The evening of the 12th I ate non-stop. The last few days involved finishing as much of the food in my apartment as possible – not a bad way to finish off my Taiwan escapades. I woke up at 3:45 am on the 13th to go running. I stacked my week so I could run less while in Beijing, but this meant running 64 miles between Monday and that Thursday morning. Taiwan at night is frightful - on my night-time run I encountered strange pelican-like birds, the normal amount of fist-sized cockroaches, bats all around, packs of dogs that are apparently upset when strange figures enter their shadows, and a snake the width of my arm. All of these I almost stepped on or ran into.
Returning to my apartment, I finished packing and left for the bus stop, where I met Bryan and Trish. The three of us have been practicing together for over a month and are now headed to Beijing to compete. Bryan’s Chinese is phenomenal, and most teachers claim he speaks just like a local Taiwanese person. He is actually better at Japanese than Chinese because he’s been studying it since middle school. He’s going to National Taiwanese Law school in the fall, and is all-around a good guy. Trish is very nice, and has been studying Chinese for about 5 or 6 years. She’s going to study at Stanford graduate school in the fall for Asian studies. Between the three of us I feel like the obvious weakest link, but nevertheless we’re a force to be reckoned with.
The airport was simple, and the flight was enjoyable. Not only did the flight have personal computers for every seat, but the plane was chic and spacious, and the food was fantastic - dessert was a mini-tub of legitimate ice cream. Arriving in Beijing's international airport is another luxury, especially considering that direct flights from Taiwan to China only started less than a year ago. Before, because of political tensions, it was necessary to fly in through Hong Kong. In this transfer from Taiwan to China, I feel like part of a political experiment taking place all over Asia. Today, we got to Beijing in just a few hours and walked out of customs to be greeted by a large sign and CCTV camera crew. Cross that one off my life to-do list.
Once we were in CCTV's hands, the process began. That is, the process of waiting and not knowing what is going on. It's continued to today. We waited at the airport for a couple hours for other participants to come, and meanwhile were interviewed on the spot, regardless of our tired, hungry, and overheated state. Once everyone arrived, we went outside and said "slogans" with our teams - basically a catchy "welcome" phrase that we all say together for the camera. Ours was apparently not politically correct, and so we changed it at the last minute. After hours of waiting, we finally climbed on the bus and got to the hotel a little after 5 pm.
We soon found out that most people came yesterday, and were mostly gathered in the atrium of the hotel when we arrived. The contrast between their fine-groomed and well-rested selves clashed harshly with our unshowered and exhausted appearance. The hotel is confusing. It's not cheap, but it's not luxy, and is sending mixed messages as to how they're treating us. We change and go to the opening meeting/dinner.
It was painfully long, and none of us had eaten. We drew participant numbers for the competition, and starting with this we could feel the animosity toward Taiwan. Taiwan, out of all the countries represented, picked dead last. On top of this the three of us sat alone at a table for eight off to the side of the room, and got interesting glances from a few teachers. When we did finally pick, Bryan was 4, Trish was 62, and I was number 80. We were given clothing (competition t-shirts, five colors of the same design), passes, participant numbers, and the works and eventually sent to bed. Our teacher finally arrived before we went to our rooms (she had to come later in the day), and we sat around guessing at tomorrow’s activities before getting to sleep.
After running that next day, I showered and went down to shove down the tasteless breakfast. We were put on a bus and not told where we were going until we got there, only that we were going to a historic place that would be the subject of the afternoon's competition. The cameras were profuse and the crews were taking interviews almost non-stop. I looked out the bus window at one point and saw we were being filmed from CCTV buses driving next to ours. "So this is how it feels to be on reality television," I thought.
When we finally got off the bus, we were at a Confucius temple and museum near the center of the city. We broke into our groups and given tours for hours. The Chinese was difficult, the weather was hot, and overall the process was exhausting. It was easy to pick out who was trying to hard in this competition, pushing to the front of the cameras and talking in exaggerated Chinese with the CCTV lackeys. A subset of this group were two contestants who had made the final round of this competition last year - one Canadian who always wears a bright-colored cowboy hat and an oversized Iran fellow with no real sense of the world around him. I'm not sure why they were allowed to return this year (especially because the Iran guy took second overall last year), but no one expects them to do to well. Their Chinese isn't fantastic, and everyone is saying that the competition is much harder this year.
After the tours, we finally were allowed to retreat to a very lightly air-conditioned sitting room to have lunch. Ironically, the food was from a well-known Japanese chain and not Chinese. We ate and waited. And waited and waited. It seemed outrageous that they would leave us in a pressure-cooker of a room with no directions for a couple hours – little did we know that we’d be waiting not only six more hours that day, but that waiting was this competition’s favorite activity. I should clarify, though – while the contestants waiting constantly, the competition waits for no one. We often got calls to our hotel room instructing us to be in the lobby ready to go in five minutes. A few days in to the competition, we got a call telling us we had twenty minutes before they wanted to see us downstairs, reason unnamed. We freaked out and figured it was something of extreme importance because they had given us so much time to prepare.
Amidst the waiting, however, the competition was admittedly pretty neat – that is, if you’re in to random, over-your-head challenges (I am.). We were taken in groups of ten backstage to where the contest was being filmed. We each drew bamboo with Confucius sayings on them, and were told we had a couple minutes before we would go on stage. The sayings often had to do with Confucian principles, and were in a very literary style, so they were difficult to interpret, especially under a time constraint. The one I drew was “可与信而不与信，失人”and I clearly had never seen it before. Despite this, I was able to conjure up a guess at the meaning. When it was my time, I was introduced to the judges who were seated across the stage, and I walked out to the center. I was told to first explain the meaning of the saying, and they would tell me if I was correct and explain it if I was incorrect. I surprised even myself by giving a fairly fluent explanation, and was further surprised when the first thing the judges said was, “It’s clear that you have a good understanding of this saying.” They did go on to say, “but you should also include...”, but at that point I was already quite happy with how things were going. Next, they asked you to give a speech on your thoughts and feelings toward the saying, and I talked for a little over minute about the saying’s importance to foreign students with friends from different cultures. Walking off the stage, I couldn’t have felt better as my friend from Thailand gave me a high-five.
Results came in later that day. I was 42nd out of the hundred, and pleased to say the least. Trish came in 54th for the first day, and Brian, being the super-star that he is, was in 4th. Incredible. From that point on, he had almost zero chance of being eliminated and really started getting into the competition.
The next day was quite similar in style to the day before. We took a bus tour of Chang’an Boulevard, one of the longest, most historic, and most vibrant in Beijing. With all this time on the bus, the camera crews gave all of us interviews and plenty of close-ups. The reality television feeling set in even harder.
We arrived at the museum of a famous contemporary Chinese artist, Han Meilin. We were taken on tours around it, and it was quite impressive how prolific this artist was. His range is incredible, and he’s created a lot of popular culture symbols. One good example is the Olympic mascots from last year – the five “fuwa’s” that represented Chinese principles and also the Olympic rings.
After these two tours, we were (surprise!) given a written test. We were told it would be ten questions and be based on the tours. Figuring it would also be written, Bryan and I prepped for a writing portion. When we got the test (which was given outdoors in 90-degree heat), it was ten multiple-choice questions, not relating to anything we had done. Instead, they were random trivia, written in a very formal style. Most everyone, myself included, had not a clue what half the questions were even asking, let alone the answers. It was quite humbling to be so lost on a short, multiple-choice test after studying the language for years.
After the test we proceeded to wait, unsurprised. Waiting feels very unproductive, and waiting in uncertainty and for a test is uncomfortable. Nevertheless, it’s what the competition called for, and following without asking questions is apparently the way to be a good contestant. The Taiwan contingency is not very good at this. It was these hours that I was hoping desperately for narrow elimination – to place 31-40, so that I could be eliminated and go home yet still hold my dignity.
In the end, even the tours ended up being a waste of time. They were of course great for me because they were free and unnaturally effective ways of practicing Chinese and learning about Chinese culture, but they had nothing at all to do with the competitions. We used nothing from the tour of the Confucius museum, bus tour, or the art gallery at all. It’s hard to tell CCTV’s motives, but I often don’t mind being alone for the ride.
Finally, they started calling people out for the last competition before eliminations. After hours of waiting, I was called with five other people as one of the last people to go. I changed clothes this time (Team Taiwan didn’t know we were allowed to last time, and almost everyone changed clothes, many into ornate, ethnic clothing), and looked slightly more fashionable, but still certainly no match for the people wearing colorful robes, headdresses, Asian school uniforms, ethnic garb, and dresses. Right before we went onto stage, the director told us “go out, introduce yourself to the judges, and start talking about your impression of China”. I thought, “Is it really that broad?” And what do you mean by ‘start’ talking? Should I give a speech”. After I was on stage for about fifteen seconds, I understood. After starting to talk about how the art we say that day fits in with my impression of China, they suddenly cut me off and started asking questions. In fact, that was the entirety of the next two-and-a-half minutes – the judges suddenly cutting you off, and asking some unrelated question. It was a bit unnerving, and I wasn’t speaking very fluently. On top of this, they asked questions about things I felt were irrelevant (for instance, they had our resumes out and asked me about the meaning of a single word out of a paper I had presented at Stanford: “Colorblindness”). Time ended much too quickly, and then there was nothing to do but bow, say thank you, and march off the stage.
The cameras followed me all the way back to the prep room. This might seem like a cool panning-out effect if you first hear about it, but the prep room was about 40 seconds away walking. That’s a long time to have a camera backpeddeling in front of you. I gave a wave, a smile, said a few words, and then gave up and walked in awkwardness. One of the worst parts of dealing with cultural differences is the inability to make others feel awkward. For example, in the US I can make someone stop staring at me by making them feel awkward. In China, all bets are off.
The day’s competition ended and we did some activities with Han Meilin, and he gave us all free books, postcards, stuffed animals, and other works of his. We journeyed home after this, exhausted but excited that there was nothing we could do between now and eliminations, and that no matter what the next two days were free.
On bus ride back, I talked extensively with a Japanese friend I had made and decided it was one of the most unique friendships I’ve ever had. Up until now, speaking Chinese has largely been a game, or a way to practice. For example, when speaking with a teacher, we’re speaking Chinese because I want to learn it, not because it’s the easiest method of communication. Since almost every Chinese teacher speaks English, it would obviously be easier to speak English, but we speak the foreign language anyway. Of course, due to traveling abroad I’ve encountered situations where the person I’m speaking with doesn’t speak English. However, in every single case I’ve had until now, Chinese is that person’s native language, meaning at least one of us is speaking comfortably in their native language. However with this friend, not only does he not speak English, but his native language is Japanese, not Chinese. This means that we became friends by speaking a language foreign to both of us, and using Chinese to converse despite neither of us having a perfect control over it. We used Chinese as a bridge to connect our two languages and cultural experiences we were sharing, and realizing this was one of the most shocking moments of my summer, besides being one of the coolest.
That night, we were called into a meeting hall at a little after 11pm. The camera crews were waiting for us all, and a short speech was made emphasizing how great this competition was, and thanking us all for attending. They then went through the places, names and scores of the contestants who were carrying through to the next round, starting at 30th place and working their was down. After they got to about 20th place, I let go a huge sigh of relief knowing I couldn’t have done better than that. We waited until 8th place was called, when Bryan’s name was attached to it. Mine and Trish’s name weren’t called.
With this, my CCTV competition experience ended. I had been eliminated, and I couldn’t be happier.
Really, really awesome, David! Bravo.
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