Susan Jackson

The general pushing, lack of common courtesy, and disregard for personal space I’ve experienced so far in China haven’t been too aggravating other than on early-morning subway rides when I’m at my most chipper. My approach is such: When the cultural rule is that there are no rules, how one is expected to behave in public becomes much more clear. For example, in the arena of elbows and shoving that is the Beijing subway platform, it’s much easier to take your mark and unabashedly sprint to a seat the instant the train doors open than to politely avoid body-slamming someone into a wall, thereby loosing your shot at a place to park it for the 1.5-hour ride to your venue. With everyone else scratching the ground like bulls to do the same thing, it’s easy to adopt the necessary every-man-for-himself attitude. Elderly person or pregnant lady in you way? No problem! School group of 25 about to block your view of a sign in the Forbidden City? Book it through them to the front and receive zero dirty looks!

If I sound crass, let me leave you with this real-world example to illustrate that I’m only slightly kidding here. Outside the back gate of the Forbidden City, there is a nightly pick-up dance party. Someone rolls up with a cart carrying a large speaker on the back and pumps out traditional Chinese tunes, ballroom favorites, and horrendous pop remixes. Locals of every age show up to line dance and twirl each other around under the star (Yes, “star” singular. I’m trying to make it romantic but honestly, you can’t really see anything through the smog). The other evening, a compact car needed to make it’s way from the gate, through the spectacle, and to the street. Instead of creeping around the half of the area filled with spectators, the guy flashed his high beams and gunned it through the dancers, horn blaring. My classmates and I howled with laughter as we jumped from his path, but the joke was on us. The dancers had gracefully waltzed out of the way, not missing a beat, and our fellow onlookers glanced at us like we were the crazy ones. What was so funny?

Check out a video of the dancing, minus the brush with vehicular manslaughter.

Let’s get a little more in depth as to why our deputy manager Bob is the coolest guy I’ve met, maybe ever. First, a little background. According to my intel, Bob used to be an actor, is now a civil servant of some sort, and has a mean karaoke voice. In my experiences, I’d add to that list, “the guy you call if you need anything in Beijing.”

I told you already about him magically whipping out a phone, charger, and extra battery when we first met and I mentioned I didn’t have a cell yet. He also promised to take me to the electronics flea market to purchase one of my own and do the haggling for me. Well, Bob didn’t exactly come through on that one, he came in one better. Instead of doing battle over prices on my behalf, he had his friend, the electronics market landlord, shop with us. The guy didn’t speak a lick of English but Bob explained that with him around, we’d have to get the best price.

For the next 30 minutes, we became the center of attention in the large indoor market. At least six people waited on us and insisted we enjoy free bottles of the Chinese answer to Vitamin Water while we looked over the goods. The Olympic credentials around our necks and that we have Western faces contributed to the hype. It was the equivalent of all those Hollywood celebrities sipping complimentary champagne during private shopping sessions in posh Beverly Hill boutiques. . .except for the whole sweaty electronics market in China part.

When I asked whether or not a particular phone was quad-band and would work in the United States, Bob spoke to the shop manager and translated the following answer in complete seriousness: “Yes. And if you go home and this phone doesn’t work, he will be punished.” Of course, my reaction was surprise and dismissal, but the absurdity of such a thing didn’t register with Bob or the store manager. I don’t know what the punishment would be, but Crysty and I each ended up with a phone, and I have the manager’s business card if discipline is in order.

I should mention that Crysty could purchase the phone only because Bob also took us to a bank for her to exchange money. Using his Bob-ish ways, and a few gestures to our credentials, he managed to get Crysty in front of 139 other people waiting to do their banking. On the way out, we started chatting with two managers of other banks who were there for a meeting. They encouraged us to contact them if we had absolutely any financial needs while in China. Bob later let us know that their respective banks don’t even exchange money (not uncommon, we’ve found) but that they said they’d do it for us.

As we walked to Bob’s car from the bank, he insisted we get a drink from the corner store. Each of us picked out an ice cream pop and had an iced tea thrust into our hands, but the shopkeepers refused our money. Bob had it covered and may or may not be paying for the items in the future. Bob’s house is just around the corner from the store and apparently, the shopkeepers also know that Bob is the man.

Another of Bob’s friends (or cousin, maybe?) can get us tickets to the amusement park next to our venue. I’ll let you know how the fake Epcot ball looks from up close.

For further proof of Bob’s indisputable coolness, check out the post on Bob’s tea shop.

Crysty, Janis, and I were interviewed for Chinese television today at the BMX course. Check out the video for our confused reactions to translated questions.

I believe it will take a little while to load, so go ahead and boil an egg while you wait. Maybe two.

UPDATE: Someone asked what else, besides crashing scooters, we’ve been doing at the velodrome. The answer is, so far, not too much. Official training for all volunteers begins next week, so this week was about getting to know our new “Chinese family,” finding our way around the building, taking Chinese lessons, and getting a few quick overviews of how the whole operation will run during games time.

While the scooting is certainly fun, it has some competition for the title of “coolest part of our job” to this point. In a practice I can only hope U.S. companies embrace, napping is perfectly acceptable as an after-lunch activity. When I first walked into our office and saw a girl catching a few Zs with her head down on a table, I thought, “Busted!” But our managers actually encourage a quick nap if we “need a rest,” a phrase we hear form them quite a lot. In their experiences, lunch breaks tend to last for 90 minutes, so there is plenty of time to snooze.

The day of our TV interview, we caught a nap and had some extensive scooter time, complete with photo shoots at scenic points around the venue. Our manager Alex acted as creative director, setting up the bikes and our poses. Then, we called it a day.

At the moment, it seems everyone’s primary concern is that we have fun and build relationships. As several of only 200–300 overseas volunteers (there are roughly 70,000 Chinese volunteers), we’re a bit of a novelty and people are very excited to show us a good time. We’re happy to cooperate.

Work at the cycling cluster commenced this week, and what should I start with? We could revisit why Bob is the man, the fact that next to the venue there is a Disney knock-off amusement park complete with a 1/3-size Epcot ball, or the story about me crashing an electric scooter into a building and a security desk at the same time. While you mull over those choices, why don’t I just get right into the crashing-into-bagillion-dollar-velodrome story?

Since the venue has different facilities for mountain biking, BMX, and the indoor events, we have access to some sweet Olympic-branded electric scooters to zip from place to place. Alex led us on a ride from the velodrome up to the BMX course (the downhill on the way back is great for getting around the engine restrictor) and rode his scooter right through the door to park it in our office. I attempted to follow but accidentally goosed the throttle and flew into—not through—the doorway, with a skid into the security guard’s desk to finish it up. And of course, the guy was sitting there. The table torpedoed back into him and though I was screaming “Oh my god!!! I’m sorry!” he never said a word to me. Just smiled. Crysty, my classmate and venue partner, erupted in hysterical nervous laughter behind me. Some samaritan helped me pick the bike up and I sheepishly wheeled it to the office. Inexplicably, no one really noticed, but Bob did inquire “Soosan, did you injure yourself?” Just my pride, Bob. Just my pride.

Fortunately, I didn’t injure the velodrome either. The impressive UFO-style structure took four years to complete and can hold 6,000 spectators. On our first day, we saw members of the Chinese cycling team taking practice laps with the aid of a pacing motorcycle. The banked sides of the bowl-shaped track sit at 47 degrees. It is mind-boggling that a bicycle, motorized or otherwise, can stay upright against that steepness. Though I’m told that the Chinese cycling team isn’t the most competitive, the quadzilla legs I saw cruising past me looked like they meant business.

I got a little choked up about the whole scenario. I’ve always been completely inspired by the true spirit of the Olympics. The majority of Olympic athletes don’t train so hard and sacrifice so much for money or glory—they do it for the love of sport and competition. To be near that is amazing, and I’m so happy I can be even a small part of it, water bottle cleaner or not.

Check out a video of our first look at the velodrome from the infield.

To cap off the tour of Beijing, BOCOG treated us to a Peking Opera performance of The Marriage of the Sun and Phoenix. I was fortunate enough to join a few of my classmates in the VIP section on the floor, just a few feet from the stage, and the shrill screeching of the actors. That isn’t a dig, it is just a fact. The singing style used in the opera isn’t exactly easy on the ears, (especially if those ears are seated just steps from a ginormous speaker) but overall, the show was fantastic. Even those in our group who fell asleep twenty minutes into the performance agreed…

OK, it wasn’t a hit with everyone, but I certainly enjoyed it. The dramatic costumes and make-up were stellar, and the story easy to follow when the electronic captions flanking the stage weren’t cruising at seizure-inducing speeds. Those of us on the floor even got snacks, and who doesn’t love giant fig newtons and minced-meat-rock-candy pastries? That’s what I thought.

Check out a clip of the performance.