Other Side of the Planet dot com

NEPA: Because we never hang out…

Posted on January 26th, 2009 by Anna Zhan.
Categories: Blog.

[Note: No, I did not gain 40 pounds this month…the picture is taken from a bad angle.  Left to right, it’s the sleep-deprived, geeky team of Mike, Leland, Adam, and myself.]

About ten years ago (more than that…) I went to college and fell off the face of the planet.  Star Wars novels were replaced with heavy chemistry and calculus tombs, and late-night gaming was replaced with late-night studying.  Such is life.

But as we’re all out here together on the East Coast, it seemed pathetic to me that my fellow world domination conspirators and I never hung out.  But that’s where the facilitator known as Facebook (read: Facecrack) stepped in.

So, for 48 hours, instead of sitting in our individual homes saying “We should hang out”, we sprawled out on couches in northeastern Pennsylvania saying “We should do something”.  (And do something we did!  We watched movies, played cards, ate large meals, and purchased 2.04 pounds of Jelly Belly jelly beans, half of which were consumed during a round of The Great Dalmuti.)

[Me, confused, but well-fed and generally happy.]

Other than the search for Jelly Belly jelly beans, I think the only time I left the house that weekend was to go to a diner Mike found called Bobby O’s, which served ridiculously huge portions (yay America!) for cheap (yay Middle of Nowhere prices!)  I opted for the french dip sandwich, which was easily twice the size of any french dip I’d ever had before, but the best thing on the menu was the deep fried pickles (sounds strange, but is, in fact, delicious.) 

But just as my mind became accustomed to the idea that I really was in small town America, Leland claimed the bill, a la China, and went to go pay it, at which point Adam, wallet in hand, ran after him.  I sat dumbfounded.  I was used to fighting over the bill in China.  There was a time in Shanghai when I was known to be extremely competitive when it came to paying the group’s bill.  But in America, I see people figure their tab down to the very cent (which seems petty, coming back from China…)  I was so confused.

[Myself, with two Americans who fought to pay a bill - kid you not.]

We were going to go bowling, but Adam laid those plans to waste.  We spent the last 20 hours of weekend sprawled out on the plethora of couches in Leland’s house, thinking that we really should do something.  (And then it was time for Adam and TomTom to get us lost again…but supposedly Adam’s going to have us all over after he gets moved into his new 1500 sq. ft. apartment, so maybe I’ll be spared from that experience next time, cause then I can just take the train - wee!)

Many thanks to Leland for hosting us, to Mike for cooking for us, and to Adam for carpooling out there with me (even though you made me pump the gas and nearly got us killed.)  I had a great time.

5 comments.

2009: Happy Year of the Ox!

Posted on January 26th, 2009 by Anna Zhan.
Categories: Blog.

It’s Chinese New Year - I feel compelled to post something…

For all my friends who don’t keep up on this stuff, it’s the year of the cow, or the year of the ox, as seems to be the popular translation right now, as “cow” has negative connotations in English.  This seems to be a popular thing in the Chinese zodiac.  Of the 12 zodiac animals, about half have undesirable connotations: rat, cow, pig, chicken, dog, and to a lesser extent, sheep and monkey. 

If you were born in the year of the ox (1997, 1985, 1973, 1961, 1949 (sorry Mom), 1937, and so on…) know that this year risks being unlucky for you, and you are advised to wear red underwear all year long, as I did three years ago.  (And look where it got me!  An exhausting grad school program, a horrible job…)

But in all reality, I’m looking forward to this year.  I’m developing a social life, at long last, and I’m graduating with my MS degree in May.  I’ll find a better job this spring or summer and work less next school year.  I have a great apartment and I’m going to start to enjoy the area I live in.  Go Ox Year!

To all my friends and family, may ten thousand things will all go according to your desires (oh, let me have fun with my translations!), and I wish health and wealth for each and every one of you (heck, I’ll send those wishes even to the random readers of this site.)

{Wan Shi Ru Yi - May you have your heart’s every desire]

0 comments.

Book: Stalking the Wild Dik-Dik

Posted on January 19th, 2009 by Anna Zhan.
Categories: Blog.

Title: Stalking the Wild Dik-Dik
Author: Marie Javins
Genre: Travel Essay
Anna’s Rating: 4/5

I was very hesitant to buy a women’s travel essay.  I’d read one before, and all the woman seemed to do was complain about her failed marriage as her inspiration to give it all up and travel the world.  Author Marie Javins, however, is different.

Javins gave it all up, it seems, just because it was something she wanted to do.  There may have been other reasons - most people have a multitude of reasons for doing the things they do - but in the end, she just seemed to want to experience the world to find it both beautiful, different, and yet similar.

I enjoyed her narrative, interspersed with random little details that filled her perception, that often made me feel like I was right there with her.  And many of her travel choices led me to respect her, when I respect so very few American travelers.  (I once made friends with an American woman traveling through Guatemala, our bonding point being our shared hatred of American travelers.)  If there was one thing I disliked, it was her handing out money to beggars, which I never do (my one exception being if one plays music that I enjoy enough to stop and listen to.)

I think I also loved the book because the author is a huge geek (see evidence in below quotes) and because, in the end, she took the same message away from the trip that I walked away with after my first year abroad:

“If there were one single lesson that I had taken from my yearlong ground-level journey around the world, it was that the vast majority of people are friendly.  Governments may fight, but individuals are overwhelmingly willing to deal with each other on a personal level.  Religous, cultural, and governmental differences tended to vanish as soon as people spoke to each other one-on-one.” (p. 263-264.)

I couldn’t have said it better myself.

QUOTES:

“Apparently, men and women tourists could share compartments as long as all agreed to it, since it is widely assumed that foreign tourists are rather odd (and improper) to begin with.”
- on theTAZARA train from Zambia to Tanzania, p. 89

“My comic book and pop culture/Star Trek roots were showing as I mused that Starfleet’s prime directive of no interference in developing cultures was impossible to maintain.”
- a reminder of how geeky the author is, Tanzania, p. 113

” ‘Rrrrrrrroooooaaar,’ said a lion near our campsite in the middle of the night.  Actually, it didn’t roar.  Lions communicating with each other at night sound more like the adults on a Charlie Brown cartoon mixed with an irritated wookie.”
- camping in Tanzania, p. 117

“I tried to relax, but my left buttock was squashed against a plastic tray and a Coke bottle, and my right was squeezed up against Monica, who had been mistaken for a fluffy pillow by the other passenger.”
- on the comforts of travel, Ethiopia, p. 251

“What is the point of travel insurance?”
- something I have often pondered myself, Ethiopia, p. 257
(Author went on to say: “…all the coverage in the world wouldn’t do us one bit of good once we were beyond the reach of cell phones and emergency services.”)

1 comment.

Movie: Slumdog Millionaire

Posted on January 12th, 2009 by Anna Zhan.
Categories: Blog, Movies.

Loved it.

I was on the edge of my seat.  I was curled up in my seat.  Every moment was a thrill; every reason for the answer to every question believable.  It was funny, it was sad, it had tension and it had love.  It had a great soundtrack.

I didn’t need to be set in America.  It didn’t need to have big-name leading American actors.  It was refreshing.

And in the end, it brings it all together.

And after the end, it’s a whole-cast song a’la Bollywood.

Loved it.

1 comment.

Movie: Doubt

Posted on January 12th, 2009 by Anna Zhan.
Categories: Blog, Movies.

Speaking of things I forgot to blog about…

Great drama with Meryl Streep as a nun and the principal of a Catholic school, who suspects the preacher of messing with the school boys.  Her character was brilliant - I loved every bit of her.  And as for Sister James, the teacher of the boy in question…I relate to her…that’s all I can say.

The movie never answers the question as to whether or not the preacher was messing with the boy, and maybe it’s my nature to be overprotective of my students, but I say the bastard did it.  Would be interested to hear any other opinions, though.

(My logic being that the boy had alcohol on his breath when he came back to class…the preacher said he’d pulled the boy out of class to discuss his stealing wine…but then, he wouldn’t have been drinking it with the preacher, would he?)

1 comment.

Kids Say: Ms. Zhan is Flying to Minnesota

Posted on January 11th, 2009 by Anna Zhan.
Categories: Blog.

Pre-Winter Break story I forgot to share:

It was the day before Winter Break.  It was Pajama Day.

I can’t really wear a t-shirt and pair of boxers to school, so I opted for a pair of flannel pants and a long-sleeve t-shirt, which happened to have Superman’s S-shield on it.

As I sat there with my early-morning group, talking while they worked on their writing, I told them I was flying to Minnesota that night.  My students looked up at me with wide eyes.

“You mean…” a student began, motioning leaping into the air in supernatural flight.

How could I resist?

“Yes,” I said, struggling to keep a straight face.

My students were blown away.

They began new stories.  Each child was the same: “Ms. Zhan is flying over my house,” or “I am flying with Ms. Zhan,” or some similar variant.

When the rest of the class came in, news of my super powers spread like spilled water (and everyone accepted the S-shirld on my T-shirt as rock-solid proof.)  As we lined up to go to lunch, my students were ecstatic, prepared to share the amazing news with the whole school.  In dread, I did some quick thinking:

“But we can’t tell anyone that Ms. Zhan can fly!” I whispered.

“Why not?”

“Because…because this is my secret identity as a school teacher.  Every superhero needs a secret identity.”

“They do…?” “Why…?”

“Because, you know how there are bad guys that battle with superheroes?”

“Yes…”

“Well, those bad guys are called super villians, and they are very dangerous.  And school is supposed to be a safe place, right?”

“Yes!”

“But if the super villians came, would our school be safe?”

“No…”

“Well, if people knew I was a superhero, the super villians would find out, and they would come to our classroom to do battle with me.”

Eyes flew wide open.  A few jaws dropped.

“Then our classroom wouldn’t be safe, would it?”

“No…” they whispered, shocked.

“And Ms. Zhan could get hurt.  We don’t want that, do we?”

“No…”

“So, can we tell other people about Ms. Zhanh’s super powers?”

“No.”

“Good!  Together, we can keep our classroom a safe place!”

Proud and silent, my class headed downstairs to the cafeteria, believing the fate of the school to be in their small and noble hands.

0 comments.

Meaningless Rant: Because You Love the Way My Mind Works

Posted on January 10th, 2009 by Anna Zhan.
Categories: Blog.

I got up early and set to washing dishes this morning.  A fellow teacher had recently recommended saving soup cans for students to use as pencil jars, and I was washing one out when opening sliced through my right glove, just above the knuckle.

I sighed and looked at it in frustration.  My gloves were always getting holes, so I’d switched brands, and I had high hopes for this new pair…they seemed of a higher quality than the other brand.  They were more comfortable.  Still, at least this time I knew how the hole came into existance.

Blood seeped out.

Resigned to my fate, I took off the gloves and headed for the first aid kit I had assembled when I set off to backpack around the world.  Now I keep it in the bathroom, and I get more use out of it there than I ever did in third-world countries.

Though the cut was only a centimeter long, blood kept spilling out.  I ran my hand under cold water cold water for a couple minutes while I, in vain, rumaged through the first-aid kit with my left hand.  As I’m undoubtedly overdue on my tetnus vaccination, an antiseptic wipe seemed like a good idea.  I eventually found one, wiped the cut, and then put a tiny waterproof bandage over it.

Now the challenge was that I wanted to be able to finish doing the dishes.  I looked at the glove.  It’s miserable when steaming hot water goes seeping into your gloves, scalding your hands as you attempt to disinfect your cracked-glaze Japanese dishes (good ol’ Target Dollar Spot.)

I stared at the hole.  I turned the glove inside out and looked at the blood smeared against the inside.

I grabbed the antiseptic wipe and cleaned it.

I turned the glove back right-side-out, and grabbed another tiny waterproof bandage.  I cleaned the cut from the outside.  I placed the bandage on.

Am I crazy? I asked myself.

I didn’t have an extra pair of gloves on hand though…

I pulled the gloves on and finished washing the dishes.

No, I’m brilliant, I answered my own thoughts as I pulled my dry hands out a few minutes later.

As for the can, well, if I can’t be trusted with it, neither can 6-year-olds.  I dropped it in the recycling bin and washed my hands of the misguided attempt to save money.

0 comments.

Book: Lies My Teacher Told Me

Posted on January 9th, 2009 by Anna Zhan.
Categories: Blog, Books.

Talk about horribly behind…I finished this like two months ago…

Title: Lies My Teacher Told Me
Author: James Loewen
Genre: History
Anna’s Rating: 5/5

I should preface this by saying that I have little interest in history, particularly US history.  Even as a Chinese major in my undergrad years, I could never force myself to take an interest in Chinese history (which my language textbooks told me is of a glorious nature.)  It I had to choose, though, I’d go for ancient history.  What can I say?  The pyramids are awesome, and I’m rather bitter about being unable to see either the Colossus or the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.

So I wasn’t particularly thrilled to be assigned to read a US history book for my class on the history of educational philosophy…

This is the only history book I have ever liked.

It’s an excellent read - and this is coming from someone who loathes the subject.

Lies My Teacher Told Me looks at history in a way no high school text book ever has, and inspired me in ways that no college professor ever managed to.  (I still remember sitting there in my Chinese history class, wondering what would ever compell a man to do his PhD in Acient Chinese Economics, like my professor had.)

This book tells the whole story of American history, focusing moreso on what is left out of history books rather than what is included.  And yet, it made me realize that even this book cannot be telling the whole story: history has too many facets for any one person to gather and comprehend them all… 

This was the real success or author James Loewen: he made me think, as so few do.  It wasn’t until my senior year of college that I finally met a teacher who would make me think or actually exert an effort to get a decent grade, and I remember her most fondly, (even in spite of the three B+ grades she tarnished my transcript with.)

So read this book, even if you hate history. 

Especially if you hate history.

Particularly if you’re a teacher who hates history, as it has a good bit on education as well, and really, there are a few things you should know before you go out misleading our nation’s future.

Just read it.

0 comments.

Meaningless Rant: The Confusion that is the New York City Subway System

Posted on January 8th, 2009 by Anna Zhan.
Categories: Blog.

When I first moved to New York City, I thought I would never unravel the mystery of the subway system.  After two months, I was proud to realize I could get around.  In time, I would learn how to juggle the local and express tracks for optimal efficiency while prioritizing my transfer stations by ease, convenience, and chance of getting a seat.

In my attempt to contribute to the happiness that is New York City, I always make the effort to offer directions and advice to the lost and confused of the Metro Transit Authority.  When, after work today, I saw a woman looking around, unsure, and attempting to speak to a stranger, I tuned in: she was asking about 4th Avenue.

“Yeah, this’ll take you to 4th Ave,” I offered.  She thanked me and turned to head down the other stairwell when I called after her: “But it will be called 9th Street!”

“This train doesn’t go to 4th Ave?” she asked.

“No, it does,” I reassured her, “but it will be called 9th Street.  It’s the same station, but upstairs it’s called 4th Avenue, and downstairs it’s called 9th Street.”

“Do I need to go to the other side?” she asked, motioning to the opposite platform’s staiwell.

“No, stay here, and get off at 9th Street.  It will be yellow,” I offered, referring to the colored tile schemes that decorate many of the R-line stations in Brooklyn.

She hesitated, then headed to the opposite platform.

“Wait!” I called after her, determined to help her, whether she wanted it or not (though she really did.)  “Where are you going?”

“I need to take the F train,” she said, exasperated.  “At 4th Avenue.  I need to go over there.”

“No, you don’t.  You need to be here.  This will take you to 4th Avenue - it just won’t be called 4th Avenue: it will be called 9th Street.  You can transfer to the F there.”

She didn’t believe me, and spoke to someone else, whom she told she was going to Church Avenue, an F train stop half-way between Manhattan and Coney Island.  The next person also assured her she needed to take my train, and she finally, still untrustingly, descended onto the Manhattan-bound platform.

I saw her again when I disembarked at 9th Street, walking away from the transfer she needed.  I looked her in the eye and pointed behind her.  “I need to take the F train,” she said pleadingly (have I invented another new word?)

“I know,” I said, approaching her and leading her in the opposite direction.  “It’s the other way.”

She might have thought I was crazy, but by this point she was desparate for help, and I was the only one offering any.  She spun around and fell into step with me, her spirits finally rising, momentarily, when she saw the sign for the F train.

Then she saw the stairs.

I smiled.

“Only eight flights to go,” I offered.

She spoke loudly to me as we climbed, mostly likely thinking that I had yet to pause my iPod.  Eventually, we approached the level where the damp concrete paths to where the Manhattan-bound trains and the Coney Island-bound trains diverge.

“Don’t be distracted by the flocks of people heading up the Manhattan-bound staircase - you want the Coney Island-bound side,” I informed her.

She veered off to the Manhattan-bound side as we mounted the landing.

“This way!” I called out.

“I need to take the F,” she told me.

“I know.”  I was maintaining my patience quite well.  “But you need to take the F towards Coney Island, and that sign says ‘Manhattan-Queens’.  You need to go to this side,” I instructed, pointing up the opposite stairwell, which was devoid of human life, yet still smelled of human urine.

“There’s no F train that way.”

“Yes, there is.”

“There’s no sign.”

“Yes, there is.”  I scanned the walls, then pointed at the Coney Island tile mosaic.  “See?”

“It doesn’t say F train.”

“No…but it comes here.”

She tentatively walked to the mid-point between the two stairwells.  How could I prove it?  I scanned the walls for any sign.  “There!” I proclaimed, pointing to a black sign on the wall not much larger than my hand.  I read it: “Oh, no, that says M, N, and R trains…those are downstairs.  But the F really does come here, and it will take you to Church Ave.”

Slowly, she followed me up the last two flights of stairs.  “Just wait, you’ll see.  It’s even called 4th Avenue up here,” I declared in an uncharacteristicly enthusiastic voice.

We climbed up onto the above-ground platform where a sign proclaimed the existance of the F train.

“Thank you…thank you!” she said in pure gratitude.

“About 4 or 5 stops,” came my parting words of wisdom, “and you’ll be at Church.”

“Thank you!  And I’m sorry!  And thank you!” she called after me as I headed down to the far end of the platform.

Unless it’s an express train, I thought as I walked away.  But even then, you’re OK, because it still stops at Church.  But then it’s only two stops, not four or five…  Uh oh…  Should I go back and tell her?  But then, she’d still see the train passing the stops, and she could still count them…couldn’t she?  Unless she wasn’t watching, or didn’t know how to recognize stations as you pass them from the express track…  She could get lost.

But then, maybe it’s information overload.

I kept walking, and boaded the last car of the train, claiming a partition next to a door that I could lean on.  Everybody knows that’s the next best thing to a seat.

2 comments.

Book: The Followers

Posted on January 8th, 2009 by Anna Zhan.
Categories: Blog.

Title: The Followers
        (Star Wars: Jedi Apprentice: Special Edition #2)
Author: Jude Watson
Genre: Young Readers
Anna’s Rating: 3/5

I’m not sure what to say: it wasn’t a particularly memorable book, though it was a fine read.  I was so psyched up for the expensive a harder-to-fine Special Editions that I was really hoping for a bit more.

The story itself is a good idea: a professor who delves deep into a topic (the Sith) and gets carried away with it, leading to his undoing.  But I don’t know what it is…the Obi-wan/Anakin halves of these books are just less compelling…less exciting…less endearing.  It’s all about the angst both Obi-wan and Anakin feel in their Master/Padawan relationship, without those heartening or inspiring moments we saw throughout the series in the tales of Obi-wan and Qui-gon.

Le QUOTE:

“We cannot control how we feel.  Only how we choose to handle our feelings.”
- Qui-gon Jinn, p. 56

0 comments.