Google.cn To Cease Censorship

According to the Huffington Post in an article posted at 6:10PM today, Google is no longer going to censor its search results in China. As an American who spent the last four months studying in Beijing, all I have to say is what did you expect? The Google office happened to be right outside Tsinghua University in the science and technology park along with other companies like Microsoft. The logo was visible from some of my favorite street food vendors, but soon enough, that familiar logo could be gone reminding students studying at Tsinghua just how far away from home they are.

Using Google was frustrating even in the foreign student dorms where many of your search results might have been censored by the government. Luckily, I was capable of checking my Gmail account but on top of not having full Google access, this website, blogger.com had been blocked. One of the courses I took at Tsinghua University characterized the mission of the government: to maintain order while technologically gentrifying China's communication infrastructure. This is something China is going to have to do on its own. While it made sense at one time for American companies to pursue ventures in Chinese markets, it seems likely that both would benefit from ceasing their relationship in instances like this one.

Doing business in China can be frustrating for foreign companies like Google who have to satisfy the ever changing standards of the Chinese government. Most companies in the United States pride themselves on keeping their customer records confidential and out of reach of the government. This is not the case in China where governments monitor all Internet activity. Government control varies from banning particular words, like the character for "harmony," to the complete ban on websites like Youtube, or Facebook, or Blogger, and maybe in the near future Google.

The Chinese market will work itself out better than Google can. If Google pulls out, it's not the end of the world. It's just another website that's blocked by the Chinese government. In this case the invisible hand of the market is replaced by the iron fist of the party and until the situation changes companies like Google won't succeed in the Middle Kingdom. Is it wrong? Maybe, but what are the alternatives?

Reflections on a Post-Olypmic Beijing

I effectively sabotaged my quest for fortune and glory in Beijing. After my visit to the hospital I was a little less adventurous in China, sticking to the things that I would have done at home. I confined myself to mainly Western areas of Beijing with my foreign student friends, and my main concern was going out to bars in the evenings. As the national day vacation ended and Halloween approached, I got homesick. All I could think about was thanksgiving dinner, Christmas dinner, James Bond marathons on television, football and sitting on my living room couch with my family, blanketed in silence and sipping egg nog. I came to the conclusion that I would work in Beijing or Shanghai if I could find a job that led to a career path, but I no longer wanted to stay in China to teach English. I didn't see how I could get anything out of teaching English in China. I returned to the United States and wondered how China measured up to the mythical country it was in my imagination.

I think China is somewhat of a mirage for Westerners. It's comparative in size to the United States with five times the population. The longer I was there, the more I felt like I was satisfying some sick obsession with having an international experience. I setup barriers for myself constantly reinforcing the mindset that I was in an exotic land. One of the barriers that reminded me I was in a foreign country was the curious form of English written everywhere. Coincidently, the Chinese have embraced English far more than we have embraced Chinese but, there are problems. China’s brand of English that’s written on the signs throughout the country is its own. It's riddled with grammatical errors because the signs are translated literally rather than conveying the message in English. This is confusing to see, because sentences are not structured the same in Mandarin. The forms of English I saw on signs throughout China were not what I would have expected in a post-Olympic Beijing.

The Olympic Games are one of the oldest traditions of the Western world and they defined the ancient world's relationship with outsiders. The popularity of the games has exploded in the modern world and its ability to traverse cultural and political boundaries is exceptional. Being host to the games is recognized as an honor by most of the world, and the people of China are proud to remind you of the summer of 2008 when all eyes were on Beijing. Cab drivers point out the Bird's Nest and the Water Cube when you drive by. The people are friendly despite the extra attention you might get as a foreigner. Granted, there are more, and maybe the percentage of people who are friendly seems less because of the lack of personal space, but it was a great experience spending an hour in a cab conversing with the driver who was eager to teach me Mandarin and to hear what I liked about China. The doctors at the Tsinghua hospital were helpful as well, and had I not been afraid of needles, I probably could have finished my treatment at the University and gone home the night I caught dysentery. I was glad to confront my most crippling fear in an environment so far removed from my home. I was also glad it was with friends I’d only met a month before.

The sites we visited exposed how vast the differences are throughout China. I was extremely pleased to see Inner Mongolia, Chengde, Shanghai, Xi’an, and all the historical landmarks I saw with my classmates. It allowed me to put the history of China in perspective with that of the rest of the world. Though the Terracotta Soldiers, the Great Wall, Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City inspire completely different reactions, they are all powerful landmarks. Visiting them and understanding the context of the 60^th National Day of the People’s Republic of China allowed me to understand the current state of China since it opened itself to the United States in the 1970s. I look forward to following its political and social changes throughout the course of my professional life.

I will miss some of the food tremendously. Peking Duck and dumplings are on my list of things to find in New York so long as they compare to the quality of China's. I've already found a KTV in Brooklyn, but I might stay away from those until I can continue that challenge of uncovering the Texas girl's accent. I will also miss eating lamb off of a skewer when I don’t need much to eat but I’m looking for a late night snack. It took my body a while to adjust to the food but, I have learned to appreciate most of it. Rice may become a staple of my diet and I might even have to buy a set of chopsticks to show off the skills I honed in Beijing.

I plan to return to Beijing in the future, after I’ve made an honest attempt at the professional world and after I've seen as much of America as I've seen of China. I hope that I can show friends around some of the places I’ve been, and recall the stories from the most memorable semester of my life. I didn’t quite find the fortune and glory I set out looking for, but I am grateful for the experience, and I would recommend it to anyone who already had the idea of going. Maybe I can find that fortune and glory somewhere in the United States. Future travel plans coming sooner than later hopefully.

National Day Week Part II

The cab driver took his time while I struggled to maintain an upright posture and not to upset my stomach. After a 20-minute car ride we find the hospital on campus. They’re only accepting emergencies and I’m feeling confident my case qualifies. I have to have my temperature taken to screen for swine flu and lie down on a series of three chairs while I wait for my friends to usher me towards the next room. I’m hungry, my stomach aches, and I’m extremely exhausted. When Wendy and Derek came to my room to help me to the hospital I’d already lost approximately eight pounds and it showed. I was also pale and I couldn’t speak at a normal volume. I looked like hell. I was glad to finally be at the hospital.

The doctor and his staff spoke no English. Lucky for me the abroad program had grown in popularity over the years and in the current program, almost half of the people were intermediate Chinese speakers. Without them, it would have been very difficult for me to get treatment. The doctor hands me a cup the size of a thimble and explains that I’m supposed to give him a stool sample. I was puzzled. I looked at his face hoping to find out if he had a sense of humor but he just looked right back at me. The next step was delivering the sample to the lab, and a finger prick. Needle number one, commencing.

If you have a fear of needles as bad as mine, it doesn’t matter how simple the blood test, you’re going to panic. I lay across three chairs immediately after the prick as Wendy and Derek look on with pity. I start cracking jokes so they don’t get uncomfortable and it turns out losing your sense of humor isn’t a symptom of whatever it is that I have. I have to carry the results downstairs and back to the good doctor to hear the news. Wendy and Derek hold me up as I walk down the hall, dragging my feet.

I walk in to the doctor’s office and take the initiative to lie down on the examination bed in the corner. Everything feels better when you’re lying down. Wendy translates for the doctor telling me I have some sort of bacterial infection from ingesting something contaminated. Three cheers from the guy on the slab. I’ve had my first food poisoning experience in a country where I can’t talk to the doctors. I’ve already decided I will never eat bar food again, nor will I drink anything that isn’t bottled and opened in front of me. I ask Wendy to ask the doctor if I can have an IV, despite its obvious consequences. I had not been able to eat food in about 24 hours and I knew that an IV would make me feel better. Besides, once the needle was in me, I wouldn’t have a problem with it, it’s only the application, and removal that bothers me.

The doctor explains to her that they don’t like to give foreigners IVs; foreigners typically don’t react well to the needles. Some of them even pass out. I try to explain to the doctor that I’m one of them; that I will pass out, but as long as I lie down, I should be fine. I was incredibly weak, and I was begging for a needle, for the first time in my life. The doctor is skeptical but arranges for an IV. They sit me in a chair, some crude device meant to hold IVs in a room full of crude devices. It was like something out of a horror movie or a Playstation game. Another friend of mine has arrived; a Chinese student at Tsinghua. We explain the situation to him. The nurse preps my arm while Wendy, Derek and Kevin are massaging my shoulders and holding my hand to try and relax me. I close my eyes and turn my head as she puts the needle in. I start to squirm but I’m weak. I rub my feet together and let out a low moan. It’s hard to breathe but I’ll be fine. In ten minutes I decide I can no longer sit in the chair, but that I have to lie down. Everyone agrees. I’ve gotten pale and they don’t want to see me fall out of the chair.

I tell everyone, “lets move to a bed,” and the nurse agrees to lead me. Everyone is standing and talking to the nurse. I stand up to make the move and immediately black out. I regain consciousness and I’m back in the chair with a horrible ringing in my ears. Everything is black, and everyone in the room is saying my name trying to wake me. I feel bad about collapsing immediately so I ask if everyone is alright. My eyes are open and everything’s fine but the IV is no longer in me. It was pulled out of my arm when I collapsed. The doctor and the nurse argue. Wendy says the nurse asked indignantly, “why would you give him a needle if you knew this would happen,” and the doctor responded, “why did you listen to me?” It’s all very funny but the Tsinghua hospital decided to send me elsewhere. The only other place I can go is the International SOS where they speak English and charge a lot more for treatment.

The SOS looks a lot like what you would expect of an international hospital; a nice desk, English speaking staff, and a lot of logos everywhere. Derek and Wendy fill out my paperwork while I go to the restroom. When I get out they have a room set up for me. There’s a bed, a closet, a scale, a sink with soap and some pajamas for me if I want to get more comfortable. There’s even a standard toilet as opposed to a squatter in the bathroom. The doctor comes in wearing blue scrubs and a thick pair of glasses. I check out his nametag immediately, Bill Zhang. I’m already feeling better but I want the IV in me again.

Doctor Bill asks me about the situation and I explain it, stressing the importance of the IV and he agrees with me. He also says he’d like to do a blood test to find out more about my white blood cell count and what it is that I have. I can’t wait. He explains the IV process: two bottles of antibiotic and 4 bottles of hydrating liquid, one of which contains glucose. I’m already lying down now so there’s less of a chance that I’ll faint, but for anyone keeping track, I’m on at least four needles total by the end of the evening. It was a big day for me. The IV goes in to my hand and I’m good to go. I’m breathing as deep and loud as I can, trying not to upset the nurse. I tell her she’s doing a wonderful job and I’m glad to be here but I’m on the verge of blacking out. My feet are nervously moving up and down as I try to forget the needle in my hand.

At around 10:30PM, the nurse brings out her blood taking kit. This one might be a little rough. Instead of coming from my finger, or the IV bag, this blood is coming from the inside of the elbow, and it’s going to hurt. She puts the rubber band around my arm to expose my vein and I’m already losing my cool. She struggles to find my vein and I feel every second of it. The pain actually distracts me from the feeling of wooziness I normally experience when I get a shot. It is however much more painful than usual. It’s over within minutes and I’ve got a band-aid on my arm to stop the bleeding. I’m still not quite okay yet and my feet are moving nervously at the end of the bed. The doctor comes back with the results.

My white blood cell count was 20 when it should have been between eight and ten, and I have dysentery. Groovy. The doctor recommends I stay overnight and that I continue with the IV treatment. I agree and I send my friends home. They come back in the morning for my next blood test. It’ll be taken from the same spot, on the other arm. The IV is out and I feel much better. My white blood cell count dropped to about six and I can expect to be better within a week using the proper medication. The moral of the story is: don’t drink the water, unless it’s bottled, or boiled. Why do you think tea is so popular in China?

National Day Week

One of the more noticeable differences for anyone from the West going to China exposes itself when you go out to eat. This won’t happen at some of the more Western places, but it will happen once in a while; you'll be required to pay for your meal up front. Typically the prices are modest. The exchange rate is a favorable U.S. $1: China’s 6.67RMB approximately, and a meal can be very cheap; anywhere from 10 kuai for a full meal to 50 kuai for a lower end, fast food style restaurant. The meals are big. For a grand total of 35 kuai you can get a very full meal including all kinds of fruits, vegetables, rice, meats and a few sodas at the upstairs restaurant in the dining hall on campus. Sometimes, you’ll be required to pay before; sometimes they won’t charge you until after. It can be difficult to judge when they’re going to charge you before based on the restaurant.

After having a meal at the upstairs restaurant in the dining hall, the group of us who stayed behind for national day break decided to go to Wudaokou’s bar street to play pool. I was still a little hungry so I ordered a plate of french fries and a water. After finishing the fries, we played foosball and pool. It was a good time to meet other Americans who weren’t part of a large program. We were from all different parts of the country: Illinois, New York, and Texas. I sipped my water while asking the Texas girl some questions hoping to hear a little bit of her southern accent slip out in the answer. The water was quite cool compared to usual, almost refreshing. No luck on eliciting the accent.

After a beer or two we decided to rent out a Karaoke Television room (KTV). I’d done this on the travelling seminar with people from the Syracuse program, but this time we went with a few native Beijingers and the kids down the hall. KTV is a huge draw in China. There are more KTV sites than probably any recreational activity in the big cities, and they are very popular among the young. How it works is pretty obvious, a group of people rents out a room of an appropriate size, and orders drinks while they sing some of their favorite Chinese, Korean, Japanese, or Western songs. This was our final stop of the evening and we were all very excited for it. I sing only Western songs because the other songs' lyrics come up as Chinese characters and my ability to read them is limited.

It was past midnight before anyone noticed and I was on my fourth trip to the restroom. My stomach aches a lot and I lay off the drinking. After I get back to the room, I lay down on the couch until everyone is ready to head back for the evening. Roughly 45 minutes later everyone starts gathering money to pay for the evening’s indulgences and we get cabs back. I took my bike down to Wudaokou but in my state riding back is not an option. I use the restroom one final time at the KTV and begin to suspect that something is not right with me.

The elevator stops on nearly every floor and I'm trying not to let anyone see that I'm sweating. I get flashes of 28 Days Later and Zombies and wonder when I'm going to turn. I can only hope I can make it to my room before someone gets nervous and decides to put me down. We stop on nine and I rush to my room while my stomach gets violently worse with every step. At this point I’m beginning to break a sweat and I’m feeling a bit dehydrated. I have a bottle of water on my desk that I start to down quickly. Within minutes that water is coming back up and I have to use the restroom again. Something is very much wrong with me.

I lie down on my bed and try to rest. Every half hour I’m back up and into the restroom. Without going into too many of the details, what I had was something like dysentery. I would suffer an entire day of these symptoms in which I could not eat or drink anything without it being forced back out of me. I'm miserable, I'm in pain and I'm homesick. At six o’clock in the evening I look emaciated and head to the Tsinghua University Hospital with some friends for a truly valuable cultural experience. I'm hungry and dehydrated, eager for an IV.

National Day

I woke up late on October 1^st after making plans with Derek to go to Tiananmen Square early in the morning. Derek knocked on my door at around 1:00PM asking me if he could borrow my camera. I gave him my camera and told him to get some good shots for national day. He pointed down the hall at the service person standing by the window, letting me know that there was one on each floor preventing students from getting too close to the window, or from looking out onto the campus. Derek was determined to get shots. He asked the service person if he could take pictures but she declined. He asked her why, maybe expecting a detailed answer straight from the head of the party. The little woman smiled and laughed as he snuck pictures from down the hall and insisted that we stop taking pictures.

He told me I should be ready to go by 2:00PM. I wanted to shower, which meant I would have to take a cold shower because hot water was only turned on from 7-9 in the morning, 3-5 in the evening, and 8-12 midnight. Derek, Derek’s friend, and I from Tsinghua left around 2:00PM to take our bikes to Tiananmen Square. The ride was an hour and a half long, but nothing a spry 24 old man couldn’t handle. We spent the ride in conversation about China and its relationship with Taiwan. I didn’t really know enough to take a stance but it seemed like an awkward issue for international relations for even the most well informed people, let alone undergraduate students.

Since I’d slept too late to try and make it to the parade, I turned on the television to watch some of it. What I saw was awesome. The sheer amount of people involved in the parade, all moving at the same pace, and the image of the tanks was powerful. The CCP was making a statement about their authority, and it was very convincing. Hu Jintao overlooked the parade with a cautious smile on his face. As we got closer to Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City, there were sectors blocked off. Cops had created a perimeter and they weren’t allowing anyone in. We found a small restaurant in an alley and sat down to eat.

We found our way to a bike rack right outside of one of the police blockades and parked our bikes. Our next objective was clear: penetrate the blockade to get closer to the Forbidden City. Derek had a military background, which meant he knew how to go on a reconnaissance mission. We took several laps back and forth noticing the holes in the blockade. There were two. They were not stationary. We saw a Chinese man try to go through one of the weak points only to get mildly choked by a guard and thrown back outside the perimeter. I wasn’t willing to sneak in if that was going to be the penalty. I would be willing to sneak by police if it meant getting thrown out physically, but the choking looked a bit harsh. The guards stepped aside for a bus to pass through and closed off the blockade. We then realized how we could get in.

Sitting on the bus Derek, his friend, and I were glad we decided to come down. We were dropped off just outside of the Forbidden City on what I think was the southeast corner. There was a designated area for people to stand that wasn’t crowded at all. The fireworks were scheduled to start at 8:00PM and we had a half hour to kill. I went across the street to buy an ice cream before coming back to our spot and enjoying the atmosphere. It didn’t feel much different from going to a concert at some outdoor venue in upstate New York. People were friendly, there were lots of cameras, and security was trying to maintain order. Some of the security guards congregated across the street pointing and laughing. If it was a serious event, it certainly didn’t feel like it. The people of China, party members or not, were taking pride in their country tonight. Ten minutes before the fireworks were scheduled to begin, the guards began moving people. They came up to the crowd and asked everyone to move further down the road, or to go across the road by the convenience store. If there was any particular pattern, it was hard to say. It seemed more like they just wanted to keep moving people. A guard approached me specifically and said “Excuse me sir, I am sorry, but you cannot stand here. If you wish to watch the fireworks could you please go across the street, it is getting too crowded here.” The guard walked away before I could pretend to be Italian and never came back. By the time the fireworks started, the guards stopped hassling people.

As the fireworks continued, the guards scrambled to get out of the way of the rapid-fire photographs being taken. Everyone scrambled onto the grass behind the railing and snapped a lot of photographs and took digital videos. The fireworks were quite impressive, the Chinese are, after all, known for having invented them. We watched for 45 minutes as the Chinese fireworks lit up the sky above the Forbidden City. As we got on the bus to go back to our bikes, more fireworks were set off in the shape of smiley faces and Chinese characters.

The ride back was much longer than the ride down, and on top of the 12 miles we had to cover; we each had a passenger for the ride back. By the time we returned to Tsinghua we were all too tired to do anything else, so we stayed in and played Uno and ordered McDonalds. The National Day was a fantastic show and one of the more memorable events I can say I was a part of in my time in China. I began to feel like I was getting more out of the semester abroad than my peers who went to Viet Nam and Cambodia. And the break had just begun.

Inner Mongolia

Thursday evening, everybody in the foreign student dorms is looking up travel plans for the national day vacation. It’s only the first week of class, and we call up a small travel agency in Beijing University to set up a trip to Inner Mongolia. There’s only one minor detail that might cause a stir, we have to leave the next morning at 8:00 because this weekend and the following weekend are the last opportunities to go. Since the following weekend is the beginning of the National Day Break and many already have travel plans, leaving the next morning was the only option.

The trip was only going to be for Friday through Sunday, so packing wasn’t an issue. I grab five pairs of socks, my hiking shoes, four pairs of underwear, my beat khakis, and a few warm shirts. It’s September and it’s warm in Beijing, so I don’t bother bringing a jacket. Up until the time I went to bed I started skipping ahead in my Chinese lesson book. Chapter four is called “Alcohol is good stuff”, while in another class one of the dialogues teaches us how to say, “I’m not crazy, I’m drunk and I also vomited.” Alcohol is a commodity that unites the people of the world but I would hope it isn’t the only thing. I thought maybe I could find something in Mongolia that reminded me of home while also exposing one of the hidden wonders of China. Would I find anything authentic in Mongolia relative to my search for fortune and glory?

The car ride took several hours. Our tour guide whom we picked up in a small town two hours out from the site explained to us that we were all descended from Mongolians. Despite the fact that their skin was more yellow, and some of us were white, we were all originally from Mongolia. I imagined what a western anthropology professor might argue, but tended to focus on the sense of pride our tour guide had for his own people. His argument, despite its plausibility was a way for him to relate to us. I thought about the way Mongolians could have spread out to inhabit the rest of the planet while the tour guide explained the first custom at the Mongolian site: we had to drink the local alcohol before we got off the bus, three shots of it.

We arrived at a place that was perhaps as much as 45 minutes from any other city or town, a small chain of about 50 yurts, and much colder than Beijing. The first sip of alcohol was strong, and sour. It was as bad as any other cheap alcohol I’ve tasted. But for the sake of gaining one more cultural experience I took the three shots they demanded. After dropping off our bags at our yurts and locking the door we sat down to dinner. The alcohol was passed from person to person, nobody had any idea what it was but it must have been between Japanese sake and Vodka in strength. At the dinner table, the Mongolian host urged us to drink as much as we could, not stopping at the three shots we took getting off the bus. While this was an experience I could relate to at home, it led to one of the most awe-inspiring moments of my life.

I bought a couple of Tsingtaos with one of my yurt mates to wash down the foul tasting Mongolian alcohol bombarding my digestive system. We sat around a fire outside, in freezing cold weather and ill equipped of clothing. There were other groups at the site who had come from Tsinghua and Beida as well, including many American students. We talked about the authenticity of the site, all of us a little skeptical, but for 250 Kuai we agreed it was probably worth it. I went to use the restroom, which was full, and I couldn’t wait. I stumbled outside of the gate to find a bush and when I finished I heard some scampering. Some of the dogs from inside had gone out, four of which were running back and forth playing some game of cat and mouse. I couldn’t really make it out, I was about 80 feet out and it was really dark. I turned to walk back and caught glimpse of the horizon. Just over the tree line was the big dipper, practically at eye level with me. I looked up further and saw more stars than I’d ever seen in my entire life. It was a truly amazing view, one that I can’t imagine I could’ve gotten elsewhere. Sure there were places in the United States without electricity where you could get an amazing view of the stars, but not with the big dipper just over the horizon. Not anywhere I’d heard of anyway. I grabbed the other guys to point out my find and went to bed within an hour.

The sunrise on day two left me with a similar feeling of amazement as I stood outside the gate where I was star gazing the night before. After the sunrise I went back to bed, skipping breakfast and sleeping until nine in the morning when we paid to rent a horse each for three hours. I was incredibly nervous. I’d never ridden a horse before, and I didn’t think it would be an easy thing to learn. Our tour guide suggested I looked adventurous and he convinced me. The horses galloped slowly, and within a small caravan. Sometimes one would get too close to another irritating it. The other horse would kick and they would jump up and down frustrated. We were all a little frightened but nobody got hurt.

The tour guides led us to a small hut where we could buy souvenirs. I bought a couple packages of beef jerky, which I never had an appetite for in the United States. I sat atop my horse waiting for the tour guide to start leading us, chewing on beef jerky while my hat blocked the sunlight from getting in my eyes. Looking around I felt proud of my friends for persuading me to ride the horse. I chewed my jerky vigorously and patted my horse with the other hand. I was hoping he’d gained respect for me and didn’t want to throw me off. Then the tour guide whipped my horse and it took off. The horse wasn’t merely jogging this time; it sprinted for about 50 yards while I stood up squeezing the body with my legs. When we returned to the campsite, I dismounted proud that I learned to ride a horse and proud that it took off running. I was also proud of the scars on my legs from bumping the stirrups due to my lack of horse-riding knowledge.

That weekend I learned that we were all descended from Mongolians; I saw the stars and the sunrise from a perspective I’ll probably never see again, and I learned to ride a horse. The next day we got back in the evening just in time to take an eight o’clock shower. I learned to appreciate my shower at Tsinghua as I showered off the horsehair and dirt I put on over the last two days. Inner Mongolia wasn’t quite what I expected but that’s exactly what I was looking for when we decided to go. It was time to plan my trip for national day week while I worked out a new budget for the remaining 11 weeks of the semester.

Grand Plans

The following is the first entry of the travel blog I kept as an independent study. The date it was written is not important, it is the beginning of the story.

In preparation for my semester abroad I was told I should go to my doctor to request enough antibiotics to last the semester. When I sat down in my doctor’s office and told him about my trip, he strongly recommended a series of vaccinations to ensure I stay in good health. The only problem with his suggestion is that I have a crippling fear of needles, which isn’t a fear; it’s more like a triggered panic attack.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had this condition. Every time a doctor gives me a vaccination using a hypodermic needle, I go into shock and pass out for anywhere from thirty seconds to five minutes. This means that when my doctor recommends three vaccinations for my semester in China, I have to go through the hassle of passing out potentially several times in order to satisfy my doctor. I also have to find someone to drive me to and from the clinic because I’ll be incapacitated for a few hours after the injections while my blood pressure goes back to its normal measure. All to prevent me from getting some disease I might not ever encounter.

As the doctor pulls out his computer to check the Internet for health warnings in China and the surrounding areas he asks me where I plan on travelling. The travel seminar was scheduled to go to Yunnan and Sichuan provinces and I told my doctor I wanted to travel to Cambodia and Vietnam in my week off. He gave me prescriptions for Malarone and Ciprofloxacin as a precautionary measure and recommended getting the following vaccinations: Tetanus, Diphtheria, and Pertussis (TDAP); Hepatitis A; and a live oral vaccine for Typhoid.

Shortly after arriving in Beijing, I find out that in order to travel abroad to Cambodia and Viet Nam I need to get a new passport that allows for a reentry into the country. A bunch of us in the study abroad program caravan down to the passport office at 8:00AM to get our Visas renewed but a necessary condition is that we have to have a blood test. Nothing big for a normal person, just a small vile of blood. The office is nice as anything you would expect out of an American clinic, very clean and a couple sheets of paperwork and incredibly long lines. The lines gave me time to think. I thought about how I wasn’t prepared for the blood test and had a minor panic attack on the line, ensuring that I was no longer taking a trip through Southeast Asia.

Several classmates tried to convince me that it would be worth it; after all how many opportunities will I have to travel to Viet Nam and Cambodia after this? I could probably have sucked it up and gotten the blood test ensuring a wonderful trip through Southeast Asia but instead I began to rationalize that the trip would be far too expensive and I probably wouldn’t be able to afford it anyway. The others were spending a thousand dollars American on the plane tickets and living accommodations. I was financially limited. Besides that I was in China and there was a lot to explore. Another idea came into my head making the blood test seem less appealing, Tiananmen Square on National Day. I was hoping to get the most of my experience in China, to walk away truly having known her culture and her people, and the 60^th anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic seemed like the sort of spectacle I would only get one chance to experience.

I began making plans with the people who were staying in Beijing, grand plans to see the Yangtze River and the Three Gorges Dam following the October 1^st National Day celebration. I was now sure I was making the right decision and I was excited. I told my classmates I had other plans for National Day and I apologized.

Repatriation

Four months following my last entry on Fortune and Glory International, I have returned to the United States. My absence on this blog and its lack of consistent, or any, entries is due to the courtesy of the Chinese government who blocked internet users from accessing blogger.com. I have however consistently kept notes and even written entries in word format that will be posted in the near future. For now, I would just like to express that despite having come back sans fortune and glory, and without much more than gifts for my family, I had an incredible time in China. I was both sad to leave and thrilled to return.

I would have updated sooner but, I arrived back in the States on December 22nd and had my wisdom teeth taken out on the morning of Christmas Eve. I have since recovered and plan to post a reflection on many of the more memorable moments of the trip, including the traveling seminar which took us to Xi'an and Shanghai, and my impressions on the state of Beijing in a post-Olympic state.

I miss Beijing however, I am glad to be back in New York and eager to report on the state of the job hunt from the perspective of a fresh graduate. Happy New Year.

And yes, I am drinking a beer at the Great Wall in this picture.