the color of its countries

And no, I don't mean Chow Yun-Fat and his band of corsairs in the latest Pirates of the Carribean installment, although those guys were pretty awesome.

I mean, just look at that moustache.

More seriously, here is a dated-but-nevertheless-interesting USATODAY article addressing pirated music in China (I found it linked by Paul Irish on Aurgasm, a favorite audioblog of mine).

My previous misgivings aside, this is one of the reasons China does exert a magnetic pull on me: it feels like a slightly tilted vision of modernity, one that offers both a darker Orwellian slant on things (like A Sound of Thunder post-butterfly-squish—though I guess that'd be Bradburian) and, at the same time, a substitute option for the future: one we in America might opt to take if it turns out to be the better alternative. I'm loath to use the phrase "guinea pig," but there is a certain element of "Oh! Well, that wasn't so bad, was it? Maybe we shouldn't have worried." In this case, maybe we can forget about cracking down on digital music theft after all.

I have recently discovered Ben's Blog, an account of the life and times of a young fellow who has spent the last few years living and teaching in China. He is presently interning at a Chinese barbershop as a kind of cultural experiment—more on that in the blog—and his commentary is insightful and often funny. Outside sources indicate that he is also doing work on the side for an ethnographic research company, which may explain the project and certainly sounds like a pretty appealing prospect to me.

In any case, I advocate giving it a look, especially the bits on his Chinese game show appearances.

As the panda-related science articles fly fast and furious at our inboxes (thank you, overzealous program coordinator!), as the umpteenth family friend chimes enthusiastically that she too has a friend in China for us to contact (she forgets where, but it's such a dear friend and she just knows he'll be delighted to hear from two bright kids like us), and as I continue to stumble upon papers on state persecution and the Falun Gong among my luggage, I can't help but ask myself what on earth I think I'm doing.

There's the romance of the one-way flight, of course, and the desire to disappear into the great unknown. However, as the venerable President Levin made clear in his meandering Baccalaureate address, China may be great, but it is anything but unknown. Nor yet is it a place where we can expect not to encounter droves of our own forward-thinking colleagues on any Beijing (Hong Kong, Shanghai) street corner. And what's more, most of them will have the distinct advantage of having ventured into Yale's Chinese language department before leaving.

In other words, the virgin territory argument won't hold water. And while the issue of distance remains, it should be said that my parents grow ever more resourceful at engineering business trips to my neighborhood—maybe too resourceful. (Just kidding, Mom and Dad. My couch and I both relish your visits, and will continue to do so in China.) Still, if I were actually trying to get away from something, China would be a pretty poor choice of destination.

So what's the attraction? My dark secret—and I'm going to try to divulge this just once, before I make any Chinese friends who might start reading this blog—is that Japan has stolen my heart and I will probably never get it back. When I compare the two countries in my imagination, which I'll admit is a risky and probably bigoted business, I envision them as diametric opposites. I'll let you guess which is which: one obsessively tidy, one chaotic; one aesthetically austere, one garish; one polite, one aggressively in-your-face; one socially restrictive but legally just, one with an embarrassing trend in state persecution; one that scrupulously organizes its recyclables into twelve different categories, and one that is plundering its environmental resources faster than you can say "strip mine." I have a well-developed and disapproving set of political opinions when it comes to China, one I will need to learn to conceal. (I have my suspicions that this very blog will be blocked from my eyes by the Great Firewall.) I have also been warned about pickpockets, counterfeit bills, and appalling public toilets. In Japan, for comparison, I was warned that if I were so thoughtless as to abandon my change on a restaurant table, the waiter would chase me down the block to return it to me. In short, except for masochism, why would I allow myself to end up opposite my favorite side of the Yellow Sea? Not inconsequential is the fact that a teacher's salary is barely enough to scrape by on in astronomically-priced Tokyo, while it will apparently support living like a king in China. This is a shamefully materialistic reason, but I won't deny the truth in it.

To wax the social scientist for a moment, though, I will maintain some noble excuses. I know that in cultural terms, China will be shockingly different—not only from what I expect, but from my comfort zone of politeness and personal privacy. I may find parts of it unpleasant, but I anticipate learning quite a lot without ever needing to crack a book. There is also the opportunity for language immersion: Mandarin is at least reasonably high up on my list of must-learn languages, and given the global heft the country has suddenly acquired, I'd feel like a ninny not to get a handle on Chinese language and culture before this decade runs itself out. Furthermore, like Arabic or French in their respective territories, I know it will open a broad swath of Asia's land area to me for more intimate exploration. If the photo books are to be trusted, there is a rich and beautiful mélange of traditions to be seen in the vast lands that comprise China, and it seems as though every day, another of my friends takes a trip and falls victim to Sinophilia. (Although—and I do run the risk of being stingy here—I think it will be interesting to investigate how much of the romance can be considered "authentic" these days and how much has been powdered up and paraded for the benefit of Olympic guests. In the cities, anyway.) I'll sum this confused mess up: I think China has a great deal of wonder and beauty to offer. I'm not convinced that the Chinese government isn't actively undermining this, however, through its ethnic policies, its push for modernization, and its recent efforts to put on a show for the foreigners. What can I say? I'll learn a lot, and perhaps even lose some of this cynicism along the way.

In short, then, I suppose I see this trip as a metaphorical spoonful of codliver oil—a great big, cheap, rather smelly but certainly adventure-riddled ladleful of the stuff. I trust that I will be safe there and I trust that I'll come out the other side having acquired all sorts of interesting skills and insights. For now, I'm hoping that's reason enough.

This may prove more satisfying to some of you:

We—that is, Drew and I, along with half a dozen other close school friends—have secured ourselves a month-long contract teaching an activity-based English immersion program for preteens at the Meishi International School in Chengdu, Sichuan Province, China. At the students' urging, the program has been named Panda Quest. We are presently securing visas, pondering immunizations, and catching up on family time in anticipation of a July 5th departure. Our ticket is one-way. We are not without ideas (half-baked and otherwise) or opportunities for the months that follow our first in Chengdu, but suggestions will certainly be appreciated.

Although a great deal of hilarity is already unfolding surrounding communications and the planning of our curriculum, I am dubious of the diplomacy of posting any direct quotes here. Suffice it to say that we can no longer claim not to have been warned of the odors in Chinese public bathrooms.

Feeding on honey-dew in Maine: check back.