~ Sceopellen ~

Fingers crossed – will this one work? Quick test before I write an entire essay down here like last time!

What a day. Already! It’s only about 4pm, and already i’ve been to the Great Wall of China and climbed to a high point up there, back down again, travelled back into Beijing, had a shower and planned another trip out into the unknown! This time, we’re off to a night market, to see what central Beijing at night has to offer! Probably lots of midges… Oh, and apparently you can buy scorpions and cockroaches on sticks as a tasty snack. Yum.

 Everything in this place is so cheap! It’s spectacular! For example, two bowls of rice, three plates of food and a big teapot of Jasmine tea was for about 1.80. Not even the price of a coffee back home! Tomorrow, we have an exam in Chinese ridiculously early, which is going to be a complete joke as I understand absolutely no Chinese, and then we’re off to an “Opening Ceremony”, whatever that may be. I suspect there will be film cameras involved as we already had one of those today, as we climbed the Great Wall looking rather atrocious in the 40-degree heat!

 Getting onto this blog is somewhat of a challenge, but it gets there eventually. I’m missing my medieval blogs so much! They’re all banned over in China, as is BBC news. All the news seems rather skewed – essentially, “In the news tonight, China is great; In further news, everywhere else sucks.” I mean, seriously. I am craving some good old international news! I’m sure there’s a blog out there that I can access for the ‘real picture’, but somehow, I don’t think i’m going to find it in a hurry!

 Apparently, after tomorrow, we start lessons – morning and afternoon, and then excursions – like a trip to a Chinese tea house, and acrobatics displays! I want to get started already, and just get learning the language! I didn’t realise before coming here quite how different China really is – I mean, I knew it was alien to me, but the culture shock has been immense. Such as, when buying food, one must lock all their possessions in a little wall safe, get a basket with a number on it, pick out the items they want from each numbered area and go to an induvidual till for each set of similar items, get a receipt, and then pay at a main till further on. Seriously – we spent about 4 hours shopping yesterday, trying to decode the packages and work out how to pay!

 I am stil minus suitcase, which is so annoying! Hopefully it will arrive today. I am missing some rather essential bits and pieces, like clean clothes and a bar of soap. You start to appreciate the little things. Oh, and the reception staff can’t understand a word i’m saying, nor me them, which makes suitase inquiries rather tricky.

 It seems so strange that i’m actually in a communist country – there is so little active sign of it at work. The only places where it is noticable, in fact, rather amazingly obvious, is in the media and in the workplace. Such as the buttons in passport control, asking each tourist to “Rate the Police Officer No. 9382759″. My first taste of communism at work…

 But there are some rather amusing aspects to China, like the mis-translations of English words that are everywhere. A few funny ones i’ve spotted include:

• Nutritive Take Care Sauce (Shampoo)
• Hobo Juice (Orange and Mango juice)
• Unrecyclable (Written on a bin – just for general rubbish, one does not chuck out the bin!…)

I’ll write again tomorrow if I can. Hope so!

Finally arrived, after quite a trek! It’s a long story, and will be told slightly later. Beijing is AMAZING. Manic, traffic and people everywhere and stunningly beautiful, in a rather ‘rough-round-the-edges’ sorta way. The university is like a hotel – seriously, the Chinese know how to treat their students! Mini-fridges, big TV’s, en-suite in every room… And needed after that journey.

I left home at about 11:00am on the 9th of August. Yes, the flight was quite a lot later, but with check-in being a nightmare, I wanted to be early. Flight boards, everything seems fine. And then it all goes downhill. Apparently there are about 180 (call it x) passengers on the plane, and y amount of baggage. X is down 3 passengers, yet there are the wrong number of bags, in fact +3. So we watch as the plane (with us on it) is unloaded and reloaded 3 bloody times. This makes us rather late, as unpacking and repacking 180 odd bags is no quick job. We reach Amsterdam, and our flight to Beijing is about 10 mins into its journey. Crap.

We finally, after much chasing around, find somewhere to stay for the night, a free dinner on the airline (eugh.) and a rebooked flight the next morning. To Frankfurt. Now we think – what shall we do now? We’re about 30mins from Amsterdam, so lets have a night out there. We get the bus to the airport to change money into Euros, and get the train from Schipol into Amsterdam Centraal. By this point in time, it’s 3am and most of Amsterdam is asleep. Apart from a rather infamous area which I pointedly refused to go near. So back we go. 5am and E15 later, we’re tired, have aching feet and are in hysterics, mainly due to some rather odd platform antics. Including the amusement at a French beggar, who decided to fart VERY loudly when we were sitting behind and next to him.

So, our journey would be London-Amsterdam-Frankfurt-Beijing. I put my foot down. Not what I paid for. So, the next day, my weary companions and I go to the nearest information desk and kick a fuss. “We’ve only got 3 seats left. Is business class ok?”. Aahh… Comfort… And then they lose my suitcase.

 So now, i’m in Beijing with only the clothes on my back and a bit of hand luggage, consisting of a travel pillow, blanket, music player, camera, a few pens and paper, mobile phone and a free Beijing University t-shirt. Oh, and the little model china house that KLM Business class seems to like giving its customers. Just washed my hair with radioactive green hotel shampoo, brushed my teeth with radioactive toothpaste and water, and even breathed in the most amazing smog that I have ever seen. The sky isn’t blue on a clear day – it’s grey.

 Anyway, must go as i’m starving and clothing-less. What a good excuse for some shopping!

And the next article along… I seriously must start setting myself posting limits! Ah well…

The long-held pension records have finally been made avaliable online, rather than solely in the National Archives at Kew. I personally think that we are now losing touch with the true cost and horror of that war. Today, there is apparent scandal at 2 soldiers being killed in Iraq, although I would debate that most people are completely unaware of most of the happenings there. A TV screen does war no justice.

Again, it is all about balance. We do not want to teach children about war too early, to spare them from the horrors of the real world. However, if we don’t teach them, they may fail to see the true cost and importance of avoiding war in the future.

I remember vividly going on a school trip aged 14 to Ypres, and spotting my rather uncommon surname attatched to the wall there. I then find out from my elderly father that the man who died in the Paschendale was my great uncle. I have never forgotten that. Nor have I forgotten the stories of my mother and grandmother about the challenges and problems they faced as a Jewish minority in war-torn Europe. I am completely immune to tuberculosis due to this. I consequently feel very related to those brave men and women who fought and supported our cause in the war. Had they not, I would have never been born.

Today, the Iraq conflict is so distant. The world is becoming smaller, yes, but in another way, it is widening beyond all proportions. The poor are poorer, the rich richer and the dangers of war seem far away, despite our country’s men actually waging a distant war. It’s not on our doorsteps, we don’t have to “Dig for Victory”. In fact, many wouldn’t know how to grow their own food. I have met grown men and women who couldn’t tell me where plums or grapes come from.

And we are having such a dangerous impact on our world – just today the Yangtze river dolphin has been declared extinct. China’s industrial and economic might is finally showing it’s true colours. I would rather spend an extra £5 on each item of clothing, than see such a beautiful animal die. I pride myself on packing my fabric carrier at the supermarket, yet I see people who seem to put two tiny items in each bag. One of my friends does this, and when I asked, she said that the plastic bags might break. “Mine doesn’t” I replied. I think I can see her next birthday present!

I happen to be sitting at a little cafe, drinking a coffee and reading the paper whilst writing this. And what sparked this sudden creativity you may ask. I happen to be reading an article about mental health, and the sad death of ‘an Eleanor Rigby of our times’, Olivia Trevelyan-Thompson. Across from me, sits a man smoking a rolled cigarette, muttering to himself. And I am disconcerted. I don’t mean to be, and I certainly have nothing against people talking to themselves, but I feel strangely wary. The same thing happened to me on the train last night – by fluke I was sitting across from a man who didn’t stop watching me for about 30mins. And again, I was afraid. In fact, the 30mins ended because I moved.

Why was I awkward, wary, scared? I don’t quite know. I suppose it is the fear of the unknown, fear of what they might be thinking, what they might do next. My mind automatically labels them as unpredictable, and I hear my mother’s warning voice echoing through my head. And I feel afraid. Combined with my meagre experience of humanity, I remember all the bad times, where people’s thoughts and words have done so much damage to those I love and indeed, myself. But then again, that’s exactly what I am doing in fearing them.

‘Nice cup of tea, that was’, he says to the waitress. Was there really anything to be afraid of? Perhaps it’s worth the risk.

Olivia Trevelyan-Thomas wrote prolifically about her life and illness, saying that,’”You are treated as people with no soul, no integrity and certainly no heart,” who i’d say is a pretty accurate estimation of the general perception of those with mental health conditions. But unlike the majoirty of physical conditions, it doesn’t only define you, or possibly segregate you – it becomes a part of your identity itself. The true irony of her situation is that she worshipped John Lennon, who once said, “Love is wanting to be loved.”.

Finally saw The Rose Tattoo at the National Theatre tonight… Or rather, yesterday. It was suprisingly amusing, something which was certainly needed at times, due to the tiny, claustrophobic atmosphere of the play. Lighting was spectacular, and despite the occasional slips in accent between Sicilian, American and the native English, the actors passed off a tough job very well. Zoe Wannamaker, as expected, was amazing. It’s the kind of play that changes as you change. I suppose your perspective shifts from the young girl to the older woman as you yourself change – the girl craving freedom and the mother attempting to save her daughter from the pain (and beauty) of the real world. If I ever were to have children, despite this being rather unlikely, I can imagine feeling very like Serafina.

Managed to get hold of a world travel adaptor, which was remarkably difficult. China has 8 types of plug. Seriously, how many plugs does one country need! And as a Communist country, and therefore rather appreciative of control and same-ness, 8 plug varieties seems a little extreme. Still haven’t been able to change any money into Chinese currency, I think it’s a job for the airport. So much to do, so little time! Looking forward to it would be a great understatement.

Walked past Senate House the other day, on the way to the SOAS library (which was closed), and decided to pop into the UoL library itself (which was also closed), and rather by coincidence (although a possible one) bumped into a tutor of mine, coming from the ISAS conference. Sounded fascinating. I would have loved to meet up with a couple of the bloggers out there who were going to SH, such as Carolingian at http://medievalisms.blogspot.com/2007/08/traces.html.

Perhaps the year after next!

Found this news article on ‘News for Medievalists’:

“Italian Premier Romano Prodi is pushing for the routes used by medieval pilgrims to reach Rome to be revived for modern-day walkers, religious or otherwise.”

“Prodi is particularly keen on restoring the Via Francigena, the route which started in Canterbury, in southeast England, and meandered down through France, across the Alps near Aosta, down through Parma to Tuscany before reaching Rome. This pilgrimage, covering a distance of 1,930 km, took about three months for most medieval Christians who walked it.”

I would love this to happen. I am familiar with pilgrimage, and although I am not religious as such, the spirituality and beauty of these routes never ceases to astonish me. People were willing to struggle and battle with nothing but the clothes on their backs against the weather, bandits, starvation, disease and the hardships of the road in order to reach a final goal that would bring them closure and salvation. There is something supremely beautiful in that.

Plus, if they open the route from Canterbury, I am SO walking it! I live not far from Canterbury, and that would be a dream-come-true! I’ve intended to walk the Pilgrim’s Way though Kent for a long time now, or rather an adaptation of it as I know full well that the original route now runs for the most part under the main motorway.

And on another post from the same site:

“Harry Potter can be seen as a modern teenager, but also, according to Professor Lorenz’s work, as a representation of different Arthurian characters. Harry is often compared to a young King Arthur, but Lorenz points more to his similarities with the medieval Arthurian figure of Perceval, the young seeker of knowledge. “

Seriously. Not really believing this one. On the other hand, it’s a part of our culture – we grow up with the legends of King Arthur and his great adventures. Perhaps she was influenced by the legend and did use Arthurian characters as a base without realising it!