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[Old]
Characters followed before, but no more.
• Mary, the Christian scientist
• Yi-jung, a Taiwanese in Beijing
This is the third (and likely final) installment of translations from the facebook notes of a Taiwanese exchange student in Beijing. Read my preface of sorts to these translations, here.
In this note, Yi-jung’s visit to the old Summer Palace prompts some thinking about history teaching in Taiwan and mainland China.
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A trip to the old Summer Palace (2010.12.3.2010)
I took the subway today from Peking University station to Yuanmingyuan station, and the old Summer Palace was right there.* Before, I’d only seen a picture of the old Summer Palace in my middle school history textbook, but now there’s a subway station next to it. I couldn’t believe that a hundred years ago, British and French troops destroyed this place, and maybe a lot of people died here. Even more difficult to imagine was that Qing dynasty emperors, eunuchs, concubines and courtiers had also walked on this land. This feeling is difficult to describe. At any rate, these people hadn’t gone to Taiwan.
Walking through the ruins of the European buildings, I saw lots of Western style architecture, but what I saw wasn’t authentic, but rather a simulated rebuilding. Then I walked into a maze. It was difficult to understand why so much effort was spent to build a maze like this, I really don’t know what the people of the time were thinking. According to my limited memory of history, the political situation of that time was chaotic, and the state of affairs worldwide had changed, but there were still people [i.e. the imperial court] who didn’t realise how explosive the times were.
Beijing is a city with a heavy history. However, I feel that these historical sites aren’t so important to the locals here, maybe [having them around is] as natural as breathing for them? I don’t understand why the history my middle school taught included mainland Chinese history in our national history**. If I was taught another version of history, maybe the meaning of this place to me would have decreased immensely.
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去圓明園 2010-03-12
今天從北大æ±é–€åœ°éµç«™æ到了圓明園站出站後,就到了圓明園。以å‰åªæœ‰åœ¨åœ‹ä¸æ·å²èª²æœ¬çœ‹åˆ°åœ“明園的照片,ç¾åœ¨åœ“明園æ—就有了地éµç«™ã€‚我更難想åƒä¸€ç™¾å¤šå¹´å‰è‹±æ³•è¯è»ç ´å£žåœ“明園那副景象,å¯èƒ½é‚„有很多人æ»åœ¨é€™å…’ï¼æ›´é›£æƒ³åƒä»¥å‰æ¸…æœçš„皇å¸ã€å¤ªç›£ã€å¦ƒåã€å¤§è‡£ä¹Ÿæ›¾ç¶“走在這塊土地上,這種感覺,真的很難形容。至少,這些人是ä¸æœƒèµ°éŽå°ç£é‚£å¡ŠåœŸåœ°ä¸Šçš„。
走進了西洋樓éºå€ï¼Œçœ‹åˆ°è¨±å¤šè¥¿æ´‹çš„å»ºç¯‰é¢¨æ ¼ï¼Œä¸éŽçœ‹åˆ°çš„也ä¸æ˜¯çœŸè·¡ï¼Œæ˜¯ä¹‹å¾Œä»¿çœŸè·¡æ‰€å¾©å¥çš„。然後走到一個迷宮,很難ç†è§£ç‚ºä»€éº¼è¦èŠ±äº†é€™éº¼å¤šå·¥å¤«ï¼Œè¨è¨ˆäº†é€™æ¨£ä¸€å€‹çœŸäººè¿·å®®ï¼ŒçœŸä¸çŸ¥é“那時候的人在想什麼?據我有é™çš„æ·å²è¨˜æ†¶ï¼Œé‚£æ™‚候時局很亂,世界局勢改變,當時還是有人éŽè‘—ä¸é£Ÿäººé–“ç…™ç«çš„æ—¥å啊。
北京是個有著沉é‡æ·å²çš„城市。ä¸éŽé€™äº›æ·å²å¤è¹Ÿæ„Ÿè¦ºå¥½åƒä¹Ÿä¸æ˜¯é‚£éº¼å‚™å—這裡的人民é‡è¦–,å¯èƒ½å°±è·Ÿç©ºæ°£ä¸€æ¨£è‡ªç„¶å§ã€‚ä¸çŸ¥é“以å‰åœ‹ä¸æ·å²ç‚ºä»€éº¼æœ¬åœ‹æ·å²æœƒåŒ…å«ä¸åœ‹æ·å²ï¼Œå¦‚果我接å—的是å¦å¤–一套æ·å²æ•™æ,å¯èƒ½é€™å€‹åœ°æ–¹å°æˆ‘çš„æ„義,就會減少許多å§ã€‚
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* ‘Yuanmingyuan’ is the Chinese name for the old Summer Palace. The Chinese means ‘garden of the full moon’ (correct me if I’ve got this wrong, readers).
** For ‘national history’, Yi-jung uses 本國æ·å², referring to the Republic of China (ä¸åŽæ°‘国) as her perspective is Taiwanese. The term I’ve translated (wrongly, but it helps to make the meaning clearer) as ‘mainland Chinese history’ is ä¸åœ‹æ·å², literally ‘Chinese history’. In her clarification email when I asked about these terms, Yi-jung writes that this term includes æ·ªé™·çš„å¤§é™¸åœ°å€ – ‘mainland [China] which fell into enemy hands’ (no kidding). All this give me a big headache, as it does Yi-jung. “I think that [本国] and [ä¸å›½] aren’t unequivocal terms”, she writes, “I’m not even clear about them myself. It’s an extremely complicated problem.” You got that right.
As an interlude to the Diary of a Taiwanese in Beijing posts I’m running, here’s a little vignette from when I invited Wu Yi-jung – a Taiwanese exchange student in Beida – to join Marie and I for dinner one night. Marie has had a long-standing interest in Taiwanese and Japanese culture*, and was excited to meet Yi-jung. Her first question was about the Taiwanese chat shows and singers she loved. Yi-jung shot a wry glance at me – just that afternoon, she’d told me this was the most common question she got in Beijing. But she answered patiently, and we started talking about Sally’s recent trip to the Great Wall.
I had hardly expected this to be a segway segue* into the topic of Taiwanese independence.
Yi-jung and her friends had been cheated on car-fare to the Great Wall. Yi-jung and Marie both thought that was because the group was all from Taiwan. Not thinking, I added “yes, it’s easy for foreigners to get cheated”. The word I used for ‘foreigners’, 外国人, literally means ‘people from outside the county’. Marie stopped eating, gave me a smile so sweet it could only mean she was offended, and said “but Taiwanese aren’t foreign. Taiwan is part of China.”
Yi-jung froze up, not wanting to play through this line of conversation – clearly a TiVo repeat of countless conversations before it. “I’m hypersensitive,” she mumbled (saying ‘hypersensitive’ in English), “change the topic … change the topic.”
But Marie wanted to score the point. “Don’t you think Taiwan is part of China?”
Yi-jung wasn’t getting involved. “I’m afraid you’ll get angry with me”.
“We always think that Taiwan is just another province of China.”
“I’m afraid you’ll argue with me”.
This was getting repetitive. I felt I had to intervene. (And yes, I was fully aware of the risks of being labelled a ‘foreign nation intervening in affairs which are not it’s own’.) It was tricky: I had to pick a topic different enough to break the impasse, but not so different as to be awkward. I choose poorly: tensions within the United Kingdom.
Explaining the respective relations of England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, and Northern Ireland, not to mention which combination is Britain, which is Great Britain, and which is the UK … this is difficult enough in English. In Chinese … well, I guess there’s only one way it could have been worse. A Scot could have been sitting next to us.
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* a quick note: it isn’t mutually exclusive for young Chinese today to be politically hostile towards, and at the same time culturally fascinated by, Japan or Taiwan.
** thanks to my Dad for pointing this out to me. And apologies to any Italian readers for butchering your language. What a foaw paah!
This is the second installment of translations from the facebook notes of a Taiwanese exchange student in Beijing. Read my preface of sorts to these translations, here.
In this note, Yi-jung bumps into friends from Taiwan who are now living in Beijing.
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Meeting old friends again (6.3.2010)
Today and yesterday, I met some friends from my university. I was really happy to see them, but I thought that a half year having gone by, ordinarily speaking, our lives should have gone different ways. Besides the physical seperation of the Taiwan Strait, there was also the invisible wall seperating us online. They couldn’t use facebook, so we could only use MSN to keep in touch.* So [seeing them like this], I felt it couldn’t be true.
We strolled together around clothing stores, trying on clothes as we pleased. Talking and shopping like this was just like it used to happen in Taipei, but now it happened again in Beijing. This confused me as to when and where I was. The roles had switched from half a year ago in Tainan.** I had a very special feeling: aren’t we really just molded by our circumstances?
My friend told me: ‘’I think it’s fate, I thought we would never meet again.” I replied: “I think it’s fate, although I will leave [Beijing] in July, we will surely meet again in the future.â€
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å†è¦‹é¢ 2010-03-06
昨天和今天å„和以å‰åœ¨æˆå¤§èªè˜çš„朋å‹è¦‹é¢ï¼Œè¦‹é¢çš„時候真的很開心,ä¸éŽè¦ºå¾—åŠå¹´å°±é€™æ¨£éŽåŽ»äº†ï¼Œç…§ç†ä¾†èªªï¼Œæ‡‰è©²å°±æ˜¯å¾žæ¤äººç”Ÿåˆ†é“æšé‘£äº†ï¼Œä½•æ³å¯¦é«”空間ä¸éš”著這麼一æ¢æµ·å³½ï¼Œè€Œç¶²è·¯ç©ºé–“ä¸éš”著一é“無形的牆,這種感覺,好ä¸çœŸå¯¦ã€‚
和著朋å‹ä¸€èµ·é€›è‘—æœé£¾åº—,隨æ„拿起來比比,這種情境和å°è©±ï¼Œå¥½åƒåœ¨å°åŒ—也曾經出ç¾éŽï¼Œå¦‚今å»æ˜¯å‡ºç¾åœ¨åŒ—京,讓我有一種時空錯亂的感覺。åŠå¹´å‰çš„情境在å°å—,如今å»æ˜¯è§’色互æ›ï¼Œæœ‰ä¸€ç¨®å¾ˆç‰¹åˆ¥çš„æ„Ÿè¦ºï¼Œæˆ‘å€‘çœŸçš„æ˜¯è¢«æƒ…å¢ƒæ‰€å¡‘é€ çš„å§?
朋å‹èªªè‘—:「我覺得我們真有緣,我原以為我們ä¸æœƒå†è¦‹åˆ°äº†ã€‚ã€æˆ‘é“:「我覺得我們很有緣,就算七月到了,終將一別,將來一定會有機會å†é‡åˆ°çš„。ã€
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* this sentence isn’t in the Chinese above, but was in an another draft of Yi-jung’s.
** when Yi-jung was a student volunteer at Tainan, helping exchange students settle down; now her friends are showing her around.
This is the first installment of translations from the facebook notes of a Taiwanese exchange student in Beijing. Read my preface of sorts to these translations, here.
What I find interesting in this note is Yi-jung’s expectation that Beijing will be a world apart from Tainan, not to mention a romanticisation of pre-liberation Beijing.
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Before going to Beijing (18.2.2010)
Travelling to Beijing, I don’t know what kind of people I will meet or what will happen. I don’t know whether I will like these people and things or not. Maybe some of them I won’t like, but I’ll just have to learn to accept them. After reading my Mainland friend’s writing, I was overwhelmed and surprised that she still remembers me. In fact, the biggest reason that motivated me to apply for exchange study in Beijing was that I wanted to meet my old friends in Mainland China again. If I just fly over there, I can certainly meet up with them again. But I really want to know what the city and society they grew up in is like.
So I think if I can stay in Beijing for a short time, maybe I’ll have the opportunity to better understand their culture. Even though we speak the same language, there are still differences between us.* I want to go and see Beijing, and see how different after all it is to the book I read once, Memories of Peking: South Side Stories, by Lin Hai-yin. I know new Beijing will not be like the book’s description of old Peking anymore; things have changed over many decades.** I’ve already mentally prepared myself, Beijing may be just like other big cities I’ve been to, with so many skyscrapers. Maybe I can only like that Beijing of my imagination, and not the real Beijing. I simply don’t know.
If you go for a stay in a city you’ve never been to before, wouldn’t you be afraid?
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And here’s the original note (in ç¹ä½“å—, of course, her being Taiwanese):
è¡Œå‰ 2010-02-18
æ¤è¡ŒåŽ»åŒ—京,其實我無法é 知會é‡åˆ°ä»€éº¼äººï¼Œç™¼ç”Ÿä»€éº¼äº‹ã€‚我ä¸çŸ¥é“那些人事物會ä¸æœƒè®“我喜æ¡ï¼Œé‚„是也會有我ä¸å–œæ¡çš„人事物,但是我也得å¸æœƒåŽ»æŽ¥å—。看到我的大陸朋å‹å¯«çš„æ–‡ç« ï¼Œæœ‰é»žè®“æˆ‘å—å¯µè‹¥é©šï¼Œå› ç‚ºå¥¹é‚„è¨˜å¾—æˆ‘ã€‚å› ç‚ºå…¶å¯¦è®“æˆ‘æœ‰æœ€å¤§å‹•åŠ›ç”³è«‹åŽ»åŒ—äº¬å¤§å¸äº¤æ›ï¼Œæ˜¯æƒ³å†åŽ»ä¸åœ‹å¤§é™¸çœ‹çœ‹ä»¥å‰èªè˜çš„朋å‹; 如果我åªæ˜¯å°ˆé£›éŽåŽ»ï¼Œæˆ‘確實也å¯ä»¥è¦‹åˆ°æˆ‘的朋å‹ã€‚但是我更想知é“他們æˆé•·çš„城市和社會是什麼樣å。
所以我覺得我若å¯ä»¥åœ¨é€™å€‹åŸŽå¸‚待一çŸæš«çš„時間,也許我有機會更了解他們的文化。我想去看看北京,到底和我以å‰è®€éŽæž—海音寫的城å—舊事ä¸çš„北平,差別在哪裡? 其實我已經åšå¥½å¿ƒç†æº–備了,北京也許就åƒæˆ‘曾經去éŽçš„那些大城市一樣有許多高樓大廈。也許我åªå–œæ¡é‚£å€‹æƒ³åƒä¸çš„北京,而ä¸æ˜¯çœŸæ£çš„北京。我真的ä¸çŸ¥é“。
è‹¥ä½ å¾—åŽ»ä¸€å€‹ä½ å¾žæ²’æœ‰åŽ»éŽçš„城市待一陣åï¼Œä½ é›£é“都ä¸æœƒæ„Ÿåˆ°å®³æ€•å—Ž?
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* this sentence isn’t in the Chinese above, but Yi-jung had written it in another draft.
** ditto. Yi-jung also mentions she first read the book (which is set in the 1930s) as a teenager.
Last summer, on a train in California, I eavesdropped shamelessly on the Chinese conversation of some summer students in my carriage. Waiting for the ripe moment to reveal I could understand them – which is as fun as it is smug – I struck up a friendship with one of the girls, Wu Yi-jung å³å®œè“‰*. (Who kindly let me publish her summer research project on stereotypes of Asians in the US.)
Shortly after the Chinese new year, I got an email from Yi-jung saying she was in Beijing for five months, on an exchange program from her university in Tainan – taking psychology classes at Beida (Peking University). This was her first trip to Beijing, and my curiosity was instantly piqued: what were her first impressions? What were her expectations before? How did Beida students react to her? And her reactions in turn?
We met up, then and over the following months, and I bugged Yi-jung with these questions and more. She also pointed me towards her facebook profile, where she had been posting notes from Beijing (using a VPN – facebook is blocked in mainland China, unlike in Taiwan). I’ll be translating three of four of these notes and posting them here – starting with one right away. But as a preface, here are a few of Yi-jung’s impressions of the city which emerged during our conversations. I resisted schoolboy bullet points.
First up: Beijing’s so cold! (This in early March; I’ll back her up here.) And her second impression? Taking a shower in Beida isn’t like back home in Taiwan. “Many student dorms in Beida don’t have a shower, students have to use communal shower rooms, and there’s one shower tap. When I found out that everyone showers together in this way, I was so surprised, there’s no right to privacy (éšç§æƒ).”
What about the food, then? “Much too oily.” The second time we met, Yi-jung had just had a Subway sandwich for dinner (Beida has a joint on campus).
How about reactions from Beida students, when they hear where she’s from? One of the first, she tells me is: “Oh, you’re from Taiwan? You speak Mandarin really well!”** After this, most people ask about the pop stars and chat shows Taiwan is famous for. But sooner or later (especially over meals, for some reason), many get onto politics. Here, the phrase she hears most is “Taiwan is part of China”, offered as a sound-bite, often without prelude or context. Yi-jung couldn’t agree less, but she never rises to the bait.
But what I found most interesting was how Yi-jung’s reactions changed two months later. In March, shortly after her arrival, she considered Taiwanese students like her completely unlike their Beida counterparts – for all of the reasons above, and more. Now, the food is still oily, the students still nationalistic – but Yi-jung has become “æ— æ‰€è°“”. That’s an essential phrase to know in China, equivalent to “I couldn’t care less”.
In California, Yi-jung had had a culture shock too: after a month there, she told me, it became clear to her that American students weren’t anything like her or her friends. But here in Beijing, she’s realised that the differences she’d complained of between herself and young mainland Chinese were quibbles. “Now I think they are just like me”.
The first of Yi-jung’s facebook notes is up, here. The second, here. Third, too.
Next, this is what happened when Yi-jung met Marie, and here is my other Taiwanese friend’s two cents.
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* that third character doesn’t sound like the English because it’s the Wade-Giles system of romanisation, still used on Taiwan. In pinyin, her name would read ‘Wu Yirong’.
** standard Mandarin or putonghua is spoken in Taiwan with a heavy accent. As it is in pretty much every mainland province, of course … so this is seriously patronising.
In California last summer, on the train from Palo Alto to Berkeley, I met a graduate student from Taiwan who was in the US in a summer camp organised by Stanford University, bringing students from Taiwan and Japan over to the states for English and ‘American culture’ lessons.
It was her fourth time in the states, and I was interested in her research project for the camp: the stereotypes of Asians in the US, and how those differed between East Asians and American Asians. Well-worn ground, but I was curious what a young Chinese would make of it.
So I got her email just in time before my stop (if you’re bringing your bike on the Caltrain with you, you can forget where your bike lock key is, or which stop is yours, but not both) and here is the fruit of her labour, which I’ve edited for its English and for length. One interesting bit – besides the two lists of words – is her assumption that there has to be a stereotype (because there is in movies?) and her surprise at the by and large positive words her interviewees used to describe Asians with (to her face, so of course they were positive!).
More out of embarrassment at her essay than anything else I sense, she asks to remain anonymous (again, aargh).
*
The stereotype of Asians from Americans’ perspectives
Imagine you go to another country whose culture you are not familiar with, how would you feel if the people there have already developed some stereotypes about you? Most international students who come from Asia to the United States for higher education pursue science or engineering degrees. Most of the time, they are stereotyped as “good at solving math problems but probably poor at English”. Although some Americans don’t show this attitude directly, their behaviors still reveal that “East Asians tend to be more obedientâ€. Also, in American movies or sitcoms, Asians often play characters who know Chinese martial arts. Even in 2008, Batman: The Dark Knight, the director shaped a Chinese, Lau, as a greedy businessman. You can also see these kinds of characters in Jackie Chan’s movies.
My hypothesis is that Americans still have stereotypes about Asians. Therefore, I conducted a survey, asking twenty participants to fill in my questionnaire about their views of East Asians and American Asians. The participants were from downtown Palo Alto and Stanford University. They are mostly under twenty five years old, and have at least a high school degree.
… [I’m skipping the first section of her survey results, as it’s all obvious and a bit GCSE. In brief: participants responded they form ideas about East Asians from personal encounters much more than from media, TV or films; they mostly consider Asian American culture as distinct from mainstream American culture; and they are – unsurprisingly – more familiar with Asian American culture than East Asian culture. What’s below is more telling I think.]
Survey question number ten asked Americans to give some words to describe East Asians. Since it is an open-ended question, we got diverse words. I will list all the words here to give you a general picture of how they think about East Asians: hard-working, intelligent, submissive, ground-minded, family-oriented, community-oriented, discipline, thrifty, honest, fast, multi-culture, naïve, traditional, honorable, proud, humble, cultural, friendly, smart, polite, adhere to rules, homogeneous, outgoing, calm, enlightened, serene, enthusiastic, driven, well-manned, stick with their own people, nice, like to study, dedicated, foreign, immigrant, humble, educationally driven, hospitable.
Question number eleven asked Americans to give words to describe Asian Americans. The words they used included: like to study, sometimes socially awkward, ambitious, computer-using, smart, innovative, striving, respectful, educated, sensitive, confused, friendly, intelligent, family is important, assimilated, outgoing, calm, enlightened, serene, willing to help, adaptable, perfectionist, aware, accepting, independent.
During the survey, Americans tended to refuse to use negative words to describe Asian Americans, maybe they are afraid that they will stereotype Asian Americans, and some actually only wrote none or “They are Americansâ€. It’s interesting to see that they tend to use positive words in the open-ended question. All the more negative adjectives are original suggestions from my questionnaire. Maybe Americans find it hard to put their thoughts into words, and they just feel that Asian Americans are the same as them. We still need more data to find out.
I also interviewed four Asian Americans (all Stanford University students) about their personal experiences of being stereotyped. Over all, most of them talked about being stereotyped as good at maths and science. Two of them majored in were social sciences, so they actually said that they were not that talented at maths. Since the school’s peers and teachers expected them to be good at maths and science, it added more pressure to choose those subjects. Luckily, now they are studying what they really like now.
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