The travels of Justin

I’m relieved!

Almost a million people in the Vancouver area remain under a boil-water advisory for a fifth day, although coffee giant Starbucks is once again serving residents.
—CTV.ca News

Starbucks, computers, and the Vancouver skyline
(Photo credit: Mezzoblue)

I arrived home from dinner yesterday to find no water in my house. The pipes are totally silent when the sink is turned on. I haven’t seen a single drop of water in about 24-hours.

It’s really normal for the water pressure to be non-existent for long periods of time. I have slowly learned that from about 8 to 11:30 every morning the water pressure is no more than a trickle — good enough for brushing teeth, but impossible for showers. The water always comes back for an hour or two at lunch and for most of the evening. In addition there is some random times when the water will flow at a barely useless trickle. Today is different.

I’m starting to wonder if my landlord paid for the water this month; certainly, I paid him for the water as I do every month. I’ll try to contact him tonight. He works in the night and probably can’t help me now anyway. Luckily I have some bottled water in the house. Bottled water is a basic provision around here since the water from the sink is always of a questionable quality. At least I can brush my teeth before teaching my English class; my students don’t need to suffer from second-hand halitosis.

Update: My water is back. I don’t know what happened. Now I’m back to being able to shower (assuming the water pressure is present) and boil water, as I normally have to, for drinking and cooking.

Why can’t I stop thinking about this tonight?

A city block in China is huge compared to those in North America. Often the area within a Nanchang city block will contain a small maze of streets connecting the random collection of buildings.

A quiet hidden street

Another foreigner introduced me to a small restaurant that was in an area hidden from me until I was introduced to the pedestrian thoroughfare that links two major shopping streets — essentially a shortcut. I’ve now decided this little restaurant has the best eggplant dish I’ve eaten in China. Tonight I decided to show this restaurant to another foreigner.

While sitting together in the small empty restaurant, a Chinese man came into the restaurant to pick up some food to take out. As he walked past us he stared a little bit and casually asked the restaurant owners about their new foreigner customers in the same way someone might ask about the weather. I met his gaze with a polite ”你好“ (hello) and suddenly he was standing over our table and interrupting our conversation with 3 questions:

1. Where country are you from?
2. Where do you work?
3. What is your salary?

Every conversation I have in Nanchang starts with #1 and #2 and usually becomes a chance for the person to ask as much as they can about my personal life. People are curious in cities where foreigners are a rare sight, but it surprises me that no one seems interested in my opinion of their city, or what life is like in other parts of the world. Not that my opinion matters, but instead of talking to people, I find myself being interrogated.

Recently I mentioned on this website about different privacy boundaries held by North Americans and Chinese people. The students of my oral English class think it’s pretty funny that western women would keep their age a secret, let alone lie — even jokingly — that they’d been 30 for the past 10 years. It seems equally amazing to me that a total stranger would ask me about my salary.

After a facinating train discussion with a heart surgeon-turned-entrepreneur manufacturing heart valves, I arrived in chilly Beijing. The 23-degree weather of Nanchang may be winter to my Mexican friend, but I’m okay by putting my windbreaker over my t-shirt for the windy 6-degree Beijing weather. I took the subway to what I thought was ChaoYang District (朝阳区) assuming I was in the neighbourhood of the repair shop and could take a taxi for the last part of the ride; surely the taxi wouldn’t break the minimum RMB$10 fare. How foolish of me.

It turns out that ChaoYang District was almost as far as the airport, costing me RMB$63! Solution Keys is located inside the West Academy of Beijing Campus, a beautiful primary- and high-school for foreign children. Once I found the small office inside a bright yellow building, I was greeted by the technician and an office worker (I assume). The young man spoke enough English to communicate fine about the technical issues, and the young woman could speak at a higher-level thus filling in the other details. This place may be far out of the way, but these kind workers put my mind at ease.

The friendly technician, Mr. Qi (崔琪), immediately pulled my MacBook out to examine it. Unremarkably, he quickly found the same problem I’d identified — a broken keyboard. My goal was to replace the entire notebook with a brand new one under Apple’s 14-day replacement policy. They called the shop where I made the original purchase and were told they couldn’t make the exchange (no computers in inventory, I think). The technician then called Apple on my behalf to find a solution. Apparently, Beijing City has no inventory of new computers to make the replacement. Thus I’d say the 14-day policy from Apple is worthless — at least to me. Thanks.

Not only would I be forced to wait for Beijing stores to restock, after today the 14-day replacement policy expires for me and I’d be sure to face another battle. I reluctantly agreed to let Mr. Qi make the necessary repairs which at least are covered by the warranty. Told it might be 2 or 3 hours, I went for a walk to blow some steam.

Only about 30 minutes later I received a phone call to report my computer was fixed. When I returned, they gave me my computer and a cup of coffee(!). Using the wireless network in the store, I’ve had the chance to fool around on the internet a little bit while I make sure my computer is okay. Computers are complex electronics and failure can happen to any manufacturer for so many reasons, but if mine should fail again, I’d prefer it would fail while I’m still sipping coffee in the repair shop.

Maybe I’m not all that impressed with AppleCare [sic] right now, but after traveling across half of China, I’m quite happy to be in the somewhat remote Solution Keys office. They’ve even taught me a couple tricks for using OSX while I let the battery recharge.

Now it’s time I try and get a train ticket back to Nanchang before I miss even more school and have to add a hotel bill to my growing list of MacBook repair costs.

Solution Keys
10 Lai Guang Ying Dong Lu,
Chao Yang District, Beijing, PRC 100103
(Inside the West Academy of Beijing Campus)

北京朝阳区来广营东路10号
（北京京西学校内）

+86 (010) 5129 2849

After more than a year without a computer, I finally conceeded to the fact that I’ll be in Asia for another 2-years at least and I really need a computer. For a variety of technical reasons and handy features (like the built-in camera), I chose to buy an Apple MacBook. Nanchang has a small compter market near 8-1 Square (八一广场) but I’ve never seen Apple computers there—only iPods. Two weeks ago, TRU graciously arranged for me to travel to Beijing to have a Thanksgiving dinner with my former TUT classmates and friends. I used my trip as the opportunity I needed to buy the MacBook from Beijing and return to Nanchang.

Indeed, it was a great feeling as I returned to Nanchang. I played with the computer during the 1-hour shuttle-bus ride to the Peking Airport and again for my 2-hour flight home. I was light on my feet as I floated up the seven flights of stairs to my Nanchang apartment to connect it to the internet that was ready and waiting for a computer. Suddenly, things went horribly wrong.

The MacBook wasn’t frozen, but it seemed stuck in a loop trying to detect my internet connection. Unable to stop the process, I held the power button for 10-seconds — a blunt technique that terminates the power. When the power returned, the keyboard and trackpad (built-in mouse) were no longer working. To be fair, computers from all manufacturers are most likely to have failure within the first 3-months. For me it had been less than 12-hours after my purchase when the computer had fallen to hardware failure and I went to sleep uncertain about the next steps.

The next day I learned that an Apple authorized dealer does exist in Nanchang. A friend and I went to this shop where were learned that a USB mouse worked just fine, confirming again that the problem is hardware. Otherwise, the shop in Nanchang is only a store. They can sell Apple products, but can’t repair anything. At least a friendly worker walked us to the nearby computer market to buy my own USB mouse and some blank DVD disks to backup the pictures I’d since downloaded to the laptop. He even told the shopkeepers that I was a friend so I’d be charged the price for Chinese people and not the inflated price that foreigners are given.

At home with the USB mouse, I burned a DVD without problem and used an on-screen keyboard as a substitute for the physical one that didn’t work. The computer worked so smoothly! Then I tried to reinstall the operating system, OSX. The process could not have been easier. When the computer restarted, a video appears and ‘welcomes’ you to OSX in several different languages. Just as the computer is ready to ask you a few basic setup questions it stops to tell me that nothing can proceed until it can detect a keyboard. Damn! I restared the computer several times finding that sometimes it notices there is no mouse while other times it’s the missing keyboard.

Time to call Apple. The Apple customer support number for China greets callers with a Chinese-language menu. The only thing I could understand was that there’s something if you press ‘1′ and something else for ‘2′. I tried ‘0′, but it just repeated the menu again. After some trial and error I found that #2 was the one I needed and, luckily, they have workers who speak English. All I need to do to fix my problem is to take the computer to an authorized Apple Service Provider (ASP). nThere’s ASP’s in Shanghai, Wuhan, Beijing, and plenty of places that are nowhere near Nanchang.

I started entertaining the idea that I would try to find a way to send the computer by courier to Shanghai, until I phoned the service centre. These ASP’s are not owned by Apple, and finding someone who speaks Eglish — even bad English — wasn’t working out. I quickly abandoned this idea after I considered the horribly poor track-record of China Post in delivering mail correctly. I intended to use courriers, but the risk of losing such an expensive device is simply too high for a guy like me.

The Apple support people told me I had 14-days to exchange the computer for a new one. To make the exchange you must visit an Apple repair shop where they determine if the problem is hardware, like I claim. The report they give is the key to making the exchange; I’m supposed to give this paper, along with the original MacBook, to the shop where I bought it where they can give me a brand new MacBook.

Armed with this news I was ready to jump on a train a few hours later to solve the problem in person to Beijing — especially before my 14-days run out. Just as I started packing my bag, a ray of sunshine appeared. Another foreigner at Nanchang University had to travel to Beijing this weekend; as a bonus, she speaks great Chinese and studies computer science so I thought I’d found my saviour when she agreed to handle everything for me. It would save me the cost of travel and hotels in Beijing in addition to making sure I don’t miss class.

I guess she was very busy in Beijing, because she waited until the weekend to visit the repair shop in Beijing. That’s when she learned that the ‘engineers’ don’t work on weekends. I offered to pay for her hotel to stay a couple extra nights to resolve the problem, but maybe she didn’t understand what I was saying (bad phone reception that night). She’ll arrive in Nanchang in less than 2-hours. Unfortunately, her cell phone is powered off right now. I’ve asked her to meet me at the train station, but my only chance might be to stand at the arrival gate where I can see her in person. Assuming this goes smoothly, she can give me the MacBook back and I can try to buy a train ticket to Beijing.

If I can leave tonight (it’s now Sunday), I’ll arrive in Beijing at 8am Monday morning. Monday is day #14, after which I can ask for warranty repair, but I can’t exchange for a new computer. I can go directly to the repair shop and try to fix everything. If I’m really lucky, I can take a return train Monday night and avoid hotel costs, but I’ll be surprised if I don’t spend at least one night in Beijing. Somehow I don’t think their warranty will cover my travel costs.

It may turn out to be a great computer, but it’s been a time-consuming and stressful experience for a computer that has cost a lot more than its already high sticker price.

For a moment I thought the dog was doing a trick. A mop was hanging from the steel structure in where a small street intersects a nice shopping district around our university. The dog was holding onto the mop with his teeth. I almost expected people to start clapping at the strength and endurance for this dog to hold on. The longer it held on, the more I had a sinking feeling that something else was happening. Something didn’t make sense. When the man bracing the mop removed the handle, I suddenly realized what I’d seen. It hadn’t been the mop hanging from the rope.

I’m sick today. 不好！I missed class and don’t feel optimistic about tomorrow. Speaking a foreign language is hard enough without having your ears plug up so you can’t even hear yourself!

In Tianjin I had purchased three sets of flash cards that each have 100 cards to help learn 汉字 (Chinese simplified characters). I don’t use them very often, but they are still very helpful to me. Today was one of those days when I whipped them out while sitting cross-legged on the styrofoam floor mats in my living room. Despite the foggy feeling of having a cold, and having not looked at these cards in months, I managed to correctly identify 75 of the characters in the first set. The frustrating ones are the characters that I recognize, but I can’t identify — after 14-months, every character looks familiar.

When studying, I often listen to the TV to hear what a good accent sounds like; I think Chinese TV is particularly good for this because almost everything has subtitles that are really great for studying. Like other days, today I kept catching words I understand, but were used in contexts I did not understand. Some text messages with a good friend of mine in Tianjin enlightened me to the meaning of these words, but there’s no dictionary that can help in situations like that. It’s comforting to know this is the universal experience of learning a foreign language.

Feeling dizzy and hungry, I escaped my apartment to catch dinner with a friend. My apartment is about 3-blocks away from the school and one can never be sure how the local people will react when I emerge from my apartment. The people I pass in the hall of my building are quite friendly, always giving me a “你好” (hello), or asking “你吃了吗” (have you eaten?) — especially when I greet them first in Chinese. Outside the building there are always lots of people walking around, playing poker or mahjong, and otherwise being very social. I suppose I’ve never wanted to submit myself to the endless questions of nosy and curious neighbours (who could blame them), but each day I can feel like I’m on parade as I leave my apartment.

I walk through the complex to the only exit gate and sometimes get a friendly response from the security guard, or the old men and women who perch there. Less frequently now I can still occassionally catch someone’s voice behind me asking other residents what building the foreigner lives in. Today a girl younger than 10 was looking at her friend while they walked toward me along the sidewalk. When she turned to look at the person in her path he jumped in surprise and put her hand on her chest momentarily winded. Some old people snickered quietly while I just smiled and said, “你好” (hello), to the stunned little girl. The expression on her face was so dramatic, thus inspiring the title of my article today.

Today I was greeted by a family possibly from the Xinjiang autonomous region. Fairly or unfairly, most people warn that crime and pick-pocketing is high when many of these migrant workers pass through. I dislike generalizations, but this particular band was suspiciously walking up and down a small strip of a busy sidewalk and my friend suggested we’d better move along quickly just in case. It seems like everyone I’ve met in Nanchang has a story of being pick-pocketed. I haven’t had the experience and I have no wish to change that.

I went to a market today and my bus passed by 8-1 Square (八一广场) where I met a surprising (to me) sight. Military—not carrying weapons, from what I could see—and police officers were stationed at all the entrances to the monument presumably to prevent people from gaining access to the monument — the main attraction of the square. Nothing was happening and everyone was standing around purposefully. I have no idea why.

Today’s experience made even more shocking the news that a few days ago 10,000 students may have demonstrated and torched buildings and the luxury cars of their officials. I haven’t heard anything about this until tonight. Please note that my host school, Nanchang University (南昌大学), is not mentioned in any of the reports I’ve read online.