China hates the blues. (And don't even get them started on the White Stripes)

(I know, don't you enjoy my rampant generalizations for an entire people based on my very narrow experiences in the classroom? In my defense, collectivity is a prized element of the Communist credo.)

We've been studying music for the last few weeks, so one of the things I did was put together an audio slide show of different musical genres, from jazz, blues and bluegrass to rock, rap and reggae. (On a side note: Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find a somewhat inoffensive clip of rap music? Happily, I don't think a single student knew what 'ejaculation' was.)

So I threw a little Muddy Waters in there to illustrate the blues, and almost without exception, the students would shudder and wince and write down words like 'strange' and 'ugly' when asked to respond. Finally, in one class I pleaded, "Doesn't anybody like the blues?" Silent stares. "You guys are breaking my frickin' heart."

This, they found hilarious. Hearty-guffaw, slap-eachother-on-the-back funny.

(I should explain, to this point they have largely ignored my muttered asides. Sample monologue: "Can anybody tell me the answer to such-and-such? Raise your hand. I'll give someone 100 yuan to raise your hand right now. Who am I kidding, you're not going to raise your hands. You never raise your hands. You're just not big hand-raisers."

They don't even blink.)

The White Stripes represented for rock'n'roll, and aside from a few rebel rockers in the class, mostly earned looks of dismay. A few girls in the front put their hands over their ears. 'Too loud,' they wrote.

Now, bluegrass they absolutely loved. Give those kids a little hillbilly banjo music, and they'll rock out in their seats all day. Johnny Cash was also a big hit, though Bob Marley and reggae were not.

When asked who they thought was the best musical performer of all time, about 80 percent of the students said Michael Jackson, followed by some unexpectedly robust support for Ludwig Van Beethoven, and a few dark-horse votes for John Denver ("Country Road" is a karaoke favorite out here.)

Most popular of all? A screening of "School of Rock," on the somewhat shaky justification that it was about music, and was in English, hence belonged in the music unit of my oral English class. And it wasn't the 'humorfulness' that won them over, it was the heart-wrenching tale of a young man's struggle to overcome obstacles in pursuit of his dream -- a fresh interpretation of the Jack Black classic, if ever I heard one. (Although, when asked, most of them wrote that the character they liked the best was the "class monitor.")

Here's a musical sampling from the last few weeks: The funeral horn players; a student named Allen who can't speak a word of English but turns out to have this amazing voice; the Shem women, who sing plateau songs in the office all day every day; and an in-class rendition of "We Will Rock You" that didn't quite get to the heart of the assignment, but was entertaining enough to get a passing grade anyway.

The corpse in the courtyard

Actually, it's gone now. But for four days, I was living smack in the center of a Chinese funeral.

It started with several big tourist vans rolling up to eject crowds of people, some wearing wacky white Ku-Kluxy hats (which turned out to signify family members of the deceased), who promptly erected a tent village in the courtyard. Myself, I would have thought the ambiance in my apartment complex, which is the apex of that celebrated Soviet style of architecture that prominently features gray concrete boxes, would be a bit lacking for funeral festivities.

There was a veritable field of enormous paper wreaths, an all-purpose celebratory decoration for events ranging from weddings to, apparently, funerals. And of course the kazoo corps - two very old men who sat at a card table set up directly under Beth's window, and somehow managed to wring the sound of a duck's death squalls from their battered horns. All day. Every day. Starting at 7 a.m.

On the second day, there was a procession wherein the entire group lined up with a long white sheet held over their heads and, led by the trumpet-kazoos, paraded 200 yards down the street to the exercise yard, where someone lit a bonfire of yellow cloth, as well as smaller fires up and down the street. (Why, yes, it would have been quite the fire hazard, if not for all that excellent concrete).

I figured that would about wrap up the merry-making, but they camped out in my courtyard for two more days, kazoos and all. And, according to the infallible wisdom of the Internets, the body is usually kept outside with the mourning party during these shindigs.

Which is not creepy at all, of course.

Dismembering a chicken, riding a yak and other Harvest Holiday adventures

After all the paranoia, nothing at all happened on National Day, except for the day-long, mildly menacing display of military prowess in Beijing.

But that doesn't mean the holiday has been a complete loss. China turned off the rain machines, so I went exploring ... (And yep, I finally got to ride a yak. More on that later.)

Spent Sunday at Ta'er Si (or Kumbum, in T*b&tan), a monastery outside town that is the home of the Yellow Hat Sect, and the former home of the DL. It's one of the most important Buddhist monasteries, so the place was overrun with tourists.

We spun the pretty painted prayer wheels, stuck a yuan to a ghee-covered sacred rock (an offering that is supposed to ward of disaster, so fingers crossed), watched a monk in a temple courtyard making a mandala of dirt and seeds that would be washed away as soon as it was finished, a symbol of the impermanence of, I don't know, something or other ...

Then came Taco Night. (God, I miss tacos. Because you know who has never heard of the delicious perfection that is a taco? China, that's who. Pizza they can do. Hamburgers and KFC, they're all over it. I even had a bagel with cream cheese the other day. But tacos? Absolutely not.)

So we trekked to the foreign import store and spent a mini fortune on tortillas and black beans, made two kinds of salsa (tomato and mango!), dipped into Beth's supply of Spanish rice mix, and started a small toaster-oven fire in an ill-fated attempt to make chips. And I finally gave up my fruitless quest for meat that doesn't still have its head attached, and bought a chicken. At least they chopped off his feet, I thought. That was before I found his severed limbs conveniently tucked up, you know, inside him.

We named him Wesley. The 15 minutes or so I spent butchering Wesley (who I'd guess, judging from his scrawny physique, lived a life in somewhat less than the lap of luxury), trying to avoid his accusatory gaze, still haunts my dreams.

However, the tacos were freakin' delicious.

Alright, don't get impatient, I'm getting to the yak.

Monday, we headed to Qinghai Lake with a taxi driver who was swilling barley wine from a can while he drove. It was the first time that we've really gotten out onto the plateau, which felt a lot more like the rural China that I'd been expecting. The barley fields are in harvest, the hills are swamped in fall colors, and great herds of sheep and yaks are everywhere. As we set out, I told Beth that my mission for the day was to ride a yak. Truthfully, I was envisioning striking up a friendship with a random wild yak, hopping aboard, and perhaps riding off into the sunset. Turns out, though, I'm not the first tourist with a yen for yak-riding, so they were ready for me.

Oh, well. It was totally worth it.

And, yeah, the lake was beautiful, too.

Yay! I'm getting a puppy!

My Indonesia-based former roommate Carolyn (who has in the past professed herself dubious about my affection for rabid dogs) has finally come around!

Such a thoughtful housewarming gift ... (A quick reminder, however: Packages take forever to arrive in China, so don't forget to poke a few air holes for the little fellow.)



In other news ... Today is a very special day in China, as it marks the 60th anniversary of the Uncle Mao's great revolution. It also marks the start of a 10-day holiday for us (though 'holiday' is stretching it a bit: We have to make up the classes we miss by teaching on the weekends).

On Monday, we noticed that our cell phone rings have been switched to a patriotic song sung by Jackie Chan (no, really, I'm not kidding).

The excitement for the festivities are only matched by the paranoia about potential problems arising from those segments of the population who find a little less to celebrate in the anniversary. Hence, security is on full alert, they've shut down T*b8t, and are asking residents to "stay home and watch the festivities on TV." (In preparation for the fun, and its possible fallout, we've been told to update our emergency evacuation plans.)

A sampling of excerpts from the news about National Day:

• "Meteorologists said their efforts to prevent foul weather on Oct. 1 involved satellites, 400 scientists, cloud-probing lasers and a squadron of transport planes capable of sprinkling liquid nitrogen into pregnant clouds." (China hopes, tries for rain-free festivities, NY Times)

• "The media have been under tighter control, with stern injunctions not to play up bad news. One organisation reportedly set a quota of no more than 30% "negative" news ... And in Chongqing, couples will be unable to divorce on National Day, local media warned." (China's National Day parade: Public barred from celebrations, UK Guardian)

• "The Japanese Kyodo news agency has reported that unidentified authorities in Beijing stormed the hotel room of three visiting journalists (who were trying to cover the parade rehearsal), beat them and damaged two computers." (Beijing authorities beat Kyodo journalists)

• "Nearly 5,000 of China’s 2.3 million soldiers will march past the nation’s leaders ... They have trained to stand motionless for a solid hour, to refrain from swaying during the second hour and not to collapse after three hours ... They are also expected not to blink for 40 seconds at a time ... Mental-health professionals have been called in to help those whose performance is not up to snuff. As of Sept. 12, 1,300 soldiers had received counseling." (No Detail Is Overlooked as China Prepares to Celebrate, NY Times)