This week was waking up early as recently usual.

Snooz five times starting at five or six before the triple s. Mostly walking to the bus stop two blocks from the apartment to begin the trip to the office. But this past week gets an extra-Chinese designation.

Teaching Open Class means the parents of first-graders can come and watch 35 minutes of class as required. Remind and teach sunny, Thursday, yellow ruler with a side of Hangman w i n d y or u n d e r; and a hand chant to compliment “the ball is under the desk.” Put a 1, 2, Buckle My Shoe remix on top. Happy parents and a boy English-named Lauren becomes Laurence as a boy English-named Kitty becomes Kit. Adults know when it’s best to reconsider what a first-grader thinks is a good English name.

More Chinese life comes from traveling to Min Hang district to teach headmasters for the first time. Walking and standing is a trip on metro Line 2 to metro Line 1 to Xin Zhuang at the very end of the latter Line, which is red. Spend time eliciting the future class plan and describing Mountain Maryland, Frostburg and an interest in ice hockey, American football, literature and journalism. Upcoming lesson plans get to bring about Bible discussion. And God bless the kindness of Shanghai hosts at lunch time.

The Soul of Shaolin at the theater after a 10-hour day working and traveling captivates. Handsprings cover distance with no hands -- just flip from head to feet to head to feet. Lay down on a bed of spears; a wooden stick breaks on a skull; and piercing glass with a pebble pops a baloon. The stomach suction bowl lift may have been easier for the performer due to youth. And the storyline includes a mother who is rescued and reunited with a long-lost son. A farewell fight ensues before taking a bow.

Cap off the kung fu with hot pot. Mix the sauce. Don the bib. Dip a peanut in peanut sauce that’s mixed with soy, onion and garlic. Pepper broth burns but eating doufu with chopsticks gets easier and easier. Appreciate cauliflower that is too hot. Constant service goes on during the meal and watermelon comes before and after the meal.

Happy Halloween! The trip to Wujiang takes about two hours. Three 70-minute classes with no more than 8 students in each is personal. Do a warm up. Review. Teach. Knock on a desk and say, “Trick or treat!” Color a mask. Look at the ghost, Disney and Pooh pictures. Listen to the Monster Mash. Learn from the smallest class. Two first-grade translators teach names and learn new words, games and concepts at a fast, fast, fast pace. A and K explain an important name in Chinese and J communicates more and more. “... love my Mother,” “... love my Mom,” “... love my Mommy;” “... love my Father,” ... love my Dad,” “... love my Daddy.” Good-bye! Happy Halloween! Mr. Kai, a driver, and English-named John, a Chinese friend and coordinator, taught Ping Pong skills before the crew hopped back in the Audi and zoomed down the road at kilometers per hour.

Happy Halloween! Light-up green devil horns don’t look too bad on a backward Baltimore Orioles baseball cap. Around the international travelers and Chinese women taking in the party 22-stories up, windows and balconies reveal Nanjing Xi Lu as cars come and go on a major downtown Shanghai artery. The Timberlands by the door stand out and stand strong for the owner standing around in black socks talking about the teaching experiences described in the previous paragraphs. Somehow, the music at the party managed to be The Love Movement by A Tribe Called Quest. Appreciate the best of what long-lost hip hop has to offer.

Successful Saturday/week ending is successfully saying Yanping Lu, Xinzha Lu -- followed by Jiaozhou Lu to confirm the location -- and exiting the cab outside the crib.

Random is:

From the inside window of a fast-closing metro train door, watching a poor woman on the outside attempt to cling to her purse, which subsequently made the journey to the next stop – sans owner.

Disregarding the core values of vegetarianism for adventure and eating a snail at lunch that was recommended by a new New Zealand friend/coworker/superior.

Instantly deciding to never again eat another snail – all vegetarian values aside.

Sitting and talking with a Chinese woman to my left and a Ukrainian woman to my right, waiting to hand over my passport to the woman at the entry/exit Visa office on a rainy afternoon in Pudong.

Visiting a construction site at a school and touring the office and state-of-the-art ESL classrooms, which were the temporary home of the construction workers.

Casually walking past two chickens enjoying lunch on the sidewalk.

Cringing as a fish flips and gasps for water on the floor of an upscale grocery store while an employee attends to more important matters.

Cringing as a large, live fish is slammed onto the pavement of Wuding Road.

Searching for a sex culture museum only to find a note written in faded red cursive under the counter at a train station, which indicated the museum no longer exists.

Kicking off my shoes to sit down and eat at the table of a Japanese restaurant in Shanghai on China's National Day.

Realizing I'm a regular at the “Uyger Restaurant” after having dinner there with three Americans and a yoga instructor from India.

Shouting at the driver of an overcrowded bus because my hand was smashed and caught in the opening mechanism of the door.

Bouncing and singing the lyrics to “Jump Around” in a crowded basement bar with a glowing lollipop stick in my hat.

Teaching nearly 50 Chinese first-graders for 35 minutes.

Teaching 1 Chinese first-grader for 70 minutes.

"Playing with my money is like playing with my emotions ... It's the principality."

OK, the blog subject is a stretch and who remembers Big Worm from the original Friday? ... but the effects of Chinese nightlife are currently taking a toll, which is a fact that makes even less sense here because these are pictures from a museum ... anyways ...

Shanghai Municipal History Museum

Shanghai Municipal History Museum





... more museum stuff to be posted ...

"I taught all first-graders and will be teaching more first-graders. The kids are super cute and my lessons are bare-bones (next week I have eight classes to teach the "Hi! How are you?" lesson). Picture me in class saying, "Alright! Give me five! Good job!" and teaching Paper, Rock, Scissors before we all sing "If You're Happy and You Know It ..." Even if I could speak Mandarin Chinese, I wouldn't be allowed to speak it in the classroom. English teachers here must strive to create an English-only environment in the classroom.

"Some of the Chinese students speak good English and some have no idea what I'm trying to say to them. One of my students, named Miffy (mee-fay), actually bonked me on the head with his plastic bottle of milk (at least I think it was milk). He was the only student that I've had so far that acted like a jerk, but his English was solid and I think he'll be a standout in the class. I have a set of twin girls in one class -- Fancy and Lucy -- who speak great English. They wore matching clothes, but I could tell them apart because they were wearing different color barrettes. Sometimes, students don't have English names or can't say their name clearly enough for me to understand. I had a few kids who could only try to repeat what I was saying, but not really communicate at all in English. There seems to be other students that are always willing to help, though, and bribing kids with stamps, stickers and candy works very well."

Below is my feeble, feeble attempt at shooting a video while traveling on Line 2 of the Metro in Shanghai, which coincidentally (and I assure you coincidentally!), features a close up of the only big butt in China. Almost everyone here is very slim.

Jing'an Temple Metro Station


On the train right quick

East Asian astrograph


Happy Valley Amusement Park adjacent


The MANtis


Should've counted the steps


Enter the Mineral Cave


"... the only natural forest resource in Shanghai"


Shanghai in the skyline


Chinese nature frame


The coolest Songjiang visitors ever


A good sign

"Anyways, I've been laying low and waiting. Sorry for not being available. I haven't heard anything about Iron Chef in Shanghai, but I'll look out for it. The food selection here is so literal. I wandered around the big grocery store today for a while just looking at everything. A third of the store is candy and junk food. You want some pig's feet? They got a little freezer section with feet chopped right off the pig. Whole chickens. Fish heads. Animal innards and joints. Jackie Chan and Jet Li are all over the place sponsoring buns and milk. Jess would be troubled by the lack of cheese -- there's practically none. They have a little area with numerous packets of what looks like string cheese, but the would be Polly-O sticks are ham or other types of meat."

Building No. 4


123 Yanping Rd.


Yanping Road South


Yanping Road North

Leaving behind the grimy streets near the Motel 168, I've moved into an apartment in Jing'an District that is a 10-minute walk to the metro. The station itself is next to Jing'an Temple and sits below a huge department and grocery store filled with restaurants and shops. Outside the station building is a string of more shops, markets, bakeries and restaurants – including Pizza Hut and Burger King. The Paramount ballroom is less than a block away from the station.

Jing'an District is much cleaner than the area near the motel. There's fewer “street meat” vendors around, but still some nice little food stands with cheap meals. There's also a lot more restaurants with English on the menu and a wider variety of international food. Grocery stores here are fairly similar to those in America, which can be comforting for vegetarians like me. The sidewalks are cleaner and I think I'm less likely to step in an open manhole, wet cement or something gross. The metro station is on a main line, making it easy and cheap to get almost anywhere in the gargantuan city of Shanghai.

Also, fewer people stare at foreigners and there's more of an expatriate community. There's a bar owned by a man from Seattle right around the corner and employees at the nearby coffee shop speak English (as does my landlord). Comparing Jing'an to the area described in previous entries is practically like night and day. I can't figure out how to make the transition into the next paragraph.

Chinese people here generally have an English name. My landlord's name is Eric; the realtor's name is Leo; coordinators at BSK have names like Cherry, William and Melanie. In orientation we discussed providing students with English names as necessary (as well as some student-chosen names like Ray Gun, Killer, Potato, Robot or Happy Panda). We were instructed to provide good names as they may be used for the rest of the students' lives. Conversely, foreigners can have Chinese names, as my roommate and I found out one night in a conversation with some Chinese guys at an expat bar.

I also can't figure out how to make the transition into this paragraph. The new place feels good and I can't explain how nice it is to have somewhere to come home to. I'm registered at the local police station and I have my own address. As Maryland and Florida are my American homes, I guess I'm adopting Jing'an as my Chinese home for a while.

In Shanghai:

Cricket fighting – as in pitting one cricket against another – is fairly popular.

Babies pee and poop on sidewalks with help from their parents. Diapers are not wasted, but for some babies, potty training begins alongside the road – child hovering in mother's arms.

I've now been to Shanghai City God Temple and Yuyuan Garden with friends. At the temple, worshipers kneel before large statued figures and the strong smell of incense adds to the atmosphere of spirituality surrounding a sacred location inside a building with a built-in Burger King.

“Vegas watch!” is a phrase used to coax foreigners outside the temple into spending money. I haggled a man down to half price for a pair of grown-up, hybrid heelies (wheels that are strapped to the heels) and lost them about an hour later when I set them down to take a photograph in the garden. In my defense, it's easy to get distracted in the garden.

Rain clouds moved in as we crossed a zigzagging bridge above a coy pond outside the entrance to the Yuyuan Garden. The rain may have made the garden seem more lush and it slowed us down. It was fairly easy to picture a different Shanghai.

The black, oriental roofs are adorned with sculptures of warrior figures, dragons and animals. The sculptures are black and intricately detailed, always blending and never interfering with the green leaves and gray stones. At every corner there is something seemingly-medieval outdoors or indoors. Enclosed meeting chambers are ornately decorated and formal seating arrangements are flanked by sculptures of unicorns and peacocks.

Reality sets in when leaving the garden for a long-walk to the subway station. Crowds, anonymous by nature, can seem never-ending in the People's Republic of China. There is diversity and distinction in every group and in every face. A newcomer to Shanghai is likely to be lost in the sheer scale of the city and the utterly unthematic architecture that comprises the skyline. Returning to eye-level, Chinese people here are usually staring at foreigners such as myself.

It's difficult to describe the feeling an outsider may experience upon becoming immersed in Shanghai. An attempt to explain the feeling: It's like I'm standing still. The landscape is moving beneath my feet and every new face and crowd is shifting north, east, south and west around me. I'm like a tiny steel ball on a shifting wooden surface, as in the game where the plane itself is shifted and tilted to make the steel ball travel. All eyes are fixed on the tiny steel ball as the landscape continuously shifts.

(I am now convinced the people who I thought were saying "Vegas watch!" were actually saying "bag/watch!")

There was no concept of time on my first day in Shanghai and something unfamiliar at each first glance. I was half awake most of the time during my first night on the rock-hard bed at the Motel 168. Waking early, I followed my temporary roommate Lev, of Canada, to the BSK office, walking beneath some bamboo scaffolding and through the thick, humid air. There is yet to be any signs of color in the sky over Shanghai. Sunlight seems constantly obscured by smog.

Returning from the school office, I took four steps deep into a patch of wet cement. I had to pull one shoe out and I guess I'm pretty lucky no construction worker saw the damage I'd done. Then I got lost until I ran into some of my American colleagues – one of whom is from Towson. The streets in the heart of Shanghai all seem to be the target of random and recently-abandoned jackhammering. There are bricks, bamboo poles, metal scaffolds, sand and piles of trash at nearly every turn. Food stands abound. Shoes, bags, dolls, souvenirs and seafood are sold on sidewalks and street corners at night. There is a constant stream of people coming and going from every direction.

Much of the ongoing construction is in preparation for the 2010 World Expo. Outside the Pearl Tower – a major tourist destination – there are barriers separating pedestrians from construction work. Along one such enclosed sidewalk, a deep, grimy puddle divides the path. People crossed on wobbly chunks of concrete laid out as apparent stepping stones. Attempting to navigate the broken path resulted in a misstep for some, causing his or her foot to plunge almost knee deep into the sidewalk lake. Lev and I crossed on the opposite side of the chunky concrete path, clinging to the top edge of the barrier and tiptoeing along a ledge about two feet over the fish in the dirty sidewalk water.

We made our way to the base of the Shanghai World Financial Center, pictured above and currently the second tallest building in the world. The subway connection was nearby and the stations and trains are all nice, if not a little crowded – probably depending on the time of day.

It seems like few people stare at you in the tourist destinations. In the small restaurant where I ate lunch, though, everyone stared at us. I could only assume my meal was vegetarian because there was no English-speakers at the small restaurant and we were using a phrase book to ask for a vegetarian meal. I'm not good with chopsticks, but the meal was delicious and I didn't get a stomach ache. Taking things in moderation, I might eat at Pizza Hut today.

Orientation starts Monday.