ie sports societies to compete in intra-university matches - but only those who will actually compete at that level may join). Our campus at night is filled with a selection of very shy hand holding young Chinese couples, escaping their dorms for something approaching privacy, but otherwise Chinese university life appears to continue where school left off - an endless round of classes, exams and studying, alleviated only by the occasional game of ping pong.
There are of course exceptions - students who do party and do go out, but the majority are a little like my friend Koko, who reacted with shock when I suggested I liked going to bars, and for who the concept of going out was a little alien. Hence why turning up to the inaugural meeting of the Graduate Student English Society proved a little interesting...
They were trying so hard. However, we were a little surprised to be the only foreigners in the room, and a little surprised when they all spontaneously applauded our entrance. Then followed the introductions of the committee (including a 'Minister for Propaganda', who declared his hobbies to be making friends and speaking English), and the President sang us all a song. We then each had to introduce ourselves, by the end of which I wished to track down and murder whichever English teacher had rendered these students incapable of speaking anything but the purest cliche. Given there were probably 40 people or so in the room, this took some time. I did quite take to the guy who stood up and declared his favourite film to be The Big Lebowski, but couldn't quite restrain myself when a different guy claimed he understood British teenagers from his detailed watching of Skins.
Things did improve, as we moved on to free conversation, which more or less meant I was interrogated for an hour over anything they could find the English to formulate. However, I was left unable to believe I was sitting in a room of 23 yr olds. The whole thing had the atmosphere of a slightly unfortunate children's birthday party, where everyone wants to have fun, but nobody has ever met before. The adults are desperately trying to encourage the children to go on, and make friends, but they haven't quite worked out how to start going about it....
On the plus side, having escaped, I think I may finally have found some Chinese people willing to play ping pong against me.
Conversely, Dalian University of Technology is probably located by the number of cheap food outlets which cluster the nearby streets (so like almost anywhere else in China, then), and ultimately by the sign on the entrance to campus saying 'Dalian University of Technology'. There are admittedly two coffee shops, but these exist more or less solely for the amusement of the foreign student population, but there is not a bar for miles. The student supermarket says it all really - it contains one solitary shelf of wine thickly covered in dust, which proved on closer testing to be not so much wine as an unsual kind of vinegar.
As a result, I've been wondering for a while what exactly Chinese students do to amuse themselves. The answer appears to be 'not much'. They live in dorms, which from my experience of Chinese student dorms are likely to hold 4-6 students to a room, and come minus facilities such as hot water. Unlike Edinburgh where a mulitude of student societies vie for your attention, the only ones here are either solidly career enhancing, government endorsed, or purely for the glorification of our fine university (ie sports societies to compete in intra-university matches - but only those who will actually compete at that level may join). Our campus at night is filled with a selection of very shy hand holding young Chinese couples, escaping their dorms for something approaching privacy, but otherwise Chinese university life appears to continue where school left off - an endless round of classes, exams and studying, alleviated only by the occasional game of ping pong.
There are of course exceptions - students who do party and do go out, but the majority are a little like my friend Koko, who reacted with shock when I suggested I liked going to bars, and for who the concept of going out was a little alien. Hence why turning up to the inaugural meeting of the Graduate Student English Society proved a little interesting...
They were trying so hard. However, we were a little surprised to be the only foreigners in the room, and a little surprised when they all spontaneously applauded our entrance. Then followed the introductions of the committee (including a 'Minister for Propaganda', who declared his hobbies to be making friends and speaking English), and the President sang us all a song. We then each had to introduce ourselves, by the end of which I wished to track down and murder whichever English teacher had rendered these students incapable of speaking anything but the purest cliche. Given there were probably 40 people or so in the room, this took some time. I did quite take to the guy who stood up and declared his favourite film to be The Big Lebowski, but couldn't quite restrain myself when a different guy claimed he understood British teenagers from his detailed watching of Skins.
Things did improve, as we moved on to free conversation, which more or less meant I was interrogated for an hour over anything they could find the English to formulate. However, I was left unable to believe I was sitting in a room of 23 yr olds. The whole thing had the atmosphere of a slightly unfortunate children's birthday party, where everyone wants to have fun, but nobody has ever met before. The adults are desperately trying to encourage the children to go on, and make friends, but they haven't quite worked out how to start going about it....
On the plus side, having escaped, I think I may finally have found some Chinese people willing to play ping pong against me.
Thursday, 11 November 2010
Public Speaking Doom
Dear Mercat Tours,
Thankyou so very very much for what you have done to my life. Believe me I enjoyed almost every minute of my time guiding tourists through the dark narrow and winding streets of Edinburgh, and being effectively paid for raising my eyebrows at people - well, I still don't quite know how to thank you. There are times when the ability to tell stories comes in very useful (elephant houses in India), and a good ghost story never goes amiss, and I was genuinely sorry to miss another Mercat Halloween.
However, at the same time, do you realise what exactly you did to me?
It is no longer possible for me NOT to public speak. Present me with an audience of willing victims, a degree of silence, and lo and behold, my mouth opens, and words start to come out. Sometimes, they don't make much sense, but they will be accompanied by the occasional smile, inflection, eyebrow raises and the odd sinister roll of the eyes (old habits die hard). Even, as it turns out, when speaking Chinese.
As a result, I am now signed up to compete in some ' university speech competition', and am required to memorize much Chinese, to deliver to my entire school, and some Chinese people, who can actually speak Chinese, and therefore will understand how poor my Chinese pronounciation is, whilst wearing formal dress at 8 am on a Friday morning. This is despite the presence of people in my class who speak MUCH better Chinese, with MUCH better grammar and pronounciation, but without looking anyone in the eye.
So thankyou, Mercat. Thankyou. But for once, it would have been really nice to mumble incoherently, and have been allowed to retreat gracefully. Alas, it was not to be.
Yours sincerely
Hannah
PS I merely take comfort in knowing I am not the only one who will go through this ordeal. Two students from each class have been selected, including several other Edinburgh ones...
Thankyou so very very much for what you have done to my life. Believe me I enjoyed almost every minute of my time guiding tourists through the dark narrow and winding streets of Edinburgh, and being effectively paid for raising my eyebrows at people - well, I still don't quite know how to thank you. There are times when the ability to tell stories comes in very useful (elephant houses in India), and a good ghost story never goes amiss, and I was genuinely sorry to miss another Mercat Halloween.
However, at the same time, do you realise what exactly you did to me?
It is no longer possible for me NOT to public speak. Present me with an audience of willing victims, a degree of silence, and lo and behold, my mouth opens, and words start to come out. Sometimes, they don't make much sense, but they will be accompanied by the occasional smile, inflection, eyebrow raises and the odd sinister roll of the eyes (old habits die hard). Even, as it turns out, when speaking Chinese.
As a result, I am now signed up to compete in some ' university speech competition', and am required to memorize much Chinese, to deliver to my entire school, and some Chinese people, who can actually speak Chinese, and therefore will understand how poor my Chinese pronounciation is, whilst wearing formal dress at 8 am on a Friday morning. This is despite the presence of people in my class who speak MUCH better Chinese, with MUCH better grammar and pronounciation, but without looking anyone in the eye.
So thankyou, Mercat. Thankyou. But for once, it would have been really nice to mumble incoherently, and have been allowed to retreat gracefully. Alas, it was not to be.
Yours sincerely
Hannah
PS I merely take comfort in knowing I am not the only one who will go through this ordeal. Two students from each class have been selected, including several other Edinburgh ones...
Saturday, 6 November 2010
The Year of the Cabbage
Cabbages have arrived in Dalian, and they have done so in style.
As it turns out, it is not just my ayi who is currently hoarding cabbages. The entirety of Dalian appears to be doing so. There are cabbages in our hallway, cabbages on the stairs, cabbages that line the pavements outside, and cabbages that are stuffed into the grilles covering the windows of all the first floor flats. I feel sorry for the people living in those flats. It must be like looking out on a triffid invasion, cabbage style... All you would see is that green pressed up against the window and looking desperately for a way in, the sunlight now barely penetrating through the massed leaves...
There were people yesterday outside with a huge cauldron, making cabbage pickle, and rumours persist of people who come in the night and bury cabbages in trenches for some arcane purpose (heard from the ayi of a friend). And yet still, every day there are more cabbages.
In other news, I met my host father's elder sister. In true ayi style, her first words in my presence were 'She's pretty, but too thin. Are you feeding her enough?', and was somewhat taken aback when I answered 'Yes, I am definitely fed enough, I'm getting fat', and then asked my ayi (instead of me) 'Does she speak Chinese?'. They proceeded to discuss me, in front of me, despite my ayi going on to say 'Yes, she understands almost every word we say'.
As it turns out, it is not just my ayi who is currently hoarding cabbages. The entirety of Dalian appears to be doing so. There are cabbages in our hallway, cabbages on the stairs, cabbages that line the pavements outside, and cabbages that are stuffed into the grilles covering the windows of all the first floor flats. I feel sorry for the people living in those flats. It must be like looking out on a triffid invasion, cabbage style... All you would see is that green pressed up against the window and looking desperately for a way in, the sunlight now barely penetrating through the massed leaves...
There were people yesterday outside with a huge cauldron, making cabbage pickle, and rumours persist of people who come in the night and bury cabbages in trenches for some arcane purpose (heard from the ayi of a friend). And yet still, every day there are more cabbages.
In other news, I met my host father's elder sister. In true ayi style, her first words in my presence were 'She's pretty, but too thin. Are you feeding her enough?', and was somewhat taken aback when I answered 'Yes, I am definitely fed enough, I'm getting fat', and then asked my ayi (instead of me) 'Does she speak Chinese?'. They proceeded to discuss me, in front of me, despite my ayi going on to say 'Yes, she understands almost every word we say'.
Thursday, 4 November 2010
A Brief Guide to Dealing with a Chinese Ayi
As myself and classmates are finding out to our cost, Chinese ayis can be fearsome, fearsome beasts. In my limited experience, Chinese families appear to be matriarchal in the extreme. Somehow, once sweet, youthful Chinese girls are transformed into tyrants intent on managing every aspect of life they possibly can...
However, as they are not without their weaknesses, they can be managed fairly easily with appropriate care. Hence follows my brief guide to survival of being mothered, Chinese style:
1. Accept that no matter how old you are, in her eyes, you shall always be a rebellious 14 year old.
2. As such, enjoy comments along the lines of 'You must wear slippers in the house! If you don't wear shoes, you will get cold feet, which cause diarrhoea.' or 'Westerners don't know how to cook.' Do not try to argue, merely accept, and chuckle.
3. Pander to their authority. Most ayis, if you accept the lecture, but then in fact do not do as told, will not comment overmuch. They appear to prefer the illusion of complete authority...
4. Similarly, do not question their actions. Should your ayi decide that now is the time to stock up on cabbages for the winter, and subsequently fill the entire hallway with cabbages and the smell of cabbages, do not ask such questions as 'How are three people going to eat enough cabbages for a small army of rabbits, even if the winter should be cold enough that they don't rot?'
5. Tiresome as it is, they are merely concerned about you.
6. Pick battles wisely. Wearing slippers in the house is a small price to pay for being able to return at 3am and NOT be greeted by the face of a disapproving ayi, muttering dire threats about 'people who have fun'. However, the idea that food can be made 'Western' by the addition of sweet mayonnaise is to be contested no matter what.
7. Start claiming you are full as soon as chopsticks touch rice. If you delay even a moment, you will find yourself consuming as much food as can physically be forced down your gullet, and then some.
8. Ayis like to hear of their charges doing well. Report good exam results, or claim to have put on weight, and watch the grin spread over her face... This will shortly be followed by an exhortation to do even better next time, or an exclamation that you are still far too thin, but she will be so pleased you are trying that she might briefly forget to manage your life.
9. Ayis are deep down - albeit very deep down - sensitive creatures.There is as yet little hard evidence for this, but research is ongoing.
10. Yes, she will insist on showing your messy room off to all her guests, just so she can find support in the ongoing battle to get you to tidy it to her standards.
11. Flattery works.
12. Failing flattery, as with most tyrannical regimes, passive resistance can be effective.
All this stated, I am reluctantly quite fond of my ayi. She brings much amusement to my life, and I have never met anyone so enthusiastic to do other people's washing, despite my best attempts to tell her I can and will do it myself. Myself and my host father collude in agreeing with her whilst she is in, and discussing politics whilst she is not - we have now covered more or less every taboo topic in Chinese politics, and I have done my best to explain the state of British politics, the Reformation, cricket and Guy Fawkes to him, with varying degrees of success.
However, as they are not without their weaknesses, they can be managed fairly easily with appropriate care. Hence follows my brief guide to survival of being mothered, Chinese style:
1. Accept that no matter how old you are, in her eyes, you shall always be a rebellious 14 year old.
2. As such, enjoy comments along the lines of 'You must wear slippers in the house! If you don't wear shoes, you will get cold feet, which cause diarrhoea.' or 'Westerners don't know how to cook.' Do not try to argue, merely accept, and chuckle.
3. Pander to their authority. Most ayis, if you accept the lecture, but then in fact do not do as told, will not comment overmuch. They appear to prefer the illusion of complete authority...
4. Similarly, do not question their actions. Should your ayi decide that now is the time to stock up on cabbages for the winter, and subsequently fill the entire hallway with cabbages and the smell of cabbages, do not ask such questions as 'How are three people going to eat enough cabbages for a small army of rabbits, even if the winter should be cold enough that they don't rot?'
5. Tiresome as it is, they are merely concerned about you.
6. Pick battles wisely. Wearing slippers in the house is a small price to pay for being able to return at 3am and NOT be greeted by the face of a disapproving ayi, muttering dire threats about 'people who have fun'. However, the idea that food can be made 'Western' by the addition of sweet mayonnaise is to be contested no matter what.
7. Start claiming you are full as soon as chopsticks touch rice. If you delay even a moment, you will find yourself consuming as much food as can physically be forced down your gullet, and then some.
8. Ayis like to hear of their charges doing well. Report good exam results, or claim to have put on weight, and watch the grin spread over her face... This will shortly be followed by an exhortation to do even better next time, or an exclamation that you are still far too thin, but she will be so pleased you are trying that she might briefly forget to manage your life.
9. Ayis are deep down - albeit very deep down - sensitive creatures.There is as yet little hard evidence for this, but research is ongoing.
10. Yes, she will insist on showing your messy room off to all her guests, just so she can find support in the ongoing battle to get you to tidy it to her standards.
11. Flattery works.
12. Failing flattery, as with most tyrannical regimes, passive resistance can be effective.
All this stated, I am reluctantly quite fond of my ayi. She brings much amusement to my life, and I have never met anyone so enthusiastic to do other people's washing, despite my best attempts to tell her I can and will do it myself. Myself and my host father collude in agreeing with her whilst she is in, and discussing politics whilst she is not - we have now covered more or less every taboo topic in Chinese politics, and I have done my best to explain the state of British politics, the Reformation, cricket and Guy Fawkes to him, with varying degrees of success.
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